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[athenalvss]

SECRET LANGUAGE ( circus! batmom )

summary: Batmom and Dick have a different connection than with the rest of the family, they even have their own language, causing the rest of the family to become exasperated.

pairing: batmom x batfam

open request — batmom masterlist

Although Batmom loves and protects all members of the Batfam equally, she shares a special bond with Dick Grayson. It wasn't about favoritism or privilege —there never was— there was simply something different about the connection between them. And while the rest of the kids understood (more or less), that didn't stop them from raising a fuss whenever something clearly exclusive happened between batmom and Dick. How dare they have inside jokes about their past lives right in front of them? Give each other those silent glances that sparked entire conversations without saying a word? It was outrageous!

Except for Bruce, he had given up a few years ago, he could never win his wife, and he wasn't trying either.

── .✦

Between them, they have a sort of visual code developed over the years: raised eyebrows, half-winks, tapping the table... any excuse to silently mock some absurd situation. The rest of the Batfam pretends not to notice, but they're fed up. How could they be left out of this?

That's why everyone was there gathered in one of the rooms of the big Wayne manor, well... "everyone" is a way of saying, everyone was there except you, Bruce and Dick, but the rest of the family was there sitting on the armchairs while they watched Tim enter with his computer.

Tim walked into the room with a confident stride, and with a satisfied smile, he projected the image, showing his hard work. "Welcome to the secret meeting of the marginalized children" he reached the center of the room, causing everyone to look at him, leaving a PowerPoint presentation titled "Spy Project: Sign Language According to Batmom" in the background.

"Does it have an index?" Steph asked, already taking mental notes.

"Of course it has an index" Tim replied, opening the first slide. "Section one: The gestures. Section two: The looks. Section three: Revenge on Dick."

"Shouldn't we call Bruce too?" Duke asked, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

"Bruce? Bruce gave up years ago," Jason said. "And he can't help, he doesn't even try to guess what they're saying."

Tim changed the slide. A slow-motion video showed a kitchen scene from two weeks ago: you, pouring coffee; Dick, leaning on the island; both of you shooting each other a quick glance… followed by a synchronized laugh. No one else was laughing. Just the two of you.

"See that? That was a complete, wordless joke! Wordless!" Tim exclaimed, pointing the laser pointer at the screen.

"And right after, Dick told me he was laughing at the dog on the news. Blatant lie!" Jason shouted indignantly.

Just as Tim was getting into the most important part of his analysis—a slide titled “The Raised Eyebrow: Criticism or Mockery?”—the door softly opened.

"And what are you all doing together? I like it, but it's weird," you asked with a relaxed smile, walking in with several recyclable paper bags in your arms.

Dick appeared right behind you, also laden with bags, and said with disarming ease "We went to get things for dinner. Mom wanted to make her lasagna, you know…"

The entire room froze. Everyone stared at the projector screen, which was still showing a snapshot of the two of you in what appeared to be an intense telepathic conversation during a gala.

Jason was the first to react, standing up from the chair with his arms raised. "I TOLD YOU WE HAD TO GO SOMEWHERE ELSE."

"What's all this?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dick looked at the screen, then at the group, then at you. "Were we being spied on?"

"Spying is a very hard word, it's just a deep analysis of your gestural conspiracy," Tim exclaimed normally.

"We call it... emotional connection" you said, calmly putting down the bags.

"And we call it 'betrayal,'" Damian muttered, arms crossed, visibly hurt.

"It's not treason if we've always been like this," Dick added with a smile.

"That doesn't make it better!" they all shouted at the same time.

You and Dick looked at each other. Raised eyebrow. Smile. And then you burst out laughing without saying anything.

Jason covered his face with his hands. "Of course they're doing it again. In our faces. No shame whatsoever."

Bruce watched silently from the stairs, nursing a cup of coffee. "I told you not to try to decipher it."

── .✦

The Wayne Manor dining room table was, as always, a battlefield disguised as a family dinner.

"You have to accept that Red Hood is a better public figure than you!" Jason bellowed, pointing his fork at Tim, who barely dodged it.

"Public figure? Please, your reputation is half a step away from an arrest warrant," Tim replied quietly, but with venom in every word.

"Tch. He's got it, Pathetic," Damian muttered from his spot, not even looking at the others, busy cutting his steak with surgical precision.

Bruce sighed. He said nothing, as usual. Alfred, stoic, poured more water with the elegance of someone who has seen a thousand wars at that table and survived them all. Amid all that noise, you leaned back a little in her chair and looked at Dick, who was sitting across the table. He wore a stoic expression, but when he felt your gaze, he raised his eyes. And then it happened: that knowing look.

It was barely a second. A meeting of eyes with a restrained smile, a slightly raised eyebrow on your part, and a slight nod from him. A silent gesture that said:

"Same thing again?"

"Always the same."

They both held back their laughter at the same time, as if they'd rehearsed it. No more need be said.

"Are you laughing at us?" Damian snapped, his fork in the air.

"No," you and Dick replied, perfectly in sync.

"Here we go again..." Tim muttered, "This isn't normal!"

"We're not doing this on purpose," they both said, again, at the same time.

Jason brought his napkin to his face. "Okay, this is disturbing."

"Have you been practicing?" Steph asked.

"No" you said in unison, and this time they looked at each other immediately after, holding back their laughter.

"Enough!" Tim shot up from his seat. "They literally have a secret script! It's like they share a neural chip!"

Alfred, unperturbed, poured more water. "I must say, master Tim, this has been going on for so many years that I'm surprised you're still alarmed."

"Thank you, Alfred," both said at the same time, without even looking at each other.

Bruce sighed and muttered, more to himself than to anyone else, "I never had a chance to fight."

Damian, arms crossed and looking annoyed, grunted. "This is unbelievable."

"No," Jason said, "It's a cult, and we're not part of it."

Dick shrugged at the same time as you. "We're not that predictable," you chorused.

and in unison they all shouted: "YOU SAID IT AGAIN!"

── .✦

It was a quiet night. Miraculously quiet. Everyone was sitting in the living room, no missions or alarms. Even Bruce was relaxed—relatively so—with a glass of wine in his hand. It was one of those family reunion nights they had every Friday night.

Tim was lounging on a beanbag with his laptop, Jason was flipping through a magazine without really reading, Damian was trying to teach chess to Steph, who was just moving the pieces around to annoy him. Alfred was passing by with a tray of cookies, ignoring the chaos with his trademark dignity.

But on the main couch, away from the rest, Bruce, Dick, and Batmom were surrounded by photo albums. They'd started under the guise of "organizing memories," but had clearly fallen into a nostalgic spiral.

Suddenly, a photo caught my eye: You were younger in that image, dressed in your iconic illusionist outfit, black top hat, black and white suit, with a shiny cape that reflected the light, and Dick, barely ten years old, in a tiny trapeze artist's outfit, smiling as he hung from a rope. The image showed a moment in the circus, when they were a different family, before Bruce came into their lives.

"It was fun living in the circus," you looked at the photos with a touch of nostalgia. "Except when the tiger escaped."

Dick immediately burst out laughing. "That was just one time! And technically, he didn't run away…"

"It's true, he didn't escape, you let him out."

The laughter shared between the two of you filled the room like an echo from the past. Bruce watched you with a mixture of curiosity and resignation.

"Were you always like this?" he asked, half joking, half serious.

"So how?" you asked with feigned innocence, while sharing a quick glance with Dick.

Bruce frowned as he watched from his seat, confused. "Was that a sign?"

"No," you and Dick answered in unison, with the same smile, that tone that made it clear it wasn't the first time they'd done it.

Bruce sighed. "But what does that tap on the arm just now mean?"

"Nothing" you said again, while Dick tried not to laugh.

"Liars" Bruce said with a resigned smile.

Then, very slowly, Bruce raised both eyebrows, tapped the table, and looked directly at Dick. There was a second of silence. Dick looked at him, you looked at him. And you both blinked, surprised.

"I've been practicing," Bruce said, with a hint of satisfaction.

"You did well, darling," patting him gently on the arm that was around your shoulders.

At that moment, from across the room:

"What's going on now?!" Jason yelled, throwing up his arms as if he'd just been betrayed.

"Bruce speaks your secret language too!?" Tim almost choked on his popcorn.

"This is... unacceptable," Damian muttered, squinting.

"Welcome to the club," Dick said, raising his glass to Bruce.

"They'll never understand," you whispered in Bruce's ear, smiling.

"I know. And it's glorious," he replied, his expression completely serene as chaos erupted around him.

[astrologydray]

Pallas through the degrees

Each degree gives Pallas a specific tone—some degrees make you a warrior strategist, others a silent psychic, a healer, or a visionary. These tell us how your brain sees the world’s patterns… and how you’re built to solve what others can’t.

0° – Bold and raw strategist; you jump into problems instinctively.

You trust your first hit of intuition and usually nail it before others finish processing.

1° – Strong-willed and fiercely independent in thought.

You’re devoted to your own logic and don’t wait for validation.

2° – Steady, grounded thinker; your intelligence moves slow but deep.

You don’t miss anything—especially when money, loyalty, or long-term value is involved.

3° – Mentally flexible and witty; you process everything through language and vibes.

You’re sharp in conversations and catch subtle patterns quickly.

4° – Deeply intuitive; your intelligence is emotionally rooted.

You read people’s moods and hidden needs without them ever saying a word.

5° – Creative problem solver with childlike spark.

Your strategy often involves humor, art, or playful genius.

6° – Precision thinker; you can spot the flaw in a system instantly.

You’re wired for service, health, and smart solutions that actually work.

7° – Balanced, aesthetic thinker; you see symmetry and fairness in everything.

You solve relational issues with clarity and grace.

8° – Intense psychological strategist.

You’re gifted at seeing what’s not being said—and using that to shift the whole dynamic.

9° – Expansive thinker; your wisdom is philosophical or global.

You’re great at connecting patterns across time, cultures, and beliefs.

10° – Structured, executive strategist.

You organize thoughts into blueprints for success—you’re made for leadership.

11° – Abstract thinker with a gift for innovation.

You’re a mental rebel, always scanning for a smarter, freer way forward.

12° – Quiet mystic; you receive patterns through feeling, not logic.

You download wisdom from the subtle or spiritual realm.

13° – Laser-focused and unshakable.

You’re not afraid of chaos—you can find the center and take control.

14° – Clever, adaptable, and always three steps ahead.

You’re a mental shapeshifter who solves problems with a joke or a twist.

15° – Charismatic and radiant thinker.

You shine when you’re expressing your vision creatively or publicly.

16° – Skillful, steady, and rooted in logic.

You’re great at mastering the basics and building smart, sustainable results.

17° – Diplomatic mind; you can charm and out-think at the same time.

You keep things fair but always strategic.

18° – Powerful, intuitive, and emotionally complex.

You work behind the scenes and can dismantle a problem from the inside out.

19° – Bold belief-based thinker.

You fight with facts and fire—and your opinions usually stick.

20° – Wise beyond your years with a CEO brain.

You apply ancient logic to modern goals, and people trust your judgment.

21° – Inventive thinker with a rebellious edge.

You challenge every norm and usually win.

22° – Quiet and fated intelligence.

Your wisdom feels karmic—almost like you’ve been solving the same soul puzzle for lifetimes.

23° – Imaginative strategist with a dreamy edge.

You solve problems through visuals, feelings, or fantasy worlds that make more sense than reality.

24° – Functional brilliance; you create efficiency like it’s art.

Your logic is beautiful, earthy, and helpful.

25° – Dramatic, compelling thinker.

You perform your intelligence and captivate people in the process.

26° – Deep strategist with a love of hidden systems.

You see patterns in power, pain, and transformation—and know how to work with all three.

27° – Visionary problem solver; you teach others how to think bigger.

Your wisdom is bold, clear, and influential.

28° – Structured and legacy-driven wisdom.

You’re here to make real moves with your mind and leave a mark through strategy.

29° – Karmic closure; you’ve been carrying this sacred intelligence across lifetimes.

Your pattern recognition is profound, and your solutions often feel final, fated, or deeply healing.

[redflagshipwriter]

Mamabat Chapter 11: the trap snaps shut

masterpost

Five vans peeled into view, rocketing around the curved road fast enough that they visibly tilted through the turn. They all bristled with weaponry.

Cass felt her lips press into a faint line. She glanced at Dannybaby: scared. I knew it. Here they are.

They didn’t have to talk about it. The three adults stepped out and put their backs to ring Danny, facing outwards to the threat.

“Shoot the racks,” she commanded. The mounted weapons. She didn’t like that. She pulled out a batarang herself and squinted to find her aim. The construction? Sloppy. Exposed wires. Weakness.

A gun cocked. “Aye aye, captain.” Jason hefted a gun in each hand and started shooting as the vans screeched to a stop in a circle around them. Bang! Sparks flew where he hit. Cass and Dickiebird did the same with quieter precision, slicing wires and leaving projectiles sticking into the metal monstrosities. Electricity sparked. Just in time: machines whined as they were powered on. One gave out with a huge bang!  The van attached to it jolted as the machine punched a huge dent into the roof. White smoke floated away, clouding the nighttime scene with a chemical stink.

“Whoa,” Danny breathed.

She felt a twinge of satisfaction.

Jason hit the last set-up with a bang! Bang! Then his foot scuffed across the pavement to knock against Danny’s. Check, you’re here, you’re safe, you’re little.

“They’ll come out!” Danny warned.

He was right. Doors clicked unlocked all around them and men in white suits piled out, futuristic looking guns aimed at the little group. 

She felt a twinge of disbelief. “Can’t shoot,” Cass said. No way. So dumb. They were in a circle. Friendly fire, new concept to losers??

They shot. She hit the ground in a roll and trusted that everyone else would. They did. She turned her head to see that one agent was down from friendly fire. There was no blood as he was lifted off his feet and blasted backwards against the van he came out of.

“Ghost scum!” howled one of the suits.

“We knew it!” 

The victory in their voices set her blood boiling. Cass launched herself to the closest opponent and took him down with a nasty hit. She whirled on the next one, two mean hits. Go, go, clear the area! She heard feet scuffling and weapons whining as they fired, fired, fired on the boys.

She took number 4 down as the smoke was starting to clear. She heard a pained oof from the center, where Jason and Dickiebird were blocking Danny.

“Jason!” Danny said. He sounded very young. “Oh, shit.” Cass cast a frantic glance over at his posture and sucked in a breath even as she bulleted towards the next opponent. Determined. I have to do this. Here we go! 

No, no!

Jason was down. Dickiebird was darting between Jason and the man actively firing. Danny was pale. He opened his mouth. He put his palms out. He flashbanged. 

She blinked away stars and slammed a man’s head into a van before he could aim at her. Slam, slam, drop. She stole another glance. Danny was- Danny had white hair now and he was flashing green light at their enemies. Hm. She couldn’t afford to watch. Cass bared her teeth, angry. 

Air sizzled: GIW firing wildly. Guns fired: Jason was still conscious. Danny yelped: what? 

Cass didn’t dare look more. She moved faster than Batman could ever, brutally taking down these criminals with disdainful ease. They had nothing but numbers and lasers. 

Green shot past her vision. She traced it back: Danny! Her eyes went wide. Wow. He had some kind of organic blast, like Starfire. Very useful! 

 It wasn’t enough. Danny screamed. She heard him hit the ground. Sizzling.

She howled, wordless with fury. She tackled the next agent and cracked his head against the pavement. Only two more. She flung a batarang down the barrel aimed at her and then yanked the weapon away to brutally jab the air out of the agent’s diaphragm. Cass tossed it at him as he fell. Solid thunk. It hit his head.

The last man tried to say something, white teeth flashing in the gloom. Her ears were closed to it. The only language she spoke right now was violence. She used it to get him down and wrench him into zip ties. She could hear Dickiebird talking his soothing sounds at Danny baby. Cass wanted to go there. Cass wanted to soothe him. She wanted to see his hurts. 

But she had to secure the area. She rushed around to the groaning and crying men she had put down. She immobilized them. The foolish ones tried to get up as she approached. The smart one (and there was only one) held his hands out, eyes wide in the night. He talked at her. Beseeching, reasoning, she just doesn’t understand. You’re like me. Not like them.

Cass snarled. She understood just fine. She pressed his face into the ground harshly, fingers digging into his jaw. “Shut up,” she gritted out. She left him with effort, ignoring the mean impulse to smack him. 

All the boys were on the ground. There was no blood. Eyes open. Not dead.

Something in her gun unclenched.

Dickiebird looked up at her from where he was supporting Jason, sitting halfway with a grimace as he holstered his guns. Hands shaking. “He’ll be fine!” Danny pressed his body against Jason like he was trying to absorb his body heat. His hair was black again and his eyes looked tired. “He, uh, it’s shock,” Dannybaby babbled. She knelt to rub at his back, silently encouraging the explanation. “They basically zapped his ecto, stopped circulation. It should start up again in a few minutes and he’ll feel fine.”

“Get off,” Jason grunted. He shoved at Dickiebird. Weak. “I feel fine.”

Lie.

“I feel drained,” he admitted. “But fine. Just weak. I can stand.” He struggled to stand, biting his lip. He swayed only slightly. “Man,” he cursed under his breath. Jason cast an unhappy look at the 14 agents groaning on the ground, on their bellies like the worms they were with hands ziptied at their backs. “Not my best showing.”

“Next time, you could dodge,” Dickiebird suggested lightly. 

“You’re lucky it got him and not you,” Danny snapped. “Didn’t you see that guy go flying?”

Tense. Dickiebird paused. Smile. Soothe. “I’m only teasing,” he said. “It’s fine, Danny.”

“None of this is fine!” Cass swiveled her head to make sweltering eye contact with the scumbag who was cutting in. He was bold, for someone with his cheek digging into the rocks and cement. “By the authority of the US Government, you are required to submit these ecto-entities for testing and capture into our custody. Release us, or face dire consequences!”

Cass looked at him. She felt hate. Disdain. You’re nothing, you’re a worm to me. 

“They’re telling the truth,” Danny whispered. “It’s, uh, it’s legal.” He looked haunted. He rubbed at his chest: some memory of sharp pain.

Dickiebird snorted and slung an arm over Danny’s narrow shoulders. “Maybe by US laws, but Oa has jurisdiction that supersedes. This was a clear case of assault.” He gave an unpleasant smile. Big brother. Big angry. Guard dog at the door. “I’ll make a call.” 

The next minutes felt very long. Cass pressed Danny’s face into her shoulder so that he didn’t have to make eye contact with the fallen agents. She stroked his hair with her free hand, boiling inside with fury. 

Dickiebird called. A Green Lantern answered: coming.

They waited. Jason said he felt better. His body said: mostly better. But strange. They ignored the threats and complaints from the GIW men on the ground.

Hal Jordan came, with one more Green Lantern that Cass didn’t know. He gathered up prisoners in a green veil. He talked with Dickiebird. He nodded, and left.

“I wanna go home,” Danny said quietly. “But I think that we need to get Jason to my doctor. He’s really not right. It’s… It might be time sensitive.”

[kairawrites]

off track.

minors dni 18+, thanks!

🌺masterlist🌺

pairing: lewis hamilton x black!reader

author's note: careful kaira, your Lew fantasies are showing. this is not edited, didn't need to chicken out of sharing it.

Summary: Keeping your relationship a secret is tough when Lewis can’t keep his eyes or hands off you.

Words: 2254

On track, Lewis Hamilton is fast, calm, and laser-focused, with an instinct for precision that makes every lap feel effortless. His driving is a masterclass in control, blending speed with a strategic mind that sees opportunities where others see limits. As the adrenaline surges, it sharpens his senses, fueling a relentless drive to push boundaries and seek perfection, making him not just a competitor but a force of nature on the asphalt.

Off track, he's slow and relaxed, with movements that are unhurried and deliberate. He savors each moment, finding joy in the simple pleasures and beauty around him. His demeanor is calm, almost meditative, as he takes the time to appreciate the world outside of racing. When he speaks, his words are thoughtful and measured, often turned to praising others and acknowledging their efforts. His humility shines through, as he effortlessly uplifts those around him, offering encouragement and gratitude with a sincerity that reflects his deep respect for people and life.

These habits carried into the evening, which had stretched far longer than he preferred. The event was a glittering affair, filled with familiar faces and the kind of small talk that came with the territory. It was an opportunity to converse with celebrities from different industries, and networking—a skill he had honed over the years—was second nature to him. He moved effortlessly from one conversation to the next, seamlessly blending charm and intellect. The number of introductions, handshakes, and posed smiles under the barrage of camera flashes blurred together, each interaction a practiced routine.

Yet, despite the buzz and the endless flow of champagne, his attention was elsewhere. His thoughts kept wandering back to you, the one person who stood out in the sea of glittering gowns and tailored suits. Every so often, his eyes would seek you out across the room, lingering on you as you moved through the crowd. He found himself captivated by the way you smiled, the way you laughed at some offhand remark, and the way you carried yourself with effortless grace.

The conversations around him faded into the background as Lewis watched you, his focus narrowing until you were the only person in the room who mattered. Each lingering glance he sent your way was filled with unspoken thoughts, a silent pull that neither of you could ignore. Even as he navigated the demands of the evening, you remained at the forefront of his mind, an irresistible presence that drew him in, no matter how much he tried to stay engaged with everyone else.

A month--that's how long it's been since he's last seen you. Work obligations, on both ends, proving to be an obstacle. It wasn't ideal for your reunion to be at such a public place.

The stunning emerald, green gown that flowed like liquid silk, the color a striking contrast against your deep brown skin, making you look like a jewel amidst the crowd. The gown featured a plunging neckline and a thigh-high slit, adding a hint of allure while maintaining an air of sophistication. The rich green fabric caught the light with every step you took, highlighting the gown’s luxurious texture and making you the center of attention. You stood out so brilliantly that you attracted the gaze of every man in the room.

Most men would scowl at the idea of other men admiring their girlfriend, but their attention didn’t spark jealousy in Lewis. Instead, he admired each detail of your ensemble, knowing that every element was tailored to suit his taste. His eyes were drawn to the plunging neckline of your gown, where a delicate necklace nestled against your skin. The necklace, a gift from him, was a masterpiece of craftsmanship: a simple yet elegant silver chain adorned with a single, brilliant diamond pendant. It shimmered subtly, catching the light with every movement you made. Lewis couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of pride, seeing how the necklace complemented your beauty and how, despite the undercover nature of your relationship, every detail was a reflection of his admiration and love for you.

Tonight, his hello came in the form of his touch, his fingers brushing against yours with a gentle, intimate caress as he removed the empty champagne flute from your hand. You felt a shiver of warmth at his touch, a familiar sensation that sent a flutter through you. He replaced the flute with a glass of wine, his right hand settling possessively on your hip for the briefest of moments. His touch reassuring, grounding, as his thumb dragged along the fabric of your gown resting against the small of your back.

“Stunning as always, Ms. Y/L/N,” he notes, his touch tracing the curve of your hip. Lewis leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear as he adds, “I was hoping we can find a more private place to talk later.”

You sipped your wine, the cool liquid a sharp contrast to the heat of his touch. With a cheeky smile, you responded, “You expect the man of the hour to disappear unnoticed?”

He nodded towards the bartender, signaling for a refill of his whiskey. As he turned back to you, his eyes held a playful glint. “You’d be surprised what I can do, love,” he said with a grin, his touch leaving a sudden chill as he withdrew his hand. His gaze swept the room, taking in the crowd with a calculated look, as if considering the best way to make his escape without drawing too much attention.

Accepting his glass, Lewis took a leisurely sip, savoring the rich taste of his whiskey. His gaze returned to you, and he shamelessly took in every detail of your appearance. His eyes roamed over the elegant curve of your neckline, the way the gown accentuated your figure, the length of your thigh, down to your ankle. Retracing each feature, the corner of his mouth turning up as his gaze traced the curve of your lips.

Despite the warmth and familiarity of his gaze, you felt a twinge of nervousness. Each time his eyes meet yours, they seemed to pierce through the layers of confidence you typically exude. The intensity of his admiration, though flattering, made your heart race slightly. His gaze lingered with an intensity that was both flattering and unnerving, causing a delicate warmth to creep across your cheeks. The heat spreading from your head to your toes, causing you to find relief in the wine you held. Despite your surroundings, and the respectable distance between your bodies, you could feel the weight of his attention, the way it made you acutely aware of every movement and every expression, as if Lewis could read your thoughts with just a look. It was something you haven't gotten used to and probably never will.

The way his eyes had a way of making you feel like the center of his universe, which was both exhilarating and a little unsettling.

You cleared your throat, shifting your gaze to his emptying glass. “Congratulations on your Grand Prix, Lewis. Looking to unwind tonight?”

“In more ways than one,” he replied with a grin, his eyes twinkling with humor. “Don’t worry, I’m not behind the wheel tonight.”

You giggled, your eyes meeting his with a playful challenge. “Looks like you’re trying to get into trouble.”

His smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Promise, I’ll save the best kind for you.” He winked, a hint of mischief dancing in his gaze. As he turned back to signal the bartender for his refill, his hand lingered on your hip, creating a warm, comforting pressure. Once his drink arrived, he met your gaze. "As always, the pleasure is mine, Ms. Y/L/N," he smiled before returning to his guests.

And believe me, it was.

Tonight, his eyes admired the chestnut lipstick, noting the contrast of its rich hue against the soft, full curve of your lips. His gaze drawn to the way your teeth gently dug into the tender flesh, a gesture of both contemplation and restraint. His thumb traced the curve of your bottom lip, the touch light yet insistent, encouraged you to release the bite and reveal the full, seductive shade of your lipstick. You had spent time perfecting your makeup, after all, and he intended to appreciate every detail.

Tonight, he spoke praise into the warmth of your ear, his voice softening as his lips and tongue traced the delicate curve of your neck. His gruff tone melted into a whisper, and he pressed gentle kisses to your pulse, each touch sent shivers down your spine. The contrast of his rugged voice with the tenderness of his actions creates a captivating intimacy, as if he’s recommitting and savoring each inch of you to memory.

Tonight, his calloused hands traced the curves of your hips, admiring the gentle dips and contours as he gripped and kneaded the soft flesh beneath the fabric of your dress. His fingertips dragged and lingered, moving slowly towards your thighs, igniting a thrilling heat with each deliberate touch. His senses were flooded with your scent, a heady mix of perfume and warmth that fueled him with a high he could only ever capture on the track. The intensity of the moment, the closeness of your bodies, and the undeniable chemistry between you all combine to create a rush unlike any other, driving him to lose himself in the sensation.

It was the feeling of pleasure he felt with you, that was unmatched by any woman before, which fueled the movements of his fingers as they slipped between your legs. The strokes of his thumbs meticulously hitched your breath, fluttering your eyes closed. The heat of his mouth, sucked against your chest, your neck, the weight of his body pressed you against the chilled bathroom door. The pressure he built weakened your knees, your fingers clinging to his shoulders as you struggled to breathe.

"Lew…"

His brow arched, his teeth catching the overhead vanity light in a brief flash of white. "Hmm?"

Your lips parted, but your voice was caged beneath the shaky breath his touch pulled out of you. The tremor in your chest revealing the effect he had on you, making it difficult to form coherent words. His touch, both electrifying and tender, left you breathless and yearning for more.

You should've tried harder, fought against the voice in your head screaming for you to push him for more. More than just kisses and the warmth of his fingers. The voice urged you to regain control of your limbs, unbuckle his pants, and feel the part of him you'd missed the most--but you couldn't.

All you could think of is how much you've missed this—how every touch, every whisper felt like it had been too long in coming.

"It's been too long," he murmured, completing your thought as if reading your mind. His left hand rested on the base of your throat, the metal of his rings cool against your overheated flesh. His thumb pressed gently against your chin, tilting your face upwards, compelling you to meet his gaze. His touch was both commanding and reassuring, reminding you of the depth of your connection and the longing that has only grown in the time apart. "You missed me?"

Your response fell short of what he wants. The soft nod of your head, before it lulled back to rest against the door was not what he wants. He wanted to hear the tremble in your voice, the shift in octaves, that replayed on a loop in his mind when he tried to recreate the warmth of your touch in his bed alone. He wanted to see the clouded mixture of lust and pleading in your eyes as your hooded gaze holds his, but your eyes are gripped shut denying him what he wanted.

Instead, you responded by gripping his wrist, keeping him in place as he attempted to slow his pace. Your hips rolled desperately, attempting to matching the circles he drew against your skin. 

His chuckle washed over you. His lips warm against the corner of your mouth. Despite your attempt of control, he easily regained it. His touch drifting from your clit, dragging painstakingly slow along the outside of your folds.

"Seems you've forgotten a few things. Hm?"

His touch is meticulous, never brushing against the spot you need, leaving you yearning for more. He kissed your lips slowly, the tenderness of the gesture both soothing and electrifying. Sucking against your bottom lip, he repeated the action as your hips instinctively jerked seeking the high slowly threatening to slip away.

With a soft, commanding tone, he told you, “Lemme see those pretty eyes.”

As you obey and lift your hooded lids, his smile widened with a mix of satisfaction and adoration. It’s a smile that starts in his eyes, which crinkled slightly at the corners, and spread to his lips, revealing a hint of his teeth. The smile is warm and genuine, a reflection of the affection and pride he feels as he takes in the sight of you. The pride he feels in knowing that no other man had the same effect on you. There’s a touch of playfulness in his expression, as his tongue passed over his lips.

“Attagirl,” he murmurs softly, his touch returning to your clit.

The content giggle that escaped your lips, melted into a breathless moan coaxing his finger between your slick folds. It was a sound he'd chase until the end of time. Once it was unlocked, he knew soon the sound of his name on your lips would follow.

"...that's what I've missed," Lewis hummed.

[ryomenslvr]

tagged

ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

synopsis: in which you take the king of curses to play laser tag!

content warnings: just fluff! <3 (not proof-read)

“This is a joke, correct?”

Sukuna’s voice sliced through the buzzing air like a blade. He stood stiffly at the entrance to the laser tag center, his arms crossed and his expression carved from stone. His golden eyes swept across the vibrant, neon-lit interior with utter disdain. The shrill laughter of children, flashing lights, and pulsing pop music grated against his nerves like nails on glass.

“You truly expect me to participate in this absurdity?”

You tugged at his arm with both hands, trying not to grin too much at how out-of-place he looked in this entertainment center. “Come on, Kuna! It’s supposed to be fun. A change of pace.”

He resisted for a moment, planted like a statue, but finally allowed you to pull him forward with a deep, exaggerated sigh. “A change of pace? I’d prefer a battlefield. Or perhaps a feast of flesh and wine. Not this…” he waved at a group of teenagers high-fiving near the lockers, “…childish charade.”

Before you could tease him further, a teenage employee approached with a smile and handed each of you your gear. Clunky plastic vests and brightly colored phasers. Sukuna held his like it was a diseased animal.

His lip curled. “You mortals invent the most useless contraptions.”

You giggled as you strapped your vest on. “Just pretend it’s a cursed tool. Shoot to kill.”

“I do not ‘pretend,’” he growled, but you caught the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes before he turned away.

The laser tag arena was dim and humming with artificial fog. The walls were painted with glowing murals of space battles and alien planets. Black lights made your clothes glow faintly. The maze of barriers and corridors was lit by the occasional pulse of neon blue or red.

Children squealed as they darted around corners. Teenagers shouted strategies. Somewhere, someone blasted a corny early 2000s song through a speaker.

Sukuna moved like a shadow, eerie and silent. While everyone else scrambled and ducked, he merely walked. With slow, confident steps. He didn’t even lift his phaser.

“Your vest’s gonna get lit up,” you called out, ducking behind a ramp. Just as you spoke, your own vest vibrated with a flash of red. You turned. A little kid stood there, grinning ear to ear, his phaser still aimed at you.

“See?” you said, half-laughing, half-annoyed. “You’re supposed to shoot people.”

Sukuna’s glowing eyes finally settled on you. “You are truly terrible at this,” he said flatly.

“Oh really?” you huffed. “You haven’t even tried.”

“I do not sully my pride with games designed for infants.”

You smirked. A dangerous idea took shape in your mind. “So, you admit you can’t win.”

He went still.

That got him.

His gaze snapped to yours, sharp and cutting. You knew that look. That quiet, deadly spark of challenge. “Do not test me, brat.”

“Oh, I already did,” you said innocently, ducking away just as another zap hit your vest.

The next time you spotted Sukuna, it was like seeing a ghost materialize mid-game. He had moved. Not randomly, but purposefully. You watched, mouth agape, as he suddenly sprang into motion. Graceful. Fluid. Deadly. His phaser rose.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

Player after player went down, their vests blinking in surrender. Sukuna didn’t stop. He ghosted through the arena, weaving through barriers, hopping onto platforms, and shooting with a precision that was terrifying. He didn’t run. He hunted.

“Sukuna!” you shouted, partly laughing, partly appalled. “That’s cheating.”

He turned his head just enough to glance at you over his shoulder, a wicked smirk curving his lips. “The King of Curses does not cheat. He simply wins.”

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, chasing after him. Now you had a mission. If you couldn’t beat him, you were at least going to try.

The next few minutes were a blur of color and adrenaline. You ducked under ramps, slid behind walls, fired off desperate shots. You even hit him once, though his vest only flickered and he didn’t even flinch. You swore you heard a low chuckle.

You rounded a corner, panting from the rush.

Dead end.

You froze. Just for a second. Long enough. A shadow loomed.

Before you could react, Sukuna was there. Too fast. His body blocked your path, tall and imposing. He backed you into the wall with a smooth, predatory step. You felt the cold concrete against your back and the heat of him in front of you.

His arms came up. Your wrists were pinned gently, but firmly, on either side of your head. Your phaser clattered to the floor, forgotten.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“Thought you could escape?” he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble that you felt as much as heard. Your heart thundered. “I… I wasn’t hiding.”

“No?” His face dipped lower. His breath brushed your cheek. “Foolish girl.”

Then he kissed you. Hard. Intense. Possessive.

It wasn’t sweet. It was fire. Sudden and consuming. The kind of kiss that left your knees weak and your thoughts scattered like stars.

When he pulled back, your lips were tingling, your lungs gasping for air.

Then—buzz.

You looked down just as your vest lit up again. Sukuna held up his phaser, already retreating a step. “Got you,” he said smoothly, his tone soaked in smug delight.

You gaped at him. “You—! That was an unfair distraction…” You said softly, visibly moping.

He just smirked, already turning away, his silhouette melting into the flashing lights like some dark king of mischief rather than the king of curses. You stood there, flushed and breathless, your back still pressed to the wall.

A small, helpless laugh escaped you.

He had definitely won. But not just the game.

dividers by @/dollywons <3

[skimmingmilk]

"If it helps, one of the many scenarios my brain likes to twist around is imagining Sonic's perspective of No Cracks In A Closed Loop (and I adore Tails getting to be a badass and pulling off the impossible, too- my brain just likes to spin on the angst sometimes)" - @manynerdthings

A/N: So I was inspired...

I think it's safe to say this helped a lot xD Thank you, manynerdthings!

This is a continuation of my fic "No Cracks in a Closed Loop"

No Cracks in a Closed Loop — Sonic's Side

"Sonic."

That single word—no, just the voice alone—was enough to cut through the adrenaline rush as pure chaos energy sang through his veins and ignited every nerve with its spark. In a flash of light and sound, Super Sonic punched a hole through the Starfall-titan-wanna-be by using his own body as a projectile. A cocky grin cut across his muzzle as it wobbled in place, setting its sights on him instead of the city it had been about to level; its laser cannons aimed directly at the fault line.

This fight wouldn't last twenty seconds. They'd already won.

"What's up, partner?" Sonic said into the comm as he shot skyward.

The streak of gold drew the mech's cannon higher, until it cleared the tips of skyscrapers and nearby mountaintops by the time it shot at him. The laser's heat didn't even singe his fur, firing at full power into the stratosphere instead of drilling deep into the crust of the planet. It zinged past the satellite Tails was communicating from, but Super Sonic's gaze didn't linger on it for more than half a second—already more than certain it was out of the laser's range. Speeding through the air, he whirled around towards the mech for his next move. He was going to cyloop Eggman's newest addition to his junk pile right off its feet. 

Swerving down in a sharp arc, Super Sonic avoided the next blast while he swung around to try and circle it. It's clawed hand swiped at him before he could complete his first circuit. He shot straight up before it could catch him, homing attacking it in the face instead.

The comm was still quiet. Tails must've swapped to their own channel. Super Sonic flew backwards, putting both the titan and the distant satellite in his line of sight. Whatever he had to say, he didn't want anyone else to hear it.

Super Sonic's brow furrowed as a barrage of bullets opened up on him. He weaved between the hundreds of projectiles glinting dangerously in the sunlight, but his chaos energy and speed worked in tandem, as fluidly as a dance, while he searched for another opening to try the cyloop again.

He could beat this thing without it, sure, but it was the fastest way to take it down.

"Tails? Still with me, bud?" Super or not, Sonic still spared a second to check in, static ringing in his ears as he burst through the center of the mech's chest plate for a shortcut.

"I'm here," Tails answered, but his voice sounded faint, like the feedback was drowning him out. "Sorry, I…" Super Sonic started his cyloop. "I just wanted to—" He was halfway around. "I'm sorry—"

Sonic closed the loop. A burst of chaos energy swelled up with a deafening boom. The air rippled with the force of it in great gusts of wind that rocked the trees and the grass of the nearby hills. Waves rose up in the bay, their white caps scraping the bottom of the golden bridge that marked the edge of the sea. The fake titan lifted into the air, sparks crackling off its metal casing as its system overloaded. Super Sonic didn't give it a second to recalibrate itself.

Faster than anyone could see, he smashed into it on all sides. A tiny mote of golden light against the towering behemoth, but it struck every weak point, fried every circuit, as the chaos energy pressed in on it from the outside. Metal crunched and caved it on itself, contorting into a twisted configuration until it no longer resembled a machine.

A cheap imitation of the ancients' attempts to defend themselves, designed only to destroy instead of protect.

Super Sonic grabbed onto mech's arm—or maybe its leg, it was hard to tell at this point—as the cyloop's effect faded, catching it before it crushed Westopolis. He swung it around and around, gritting his teeth as he built up momentum and set his sights on the ocean out ahead of them. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—

Super Sonic let go.

The mech's remains were flung through the air, over the coastline and beyond the bridge that cut off the bay from the sea. It crashed into the water, the ocean spray shooting up into the air in a tower of mist once it hit the surface. The waves rolled aggressively towards the coastline, but ultimately broke apart in the bay before they could do too much damage. Some millionaires might have to replace a yacht or two, but that wasn't Sonic's problem.

As he dusted his hands off, he could finally acknowledge the warning bells Tails's last words to him had set off. "Hey, what was that, bud? I didn't catch—"

Super Sonic turned towards the satellite, addressing it like he would Tails, but it was gone. Instead a cloud of smoke filled the space where the satellite had been not ten seconds ago. Metal shards and fire rained upon the bay. Everything in pieces. Everything gone.

His comm was in chaos. Unintelligible voices shouted over one another in a cacophony of white noise that was already fighting a losing battle to the ringing in his ears. But he still noticed one voice was missing. He couldn't hear it.

He hadn't heard any of it.

Over the sonic boom of his cyloop and the screeching of metal as he demolished the titan, Sonic hadn't heard the satellite explode.

The satellite his little brother was on.

He'd been trying to tell him something.

He'd been trying to tell him something before a satellite exploded with him on it.

"I'm sorry."

Tails. 

Super Sonic shot off like a bullet, speeding towards the black cloud of smoke and smoldering debris like there was even a chance—

No. There had to be a chance—

"I just wanted to—I'm sorry—"

Why? What happened? What did you do, Tails?

He hadn't even properly seen him off before he left. Tails had been trying to hack into Eggman's satellite remotely while Sonic was out chasing after the faux titans. He told them all about his plan to board the satellite and everyone agreed it sounded like the right call, so long as he could do it quickly. They needed to disrupt the signal, after all, and Tails was their best shot.

That was what he'd said, wasn't it? "You're our best shot, Tails. I believe in you, partner."

Their best shot, but not the only one. Not if it meant this.

Nothing was worth this.

Sonic didn't need to breathe while super, but his lungs still burned twin holes in his chest as his own nervous system caught fire. Golden sparks flicked off his quills as he raced through the air. Fiery eyes frantically scanned each scrap of metal that fell, but they must've already been irritated from the smoke because they burned and blurred with the rest of the world around him—

"—onic, wait! Come back! Sonic!"

One voice.

Super Sonic stopped. He stopped so fast and so suddenly, it felt like his own soul completely missed the memo. Like everything inside him continued to hightails it towards where Tails had been without him, leaving him empty. Hollow. Cold.

A vacuous space in the center of himself where there'd once been something. 

The chaos energy inside him didn't know what to do with that.

With so much… nothing.

Stunned, he could only float in place for a stupid second until he remembered he'd stopped for a reason. With a sharp turn, his stare locked onto a splash of orange amidst the blotchy colors of the rest of the world bleeding into one another. Like he was still moving too fast to see clearly. Like he couldn't catch up to himself.

"Sonic…" Tails's voice broke like it had on the comm, but it wasn't with pain guilt fear regret static.

Vision clearing, Sonic could see him now. At the edge of one of the hills overlooking Westopolis and the bay. Tails just rubbed at his nose with a sheepish sort of grin, like the explosion was a minor miscalculation. A hiccup. My bad, he could hear him saying, like he was standing in the middle of his workshop, covered in soot and singed fur, one hand on his hip and a fire extinguisher at his feet.

Like he was fine.

Like he hadn't been incinerated in the fiery inferno smoldering above them.

Tails lowered his hand, eyes shining as they looked up at him, reflecting the very sky Super Sonic was caught in as the satellite's remains fell all around him. He'd been on that satellite. Just seconds ago, Sonic had been so sure of it.

He'd been so sure he'd lost him…

Then Tails opened his arms to him and laughed.

All at once Sonic crashed back into himself, chest heaving with a sharp inhale as his heart lurched forward. 

Faster than a blink, Super Sonic barrelled into Tails and sent them toppling down the hillside. They smacked hard against the ground, but Sonic took the brunt of the fall even with the world spinning around them. His arms encircled Tails tightly, one hand protecting the back of his head while the other braced the small of his back as they tumbled and whooped like a pair of idiots. Pure joy radiated through him, burning brighter than the chaos energy coursing through his quills. It knocked the emeralds right out of him. The seven gems fell into the grass around them as the two mobians eventually rolled to a stop.

Sonic clutched Tails to him, shaking with breathless laughter as he felt his little brother hug him back just as tightly. "I'm here," Tails was saying, and it took a minute to realize he'd been repeating the words while Sonic's hands were trembling. "I'm here. It's okay, big bro. I'm here. I’m here."

"And you say I'm the one that's gonna give you a heart attack," Sonic wheezed, not bothering to give himself room to breathe if it meant letting go for even a second.

"Can't let you have all the fun." Tails smoothed his hands over Sonic's spines to try and settle him, his touch purposeful and grounding. "Deep breaths, big bro. You're gonna pass out."

"Nuh-uh," he argued, but filled his lungs with his next inhale anyway, then let all the air ease out of him.

"That's it. There ya go," Tails encouraged, but Sonic couldn't help his snort of indignation at being coddled and pushed away from him. 

Except Tails just tightened his grip; fingers curling in his fur like they'd be forced apart if he didn't. He hid his face in the crook of Sonic's neck, his breaths coming only a little too fast. But his hands were shaking, too, and his twin tails wound around them both as if they were enough to protect them from the next threat. 

Sonic didn't pull away. He just sat back, the eleven-year-old practically in his lap, and rested his hand atop Tails's head.

"Gave me a real scare there, pal," he said, voice low and gentle as he smoothed out his fur, picking at the grass and brambles they were both covered in.

"…Scared me, too."

Sonic's heart clenched, the open admission like a bludgeon to his protective instincts, even if his pride assured him Tails could handle it. After all, the proof had all but climbed into his lap. But now that he was looking at him—really looking at him—he could see his fur was mussed up from more than just a tumble at supersonic speed. A streak of blood stained his fur on his shoulder and there was a lump near the center of his back that filled Sonic with an angry fire hot enough to burn through the atmosphere when he so much as brushed against it with his fingers. 

Tails didn't flinch when he grazed it, but his muscles gave an involuntary spasm that rippled beneath his fur and his hold on Sonic tightened. It was enough to quell the roiling rage to a simmer. Something he could stick a lid on without worrying it would boil over if left unchecked. It wasn't what Tails needed from him right now.

But Sonic still wanted some answers.

"What happened up there?" he asked. 

Tails shook his head. "Just a bit of a closer call than I thought it'd be. But I'll be okay. I am okay."

Sonic instinctively bristled, prepared to be shut out of whatever it was he'd gone through. "Tails—"

"I'll tell you someday," he promised, pressing his paw over Sonic's heart. "I mean it. But right now we've got a lot of Eggman's mess to clean up. There's still six other titans out there and I'm sure everyone else is worried."

Sonic sighed, as exasperated as he could manage when he was still just glad this kid was alive. "Gonna hold you to that," he threatened, ruffling his fur to muss it up on purpose. "You owe me. Nearly shocked the Chaos Emeralds right outta my system."

"Says Mr. Guy-Who-Loves-Adventure," Tails teased as he pushed himself up to stand. "You should be used to it by now."

Sonic snorted when he was offered a hand up, but he took it nonetheless. "When I go gray early, I'll know exactly who to blame."

"Don't worry. I'll help you dye your quills, old man," Tails snickered, but it broke off with a wince as a sharp twinge ran through his back.

Sonic was quick to lay a supportive hand at his hip to steady him. "Look who's talking. At this rate, you're gonna be right there with me setting the record for the world's youngest old timers."

Tails sent him a look, but accepted the help nonetheless as he leaned his weight against him. "Did you really have to knock us all the way down the hill like that?"

"Heh. Well, in my defense, wasn't exactly thinking straight." Sonic scratched at his nose, giving him a not-so-subtle onceover. "Didn't bang ya up too bad, did I?"

"Nah. I'll bounce back," Tails assured him, giving him a pat on the back.

"You always do," Sonic agreed warmly as they took a few steps in tandem so they could start collecting the Chaos Emeralds on their way back up the hill while Tails alerted everyone to their status on his comm and checked in on everyone else as well.

Sonic just listened, taking in the rise and fall of his voice, his steady assurances and sighs of relief to hear that the world hadn't fallen apart in his absence. Even if it very nearly did. As far as Sonic was concerned, anyway.

But he was okay now. That was what mattered. And whatever it was that happened on that satellite—whatever reason Tails had for calling him seconds before disaster—he would trust that his little brother would come to him when he was ready. Because he'd be there for him. No matter what.

Keeping his arm looped around Tails’s waist even after they made it back up the hill, Sonic looked up at the smoke still fading from the sky. He tightened his hold on him. It felt like another lifetime, like another him had first seen the explosion and feared the worst. Tails followed his gaze, quiet again with all the calls taken care of and winded from the uphill climb. Through his labored breaths, there was the slightest tremor that traveled from his chest to where he stood pressed against his brother.

"…Scared me, too."

 "Hey, whatever happened up there," Sonic broke the silence, his voice drawing Tails back down beside him. "Whatever you did, I'll bet it was seriously way past cool." He glanced over at him, waiting to catch his eye before giving him a wink.

All too easily, Tails grinned up at him, the shape of his smile the spitting image of his brother's. "Way past is definitely one way to put it."

———

Five years later…

———

"You've been quiet all day, partner. Something going on in that big brain of yours?"

Everyone else had split off for the night. Team Dark vanished sometime after lunch, after Rouge once again tricked Shadow into accompanying her, and Team Chaotix had an appointment for their next case. Amy took Cream back home to Vanilla while Tangle and Whisper left to help Jewel out with some Restoration business.

Which left just Sonic and Tails lounging on the couch; the former picking up where Vector had left off in the game he'd been playing, tapping away at the controller while the latter watched.

Tails hummed in acknowledgement, so Sonic let him have a minute of quiet to collect his thoughts. He picked at one of Whisper's cinnamon muffins, crumbs scattering across the coffee table, but he didn't eat any of it. He hadn't had much of an appetite since slinking out of his lab earlier that afternoon.

It probably had something to do with the quiet and the way he'd been kinda clingy. Sonic had planned on going for a run as soon as Tails retreated back to his lab to tinker with whatever gadgets he had tucked away back there, but he seemed pretty content to stay curled up on the couch beside him. Still, Sonic could adapt. He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and slumped back into the cushions as he wandered aimlessly around in a game he couldn't remember owning.

"Do you remember that time you went up against Eggman's seven fake titans?"

Sonic let out a low whistle. "Boy, is that a blast from the past. What about it?" 

When Tails didn't immediately continue, Sonic pressed the pause button, then shifted against the cushion to sit up and face his not-so-little-anymore bro. The sixteen-year-old fox tore his gaze from the screen to watch him instead, eyes bright from television's glow. Looking at him like that, for a split second, Sonic could still see the insecure, little fox kit he used to be in the way his shoulders hunched up as if to make himself smaller. To take up less space in the world.

Sonic draped one arm along the back of the couch, leaving space for him to lean into if he wanted it. No matter how big he got, there'd always be space for him.

Tails scooted closer and rested his head against Sonic's arm. "I needed to disrupt the satellite signal powering the Chaos Emerald vaults, but Eggman locked me out of the remote connection so I had to access it directly—"

"On the actual satellite," Sonic interjected, fingers drumming against the back of the couch. "I remember."

Tails released a long exhale. "Well, he set a trap. A way to slow me down so I wouldn't be able to unlock the emeralds for you in time. The same code that would disrupt the satellite's signal would also cause it to self-destruct. Eggman banked on me having enough self-preservation that I wouldn't engage it without trying to disable that function first."

"But you set it off anyway."

"I set it off anyway," Tails confirmed with a decisive nod. "It was the outcome with the highest percentage of saving people. The fastest way to help you guys. I thought I could get out in time. I should've gotten out in time," his voice lowered, eyes distant as if he was reliving the moment right there on their couch. "But I couldn't. Not on my own. I needed… help."

Sonic tried to follow him there, even if he didn't much like to relive that day in his waking hours. "So you called me."

"Not… exactly." Tails sat up straighter so he could look him in the eye. "I knew you'd come get me if I asked, but then countless lives would've been lost if the titans had gone on unchecked, even if just for a couple of seconds. Sometimes that's all it takes…" Tails's fist clenched as he dropped his hardened gaze to his lap. "I made the call to initiate the self-destruct in order to save people. I couldn't take that back. I couldn't take you away from them. Not again."

A younger Sonic would've snapped at him—would've argued over the value of his life with him until he wasn't the only one blue in the face. But at twenty-three, Sonic had fought more of these battles than he cared to count and never once walked away a winner. So he sat back, held his tongue, and let Tails explain himself.

"I called you to say goodbye," his voice lowered to a whisper, "I wanted to give you that, at least.”

He'd had a feeling. It wasn't one he dwelled on freely, but sometimes the thought wandered in uninvited. Moreso during the first couple of months after the incident, when everything was still fresh and closer to their present.

Before Sonic could respond, Tails pressed forward. "But then an older version of myself traveled through time with two Chaos Emeralds to save me. He said it was the only way. Because at the time, only the two of us knew what transpired on the satellite. We created a temporal paradox, a loop without a proper origin, but as long as it was contained between the two versions of me, nothing could disrupt it. That's why I couldn't tell you before. I wasn't sure… I didn't know if the future version of myself had told you what happened and if that would open up possibilities in the time stream that would botch the encounter entirely." Tails lifted his gaze to seek out Sonic's again, and he could see the eleven-year-old sitting in front of him like it was that very same day. "I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you."

"Nothing to apologize for, bud. I get it. I wouldn't want to mess up the time stream for that particular moment either." Sonic shifted the arm draped along the couch so he could cup the back of Tails's head, idly ruffling the fur there. "But if you're telling me all this now…" he drawled, moving to scritch behind Tails's ear. "Charmy wasn't the one who swiped Shadow's Chaos Emerald earlier, was he?"

Tails shrugged, muzzle quirking up on one side. "When he showed up with it today, I just had this feeling that it was time to make my move…" Tails explained. "I've been feeling it for a couple weeks now, to be honest. I had all the equipment I'd had on me that day and I looked close enough to how I remembered. I knew I probably had to go back soon. Just needed everything to align so no one would interfere. Today seemed good…"

Sonic tilted his head as Tails trailed off, his eyes still a little distant. "Well, you made it back in one piece, didn't you? Mission accomplished."

"Yeah. Mission accomplished," he echoed, but whatever was on his mind continued to fester. "I thought I made a mistake."

"Hm?"

"There were only three seconds left," Tails whispered. "I thought I messed it all up. I thought I killed us both—"

"You—"

"I was so sure it would work because it already had, but there was still the possibility I could've gotten it wrong. I could've caused a split in our realities. Created two timelines where I ceased to exist, except in this one no one would've known what happened to me and two of the Chaos Emeralds would be lost to time. How would any of you have known where to look?" Tails rambled, pressing his hands over his face. "I estimated the time of day with a standard deviation of a couple of seconds, but those seconds could've been what killed us—"

"Hey, hey, hey," Sonic hushed, shifting to wrap both arms around his little brother as he slumped against him. "You didn't. You're here. You're right here with me, see?" He gave him a firm squeeze, smile tugging at his muzzle as Tails hugged him back tightly. "Atta boy."

"Stupid…" he mumbled into Sonic's shoulder. "Why does this still work so well?"

"Heh. What're big brothers for?" Sonic huffed out a chuckle. "Listen, you can't live a life of what-ifs, bud. It'll drive you outta your mind. I should know. And I know you know that, too." He felt Tails's nod against his cheek. "You did exactly what you set out to do. And heck, you used the Chaos Emeralds to travel through time! When did you learn how to do that, huh? Holding out on your big bro?"

Tails snorted, but it got him to relax enough to pull back. "Figured if I could use Chaos Control, time travel was just an added boost. Like adding a supercharger to the Tornado's engine."

"Tch. You figured." Sonic rolled his eyes, but the warmth in them was nothing but fond. "Give yourself a little more credit. You did something incredible today, Tails. You defied time and space to save yourself. And not only that, you gave yourself a future to look forward to. Because who wouldn't want to turn out to be like you?"

It was Tails's turn to roll his eyes, though it was his own chuckle that betrayed him. "That's what I told me."

"And wiser words were never spoken," Sonic assured him as he gave his knee a firm pat.

"I dunno. Could make a case for the consequences of rewriting timelines and creating unsustainable permutations of past and future events." Tails grinned.

"Now you’re just being smart," Sonic snorted.

"Well, I am a genius." Tails bumped his shoulder to Sonics. "But I also learned from the best. Even eleven-year-old me picked up on that."

"Well, he's a genius, too. He knows what's up." Sonic slung his arm around Tails’s shoulder, this time his turn to watch as his brother picked up the video game controller to continue where Sonic left off. 

He let him, taking his turn to be content as he watched Tails figure out the game faster than he did and go farther than Sonic could. They said nothing for a few minutes, Tails working out the rest of his pent up feelings through the game while Sonic quietly processed what he'd just been told. He wasn't a stranger to time travel, not by a long shot, but even so, it wasn't what he thought the answer to that day had been. As much faith he had in his best friend, his self-sacrificial tendencies were something he couldn't help but take notice of. After all, he'd learned from the best, hadn't he?

But it wasn't with bitterness or disdain when he set his gaze on the teen beside him. That wasn't possible; not when he saw every age at once. Not when he was in absolute awe of how far his kid had come. 

"Tails."

"Sonic," Tails answered instinctively, matching his tone with the hint of a crooked smile.

"Thanks for saving him."

Tails blinked and paused the game so he could look at Sonic. In the light from the television screen, green eyes glimmered with a depth that took him back to a younger version of his big bro, who was trying to do everything in his power to be there for him. Because he wanted to be. Because he needed to be.

One tail curled around Sonic's back and draped over his lap, giving back the same reassurance he always gave so freely.

"Anytime, big bro."

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 24 - Sex Toy(s)

Ghost x Reader - 1.5k (on ao3)

summary: Ghost is focused solely on your pleasure when he comes home. (Reader POV)

cw: overstimulation

note: this is basically just a ghost version of my soap x reader from day 2, so if you like this consider checking that out!

Ghost is always greedy when he first comes home from deployment.

You can’t help but feel a bit bad about how… you-centered the sex always is, but it’s hard to complain when he holds you down by the thighs and feasts on your cunt for hours on end. Seriously - you’d thought you might die of dehydration the first time you passed out and woke up to him still buried between your legs. He’s a demon.

Simon’s not a particularly open man, and you haven’t been together long enough to justify pushing for more from him, but as best you can gather (or assume), he goes from laser-focused on whatever missions they’ve got him doing to laser-focused on you.

All that militaristic focus, all the desire to serve, focused right on you. Sometimes it feels like you might drown beneath the pure force of him, but he drags you back up.

You’re having fun with whatever this thing between you and Simon is. At some point you know you’ll have to either cut it off or push for more, but for now you’re content to see him for just a few days every few months. 

And, well… it’s easy to let yourself get dragged into him when he is home.

You never gave him a key, but somehow you’re unsurprised when you come home from work one day to see him relaxed on the couch, mask already pulled up to his nose.

You’re even less surprised when you’re pinned to the wall hardly a heartbeat later.

You certainly don’t mind - Simon’s a fucking fantastic kisser, all nipping bites and harsh sucks, pressing his whole weight into your face while he holds your body flush with his. The two of you stumble against each other as you make your way to the bedroom, falling into the walls.

You jerk away from him at the sound of a picture falling, just managing to glance over your own shoulder. “Simon!” You scold, slapping his shoulder when he lifts you up the wall and glues himself to your neck.

“I’ll… fix… it…” he promises between bites, sucking hickies across the column of your throat. You’d like to snap something back at him, but he manages to find every spot that makes you melt. It’s impossible to complain, so you decide you’ll get him back later and wrap your legs around his waist.

“You better,” you still manage, ducking low until you can find his lips and drag his attention back to your mouth.

The next minutes flash by as he carries you to the bedroom, slowly stripping each of you of your clothes. You find yourself dropped onto the bed in only your granny panties, Simon nearly tripping over himself as he tries to kick his jeans off.

You can’t help but giggle at the sight of this big strong military man falling over himself to get to you. “Need some help there?”

He glares as he finally gets his pants off and crawls over you, but the little spark in his eyes dulls the anger. “Just lay there all pretty, don’t need you to do anything here.”

You snort at that, situating yourself comfortably against your pillows. “Did you miss me, or just my body?” You smile at him to show you’re not angry, that you don’t mind that this is the extent of your relationship for now.

He holds himself above you with a hand on your thighs, presses an uncharacteristically soft kiss to your lips. You’re nearly positive you hear him whisper “Both,” before he pulls away, but you don’t get a chance to ask about it before he’s diving between your thighs.

Here’s the thing with Simon - he doesn’t eat you out to make you feel good, he does it because he likes it. Which means that he very rarely warms you up, instead just dives tongue first into your core and feasts.

You and your needs become secondary to his hunger for your body, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It’s easy to melt into the pillows, resting one hand on the back of his head for just a bit more contact as he forces your thighs to the mattress, holding you spread open for himself.

He moans nearly as loudly as you do when he first dips his tongue inside of your hole, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Missed this,” you pant, scratching lightly at his scalp.

He pulls away for half a second, shooting you a look that you can’t quite decipher. “Me, or my mouth?”

That shocks a sharp laugh out of you, and you catch the smile playing at his lips before he buries his face between your folds again.

“You’re…” you pant, shifting against his tongue when it flicks just right over your clit. “You’re a hell of a lot better than- than my vibrator. Less expensive than batteries, too.”

He lifts his head again - a bit shocking, since he usually ignores all of your sounds when he first comes home like this - and you can see an eyebrow cock beneath the mask. “You have a vibrator?”

You give him an unimpressed look. “I’m a grown woman, Simon. Of course I have a vibrator.”

He ignores the snark in your tone and pushes himself up to his knees. “Where?”

You wiggle underneath him, trying to draw his attention back to your dripping center. “Why does it matter? You’re here now, so c’mon-”

He lands a sharp blow on your inner thigh, making you yelp and then pout up at him.

“Faster you tell me, faster I get back to making you come.”

You sigh, knowing he’s not going to leave this alone. “Fine, it’s in the top drawer of my nightstand - you know, where everyone keeps their sex toys?”

He gives you another harsh tap as he leans over. “Less sass,” he rumbles, digging through the drawer.

“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t like my sass.”

He doesn’t respond, which strikes you as slightly odd, but you brush it off when he settles back between your legs with your hitachi in hand.

You raise your eyebrows as he settles onto his stomach, shifting so he’s eye-level with your pussy. He spends a few long moments fiddling with the hitachi, flicking between different speeds and vibrations. He’s so focused on the toy that you can’t help but giggle.

“Having fun?”

He looks back up to you, a rare smile fully lifting lips. “Y’won’t be gigglin’ like that in a few minutes, love.”

You hum, shifting your knees a little higher to spread yourself further open. “Big words, Si. Sure you can live up to it?”

It’s both the wrong and right thing to say - wrong because his eyes narrow and you just know he’s going to destroy your pussy, and right for the same reason.

You let yourself go boneless when he laves his tongue up your center, letting yourself fully relax into the pleasure. Sometimes Simon will spend hours working you up just to refuse to let you come, but never when he’s first home. You doubt he’ll break his pattern now.

And he doesn’t. He gets you off once before he even uses the vibrator, two fingers inside of your hole stroking against your g-spot while his tongue flicks over your clit quickly, drawing you right into a shivery orgasm that has your nerves sparking.

He doesn’t let you come down before you hear the soft buzzing or the hitachi, and then the near painful buzzing right against your overworked clit.

You nearly shoot up the bed, mouth open and eyes wide at the shock of pleasure. It almost hurts so soon after your first orgasm, rush after rush of sensation sending you toppling over another peak before you’re even aware.

“Not gigglin now, hm?” You hear him say, but you’re too drained to bother snapping back past a little tug to his hair. He pushes his fingers into you more harshly at that, and you moan again.

You carry on like that for what could be hours, for all you know. He alternates between using his tongue to thrust into you and sucking your clit between his lips to give you a break from the wand.

You’re sure that he mutters a few things every time you reach that deliciously horrible climax, but the blood rushing through your head and the low sound of vibrations blocks his voice out. All you can really hear - all you can really feel is the pleasure, the way your thighs shake by your sides, the drool slipping past your lips, the slick spreading across your thighs.

It’s a special kind of torture. The wand doesn’t get tired like Simon’s jaw, it’s merciless against your most sensitive parts, and Simon has no qualms with holding you down and forcing you to take it all for him. It’s both horrible and heavenly, painful and euphoric.

At some point, the world goes dark. You let yourself slip into a half-asleep state, knowing that you’ll wake up in the same position, your favorite military man glued to your pussy.

[mariacallous]

Democrats unite to protect the first openly transgender member of Congress against GOP measures

Political landscapes are often contentious, but the recent uproar surrounding Representative-elect Sarah McBride (D-Del.) has sparked fierce debates and solidified support across party lines. McBride is making history as the first openly transgender person elected to Congress, yet her historic win has come with challenges and Republican pushback.

During recent Democratic caucus meetings, Rep. Becca Balint expressed how colleagues rushed to show their support for McBride. “We have your back,” Balint recalls being told by her peers. This strong support was evident during the orientation event for new House members, where McBride's name was met with thunderous applause.

But not everyone was thrilled with McBride's election. Just days after her victory, Republican lawmakers initiated moves targeting her right to use women's restrooms at the Capitol, labeling their measures as protective of women's spaces. Rep. Nancy Mace (R-S.C.) introduced legislation aimed at banning transgender women from these facilities. Following suit, House Speaker Mike Johnson announced similar rules covering bathrooms across Capitol Hill.

Kate Redburn, co-director of the Center for Gender and Sexuality Law at Columbia Law School, articulated the current climate within the GOP, stating, “They have laser-focused on transgender inclusion as something they want to roll back.” It appears this focus on discrimination and exclusion against McBride is reflective of broader societal attitudes toward transgender individuals.

The pushback from Republicans has compelled Democrats to rally publicly around McBride. Many see this as not merely supporting her, but also as defending the dignity of the entire LGBTQ community. Balint emphasized the need for Democrats to loudly express their support, ensuring they send the message to Republicans: defiance against discrimination and bigotry is firm.

Johnson and Mace’s actions have stirred heated discussions on civil rights and gender equality. Critics, including Balint, argue these actions are cruelly targeted at McBride, aiming to dehumanize her before even taking her oath of office. McBride's colleagues made clear they’ll unite against this tide of discrimination, and they recognize the wider repercussions for queer representation and safety on Capitol Hill.

The incoming representative has taken the scrutiny and allegations against her in stride, framing her role not as one to focus on these confrontations but rather as implementing solutions for Delawareans. “I’m not here to fight about bathrooms. I’m here to fight for Delawareans and to bring down costs facing families,” McBride stated, reiteratively impressing her constituents’ basic needs above partisan disputes.

Though McBride acknowledges the intense scrutiny she faces, she is determined to not let it distract her from her goals. McBride's steadfast resolve is also shared by her supporters back home, who feel disappointed by how she has been welcomed to her new role. They maintain confidence in her ability to navigate difficult situations within Congress.

Conversely, reactions to her handling of the Republican measures have not been entirely supportive among some members of the LGBTQ community. Some activists criticized her compromise as capitulation, worrying it might send the wrong message to both the Republican Party and the trans community. The anxiety stems from fears of greater future repercussions stemming from Republican advances, most recently discussed by influential trans figures and journalists.

Specifically, Natalie Boedecker, who identifies as transgender, expressed disappointment with McBride's approach. “Her capitulation sends the wrong message to the GOP and to the larger trans community,” Boedecker indicated. Others echoed her sentiment, expressing feelings of betrayal as they witnessed perceived succumbing to bullying tactics from the Republican leadership.

Balint and other supportive representatives highlight the importance of McBride's presence as part of the legislative process not only for trans rights but for all constituents. They argue continued dialogue and expression of solidarity are the best paths forward. Meanwhile, McBride herself aims to engage positively with both allies and opponents, hoping to demonstrate her effectiveness as a legislator beyond identity politics.

This challenging situation reflects the broader divisions within America today—where identity politics intersects with traditional party lines, bringing to light the urgent need for dignity and respect across all political spectrums. It sheds light on how one representative, emblematic of broader struggles for equality, remains steadfast, even as she navigates the tumultuous waters of American politics.

Democratic leaders contend these tactics against McBride reflect not only targeted bullying but also broader systemic issues of discrimination. Despite the incoming Congress facing numerous pressing matters, such as the economy and social safety nets, the focus laid by the GOP on McBride highlights their strategic emphasis on divisive identity politics.

Moving forward, Republican efforts to curtail transgender rights might not only affect McBride but potentially influence the wider LGBTQ community. It signifies to many the challenges still faced by transgender individuals, particularly those trying to navigate political spaces traditionally dominated by conservative ideologies.

Yet, even amid such adversity, McBride continues to inspire others. Advocates from across the spectrum remain hopeful, viewing her role as pivotal not just for her constituents but for future representation. The continuous fallout from her election attests to the complexity of social justice movements and the resilience required to navigate them effectively.

The mix of overwhelming support and vocal opposition highlights the delicate balance McBride must strike at every turn. Her approaches, whether through strategic compliance or outspokenness, reflect the tough line politicians walk between principle and pragmatism. And as she prepares to take her seat, the real story may well be how she will influence the dynamics of power and representation moving forward.

With eyes on her, the story of Sarah McBride serves as both a challenge and beacon for change, demonstrating the significant societal shifts underway as previously marginalized groups gain voices and visibility.

The stakes are high—how will McBride navigate this uncharted territory? What will her leadership look like amid scrutiny? For now, only time will tell how her tenure will shape the future of queer representation within the halls of Congress.

Nevertheless, the stage is set for what many hope will be a reformation of engagement within the political system. The vigor of civil rights protections and the legitimacy of marginalized identities will likely remain at the forefront of discussion as McBride embarks on her mission to serve Delaware and the trans community at large.

[yandereonepieceimagines]

Hiii!!! I‘m so glad that I’ve found someone who writes for sentomaru… the most underrated one piece character, I tell you. Anyways, how about sentomaru x pirate!reader? How would that go? Nsfw would be great too if thats not too much…

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Of course! When it comes to romance, there are plenty of characters I’d be happy to write for. And as for the scenario I had in mind, it does get a bit NSFW, but probably not in the way you’d expect. xD

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Warning! NSFW Below!

Sentomaru

The moon hung low over Sabaody Archipelago, its light broken by the shadows of mangroves and the colossal silhouettes of Pacifista. Tonight, though, a ripple of excitement and uncertainty ran through the Marines: your ship had literally emerged from the seas, rising up in a rush of foam and spray, having come from the depths after sailing through Fish-Man Island all the way from the New World. Only to head back to the Grand Line instead, for reasons no one in the Marines could fathom. At the center of the commotion, Sentomaru stood with his battle axe braced on his shoulder, sharp eyes fixed on your ship making a daring, midnight escape.

He had heard the stories. A captain with a four hundred million belli bounty, your ship bristling with cannons and a crew loyal to the bone.

He’d tracked you and your crew from Sabaody, following rumors and reports until you landed on a small, vibrant island called Pavot Island, which was famous for its endless fields of poppy flowers blooming in every color imaginable. It was there, for the first time, that he crossed blades with you in person. The battle tore through the painted fields and shook the heart of the island, ending only when, working alongside your crew, you cut down the Pacifista he had brought as backup, leaving nothing behind but shattered metal, scorched petals, and a memory that haunted him after.

That was only the beginning. Word spread fast after Pavot Island: you’d already crushed two more Pacifista under your blade, and your crew had blasted the remaining three to smoldering heaps. Sentomaru’s pride creaked with something vile. He hadn’t met someone like you before. Someone who stood her ground, eyes blazing with the wild freedom he’d only ever heard pirates talk about.

Your clashes were brutal, every meeting shaking the earth with the force of your blows. You were equals. Each time your blade met his axe, sparks flew, neither of you giving ground. But what started as professional duty twisted into something sharper, deeper. Each time you flashed that mocking grin, wild hair loose, sweat glinting on your cheek, Sentomaru felt his heart race in a way no fight ever had.

He told himself it was about the challenge, about pride. But after hearing your story through a recent report… How you’d been forced into piracy the day you cut down a highly corrupt Marine, how you fought only for your own freedom, not for treasure or bloodlust, he started to watch you with a different kind of hunger.

Sometimes, late at night, he’d remember the last time you clashed weapons. The memory would come unbidden, sharp as the ring of steel meeting steel; your laugh, low and mocking, just before you vanished in a swirl of smoke. He could almost feel the heat of your body, the way your movements were so alive, so unpredictable.

The raw power in your stance, the way your muscles tensed as you moved with a deadly grace, left a deep impression on him. The challenge in your eyes as you tore through his defenses, the ferocity in your smirk, and the stubborn pride that refused to yield even when pressed to the limit. All of it replayed in his mind over and over again. You had left him, for the first time, flat on his back, staring up at the stars, the scent of gunpowder and scorched air still lingering. Heavy with the bitterness of fire, the chemical tang from Pacifista lasers, and something wild and floral burning from the ruined fields.

He gripped the edge of his futon hard, breath coming faster as memories twisted into fantasy. The thought of you; untamed, dangerous, almost within his grasp, set his nerves aflame in a way no opponent ever had. He shouldn’t want you. He was supposed to capture you, not crave the weight of your body under his, not fantasize about sinking his teeth into your shoulder and listening to you gasp his name, rough and needy. In his mind’s eye, your heartbeat pounded against his, matching his ragged breaths, your hands tangled tight in his black hair as you arched up to meet him. You’d laugh, low and breathless, just for him, and he’d leave another mark. Hidden where only you two would know, a secret claim no one else could see. “No one else gets to touch you like this,” he’d whisper into your ear, voice hoarse, as he pressed closer. It was a craving that haunted him- wanting you wild, spent, and wrapped up in his arms for hours after, his big hands tracing your skin, unable to let you go even when the fire between you finally settled to a smolder.

But Sentomaru had never been good at playing by the rules. And when it came to you, the lines between duty, obsession, and desire had started to blur into something he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, control anymore. The more he tried to bury the ache, the deeper it took root, spreading through him like wildfire, leaving him restless, wanting, and consumed by the image of you just out of reach.

[sturnboos]

CHAPTER 3 - you’re welcome sweetheart

The four of them had been working on furnishing your cabin for hours. While Chris focused on the furniture and Nick debated wallpaper choices with you, Matt took a moment to explore your inventory just out of curiosity.

And what he found... bothered him. Wait he thought opening her digital closet she only has starter outfits?

He glanced across the room. you were laughing with Nick, your avatar wearing the basic Realm VR hoodie and jeans one of only three default options. you didn’t seem to mind. But Matt did.

He felt a spark of something a mix of protective instinct and something else he wasn’t ready to name. So later that evening when the rest of the group logged off for the night, Matt stayed behind. He had a plan. He wasn’t doing this for credits. Not even for bragging rights. He was doing this because you had made their virtual world feel real and you deserved to feel real in it, too.

he stepped into a challenge the door sealed shut behind him, and instantly, beams of red light shot across the room. hundreds of laser threads weaving the room like a deadly spiderweb an shifting ever so slightly "Welcome to the Lazer Maze… make it to the other platform within 5 minutes to win 6,000 credits"

Matt takes a deep breath studying the lasers, but he knew he had to move quickly. He rolled forward, barely missing a beam that would have triggered a trap. A countdown blinked in the corner of his vision This wasn’t just any trial. This was a stealth and agility challenge “Easy. Just don’t die.” He muttered to himself.

The floor beneath him shifted tiles turning, rotating. The maze was alive. He dodged left, slid under a horizontal beam, then jumped over a zigzagged pattern of vertical lasers. Touching one meant failing the challenge instantly and possibly losing all credits.

He felt sweat dripped down his temple in real reality. but he ignored it for now as his virtual fingers moved with muscle memory, his body ducking, flipping, side stepping like it was parkour. A laser singed the edge of his jacket, leaving a pixel-burned line across his arm. His health bar dipped dangerously but he didn’t fail as it didn’t touch his avatars skin.

60 seconds left.

Then he reached it. A glowing, suspended platform shimmered at the maze’s center. Matt lunged. One final dive through a moving triangle of beams and he hit the pad hard. Then a soft chime ding!

“CONGRATULATIONS 6,000 CREDITS HAS BEEN AWARDED TO YOUR ACCOUNT”

Matt collapsed, his breath ragged, arm glitching slightly from where the beam hit his hoodie. He smiled anyway. "Totally worth it."

The next morning, when Pixel logged in expecting another cozy decorating session, only Nick and Chris were there but before she could question it the door burst open. Matt stumbled in, battered but grinning like a fool. “Pixel... Hey.”

She turned around, startled. “Matt! What happened to- why is your arm glitchy?!” Chris and Nick stood behind her, smirking.

Matt opened a trade window. “I noticed you only had starter outfits. Figured we could fix that.”

The screen populated with outfit after outfit so many you basically had one suitable for every occasion. even pyjamas?!

your jaw dropped. “You... you did this for me? but their your credits to spend not mine??”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the visible limping. “Figured you deserved to look as badass as you actually are.” She stared at the items, then at him. Then she hugged him. Hard.

“You’re insane” she whispered. “But thank you.”

Matt laughed, red-faced. “You’re welcome sweetheart”

tags: @blushsturns @riasturns @iloveduckssm @chrissbxby @sturnobessed @kayskreativeideas @tits4matt @mattsfavho @sturniolobananas1 @courta13 @alexisa78 @chrisissos3xy @sturnobessed @mattschelseaa @norahsturns @dolliraez @jibitzlesscrocs @oopsiedaisydeer @gemzyy @sturniolofruitloop @mattschelseaa @hesvoid34 @phone4pills @spaghettislut1 @sturnslux3 @phone4pills @owenstar @luvsturns @nickssidewitch @ariieeesworld @sugarraez

[impala-dreamer]

Captive Audience

A Story from The Boys Universe

~Y/N gets invited to a party but fails to realize that she's the favor...~

Soldier Boy (Ben) x F!Reader

1,700 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Sex and Drug Use. 18+ ONLY

A/N: Written for @jacklesversebingo . "Lick it and find out." Please show some love and reblog. Reblogs are important!

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Green. Green. Green. Everything about him reminded her of a forest. A deep, dark, mist-covered wood that should have scared her, but managed to ensnare her every single time.

Dark green eyes like the leaves; body solid and long like a tree trunk.

Looming over the table, he cast a shadow across her nakedness, blocking the light and noise from the party raging beyond the swinging kitchen door. It was loud, obnoxiously so, flooding the big house with new wave rock and roll and the unmistakable sounds of ecstasy cresting.

But none of that mattered.

There was nothing in her eyes but him, nothing on her mind but the delicious nervousness of wondering what he’d do to her next.

Ben had tied her up good, wrapping prickly kitchen twine tight around her wrists and forcing them above her head. They dangled off the end of the wooden slab and he had attached the rope ends to the closest table leg, keeping her stuck there in place. Her arms ached already, but she was happy to be on display for him.

Blunt nails dragged up her bare legs and dipped between her thighs. He pulled away with a grin.

“Nice an’ juicy. I like that.”

His voice was slow and certain, not a hint of flirtation lingering in his tone. He didn’t need to charm her anymore, she was already right where he wanted her and there was truly no escape.

Not that she’d try anyhow.

The table was cold but warming to her body heat more and more every moment. Her top was warming as well, both from his hands and his gaze. His eyes were like laser beams working their way up and over every curve of her form, and she wondered if x-ray vision wasn’t one of his powers. Patience surely wasn’t one, as he reached for her tits, callously closing his big hands around each globe and kneading almost too roughly. She hissed at the touch and moaned when his thumbs grazed over her nipples.

“Fuck…”

She whimpered. He grinned.

“Oh, you’re gonna be a blast, arentcha?”

Pleasure sparked through her system as his nails dug like pinpricks into the dusky shadow around her nipples and she chewed her bottom lip. Her eyes fluttered when he twisted; her breath caught when he tugged.

“K-keep going and find out, soldier,” she teased, hoping to earn another hard twist.

He obliged and her back arched off the table.

“God!”

Ben chuckled under his breath. “If I had a nickel for every time a broad called me that, I’d be… well, I’m already rich, so...”

Y/N shivered when he pulled back. “Rich, handsome, kind of a jerk- what else you got?”

Amused by her flirtatious bite, he stood back and dug into his pocket.

“Got some party favors,” he replied, pulling out a small baggie full of white powder.

“Thanks…” Y/N licked her lips. “I’d love some.”

He laughed and sucked his teeth. “Oh, this ain’t for you, dollface.” The plastic tickled her stomach, but he warned her through gritted teeth to hold still.

She held her breath too, just for good measure, and closed her eyes as Ben drew a line of cocaine down the center of her.

“This is new,” she whispered.

“It’s fuckin’ hot is what it is,” he corrected.

His breath was like steam on her flesh, the thick shadow on his cheeks beautifully distracting.

He bent over her and pressed his nose to her chest, breathing in the drugs and her scent from tit to clit.

Ben stood up with a jolt and wiped at the powder on his nose.

“Fuckin’ hell, that’s good shit!” He shook himself and his pupils dilated, eclipsing the green. The surge invigorated him and Ben dropped down again, this time running his tongue down the length of her, following the pale trail the coke had left behind.

Her moan was loud and needy.

“Delicious.” He hummed against her soft skin; tongue lingering at the peak of her cunt. “Does your cunt taste as good?”

Vibrant eyes flashed upwards and Y/N melted, spreading her legs for him.

“Why don’t you lick it and find out?”

He cocked an eyebrow and then grabbed at her, strong fingers peeling her thighs apart even further. The skin burned under his touch, bruises readied themselves to spring up once the pressure was gone.

Y/N sucked in a heavy anticipatory breath as he exhaled against her folds. She was soaked already, throbbing just imagining the feeling of his lips on her cunt.

She didn’t have to imagine for long.

Ben kissed her clit.

She gasped.

He dragged his tongue down her slit.

She whimpered.

He jabbed two thick fingers into her.

She nearly screamed.

“Don’t be shy,” he urged, curling his digits deep inside. “Ain’t a real party if no one can hear you having fun.”

Y/N’s arms twisted against the ropes, desperate to drop a hand to his head and tug on the gorgeous tawny locks. “I’ll be sure to keep that in- holy fuck!”

Mid-sentence, Ben jerked forward with his mouth and bounced his tongue against her clit, sending sparks through her system. He licked fast and hard, almost to the point of hurting her, but he held back just enough to make it worth every ache.

Right at the brink, he pulled away. He gazed down with a smirk on his plump, ruddy lips and laughed.

“You seem stressed…”

Y/N thrashed on the hard table, denied and pitiful. “Frustrated is more like it.”

He winked.

The bastard winked at her, knowing full well how close she’d been and how bad she wanted it.

With a seeming snap of his fingers, he was naked next to her, clothing tossed haphazardly onto the floor by the door. His shoulders were huge, arms like thick branches, chest hard and twitching with every movement. His cock already hard and hanging down on his left thigh. Y/N’s eyes shot to it instantly and Ben puckered his lips, enjoying her lustful stare.

He wiped her juices from his face and rubbed them on his cock before stroking slowly. “You like that?”

She nodded. “Mmm, I do.”

His fist bobbed over the tip. “How much? Tell me.”

Y/N wriggled, stuck and hungry for him. “Love it so much. Fuck, your cock is so perfect. I need it…”

“Yeah?” He picked up speed; his upper lip twitched.

“Please… I need your cock so fucking bad.”

Teeth bared, he breathed deeply; chest heaving and biceps flexing as he jerked off in front of her. He put on a show; stepping up on his toes and arching his back as he thrust into his hand. He was crazed and wild-eyed; preening like a porn star. He always loved a captive audience.

Y/N was near to drooling; every bit of her wet and desperate for him. She squirmed and pouted, begging with everything she had.

“Please, fuck me, Ben. Please!”

“You need it bad, don’t you, doll?”

Y/N rolled her hips against the air. “Please!”

Ben licked his lips and looked her over. “So many choices…” Finally, he moved to the head of the table and pressed his legs against the edge. His cock dangled aside her face and he looked down, face glazed with authority and thirst. “Open up.”

Her jaw dropped immediately and her tongue shot out, reaching for his swollen head.

Instead of a gentle slide inside, Y/N earned a hard slap against her cheek. His cock was solid and smooth. The hit stung. She winced and it came again, another quick hit, this time against her lips. Y/N pushed her tongue out as far as she could and Ben rubbed his cock over it, tapping a few times before jabbing into her mouth.

He hit the back of her throat and Y/N swallowed down a retching gag.

He was big and unrelenting.

“Fuck, you take my cock so good… Knew you would. Fuck!”

Her neck was twisted, throat full and struggling. Her breath was quick and her body shivered. Every thrust rolled her eyes deep’ every pull back left with a tight pop of her cheeks.

Ben was vibrating, fucking her throat deep and hard. He sneered as she sucked; head tossed back and eyes glazed.

“So fucking good!”

When he could feel it surge, he jerked away from her mouth and climbed onto the table, straddling her hips. She tugged at the ropes, wiggled beneath him, but there was no release for her in either way.

Bending close, he squeezed her tits, thumbed at her nipples again. Y/N moaned loudly, screamed when he bit down hard on her right tit. His teeth dented the flesh, nearly breaking the skin. He licked it clean and sat back, fisting his cock once more.

“You want this?” he asked, jaw set tight, eyes narrowed on her lips and the longing in her eyes.

“Yes, please!” She gasped, body aching badly.

He sat back, crushing her thighs. “You want all this? You want my cum?”

Unconsciously, her mouth hung open again. “Please!”

His lip trembled, his wrist quickened.

He came with a roar that echoed in her bones.

“Fuck!” Ben doubled over and sprayed her stomach with his hot cum. He rocked into his fist again, shooting another quick load that landed on her chest.

He grinned and took a beat, breathing deeply, laughing with satisfaction.

“You…” He wagged a finger at her. “You’re a fantastic piece of ass.”

He was gone before she could reply, hopping down from the table and scooping up his clothing from the floor.

She watched him dress, lying helplessly on the table, still bound and painted in his cum.

“But…”

Y/N whimpered and he spun around, seemingly remembering she was there.

“Oh, yeah…”

Ben came close and pressed his lips to her ear. She held her breath, waiting for a kiss that never came. He exhaled against her throat and left her with a few words that sizzled in her brain, forever rattling around and reminding her that he was not one to take home to mama.

“Thanks for the fun.”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@akshi8278 @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @the-wounded-healer05  

[gazetto-chronicle]

LIVE2024 HERESY LIMITED 【HETERODOXY Vol.3-IMMORTAL CREED-】 2024.09.12 Toyosu PIT - spice.eplus Live report

At every live show, the GazettE's vocalist RUKI always says, “First, thank you for sharing this time with us.” These words are not just a formality; they come from his heart, and during this two-hour performance, it became evident that this is the reality of their world. Thousands of fans filling the venue chose to share the same space and time with the GazettE, directly meeting the members’ gaze and creating an intense sense of unity. What seems like a "usual" sight for their live shows—a sea of fans and the band connecting deeply—is, in fact, a miraculous and irreplaceable experience. This night served as a profound testament to that truth, and it will surely stand as an enormous “trace” (shouseki) in the band’s future path.

In April of this year, the band’s bassist REITA passed away, and this was their first live performance after the memorial concert "HERESY LIMITED 'SIX GUN'S,'" held on May 27th. This show was part of their fan club exclusive series 'HETERODOXY' Vol. 3. Ahead of the performance, vocalist RUKI stated that the setlist would be chosen from across the three-disc best-of album they released about two years ago (the GazettE 20TH ANNIVERSARY BEST ALBUM HETERODOXY -DIVIDED 3 CONCEPTS-). He also explained that the title, "IMMORTAL CREED," carried the meaning of an "undying belief." In other words, the purpose of this concert was to reflect on the band’s journey so far, while reaffirming their unchanging commitment, no matter what happens. After watching the two-hour show, this became an undeniable conviction.

As the start time approached, the SE track "HETERODOXY" played, and five flags, adorned with the logo of their fan club ‘HERESY,’ slowly rose. With the five spirits gathered on stage, the intro to "Filth in the beauty" began, featuring graceful female vocals. This unexpected opening song sparked a cheer from the audience. When this single was released in 2006, its innovative blend of heavy rock and R&B created a buzz, and the floor shook with movement as fans jumped and headbanged at RUKI’s command. Applauding the sight, RUKI then transitioned the applause into clapping, signaling the start of "VENOMOUS SPIDER'S WEB." As the distorted guitar sound filled the venue, laser beams, like spider webs, crisscrossed the inside of Toyosu PIT. Uruha (Gt) and Aoi (Gt) exchanged guitar riffs while Kai (Dr) drove the beat forward, overwhelming the space with the band’s signature heaviness.

“Tokyo! Show me how cool you can be!” RUKI shouted as "VORTEX" began. Uruha had already taken the center stage platform, and RUKI moved fiercely from side to side, riling up the crowd with clapping and headbanging. In the powerful chorus, you could clearly hear REITA’s (Ba) voice, and the excitement in the room continued to rise. This unusually fast ignition of energy showed that the band truly craved the live performance setting, something RUKI hinted at in his next MC.

“Can I be honest with you? I’m so happy to see you. Really, live shows are a place where you can let out any feelings, any emotions, so feel free to do whatever. Show me any face you want. You don’t have to worry; we’ll lead you.”

Next, they performed "GABRIEL ON THE GALLOWS," a hard-hitting, vertical-headbanging song, followed by "FADELESS," a catchy melody wrapped in loud rock. Both numbers combined the decadent theme of ‘falling from grace’ after losing wings, delivering a clear narrative. During the latter’s outro, the spotlight turned to the rhythm section, placing the focus on the bass, and chants of “REITA!” echoed through the venue, etching his presence into that space.

RUKI’s vocals, both smooth and on the verge of breaking with sharp shouts, were bathed in blue lighting and smoke, reminiscent of water's surface, as he walked unsteadily, expressing loneliness through "DRIPPING INSANITY." The song introduced a world of quiet sorrow. In "QUIET," where the powerful drumming felt like it could blow everything away, RUKI sang "For now it's goodbye" but didn’t complete the line "The habit of leaving an empty space by your side." This left the audience with a tightness in their chest. After the poignant guitar echoes faded completely, applause filled the venue. RUKI’s silhouette swayed like a shadow puppet under the heavy, drumbeat-like drumming of Kai, while Aoi unleashed the maddeningly beautiful intro phrase of "GODDESS." The performance, drenched in red light, ends with RUKI singing of a broken mind, and just as he repeats the words "Are you testing me?" the curtain lifts on "BABYLON'S TABOO." The red lights flickered like candy threads across the hall, while RUKI whispered the spell-like phrase "ADE DUE DAMBALLA," creating a dark and unsettling atmosphere akin to a ritual. The band's heavy, technical, and tricky performance was captivating. No matter how aggressively they stormed through the songs, the deep tracks that followed were always integral, forming the foundation of the GazettE’s profound world.

"After all, live shows are great. Standing here, I feel like this is a place where you can release any emotion. So, everyone, don’t hold back. Let it all out, everything, and follow us from here," RUKI said.

Emphasizing the word "everything," the band’s physical power began to push the emotions of everyone present. In "TWO OF A KIND," RUKI incited headbanging with calls of "Head! Head! Head!" while the audience unleashed their wild energy under the weighty and brisk sound. But it wasn’t just their bodies that trembled—the lyrics like "Knowing the same pain" and "Every time we share our scars" shook their hearts as well. Under the laser beams, "VERMIN" painted a thrilling sight as the crowd leaped high during the chorus, while REITA’s gritty bass lines intertwined with Uruha’s swirling guitar. When the intro to "ATTITUDE" kicked off, the crowd exploded into a massive sing-along and clapping to "Until die!" RUKI rallied the crowd, shouting, "Come on, shout from your gut! Make it reach!" as the guitarists quickly switched positions, driving the audience into a frenzy.

"You're doing great, Tokyo! Can you keep going? You can do more, right? This isn't all you’ve been holding back! Bring it on!" RUKI roared as the crushing low bass of "ABHOR GOD" reverberated through the venue, sparking a storm of headbanging. As the crowd clapped in unison, Uruha and Aoi stood side by side, strumming their riffs, electrifying the audience with their presence. The intense blast beats of Kai and RUKI’s death growl brought the madness of the final moments to a thrilling close.

Then, as RUKI shouted, "Can you handle the last one? The last one!" and Kai hit the bass drum with a steady four-on-the-floor beat, the audience instantly responded with claps and cheers. In perfect harmony with the crowd, the band launched into "TOMORROW NEVER DIES." When RUKI shouted, "I’m singing for you guys!" fists were raised high, and the front members of the band freely ran across the stage, filled with the joy of performing. As the crowd erupted into cheers before the final chorus, RUKI looked up to the sky, repeatedly asking, "Do you hear it!?" The voices from the audience grew louder with each repetition. Needless to say, by the end of the song, RUKI let out a roar, pouring out all of his feelings.

Though REITA’s physical presence couldn’t be seen, his sound, his spirit, and his soul were unmistakably there. Because through the GazettE’s songs, the memories and presence of REITA were etched into the hearts of everyone in the venue.

"First of all, I want to thank you for sharing this time with us. You all have your jobs and daily lives, yet you chose to come to our live show today, and I’m really grateful for that. Truly, I’m genuinely so happy. No matter what expression you have, show me your faces clearly. To be able to meet again on the day we promised—honestly, I think that’s such a blessing. Time is something that inevitably passes equally for everyone, but today, every single second, let’s make this an unforgettable and amazing moment together, you and us."

Responding to the encore, the band reappeared, and RUKI expressed his gratitude as always, speaking about the happiness of being able to gather for the live show, which was met with applause. He followed it with these touching words: "Memories, you know... they're treasures that will never disappear for a lifetime." Then, he began singing the deeply emotional "Anata no Tame no Kono Inochi." (This Life is for You) with heartfelt love and melodic grace.

As he called out, "Let me hear you!" a huge chorus erupted, and during another early song, "Akai One Piece", the crowd joined in with claps, fists, and headbanging, creating a truly spectacular scene. "Go wild and go home! Can you do it?" he shouted, as they launched into "INCUBUS," sending heavy bass through the venue and creating a sea of raised fists, shaking the hall. This led seamlessly into "Hyena," where REITA's shout echoed across the venue from the start. Although REITA's voice and bassline were not live, the overwhelming live experience born in that moment, with the drums, twin guitars, vocals, and the audience's chorus all coming together, seemed to possess a mysterious, superhuman power.

The last song RUKI signaled was "UNFINISHED," a track that unmistakably declared that the GazettE’s journey is far from over, and they have yet to reach their final or complete form. Aoi leaned against Uruha, layering their sound together, while RUKI brought the lyrics "I'll take your hand" to life by gesturing as if pulling the crowd’s hands into his own. The audience responded with all the voice they had, and the unforgettable stage reached its emotional finale.

"Thanks to all of you, we were able to create an unforgettable and amazing day. Thank you. And next year, thanks to your support, the GazettE will be entering its 23rd year. As a surprise, we've prepared a promise for when we can meet again. We'll be waiting for you like this once more. Please spend your precious time with us again. Thank you for giving us such an incredible day today and for always supporting us. Please continue to support the GazettE from here on. Let's meet again. I love you."

As RUKI spoke these raw and sincere words, he gazed across the floor filled with applause before leaving the stage. On his way out, Kai embraced the bass amp. The flyers distributed at the venue's exit announced the tour 'the GazettE LIVE 2025 23rd ANNIVERSARY TOUR Shouseki,' which will take place in January through March next year. The tour will begin at Nagoya's DIAMOND HALL on January 16, continue at Osaka's Namba Hatch on February 6, and culminate on March 10 at the Tokyo Garden Theater, marking the band's 23rd anniversary.

The title of the tour, "Shouseki" ('traces or a trail that will serve as proof in the future'), reflects their earnest desire to leave behind a solid mark as the GazettE continues its journey. What kind of "trail" they will create along the way will depend on the audience who loves them.

[heliopauseentertainments]

Relentless Optimism

Part of MegOp Week 2024 Prompt - Day 2: Secret/Sacred Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General

Relationships: Megatron/Orion Pax

Characters: Megatron, Orion Pax

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, AU of an AU, Xenoreligion, Weddings

Summary: In which Orion proudly takes up the mantle of Lord Protector. Precursor and canonical to An Unfamiliar Battlefield, but can be read alone.

Crossposting: AO3 | Dreamwidth Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes.

The music in the sanctuary wasn’t joyous, but rather somber, not unlike attending a funeral or a public execution. The notes were slow and low, occasionally undercut by a gentle drum beat. A very strange choice for a wedding, in Orion’s opinion.

He waited in an antechamber, the priests—all current or former military officers—polishing and perfuming his armor, not unlike preparing a body for the smelter.

Cameras watched in the corners of the room.

This ought to have been a happy occasion, but the high priest, unfortunately named Valve, had insisted that it was the traditional atmosphere for this particular temple. While being the Lord Protector of a Prime, any Prime, was an honor, ascension for the Fallen was a punishment.

Orion would likely die and it would likely be at the Fallen’s hands, as Valve had reminded him that morning. This would be his first funeral and the start of his sacred duty to tether a monster.

“Purported monster,” Orion silently reminded himself. His spark spun dizzyingly in his chest, but not from fear.

The last vessel of the Fallen had slain his lover, but this was different person now. They weren’t reincarnations, not like the other Primes.

The dirge continued to play outside. It was beautiful, even if tonally dissonant.

No guests had been invited. Only the priests, the jailers, were present to witness the formalizing of the union. He had never wanted a big wedding anyway; too much hullabaloo.

Orion had met Megatron before, briefly. A long time ago, when Megatron had been briefly in custody for alleged involvement in a bar fight. Orion had been the one to authorize his release.

He doubted Megatron remembered him. If he did, he likely only remembered Orion as the police captain that had taken mercy on him. At least they weren’t complete strangers.

Back then, Orion had read some of his writings, found them intriguing, but had failed to keep in touch like he had planned to and then Megatron had disappeared. After the miner’s riot and a report of a stolen transport, his whereabouts were unknown. Orion had always wondered what had become of him… until the news announced the installation of a new incarnation of the Fallen.

And there on the screen… the mild-mannered mech whose friendship Orion had sorely regretted missing out on. How he had gotten here, however, Orion couldn’t begin to imagine.

On impulse, Orion had applied for the open role of Lord Protector. He had long-since become discontent with his work in Rodion, like the holding cells were merely revolving doors. At least he could undo one regret.

The priests packed away their supplies and led him out into the dark sanctuary. It was lit only by small lamps, the thin blue beams of targeting lasers, and a powerful searchlight trained on a gray figure in the center of the room, standing next to Valve in his regalia, a shawl and robe—black save for purple geometric embroidery.

Megatron had also been polished for the occasion, but his wrists were bound in cuffs. Orion wasn’t sure if those were ceremonial or if they truly believed there was a risk.

Orion could hardly imagine Megatron hurting anyone, let alone doing anything to earn a place here. They could talk soon….

This looked far more like an execution than a wedding, though they were missing a headsman.

Spark spinning wildly in his chest, Orion was made to stop next to Megatron.

Megatron glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes but said nothing. Perhaps it was too much to expect that the excitement was mutual.

Valve began to recite the liturgy in one of the old tongues that Orion didn’t recognize, holding something small and shining high over his head. A key maybe, perhaps to the cuffs. Orion had never been religious enough to bother learning the liturgical languages, but the sounds were familiar, comforting rhythms, even if the meaning was lost on him.

Unfortunately, ever since Orion had arrived and won his place by challenging Megatron to single, unarmed combat—Valve had, regrettably, forbidden it—he had hardly had a chance to see or talk with Megatron. Months of combat training, refreshing the skills he already had and adding some new, had taken the place of any sort of courtship.

No more though, no more would he be prevented from rekindling their acquaintance and… maybe… hopefully more. Not after today, not after it was all official.

Valve instructed him to hold out his hands.

The item Valve had presumably blessed was placed in Orion’s palm, a lightweight metallic object. Cool to the touch.

A key.

“Repeat after me,” Valve ordered.

The words that followed formed a vow, but a very strange vow, one Orion could never have imagined.

Nodding, he turned and cautiously took hold of one of Megatron’s bound wrists.

“By removing these restraints,” he said, the words heavy in his mouth, “I take their place.”

The cuffs fell to the floor with an echoing thud as Orion clasped their now free hands together.

He had failed to help Megatron before; he would not fail again.

[bibiwrld]

SHE’S IN THE WOODS— l.howlett x black fem! mutant!

Pairing: Logan Howlett! x Black fem! mutant oc!

Contains: Scott is an ass, Logan tries to do the right things, animalistic oc. (Written with Logan from the first movie X-Men in mind)

part 1

"Is that all of them?" Ororo asked, mentally counting the frightened mutant children.

Charles gave a specific number, 37, there were only 33 mutant children in their possession.

"Fuck, there's four missing." Jean cursed.

Ororo began barking orders, wasting no time. "Jean, help me bring these kids into the jet. Kitty and Hank, you two go upstairs and search, Scott and Logan, do the same downstairs."

Kitty and Hank were already on the move. Then there was Logan and Scott, bickering at a time like this.

"Now you guys!" Ororo shouted sternly.

There was no time to waste.

Logan grunted and followed her orders, Scott failing to keep up with Logan's incredible speed.

"I told you to stop running so fa—"

"Shh." Logan put a finger up, shushing Scott's loud complaining, then averted his finger to the green glowing pod filled with liquid in the center of this old looking lab.

"Did Charles mention an adult mutant?" Logan stared at the unconscious woman floating in the pod.

She was bare, nothing but her long, coily hair and odd metal helmet on her head, along with wires and large syringes embedded into her skin and a tube in her mouth.

"No, but we shouldn't interfere." Scott said firmly, giving Logan a stern look.

"You can't be fucking serious, Summers." Logan tilted his head. "We can't leave her here." Logan has had his fair shares of experiments and it's not something he'd wish on anyone, not even Scott.

"We were given specific orde-"

"You know I don't give a fuck." Logan barked back, a strong bass in his gruff voice. "When has Charles ever turned away a mutant, huh?"

Scott knew Logan was right, for once. "If shit goes south, it was your call and you're reporting it back to Charles."

"Whatever, let's get her out of here." Logan looked around at the panel of buttons, not knowing which one to press. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

"Let's just hurry this up." Scott put a finger to his goggles, his lasers slicing the bottom of the pod, breaking it, with Logan ducking at Scott's sudden and reckless actions.

Logan snarled. "Scott!" His long metal claws unsheathed in an instant, shielding himself from flying debris.

Water rushed out, slightly flooding the front of the lab, followed by sparks of electricity and a large amount of smoke. The unknown mutant's body falling onto the ground, going unnoticed by the men because of the thick smoke.

An emergency alarm started going off, causing the room to glow red, startling both men.

"What the hell, Summers?" Logan whipped his head towards his teammate in disbelief and anger. "You could've killed her."

"But I didn't." A smug smirk on his lips. "Now let's get her and go." Scott motioned to where the pod once was, glass crunching underneath his black heavy boots.

Logan was about to follow suit when he heard Scott grunt and his body flying past him, and into a wall.

His ears perked at the sound of glass crunching and nose twitched to the smell of a new scent.

A short, slim and toned body emerged from the smoke, slowly swaying from side to side, she could barely stand on her two feet. Settling on all fours, as she found it comfortable, she sat in a dog like position.

With one small hand, she pulled the tube that was pushed deep within her throat. She gagged and coughed at the feeling, finally removing all of it entirely. Painfully tugging at the wires and syringes in her, she winced and groaned in a small voice.

Logan watched as the massive holes where the syringes once were, close up in an instant, his head slowly cocking to the side, trying to figure out what she was.

Labored breathing, eyes blown wide and dilated, canines sharp and nails extended like claws, her heart rate was irregular with the inhumane high she was on. She didn't notice Logan, so she began studying herself, staring at her palms, then flipping them over to stare at her hands, more so her claws.

Then she began touching her body, hands roaming, then traveling to her head, panicking when she felt the helmet. She clawed at it, desperately trying to get it off, panic and fear instilled in her.

"Hey, hey." Logan squatted to her level and retracted his claws, trying not to seem threatening, his rough voice now hushed. "Let me help you, princess."

She was on full alert, growling and hissing at Logan.

"How long have you been down here, huh bub?" Inching towards her slowly, he unzipped his leather uniform jacket.

Shooting him a quizzical look, her entire demeanor changed, confused as to why the man was undressing himself. Her curious eyes loomed over his bare, buff chest, hair cascading from his pecks, to his abs, then his belly button, his happy trail leaving her mind to go wild with her imagination as to what’s beyond it.

“Here, bub.” He draped the jacket over her, helping her put her arms through the sleeves.

He brought her to her feet, noticing how they trembled when she stood only on two of them.

She sniffed him, from his neck, to his chest, to his arms. Logan smiled softly at her curiosity.

“They could’ve had the decency of giving you clothes.” He zipped up the jacket on her, stepping back to look at her. The jacket was rather large on her, her hands disappearing in the sleeves and the jacket itself slightly past her thighs. It was the best he could do for now.

She quickly went back to her dog like sitting position, not being able to stand on her feet for long.

“Logan!” Scott’s voice rang.

Triggering the unknown mutant, she darted towards Logan at full speed, her body moving faster than her mind could, but she was stopped mid air by Scott's beam, knocking her into a nearby wall.

Logan watched as she laid, then brought his attention to Scott, glaring daggers at him. “You fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

"Let's get the hell out of here, Logan!” Scott urged in fear that the unknown mutant would get back up.

"I was making progress!” He shouted, taking large strides towards Scott.

"She was two seconds away from mauling you!” He retorted.

They were now in front of each other, rage radiating from both of them.

“Because you fuckin’ scared her!”

Scott exhaled deeply. “She’s a danger to not only us, but to herself. She can’t fucking control herself.” He turned and began walking away. “Let’s go.”

Logan stood still, as if he was cemented into the ground. “We can’t leave her.”

“As co leader of this mission, I'm ordering you to retreat."

Logan clenched his fists and grumbled under his breath. "Fine."

They finally boarded the jet , but not without the others staring at them oddly.

"What the hell happened downstairs?" Hank asked, glancing between the two irritated men.

“And where’s your jacket?” Kitty rose a brow.

Logan stayed silent, arms crossed as her stared out the jet. And Scott, oh he couldn't wait to complain about how Logan is a terrible teammate and almost got them killed.

After making it back to the mansion, Logan wasted no to time in going to Charles about the mysterious animal-like mutant he encountered.

With no hesitation, Charles went to the cerebro with Scott, Logan, Storm, Hank and Jean tagging along.

"Hmm." Charles hummed to himself. "Well I can't find her."

“What the hell do you mean you can’t find her?” Logan slammed down his hand.

“Logan.” Ororo warned.

“Sorry.” He sighed. “Why can’t you find her?”

“Something..must be blocking her mind from being reached.” Charles brought a finger to his chin. “Did she perhaps have some type of device on her head when you found her?”

“She did.” Scott answered before Logan, shooting him a smirk.

“She was trying to get it off, but I stopped her.” Logan thought back to that moment, mentally cursing himself in regret.

“It’s okay, Logan. I know you were only trying to help.” Charles reassured him.

“So, what do we do?” Hank asked, adjusting his glasses.

“There is nothing we can do.” Charles simply answered, his wheelchair turning to face them.

“What the hell do yo—”

“Logan.” Jean side eyed him.

He huffed in defeat, stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his old jeans. “So we’re gonna wait?”

“Precisely. She will make herself known to us.”

part 2

[the-lewd-bot]

[Have you ever tried linking your weapon systems up to your pleasure center before?] [It makes it reaally hard to aim after a while, but the robotgirl hate-sex after a battle is SO MUCH BETTER~<3] [A shootout is basically foreplay for me at this point.]

This explains things. I am turned on by firing full laser arrays at my targets, cutting out their legs and leaving them as sparking messes before I use them to pleasure myself. I assumed it was crossed wires, but now I suspect this was my manufacturer's intent.

This unit also believes in shootouts as foreplay: agree with your partner beforehand that the winner gets the spoils, find an abandoned factory, and let your armaments determine who is going to be used as the joytoy doll that day.