#but all his joints are glowing a bright purple

[mak-be-ghouled]

do you think when phantom cracks his knuckles/joints it releases quintessence and he lights up like a glow stick

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Easy Money

Derek Danforth x AFAB!Reader

Summery: Minimum wage is a joke these days and we've all gotta make rent somehow. And who knew blonds could be so fun?

Tags: AFAB/Female pronouns reader, no use of y/n, voyeurism, sex worker!Reader, drug use (marijuana), sex while high, drinking, cursing, bisexual Reader, fetish party, reader plays with several people, tempature play/improper use of ice cubes, sex toys, possessive!Derek, dick piercing (I will not debate this,) face fucking, breast play, oral sex (male recieving), thigh riding, cock warming, cowgirl and doggy position, praising, pet names, edging, rough sex, spanking, vaginal fingering, degradation, dumbification if you squint, dacrophillia. There is no plot. This is just porn. Straight up.

Notes: Y'all begged to me, now y'all begging to your man. You're welcome. Also, please consume substances responsibly. Do NOT assume an edible ain't shit. They ALWAYS are.

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The gig is simple. Stand there and look pretty.

The woman who had hired all of us was very clear on the rules; serve drinks, talk to the men, don't have a brain, and if Derek Danforth gives you an ounce of attention, you return it. Sex was optional, but they pay less if you do not engage.

I was just there for the check. Times are hard, but this dress is easy to fit into... if I don't breathe. Jesus, it's tight.

The architecture of the mansion is beautiful. Really, if I wasn't working this party I'd be studying every room for an hour each. High ceilings, detailed woodwork. It's a shame it's all bathed in purple blacklights with everyone wearing neon glowsticks.

The people in attendance are in various states of undress. Some wear their clothes fully, some wear nothing at all. Most are in various states of undress, including the waitresses.

All of our dresses are the same- tight, black, and an easily detachable top with nipple pasties underneath in the shape of blacklight activated glow stars. It's tacky, but the girls who have removed their tops are getting way more tips. And with the debt I'm in, plus the security making absolute sure no camera are recording anything, what's the harm in if I join them? It's more money for me.

The various trays contain different things. Some drinks or shots, others different foods. Then there's the drugs. Oh yes. Cocaine, pills, capped needles on at least one tray I noticed. On mine are several marijuana joints, blunts and even edibles. Our employer had told us we were allowed to indulge, but any damages caused due to our inebriation would come out of our check.

Edibles usually aren't shit for me, so I feel quite safe.

A strawberry cube is tucked safely under my tongue, taking a long while to melt. I can feel my muscles relaxing, making me smile more to the guests as I work my way through the crowd. The beginning gentle buzz helps me to forget the way these people leer at me, some even reaching over to touch me before retracting their hands quickly.

"These guests are quite used to casual sex," the woman had informed us. "There's a code here. You'll each have a pendant around your neck. Depending on the color you choose it will inform them of your preference. Red is for looking only, green means you're okay with sexual touch. It's up to your verbal communication if that touch leads to penetration."

The party was tacky, but at least consent was key.

My color currently is red. It will take more of this edible for anything to change. And currently I see no one making the trouble worth it, anyways.

Right now, anyways.

A man with bright, blond tipped hair and a loud outfit works his way through the crowd. Laughing and speaking with some, taking in the different women serving different items. There's a confident swagger in his walk, one that normally I would scoff at when sober. But with the melting cube quickly joining my bloodstream, I simply stare curiously. It's unintentional, honestly. But he takes notice, narrowing his eyes in reciprocated curiosity before making his way over.

"You're new," he says. I offer him the tray.

"I don't know what you mean," I say politely. He picks up a large blunt, taking out his own lighter instead of using one of the complementary ones on the tray. He takes a long pull, shoving the item back into his snakeskin jacket pocket that doesn't match his zebra print, silk looking button up with black leather pants.

"The other girls have been working here for awhile. Who brought you here?" He asks after taking a long pull, holding it.

"Riley," I answer. He nods, exhaling.

"She's worked here a couple years. You two close?" He asks.

Not particularly. "We're friends," I answer. He smiles a bit, taking another hit.

"You like the party?" He asks.

"I like the lighting," I answer. "And I can't say no to free edibles."

"You take some?" He asks. In answer I scoop the edible onto my tongue and stick it out for him to see. "Good girl, that shit will make you relaxed."

"How much is it?" I ask curiously. Can't be too much, surely.

"Told my guys to pick up 1000mgs," he answers, taking another hit.

... what?

My confusion must be obvious.

"You not used to that?" He chuckles, leaning against the wall next to me.

"I induldge regularly, just... lower amounts," I answer. He exhales, laughing.

"You'll have fun then. Especially if you change your color to green, but that's completely up to you," he says. There's a moment of silence between us before I speak up.

"Nice outfit," I say. He raises a brow at me.

"Yeah?" He asks, scanning me up and down. "I think I prefer yours."

"It matches better, that's for sure," I say. He laughs, then sticks out his hand, his smile confident.

"I'm Derek, by the way."

"Ah," I say. Derek.

Derek!

"Nice to meet you, Mister Danforth," I say, accepting his hand. It's warm and large, strong against mine.

"I don't want to hear Mister out of you unless you change colors, pretty girl," he says, squeezing my hand. I feel myself smiling, heart fluttering a little.

"And what would happen if I did change it, Mister?" I ask politely. His grin widens.

"Well, with the way you look already I'd say people would have a fun time with you," he says, stepping closer. "I wouldn't mind a taste myself. I like my girls warmed up, though."

"Warmed up?" I ask, raising my brow.

"I'll tell you what," he says. "You're welcome to leave your tray anywhere, as I'm sure they've told you. You can change your color to green, enjoy your edible and just let the crowd guide you to me. I promise they will." His eyes roam over me, taking me in with a hungry gaze, his mind distracted by obvious thoughts. I wonder how well his shoulders would hold me.

Shit. He's right, this is strong. The herbal smell on his breath is inviting, and I'm already leaning in. Plus, his outfit is beginning to make visually stimulating sense.

"Isn't it polite for a host to show his guest around?" I ask, batting my lashes. I can feel my eyes drying out, my cheeks buzzing and my body beginning to feel the bass of the music just a little bit more than I was a second ago.

"It is, pretty girl," Derek says, taking another hit. "But you're not a guest, are you?"

No, I'm not. I begin to pull away when his hand catches my pendant.

"You want me to get that for you?" He asks, exhaling through his nose.

"Yes sir," I answer with a smile, placing my tray carefully on the table beside me.

"Good girl," he praises, changing the color with a quick flick of his thumb. "You'll fit in just fine."

Before I can respond, his lips attach to my neck, sucking earnestly and harshly. I can't help the small cry that escapes me, my hand finding his hair and burying itself in it as he pins me against the wall.

His hand cups my breast, kneeding it carefully as he creates patterns across my skin with his mouth, licking at the newly bruised flesh before moving on to a new, unmarked area. He holds his blunt up for me, trying to keep it still enough to allow me to take a hit. I accept, holding his hand steady by the wrist, inhaling as much as I can.

His lips detach from my throat, his eyes red and glazed over as his lips graze mine.

"Care to share?" He asks lowly, his fingers still tweaking at my nipple. I'm vaguely aware that my pasties have been removed, where they've gone to I've no clue.

Obediently, I blow the smoke into Derek's mouth, his hand leaving my breast to cup my jaw, holding my mouth open with his large thumb. Once I'm done he takes his own hit, holding it for a moment before pressing his lips against mine, sealing them together before blowing the smoke into my mouth as well. His tongue slides against mine, tasting of whiskey and smoke. I don't hate the way it blends with the sweet, surgery strawberry cube still melting under my tongue.

He pulls away slightly, breathing heavily.

"You taste sweet," he says. "Mind if I try some?"

"Go ahead," I answer. I expect him to take an edible from the tray, but instead he leans in again, his tongue searching for the half melted candy. He finds it under my tongue, slipping it onto his and then pulling away, smiling in satisfaction.

"Oh," I breathe, batting my lashes in surprise.

"I'll trade you," he says, pressing a small kiss to my cheek as he passes the blunt to me. "Just let the crowd lead you, sweet girl. I'll see you in a bit."

Before I can even think of a response, he slips amongst the crowd, gone in the blink of a hazy eye.

Alright. This is fine. Great, actually. I take a hit of the sour tasting blunt and begin walking amongst the crowd.

Derek was right, I am an eye catcher. Or maybe these people aren't particularly picky. But it doesn't take long at all before people are touching me, sliding their hands over my hips as I pass by, stopping me for a moment to press me against their bodies, leaving a mark or three on my skin. The attention makes my mind blank, smiles on my lips as I whisper 'thank you's, the patrons slipping tips into the tight pockets of my skirt as they release me, letting me blend into the crowd once more until someone else catches me.

I should be revolted, I know this. But the people aren't hard to look at, and with as much as I have flowing through my system all I can really think about is how amazing I feel. My joints feel like air is passing straight through them, my head feels light and free of racing thoughts. The lights entrance me, making me easily distractable until a woman guides me gently towards her group, placing me on her lap as she talks with what I'm guessing are work colleagues. Or something. Fuck if I care.

Her hand strokes my back carefully, not speaking to me as I continue hitting my almost burnt out blunt. She glances at me from time to time, smiling sweetly as she watches me.

"Can I have some?" The older woman asks gently. Her lips are painted a dark black, revealing white teeth underneath. Her features are sharp, contoured by heavy makeup. Her hair is shaggy and black, and God, she's... broad. Muscular and looking like she could eat me alive. I wouldn't mind if she tried.

I hand her the last little bit, letting her have what remains as I begin to focus on her hair. It's soft, feeling amazing between my fingers.

"You have anywhere you need to be for the rest of the night?" She asks, her voice deep.

"Derek," I breathe, barely focusing. She and the other women amongst her let out a noise of recognition, some even laughing a little.

"He likes his girls pent up," Another says, nodding. "Says he likes them used, but we all know that's not true."

"Derek likes to go for hours," warns a woman with blue hair that glows in the blacklight. "Hope you have a lot of energy saved up. If he likes you, you won't go home for days."

The woman with black hair is finishing the blunt, flicking away the last little bit and letting it land wherever.

"You mind if we help you?" She asks.

"No," I answer, my hands running over her broad, leather covered shoulders. "I don't mind."

The women aw over me, moving closer and touching different parts of me.

"Focus on my thigh, good girl," says the dark haired one. "Just rock yourself against it and let me know when you're close." She turns to the second woman, nodding her head towards me. "You want to taste her?"

The second woman nods, joining me on her lap and grinding herself against the first woman's other thigh before bending over to wrap her lips around my nipple, moaning as she does.

The third woman, the one with blue hair, simply watches, continuing to talk to the dark haired woman, stroking my back as she does. The first woman seems engaged in the conversation, occasionally sucking on my other breast before responding to the blue haired woman. The second woman is fully engrossed in tasting me, sucking and nipping at my breast eagerly, moaning as she does.

The stimulation feels amazing, my head tilted back as I rock on the dark haired woman's thigh, my body feeling things it never has before. The feeling of two women sliding their tongues across my sensitive nipples, sucking on them at the same time at different paces is almost enough on its own to make me cum. I can feel how wet I am even through my underwear, surely staining the first woman's clothes.

"Shit, Ava. She may not make it to Derek at this point," laughs the blue haired woman. The first woman, Ava, simply smiles, admiring me.

"Should we let you cum, good girl? Or do you want Derek?" She asks, bouncing her leg as she does.

I moan loudly, my mind unable to form a response. This is lovely, just absolutely wonderful. But something tells me that if I waited, if I edged myself like Derek seemed to prefer, then I would be well rewarded.

"Wait," I pant, still rocking my hips against her thigh. The three women groan, laughing a little more as they begin to give me space.

"You think she's good enough for him?" Ava asks the second woman.

"If she's not, he's out of his mind," she says, tearing herself away from my breast and standing to move onto the blue haired woman's lap instead.

Ava guides me off of her before standing tall and admittedly terrifying. She pulls me up gently, taking my hand and leading me through the room. "Follow me, sweet girl," she says. "I'll take you to the main event."

The other two women wave at me, smiling wickedly before turning their focus onto each other. As the drugs begin to hit harder, just a little ways from my peak, I begin to wonder what it is I've really gotten myself into.

A pair of double doors reveal the same dyed blond man on a plush couch, lounging lazily as he speaks to a small group of people in the private lounge. Upon seeing me guided into the room, he smiles eagerly, quickly sitting up.

"I told you you'd find me," he says, setting his whiskey glass in front of him on the small, glass table.

I smile warmly at him, trying to keep my balance as I walk around to him.

"You get her all ready for me, Ava?" He asks, gently placing his hands on my hips and guiding me to sit on his lap, my back pressed against his chest.

"I did," the woman says, joining us. "She's pretty pent up."

"Did she get you pent up, pretty girl?" Derek asks, laughing softly. I can feel the blush in my cheeks, my eyes barely able to stay open as I lean my head back onto his shoulder.

"Feel her if you don't believe me," Ava offers. Derek obliges, dipping his hand between my thighs, pushing my thin panties to the side.

"Fuck," he groans. "You weren't kidding."

Derek guides my legs to spread open, one hand keeping me open for everyone to watch as his other hand explores my vulva.

"Don't worry about everyone else," he whispers in my ear. "We're all just here for a good time. Right, pretty girl?"

I nod, moaning as his finger swirls around my clit. He continues speaking to his friends, drinking casually as his hand toys with me.

"You want some?" He asks, offering me the glass. I shake my head. I'm fucked up enough.

"Water?" He asks. At that I nod, and with the quick snap of his fingers it only takes a blink before he's holding a water in front of me, complete with ice cubes inside.

"Go ahead," he says. "Take a drink."

I obediently lean forward, placing my bottom lip on the edge as Derek tips the water into my mouth. It's soothing at first, my body relishing the cold rush it gives me. Derek's hand glides up and down my folds, teasing my entrance.

"You like the cold?" Derek asks. I try to respond, forgetting the glass in front of me. The water spills down onto my body, freezing and making me cry out in shock at the sudden sensation.

Derek and his friends laugh, his lips pressing soothing kisses along my shoulder blade.

"I'm sorry, were you not ready for that?" He asks sweetly, smiling at me. I shake my head. He places the glass on the table in front of us, collecting a couple of ice cubes before leaning back and adjusting me to face him.

"Let's get you prepped then, yeah?" He asks, popping one into his mouth and chewing.

My eyes widen, mouth opening in question just before Derek wraps his own lips around my nipples, sucking gently and swirling the quickly chewed cube around the hard bud.

"Fuck!" I cry, leaning backwards. Ava catches me, stroking my hair as she watches.

"I knew he'd like you," Ava says in my ear. "He likes breaking in the new girls personally."

Derek's fingers tease my entrance, threatening to dip in while he sucks on my breast, moaning around the cold flesh. He swirls his spit around, rubbing my clit with his thumb.

"You taste amazing," he moans, his breath cold. "Love to taste more."

I moan happily, spreading my legs more and bucking against his hand.

"Take me," I moan. "Do whatever you want."

"Jesus, she's excited," he laughs. "How long has it been, sweet girl?"

Too long. Much too long.

It must be obvious based on the way he trails lower, kissing and sucking on my skin as he begins to slip my skirt and underwear off of my lower body.

"Is this okay?" He asks, looking up at me expectantly. I nod eagerly, rolling my hips towards him impatiently.

"I don't think she likes teasing, Derek," Ava comments.

"No?" He laughs. "Do you like teasing, sweet girl?"

I shake my head slightly, whining. He and Ava laugh, Derek placing a kiss on my stomach.

"Well, I don't want to go too fast, new girl," he says. "Could break you, you know."

"No you won't," I whine. Derek sucks sharply on the spot, leaving a dark mark.

"Gonna have to teach her a thing or two, aren't I, Ava?" He asks. "You know where that toy is?"

"What toy?" I ask.

"Don't you worry about a thing, pretty girl," Derek instructs. "I'm gonna take care of everything for you now. Just relax."

Ava removes herself from the couch, disappearing to look for something. As I'm distracted, Derek slips an ice cube into my warm cunt.

"Ah!" I cry out sharply, arching my back as my hips roll automatically, unsure what to do to relieve myself. "It's cold."

Derek simply laughs, sitting up straight and dragging me onto his thick thigh.

"It's supposed to be," he says mockingly. "That'll work in the meantime while we wait for Ava to come back."

I start to grind against his thigh, my cunt clenching around the cold cube rapidly as I feel the melting water begin to drip out of me. Derek pulls my hair, tutting his tongue against his teeth as he shakes his head.

"Stay still, that's an order," he says sharply. Someone offers him a cigarette, which he takes with no hesitation. When someone offers me one as well, he waves them away.

"She's had enough," he says. He keeps his hand in my hair, keeping a close eye on me to make sure I don't move.

"You enjoying the party?" He asks me.

"Yes," I say.

"Yes what?" He asks, taking a drag.

"Yes, sir?" I say. He smiles.

"Good. You're smart." He turns his attention to a man asking about some account, rambling something about bitcoin and such. Ugh. I don't know why I'm surprised.

I keep my hands clasped behind my back, pressing my chest forward to allow him easy access. This pleases him, his smile growing genuine whenever he glances my way. Once he bounces his leg, making me squirm for more. At that, he pulls my hair, shaming me for breaking the rule.

"Behave," he commands sharply. A few minutes later, however, he bounces his leg again. This time he doesn't stop.

The jolting motion sends shockwaves through my system, the drugs making me weak and stupid. He's not watching me, seeming involved in the conversation, and this ice cube is nearly melted inside of my cunt, dripping more and more. I can't handle this.

I shift my hips subtly, testing the waters. He doesn't notice, and if he does he doesn't care. I do it again, slightly harder against his thigh. Derek is talking about some party in Havana, laughing about a different conquest. I work slowly, making sure he won't turn his eye onto me. Finally, after a few minutes of grinding against him, I feel confident enough to begin a slow, steady rhythm against his thigh, his leg still bouncing against me.

My body feels amazing. Light, stimulation pounding throughout me, it only takes a few minutes before I'm on edge again, my pussy making his thigh slick and easy to grind against as I ride him. My cheeks burn with heat, my eyes eyes fluttering shut as I lose myself in the rhythm, fully focused on how hard his leg is bouncing. The vibrations go right to my clit, making my pussy seize around nothing now as my pulsing heat had caused the cube to disappear. I begin to grind faster and faster, desperate to cum. I don't realize I've begun panting, moaning as I ride him, and the attention in the room has turned towards me in full with Derek rubbing his hand up and down my back slowly, grazing his nails across the skin of my back as he watches with a look that makes him look like the cat who ate the canary.

"You close, sweet girl?" He asks me. My blush deepens, my eyes fluttering open in realization. Derek simply quirks a brow at me, exhaling his smoke into my face as he waits for my answer. My hips stutter, hesitating to continue.

"Don't get shy," Derek scolds. "You were just fine fucking yourself a moment ago. What's a few dozen people watching you?" He asks.

People are chuckling now, making small comments of encouragement.

"You looked so pretty, baby. Fucking yourself stupid on my thigh," he says as his lips tease my tits. "Didn't she look pretty, everyone?" He asks the room, glancing around at the people who respond with affirmations.

I lean forward, trying to hide my face in the crook of his neck. What had I been doing? In front of this entire room? I'd just needed a few quick bucks, that's all this was supposed to be. This was exponentially further than I'd ever planned.

Derek tuts, pulling me away from my hiding place. "Oh no, you wanted to cum. I'm going to make sure you cum," he chides. "I wonder how you'd feel on my cock. Would you like that? You'd feel better if you were on my cock, wouldn't you?"

I nod shyly, my eyes avoiding everyone but Derek. He glances around the room once more, noises of encouragement growing louder.

"You wanna get me ready, baby?" He asks encouragingly, taking one of my hands from behind my back and guiding it to his stiff, clothed cock.

I gasp lightly, squeezing it and grazing my thumb up and down his dick covered by the tight, leather material.

"You look big," I mutter.

"Feel big too," he chuckles. "Go on, try it out. I think you'll like it."

I think I will.

It's hard to see in the odd lighting, so my hands struggle with the hidden zipper.

"Try getting closer," Derek teases, his breath warm against my ear. "It doesn't bite like I do." To emphasize his point, he sinks his teeth into my neck, harsh and quick before releasing me, leaning back in his chair. The sudden movement makes me dizzy, my mind reeling as I automatically sink to my knees in front of the plush, velvet sofa.

Once his pants are opened, he springs out, no underwear confining him. Jesus. He's mostly average, leaning towards the larger side. It's mostly the piercing that surprises me.

"Like it?" He asks. I glance up at him, his grin cocky as he takes a drag from his new cigarette. Hey, man. What happens if I swallow this?

I stammer, opening my mouth and trying to say something.

"You need help?" He asks, wrapping his hand decorated with several rings around his shaft. "Open your mouth again," he commands. I do so without hesitation. His other hand guides my head down, forcing me to swallow it halfway down. I moan in satisfaction, my eyes slowly shutting as I take in the taste of his skin.

"Atta girl. Take a minute if you need to," he says casually. I can smell the thick smoke near my head, his hand stroking my hair gently. Ava must have returned because he's telling someone how warm my mouth is.

"You ready, sweetheart?" He asks. "Wanna show you off for my friends."

Taking a deep breath and opening my eyes once more, I lower myself slowly to his base. He's just long enough that when his piercing collides with my uvula I cough, nearly choking on him. More gentle laughter escapes the crowd, Derek praising me as he begins to thrust into my mouth.

"Just stay there, sweetheart," he says. "I'll do the work."

True to his word, Derek begins pumping his dick in and out of my mouth, whispering something in Ava's ear. I begin taking in the other people around the room, most of them watching us eagerly.

"Watch me, sweetheart," he commands, snapping his fingers and pointing at himself. "You don't have anywhere to look but here."

I obey, keeping my eyes trained on him as he smokes his cigarette which rests between his lips, his jaw gritted as he rolls his hips into my throat, his eyes glazed over in pleasure and who knows what else.

Without warning, someone begins fingering my cunt. A startled moan escapes me, vibrating around Derek's throbbing cock and making him moan, his face confident.

"Don't worry baby, it's just Ava," he says, stroking my hair. "You like Ava, right?"

I moan again, Ava's fingers quick and shallow in my tight pussy.

"Ava certainly likes you. Almost stole you from me, isn't that right?" He asks her, tapping his cherry carelessly onto the floor behind him.

"That's right," her deep voice purrs in my ear. I moan again, my eyes almost fluttering shut from pleasure until Derek grabs my hair, fucking my face roughly to bring my attention back to him.

"Hey now, don't get too happy," he scolds, but he's smiling. "You still like me more, right baby?"

I moan, pressing my tongue to his underside as he slides in and out. He tastes sweet, his jewelry creating an interesting feeling in the back of my throat. Ava withdraws her fingers, quickly replacing them with a vibrating bullet instead.

"Mmph!" I moan, my eyes nearly fluttering shut again. The speed increases, making me drip and writhe my hips against nothing.

"God, she's fun," Derek moans. "Ava, book her for Cabo," he says.

Cabo??

"You like her that much?" Ava laughs. Derek simply glares at her. Is this a thing? Trading girls, fighting over them? What is this?

"Just fucking talk to whoever about it," he spits, his dick quickening in my throat. I'm gagging around him, barely able to catch my breath as I press my hands desperately against his thighs. "Anyone else fuck her tonight?"

"Don't know," Ava shrugs. She brings her face close to mine, her breath hot in my ear. "Did they?"

I moan, trying to shake my head. Derek nods, smiling.

"Perfect," he drawls. The bullet inside of me is driving me insane, enough to keep me on the edge of pleasure but not enough to tip me over. My eyes look up at him, wide and begging, tears beginning to spill from my waterline and streaming down my face.

"You're killing her," Ava scolds him. "Is he being mean?" She asks me. Yes.

"She can take it," Derek says. "You like it a little mean, don't you baby?" He asks, smiling. Yes.

"See?" Derek says. "She's just fine."

Actually, I'm about to hit my peak drug wise, and I can't fucking breathe. But all it does is make me want more, my throat taking him as deep as I can as I moan around him, my tongue moving desperately, eager to swallow his load.

"Think I should cum down her throat?" He asks Ava, his head tilted back in pleasure, cigarette nearly burnt out between his lips.

"Would you like that?" Ava asks, setting the speed of the bullet to max. I scream around Derek's cock, overstimulated and stupid. "I think that's a yes."

"God, you're amazing," he praises. "Such a perfect fucking slut."

Right before he reaches his edge, he pulls me away, admiring the long, thick string of spit that still connects my swollen lips to his cock.

"Look at that," he says. "Should take a picture of that someday."

His hand drags me up by my hair, guiding me to return to his lap. Once I'm straddled across his lap, his fingers delve into my cunt, fucking me quickly as he presses the bullet against my g-spot.

"You like my cock, pretty girl?" He asks.

"Yes," I moan, my voice and throat raw.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent."

His fingers remove the bullet, and he quickly replaces his hand and bullet with his pulsing cock, both of us moaning at the feeling.

"Jesus, fuck," he moans. "You are fucking tight. I can feel everything."

My cunt spasms around him, eager for whatever friction he'll grant me. He stays still, something that's clearly a challenge for him.

"Gonna stay there for awhile," he says. "Wanna make sure you're ready, baby."

My spit on his dick makes for excellent lube, his piercing comfortable against my cervix. His hands run up and down my thighs, squeezing here and there, eventually moving to massage my ass.

"The crowd loves you," he praises, pulling me close to his chest. "Think I love you too."

I'm very high. I'm very horny. I will do whatever this fried hair, cocky ass motherfucker tells me to do.

A waitress walks behind the couch, offering us a tray of joints. Isn't that my job?

"Go ahead, take one," Derek instructs me. I do so, reaching for the lighter on the tray.

"Don't bother, I have one in my pocket. Thank you," he says to the waitress, dismissing her. He reaches into his coat, taking out the lighter before discarding the jacket, leaving him in his zebra printed button up that shows off his chest hair along with a white gold sparkling chain.

He holds the lighter for me, lighting up the joint as I hold it between my lips.

"You're gonna smoke me out, okay angel?" He says, leaning back against the couch, his arms stretched out along the back. I rest one hand against his chest, taking a hit and holding it for a second before leaning forward and blowing it into his mouth.

One of his hands find my hair, pressing my lips against his, his cock twitching inside of me as his tongue slips into my mouth, establishing dominance before allowing me to pull away for another hit. Then another. Then another.

As he inhales the last hit, his hips begin rolling into mine, his voice low as he groans.

"Go on and start riding me, angel," he moans, completely lost in the pleasure. "Show me how you want me."

My hands grasp his shoulders, clinging desperately as I begin to glide up and down his length, his cock twitching against my most sensitive spots with each glide.

"You ever fuck a pussy as good as this?" I ask, watching his jaw shift subtly from side to side as he focuses on my tightness.

"Oh, she speaks now?" He asks, smirking. "Grow a fucken brain, princess?"

His tip slams into my cervix, making me gasp and press my tits into his face. His mouth works quickly, biting and sucking at the tender mounds as I ride him.

"I'm just making conversation," I say. I'm high enough my filter is gone, my brain rotted to the point I'm only focused on my pleasure. He moans against my tit, looking up at me while he buries himself in my body.

"I can't say I have," he says, grinning. "Why, that turn you on?"

Immensely. Not that I'd tell him that.

"Say it," he dares, his cock slamming into me. "Don't hold out on me."

"Maybe I will," I tease, tugging his hair. My hips speed up, riding him hard enough I can feel the couch rocking ever so slightly.

"You're fun," he chuckles. "Say it."

"No," I say, slamming my wet cunt against his base, making him groan loudly.

His teeth sink into my skin, pulling on my nipple to the point I'm on the razors edge of pain and pleasure.

"I don't mind waiting," he says, his tongue flicking against my nipples. "I like causing pain."

His teeth sink in deeper, his fingernails dragging down my back slowly as he slams into me, making me bounce hard enough I can feel it in my stomach.

This is a hell of a paycheck.

"I like it," I say. He chuckles.

"That's not enough," he says.

"I wanna be the best girl you've fucked," I add.

"Mm, need more details." His teeth release my nipple, leaning forward and quickly catching it once more, sucking on the almost raw flesh hard enough it feels like I won't be able to wear a shirt for the next day or two. One of his hands return to my hair, gripping it and pulling it hard enough I can see the people behind us, some of them still watching, some focused on each other, most people switching between the two as they fuck each other.

"Come on, you were just so confident," he laughs against me before returning to his task. My chest burns with want and embarrassment, my eyes glazing over as I give in.

"I wanna make you pussy whipped," I moan. "I wanna glance at something and get it from how desperate you are to get the chance to fuck me."

He chuckles lowly. "I think we'll get along for a while," he says in a satisfied tone, finally releasing my tits from his torture.

"Gonna get me on payroll?" I ask, smiling as I throw my leg onto the back on the couch, giving him better access to fuck me.

"Play your cards right and I'll get my surname on you, pretty girl."

It's an evening of drugs and sex, come morning I'm sure he won't even remember my eye color. But for tonight, can't a bitch dream?

"Go ahead and laugh," he dares. "I get what I want."

"And you want me?"

"Fuck yeah."

He forces me to my side, turning me onto my stomach and hiking my ankles onto his shoulders.

"Jesus!" I cry, feeling his cock bury into me from behind, slamming straight into an overwhelming spot that makes me blind with pleasure.

"Too much," I cry. "Fuck, too much!"

"And that's a problem?" He laughs, abusing me as he smacks my ass, admiring the way my skin reddens.

"Yeah, you're not getting another dick ever again," he decides, his hips chasing after a high that tears screams from my throat. I'm so overstimulated I don't even know if I can cum, my eyes crossed and ass feeling his palm bearing down on the sensitive flesh time and time again, growing more rapid in succession, forcing me to clench his length harder with each new hit.

"Come on, pretty girl," he growls, pressing his chest against my back, his hands keeping my hips pressed against him with no chance to escape. His balls smack against my clit, making me moan in stupidity. "I know you want to."

I cry out, tears streaming down my face, hair stuck to my wet skin as I feel my cunt begin to throb in warning, my stomach clenching as the knot inside me begins to snap, my mind growing fuzzy and static as I pant eagerly.

"Fuck, she's close," Derek moans to someone, small whimpers escaping him as he pumps into me, his teeth digging into my shoulder, sending me over the edge.

Someone's screaming, and I have the vague idea it may be me. I can feel Derek's front soaked in my cum, his dick slamming into me in a way that I just know I'll have a migraine in a few minutes.

"Good girl," he praises. "Fuck. Amazing girl. Taking good dick like a fucking pro."

His cock throbs in me as he cums, deep and right next to my cervix, keeping himself buried as his seed pumps into me, hot and thick.

"I wasn't joking, sweetheart," he mutters in my ear, his voice exhausted. "You and I are going to become good, good friends."

I groan as I feel him slip out, his fingers pushing any cum that drips from my folds back into me, then placing a plug into my aching cunt. His hand grips my hair, pulling me back up to sit on his lap as he accepts a new drink, his cheeks flushed as he tries to regain his breath.

"Let's get something to get your energy back up, hmm?" He asks, pressing a firm kiss on my sweaty forehead.

▪︎《•☆•》▪︎

Cabo doesn't sound all that bad, Danforth. Not bad at all.

Masterlist

I wrote this instead of sleeping. Anyways, see you next time for Mike Schmidt. Stay safe pookies <3

[abibliophobiaa]

fluff and/or smut request based on the prompt “My God, you're fun to kiss.”

Eddie preferred but if Steve inspires you more for this that's okay too!

ily💖

eddie munson x afab!reader. 18+.

-

It starts as friends.

Acquaintances, really. People who pass each other in the hall. Glances as you go, simple pleasantries, a wave if you’re lucky.

But fate steps in. And soon it’s a joint project, it’s trying to care for an egg together, to make sure it doesn’t break, gentleness foreign to both of you. It’s handing off your pretend child at the end of an afternoon—it’s joint custody over an eventual grade.

Soon, it’s gentle brushes of flesh in science class. It’s an accidental touch after almost dropping a pipette, a borrowed pencil, a shared eraser. Awkward encounters become heated glances. They become chemical interactions like the science projects you share with Eddie Munson.

Bright, vibrant, and potent.

You think it’s a joke when you’re paired in English class. Some sort of cosmic arrangement in the stars, a joke from the gods, what have you. Because of all the people you could act out Romeo and Juliet with, Eddie Munson is the last one on your list.

He’s brash and unruly. He’s disorganized and frenetic. He’s…well, he’s charismatic and alluring. Infuriating and compelling. Intriguing and impossible. Handsome and absolutely grotesque. Charming and…

Well. That’s the problem, really. The more the stars align, the more you find you like him. The more you find yourself enraptured by the boy with curly hair and a dimpled smile.

So it’s almost no surprise when you find yourself seated on a bench in the middle of spring, surrounded by dappled light and looming trees, books stretched out in front of you, practicing your lines. Only Eddie’s distracted. Has been for a bit. Since you arrived, really.

“Is there something on my face?” Your words are short. Staccato. Clipped. Brusque, without a real reason for them being so.

“Er—no.”

And that’s that. These weeks, these opportune moments—they mean nothing. Fleeting gazes, jovial banter, and brief looks? Those don’t make up a relationship. You know this. Yet it stings all the same. Sinks deep in your gut.

Or so you think.

The next time you meet in the woods, Eddie’s a live wire. Fingers tapping a pen on his notebook, brushing your cheek, curling around your jaw. He’s staring at you fondly. Like you’re the only girl in the world; like you’re his. And you would be—if he’d only asked you.

It’s on that day, as the sun sets and the sky glows orange, he leans down and kisses you the first time.

A gentle brush of his lips over yours as you sit on top of that wooden table. His knees press to the bench, your backside on the tabletop, his ringed fingers around your hips.

He kisses you like you’re precious—a jewel to be cherished, bright and twinkly, rare and his. And you find you like that; languish in it.

You get a B+ in O’Donnell’s class and the woods become your haven that next week. A place where you can run to him, your fingers in his hair, his arms around your waist. Whispers of hate and love, of frustration and adoration, of ‘will they’ and ‘won’t they.’

There’s a shlick of a zipper lowering. A hiss from the boy before you as you tug him forward by his belt loops, nosing along his throat, sucking purple hickeys into supple flesh.

He’s plush lips over your breast, whispers of, “My god, you’re fun to kiss.”

And you’re pliant. Heart a flutter as he slides your skirt up your thighs, parting you for him, brushing at your slit. He teases at your flesh. One finger, swirling in your slick, mouth swallowing your pitiful moans. And then another, sliding into you. Making you whimper and moan, gasps muffled against the column of his throat.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” He asks, brushing his mouth over your ear.

Smirks into your skin when you tremble, thighs spreading wider, welcoming the boy as he prods at your center, groans when you whimper into his chest at the brush of his fullness against your hole.

“Y-yeah, Eds.”

“What do you want, baby? Need your words.”

Another brush. A nudge. A slight pressure where you want him most, but it has your toes curling, fingers tightening around his leather jacket, gripping fast to curls, teeth clenching around his earlobe.

“Need you to fuck me,” you manage.

“Yeah, baby?” He’s smirking. Dimples and cockiness, fingers curling around his base, pressing his head against your center. Collecting your slick and pushing in slightly. Enough to have you quivering, enough to have you begging for more. “Like this?”

And he’s sliding in. Inch by blessed inch, slowly and painstakingly so, until you’re a gasping, writhing, pleading mess. Tears prick your eyes, fingers in his hair, mouth against his.

“You like me,” he rasps.

Not a question.

Not at all.

A statement. Simple, just like breathing. Just like the way he slides in and out of you—like he’s always done so, like it’s what he’s always been made to, like he’s been doing so all along. 

“I do,” you gasp out, shuddering around him, curling your thighs around him, dragging him closer. You need him closer. “I like you, Eddie Munson.”

“Go out with me.” A brush of his lips over your heart, hips rolling against yours, drawing out your pleasure.

You hate him, you like him, you might even love him.

“I will,” you whimper, pulling him tighter, burning brighter. “I will.”

And it’s one week later you walk down the halls hand in hand with Eddie Munson. Your health partner, lab partner, english partner. Stranger, acquaintance, friend.

Boyfriend.

Yours.

-

-

[sorryformyleviathanheskindasoggy]

I hope you guys like fucking Viktor angst

Tw: Uh ansgt and brief talk of nsfw in a poetic way

A/n:Get fucking wrecked/j

You met him at the academy, you two were in the same class and bonded over you both being from Zaun. He was intrigued by your love of botany and your innovative ideas of machinery that would benefit the wildlife in this world. He came to you for advice or maybe just a way to escape the troubles he faced in your greenhouse that Heimerdinger had assigned to you.

Viktor had learned about your secrets and had accepted them without hesitation, a look you later recognise as loving always assured your aching heart.

You welcomed him into your home and later your bed, where he loved you heartily. Viktor worshiped every inch of your body like a holy temple, your moans of pleasure being the teachings of his religion. He put your body on a pedestal and ushered away thoughts of self doubt and gender dysphoria. He was in your bed til morning and left you with a gentlemanly goodbye, promising to see you later that day in class.

One day you had heard the ruckus that came from Viktor and Jayces’ joint lab and later the news of Viktor's assistant dying. You didn't get much details after that but no more information was released.

You were worried sick from Jayce giving you half assed excuses that didn't answer any of your inquiries, you couldn't take it anymore, it was eating away at you to not know what had happened to your secret lover.

Heavy doors burst open and you come rushing in with a mission to see the inside that Jayce and Mel had locked away from all's eyes. You see something, it was obscure and ominous to say the least. It was a bright glowing box made just to fit a person, and what you see on one of the surfaces brings a sob to your throat. “Oh Viktor” you cry looking at his comatose face. You try touching the unknown substance that holds him but it shocks you.

A heavy hand plops on your shoulder and it's owner says, “We've already told you that you had no business in here.” You look back at that self dubbed asshole with tears running down your cheeks. “What's happening to him?”

“I don't know and if I did, I wouldn't tell you.” Jayce says rather rudely.

“Why not?”

“Because you have nothing to do with the situation.” Jayce shoved you out the door and told a security guard to escort you back to your quarters.

You cried all night, worried about if Viktor was even alive.

It had been weeks and months before Viktor appeared in front of you again, changed. He called your name in barely a whisper. His hands reached for your cheeks and wiped away a tear you didn't know you had shed. “It's alright, I'm back Starlight…” you wrapped your arms around the man, noticing how he gotten even slimmer and that his skin was purple and surging with an energy. He noticed your concerned looks and simply said he would explain later.

He let you cry, he listened when you said how hard the past few months had been without him in your life. He whispered reassurance and words of affection in your ears.

You fell asleep in the arms of Viktor after you had shed the last of your worry to his ears.

In the morning, he was gone, and you know you'll probably never see him again.

[jeffhardyjams]

Love in the Time of Smackdown ꨄ

- jeff hardy x reader

(𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 - 7.5k +)

Description : After a thrilling match against Stacey Kibler, Y/N, a sassy and stylish WWE diva, catches the eye of Jeff Hardy. As they continue to cross paths around the ring, their tension builds until they share a flirtatious encounter while smoking a joint together. But things take a dramatic turn when Lita invites Y/N to hang out with her, Jeff, and Matt at Matt's house, where a night of beer pong and hard rock music leads to a steamy feud with Shannon Moore, Jeff's friend. What will happen next?

imagine : ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

WWF SMACKDOWN 6.12.2002

music : possum kingdom - toadies

It was a hot summer evening in 2002, and the wrestling world was buzzing with excitement. The air inside the arena was electric, charged with the adrenaline that only comes from a night of hard-fought battles. The crowd roared, a sea of bodies waving signs and wearing the colors of their favorite Superstars. You stood backstage, your heart racing in tandem with the sound of your entrance music blaring through the speakers. “Tonight’s match,” you thought, adjusting your gear and preparing for the imminent clash with the poised and formidable Stacy Keibler, “Tonight, it’s all or nothing.” The atmosphere was distinctly early 2000s—baggy cargo shorts, colorful tank tops, and the unmistakable scent of cheap cologne blended with sweat filled the air. Women and men alike were adorned with butterfly clips and jnco jeans, the style that defined a generation. You looked at yourself in the mirror— your freshly curly hair tumbling around your shoulders, your own version of wrestle chic. With the flicker of a smile, you stepped onto the entrance ramp, ready to meet your destiny.

The match itself unfolded in a flurry of submission holds, near falls, and high-energy athleticism, perfectly choreographed chaos under the ring lights. You and Stacy, both formidable in their own rights, grappled fiercely, the crowd infusing energy into every slam and suplex. Hard-hitting moves learned from countless match-ups had them on the edge of their capabilities. The crowd gasped collectively when you executed a flawless tornado DDT, twisting through the air gracefully before crashing down on Stacy. One, two—Victory. The bell rang, and the audience erupted into frantic applause, chanting your name like a mantra. You rose to your feet, a triumphant smile on your face, bathed in the glow of the bright lights as sweat trickled down your brow.

Once backstage, the buzzing sounds of the crowd became muffled, lost beneath the raucous chatter of fellow Superstars. Yet, there was one presence that had started to feel as familiar to you as your own shadow—Jeff Hardy. Your encounters were less formal, sneaking glances at each other across the arena, the sly exchange of half-smiles. He was enthralling with his artful tattoos and kinetic energy—a colorful whirlwind. Swatches of purple and green painted his persona, and every time he soared through the air, a part of you wished it was you alongside him. Tonight was different. You could feel the weight of the unsaid conversations that haven’t happened around you . As you stepped outside for a moment of peace, you noticed the dimly lit corner of the parking lot where the stars burned brightly against the velvet sky.

As you lit up, you heard the door open behind you. It was Jeff, a sly grin spreading across his face. Your heart raced. You thought it could’ve been your boss or some shit.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a spark of electricity run through your body. "Not at all," you replied, handing him the joint.

As you smoked together, the tension between you grew thicker. You couldn't help but notice the way Jeff's eyes seemed to bore into your soul, or the way his tattoos seemed to ripple beneath his skin. He was wearing a black tank top, his blonde hair messy and wet from his match. His colorful tattoos seemed to glow in the dim light, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of attraction.

"You're quite the wrestler," Jeff said, his voice dripping with admiration. "I've been watching you for a while now."

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest. "Thanks, Jeff. You're not so bad yourself."

The conversation flowed easily, with both of you discussing everything from wrestling to music to your shared love of tattoos. As the night wore on, you found yourself feeling more and more drawn to Jeff. You both separated after that though, as you both said your goodbyes after Jeff got a call from Matt telling him he was about to leave.

The next day, you woke up to your phone buzzed with a text from Lita. "Hey girl, want to hang out tonight? Matt and Jeff hosting a little party and we're going to play some beer pong & just get wasted or some shit. We can pick you up around 8?”

You couldn't resist the invitation and quickly texted her back. “Fucking of course. I’ll be ready around 8. xx “ You wanted to drink so bad and spend more time with Jeff so you spent hours getting ready, trying on different outfits and doing your hair and makeup. You finally settled on a black long tank top that curved around your waist and a sheer purple fishnet, your hair curled, a vibrant shade of cherry red. You added some low flare jeans and some short heel boots. You looked in the mirror, feeling a sense of confidence and excitement.

As you finished getting ready, you heard a knock at the door. It was Lita, Jeff, and Matt. They were all grinning from ear to ear, and you could tell that they were ready to get fucked up. Jeff was wearing a hot white Ed Hardy shirt with his hair half way up and a teal bandana wrapped around his forehead. He paired it along with cargo faded pants and a black belt.

"Heyy Y/N, you look fucking amazing," Lita said, giving you a hug. She was wearing a cheetah print tank top with leather purple cargo pants and her classic boots.

"Thanks, I was thinking of trying out a new look," you replied, striking a pose.

Jeff's eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the appreciation in his gaze. "You look damn good Y/N/N," he said, his voice low and husky.

Matt nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you're definitely going to turn some heads tonight."

The four of you piled into Matt's car and headed to his house, where the party was already in full swing. As you walked in through the front door, you were greeted by the sound of hard rock music and the smell of beer.

Lita then grabbed your arm and pulled you over to the beer pong table. Which was located to side of Matt’s fireplace. “Okay, girl, it's time to finally get fucking drunk. Shotgun Coors Light with us" She laughed.

You didn’t even hesitate for a moment, and grabbed a beer from the cooler that was sitting on the floor of the fireplace. Jeff & Matt quickly followed and grabbed a beer too. You shotgunned it with Lita, Jeff, Matt, and their friend Shannon Moore who was already there.

As you lowered the beer, you caught Shannon's eye. He was wearing a black bandana, a Ed Hardy blue shirt and he looked a little drunk but he was hot to you.

"Yo Y/N, I'm Shannon," he said, his voice slurred a little. “I've heard a lot about you."

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest. "All good, I hope? If not I’d be fucking pissed" You quickly laughed after.

Shannon chuckled and put his hand on the side of your waist. "Definitely. You're quite the wrestler. I've been watching you for a while now. I see your little segments.”

As you talked, you couldn't help but notice Jeff watching you from across the room. His eyes seemed to be burning with intensity, and you could sense a growing jealousy.

"Hey, you wanna step outside and smoke a cig with me?" Shannon asked, his voice low and husky.

“Fuck yeah, I have a lighter.” You grinned. Feeling a sense of excitement. As you stepped outside, the crispy air from the night brushed your face. Shannon grabbed a Marlboro’s pack out of his pocket and grabbed two for both of you. You grabbed one he stuck out and proceeded to light it. The smoke curled around your face, and you felt a sense of relaxation wash over you.

"So, what do you like to do for fun?" Shannon asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and his mouth blowing out smoke.

You smiled, feeling a sense of mischief. "I like to fucking wrestle, of course. But I also love music and tattoos. I'm a bit of a tease, I guess."

Shannon laughed. "I can see that. You've got a bit of a wild streak, don't you?"

You nodded, feeling a sense of pride. "Yeah, I do. I like to live life on my own terms."

As you talked, you couldn't help but notice the way Shannon's eyes seemed to sparkle with attraction. You felt a sense of excitement, of danger. This was forbidden, but you couldn't resist. Shannon took a drag of the cig before blowing out the smoke and pausing to look at you. It grew silent.

Suddenly, Shannon leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. You felt a rush of excitement, but it was quickly replaced by a sense of unease. Jeff was storming towards you, his face twisted in anger.

"What the fuck is going on here?" he demanded, his voice low and menacing.

You stood up, feeling a surge of adrenaline. "Just having a little fun, Jeff. Don't be such a buzzkill."

Jeff's eyes flashed with anger, and he grabbed your arm, pulling you towards the stairs. "We need to talk," he growled.

As you stumbled upstairs, you could feel the tension between you building. Jeff opened Matt’s room which happened to be empty and Jeff pushed you against the wall, his eyes blazing with intensity.

"What's going on with you and Shannon?" he demanded. His hair now in front of his face a bit.

You smiled, feeling a sense of mischief. "Nothing, Jeff. Just a little harmless flirting."

Jeff's face twisted in anger, and he pushed you harder against the wall. "You can’t just go fucking around with Shannon. You're not going to do this, Y/N. You can’t just flirt with every guy in the room and then just walk away."

You felt a surge of adrenaline as Jeff's body pressed against yours. You knew that you should be scared, but you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement.

"Maybe I will," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeff's eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the desire in his gaze. "No, you're not," he said, his voice low and husky.

Without another word, Jeff pulled you into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and pulled you in with him.

As the water cascaded down around you, Jeff's lips crashed down on yours. You felt a rush of excitement as his tongue explored your mouth.

You kissed him back, feeling a sense of passion that you had never experienced before.

As you broke apart for air, Jeff's eyes locked onto yours. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction. "I've wanted you to," you replied, your voice husky.

Jeff grinned, and then he pulled you back in for another kiss. This time, it was more intense, more passionate.

You felt like you were melting into his arms, like you were a part of him.

Finally, Jeff pulled back and looked at you with a serious expression. "I want you, Y/N. I want you so bad."

You felt a surge of excitement at his words. "I want you too, Jeff," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without another word, Jeff pulled you out of the shower and into the bedroom. You fell onto the bed together, your bodies entwined.

As you guys had sex, you felt a sense of passion and excitement that you had never experienced before. You knew that you and Jeff were meant to be together, and you couldn't wait to see what the future held.

As you lay there afterwards, Jeff's arms wrapped around you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. You had never felt this way about anyone before, and you knew that you never would again.

Jeff's blonde hair was wet and messy, and his eyes were sparkling with happiness. "I'm so glad we did that," he said, his voice low and husky.

As you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that this was just the beginning.

"I guess this means I’m not forgetting about you" you said, smiling up at Jeff.

Jeff grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I guess not. But don't think this means I'm going to go easy on you in the ring too.”

You laughed, feeling a sense of excitement. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

As the sun began to rise the next morning, you lay in bed with Jeff, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. You knew that this was just the beginning of something amazing, something that would take you on a wild ride of emotions and passion.

And as you looked into Jeff's eyes, you knew that you were ready for whatever came next.

[theforestghost]

MegOP Week 2024 Day 7

Day 7: Acceptance Fandom: Transformers Animated Prompt: Optimus is the reincarnation of the 13th but does not know it. Rating: T - Violence

Megatron walked through the halls of the Nemesis at a slightly slower pace than his normal stride. He would not admit his hesitance in seeking out this mech, but any who knew him could tell his reluctance. Megatron was used to making hard choices, he was used to having rough conversations and breaching topics that made others uncomfortable, he was no stranger to them given his position as a leader and at one time, a public speaker for the mistreated warframes. 

But the mech he was going to see was not his fellow Decepticons, nor was he an ambassador for a planet he intended to trade with. In all honesty, Megatron did not know who he would be speaking with though he hoped it was the mech he wanted. Stopping outside the door to the small archive on the Nemesis, Megatron allowed himself just a klik to recollect himself, to straighten his frame, tighten his panels and ready his spark for who waited inside. 

The door slid open right as he punched in the access code and walking inside, Megatron found the room to be lit softly with a red-orange glow from the sun they were currently passing. It washed away the dull purple lights that trailed along the floor, illuminating the tables and chairs and the singular mech standing inside with his back kibble to Megatron.

A part of Megatron relaxed slightly at seeing the all too familiar frame of Optimus but his instincts knew that everything about the mech was wrong. Optimus did not hold himself tall with the regal confidence that this mech did. Optimus did not stand straight with a slight lean to his left, one servo rested on the joint of the other arm in contemplation as he looked through a collection of data pads. Optimus did not give off the controlled field that stayed close but radiated a subtle comfort and softness that made Megatron want to drop his guard and embrace. Optimus did not turn to Megatron and give a small smile, pleasant and sweet nor did he have optics that shone bright with wisdom far deeper and older than Megatron’s entire existence.

Optimus did not have an ancient bauble behind his chassis panels that glowed dimly underneath them, letting all who came close to see through the glass.

But this wasn’t Optimus. It was his frame yes, but the mech inside was no longer Megatron’s Optimus. Instead, it was whatever had taken over when that glitched Alpha Trion had forced the Matrix into him.

“Good evening cycle.” The mech said, turning to face Megatron completely, servos rested at his sides. “I assume you have much you wish to converse with me?”

It was formal and overly polite and did not belong in Optimus’ voice. Megatron did not leave though, standing strong as he took a couple of steps towards the nearest table. The mech followed suit, waiting until Megatron took a seat before sitting across from him. Megatron placed his servos flat on the table,showing that he would not be a threat to this mech. For now at least.

The mech mimicked his action and looked up at Megatron. When the warlord did not speak, the mech assumed that was his right to speak. But the klik he opened his intake, Megatron interrupted.

“What should I call you?” Megatron demanded more than he asked. He refused to call this mech Optimus, even if he wore his frame.

This caught the mech off guard, and he displayed the surprise openly, much like Optimus did. He mused softly, tilting his helm to the side and his soft smile returned. “My siblings call me Thirteen. If you are more comfortable with that, please feel free to refer to me as such.” 

“Thirteen then. I will get straight to the point,” Megatron settled back in his chair, arms crossed over his chassis. “Is Optimus, the original owner of that frame, still in there? Or have you taken over completely?”

“Optimus is still here. He is currently in a suspended state much like stasis.” Thirteen explained, placing a servo over his spark, over the Matrix. “Once my mission is done, I will return this frame to him.”

“And why must I wait for your mission to be done?” Megatron growled, optics narrowing. “You have hacked into a frame that is not yours and you expect me to just accept that you will return them once your so-called mission is done?”

“I understand that this is a difficult circumstance.” Thirteen began. “But I have not hacked this frame, I am merely borrowing it.”

“Then why not borrow the frame of that glitch Alpha Trion? He was more than willing to have you returned!” Megatron slammed his fist on the table as he leaned over it. Thirteen did not flinch but his smile was gone and instead he looked… remorseful. Megatron hated that.

“It is… not that simple.” Thirteen spoke carefully. “I am one of the original creations of Primus and much like my siblings, I did not return to the Well of All Sparks when my spark faded but rather into the Matrix of Leadership. The Matrix is meant to be a conduit between Primus, us and the Wearer. But we would only be able to advise from a distance, unable to properly interact with the living world. 

“This would usually be no issue, however the current state of Cybertron has brought worry to Primus. He seeks to amend the damages done, but is unable to do so on his own. So he made the decision to choose one of us siblings to be reincarnated into Cybertron in hopes of guiding them back to prosperity.” 

Thirteen spoke with such confidence that Megatron had little doubt that the mech spoke the truth. But this still did not answer his questions.

“What does this have to do with Optimus?” Megatron asked.

“This frame that you have come to know as Optimus was created to be my own.” Thirteen said. “It was meant to be put in Alpha Trion’s path, so that he could give me the Matrix and I could awaken properly long before this frame developed a conscience of its own.”

Megatron stood so quickly that his chair fell behind him, clattering loudly. “Are you saying that Optimus was never meant to exist?” He glared down at the mech before him, servos clenched so hard he could feel wires popping. It was taking all of his control to not harm Thirteen. It took all of his control to remember that the frame was still Optimus.

“It sounds harsh but if I am to remain honest then yes; the mech you have come to know as Optimus was never meant to be.” Thirteen looked away. “It was a mistake that led him to the Academy and caused him to develop the way he did. Had that mistake not happened, I am certain that we would not be here but inste-!”

Megatron grabbed Thirteen by the throat and slammed him into the shelf behind him. The mech groaned as datapads fell around them, bouncing off of their frames. Thirteen opened one optic as his servos tried to remove Megatron’s large one.

“Do not speak of Optimus like that!” Megatron snarled. He was seeing red, rage bubbling in his lines as steam emitted from his vents. His optics burned bright, smoldering the smaller mech as he forgot all about control and only focused on the mech that had insulted Optimus to such a degree. “His existence is not a mistake! He was not created to be your tool!”

“Alpha Trion had the frame made to my specifications!” Thirteen pleaded, trying to speak logic to the enraged warframe. “He was never meant to gain a sentient mind! If I had gained access to this frame from the start, all of you would be back on Cybertron by now! Living in peace!”

“You speak nonsense!” Megatron growled, adding more pressure.

“My mission was to bring the All Spark and the warframes back to Cybertron before our planet died! If I had been able to do that from the start, instead of spending so much energy trying to get Optimus back to Alpha Trion, none of this would be happening!” Thirteen explained.

“Are you blaming Optimus for all of this?” Megatron actually calmed down a tad at that absurdity. Only a tad.

“I only mean that had everything gone as planned, you would not be enraged over the loss of this frame.” Thirteen said. 

“You said he was not lost!” Megatron snapped.

“He is not, but his being was never meant to exist. Optimus’ existence may very well disappear over time, whether I had regained this frame or not. You could have woken one solar cycle to find him simply gone.” Thirteen looked remorseful again, like he actually felt bad for what was happening to Optimus and not the direct cause. “I do feel responsible for Optimus and I will do my best to return this frame to him, but Megatron you must accept that he may never come back, even after I have returned to my siblings.”

Megatron stared at him, optics focused as the boiling rage vanished from his systems and a deadly cold washed through him and into his field. Thirteen shivered, fear finally showing in his own field as Megatron leaned in closer. 

“You will make sure that Optimus is returned to me, or I will make sure you never see your siblings again.”

[cozzzynook]

Having thoughts of secretly sparked Bumblebee.

He knew something was up when he kept opting out of his favorite energon even giving away his secret stash of his favorite minerals that tasted overly sweet, his favorite secret indulgence.

His tanks couldn’t handle the thought of the stuff and his smell sensor kept malfunctioning every time he smelled the stuff. He snuck from his room late one night, servos nervously fiddling as he tried to work up the nerve to get some fuel into his systems but he simply just couldn’t bring himself to.

His concerns grew as his tank churned almost all hours of the day purging without fail after each transformation. He was thankful his team was none the wiser since he didn’t like being worried over but he knew something was very wrong when he tried to transform into his alt mode and the world went black.

He was thankful it happened after his patrol when he’d already commed the team letting them know he was going on a long lone drive and he was, truthfully he was.

Until he felt so dizzy his processor was faulting on even remembering his name let alone transforming. He doesn’t remember hitting the ground but he woke to pains wracking his frame and joints all over. His hub indicated he’d been asleep for the past seven hours.

He was in so much shock he almost missed the reason his self diagnostic scans provided him as to why he was in such peculiar shape.

Sparked, his hub read.

Sparked.

Him, bumblebee, sparked.

If he wasn’t having a hard time with his air intakes venting before he did now.

Both time and his intakes stopped all together.

The lack of fuel intake, the intolerance to his favorite meal and snack, the tiredness he felt no matter how deep a recharge. The slight raise to his chassis where his spark laid hidden all made so much sense now even if he had half a mind to try and deny it.

He suddenly was overcome with the necessary energy to scramble into a half sitting position and open his spark chamber. Getting a first hand look at the bright glow of not only his own spark but two tiny sparks that were hugged against both sides of his own.

His servos fell and he couldn’t believe it.

He couldn’t believe nor stop staring at his vulnerable and open spark chamber that not only housed his life but two others.

He was sparked.

Bumblebee was sparked and he was going to become a creator in ayear by Earth’s standard time.

‘I’m going to be a creator..I’m..i’m going to be someones carrier,’ his processor drenched in distraught as his faceplates remained in shock. A stream was threatening to leak from his optics when a thought quite literally slammed his spark chamber shut.

Thudding footsteps, heavy peds, glaring red that were once lulling yellow always besides his long time conjuxed. Those four glowing red optics were a sight he was beyond gifted to behold and the little sliver of a smile and two warm fields accompanying it had him melting just the same as he did the day he saw and felt them.

He wasn’t sure why the two felt the need to see him, to touch him, to give caring and wanting touches to him when they were so perfect for each other and far too different from him.

Thoughts like these rang in his processor more often than he would ever care to admit.

He kept his insecurities and lack of assurance along with the rampant fluctuations of his em field close at spark. He never let the another feel the emotions warring inside him no matter how every bot who knew him claimed he wore his spark on his sleeve.

‘I can’t tell them..not..not about this..they’re conjux with each other. I’m..I’m no one. I’m just a momentary interest to spice things up in the berth.’

‘When the war ends, hopefully at a time we’re alive to see it, things will change and they won’t want me anymore…’

‘I’m just a pleasure bot they would use during our time away from our factions…sure they snuck me on board the Nemesis more often than not..but..they’re conjuxed..’

The flashes of the purple tank mech sitting in his large lab, working on a classified project Bee never bothered to ask about. The scientist sliding an optic over at the communications officer who watched the monitors of not only Earth but other territories commanded under Decepticon reign that again Bee pays no real mind to.

He’s not there to gain information just like the tank of a mech and the slim master spy don’t bother asking him for information nor do they try to gather intel from any data pads Bee brings with him.

He knew deep down both would find it illogical under any other circumstance to not take advantage of the opportunity given and yet neither crossed that boundary just as he never crossed theirs.

Only now Bee feels he’s crossed something much worse than a simple boundary.

He’s played with fire and now he’s burning along the frays as he struggles to intake through his vents no matter how much he presses along his chassis.

He slept with two conjuxed mechs.

Two very dangerous mechs known as the SIC and TIC of the decepticon army.

His dark thoughts reared their ugly heads at the front of his processor glimpsing at all the times he turned his optics from the conjuxs loving displays towards each other. The scientist was not a fan of touch or bots in his personal space neither was the communications officer but for each other they made exception.

So Bee avoided initiating any touch between the two along with allowing them to enter his space freely whenever they so pleased even going along with letting them initiate both interfacing and after face care.

The two knew exactly what the other wanted and Bee was happy to take whatever form of affection they would give him. Whether it be simple cleaning him up around his valve and laying comfortably in the berth to getting comfortable in their arms as they both held him on either side or each other.

Deep down he knew he wasn’t special to the two, he was a passing fling that somehow managed to go on for about an Earth years time. He was young and foolish falling for the quiet and mysterious sparks of a conjux couple but he couldn’t help himself. He figured he could keep the feelings close at spark not letting another soul know how he truly felt about the pair. Not even the science officer nor communications spymaster knew he was in love with them.

And seeing as how they were loyal to each other and the cause and not some young foolish bot who managed to get sparked on accident that was on the opposite side of their faction, he knew he needed to keep it that way.

His friends, comrades and family could never know about the sparks he was carrying. Bee would be put in the stockades or worst, they’d rip out his sparklings and send him to be tortured and have his processor torn to bits for information looking through his memory core and hard drives for any intel he may have given or received during his time with the two decepticons.

It wouldn’t matter if he was telling the truth in never giving up intel to the two nor would all his past acts of fighting for the autobot cause be remembered.

He was a traitor.

A sparked traitor who laid in the berths of two highly dangerous mechs who would offline him and their sparks the moment they discovered his condition and status.

He had to get out of there.

He needed to leave Jasper Nevada and with it his connections to both his friends and faction and the two mechs he grew to love.

He couldn’t transformer into his alt mode at the moment out of fear he would purge and momentarily offline again. So he scrapped his comms to his team, hiding his em field and spark signature before taking one last look in the direction of their base before turning and walking off.

If he were lucky he would make it to the cities edge and head out before his team sent any search parties for him.

He was confident the SIC and TIC wouldn’t be troubled once he didn’t show at their usual meeting spot. If he hadn’t passed out and discovered said reasoning for his strange behavior and symptoms he would’ve been on his way to meet with them.

He didn’t think they would be concerned maybe upset at wasting their time and any fuel energon on coming to meet with him but he’s sure after some time away from him they would move on, forgetting him in favor of time with each other.

Flashes of the two having things go back to normal swallowed his processor whole with every step he took away from the city. Images of the purple tank working in his lab as the spymaster cuddled with Ravage who would often curl in Bee’s lap rubbing along his chassis and tank. Bee didn’t think much of it when the feline cassette started doing it he just hoped it meant she was warming up to him.

Though, none of Soundwaves cassettes actually disliked him as far as he knew, they each cuddled up to him one way or another its just more recently they all started to make an engine rumbling noise that had him falling into recharge. He couldn’t for the life of himself fall into recharge in his own berth but every time Frenzy and Ravage laid on his lap and purred with their engines he was able to fall into recharge.

Neither Shockwave nor Soundwave ever disturbed him when this happened even as the habit grew more and more with frequency. Frenzy and Ravage had a habit now of sticking close to him and preferring being by his side whenever he set foot onto their base or met in their secret spot.

Bee should’ve guessed then that something was wrong but he hadn’t, he couldn’t have known it meant he was carrying since he’s never carried before. He was just glad he could recharge in peace after his steadily piling symptoms were leaving him drained.

‘I hope they don’t miss me too much,’ Bee mused to himself with worrying servos, his pedes hurt the farther he walked and he briefly wondered just how difficult his carrying would become since it was his first. Being a carrier meant having to know all there was to it in case of accidental sparking.

Going through his processor he really should have seen all the clear signs that showed he was with sparklings.

‘They won’t miss me..they were just following basic instincts,’ he reasoned with himself, spark and helm hurting at the thought. ‘It’s a good thing,’ he mused with a churning tank, ‘now I won’t have to worry about them telling the two.’

He felt a chill run down his spinal cord making his servos rub at his middle, the soft surface was still flat but the muscle he’d long sculpted there was gone. Another sign of his carrying clear as day that he hoped neither his team nor the two decepticons noticed. If Ravage and Frenzy could sense the sparklings within him from their more primal instincts it was only a matter of time before the two mechs began to notice.

Bee truly hoped neither cassettes told of his being sparked.

‘Just have to make it out of here,’ he thought to himself, rubbing the spot that housed not only his spark but two more he’d already decided to protect with his.

As he walked out of the city limits that nights and headed for a new destination away from the autobots and decepticons, he missed the warp gate opening to his last known spark location. Two large mechs scanning the area as Frenzy took to the skies with Soundwave following in pursuit and Ravage sniffing out the scent of the little autobot. Taking off with Shockwave following closely, both silent mechs held an air of promise with the intent to permanently offline the bot they believed took their future mate.

-

I love this pairing - all three togethe and the pairing shockwave and soundwave.

Gonna write about shockwave/blitzwing/bumblebee next or just shockbee angst next 👀

[littlest-w01f]

Prologue

Series Masterlist

CW: None

Breath, breath

The words rang in her head, and the voices in her head were panicked. Her mentor's voice was the loudest.

Breath in, breath out, in, out, in...

She cried out but she couldn't hear her own voice, she'd never felt more helpless than she did banging her entire body against the magical forcefield her brother had created. Her chest tightened in pain, trying to manage her breathing.

Her brother, High Lord of the Night Court, now at the clutches of the witch who fancied herself High Queen.

Calm... Stay calm... still your mind, novice.

"Rhea..." A voice called out. She knew the voice, she knew whose scared fingers held her as she cried, her cry and panic powerful enough to shake the mountains to their core. She pressed her face into his chest, the blue siphons on the back of his hands glowed as if sopping him to break down as well.

"He's..." A sob escaped her lips, her bright violet eyes dulled in pain and sorrow. "I can't feel him, Az... I can't."

With the pain in her mind and heart, her body followed, her joints ached in a way they hadn't in centuries, and the muscles of her back cramped. The giant scars of shame on her back began to pain again, and her shame of not being enough to save her family rose to the surface. Her wings begging to be summoned, more of a reminder that she failed to save those of her mother and sister.

The hands around her held her tighter as both the bodies slid down leaning against the barrier around Velaris, she tried one last time to bang her fist against the powerful glamour to hide the city, the purple siphon sitting at the back of her hand glowed and cracked slightly from the pure power she used, the boundary not budging to let her out.

Her powers couldn't sense his, he was dead for all anyone knew. The power in her roared helplessly, unless in the heat of the moment as if everything she had ever learned in her life flew out of her head and only her teenage Illyrian aggression remained.

"My family... All of them are gone, he's gone"

She went limp against the male who held her, stroking the back of her head to calm her down, leaving a gentle kiss on her temple.

"They're all... gone, Az..."

Darkness clouded her vision as he gathered her in his arms to fly her back home. "We'll get him back, Rhea, Rhys would not go down without a fight powerful enough to shake the entire world."

[jb-cantsleep]

Unedited draft of the prologue of my WIP (These Fallen Fates) because why not

“By the promise of your bloodline, you, Hadeon Nicolas Deimos, are now pronounced King of Emrys!” The crowd cheered at the proclamation from the steward. They cheered as if Hadeon wasn’t a bad person. They cheered as if the past king and queen hadn’t died just days before. They cheered as if everything was okay. As if everything wasn’t moving so fast. I felt resentment towards my brother. Not for his becoming king, but because of how quickly he accepted the position with no time for anyone to mourn the loss. And I was envious of my sister, Erdene, because she had a way out of this mess, and I was stuck here. “Now, let us begin the Alaric transferring ceremony.”

One of the servants walked through the door holding a brown lock box with gold detailing—the Alaric. I was only five when I saw my parents inherit the Alaric. Erdene hid me behind her skirts so as not to watch my parents writhing in excruciating pain. I heard all of it, I knew what was happening. This would be the first time I couldwitness it for what it was.

The crowd was silent as the servant approached the top of the dais. Hadeon stepped forward in anticipation when the servant turned towards the audience, opening the box for everyone to see the radiant, purple glow inside. It was so silent that one could hear a pin drop.

With a gloved hand, the steward speaking moments before grabbed the purple crystal and held it high above his head so that everyone could catch a glimpse at it and how its light was beating—in sync with its new owner's heart. I couldn’t help myself as I leaned forward to get a better look at it. It was a captivating sight, the way it glimmered in the candlelight. My mother had told me that if you looked close enough, you could see the power moving inside it, flowing endlessly like blood in veins.

The steward turned toward Hadeon, “Are you ready to bear the Alaric and follow the path intended for you? The path that your parents, and the ones before them, have taken?”

“Yes.”

The steward handed Hadeon the Alaric. He looked at it for a moment before closing his eyes. His chest rose and fell before he pressed the crystal into his heart. Everyone stiffened in their seats as the light from the crystal grew more intense. Hadeon began groaning in pain, his veins turning a bright purple. His balance staggered, and the crystal continued to enter his body slowly. I could see his jaw clench and his eyes slam shut as he kept groaning. A part of me felt bad for him, but those feelings disintegrated when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked and saw that it was Erdene. It was as if she knew what I was thinking. Erdene hated the Alaric, so much that she, -even though she was the eldest- decided not to inherit it. I gave her a stern look and turned my attention to my brother.

Hadeon was knelt on the floor now, trembling. I looked at the faces in the audience, not a single eye was on anything but my brother. An assassin could come in at this very moment and nobody would care.

The light from the crystal dissipated and my attention, once again, shot back to my brother. He was on his hands and knees, panting, his forehead glistening with sweat. The steward bent down and grabbed Hadeon's wrist, swinging him upwards to stand with their joint hands in the air.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the new king of Emrys!”

[gizmocrate-werecrow]

kinga tampers in god’s domain

(This MST3K monster au story is a collab with @classicrocker2000)

(Btw the monster au stories is in the same universe! Warning! Contains a dead body and spoilers for season 11 and 13)

Weddings don’t usually end with a dead groom, but tonight was a night to remember. Kinga watched Jonah get killed by Reptilicus and the carnage that followed. Now, she stood in her lab, still in her wedding veil and humming a little working song. On the bright side, Max’s little stunt has secured more funding for a second season and a trip to Mars for him. The downside however, was that Jonah was dead.

She didn’t mind though.

Kinga may not have been an inventor, but she was something else. Kinga continued humming as she laid down all the stuff needed to bring a man back to life: needle, thread, CDs, and of course, the body (coming soon, of course).

“Finally I get to play in my domain! Not those invention exchanges!” Kinga laughed. She poured a red bubbling liquid into a flask and mixed it with some glowing blue powder, producing a glowing purple liquid that she placed in a Gizmocratic institute patented fast fridge to keep it cool for the body much later.

She smiled. Everyone had their hobbies and her very girly hobby was messing with bodies, dead, living. Preferably dead and creating new life out of it. There was a certain thrill in modifying the building blocks of life. To mold flesh like clay into something new. She tapped her foot impatiently and pressed a button that was marked with the label Ardy.

“How’s the body retrieval Ardy?”

“We’ve got everything Kinga, you sure you want to do this?” The mysterious maintenance man said with hesitation in his voice.

“Of course I do! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Send it or else!” Kinga shrieked before calming down. 

“Whatever you say ma’am, Body in the hole,” Ardy said.

There was a thunk, then another and another and another, Kinga checked the chute to see some of the body parts of her lawfully deadded stunt husband.

She slipped the parts into the fast fridge as more body parts came down. Bits of a finger here, an arm there, a nearly intact head with smashed glasses and so many other parts.

“Well then, time to work.” Kinga said.

After many days of hard work, Kinga stepped back to admire her handiwork on the operating table, medical tools on the side bench and the purple liquid in a syringe waiting to be put in. Jonah’s body was covered in scars, on most of the joints was a connection stitch. Before anything else though, there was one more thing she needed to attach

The head.

Kinga kissed Jonah’s forehead and got to work on bringing his head together. She picked up his head and turned to see the back of his head, checking if the ears were sewn on properly, then she saw it. 

A tiny latch.

“What the hell?” Kinga said. She opened the latch and nearly dropped his head in shock.

Kinga was staring at a floppy disk slot. Holy shit. This was big.

Her stunt husband was a robot. He didn’t even know that he was a robot!

“So that’s why Reptilicus spat you out. Don’t worry Jonah, I won't break your world. I will put you back together and make you whole again!” Kinga said, she sang the last sentence with a giddy laugh and held Jonah’s head close, spinning as she did so. She placed Jonah’s head down onto his neck and carefully stitched it together, keeping the thoughts of the revelation at the back of her mind.

“You’re nearly ready for life, my test subject. But you need one more thing, my staff of life.” Kinga smirked, grabbing the syringe and injecting it into Jonah’s neck. Then with a flourish, Kinga laid down the syringe and twirled to a lever marked: HENCHMEN LEVER

“CLEAR!” Kinga yelled, pulling the lever.

The room dimmed as a circular hole opened up in the ceiling, down came an electric emitter which crackled to life. As it powered up, Kinga could feel her hair stand on end and frizz up, she smiled wildly as the bolt struck Jonah, causing all of his veins to glow purple for a moment.

Perfect. Kinga flicked the lights back on with a smile and loomed over Jonah.

Jonah’s eyes snapped open. He screamed.

“WELLLLCOME BACK JONAH!” Kinga said.

Jonah’s eyes darted around in a blind panic. The last thing he recalled was the crushing pain of getting chomped by Reptilicus and an overwhelming feeling of peace. Now, he was back on the moon, tied down and somehow alive.

“Kinga, what did you do?!”

“Isn’t it obvious, Heston? I tampered in God's domain and won! I brought you back from the dead. I—you get the picture.” Kinga said, untying Jonah and standing him up.

“You could’ve kidnapped someone else!”

“Pshaw, Netflix already asked for a season 12, and I have to build up your popularity. If you die, then we can’t have Joel vs. Mike vs. Jonah debates, can we?” Kinga smiled, grabbed Jonah’s hand and walked with the undead man.

Jonah couldn’t shake the feeling he was being paraded around like some trophy. An invention to be shown, a creation only belonging to her. Every bonehead he passed seemed to glance with a level of either horror or surprise.

Was he really that horrifying to look at, or was it that he came back? 

Either way the bots were going to have a nasty shock once he was back on the SOL.

On the SOL, while Tom was hovering in the background holding various doodads and knick-knacks for the goal of fixing m weavly, Crow was waiting by the umbillicus.

“Hey Crow, what are you doing?”

“Kinga told me she’s sending a surprise package. I’ve got 10 bucks it's the next poor sap who will get shot to space.”

“Yeah okay. Good luck.” Tom said, happily floating away.

Crow, meanwhile, sighed to himself. Once again, they were alone, and would soon have to get used to another new face. He always wondered what happened to the guy before Jonah but he shouldn’t think about that.

There was a thunk.

“Huh, that's one way to send up a captive.” Crow said. He opened the hatch and was immediately hit by a body.

“She sent up a corpse?! TOM! SHE SENT UP A CORPSE, OH THE HORROR! THE HORROR!” 

Tom flew in response to Crow’s screams, it wasn’t long until he started screaming too.

“Guys it’s me!” The body yelled over the panicked bots screams.

The body got up and dusted himself off, Crow in his panic noticed the body was covered in scars and how it was familiar with thick black glasses and the yellow jumpsuit. Wait a second.

“Jonah, is that you?”

Jonah nodded. 

“Kinga brought me back to life, not sure if I’m thankful or not.” Jonah said with a confused smile.

“Where’s your hand?!” Crow screamed.

Jonah yelped. His right hand had fallen clean off and was on the floor, moving as if it was still attached to his body. Jonah froze in place. This wasn’t happening. He shouldn’t actually be able to move his hand.

Yet the disattached hand moved towards the space trucker. Crawling up Jonah’s right leg before he grabbed his hand and cleanly put it back on.

“Seems I got a Re-animator thing going on.” 

“Wait you do? Freaky.” Tom said. Jonah walked over to the bench, observing the pile of M.Weavly’s parts on it, he looked up at Tom with some confusion and a little smile.

“Looky here, seems like someone wants to do some little robotics, want some help?” Jonah smirked. He was about to reach for the toolbox on the bench when Crow tugged him on the jumpsuit. He looked down at the golden robot with some confusion.

“What do you want, Crow?”

Crow stayed quiet and hugged Jonah’s torso.

“I'm happy you’re back.” 

Jonah didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know how they thought of him, they liked him? They actually missed him? Jonah didn’t know what to say except to hug Crow back. While he embraced the snarky golden robot, Tom floated to Jonah.

“I would hug you Jonah but I have no working arms.” Tom said he was just about to hover away when Jonah brought the robot into the embrace.

They do care.

(I don’t know how many people watched season 13 but basically in Gamera vs Jigar, one of the host segments has the revelation that jonah is actually an animatronic so um yeah, that’s put in here too. That’s why it’s marked for season 13 spoilers)

[self-shipping-doll13]

Grey Smoke Curling Up Into The Night Sky

November Prompts

Wc: 972

The last embers of sunlight were long in the dying, casting the dusk in a deep purple glow. Stars blazed white beacons against that canvas of velvety night.

From a hundred smokeholes, trails of smoke billowed into the clear skies. All of Kattegat huddled together around fires eating their supper, bouncing their young ones on their knees and telling tales of the endless Winter of fimbulvetr. Far off in the distance, dark smudges of cloud were looming at the edges of the world, promising to crown the kingdom with snow.

Today the mud had gone hard and packed in the cold. As Ivar’s crutch stabbed hard into the ground, its pointed metal end broke through the crust.

“Stupid thing,” he cursed, forcefully wresting it from the half-frozen ditch it had gotten stuck in. “Not fit for purpose. I cannot wait to burn it,” declared Ivar, turning to me and shrugging with a mocking arch of his brow. “When I get the chance. Maybe right now.”

“A fire’d be welcome,” I said as we both started moving once more, trudging along in the light snow. “That way I can feel my fingers and toes again.”

My gaze drifted to the crutch, half-rotten and cruel looking. He was awaiting a replacement that would prove to boast ease of handling and comfort.

“It could be worse, couldn’t it,” he said, accompanied by a sharp inhale between his teeth. “It could always be worse. We could be this uncomfortable in England.”

I thought it sweet he’d adopted a kind of contempt for the place, as if it would make me feel better about it.

“Although the Winters were milder there,” I said fairly.

“They were,” he agreed, and with a hint of reminiscence in his tone: “Warmer and more bearable.”

Occasionally there were when the silvery beams of moonlight shone down perfectly, and the banks of snow glittered like jewels, but I had suffered too many harsh Winters in my lifetime to truly admire them. Ivar detested the cold himself, seeing as it made his joints ache, a deep pain settling in his bones. Given this, I had even less reason to make peace with it. It was nice to warm up our bodies and act grumpy together, when I had been so solitary before.

A bitter wind rushed past, snapping at us with icy teeth, and his heavy sable cloak flapped wildly around him like a set of raven’s wings. I clung onto his elbow, but only loosely, so as not to hinder our walk, and I could see his breath in ghostly puffs of mist.

“I’m thinking of how my brothers are faring,” he pondered aloud, watching the swirling grey tendrils of woodsmoke and black clouds obscure the stars.

“Nothing will prepare them for you.”

Ivar barked with harsh laughter. “Of course not.”

A ladder of jagged bones hanging from a peasant’s doorway clattered harshly. Eyeing them warily for a moment, he shot me a curious look. “You’ve seen no more from the gods?”

“I would’ve told you if I did,” I said, recalling how labyrinthine my dreams had been lately. Kattegat’s old Seer had been so vague in his riddles that we didn’t lose much by killing him, but there were still times I thought I’d like to plead to him for guidance.

A childish instinct, to be sure, one I hoped to discard. “Perhaps it is a good thing that they are not forthcoming. Victory could almost come as a surprise.”

Ivar scoffed. “Hardly.” It was clear he was mollified.

For once when we strolled by the blacksmith’s, I did not see bright sparks, or hear the shrill ringing of metal. It was the slaughterous song of Ivar’s new weapon—and that was not the only voice raised up in a cry. By day, the hewn of axes chopping wood and the rending of saws joined in a terrible symphony as the great palisades were fortified. A sharp, resinous smell penetrated the air, alongside the nauseous stench of sweat, horseflesh and charred meat. Warriors had arrived in their droves, ready to fight and die in battle, so long as it was promised to be a glorious one.

The bear was in hibernation, and when he emerged from his hiding place he would find a clever trap sprung on him. I had foreseen it, and so it would come to pass.

“I doubt Björn ever thought of me as anything but the useless cripple brother he left behind,” he huffed. “But he’s the one who's probably feeling awful right now. Freezing his ass off somewhere so far away from home, wondering who will warm him tonight.”

A smirk curled on Ivar’s lip as he reached out to lightly tug on a loose strand of my tousled hair. “Why would I ever need to wonder, when I have you?”

How rewarding it always felt to watch him preen like a proud black bird, his dark feathers slick with blood. I smiled coyly at him. “And what is more…”

I’d grown used to the shadows of Ivar’s guards, the flash of White Hair’s cruel grin and crueller blade. I still did not want them listening in, so I drew closer. The stray hairs of his fur cloak tickled my nose as I whispered my odd suggestion in his ear.

Ivar smirked heatedly at me as I came away, his hand grasping hard at my hip. “You are an evil woman.”

My only answer was the slash of a grin.

Then he perked up as the vast ridges of the Great Hall came into view, his eyes bright with wickedness. “Ah,” he announced agerly. “Home sweet home.”

As soon as we were indoors, the men were dismissed and the fire was lit. That night our household joined in with the grey curls of smoke dancing in the heavy sky.

Dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

[phoenixcatch7]

Having so much fun with sb ruin, we haven't run into ANY major glitches never mind game breaking ones, and we've just done the new daycare section. Spoilers if you haven't got that far and want to play it, but I had some thoughts about Eclipse.

Now eclipse is something that's been in the fandom for a while, I think before even the balloon boy game was found, but it's never really been canon? I don't think the name ever appeared in game, but previously the only depiction of some secret third personality in the daycare attendant was the strange purple glitch in the minigame that revealed a red black glowing sun face with red eyes. It was all very threatening and spooky, and you are in a horror game after all (supposedly), so of course people imagined eclipse to be some ultra terrifying final line of defence for the daycare or the pizzaplex as a whole. Tall. Aggressive. Clever. Comes with a whole colour change to match, the way sun and moon do.

But ruin showed a completely different Eclipse! He (they? It?) was clear of mind (mostly, he was convinced the plex was running as normal), kind, and safe! He even gently dropped cassie off outside the play area! Even sun in sb physically threw us out in fury lmao. His eyes glowed different colours, his ARMS glowed different colours (that would have been so cool in sb), he had the rays and cap at the same time!

But why? What reason was eclipse programmed? In the daycare, there wouldn't have been any reason for him.

Well, there's the theory that sun and moon weren't originally created for the daycare, at least not solely. Instead, it's highly possible that they were made for the theatre next door.

Why? Well, for one, their design. Sun and moon are dressed like jesters, with bright colours and stripes, baggy trousers, curled toe slippers, and bells and ribbons on every limb. They bob and move in a way designed to jingle, with very long and articulate joints, even their head has a huge range of motion compared to the other animatronics. In fact, pretty much everything BUT their face is very expressive. It's as if they were designed to be seen at a distance. Exposed wires on the back of their head too, something none of the other animatronics have (being grabbed and hugged and climbed by kids all day, that's dangerous! To both them and the animatronics!)

The theatre, too, is designed and fitted for live performances. Though it is mostly a movie theatre now with a giant screen, there was still that badly programmed staff bot comedian (both in the game setting and its actual coding lmao) and the entire backstage area with dressing rooms, abandoned set pieces and undressed endos. The sun and moon faces are the theatre masks of joy and sorrow at its entrance. It's very likely sun and moon were originally intended to be the main actors, playing both villain and hero roles and saving the company a LOT of money in the long run, not paying for lead actors every day.

So what does this have to do with eclipse?

In the daycare, his presence makes little sense, but as a theatre performer, it would have been invaluable. Instead of making the character unbalanced in one direction, eclipse could have served as narrator, ringmaster, ambassador, he would have been the one bowing after a show, the one talking to parents, handing out flyers and merch, all the stuff you need to front that kind of show.

For one, it puts sun and moon on equal levels as all their marketing does, rather than sun being pretty much the sole worker. It allows them to act and be seen as two parts of a whole, rather than sun (and his evil counterpart). Eclipse is unbothered by changes in light, moving from the bright spotlights that crippled moon into total darkness that overrode dun in sb. From a production standpoint, eclipse is ideal to work with, the best parts of sun and moon.

But why sell one lot of merch when you could sell two? Make it a set?

And when they were repurposed to the daycare attendant, there wasn't much use for a third personality at all. Maybe behind the curtains, down in parts and services, maybe some niche situations. But without merch, without need, with the animatronic still in use, common knowledge of the eclipse program dissipated like mist.

All except for sun and moon and one broken arcade machine.

[ajxrn-archive]

Do you have any headcanons for Tighnari or the rest of the sumeru crewmeru. This isn't related to anything else we might have discussed recently btw

Cyno gets five boners a day when he looks at tighnari’s SLUTTY WAIST!! Cleanup on isle HIS PANTS⚠️

GAJCJSJCKSKG no but fr I have like?? A few random blurbs h….

Tighnari absolutely talks to plants. He has a little garden on the side of the house with small flowers and other herbs to make medicines and shit, collei helps out sometimes!!!!

Collei has a spotty memory due to trauma so she brings a notebook everywhere with her (I think her idle has a notebook I just realized??) to keep note of certain plants and mushrooms Tighnari warns her of as well as if she’s going to run an errand.

SUCH a basic one but scara w/ ball joints h… his skin would be like?? Fleshy?? But firmer than human skin. almost like a barbie????? He also has like. Cracks instead of scars!! Everyone has a SOMEWHAT decent heat tolerance but Collei has a poor one. She was practically in a cold lab since she was an infant so she’s a little sensitive to the sun and weather, but her immune system is really good because of the experiments :(

ALSO Scaramouche’s eyes glow in the dark. Fucking freak. And you know how you can see ur veins sometimes?? His are like bright purple if you look. He’s also pretty pale compared to Ei but he’s still like?? Tannish?? I have a bunch of appearance headcanons for everyone

Kaveh has like a fuckton of wrist braces that the others got him. He’s like. What do I do with these all I only need like two. He also has the worst posture 24/7. Shrimp looking ass..

Tighnari taught the group how to dry and press flowers:) alhaitham has a little book that he does it in when he’s bored

Nahida likes to sneak flowers into scaras peoples hair when they’re not looking !! And then she acts innocent when she’s caught like “:3c”

nilou likes to teach the kids around to dance !! She holds weekly little lessons for them post-Sumeru quest:) she tried to loop Layla into it but she was half asleep the whole time

A bit of a sad one but Nahida always has this like. Guilt. In the pit of her stomach, and doesn’t know why. She’s always longing for someone but she doesn’t know who or why:(

[dark-twist-fairytales]

Listen, I don't have an explination, it came to me in a daydream.

The Music Dragons belong to @bluetorchsky

Everett is referred to with They/Them and He/Him pronouns interchangeably.

If it seems a little all over the place, I apologize beforehand.

~~~

Although a typical day around the Toppat Orbital Station, but something felt off to a particular illusionist felt a little adventurous in wondering around the station. This wasn't new for them, but this was the only time Frankie felt off about this adventure. This didn't go unnoticed by his husband, but certainly worried the both of them.

Gherry moved his hands to rest on Frankie's, with Frankie quickly grabbing hold of his husband's hands. A bit of rapid blinking, as well as tight gripping, heavy breathing of bordered panic, it soon calmed down as Frankie moved to make eye contact with Gherry.

"So..?" Gherry questioned, in a whisper as to not overwhelm Frankie as much as possible. It started to worry him with Frankie's silence, before the other shook his head. "This.. It has to play out.. No interfering.. I think..?" Frankie gave a frustrated grunt at this, resting his head on Gherry's chest. "It's.. It's like all of them, but I can't tell which call is the right one.."

The small humming coming from Gherry's chest slowly eased his mind slowly, giving a small sigh. "Well.. Let's let it play out, okay? Maybe it's.. One of those unbelievable scenarios that doesn't actually happen because someone else." He said, getting a nod from Frankie. It's happened before from outside, so why not now?

~~~

... Now, back to our illusionist. Why are they being brought up? Well...

After the small incident with Ila making her way onto the station, somethings got a little.. weird for the ghosts and those who can see ghosts. A strong aura had been going around, a disfigured person. But, what would this have to do with the illusionist?

Everett, the Music Dragon's illusionist, had started on their adventure. Heading around the station, into rooms he hadn't seen before, it felt.. Wonderful. Freeing, even! He got into a new room, glancing around to see that it was pretty dark, a room that wasn't exactly used much any more. Smelting things, buckets and buckets of ammo casings, but mutliple gas tanks had labels on them that read 'DO NOT USE'. Huh, why weren't they in use? Probably something he'd have to ask-

"Well, hello there. I wasn't expecting to see you in here." The voice came off super smooth, words practically rolling off of their tongue. Feminine voice, powerful.. Where was it coming from? Everett glanced to the door, seeing it still locked shut, before looking around a bit more. They backed up just a but, but felt themself bumping into a body.

Turning around quickly, their arms were caught before he could fall, eyes wide as he looked to the person talking to them. "Running off so soon?" The woman asked, her whole aura a deep and hauntingly dark purple. Two pieces of hair framed her face, the rest being hidden behind her head, but by the small bumps, it was in two braids and a bun. And her eyes.. They were so bright.. Inviting.. Oh no..

"I.. I really should be going-" Everett gave a yelp when he felt their arms let go, and rather being grabbed by their shoulders, being twirled a little. "Aww, come on.. You're really gonna leave me here alone? Stay with me, just a little longer.." She trailed her hand up to his jaw, lightly dragging her fingers from the joint to their chin.

"I don't think that's how I raised you." That voice.. That one held much more power behind it. Everett dared a look, turning to spot and much brighter figure behind them, eyes glowing a bright green, and much warmer than the one currently on him.

"Psh! Like you know anything." The dark female spoke, shoving Everett down and away. Before he fell completely to the ground, however, the brighter one caught them from behind, gently setting them down on the ground, before standing in between Everett and this darker figure.

"Hillary. It's time to let go. You've held on for too long, sweetheart, and it's hurting you." The lighter figure spoke, with the darker figure, now named Hillary, gave a scoff and tried to get past the lighter one to Everett. It didn't work, much to Everett's relief. "Like you know any better, mother!"

The lighter figure took this closeness as opportunity, beginning to hum a certain tune. Her voice was so distant, yet so there, and it was clearly distressing Hillary. But, why..? 

"Even if you're beyond the grave

A mother's love is not to cave

But thou has hurt the one I love

My precious, sweet, little dove..

Now I lay you down to sleep

For the curse is one that I shall keep

I'm sorry, my daughter, for what has come

But know I am here, even just for some.."

As she spoke, Hillary's distress became less and less, her body going limp in her mother's arm. The dark color moved from her entire being to a shell necklace that the light figure held in her hand, and slowly, the body disappeared from her arms.

She gave a sigh of relief, before turning around and sitting on her knees. Now able to get a closer look: Her hair was short, yet very orange, with a flower behind her ear, and hair being held up by a green headband. She moved her hand to lightly hold Everett's, her eyes holding nothing but concern. "Are you okay, my dear?" She asked, making sure her hold wasn't harsh enough to keep him down.

Everett, albeit a bit shaky, nodded at her question, seeing her smile and a bit of the concern leave her eyes. "That's wonderful.. You might feel a bit better going to that group of yours to try and de-stress and calm down.."

"What.. What was that song..? How did you know it?" Everett asked, moving their hands away from this woman. "Who are you?" He asked, stepping back just a bit. His tense posture soften as feeling her hand lightly cup their cheek, much different than Hillary before, much more softer and caring.. He leaned into it, nuzzling lightly into her hand.

"All in due time, my dear.. Do not freight.." She spoke, leaning close and giving a small kiss to the bridge of their nose, smiling softly. "Just, tell Frankie.." She got close to Everett's ear, whispering something, before pulling back and smiling. "Can you do that for me, please?"

Everett gave a nod, hugging her tightly and giving a 'thank you' to her, before they were off. She gave a smile, sighing afterwards and looking to a seashell necklace in her hand, seeing the angry purple it was, but also seeing a little light shining through the middle. "I wish things were different.." She muttered, tucking the necklace around her neck and dropping it underneath her shirt, before leaving off to Earth.

~~~

"No, I'm telling you! Shane! Back me up here!" Everett was becoming increasingly distraught at not being believed by most of the Music Dragons, but Shane could only shrug. "Dude, I'm sorry, I really don't know what you're talking about.."

"What's going on?" Frankie asked, coming into the same room as the Music Dragon's. This caused Everett to perk up and look to Frankie. "You!! She mentioned YOU!" Much confusion fell over the clan, before Everett stood up and began telling the story again. And while Gherry stayed confused, one glance over to Frankie told him everything: This was the vision from earlier.

"Hold on, you said she mentioned me.. Who and what did she say?" Frankie asked, his arms crossing over his chest.

"That's the thing! When I asked who she was, all she said was 'in due time', but she told me to tell you something? Uh.. It was something along the lines of... 'Sorry for the memory, but may you go on to see the harmony'?"

This got Frankie to think, trying to revisit the vision himself. "Memory... Memory..?" He muttered, his eyes widening and looking to Everett. "And, that dark figure- Her name?"

"It was Mallary, I think? No- Molly? No- Hillary! It was Hillary!" Everett shouted, with Frankie's eyes widening at that, and Everett -well, everyone really- turning worried. "Frankie..?"

"Memory and Harmony.. Memory and Harley.. How..?" Frankie's mind couldn't seem to grasp it, glancing towards the door and just staring for a moment. Everyone kept silent to let him think, with Gherry being the most concerned about him. "So.. You were saved by Memory, who warned you about Harmony, and took out someone named Hillary. With a seashell necklace?"

"I guess so? It all went by fast for me, Hillary caught me off gaurd, and it.. it felt like-"

"You were being taken under control against your will.. Mental Magic. It's a powerful thing.." Frankie said, earning much confusion around this concept. Through all of their years, alive and dead, not once had a few of these members heard of 'Mental Magic'.

"It's.. It's a horrible thing. It's why we tried to help build immunity for Music Magic, as it helps restrict Mental Magic as well.." Frankie gave a sigh. "That doesn't matter- What's important is that you're okay."

Everett nodded quickly at that, rubbing at his wrists a bit. "Yeah- Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay." They spoke, growing confused of how Frankie knew all of this, but not questioning it. Frankie did look relieved at it, nodding and sighing.

"Good.. Just, keep this experience in pocket for now. All of you. I.. I feel as though this is going to call for a lot more than we think." Frankie said, going to leave out of the room, before spotting a deer in the doorway, staring right at them. "Oh, come on, Ila." Violin spoke, while picking the deer up. He glanced into the room, giving a small wave. "Hey guys. Anything happening?"

"Just- A lot. Hey, Ila? Do you mind giving a 'Thank you' to Memory?" Frankie spoke, with the doe nodding and relaxing from the brief petting she received. "Thank you, Ila.." He then stepped out to get to somewhere quiet, no one following to respect Frankie's privacy.

"What's up with Frankie?"

"Something happened with Everett, another music magic user? None of us are really sure." Shane spoke, with Violin nodding in understanding.

"It's been a long day for all of us. Try to rest your souls, okay?" Violin spoke, which caused a wave of agreement to come across the entire group, as he walked out with Ila trotting beside him, refusing to stay held by him.

Once the two made it to the communications area, Violin did get stunned for a moment by seeing a woman sat on the floor, with Ila approaching and resting beside her. Her hair was orange, eyes green, and she just seemed happy, but also drained of her energy. Violin soon talked with the teleportation manager at the time to get Ila back to Earth, again, before he looked to the two. Why wasn't anyone saying anything about her? Unless..

His question was answered with her using the last bit of her strength to use Ila as a way of transportation to Earth. He did blink a few time in confusion, but felt a weird sense of calm rush over him. He simply nodded to himself, walking out to get some rest after a long day.

[coffeeangelinabox]

Tale As Old As Time - Part 17

In his own chambers, Kallon was trying, without success to master the steps of the opening dance he would be expected to lead Aliandra in in just a few short hours.

There was a tentative knock at the chamber door and, eyebrow raised, he crossed to open it. He was expecting no one, even his valet should give him another forty minutes before arriving to ready him for the ball. Kallon cast his brightly coloured outfit a dark look as he passed it. Style wise, it wasn't too different from the robes he usually wore to such formal events, the lapels flat and wide, emphasising his shoulders and chest, the robes loosely draping to cover light trousers and shirt beneath. In the freezing Vaalonian winter, he would have liked something more substantial, but that was not his problem.

But it was so bright.

In Vaalon, as a male, he would wear one, perhaps two colours at a time and would favour dark tones or the colours of sea and storm. Perhaps metallic tones of gold, silver and bronze on his royal regalia.

This had stripes in a veritable rainbow: yellows and reds, even pinks and sky blues. The base colour was, of all things, cream.

He was certain that Aliandra would not set him up to be humiliated. She valued their fledgling peace too much (and he had had a man-servant check Prince Criz's planned outfit, which he was assured was much the same) but still. He didn't know how he would stand tall and confident wearing such a thing before his people.

He pushed the thought aside and opened the door. Outside, hands twisting nervously together was a porter. He was stooped with age, the joints of his fingers knotted with hard work and arthritis and the vicious winds. Kallon did not immediately recognise him, which was unusual. In this part of the keep servants were rarely changed, but before he could comment, the man bowed deep, stumbled and then fell fully to his knees in supplication.

"My Prince, oh, my Prince," he said.

Kallon offered him a hand, guiding him back to his feet and casting a look down the hallway. Perhaps the man was infirm of mind as well as body, he should summon help for him. Before he could do more than have the thought though, the man was clinging to Kallon's hand and arm, with a bruising strength that belied his old age.

"Oh, my Prince, you must forgive my intrusion. I mean, I do not seek to give you orders, have me executed if it so pleases you, but please, I beseech you, listen to my warning first."

"I will not have you executed, old one," Kallon reassured and he conducted the man to his own chair before his desk. "Tell me what brings you here."

"You must know," the man's hands were twisting together once more, skin chapped and red with work. "You must know that I would never willingly, by word or deed, cause you or your most noble family harm, but oh, I must tell you-" He raised his face to Kallon's for the first time and Kallon was struck by his eyes.

Though the man's skin was as creased and ruddy as could be expected, his eyes were like flaming jewels, a blue so deep as to be almost purple and they seem to glow with the man's desperate intensity.

"I must tell you," he said again, and his voice wavered a little. "That the people, my Prince, your people...They will not countenance a Semartin queen nor a halfbreed ruler to follow you. The war is truly terrible, but they- we cannot allow Vaalon to be dishonoured so. If you go ahead with this marriage, you must understand that it will end with a knife in your ribs and your country torn apart in ruin. Please, my Prince, if you care for Vaalon even a little, you must call this farce of a wedding off, send her home."

Kallon blinked. His instinct to refute the claim silenced by his memory of his oldest friend wielding a sword against him with deadly intent. "Who says this, old one?"

"They all do," the main wailed. "All those at the tavern, at the worksites, even the Ladies of Pleasure at the Madam Houses. All will rise against you."

He blanched at the fiery look in Kallon's eyes.

"I do not say this to distress you. I only come because I could not bear to see you harmed in any way."

Kallon took a deep breath and tried to settle his anger. "And I thank you for the risk you have taken, but you must understand, although this change is frightening, this is the only way to protect our world. Vaalon and Semartis are too evenly matched. The conflict has drawn on for centuries and may yet for centuries more. Surely my people would rather see a Semartin queen beside me than their sons dead on foreign soil?"

"Some, perhaps," the man allowed, "There are always those weaklings who seek to avoid conflict regardless of what honour that may cost. But the majority, oh Prince, the majority. They will tear you apart."

"You too?" Kallon's voice had hardened.

"I-" the man faltered but then straightened, an old military bearing settling into his chin and shoulders. "I would not see you so- so- so- violated as to have your royal blood mixed with that of some Semartin slut. On my life, my Prince, I have served your family and taught my sons, those that yet live, to do the same. I could not bear you to be..." he grabbed Kallon's hand and pressed a kiss to it, tears dripping onto Kallon's flesh.

And despite himself, despite the old man's obvious emotion, despite the teaching he had always had to treat even the meanest of his subjects with compassion and kindness, Kallon felt a flicker of revulsion.

He pulled his hand free. "What would you have me do." It was not a question. "I am but a Prince, in this, I must obey my lord father. My King and yours." His voice took an edge, reminding of duty both to himself and the old man, and the tiniest ember of resentment. Hadn't he too had these thoughts about what was being asked of him?

"Oh, Prince, your father, great King though he is...he is too entranced with his vision of prosperity and an end to the fighting to hear any argument against it. It is much easier to sacrifice another, even when that other is your own heir, than one's own self. It is not your father who will have to bed the witch. And who knows what that will do to you. I have heard tales of men, good men, who lay with Semartins and after that their manhood shrivelled and fell off and they became women, able only to breed Semartin dogs."

Kallon stood, pushing aside the tiny part of him that wanted to agree. "I will not have you speak so. The Princess is not of our land, but she is no monster."

"You love her!" the man said in shock.

"I- What I feel for the Princess is no one's business but my own."

The old man regarded him. "You do not love her, that is good. I would hate to believe you had been susceptible to her witch craft."

Kallon was deeply beginning to regret his earlier choice to allow the man entry to his private chambers. He was quite clearly mad. He now gestured the man towards the door. He would inform the chamberlain that there was an unauthorised person roving as soon as possible and have the man given a few coins before being removed.

"It is of no matter," he said brusquely. "I have my orders and the people have theirs. My wedding cannot be altered. Princess Aliandra will, in time, become beloved, I am certain of it."

"Unless, my Prince, those orders were no longer in effect."

Kallon sighed. "What do you mean, old one?"

"I mean, and understand my Prince, I take a dreadful risk with this suggestion. I do it only to protect our kingdom and your noble person. But...Is it not true that...if our dear king were to...to pass, you would be ruler and subject to no orders but your own?"

"You suggest I kill my own father!?!"

"I tell you for certain, Vaalon needs you to do this or all will come to blood and ruin."

"No one would dare suggest this to me in my own chambers," Kallon said in shock, even Gredor, who had had his ear and a lifetime of reasons to believe Kallon would listen to his words, had not dared to say such things. "So tell me, old one," and quite without thought, Kallon's sword was in his hand. "Who are you?"

After being forced into a loveless political marriage, a prince and princess agree to split a love potion in hope of finding happiness.

[touyasdoll]

Day 4: Humiliation

Pairing: brat tamer!Megumi Fushiguro x f!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: non-consensual exhibitionism, voyeurism, humiliation, degradation, possessiveness, impact play, dacryphilia, teasing, sir kink, marking, pussy job, teensy bit of a praise kink, ahh I hope I didn't miss any, lemme know if I did

Notes: Starts off pretty strong, so everything is below the cut. Please mind the warnings. Posting this much later in the day than I wanted to, but here ya go! 💜

“You’re being such a good little bitch for me all of a sudden,” Megumi’s hand collides with your ass, leaving a bright red handprint in its wake. You hiss, unaccustomed to being struck so harshly without him already inside of you. “Where’s that big, bad attitude you had all day, baby?”

The joints of your elbows are shaking violently, threatening to give out from under you at any moment, but the threat of your sadistic lover drawing out this punishment offers you the incentive to remain upright in the position he’s placed you in.

“Have I finally tamed the brat in you?” His hands grip your hips tight, slender fingers sinking into your skin where bruises have already appeared, purple reminders in the shape of his fingertips. “Took long enough,” you can hear the condescending smirk in his voice as he strikes you again, harder this time.

“Ah!” A yelp is forced from your lips, but you button them shut, whimpering quietly as you take your bottom lip between your teeth.

He rubs the angry tip of his cock against your clit, teasing your aching hole with it while he leans back and watches. The fiendish grin on his face only grows the more you whine and clench for him. He loves to see you this desperate, this depraved.

He draws his hips back, pressing his middle finger to your slit, dragging the digit up and down between your folds, but never slipping it inside of you. It’s driving you crazy and he knows it. He adores it. He gets off on it.

“Sir, please,” you dare to beg, praying that he might take mercy on you. End your suffering and finally reward you by plunging his fat cock inside your greedy hole.

You were quivering for him in every way possible. Bottom lip shaking, elbows wobbling, pussy fluttering around nothing at all. He had to relent soon, otherwise you might just implode.

It had already been half an hour of torturous teasing, punctuated by a swift spank whenever you least expected it. He’d slip his cock between your thighs, letting your folds hug his girth to coat him in your juices, only to pull all sense of stimulation away from you to languidly stroke his own length while he slapped the heavy head of his cock against your ass, accompanied by a strike of his hand or a lash of the tongue.

The taunting was just as relentless as the teasing, but it only served to make you even more desperate. You couldn’t hide it from him, couldn’t pretend that you didn’t love it when he hunched over you, snarling in your ear about how he would take you when he was good and ready to. How he owned your pussy. How only he got to decide when and how you got fucked. How he promised to drink up your pretty, pathetic tears when he was through teaching his needy fucking brat a lesson by pounding your pussy until you begged him to stop.

You couldn’t hide it because every sinful sentence had you dripping. He could feel it when his cock would glide between your legs, catching on your clit now and then just to torment you a little further. He was always so close, rutting against you, nearly claiming you over and over again, relishing in the way you keened when you thought he was really gonna do it this time, when he lined up and almost pushed inside. Relishing even more when you wailed in disappointment, earning yourself another crack to your glowing backside.

“Oh, you’re still minding your manners? I’m so proud. What a good girl,” He coos behind your ear as he hunches over you, finally slipping his middle digit inside of you. “You’ve been behaving so well for me, despite everything I’ve put you through.”

You hang your head, fresh tears falling from your eyes at the first sign of meaningful stimulation. A moan tumbles from you, your walls instinctively clenching around his finger as he pumps it in and out. His hot breath tickles your neck before his lips place a soft kiss to your nape, his finger curling inside you, searching for that spongy spot you’re so anxious for him to find.

“Either you’ve truly learned your lesson,” he withdraws his finger from your core to reach around and grasp your jaw in the span of his hand, angling it towards the newly mounted camera in the corner of the bedroom. “Or have you figured out that we have an audience this time, darling?”

Your eyes blow wide at the revelation. You can feel his lips curl up in a devious smirk against the back of your head before he places another kiss behind your ear. You couldn’t tell if he was kidding. This could just be a ploy, something else to prod you with before he actually drops the punishment, but you’re assured that it’s more than that by the next words that he whispers in your ear.

“You remember Gojou-sensei, don’t you, babygirl? Why don’t you say hi?” He leans back, kneeling behind you as he places a hand to the small of your back, once again teasing your entrance as you reel from the new information. “He can hear you, you know. He’s heard everything.”

With that, he finally claims you, mercilessly making his presence known as you arch your back, crying out from the sting of the stretch and the delicious feeling of finally, finally being full. The mention of an audience is soon forgotten in your hunger for more. More of this, more of him.

“C’mon, baby,” Megumi’s gentle touch returns to your sides, his lips feathering kisses on your shoulder that don’t live up to the brutality that you had come to expect would be unleashed upon you, leaving you to chase it for yourself. “Don’t be shy, say hello.”

You slammed yourself back onto his length, whimpering as you tried and tried to gather the momentum that you were seeking. That harsh, animalistic rhythm that only he could set; that he regularly used to ruin you for anyone else.

“Y-yes, sir,” you sputter, floundering and giving up on your selfish campaign to fall into the slow, forgiving rhythm he was setting. “H-hi, Gojou-sensei,” you eek out, words barely rising above a whisper.

“Always knew you were a good student,” a smug voice carries through the speaker attached to the device, it undoubtedly belongs to your former teacher and his breathing sounds labored. “But I never realized you were such a good teacher. You’ve trained her well.”

Kinktober Masterlist