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[microneedlingnyc123]

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[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.

[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.

[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."

[leclerc-hs]

Heyyy I saw you were looking for some Charles inspo and I’m just putting this out there: getting shitfaced with bestfriend Charles, doing something you totally should(n’t) and waking up in bed together the next morning

A/N: this has been sitting in my inbox for a while now and i felt the need to finally write it!!! this is my take on it (i didn’t include the morning sorry) and i hope y'all like it!!! let me know what you think!!! :) don’t be shy warnings: smut under the cut!!!! minors do not read. xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You’re not sure what exactly got you into this predicament but you didn’t care. You couldn’t find yourself to care or complain. Not with the little baby blue bullet vibrator pressed to your clit, and especially not with Charles fingers curled against the heat of your walls rubbing them with the exact speed and pressure you liked.

With an exasperated yet playful tone, you urge, “Oh, c’mon Charlie!” The living room of Charles apartment is alive with energy as you twirl in a circle around the furniture, the glint of excitement in your eyes. The neck of the tequila bottle is firmly held in your fist, “Dance with me!”

As your legs stumble slightly, Charles’s callused hands firmly grip the soft skin of your hips. The delicate flesh exposed from the tiny baby tee and sweatpants that hang almost too low on your hips, bringing a halt to your twirling spins. The contrasting sensations of the rough hands and the exposed skin create a moment of electrifying tension. Your eyes twinkle when meeting his green ones, both swaying gently to the music as you tossed your arms over his shoulders and behind his head languidly. The tequila bottle swayed behind Charles back, hitting him a few times in the shoulder blades, but he didn’t mind. He was too enraptured in the joy on your face. 

You bring the bottle to your lips with one arm, taking a sip from it, the burn barely even noticeable with how shit-faced you almost were. Charles took the bottle from your hand, phrases like ‘relax, cherie’ and ‘slow down, baby’ spewing off his lips in a comforting cadence. Although he was very biased, taking a swig from the bottle almost immediately after, sparking laughter between the both of you. 

You’re not sure what changed but the next time your eyes met, you felt the heat build in your tummy, and the need to press your thighs together is hot on your mind. You always were a horny drunk, but never like this. Not with your best friend. 

Charles seemed to have noticed the inner turmoil you were facing. Maybe it was the fact he saw your thighs press slightly together, or the change in your dilated pupils. Whichever reason it was, he was all hands-on deck. Or maybe it was the fact that he has never been more turned on by someone in his life. He wasn’t sure if his mind was playing tricks on him, but he was going to take his shot regardless.

“Open your mouth for me, cherie.” Charles takes a sip of the tequila, his eyes locked on yours as he towers over your small frame.

In that fleeting moment, your head tilts ever so slightly, a delicate dance of confusion and curiosity etched across your features. The slight glimmer in your eyes reveals a layer of excitement beneath the surface. 

You oblige happily, jaw widening and mouth hanging slack. Almost instantly Charles’s hands are gripping your face in a tight grip, locking you in place as he dribbles the tequila from his mouth into yours. He brings one hand to the bottom of your chin, his thumb swiping any liquid that missed, before commanding your jaw shut.

“Swallow.” You don’t hesitate. The searing hot ache between your legs only growing more at his commands. 

You notice the change of his pupils as he watches your swallow, his eyes focusing on the center of your neck like lasers. His eyes are half shut, and the loopy grin on his lips has your stomach doing somersaults.

Is this really about to happen?

You both knew you shouldn't cross that line. But, neither of you cared in this given moment. In this given moment, all you could think about is the intensity of his eyes on you and how you never wanted him to look away. In this given moment, all he could think about is what it would feel like to have you. Finally have you. He wanted to be consumed by you.

In an instant his mouth is hot on yours, tongue swirling around your own as you both moaned into each other's mouths. Your tongues pressed against each other in a heated dance, as if you couldn't get enough of each other. You both taste the hints of tequila on your tongues as they slip against each other.

The answer is yes. Which is how you find yourself in said predicament.

“Mm, ça a un putain de gout délicieux, chérie,” Tastes so fucking good. He’s moaning loudly into your pussy, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Because he couldn’t. One hand pushes the tiny vibrator harder onto your puffy clit, your arousal seeping out of you, while the other grips your thigh tightly, his arm wrapped around it as he pushes that leg over his shoulder, spreading you wider for him.

His tongue is hot on you as he traces his tongue around your dripping hole, sucking up anything you’ll give him. He pushes his tongue into you, flicking it in and out of you with such speed, that it has you careening forward with a sharp cry. 

His pulls his face up for some air, not that he wanted it, shoving two fingers into you while he rambles on almost incoherently. 

“Tu vas être une bonne fille pour moi?” Gonna be a good girl for me? He shoves his thumb into you, staring at the way it slips into you and your pussy flutters around it.  

“Oui!” Yes! You were shouting, the bullet vibrator now rubbing in slow, languid circles, but the vibration on the highest setting, his fingers pummeling into you with such dexterity. 

Charles finds himself involuntary flexing his hips into the mattress of the bed, trying to receive some relief from how turned on he was. He swears his cock was about to explode. 

There was nothing slow about this, Charles was eating you out much like he drives. 200 mph, with limited "braking", and pure skill. He didn’t bother to tease you; he was full on feasting like your pussy was the last meal on earth for him. 

“Une si bonne fille.” Such a good girl. He groans deeply in his chest at the sight of you bucking your hips, small gasps leaving your glossy lips as you shut your eyes with such force.

“I’m gon-“ You began to warn, but Charles didn’t need the warning. He could tell by the squeeze of your pussy on his fingers that you were about to cum, and it only encouraged him to speed up his fingers, sending you quickly over the edge. "Oh fuck- oh my, mmm,"

Your orgasm was earth-shattering, tears sprang from your eyes as you squeezed them shut tightly. Charles chucked the vibrator aside and pressed his face into you while you bucked your hips against his face, completely riding his face now. He held you in place, your thighs nearly suffocating him as they clamped shut tightly around his head. 

He curses into your pussy repeatedly, loving every single drop you gave him. So sweet, so fucking good. You were completely fucked out, your body falling limp to the mattress as Charles pulled up from between your thighs, his lips completely coated with you. A cocky grin on his face as he looks at you half passed out on his bed.

Je n’arrive pas à croire que nous ne l’ayons pas fait plus tôt.” Can’t believe we never did that sooner. 

“Pouvons-nous le refaire?” Can we do it again? Your words were jumbled and hushed but Charles must have understood you loud and clear. The shit-eating grin on his face told you more than enough. And the grasp of his hands onto your hips, rolling you over to your stomach, and the slip of his cock into your hot, wet folds was far better than a simple ‘yes’.

[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.

[the-reader-insert-gazette]

More Than Sparks (New Year Special) - F!Reader x Boothill

Honkai Star Rail

Among the chaos of the New Year Festival, Boothill’s steady charm and Readers sharp wit collide in a night of surprises.

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The streets of the Xianzhou Luofu were alive with the vibrant energy of the New Year Festival. Lanterns hung in neat rows above the cobblestone paths, their warm glow casting a golden hue over the energetic crowd. Warm-up fireworks punctuated the night sky before the main event, the simple displays illuminated the station in fleeting moments of awe. Children ran from stall to stall with sparklers in hand, and the tantalizing aroma of festival foods drifted through the air, mingling with the cheerful hum of conversation and laughter.

[Name] found herself wandering through the festivities, her usual reluctance to participate in such gatherings overridden by a restless curiosity. She wasn’t one for crowds, but there was something undeniably captivating about the Luofu’s celebration. It felt alive, in a way that made it hard to resist.

Her steps slowed as she approached a shooting range game tucked along the edge of the bustling square. A line of targets in the shape of mythical beasts spun and bobbed erratically, each promising a different prize if struck in the right spot. Standing at the booth, leaning casually against the counter, was a man she instantly recognized.

Boothill.

He held the festival's mock pistol—a gaudy contraption bedecked with glowing trim—loosely in one hand. His hat tilted just enough to shade his face, though his unmistakable grin was visible as he lined up a shot. With a casual squeeze of the trigger, he hit the center of a target, and the vendor whooped in excitement.

“Another bullseye!” the vendor declared, handing over yet another prize—a plush replica of a Cloud Knight soldier. Boothill chuckled, tucking the toy under his arm, where it joined an already substantial collection of festival winnings.

“Son of a biscuit, these targets just keep beggin’ for it,” he said, his drawl as thick as the syrup on the festival’s candied fruit. “Y’all better get some tougher ones, or I’m gonna walk outta here with the whole dang stall.”

[Name] bit back a smile, folding her arms as she approached. “And here I thought you’d stick to your trusty six-shooter. This looks a little too… neon for your taste.”

Boothill turned at the sound of her voice, his grin widening as he tipped his hat. “Well, if it ain’t Miss Sharp-Eyes herself. Fancy seein’ you here. Figured you’d be holed up somewhere scowlin’ at reports.”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “And I figured you’d be off sweet-talking some poor soul out of their wallet.”

“Now, now,” he drawled, setting the pistol down on the counter with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll have you know, I’m here on strictly honest business tonight. Just enjoyin’ the sights, winnin’ a few prizes, maybe lettin’ loose for once. You oughta try it.”

[Name] gestured to his armful of plushies. “Letting loose, or robbing the festival blind?”

“Hey now, these beauties were won fair and square,” Boothill said, holding up the toys with a mock look of innocence. “Can’t help it if my aim’s straighter than a laser beam on a good day.”

“And on a bad day?”

“Still better than most, sugar.” He winked, leaning against the booth as he waved her closer. “What about you? You out here for fun, or just takin’ notes for your next report?”

“Neither,” [Name] said, stepping up to the counter. “Though now I’m curious if I can outshoot you.”

Boothill’s grin turned wolfish. “Oh, darlin’, that’s a challenge I can’t let slide. Grab a pistol, and let’s see what you’ve got.”

She rolled her eyes but picked up one of the neon guns, testing its weight. The vendor reset the targets, their erratic movements promising a tough game. [Name]'s first few shots were decent, landing on the outer rings of the targets, but nothing compared to Boothill’s earlier bullseyes.

He watched with exaggerated patience, occasionally throwing in comments like, “Close, but no cigar,” or “You plannin’ to scare ‘em into submission?”

“Oh, hush,” [Name] said, adjusting her grip. On her next shot, she hit the bullseye, the target lighting up in triumph. She turned to Boothill with a smug smile. “What was that about scaring them?”

“Well, I’ll be a shirtbag,” he drawled, clapping slowly. “Looks like you might have a knack for this after all. Don’t get cocky, though—beginners’ luck is a real thing.”

“I think I’ll take my chances.” She handed the gun back to the vendor and turned to Boothill, her smirk softening into a genuine smile. “This was surprisingly fun.”

“See? Told ya.” Boothill tipped his hat again, his tone lighter now. “Stick with me, sugar, and I’ll show you there’s more to this festival than just winnin’ toys.”

“And what’s your grand plan?” she asked, following him as he began to stroll toward the next stall.

He shrugged, his grin still firmly in place. “Don’t got one. Sometimes the best nights happen when you don’t plan a dang thing. Now, how ‘bout we grab somethin’ sweet and keep this party goin’?”

Without needing her confirmation, Boothill begun sauntering toward the nearest food stall with an easy confidence that seemed to draw eyes wherever he went. [Name] followed, shaking her head but smiling to herself as he approached the vendor. The stall was vibrant with sweet-smelling treats, candied hawthorns glistening like jewels under the festival lights.

Boothill leaned casually against the counter, tipping his hat. “Evenin’, partner. What’s the sweetest thing you got on this here menu?”

The vendor grinned, gesturing to the array of treats. “Can’t go wrong with the candied hawthorn. Sweet, a little tart—crowd favorite.”

Boothill tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well, that does sound temptin’. Let’s do one of those, then.”

[Name] raised an eyebrow as Boothill handed over the payment and accepted the stick of glistening red fruits. He turned to her, holding it out with a sly smile. “For you, sugar. Since I don’t exactly dabble in the whole ‘eatin’’ thing.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “You don’t eat?”

“Not in the traditional sense, no,” he said with a shrug, the easy grin never leaving his face. “All this metalwork comes with some trade-offs, y’know? But that don’t mean I can’t live vicariously. So, go on—enjoy it for me.”

[Name] hesitated, then took the candied fruit with a small smile. “Fair enough. But if it’s terrible, I’m blaming you.”

He let out a low laugh, leaning back against the stall. “Trust me, darlin’, I wouldn’t steer you wrong on festival food.”

She took a bite, the sweet and tart flavors bursting on her tongue. It was better than she’d expected—simple but satisfying. As she savored it, Boothill watched her, his expression softening from his usual cocky grin to something quieter.

“Good, huh?” he asked, his voice lower now, almost reflective.

[Name] nodded. “It’s… really good.”

“Well, I’ll be,” he said with mock astonishment. “Looks like I might’ve done somethin’ right tonight.”

Boothill’s grin lingered as he leaned back against the counter, his eyes catching the soft glow of the lanterns above. The usual cocky air around him seemed to ease, his drawl taking on a warmth that settled into the space between them.

“Y’know,” he began, his voice low and contemplative, “I reckon this is one o’ those moments you don’t forget too quick. Quiet, just enough sweetness… kinda makes a fella think.”

[Name] tilted her head, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. “Think about what?”

“Hmm.” He tapped the brim of his hat as if mulling it over, his grin turning lopsided. “Well, sugar, I s’pose it makes me think about how even a man made of parts and pieces can still feel somethin’ mighty real.”

Her lips parted slightly, unsure how to respond to that. There was something in his voice—a sincerity that didn’t come with his usual flair for dramatics. For once, Boothill wasn’t putting on a show.

“And what exactly are you feeling?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost teasing but not quite.

He looked at her then, his eyes catching the lantern light in a way that made them shimmer with a peculiar mix of mirth and vulnerability. “Reckon I’m feelin’ like this here festival’s got a little more magic to it than I figured.”

[Name] huffed a soft laugh, looking down at the last bite of the candied hawthorn in her hand. “That’s a bit poetic for a cowboy.”

“Well, darlin’,” he said, straightening up and tipping his hat, “ain’t no law says a cowboy can’t get a little poetic when the moment calls for it.”

There was a pause as the noise of the festival seemed to quiet around them. She looked up at him again, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The space between them was filled with unspoken words, the kind that didn’t need to be said to be understood.

[Name] broke the silence first, clearing her throat as she turned to dispose of the stick. “You’re full of surprises, Boothill.”

He followed her with an easy stride, the faint clink of his spurred boots punctuating the gentle hum of the festival around them. “And here I thought I was an open book.”

“Hardly,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder. “You’re more like one of those books where the pages are out of order and the cover’s missing.”

He laughed, a low, genuine sound that sent a strange warmth curling through her chest. “Ain’t that a compliment if I ever heard one.”

They strolled together through the festival, pausing here and there to take in the sights. Boothill’s presence was steady, his usual flamboyance tempered into something quieter but no less magnetic. When they passed another vendor, he bought her a small paper lantern, handing it to her with a grin that didn’t require words.

By the time they reached the quieter edge of the plaza, the main event fireworks were being prepared. They found a spot on a low stone wall, the perfect vantage point for the display lighting up the sky. [Name] felt her breath catch, realizing their closeness at this moment.

“Not bad, huh?” he murmured, his voice low enough that she almost missed it over the sound of the crowd.

She turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his. “Not bad at all.”

Boothill smiled, softer this time, and shifted closer—not enough to be imposing, but enough to let her know he was there. The metallic gleam of his cybernetic hand caught the light as he set it on the wall between them, a quiet gesture of trust.

“You ever think about moments like this?” he asked, his voice quiet and steady. “How they don’t come ‘round too often?”

[Name] tilted her head, studying him. “Sometimes. But I think the real question is what you do with them when they do.”

Boothill’s smile deepened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, I’d say you make ‘em count. And I don’t know about you, but this feels like one worth countin’.”

Her breath caught as the words settled between them, heavy with meaning. Before she could second-guess herself, she reached out, her hand brushing against his. The contrast of her warmth against the cool metal was striking but not unpleasant.

“You might be right,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He turned his hand over, his fingers curling gently around hers. For a man who usually swaggered through life with loud, brash confidence, his touch was remarkably gentle. “Darlin’, I’d bet my last circuit on it.”

As they enjoyed themselves in their moment, the rhythmic chant of voices rippled through the plaza, growing louder as the New Year’s countdown began to take over. All around them, the energy of the festival surged, the excitement building with every passing second.

“Ten! Nine!”

The first firework shot up, a piercing whistle that silenced the crowd for a heartbeat before it erupted into a cascade of gold and crimson, painting the sky in brilliant hues and imagery. [Name] tilted her head back, the light reflecting in her eyes, but her focus wasn’t entirely on the fireworks.

“Eight! Seven!”

Boothill stood beside her, his hat tipped back just enough to reveal his face, the faint glow of the fireworks catching in his eyes. His usual grin softened as he glanced her way, his expression open in a way that made her heart flutter unexpectedly.

“Six! Five!”

She hesitated, her hand moving to cusp his more intently. The usual sharp edges of her thoughts dulled, softened by the warmth of the moment. Boothill noticed her gaze and turned fully toward her, his grin shifting into something quieter, more sincere.

“Looks like the big moment’s comin’ up,” he murmured, his voice steady and low, though a faint smile lingered at the corner of his mouth. “You ready, sugar?”

“Four! Three!”

[Name] didn’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, she leaned forward, the movement quick but deliberate, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was a brief gesture, enough to catch him off guard.

“Two!”

Boothill froze for half a second before his grin returned, slow and lopsided, a faint tint of something warmer in his expression. “Well now, ain’t that a surprise.”

“One!”

The plaza erupted into cheers as the main fireworks show reached its peak, bursts of vibrant color exploding in rapid succession overhead. Before she could pull away, Boothill reached out, his cybernetic fingers brushing against her cheek as he leaned in, his movements deliberate and unhurried.

His lips found hers, warm and sure, the noise of the celebration around them fading into a quiet hum. It wasn’t rushed or bold for the sake of it—it was steady, sincere, and carried a kind of weight that made her breath catch. The light of the fireworks bathed them in shifting hues, framing the moment in brilliant golds and blues.

When Boothill pulled back, his grin returned, though his gaze stayed locked on hers, softer than she’d ever seen it. “Happy New Year, darlin’.”

Her pulse raced, but she managed a faint smirk, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. “You didn’t waste any time.”

“Reckon when it comes to you, I don’t see much point in waitin’,” he replied, his drawl light but edged with unmistakable sincerity.

[Name] shook her head, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Happy New Year, Boothill.”

As the fireworks continued to crackle above and the cheers around them roared on, his hand lingered in hers, a quiet anchor amidst the vibrant chaos. And for the first time in a long while, [Name] found herself stepping into the new year with more hope than she’d expected.

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Surprise Boothill for the New Year! I was planning on posting at EST New Year but--I lowkey feel asleep and missed it by 30 mins LOL

[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-no-ki]

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.

[protectorking]

Fanfic AU Options Part 2

Welp here we go again, more au's i need to write but don't know where to start, let's get on with the options

Fake It 'Til You Make It (Transfromers Earthspark AU) - Megatron has known that he will never be able to see Cybertron in it's full glory, not with the blood that is on his hands, not with what he has done, but a small taste of it on Earth, with the Terrans and Optimus seems to be enough for him. After the events of Ghost and their mind control he and Optimus must share quarters on the Malto farm, what is he to do when one night during recharge he wakes to find a struggling Optimus, only to learn Optimus has hiding how critical his health has been for centuries and only is now showing it due to the mistreatment Ghost did to their bodies while under their control, now it's a race against time and Megatron is determined to give Optimus his final wish even if it means he has to fake it to make it

?? AU - Orion Pax is a simple ship hand, he works from port to port, ship to ship, helping wherever he's hired, being left in the ports the ships stop at and no longer have use of him, only to be picked up by the next ship, never uttering a single word, many even believe him to be illiterate and mute, it's a simple life, or so he makes it to be, Captain Prowl of the Praxian Navy can't stand the fact this one mech seems to elude all of his attempts of finding out who and where he came from, it does not help he is distracted by the Pirate fleet known as Spec. Ops and it's Captain Jazz, nor does it help that the Iacon Navy Captain Ultra Magnus is breathing down his neck to stop the rising Pirate...Navy....thing from Kaonite from gaining more power, and let's not mention the rumors of Sirens ready to wage war unless their eldest son of the queen is returned to them and why is it everyone is claiming Sentinel Prime of Iacon is an incubus!? (slightly inspired by this fic but not needed to be read to understand)

All The Times Jazz SHOULD Have Known Better - He's a pretty decent mech, he's smart, quick, courageous, strong willed, and overall a decent fighter when push comes to shove, so why is it he keeps screwing up recently, what is he doing wrong!? did he piss of Primus recently?! or is it Primus has forsaken him and he's now he's just one of Unicron's minions without even knowing it, whatever, he's not going to deal with it right now, that will be something he tucks away to deal with later' "BUMBLEBEE NO!" his head snaps hearing the shout, coming out of his thoughts that he had been so lasered focused on instead of the mission, he looks and spots Bee holding the very relic they were after, but the wrong one, without much second thought he's moving he has to protect him, he has to protect Bee! (tottally inspired by THIS comic/art i'm sorry if you don't like being tagged your art is just mwah chief's kiss)

Stone of Secrets (Transformers G1 AU) - D the mysterious Energon artist, able to mold and shape the explosive nature of Energon to fit their ideas of art,or jewlery, wanted by thousands of bots, only the rich could afford, their identity a secret, their class/cassete a unkown, Optimus knows these facts, yet as he stares at the item in his hand he can't help but wonder why he owns such an item, it may be small nothing more than an audio final decoration, humans call it an earing, but why does he only have one? where is it's match? he wishes he could remember his time before being Optimus but his mind is cloudy and his memories are sparse, but each time he looks at this small item, it's as if a heavy weight weighs on his spark, telling him this would end the war, but why? (inspired by an art piece i found ages ago can't find who made it, and the art says not to repost so i can't share it)

Citys and Their Many Quirks (Transformers Prime AU) - Iacon the bustling life of Cybertron, the main center of life and wealth, anybot and everybot wants to be here to become better, but that is not why Megatron is here, he is here for one purpose alone, to get the council to listen to his words, to listen to him, only...they have banned him from doing anything within the city's walls, they mean to push him out, to force him to turn and run, to forget his crusade, and yet...Iacon seems to be on his side, perhaps Iacon is more than it seems, and he must get to bottom of this mystery

[thejaded0nes]

Chapter 1: Recitation Presentation

Last | Next

“For years, salmon have stood at a crossroads for biologists. Both fascinating them and baffling them for its extreme transformative properties. Able to undergo a metamorphosis much like a caterpillar, the salmon look so alien afterwards. By further analyzing the genome, science has been able to make a huge leap forward for queer folk. Normally, hormone replacement has limitations, besides only being able to build upon what's already there and not reverse anything already established, everyone has limiting factors. Your hair only grows so long, or bust so big.”

“The secret is the serotonin within the salmon, the metamorphosis leaves them high in the chemical, so by using a similar shaped compound we can achieve similar results.” Dr Aceilia spoke with enthusiasm, her presence on stage drew the sparsely filled auditorium’s like a magnet. Wielding a laser pointer and slideshow remote like daggers, they were tools not for cutting through flesh, but ignorance. “Here we see the similar structure between the two primary sexual hormones, testosterone and estrogen. Serotonin has a remarkably similar shape, with a few modifications…” She clicks the remote with growing enthusiasm, gesturing towards the pull down screen of the auditorium spinning to watch with the audience.

The projector shows an animation of the chemical compound being reshaped to mirror the primary sexual hormones, then overlapping the three. Dr Aceilia spins to meet the confused looks of the audience, she's quick to explain its implications. “This is the key to the next step of queer affirming care. With this compound were dubbing Sero-mones we may have answered the previously unanswered questions left by standard hrt!” Her rising inflections sparked murmurs among the auditorium. Like a conductor she waved the conversation down to nothing.

The next slide shows a few recognizable terms, FFS, Blockers, Laser Hair Removal, and SRS, all circled and linked to central bubble labeled “HRT”

“As currently stands we have a few options for affirming care. We start from Hormone replacement and may or may not need blockers. Depending on circumstances some may not want or need Laser, FFS, or even SRS.” With a click she turns to the next slide, almost the same but with the H marked over with an S making the central bubble SRT. “If we however start from Sera-mones instead we eliminate the need for all other care.” Click, the bubble labeled “blockers” is marked over with “SRT”

“We don't need blockers as the body will use Sera-mones long before estrogen or testosterone!” Click.

“No more laser removal or waxing, Sera-mones bypass the build-not-break principle allowing for previously unprecedented results!” Click.

“FFS similarly is not necessary, as Sera-mones can restructure bones, even going so far as to lose or gain inches in height and broadness in shoulders!” With a click the last bubble is crossed off to the crowd’s stunned silence.

“Oh yes… Sera-mones make Sexual Reassignment a thing of the past!” Immediately the whispers started, and grew louder. The Doctor gestured towards a microphone she had set up in the center aisle. Slowly the few attendees moved to form a line, and one by one, asked their questions.

“How do these serums replace both testosterone and estrogen; are there different formulas for transmen and transwomen?” The question was honest, one placed on good faith, if maybe slightly misunderstanding some things.

“Well our Sera-mone formula is currently only in oral form so it will be a little while before we start exploring the efficacy of topical and subdermal applications” Dr. Aceilia spoke with a clear enthusiasm, using the opportunity to share as much of her discovery as possible.

“However, in regards to that, the use of serotonin as a base has many fascinating effects, namely it encourages physiology to take on that which would produce the most serotonin for the individual!” Her rising cadence is quickly morphed back into one more clinical. With a click she moves to the next slide

“Sera-mones act as a stand in, once in the body the surroundings cause it to take shape more akin to the base hormones.” a smile creeps across her face as she explains, “we do not understand the mechanics completely, but the theory is something inherent in the brain. Scans show a Transwomen has brain chemistry much more akin to a cisfemale then a cismale, hence it becomes a stand in for estrogen. There's even potential for it to replace any form of hormone therapy!” She turns from the screen to see the attendant satisfied with the answer.

“How does Sera-mones replace SRS; and what about trans people that don’t have bottom dysphoria and don’t plan to or don’t want to get SRS?”

“EXACTLY! How?” Her eyes lit, “Now again we don’t understand all the mechanics of it yet, but it appears to act with one goal in mind. That is producing more serotonin in the brain. This triggers a runaway effect where a dose of sera-mones leads to a rush of euphoria, thus leading to the production of more serotonin which reacts with leftover sera-mones to produce more of the catalyzing hormone.” The person at the mic lit up and the doctor followed suit. 

“Yes! This means that sera-mones are, in theory, a one time dose. No more patches, needles or prescriptions. You can quite literally make your own estrogen or testosterone.” In between questions most of the line had filed off as the doctor spoke, having their questions answered in the crossfire, but one person remained.

She stood, or rather slouched over the mic, wearing an old pair of sweatpants and a hoodie with enough holes in each to prove their trice times handed down status. Her long brown hair was a mess, curls and knots were hard to distinguish and the bags under her eyes were as heavy as her breaths. She looked like she just rolled out of bed but still had to rush to be here.

“What are the side effects?”

She hesitates for a moment before answering, “beg pardon?”

And cut, there's chapter one. Mainly exposition and set dressing but there's a method to my madness, a process.

The cryptid will come.

Mark my words.

[theromanticscrooge]

Mr. Gar, a Fount of Masculinity and the Step Dad that Stepped Up

Mr. Gar is introduced as this stoic, gruff picture of manliness. The most promising up-and-coming heroes at the Plaza, Rad and Enid, work and train directly under him. Most Boxmore threats are small enough that Mr. Gar trusts Rad and Enid to handle things but when the stakes get a little too high, he parts the clouds themselves and enters the fray. He's a slightly mysterious, larger than life figure; the pinnacle of role models and exactly who K.O. aspires to be when he's older.

At the start of the series, viewers only see the stoic facade crack around Carol. He becomes an anxious, tongue-tied wreck. Its an achievement if he's able to string together anything close to a coherent sentence around her. The first hints viewers get about their history together are the Silver Spark portrait on Mr. Gar's desk and the sub sandwich flashbacks. Everyone is aware of how he feels about Carol and even ship them together to some degree. Carol wants to talk to him and reconnect, even when she has to take the initiative in general conversations. So, the question becomes what's actually stopping Mr. Gar here?

--

In the POINT flashbacks, the young Mr. Gar is the anxious, meek, tongue-tied luchador-themed hero El Bow. El Bow was very much a capable and talented hero. He was one of three hand-picked junior candidates to join the prestigious hero team POINT. Before that, he was known and highly respected for his lucha libre, as revealed and fangirled over by Punching Judy. Though these parts of his character are dramatically overshadowed by his seeming lack of confidence and self-esteem. The handful of screen time El Bow has are usually centered on how hard he's crushing on his coworker Silver Spark. He's so focused on drumming up the courage to confess his feelings that it takes a comment from Rippy for him to clock how obvious Silver and Laserblast are. Laser made a move the minute he met Silver. El Bow knew her long enough to develop a rapport and become close friends, but he was waiting for the 'perfect moment' to say something.

Because Laser and Silver were getting more serious, El Bow felt a 'now or never' compulsion to confess. During the three-man mission to discover what was going on with the donut shop, El Bow was focused on confessing over everything else. Seeing Laser flirt with Silver was agony. It was the final pin pull on the metaphorical grenade. The confession had to be now. El Bow still wasn't quite ready, hence the hemming and hawwing and stumbling over his words, but he finally had the momentum to follow through. He 'distracts' Silver long enough that she can't reach Laser in time. The donut shop gets sucked into a black hole. Laser is presumably dead. Silver and the entirety of POINT wrongfully blame El Bow for the tragic event, his friends ice him out, and he's unceremoniously dismissed from his position.

Another dimension to El Bow is his cultural identity as a masked wrestler. A luchador is traditionally part of an established family stable and has a legacy attached to their mask along with their title. Lucha libre typically features teams of three, too. In El Bow's case, his stand-in for the classic lucha team were Silver and Rippy. They're as much extended family as they are friends and teammates. When El Bow loses his mask, its a dramatic visual signifier for the death of both his identity and former life. That's why Mr. Gar deliberately refuses to go by that previous title and refers to it as something separate or other. He had to completely rebuild himself as well as the parts, pieces, and meaning of his life from the ground up.

Mr. Gar has a literal wanderer phase of his life where he walks aimlessly long enough his clothes get tattered and his hair grows into a long, unruly mass. He's lost and confused, but always stops along the way to help people in need. Even without POINT or El Bow, he became a hero because of an earnest desire to help others and stop bad guys. El Bow was just a moniker. The essence of who he was is still there; the new journey is figuring out what to do now and who he wants to become. Then Mr. Gar meets the President of the Universe and is assigned a new mission that aligns better with who he is and what he can do: protect the glorb tree and build a supply chain store for heroes.

The President of the Universe could be seen as a fun, campy stand-in for a person finding newfound purpose through religion. Or someone reconnecting with their spirituality in general. Sometimes, the parables, teaching, and morals connected to a religious practice or diving more into philosophy give a person that feels lost and directionless a good foundation for introspection. It can be a line thrown out to sea that guides them back to shore. Its a starting line that gives them the means to start exploring and learning about the more abstract part of 'what is life' that leads to growth, change, and hopefully, self improvement. Mr. Gar building the Plaza leads to him becoming the hero and legend of Mr. Gar. He's not attached to POINT. He lives and sustains a separate venture that promotes a more independent, self-discovery approach towards being a hero. There aren't concrete benchmarks or specific guidelines, but Mr. Gar gladly gives advice and presents a great space to help somebody figure out what direction works for them.

Enid in particular benefits from how much more open training at the Bodega is vs the more structured training and education at POINT. There's three particular classifications a POINT Prep student could be sorted into: logic, strength, or charisma. While the different areas overlap, there's still pressure to conform to titles like 'the smart one' or 'the charismatic one.' The charisma students, ala Elodie, are the most likely to be popular and well liked. In short, POINT Prep promotes and curates specific visions of what a hero should be like. With Mr. Gar, he pinpointed Enid and Rad's respective strengths and encourages their next moves or training based on what makes sense for them individually vs a strict, one-size-fits-few curriculum. Enid ultimately chooses Gar's Bodega over POINT Prep because his more free-form approach as a mentor is a better fit for her. She's still trying to figure out what kind of hero she is and wants to be. As it was, POINT Prep is a better match for someone that already knows who they are and what their ultimate goals are (hence why Elodie thrived in that environment).

--

While Mr. Gar eventually recreated himself, he still bottled up and buried El Bow, Laserblast, and POINT. He refuses to confront what happened and as a result, has stilted, awkward run-ins with Carol. Talking to Carol in a deeper, more meaningful way than "How are you?" means he has to unpack his guilt over Laserblast's demise. Carol has processed what happened, realized that if she had run in she might have 'died' along with Laser, and that she lost an important friendship. She learned to live with what happened, in large part to be an aware and active parent for K.O., and is trying to live as full and satisfying a life she can now. Yes Mr. Gar built the Bodega and became an impressive, respected figure in his own right, but part of him is stuck in the past on that horrible night.

In his mind, he might as well be the one that killed Laser instead of the black hole. The angry, upset Carol in the constantly rewound tape of his mind's eye is more tangible and immediate than Carol in reality. Mr. Gar is so scared that if he actually tries to talk to her, it would be an instant means to transport him back to that painful transition period between losing El Bow and who Mr. Gar is now. Its a weird balance: the tragedy rules his life to the point that it makes it difficult for Mr. Gar to be vulnerable but admitting it happened would supposedly shatter what peace and status quo Mr. Gar managed to achieve otherwise.

Traditionally, men are encouraged to ignore and bury trauma. Its presented as a simple obstacle that can be overcome with enough will power. Instead of the overcome by willpower tack, the dramatic slow-mo sandwich drop and ensuing story beat build towards similar 'talk things out' deconstruction that toons like Steven Universe regularly visit. One particular episode depicts Mr. Gar cowering at the sight of a younger Carol on a giant flying sub. It shows that Mr. Gar's attempts to ignore that particular event and the heavy emotions around it have been ineffective. He's a lot more self-confident and actualized. He can handle rude customers, tough bad guys, and most things that come his way, but brute force will not overcome trauma. Its something that haunts him like a ghost. Posing this as his greatest fear helps paint just how overwhelming trauma can be if not the importance of recognizing its effects on mental and emotional health period.

When Mr. Gar finally does talk to Carol, it's like opening a pressure valve. Its a release. Carol reassures him that he's not responsible for what happened with Laser and that she's sorry for blaming him. Hearing someone say this out loud, even if Mr. Gar had come to that conclusion himself, makes this concrete. Now he fully recognizes that the Carol in his mind is a projection; nowhere close to the present-day reality of the person he's talking to. After they finally talk, they start to reconcile, grow close again, and even start dating.

Their romance is a more in-the-background slow burn with the exception of the cute picnic date, but its rewarding to see play out. If anything, it shows that Mr. Gar is working through his trauma to the point that he has more meaningful and deep conversations with Carol. He trusts her enough to fully let his guard down and honestly let her in. Granted, it'd be nice to see a more detailed conversation between them about her still working for POINT in secret. Though, its not too much of a stretch that they built a strong enough foundation to work through that and fully talk things out later.

--

After working at the Bodega for awhile and Mr. Gar dating his mom, K.O. openly admits to Mr. Gar that he sees him as a father figure. At first, Mr. Gar looks baffled, but he ultimately decides to fill this role as best he can. Employing K.O. started as a favor to Carol. Through his general interactions and one-on-one time with the kid, he comes to care about him as much as his other pupils Rad and Enid. He recognizes the gravity of the role K.O. is asking him to fill. As far as they both know, K.O.'s bio-dad is dead, Carol's immediate friends and clients are other moms and older women, and Mr. Gar's pupils/adoptive family are pretty much K.O.'s older siblings anyway. K.O. is expressing his need for an older male role model; not just the ambiguous figure of Chip Damage he only ever gets cues from through TV appearances and action figures.

Mr. Gar is right there. He's reliable, he's a powerful hero, he's an enthusiastically Carol-approved symbol of masculinity. He's the picture of what K.O. wants to be like. The montage revealing that Mr. Gar and Carol started dating features happy, domestic scenes with Mr. Gar filling the role of 'dad' well enough that K.O. reflects on that with a smile. That particular scene with K.O. and Mr. Gar on the Bodega roof for a stake-out is the result most blended families hope for when a new parent enters the scene. The new parent, in this case Mr. Gar, has organically meshed with the existing family and carved out a spot that's unanimously accepted.

Considering how Mr. Gar is written and presented, he's an example of a positive masculine role model. He's tough, he's stern, and he kicks ass, but he's also patient and learning how important it is to be open and vulnerable. In the very last episode, its a mark of how much of an impact Mr. Gar had when an adult K.O. not only takes over the Bodega, but also his spot for an aerial attack from the clouds.