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blueberrypancakesworld · 28 days ago

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Caracalla in a relationship - sfw/nsfw

Caracalla x younger!reader

warning : smutish (not too graphic), cuddling, kissing, tiny comfort, Caracalla is his own tiny warning

info : Caracalla as sweet as he is is a double-edged sword on the one hand gentle and playful on the other obsessive and possessive now i hope you enjoy reading ;) There will be also one with an older!reader

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SFW

°From the moment it became clear that he and his brother needed an heir, Caracalla also had to choose a wife, a bride from the surrounding areas, one that made the most political sense. Even though his interests lay elsewhere and he had gotten into arguments with his brother, even in his lucid moments he had to realize that Geta was right, ,,Then help me find my wife, brother” he had asked him, let go of Dundus and knew that even his madness could not last forever, that in the moments when he was in charge, he had to take responsibility, as awful as it may seem.

A responsibility he searched through for weeks, from mosaic pictures to written letters to the day they had parties organized and invited all the princesses and daughters who had royal blood to show, ,,We've been sitting here for hours now, are you even paying attention?” he hardly noticed his brother's question. Hours had passed since the party and everything still seemed to have made no progress until the blue eyes found something furry in the crowd, rising wordlessly the blond walked through the crowd with a curious look. Ignoring the guests, almost shoving them aside, he found himself in the room with her, pretty and delicate, a look of joy and on her lap a tiger cub, ,,What's his name?” Caracalla wanted to know and knelt down to her.

°With this question, two animals and coins flowing, the emperor had apparently found his wife. Although only a little younger, this seemed to suit the emperor more, the joy and energy he had during his fits seemed to be well controlled by his wife, ,,Sometimes he's a playful, brutal child just to be my husband again, but I love him just the way he is, believe me Geta,” she assured her brother-in-law. She knew how important his brother was to Geta and tried to fulfill this role as best she could, starting with the morning make-up, which usually ended in a laughing embrace and Caracalla giving her a kiss on the cheek.

°Especially the cuddling and the short kisses seemed to calm Caracalla down when something didn't go the way he wanted it to. Whether it was during a defeat in the Colosseum, at a party when the music wasn't right or even when Dundus didn't listen to him, ,,We'll manage, I promise," she always said and her hand slid to his, her smile lighting him up before he gave her a short but heartfelt kiss, giggling when his make-up stuck to her skin only to wipe it away somewhat clumsily with his toga. But as long as he smiled and she had him, they would manage any of his fits together.

°His hand wouldn't leave hers, no matter if it was at breakfast, where they often played with the food and fed Dundus, which Geta let pass with a small smile. ,,I have a surprise today at the Coloseum,” Caracalla said, sharing her joy and curiosity as they entered the Coloseum together, the inhabitants celebrating the empress and sharing her love of animal fights. A fight in which she clung to Caracalla who clung to her as they let tigers into the ring, ,,You will win my pretty cats!” she shouted and not only Caracalla but also the spectators joined in as the feline predators attacked the gladiators. There were little surprises of new collars for her pet or she gave Caracalla a little new dress for Dundus it was a level on which the two got along by day as well as by night...

NSFW

°They loved each other that was out of the question, above all the how, when and where was something that set Caracalla apart from his brother. As much as he lost himself in his mind, lost himself too much in the madness, the more he needed his wife with him, on him and above all in his bedchamber. When torches illuminate the two of them, Caracalla not only wants to be entertained, he also wants to enjoy earthly pleasures together with his wife. With sweet grapes and a little wine, which is all just a little hesitation of the big picture before his hands lay on her and the first thing he does is to undress her, ,,You're even more beautiful without it!" he chuckled and looked at her body in front of him as if spellbound.

°Even though she was only a little younger than him, he took his role and especially his power seriously on nights like this, ,,Trust your emperor, it'll be fun,” he promised before kissing his way down her body, even though there was always a smile on his lips, there was a look of lust in his eyes, a silent desire for her and no one else. She was his and not his brother's, she was his alone and no one else's, a thing he made clear to her with every kiss that turned into a little bite, every little bite marring her skin and turning him on more and more when he saw what he had done to her.

°Caracalla is someone who needs entertainment, whether it's new games in the coloseum or new methods in the bedroom, everything that amuses the blond needs to be played out. He won't stop in the bedroom either, demanding to try it out rather than responding to his wife, ,,You'll look beautiful with the rope like my prey,” he announced, holding out the rope and showing her the parchments with various pictures and instructions. Whether of ropes his blue eyes looked fascinated as her body was wrapped with it, as the marks remained on her skin and he kissed her, knowing that he could always push her a little further because in the end he was still the Emperor of Rome and she his wife.

°Up to daggers and blood, he would try anything. Watching the blade press against her naked body a little harder and harder, watching her skin break slightly as her hips pushed harder against hers, “Beautiful!“ he groaned and her whimpers were drowned in his licking as he experienced his coloseum tears, the desire finally soothing, finally feeling the blood on his hands as he stroked the wounds, as he bit her and heard her sweet sounds, it was like music to his ears, the best concert, the best entertainment his beloved wife could give him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@cottoncandiescupcakes , @k-yurieee , @qardasngan , @somepallings , @songbirdmunson , @sweeteststing

#gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor caracalla #caracalla x reader #emperor geta #male x female #reader is female

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blkkizzat · 1 year ago

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ꨄ︎『Toji x TumblrSmutWriter!Reader』ꨄ︎

Toji x TumblrSmutWriter!Reader

18+ Minors - DNI

Summary: You shouldn't have left your phone out in the open bestie because now Toji just discovered his cute lil gf has a big slutty imagination and that means you're really in for it ❤︎ . CW: daddy/dilf kinks, humiliation, backshots, outdoor sex, toys, voyerism, breeding, overstimulation, lots of mentions of various kinks, light spanking, light spit play, meta concepts WK: 4.2k Black fem reader coded but no descriptors.

A/N: Y’all can blame my forgetting to take my adhd meds and my hangover yesterday for this one. I was laying on my bathroom floor regretting life choices, waiting on McDs Doordash and thinking up outlines for kinktober when this popped into my head. I thought it would be a quick drabble like 1k words to help my writers block with the "Bumpy Ride" Geto fic but lord knows I can't write shit under 3k, who am I foolin? I don’t even have a song inspo for how spontaneous and random this shit was lmfao but I still had to do a graphic for this one regardless (editing those notifications were hell). Edit- I lied the song inspo is: Girls Need Love Remix - Summer Walker ft. Drake.

Enjoy!

Imagine you are dating Toji and he finds out you secretly write Tumblr smut fics on the low.

He comes over to your apartment one night after one of his ‘jobs’ ran late. He has a key, but is wondering where the hell you are as you usually greet him at the door. Going into your bedroom, he finally hears you in adjoining bathroom shower.

Toji begins to strip down in order to join you but he barely has his shirt off before he notices your phone blowing up.

Picking your phone up off the bed he sees 206 notifications from an app called “Tumblr”.

Toji has no fucking clue what the hell a Tumblr is but his jealously starts to soar. He already made your ass go private on Instagram and deleted your Tiktok dances. He got tired of threatening every loser who tried to slide in your DMs or even leave a comment for that matter.

Imagine his surprise when he unlocks your phone (of course he had made you give him the password) and instead he finds out his new vanilla-as-fuck girlfriend is actually a kinky cockwhore who loves writing character x reader stories about fictional men plugging any n' every one of her holes. Sometimes it was multiple men simultaneously, with their massive cocks bullying your readers until you had them crying. Not to mention them fucking you absolutely stupid in every scenario imaginable, with a huge daddy kink/love of dilfs to top it all off.

Y/N clearly has type, Toji thought smugly as he saw some art on your page of these animated dilfs that looked similar to him.

But goddamn, some of this shit even he hasn’t considered doing with you yet. Honestly, he’s been holding himself back for your sake as you had been pretty shy at first. His sweet naive little college girl, yet here you were a filthy closeted slut this entire time.

Tsk, Y/N been holding out on me, eh?

At this point you were probably a bigger freak than he was, he mused with an arched brow as he scrolled through what you called your ‘masterlist’.

It was nothing but a collection of pure unadulterated filth.

More than anything though while going through your Tumblr, Toji is rather impressed at how popular you are. He reads your intro post where you deem yourself the ‘Self-proclaimed DILF Smut Queen’ and an evil grin appears on his face.

Toji abandons his plans to join you in the shower and he waits for you on your bed while he links-surfs through more of your so-called fics, drabbles and thirsts.

You made your own little pictures to go along with your dirty stories too? Aw, what a sneaky yet talented little whore he had.

ꨄ

When you finally exit the shower, wrapped only in a big fluffy white towel and your hair pulled back into a ponytail, you are surprised to see Toji sitting shirtless on your bed.

Toji had promised to be here hours ago. He never even sent a text saying he would be late and you’ve been bored waiting for him all evening so he could give you some of the attention you've been craving.

Your body is already warm from the shower and your legs rub together as you are already feeling a bit horny just seeing him bare chested.

Walking toward the bed you are eager to go pounce on his lap. That is, until you see it’s your phone he’s scrolling through again without your permission.

You loudly sigh which made his head snap up to look at you.

You’re so ready to tell him off again and remind him your Insta is still private and you only use TikTok to mindlessly scroll, not post dance videos anymore when gives you a dangerous look.

You stop dead in your tracks.

Your eyes grow wide as saucers as you recognize what he’s actually looking at when waves your phone around tauntingly in his hands.

No.No.No. Not this. Please god, not this!

But your worst fears are confirmed when he starts reading aloud with a huge shit eating grin.

“You moaned loudly as you threw your head back and bucked against him hungrily. You knew you had to finish quickly unless you wanted his wife to come home to discover the babysitter on top of her husband, making a mess all over his face. His thick tongue lapped into your drenched folds and he spread your puffy pussy lips wider to suck and nip at your swollen clit….”

Your mouth was agape in shock. You were a deer in headlights.

A million and one thoughts raced through your mind as Toji continued on. He swiped over to the next one, this time a daddy and breeding kink drabble.

“Or how ‘bout… ‘Take it all like the good little slut you are for daddy, Y/N’. ‘N-No daddy, please I can’t cum anymore!’ You babbled as you succumbed to the overstimulation of him ruthlessly breeding your stretched cunt and filling you as you squirted on his dick for the fifth time that night…”

You could only continue to stand there and gawk at him. This couldn’t actually be happening to you right now.

“Ya really wrote all this nasty shit, Y/N?” Toji teased while still looking at your phone as he found more of your filthy smut to read aloud to you despite the horrified expression on your face.

You of course had written all that ‘nasty shit’ but most of it was before you started dating him, breaking a long dry spell.

You really weren’t one to run the streets and sleep around but you had some kinky ass fantasies and you not getting any action had you needing to express them somehow.

It’s not like you didn’t eventually plan to open up and share a few of your kinks with Toji down the line. But this was a relatively new relationship and Toji was still a bit intimidating to you. Even though Toji treated you with way more care and concern than he did anyone else you’ve seen him interact with, you still had an insecure fear that he would reject you for a few of your kinks.

Your last boyfriend had called you a weirdo for wanting to call him daddy in bed, so you resolved then to no longer share that part of you.

Hell, not even your IRL friends knew what you got up to. Only the Tumblr followers and moots, who you all shared peaceful anonymity with, were familiar with you and your writing.

Fuck. You had finally found the perfect DILF daddy too, you didn't want to scare him away.

You cursed yourself for even opening Tumblr earlier. You did so out of restlessness waiting on his ass to come over. You just were going to read a few fics before you realized you had a story in your drafts you never posted that just needed to be proofread.

Wanting to kill time you decided to edit and post it on a whim, not knowing the mess it would be getting you into now.

“Earth to, Y/N.” Toji snapped his fingers, interrupting your thoughts.

"Where did my perverted baby’s little mind go off to now, huh? So obsessed with being ruined by imaginary cocks you can’t even respond to your own daddy.”

You could have combusted on the spot as you were sure there was more steam coming off you from embarrassment than from the hot shower you had just taken.

But wait– wtf, your frazzled mind just connected the fact Toji had referred to himself as your daddy.

Those words sinking in made your entire body tingle. Your pulse quickened as you chewed your bottom lip and fidgeted with the edge of your towel.

Was he also into this?

The fact was Toji was very into this and you were about to find out just how much he was.

Enjoying your reactions fully, Toji stood up and made his way toward you with a crazed look on his face.

“You’ve written 96 pieces of filth Y/N…”

He inched closer and you instinctively moved back. Every fiber of your body sensing the danger in front of you. You wondered if this is how the targets of his ‘jobs’ felt when he approached them. Toji never lied to you about what he did for work but you never felt like you were his prey, until now.

“You’ve been a very naughty girl, have you nothing to say for y’erself, princess?”

“I-I-I-”, you stumble over your own words. This was all way too much, way too fast, for you to process in order to say anything coherent back to him.

“I-I-I-” Toji mocked your pathetic tone, an evil grin back on his face.

“Lost your words, Y/N?”

Your body instinctively keeps moving back to keep distance between the two of you as he continues to advance on you.

“But you have so many words to say here, isn’t that right slut?”

Toji toyed with your phone in his hand, spinning it around.

“Slut. That’s what you liked to be called in these stories, eh? The dirty slutty whore with a sloppy cunt just ready to slime all over her daddy’s cock, yeah?”

You gulped as your back hit the glass of your bedroom balcony door with a ‘thud’. You had no more room to run while Toji closes in on you.

He pressed both of his massive hands against the glass as they framed your head, his body hovering over you. You couldn’t help but notice how much bigger than you he was as his frame enveloped you and blocked out the rest of the room. You were trapped.

Too nervous to look him in the eyes, you settled for his chest and Toji’s muscles flexed tantalizingly under your gaze. You lost yourself for a moment as the familiar scent of his heady masculine musk invaded your senses.

Your eyes roamed lower and lower before resting on the bulge beneath his sweats and you softly pant.

“You’re staring at my dick like you want me to stuff that pretty little throat cunny of yours full. You aren’t making good use of your mouth right now anyway Y/N, might as well see how much of me it can fit.”

You looked away from him completely but that only ignites Toji's flames more.

“Look me in the eyes little girl...” Toji’s hand roughly grabbed your jaw and squished your cheeks together as he brought his face closer to yours.

“This shy act won’t cut it anymore, slut.”

His intensity was overwhelming you. Various emotions threaten to bubble to the surface as you squirm in his grasp and your eyes become glossy with tears.

“You didn’t think you finally had a man who would be into this wild ass shit, now did you?”

You wanted to question him further but you felt your gravity shift as the balcony door whipped open behind you. Toji ripped off the towel covering you as you practically tumbled backwards onto the small landing buttass naked.

The crisp fall night air hits your dampened skin giving you goosebumps. You shiver and immediately drop down in a crouch to cover yourself.

“T-Toji!! Are you insane?!” You gasped at him in a hushed tone, your silence finally broken.

Promptly, you scan the seemingly deserted neighborhood streets through the railing for any sign of movement or signal that someone else was outside.

To your relief there was no one in sight.

Thankfully this was a relatively quiet neighborhood and no one was ever really out at this time of night. Nevertheless the shock of it all was sending your nerves into overdrive.

“Toji my ass bitch. It’s daddy to you moving forward–,” he roared jerking you up off the ground, “–and we are going to do every single fucking thing your slutty mind has ever fucking written starting NOW.”

Your eyes darted as around him if you wanted to run back inside but there was no getting past his brutish build as he quickly slammed the door shut, shaking the frame.

Frankly, you didn’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified as you had written some depraved ass shit over the past year in the midst of your cockdrought. Some of it you had never even seriously thought of actually doing IRL.

“Let’s start right ‘ere, eh? Did you think I wouldn’t notice the description of the place in your little balcony story matched your own?”

Your eyes almost popped out of your skull as you recalled what you wrote in that particular smut fic.

ꨄ

“A-AH! N-NOOO TOJI, W-WAIIIIIIIT!” You whined through gritted teeth.

You tried (and failed) not to release any noises from the unrelenting backshots Toji was currently giving you as he folded you over the balcony railing. The tips of your toes barely rested on the cold floor as your ass bounced back into him and had your clit throbbing when his heavy balls smacked against the sensitive nub.

You had previously only fantasized about Toji being this rough with you, but now that it was actually happening for real you couldn’t think straight. Your lungs burned from sucking in the frosty night air and your cunt pulsed from his thick girth stretching you open.

Shockwaves ran along your body with every cruel thrust of his hips. The force of it reduced your legs to jelly and you were sure you would have collapsed had he not had you suspended like you were, between him and the railing.

Toji seemed both unfazed by the cold and your cries for mercy as he shushed you with a harsh spank. He enjoyed the way your fat ass rippled under his heavy hand in the moonlight so much he gave you a few more for good measure.

Your tits violently swayed over the edge as one of your hands grasped the railing for stability and the other held your phone in front of you. Toji was making you dictate your story for him as he reenacted the play by play assault on your cunt.

The bright screen you held was near blinding to your teary eyes. You mentally cringed as you knew it would act as a shiny beacon to view your activities if anyone walked by the small apartment complex or hell, even stepped out on their balcony.

“T-Toj- Daddy, w-what ‘bout– neigh-h-b-bor-s?”

You managed to croak out over the sloshing of your cunt and slapping sounds of flesh that echoed into the atmosphere everytime he rammed into you. You couldn’t bear to look around to see if any of your neighbors had started to investigate.

“Pshhh, Fuck your neighbors Y/N! They clearly don’t have a cockcrazed baby to please that writes dirty little stories about imaginary men like I do.”

If you didn’t know better you would think he was actually jealous of the DILFs in your stories too from the way he was sadistically fucking into you.

His thrusts caused your icy tears to run down your face and sent your tits bouncing into the wind. Your cold and neglected nipples hardened in the chill to the point of delicious pain.

“B-but- it's too c-cold out D-Daddy!”

“Mmn, yet your pussy feels warm enough, Y/N. Too hot even. This is for your benefit, you know–,” Toji stated matter-of-factly while he increases the speed his pounding into you, “–So you remember you have your own Daddy who will fuck you anyway you want, anytime you want…just, fuck, tell Daddy what his slutty baby needs.”

The way his hips are driving into your core knocks the wind out of you. Toji tightens the already brutal grip on your hips which assists him in pressing deeper into your cunt. The movement has you almost slipping. You nearly drop your phone off the balcony when your toes stepped in the growing pool of shared juices flowing down your legs and collecting at your feet.

“Hold that shit tight for daddy baby, got it? You drop it and we gotta start over, yeah? I’ll make you walk downstairs ass naked just like this to get it too,” Toji breathed out huskily.

You realize you’ve never heard him sound this needy before now.

“What’s next, in y’er lil’ story huh?… Speak up so I can hear it over this messy cunt.”

There was an edge of desperation for you clear in his tone. Although to your dismay it causes your body to gush around him harder meaning you would have to speak up even louder as your pussy squelches grew more vulgar in volume.

You nearly shouted out the next part groaning and mixing in incoherent babbles throughout the smut filled paragraph as Toji doesn't slow to help you. If anything Toji picks up speed and grows even harder inside of you as he's encouraged by his baby's filthy words.

“...H-he- lifts your leg, r-resting your knee on the edge of the bal-c-cony. T-T-The angle allows h-him, fuck, deeper access to your c-cunt. Ah-h-h-a clear view of his c-cock badgering your core f’er a-anyone who happens to p-pass belowwww-ohmygod. Y-you seeeeee s-stars as he callously s-slams into your c-cervix, shitshitshit, n-nearly fa-fa-fucking you off the balcony if not for his s-strong hold on youuuu–ah. Y-you violently t-tremble as you c-cum s-screamiiiiing, not fuckdaddyfuckkkk, caring if your n-neighbors could s-see or h-hear you any l-longer.”

“HA! Is that so–” Toji lifts your leg just like you wrote in your fic, “–guess I am gonna to have to keep fucking this tight cunt until you no longer give a fuck about anything else but this dick, eh?”

You hear what sounds like a door slide open near you and you begin to whine about your neighbors again before Toji jerks your head back by your ponytail to whisper in your ear.

“I wouldn’t worry that nasty, pretty little head of yours about these neighbors babydoll…”

The new angle allows Toji to bury himself deeper into you just like you told in your story and his tip hits your cervix so hard you think he might actually penetrate.

“...if I were you Y/N... I would think about how daddy’s needy lil whore is gonna make it through an entire day of classes tomorrow with clamps on your nipples and a remote control vibrator up your cunt.”

He licked the side of your face and spit in your mouth before carelessly pushing your head back. You loudly moaned as his bruising grip returned to your meaty hips as his nonstop aggressive assault on your cunt proceeds.

You feel yourself getting close, your eyes rolled back into your head and drool seeped down the corners of your mouth. You cursed your weakness for this shit as you felt yourself give into the pleasure. You surprise even yourself as you never actually thought this kinda sex could be so fucking good you wouldn’t care about shit else for real.

“Goddamn mamas, squeezing me so hard–” Toji’s hips snapped into you with every syllable, his voice becoming more animalistic, “–you want me to fill this pussy up? Mmm, I fucking know you do the way she’s milking me. Fuck, might even put a baby in you, give ‘gumi a sibling. We won’t be able to do some of that kinky shit you wrote unless I knock a baby up in this cunt, ya know.”

Of course, Toji being the sexy ass DILF straight out of your dreams would love breeding kinks too.

His ramblings cause you to tighten and clench around him even more. You’ve wanted to beg for him like this since you first started dating. Just thinking of the words spilling out of your mouth nearly pushed you over the edge.

You were so close to release.

“I-Inside me D-Daddy pleasepleaseplease!,” you slobbered out, struggling to make sentences from all the pleasure within you.

“F-fill me– fill me D-Daddy, knock this tight little cunt up, w-want it– want it– w-want it–!!!”

Your voice caught in your throat and you nearly choked once you felt your peak hit. Your pussy sent tremors around his dick as you creamed around him. You can't think of anything else but him inside of you.

You just came but Toji allowed you no rest. He still pummeled inside you as he chased his own high and slurred vulgar curses of praise for his pretty lil’ whore's dirty mind, while planning the next debaucherous smut for you both to reenact.

“Ya think it's too late now f’er prime next day delivery for those toys, baby? Fuck, look that up while y’er still holding that phone.”

You didn’t even realize you still had your phone in your hand but were just thankful you didn’t drop yet. You didn't think it would survive the fall.

Groaning you tried to rally the strength to even lift the phone to face unlock when you locked eyes with someone below. You instantly recognized the person as the elderly woman with the flower garden from down the street.

The old lady had always been very kind to you, making pleasant conversation, offering you fresh flowers for your kitchen and praising you for how reminded her of her own sweet young daughter at your age.

Unfortunately for you both, she was casually walking her two mini poodles when her eyes were affronted with you practically hanging off the balcony. A blissed out expression plastered across your face while Toji held you, battering your slick pussy full of his thick cock.

The old woman’s eyes widened in terror as if she actually witnessed a crime scene as she panicked, yanking her two dogs away swiftly back in the direction of her home. You knew you would have to take the long way home from now on.

Nevertheless Toji, who was none the wiser and wouldn’t give a single fuck regardless, merely continued planning out your next smut fic enactment.

“Nah fuck it, we’re going to the library tomorrow. See how many pages you can read of that dull ass biology book while y’er warming my cock... Tch, or should we do the one where y’er fucking the coach in the men’s locker room, whacha think baby?”

"Hmmmnmmrgh", you could only moan in reply.

You were already near hyperventilating from your own climax, the shame of now having to avoid your neighbor for life and Toji’s fiery body creating a storm of friction clashing with the freezing temperatures.

But your senses were now wholly overloaded once you felt him reach down to pinch and rub at your clit.

“Cum again with Daddy baby, shit, can ya do that f’er me?” Toji sounded like he was close and he slapped your clit even harder causing you to scream out.

Cockdrunk and overstimulated you could no longer communicate as your entire body felt like it was an extension of your pussy. The thick fluids flowing out of your body increased the sizable puddle already at your feet. You utterly surrendered to the feeling and your body wrecked with pleasure electrifying you.

You almost blackout as you feel his cock bust hot seed into your tummy melting your insides and causing you to cum all over again.

"Fuck, that’s it, take it all. Can't wait to see this belly and these tits full mama."

The aftershock of your orgasm feels near endless as Toji continues to fuck thick ropes of his cum into you.

Losing track of time you weren’t sure how long it was before Toji finally pulled out and took you off the railing. Holding on to you so you can balance and turning you to face him he places you down on your unsteady feet. You immediately bury your head into his chest as his heat envelops your cold skin. Your breathing finally starts to calm in his embrace.

“So good f’er daddy babygirl,” he murmurs into your hair, savoring your scent.

“Warm bath, yeah?”

“Sure, but you gotta carry me daddy.”

You yawned while Toji’s already lifting you princess style in his strong arms. You were exposed still in the night but at the same time you have never felt safer.

You curl further into his warmth as he kisses your forehead and finally brings you back inside.

Once inside the bathroom Toji sets you down on the edge of the tub while the water runs and he leaves to grab some fresh towels.

You can’t help but feel euphoric as you smiled to yourself. You are too giddy!

You finally have the DILF daddy you always wanted and could be open about your kinks without any judgment.

However your mood shifts when Toji returns. You give him an incredulous look as you see your pink waterproof vibrator in his hands.

Toji turns it on and saunters over to you, his scar twisted into a devilish smirk.

“95 more fuckfics to go ma’, we don’t have time to waste…”

Fucking hell, you had entirely forgotten about the overstimulation in the bath drabble.

You quiver in both anticipation and distress as you aren’t sure how your completely spent and nearly frozen body is gonna be able to cum four more times tonight.

Could there ever be too much of a good thing?

You weren't sure what those limits were exactly.

“Ya know, Y/N–," Toji started slyly, interrupting your thought.

”If I hit up Shiu and you asked him nicely with that pretty lil' mouth, I’m positive he would be down for some double daddy Eiffel Tower action.”

However from the feral grin on Toji’s face he appeared determined to test those limits with you.

You could thank your Tumblr smut fics for that.

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

A/N: I honestly have to say I am a bit impressed with myself as I’ve never finished a story in one day before ever (although it took most of today to proofread and I still think there might be errors soz). Hopefully this is a good sign for powering through those Kinktober fics once classes start up again this Weds. Also If there is any interest possibly a PT 2 after Kinktober featuring a threesome with Shiu at his office.

Edit: errors/grammar fixed as of 9/26.

This one goes out to all of us dilf smut queens who simp Toji ❤︎

Please reblog to have DILF Daddy Toji dick you down, but likes and comments are always appreciated just the same!

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jksprincess10 · 5 months ago

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His hand so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face || Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Tommy hires a new ranch hand behind Joel's back and he's not happy about it.

CW: jackson era, rancher!joel and helper!reader, mean!joel, perv!joel, unhinged and bold!reader, lots of banter, mentions of parent death, alcohol, masturbation, smut, dry humping, unprotected p in v, fingering, daddy kink, degradation kink, lots of pet names (baby, etc.), big cock joel miller, lots of dirty talk, some fluff and feelings, no y/n, multiple POVs. (2.8k words)

A/N: Special thanks to @fhatbhabiee for proofreading, @notjustjavierpena for the beautiful banner, @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

“The hell is this?!” Joel’s fists are closed against his hips, his head cocked to the side as he looks at what Tommy has brought into his home, another lost sheep.

“This is your new helper.” His younger brother gestures towards you and you look at the older man, an eyebrow raised in defiance. It wasn’t the warm welcome you had expected. “Maria’s about to pop out any day now, so I hired someone to take my place in the ranch.”

“You think a lil’ girl can help me?” Joel looks down at you, his steel gaze analyzing your reaction. But Tommy cuts you off before you can say anything.

“Don’t be a sexist ol’ prick. She has experience and took care of animals in her previous community.”

“And I’m not a little girl.” You add, detaching every syllable. “Shall we try that again? You must be Joel.” You tell him your name, and he takes your extended hand in his calloused palm, squeezing it stronger than necessary.

“Nice to meet you.” He grumbles.

“So, where’s my room?”

“Your… room?” Joel asks, his murderous gaze pinning Tommy down.

“Listen, she just got here. It’s temporary. Give ‘er a room, feed her and she’ll work for you for free.”

“I sure fuckin’ hope so.” Joel mutters.

How dare he bring this pretty young woman into his home without asking him before? The worst part is, you’re hard working. Every day, you get up at the crack of dawn to feed the cows and the sheep. You’re stronger than you look. And sometimes, you cook for him too, and he hates admitting that you’re good. You’re too fucking young, too fucking good looking and he shouldn’t be looking at you like that. He shouldn’t be fucking his fist every night since you arrived with your name dying on his chapped lips.

Joel joins you in the barn to see if you’re working well. You are, of course, milking one of the cows; your knees in the mud, pulling on the cow’s udders.

“When you’re done, put the milk into glass bottles and bring ‘em inside… We can trade ‘em.” Joel orders, then clears his throat. “D’ya… need anythin’?”

When Joel doesn’t bark out orders, he’s silent. It’s the first time in a week he’s shown any care for your well-being.

“Hm… clothes for the cold months coming would be nice.” You finish milking the cow and get up. You look at your ruined pants and sigh. “Yeah… clothes would be nice.”

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

You cringe at the nickname. “Thanks, Joel. But stop calling me that.” You can’t look at him, and you simply pet the giant, but soft beast who moos in response. You chuckle and turn to Joel. You pretend for his sake that you don’t hear him on the other side of the wall every night, wet noises mixed with heavy pants. You pretend you don’t do the same. “I’m closer to 30 than to 20.” You watch as he swallows heavily.

Still, 26 years is a big age gap, and Joel curses in his head as he hears you confirm your age.

“Right, but I’m 56. You’re jus’ a kid to me. I could be your dad.”

“I’m a woman. Treat me like one.” You respond firmly. He sees how worked up that gets you, how your body is facing him with your fists tight like you’re keeping yourself from hitting him.

Joel sighs and stays silent for too long, leaving with a last glance at you and another order. “Be ready in 10. We’re goin’ downtown to get you clothes. Be late, and I’ll go without ya.”

You’re fuming, and you want to curse the man’s ancestors, but you stay silent, obedient. You pack the milk harvest of the day: 3 good bottles, that would only need to be filtered before consumption. You go into your room to put on your only clean pair of jeans, and join Joel at the front, where he’s stoically waiting, big, stupid strong arms crossed against his chest, the sleeves of his flannel pulling against his muscles. You stomp to him with a box of milk in hands, and he chuckles, the asshole chuckles –

“Listen, asshole – ” You push the box into his arms, and he takes it effortlessly, an amused grin on his face. “I don’t know if you’re just sexually constipated or what, if so, please for the love of God, get fucking laid, but you don’t have to be mean to me all the time. Just because I’m young or because you don’t want me here or…. You know what? I had a dad, he’s fucking dead. You’re not my father, move on. Treat me like a fucking person.”

One of his eyebrows lift, and he looks at you for a few seconds, before asking: “You done?”

“No. Tell me you’ll stop being an ass or I’ll go find someone more annoying than me to replace me.”

“Fine. I’ll treat you like a woman and a person.”

“Thank you for the bare fucking minimum. Let’s go, cowboy.” You say between your teeth.

Your walk from the ranch to downtown Jackson calms you down. Everyone else is too nice for you to stay mad.

“S’here.” He points at the storefront with a sign that reads clothing and repair services. You go in with him, a soft bell announcing new guests. There are a few racks with seasonal clothing, a few different sections clearly identified: for children, women and men. Joel brings the milk up to the counter and the owner gives him five coupons in exchange.

“You can get five things.” Joel tells you as he hands you the coupons.

“But…. Don’t you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Okay…”

You look around while Joel waits at the counter. You find two sweaters your size, two pairs of pants and some underwear (that were on “sale” for 3 for 1 coupon). You give your coupons to the owner, she counts your items and tells you that you’re good to go.

Weeks pass, where Joel really tries to be nicer to you after your little meltdown. He doesn’t call you kiddo anymore – thank God – but you sometimes feel his gaze linger. You both try to stay away from each other – why would you fuck your new boss - because truth is, you find him very attractive despite his ill manners. But seeing Joel every day in the most domestic of settings lights something inside of you – a profound want and… affection.

In some rare occurrences, you have fun together. There are a few people in your backyard – Tommy, some townies you met through Joel, Ellie, Joel’s adoptive daughter who had moved away with her girlfriend. You’re settled around a bonfire to shield your bodies from the cold. Joel has a guitar on his lap, and his face has a pleasant glow from the beers you shared. You’re sitting between him and Tommy.

“Hope the old man’s treating you well.” Tommy jokes, a dig at his older brother.

“Surprisingly well. Well, after he stop treating me like a fucking kid.” You snort.

“Yeah, he tends to do that.” Ellie concedes.

“Stop talkin’ about me like I ain’t here.” Joel grumbles.

“You just had to be nicer.” You grimace.

“Had to see if you were a good worker ‘fore.”

“Am I?”

Your shoulders brush, and you smile innocently at him.

“Guess so.”

That’s the closest thing from a compliment you’d get. You call it a night shortly after, but everyone seems determined to spend the night outside.

You wake up in the middle of the night to a door closing, so you decide to get up for a glass of water. You pad silently on the cold wooden floor, only wearing your panties and an oversized long-sleeved shirt. You almost jump out of your skin when you see Joel sat on his favorite chair in the living room, knees spread like he owned the world. He had a half empty beer in hand.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up, sweetheart.” His voice is rough. He looks up at you, eyes tracing your curves through your shirt, focusing on your bare legs, on your nipples peaking through your shirt. You self-consciously wrapped your arms around your torso.

“S’okay…” You go into the kitchen to get a glass of water. You could still feel Joel’s gaze on you, since the house was open-floored. “Hm, Joel?” You suddenly felt bold, maybe it was the remaining alcohol in your system.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you masturbate every night when I’m right here?” You sip on your water as you walk back calmly to where Joel sat. “Why don’t you fuck me, huh?”

Joel’s face burns with shame, and you smile when you realize you were right.

“You’re way too young and pretty for me, darlin’.” He leaves his bottle on the table next to him, and he pinches the bridge with a long sigh. “And you’re workin’ for me.”

“Let me be clear, Joel.” Your glass joins his bottle, and you lean towards him, your legs between his, your arms around his neck. “I like you. I want you. Please. Let me have you.”

Joel’s breath comes out shaky, and his rough hands grab onto your shirt. “Tried so hard to make you hate me, so this wouldn’t happen.”

“You succeeded for a while.” You smile sweetly, your fingers treading in the curls on the back of his neck. “You’re very hot, Mr. Miller. I won’t beg again.” Your breath fans his dry lips.

“Okay. Okay.” Joel pulls you down even more, and you’re almost falling on his lap as his lips crash on yours. It’s hungry and angry, desperate. He’s angry at himself, you know it, but you don’t want his shame. The older man tastes like beer and smells like fire. Your teeth pull on his bottom lip.

“I do the same thing, Joel. I fuck my fingers every night while I imagine yours.” You whisper against his lips after a chaste kiss to his swollen bottom lip.

Joel groans and drags you down. You sit comfortably on his lap, feeling the rough tent in his jeans.

“Le’me see you.” He sounds more confident now as he pulls on your hem and lift your shirt over your head. You like his heavy gaze on your breasts, his calloused fingers pulling on your nipples to make them harder. You sigh happily and thrust your hips against his hard cock. He feels so big, but you’re confident you could take all of him.

“Y’wanna rut against my cock like a bitch in heat, huh? Go ahead, sweet girl. Make yourself wet for daddy.”

You didn’t think Joel had such a dirty mouth on him, but you obey. You rub your wet panties against the large bump in his jeans. The rough texture of the used fabric pleases you, but you need more. You clumsily remove your panties and abandon them on the floor. Joel, in a trance, admires your pussy. His fingers barely touch you, and you’re already panting.

“S’all fo’ me, huh? D’you need help?”

You nod enthusiastically.

“Words, baby.” He pressed, his free hand holding your chin up.

“Touch me, daddy. Please.”

“Suddenly so polite and sweet.” Two of Joel’s fingers circle your clit as you keep desperately moving your heat against his jeans, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. Pleasure builds rapidly in your core, and you’re thrusting your hips even harder, until you come in a moan.

“That’s it, that’s it.” He soothes. “C’me here.” He holds you in his arms strengthened by years of manual labor and lifts you up as he gets up. You wrap your legs around him. “M’not done with you, but I want you to be comfortable.”

He brings you to his bedroom, which you had never seen fully. Only glimpses here and there. Somehow, it felt more intimate. He drops your body on his large bed.

“How are you still wearing clothes?” You complain, and he chuckles.

“So eager, aren’t ya?” Joel starts undressing, still on his feet by the bed. He only leaves his boxers on, and you try to see him in the dark. You decide to rely on your touch instead, when he takes the spot between your legs. Your fingers trace his strong back, finding scars here and there. You kiss him, softly this time.

“Need to get you ready fo’ me,”

“Yes, please.”

His calloused hands spread your legs more, before he inserts one of his thick fingers in. You tighten around him, it already feels like he’s stretching you out.

“Relax baby.”

You breathe, in and out, slowly relaxing your walls at the same time.

“That’s it, le’me in.” He thrusts it in and out a few times, before adding another finger. He uses his thumb to caress your clit, soothing the pain through another wave of pleasure.

“F-Fuck, Joel. That’s so much.”

“I know baby, you’re doin’ so well. Jus’ let go.”

He fucks you hard and fast with his fingers, pressing on your swollen clit with his thumb. You’re moaning and thrashing through your second orgasm of the night, and Joel’s looking at you intently, his free hand caressing the lump in his boxers.

“Need to fuck ya now. Can you take it?” His fingers leave you empty, and he soothes you with a kiss on your forehead.

“Yes. Give it to me, please.”

He pulls down his boxers and throws them away. You watch in awe as his girth jumps out. He holds the base and swirls the fat head against your wetness, making you jump a little, still sensitive.

“So wet fo’ me.”

He aligns the head of his cock with your hole and pushes in slowly. You let out a breath after the big tip has breached your entrance.

“That’s only the tip. More?”

You nod your head a few times. “I want everything.” You’re so scared this will be the only time you can have him like this, bare and desperate.

He thrusts in, feeding you his cock as slow as he can bear. You hold on to him.

“You’re so big, Joel.” You whine.

“I know baby I know.” Joel kisses you lazily and sensually, stopping his movements when his hips are flush with yours. He waits until you move on your own, and he thrusts in and out with your help, still slow and careful. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, you had never felt better in your life.

“Faster.”

He listens, snapping his hips faster and harsher, but he can’t seem to be able to fuck you as hard as he wants in this angle. He suddenly leaves you empty and grabs your hips to turn you around, your ass in the air.

He thrusts in before you’re even ready, and the angle is perfect. He fucks you hard and fast, the sound of his hips snapping against your ass and your pants fill his bedroom. The line between pleasure and pain is so thin, but you love the way he lets himself go. His big balls hit your clit a few times, and you’re crying of pleasure. You hold on to his silky sheets and to the solid, wooden headboard as he pounds into you.

“Gimme ‘nother one, c’mon.” He urges you through gritted teeth. “Come on my cock.”

He slows down to catch his breath, fucking you deep and hard, and one of his hand sneaks to the front of your body, teasing your tits with expert hands. Your pleasure builds in your tummy, before the pressure releases, and you come hard around his cock.

“Atta girl.” He praises, breath heavy. You feel him move away, and you turn around just in time to see him pumping his cock a few times, until he comes in any piece of fabric he can find – which ends up being his boxers.

You lay down on his bed, all members spread as you catch your breath with a dumb smile on your lips. You couldn’t believe you were just fucked by Joel Miller.

“I never came so much in my life, God.” You whisper in amazement, a hand against your sweaty forehead.

Joel chuckles and you hear his steps moving away from the room, but he isn’t gone for too long. He comes back with a warm, wet cloth, which he uses to soothe your swollen pussy, and clean himself up. He climbs into bed with you, and you hope he doesn’t ask you to go back to your room. Ever.

You’re both laying on your side, facing each other. Joel lifts the blanket over you and lays his palm against your warm cheek.

“M’glad Tommy hired you behind my back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Stay. I like you.” He adds after clearing his throat. You smile and bring his palm to your lips to kiss it.

“I like you too. I won’t leave, if you want me to stay.” You assure him.

“Good.” He says as he closes his eyes. “Sleep, you’re workin’ early tomorrow.”

“You’re the worst.” You mumble as he chuckles weakly.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x yn #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #jackson!joel miller #jackson!joel

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manikas-whims · 2 months ago

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Product Testing [AO3]

Based on THIS text exchange between Xavier and MC.

“Close your eyes.”

Xavier, who has been lounging like a lazy cat on your couch, blinks his deep blue eyes, his brows narrowing and lips curling adorably in confusion. “Why?”

“Because you promised to help me test out all my new skincare products!” You say, excitedly waving a bar of lip tint in front of his face. “I wanna try this.”

He stares at you, as if searching for an appropriate response to turn down your request. But ultimately, his shoulders deflate and he shrugs. “Go on then.”

Happily, you plop down next to him on the couch and turn the cap of the tint. It’s a tender pink shade that would suit well for your working days.

As you inch closer to Xavier, you notice his skin is beautiful and unblemished as ever despite the lack of any proper skincare. It shouldn’t surprise you anymore but it does. It must have something to do with his genetics. Still, you’d partially like to take the credit for incorporating your own face wash, and cream into his nightly bedtime routine.

“Um..?” Xavier interrupts your train of thought, his eyes closed in waiting.

You shake your head for getting sidetracked by his beauty. And before he can change his mind, you bring up the brush to his face, and carefully apply an ample amount of the tint on Xavier’s pretty lips.

Wow.

This may have begun as a momentary whim of yours but you can’t keep yourself from gawking like a 14-year old with their first anime crush. Of course he’s somehow making the tint feel so effortlessly lovely on his lips.

“Are you done?” Xavier flutters open one eye and peaks at you.

You nod absent-mindedly, still admiring the soft pink color on his lips.

He takes the bar of tint from your hand and examines it, while you pick up your cellphone and open the camera app.

“Just wanted to make sure the color looks the same when applied on lips.” You explain, your gaze swaying back towards his lips as you snap a picture of him.

Xavier frowns. “Then you should’ve tried it on yourself.”

He raises a palm to wipe his lips but you grab his hand and hold it in place, snapping a few more close-up shots of his face.

“Yeah I should have..” You wink at him and speak in a singsong tone. “..but I just knew it’d look good on you~”

Xavier pouts but you can tell there’s no genuine annoyance behind his eyes. Then he shifts closer, his height allowing him to easily tower over you. Confused, you watch him watch you, his eyelids slowly fluttering down, his gaze now focused intently on your lips.

“Xav–”

Your words are muffled by the sudden press of his lips upon yours. Then he pulls back and smiles, satisfied with your now smudged, pink lips.

“The shade looks good on you too.” He affirms cheekily.

Immediately you feel the rush of heat on your face and turn your head away to hide the obvious blush from his keen eyes.

can you believe i have an exam on 26th and this is what i’m doing 😭..anyways i got hit by this silly idea and had to get it out of my mind so here we go..

» MASTERLIST «

©️ Xavier divider is mine. Bottom divider by @saradika-graphics

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lilacs-stars · 6 months ago

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moon + tides

this is part 1, read part 2 here! pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) SUMMARY: you, ariel's daughter, find yourself in a strange relationship with the one and only infamous pirate captain, who's absolutely obsessed with you GENRE: yandere, a bit of angst, some comforting fluff here and there, especially at the end CW: a few mentions of violence, someone walking a plank, mentions of drowning, some suggestive material, nothing too graphic though WC: 4.2k

A/N: this req was really fun to write! I might have gotten a bit carried away, heh...this part includes the backstory of how you two got together and the first part of the req, and the second part will include the rest of it. hope you guys enjoy reading this cause I definitely put some hard work into it lol. also please give me feedback and suggestions, I'd really like to know your thoughts!

If you could go back, would you change what happened?

This is something that you often ask yourself.

You think about that fateful day frequently. It was the summer before your first year at Merlin Academy. You had finally convinced your parents, the famed mermaid Ariel and her Prince Eric, to let you go for a swim unsupervised. Being half-mermaid, half-human allowed you to transform back and forth at will. And although life on land was pretty good, your heart always ached to go back to the sea, to feel the cold, salty water as it engulfs you. To race along the reefs, tail swishing back and forth, allowing you to reach speeds far past what your human form can do. To leisurely swim amongst the many species of fish and plants that created the world of the ocean. To go back home.

Your parents had already gone over the rules with you hundreds of time, to the point where you could recite each one of them word for word: “Don’t go past the boundaries,” “Don’t approach any animals you don’t know,” “Don’t go so deep where you can’t see any light,” “Come out at the first sign of bad weather,” and, most importantly, “Do not, under any circumstances, interact with any humans.”

Your mother may be renowned for rescuing a stranger from the unrelenting grasps of the sea—if she hadn’t, you wouldn’t even be here right now—but that was a very rare case. Far more often than not, mermaid interactions with humans out on the waters ended up in the mermaid being tortured, held hostage, or even killed.

You knew the rules by heart, and yet, maybe it was because of your young age, you still broke them. You weren’t really aware of your actions in the moment; one second, you were swimming alongside a pod of dolphins, racing against the currents. The next, you heard loud voices and realized that almost directly above you, yet still a good few dozen meters away, was some sort of ship.

You had ducked down next to a big sponge, peering up apprehensively. It was at that moment you realized that you were far outside of the boundaries set for you by your parents. You should have turned back, should have swam back home, but there was something about the ship, something that intrigued you so much it forced you to stay in place.

A few moments passed, and seeing as there was no commotion, you let your curiosity get the better of you. After all, that ship shouldn’t even have been out there. Slowly, you crept closer and closer to the surface, making sure to remain in the shadows. The noises were becoming clearer; you could make out people’s voices now. But they still weren’t sharp enough for you to understand what they were saying.

Finally, you took the risk and poked your head out of the water near the rear of the ship. The sight before you elicited a sharp gasp, and made you wish you had just gone back when you still had the chance.

Extended from the side of the ship was a long, wooden plank. Standing on one side of it (the safe end), was a man, gagged, blindfolded, and bound. He looked to be no older than forty, with a scraggly beard and ripped clothes.

A pirate.

Another figure emerged, walking to the edge of the deck. Your reflexes caused you to duck down quickly, so only your eyes were barely above the water. This figure was much younger, with dark brown hair parted neatly and angular features twisted into a wicked smile. He donned a maroon blazer that covered a white shirt with an upturned collar. Something in his left hand shined brilliantly under the sun’s bright rays.

The younger figure laughed, but not in the way one would laugh at a funny joke. He unsheathed a cutlass from his side, using it to poke the back of the man on the plank.

“You see, Mr. Jones? This is what happens when you cross the most feared pirate captain in all the lands!” the young figure roared as he yanked off the older man’s blindfold, revealing to him his fate. The fear and panic that spread across the man’s face has been forever etched into your mind, even to this day.

You heard the man beg and plea for mercy, watched as every move he made caused the plank to sway even more violently. The pirate captain simply laughed, his crew along with him. Finally, when you suppose he tired of hearing the man grovel, you watched in terror as the captain gave the man a good kick in the back, finally sending him over the edge.

Suddenly, it was like the world was spinning in slow motion. The man plummeting off the wooden platform, falling, falling, falling. His screams muffled by the cloth around his mouth. Then, all too soon, he made contact with the water with a loud splash.

He sank quickly, devoured by the ocean’s waters within the blink of an eye. Your young, distraught face watched as a few bubbles rose to the surface. Then nothing. All that remained of the man’s existence, all there was to give proof that he had ever even been there, were a few ripples in the water.

That was it.

You were frozen in shock. How–what–why? Your brain could barely string together a comprehensive sentence. All you were sure of was the feeling inside you. You couldn’t quite put it into words, could barely even understand it. But it made your tail ache to move, made you feel as if you simply couldn’t stay in one place any longer.

You dove beneath the surface, frantically swimming towards the direction where you saw the man go under. You kept looking around, searching, but to no avail. You decided to dive deeper, swimming lower and lower until the water around you was near pitch-black. You were growing more and more panicked by the second, because every second you wasted was another second the man grew closer to death.

Finally, you caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of your eye. Hope flaring, you darted towards it, the figure becoming clearer the closer you got.

It was him.

You reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to prevent him from sinking farther. His eyes were shut and he wasn’t breathing, but you could still hear a heartbeat. There was still time left.

Wrapping your arms around him, you started the difficult journey back to land. Thankfully, you knew of a small island not too far from here. Swimming with the added weight of a fully grown man was incredibly difficult, especially for a young mermaid, but you persisted. After all, this was his life on the line.

You swam as hard as fast as you could, and thankfully, by some blessing from the heavens, found a warm water current going the direction you were. You let it carry you, the rushing stream multiplying your efforts. Finally, after what seemed like hours but must have only been a couple of minutes, you reached the island.

Letting the wave wash you up on shore, you settled the man down on the soft sand the first chance you got. You rolled him to his front, which was quite the endeavor itself. His heartbeat had grown more shallow, but it was still there. There was still hope.

Using the skills your mother had taught you, you started to nurse the man back to health using your melodic voice. Ever since you were young, she had explained to you the gift bestowed upon mermaids, the power of healing through song. She taught you to sing before you could walk, and it was the one thing that you were sure you could do right.

As you sang your strange and melodious tune, it finally occurred to you that you were breaking the most sacred of rules. Not only were you interacting with a stranger, you were coaxing him back to life. Like mother, like daughter, you thought. I suppose healing strangers who were drowning at sea runs in my blood.

The only caveat to your healing powers is that it takes quite some time to have its full effects. You don’t know how long you sat on the beach, but it had been quite some time. You probably would have been there for much longer had it not been for the boom voice that sounded behind you, waking you from your trance of song.

“Well, I’ll be. If it isn’t a mermaid.”

You practically jumped out of your fins as you turned around, startled beyond words. There, towering above you, was the evil pirate captain you saw earlier. He was even younger than you had previously thought. In fact, he couldn’t be much older than you. You wondered for a fleeting moment how a kid like that could command an entire ship full of grown—and scary-looking—men, but decided you have bigger matters at hand to worry about.

A few members of his crew lurked behind the captain, and you could see a small lifeboat docked to the ground near the coastline. Further beyond that, his ship swayed in the ocean waves, dark against the bright horizon.

You followed the pirate’s gaze down to your tail, which was still out. You silently cursed yourself for forgetting to transform back into your human form, being too distracted by saving the man to pay attention to your own safety.

You wanted to yell at the cruel pirate for trying to kill this man. No matter who he was, what he had done, he didn’t deserve to die. At least not like that. But the words got caught in your throat, so while a war raged inside your mind, you were completely quiet on the outside, simply staring up at the man with wide doe eyes.

“You have a lovely voice,” the man said, with a tone that you wouldn’t quite imagine a killer using. He must have overheard me sing earlier, you thought to yourself. “Tell me, little mermaid, who taught you to sing?”

“M-my mother,” you replied weakly, your voice far more meager and small than you wanted it to be. You were still staring up at him, afraid of what he’d do to you.

“Your mother? Well, that’s quite interesting.” The captain raised his left hand to scratch at his chin, which is when you realized that it wasn’t a hand at all. Instead of a hand was a curved metal hook, with a sharp point gleaming at the end. So that must be the shiny thing I saw earlier, you thought.

“Oh, where are my manners?” laughed the pirate abruptly. “My name is Captain James Hook, leader of the Jolly Roger. And you are?”

You blinked, almost forgetting your own name. If it were a less tense moment than this, you would have laughed at the fact that his name is rather befitting for him. “Y/N,” you respond.

“Y/N…Now, where have I heard that name before?” He tapped his chin with his hook again.

“Sir, that’s the name of Princess Ariel’s daughter,” one of the big, meaty pirates behind him answered in a gruff voice.

“That’s right!” Hook exclaimed. “You’re the mermaid’s daughter. You know, rumor has it you’ll be joining me at Merlin’s Academy in the fall, is that right?”

For some reason, your voice seemed to not work anymore, so you settled for nodding. Join him? you pondered. You didn’t know that he was also a student at the school you were planning to attend.

Hook started pacing along the beach, arms crossed with his hooked hand extended, deep in thought. You watched him, fear growing by the second. A sly smirk spread across his face, which only served to fuel the flames of your worry.

“You know, you directly defied my command by saving that man,” he started. Slowly. Deliberately. Choosing every word precisely and carefully, like a shark circling its prey. “Do you even know why I made him walk the plank?” You shook your head no, the panic in you reaching record heights.

“That man”—he vaguely gestures towards the unconscious body laying on the beach with his hook—“stole an entire week’s worth of rations from my ship. An entire week’s worth of food and rum for an entire crew. Had he gotten away with it, we likely would have starved to death out at sea. Does he seem so innocent now, little mermaid? So worth saving?”

Again, you shook your head no. Although you agreed he definitely wasn’t an innocent man, you still didn’t see making him walk the plank a justifiable punishment. Despite your thoughts, you kept your mouth shut. Angering the captain further was not going to do you any good.

“Now, if anyone else had done something like this, I wouldn’t hesitate to cut their head right off,” Hook said menacingly, and with a swish, unsheathed his sword once again. You flinched—hard—and scrambled to back away from him.

Hook took note of this, and, sheathing his sword, crouched down to get on the same level as you. “But don’t worry, little mermaid. I won’t hurt you. You see, you’ve piqued my interest. Plus, it would do me no favors to have a little girl’s blood on my hands.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. So he’s not going to kill me, right?

“But, alas, you can’t leave unpunished, now, can you?” he added. Your eyes grew impossibly wider, your entire body shaking in fear. This was it. He was going to kill you, or do something equally worse.

“I demand”—you already felt a tear slip down your cheek—“that you write to me for the remainder of the summer.”

Wait, what?

“W-write?” you asked in disbelief. “As in…”

“Letters,” Hook finished for you. “Write me letters. I’ll give you the mailing address of the Jolly Roger. Write me everyday, and I’ll promise I’ll write you back whenever we dock. How does that sound?”

“O-okay,” you reply, still taken aback by the peculiar, and far more lenient than you’d expected, request. That was all you had to do? Write letters? As punishment for saving the life of someone he’d ordered to die? You must be dreaming.

“Oh, and,” Hook said, voice lowered as he leaned in close to you, until he was just a hair’s breadth away from your ear. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, his alluring scent of salty winds and something richer, deeper, filling your lungs. “I look forward to seeing you in the fall. Don’t forget me, my little mermaid.”

With that, he stood up, smoothing out the lines on his pants. “You wouldn’t happen to need a ride back home, would you, love?”

You shook your head no, too terrified of him changing his mind to spend another moment in his presence. You glanced back at the man lying behind you, still unconscious. “W-what about him? What will you do with him?” you managed to choke out, somehow finding your voice again.

Hook pondered this for a long minute, before finally answering, “He can live.” You let out a shaky breath. “But only because of you, little mermaid. And only this time. You go against my wishes again, and trust me, your punishment will be far more severe.”

And with that, he went back to his ship and sailed away.

You still muse about that day, thinking how different things would have been if you had changed just one little thing.

You kept your promise of writing him letters, too afraid to know what would happen when you had to inevitably face him in the fall to break it. At first, they started out simple. Ordinary recounts of your day, your favorite things, what you liked to do. As the weeks passed, you started writing more personal letters. How you felt about certain things or certain people, including your parents. You never spoke a word of that fateful day to them, knowing that you’d be grounded for life and forbidden from swimming ever again if they caught even a whiff of the danger you had put yourself in.

Hook kept his promise, too. He wrote you back, although it was far less frequent than your letters. Even though he kept his responses short and concise, you always ended up hearing his voice in your head as you read his notes. You soon found yourself checking your mailbox daily, even getting to know the mailman rather well. The rush of dopamine you got every time you opened it to find a letter awaiting you was unmatched; you would always run upstairs to your room, lock the door, and pour over the note. Reading every line, every word over and over again, committing them to memory.

You don’t know why you enjoyed these little letters so much. Maybe it was the thrill of having a secret that no one else knew of, or the absence of your usual loneliness every time you were reminded that somewhere out there, across the seas, was someone awaiting your letters, reading them, and writing back to you. Whatever it was, your heart started to form an emotional attachment to him without you even realizing it.

Unbeknownst to you, that had been his exact plan all along.

It’s safe to say that once you started school at Merlin Academy, Hook’s—or James’s, as he insisted on you calling him—grip on you only grew. Things started out pretty normal: light conversations in class and stolen looks exchanged across the hall, mostly initiated by him. After the first few weeks passed, things between you two only grew. Secret meetings during lunch hours, rendezvous after school, and small gifts exchanged between the two of you. From there, it became brushing your hands together whenever you passed by each other, soft pecks on the cheek or forehead where there were prying eyes, and more passionate kisses when the two of you finally found time to be alone.

Truth be told, you don’t really know what you two are now. Normally, you would consider two people that partake in such actions to be courting, and you kind of assume you are. But James has never said anything about a relationship to you, and in all honesty, you’re too afraid to ask him. You feel terribly confused at his intentions towards you; on the one hand, he approaches you every day without fail, even if you try to ignore him or when your schedules don’t match up. Somehow, he always finds a way. On the other hand, he never asked you to be his lover, never even vaguely mentioned anything of the sorts. So, you decided, with a heavy heart, to not be too confident and consider yourself his partner. And unfortunately, that meant that he wasn’t yours, either.

Really, you never meant to grow so involved with the bastard pirate that threatened to kill you on the beach that day. But for some strange reason, instead of treating you coldly like he did everyone else, especially the other hero kids, he was softer with you. Considerate, even. You had half-expected him to want nothing to do with you after your first few interactions, but he kept seeking you out. You often opened your locker to a note inside, or entered your dorm to find a letter slipped beneath the door.

Today was one of those days. You had gotten a note telling you to wait for him in your usual place in the evening, after classes. So here you are, waiting, staring at the water fountain in the courtyard. You’ve always been transfixed by the way the water spurts out the center and splashes all around. It seems that whenever you’re alone with your thoughts, they always end up back to that fateful day you met James, and everything that’s happened since.

“Wait for me long, my little mermaid?” a deep voice whispers in your ear from behind. You jump only a little, far more used to James sneaking up on you now than you used to be. For some reason, it seems he loves to startle you by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in close from behind, or speaking softly in your ear.

You twirl around, a delighted expression on your face, although you try to mask it with a feigned annoyance. “And if I say I did?”

“Well then, I’d have to find a way to make it up to you then, wouldn’t I, darling?” he purrs, using his hook to spin you around in his arms so you’re face-to-face. His lips make his way to yours, pulling you in for a slow, sensual kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his head closer to yours, not able to get enough of his touch.

The feeling of his skin against yours ignites something in you, and you find your mouth opening to give him more access as a soft whimper escapes your lips. One hand reaches into his hair, tugging at it gently from the base of his head, while the other one trails down the front of his shirt.

James leans into you even further, your bodies flush against each other now, as he deepens the kiss. You find yourself leaning against the edge of the water fountain, the cool sprinkles providing a welcomed contrast to your heating-up bodies.

Once you’ve completely lost your breath, you pull away just slightly, a love-drunk smile on your face. “You had a request for me?” you whisper, panting, eyes full of adoration for the man you were interlocked with.

James breaks into a grin. A genuine one, not one of the smirks he flashes to uphold his patented suave demeanor. “Ah, yes, how could I forget, my love?”

He pulls further away to give you two enough room to breathe, yet keeping his good hand on the small of your back. “I was reminded today that it's been quite some time since I’ve heard your voice, my little mermaid.”

You give a little smile, deciding to mess with him a bit. “Whatever do you mean? You hear my voice every day. I mean, you’re even hearing it right now.”

James cocks his head to the side and raises a single eyebrow, clearly aware of your antics. “Your other voice, love.”

You giggle. “Fine, all right. Only for you,” you say, giving him a peck on the nose.

You sit down on the ledge of the fountain, turning back to stare at the water again. Although it has been a long time since you stretched your tail and went for a swim, simply seeing the rushing water soothes you. It isn’t quite like being immersed in it, but it still gives you some semblance of comfort.

You reach into the pool at the bottom, letting the cool water rush along your fingertips as you inhale a deep breath. Through your mermaid abilities, your voice twists into an otherworldly song, filling the space with a mellifluous sound.

James takes a place on the ledge next to you, reaching into the water to hold your submerged hand. You don’t really feel it, too transfixed on the rushing waves. You don’t see the way James gazes at you, like you’re his entire world. The softness, the tenderness in his eyes, which he reserves for you only. He looks at you not as if you’re his sun, something too bright to ever stare directly at, something violent and explosive and harmful, but as if you’re his moon.

As if you’re the figure he watches every night before he closes his eyes, and the one he wishes to see again when he wakes up. As if you’re the only thing he notices every time the darkness envelops him, your presence never falling off the pedestal he places it on in his mind. Never losing its worth. He looks at you, your soft glow and mesmerizing shimmer, as if you’re the only thing filling up the night sky. The stars and constellations pale in comparison to you, especially on your best nights, when you shine so magnificently.

You are the moon, and he is the tide of the ocean, constantly being pulled in by you. Never being able to escape the grasp you have on him, the grasp you are so blissfully unaware of. He stares at you in awe and wonder, bathing in your gorgeous light, so close yet always so far away. Sitting all alone against the dark backdrop of the evening sky, waiting for him to come back to you. And without reason, you always disappear. Always leaving him wanting more, waiting till the moment he can bathe in your presence again.

As you sing, the tide gets pulled in by the gravity of the moon. Your lyrical voice bounces off the stone walls, surrounding you both, just as the moonlight surrounds the waves on that mystical night.

But the moonlight is only a reflection of the sun’s glow, is it not? When daylight comes, the moon will pull away from the waves, its absence in the sky all but forgotten in the sun’s presence. And as dawn breaks, so too will the pull between the moon and ocean.

on to part 2! ->

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do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

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princessbrunette · 6 months ago

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stepbro!johnb knew it was wrong. god, he knew it was demented, and sick — but he couldn’t stop. he was pent up.

things had been kind of a mess lately, and despite popular believe, no — finding and hunting treasure was not all sunshine and rainbows. it was a lot of dead ends, a lot of waste bins filled with screwed up paper covered in ideas and plots that were going nowhere. sometimes you had a piece of paper, a pen, a map and a dream — and that was it.

john b could have sworn he saw you scribbling away during a plotting session in this specific pink paperback journal. it looked like any other notebook you’d use to jot down everyone’s ideas. you weren’t too good at the whole treasure hunting thing yourself but you were eager and had the right spirit so the pogues could often rely on you to scribble down anything important they might say during these sessions in which they’d bounce off eachother. this was why john b picked the book up and opened it in the first place.

once he started reading, even past realising that this was infact your diary — he just couldn’t stop.

“oh, uh…” he coughs awkwardly to an empty house when he flips it open and finds his own name in pink glitter pen, hearts and swirls galore. you hadn’t exactly been subtle about your attractions towards your older step brother— never missing an opportunity to bat your lashes up at him, touch his chest whilst you’re talking to him, even find a way to sit on his leg when there was just no other room — but for the most part he assumed you were just teasing in your own cruel way. passing the time, so to speak. he wasn’t expecting this.

his eyes continue to flit from word to word, each more graphic than the last until he’s stumbling across full descriptions, day to day on what you’d do to him, moreso what you’d let him do to you.

‘john b was so frustrated today. he needs me, i know he does. he has that look in his eye! that super frustrated one that looks all tired and irritated and unlike himself. he’s usually so warm and comforting but today he looked like he was gonna snap. i thought he might finally march over and bend me over… a girl can dream i guess :( when i finallyyyyy got some alone time i spent it grinding against my pillow, wanting him to come in and catch me. i wonder if he heard the bed moving… if he hears me moaning… i don’t wanna be a virgin anymore, need john b to come and break me in :( ♡’

the more he reads, the harder he gets against his shorts— sighing out his nose, blinking in discomfort as he adjusts himself. he looks around, knowing you were at the beach with kiara but still feeling paranoid. it’s one thing to have such dirty thoughts about your step-brother, but atleast they were private. john b gets caught reading them? he’s the bad guy.

he tells himself it’s not you doing this to him. it was simply his anatomy betraying him. he couldn’t help how his body reacts.

he feels dirty when the tip of his cock grazes the pages, now sat on the edge of your bed like he could jump up at any minute given the sound of the front door closing. he’s turned the page, landing on a particular fantasy that had his hand moving and cock leaking before he could dare to question the morality of it all.

‘john b looked so good today :( i love when he bosses me around all big brother like ♡ he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, it’s like second nature for him to look after me. wanted to sit between his legs and make out with his dick :( i bet it’s so pretty and i know it’s big cos sometimes he doesn’t wear boxers under his pants and i see it swinging it around. wanna suckle on it whilst he tells me im a good girl like he did that one time when i was sad. his voice just gets me so wet, can’t stop humping everything n rubbing my clit whenever he leaves the room. i’m like an animal and im not even ashamed anymore. i need him :(’

the brunette groans as he squeezes his eyes shut, fisting and twisting the way he imagines your smaller hand to— inexperienced yet with a feverish hunger to please and a vast knowledge of sex which he could only imagine was learnt through word of mouth and porn. god, the thought of his sweet little step sister sprawled on her back, legs splayed open — pawing at her glossy cunt as she scrolls to find the perfect porn video. it was enough to send john b mad.

he wondered if you tried to find pornstars that looked like him, or if you just used your imagination for that part. john b liked to think himself a humble man, but in the throes of his passion he couldn’t help but accept the warm embrace of the ego trip the thought gave him.

“oh fuck, so wrong — so fucking wrong—” he strains, feeling that burning hot twisting in his stomach as that familiar feeling overcomes him. he clearly hadn’t thought this through, before when he opens his eyes once more — he’s covered your delicately decorated page containing your fantasies with his white hot sticky syrup. “ohhhh god. oh no.” he hums, eyes widening slightly.

yet there was no time to act— for as soon as he’d realised, he could hear the jangling of your keys and your familiar giggles as you lead your new-ish friend into the chateau, probably moments away from singing out his name, wondering if he’s home. he slams the book shut and he’s sure it oozes from the edges of the page— stuffs it back beneath the pile of clothes on your chair where he found it and makes quick work of tucking his deflating cock back into his pants.

john b fears he might be in big trouble.

#div by qqmariztwsse #nympho!virgin!reader #stepbro!johnb #tw stepcest #tw fauxcest #if u squint ig

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silence-ofthe-llamas · 10 days ago

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More TexAid Mecha AU-AU stuff!

No warnings for once - Vortex doesn't get to mangle anyone. Poor boy...

Also the Combaticon playlist is here; https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3pyBRAuoKYDEpAFaTm9j5j?si=bf63cc6e018d4ab9 It's very nostalgic to me so it was fun to make!

He got what he wanted. He thought. That’s what he was telling himself, at least – he got Vortex to stop fucking killing people.

The pilots uniform sat awkwardly on him. He didn’t have the muscle the other pilots did, the bulk to their frame that made it sit handsomely on them. He’d always been described as a twig of a boy growing up, and he didn’t fill out much as he grew into his skeleton. Stood in front of the mirror, he missed his medics uniform. It really didn’t suit him.

The back of his head hurt. The surgery had been quick – he had a suspicion Pharma didn’t use as much anaesthetic as he should have, he felt every movement of the scalpel, every connection of the nerves. He tried hard to ignore it and not inspect the swollen, angry flesh with his bare hands.

Spiteful bastard. He hadn’t spoken to him since he’d thrust his transfer documentation into his hands. His lips had been pressed tightly together, locking in the words he was desperate to say. First Aid thought it might have had something to do with the fact that Fortress Maximus was right behind him.

The other pilots treated him like a pariah. First Aid supposed that he was – the mech he piloted was reported to be haunted. The aftermath was graphic. He had been tasked with cleaning it, and now he was the next sacrificial lamb. There was no point in breaking bread with him – he’d be a dead man soon enough. Every time he stepped out whole was pure luck – he didn’t have the training, there was no skill involved. It was only a matter of time until the hourglass ran out and he’d be scrubbed from the cracks with a toothbrush like everyone else was.

Lunch was a lonely affair. Dinner was even lonelier. He ate breakfast in his room on his own – a benefit of being a pilot was having your own room, but he wished more than anything that he had a roommate. Someone who would be forced to talk to him, to take the edge off the loneliness.

The only social interaction he had was Vortex, and even that was limited. Nobody liked for anyone to get too close to him unnecessarily, First Aid included – but for fucks sake it was his mech, who were they to tell him that he wasn’t allowed to go near it?

The exception to the apathy was Perceptor. Every time he saw him, the man was studying him from afar like he were an animal at a safari. The confrontation would come soon enough – he had been the only one to notice that he was there that day he’d stolen the uniform. He must have known what he’d done, put the pieces together with ease. It wasn’t hard – he’d caught the medic red handed in the pilots quarters, and then not long after he’d mysteriously been in possession of a pilots suit and had been dragged by the cuff out of Vortex upon return to the Shatterdome. Honestly, it was childs play.

Dinner that evening played out as usual. First Aid sat down as far away as he could from everyone else, and not long after the other occupants of the table started to leave like he was diseased. He poked at his dinner – apparently, pilots received meals that were far more varied and clearly had a bigger budget than the ones served in the medics quarters did, but still pretty dire and bland – and wondered what he’d read that evening. His legs still hurt from training, and as his implants were still healing he wasn’t allowed to get back into his mech yet, so he’d had to ignore the sirens – his name was still popping up on the board of pilots being summoned, and he could see an aura of rage simmering around Vortex every time. He’d made a point to look apologetic at the cameras and vaguely gesture to the back of his head – connecting now would fry him to the point where they’d never connect again. There wouldn’t be enough time in the drop for him to show him everything he wanted to – Vortex would run out of fuel and he’d die of dehydration before they got to the point of being satisfied. He would have to be patient.

A tray clattered down opposite him. First Aid flinched, and looked up in surprise.

Perceptor.

He subtly glanced around them – nobody was paying them any attention. They were in their own bubble of privacy in the crowd, their words obscured by passing conversations.

“Felix Anwyl, correct?”

“Uhm. Yes? Can I help you? Do you require medical assistance?” He grimaced as his training kicked in – the wrong training. He wasn’t allowed to be a medic any more. Pharma had been extremely clear about that.

“I didn’t think you functioned as a medic.” Perceptor sat down opposite him, neatly folding his hands down on top of the table.

“Force of habit.”

“I see.” His eyes were intense, and First Aid felt like a mouse under the gaze of a hawk. Suddenly, he realised why he was the only ultra-long distance pilot.

“I was a big fan of you as a kid. Collected all the trading cards and stuff.”

Perceptor ignored him. “I was curious about what kind of person you were. Sneaking into the pilots quarters, stealing a suit just to get into a mech. At first I thought you were just some gullible young fool who fancied themselves a hero, that you’d bought into the idea of piloting being some glamorous lifestyle, but that’s not quite it, is it?”

“He was killing them.” First Aid quietly replied. He wanted to look away from the eyes that were looking straight through him, but he couldn’t. “He’d made it clear what he wanted, but nobody would listen – I couldn’t stand any more people dying. Just because they’re cadets, doesn’t make it okay to sacrifice them like that.”

“He?”

“Vortex.”

“You’re talking as if it’s actually alive.”

“Haven’t you heard the rumours?” First Aid quirked a brow. “That he’s haunted?”

“Ghosts don’t exist.”

“You’re not very fun.” First Aid poked at his mashed potato. “Fine. Call it the Tamagotchi effect then, or anthropomorphism. I’m not a trained pilot, it’s different for me.”

“Your colleagues aren’t either, but none of them refer to Vortex as a ‘he’.”

“They’re terrified of… them.”

“And you’re not?”

He was, but not for the same reasons. “Not really.” It was like asking him if he was afraid of his reflection.

Perceptor hummed. He turned to his own dinner – he neatly chopped up his sausage with the blunt knives they’d been provided with and chewed carefully. First Aid felt himself fall into a sense of security, thinking it was over, and took a spoonful of his mashed potato.

“How did you learn to pilot, then?” He suddenly asked.

“Huh?”

“You said you’re not a trained pilot, and I know just by looking that you’re telling the truth. You’re a medic. Your clothes still smell of disinfectant and bleach. But the way your mech moves… That’s a fully trained veteran.”

“The AI kind of just… handles it all.” First Aid hoped his expression wasn’t too awful, he felt his face twitching. “I guess with how many pilots he’s had, he’s had plenty of time to memorise it all.”

“I suppose so.”

Perceptor didn’t ask about it again. He pulled out a paper to read, and First Aid had made the mistake of asking him a question about it in attempt to be polite. Thirty minutes later and he was still talking – the words had stopped making sense twenty-five ago.

One lunch time, he’d had enough of the solitary lifestyle he was being forced to lead and the lack of things to do with his hands since Pharma still hadn’t let him back into the medical bay and the brass had caught him running a clinic from his quarters. He grabbed his portion – it looked like it was some kind of soup today – the accompanying bread roll and fruit pot, filled his flask with coffee and marched down the catwalk, sitting himself directly in front of Vortex before popping the lid off and inspecting what the canteen had served that day. It was bright red. Obnoxiously so. He paused and checked the label again.

Yup. That sure was food, alright. Beetroot, beef, pork, assorted vegetables. The good stuff.

… He didn’t know beetroot could get that red.

Vortex’s cockpit popped open with a hiss. First Aid secured the lid back on and hopped on inside.

[WHAT DID YOU GET TODAY?] He asked. For a man without a mouth, he was always curious about what was for lunch.

“I have no idea what it is, but it is bright red.” First Aid replied, sitting down in the pilots seat and popping the lid back off again. He felt Vortex tremble as the cameras zoomed in on it.

[YOU’RE FLIRTING WITH ME NOW <3]

“You know what this is?” First Aid offered it to the camera. “It’s warm.”

[BORSCHT. YOU DON’T KNOW IT? PILOTS GET IT ALL THE TIME.]

“Medics don’t get fed so well.” First Aid made himself comfortable and took a curious sip. “Oh. That’s something.” He pulled a face.

[NOT TO YOUR TASTES?]

“I hate beetroot.” First Aid stuck his tongue out. He poked a lone piece of pork with his spoon. “It infects everything it touches with mud.”

[CHILD.]

“I would say you eat it then, but…”

The helmet loudly dropped, smacking him in the head. First Aid yelped, narrowing his eyes at the camera pointed at him. “Pot calling the kettle black much?”

[I CAN TASTE THROUGH YOU, YOU KNOW. PUT IT ON.]

The connection at the back of his head was mostly healed. It was safe, they could connect without any issues as of his check-up that morning - but he still hesitated. The marks on his arms felt hot.

[WHY THE HESITATION?]

[DON’T YOU WANT ME?]

“I don’t want to get into trouble again. Pilots aren’t meant to connect outside of combat.”

They’d been very clear to him on that. He’d been labelled a risk, a liability - he was abnormally attached to his mech. Swindle was starting to look at him funny - and if Swindle was noticing…

[PUSSY. I JUST WANT YOUR TONGUE. FINE, HOW ABOUT THIS.] The helmet disappeared up and another panel popped open. The service connection - engineers could connect using similar technology on tablets to diagnose issues with the mech faster. This was much more acceptable. [YOU WERE BITCHING ABOUT THAT PANEL IN MY FOOT. WANNA CHECK THEY DID THEIR JOB?]

“You’re so clever.” First Aid praised him. He hopped over with his soup, sitting against the wall as he let Vortex plug himself in. He had braced himself for pain and a jolt, the cleaving of his awareness in two, but it felt smooth as butter. A brush of fingers along the nape of his neck, the pressure of someone leaning on his shoulders and resting their chin on his head.

Vortex.

… That damn panel still wasn’t right.

“Borscht?” Vortex reminded him. He sounded more like a man than a machine now.

Obediently, he took another sip. He felt Vortex tremble as a memory pushed against his awareness, just out of reach - a vague sense of it ran through his fingers. A wooden table, dried sunflowers in a repurposed jug decorated in bright designs, hands that were clean and unmarked by years of self-inflicted hardship.

“Damn, that’s the good shit.”

First Aid had finished the whole bowl before he realised it, riding the wave of Vortex’s reaction. He hiccuped, firmly putting the lid back over the bowl.

“I still don’t get how you like that.”

“More for me. I suppose I have a more refined palette.”

“Didn’t you smoke? You probably couldn’t taste anything.”

“Heh. Excuses excuses~ You sound jealous.”

First Aid pouted. “Do not.”

“Do too. Come on, don’t be shy, I like it when you get a jealous streak.”

“When have I ever been jealous over you!” First Aid squeaked in embarrassment. Vortex rumbled, memories pushed against him - his face twisted in a shape he didn’t recognise when other people were cleaning him, other people were inside and scrubbing. He felt his cheeks warm.

“I was only jealous that they got to go near you.” He couldn’t look at him, he couldn’t look at the cameras that were all trained on him. “That was when I wasn’t allowed - remember? Because you kidnapped me.”

“Kidnap is a strong word. I prefer borrowed for a moment.”

“Thank you for not killing me that day.”

“You’re welcome? I guess?”

“Forgive me - you’re dubbed the blender for a reason.” He popped the lid of his coffee and took a big gulp – it had already started to go cold. It was vaguely lukewarm in a way that made him feel queasy, but he needed the caffeine.

“Black?”

“Americano, yeah.”

“I thought you’d have the sugary shit.”

“I saw what some of the other pilots were putting into their coffee and it scared me off of it, honestly.” He shuddered. “Did you know you can fit thirty three creamer pots into a pilots standard issue water bottle? I didn’t until I saw someone do it.”

“… That’s disgusting. Coffee flavoured cream at that point – just drink it from the carton. Doesn’t the shop here sell flavoured milk?”

“They had flavour syrup in there too.”

“Which one?”

“All of them.”

“Fucking hell.”

Swindle had this godawful idea of pilot interviews. The media were interested, and once the investors had caught wind of that their ears had perked up. Swindle saw coins falling from the sky, and had promptly agreed and cleared his diary. Making them seem more human brought in much more attention, and with attention came money and government contracts and more boots on the ground. It also brought in his favourite thing in the world; unpaid interns. The prestige would be enough of an incentive.

And so First Aid found himself with a docket shoved into his grease-stained hands as he worked on clearing out random debris from Vortex’s right knee – the mechanics were still afraid of him, and First Aid had an idea of what it was supposed to look like in there from when he’d been tasked with extracting a pilots thoracic vertebrae (T4 through to T6 only – he wasn’t sure how they’d even gotten there and he had never asked. The rest of her spine had gone missing), he was doing their job for them. Vortex was doing a stellar job of subtly shifting his plating out of the way to give First Aid better access – it was enough debris that it was pissing him off too.

“What’s this?” First Aid asked, putting it down on the table next to him before reaching back into the joint. He could see something in there, hard and transparent and vaguely blue. It was quintesson hard tissue – he’d have to call the hazard team in. What a pain. He gestured for his visitor to take a step back before reaching in and trying to get a good grip on it so he could tug it free.

No dice. He sighed, knowing he’d need to give Vortex some clear instructions on what he needed but not able to do it with an audience - he had left a walkie talkie up in the cockpit for him, but he knew damn well that it would cause a scene if he started nattering away into it.

So they got his attention instead. They were waiting with impatience thinly veiled with a smile and too-wide eyes. Someone from human resources, maybe? Media? Public relations? He didn’t know. They wouldn’t be hanging around long enough for it to really matter.

“It’s some papers for you to sign. For the interviews. So, you’re not on the interview list, but we did want to get some footage of you with your mech. Is that alright?”

First Aid looked up at Vortex as if expecting him to say something. He blinked at him before he realised he wouldn’t be saying a single whisper, and quickly looked back at them.

“I’m not getting interviewed?”

“Instructions from the big brass!”

“Right.” He wiped his hands down on a dirty rag and shoved it into his belt. “Sure. Fine, I guess. I’m just going to be digging around in his joints – he’s got some quintesson guts in there, so I’ll need hazard around. Is this going on TV? It will give a good show at least, right?”

Their eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s perfect.”

The cameras were obnoxious. The people behind them were worse.

Could you do that again? Can we get this person to do it? Turn your face this way, have your hair like that, take your jacket off, can you try it with your jacket on again but your feet like this?

Real fucking irritating. First Aid wanted them to just get lost. The hard tissue was still in there. Vortex was starting to get annoyed, and nobody wanted to find out how far he was willing to go for some peace and quiet. He’d called the hazard team well before the camera crew had arrived – and they still weren’t there. He could hear the creak in Vortex’s joints, the faint rumbling and vibrations of his systems gearing up, the tremors of plating desperate to move.

Solace came with Swindle, the cavalry marching in behind him. The hazard team. Finally. First Aid quickly scuttled up into the cockpit with a walkie-talkie in hand to play pretend at moving the mech so they could extract the hazardous tissue, covering his eyes to block out the obnoxiously bright flash of their cameras, and wondered if they’d keep his footage in. His parents would worry.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had a twink writhing.

If he still had a body, he’d be doing awful things to that man. His screams would be perfect, so loud and like music to his ears. And he knew that First Aid would have been thanking him, begging him for more through his tears the whole time. It was such a shame that the human body was so fragile. All he wanted was to be able to take him apart and put him back together after he was done so he could do it again. Over and over, until he was nothing more than a husk of a man.

And he would still be thanking him.

If god were real, he must have been smiling down at him for such a gift. If he were capable of love, he thinks that what it might be.

The tragedy was that he was being punished by finding First Aid too late. They should have been two ships passing at sea - Vortex knew that if anyone gained a single inkling of what First Aid was into when they should have, they’d have thrust him into the system to get lost and fade away into obscurity. A footnote on the family tree. That uncle that vanished as a child. Or maybe they’d pretend that he’d never have existed at all. But no, Felix had glided by unassumingly, his good nature and kind face a front, a shield against what was straining against the surface, shining through the cracks and splitting his skin.

Oh, what a joy it was to have him there with him. What fun it had been to watch him, to study him. The moment he’d seen First Aid chew his bottom lip, core temperature rising as he stared at the disembowelled remains of the first pilot he’d been tasked to excavate from him, he knew he had to have him.

He also knew this should have been working him up. He should have been whipped into a frenzy, unable to contain himself - but lacking any appropriate organ to produce any of the hormonal response that pushed him over the edge, Vortex was left feeling vaguely hollow and empty.

It really, really pissed him off.

Why had they kept him alive if they were just going to waste him like this? It was torture. It was the worst thing he could ever think of.

And it was, annoyingly, the perfect punishment. He’d begrudgingly give those researchers that – they’d achieved their goals on that front. Creative ways to stretch out death row, Vortex had called it at the time. If you asked him now, he’d say that they just gave him a bigger body to create a wonderful slaughter with, but the anger at the situation would be simmering beneath the surface. It was fun popping someone like a grape, but he couldn’t hear their breath whistling out from what remained of their thorax any more.

All he could do all day in between waiting for fights and splitting alien life forms in half with his bare hands was nose around at the cameras and browse the internet.

For such a high security base, their internet security was pathetic. A couple days of poking around at it and he’d been in, briefly toying with the idea of taking down the base and watching them scramble around like the ants they were, before instead heading over to YouTube and seeing if there was anything worth catching up on.

The news announcements about him and his teams deaths had been amusing. Very, very amusing.

But today, he settled on the cameras. He had fun games he’d made to entertain himself with, creating false stories and dramas – he’d spent a lot of time whilst he was still alive figuring out peoples brains, what made them tick, how to get them to tell you exactly what you wanted without them noticing they were even doing it, so he considered his fantasies to be gospel – and looking for people.

He’d always hunted down First Aid. The man had just the cutest face, and he wanted to see how many different expressions he could make. The bad ones, the good ones, the really good ones – god above, especially the really good ones – everything. It was a fun game to catalogue them all, to guess what had been said or done to him to make him look like that. Thinking of ways to replicate it. He wanted him to look at him like that. He wanted him to just look at him.

It had only been a few weeks and already First Aid was as obsessed with him as he was. Mutual obsession was always the best. Matching the energy was so much more fun than watching them tremble and cry knowing they’d just make the bad kind of fucking mess.

The man was excitedly asking Vortex if he’d seen that, preening at something he’d done on the field, eyes sparkling and wide. Looking at him, you’d have been forgiven for thinking he was talking about seeing something as marvellous as a pod of whales arching out of the water instead of the pristine harvest of an alien organ that he was actually talking about. If he were a dog, his tail would be wagging hard enough to sprain.

God, he wanted to make him his.

He wouldn’t share. He couldn’t. He’d never been any good at it.

First Aid even came to eat lunch with him. Vortex had called him ‘some kind of loser’ the third time he’d done it, and First Aid had looked like such a kicked puppy he’d never done it again.

He’d thought about it, but he wouldn’t. He’d promised, and his little man had made it clear how highly he valued promises. It wouldn’t do to upset him, he’d grown rather attached.

And having something to do that involved someone else for once wasn’t actually half bad.

Being interred into a mech was a strangely lonely existence. His snippets of social interaction had come in the form of the human sacrifices they’d offered up to him, cocky and overzealous and never recognising that they were sat in his jaws and ready to be consumed. He would never ever admit it, but having First Aid there to actually speak to was… nice. It was a break from the monotony of pushing IT’s buttons and seeing how ruffled he could get the brass to be in just a single sentence.

He hated being forced to stay still. He’d had practice at it, sure - their line of work didn’t come without its fair share of hazards and they were no strangers to bed rest. Fuck, the longest he’d had to entertain himself was when he’d been on the bad end of a grenade - Brawl had tugged him out of the wreckage missing a healthy chunk of his face, blood pulsing down in a fiery heat he didn’t soon forget. His poor handsome looks had been destroyed in an instant - at least the nurses had been nice to him. If it was because they were scared of him or if it was because Swindle was paying them handsomely he didn’t know and he didn’t particularly care - it had the same result. Endless telenovelas in a language he didn’t understand, with a TV he wasn’t able to adjust. He woke up to the opening jingles, and he fell asleep to the ending songs.

He took having to find his own entertainment over that. At least he could set the language.

And today’s entertainment: watching Swindle.

It was weird watching him from cameras. Usually it was the other way around - Swindle would work his way up into their security rooms and then watch the rest of them from the cameras, guiding them around and warning them of any danger. Instead, he was a silent witness, watching his every move. He was on his phone, nattering away into it as he walked with his coffee. A fun game Vortex liked to play was voicing over him - the cameras didn’t come with any audio, so he was left to fill the blanks.

He paused when he saw his mouth clearly form the word ‘Felix’.

Huh. What did Swindle have to say about him? Good things, Vortex hoped. They were more alike than Swindle ever liked to admit - surely he had to see the beauty in First Aid too. But actually - he hoped he didn’t. First Aid was his. He found him, he had done all the hard work. Felix wasn’t someone he was going to share. He’d do what it took to keep him forever.

#tf mecha universe #llama writes #texaid #tf vortex #tf first aid #maccadam #transformers #There's just a few chunks of setup stuff in here lol

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thagomizersshow · 1 year ago

Text

Apes are a kind of monkey, and that's ok

This is a pet peeve of mine in sci comm ESPECIALLY because many well respected scientific institutions are insistent about apes and monkeys being separate things, despite how it's been established for nearly a century that apes are just a specific kind of monkey.

Nearly every zoo I've visited that houses apes has a sign somewhere like the one below that explains the supposed distinction between the two groups, focusing on anatomy instead of phylogeny.

(Every time I see a graphic like this I age ten years) Movies even do this, especially when they want to sound credible. Take this scene from Rise of the Planet of the Apes:

This guy Franklin is presented as the authority on apes in this scene, and he treats James Franco calling a chimpanzee a monkey like it's insulting.

But when you actually look at a primate family tree, you can see that apes are on the same branch as Old World monkeys, while New World monkeys branched off much earlier.

(I'm assuming bushbabies are included as "lorises" here?)

To put it simply, that means you and I are more closely related to a baboon than a baboon is to a capuchin.

Either the definition of monkey includes apes OR we can keep using an anatomical definition and Barbary macaques get to be an ape because they're tailless.

"I've got no tails on me!"

Why did all this happen? Why did we start insisting apes are monkeys, especially considering the two words were pretty much interchangeable for centuries? Well I've got one word for ya...

This the attitude that puts humans on a pedestal over other life on Earth. That there are intrinsically important features of humanity, and other living things are simply stepping stones in that direction.

At the dawn of evolutionary study, anthropocentrism was enforced by using a model called evolutionary grades. And boy howdy do I hate evolutionary grades.

Basically, a grade is a way of defining a group of animals by using anatomical "complexity". It's the idea that evolution has milestones of importance that, once reached, makes an organism into a new kind of thing. You can almost think of it like evolutionary levels. An animal "levels up" once it gains a certain trait deemed "complex".

You can probably see the issue here; that complexity is an ephemeral idea defined through subjectivity, rather than based off anything truly observable. What makes walking on 2 legs more complex than walking on four? How are tails less complex than no tails? "Complexity" in this context is unmeasurable, therefore it is unscientific. That's why evolutionary grades suck and I never want to look at one.

For primates, this meant once some of them lost their tails, grew bigger brains, and started brachiating instead of leaping, they simply "leveled up" and became apes. Despite the early recognition that apes were simply a branch of the Old World monkey family tree (1785!), the idea of grades took precedent over the phylogenetic link.

In the early years of primatology, humans were even seen as a grade "above" apes, related but separated by our upright stance and supposed far greater intelligence (this was before other apes were recognized tool users).

It wasn't until the goddamn 1970s that it was recognized all great apes should be included in the clade Hominidae alongside humanity. This was a major shift in thinking, and required not just science, but the public, to recognize just how close we are to other living species. It seems like this change has, thankfully, happened and most institutions and science respecting folks have accepted this fact. Those who don't accept it tend to have a lot more issues with science than only accepting humans as apes.

And now, we come to the current problem. Why is there a persistent idea that monkeys and apes are separate?

I want to make it clear I don't believe there was a conscious movement at play here. I think there's a lot of things going on, but there isn't some anti-monkey lobby that is hiding the truth. I think the problem is more complicated and deals with how human brains and human culture often struggle to do too many changes at once.

Now, I haven't seen any studies on this topic, so everything I say going forward is based on my own experience of how people react to learning apes (and therefore, humans) are monkeys.

First off, there is a lot of mental rearranging you have to do to accept humans as monkeys. First you, gotta accept humans as apes, then you have to stop thinking in grades and look at the family tree. Then you have to accept that apes are on the Old World monkey branch, separate from the New World monkeys.

That's a lot of steps, and I've seen science-minded zoo educators struggle with that much mental rearranging. And even while they accept this to an extent, they often find it even harder to communicate these ideas to the public.

I think this is a big reason why zoos and museums often push this idea the hardest. Convincing the public humans are apes is already a challenge, teaching them that all apes are monkeys at the same time might seem impossible.

I believe the other big reason people cling to the "apes-aren't-monkeys" idea is that it still allows for that extra bit of comforting anthropocentrism. Think of it this way; anthropocentrism puts humans on a pedestal. When you learn that humans are apes, you can either remove the pedestal and place humans with other animals, OR, you can place the apes up on the pedestal with humanity. For those that have an anthropocentric worldview, it can actually be easier to "uplift" the apes than ditch the pedestal.

Too make things worse, monkeys are such a symbol of a "primitive" animal nature that many can't accept raising them to the "level" of humanity, but removing the pedestal altogether is equally painful. So they hold tight to an outdated idea despite all the evidence. This is why there's often offense taken when an ape is called a monkey. It's tantamount to someone calling you a monkey, and that's too much of a challenge to anthropocentrism.

Personally, I think recognizing myself as a monkey is wonderful. Non-ape monkeys are as "complex" as any ape. They make tools, they have dynamic social groups, they're adapted to a wide range of environments, AND they have the best hair of all primates.

I think we should be honored to be considered one of them.

#primatology #primates #phylogeny #sci comm #monkeys #apes

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