#i initially had other plans for my submission

[bloodbruise]

@croptopjames happy birthday to the one and only jfp <3

jegulus | 933 words | trans reg & themes of gender identity and transition

Regulus felt his cheeks heat up as he snapped out of his daze and met James' eyes. He was wearing a knowing look, "Oh, I'm definitely keeping this," James declared, his smirk widening. "Especially if it gets this kind of reaction from you every time."

Regulus’ room was a disaster. James had finally coaxed him into sorting through his old clothes, only managing after he bribed him with promises of kisses and takeout afterwards. The closet had all but exploded, leaving piles of clothes scattered all across the room. With ‘yes’s,’ and ‘no’s,’ and ‘maybes’ occupying every available flat surface, Regulus was sure he hadn't seen the darkened wood of his floor in hours. 

Sat on his bed, he watched as James dug through his dresser for another shirt. He let out a thoughtful hum as he grabbed two, throwing one over his shoulder and holding up the other: an awful plum-colored blouse. His mother had bought it for him—form-fitting, smothered in ruffles, and, in her words, “the perfect blouse for a sophisticated young woman.” 

Regulus thought it was the ugliest fucking shirt he had ever seen.

“Ugh,” Regulus wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Absolutely not, that thing is a monstrosity.” 

James barked out a laugh, amused at the disgust evident on Regulus' face, before flinging the shirt into the rapidly growing ‘no’ pile. He grabbed at the one resting on his shoulder.

“And this one?” 

It was worn, fabric soft from years of wear. The dark green and gray had dulled, now just muted shadows of their original hues. The words printed on the front, cracked and creased, read ‘Hogwarts Women's Rowing’. It had been his favorite shirt for a long time. His parents had always been on him to join something– a club, a team, an honor society. If he was honest, he only chose rowing because it kept him out of the house the longest.

And he's so grateful he did, because it brought him Pandora. He suffered through early morning rows and long race days, soreness in his body and blisters on his hands. But every discomfort was worth it for the times he and Pandora would steal an extra hour to lie in the sun by the Great Lake, laughing until their bellies felt as sore as their arms. Worth it for the times Evan would cram them into his shitty jeep and drive them to their races so they didn't have to take the bus. Worth it, most of all, for giving him the first people with whom he could be honest—really, truly honest.

"I don't want to get rid of it," Regulus admitted, a hint of reluctance in his voice. "It was my favorite, but—I’m not ready to wear anything that might make people mistake me for a woman. Not for a while, at least.”

James nodded. He turned the shirt around, head tilting slightly as he considered it. “How about I hold onto it for you? That way it's not gone, just... repurposed.” He looked up at Regulus with a wicked grin. “I bet I could pull it off.”

Regulus couldn’t help but scoff as James began to pull on the shirt. “I’d like to see you try," he challenged, amusement evident in his voice. 

But as James stretched out his arms and did a little spin, Regulus wasn't laughing. Instead, he felt his heart swoop. A familiar mixture of fondness and arousal swirled in his gut at the sight of James. Glasses knocked a little lopsided from pulling the shirt on, pajama pants hanging low on his hips and socked feet– it was a picture that made Regulus go warm with affection. But, it was the shirt that really kept his attention. Visibly too small, the letters strained as they stretched across the width of his chest. The hem of it hitting right below his navel, exposing his hip bones and the trail of hair leading down from his belly button. Regulus felt all the breath leave his chest. “C'mere,” he said softly.

James shuffled over to him. “Good?” He asked, a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

Regulus shook his head, he was in awe of James. “Better than good. It suits you much better than it ever did me,” he mumbled, voice low and distracted. Reaching out to place his hands on James' waist, he absentmindedly dragged his thumbs back and forth over his hipbones, eyes stuck to the sliver of skin peeking out from beneath the shirt. 

“My eyes are up here, love,” James gently teased, his voice laced with amusement. 

Regulus felt his cheeks heat up as he snapped out of his daze and met James' eyes. He was wearing a knowing look, "Oh, I'm definitely keeping this," James declared, his smirk widening. "Especially if it gets this kind of reaction from you every time."

“I lied,” Regulus deadpanned, “you actually look ridiculous.” But his face was betraying him, unable to fight the smile spreading across it. 

James hummed in response, the smugness in his tone unmistakable. He was clearly enjoying every moment of this.

"Oh, shut up," Regulus groaned playfully, his hands gripping the exposed skin at his waist to pull him down. James yelped in surprise before their lips were meeting in a kiss filled more with laughter than anything else. But then James was deepening it, and Regulus let himself be kissed breathless. After a moment, he gently pulled back, hand tenderly stroking through James’ hair.

"Thank you," he whispered, his hand tracing a path down James' neck, over his shoulder, and along the length of his arm until their fingers intertwined. "For being here, for—everything. Everything that you do for me."

James responded with a gentle squeeze of their hands, his eyes meeting Regulus’. "Always, love." His voice was soft but firm in promise. And there it was again, his heart swooping in his chest as James pressed a kiss to his temple. "Always."

[swappermanent]

Gym Crush (Part 2)

Read Part 1 by @exploratorytfs.

It’s been a year and a half since the swap, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about how crazy it all was. You might be wondering—why would I trade the life I had? I mean, I had it pretty damn good.

Before all this, I was hot. Not just passable, but the kind of hot that turned heads. I had worked my ass off to look the way I did—hours at the gym, eating clean, all of it. And then there was Edgar. God, Edgar. This dude was a walking Greek statue: broad shoulders, a thick chest, veins for days. I mean, it wasn’t just the muscles; it was the way he carried himself. Confidence, swagger, like he knew he could get whatever he wanted. And yeah, I guess at the time, he was my boyfriend.

But even with all of that—being hot, dating a hunk like Edgar—I just couldn’t do it anymore.

You’re probably thinking I’m nuts. I mean, guys like Edgar don’t come around often, especially not for guys like me. Let’s be real, most dudes who look like him wouldn’t even give a trans guy like me the time of day. So, yeah, I was lucky. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. I should’ve been happy, but the truth is... I wasn’t.

Why? Well, Edgar. He wanted me to be this perfect, submissive, fem bottom. And look, I’ve got nothing against that. There are guys out there who rock that vibe, who own it, and good for them. That’s just not who I am.

I know, I know—saying this out loud would probably get me canceled in half the gay bars across the country. But I really am masc for masc. Always have been. I’m not saying it to be some sort of gatekeeper or anything; it’s just... that’s what I’ve always wanted for myself.

And it’s not just about who I’m attracted to—it’s about me, too. My whole life, I’ve been trying to prove I’m man enough. To the world. To other guys. Hell, even to myself.

Transitioning was the first step, obviously. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted to look the part, you know? That’s why I inked myself up. And the gym was my second home, but even after countless hours of sweat and dedication, I could never quite bulk up. No matter how much protein I shoved down or how hard I lifted, my frame stayed twinky.

Don’t get me wrong—there were plenty of guys who loved me for it. I mean, twinks are kind of a whole thing, right? A lot of guys would’ve killed to look like I did, but that wasn’t the point. It didn’t feel like me. I didn’t just want to be a guy; I wanted to be a man. The kind of man Edgar was.

And Edgar... he didn’t see me that way. Sure, he’d call me hot, touch me like he couldn’t get enough, but then he’d taunt me. He’d weaponize my body. Every time he called me “pussy boy” or made some comment about how he was more of a man than I was, it chipped away at me. He might’ve thought it was playful, but to me it was cruel. And I couldn’t take it anymore.

Initially, I thought if I just stuck it out, maybe things would change. Maybe he’d see me differently, respect me more. He didn’t. My self-esteem tanked. I started dreading the time we spent together, and eventually, I just... stopped putting out.

And of course, that’s when things really fell apart. Edgar doesn’t do well with rejection—big shocker, right? So yeah, I wasn’t exactly surprised when Edgar came sliding back into my DMs after. But honestly, I wasn’t planning on responding. I’d already been down that road, and I’d told myself after the last time—no more.

Still, when I saw what he was pitching, I couldn’t help but be curious. Swapping bodies with a cis guy? At first, I rolled my eyes. Like, thats even possible. But the more I thought about it, the more curious I got.

The guy Edgar had in mind? Not exactly a stunner. When Edgar sent me his photo, I remember staring at it for way longer than I should’ve, trying to pick out anything redeeming. The dude was... average. A little too soft in the face, a little too plain. But, to be fair, there was some potential there. Barely.

His eyes were nice, though—kind of soulful, in a way that made you think he might be a good guy deep down. And the kicker? He was taller than me by a good 6  inches. That alone had my interest. But let’s not kid ourselves; the real selling point was the fact that he had a cock.

That was the dream, wasn’t it? My own cock. I’d spent years dealing with the disappointment of not being able to fully live out the life I wanted. Transitioning had given me so much, but this? This was the missing piece. In this kid’s body, I could finally live out the fantasy that had been sitting in the back of my mind for years.

I could be the top I’d always wanted to be. I could take guys home, pin them down, and breed them with my own cock and fill them with my own cum. No more strap-ons, no more awkward positioning—just me, fully in charge, giving them EVERY. SINGLE. INCH.

Maybe with a little muscle here, a little polish there, I could make it something great.

So I said yes.

I’m not gonna lie—the first year in this body wasn’t easy. Adjusting to a new frame, new habits, new... everything? Yeah, it was a grind. But if there’s one thing I’ve always had, it’s work ethic. Between that and this body’s naturally high testosterone—and okay, yeah, I might’ve dipped into some steroids here and there—I’d say I built myself up pretty damn good.

Look at me now. I run my own training service. I mean, it’s not like I’m the most skilled coach out there or anything. But honestly? That doesn’t seem to matter much. Guys line up for my programs, and we all know why. They don’t just want my advice—they want to look like me. I’m walking inspiration. Living proof that the dream is achievable, or at least that’s how they see it.

And man, the way people treat me now? Everyone’s calling me “bro” or “dude” every other sentence. Not that they didn’t before—I’ve always leaned into that vibe—but there’s something about hearing it now that hits different. Maybe it’s the weight of my cock swinging in my shorts as they say it. It’s like the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Everything just feels... right.

And the best part? This manhood of mine? Oh, it’s gotten around.

I mean, come on. Looking like this, how could it not? Guys want me. They crave me. They crave my fleshy, thick, no kidding, natural, beer can of a cock throbbing inside of them.They’ll do whatever it takes to get a night with me, and honestly, who could blame them?

[see-arcane]

I have been possessed by a stronger than average craving for tinkering with Jonathan Harker's genders (Jonders). Jonathan Harker is undeniably and forever my favorite gothic heroine. But, being that there is so much to chew on regarding his potential fluidity when it comes to gender roles within the story--the classic damsel, the willingly submissive half of the couple, the vengeful berserker, etc--it's got me thinking.

Let's take the metaphor out. What would happen to the Dracula narrative if Jonathan Harker was...

First thing's first--she almost definitely gets shouldered out of the Important Solicitor's position due to reasons of Being Girl. But she still has to get to Transylvania to be menaced by Count Bat Bastard. How?

Hawkins! Johanna is working at the firm as a secretary and personal assistant to a still very paternally mushy old Peter Hawkins. When Dracula's request comes around, he can't give up such a lucrative client over his gout and there's no one he trusts to pass it to. He has to go. And it'd only be right to treat his surrogate daughter to a paid scenic vacation have his aide along on the business trip. Especially when she hunted down Carfax Abbey herself! What a lovely outing they'll have.

...or not.

True to form, Count Dracula is very much not to be trusted around pretty young things of any kind. Considering his canon habits, things aren't about to go any easier for Miss Harker. But at least she has Hawkins watching out for her in-person! It all makes for some very tense talk when discussing anything other than the estate purchase; which Hawkins seems as keen to rush as Dracula is to dawdle over. But at least they'll be out of here soon. What's a couple of awkward nights, right?

One in particular has Johanna nervous as she goes to bed. Hawkins had taken Dracula aside with a hard smile, insisting there was a 'delicate matter' he wished to speak with the Count about. The last time a 'delicate matter' was brought up was when he nearly lobbed a typewriter at one of his ex-solicitor's heads for some distinctly unseemly behavior in her direction. She hopes there isn't a storm brewing under their host's roof. She hopes harder that tomorrow they'll be heading back to the Borgo Pass.

Instead:

Oh.

Oh no.

Between this and one requisite nightmare-week in which the joys of womanhood come and go--let's leave it unspoken whether her set of bloodstained cloths stay in her possession or not--Johanna gets put through the wringer. Per usual. But eventually..!

Yeah. No shock there. Deep calming breaths, Jack. Don't let the wonderful diary concuss you.

Part of being one of two (gasp) G I R L S in the Scooby Gang, Van Helsing and company vote Johanna and Mina out of the dirt hunt. Except. Well. Johanna is still necessary to have on the ground here. She's the only one with the location intel--and a surprise willed gift of inheritance and the firm from poor Hawkins, who the Transylvanian locals all vouch for as being 'slain by wolves,' leaving Johanna free of blame--so she's still running around for the crew.

Even so, odds are high that she initially gets sidelined with Mina. Which isn't overly awful. It is good to be side-by-side in this timeline! No needless sequestering from each other! Johanna is already planning to see Mina back to their new house before they have to sleep another night in an asylum.

And then comes the 3rd of October.

Van Helsing: "Madam Harker, is it not somewhat attention-catching to wear trousers in public? We are meant to be unremarkable while we wait on th--"

Johanna, has already smoked through two cigars, kukri in her lap, playing a game of chicken with God: "Do you think I scaled a mountain in three layers of skirts, Professor? No? Then I will not do the same if the rancid bastard tries to escape out the window."

Van Helsing, aside: "Friend John, can you speak sense to her?"

Jack, melting off the side of the bench: "I think I hauve consumption"

Anyway. She very much does get to the Dracula head chopping. And there will be much rejoicing. BUT all that grimdarkness aside, there are other, more hijinks-flavored opportunities to think of with this particular set up. If only because I genuinely believe that Lucy and Art, having two spare best friends on hand and a general vibe that radiates 'ooooh what if triple wedding???', would come up with the following master plan. Some truly Shakespearean folly kind of shit:

Thankfully, Johanna and Mina nix the idea pretty quick. Case in point:

And, last but not least, my final word on the range of Jonders that exist within my very best gothic heroine friend:

ha ha I do that

[whore-ibly-hot]

Best friend!Retro-gamer!Yandere x Fem! Or Transmasc!Reader

"My Player Two"

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, bullying, masturbation, cum play, begging, general perversion, dry-humping.

(AN: Merry early xmas or equivalent holiday, guys! I have given you all the present of rising from the grave to deliver some submissive yandere horny thoughts.)

A gentle tug shakes you out of your thoughts, making you sit up quickly and turn your attention to your friend, Lewis.

The curly haired brunettes tongue just barely pokes out between his lips, thick coke-bottle glasses slipping off his nose. He's trying his best to play his video game, whilst also keeping one hand on your shoulder. "Hey, I asked you somethin'!" He says, not glancing away from the screen.

"Sorry, just zoned out. Whatcha need?" You tilt your head and adjust your posture when he puts the hand from your shoulder back onto his controller.

"I was telling you that I think I'm real close to beating my Galaga score at the arcade on 54th. Real close to getting my initials up on that screen."

"That's great, Lewis. I'm glad all that practicing with your hands is paying off." He blushes at the encenuation. "You know, if you'd like you could come and see me, when I get that high score. It'd be pretty great." He grabs an old plastic cup by the side of his bed, handing it to you with a shake.

"I've even got a few coins for you, if you want them. Maybe we could play a couple rounds side-by-side, or I could use them, and get you a slushie or something from the prize counter." He looks at you hopefully, with large eyes. You giggle, and reach out to adjust his glasses, pushing them back up his nose. "Sure, Lewis. I can bring my own coins though how much you covet those coins." He chuckles.

The clock chimes 9:00 and your head whips over to see the time. "Oh, geez. I gotta get out of here, Lewis, I've got classes in the morning." He pouts a little, trying to think of a reason to get you to stay a little longer.

"Hey, maybe you could sleep over, just borrow one of my shirts. I'd hate to make you go home, plus I've got food here." He stands. You shake your head as you fumble around for your stuff.

"I can't Lewis, thanks though, I'll see you soon, okay? Uh, call me when you plan to go to the arcade, alright."

"Okay, goodnight then, Y/N..." he watches wistfully as you leave, trying to resist the urge to pull you back for just a few more minutes. He'd give you soda, or some more snacks. Lewis is hesitant to let anyone touch his controllers, but if you wanna play two player, he'll allow it, you'd just have to promise to be gentle. He knows you would be though, your always so gentle. With him, with animals and other people, (though he wishes it was him mostly.).

Lewis has never been popular at your school, it was bad in elementary, and only got worse when the social politics of high school kicked in. He was scrawny, freckled, and loved anything geeky. He was bad at sports and an only child, making him a little socially inept. He didn't care though, he may had wanted someone in elementary to play with, or in sixth and seventh grade to be his friend, but by eight grade year, it didn't matter. That's when he met you. Sweet, perfect you.

You were immediately popular at school. You were friendly, attractive, and outgoing, everything he tried and failed to be. Becoming your friend changed everything for him. He was still bullied and picked on, but it didn't matter. As long as you saw him as worthy, he was happy. His parents even stopped goading him about going out more, once they saw he actually had a friend, which just led him to have more time to stay indoors, with you and his consoles.

He lays on his bed thinking about how much you've meant to him, having set his controller aside, when he realizes the scent of your shampoo is still lingering on his pillow. You smell so good, and there's still a warm patch from where your laying.

"No... fuck." He whines, feeling his cock twitch to life from under his jeans. He runs a hand through his hair, fighting shame and carnal need. He quickly pokes his head around his blinds, making sure his parents aren't home yet. After deciding the coast is clear, He locks his door and gets under his bed, digging around for his book. Eventually, he finds the family photo fromthe christmas card your family sent his last december, just a couple months ago. He feels so dirty for jerking it to your family photo, especially considering your other family members pictures are on the page, but all the cute Polaroid pictures he has of the pair of you are still developing, and he really needs to look at you right now.

Normally, he'd just just turn on the adult late night channels, but he heard from some of the guys at school that usage of those channels are starting to reflect on cables bills, and he'd rather not get his TV taken.

In a moment of desperation, he kisses your photo once, before taping it up to his headboard, and grabbing the nearest pillow. Even though it's not you, and his cock desperately needs to be free from his jeans, he wants to make it romantic. He straddles the pillow, pretending in his head that this isnt weird at all, it's just.... practice for if, no, when he convinces you that he can provide reasons for you to love him.

"Y/N..." he huffs, looking down at the pillow and trying not to think about how embarrassing he's being. "I like you so much, I do, and I need-" he rolls his hips. "I need to be in you, I do." He tries to imagine what you might say.

"I know, i-its my first time too, but it'll be really good. I'll make sure I make you feel good, and I'll go really slow, even if I want to speed up." He begins undoing his pants. "You know, you thought you were being funny, making that dirty joke about practicing with my hands, but I bet some of that dexterity might carry over?" He chuckles, before groaning as he kicks off his boxers. "Stupid, that was stupid. Don't say that when this is a sure thing."

He looks down at his freckled dick, the tip red and leaking, slightly bulbous. He's pretty thin, but a decent length. He's sure if he figured out the right way to use it, he'd make you feel amazing. He's know you'll make him feel amazing.

"I'm gonna put it in now, okay? Y-yeah, yeah I'll go slow. Of course, I wouldn't hurt you or anything, unless you wanted that. I'd do anything for you." He groans, before rubbing his tip against the pillow and pumping his hips slowly. He pants, glasses fogging up.

"S' really good, not just on my dick but... but having you up against me, feels so nice to hold you." He clutches the pillow like a life preserver while he ruts away into it, whispering and panting praises and assurances to it.

"Gonna cum, god, I-I feel it coming. I wanna be a good guy, and pull it out but-" He moans. "You feel so good, I can't." He imagines in his head your on the pill, maybe for cramps, but... maybe just for him. "I-I can cum inside you? Really? Go's, yeah, yeah. Okay, I'll do that. I'll give it to you, and I'll clean you up right after I- shit." He can feel himself losing control at the thought of ruining you, the sight of his cum leaking out of your holes. He moans loudly, though it choked back and emotional enough it sounds like more of a cry. Thick, white cum comes out in strings, all across the crisp white fabric of his pillowcase.

Once that post-nut clarity hits, he groans. How could he be so stupid? This pillow had to be cleaned now, and that would wash out all the remnants of your scent. He sighs as he chucks the pillow case into his laundry basket, and tucks his spent cock back into his jeans. Wiping off his fogged up glasses, he looks at the photo of you again, taking it down from his bedframe. He leans back against the headboard as he looks at it.

"M'so in love with you, I wish I had the guts to say it. I play the hero all day, everyday in my games, why can't I just be like them. Strong enough to get the girl, and keep her. Not jerk off to a pillow and a family photo." He tucks it back under his bed. He'll impress you, he's just gotta find a way.

Several days later, you got a call from Lewis to meet him at the arcade. Grabbing your keys, you head out.

Upon arriving, you enter, and see Galaga. Huh, Lewis's initials were already on the leaderboard! He must've won before you showed up. Heading outside, you hear grunting from an alleyway. Concerned, you peek around the corner, and gasp.

"Hey!" You yell, running up. The two punks who were standing over your battered friend turn there heads, only to snicker. It's two boys from you and Lewis's class.

"Oh, Y/N, perfect timing. This geek was getting taught a lesson." The jock snickers.

"What is your problem? He didn't do anything to you guys!" You push past them to try and help Lewis up, but he looks mortified to see you. "N-no, no Y/N, don't-"

"Yeah, he didn't do anything to us, it's about what he did to you, or maybe, what you did to him." You turn around, and Lewis pales. "What're you talking about?" Your brows furrow.

"This geek has been in that shitty arcade all day, playing that game. When he beat his high score, he started dancing like a little girl. We laughed at him, and he started going off. Yelling about how he didn't need our approval, and he wasn't upset. He had something we couldn't take from him. We asked him, and he said it was you." You tilt your head.

"Yeah, man. We knew this creep had been following you around for a while, but we didn't know he thought you were friends. We said we didn't believe him, and he got so upset he started claiming he was your friend, that you loved each other. Even, heh-" The two laugh. "Even that he fucked you."

"W-what?" You gasp and look at him. "Lewis?"

"I'm so sorry, I... I needed them to believe we were close, that you did care." He blubbers, reaching our weakly to your blurry form, glasses broken.

"He got graphic with it, too. Talked about condoms and taking you from behind up in his bed, since it isn't true, the little perverts been fantasizing about it for a while. If nothing else, we did you a public service, shutting this creeps mouth." The taller jock says, trying to put a hand on your shoulder.

"Don't touch them!" Lewis screeches, blindly lashing out, weakness replaced by a moment of fury. "Jesus, he's crazier than we thought. Need us to walk you home?" The jock winks. You shake your head vehemently.

"Just go." You say coldly, not turning to face them. "Whatever, bitch. Don't blame us if this sicko does something to you." Only you and Lewis are left in the alley now.

"Y/N..."

"Don't, Lewis." You snap, making him recoil into himself. "I trusted you, you were my friend, h-how could you say such lewd things about me?" You ask.

"I-I didn't meant them to be leed, I was just angry. I mean, I would like to do that stuff with you, but it'd be romantic! I'd never try and defile you or something shitty like that. Just please, can we go back inside?" He begs. "I'll get you that slushie like I promised!"

You shake your head. "I... I need some time to process all this, Lewis. I think it's best if we don't see each other for a bit." His face falls. Despite what's happened, you almost regret what you said. He looks broken.

He kneels before you, on the ground. "Y/N, no, please. Your my only friend, my best friend, I'm sorry! I'll never talk like that again, I'll do anything to make it up to you! I-I take hormone suppression pills, o-or... I don't know, take an abstinence pledge, just don't leave. Your my everything, my best friend-"

You've already left the alley when he looks up. A few game tokens lay scattered, meant for you but having been lost from his pockets during his beat down.

"No... you're supposed to be my player two..."

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

feeling veryyyy normal thinking about being offered as part of bounty to the ghoul because the bounty poster doesn’t end up having the caps they promised him. and they need to pay him somehow. they’ll offer him their lil captive vaultie as payment for the rest. 👉🏻👈🏻 will he accept?🫣

A Fair Trade

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 3,980

Warnings: smut (18+), p in v sex, oral (m receiving), creampie, sex as payment for debt, human trafficking typical of the Fallout universe.

Summary: The Ghoul always gets what's owed to him.

Notes: Oh, wow! My first submission-type ask! I'm genuinely super flattered and totally open to doing more. I initially ballparked that this would be around 2,500 words and it ended up almost 4,000 because I have no self control when it comes to this man. I will try to keep other submissions a little shorter, generally, to hopefully get them out quicker.

To the anon: This may have turned out...sweeter than you may have envisioned? Maybe that's not the word. Less rough? If so, my apologies! I hope you still enjoy.

Things had been...unfortunate for you since you had decided to leave your vault.

Looking for a taste of something new, chasing the feeling that the world had other things for you to experience, you had managed to make it to the nearest settlement of any import with only a few scrapes and bruises. But, regrettably, you lacked a true understanding of how cruel and selfish people on the surface could be, and you quickly ended up the captive of some random outpost runner.

Well, you'd been traded to the outpost runner. You still weren't quite sure how that had come about, even after weeks and weeks had passed, but, frankly, the scrawny, dirty man was a lot less scary than the guy who had initially captured you. He wasn't not scary by any means (no one up here really was, as far as you could tell); he still confiscated your things and locked you into the small room in the back that you were fairly confident was intended to be a closet every night, but he hadn't really done anything to hurt you so far. You were given a pillow, at least.

But you were growing increasingly uneasy with not knowing what his plans for you were. Worst case scenario, you guessed, he could kill and eat you like you'd heard some surface people did, but that didn't seem to be the case. Nevertheless, the way he eyeballed you, "accidentally" brushed against you with increasing frequency, made you uneasy. Maybe he'd bought you to be his wife, or whatever the Wasteland equivalent would be. You imagined that in the next few weeks he'd offer you more favorable sleeping accommodations...so long as you shared them with him.

Maybe you could accept, kill him in his sleep and flee. You really didn't treasure the idea of ending someone's life, but...you needed to get out of here, and soon.

The sound of the creaky, rusted front door hinges flexing drew your attention, distracting you from your bloody ruminations and the pile of scrap you'd been sorting through. The front office hadn't been loud, but the small murmur of voices instantly faded, a clatter of movement towards the door, followed by some very familiar sounding footfalls. He was back.

The tall, noseless, rad-ravaged man made his way in multiple times a month, sometimes even multiple times a week when the bounties were easy and the work was plentiful. You'd seen each other somewhat often the past few weeks, as your keeper had begun to allow you to clean and assist in the front of the office more and more. It was both better and worse; the days passed with less tedium and you got to see some of the interesting characters the desert produced. However, many of those characters sized you up with predatory eyes, as if they were estimating how many caps they could sell your flesh for in their heads. The ghoul had yet to give you that feeling, interestingly enough.

You'd heard whispers all over town about him, about all the things he'd apparently done, how he was supposedly hundreds of years old. You didn't believe that for a single second. After all, despite his fascinatingly gruesome appearance, he was just a man, wasn't he? A man with very advanced radiation sickness (and a rather unfriendly general disposition), but a man nonetheless.

Sometimes, you felt as if he was certainly looking at you the way a man would. You were unsure, frankly; social etiquette was so vastly different on the surface than it was at home. It sure seemed like he let his eyes linger on you, on your body. Perhaps he was simply curious about you, as you were about him; most people seemed afraid to even look his way, or too disgusted by his condition to even consider it.

"You wanna run that by me again?"

Your ears pricked up instantly at the tone in the ghoul's voice, your heckles raising as you sensed trouble. Tiptoeing towards the door to the front room, you stood as close as you dared, shoulder touching the rotting door frame as you listened in.

"I told you, we were robbed a few nights ago. I don't have the full payment for you right now. This is everything I've got."

You knew your keeper was lying, about the robbery, at least; the place was so small that if anyone had been in to steal anything, you'd have certainly known about it. Whether or not he really had the caps, you didn't know, but you supposed he didn't, figuring that he wouldn't take the risk of pissing off the ghoul if he did. You had overheard him discussing gambling on a few occasions.

"Well, you better find something to make me whole, quick." came the ghoul's acidic reply.

On some level, you understood his frustration. The work was done, the bounty delivered. Un-delivering it wouldn't make up for all the time he'd put in. But, you also knew his reputation for being unforgiving, and you felt a chill run up your spine as you began to fear that he would kill your keeper and you if he didn't find some sort of satisfaction soon.

"I don't have anything worth anything. I told you, this is all I have." the scrawny man shot back, trying to sound confident, tough.

However, based on the way his voice trembled and faltered, the uneasy way he cleared his throat, you suspected the ghoul knew he was lying, too, confirmed only a moment later by what you were certain was the sound of a gun thwish-ing out of its holster and cocking. Your heart flew up into your throat, hammering even harder when, a second later, the lighter sounds of the scrawny man's footsteps rapidly approached the door of the back office. Scrambling back towards the desk, you'd only closed about half the distance when the door flew open, the man grabbing at you almost blindly, his long, dirty nails digging into your exposed wrist as he dragged you, protesting, out behind the counter.

"Hey!" you hissed, trying your best to snatch your arm back out of his grip and failing, infuriatingly. You were momentarily blinded with outrage that he would offer your body to someone to cover his own debts, though you supposed that was just how people did things in this awful place. Your eyes, feeling like they could pop out of your head they were so wide, flew to the man on the other side of the counter, who was assessing you with a look you couldn't read.

"What about her?" the scrawny man asked, and that was the final straw. If things were going to get worse for you, you weren't just going to accept it with a smile. The fingers on your free hand curled into a fist, which you smashed into the side of his face, causing him to release your arm in shock. Almost instantly, he jerked towards you, but the Ghoul pointed the modified pistol in his hand further into his face, stopping him.

"Now, how're you gonna offer me merchandise and then try to damage it in front of me?" he said, speaking to the man, but not looking at him. He was still looking at you, an intrigued glint in his eyes. They were...pretty, actually. Warm and golden brown. Was he really thinking about taking the offer? You'd be lying if you said you weren't curious about what his body would be like underneath all the layers of clothing. However, the entire situation had your walls up high, your whole body trembling slightly.

The Ghoul stepped slowly around the counter towards you; the scrawny man shrunk away, the gun still pointed in his direction, while you held your ground, doing your best to keep your head held high as he stepped right into your bubble, your chests almost touching as he seemed to really size you up. After a moment of incredibly tense silence, his eyes moved to the door, then back to yours. Slowly, he lowered the gun.

"Alright. C'mon, Vaultie." he said simply, turning on one foot to make his way back to the other side of the counter. You hesitated, but soon moved to stand beside him, a surreal feeling washing over you.

"Hey! No fucking way, man! You can't just take her for keeps. She's worth way more caps than I owe you!"

The man was even more red-faced than usual, his tone downright indignant, but he didn't step out from behind the counter to follow.

"Ah, but, see, once we factor in the interest on my missed payment, hurt and suffering, on top of my 'you're a dumbshit' fee...I think it's a wash, personally." the Ghoul replied, leaning back over the counter into the man's dirt-speckled face. He clearly wasn't in a place of strength to negotiate, and his angry gaze moved to you again before he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"What the fuck ever." he grunted.

You felt your body relax noticeably as the bulk of the conflict seemed to pass. However, there was a small amount of unfinished business you wanted to address before you left this place. You crossed your arms, turning your narrowed eyes to your former keeper, feeling emboldened with the Ghoul standing at your back.

"Where's my bag you took from me?"

Soon, you were back in possession of your things, including your Pip Boy, which you fretted over as you and your new keeper set out the door and into the desert heat. As you walked, you flexed the sore fingers on your hand absentmindedly. Soon, you were pouring sweat, pausing briefly to peel the top half of your vault suit down to your waist, tying the sleeves around you hips. The Ghoul appraised you silently as you did, taking a hit off of an inhaler from his pocket before continuing on.

As grateful as you were to be away from the trading outpost, away from the scrawny man and his uneasy ways, you couldn't help but worry in the back of your mind, fret at the possibility that you were going somewhere worse. It was being too trusting that got you into your situation to begin with. You worried at your lip with your teeth as he began to direct you down the road, his hand flat and firm between your shoulders. You weren't sure if the gesture was intended to be one of comfort, or if he was simply ready to snatch you up by the back of your vault suit if you decided to try to run.

The two of you walked in complete silence in the direction of the setting sun for what felt like a hundred miles. In truth, your Pip Boy revealed that you'd only gone a single mile and some change when the sun fully dipped behind the horizon, granting some blessed relief from the sweltering heat. You kept on a while longer, until the stars began to appear; eventually, the man veered from the decrepit highway, steering you to a little alcove in the rocky hillside, barely big enough to be a coyote's den.

"Alright, we'll bed down here for the night. Gettin' too dark to keep walkin'." he said, dropping his bag on the ground in a little cloud of dust as he turned to survey the site suspiciously.

You stood waiting for him to direct you, your fingers wrapped tight around the straps of your backpack, watching as he checked around wordlessly. After a few minutes, you chose one of the flatter rocks around and sat against it, watching as he built a small fire, inhaling some of the rations that had been hid away in your bag. Eventually, the ghoul threw himself down on the other side of the flames, facing the highway, and did the same, tucking into something canned from his bag. Things were quiet for a while, but eventually he spoke to you again, his voice pulling you away from fidgeting with with your Pip-Boy.

"Y'know, you're insanely lucky he didn't sell that thing. Can get quite a bit for a functional one these days. Moron didn't know what he had." he said, still chewing.

You blinked at him, your eyes flitting between the gadget on your arm and him, unsure how to respond. Briefly, you felt a growing sense of apprehension, but he must've sensed it, as he rolled his eyes and sighed softly as he swallowed.

"I'm just sayin' you're lucky you still have it, kid. Don't piss your pants. Trust me, if I wanted that thing, I'd have taken it from you already." he said, tossing the now-empty can over his shoulder.

You nodded silently, willing the tension out of your spine as you watched him dig around inside the oiled leather saddle bag once more. He produced a silver flask and a canteen, taking long pulls off of one, then the other. He then took another drag off of the inhaler he'd been puffing as you walked. Eventually, he stood, gave his back a stretch, and shrugged the long, tattered duster from his shoulders, splaying it out quickly on the ground behind him before turning back to face you.

"Alright, darlin'. Get your little ass over here."

You felt yourself freeze almost completely, your head turning sharply towards him. He hadn't said anything about the initial deal for so long that you weren't sure he was actually interested.

"What? I accepted you in lieu of payment. That means you are the payment, sweetheart. And I do intend to collect." he said, plainly amused, sinking down to the ground, his back sliding against the red rock behind him. "Besides, I've seen the way you look at me. Don't pretend you're not curious."

Your cheeks instantly felt agonizingly hot; had you been that obvious in your interest in him? Every day, something new in this place made you feel so silly, so naive. But, at the same time...he wasn't wrong. He might be rough-looking overall, but he'd been kind to you so far, and he did have quite a nice build. Besides, it had been weeks since you'd felt sufficiently alone enough to masturbate. A tad awkwardly, you went to lift yourself to walk to him when he cut you off.

"Mmm. How about you crawl?"

You felt your face twist into a mask of indignant confusion, and he chuckled. Hesitating, you made measured eye contact with him over the flames, quickly realizing, as those mischievous eyes glinted back at you, that he was serious. You swallowed hard, pulling yourself slowly onto your hands and knees before crawling the half-circle around the small fire as quickly and as dignified as possible, though there felt like there was very little dignity in it anyway. You stopped at his feet, kneeling with your hands on your thighs and looking up at him, trying your hardest to not seem as nervous as you felt.

"Take your shirt off." he ordered, head tilted as he watched you quickly pull the grimy undershirt over your head, tossing it near your bag. The night air was cool on your bare breasts, your sensitive nipples quickly peaking into hard little nubs that stung slightly. You wanted to press your warm palms to them, soothe the ache, but you didn't want him to think you were trying to cover yourself, so you simply sat, staring again, waiting for further instructions.

He grinned at you, leaning forward into your space, his gloved fingers stroking along your jaw, sliding a single one under your chin to lift your eyes fully to his. They were just as pretty glinting in the dying firelight as they had been in the outpost office.

"Y'know, you take direction pretty well, Vaultie. I like that in a lady." he said, tone low and conspiratory.

Your entire face burned now, even your eyes feeling hot, but that fire spread its way down into your core, blooming between your thighs, and you shifted slightly to press them together harder.

Reaching down, he made quick work of the belt holding up his pants and his fly, tugging free a cock that was about as red as the rest of him, the bulbous head glistening with precum already in the yellow-orange glow of the fire. Your tongue darted out to swipe at your lower lip, and you crawled up his legs to look closer. The Ghoul seemed surprised, leaning back ever so slightly from you as you came near, giving you room to move close and wrap your hand around him, drawing out a long hiss from between his yellowed teeth.

"Right on it, eh?" he chuckled almost breathlessly. "I like that in a lady, too."

You shot him a bit of a chastising look as you began to work your hand up and down over him, your free fingers coming to play along the weeping slit of him, earning another groan. He was a pretty average length for his height, you thought, but thick and already almost completely hard. It didn't seem like it would take much work to get him the rest of the way there. Your musings were interrupted by the feeling of his leather glove brushing against the swell of your breast before encaging the whole thing in his palm, massaging almost reverently. You whimpered when he plucked at your other nipple, sending shocks down your spine and straight to your already throbbing clit.

"Let's see what that pretty mouth is good for, hmm?"

Embarrassingly, you immediately dropped your head, pushing your body flat so you were sort of lying between his spread legs, bringing your lips down to hover a few inches above his leaking cock head. Tongue darting out to lap up a little taste of the shiny slickness there, you hummed; he tasted different than you were expecting, sort of the same, but with an almost metallic edge. You ran your tongue in a full circle around his tip, clenching around nothing when he groaned throatily, his right hand sliding through the dirt beside him.

"Fuck." he spat out when you unhinged your jaw, allowing the first few inches of him to fill your mouth, wrapping your lips around the head and sucking hard as your left hand continued to work the base of him. More and more precum leaked from the slit as you tongued at it, the taste and the knowledge that you were arousing to him making you rub your thighs together shamelessly.

"Play with your pussy." he commanded, clearly struggling to keep his tone even. Beneath you, you could feel his hips rocking almost imperceptibly. He didn't need to tell you twice; you could already tell you'd soaked through your underwear as you wrestled your hand down into your pants, pushing the wet gusset aside to rub tight circles around your swollen bud, moaning around his cock at the feeling.

The sound seemed to really turn him on, one of his hands suddenly moving to fist into your hair, the slight pain at the roots making you throb. His other hand came to cup your jaw again, holding you in place as he fully fucked his hips up into your waiting mouth, cussing under his breath as you continued to push yourself closer to orgasm. He kept you like that for a few long minutes, your neck cramping slightly by the time his thumb reached down, wiping away some drool that was dribbling down your chin. Bleary eyed, you looked up at him pleadingly. His answer was a wicked chuckle, his grin less of a smile and more a predator bearing his teeth.

"Blowin' a ghoul turn you on that much, cutie? What would the other vaulties think?" he tutted, shaking his head. "I think it's time you get on my cock."

Blushing hard at his little taunt, you could feel his burning gaze as you pulled yourself back up into a sitting position, tugging your boots off and setting them aside before shimmying the suit the rest of the way off, along with your underwear. A shiver broke down your spine as a small breeze hit you, your fire pretty much nothing but glowing embers now. However, when you pulled yourself back onto his lap, sighing as you ground your wet slit against his erection, you found that he was pleasantly warm feeling, bringing your hands up to his chest so you could lean over just enough to reach between you and position his cock at your entrance.

Too afraid of injuring yourself to attempt to take him all in one move, you instead opted to sink down onto the head, wriggling your hips before pulling them back up, then sinking down again, gently bouncing yourself down onto him. The man beneath you was tense, his hands kneading at your breasts as he huffed and hissed his way inside you. By the time you'd worked yourself most of the way down onto him, his hands moved to your hips, gripping them deliciously tight as you bobbed up and down on his length. For as cocky as he'd been before, he was pretty clearly struggling to keep his cool now.

One of your hands moved up from his chest, leaving you unsteadily balancing on one hand as the other pinched your nipple the same way he had before, making you cry out like a wounded animal. He must've liked that, as well, as his hands immediately yanked you the rest of the way down onto him, your ass resting flush against his hips. You repeated the sound again, higher, more strangled as he sat so deep inside you, the fat tip of him strumming away at something amazing right behind your belly button. It was too dark to make out much of anything, but you could feel the way his body twitched and bucked beneath you, strung tight as a bow.

The Ghoul's hands were digging deep into the fat of your hips, so hard you knew you'd bruise, restricting your movement, forcing you to swivel and grind your hips against him, the angle putting delicious friction on your poor aching clit and pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body began to clench around him rhythmically, and his hand quickly appeared on your clit in the dark, rubbing surprisingly deft stripes up and down the puffy flesh until you were suddenly gasping for air, trembling hard against his chest as he fucked up into your heat roughly, sloppily, the hand that wasn't on your clit slapping you hard on the ass. Suddenly, he let out a long, low groan, and you could feel the hot throbbing of him pumping his cum inside you, his hips stuttering as you let yourself slump halfway against him. There was a sudden metallic taste in your mouth. For several long moments, there were no sounds but your co-mingled harsh breaths and sound of the wind swirling the sand across the foothills.

After you'd finally caught your breath, you made a move to extract yourself from him. He promptly stopped you, flipping you onto your back, the smell of the duster's rich leather curling in around you as he kept grinding his hips into your overstimulated cunt. It drew an embarrassing squeal from you, hands flying to his chest once more before being rather playfully batted away.

"Oh, no, sweetheart. Nice as that was, your buddy owed me quite a bit of money. I think you'll be paying me back in installments." he growled in your ear, one hand moving around to give your ass a firm squeeze as you gave another clench around him. Your mind, foggy with sex, wandered to the Radaway still stashed in your bag.

It was going to be a long night.

[supernotnatural2005]

The Meet Cute

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: 99% of the time drinking leads to nothing but bad decisions and regret in the morning. But, what about the other 1% of the time?

Word count: 1786

Prompt: 'Hugged the wrong person from behind'

AN: Hey guys this is my first submission for @jacklesversebingo 2024 Bingo card. It is my first time doing one of these and I'm super excited to see what my brain comes up with! It's a challenge for sure but I hope you guys can enjoy the ride with me.

Main Masterlist

Bingo Masterlist

You winced a little at the burn of the whisky sliding down your throat. It was very much welcomed though, and so were the other two shots you’d done just before. 

Not only was it your sister's wedding, but you were her maid of honour and wedding planner. In her defence, it was your profession, so planning and weddings were two things you did well. But the added pressure of it being your baby sister's day and wanting it to be perfect had given you little room to breathe.

Though, once the initial ceremony had ended and you made sure all the guests had arrived and settled in at the afterparty, you finally took a moment to take that breath, aided by the sweet nectar of alcohol. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t your best idea to drink such a strong beverage on an empty stomach, as it wasn’t long until its side effects commandeered your body, mind, and actions. 

As you looked around at everyone enjoying themselves on the dance floor, your sister included, it brought a sense of relief and warmth knowing you made her day special. However, there was one face missing, and that was the face of your best friend, Matty. You’d been busy up to your eyeballs all day with arrangements, making sure people arrived on time and showing them where to go; you hadn’t even been able to see him yet, let alone say hello. 

You knew his flight this morning was delayed, so he had to miss the ceremony, but he was on schedule to make the party at least. Though even your sister or family hadn’t seen him. The last text he sent was to tell you that he’d landed, and that was nearing 2 hours ago. You deflated at the thought that he might miss this too. Matty was always the life of the party, ever since you’d met him your freshman year of college. Although you didn’t see each other as often as you’d liked, living in different cities and leading busy lives and all, you were always guaranteed a great time when he was around. 

However, as you finished your fourth shot, it was then you spotted someone at the other end of the bar. You had to squint a little through your gradually blurring vision, but you were certain it was him. He had his back to you, and he looked a little more built than when you last saw him, but he was already chatting away to some ridiculously handsome, tall guy you didn’t recognise; who was exactly his type, and was easily someone he’d be distracted by. 

Pushing aside the fact he hadn’t come to see you first, with giddy excitement you pushed away from the bar, steadying yourself briefly as your head spun a little, but wasted little time as you wonkily made your way towards your best friend. 

Foregoing the formalities and for the sudden need to hold onto something, you hugged him tightly from behind. He was definitely firmer than you remembered, and he smelt amazing, but Matty always did. 

“I’m so glad you’re here.” You sighed happily as you snuggled into his back, the effects of the alcohol well and truly in control. “And when did you get so fit?” You exemplified your point by patting his toned stomach with a giggle. 

“Y/N? What are you doing?” Your hand paused, and your eyes snapped open at the questioning voice of your best friend. It took you a moment to realise it hadn’t come from the body you were currently clung to, but from your right. Dread suddenly filled you as you slowly turned your head and were met with the amused face of your best friend. 

With a gasp, you jumped away from the stranger, losing your footing as you did. Thankfully the stranger grasped your arm before you could go down, not that it would make this situation any less embarrassing if you had. Though what did make it worse was when you finally looked up at said stranger and saw, quite possibly, the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life. 

He had the most captivating pair of green eyes you’d ever seen and a smattering of freckles covering his nose and cheeks. A stubbled jawline that could cut glass, and he was staring down at you with much of the same amusement your best friend had. 

“So, strangers are getting touched up before me now?” Matt teased as he walked over to you, shattering the little staring contest you and green eyes had gotten into. He let go of your arm quickly and took a polite step back at Matt’s presence, and you had to force yourself to look away from him. 

Your cheeks reddened at Matty’s remark, and you only wished for the floor to swallow you whole. Matty slung an arm over your shoulder and hugged you to him, which you half returned in your traumatised state. 

“I’m honestly so sorry; I’ve had a bit to drink and really thought you were him,” you jab a thumb in Matt’s direction, to which he bursts out laughing. 

“If you were really thinking that, then you must be drunk.” He laughs, and you can’t help but join in on the absurdity of the situation along with the other two men. 

“Honestly, don’t sweat it; it’s made my night, that’s for sure.” The handsome stranger waves you off with a chuckle, and his voice is deep and husky and does an array of things to you. ‘Seriously Y/N? Get yourself together’. 

You smile thankfully at him, relieved he found the funny side of it despite the crippling embarrassment you were currently feeling. 

“So, how do you both know the bride?” Matty speaks up, and you want to smack him so hard. You were hoping to make your escape and hide in the restroom for the rest of the night, not prolong your suffering. 

“My brother Sammy here works with the groom.” Green eyes pats the tall one on the back, and you note his tight-lipped smile at the obvious nickname. It makes your lips twitch in amusement. 

“We’re junior partners at KS Attorney’s.” Sam adds and you nod in acknowledgment. 

“And what about you?” You find yourself asking before you could even stop yourself. Green eyes looks at you, his eyes sparkling as a sly smirk lifts his noticeably plump lips. ‘Or did you just notice that? Focus Y/N!’

“Well, I’m just here to crash the wedding." He grins proudly, “Meet a few of the bridesmaids.” He winks at you, and you scoff. 

“Well, I don’t mean to burst your bubble,” you pause for him to give you his name, which he supplies with a smirk. “Dean,” you repeat. “But I’m maid of honour, and this is my sister's wedding.” You cross your arms and arch a brow. It makes his cocky attitude drop instantly, and it’s quite amusing to watch him fumble. 

“I, you know. I’m just kidding.” He stumbles with a nervous chuckle, and you narrow your eyes playfully at him until you feel you’ve made him uncomfortable enough. 

“Don’t worry about it." You concede your teasing with a chuckle. “Weddings are supposed to be fun, right?” You shrug before waving him closer to you like you’re about to tell him a secret. He easily obliges, and you try to ignore the close proximity and the delicious scent of him again before you speak.

“Just watch out for the brunette; she’s a little on the crazy side.” You nod your head over at Tiffany, one of the bridesmaids and he follows your direction to the dance floor. She was in your sister's circle of friends, but she was well-known for being a little clingy with men. 

You’d heard she’d burnt her last boyfriend's clothes when he didn’t return her calls for a few hours, convinced he was cheating on her. He wasn’t. He was visiting his sick grandmother, something he’d told her the night before.

“Noted.” Dean nods seriously as you pull back and looks away thoughtfully, as if he were thinking of something important before his eyes snap to you again. “What about the maid of honour? Is she game?” Your heart flutters a little at the smoothness of his implication, and you can’t stop your shy smile. You had to look away from him, and it was then you noticed the other two were missing. You frown and look around before you spot Matty and Sam further down the bar with a beer each. Matty catches your eye and winks at you before pointing at you and then Dean and making a vulgar gesture with his hand and mouth. You roll your eyes before you look back at Dean.

“I see we’ve been ditched.” You scoff humorously and Dean’s smirk wideness.

“And you haven’t answered my question.” He points out cooly and leans against the bartop; his stare intense, making you squirm a little. Men at this magnitude of hotness never hit on you, and if it wasn’t for the alcohol still running through your veins, you’re certain you would have malfunctioned by now. 

“She is not.” You decide to lie and bite your lip as you too lean against the bar. Dean’s brow raises as if he were surprised by your admission, and you try not to look him in the eye too much. 

“Oh really? And who’s the lucky guy?” You try to fight your smile, and the blush you’re certain is already staining your cheeks. Instead of answering, your eyes subtly flicker over to Matty, and Dean’s smile broadens, his eyes glimmering with mischief. 

“You and him?” He nods his head back in their direction, and you shrug with a confident smile, which soon falters when he leans in close to whisper in your ear. “Sweetheart, if that were true, I’d hate to be the one to tell you that your boyfriend is currently flirting up a storm with my brother.” 

He pulls back with a cocky smirk, and you can’t contain yourself much longer. Laughter bubbles out of you uncontrollably because it’s true. You and Dean both watch as an uncomfortable Sam tries to dodge Matty’s obvious advances with tears in your eyes.

“We should probably go save him. Matty’s nothing if not persistent.” You breathe out, still trying to calm yourself as you wipe gently at your under-eyes.

"Nah, Sammy’s a big boy; he can fend for himself.” Dean shrugs off with a smile. "Besides, you still have a question to answer and no more B.S.” He points at you half serious, and you can’t find it in you to lie this time. 

AN: There you go guys, my first bingo square complete. Let me know what you guys think. Also I am open to maybe expanding on this story, like a prequel and maybe another chapter... Let me know if you'd be interested to see more of this.

[baelabong]

𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇

Pairing: Karina x fem!reader

Warnings: slight mention of g!p aespa, y/n is manipulative, she’s an asshole, mentions of cheating

Note: I got inspo from this tiktok video of like the “casual” trend. I cant find it anymore but if you can find it, pls tell me!!

Next

Staring at the raven haired girl in front of you. Her eyes wide in shock as you hold up her cellphone.

The wind and snow outside the apartment banged on the windows, lifting the hairs on the back of Karina’s hair to stand up.

“I’m gonna ask you this once, Jimin. Did you or did you not cheat on me,” Y/N demanded for an answer.

The taller girls lips quivered. tears welling up. Head hung down to the floor unable to look at y/n staring right into her own. The girl looked pathetic and while y/n already knew the answer, she felt gloated in shaming Jimin.

“I- I’m so sorry my love … I thought that spending one night with Yeji would help me forget the fact you’re ch-cheating on me…,” Karina muttered, lips still shaking

You shake your head in disbelief, tongue poking the sides of your cheek. Sure you weren’t the best girlfriend in the world, but that doesn’t mean Jimin was either. It didn’t help with the fact that multiple male and female idols continually came your way in attempt to charm you.

When initiating intimacy with the older girl, she often dodged you too, always creating excuses as to not let you touch her. Even when she saw other idols flirt with you, the most she would do is give you puppy eyes but she wouldn’t even bring up the subject.

Despite being shorter than Karina, your demeanour towered over her. You knew the power you had on her and you always loved this submissive side of her.

“I can’t believe you would ever think I would cheat on you! And i would never!” Responding with a harsh bite to your tone making her flinch

Quickly thinking of a plan to divert this attention on you, the sight of Karina flinching at your words made you ecstatic.

“N-no, but i-,” Jimin started

“No.” You ran your hands through your hair

Pointing to the door as you stare at her saying “Out.”

Reluctantly Jimin walks out and looks at you in the eyes, pleading you to listen to her.

You shake your head and firmly point to the door once again.

———————————————————————

“Hahahaha! Maybe I should come over and warm you up,” the sweet melodic voice of Ningning reverberates over the phone

You giggle in response and chuckle a small “noooo”

“Wait, I need to go to the bathroom, okay babe?” Ning says

Humming in response, you decided to stretch and get off the bed, looking out the window of your apartment to see a figure standing outside.

Checking the time on your phone, it was 1:30 am. 1 hour since you had told Karina to leave.

Looking deep into the lawn, you make out that it was Karina, huddled on the grass covered snow. In her thin attire that she left in. It was not enough to handle the cold for more than a minute with her thin longsleeve and sweatpants that was barely thick enough.

The wind blew into her face as she looked up, seeing your reaction. A small smirk lifted on the corner of your lips as you grabbed your phone telling her to go home.

She texted back saying no and that she wont leave unless you take her back.

Shrugging at her answer, you couldn’t care less. But really you did. You looked outside again and catch a glimpse of her smiling back at you. Goodness she looked creepy with her puppy eyes that still pleaded and smile that was barely containing angry she really felt.

You text her ordering her to stay for one more hour and if she does you’ll take her back. No shot she would do this you thought to yourself.

Walking back to your room, you continue to chat with NingNing, telling her about your busy schedule tomorrow. NingNing was the sweetest girl you have ever met. She wasn’t afraid to show how she really felt and surprisingly she initiated intimately first and God did she know how to use that dick.

Getting lost in conversation, you look back at the clock on your phone. Shit. It’s been longer than an hour you thought. Quickly talking her a goodnight, you got up checking the window.

There she was, still standing there, looking wet and sick.

Feeling sorry for the girl you quickly grab one of her coats and walk down the corridor to the elevator. The thin air rushed you, almost feeling like a cut because of how cold it was.

Looking at the girl for a few seconds, you catch her attention, her gaze lighting up as she ran to you, almost tackling you down onto the snow. Catching your balance, you quickly wrapped the girl with the coat as you felt her ice cold hands cradle your cheek.

As you walk back up to your shared apartment, you lock the door, urging Karina to your shared bedroom and undressing her to change her into dry clothes.

The girl stopped you and grabbed your wrist, suddenly engulfing you into a hug as she leaned down and nuzzled her face into your neck. Tears streamed down her face as she started sobbing. Grabbing her face with your warm hands you look at her.

Ridiculous, you thought to yourself.

“Ba-baby, i’m so sorry for what I did. I wasn’t thinking straight. I know you’re the only one for me. I’m sorry for not being enough and not fulfilling your desires. I’m just scared you don’t like me enough”, Karina rambled out almost incoherently

You nod at her while listening, cutting her off to stop her stupid excuses.

She sniffles, nose red, eyes bloodshot, and lips shaking as you say, "So you won’t do that to me anymore, hm?”

She nods.

"I need words, love."

"Yes. Yes—yes!"

"Okay, good."

Bringing her back into an embrace, you smirk, knowing you’ve broken the girl and that she will do anything for you. You run your fingers through her hair, enjoying the way she trembles under your touch. Her desperate need for your approval, her willingness to endure anything just to stay by your side—it all fuels a dark satisfaction within you.

"I guess sometimes, breaking someone is the only way to make them yours completely," you whisper into her ear. "But remember, Karina, you’re never allowed to forget how easily I can discard you if you disappoint me again."

Her eyes widen in fear, but she clings to you tighter, as if letting go would mean her end. You bask in her dependency, feeling an intoxicating blend of power and control.

"Now, be a good girl and prove your worth," you command softly, relishing the toxic hold you have over her.

[dumpsterfire-daydreams]

Sexual situations, Threesomes/Throuples, Dominant Ghost, Submissive König, Submissive Reader, Gentle Ghost, Caring Ghost, Ghost aftercare, Ghost expressing emotions/feelings, TW: Spanking (briefly), TW: Pet play, TW: Restraints (leash and handcuffs), TW: Sex denial (initially), TW: Double penetration, TW: Rough sex

Okay, I want to give a big big thank you to all of my readers for sticking with me this long. Y'all are my squad and I love you all. To quote my own story lol, "I'll always have your six". Seeya in Ending 3! *finger guns*

(Also, while there are sad moments in part 3, it literally has one of my favorite happy endings in this series. It may taste bitter at first, but don't let that put you off pls 😭 I PROMISE it ends so sweet!)

Reader POV:

The rest of the evening went off wonderfully. After a few more rounds, everyone was either too drunk to continue or had grown bored with the game altogether. So, for the rest of the night, the group had dispersed. Some had gathered to chat at the bar, and some had ventured outside to smoke. But you had been more than happy to just dance the night away. You had danced until your feet were sore! But now that you were back at the barracks, you were an entirely different kind of sore.

You yelped as Ghost’s leather belt smacked your bare ass, gritting your teeth through the burning sensation it left behind. He had you kneeling on his bed, face buried in the pillows to muffle your cries as he met out your punishment. But as the belt continued to rain down, the pillows were proving to be an ineffective solution. Another strike landed, and you groaned in pain.

"I thought I told you to count!" Ghost snarled, sending another fiery sting across your ass quickly after.

"I can't, sir!" You gasped, whimpering at the next impact. "I lost track, I'm sorry!"

He struck you one more time for good measure before throwing his belt across the room. There was a potent darkness in his eyes as he stood there fuming. The fury rolled off him in waves, and you shrank back as his glare pinned you where you lay.

"I told you to behave tonight,” he spat, venom dripping from each word. “But no. You just had to cozy up to the captain, didn’t you? You still think it was a good idea to make out with Price in front of me? You think I enjoyed seeing you sitting in his lap making him feel good?"

“But you didn’t tell me no!” you yelled back before you could think better of it. “You said it was my choice!”

Ghost lunged forward, his hand grabbing the back of your neck as he knelt over you. “You should have known better, princess. Thought I trained you better than that.”

"I’m sorry, sir," you hissed when his hand grabbed your ass, firmly massaging the tender and reddened skin. "I misbehaved and I’m sorry!"

“Good,” Ghost growled, the sound rumbling through his chest like rolling thunder. But with a huff, he let you go. "It wasn't completely your fault, though. Because someone encouraged you to act out. Isn't that right?"

He turned towards König, giving him a withering glare. König blanched at the sight, quickly looking down at the floor. Goosebumps dotted his skin as he shivered, desperate to hide from the seething specter before him. Clothing would have helped a bit, but Ghost ensured neither of you had that privilege. As soon you had entered his room, Ghost had commanded both of you to strip down. You had been directed straight to the bed. But he clearly had other plans to deal with König once he was through with you. So König sat there kneeling at the foot of the bed, cowering under Ghost’s stern presence. He whimpered, tugging against his restraints. A chain leash was hooked to the center loop of his collar before the rest of it wound around the leg of the bed frame. And though he continued to struggle, having his hands cuffed behind his back made the effort even more useless. There was no escape and he knew it. Ghost wanted him to see you punished with first. He wanted the anticipation or dread to fill König’s mind as he was forced to wait his turn.

"Yes, sir," König whispered in a small, pitiful voice. "It was my idea and I'll accept my punishment."

König’s eyes darted across the room, lingering on where the belt had landed on the floor. After seeing how ruthless Ghost could be with it, he shivered at the thought of taking your place. It was a shiver of both fear and anticipation, but a shiver nonetheless. But as Ghost followed his gaze.

“Oh, no. I’m not gonna spank you,” Ghost smirked, slowly pulling his shirt over his head. “I know you. You’d enjoy that a bit too much.”

Ghost kept his eyes on König as he eased his pants down his thighs. His boxers quickly followed, both unceremoniously kicked to the floor. König’s eyes zeroed in on Ghost’s crotch. His breathing had gone shallow and his eyes were half-lidded with longing. And Ghost let him stare as he stroked his length, taunting him a bit.

“You like what you see, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, sir,” König gasped, letting out a needy whimper. “Bitte, let me show you how sorry I am. How good I can be.”

"That’s cute. But I don’t think so,” Ghost hissed, turning away to approach the bed instead. “I want you to feel what you made me feel tonight. I want you to know how it feels to have your girl dangled in front of you. To see someone else in your rightful place," he hissed. "Princess, get on your back. I want him to watch."

You obediently rolled over, gasping in pain when the bed sheets made contact with your ass. But Ghost was not in the mood to be patient. He grabbed your ankle, tugging you across the bed to give König full view. He spread your folds open with his fingers, letting your evident excitement drip out onto the bed

"See how wet she is?" Ghost taunted, dipping a finger into your opening before holding it up. "I’m gonna show you how to really make her squirm."

He repeated the motion, this time inserting two fingers and earning a loud gasp as you writhed beneath his hand. But you didn't get very far. With his other hand, he gripped your hip and pressed it down into the bed to keep you in place.

"You gotta hold her still sometimes," he chuckled, probing your clit with his thumb before withdrawing his hand. "Can't have her getting away before the fun starts, can we?"

"No, sir," König whined, staring longingly at the display. His cock twitched in his lap, betraying his growing desire to take Ghost’s place.

"When she’s nice and wet like that," Ghost smirked, giving himself a few firm strokes before lining up at your entrance. "She'll take you balls deep in a heartbeat."

With a growl, Ghost snapped his hips forward and buried himself within your throbbing core. You moaned loudly as he filled you. The sensation of his length settling against your cervix made your back arch sharply as you let out a needy whimper. But there was no time to catch your breath. Ghost jumped straight into a frantic pace, his hips slamming against yours as he fucked you into the mattress. This wasn't for pleasure. This was for show. This was to make a point.

"See what fun you could be having?" Ghost panted, ramming himself into your slick core. "I bet you wanna feel her tight little cunt around your cock right now, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," König moaned, his erection straining in his lap. "Please."

"Too bad. I guess you'll just have to watch me make her cum."

"Oh, fuck!" You whined, every thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You could hear König whimpering across the room, but Ghost was making it incredibly hard to focus on anything but what he was doing to your body. "Oh, god!"

"Just like that," Ghost murmured, slipping a hand around your throat. "See? This is how she wants to be handled. She wants to be put in her fucking place. Gotta make her take it."

The way Ghost talked about you like you weren’t even there. The way he used you like a tool, like a teaching aid? It sent your mind straight to the most depraved places. Subspace quickly kicked in and you happily surrendered to the raw pleasure he sent coursing through your body. It was addicting. And it felt so good.

You let out a gasped whimper and your walls quivered around his length with every thrust. But Ghost was accustomed to your unspoken signals. He knew you were getting close to your release. In response, he kicked his pace up a notch.

“When she twitches like that,” he moaned to König, his voice tightening as he continued his speech. “When you feel her cunt grabbing at your cock? You tell her to cum for you. You make her cum for you. Whisper some naughty words in her ear and she’ll fold. Isn’t that right, princess? You like being called a fucking whore while I fuck the shit outta you?”

You tried to say “yes, sir”. You opened your mouth to form the words. But when you did, all that came out was a stream of incoherent sounds as your climax tore through you. All you could do was clutch the bedsheets and whimper as your body seized up. The sound of Ghost moaning through gritted teeth blended with your own sounds of pleasure as he rode it out with you. He hadn’t finished with you, but he could not deny himself the reward of increased tightness as you clamped down around him. König let out a gasped moan as he watched you writhe through your orgasm. His eyes burned with envy and hunger. And with a whimper, he glanced down at his lap. Pre-cum was streaming down his erection and pooling beneath him. It was a humiliating sight and he knew it. But there was nothing he could do to remedy it. His body trembled with desire as he watched your climax gradually begin to fade.

After the last wave trembled through your form, you sank back onto the bed with a breathy sigh and Ghost pulled out. You didn’t have the energy to even lift your head, but you still turned to watch as Ghost climbed back off the bed. He sauntered over to where König sat, chest heaving. The chain of his leash was pulled taught from him crawling as close to you as it would allow. His eyes were wild behind his hood and his chest heaved with need. But Ghost wasn't planning on releasing him just yet. He was enjoying teasing him and making him bear through the agonizing wait.

"Look at you all chained up like a fucking dog," he spat, crouching down to put his face in his. "You look hungry. I bet you want a little treat, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," he gasped, giving the leash another futile tug. “Bitte, untie me. Please.”

"Untie you? No, I said you’ve earned a treat. So I'll give you a fucking treat."

Ghost grabbed the bottom of König’s hood, tying it back to uncover the lower half of his face. Once satisfied, he seized his cock in his hand and slowly stroked himself. It was still hard and liberally coated in your juices. He gave König a commanding stare as he looked down at him from above, slowly rubbing himself against König’s lips.

"Clean me off."

König quickly parted his lips, willing to do anything if it meant he could join you on the bed. He relaxed his jaw, allowing Ghost to shove himself into his mouth. He let out a choked gag, recoiling when Ghost nudged the back of his throat. But he quickly adapted, choosing to take half of him into his mouth before licking the rest of his length clean.

"Good boy," Ghost purred, fisting his hand in the fabric of his hood. "Still room to improve, but I'll allow it for now."

König moaned, your taste driving him wild as he obediently served his master. He had Ghost’s rapt attention as his tongue moved over his member, occasionally earning a gasp of pleasure. Once Ghost was satisfied with his work, he reached down and released the leash with a click. As soon as the leash fell limp against the floor, König didn’t even wait for his hands to be freed before scrambling towards the bed. Towards you. But Ghost grabbed his arm and shoved him right back down to the floor.

"Sit," he barked, pointing at the floor before climbing back on the bed. "Stay. I didn't say you could move just yet."

The sound that came out of König’s mouth was a strange combination of a whimper and a sob. You could see his erection throbbing, clearly demanding immediate attention. A steady stream of anticipation dripped onto the floor with every move he made. But Ghost paid the display no mind. He gave König a smug chuckle before returning to the bed, settling with his back against the wall. And holding his gaze, he tugged you between his legs. Ghost hooked your calves over his thighs, ensuring König had a perfect view of your swollen sex. Then, keeping steady eye contact with him, Ghost began drawing slow circles around your clit. You gasped, legs trembling at the focused stimulation.

"Oh my. I don't think she doesn't want me to stop, König. Looks like you'll have to wait a while longer," Ghost chuckled, gradually increasing his pace. "I wonder just how many times I can make her cum. Don't you?"

A steady stream of pleas poured out of König’s mouth as he looked on. He knew that if he moved towards the bed even an inch, Ghost would draw this out even longer. His whole body trembled as he fought to restrain himself, eyes locked on the movements of Ghost’s hand. As he continued to work at your clit, Ghost slipped another finger into your depths. He curved it slightly upwards to hit the most toe-curling location inside you. You let out a low moan, instinctively bucking your hips. You were well beyond overstimulation and he knew it. And as you shuddered in his hold, you knew there was no escaping the pleasure he was determined to give you.

You threw your head back against Ghost’s shoulder, unable to stop the next orgasm that crested over your body. But it wasn’t just one. As Ghost continued to increase his pace, you could only whimper loudly as three orgasms hit you in rapid succession. You cried out, arching in his arms as the last climax swept you away. With it came a sudden spray of liquid from your open folds. And the sight made both men moan with desire.

“Good girl,” Ghost purred, stroking your hair before resuming his pace. “Bet you didn’t know she was a squirter, huh König?”

König wasn’t speaking anymore. He couldn’t. All he could do was bite his quivering lip and clench his jaw, low whimpers coming out in rough pants. His arousal was bordering on pain and lust fully clouded his mind. He couldn’t think. The only thing on his mind was making you do that for him. He subconsciously bucked his hips like a dog in heat, whimpering at the lack of friction he desperately craved.

Finally, Ghost decided to be merciful and end his torture. He didn’t look up, but he gave him a single crook of his finger. "Come, I think you've learned your lesson."

König wasted no time scrambling onto the bed. Though Ghost produced a key and set about unfastening his handcuffs, König was driven mad with desperation. He couldn’t wait any longer. Your breath hitched as König pushed into your opening, moaning wildly at your delicious warmth. As soon as his hands were free, they seized your hips in a bruising grip. He tugged you forward to meet his rapid thrusts, hot breath washing over you as he panted in your ear.

But Ghost’s hands were on you too. He maintained a firm grip on your thighs, holding you securely between his legs and keeping you sufficiently spread for König. He tugged your legs open even wider and König increased his pace with a tense moan. Every buck of his hips pressed you back against Ghost’s chest. Apparently, a period of denial brought out his animalistic side. Because König was practically feral. His movements were forceful and frantic. And the breathy growls that he was making were like music to your ears.

“Oh fuck ,” König hissed, burying his face in your neck. “I need- I- Oh Mein Gott, yes.”

Every snap of his hips sends pleasant tremors through your body. And the sight was clearly having an impact on Ghost. You could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against your back. You could feel his own erection firmly pressed against your ass. Every move König made created the most tantalizing friction for him too. The two men groaned uncontrollable as they clutched you between them, writhing together in pure pleasure.

König growled loudly, throwing his head back and quickly losing himself in your wetness. “Oh god, I’m- Shit, I’m close. P-please.”

You whimper as a spasm rolls through your body. And you can hear König cry out at the sudden tightness. His thrusts were getting rougher. He wasn’t lying. He was dangerously close to his own climax. You could feel it. You could hear it. And he wasn’t slowing down.

“Don’t you dare finish,” Ghost growled, grabbing König by his collar and twisting. “Quit moving and be still.”

“Please,” König lets out a strangled moan of desperation. “Please don’t- Don’t make me stop again.”

You can feel him twitching within you and his whole body trembles, but he obeys. His voice breaks as he continues to beg. Ghost had taken this mountain of a man and quickly turned him into putty in his skillful hands. He wielded the power to give him the most powerful pleasure, but he could also take it away at any moment. You’d never seen König beg like this before. Voice shaking and raw. But Ghost would not give in. Not yet.

“Hold on to her and lift her off me,” Ghost growled, shifting behind you. “Don’t pull out. Just do as I say.”

“Y-yes, sir,” König pants.

He hooks his arms under your knees, lifting you with him as he rose up onto his knees. You can see the unfiltered need in his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours. In an effort not to add to his torment, you try to fight the tremors that ripple through your core. But after so much stimulation and no time to come back down, your body was running on autopilot. König squeezed his eyes shut with a gritted hiss as your body continued to squeeze at him.

“P-please hurry,” he sobbed, moaning desperately. His arms began to shake. “I can’t. It’s too much.”

“Okay, set her back down,” Ghost murmured from behind, placing a supportive hand on your hip. “Nice and slow.”

As König gently lowered you back onto Ghost’s lap, you let out a startled gasp of surprise. You could feel your entrance suddenly stretching impossibly wide as Ghost began slowly forcing himself inside you alongside König’s length. Overwhelmed by the excruciating tightness, Ghost grabbed your hips and continued to ease you down into his lap. And as his cock gradually pushed up into you, both you and König moan in bliss. But the fullness was almost too much. You almost tell Ghost to stop before you remember your manners and choose your words as carefully as you could manage.

“Ghost! Ah! Ghost, please!”

“That’s my girl,” he shushed you, not halting his determined progression but moving as slowly as he was able. “You can take us, can’t you? Nice and slow.”

You chest heaved, shrill whines coming out of your mouth as he finally bottomed out. Your lower stomach bulged outwards ever so slightly and your sex throbbed as you tried to adjust. Thankfully, neither of them moved right away. But you could tell they desperately wanted to. The frantic rise and fall of their chests pressed in on you from both sides as they panted, overcome with lust and desire. Ghost’s fingers gripped your hips, his nails digging into your skin as he fought to restrain himself. As for König, he was lost in another world entirely. His eyes were unfocused, the skin around them tight.

“Fuck!” he rasped. “Fuck, Maus! Shit!”

“Princess,” Ghost groaned from behind, his body trembling in anticipation. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I don’t know how long I can hold out like this.”

You screwed your eyes shut, trying hard to let your body relax and accept the two massive objects lodged deep within you. After a few more shuddered breaths, you buried your face in König’s neck and clutched his shoulders for support.

When you finally nodded, the response was instant. Ghost growled through gritted teeth as he reared back and started ramming his length into your opening. König moved too, snapping his hips forward at an animalistic pace. The increased tightness, the increased wetness, the added friction from sharing the cramped space. The powerful sensations overtook them both. You’d never been claimed so roughly before. Here, squeezed between twin walls of muscle. Between two sex-crazed demons determined to bury their seed deeper than the other could reach. They sparred ruthlessly inside you and all you could do was cling to König for dear life as they pummeled you with reckless abandon.

The sensations were intense for you too. You didn’t know how an orgasm would feel with two massive cocks crammed inside you. But you didn’t have to wait long to find out. The familiar tendrils of pure bliss were wrapping around your mind. Heat pooled deep in your stomach, threatening to spill over and take you with it.

“Ghost!” You whimpered loudly. “Ghost, please! I’m gonna cum. Please, let me cum! Oh God! Oh my god!”

“You just called me ‘Ghost’. That’s twice tonight,” he groaned.

He might have been a slave to his desire, but he still had the presence of mind to enforce his rules. You screamed loudly as his teeth sank into your shoulder. The pressure didn’t break the skin, but the unexpected pain was delicious.

“Not yet,” he panted, increasing his pace. “Just a little longer, princess. You can wait for me, right?”

“Fuck!” you gasped as a particularly firm thrust buried itself against your cervix. Your whole body shivered as your climax tried to pull you under. But you fought it, trying to hold out.

König had his head thrown back, spewing choked strings of incoherent German. His voice was urgent, desperate, and raw. As his thrusts began to grow jerky, you know he was in the same position that you were. But Ghost wasn’t ready to let either of you go. Not yet.

With an impatient growl, Ghost hoisted you up higher. König instinctively responded, taking hold of your ass to lift you off Ghost’s lap. Ghost re-entered you roughly, thrusting into you at a new angle. The new angle really allowed him to lose himself to his pace, driving himself as deep into you as space would allow. König bore the brunt of each impact, struggling to keep you upright while fighting off his own climax as Ghost pounded into you from behind. Every thrust sent your body rocking forward against König. But he reacted, staggering his own pace so that he’d push you right back each time he did.

Ghost’s growls became ragged and his thrusts more direct. And König wasn’t even mentally present anymore. Rough growls of broken German filled your ears as he gripped you tightly, bucking up into you with renewed ferocity.

“Come for me,” Ghost gasped, yanking your head back by your hair. “Come for me, princess.”

The room erupted in vulgar sounds of pleasure as the three of you weathered your releases together. Your walls tried to constrict, but they were already stretched to their limit. Your body resorted to sharp twitches that flickered through your core. Your nails left trails of fire down König’s back as you scrambled for anything to hold onto. And as you did, a flood of hot liquid gushed within you as both König and Ghost spilled their seed into your battered core. There was so much of it. Too much to contain. You could feel it almost instantly overflowing and dripping down your thighs as they continued to force even more into your trembling depths.

As you came back down from your high, you gasped for breath. Ghost shuddered behind you, whispering comforting words as he kissed along your shoulder. König still couldn’t speak. He lay slumped against you with his head on your shoulder, trying to catch his breath. You could feel drops of moisture fall against your shoulder and trail down your arm as he softly wept, overwhelmed by the sheer heights his pleasure had taken him. You shushed him, rubbing his back and whispering words of love in his ear.

“I love you,” you whimpered.

“I-I love you too, Maus,” König whispered, gradually beginning to calm.

“We love you too, Ghost,” you said, rubbing his thigh affectionately.

“Mmmm,” he murmured against your shoulder, reaching around to interlace his fingers in König’s. “I know. Me too. Everyone okay? Did I go too far with you?”

König sat up, still sniffling a bit. But you could tell by his eyes that there was a tired smile on his face. “No,” he whispered. “You were perfect. This was perfect.”

Ghost cradled his face in his hands, stroking the soft fabric of his veil before planting a tender kiss on his forehead. König still held onto his hand and Ghost was more than happy let the gesture continue. But he still wanted to check on you.

He turned your face towards his, gently brushing your curls away from your eyes. His gaze scanned you, carefully searching for any signs of pain or discomfort. “You alright, princess?”

“Yes,” you nodded, leaning into his touch. “You didn’t hurt me, I promise. I trust you.”

“I don’t take trust lightly,” he said. He trailed his thumb along your cheek lovingly. “And the fact that you think I’ve earned yours is a high honor. That goes for both of you.”

After he was certain both of you had emerged unscathed, Ghost carefully lifted you off his lap. You hissed as they both pulled out, every part of your body at its peak of sensitivity. But the blissful calm returned when Ghost laid back against the pillows and tugged both of you against his chest. He laid there with a contented sigh, one of you tucked under each arm.

Ghost just laid there, gazing at you both snuggled against his chest. For a moment, he looked away and shifted uncomfortably. But when he lifted his gaze again, his eyes were uncharacteristically tender and the slightest bit emotional.

“I-I’m not great with… feelings. Words like ‘love’ or ‘soulmate’ just feel weird coming out of my mouth,” he huffed, chuckling at himself. “But I never want their lack of use to make you feel any less important to me. All I can say is that no one has ever made me feel this way before and I know that no one else ever will. Both of you drive me crazy, but in a good way. The best way. So, uh, I’ll always have your six, okay? You need anything - I don’t care what it is, what time you come knocking, or what I’m doing - you come to me, alright? And I’ll make it right, I promise.”

“Ghost?” König began, voice timid and hesitant.

“Yeah, precious?’

The pet name rolled off Ghost’s tongue effortlessly, without a thought. The way he said it so easily made you suspect it was an endearing term he’d used for König but only in his mind. This was just the first time he’d spoken it out loud. Though Ghost didn’t react, König blushed cutely at the unexpected nickname.

“I was j-just going to ask if we could, um. If we could stay here tonight?” He shifted his weight, tangling his legs in Ghost’s. “I don’t want to leave.”

Ghost chuckled, pulling you both closer and tugging the blankets over the three of you. “I don’t see why not. I think I could get used to this.”

You looked up at them both. Your angel and your demon. Your yin and your yang. Your light and your darkness. You needed them both and they needed you. And though they each completed you in their own way alone, you couldn't deny that you would never feel truly complete with them both by your side. Lying here with them, you felt whole in a way you never imagined possible. With a soft smile, you snuggled into the warmth of his embrace.

“I think I already am.”

[scuttlingcrab]

Fiendish Rewards

Summary: Raphael appears at Withers' party, hoping to finally collect the Crown of Karsus from Tav. However, an unexpected turn of events causes Raphael to re-think his plans.

Notes: Featuring growing tensions and light angst. I always wondered what would happen when Raphael wore the Crown for the first time. This might be a wee bit too long but I initially intended this to be another submission for @dmagedgoods Raphael romance collection.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

(Image via raphael-ancunin)

Raphael knew he was intruding. He had no business attending Withers' party, yet he arrived fashionably late all the same. He would never show his face, grace the companions with his presence, merely to exchange pleasantries. As tempting as their tadpole-free souls were, the simple minded mortals had no meaning to him now that the Elder Brain was defeated. That evening Raphael’s only desire was to collect the Crown of Karsus. And perhaps, converse with that little mouse, if time allowed. 

Thus, the Devil did what he knew best: lurked from the shadows of the wings and listened for his cue. 

Raphael had abided for over a millennium after he lost the Crown to Mephistopheles, lashing out with such violent anger in the first century that he nearly eradicated an entire plane. That initial taste of defeat never left his memory; the bitterness, that rotting feeling he felt deep within his core still haunted him. It was his first introduction to failure and the last. 

He eventually learned how to forge that frothing hatred for his father, his revulsion at the cursed cards he had been dealt with, into a far more superior weapon: knowledge, his greatest strength. Raphael researched, manipulated, and opened up the recesses of his mind to devour the ins-and-outs of the Hells. He painstakingly plotted, weaving his schemes into the very fabric of fate itself, planting the seeds of prosperity for what he hoped would eventually gain him a win.

Despite all Raphael had endured since the collapse of Netheril, the last 6 months had been the most excruciating. Waiting. Watching. Hoping. There was no longer an Archdevil in his path, but a mere mortal. His hunger for power grew rampant as he watched Tav continue to elude him, to harbour the final piece of his victory as she tried to reclaim what was left of her old life. That selfish creature. 

To Tav’s credit, she had been quite remarkable on the battlefield, showcasing her strength and resolve as she smited enemies and climbed through the carnage to her destiny. She left a sea of corpses in her wake, the mortal rubble alone was unlike anything Raphael had ever seen. Out of all the calamities he had been fortunate enough to craft and witness, being a spectator during the fight against the Netherbrain would forever be a highlight.

When the Crown fell into the River Chionthar, Raphael eagerly watched as Tav spent weeks fishing it out, taking her precious time as she retrieved each broken piece of his future. He restlessly stormed the halls of his domain, cursing the woman for attempting such an arduous task alone. He could have aided her, sent in Korrilla as a last resort, but he refused. He would not give Tav the satisfaction, she would have to work just a little more to complete her end of the bargain. Besides, there was something endearing about watching Tav work so diligently, the determination in those eyes reminded Raphael of himself.

The little mouse was Raphael’s greatest investment and he’d be damned if she failed him now, or if he let his sudden affinity for her overtake his true purpose. Raphael’s ambitions for the Crown had somehow intertwined with his infatuation for the woman, and he was just as much to blame.

He had let this farce go on for long enough. Raphael would not stoop so low in his final moments before he rose to glory. Once Tav crowned him, these foolish emotions would cease and he would continue with his grand plan. He was a Devil and he would not let these cursed mortal emotions falter his intentions any longer; he would never allow anything, anyone, to destroy his work. Raphael’s blood, sweat, and tears would not be in vain. 

Cheering suddenly came from the camp as Tav and her companions raised their chalices in celebration. Withers' speech had finally ended, much to Raphael’s delight. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could’ve listened to the monotonous dribble. The monologue was indeed rousing, but Raphael could’ve done better, if given the opportunity. 

One by one, the group of heroes slowly disbanded, until only Tav remained. She made her way around the camp, stopping by each empty tent. It was as if the little mouse was paying her respects, bidding farewell to the ghosts of her past.

When Tav was done she wandered to the lakefront and sat down on a mossy rock, staring into the sparkling evening sky. The light in her own eyes vanished, leaving a dark cloud looming above her. 

Raphael took that as his signal. He quietly removed himself from the cover of the treeline and began his entrance, approaching Tav with a swagger. 

“If it isn’t the hero of Baldur’s Gate. My, how far we’ve come! It feels like only yesterday you fell from the skies, tadpole and all, and began your little adventure; slowly scurrying your way to triumph.”

Tav smiled at the sound of Raphael’s voice, turning to greet him. They locked eyes, her expression brightening. That look pierced through Raphael’s defences with such ease, a slight chill crawling up from the base of his spine. He stopped in his tracks, quickly recovering by placing a hand on his hip. It had been too long since they were alone, when he had last gazed into those cursed eyes. Careful now. 

“Raphael, always the poet.”

“The little mouse is no longer, but now a ferocious lion. Congratulations are in order.”

Raphael gifted Tav with his most flourishing bow, hoping the gesture would distract from his earlier misstep.  

“Now do tell, how does it feel to be the victor? To have saved the world? Is it as the bards have sung?” Raphael rose, taking another step towards Tav. 

Tav merely shrugged, her lips quickly returning to a frown. 

“Dunno.”

“I would have thought a hero to be more eloquent.”

“I'm still waiting for that ‘ah-ha!’ moment, but if we’re being honest tonight, I’m not really sure what it means to be a hero.”

“You will come to understand eventually. It’s the very nature of your existence.”

Tav remained silent, pulling her eyes away from Raphael. She stared down at her hands, studying her scarred palms.

“May I?” Raphael inquired, gesturing towards the available space on the rock. 

Tav nodded and Raphael sat himself beside her, intentionally leaving a minimal amount of space between them.

“You have something that belongs to me.”

“There it is,” Tav said, through a faint laugh, “You know, I was expecting you to come sooner.”

“I’ve often found the best persuasions are the ones that aren't forced.”

Tav looked up at Raphael, her eyes moving over every inch of his guise, stopping briefly near his lips. He was close now, so close. To the Crown. To his objectives. And to that damned woman.  

“May I see the Crown, please?”

Tav smiled, moving towards Raphael. For a split second, Raphael expected a kiss. It was only natural for mortals to attempt such a distraction in times of distress. Infuriating as it was, he wouldn’t have been opposed to such a notion. Tav instead reached down for her backpack lying in the sand, placing it on her lap. 

She pulled open the straps and yanked out the Crown, handling it as if it was but a petty trinket. Raphael suppressed a sigh, he would not let the significance of this moment be soiled due to the mortal’s lack of formality. 

“I managed to reforge it, to the best of my abilities, thanks to the Annals of Karsus. Though I haven't tried it on yet to see if it worked.”

“A wise choice.” 

Tav held the Crown out towards Raphael, but he raised his hand. With a flick of his wrist, the Crown floated out of Tav’s grasp, slowly moving towards him. It was just as beautiful as he remembered, if not more so. It glistened under the moonlight, calling to him. Soon. Very soon. He let the Crown hover, spinning delicately, for a few more seconds.

“Do you need me to remind you of our terms? The deal was that you are to crown me. I would’ve come to you long ago if I could simply put it on myself.”

“Gods. Really, Raphael?” 

“Truly.” Raphael donned his notorious smirk in response.

“Fine, are we to do this here then?”

“I couldn't think of a more fitting location.” 

Raphael rose, walking towards the middle of the lakefront. He snapped his fingers, and a luscious red silk pillow appeared. He shifted it slightly in the sand and bent a knee, preparing himself for the crowning. 

“Come, it is time.” 

Tav stood intending to grab the Crown, but before she could reach it, Raphael beckoned it towards him. Tav quickly followed, positioning herself above Raphael. He raised his head to gaze at the magnificent sight in front of him. The moonlight framed Tav perfectly, she was silhouetted against the dark sky, glowing. The Crown and the little mouse, side-by-side, as it was always destined to be. 

Raphael took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He absorbed the scents and sounds around him; earthy tones, a hint of wetness, mixed with the fresh woodland air. Faint chirping from various insects called out to him, the leaves rustled slightly against the warm summer wind. His heartbeat intensified, growing more rapid, adding an extra drum beat to the night’s symphony. 

“Let’s get on with it then.” Tav spoke. 

Raphael opened his eyes and watched Tav grab the Crown, lowering it on top of his head. 

When the Crown touched his forehead, it reformed itself to accommodate his size, shrinking to provide a snugger fit. It hissed into place and then in an instant, everything changed. 

Pain, pleasure, fear, anger, confusion; every possible emotion tore through his very being. He was ripped in two, three, four… millions of tiny little pieces. His head throbbed with information, so many secrets, so much… he saw and felt everything, what could’ve been, what might come to pass… it was too much. Too much! Too fast! 

He fell forwards, his hands digging, ripping through sand. He was alone, always alone, darkness surrounded him. No. There was light, light flooded in from the top of his skull, projecting into every possible direction. He was the light. He was the dark. He was all-encompassing. 

Raphael screamed, his voice echoing into the abyss around him. He had never read about such a reaction, in all his years of researching, how could he have missed… could it be because… NO. He will tame this. He will persist. He will… 

The sand beneath Raphael turned to liquid as the newfound power continued to surge through his limbs, burning his veins. He tore at his own flesh and bones to rid himself of the agony, but it wouldn’t come to an end. 

“Raphael!” He heard a voice shout, such a familiar tune. But who? He couldn’t quite place it.

Raphael erupted, his devilish wings tearing through the skin in his back. There were flames all around him, growing hotter, thicker. His chest melted, his ears ached from the thunderous explosions. Whispers, whispers everywhere. He heard so many, and the cries, the screams. Would they never cease? 

Something tore at his head, pulling the Crown away from him. The Crown. NO! He cannot lose it again. Raphael raised his hands attempting to fight back, but he was grasping at nothing. It was over as fast as it had begun. There was now silence. 

Raphael’s vision cleared. He was on his back, looking up at the stars. Tav stood over him, holding the Crown in her hands. She eyed him with concern, tears flooding down her cheeks. He raised his own hands, his claws trembling. Raphael tried to think but his mind was vacant, every thought achingly bounced back. His skin burned, bones ached. There were deep lacerations all over his body, his own hands were covered in blood. He gasped, looking at Tav’s body but found no abrasions. He let out a disgruntled sigh. If he had harmed her in his rage, in those brief seconds of failure… would he ever forgive himself? 

Tav threw the Crown aside and helped Raphael to his feet. His eyes followed the artefact as it landed on top of the sand, taunting him still. How?

As if reading Raphael’s mind, Withers' voice cut through the silence as he appeared before them.

“Thou hast succeeded but are not yet ready. Take care that thou are not too hasty, thine pursuits will lead to plights.” There was a long pause as Withers continued staring at Raphael, looking straight through him. He met Withers’ expressionless gaze, waiting for him to continue. “The pattern has been woven and all circumstances interlaced are as fate decided.” 

Raphael never imagined the consequences of his premature investiture. He was always going to reforge the Crown himself, in his own image. How could he possibly trust a mortal to handle such a relic successfully? But in the heat of the moment, and in the fine print of the very deal he crafted, he had opened himself up to carelessness, becoming the very thing he despised.

His eyes darted to Tav, searching the woman for any excuse against his actions but he could only look at her with veneration. He would not blame her for everything. His vanity, eagerness… his obsession for the Crown and that cursed woman nearly brought him to his untimely demise. Let this be a lesson to Raphael to heed his own warnings. The Devil would need to cool his heels in preparation for the battles looming ahead.

Raphael turned to face Withers, but the curious being had vanished. Instead he hummed thoughtfully, looking at Tav. 

She stood next to him, her body trembling. Tav's eyes were fixed on Raphael, still full of worry but there was something else present, another emotion he thought he’d never see from a mortal again.

Tav’s expression sent a sudden stabbing pain through his chest as a wave of nostalgia washed over him. There was another mortal who had once looked at him with the same kindness and understanding. He had buried it deep within his subconscious, but it was rising back to the surface, like a blooming flower. He would NOT allow himself anymore turmoil this evening.

“I owe you my thanks.” Raphael whispered, his voice on the verge of cracking.

“Raphael, I don’t understand, you were nea…” 

“If you value your life, you will hold your tongue. There will be no talk of this moment again. Ever. Have I made myself clear?”

Tav’s eyes widened at his sudden change of tone, but she nodded nonetheless. 

“I must return to my House of Hope. For healing and reflection. There is work yet to be done, as you have borne witness to this evening.” Raphael snapped his fingers, a raging portal materialised behind him. “You may join me, if you so wish.”

Raphael extended his arm, welcoming her acceptance. 

“Would you consider our deal completed then?” Tav asked, apprehensively. 

“You have upheld your end of the agreement, exceptionally well, might I add, bar this evening's hiccup. Now please, let me show you my appreciation.” 

A dash of colour appeared on Tav’s cheeks as she wiped away the remaining tears. She grabbed her backpack, placing the Crown inside. She swiftly reached for Raphael’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Raphael nodded in acknowledgment and led Tav through the portal. 

Indeed, their deal was complete, but Raphael wasn’t done with Tav yet. She would continue to prove a valuable ally and more in the months to come.

[lonesome-sometimes]

be an angel all night

I really like his neck and I listened to I can fix him (no really I can) too many times so I guess this was the love child of that. this is completely self indulgent because submissive, needy men make my heart thump too.

while dominant matty made your head spin, submissive matty made your heart thump. he found it much harder to admit when he needed to be taken care of compared to when he wanted to take care of you. he needed someone to guide him and tell him what he needed.

he needed to not think for himself, and that is exactly what you planned to do.

matty healy x female reader

content warnings: collars and leashes, sub matty, soft dom reader, oral (female receiving), praise kink, hair pulling, light choking, cumming untouched, they are very sweet honestly, pegging is implied, sweet needy matty

minors do not interact!

matty whimpered high in his throat as you tugged on the short curls close to his neck, palming the front of his boxers with your other hand. It had been a long week for both of you, work schedules clashing with you hardly seeing each other until bedtime came around, both of you being exhausted and passing out before you could catch up. luckily, you now had the whole weekend to do as you please, deciding to spend the beginning of it nursing a bottle of wine together before ending up on your shared bed for a much needed yet lazy make out.

when matty worked, he put his whole soul into whatever he was doing. you would sometimes struggle to get him to slow down at times, urging him to remember to take breaks and often reminding him to take care of his own basic needs. you didn’t mind of course, knowing how quickly he became invested in things especially if those things weren’t going as he planned.

sometimes matty needed to be in control, especially when he couldn’t find control in his work, stretching to the bedroom where he would force your mind empty until it was practically dripping between your legs. you absolutely loved matty when he was mean, when he was in control, when he would make you cum over and over until you could hardly think.

but you loved your sweet angel more.

while dominant matty made your head spin, submissive matty made your heart thump. seeing his cheeks tint pink when you would praise him, watching as his eyes rolled back into his head while you stroked and edged him for hours, hearing his sweet whimpers as you fucked into him deep with the strap he so eagerly bought a few months into your relationship. you really couldn’t get enough.

he found it much harder to admit when he needed to be taken care of compared to when he wanted to take care of you. he needed someone to guide him and tell him what he needed. he needed to not think for himself, and that is exactly what you planned to do.

you pulled your his tshirt over his head, taking a moment to admire the way his lips parted, eyes staying closed as his curls fell forward and he waited for your lips again, never once initiating anything himself. you had him exactly where you wanted him and where he needed to be. you indulged, kissing him softly again. he started to tug at his your tshirt, silently begging for more of you. “tell me what you need, darling.” you whispered against his mouth, holding his hand in yours to ease his nerves as he whined.

“please just-“ he started, trying his best to form words as you continued to palm his front. you tilted your head in question, waiting for a response but not pushing him past his point. “I-I need you to make me feel cared for, please?”

you smiled, rewarding him by moving his hand towards your chest in silent permission remove your shirt and to touch. he loved your tits, especially when he was in this headspace. “need me to show you how much I love you, hm? let you be my good boy for the night?” you teased lightly, tilting his chin up and kissing him again as he continued to palm at your chest over your bra, completely mesmerised. your hands moved to his neck, holding him in place as you became lost in his tongue once again when suddenly you had an idea.

you pulled back, a string of spit connecting your lips as you smiled softly. “can I try something tonight, angel? nothing scary or crazy, just something I have been thinking about?” you ask, giggling as he nodded enthusiastically, always willing to try something new knowing how happy it would make you. you stand up, pulling him up by his hand and dragging him towards the mirror in your bedroom. you ordered him to close his eyes, reluctantly letting you leave as you moved towards your closet to grab the item you needed from the box you had hidden weeks back. It was nothing special, plain and simple yet still perfectly matty.

you walk back towards him, showering him in more praise when you see that he had followed your orders and kept his eyes tightly closed. you crowd his space once more, pulling his back flush against your chest as you wrap your arms around his front. you bring your hands to his neck again, this time holding a black leather collar with a small ring in the shape of a heart at the front to clip on the matching leash. you pull it around his neck, causing him to let out a gasp quickly turned whimper at the realisation of what it was you were gifting him.

clicking it in place, you pushed two fingers under the leather band to make sure it wasn’t too tight where it would obstruct his breathing as you stroked his hair softly. “Is this okay? open your eyes for me, pretty baby.” you ask softy, kissing the side of his neck close to where it meets the collar. he nods and promises it is, flushing crimson at the endless praise and the sight of him collared just for you. you clip the leash to the collar, giving it an experimental tug so that he loses his balance just a little, falling back against your chest. “tell me what you like about it, darling.” you encourage, feeling up his sides and sucking dark bruises across his neck as he attempts to find his words.

“I-I like that it means I’m yours, that you own me.” he says softly, eyes widening at the picture you both made in the mirror. while he would never admit it, he loved watching you both especially during times like this. “that you can do whatever you want to me.” he finishes, rewarding him with a few strokes of his cock.

“that’s right, angel, and look how pretty you look just for me. I can’t wait to tug you around, pulling you exactly where I need you. do exactly what I like to you. you’re so good for me.” you tease again, tugging his head around every which way to accentuate your words. he whimpers, swallowing down a moan as you pull him back towards your bed. you make yourself comfortable, laying against the pillows and relaxing your body as he waits for you to place him exactly where you need him.

spreading your legs, you pull him down towards your clothed core. he licks his lips in preparation, unable to stop himself while trying to hide his eagerness. matty adored going down on you more than anything in the world, wanting nothing more than to please and make you feel more than good. “pull my panties down, ah-ah! just with your teeth. that’s it, good boy.” you talk him through it, letting him stay close as possible by keeping a tight grip on the leather leash knowing that’s exactly what he needed. “that’s right, good boy. come even closer.” you urge, pulling so that his lips were almost ghosting your wetness. “now beg.”

he looks up at you and back towards your folds, trying his best to move forward but the leash stopping him from doing exactly that. “please let me-“ you feel his warm breath against your clit, trying your best not to give in. he needed this, you couldn’t let him have what he wanted too easily. he liked, needed, to work for it.

“what’s stopping you matthew? I’m right there, angel. come on, try for me.” you watch smugly as he keeps trying to lunge forward, knowing it was impossible, going as far as to sticking him tongue out in an attempt to reach you but he never could. he whined in frustration, becoming more and more desperate as the minutes went by. “what’s wrong? what’s stopping you from pleasing me, matty?”

he looks up at you, eyes black and full of desire as well as frustration. “please let me taste you, I’m so fucking thirsty please? I’ll be so good, I promise. I wanna be good and make you cum. please pull me, tug me anywhere you like just please let me-“ you pull him into you before he could finish his sentence, choking him a little and causing him to lose his breath before regaining his composure, starting to lick and suck and taste your wetness on his tongue. It felt so fucking good. you became lost in the pleasure, letting your head relax against the pillows as he fucked into you with his tongue and almost completely forgetting about your newfound toy that you were testing.

“god, you’re so good, aren’t you?” he nodded against you, not once stopping his task, mind full of determination while also clouded with need. “maybe I should fuck you with my cock after this, pull you back using this.” you emphasise your point with another tug. “you look so cute, like my little puppy, yeah? wanna hump my leg afterwards and make a mess all over me? wanna be my good little puppy?” you go on, getting lost in your teasing, it becoming less coherent the closer you became. his moans vibrated against your cunt as you clenched your thighs around his head, signalling that you were getting close. “fuck, puppy, I’m gonna cum!” you warn, shaking as you clench around his tongue and drench the bottom half of his face with your slick.

you let the leash slacken as you come down from your high, catching your breath and letting him catch his before pulling him back towards you. “you made a mess, angel. clean it up.” he laps at your cunt messily, catching the rest of your wetness on his tongue until you finally let him sit back and letting the leash go slack. you smile, feeling so lopsided from your intense orgasm. he looks up at you, eyes full of adoration and want as he panted to catch his breath.

he looked totally fucked, lips covered in your cum and cheeks a deep red, directly contrasting with the dark leather around his throat. you giggle, pushing the curls away from his face which only causes him to smile up at you sweetly as he rests his head against your thigh. “my good boy, you ready for me to touch you now? let you make a mess inside of me?” you offer, just in case he needed to be fucked by you instead, unsure of how deep in subspace he was.

he blushed even deeper than you were aware he could, refusing to look at you and deciding to find other things in his peripheral to occupy him. you knew that look all too well, pulling him up so he was sitting on his knees in front of you and revealing the dark wet patch that was now covering the front of his underwear. “I-I couldn’t…. I’m sorry, it felt too good and I-“ he started to plead his case, being stopped as you abruptly pull him down and into another kiss.

you would punish him later for cumming without your permission, reminding yourself you had an entire weekend. right now, you needed your sweet boy and his sweet mouth just a little longer. he was in no position to deny you, was he? not with your collar sitting snugly around his throat.

[ghcstao3]

what about werewolf!ghost x vampire!soap 👀

hope you don’t mind me using the occasion to revive the rileys for an awkward family dinner

-

Being brought home to meet Ghost’s family is probably one of the more interesting moments of Soap’s (unbearably long) life.

And not only because he’s never properly dated someone as long as he has Ghost before—it’s also because said family isn’t human, and is more than aware of the fact that he drinks blood to keep himself alive.

So. Interesting is where he stands.

Soap is lured in with a false sense of security from two things—the first being Ghost’s insistence that his mother, brother, and sister-in-law are all nicer than him. The second being the warm smile Mrs. Riley offers him at the front door, entirely friendly and sincere, not like the brandishing of sharp canines that Ghost has flashed Soap with once or twice.

She’s pleasant to talk with, already siding with him when it comes to her son’s tendencies, and she even goes so far as to pour him a glass of pig’s blood she’d purchased just for the occasion. And being that it’s so nice, Soap doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he can only tolerate the stuff at best, especially now that he only ever takes from a specific source these days.

It’s through this lovely conversation with Ghost’s mum and the general sense of domesticity that has Soap believing that he shouldn’t encounter any problems when Beth and Tommy arrive.

But how wrong he was.

Beth at least tries to be polite, though Soap doesn’t miss the distasteful scrunch of her nose once she obviously catches scent of what Ghost so lovingly calls the wrongness of vampirism. Tommy, on the other hand, doesn’t so much as bother trying to hide his disdain.

(Thank God Soap finds out later that it’s mostly just the whole protective older brother act, but still. It hurts Soap’s feelings, just a bit.)

Dinner is absolutely stifling when all but Soap are eating what Ghost’s mum has made, all chatter dying off much too quickly in what little bouts Ghost, of all people, tries to initiate. Soap traces his finger around the rim of his barely-touched glass all while he tries to ignore Tommy’s pointed looks like Soap had done something to personally offend him.

Maybe he had.

“You’re sure about this, Simon?” Tommy eventually, finally asks after nothing but pressing silence. Though the question is asked to Soap’s left, he still feels golden eyes near identical to Ghost’s bearing down on him.

Ghost drops his fork onto his plate, his frustration palpable, emanating in waves. “Do you have to be such a prick, Tom?”

“Boys,” Mrs. Riley scolds from her end of the table. “We have a guest.”

“Yeah, and that guest’s a vampire, Mum,” Tommy spits, throwing out his hand in gesture to Soap. “He eats people.”

“Tom,” Beth hisses.

“Common misconception,” Soap mumbles. He feels all attention shift to him, as if they all remembered he was present—right, super-hearing. He clears his throat, raising his voice, “Only the… bad ones do that.”

“Besides,” Ghost is adding, and Soap is a little fearful of where he plans to take this, “he only feeds off me.”

A tense silence blankets the table. Soap wants to sink into the floor.

“…What?”

“It was my idea,” Ghost attempts to amend, but it’s already much too late. This is already a disaster, beyond disaster, and maybe Soap should’ve stuck to his guns about not meeting a family of werewolves as a vampire.

“Doesn’t matter, Simon!” Tommy exclaims his disbelief.

Ghost rolls his eyes. Soap had not at all imagined this to be where the night would lead. It’s what he desperately wished wouldn’t happen. Because he loves Ghost, and Ghost loves his family—so Soap had felt he needed to be in their good graces.

There goes that idea.

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t trust him, Tommy,” Ghost says slowly, challenging. “Is how I feel about him not good enough?”

This finally seems to stun Tommy into some form of submission. Soap doesn't miss Beth reaching out to flick Tommy's ear.

"S'pose it is," Tommy grumbles.

"Good." Ghost sits back in his chair, and resumes eating with a smug self-satisfaction poised in his broad shoulders.

There's a kick under the table delivered to Tommy, though Soap can't tell by who. He only knows its recipient by the muttered sorry, John, that follows.

Soap supposes he can be content with that for now. He gives Tommy a close-lipped smile, fearing that any show of fangs might provoke him.

All things considered, things could be worse. Even his military training wouldn't give him a considerable upper-hand against a natural-born werewolf.

He'll have to talk to Ghost about it later. Maybe when the werewolf is shifted, and Soap can dig cold fingers through thick fur. Then again another time, when Ghost can respond with more than huffs and whines and low growls.

They'll figure it out—they've already done it once before with just each other.

But they definitely have to smooth things over sooner rather than later, or else it's going to be real awkward when Soap finally gets the courage to pull out the ring that's been weighing his pocket down for little over a month, now.

It's fine. Everything will be fine. Soap can manage interesting.

[4dkellysworld]

hi kelly, i hope you’re doing well! i just wanted to share an observation i’ve had along this path:

everything always works out fine. like, always. things have happened before that were the opposite of what my character anticipated/desired, and at times it would completely throw me and i’d spiral, but eventually i’d realise my (as in my character’s) complete lack of control over the situation and i’d let it be. i’d let all the crap unfold however it wanted to. and every single time… it turned out fine. i clung to and ruminated over some of my biggest fears/"worst case scenarios" until i literally spoke them into existence (unintentionally, of course, and i definitely recommend you work on that habit if that sounds like something you do lol). each time, i panicked, felt devastated, questioned my abilities, blamed myself for "manifesting" it… until the emotion just exhausted me and i got bored of it. and then somehow i got through it. there was always a resolution. everything always turned out fine.

i don’t mean for this to sound like a manifestation related submission, but i thought it could reassure others to realise that Self truly is orchestrating it all. and you are that Self. it is just you. so even if the complete opposite of what you (character) want happens, even if it feels like it’s all gone wrong, just. let. it. happen. let life do its worst. in fact, lean in to the feelings. don’t fight them. that doesn’t mean marinate in them and prolong them and wallow in them, but let them wash over you until you feel defeated and give up resisting them. every single time, it’ll work out. trust me. trust Self. it literally reminds me of that song "let it all work out~~~" because seriously… LET IT… trust that it will because it ALWAYS will.

also, this is not any sort of technique. again, just an observation. like, it’s just kind of… life. lol. and the more i’ve gone through this, the more trust i’ve built in the process. so now when something happens that is not my preference (what i once desired is now not even that deep to me, so it only feels right to call it a preference instead, because it’s no longer this burning, insatiable longing but more so just like a "ye that’d be nice😄"), i just giggle and say ok. like, genuinely. and each time, it resolves/undoes itself faster and faster. i was having money issues yesterday because i realised that a loan that i thought i was entitled to, i wasn’t. today, i received hundreds of £s from a totally unexpected source. and i’ve now been made aware that i’m entitled to these hundreds of £s every month indefinitely. when my money issues arose yesterday, i cried, got angry, felt afraid… then remembered every time something like this happens, the universe (just Self) always has my back. i still felt natural "ego" worries arise occasionally because i literally had no plan as to what to do, but i saw that my characters options were limited and that i’d simply do what i could to get by and that ultimately it’d be ok. the very next day, *boom*. fixed.

oh, and just to add: this isn’t me saying that you can’t have your perfect life. you can. i’m not saying things will forever go wrong, you can have everything you desire and life can be blissful for you, of course. once you know your Self undoubtedly, the way you know now so undoubtedly that you have hands, you’ll be able to control/materialise/revise anything. of course. but it’s seriously the most backwards thing because… the further you get to reaching that point (ironically, there is no point to reach anyway. YOU ARE LITERALLY ALREADY THAT RIGHT NOW)… the less you care about it. the idea of living as Lara instead of Vanessa (can you tell i’ve been around since the days when Ada was still active, bless her heart) is what drew me into this journey initially because i had failed with loa again and again, but now, truly… even if Lara is a "preference" it’s in a fun, free way. like, hell ye, why not experience her now i know that i can? and if i get bored, i’ll just switch it up again. but really, Vanessa, Lara… they’re both equally insignificant, little characters in a play. and i love them both. even Vanessa, for all her chaos and sadness and shortcomings, i love her. lol.

with more and more practice, with more and more recognition through your own experiences that Self truly orchestrates this whole thing and never ever leaves you (because it is you), it all starts to make more sense. my words won’t mean much if you don’t apply what you’ve learnt, but ye… just wanted to share anyway. :)

truly, thank you kelly for being here throughout the year to post the occasional remix or journal entry. you’re how i know everything is one, because you would always post exactly what i was experiencing just as i needed it. i hope life is beautiful and kind for you. i know you don’t need the gratitude or praise, but seriously thank you. 💜

This was such a delightful read, thanks so much for sharing! What you described are things I've been through too, and still am. Yesterday I was pondering over the answer I gave on "manifesting" as I said it's opposed to dropping ego and I realized the clear distinction between conventional "manifesting" and what you described is the involvement of ego. The first comes from a state of lack that involves ego effort while the second comes from a state of surrender/letting go to Self and involves dropping effort and attachment etc (and for masters, the "manifestation" is simply just a part of life, like when God "desires" to do something, it isn't a desire from lack but a choice/intention made from a place of wholeness and joy to experience itself). So I do think that "manifesting" practice can play a part in Self-realization but it's important to be wary of how much ego is involved in the practice.

And yess I also have realized how important trust is when letting go. When I let go and knew or trusted that it would be taken care of, it really was, time doesn't matter, I just trust it is already taken care of and handled by Self/God and doesn't need my involvement and then it is. Earlier in my journey, when I didn't have trust and let go, I got more mixed results. The great thing is trust in Self/God (I don't really like giving it any label because the mind starts creating all sorts of definitions to it which are obv false and limited but it's hard to point to otherwise lol) builds up as you trust more and it really just starts becoming an automatic thing that works for you. This is an excerpt from Friendship with God that describes it perfectly.

Neale: And we need nothing more for our evolution than exactly what we have, and are experiencing, right now. God: Once more, you are correct. Neale: And if we don’t need anything, we don’t have to trust God. God: That is what I have been saying, yes. Neale: And when we don't have to trust God, then we actually can. Because trust then means not having to have a particular result, but rather, knowing that whatever results is for our highest good. God: You have brought it full circle. Bravo! Neale: The beauty of this is that not needing a particular result frees the subconscious mind from all thoughts about why you can't have a particular result, which in turn opens the path to the particular result which was consciously intended. God: Yes! You are able to put more things on automatic. When you face a challenge, you automatically assume that things will go well. When you face some difficulty, you automatically know that it will be handled. When you encounter a problem, you automatically understand that it has already been solved for you—automatically. You have created these outcomes, subconsciously. Things start to happen automatically, seemingly without any effort on your part at all. Life starts working. Things start coming to you, rather than you having to chase after them. This change occurs without conscious effort. Just as negative, self-defeating, self-denying thoughts about Who You Really Are, and what you can be, do, and have, were acquired subconsciously, so, too, are they released subconsciously. You don’t know how or when you picked up such ideas, and you won’t know how or when you dropped them. Life will simply and suddenly change for you. The time between your thinking a thought consciously and it being made manifest in your reality will begin to shrink. Ultimately, it will disappear altogether, and you will create results instantly.

I was initially drawn to this journey for the same reasons too (wanting to experience Lara) and it's more like I've gotten to the point where it's really not that important because it's really just the same even if it looks a little different. Everything is perfectly imperfect or imperfectly perfect lol. It's all Life, all of it.

And it's great you mentioned the emotions part because it's not something to fear or fight, it is a natural part of the experience of ego so they will come up, it's just a matter of having awareness of this and letting it be (or letting it go) and not feeding into it or getting lost in it (mentioning this as I think it's a common misconception that doing it 'right' on this journey means having a completely peaceful mind all the time with no emotions).

Lol I just realised my response is just going 'yes yes yes' to yours but really, my experience has been similar to what you described too. We truly are all One! I hope life is kind and beautiful to you too. It is for me now because that's how I choose to experience life now <3 (even when it seemingly is not, I just decide it is anyway because I'm not going to change my choice based on the everchanging dream)

[bluestar22x]

Maze Find

Summary: When your dog runs into a corn maze, you run into Frankie Morales

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Rating: General

Word Count: 900(ish)

Warnings: None, pure Hallmarky fluff

Author’s Note: This is my submission for jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge ( @goodwithcheese and @jolapeno ) - I picked Morales Mocha with corn maze mishap (more like meet cute).

xxx

"Biscuit, where are you?" you called out, eyes scanning your surroundings, trying not to panic.

There wasn't much to see beyond corn stalks, given you were in a corn maze, but you had to try.

Your new dog Biscuit, a rescue from the local animal shelter, had managed to wiggle his way out of, you could admit, his too loose collar to chase after a squirrel during your afternoon walk.

The last you'd seen of him, about three minutes ago, was his wire haired sandy colored body slipping into the corn field, which was unusually busy due to the time of year.

The owner was hosting a corn maze, open to anyone, for a small price. A price the farmer had waivered for you when you explained why you needed access to his field.

You hadn't seen the dog since his initial escape, and you were starting to worry that he was no longer even in the area. Hounds were well known for running off far.

You were nearing the end of the maze when you turned a corner and sagged with relief, finding Biscuit sitting in front of a tall man with a well trimmed beard and a Standard Heating Oil cap perched on top of his head. A nearly fully eaten ice cream cone was in his right hand, a paper shopping bag in the other.

"This wanderer yours?" he asked when he saw you appear, an amused expression on his face.

"Sorry, he got off the leash," you explained, "Saw a squirrel and it was too hard to resist."

He chuckled and you smiled at him as you approached and slipped Biscuit's collar back around his neck, tightening it in the process. You liked the sound of the stranger's laughter. It was warm, hearty. "Thanks for distracting him while I caught up."

"It was purely by accident," he told you, shrugging. "He was interested in what I'm eating."

You nodded. "Ice cream is a weakness of his."

The man's lips curved up. "Mine too."

"So what are you doing in the maze?" you inquired. "Got a lost dog of your own?"

He had to be either a farm hand or a parent, but you were curious. He was very easy on the eyes, and you were pretty sure you'd never seen him around before. The town wasn't so small that not knowing him was impossible, but still.

"No, just a lost kid," he said, "Except not actually lost. I can see from here where he's hiding." He glanced over your shoulder. "Nic come on out. It's time to head home."

A young boy, maybe four, shot out from between the stalks to your left. "Aww...already?"

"Yes, already," the man said in a tone you immediately recognized as fatherly stern. "Your mom will kill me if we're late."

You cocked an eyebrow at him and he laughed. "She won't actually kill me, but Nic's mother is planning to take him to see a movie tonight and she doesn't like being late to anything."

"Ah, Nic's mother," you repeated. That didn't sound like they were still together. You shouldn't care, but you did. Because he was handsome, especially in the green plaid shirt he was wearing, and seemed nice.

"Yeah, we divorced three years ago. On good terms. But she likes her schedules."

"Can I pet your dog?" Nic interrupted.

You grinned at his politeness, most kids didn't ask, even though they should with strange dogs. "Of course, Biscuit would love it."

Nic kneeled down and started petting him under the chin and the dog flipped over to expose his belly, making everyone laugh.

"Looks like you've made a new friend," you declared, grinning.

"He's so silly," Nic said, "What kind of dog is he?"

"A Basset Fauve de Bretagne," you answered.

The young boy blinked at you, confused. "A Basset what?"

You chuckled. "It's a French breed. You know France?"

The boy nodded. "Mrs. Bran is teaching us how to read maps."

"Oh...interesting."

"It's...okay."

You laughed again at his honesty. "Well, I promise the country is more interesting than its map."

Nic's father gave him a few moments more to stroke Biscuit then repeated that they had to go.

The boy pouted but did as told, heading out for their car at the end of the maze.

"Thanks again..." you trailed and the man took the hint.

"Frankie. Most people call me Frankie."

"Thanks again, Frankie."

"I didn't do much, but I'm glad to have helped..."

You gave him your name and smiled again. "Help is help."

You rummaged through your purse after and pulled out a pen and notepad.

"Those still exist?" Frankie joked as you put ink to the lined yellow paper. His dark eyes were curious as you jotted down something on it - your phone number.

You weren't usually so bold, but if he wasn't interested he just wouldn't call right? No big deal. But you'd regret not making an attempt at a date. You'd been single for far too long.

You passed him the note. "I'd like to thank you over coffee or something. My treat. Just call me when you're not busy sometime?"

He smiled and folded the paper up nicely. "I think I'll take you up on that offer. Let me drop off Nic, his mother's house isn't far, then I'll call."

"Sounds good."

You shared warm smiles and parted with your boys.

As promised, Frankie called a few hours later.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Main Masterlist

xxx

[orangez3st]

What actually happened to Rex's batchmates?

Here's my take on this, because atm I'm writing a fanfic about Cadet!Rex as well so I'm appealing for his fanon cadet fate.

I respect both "Rex's batchmates are all decommissioned because the whole batch is defective but Cody and the others saved him so now he's got PTSD from child ab**e" and "Rex got bullied because of his mutated blond hair" fanons (uh hey where did this begin? Had those been widely accepted headcanon that it became fanon eventually? I'm revisiting this fandom and am just stepping my foot into the fanon so maybe safe to say I'm kinda-but-not-really new) but... Hear me out.

(Future me, approx 2 hours after starting this post: okay this post turns out to be so long you might wanna sit down)

Disclaimer again; I don't hate those fanons but it's kinda bothersome to me (so cruel omg idek if he'd been really strong for, what, just 10 years haunted by child ab**e trauma, based on majority fic depiction? and said trauma lasted into the clone wars even? uh, really? more in 10) that I've pieced the puzzle myself on how one may approach this matter from another angle.

Facts i (we) know about clones

As far as we know, they have batchmates and squadmates.

Not only are they genetically engineered with accelerated physical stamina, they are also capable of withholding more stress than the average natborn. This is due to the fact that war soldiers generally suffer PTSD and the Kaminoans wanted to create Tupperware clone army. Thus, to a certain extent, genetically, clones prove to be more emotionally stable – mind you, that doesn't mean they're not immune to PTSD and other related traumas. There were clones who defected from the army just because they couldn't handle it anymore. As cruel as this might sound, yeah; there's something wrong with their programming.

There are 3 known mass-produced clone types: CT (Clone Trooper), CC (Clone Commando), and RC (Republic Commando). Each type is made? cloned? bred? separately. Obviously.

Clones are engineered to be obedient and submissive to order and structure. CT has the most extreme levels of this alteration, meanwhile CC has less, due to their supposed strategic position in command they have to adjust to every possible scenario thrown at them, eventually concocting tactically effective battle plans.

Mutations and defective traits are different. Mutations are uniquely positive and genetically induced or by experiment, while defective traits pop up due to poor maintenance or accidents. Kaminoan scientists are willing enough to tolerate mutations as long as it causes no further problems (like Blue Eyes), while they deem the ones with defective traits totally unfit for combat (like 99).

So, to stress and/or narrow them down:

Clones, regardless of type, are capable of handling more stress and adapting to situations quickly.

#GodlikeKaminoanEngineering (or so they say): Nothing wrong with programming = wouldn't suffer trauma and/or related disorders. (Idk if this hypothetically would apply irl. If there's any legit research about this particularly, point me to the journal article lol I'd love to check it out tho I'm not a huge bio fan. Intriguing all the same.)

Nothing wrong with programming = wouldn't defect. Clone Force 99 is a special case, though. (This point is completely unrelated to Rex but I think still worth mentioning)

CT's aren't that much capable of putting all hands on deck in strategy talks (that's what the CC's are for). All they know is to wait for orders from command and follow them thoroughly and make sure the job's done. However, they may or may not develop those traits themselves and finally take initiative basically becoming a kriffin badass CC intern, like Rex.

Genetic mutations, as we know or may assume, consist of change in physical appearance. This could mean lighter skin tone, not-Jango-Fett eye color, or not-so-Jango-Fett hair color. This is due to recessive genes. Jango's sister Arla has natural blond hair, you guys.

Therefore, from my perspective, Rex is in possession of genetic mutations and definitely not defective traits.

Combined with his standard CT emotional intelligence, excellent combat skill, his (pre-Skywalker) undying love for order and structure, and if not little acts of valor that undeniably has to show during his cadet years (I mean it would carry on into his ARC training and first months of the Clone Wars that he's given jaig eyes), I see no reason why he would be bullied and shunned by the rest of his batch.

If any, they regard him with so much respect because he shines – gloriously – throughout his training and essentially be the local pride. He's their brother, after all! Their vod! That's how he would've caught Cody and the other's attention too.

☝🏼🤓 I do accept the fanon that he's a batch behind them. I can't think of a reason. Might as well be freeform. And it's cute.

So.

That's the baseline, for clones.

Now we move on to the man himself.

(on gif above) That is so Cody-coded, Rex.

(1) Decommissioned batchmates

Tbh not sure what being decommissioned means, but given the generally grim and threatening implication that it strikes enough terror and neck-breaking amount of trauma to Rex of this fanon, it's gotta mean being terminated(?). Correct me if I'm wrong, but for now I'm rolling with that.

Rex exhibits excellent capabilities on field during his training that it easily captures his trainer's attention. A transfer to the CC command training sounds possible, I think, since y'know, Ponds is a CT as well and I'd like to think he's above Rex that the rank Commander is permissible for him (yes yes Rex is given the Commander promotion but he turned it down because he favors fighting up in the front with his men I am a firm believer of this as well). So he just gets separated from his batchmates and situated himself in the new brotherhood.

Also here's my baseless debunking because I just don't know any of those biology-related stuff.

I just don't think every single of his batchmates are so defective that the Kaminoans pulled the genoc**e card. It's just... Not possible. Math and probability, anyone? Hello?

Assuming the only reason for being decommissioned is for possessing defective traits so bad that it's worse than 99, the Kaminoans have no excuse to pull the genoc**e card just because a clone gets blond hair instead of Jango's black hair. As much as I support them being the most ultimate of assholes, I don't think they'd waste resources just like that.

So, in conclusion of this one; I think not. Rex's batchmates are very much alive and well and kicking droid ass during campaigns :)

(2) Traumatized Rex

Fanon: Rex with child ab**e trauma and, in conjunction, PTSD because he witnessed his batchmates get decommissioned.

I shall assume he carries this trauma even to the Clone Wars period.

Oh hang on, okay, he's defective because he's traumatized? Or is it the other way around; he gets traumatized that it somehow affects his already-defected emotional intelligence? What about his coping mechanism, is it defected as well? If the decommissioning of his brothers affects him so much he couldn't cope and carries with him the trauma, I don't think he'd be fit to go further since the start, or even earn those jaig eyes.

One thing about Rex is that he's brave. Since we're working with existing materials to create this headcanon, and that the jaig eyes itself is important, the jaig eyes still gotta be there. He earns it because he commits acts of valor in the battlefield – because he is a man of honor. Rex is very much aware of his emotional state, aware of the proper time and place; when to break down and when to put on a strong façade, because he's that selfless. He puts his men first. He cares about his men. He regards every single troop as his brother. First in, last out. An inspirational figure with strong will, always trying his best being the prime example and morale to his men.

Aside from the genetic stress inhibitor traits, Rex is a strong man, physically and mentally. In line with my previous point about how implausible and improbable it is that every single of his batchmates gets decommissioned, with this fanon scenario, I don't think Rex would be some guy who easily succumbs to trauma. He'd push on through and survive, and lo and behold. Canon-wise, he does. Still does.

(3) Why is he bullied 😭

My poor little meow meow of a heart can't take it. I don't know what this version of Rex is supposed to be bullied for? But if it's because of his blond hair IT'S NOT DEFECTIVE TRAIT it's genetic mutation. Even the majority of the clones sport black hair and brown eyes Jango style and only some of them sport brown hair or lighter, and even fewer of blond hair. And the Kaminoans allow it, as seen in 302.

Look at him he's precious. Some may think he's overrated, but he's just being him. No wonder he's majority's favorite. So with all that said, I rest my case.

Sorry that took so long and much of your time, but for my part, I'm glad I got those out of me. I might write my Rex and the other's headcanon in the future. Mentioned I'm writing a Cadet!Rex fic, so there's the link, if you're interested.

And don't get me started with the natural vs dyed blond thing. I'm a firm believer that Rex is a natural blond, and I've written the reason somewhere above.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. You may use this headcanon in your adaptations if you'd like. Cheers!

[victoriadallonfan]

End of Act 1 - Author Thoughts

So, this concludes Act 1 of Dead Eye. 

​It's been a struggle for me to write this afterthought piece, because I have learned so much from writing this original story.

This was not the first time I've written original fiction, of course. I had a brief attempt at a web serial back in late 2016 (I can't even remember the name of it), I've written numerous short fiction stories for Reddit Writing Prompts, and I've dropped some short stories here in Creative Writing in the past. Not to mention contest submissions over the years IRL (nothing gained unfortunately).

However, what made this different is that I actually committed to the act of finishing an entire arc and do my best to flesh out the characters as much as possible. I kept a plan, I followed it, and I tried to make it enjoyable for the readership.

​Admittedly, going from the hundreds of likes and views of my fanfic to the thirty or dozen on these posts felt initially disheartening. 

Initially.

But then I realized that I wasn't thinking about things in perspective. I was no longer using larger fandoms as a crutch for engagement or relying on readers already having a basic understanding of the characters: I was needing to WORK and gain the TRUST of the readers for a totally experimental project.

And bonus, I got amazing comments and analysis each chapter, with people seeming to really enjoy the mystery and action I wrote. I got people investing in characters in just a little under 30k words, which I think is pretty darn decent!

Is there room for improvement? Yes, absolutely. I ended up unhappy with how little screen time Milian got, but a lot of my plans for him involved future plot points that couldn't fit within 6 chapters that I challenged myself. I struggled a lot with describing the city (because I find building descriptions boring), and perhaps I made the tension between Sabra and Persa a bit too thick?

More things I could discuss on that, but there are also things I'm proud of. I really enjoyed the action set pieces and how I distinguished character behavior. I really like that my magic system (based on me noticing how special eyes are so prevalent in fiction, why not make an entire system set around them?) flowed so easily for me to write, and that it allowed me to do fun things with the world. Giant glowing eyeball in the sky makes me giggle all the time.

​So, what is the plan going forward?

For now, there will be a small intermission. I would like to get back into Janus and HITF, maybe do some other fanworks too, just to flex my brain a bit from being in Persa's pov for so long.

The plan is that after a month or two, I will then return for Dead Eye - Act 2 for another 6 arc continuation.

Finally, I want to say: Thank You

Thank you to everyone who supported me, be it by like, comment, or Ko-Fi donation. It was you who kept me going, and made me achieve a dream of becoming an actual author of original fiction.

I promise I won't let you down!

[smokescreenimusprime]

On the trend of using EPIC The Musical for the ask game (thanks anon), here's a good one:

Choose. You, or your crew. (Song source: Thunder Bringer)

"Choose. You, or your crew." the stranger growled, shoving the muzzle of his blaster into the side of Smokescreen's helm.

Smokescreen bit back a sigh, knowing full well that it would not help the situation.

The situation was fairly unusual. Most days were pretty quiet in the Archives with the most exciting thing being a new datapad being added to their stores, or on rarer occasions a bot starting drama over some novel or other they didn't have and needing to be escorted out.

An armed robbery was definitely a new occurrence. Usually when bots wanted to steal the relics, they opted for more covert methods.

But not these ones apparently. They showed up, quite literally guns blazing, and held the staff and visitors who hadn't managed to flee in the initial chaos hostage. The enforcers had of course been called, but they couldn't get in yet without risking the attackers doing something dangerous.

That led to right now, him, his employees, and a couple others all gathered in the back of one of the bigger rooms as one of the attackers tried to threaten Smokescreen into telling them the vault passcodes by dragging him forward and pressing a gun to his helm.

Primus he was going to have to fill out so much paperwork after this. Maybe he could convince Ultra Magnus to pull some strings so he wouldn't have to.

"I said choose," the mech growled again, jabbing Smokescreen's helm with the blaster again, this time hard enough to scratch the paint which made Smokescreen tense.

Not in fear like the mech seemed to think, no, but growing frustration. He just got buffed the other day! Knockout was going to peel his paint when he found out he ruined his work so soon.

Yeah, okay, waiting for the enforcers to do something clearly wasn't working out.

Guess he had to handle this himself.

This time he actually let himself sigh, not caring about keeping his attacker docile.

"Yeaaaaaah, gonna have to say no to that one, chief."

And then he grabbed the gun's barrel.

His attacker's optics went wide but he didn't even have time before he was swiftly disarmed (he wasn't even using servo modifications! talk about amateur hour, as Miko would say). It only took a second to pistol whip him across the temple, then whip around and shoot the three other bots in the room just as they began to realize things were not going to plan.

Nonlethally of course. Sure it would count as self defense and he'd be let off without much trouble, but that would just make even MORE paperwork.

Once he was confident the other three were down for the count and that his employees and even a few of the other hostages were able to disarm and take care of them, he turned back to the first mech.

"First mistake," Smokescreen began, flipping him onto his front and forcing his servos behind his back in a submission hold. "Getting within grabbing distance."

"Second mistake," he patted down his frame to grab the key for the handcuffs. "Cuffing me too loose and then not being able to see what I was doing with my servos."

"Third and most damning of all," he threw the key over to a very shell shocked looking Coil, who fumbled the catch with his cuffed servos but managed to not drop it.

He liked Coil. He was a new hire, but Smokescreen could already tell he'd be sticking around. He was a hard worker, a bit sarcastic at times, and cared a lot about keeping things organized.

His now ex-attacker looked up at him with wide optics, confused and afraid, and Smokescreen just met his gaze with a bored expression.

"Not doing your fragging research."

-------

OR, a lot of bots aren't aware of the fact their local librarian is ex-military, and every once in a while there arises circumstances for him to show them :D