#around 1300 words

[beechersnope]

i don't think mormons should be considered christian for Numerous reasons, not least of which bc the push to assimilate with american christianity is relatively recent, but it's always so funny to see actual christians lose their shit whenever someone asks why mormons haven't been included in something online

[zombified-queer]

🌨 Sleet - What's the most you've ever written in one sitting?

Okay so sometimes I get focused on an Idea and end up making a 2-3k work over the course of a few hours. And then when it's done I'm like "How LONG was I out?"

[fedoranon]

Gonna submit a txt of I, Robot with all the robot words find-and-replaced to horse words just to get a scrivener discount code 👍 what I totally wanted to write a searing criticism on this society's overreliance on the pack animal

Regardless of what you think about generative AI in general, NaNoWriMo allowing AI-generated works is beyond stupid because that completely defeats the purpose of the challenge, which is for you, a human being, to write 50,000 words in a month. Yeah, that's hard. That's why it's a challenge. Where is the challenge when you can ask a chatbot to spit out 50,000 words of whatthefuckever for you? Even if you think that is a legitimate way to produce fiction, even if you don't care about the ethics of training on stolen works... where's the challenge? What's left of NaNo at that point?

[viridianvalor]

wrote something for TTMF tonight for the first time in like 4 weeks 💚 

[mapis-putellas]

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆’𝒔 𝑭𝒓𝒆𝒅?

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 1300

Warnings: none

Summary: Alexia’s loses her beloved Fred, a stuffed giraffe you’d given her on your one year anniversary.

Notes: Changed my writing style up a little. Hope it’s somewhat okay

You stepped into the house, expecting to find Alexia in her usual spot on the couch or in the kitchen. Instead, the sight that greeted you was an absolute mess—blankets strewn about, pillows tossed to the floor, and Alexia standing in the middle of it all, looking utterly defeated. Her face was blotchy, her eyes red from crying, and when she saw you, her expression crumpled even further.

"Ale, what happened?" you asked, quickly dropping your bag and stepping over the clutter to reach her.

Her bottom lip wobbled as she tried to speak, her voice choked with emotion. "Fred... he's... he's gone," she managed, her accent thick with distress.

You blinked, a mix of confusion and amusement flickering over your face. "Fred?"

She looked up at you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "The... giraffe. You know," she said, sniffling, her voice trembling. "You gave him... one year ago. Anniversary."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as the memory surfaced. For your first anniversary, you'd found a little stuffed giraffe and gifted it to her, joking that it reminded you of her—tall, unique, and utterly adorable. To your surprise, she'd taken to it immediately, naming him Fred and declaring him her "little amigo." Since then, Fred had become a surprising constant in Alexia's life, stashed in her training bag, sitting on her bedside table, and even sometimes making the journey to the locker room with her.

You hadn't realized how much he meant to her until now.

"Fred is... gone?" you echoed, trying to sound sympathetic despite the amusement bubbling up inside you. It was a little stuffed giraffe, after all.

"Yes!" she practically wailed, burying her face into her hands. "I... I looked everywhere. Todo la casa. Todo," she said, her voice muffled.

Your heart softened as you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a gentle hug. "Hey, hey. We'll find him, I promise."

She looked up at you, a spark of hope in her teary eyes. "Really?"

"Really," you said, squeezing her shoulder. "You know, Fred can't have gotten far.”

She sniffed, managing a small smile. "S��... maybe he just... he went to explore."

You started searching the house together, combing through every room. Alexia seemed to be calming down a little with each room you checked, though her anxiety was still palpable as she checked every possible nook and cranny. You turned over cushions, looked under the couch, peeked in closets—even checked the fridge, though that one earned you a puzzled glance from Alexia.

"Just in case Fred got hungry," you said, grinning, and she rolled her eyes, finally laughing a little through her worry.

But after nearly an hour of searching, there was still no sign of Fred. Alexia sat down on the couch, fresh tears pooling in her eyes as she looked up at you. "I... I think he's... gone," she whispered.

You knelt in front of her, brushing a thumb across her cheek to wipe away a tear. "Hey, don't say that. We'll find him, okay? Fred's just... probably hiding somewhere you haven't thought of yet."

She nodded, looking down at her lap. "I just... I feel silly," she mumbled, her accent thick as she tried to explain herself. "He's... only a giraffe. But he... means much."

You felt a pang in your chest at her vulnerability. "He's more than just a giraffe to you, though. He's special."

Her eyes met yours, and she nodded, a shy smile playing on her lips. "Sí. You... gave him to me. He's my... little Fred."

"Let's keep looking," you said, standing and offering her your hand. "One more sweep, and if we still can't find him, we'll retrace your steps. Maybe he got left somewhere."

She took your hand, squeezing it gratefully. "Thank you.”

After combing through the house once more with no luck, you decided to check her car. It was the last place Alexia could remember seeing him, though she was adamant that she'd brought him inside the previous day.

As you opened the passenger side door, you felt a small thrill of victory. There, tucked neatly into the seatbelt, sat Fred, looking perfectly content.

"Oh my God," you whispered, trying to stifle your laughter as you reached in to grab the stuffed giraffe. "Alexia, I found him!"

She hurried over, her eyes widening as she saw Fred safely buckled into the passenger seat. A mixture of relief and embarrassment washed over her face as she reached out, taking him into her arms and hugging him tightly.

"You... you were in the car?" she murmured to the toy, her voice soft, as if she were scolding him. She looked up at you, cheeks flushed. "I... I forgot him there?"

You grinned, unable to resist teasing her just a little. "Looks like he decided he wanted a front-row seat for the drive."

She huffed, but there was a glint of laughter in her eyes. "Don't... make fun of me," she muttered, clutching Fred protectively to her chest.

You leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I'm not. I'm just glad we found him. And that he's safe and sound."

Alexia's expression softened as she looked down at Fred, giving him one last squeeze before she turned back to you. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice full of gratitude.

"Anytime," you replied, wrapping an arm around her as the two of you headed back inside. "Fred is practically part of the family, after all."

She gave you a warm smile, resting her head on your shoulder as you walked back into the house together.

That evening, after dinner and a movie, you found yourselves curled up in bed. Alexia lay beside you, Fred tucked under one arm, nestled against her chest as she settled comfortably into your side. You couldn't help but smile at the sight, brushing a hand through her hair as she closed her eyes, clearly exhausted from the day's events.

"Going to sleep with him tonight?" you teased gently, running your fingers up and down her arm.

She nodded, a shy smile playing on her lips as she glanced at you. "Yes. Just... in case. No more... lost Fred."

You chuckled, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. "Sounds like a good plan.”

For a while, you lay there in comfortable silence, the soft rhythm of her breathing mingling with the quiet sounds of the night. She shifted closer, her body warm against yours as she nestled further into your embrace.

"You know," you whispered, breaking the silence, "it was really sweet how much you cared about finding him. It just shows how much love you have in your heart.

She looked up at you, a small blush coloring her cheeks. "It's... because of you. You give him to me, so... he's special."

You smiled, gently rubbing her back as you held her close. "Well, I'm glad Fred means so much to you. And I promise I'll always help you find him if he ever gets lost again."

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "I'll... keep better eye," she promised, a determined glint in her eyes. "No more... lost Fred."

"Good," you murmured, resting your forehead against hers. "Because I don't like seeing you sad."

She sighed contentedly, her fingers tracing soft patterns on your shoulder as she relaxed into your hold. "Thank you," she whispered again, her voice filled with quiet affection.

"Anytime, mi amor," you replied, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

As you lay there, holding Alexia and her little stuffed giraffe close, you felt a profound sense of contentment wash over you. In that moment, everything felt perfect—your heart full with the knowledge that you'd do anything to keep her and her cherished Fred safe and happy.

Eventually, her breathing evened out, and you knew she'd fallen asleep, Fred clutched securely in her arms. You pressed one last gentle kiss to her forehead before settling in beside her, knowing that she'd wake up with a smile, her precious giraffe safely by her side.

**

Tags:

@codiemarin @girlgenius1111 @marysfics @ceesimz @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[quixotical-lymbo]

Pairing: Orion Pax x gn!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: Why did you agree to join Orion on a day out which promised a 'fun' time?  Warnings/Tags: SPOILERS for the transformers one movie, cybertronian reader, running from the law, awkward first kiss, forced bonding/j, flirting, banter, humor, acquaintances to friends to…?, and fluff.  Word Count: 1300+ words 

"...find anything yet?" 

You jumped and juggled the recording in your servos. Gasping as it slipped between your digits a few times before you had a firm hold on it with both servos. You glared at the mech hanging over your shoulder, who rose his servos as he backed up from you. 

"No, nothing yet," You answered as you carefully placed the recording back in its original spot. Your optics ran over the many shelves and cases full of records, a huff left you as you turned to ask, "You?" 

"None," Orion took out a recording and discarded it carelessly. 

"...you know we should probably go," You stepped away from the shelf and approached Orion's back. You stopped just a few steps away from him, peering around his arm to see the mech filtering through the piles on the table. "Before we get caught again." 

"We won't get caught, stop being a wuss," Orion reassured with a laugh. 

"Hey! What are you two doing over there? Wait, is that Orion Pax again?!" 

The two of you shared horrified looks before scrambling from the records as the shouting officers demanded you two to stop. 

"I told you we would get caught!" You blew your top as you sprinted beside Orion. 

"And I'm telling you we won't-!" Optimus turned a corner and grunted when he slammed against a wall. 

"Dead end?" Optimus glanced up and saw the vents were boarded up. "Damn, they really prepared this time." 

"See? See? This is exactly why I should've listened to D to not come with you," You shook your digit at Orion before dropping your face into your palm. "We are going to get demoted for sure." 

"...halt!"

The approaching voices caused you to fret even more, but Orion was immune to the panic as he focused on finding a way out of this. He glanced around the corridor before his optics landed on a window. 

You felt something grab your wrist and before you could squeal you were pulled along. Your optics fell on the window that Orion was leading the both of you to and you began shaking your helm frantically. 

"No, no, no, don't you da-!" 

"Too late for that!" Orion pulled you close and shielded your frame with his as he rammed through the glass. 

A scream ripped from your intake as the two of you pummeled toward the ground, other cybertronians and the like zooming past the two of you.

Fortunately, the two of you landed on an overhang attached to a wall, the force ricocheted you both into breaking another window and falling inside of a building. Orion rolled with you in his arms for a few seconds until he rolled onto his back, then he unwrapped his arms from you. 

Out of breath and gasping for air, You and Orion gawked at each other for a moment before a giggle left your dermas. Orion couldn't hold back anymore and also broke out a fit of chuckles while you weakly dismounted from him and sat on the ground. Your optics observed the broken pieces of glass that led to the elevated window you two entered from.

It….was really high up, not even Orion seemed tall enough to reach it. 

 

"What did I say? We wouldn't get caught and here we are now! Not getting screamed at or forced to work another long hour of-" Orion faltered as did his optics observing your back. Him seeing your shoulders slump as well as the lack of your usual taunts spooked him. 

"...___? Is something wrong?" Orion got off of the ground and joined you by your side. He placed a servo on your shoulder and leaned forward to gauge your reaction. 

"Pax…" You began. "We're trapped." 

"What?" Orion's optics widened. 

"Look." 

So he did and he didn't like what he saw. 

Orion examined the building they were in and how dark it was. There wasn't any light sources other than the light streaming in from the window. Everything else was boarded up and the room appeared…abandoned to say the least. 

There were a few boxes and carts here and there, but other than those things it was fairly empty. 

"Scrap," Orion hissed. "Look, ___, I-" 

He turned to you and shut his trap up when you held up a servo. 

"It's fine, I expected things to go to scrap the moment I agreed to go on this 'outing,'" You curled your digits to make the 'quote-on-quote' gesture before dropping your arms. You turned on your heel strut and walked over to the nearest wall and slid down onto your aft. Orion watched you go, his face twisting with a flurry of emotions before he decided to sit beside you with his legs stretched out. 

"..." You couldn't find the strength to speak or entertain a conversation now of all times. You didn't hate Orion, or find him that annoying like every other bot did. In fact, you liked him, more than you were willing to admit to his face or D's (who had an inkling and brought it up one time–but you quickly shut that down before his smug ideas could land you in trouble). You curled your knees to your chassis and burrowed your helm in your arms.

"..."

"Soooo…you come here often?" 

You raised your helm enough to peek your optics out and give Orion a look.

He smiled back. 

"Yeah, I come here all the time when I want to avoid dumb idiots like a certain red and blue mech," You shot back as your tone came out harsher than intended. 

Orion halfheartedly giggled before shooting you with another ridiculous response, "I'm pretty positive that the red and blue mech doesn't mean any harm…and he's very very sorry." 

You couldn't hide the smile growing on your faceplate. Rolling your optics and making contact with the bigger mech's face, you played along with his game. "Oh, is that so? Because I don't think bringing me to a dark, scary place is an ideal first date I'd imagine us going on."

It was Orion's turn to look at you. Stunned as his cheeks flushed with a light hue. 

 "Well, I, uh…" 

You looked away and smirked at your win. Even if he laughed it off or rebuffed you, it was nice that you could make him shut up for once. 

"...I could take you somewhere nicer…for next time." 

You almost had a whiplash from how fast your helm turned on your shoulders. You studied Orion's face for any signs of this being some cruel joke, but nothing prepared you for the soft expression and heated gaze that allowed you to drink in all of its vulnerability. 

Oh….oh.

"I'd love that," You admitted, optics shying away from his intense gaze. You unfurled from the ball you curled in and placed your servos on the ground.  A relieved sigh rumbled from Orion's chassis as he turned his gaze to stare off into space, his servo slowly inching away from his side and toward yours. 

You flinched when something tapped your pinkie, you peeked down and saw Orion's digit nudging against yours. Your dermas curved as your faceplate was set ablaze, you hooked your digit around Orion's—who in turn interlocked your servos together. 

The two cybertronians glanced up from their joined limbs and stared into each other's optics. 

Time slowed as the two of you leaned forward, you could practically hear each other's sparks beating wildly as the gap sealed with a kiss.

His dermas gently pressed against  yours, his other servo cupped the back of your helm and your own rested on his chassis. The kiss was soft and a bit awkward as Orion's forehelm knocked into yours a few times. Nevertheless, it was a wonderful experience. 

As you tilted your helm to deepen the kiss-

A loud bang caused the two of you to separate and stare at the two guards who blocked the only exit of the place. 

"EW! Public displays of affection and breaking into an official building is not allowed!" 

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. star banner by @enchanthings !!

[risuola]

CALL IT DOUBLE TROUBLE — F. READER x GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU, who have a habit of sharing everything

It’s been a while since you last saw your college ex-boyfriend Gojo and a Halloween party led to your reconnection. It was cool to see him again, although your break-up was messy. What turned out to be a plot twist, was that he now has a handsome best friend and together, they are deadly.

cw: smut, exes to lovers, strangers to lovers, threesome, double penetration, praise, cum play, oral (f & m receiving), su*cide is mentioned (no description, just brief mention), reader discretion is advised — 6k words

masterlist

a/n: with that post I'm concluding the kinktober - sorry about the delay! work overwhelmed me, it sucked the life out of me, but I'll be getting back to writing now, so stay tuned! also, we hit 1300 followers, so I just want to say thank you so much for being here and reading the shit I post!

You were never that big on parties – you found them mostly annoying with the masses pushing and pulling all around you, drunk assholes that never seem to understand how consent works and even more drunk girls, that throw themselves at anyone slightly attractive. At least that’s how you remember every party you were on during your college years. You experienced firsthand how much effort men can put into chasing a hem of a mini skirt and you also saw in real life, how women were flexing their assets just to get into the pants they want. Unfortunately, usually pants that were in the biggest demand, were coincidentally belonging to your boyfriend. Uh, yeah, maybe that’s why you don’t really like parties.

Dating Satoru Gojo was a blessing, in some parts – he was just lovely to you. He was caring, to some extent, he was sweet-talking you into everything he wanted, and his arrogance always seemed to fly right over your head, but you loved him for longer than he deserved. You trusted him to not sleep with those eagerly spreading girls and he never did. At least that’s what you like to believe. Flirting with them – that was a different story. Satoru was an attention whore, really. He was basking in the gazes glued to him, the salivating mouths were feeding his already enormous ego and he seemed to have the time of his life pulling the strings of those poor, naïve girls that every time believed him when he told them they are just so pretty. His crystalline blue eyes were capable of turning lesbians into straight and straights into gay. The number of suggestive pictures he posed for flooded your social media each time after the parties you attended with him, and not one of those pictures he’s ever taken with you. And then, after leaving the frat houses and clubs, he would tell you how lucky you are to have him, how all of those silly girls were offering him their pussies oh so eagerly. He’d tell you how they envied you. All while he’d fuck you. You spent two years with him, then came the break-up and just as everything that involved Satoru was messy – so was your parting.

You really had no pleasure in partying, after freeing yourself from the toxicity of Gojo, you finally found peace. You flew through college with ease and after it ended, you found yourself quite a nice job – you were okay without attending any kinds of alcohol and loud music related people gatherings. That’s until Shoko called you earlier that month, practically begging you to pay her a visit on Halloween. She was in the city, having her family house all to her disposal due to her family being on a trip somewhere warm. It was a party where all of your college, mutual friends were going to be, a little reconnection if you will and she insisted you show up as well. It really sounded lovely to see where all of your friends landed in lives. With some you still had a regular contact, but some just went their ways and you rarely crossed paths with them, so you agreed to be there. That was a perfect opportunity to catch up and you were excited.

For some unknown reason, not even once you considered Gojo to be there as well. You just kind of pushed the memory of him to the back of your head, you removed him from the picture of your mutual circle of friends and completely you forgot that he’ll most likely be there as well. You realized it when Shoko asked you about him.

“Have you seen Gojo already?”, her tone was quite cautious when she mentioned the name to you, and with the way you looked at her from above your dying cigarette, she spoke again, “You know he’s gonna be there as well, don’t you?”

“Guess I blacked out that possibility,” you mumbled, shrugging softly to shake off the uneasiness of the thought and killing the cig in the sink before throwing it away. “No, I haven’t seen him and I hope it will stay that way.”

“Oh, you’re still wounded after him?”

“No, Sho, I’m not wounded,” you grabbed yourself a red cup from the array on one of the tables in the kitchen. You had no idea what concoction of liquid courage was inside every each of them, but you really couldn’t care less. If that was one of your first parties in years, you were not going to be picky and you trusted Shoko enough to not have death in those cups. “I’m really not. Thing is… I don’t know, it’s been so many years, I’m not really sure what to even tell him. We broke up in a mess that wasn’t addressed ever since, so you know.”

“Yeah, right, I remember the insanity of that action. Gojo was haunting my dreams for two weeks after the suicidal stunt he pulled off.” Ieiri flinched at the memory but laughed right after realizing how stupid all of that was. “He was a drama queen, we have to give him that.”

“See?”

“Well, you’ll most likely see him anyway, so just a hi will be good.”

“Noted.”

She left you to greet someone, and you shook your head, hoping to get rid of the flashbacks, but they were inevitable, you guessed it. Long time after ending things with Gojo you couldn’t find peace after what happened. You think you will forever remember the argument that unraveled after you told him you’re breaking up with him. There was so much screaming, your head pounded with pain for two days straight after that. Nothing more than accusing of the most bizarre shits and poison was spilling from his mouth when, for the first time, Satoru Gojo was informed that someone else is leaving him. Usually, it was him who ended things up, it was him who was cutting the strings and he was too immature back then to come to terms that other people are also entitled to just go away. You remember he went completely feral, almost psychotic as he was laughing at some point, throwing ironic insults at you as if it was gonna make you stay. He had to prove a point that it’s not you who want to leave him. It’s him who want to break up and you just accidentally happened telling him that before he managed to do so. After that, he threatened you that he will kill himself and he made it everybody’s problem – you had to know it, Shoko had to know it and every single one of your friends had to know it as well. You heard from Ieiri that after about three weeks he got back to being his usual arrogant playboy, as if he didn’t just cause drama of the century. He moved on. Traumatized everyone around him, but moved on nonetheless. Now you found the situation kind of funny. You were just kids and you were not meant to be together. That’s just how life works and you wondered sometimes if Satoru learned a little more life after that or did he stay the same.

Sighing again, you took the cup and slipped in between people in the living room, stepping outside to breathe some fresh air on the terrace, thankful that no one was there. Or so you thought and no wonder you almost jumped out of your own skin when you heard a voice right next to you.

“Fire?” He asked, after a moment of watching you search for the lighter in the pockets of your makeshift schoolgirl uniform. The unlit cigarette in your mouth betraying what you were looking for.

His tone was soft, saccharine sweet and calm at the same time and as you looked up at him, it somewhat matched the picture that met your eyes. The man was tall and broad, dressed all in black with dress pants and a hoodie. His sleeves half up, exposing the veiny forearms as he was keeping his lighter visible, ready to give you a hand.

“Yes, please,” you replied finally, leaning into the fire he opened and with relief you take the first breath in. You were not a smoker in your day-to-day life. One pack of cigarettes lasted you a year, but it was Shoko’s influence that today made you poison your lungs more than usual. “Thanks.”

“I’m Suguru. Geto Suguru,” he introduced himself, offering you his palm and you gave it a short squeeze, telling him your own name. You couldn’t find his face in your memories, and you’d like to think that such handsome features would tattoo themselves into your brain in one way or another. He had to come with someone else, you figured. Probably a boyfriend or a husband even. You couldn’t care less about asking. “Enjoying the party?”

“I’m not big on parties, really,” you shrugged, keeping your gaze away from him because hell, he made it so easy to stare with his long luscious, black hair resting over his shoulders and back, half tied up in a little bun just to get them out of his face. You couldn’t tell what his costume was, he had some kind of alternative style going on, slightly rocker vibes with his pierced ears and silver chains hanging from his neck, but it might have as well be his usual style – he looked good in it. He most certainly looked like a big, red flag but hell was the flag attractive.

“I see. Well, I’m not either,” he confessed, huffing out a greyish cloud of smoke out of his lungs and by the smell of it, you could tell it wasn’t nicotine.

“What you’re smoking?”

“Weed, why? Wanna try it?” It was an offer that you should politely say no to, but it was your first and probably last party in a while, so you asked yourself why not and took the joint from his fingers.

“So, you’re here with someone?” you questioned, just to keep the conversation going once you gave him the smoke back. You could feel the unfamiliar but somehow pleasant burn in your lungs after the drag you took and slowly you blew the fume out. Suguru found the view attractive. Sharing a joint with you felt a little more intimate than it should have, the way your lips wrapped around the brownish paper made him wonder how would they look wrapped around something else. Thoughts like this shouldn’t bloom in his head right after he’s met you, not when he’s an adult man, not a stupid kid anymore, but some things couldn’t be stopped.

“Yeah,” he inhaled once more, deeply enough to kill the joint and throw it away. You watched for a moment how he kept the smoke in his lungs, letting it go after a moment. The cloud escaping through his mouth and nose in a soft stream. Fuck, what a gorgeous man. Whoever was the girl that got him had to be lucky. “You know him, he told me about you.”

Oh, never mind.

“He? Ah, fuck, don’t tell me you came here with that idiot,” you reached down for your cup that few moments prior you put on the ground while searching for a lighter.

“Ow, you’re hurting my feelings, sweetheart.”

And there he was. You wondered where that tower of an asshole hid.

Once you look back at Geto, there was also Satoru. He was standing next to his friend slash partner, with his forearm propped over Suguru’s shoulder as he looked at you from above the black glasses, with the very familiar grin painted on his face. Gojo changed a lot since you last saw him. He was now buffier, seemed even taller than you remembered, and his facial features matured – his jaw became more square, eyes a little more lidded and even the smirk on his lips seemed less playboy-ish and more menacingly manly. He lost his princess looks and became a man. You wondered if his character changed as well, because you could still see him using his looks to take what he wanted.

“Oh, do I?” You questioned, eyeing him up and down. His clothes were almost exactly the same as Geto’s – only difference being the light color and the fact his sweatshirt had no hood. What he was wearing completely contrasted to what his friend had on and it made sense if they were here together. Black and white, like yin and yang. You had no idea if they were here as friends or lovers, but either way, you wouldn’t be surprised.

“You sure do,” Satoru shook his head, his smile now more friendly as he approached you, entrapping you in a hug that surely took you by surprise. “It’s good to see you, beautiful.”

“You too,” you guessed, not completely convinced about what you just said but you let it be.

“I’m sorry. I have to say it before you run away from me. I’m really sorry, I was a dick when we were dating,” Gojo’s voice reached your ears directly, but you had a hard time believing what you were hearing. He was never a type to apologize for anything. Please, sorry and thank you is a set of words that you were certain he never used and yet there he was, saying just that. He really evolved. Or he wanted something.

“Yeah, you were. Hope you’re not anymore,” you chuckled softly, brushing your hand over his side.

“I try not to be,” he confessed quietly, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your neck before letting go of you. He shouldn’t have kiss you like that, but the feeling of longing was way stronger than him. Even if for a moment, he had to just have a little taste of you.

Ever since you broke up, Gojo had no idea how much he missed having you in his arms. Up until that night he was okay with some random girls coming into and getting out of his bed with no strings attached. He seemed to be unable to form a lasting relationship after you, you were his first and last girlfriend that he committed to for so long, no matter how poorly. Even if he was nothing but an asshole to you, he often wished to marry you back in the college. Even if he couldn’t possibly show you how much he cared, because his childish behaviors were standing in the way of him reaching your heart properly, he really thought you will be the one and only in his life and even if he seemed to move on so quickly after you broke up with him, it was only for show. A cover up for the thunderstorm that was raging inside his chest, a band aid over the bleeding wound. No other girl was able to even half-fill the emptiness you left in his heart.

You were special to him and it thrilled him to the core when for the first time he heard from Shoko that you agreed to be there, because if it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t show up as well. His time for partying finished along with his fourth year of college, when he realized there was less and less fun in drinking alcohol and forcing himself into flirting. When it came to you, he had never needed to force himself to do anything. He was just an immature kid when you dated, but he loved the time you gave him.

And now, you were still fitting perfectly into his body. As if he was made from memory foam that still remembered your shape. Now, you were still just as beautiful and breathtaking as he remembered you. In your little, schoolgirl mini skirt, thigh-high socks and a white button up shirt with a loosened tie you looked way sexier than you had a reason to. It’s been quite some time since he was that aroused from just looking at someone and you made him harder than he thought is possible. Fuck, what you were doing to him?

“So, what do you do now? Still living from party to party and from girl to girl?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink. It was strong and it really was better for you to take it in slowly, but there was a certain burn of nervousness tied to meeting your ex that you needed to drown.

“No, it’s in the past,” Satoru replied, inviting you inside, where all three of you found a nice place to sit on one of the couches. You landed between the two men. “I took the lead of my father’s company, Suguru’s my partner in crime. We’re doing good, I don’t party anymore. Honestly, if Shoko didn’t give me a sign that you will be there, I wouldn’t probably step by.”

“Oh, so you came to haunt me,” you joked, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Yeah, kind of. Couldn’t reach you before and wanted to sort this whole mess out. I’m usually cool with having enemies, but you’re not someone I want to have as enemy.”

You gave his words a soft roll of your eyes. Maybe few years back you’d let yourself be sugarcoated into believing him, but not now. Maybe, just maybe, he matured a little, but some things will never change. Gojo was a flirt, is a flirt and probably will always be a flirt. But hell, was he cute. You cursed his innate ability to attract you from a mile.

“Sure, whatever,” you shrugged and the conversation after that was flowing nicely. You got to know Suguru, you learned who he is and why did he stick with Satoru. It was a friendship they developed that kept them together and maybe it was thanks to Geto that your ex wasn’t so much of an asshole anymore. Maybe it’s the brunette’s calm personality that somewhat grounded the playboy. Or maybe it was all an illusion. Yea, it had to be an illusion. There was no way that these two six-foot-three giants were not causing some troubles.

Yeah, they were a trouble. Double trouble, to be exact, and you got to learn that when the doors of one of many bedrooms on the floor closed behind you. You don’t even know how and why you agreed to go with them anywhere in the first place. You had no idea how on earth did Satoru sweet-talked you into fucking him again. For the old time’s sake, my ass. And more important, how did he sweet-talked you into fucking not only him, but also Suguru? At the same time?! You were not built for this, that’s for sure.

“Let’s have fun like we always did, yeah?” Gojo had this typical, shit-eating grin stretched on his face, when he was pulling you by the wrist onto the bed. Geto took his time and lit up another joint, opting to just stand and watch for now. He had a smirk on, his eyes were fixed on you, and you could tell that they weren’t new to sharing a woman. It really was obvious they did that before.

You had no time to think if that surprises you at all. Satoru was a stranger to patience. He never enjoyed waiting and always went straight for what he wanted, and this time was no exception.

“God, you look so fucking hot as a schoolgirl,” he muttered, burying his face into your neck, nibbing and kissing wet marks onto your skin whilst his fingers were already dealing with buttons of your white shirt. Your body acted on its own accord, responding to the red stains of his lips and the cold touch of his fingers with excitement that you felt for the last time when you were in college. It bothered you that you still were so receptive to the way he feels on you, you thought that you’re way over the Gojo effect but seems like you were gravelly wrong. “What a naughty one,” Satoru chuckled, his voice bordered a moan when he finally opened your shirt and your shapely tits, hugged beautifully by a lace bra entered his field of view. “Fuck, I missed those.”

“You’re talking too much,” you grabbed him by the hair, tugging the snow-white strands at the base of his neck and pushing his face down your neck and onto your chest, hoping it will shut him up. That was the issue with your ex. He really was a phenomenal lay but he was just talking so damn much. That was what ultimately pushed you over the edge when you were together back in the day. You just couldn’t stand listening about other women while he was with you.

“Maybe I am,” he chuckled, sucking a red spot onto one of your tits, earning himself another tug on the hair.

“Don’t mark me, idiot,” you warned him, but it was already too late and both of you knew it.

“My, my… so nervous. Let me help you relax,” Gojo smiled wide and made you lay flat on the bed. It took him no time to find his place between your thighs and before you even got a chance to react, he was already pulling your panties off of you. For a split second, your mind got distracted by the subtle scent of weed that’s filling the air. The smell that reminded you that it’s not only you and your ex in the room, but also another person.

“Don’t worry about me,” Geto smiled. Something mischievous lingered over his lips as he did before he took another drag. The joint between his fingers slowly but surely becoming smaller as he was saturating his lungs with the fumes, only to breathe them out after a moment.

“Are you not going to join?” You asked, your voice slightly breaking into a whine once Satoru flicked his tongue over your clit, reminding you how well he spoke the language of your body. He was fluent in your pleasure, you were never sure if it came to him with experience or was he just naturally gifted, but either way, he had a skill and was proud of it. He began eating you out like he was starving for the past decade. His tongue worked the puffy nub of nerves all the way around, he sucked and licked, slurped and kissed your cunt, causing your body to jolt in pleasure. He was purring while between your legs, his long fingers already working their way into your hole. The stretch was delicious, the symphony of his mouth and hands was slowly driving you insane.

“You’re so sweet,” Satoru mumbled, taking the pleasure away to smear some wet kisses along your inner thighs. “She’s so incredibly sweet, Suguru, you have to taste her,” he added, accentuating the thought with a bite onto the fat of your thigh. His friend just chuckled, making his way towards you and he handed you his half smoked joint.

“I’d love to,” Geto replaced your ex between your thighs. He kept looking into your eyes when he opened his mouth, presenting you with his pierced tongue. Little, metallic ball in the middle of the muscle glistened in the artificial lighting and it made you moan out loud, when he swiped it along your slit, gathering your juices. There was something absolutely intimidating about his calm demeanor, something nearly diabolic but it was exactly what attracted you to him. He was complete opposite to Satoru. He wasn’t bright and loud; his eyes weren’t big and vibrant. He looked mysterious, he kept himself quieter, his eyes kept the focus that Gojo couldn’t achieve. They really were made for each other.

“Oh god—,” your eyes nearly rolled back as he began working on your swollen clit ruthlessly. You had no idea if it was because of the piercing or was it just his skill, but it felt even better then when the snow-white was between your thighs. Or maybe it was just you being so turned on by him.

“You like it?”, your ex asked, grinning as he was taking the time to undress himself. “Knew you’re gonna enjoy it.”

You spared him the comment, losing the track of thoughts in the way Suguru was making you feel. You could have sworn you never felt something like this, he was just incredible with the way his tongue was engraving his own name into your clit. Cold metal of his piercing doubled down the pleasure you were receiving, contrasting with the heat of his muscle.

Your thighs began to tremble, your toes curled in, and you felt yourself quickly falling down the hole of ultimate lust. Euphoria was rushing through your veins; your heart was drumming in your chest as the smoke was leaving your lungs after the drag you took from the joint in your hand. Suguru was pushing you over the edge with such ease it felt illegal. You could feel him grinning proudly from his spot between your legs, you could feel his fingers gripping your hips with bruising strength, keeping them in place while he was slurping your soul straight from your weeping pussy.

Your orgasm exploded and you called out Suguru’s name. He didn’t stop. He kept drinking, thirsty for more of you as your juices coated his tongue and the bottom of his handsome face.

“You really do taste fucking sweet,” he commented, getting up and crawling above you. His lips were on yours the moment he reached your face. He tasted the smoke and you tasted yourself in that kiss. It didn’t last long, but the intensity of it made you almost dizzy. “Let’s get you out of this uniform.”

 It took just few moments until you were completely bare underneath the heavy gaze of two men around you. Satoru was just in his underwear, the tent in them painfully apparent and you knew him well enough that he won’t be able to wait much longer, but what bothered you was the fact that Suguru was still completely clothed. He looked sexy in his dark outfit, but he can look sexy in it later.

“Aren’t you a tease—” you muttered, once he got up from the bed to drown the rest of the joint in what little of alcohol was left in one of your cups on the bedside table. “Take this off.” You demanded, coming up to your knees and pushing his hoodie up.

“How demanding,” he laughed but complied and you managed to just blink twice before his god-like figure presented itself to you. A muscular, large body beautifully decorated with a dragon tattoo that wrapped its tail around his right bicep and spread on his back. You couldn’t decide what to focus on – his impressive musculature, the ink on his skin or the fact that even though he still had his pants on, you could already feel yourself salivating.

Satoru was right behind you, swiping the angry tip of his cock up and down your folds, gathering your slick and making you shiver from the touch. He then pushed his girth into you, stretching you impossibly and pulling a quiet, whiny fuck straight out of your throat. It’s been a while since you’ve been having sex with anyone, not to say anyone with that size, but you couldn’t deny that the burn was delicious. It set all your senses on fire, the heatwave washed over you and once Gojo went with the first thrust, it reminded you how much you missed the physical act of intimacy with him.

“Can’t focus, pretty girl?”, Suguru brought your attention back to himself. His long fingers gently gathered all of your hair into a messy ponytail, and you got the hint immediately. As on cue, you unbuckled his pants, pushing them down almost too eagerly. “Good girl.”

The praise in his tone got you weak, you were already becoming a mess from how perfectly Satoru was fucking you right now, pounding his hips against yours in the mind-numbing manner. His cock hitting all of the sweet spots inside of you with each long stroke and that was enough to make you almost incapable of thinking straight, but your hands and mouth acted on its own.

Geto watched how your lips wrapped around his dick. The sight of you taking him into your mouth with such hunger was something he wanted to engrave onto his brain and if the picture was amazing, then there was no word to describe the feeling itself. Your soft, plush lips felt divine brushing along his sensitive shaft, your tongue dancing around his length made him almost lose his composure. You were a sight. And you made him feel so good, he could feel himself twitching in the hot, wet embrace of your mouth. You were sucking him as if your life was depending on it, as if it was your last supper and you wanted to devour it and every time his plump tip hit the back of your throat, he could feel you taking control over him.

“Isn’t she amazing?”, Gojo mumbled from behind you. His grip remained iron on your hips, the bruising force being the only thing that was grounding you now. You could feel yourself clenching around him, your juices were running down your thighs and the wet sounds of skin slapping against each other were filling the room.

“Oh, she is,” Geto confirmed, applying some force onto your head. The tug on your hair was enough to send you overboard and the vibration of your throat once you moaned were enough for him as well. You couldn’t tell who came first, and frankly, you couldn’t care less about it, as long as it felt so damn good.

“I, fuck— I told you,” Satoru panted out. His hips moved slower as he was sloppily riding the high out. You licked the cock in front of you clean, satisfied with the first course but hungry for more.

You shouldn’t allow all of this to happen. There was not a single argument that could justify everything that was happening right now – you shouldn’t sneak out to god-knows-whose room in your friend’s house and you absolutely shouldn’t sneak out there with not only your ex-boyfriend but also his friend. You couldn’t even remember how you agreed to that. Why have you agreed to that? You had no idea. Was it to talk?

You wouldn’t exactly call the way your body was being stuffed full by two cocks at the same time talking. You were squeezing Suguru’s shoulders as he was thrusting his hips up against yours. His body below you, laying flat on the bed made for a canvas for your nails to leave marks, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. He was kissing you with a mixture of passion and laziness, a smirk stayed prominent on his lips as he was swallowing your moans. The subtle taste of weed in his mouth got you wanting more of him. He felt perfect in every way, his movements were setting your nervous system on fire as the heat was spreading over your entire body, radiating from your core. You could feel Satoru’s fingers teasing your clit, you could feel his lips smearing wet trails along your spine. The way his hips were moving seemed to be perfectly in sync with the brunette.

You were so full of them, you never felt something like this before. The initial pain you felt when Gojo pushed his girth into your asshole was long gone now as he was pounding into you in complete unison with how Geto was moving. The sensation of being so incredibly full turned your brain into a heated mush, your body was trembling between them, electrocuted time after time with a sharp waves of white pleasure. Your vision was blurry, the stars covered most of it. You could no longer tell whose hands were where and your thighs were wet and sticky from all the seed that was being pumped into you, gushing out with every piston of their hips.

“You’re so perfect for us,” someone told you. A low, rasped out voice resounded right next to your ear, followed by a harsh bite onto your shoulder and the sudden wave of new pain that radiated from it pushed you over the edge. You were speeding, falling with no parachute. You couldn’t breathe for a moment as the climax was overtaking you. “Such a good girl, you’re making so much mess.”

“Oh god,” you whimpered, gasping for air as their thrusts picked a pace. You couldn’t form any coherent sentence as they were fucking the soul out of your body. Right after you came, they both came as well. Their cum coated your insides and leaked onto your thighs, dripping down as they pumped into you some more.

Gojo was first to pull out, spreading your cheeks and admiring how his white overflown your hole. The menacing grin spread across his face as he gripped your hips and lifted you off Suguru’s cock. The long-haired man sat up as you, led by your ex’s hands turned to straddle Geto’s lap. Your back was facing his chest as he pulled you back onto his shaft. All of his length sank right into your ass, pulling a moan right from your chest.

“Look at you, so gorgeous,” Satoru was in front of you, admiring for a moment your bouncing figure before his long fingers slipped into your cunt, curling in a way that got him pressing onto your oversensitive sweet spots. “Open your mouth for me.”

You barely registered his words, but your jaw dropped nonetheless. His cum coated digits slid right through your lips and you sucked on them, twirling your tongue around and tasting the mixture of your juices and their seeds. Suguru’s hands were kneading your breasts as his friend was playing with the mess between your thighs.

There was something deeply erotic in a way the white-haired man kept your gaze up. How he looked right into your eyes while you were being fucked by his best friend, how he enjoyed the way you gave them your body to play however they wanted. And it felt even more erotic when Satoru licked the lone drop of cum that escaped the corner of your mouth only to kiss you right after.

Geto was still slamming his pelvis up and you got stuck in the realm of pleasure, hanging somewhere between the movements of the cock in your ass and the lips over your own. You could feel your thighs trembling. Your body, still oversensitive from the last orgasm and yet, already entering the state of another. The wave of lustful relief now flowing dangerously close to your core, the knot in your stomach holding just barely and you squeezed Satoru’s hair, tugging at them harshly. You were struggling to breathe through the heavy kiss he was laying on your lips, but the sensation of it rendered you unable to fight it.

And then it hit you once again. The man below you filled you to the brim, tearing down the last bits of composure you had and your world shattered once the final climax. You felt as if the lust and desire were steaming off of all three of you. The breaths were mixed and the tastes concocted. As all three of you fell onto the bed, blissfully satisfied, you began to slowly regain your mind to the sound of a soft chuckle from your left side. Satoru. He had a habit of laughing when he was fulfilled – a sign of his happiness, the state nearing high. There was some gratefulness in it as well.

“How are you feeling?”, the question came from the right side, where Suguru seemed to already plan how to take care of the entire mess. He kissed your shoulder softly.

“Good,” you replied to him, watching as he gathered himself up from the bed.

“You rest a little bit longer; I’ll go get washed first and then you two.”

[shh-om]

k¡nktober day seventeen - threesome or moresome with all nine main demons

~1300 words

cw non con drugging , drinking , groping , butt chugging , alcohol , non con , filming

“Mhm? Is something different about the Demonus tonight?” your eyes begin to lid as the castle ballroom goes a bit out of focus. Mammon catches your arm as you stumble and lift your glass to observe the golden liquid.

“Oh?” Diavolo chuckles as he dances his way over to you. “I must’ve forgot to mention I had Barbatos mix in some Human World alcohol into tonight’s brew.”

You frown. “I should- I should probably stop drinking now…”

“MC~,” Asmo grabs your shoulders and plants a fat kiss on your lips, tasting wine and flowers. You groan into the kiss, blinking hard.

“I need—,” your head spins and pounds as you pull away from Asmo’s soft, soft lips. “I think I should lay down.”

“Awh,” Asmo whines and Belphie perks up.

“Come here, MC,” he motions to the spot at the table next to him and you sway as you walk over to him. Beelzebub clears the whole area of the table that you’re sitting in front of, taking the cups and plates and serving bowls.

You hum as Belphie grabs you and makes you rest yourself up to your breasts on the table. Your eyes slip closed and you feel someone’s hands, gloved, maybe Barbatos or Lucifer, fondling your chest and you weakly try to shove them away. Alcohol tugs at your mind lulling you into lethargy.

“Mhmm, stop it,” your words come out slurred as your cheek presses into the table cloth. Someone shushes you and across the table someone lifts you by your armpits to lay you vertically on the table.

“Hm?” You try to look up, Beelzebub’s blurry face coming into view. “What’s— What’re we doin’?”

“Shh, don’t worry,” Lucifer’s voice.

“No, wait, what’s—?” You sniff as Belphie’s hands tug down your dress pants, exposing your underwear. “Don’t do that!”

“Shh, it’s okay, just relax, MC,” Belphie rubs his hands over the curve of your behind as he says it. You whimper into the tablecloth as your underwear is stripped away and discarded.

Embarrassment spikes your heart when slender fingers pry open the lips of your pussy. Tears well up in your eyes from the humiliation and you want to do something about this, whatever is going on, but you’re so tired.

“Awh,” Asmo’s colorful nails snag your attention as he coos over you. They tenderly cup your face and he presses a kiss to your lips.

“Just relax,” Mammon pets over your hair.

It’s hard to relax when Belphie’s rubbing his fingers over your dry slit.

He needs to stop, you think. You’re in the middle of Diavolo’s ballroom, and you aren’t in the mood. What would Diavolo do — think of you — if he saw this?!

“Wait,” you attempt to lean up, but the heavy petting on your hair from Mammon makes it hard to lift yourself. Both from the pressure and from the part of it soothing you.

“Shh,” Mammon murmurs into your hair.

Something warm and wet rubs over your slit, and it takes half a second before you realize that it’s Belphie’s tongue. There’s a kiss pressed into your hair, but it does little to stop the trembling sob from leaving your chest.

Another hand begins undoing the lace of your shirt from the back. From the skill of the fingers you assume it’s either Asmo or Satan. It makes you sniffle and try and squirm away.

The tongue against your hole has begun arousing your body, making slick begin to leak from your pussy.

“It’s okay,” Mammon mumbles against your scalp. “Just relax, it’ll be so much easier if you just let them in.”

“Nngh,” you can’t find the words to disagree with him. It halfway turns to a moan as Belphie’s lips wrap around your clit, and his tongue rapidly flicks over the sensitive bud. Your hips weakly squirm away from the stimulation but you get nowhere.

Your top falls from your body and a rush of cold air raises your nipples to peaks. A large, warm hand scoops under your body to fondle one. The other breast is quickly taken hold by a smaller hand, but fondled as well.

“This ‘s wrong, stop,” you protest.

“Do you think they’ll remember this tomorrow?” A voice, Satan’s you think, although the cloudiness of your mind has a lot of room for error. You jolt as a pinch is sent through one of your nipples, a weak shout leaving you, encouraging Mammon to place another soft kiss to your hair.

“Not if we keep them drinking at a steady rate.” Lucifer, or is it Diavolo?, replies. Shoes click against tiled linoleum and another hand ruffles through your hair and grabs hold of your skull, lifting you to meet the red gaze of Lucifer.

He takes in the daze on your face, sighing before gently dropping your head. He says something to someone, but it’s too quiet for you to understand.

Belphie is too good at oral for your own good, and your legs clench and unclench fruitlessly as you cream over the demon’s face. You swear you can feel him smile against your sticky sex.

“My turn?” A deep voice, Beelzebub’s, asks and one of the hands on your breasts disappears.

“Take their mouth, I want this side,” yes, that’s Belphegor speaking.

Mammon helps another pair of hands maneuver you so that your head can just slightly go over the ledge of the table and your eyes get up close and personal with a humongous erect cock. Based on the ginger pubes, it is Beel. Then his hands pry your mouth open and the tip of his cock slips into your mouth.

You hope he doesn’t force you to take the whole thing, it’s far too large for you to live through that. Luckily, for your life, he only fucks your throat in quick, shallow thrusts.

On your other end Belphie’s sliding into your spit slicked hole. He whimpers lowly, and begins a slow rhythm of thrusts.

There’s the sound of multiple zippers all at once, and muffled the starting sound of a DDD beginning a recording. Fuck, someone is filming.

The notion that you’re being recorded as you’re being taken advantage of, makes a fresh wave of tears build up. They’re brushed away by Mammon’s tender hand as soon as they fall, another round of shushing on his end.

It takes far too long for the twins to finish their assault on your holes before they ejaculate into you. You choke on the absolute tsunami of semen that Beel delivers and he pulls out of your mouth with a creamy-spitty dick. Belphie also pulls out after creamping you.

A chilled bottle rim ghosts over the rim of your ass and cold alcohol trickles over the lip and makes you shiver. The rim is lodged into your hole and there’s a brief moment then all of the chill of the drink comes flooding into your ass. You cry out in shock as your bowels are forced to contain the liquid.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Barbatos’ slender gloved hands adjusting the angle he’s filming, and you cringe fruitlessly away from the lens.

In front of you another cock, Diavolo’s, appears, he’s rapidly jerking himself off and aiming at your face. More of the demons you had been partying with surround you, all tugging on their dicks like their lives depend on it. Just when you think you’re in the clear from any more penetration, Diavolo sets his heavy tip in your sore mouth.

Fuck.

Someone, you can’t crane your neck to see who, presses into your wine filled ass. They shallowly fuck into your hole, making the liquid slosh around uncomfortably.

Your body begins to tire and the alcohol in your system begins to make you lethargic. The last thing you remember is:

“They won’t remember this, right?” You hope you don’t.

[cower-before-power]

Holy, Holy, Lover Divine

Pairing: Gale x Fem Reader

Summary: You've never felt worthy of praise, until it's Gale kneeling at your feet.

Warnings: Implied sexual content, religious imagery, Gale may get a bit blasphemous ha

Word Count: approx 1300

A/N: Just another little Gale ficlet because I love him so much and this idea has been in my head for ages. Thanks for reading!

In this moment, you feel divine.

The term has followed you around, exaltations such as “saviour”, or “goddess” leaving the lips of those you’d saved. But it had never felt right, never felt like such praise should be heaped upon a mere mortal. Right place, right time, is what you always assumed should be your words. A simple soul who simply had the means to do what needed to be done. Hardly god-like, hardly worthy of the celestial.

But here, in the privacy of your bedchamber, under the gaze of your beloved, you finally understand that you are holy.

“You are beautiful,” Gale breathes, dark eyes roving over your face, your body, “I swear, there is no more magnificent creature on this plane or any other.” You feel your skin heat beneath your new nightgown, a flimsy scrap of gossamer lace you’d chosen with him in mind. It seems to be well appreciated.

“Don’t let the gods hear such blasphemy,” you murmur, wanting to both further expose yourself to him as well as shyly hide away, “a few of them might disagree.”

Gale shrugs, and you watch the motion of his broad shoulders greedily. “Let them hear me. I no longer care what she….what any of them think of me, of who and what I devote myself to. That right was lost long ago.”

Your eyebrows raise, but you are not surprised. Magic may still be bound to a goddess, but your lover has long stopped bending a knee. Prayers are offered not out of love, but duty, necessity. He gives thanks for the Weave, for spells and knowledge. But he hungers for her treasures no more.

She has long lost his piety, and you do not complain.

“Oh?”, you say coyly, shifting so your gown slides further up your thighs. You do not miss Gale’s eyes following the movement intently, and your skin burns with want. “And what are you devoted to now, Gale of Waterdeep? Where does your worship lie?”

Gale strides towards you, slow and measured, like a cat waiting to pounce. You know what he will say, but you want to hear it all the same. You want to bathe in it, this new feeling of righteousness, of being the idol of such great love and passion. This man makes you feel as if you have wings on your back and a halo over your head.

You vow you will not squander it.

“I am in service of a new goddess now,” he says, and mirth twinkles in his lust-glazed eyes. Your lips quirk upward-your wizard of words is about display his prowess.

“This,” he gestures to the room you share, to the bed you’ve come together in more times than you can count, “this is my temple. The sacred place I give my humble sacrifices, make my loving prayers, pledge my undying service.”

He’s close enough to touch now, bare chest within reach of your gluttonous fingers. Before you can grasp what you crave, his catches your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to press small kisses to your fingertips.

“These are my offerings,” he guides your hand to touch his temple, down to his chest, and further, further, until your finger brush over his desire. You whimper eagerly. “My mind, my heart and my body, all given freely and eagerly to please the one who has saved me time and time again from my own folly.”

He drops your hand and nudges your legs apart, sinking to his knees as he slots himself between them. You think you might combust with how hot the flame of passion is burning within you. Gale never fails to set you on fire from the inside out, but it seems tonight he aims to upstage himself.

“This is my altar,” his voice grows more sinful, his eyes even darker, “the place I will kneel in reverence eternal. Day after day, night after night, I will worship here, a thrall in my Lady’s service. For as long as she will have me.”

He leans forward, lips pressing against your inner thigh. You mewl softly, threading your fingers through his silky hair. Encouraged by your ragged breaths, he roams the giving flesh freely, littering your thighs with warm, bruising kisses.

“These are my hymns, my canticles of homage. I will bestow them upon every inch of this heavenly flesh. As many and as often as my Lady allows."

A gentle, teasing kiss is placed over your smallcothes. You gasp and tug him closer, a spark of white hot pleasure shooting up your spine.

“Gale,” you beg, thinking you may just go mad from his teasing, his honeyed words. “Gale, please-“

But instead of continuing, Gale pulls back and surges upwards, capturing your mouth in a heady kiss. You delightedly take what you are given, groaning as his taste explodes on your tongue. You will never get enough of kissing him, you decide. Gale always kisses you like he’s trying to crawl inside of you. Like he's trying to merge not only your bodies, but your very souls as well.

It never fails to set you on fire.

“This is my baptism,” he pants as he breaks your kiss, fingers flexing on your thighs, barely concealed restraint pulled taught like a bowstring. “I am cleansed of my sins, my foolish ideals, my bitter and lonely existence. To feel my Lady's love and desire in every kiss, every touch, every time I am inside of her- it is to be born anew."

Gale does not stay parted from you for long; his lips soon find their way to your neck, his fingers brushing your sensitive skin reverently.

And you are drowning. You whine and whimper and mumble intelligible pleas as your lover ravishes you with lovebites and praises. You fingers tangle in his hair and you pull-the groan that rumbles from his throat nearly makes your eyes kiss the back of your skull.

“Let me worship you,” Gale moans into your skin, pushing the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders. His mouth ghosts over the tops of your breasts. Gooseflesh rises in it wake. "Let me show you my supplication."

"As if you aren't already," you giggle breathlessly, falling back on the bed as Gale crawls over you. You welcome the heat of his body as it hovers above yours, close but not nearly close enough.

"Oh, you know I can do so much more," he grins wolfishly, eager hands helping you to slip off your nightgown. When you are spread nude before him, he slides out of his own trousers, laughing as your eager hands grope at every inch of bare skin they can reach.

"Shall I love you now, my Lady?" he asks, settling between your legs. A gentle hand cups your cheek, and you melt into the tender touch. "It is all I desire."

You brush a stray lock of hair away from his beautiful brown eyes. Happiness bleeds through the air around you, encasing the two of you in a world all your own. A sanctum most sacred and blessed.

"Love me then,” you sigh dreamily, “love me, and know how much I love you in return, you darling, wonderful, worthy man.”

And oh, how you are adored! How your lover makes your body and soul sing, more radiant and joyous than a choir of angels. How he plays your desire over and over, bliss unending, until you are left boneless and spent, a puddle of happiness in his arms.

And as you lay cradled carefully against Gale, enveloped in his ardor, you feel as if you are weightless. There is no more stain upon your soul, no mortal tarnish on your skin. No fear, no insecurity, no wondering. You are eternal. You are blessed.

You are divine.

[adimouze]

post-las vegas WDC max/daniel, rated M. ~1300 words. @girlsdads mentioned something about a lil bit of LL hating in a fic so. I did a lil bit of LL hating too.

-

A face floats into Max’s field of vision probably three hours into the fifth different party Max had been shepherded to since the race ended. He’s about ninety-percent sure he’s still in Las Vegas. He blinks blearily at it, hoping at least it’s pretty enough to look at. It has been a while since. Since.

Liam Lawson blinks back. Not who he was expecting. Gross. 

“Max,” he says, sounding too sober for whatever time it is. The club is loud but Max can still unfortunately hear him. “Are you okay?”

Max attempts a sweeping gesture, he’s carrying a glass of something and it hits someone’s back, making Max drop it with a smash. Liam cringes, looking like he’s about to complain. “This is my party, mate,” Max says, cutting off whatever Liam was going to say. “I’m fucking great.”

“Christian just left,” Liam says, and Max kind of hates how he talks but what can you do. Maybe he just doesn’t like Liam. “I think there’s another party happening a few blocks from now, do you want to join me?”

If Christian left that means Max can leave without theoretically offending anybody, even though it is his party. Half of the people around him don’t seem like people he knows anyway. “Nah man, you go on ahead, I’ll head back to the hotel –”

“Oh then I’ll head back with you,” Liam’s probably the most cheerful he’s been since Max met him. “Yuki scored and left me here.” 

Pity isn’t something Max feels often, but he does feel a bit of pity now. In his first year he was never left alone in clubs, either Carlos or Daniel were always there making sure they were around to get him back to wherever before they took someone home or to their hotel rooms. More often it was Daniel, and more often Daniel didn’t take anyone home, because they were sharing a room and more often it was just fun to watch onboards together, side by side. 

No one else but them. 

Then again, Max was a teenager in his first year and Liam’s twenty-two. He wouldn’t need babysitting. 

“Alright,” Max isn’t sure where he is. He doesn’t know how to ask Liam without sounding like an absolute idiot. 

“I have a car waiting,” Liam adds, after Max stared off into the distance for a few seconds, willing someone to appear with a car. Maybe Max isn’t being as subtle as he thought he was. 

_____

Red Bull and VCARB drivers are often put up in the same hotel, usually the standard room but Helmut had finangled him a penthouse upgrade on Thursday, telling Max that he deserved a proper room to party in, like Max was going to bring home an orgy. 

He’s pretty sure Liam couldn’t possibly have gotten a penthouse upgrade too. He’s sure hotels only have one penthouse? He’s sure. If he was less drunk he would be surer. But Liam makes no move to push any buttons. 

“Mind if I come up for a nightcap?” Liam asks, smiling. This is the most Max has seen him smile ever since he got Daniel…ever since Daniel left and he jumped in the car. Max does not want him to come up for a nightcap but Max is feeling generous tonight. 

“Sure, why not.” Someone had spilled what seems like a bottle of champagne on him at some point in the night and his shirt is sticking to him. He’s too tired to shower. Meh. It’ll be a problem for hungover Max tomorrow. 

The lift goes up insanely fast but still feels too slow for Max tonight. He’s WDC, four times WDC, he’s used to faster things, sue him. Liam is still staring at him. 

“Good driving tonight,” Max says, for want of anything better to do or say. He has no idea where Liam finished to be honest. 

“I finished 16,” Liam says flatly. Yikes. Well. 

The door dings open onto Max’s floor. And. 

Daniel’s sitting on the giant sectional of the penthouse living room. 

He looks gorgeous. Max wants to stare forever. He looks broad and good and tanned, his beard has filled in a lot more than when Max last saw him in Monaco, his hair thicker. The sweatshirt he’s wearing looks less oversized than usual, fitting his shoulders instead of drooping over them, and his trousers make his thighs look great. 

He’s smirking. He looks like a frat guy. He looks like one of those men from Victoria’s magazines that Max definitely didn’t jerk off over. 

Max is probably drooling, and Liam runs into him as he’s stepping out of the lift. 

“Oh sorry mate I – Daniel, hello.” Liam’s voice is a bit high. Confused. Probably scared. “Didn’t realize you were in Vegas. Red Bull didn’t…”

Daniel stands up and comes over. Max is still staring. Daniel moves like an apex predator and Liam’s just the runt of litter in this.  “Hey Liam. Well. Red Bull doesn’t own me anymore mate, do they? I can be wherever I want.”

He claps Liam on the shoulder in greeting then grabs Max’s limp hand. “Came to see my boy be the World Champion again.”

Liam’s probably saying something but Max doesn’t care, because Daniel’s pulling him in, arms going around Max, sticky shirt and all, and Max is going to swoon because Daniel smells good, good, good, their lips meeting after ages, Daniel’s lips and tongue the best, most refreshing thing Max has tasted all night. Someone’s moaning. 

It’s him. 

“Um…”

Liam’s still there. 

Max tries to pull back but Daniel’s got his hands on his ass, lifting, lifting, and Max’s legs going around him in response, and Daniel’s got them on the sofa in a second, Max perched on Daniel’s wide wide thighs without even separating their lips once. It’s the hottest thing Max has ever felt. He’s going to come just from the thought alone. 

“Liam,” Daniel’s saying, pulling back a few centimeters to give Max some breathing space. “I’m going to fuck my husband on this sofa right now, and he’s going to be screaming loud enough to be heard from the moon. So like,” he pops the k, and Max’s dick twitches, precome dripping into his underwear, “unless you want a front row seat to that for some reason, shouldn’t you be heading to bed?” 

“Husband?” Liam’s stuttering. “Excuse me? You can’t – Does Christian know? He’s going to be so mad at you, Max what the fuck –?”

“Get out,” Daniel says. Max has never heard him sound like that. “Now.” 

“I’m calling Christian,” Liam says as a parting shot. “He won’t – he’s not going to allow this.”

“Yeah you do that, mate,” Daniel rolls his eyes then squeezes Max’s ass harder. God, he’s so hot. Max feels insane. Husband husband husband. “What’s he going to do, fire me again?” 

The lift dings shut again. They’re blessedly alone. 

“Husband?” Max snorts, shivering as Daniel’s fingers undo his pant buttons. “Bit presumptuous of you, don’t you think?”

“The ring’s in the suitcase, baby,” Daniel says, smiling like a wolf, fingers curling around Max’s dick. Max grinds into the feeling, needing Daniel inside him right now. This is the best day of his life. “Was hoping you’d say yes.”

“Let me think about it,” Max laughs, and Daniel bites his nipple through his shirt. “Liam’s probably told the Herald by now.”

“I’ll personally send him the wedding photos,” Daniel cackles, licking up Max’s neck, leaving wet trails in the cold air con of the room, “if he promises to send me photos of Christian when he tells him I was about to fuck him in front of you.”

“Stop talking about Christian and fuck the World Champion already, husband,” Max says, his laughter turning into moans when Daniel all too willingly complies.

[lix-ables]

ʚ : WHEN THEY TEASE YOU ₊̣

FT. chan, minho, changbin, hyunjin, jisung, felix, seungmin + i.n.

NOTE. helloooo !! yes its been a while since i wrote, but i was reading something and this just came to me i hope you like it. its short i know, but aaa show this some love ‹3 happy reading dovies 🎀💌

MDNI, SMUT INCLUDES – making out, grinding, edging, handjobs, cockwarming, teasing, dirty talk, nipple play, sexting, that's it ig . (words: 1300) ©lix-ables 2022.

B.CHAN … chan sure as hell would be the type to tease you after a long day. if you’re tangled together in bed, his body trapping yours close to him, he lets his fingers dance over the material separating your skin and him. he won’t care if you’re desperate and grinding up against him. you don’t know when or how your clothes came off but the next minute he’s naked waist down, and rolling on top of you, his leg sliding between yours and grinding against your centre.

“mmmm nuh-uh, darlin’” chan murmurs when your fingers reach between your bodies to grab his dick, but he gently swats it away. “you’re always on your knees for me, making me feel good. it’s my turn now yeah?” he lowers his body, his face in front of your stomach, kissing the spot right above where you need him, and he can feel you bunch up the sheets under your fist. “fuck…”

L.MINHO … minho is the type to straight up just tease you when you’re so close to the edge. and picturing this scenario exactly – he has his face buried between your thighs, pussy drunk ofc, his fingers shifting from caressing your skin to digging his nails into it when you wrap your legs around his head. every time you’re so close, his head lifts up, fingers still caressing you, and by the time he’s done with you, you’re sore, edged and frustrated with his actions because he promised you that he’d let you come around his fingers. “one more, baby. this is the last one, yeah?” he promises as he goes down on you again, your fingers gripping the sheets under you because you’re that sensitive, while minho praises you, “shit, you’re so tight. that’s it, baby, let go.”

S.CHANGBIN … changbin loves to rest his head just on your tits, his fingers either stroking your sides or reaching to grab one of your breasts in his hand, his face turning to the side so he can leave kisses over your shirt material just to hear you sigh. when your fingers find his hair, tugging on his strands and pulling him closer, he takes this as an opportunity to slide his fingers inside your shirt, lifting himself so he’s not crushing you. his lips are pressed against your skin, fingers moving upward to lift up your shirt and expose your chest to him. “so pretty …” he starts, his lips press open mouth kisses to each of your tits, before starting to suck on the now sensitive buds. “n-need more, binnie–” “you need to wait baby, im not done with your tits, hm?”

H.HYUNJIN … not the kind to tease you often because this boy is all about pleasure, but when he’s in the mood, he’s fully in. be in his car, or his apartment, or even if you’re out with him at a party and you’re surrounded by people. you can expect his hands to be all over you, little touches here and there, tugging on your hair when you look away from him for just a little while – he loves it. he especially loves it when you’re glaring at him from across the room and he sends you a text like:

H.JISUNG … like hyunjin, if jisung had the chance, he WOULD tease you, not caring where you are. this means he would DEFINITELY take you up to his room with his roommates just outside, and just tease you. so much. even if you tell him that there are people who might hear you, and he just doesn't care. what he cares about is you, coming for him, moaning out his name and sighing you’re reaching your high. the fact that you’re grinding your hips against his hand, begging him to let you come, because you’re that desperate? makes him hard. instantly. for sure would be inside you if he could, but all he wants is you clawing at his back, pushed up close to him as he thrusts into you.

L.FELIX … oh my god, when i tell you that felix LOVES LOVES LOVES it when you initiate things? like if you’re watching a movie that he loves, or you’re just on your phone and you accidentally brush your fingers on his thigh, a slight caress. you bet your life he loves cockwarming with you because it is fun — at least he claims it to be. all because he can move under you, and scold you lightly for tightening around him. his voice is low and husky in your ears, his fingers wrapped around your waist, but also when he reaches to grab his phone or a book he “accidentally” thrusts into you, and you whine. he doesn't care, just minding his own business until a text comes from him:

K.SEUNGMIN … i know for a fact that this boy would LOVE teasing you so much to the point that its so amusing to him? picture this – he’s sitting next to you, your fingers find his dick and you’re stroking him, trying to get a moan, a whimper, a grunt, SOMETHING out of him, but he just sighs. like he’s bored or fidgety. the moment his fingers find your neck though, grabbing you to pull you closer, your action fastens. seungmin leans in to bury his face in your neck, his lips touching your skin and you feel the heat radiating. “thought it was my turn now,” he mumbles, and you’re pretty sure his kisses are going to leave a mark on your skin. “fuck, just like that,” is the first thing he says when you squeeze his length a little while you’re stroking him, and you’re so focused on him that you dont realise his fingers trailing down to your thighs, so dangerously close to your centre, until he pushes your panties to the side, and slides his fingers into your pussy. your thighs wrap around his hands and you pull away, making him hover over you a little, his free hand now holding you down almost as he pushes his fingers to be buried inside you. “told you it was my turn,” he mumbles, his thumb now teasing your clit in slow motions. “lemme take care of you, and you’re going to take whatever i give you. yes?”

Y.JEONGIN … cockwarming with jeongin is the only thing that makes me lose my shit because when i tell you, he is so fucking cheeky and amused by it that he lOVES teasing you so so much, just to get back at you. that's because once before, on the ride home, you almost made him cum in his pants – your palm rubbing over his already-forming boner, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, tightly, to stop you because he wants to focus on driving. “please innie, i just want to help,” you mumble, a pout forming on your lips and he glances at you. “would you rather i nut in my pants or in you baby?”

“both?”

“fuck, you’re going to be the end of me,” he mumbles because now you know he’s given up. but also, you knew he would get back at you, and today was that day. “baby, stop moving or i swear im going to lose it,” he mumbles, but his fingers say otherwise. his hand moves in front of you, spreading your legs wider for him, and already working his way to your clit. “w-what are you doing,” you turn your head to face him, causing him to grunt, because now your walls are clenching around his dick and all he can think about is fucking you. “turn around once again, and im fucking you right here, right now. stay still while i play with you.”

🎮 . taglist . @mnwrld @starlostseungmin @chrisbahng @comet-falls @niijo @chvnnie @joonszn @cherryhanji @blueberry-chan @dnadoublefelixx @ethereallino @stuckwithaphobiaa @chewryy @bangchanbabygirlx @zizis-world12 @aimeexx @whatudowhennooneseesyou @nightlychans @americanokisses @katieraven @hwan-g @idek-at-thispoint @es-kay-zee @writerracha @lethallyprotected @lino-jagiyaa @zoiescastle @compersian @jilixcuddles @teaspeungmin @eulaenthusiast @chriscentric @iadorethemskz @abcdefgiwsmcty @l3visbby @yukichan67 @hoshologies @zee17

[clairewritesandrambles]

Scott needily grabbing your ass when he’s cums when you’re on top… 🫢 those hands 😩

Anon. ANON. Please, I am not strong enough for this today.

He doesn't let you get on top often. He prefers seeing you underneath him, either fucking you into the mattress from behind or watching your cock drunk face while you're a mess for him. So when he does? Oh, it's even hotter to him than usual.

Note: I wrote this with a plus-sized reader in mind, because my body is the exact reason why I actually hate being on top in my own sex-capades.

This spiraled. I started thinking this would be like 100-200 words. It's almost 1300. I hope it's good.

CW: Spanking (once), breeding, talking of body insecurity, Scott being sweet for once?, Claire talks too much

"That's it, baby. Nice and slow. I want to see you shaking from how bad you want my cock." Scott was reclined against his stack of pillows, one arm obnoxiously tucked behind his head while the other hand rubbed soft circles into your thigh.

"Scott... Please just fuck me." Your voice was soft, unable to hold his hungry gaze as he took in your form straddling his thick thighs. You felt too exposed, even with your hands resting on his chest allowing you to obscure some of his view of your body.

Shaking his head, he took the hand under his head and used it to caress your hip. "You're not getting out of this that easily. I wanna see you fall apart on my cock before I even think about having you under me." Seeing the uncertain look in your eyes, he threaded his fingers through yours as a soft, reassuring smile touched his lips. "You can do it, beautiful."

"Scott," you whined, "please." You shifted uncomfortably on him, thoughts running through your head a thousand miles a minute. Thoughts of your face from his point of view, the look of your body, and the feel of your weight on his hips and chest. Would he be turned off by it? Would it feel good for him? Not for the first time, you worried about Scott seeing the flaws you saw in yourself and realizing what he has gotten himself into.

You're jostled from your thoughts by Scott readjusting himself to sit up to your level, the concern on his face indicating he'd recognized the look of overthinking on your face. He always teased that he knew you better than you knew yourself and in moments like these you believed him.

"Talk to me. What's wrong?" He bumped his forehead against yours, giving you no option but to look into his eyes while his strong arms held you close.

"I just..." You trailed off, considering playing it cool before you saw him raise an unimpressed eyebrow, already a step ahead of you. "It feels good, right? I'm not too heavy or anything?"

A large hand snakes its way to cup your jaw, making you instinctively lean into his warmth. You always loved it when he used his hands on you, seeing them flex as he held and touched you, and the warmth they provided.

"You always feel amazing, baby. I could spend the rest of my life with you on top of me, letting me see that beautiful body of yours, and I'd feel completely at peace." He whispered these words like a sacred promise, his thumb dragging on your bottom lip as he softly angled his head even closer to yours. "I am so fucking in love with all of you."

Your entire body heated at his words, your hands grabbing at his face to join his mouth with yours. His tongue licked into your mouth, stealing your sighs as one hand slipped around your back while the other trailed down your jaw to land at your throat.

"Now," he said, breaking the kiss, "ride my cock like a good girl." He leaned back as his hands encircled your hips, his hair falling into his lust-filled eyes.

"Yes, sir," you mocked, leaning forward to brush his hair back into place as you pressed one last kiss to his lips. Your hips lifted on his cock before you sat back, drawing a heavenly moan from his lips, the sound mixing with his words and touch to spur confidence into you.

His grip was bruising as you rode him, profanities mixing with praises as you bounced on his cock. You knew you'd wake up with marks tomorrow, Scott's fingers brushing over them with a satisfied sigh as you two dressed for the day. 

"You feel so fucking good, baby." He breathed, thumb brushing over your clit. Your pussy clenched in response, a strangled sound escaping Scott's mouth as he threw his head back in pleasure. "Come on, beautiful. Come for me, I wanna feel you fucking leaking down my cock, you can do it."

You didn't even have time to react before your orgasm washed over you, making you cry out his name and clench around him. He shot up to a half-sitting position, catching you as you collapsed on his shoulder. "Fuck, good girl. You're so fucking good for me."

With his hand behind him providing more leverage, Scott started thrusting into you, fucking himself even deeper into you than he already was. All pretenses were dropped as he desperately chased after his orgasm, his other hand gripping your ass as he pulled you down to keep as much of him inside of you as he could.

"Jesus fucking Christ, you feel so fucking good. So fucking tight, I can't wait to fill you." He mouthed at your neck, your fingers grabbing onto the hairs at the base of his neck as he sucked a mark onto a sweet spot. Praises fell freely from his mouth now, his grip on your ass tightening before crescendoing into a firm smack. "Gonna fill you and get you fucking pregnant."

His words drew out a sound that didn't even sound human, making you clench around him once again as a second orgasm rocketed up to settle as a tight ball in your stomach. You could hear his smirk as he continued: "You want that? Want me to pump you full of cum until you can't take anymore? You'd take more though, if I told you because you're so fucking good for me." You weren't even in control of your own body at this point, hips desperately meeting his thrusts. "God, I'd fucking love to see your body while you're pregnant. Nice and full of me, wearing little loose dresses around the house so I can fill you over and over again. Fuck I'll keep you nice and bred every day."

His words rip a second orgasm from  you, your body spasming as you kiss him again, all teeth and tongue through the rush of passion. More filthy words continued to escape against your lips, Scott losing coherency in the throes of his building orgasm. He fully straightens up, both hands grasping your hips to push you down onto him as his cock twitched and filled you. Deep grunts filled the air as he continued minuscule thrusts, the aftershocks of his orgasms continuing to go through him. As he came down, he mouthed at your jaw, dropping down your neck and chest before finalizing with a soft kiss in the valley of your breasts.

Satisfied, he leaned back against the pillows, more strewed on the bed than before. You moved to lay beside him, causing a discontent sound to come from his throat as he pulled you back down onto his slowly softening cock. "It's not going to stick if you get up right away. Gotta make sure it works." He spoke like he couldn't believe you'd think of getting off.

"How stupid of me." You rolled your eyes, taking in how good he looked with a sheen of sweat glistening off his skin and curling his hair.

He smirked knowingly at you, seeing you take in his appearance. But his words didn’t match the arrogant expression, instead reflecting only the soft look in his eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too. You're going soft, Miller." You taunted, reaching out once again to brush a hair off his face when he caught your wrist.

"Only for you," he conceded, pressing a soft kiss to your pulse point and pulling you to lay on his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

[quixotical-lymbo]

OMG I LOVED YOU ORION PAX FIC (this bot needs more love) can you do an Orion pax x reader, but it’s the reader’s reaction to Orion falling in that hole thingy? (yk at the end of the movie that D-16 dropped him in) like does

1. the reader goes crazy and bets up D-16 ?

2. jumps in after him?

3. cries and says "HE WAS MY FUTURE"

I need to knowwwww (also take some food bc i know you cooking with your fics 🍎🥐🥯🍔🍗🍟🌯🌮) TYY

Pairing: Orion Pax/Optimus Prime x gn!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: What happens when a bot witnesses their conjunx endura die in front of their eyes?  Warnings/Tags: Transformers One SPOILERS, guard!reader, cybertronian reader, mild descriptions of violence. Word Count: 1300+ words 

The first time you met Orion Pax was a blurry moment of rushing figures and yelling. This red and blue bot had a reputation, but you didn't know his designation at the time where you first started your job as a guard. 

Well, you certainly knew all about him, especially after your first run in with the troublemaker making his grand exit through a balcony. Of course, you just had to be making your rounds flying around the perimeter of the building when you were tackled out of the sky and pinned against the rooftop of the neighboring building. Groaning as the mech on top of you sputtered a flurry of apologies. The mech ran away without even offering a servo to help you up. 

The second time the two of you met, you learned his designation from the gossip about a miner always sneaking in and out of government buildings which held old records. You connected the name to the face of the mech you ran into again when patrolling indoors. 

It was…a unique exchange of pleasantries as Orion Pax attempted to sway you out of sounding the alarm. His attempts at distracting you with those flirty glances and sweet words did nothing to stop you from cuffing him and bringing him back to his station.

Over the deca-cycle, the interactions between you two grew warmer as the forced proximity bred an intimacy between you two. 

A conjunx ritus later and the two of you were an odd couple in the optics of Iacon. 

All because you managed to 'catch' the mech of who stole your spark. 

So why couldn't you save your conjunx when he needed you the most? 

It all happened too fast for your mind to react in time, but your frame moved before you could even scream the name out of your conjunx as his battered form dropped into the pit. You rushed forward, cables feeling like they were on fire as you reached a servo out in hopes of grabbing hold of something. Yet, you were too late and Orion was swallowed by the abyss right as something grasped your arms and yanked you away from the edge. 

You struggled to throw them off of you, blurred edges of your vision and the muffled shouts of your name didn't stop you from trying to fly down there—it didn't matter whether or not your spark would extinguish in the process. All that mattered was finding Orion Pax, your best friend, your companion, your everything. 

A voice heavy with grief managed to snap you out of your haze. You glanced over to meet Elita's optics, her face twisted with a pitying look that nearly sent you over the edge–metaphorically and literally. 

"The age of primes has ended....no more false prophets, follow me and you will never again be deceived!"

Cheers broke out from the high guards scattered within the shocked crowd of Iacon's citizens. 

"I will lead us all into the future!" Megatron opened his chassis and replaced the cog in his chest with Megatronus's cog. Purple electrical sparks emitted from his frame as his body transformed into a bulkier form.

"I…am…MEGATRON!" 

"Burn it down…all of it!"

Shots fired from the crowd as Megatron began shooting at the Sentinel statue and the structures surrounding it. 

 

"He's going to kill everyone." 

"We have to stop him-" Elita-1 was cut off as your form rushed past her and headed for the silver mech. Bee and Elita-1 glanced at each other before nodding and hastening after you. 

As Megatron continued shooting his cannon, a pede slammed into the side of his helm knocking him onto his knees. Megatron whipped around to find your fist heading toward his faceplate, he dodged and managed to grab your wrist in time to swing you around like a rag doll. 

Despite having a cog all this time, your frame was still shorter compared to Megatron's—but that didn't make you any less of a fighter. 

"You took him away from me! Your own best friend!" You bellowed and wrapped your legs around his arm to twist out of his grip. You swung your body weight to shift behind him and pummel him in punches. 

"He was your friend! My conjunx…my future….mine!" You grunted as Megatron ripped you off and threw you away. You rolled onto your servos and knees before jumping aside before the energy blast could hit you. The weight of losing Orion hit you all at once as you realized you had just rolled near the place where D-16…Megatron had dropped him. Your optics dimmed as your vision blurred from the rising dust and smoke. Your helm dropped and you couldn't see the massive cannon pointing at your pathetic form. 

"I took down the only thing standing in my way," Megatron sneered. The purr of his weapon charging up became a roar as the light within readied to snuff your spark. "And now? I will make sure you join him along with the rest who stand against me." 

"Not if we have anything to do about that!" Elita-1 charged in and snatched the cannon in time to redirect the shot elsewhere. 

A fight ensued and a multitude of thoughts ran through your processor. Your distraught and grief melded your frame into the floor. The noises and smell of destruction around you all blurred into one as you curled into a ball, wishing to disappear into the same abyss your conjunx had dropped in. 

After all, why continue this seemingly never ending cycle of injustice without the bot who made life worth living? 

No, Orion wouldn't have wanted you to think that way. Nor would have sat there wallowing in his own misery if your spark had stopped beating. He would've fought for you and you…will do the same.

Slamming your clenched servos into the ground you shot up and barreled toward the fight. Snarling as you drew closer and pounced onto Megatron just as he kicked Bee away. Before anyone on the tower could react, something exploded a piece of it and shot up into the sky. 

 

Amidst the chaos, you, Bee, and Elita-1 slid off the dome and landed on the lower platform again. 

Snapping your gaze up you found an familiar yet strange mech donning a similar color scheme to Orion standing before Megatron. 

 

"It can't be…" Bee began.

"It is." Elita-1 finished with wide optics. 

"Orion?" You whispered. 

 

He was alive. Alive. 

 

He was…different. 

 

…he wasn't dead and that's the important part. 

When all was said and done, Megatron was banished from Iacon and Energon returned to Cybertron, cogs being returned to the cogless citizens, you were finally able to have a moment alone with your conjunx now named Optimus Prime. 

His optics shone brightly as they landed on your faceplate. He turned to you fully and stretched his arm to reach you. You eagerly leaned into the palm of his servo, cheek pressing against the warmth of his hold on you. The faint hum of his spark calmed the raging storm within you, allowing your tense cables to ease up. 

"You've…changed." You sighed as you blinked back the liquid in your optics. 

"...so have you," Optimus craned his helm down to hold your gaze. "Come, we have a lot of things to discuss." 

You interlocked your digits with his, reluctant to drift away from him, but his softening gaze and even softer words persuaded you to let go. 

Trailing after the three but sticking close to Optimus's side, you nearly tripped over your own pedes as you felt the weight of his love through the bond. Keeping your expression neutral, you smiled inwardly and returned his affections tenfold. 

Primus, you were happy he was alive. 

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. banner(s) by @enchanthings !!

[httpiastri]

sunrise serenity – jmm21

your first morning with pepe, after your first night together...

genre: fluff + a little little suggestive

pairing: reader x pepe marti

warnings: hmmmm a few suggestive mentions but that's it i think

word count: 1.3k (like, exactly 1300.... kinda freaky actually)

requested: again not rlly lol but there have been asks abt more pepe stuff soooo :)

author's note: hehe a little more pepe love <33 idk thinking about waking up and seeing his gorgeous tanned back- 😶 it makes me freak a little ngl. anyway. hope u all have a lovely weekend <3 also i *just* realized that i forgot to use any spanish in this lol hope u still enjoy :)

f2/f3 masterlist

‎‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎‎

the room is so light, way too light, when your eyes finally flutter open. keeping them open is a constant battle, with the rays of sunlight peeking past the blinds stinging like you're staring straight into the sun itself. you just want to roll around and bury your face into the pillow underneath you, but something about the feeling of the pillow against your skin feels unfamiliar... and that's when you realize.

right. this isn't your own bed, or your own apartment – it's pepe's.

your eyes are fully open by now, butterflies waking up in the pit of your stomach as they roam across the room. seeing a pile of your boyfriend's clothes folded up on a nearby chair, the pictures of his family and friends hung up on the walls, all of the other little quirks that just scream pepe; it's all so unfamiliar, yet so comforting and heartwarming.

this isn't your first time being in this room, but it's the first time you see it in this light. the first time you wake up in this bed, the first time you're in his room at this hour of the day. you and pepe have been dating for a few months now, and you've been planning for the first time you stay overnight in his apartment for quite a while. last night, it was finally time – and you've probably never had as good of a night's sleep before in your life. from the fact that he cooked you a very fancy dinner, to the way that his fingers danced across your skin when you lied next to him in bed; everything was just perfect. and going grocery shopping together, helping each other clean the dishes, brushing your teeth side by side…

it was hard not to imagine what it would feel like to spend all your days like this. it all became so real, so domestic, and you never want to go back.

the sound of pans clinging together along with a quiet swear reaches your ears and you can't help but let out a chuckle, finally pushing yourself up to sit on the edge of the bed. you reach for the first piece of clothing you can see, which turns out to be the oversized shirt pepe wore last night, and you pull it over your head before rising from the bed. your body is still a bit sore, but the sweet aroma of pancakes meeting your nose gives you the energy to keep going.

you stop in your tracks when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror right by pepe's bedroom door – or, more exactly, the sight of your neck.

the trail of lovebites your boyfriend left stretches from your jaw and down under the collar of your shirt, and you know you'd be met by many more if you looked underneath it. the artwork is so mesmerizing that you have to shake your head to bring yourself out of your trance, slightly embarrassed by the way your stomach flips just at the sight of some hickeys.

when you eventually make your way into the kitchen and your eyes land on your boyfriend, you almost swoon. the sight of him from behind is just gorgeous; his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and his tanned, broad back practically calling out for you to come and kiss it. you're not sure if he's heard your footsteps or if he can just sense your presence, but pepe shifts slightly after a few moments. "good morning."

"good morning," you cheer back, beginning to stroll over to him. when he looks over his shoulder and takes in the sight of you, the way the hem of his shirt reaches the middle of your thigh and your slightly messy bedhead, a little laugh slips past his lips. your eyebrows pinch together. "what?"

"nothing," he says, arm wrapping around your shoulders once you reach his side. "you're just cute, that's all."

you coo playfully at him, hand reaching up to cup the side of his face before getting on your tippytoes. pepe meets you halfway, lips sealing against yours with ease.

"slept well?" he asks when you pull apart, his hand dropping down to your hip and pulling you in closer. his other hand works on flipping the pancake in the pan, a hint of a smile on his lips as if he already knows the answer.

"really well. you?"

pepe nods before leaning his head against yours. "you were out like a light yesterday," he says with another chuckle. "i swear, the second your head hit the pillow..."

you let out a groan. "i'm sorry."

"no, don't apologize!" he interjects immediately. "we had a long day. you looked so peaceful, it was adorable." he pulls his head away, looking down at you with a grin. "seeing that calm side of you was interesting, honestly. it's a far cry from how you are when you're awake, i'll tell you that."

"hey!"

your exclaim is followed by a press of your elbow into his side, which he answers with a quick kiss to your temple. you wriggle out of his embrace, to which his eyebrows shoot up – but when he watches you push yourself up to sit atop the counter next to the stove, legs dangling from the edge and feet swinging in the air, he relaxes again.

pepe places the pancake on a plate by your side, before pouring a thin layer of batter into the pan. "do you usually have pancakes for breakfast?" you tease, biting back the smile that wants to spread across your lips when your boyfriend's free hand lands on your knee.

he shakes his head, thumb drawing circles into your skin while he spreads the batter out evenly in the pan. "i wish." there are a few moments of silence before he turns to you, a slight smirk on his face. "though, i know something i'd rather have for breakfast every morning..."

tender fingers brush a few strands of hair out of your face and behind your ear before resting right below your jaw as pepe leans in, nose nudging yours to draw out a giggle from you. and then he kisses you, his smile pressed against yours as your eyes flutter closed. your hands come up to rest on his shoulders, the feeling of his warm skin and the strong muscles beneath it sending a shiver down your spine.

pepe tastes faintly of toothpaste with just a hint of sweetness, as if he's already had a sample of a pancake. when his lips part, yours follow his lead, and you can't help the sound that leaves the back of your throat as he licks into your mouth. your arms wrap around his neck for stability and his hands reach for your waist, pulling you forward and into him.

when his kisses begin to travel along your cheek, your legs wrap around him almost out of habit. you sigh, the way his lips move down the side of your neck making your head spin. but your skin is still so sensitive, and the little whine that escapes from your mouth has him pulling back. he blinks down at you, but it doesn't take long before he understands.

one of his fingers traces along the marks he's left down your neck, a content and proud smile on his lips. "i'm sorry," he says, though you both know there's no sincerity in the apology.

"don't be, they look good," you start, leaning forward to seal your lips again. "and they felt really good, too."

the groan that vibrates from his chest has you smiling against him yet again. "you can't just say that. you're gonna have to stay over way more often now."

"deal."

[peachesofteal]

soap x cypher masterlist Soap/female reader You missed a check in / 18+ / Your Sergeant commits a war crime for you, hurt/comfort

"It's alright, Cy. It's jus' me. Ghost is standin' watch at the door."

He smoothes the bar of soap over your shoulder, easy and slow, telegraphing his movements the same way he'd try to calm a spooked horse, pressing into their flank with gentle, reassuring pressure. I'm here, his fingers tell you. I'm right here.

"What do ye mean, they missed a check in?"

Laswell, to her credit, is very calm. Always collected in the face of danger, turmoil, and she gestures to the screen, where a blueprint has been replaced with a map.

"They were due in at this checkpoint at 1300."

"Any contact?" Price tilts his head, studying the satellite imagery.

"No. The security detail's gps is showing stationary, but the other vehicle has started to move off course, north." Johnny feels sick. The other vehicle, the one Laswell is talking about, is the one you are in. The one carrying the two analysts and some cut rate american sergeant.

His chair clatters to the floor with bang, fists clenched so tight they shake.

"We'll get 'er, Johnny." Ghost promises, and Price nods, waving them out the door.

"Let's load up."

"I- I don't want to." He doesn't need a clarifying question to understand what you're talking about. He understands you. That's all he'll ever need.

"You dinnae have to. Keep 'em closed for me then, aye? I'll take care of everything." You're still wearing your pants, and your boots, even though the shower is washing water down your body, soaking them until they stick to your skin.

You whine. There are no words spoken, but you fingers twist in the pockets, the belt loops, and he knows.

"Alright, alright. Let's get these off then. I'm going to undo your button and zipper." He murmurs softly, stripping them down your ankles, goosebumps sprouting from your skin as the water splashes against you, raining down onto his hair. His clothes are soaked, stuck to his skin like tar, each flick of his wrist or pull of his arm heavier than usual. He kneels, one knee between your feet, and begins unlacing your boots. "Gonna take yer boots off, now. Then we'll get ye out of everything." You nod. "We'll get ye washed up in no time, get ye into some comfy clothes." He glances upwards, ensuring you heard him, and then taps your calf one by one, urging you to lift a foot at a time as you hold onto his shoulder for support. "There ye go, good girl." He praises once you're nude, rising back to his full height, bar of soap still in hand.

"Johnny." Your press into him, face in his neck, fisting the front of his jacket, trying to burrow yourself beneath his skin. It’s all wrong, how you drift so aimlessly into the ether of somewhere else, lost in the present, in the incendiary magma of a memory he wishes didn’t exist.

"Shhh, wee sweet. I've got ye. I'm here."

"Ye get yer filthy fuckin' hands off her RIGHT NOW." Johnny screams, gives the command at the top of his lungs, Kyle shooting him a nervous look over his scope.

"There's no need to get upset-"

"Shut up." Ghost grunts. "Let the analyst go, an' maybe we'll keep you alive as a prisoner." The woman shakes her head, and then shoves you forward, closer, but no father away from the barrel of her gun that rests right at your temple.

"She's my only leverage now." The body of your co-worker is crumpled on the concrete, blood spilled around him like a halo. Johnny's vision dims red.

"Ye dinnae ken who ye've got in your hands." He warns, a click echoing across the room.

Someone is trying to argue with Simon, just outside the door. Johnny can hear it, the frustrated tenor of someone who's about to make a terrible mistake, the irritated grumble that gets silenced immediately by Lt's bark, more than enough persuasion for them to move on to the next floor's showers.

"Cy?" He murmurs, but you don't respond, face still tucked in his clavicle. You've stayed there, curled up against him, letting him clean you, dirt and blood all washing down the drain as you kept your eyes closed and he re-inspected you for wounds. "I'm goin' take ye back to my room." He holds your upper arms, moving you in step with him, directing you out of the shower and onto the mat, where he reaches for the first of many towels, ghosting the texture across your shoulder, then your cheek, before using it as intended, wrapping it around your body and reaching for the next. It's all he can do now; take care of you, get you clean, get you comfortable, hold you while you sleep and stare at the ceiling, recounting every second of today, fixating on the pieces that could have gone wrong, that could have ended your life and lost you to him, forever.

"Cold." Your whisper redirects his attention. Reminds him of his focus.

"I know, is a wee bit, isnae it?" He brought a sweatshirt, one of his, and once he's got you mostly dry, he taps. "Arms up, wee sweet." When your head pokes through the hole, he smiles, even though your eyes are still closed. "There she is, mo ghraidh." Your pointer finger strokes over the middle of your forehead, circling as if you're outlining a target, and then traces up his neck, over his jaw and across his cheek, patting his lips. They curve beneath your touch, eager to do your bidding, pleased by your silent request. "Of course I'll give ye a kiss, Cy, give ye whatever ye want, always."

"Time's up. What's it gonna be?" Price demands, and the gun digs into the side of your head, forcing you downward at an odd angle, panic plainly displayed across your face.

"Johnny." Your voice sings like an off key chorus, an echo of voices too twisted, too shrill.

"It's alright Cy, nothin' is goin' happen to ye." The woman with the gun laughs. It's decadent, believable, like she truly thinks she's going to get away, or take you with her. "I'm goin' to kill ye." He promises. "Whether it's now, or later. It'l be me, wringing out yer last breath."

Her hand moves to your throat and squeezes.

It's enough. More than enough.

"Guess it'l be now, then." And with no announcement, no more second chances, no more second guessing- his finger pulls the trigger.

“You killed her.” Your whisper trembles in the dark. His muscle involuntarily tenses, and relaxes just as quickly, sinking into the mattress, pulling you tighter into his arms.

“An’ I’d do it again. I’d do it a thousand times over to save ye.”

[beanarie]

inspired by this post by @monstream theorizing that tommy will pop back up in a couple months and reveal he dipped out like his ass was on fire because he got a cancer diagnosis. (be advised: this is not about real cancer. this is tv cancer.) 1300 words.

a chance encounter

Bobby still has a blood donation appointment at First Presbyterian every two months, which he attends religiously, barring exemptions like the six months he had to skip after the heart attack. Years ago, when it started, Chimney arranged a rotation for rides, and as their team went through staffing changes, it settled to a more informal thing, whichever of them would be available verbally stepping up each time. Athena would have been the logical choice with one of the 118 as backup, but this is theirs. Buck likes it because usually he and Bobby stop for a meal and catch up, just the two of them.

On their way to the elevators, they hear applause in the next wing over, and Bobby gives Buck a little smile before they join the gathering at the back of the small crowd. He loves a bell ceremony.

A teen girl in a green hoodie that reaches her knees is blushing and stumbling over her words, flustered by the attention. "Anyway," she says, "I'm not gonna be sick at prom and I'm so effing excited." She rings the bell and pumps a fist in the air before hugging one of the nurses.

"All right," says a blonde woman holding a clipboard. "We have three more patients who completed treatment! I know, right? It's been a good week."

Buck looks down at the coffee he grabbed from the on-site cafe while Bobby was getting drained, which tastes different somehow but he can't put his finger on it. Soy milk, maybe? A sharp nudge forces him to look up into Bobby's suddenly tense expression.

"Well. So... yeah. These last few months have sucked."

Buck swings his head around and Bobby grabs the coffee out of his hand. There, acknowledging a round of polite laughter, is Tommy, dressed in a henley and flannel shirt, all in shades of blue. Buck always liked him in blue. He looks slimmer, more like the version of himself from Chim and Hen's old team photos. He's wearing a Raiders hat.

"I knew, as a firefighter who flew helicopters, that I probably didn't have the highest life expectancy. But this diagnosis still threw me for a loop."

Buck should not be here. He should not be here. But he can't convince his feet to move.

"I did some dumb things, isolated myself, assumed the worst. It was the staff here who kept--gently--smacking me upside the head, reminding me that there was still hope." Tommy ducks his head and when he looks up eyes are bright. "Thank God for them."

Buck feels like he is stuck in a column of rapidly curing cement. It started down at his feet and now his lungs won't inflate.

"Buck," Bobby hisses, tugging at his sleeve.

"Bug your city council rep to increase compensation for healthcare workers because there's no way they get paid enough to deal with my bullshit." A cluster of small children at the front of the group starts howling at the swear, and he grins, unrepentant. Buck might be drowning. "Thank you, everyone. Fuck cancer." He rings the bell and steps back quickly for the next patient, accepting good-natured pummeling from several members of the staff as everyone applauds.

The smile that settled on Tommy's face vanishes as their eyes meet. The column of cement also vanishes. Breathing hard, his pulse hammering in his ears, Buck follows Bobby down the hall to the elevators.

"Buck?"

It still sounds so wrong coming from him. Buck flinches and looks at the slowly progressing display of which floor the elevator is on. Stairs it is. "I'll meet you down there," he says to Bobby, and doesn't wait for a response.

Buck plows through the door to the stairwell, moving as quickly as possible.

"Wait! Please? I can follow for a little bit, but fourteen flights of stairs is beyond me at the moment."

Buck slows his progress down, stopping at the next landing.

"What-" Tommy takes the stairs slowly, one by one. "What are you doing here? How did you find out?"

Buck glances up. "I didn't. We just happened to be in the neighborhood. This place is our home away from home, you know?"

"Oh," Tommy says, then has the nerve to look concerned. "Is everyone okay?"

"I'm not fucking okay. Did you know you were sick?"

"When?" he temporizes. "I mean, they did tell me at one point."

"You know when," Buck says, seething, his vision growing redder when Tommy doesn't answer. "I asked you to move in with me." I was all in. You didn't have to do this alone.

Tommy finishes the last few steps and joins him on the landing. "You asked your gym rat firefighter boyfriend to move in with you. Not an unemployed puke machine with a thirty-nine percent chance of kicking it in the next five years."

"Oh my God." Buck laughs, wanting to scream at the wall. "So I'm not a newborn bisexual who couldn't possibly know what I want, I'm just a piece of shit who would drop a partner for getting sick. Or maybe I'm both."

"No, I-"

"If you say 'it wasn't you, it was me' I'm gonna start taking these steps three at a time."

"It was-" Up close, Tommy looks tired. There are lines in his face that weren't there before. "Significantly more about me and my trust issues than it was about you. Is that different enough for you to stick around?"

"You gave me trust issues, Tommy. Not just in you, or other people I might date, but in myself."

Tommy's expression is gutted. "I'm sorry. I was trying to avoid more pain in the future, for both of us."

Sparing a thought for Bobby, who hopefully settled in the lobby to wait, Buck sits on the landing, wedging himself against the wall to take up less space. "I loved you."

"I believe you." Tommy sat down next to him, almost touching because of the width of the staircase. "I shouldn't have dismissed your feelings. You're a grown man and all I can say in my defense is that I become the fucking unabomber when I get scared. Ask Howie and Hen about my years as a closet case working under a captain who got a medal for outstanding work in homophobia."

It would be so easy to pull Tommy into his arms. Just reach out.

"Buck?"

Buck swipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Please don't call me that."

"I'm sorry. I honestly felt I gave up the right to set myself apart in that way." Tommy swallows. "Evan."

Buck blinks away a fresh round of tears. "Are you okay, really?"

Tommy gestures at himself. "As you can see, I'm not going out tomorrow and running a marathon, but next week I get to start training to go back to work." He shrugs a little, smiling. "So I'm pretty damn peachy."

"What about the thirty-nine percent?"

Tommy whistles while pointing down. "It's pretty much back to whatever my prognosis was for running into fires and flying around in a tin can."

"That's- That's great." Buck's phone rings.

"Hey, I don't mean to interrupt anything," Bobby says. "I just didn't want to leave without saying something. I'll get an Uber, okay?"

"No. No, we're good. I'll see you in five." Buck meets Tommy's steady gaze. "Next week, huh? Do you wanna go for a run at that park near my place? I promise to take it easy on you. Or, not easy, whichever you need."

Tommy visibly stops himself from declining. "Okay. Text me." He rises from the steps and starts for the exit door as Buck begins his way down. "Evan?"

Buck turns. "Yeah?"

"I loved you, too."

Breathing out, Buck rolls his shoulders back. "I figured. See you next week."