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redroses07 · 5 months ago

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Just Friends // Stiles Stilinski

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

WC:1.7k

Summary: Stiles is struggling after being controlled by the Nogitsune, and he turns to you for help. But little does he know, it will turn your friendship into so much more. Takes place after season 3. (Allison isn't dead!!!)

Warnings: Swearing, angsty as fuck, sad Stiles, kissing, implied smut if you squint?, PTSD.

A/N: HI GUYS!!! I really like this fic and ofc I hope y'all will too! This is my first time writing about Stiles and I think I did pretty well! As always, enjoy!! And comments and reblogs are appreciated. P.S. lmk if y'all want me to do a part 2 where they tell their friends (Scott's reaction hee hee) - Claire ♡

After Stiles was released from the control of the Nogitsune, things seemed to go back to normal. Well, at least that’s what one would think from the outside.

The series of events had taken a severe toll on Stiles’s mental health, and even though he did a good job of hiding it, you were the one person who seemed to know what he needed.

It all started about a week after everything happened, it was the middle of the night and you were jolted awake by the sound of your phone buzzing by your head.

You were about to hit decline but then you saw it was Stiles and feelings of worry began to stir within you.

You quickly answered, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you forced yourself awake.

"Stiles, is everything okay?"

"Yeah...well not really. I hate to ask, but do you think you could drive over to my house. I just really don't want to be alone right now." Stiles's voice was groggy, and laced with exhaustion. The fact alone that he was asking you this made you immediately agree.

You hopped out of bed, not bothering to change out of your pajamas, slipped on your slippers, and you were on your way.

Your house wasn't far from Stiles's, about a five minute drive with no traffic.

You lived directly in the middle of him and Scott, being only a short distance from each. The close proximity was the main reason the three of you had stayed so close throughout your school years.

"Friends", that's all you and Stiles had ever been. Although, neither of you could deny the chemistry between the two of you, risking your friendship never seemed worth it.

It was on this night that all that would begin to change.

When you arrived at Stiles's house, he had left the door unlocked for you so you wouldn't have to fumble around with the spare key in the dark.

You found Stiles laying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. He looked lost in thought, his eyes rimmed with dark circles. It hurt seeing him look so drastically different from the Stiles you knew, and you wanted to do whatever you could to help.

You laid down next to him, your body facing his.

"Hey..." Stiles began, still staring at the ceiling.

"Stiles, what's going on? You know you can trust me with anything right?"

"Yeah...It's just a lot to put into words." Stiles's voice cracked, which told you that he was fighting tears.

You sat up and stiles copied the movement. You were now both facing each other, sitting legs crossed on his bed. You pushed aside the unspoken vow between the two of you and placed his hands in yours. Stiles's breath hitched, and you could tell he was avoiding eye contact with you.

"Take all the time you need, I'll listen to every word." you said softly.

"I know everyone thinks I'm doing okay, but I can't even function. I can't sleep without having nightmares. I can't eat or do anything without remembering all the awful stuff he made me do. I didn't know who else to tell except you. Scott has his own set of issues, and you're the only person I trust like this."

Stiles began to ramble, and your heart broke as he did. How had you not noticed earlier? Yes, it had only been a week, but you knew Stiles better than anyone. You felt like an awful best friend.

"I'm so tired, I just want to feel normal again." He could no longer hold back the tears, the dam broke and Stiles became a sobbing mess.

You pulled him into your arms with no hesitation, which only made Stiles want to cry.

"No, no I'm going to get your clothes all wet." Stiles protested trying to pull away, but you wouldn't let him.

"A few tears never hurt anyone." You said.

At that Stiles let himself fall into you, his body going limp with exhaustion. You tried not to cry along with him, wiping your burning eyes to prevent the tears.

"It'll be okay." You whispered as Stiles's sobs turned into sniffles. He finally looked up, his cheeks wet from the tears that had escaped his puffy eyes.

You did the only thing you could think of and gave him two kisses, one peck on each cheek. Stiles lips turned up in a small smile, his cheeks still turning red despite his current state.

"I think the first thing we need to do is get you to bed." You smiled, pushing Stiles's messy hair back.

He looks at you and nods without moving from your arms. You lean back on his bed, pulling him with you. You positioned yourself to where Stiles was resting on top of your body, his head pressed to your chest. You kept your arms wrapped around him, squeezing his body in an attempt to comfort him.

As you were settling down you heard Stiles whisper your name softly.

"Yeah?"

"Promise you'll wake me up if I'm having a nightmare?"

"I promise." You replied as you reached down and laced your fingers with his.

Stiles gave you a half-hearted smile in response, his puffy eyes glazed over from fatigue.

"Thank you." Stiles murmured, fighting sleep.

"Shhh." Was your only response as you traced your fingers along his back.

"I love you." It was an incoherent whisper, so much that you couldn't be sure of his words. But something told you you had heard correctly.

By the time you went to reciprocate the statement, the room was filled with Stiles's muffled snores.

You sighed and proceeded to fall asleep yourself.

Stiles slept through the night for the first time in weeks.

After that the trajectory of your relationship began to shift.

From holding Stiles's hand to remind him that everything was okay when you were with your friends, to staying up all night listening to him talk.

You rarely got to sleep at home anymore, but you didn't mind. You weren't far if you needed something, and it helped Stiles get a good night's sleep. Yet he would still apologize every time. "I'm sorry to bother you again.", "I promise this is the last time.", when in reality you were definitely okay with an excuse to spend more time with him.

You had become his anchor to reality, and Stiles could feel things beginning to look up with every day that passed.

Your friends picked up on it too.

"So, are you and Stiles together, or..." Lydia and Allison asked when they managed to corner you at your locker one day. It was a question you didn't know how to answer. Eventually landing on, 'it's complicated.'

"What's going on with you and Stiles, I'm starting to feel like a third wheel when we're together." It was a joke, but there was certainly some truth behind it.

You laughed it off and changed the subject, but didn't forget the comment that night when you and Stiles laid in each other's arms drifting off to sleep.

Surprisingly, it wasn't you who finally brought it up, but Stiles.

It was a Friday night, and the two of you were at your house instead of his.

"Shit, I forgot clothes to change into." Stiles said as he fumbled through his backpack.

"It's all good, I have a spare pair of clothes in my drawer for you." You replied, pointing to the dresser.

Stiles smiled and laughed, holding eye contact with you for perhaps a moment too long.

"You take care of so much for me, sometimes I feel like you're my wife." It was a casual statement, but it put you at a loss for words.

You laughed awkwardly, failing to come up with a reply.

Stiles could very clearly read your emotions, he pushed the drawer shut and walked back over to sit next to you.

You tried to calm yourself, but your heart wouldn't stop beating at what felt like an unhealthy pace.

"You're my best friend..." Stiles began, taking your clammy hands in his.

"You've done so much for me in the past few weeks, just like a best friend should; but I can't help thinking that this feels like something more."

You felt as if the world stopped. You knew this conversation would come, but definitely not now. Your brain seemed to stop producing thoughts.

"Please tell me I'm not imagining all of this. I know this is a lot at once, but Y/N I love you." Stiles's voice shook from the overwhelming nerves.

"I love you too." You spoke for the first time in minutes, it felt amazing after you had heard it fall from his lips that first night you spent together.

Stiles's eyes gazed into yours, and suddenly the feeling of just your hands touching wasn't enough.

You reached over and grabbed Stiles face, finally closing the gap between the two of you.

You pulled Stiles down as you did, his body landing on top of you sinking into the kiss.

You tugged on his hair lightly, pulling him as close to you as humanly possible. Stiles fell deeper into the kiss, locking your hands together and pressing your body further into the soft mattress.

After a few minutes of pure bliss you broke apart. The air that filled your lungs was both a blessing and a curse. You needed to breathe, but the absence of his touch only made you want him more.

Stiles hovered over you, the sound of his heavy breathing was the only thing you could hear over your own beating heart.

"So I take it you're not just my best friend anymore?" Stiles giggled, pressing his forehead gently against yours.

"Nope."

You gave a sly smile before pulling Stiles down by his shirt and connecting your lips once more.

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whereireid · 2 years ago

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ੈ✩‧₊˚ — 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

series masterlist | avatar masterlist

pairing: tonowari x omatikaya!fem reader

Summary: After mating with Tonowari, you experience a glimpse of domesticated bliss. Grateful that you’ve chosen a doting mate, you bask in your relationship, despite the insecurities that plague you regarding his old mate, Ronal. After you confess this to him, he decides to show you just how over her he truly is.

— warnings: age gap (21/yo reader) mutual pining, plot, family drama time oops, mentions of insecurity, reader doesn't feel worthy of being tonowari's mate, fluff, smut, dead ronal, bathing ! nsfw content (bc this wouldn't be a sex pollen fic if it was sfw 🙄) nipple sucking, brief mention of tonowari having lactation kink, fingering, orgasm denial, oral sex [f recieving] p in v, mating, breeding kink.

There is no longer a fire which blazes within you.

You wonder how there ever even was to begin with. Surrounded by water, your flame should have been snuffed out the minute that it was sparked. The cool breeze of the reef should have blown out the flicker before it began to burn wildly.

The irayo flower — a token of your homeland, beautiful with its lavender purple and tulip pink hues — had a side effect so dangerous that it caused a sickly fever to pulsate through the Metkayina leader. A fever that no medicine could cure. A fever, cooled by only your touch and your touch alone.

Inside of you, there is silence. Despite the fact your face no longer burns with heat whenever you gaze at the Metkayina leader, you still drown in desire and want. Tonowari is sleeping, cocooned by his hammock, a peaceful expression clouding his face as his chest rises and falls slowly, soft breaths leaving his mouth.

You wonder if the sea had claimed you before you had claimed it. You knew your sisters and brothers had no trouble adapting — Lo'ak felt more at home here than he had in the tribunal forests of your homeland, and Kiri felt comfortable and in touch with Ewya wherever she went. Neteyam, the mighty warrior, had adapted quickly to the new hunting rituals, bringing home many pounds of fish, and Tuk had impressively learnt in days how to weave items of clothing by using Metkayina flora.

They'd adapted properly, using their labour to find a way to fit in, and though your family would always be outcasts — with your five fingers a contrast to their four, a constant reminder that you are alien — their labour proved their worth. They were accepted.

Though you're smiling at the thought of your brothers and sisters, your heart tugs — how would they react to the news? When your father had hounded you to find a mate, he surely meant someone more... age-appropriate. Your father certainly did not mean that he wanted you to mate with someone whom he often drank Pongu Lumpia with.

Shaking your head, your fingers close around your robe. It's a maroon red, woven by Tuk with flora she'd found in a cave on the reef. It cocoons you into a shield of warmth, hiding you from the cool ocean breeze which rustles throughout Tonowari's marui. The cold air causes him to stir in his sleep, the coolness a sharp contrast to his heated body.

You watch as he grumbles in discontent, his ears twitching in annoyance, your own flittering upwards in anticipation. "Tonowari," you whisper, edging towards the Metkayina leader, your fingers darting over his thighs when you reach his hammock. "The sun is rising. You must wake soon."

"It has not risen, yet. Come to bed, little one. I miss your warmth."

Tonowari's voice is groggy, ridden with sleep, and you hesitate, your fingers lingering on his strong thighs. "We must tell my parents—"

"—We will tell them later. Join me, for now. We will do whatever you wish when the sun has risen."

You pout in disproval, though you listen. The hammock is comfortable, adapting to your weight as you sink inside of it, and you squeak slightly as Tonowari's strong arms wrap around your frame. "You're so warm, little one," he grunts, his voice rumbling in his chest as he speaks, his nose nuzzling against your own. "It must be because of that robe."

Goosebumps flicker up your skin as Tonowari's hand begin to sneak underneath your garment. His fingers make lewd movements, darting from your abdomen up towards your chest, a shiver ghosting up your spine as his thumb flicks over your nipples, which harden as the cool breeze begins to wash over your frame.

"Would you like for me to take it off?" You moan, and it sounds so sweet that Tonowari's cock throbs with need. Your heart hammers in your chest as his deep blue eyes bore into your own, his finger gently begging to roll your nipple between his fingers.

"I do not want you to get cold, little one," Tonowari mumbles, his breath flittering against your chest as he dips his head, his lips peppering gentle kisses against your skin. "Keep it on."

There's a foreign sensation that crackles through you once Tonowari's lips wrap around one of your nipples. As he gently begins to suck, you gasp, your body jolting towards his as an overbearing feeling of electricity pulses through you. It bites at every nerve, making your body throb with electricity.

"Oh." You mewl, your face growing insatiably hot as Tonowari hums against your nipple, your eyes shutting tightly as he purrs against your skin. "This feels—"

"—Good," he finishes your sentence, pulling away from your breasts, a lewd trail of spit following him. Your gaze flickers down towards him, and you wishes you hadn't even bothered looking, because a moan catches in your throat when you see his swollen lips and lust-filled eyes trailing over your body.

Tonowari's tongue wets his lips, before he dips his head to latch his mouth around your nipple again. It's a strange sensation, to say the least. You've never really explored yourself there before — but now you're really wishing you had.

You squirm under Tonowari's touch, and a moan catches in your throat, but you're unsure of whether or not it actually escapes your lips or dies before it gets to do so. His lips wrap around your sensitive nub, careful as his sharp teeth begin to graze softly against the bundle of nerves, and your hands instinctively fall down to his head, your fingers running over his braids as he laps at your nipple.

Tonowari's tongue skilfully swirls around your nipple, and warmth pools in your lower belly as he begins to grow eager, his hands darting down towards your loincloth. "Please," you beg, though you're not exactly sure what you're begging for. Warmth curls at every nerve inside of you as his fingers disappear under your loincloth, your breath still in your chest as you try to anticipate his next move.

“Breathe, little one,” Tonowari utters, his fingers gently brushing over your slits, the sensation making you melt with warmth.

You nod and try to steady your breathing. Tonowari is still and it's driving you crazy — your hips instinctively buck against his fingers, and a breathy whine escapes your mouth. He shoots you an unimpressed look, and you blush. Once your breathing is even, Tonowari continues. Though the soft flickers of his brows are knitted together and his eyes are somewhat narrowed from your eager bucking, his touch is gentle, his wet, warm mouth wrapped around your nipples, his tongue beginning to flicker again.

Every nerve inside of you is lit, blazing and burning wildly. His fingers gently part your sticky folds, electricity crackling up your spine as he sucks at your sensitive nipples, his eyes lulling shut soothingly.”

"You are going to be even more needy for this once you're carrying our child," Tonowari says, his fingers gliding up and down your slits, satisfied with how wet and needy your cunt is. "Is this your first time being pleasured in such a way?"

"I've never touched myself there before," you admit hoarsely, shivering as Tonowari nibbles at your bud in response, the sensation sending butterflies fluttering through your stomach. "Just my — my, uh—"

"—Just your cunt. I know, little one. I saw everything when we committed Tsaheylu."

Your face blazes with embarrassment, but Tonowari does not falter. You swallow thickly, a whine catching in your throat as Tonowari's fingers press into your cunt, the curling of his digits making you jolt. The unexpected intrusion makes you mewl in appreciation, your hands pressing eagerly against the back of his head, encouraging him to keep sucking.

It's all you want. The sensation feels electric, and it makes you drown in heat. The air in the marui is scorching, making it difficult to breathe, but you focus on the rising and falling of your chest, not wanting him to stop again.

"I forget how new you are to all of this," he chuckles lowly, the sensation vibrating against you, making you mewl. Insecurity tugs at your heart, because you are new to this — but your mate seems so delighted. "You're so reactive. Tell me, little one, do you like this?"

Tonowari bites at your nipple, and you gasp, rutting into his hand like you're in heat. The sensation makes tears bubble in your eyes, because it stings to have your sensitive bud pressed between his two, sharp canines, but you're so wet that it doesn't matter, a sultry twinge shooting through you at the lewd action.

"Yes, I like it," you mumble drunkenly, your eyes blown and dark, your body craving him. His fingers curl inside of you appreciatively, a soft squelch echoing around the mauri, and he grins against your chest.

"Mmm. You're going to love it once you're with child," he states lowly, his fingers slowly working at your cunt, scissoring you open. "If you're this sensitive now..."

He trails off, unable to finish his sentence, and you let out a breathy moan. Between the lewd curling of Tonowari's fingers and the feeling of his hot mouth suckling at your chest, you feel yourself growing blind. Heat flashes through your body, an insatiable warmth pooling in your stomach as your thighs begin to tense, locking his hand in place as he fingers your cunt.

It feels so good. Tonowari devours you; his entire presence sending shocks shooting through your body. It's so deliciously wrong to have the Metkayina leader sending you into oblivion with his sharp teeth and gentle mouth, and you gasp as you squelch and squirm and clench down around his fingers, your moans mortifyingly loud.

"I need to — Tonowari, please, I need to —" you plead, your eyes beginning to grow heavy and your body edging towards numbness as his teeth catch your nipple again, rolling his rough tongue against the bud gently.

"Breathe." He says, tone so sharp that it feels like a knife, your body prickling with heat as your orgasm approaches; hard and fast and heavy, weighing your body down as you begin to tremble and shake against him.

Your eyes are closed so tight that you see stars. Tonowari's fingers curl inside of you as you attempt to take a deep breath, and you wail, the feeling so overwhelming and good that you begin to cry. Your chest is heaving — really heaving, and your lungs burn with the urge to breathe but you just can't, and despite Tonowari's reminder earlier, you’ve forgot.

Your body writhes beneath him. You wriggle, pleading for air because each stroke of his fingers and flicker of his tongue makes it impossible to breathe. You can't even think anymore, so dumb from the hot sparks which shroud your body into what you thought to be unattainable bliss that your nerves grow numb.

"Little one, you need to breathe," Tonowari repeats, but your ears are ringing and you can't hear him because his teeth are rolling over your nipples and he's sucking so good and his fingers are curling inside of your cunt so tortuously. You can't hear anything except for your own blood pumping inside of you and the shameful squelching of your cunt, and you hump against his fingers eagerly.

Just when you're on the brink of cumming, just as you suck in air and begin to shake and convulse, he stops.

You begin to gasp for air, writhing against his chest, your eyes tired and heavy as all of his movements stop. Tonowari pulls away from your chest, his look of disapproval burning through you.

"You forgot to breathe," he says accusatory. Your eyes peek over him, and your breath stills in your chest again. Tonowari's eyes are so blown that his irises are being swallowed, leaving just a thin ring of the aqua-blue around the edge.

"I'm sorry. Felt too good," you mumble breathy, your fingers splayed over Tonowari's head, pushing him eagerly towards your chest. "Please?"

He frowns, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "I cannot please you if you do not breathe."

"I will breathe, yawne," you utter desperately, beginning to hump at his fingers. "I promise you I will breathe. Please, Tonowari, I need to feel good."

His lips press against your neck. His mouth is warm and wet, and he suckles slightly, a shiver spreading throughout you as he laps at the skin. Tonowari begins to pepper his kisses down towards your chest, leaving gentle bruises in the wake of his lips, and your body instinctively presses against him as his mouth brushes against your nipples.

"You're so good, yawne," you praise, your eyelids growing heavy as his lips reattach to your nipples, hot sparks exploding throughout your body. "So good to me."

You focus on your breathing this time — in, out, in out, in out. Tonowari's fingers curl inside of you again, and it's back to square one. Except, not really. You're so hypersensitive that as his teeth graze against your nipple, teasing and deliberate, you cunt clenches, and Tonowari grunts.

He's so hard that it physically hurts him. The lavender tip of his cock is leaking with pre-cum, but he doesn't even bother to move in an attempt to fist himself free of the shackles of his own desire for an orgasm. Tonowari is so focused on you and what makes you feel good, which just so happens to be anything he does.

You're appreciative of the fact that he's focusing on your pleasure rather than his own. Tonowari explores you, his tongue darting across your skin, goosebumps rising in it's wake, before returning back to your sensitive, swollen nipples.

Your chest feels so tight. Your heart hammers, pounding, and you focus on your breathing, making sure to satisfy Tonowari. You feel his cock, hard and rigid, pressed up against your thighs, as you try to brush against him but it's impossible. You can't move, pinned under his weight, under the feeling of his delicious tongue which swirls skilfully around your nipples and the curling of his fingers.

"I'm going to —"

"Do it."

You whimper, nodding eagerly at his words, dragging your lips between your teeth. It all feels too good, too much, and you begin to convulse. Warmth spreads throughout your abdomen, your cunt growing even slicker as he fingers you, rolling into the spongy spot inside of you with ease.

It feels like a knot is violently unraveling inside of you. Your breathing becomes unsteady, uneven; manic and quick. The knot feels like it's being ripped apart. Snapped and torn and frayed.

You let go of everything. You feel nothing but him. His touch is ecstasy, and you feel divine, holy as you cum.

The rays of the sun blind you as you come undone around him. Twitching, jolting, shaking. You're blazed with pleasure, dumb with need, and Tonowari's ears twitch eagerly, listening to every moan and cry that spews past your lips.

You blink, hazily, your breathing uneven as his fingers pull out of you, his mouth still suckling on your breasts. Tonowari groans, his hands grabbing at your skin, squeezing your hips tightly.

Confusion clouds you as Tonowari’s hips judder against your thighs, a gasp of realisation slipping past your lips as his hard cock pulls away from your plump flesh. He’s came — his own breathing is uneven and steady, and he’s left a painting of sticky cum against your skin. His ears pin tightly against his head, but he doesn’t seem embarassed at all. It’s like this is a totally normal thing for him.

And maybe it is. But it’s not for you. Your eyes are wide in shock, your fingers still as they press against Tonowari’s chest. His face is now inches away from yours, and he has a satisfied, smug grin plastered across his lips.

“Was that good, little one? Did that satisfy you?”

“You came.” You say, bewildered, your hands shaking as they press against his chest, your brows knitted together in confusion. “How — Why did you —“

“Your pleasure is my pleasure, yawne.” Tonowari mumbles, and the term of endearment makes your heart soar. “This is not unusual for me.”

As always, you frown. Tonowari is referring to his previous encounters, with his previous mate. Jealousy pricks at your heart and you can’t help but wonder how you’re going to fill such big shoes. You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the feeling of his fingers pinching you cheek, and you scowl, your tail thrashing behind you.

“You like making me feel good?” You ask timidly, eyes crinkling as the sun blinds you, hiding yourself in Tonowari’s chest.

“It is what I enjoy doing the most. Pleasuring my mate is my greatest pleasure.” Tonowari affirms, shooting you a loving smile before his head turns to the entrance of the mauri, his eyes squinting from the sun. “I wish we could continue, little one, but the sun has risen.”

The sun has risen. You pout, somewhat disappointed that it can’t continue, because your body still feels electric from where he’d been pleasuring you. “It’s time to tell my family about us,” you say breathlessly, and Tonowari grins.

“Yes, it is.”

The walk back to Tonowari's marui is solemn. Whilst your father had disapproved, at least at first, he'd shrunk into himself once you'd told him that you and Tonowari had committed Tsaheylu, now bound together for life. It's somewhat ironic — Jake Sully cannot criticise you for who you'd chosen your mate to be. Your father had not only stolen your mother from Tsu'tey, a mighty warrior of the Omatikaya, he'd also been actively working against your community and your culture when doing so.

Eventually, your father accepted. Although he almost keeled over in the process, he'd accepted.

Tonowari didn't celebrate the way you thought he would. He just nodded his head and thanked your father for approving, and then turned heel and left.

And you'd followed him.

That's how you've ended up here.

The floor is almost scorching, and you shuffle forwards in discontent. Despite living in Awa'atlu for a few months, you still haven’t quite gotten used to the insatiable heat. You feel sweaty, uncomfortable, and your heart tugs as your mate pulls you towards his marui, your eyes flickering over towards him.

He hadn't even celebrated. Maybe it was because he knew your parents couldn't exactly deny you of him — Ewya had approved of your bond, and he is also Olo'eyktan. This is his clan, and you are his mate.

But... maybe that wasn't the case. And you don't want to think this way, you truly don't, but a little voice is in the back of your head is telling you that he didn't celebrate because he'd been through all of this before. Tonowari, perhaps, didn't celebrate because he had no need to — he'd been mated before, with Ronal, and he'd probably went with her to tell her parents, also. And he'd probably celebrated then, because she was the love of his life and she was supposed to be his mate forever.

You grimace, pushing your doubtful thinking away. You know of Ronal. She was a strict Tshaìk, yet a loving mother. A fierce leader. Her connection with Ewya was strong, and your heart pulls in your chest as Tonowari's fingers intertwine with yours.

There's an ounce of comfort in the small gesture. Safety. Your ears pin backwards and you look away, your eyes fleeting over every grain of sand as an excuse to not look at him.

The reef is booming with life. Children run, and parents chase them. Nobody even looks your way — Tonowari had promised you that they wouldn't. Until your bond is announced, nobody would think that you were both seeing each other, rather just assuming that he was just guiding you somewhere.

When you see the familiar, curvy triangular shape of the marui, your ears prick upwards. You try to stop at the entrance, needy for rest, but Tonowari's strides don't falter, until your hands slip from one another's grasp.

"Why have you stopped, little one?” Tonowari asks, his voice gentle as he eyes you suspiciously.

You hesitate under his pointed gaze, shuffling on your feet. "I thought we were going back home."

"I have something I want to show you," he utters, offering out his hand. "Come on, little one.”

"Where are we going?”

"I will show you. Come on."

You pause, eyes flickering from the marui to your mate, before you begrudgingly accepting his hand. Despite the two of you both being Na'vi, the size difference is overwhelming — Tonowari towers over you by a couple of feet, and his hand is so big that it sheathes the both of yours.

Minutes pass, and there is only silence. There is no conversation shared between the two of you. Tonowari holds your hand proudly, guiding you towards the rocky reefs. The slippery surface of the rocks makes your heart patter in your chest fearfully — you still hadn't quite gotten used to the feeling of slimy seaweed on your feet, and your hesitant steps are proof of that.

"You have not yet adapted," Tonowari chuckles, his grip on you strong as he guides you between two rocks, that stand tall and mighty.

"It's not that easy." You mumble, shivering as cold washes over you as the rocks begin to hide the sun.

He smiles. "You will learn soon, little one."

As your eyes adjust to the loss of sunlight, you can't help the awe that tugs at your heartstrings as you realise where Tonowari has taken you.

In your homeland, there was no such thing as a private, docile place to clean. All of the Omatikaya, including the Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk, used a communal lake to bathe. Although the clan leaders were allowed to bathe alone, the others bathed together. There was just simply not enough water in the forest for the Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk to have a personal, intimate area to clean and bathe together.

But here — in the reefs — there is nothing but water.

"What is this?" you whisper, your skin crawling with goosebumps as Tonowari presses his lips to your forehead gently.

"What do you think?" Tonowari quips back, watching as your nose crinkles as you breathe in the husky, earthy smell, your eyes scanning over the deep, pear-shaped entrance of the shelter.

There's something so intimate about how Tonowari guides you. His hands are resting on your shoulders, eagerly pushing you towards into the cave, your eyes falling on the downwards curve of the floor, which transcends into a pool of milky, steaming water.

"Is this yours?"

Your mate smiles, his nose nuzzling into your neck, his fingers slipping down towards your loincloth, gently beginning to untie its knot. "It is ours," he states, his face illuminated only by the blue and green bioluminescence moss which laps at the sides of the pool. "I heard from your father that in your homeland, the Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk did not have their own private bathing quarters."

"When did you hear that?"

"JakeSully loves to complain when he's intoxicated. Pongu Lumpia makes him even more insufferable than usual," Tonowari grunts, smiling as your loincloth drops to the floor, leaving you bare in front of him. "He feels that as Toruk Makto he is worthy of privacy."

Tonowari's freckles are glowing in the dim light of the cave. “I say that he gave up the title of a mighty warrior when he fled his home.”

You try not to giggle, but it’s really, really hard. Tonowari has always been critical of your father, and his small joke actually allows you to bask in a sense of comfort.

Warmth cocoons you as he ushers you into the pool of milky water, watching as you submerge yourself. The silky hot water is perfect, and your face flushes with a light sheen of sweat and embarrassment as your mate begins to undress himself.

He stands so proud as he shows himself to you. You feel warm and gooey as he traipses into the water, and you try to focus on anything but him. There’s a slight lingering feeling of dread which pulses through you, ruining the slightly intimate moment, because you know deep down that Tonowari had shown Ronal this exact cave before.

The cool, fluorescent algae illuminates the cave, and there's a low, bioluminescence glow shining from beneath the milky substance in the water. It's beautiful in the cave, and pieces of moss glow like stars above you.

Your heart tugs in your chest as Tonowari's hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer towards him in the water. "What is on your mind, little one?" He asks, pressing a soft kiss to your wet temple, his lashes long and damp, soaked from the water. "You have been quiet ever since we left JakeSully’s marui."

The blissful solitude shrouds you, and you let your head hang on his chest, which has a shines turquoise from the water. "Nothing. I'm fine, Tonowari," you mumble, shooting him a gentle smile as he embraces you, his braids sticking to the wet skin of his back.

"You do not seem fine," he grumbles, careful as he picks up some circular moss which resided on the rocks. He squeezes the soft green plush, gentle as he begins to excrement soap from it, rolling it between his fingers. As soapy duds begin to form, he hums, rolling the moss against your skin, using gentle circular motions when he washes you. "Do you wish to tell me what is bothering you, little one?"

Tonowari's interaction with your father keeps replaying inside your head. Everytime it repeats, your heart pulls, cracks in half, and you can't tell if you're being dramatic or emotional or what. Tonowari hadn't reacted, he hadn't celebrated, he hadn't even smiled when he got your father's approval.

Because he'd been through it all before. With Ronal.

As he's washing you, soft in his motions as he rolls the soapy moss against your skin, all you can think about is how he's done this before with someone else. It plagues you. It's like a sickness.

"Yawne, I cannot help if you do not say anything," he says softly, beginning to cup the milky water in his hands, his ears twitching as the water trickles your skin.

“How are you over her?”

“Over who?”

“Ronal.”

Tonowari pauses for a brief second, before continuing to wash the duds off of your skin. Your voices echo around you, bouncing off of the cave walls, and your face flushes when his hands gently begin to massage your shoulders.

“She died a long time ago, little one. I cannot live in solitude and mourn any longer. She is with Ewya now.”

“But you’re supposed to mate for life. You’re — you’re still here. She’s still your mate.”

Tonowari frowns, his motions gentle and circular, his thumbs riding down to your back, focusing on a tight knot between your shoulder blades. “You are my mate.”

The silky hot water mixed with Tonowari’s fluid motions is an incredible soother. You feel like all of your tension is melting away, and despite the self-doubt and insecurity which flitters throughout you, you find yourself relaxing.

“But so is she.” You’re exasperated, confused.

You knew Tonowari had been mated before. You knew all of this before you chose him.

So why now, when you’re in too deep, are you having second thoughts?

“You are my mate.” Tonowari’s voice is soft, fleeting against your ear. “Do you need me to remind you of just how badly I want you, little one?” His breath fans against your skin, sending goosebumps down your spine and your stomach flips at his words.

You shake your head, a gentle gasp slipping past your lips as Tonowari turns you, his grip on your shoulders harsh as he does so. His palm squeezes your skin uncomfortably, and your breath hitches in your throat as his eyes bore into yours, so black and blown that the ring of ocean blue is barely visible.

“No, Tonowari. I don’t need a reminder.” Your voice is hoarse as you speak, wavering slightly as Tonowari’s nose nuzzles against your shoulder. “I know I’m your mate.”

“I do not think that you’re aware of how badly I’ve wanted you, little one.” His fingers dance against your skin, and his arms become submerged by the hot, silky water. Tonowari's hands cup your thighs, his body ushering you to the edge of the pool, and you squeak as you feel mossy rocks press against your back. "Ever since you came to the reef, I have not been able to keep my eyes off of you, and the second you gave me that irayo flower... it was the greatest excuse to get close to you."

"Excuse?" you murmur, breathless as his strong arms sit you against the rocks, his nose rubbing against your inner thighs. "What do you mean, excuse?"

Tonowari's teeth graze against your skin and you whine, your heart pitter-patting in your chest as his rough tongue laps at your skin, leaving dark-coloured bruises in its wake. “It hurt, yawne, more than you’d ever know. And like I told you — I was rutting like a newly mated Na’vi, and the only relief I got was when I would see you, and that is when I knew you were sent to me. From Ewya.”

“Oh,” you breathe, your heart tightening in your chest as Tonowari’s lips press against your cunt. His tongue laps at you eagerly, the rough muscle parting your slits, and a gentle whine slips past your mouth as he does so. Hot, electric sparks shoot up your skin, and your legs jolt slightly as his tongue swirls gently around your clit. “Tonowari.”

“You wonder why I chose you,” he purrs against your cunt, the vibration sending shockwaves through your pussy. “I wonder how you could ever choose me.”

The intimacy of Tonowari between your legs makes your stomach clench. Despite being recently mated, he hasn’t had an incredibly high libido — you haven’t snuck off to rut at every possible chance, rather having an even and steady sex life. But this — the way he’s nuzzling against your cunt, licking and lapping and sucking at the heat sloppily shows something different a

A primal side to him you haven’t seen before.

He's grunting, and you look down for a second, confused as to why he’s making noses. Then you notice his hand, which strokes up and down his cock in a steady motion. Tonowari is pleasuring himself whilst pleasuring you, and you moan, so conflicted to how a man can make you feel so horny.

Tonowari's tongue draws patterns on your clit, and his breathing becomes heavy as he strokes his cock, his eyes lulling as he laps at your cunt. He's so eager to please, kissing your heat softly, listening to every mewl and whine, and your stomach begins to twist, growing insatiable with every roll of his tongue.

And then you feel it — the knot inside of you begins to break, twist apart, fray at the hem. It's so peaceful this time, so satisfactory, and your moans bounce off of the cave walls as you cum, your hands behind Tonowari's head, pushing his face into your cunt needily. You hump against him like you're in heat, the feeling of his rough tongue stroking you through your orgasm making you shake.

"I must show you how much you mean to me, yawne," he comments, his voice shaking slightly as he strokes his uncomfortably hard cock with need. "Can I breed you?"

"Breed me?" You ask, exasperation lacing your tone as Tonowari joins you on the rocks, his strong hands pinning you underneath his body.

"That is what I asked, is it not?" He utters, his body sheathing your view of the bioluminescent moss which litters the top of the cave, shrouding your vision with black. The only light you have comes from the light-blue specks on his face, and a breathy moan leaves your mouth as Tonowari's cock glides through your slits, an unexpected jolt of electricity shooting up your spine.

"I'm just confused as to why you asked. We've done this before."

"I want you to carry my child, little one," he grumbles, a low groan sliding past his plush, sapphire lips as his tip rolls against your clit. "This is not just making the bond. I will be doing this with the intention of you growing plump with life."

You literally can't imagine anything hotter than being swollen and filled with Tonowari's children. You can't speak, the feeling of his tip rolling against your clit sending electric sparks fluttering through your nervous system. "Please," you squeak out, your heart burning with desire as his girthy tip presses against your entrance, your tight cunt beginning to sheathe his lavender tip.

"You are going to look so beautiful when I'm finished with you," Tonowari hisses, his stomach tight as his hips begin to roll into you, even and steady. "So beautiful, carrying our children, whilst practicing to become Tshaìk. I chose well."

Everything feels raw and sensitive. Your cunt clenches down around him, your senses somehow heightened in the dampness of the cave. Steam from the hot pool of milky water begins to evaporate, your skin covered with an aqua blue sheen from the condensation. Pressure pools in your lower belly, your ears twitching with every roll of his hips, your cunt tight when the tip of his cock brushes deliciously against the sensitive spot inside of your cunt.

It feels so liberating, knowing that he wants you. Truly wants you. You're not just a replacement — each needy thrust of his hips tell you that. Tonowari's fingers desperately grab at your queue, and you whine at the uncomfortably tug, but hot white flashes spark through your nerves system when his tendrils connect with yours.

Holy shit. This feels so much better than when he first ever bonded with you, and your legs shake as he stretches you thin. It's so painful but so amazing. His cock is nestled deep inside of your cunt, and you're so slick, so wet, droplets forming on your skin from where the reside of the water is beginning to dry. Tonowari's movements are smooth, easy, and your white ring of arousal paints the bottom of his length, coating his balls, and he groans as he fucks into you, his lavender tip throbbing as you clench around him tighter.

"You're made for me," he breathes out, "I cannot believe you ever doubted my love for you."

Through your connection, you can feel his pain. You can feel everything — the pull of his heart as he thinks about how insecure you'd been, and you scold yourself for ever being so silly. Tonowari, your gorgeous, loving mate intertwines his fingers with yours, and you swear you've never felt so good in your life.

You're intertwined with Tonowari in every way possible. Your cunt pulses around him, throbbing with need, and he groans into your neck, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your shoulder. "Oel ngati kameie," he mumbles, his eyes boring into yours, the black of his pupils so wide and blown you can no longer see any part of his irises. "Yawne, please, talk to me."

"Feels good, Tonowari," you blink, chest heaving as he fucks into you, being careful to focus on your breaths as your body begins to tingle with lust. "Almost ready for you to fill me up."

"Pxasìk," Tonowari curses, his accent thick, drawling in your ear and sending goosebumps exploding on your skin. "I'm ready. You're so — so tight, I can't hold back."

"Earlier all you did was hold back," you tease, moaning as the lewd squelching sounds of your cunt echo around the mossy cave. "Not — not letting me finish because I didn't breathe."

Tonowari is gentle as he slaps your thigh, warningly, a dangerous look painting his face, but it crinkles into something different as you purposefully clench down around him. You're so tight that it's like you're milking him, and you're so wet and warm, it's driving him crazy. "You were being naughty, yawne," he comments, his voice wavering as your eyes begin to flicker shut, your moans hitching in your throat as his hips roll into your sensitive bundle of nerves.

It's the most perfect thing you've ever felt. Neither of you speak as it happens, your orgasm crashing over the both of you in a perfect, delicious wave. You shake, jolt against him, cry out as your vision blackens with white stars, heat exploding through your body, your cunt tightening around him as you feel his seed begin to spurt inside of you. his own cum in you, your walls so tight and wet, the sound of his balls slapping lewdly against your cunt echoing throughout the cave, your moans merging with them to create an orgasmic mixtape.

You're so warm, the steam from the pool mixing with your insatiable heat from being crowded by Tonowari for so long, and he embraces you proudly as you twitch beneath him, your cunt feeling raw and full. He holds you, and his strong presence makes you feel so safe, the feeling of his cum painting your walls making you shiver.

"You are everything to me," he utters, his teeth grazing your neck as his tongue laps at your skin, basking in the slight, salty taste of sea water and sweat. "Please do not doubt that again."

"How can I?" you whisper, grumbling as Tonowari rolls over, positioning you atop of his chest as he lays on the mossy rocks. The blue and green glow from the algae and moss reflect on his face, painting his features, and you smile as you lean down to brush your nose against his, your finger splaying over your belly. "I'm going to have a constant reminder."

taglist: taglist: @moonpie3000 @theycallmesia @lianawolf @love-chx @yataisha @misscaller06 @plzfeedmebread @totesnothere04 @alezarin @thesecretsoftheuniverse @ikranwings @clockmax @lianawolf

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peachesofteal · 1 year ago

Text

On a Slow Night

Belongs in the Dead Disco - verse, but can be read as standalone.

Ghost/Soap/female reader 8.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Dominant/submissive. Smut of all kinds: male oral receiving, female oral receiving, barebacking, rimming, vaginal sex, anal sex, orgasm control and denial, creampie. Praise kink. Double Penetration. Possessive Simon Riley. Aftercare. Angst. Jealousy. Anxiety. Emotional hurt/comfort. Porn with feelings. Relationship issues. Simon takes control. This is a FLASHBACK, but I chose not to italicize the entire thing. Takes place before Chap 1 of Dead Disco.

It’s the tone of your voices that wakes Simon from where he sleeps, alone in the bed. It’s the sharp, raw edge of your words, your pitch dipped in malcontent, and Johnny’s low, harsh spitting, that has him sitting straight up, eyes narrowed, listening with intent.

You’re fighting. About what? Your voice peaks an octave, and then drops immediately, broken up by the crest of a sob, a sound of distress that has him out of bed and into the kitchen within a second’s time.

“What is going on here?” He asks quietly, and Johnny returns his query with a pleading gaze, but you stare a spot on the countertop, eyes flush with tears. When the two of you stay silent, a flare of irritation creeps up his spine. “Well?”

“It’s-“ Johnny begins but you speak over him, cutting him off efficiently.

“I have to go to work.” You say to no one in particular, to your feet more than either of them. He glances at the clock and grimaces. If you don’t leave in the next five to ten minutes, you’ll be late. Not nearly enough time. You grab your bag, and your mug, turning on your heel for the door. Acid rises in the back of his throat when he realizes that you’re not even going to say goodbye to them, not going to kiss him, or Johnny, not going to let them tell you to have a good day or let Simon fuss over making sure you have your water bottle and your laptop charger, two things that commonly get left on the table.

When the door swings shut, lead settles in his stomach while Johnny folds his hands, fingers battling each other with anxiety.

“Johnny.” He breathes. “What the fuck?”

“She wasn’t listening to me, and then it just… got out of control. I snapped at her.” Simon rubs the spot between his shoulder blades in a circle, nodding while Johnny breaks down everything that happened. The replay of last night. The sequence of events this morning, everything up until when Simon appeared from the bedroom, and you darted out the door.

You had been crying, this morning, when Johnny got up as he usually does to see you off to work. It’s a cherished part of his routine, when they’re home. Having breakfast with you, talking about your day, or not talking at all, just enjoying a few quiet moments before you leave, helping you put together your work bag or making you a cup of coffee. But this morning, when you were unusually frosty, and he had asked you what was wrong, you had tried to brush him off, tried to tell him what you were thinking was stupid, and that you didn’t want to talk about it.

And Johnny couldn’t have that. He knew what you were dwelling on, knew the streak of jealousy from last night was still present, sitting heavily on your mind. He tried to push you, kept prodding, ignoring the warning signs, blowing past your indicators that you were in an extremely sensitive state, until you turned on him with a snarl, body language tense and face closed off.

“Did you have him more than twice then?” you had asked, “Was he like me?”

“No one is like you, darling.” Johnny had tried to assure you, comfort you, but it fell flat.

“Yeah, okay. Why then, did you always tell me, you never slept with anyone more than once… and then there’s a guy in the bar not even down the fucking block that the two of you conveniently forgot to mention you shared at least twice!”

“You should have woken me.” He keeps the bitterness from his voice, but Johnny doesn’t need it to know that Simon is upset. He reads him too easily.

“I thought everything was fine. ‘m sorry.” Simon knows he believed that, that he really did think everything was fine. After all, they brought you home last night and spent hours in bed, reassuring, reconfirming your place with them, until you were happy and sated, asleep in their arms with a little smile on your face. He runs his fingers through the mohawk soothingly.

“Everyone’s a little on edge right now, I think.” It’s not an excuse, but the truth. It was a longer op, and the time between this most recent one and the one before was hardly even a week. Not to mention, Johnny almost got himself blown up during this one, and Simon pulled a muscle in his back in the first week. They’ve been home for two weeks now, and their emotional states are still a little more fragile than either of them would care to admit, while you were trying so damn hard to keep yourself together for them, to keep your chin up. Simon knows it’s because you don’t want to feel like a burden, that you think you depending on them causes additional stress, but he’s seen the cracks in the surface for a few days, so it did not particularly surprise him when you crumbled last night. He’s been waiting, and waiting, impatiently, for you to let go, for you to drop the mask and let them step in.

He just didn’t want it to be like this.

Simon’s phone vibrates against the coffee table in the late afternoon, alerting both of them from where they sit on the couch. Johnny fidgets nervously, and Simon stills him with a firm grip on his thigh while he opens the text.

It’s in the group chat, between the three of you. A quick note that you’re going to be late tonight, and they shouldn’t wait to eat dinner. Simon scowls.

“Late?” Johnny questions, while Simon types a reply: ‘How late?’

Your answer comes a minute later: ‘Not sure. I have a fast-approaching deadline for this exhibit review that I’m behind on and if it’s not done, the director will ream me.’

Simon lets out a burst of a sigh, body expanding and relaxing with tense pressure while he types: ‘We’ll wait for you darling, don’t worry about that.’

You reply almost immediately: ‘You don’t have to.’ He frowns. Avoidance? It’s rare, from you. You usually get so full up with your own thoughts and feelings that you physically can’t avoid something, having to address it, talk about it, until you feel better, until it’s not overpowering you anymore. Johnny shifts next to him, blue eyes stricken while he reads from the screen.

“Is she… avoiding us?” He too, recognizes it, this outlier. Simon texts back. ‘We will.’

Three bubbles pop up on the screen, and then disappear.

It’s far past late by the time you get home. Johnny has taken to pacing around the flat, doing laundry and other things to occupy his mind, detailing the grout in the bathroom and nervously flitting about doing fuck all while Simon sits on the couch, trying to read a book and failing.

They’ve both been sitting in the living room for an hour by the time ten pm rolls around and you walk through the door, the sun long set, night overtaking the city and drenching it in an inky darkness that spreads throughout their home as well.

“Hi.” You drop your bag unceremoniously on the table, crossing your arms. Defensive posture, Simon notes. This is going to go real bloody well. “You really didn’t have to wait for me.” You complain, looking between the two of them, lingering for a long moment. Johnny stands, preparing, and Simon notices how your shoulders slump, just a fraction, tense energy leaking from your body while you lock eyes with him.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts, eagerly. “I’m so, so sorry love. I shouldn’t have pushed you this morning. I lost my head… I was worried and I- I have no excuse. I should not have snapped at you. You are so precious to me, and I never, ever want to make you feel that way.” He steps closer, and closer, tentative hand in the air, reaching for you while Simon holds his breath, waiting to see how you’ll respond. He’s waiting for the inevitable, the crumble, the fall of everything you’ve been holding in, all the feelings and thoughts and rot you’ve been holding up. The emotional catharsis. The breaking point.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, you heave a big, loud sigh, and wilt into Johnny’s arms.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for being dramatic.” Dramatic? You’re not dramatic. They’ve told you this a thousand times. He frowns, something new twisting in his gut, a feeling of something being really wrong creeping through his bones. What is going on with you? Johnny’s too distracted by being relieved, being grateful for your easy forgiveness that he misses the way your eyes tighten before going lax again, and Simon watches you bury your head in neck immediately afterwards, your arms going around Johnny like you’re holding on for dear life. Simon follows you both as Johnny pulls you along with him into the kitchen, settling you at the counter on the stool while he pulls dinner from the oven, little savory chicken pies, one of your favorite meals, still warm and ready to be eaten, and you clap your hands with excitement when he places yours in front of you.

“You didn’t have to.” You gush, and Johnny blushes prettily, over the moon with the change in your mood, your smiling face.

“Simon, sit.” He points to the seat next to you, and he takes it, all while studying you, noticing everything from the way you’re holding your fork to what your free hand is doing in your lap. Johnny coughs. “What’s wrong?” his tone is suspicious, and you turn to look at Simon with wide, curious eyes. He forces a smile and shakes his head.

“Nothing.”

A week later, it all comes crashing down. It’s a Friday, and you’ve worked from home, spent most of the day alone in the flat while they both had to go across town for a brief before their scheduled departure in another week and a half. Johnny stops at the market on the way back, having promised everyone curry tonight, so Simon beats him home, eager to get out of his starched clothing and into sweats, and hopefully drag you away from work for the rest of the evening to sit on the couch with him, curled up in his lap while the two of you wait for Johnny to get home.

Instead, something else happens all together.

You’re pacing, in front of the kitchen table, hand on your neck while you stop occasionally to bend at the waist and read something on your laptop. You don’t even acknowledge him when the door opens, and as he gets closer, he realizes your hand isn’t just on your neck, but it has a fist full of hair in it as well, the strands pulled so tight it looks painful. Your breakfast sits untouched on a plate, pushed away, and your eyes dart around the room, briefly touching over him before flicking back to the screen.

“Darling?” he calls, taking his jacket off slowly. You ignore him, shaking your head like you’ve heard him but can’t be bothered to acknowledge him, typing away at something from your half standing, half bending position. He’s close enough to see an email chain on the screen, long paragraphs broken up, your cursor blinking in front of one half written.

“I’m sorry.” You say, not even sparing him a glance. “I’m sorry I’m just dealing with something right now, there’s a lot going on and-“ He stills you, pulling at your forearm, trying to loosen your grip around your hair that you’ve wrapped so tight, it’s made imprints in your skin.

“Hey.” He squeezes your wrist, just enough to pull your attention, eyes partially glazed over, like you’re not even really in your own head right now. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m just dealing with something, at work. There’s a lot going on.” You repeat it robotically, and he tilts his head in consideration, running a thumb under your jaw to tip your face upwards. There’s something… off, in your eyes. Something uneasy lurking in your gaze, something wrong, off balance.

“Alright. That’s enough work for today, I think.” He reaches past you and closes the laptop while you gasp a protest.

“Si, no! I have to finish, there’s stuff going on you don’t understand I need to-“

“Is anyone dying?”

“N-no but-“

“And it’s Friday, which means your boss isn’t back until Monday. It can wait.”

“I have to-“

“It can wait.” This time, he puts the authority behind his voice, the razor’s edge, to test the waters. To see, how you react.

You freeze. You’re holding your breath, eyes darting wildly around the flat like you’re looking for an escape of some sort. You reach for him, hand latching onto his forearm, and he realizes you’re shaking. He tries to pull you closer, but you lock up, immobile, except for the intense increase in your shivering.

“I’m sorry.” You gasp. “I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t know- I d-don’t know what’s wrong I, I’m sorry.” You repeat it over and over, frantic, tipping into hysteria and he shoves down his own panic so he can do what he needs to do.

Take over.

Take control.

He grips the back of your neck, the motion signaling you to what will happen next, and then pulls you into his chest, head tipped down so his lips hover just over your ear.

“It’s alright darling, just breathe.” When you do, he rewards you with praise, light and affectionate. “Good girl, just like that.” He counts them for you, one in, one out, two in, two out, and so on until they come easily, and you relax more into him, breathing languid, body calm. “Okay, you’re going to get in the shower. You will tell me if you want me to get in with you, or you need my help with something, like washing your hair.” You gulp, and he soothes a hand down your spine. “Yes?” He prompts and you nod slowly before giving your agreement. Recognition, acceptance, dances across your face, and he knows you know.

“Yes, Simon.” He hums his own acknowledgement, and then manages to shoot a text off to Johnny while ushering you towards the bathroom, one hand firm on your nape.

‘Get home. Right now.’

He’s sitting on the bed facing the door when Johnny blows through it, eyes seeking his.

“What’s going on?” he rushes out. “What’s wrong?” Simon holds his hand up, a clear stop signal, and Johnny screeches to a halt, a few paces into the bedroom.

“Tell me your safe word, Johnny.” Johnny’s eyes go wide, and then glances at the bathroom door, where the shower runs, and the sound of a drawer opens and shuts. “Your safe word, MacTavish.” Simon repeats and Johnny swallows.

“It’s bomb, sir.”

“When do you use it?”

“When I need a hard stop.” Simon nods.

“Good. And what if you can’t speak?” He points to the floor, the intended directive incredibly clear, and Johnny sinks to his knees without another thought.

“Then I tap twice.” He whispers his answer, to which Simon nods.

“Good boy.”

“What’s going on?” He asks again, because he’s allowed to, but Simon doesn’t answer. Instead he unzips his pants as he closes the distance between them, hand fisting his cock while he looms over where Johnny kneels.

“Open.” He pats his jaw, and Johnny parts his lips obediently, mouth glistening, wet and warm, waiting for Simon. He groans as he feeds him his cock slowly, pressing down against his tongue, choking him gradually, pulling out and pushing into his mouth with an achingly slow, leisurely pace. “What’s going on-“ he casually says, like he isn’t shoving the width of his cock into Johnny’s eager mouth. “is that I failed to take control of a rapidly deteriorating situation when I should have.” He rubs a hand through Johnny’s hair, admiring his sweet boy from this viewpoint, his crystal blue eyes and heavenly soft skin, perfect and pretty, just for him and you. It’s enough to make his knees fucking weak, with how much he loves him. How lucky Simon is, to have him. To have you both, like this. Sweet for him. Submissive for him. Willing, for him.

Which is why, when something like this happens, Simon is always the one who steps in and takes over. Who takes control.

He makes eye contact with Johnny while he pushes deeper, swiping his finger through the drool that drips from his bottom lip. “This is my fault, my responsibility. For not stepping in after that spat last week.” He draws out, holding the crown of his cock at Johnny’s messy lips, giving him a moment, a chance to speak, or tap, and breathe, before plunging back in, cramming himself to the hilt, until Johnny’s nose is pressed to the curls of his pubic hair. “But we’re going to fix that, now. We’re going to fix it all.” Johnny nods eagerly, humming with Simon shoved in his throat, the vibration sending a shiver up Simon’s spine.

The water in the shower shuts off, and they both hear the glass of the door open and shut. Simon pulls Johnny forward, walking him on his knees, cock still languishing in his mouth, until the back of his legs hit the bed and he sits, settling Johnny between his thighs and instructing him not to move, to just sit there and be a good cock warmer until he gives him another directive. Johnny’s eyes bliss out after a minute, and satisfaction warms Simon’s belly. Good boy.

The bathroom door creaks open, to reveal you wrapped in a towel, cautiously peeking out at the two of them, feet arched like a dancers, walking on your tip toes.

“Um.” You squeak. You’ve got a wall back up; he can already tell. Whatever cracked earlier when he got home has been patched over, and he sighs, all the while, delicious anticipation curls in his heart. He’s going to make both of you cry tonight.

“Darling.” He calls, steeling his voice. You need a stronger hand, in times like these. You’re headstrong, and resilient, and stubborn, all of these things that make you just that more special to him, to Johnny. But these things can also get you hurt. They can derail you, bully you into pushing through when you clearly need the opposite, when you desperately need to break instead. Good thing he’s happy to help. He points to the bottle of lube on the dresser near you, a silent command, and you grip it in nervous fingers as you creep closer. When you’re within arm’s reach, he pulls you down to his mouth for a kiss, something gentle and loving, a tender reminder of his love for you, before pulling away and pointing at the floor, right next to Johnny.

“What is your safe word?” Your eyes flick to Johnny, who doesn’t move, just stays steady, even with Simon’s cock pressed against his tongue.

“It’s, uh. Paint.” He nods. The hesitation wasn’t because you don’t know your word, he knows that. It’s because your brain is trying to piece together what exactly is happening at a rapid pace, to try to prepare you.

“Good girl. When do you use it?”

“When I need to stop.”

“And if you can’t speak?”

“I tap three times.” You and Johnny’s taps are different, so he can differentiate them, if ever need be. It’s never been necessary, but he’d rather be safe, than be sorry when it came to either of you.

“You tap three times.” He repeats, and then pulls at your towel, which you let go willingly. Both he and Johnny are still fully clothed, which will be remedied eventually, but for now, he’s content to sit here with your body bare to him, the swell of your hips and breasts, the sheen of your still damp skin, sending lust licking down his spine.

You sit perfectly, palms above your knees, knees together while he thrusts very gently in Johnny’s mouth, not nearly enough, but adequate for right now, considering his release is likely hours away. You watch, mouth slack, eyes lidded, thighs shifting just barely, and he smirks to himself. He was so pleasantly surprised when they found you. When he discovered you fit so perfectly, with them. When he learned what your face looks like when you come for them. He was scared, terrified, but still surprised, when he realized he was thinking about you on ops, when he realized that Johnny was thinking about while on ops. And he was shocked when you started to let them in. Let them take care of you, let them see you. It didn’t take long before he wanted more and more and Johnny met him on it blow for blow, until they were both commandeering all your time when they weren’t on missions and when the three of you were laughing in bed in the middle of night, swapping stories and daydreaming about a future.

A future that he thought was impossible.

A future that is now more in his grasp than it ever has been before.

If they don’t make a fucking mess of it.

He pulls Johnny off his cock by his mohawk, lips making a wet pop while he tips his head backwards, latching their mouths together. Simon pushes his tongue inside, sweeping between his teeth, tasting the salted remnant of himself, before pulling away.

“Take off your clothes, get in the shower, be quick.” He orders, and Johnny scrambles to his feet, hastily working his buttons and boots, stripping as quickly as he can manage while practically running to the bathroom. “Darling, come here.” He pats his leg, and you hoist yourself onto the bed, allowing him to pull and arrange you so you straddle his thigh. You’re already wet, he can see the evidence of your need, your want, on his leg, and he presses his thumb against your bottom lip. “What happened to my darling girl?” He asks, and you blink, confused. “What happened to our sweet, sensitive girl who knows it’s okay to depend on us for what she needs?” Your brow furrows.

“I’m right here.” You whisper and he shakes his head.

“I don’t think you are.” He kisses your cheek, and then the tip of your nose while gripping you by the back of your neck. “I think you’ve been shoving your feelings down into the dark somewhere. Afraid to let go for some reason.”

“Simon…no.” your whisper is heavy now, tinged with something sad, something reluctant. It’s not the tears he’s looking for, not yet, but he’ll get you there. He always does.

“That’s alright love. We’re going to fix it.” He assures you, and strokes a featherlight touch across your thighs, listening to the sharp intake of breath that hisses between your teeth when he strokes over the seam of your cunt, just enough to feel the seep of wetness there, before tracing up to roll one of your nipples between his fingers. Your teeth bite down into your bottom lip while he’s content to sit there just like that for a while, teasing you until the bathroom door opens, revealing a naked Johnny, standing in the frame, waiting for instruction.

“Johnny.” He says, not taking his eyes off you, still holding you with one hand by the neck. He releases your nipple to motion to the side of the bed, a glaringly open space where his Sergeant’s body belongs. “On your back.” He obliges him easily, leaning backwards, stretching his toned abdomen long, the swell of his cock laying against his belly, leaking precome in a lazy, wonderful way that makes Simon’s mouth water a little. He holds your jaw in his fingers and turns your head to look at Johnny. “Isn’t he lovely?” He murmurs into your ear, and you try to nod.

“Perfect.” You breathe, and he agrees. Johnny is perfect, Johnny is the love of his life, his partner, forever. Unmatchable. Irreplaceable. Irreplicable.

And so are you, even if you don’t realize it yet.

“Here are the rules.” He begins, shifting you to lay next to him, also on your back. Your knees are bent, and you let one go lax, knocking into Johnny’s, exposing your bare pussy just so for Simon, just a glimpse. His blood heats, and he starts to strip off his clothes while he speaks. “You, darling. Don’t get to come unless I give you permission.” You wiggle against the sheets, anticipation brewing in your eyes. Your hand reaches for Johnny’s, and he interlaces his fingers with yours in a heartbeat. “Johnny, can come at any time as long as he asks for permission, and he can come when you do, without permission.” His eyes snap incredulously to Simon, who allows a wicked smile to scrawl across his face. He leans over the two of you, kissing Johnny’s shoulder and then yours. “Johnny’s going to put your plug in, love. Because we’re both going to have you later.” He tells you, and you visibly brighten, excitement pushing your cheeks into a smile. It’s not an easy thing, to take them both, and something that only happens with enough prep and time, both of which he plans on having tonight.

He pulls the plug from the drawer in the nightstand, handing it to Johnny with the bottle of lube, and you turn obediently onto your knees, ass up in the air, cheek laying on Simon’s thigh. He strokes your skin soothingly while Johnny compresses the plug in his hand, warming the cool metal with a huff of breath, and then spreading lube over the ring of muscle between your cheeks, dipping his thumb in and out of you painstakingly slowly, just pushing against the rim as it flutters for him. You whimper.

“Like what you see?” Simon drawls, and Johnny nods.

“Okay, ready?”

“Y-yeah.” You croak. You usually take the plug no problem, but that’s also after a few orgasms, and a few fingers. They don’t usually use it as the warmup act. Johnny’s thumb for a handful of minutes is not quite as good, but you’re experienced now, and Simon is intending to use the burn of the stretch to his advantage, hoping the sting and bite speeds you along to the point of no return. Simon rubs your shoulders, while Johnny lowers it towards where you’re spread for him.

“Okay darling, nice and easy.” He coaches.

“Push out.” Simon reminds you, and you do, letting out a puff of air against his thigh. He massages your arm, your wrist soothingly, and you hiss, your reaction letting him know you’re spreading over the widest part. “Well done.” He murmurs, stroking some hair away from your temple. “Good girl.” You give him a syrupy smile, eyes a little dazed, and he rewards you with a kiss, before pulling both Johnny and you into his embrace. “I love you.” He vows. “We are going to correct whatever it is that has our girl all mixed up.” You huff indignantly, playfully, and he pinches your cheek in response. He loves this stubborn streak of yours but loves to break it even more. He presses his mouth against your neck, and then up to your lips, drawing breathy rasps from you with his lips, pulling you back up to a seated position against him, in between his thighs, spreading your legs to give Johnny a perfect view.

“Christ.” Johnny hisses, reaching out to touch you, dragging a finger through your soaking folds. You whimper, and he thinks reality is truly setting in for you now, the realization of the task ahead. He lets his own hand carefully drift down to your cunt, fingers exploring your body while you practically buzz in his arms, nerve endings already alight from the plug that’s settled in your ass.

“Shhh.” He soothes when he feels just how soaked you are, feels how hard your clit is beneath his touch while you jerk in his grasp, one arm pinning you against his chest. “Poor darling.” He works you slowly, feeling how your body responds to him, your hips moving in small, bucking movements. It goes on for minutes that feel like hours, until you’re whining and chasing his touch with your body.

“Simon.” You whimper.

“Johnny, will you taste her for me?” He asks to which Johnny eagerly agrees, bending to press his face into your eager cunt. He sucks at your clit before stroking his tongue up and down, sloppily eating you out, flicking your clit over and over while you pant.

“P-please, Simon. Please.” You plead, and he licks a salt-sweat trail up your neck to below your ear, where he plants a delicate kiss on the skin under your earlobe. Your body thrashes, trying to get more leverage, trying to grind against Johnny’s face but he wraps his legs around yours, pinning you effectively with his thighs. You whine, and your fingers sink into his flesh, your body pressing into his back, like you’re bearing down, preparing to come all over Johnny’s face.

“Don’t come.” He orders. You gasp, and he watches your stomach tense and flex, while he plays with your nipples lazily.

“Fuck.” You moan, and Johnny groans, eyes flicking up to where the two of you watch him.

“Don’t let her come, Johnny. Or it will be your punishment.” He says, and you squirm in his arms. Johnny pulls away, mouth soaked with you, and slides a deft finger into your cunt, twisting his wrist for the correct leverage. He’s smiling in a half sweet, half smirking way, watching his finger disappear inside of you unabashedly. Simon joins him, reaching down for where your clit is throbbing, pad of his finger swirling in the absolute mess between your legs before rubbing around your swollen nub’s hood, and then pushing inside of you next to Johnny’s digit, your body greedily accepting them both, cunt clenching hard around them.

“Oh my god.” Your head rocks back into Simon’s chest, panting with desperation. “Fuck, fuck I- I ca-can’t.” you protest, eyes smarting with tears, and he pulls away, trailing his touch back up to your clit, where he gives it a light pinch.

“Don’t you dare.” He demands and you shriek when he slaps your pussy, palm making contact with your clit, your legs jolting under his thighs. He brushes some hair from your face, your forehead damp with sweat, before pressing a kiss to your temple and reaching for Johnny’s cock, wrapping a fist around it and stroking him slowly. You’re still leaning against his back, but slouched now, and he can see the swell of your clit, the glisten of your thighs, soaked with your own arousal, from where he sits. “Do you want to feel him inside you, darling?” He asks, squeezing your flesh. You nod readily, shifting, until you’re spread wider, and he’s pulling your leg up by your knee, and then your calf. “Go ahead, Johnny. Give her your cock.” He watches when Johnny pushes inside of you, your body eagerly taking him, stretching around him. You hiss while he moves, clenching your eyes shut for a moment, before taking a deep breath, and letting go a little, body depressurizing gradually. It’s snug, he’s sure, with the plug and Johnny inside of you, and he rubs your clit in a circle, watching your face, delighted. When Johnny starts to pick up a faster pace, he presses his hand to his stomach, slowing him.

“Does that feel good?” he asks you, looking up at Johnny who’s watching the glide of his cock pump in and out of your pussy, agonizingly slow, his legs practically shaking with restraint.

“Unnf- I-“ you babble, hands against your chest. You’re concentrating, face intense, and he knows you’re trying so bloody hard not to come. Trying to be good.

“Do you want it faster?” He asks, fake sincerity dripping from his voice. You nod hastily, and he inclines his head to Johnny, who reads the signal well, picking up his pace, body slamming into yours while you practically scream in Simon’s arms.

“Si- Simon.” You sputter and wheeze. “Please, can I come?” your voice is thick, and he makes a show of appearing like he considers it before shaking his head with a simple no.

“No, darling. Slow down, Johnny.” Johnny groans, pressing his face into where your calf is still raised in the air, nipping at your skin while he drags his cock in and out of your body, excruciatingly slow.

“Nononono. Pl-please, Johnny- Harder.” Simon shakes his head, and Johnny face screws up, like he’s about to cry. He thrusts deep and Simon presses down on your lower belly, causing you to cry out. “Fuck, oh, fu-fuck. Oh- Si. I’m gonna-“

“No.” He pushes Johnny back, causing him to pull halfway out, and you whimper. “I think you need a break.” He murmurs, and you shake your head violently.

“No, no no, please…” But your pleading is no use, because Johnny’s already pulling away, leaving you empty and wanting. Simon motions for him to turn around, and he does eagerly, returning to his back, knees to the ceiling.

“Can you get our good boy ready for me?” He asks you, pitching his voice affectionately. “Don’t you think he deserves some attention?” You shake the stupor off, legs shaking underneath you while you lick your lips, and bend forward, crawling between Johnny’s thighs and perking your ass up into the air, right in front of Simon while you take Johnny’s cock between your lips. You’re trying to tempt him, trying to get him to plunge his cock inside of you, to make you come.

He wants to. He wants to so badly, he reaches a hand down to squeeze your flesh appreciatively, and you moan around Johnny, the vibration of your throat making the muscles in his thighs tense. You briefly glance over your shoulder before you adjust, your tongue dragging downwards over Johnny, where you prop his thigh on your shoulder and start to prep him for Simon, little grunts and whispers loosing from his lips while you work. You use your tongue first, lavishing his rim, slowly coaxing him into a relaxed state while you push into him, just barely. You stay like that for a while, working him open slowly, while Simon leisurely watches, occasionally ghosting a hand over your skin, or trailing his finger from where you’re dripping wet and swirling it around where your own rim is stretched around the plug, your muscles jumping and tensing beneath his touch. You’ll take them both tonight, and even though he clearly already made that decision, the image of you being full of both him and Johnny wracks him with a delicious shiver. Johnny moans, pulling his attention, to where you’ve got a finger pressing inside him now, dipping in and out of him gradually, teasingly, spit dripping from your mouth onto his perineum. You add a second, and Johnny groans, back arching just so when you crook your fingers up, seeking the spot that makes him lose his mind.

“Bloody- hell.” Simon can just barely see the curve of your lip, the evidence of your smile, your pure enjoyment when Johnny reacts to you, and it flushes him with something warm, something so sweet and soft it manages to surprise him. Only for them.

“That’s it, good girl.” He praises you self-indulgently, because he knows what it does to you, knows how it can derail your focus and turn you to putty in their hands. “D’ya think he’s ready?” You nod, two fingers still stroking slowly inside of Johnny, pulling pleasure from him while you beam, his body pliant and sweet for Simon. He swats your ass because he can’t help it, loves to watch how your skin ripples under him, how your body moves for him, and you quiver.

He pulls you away, kissing the back of your neck while he shifts Johnny to the edge of the bed by his legs, moving him so his calves sit on Simon’s shoulders. Johnny locks eyes with him for a moment, and there’s something vulnerable there, something so gentle that Simon can’t help but drop his ankles and press his body on top of his, cradling Johnny’s face between his palms, kissing him softly.

“Alright?” he asks, and Johnny nods, eagerly before letting out a scratchy reply.

“Fuck me already.” He begs, and Simon chuckles, rearing up, pushing his knees towards his chest. You lay on your back, panting next to Johnny, staring up at Simon with wide, thirst filled eyes. He pulls one of your knees wide, admiring your weeping cunt, before pressing into Johnny slowly, giving him time to adjust, and the feel of him around his cock shoots straight to Simon’s brain, filling him with dizzying satisfaction. His body gives way for him, stretching to fit him just as he always does, and something burns inside Simon, some fierce feeling of possession, of love, fills him when he watches how Johnny’s face shifts the deeper he gets.

“Y’ feel so good.” He growls it, and Johnny moans, his muscles going taut as Simon works his cock in and out of Johnny’s body, the rhythm growing faster and faster, Johnny’s voice becoming desperately sharp whines and pleas.

“More, Si. F-fuck, more.” And he’s tempted, so tempted to fuck wildly into Johnny, to fill him with his come, but there’s more, there’s so much more to this night than the easy way out, and he has to take it slow.

“Christ, Johnny. Yer so fuckin’ tight.” He groans, folding himself forward to drag his lips across his skin in worship. Johnny moans, loudly, and Simon grinds his hips against his ass, pushing deep, fucking into Johnny unforgivably, grinding against the little sweet spot while his cock dribbles pathetically onto his belly. He strokes him, hand squeezing around the base on the down stroke, staving off a potential orgasm each time. Johnny shudders as Simon increases his pace, pumping faster, harder, all while squeezing the base of his cock, watching how Johnny writhes for him. “Touch yourself, love.” He instructs you, and your finger swirls around your clit, eyes locked on the two of them, drinking up the sight of them fucking like you always do, and the sound of their skin slapping together echoes around the room while you whimper.

“Si-“ He howls, walls fluttering around Simon, his cock swollen and red, desperate to spill every time Simon grinds against him. He’s already so close, worked up after being inside of you, ready to come at any moment. “Shite, I- I-“

“What’s the rule, MacTavish?” He snarls, and Johnny blanches.

“Please can I come, I need ta come, please sir-“ he chokes off when Simon rubs his thumb over his tip, smearing the leaking precome around his head, while still plunging his cock through and through his body. You whimper, voice desperate, gaze wide, and he can tell that you’re close too. Perfect.

“What a good boy, Johnny. Telling me what you need.” He tuts. “Do you want me to make you come?” There are tears in Johnny’s eyes, one spilling out down past his temple, and it’s a beautiful sight.

“Yes, y-es, cannae- fuck.” Simon glances over to you, where you’re frozen on the bed, hand not moving, suspended in the air, and he smirks. Smart girl. Johnny’s orgasms always push you over the edge.

“Come for me then, come on. Let me see it.” He releases his grip from the base of Johnny’s shaft, pumping him once, twice, before Johnny’s body is locking up and he’s screaming, walls strangling down on Simon’s cock so much that he has to completely stop moving, otherwise he’ll come too. He strokes his cock through the orgasm, until it’s too much and Johnny’s whimpering through the overstimulation, hand trying to grab Simon’s wrist. “Good boy, did so well for me.” He murmurs, leaning forward to kiss him, slotting his lips against Johnny’s and giving him gentle, measured kisses until his breathing returns to normal and Simon is pulling his cock from his body slowly. He checks him, quickly, for tearing or damage, and then sweeps stray mohawk hairs from his forehead, giving him another honeyed kiss. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Johnny responds, a little dazed but satisfied, and Simon leans over to you, brushing his lips across your kneecap, before cupping your pussy gently and pressing down on your clit.

“Don’t move.” He orders, rising from the bed, pulling a washcloth from the bathroom and cleaning himself efficiently with soap and warm water, before discarding it and returning to the two of you with a new one.

When he steps back onto the bed, Johnny’s laying curled around you, arms holding you tight to him, your face in his neck, chest heaving, and it’s enough to give him pause, reminding him to take a moment. He presses a palm against your spine, encouraging you to look at him, allowing you to take your time when you turn your head. You have a faraway look in your eye, a little bit of discomfort, a little bit of confusion, but no tears. Time to check in.

“How old are you, darling?” He asks you gently, tapping Johnny on the thigh to turn over so he can wipe him down. When you give your answer, and your voice doesn’t shake, he feels a little better.

“And what is today?” When you give the date, with the day of the week, he smiles, kissing you on the cheek.

“Good.” He cleans Johnny slowly, basking in the whimpers that slip free when he presses the warm cloth to the head of his cock, before tossing it in the corner of the room. He’s still rock hard, desperate with want for the two of you, just as desperate as you are to come, he imagines. He wrenches you into his lap to straddle him again, cradling your face to take you in one more time before starting again and you draw a shaky breath. He pulls you onto your knees, instructing you to hover over where he fists his cock, and then grips your hip and drives you down slowly, the heat and silk of your walls clutching him greedily, desperate for what he’s about to give you. Catharsis. Release.

“Good girl.” You moan and he calms you, reaching for Johnny’s hand, pulling him close until he’s pressed against your back, already hard again. Lucky boy, Simon muses, gets to come twice today. “You’ve been bloody perfect for me, darling. We’re so lucky.” He starts, setting everything in motion, putting the train on the tracks and loading it with coal. He returns to cradle your face, rubbing his thumbs across your cheeks while he bottoms out in you, Johnny pressing the sweetest kisses to your shoulder. “You’re everything to us.” He says, and watches you start to crack, watches the pressure start to rise. “We couldn’t be happier with you.” Like lighting the fuse of a rocket. You blink, quickly, in rapid succession, like you’re trying to get a handle on yourself, and he swipes over your clit before asking you if you’re okay for the next. “Do you feel ready to take Johnny here?” His hand drifts down your back to twist the plug, and your eyes shutter.

“Yeah, please.” You answer breathlessly.

“Slowly.” He tells Johnny, who lets out a breathy sigh. Simon strokes your clit while Johnny works you, pulling the plug free and lining himself up with your stretched rim, your cunt squeezing him with each pass over your swollen numb, your jaw slack with bliss, face tranquil and open like your body until he can feel Johnny’s cock inside you, and your eyes widen, breath choking off in a gasp.

“Jesus.” Johnny moans, hardly even moving, but feeling the press of Simon’s cock against his inside of you, only the tissue of your walls separating the two of them. Simon grits his teeth, holding you still by the grip he has on your hips, thrusting upwards into you very, very sluggishly. He thumbs your clit again, working in a circular motion, pressing at just the right angle, the touch sending sparks through your body, jolting your muscles into squeezing around both of them. Simon pulls Johnny’s hand forward, snaking it around your waist to press against your belly, pulling you back while also pushing down, the pressure making your lower lip quiver and eyes gloss over.

“That’s it.” Simon praises, still stroking your clit while jerking his cock up into your body. You jolt, and Simon holds you steady, pressing more firmly while murmuring sweetly to you. “So beautiful.” He kisses your neck. “So sweet for us.” He kisses your clavicle. “So breathtaking. You make us so happy, darling.” Johnny thrusts a little, just enough to get some friction, eyes slipping shut in a haze of pleasure and Simon can’t not marvel at the two of you, how perfectly you fit together, how sublime this entire moment is. Almost there. He works his hips up faster, not enough to jostle the three of you, but enough that delicious sparks of fire are moving through his body, and your cunt is twitching on his cock. You tense around him, muscles turning solid, and Johnny lets out a string of curses while Simon keeps his sights locked on you, his fingers pushing you closer and the closer to the orgasm you’ve been desperately chasing for hours. You stare back at him, eyes wide, brows creased as he thumbs your clit, and he watches with the deepest satisfaction as they grow wetter and wetter, tears gathering along your lids like you’re giving him a gift. “There you go.” He coos, and your body responds, heat pooling around his cock. “We love you so much. You’re doing so good for us, darling girl.” The tears spill down your cheeks now, and you sob, all while sinking your fingers into his shoulders, shuddering recklessly, not even caring that Johnny is buried inside of you, the sporadic movement sending him deeper and deeper.

“Please Si.” You cry, and paw helplessly at him. “Pl- please I need to come.” You gasp it, raw and frantic, and he continues to stroke your clit.

“Good girl. Thank you for telling me what you need.” He grinds his cock into you and you keen, right before he finally gives you permission to let go. “Come for us.” He says and it happens nearly automatically, your hips jutting back, and then forward, body locking down on both of them while you scream through your climax, and they both fuck you through it, Simon wildly chasing his own while Johnny spasms behind you, your walls milking them both with the waves of your orgasm. His own nearly blinds him, burning him with white hot pleasure, the feeling of filling you with his come at the same as Johnny igniting something possessive and out of control in his heart. He throbs inside you through his aftershocks, coming down from an impossible high, fingers groping blindly against you and Johnny to bring you both closer.

You sob in his arms, completely wrecked and shaking, like he knew you would be, finally broken, finally free.

“Shhh.” He murmurs, guiding your face into his neck where you wet his skin with hot tears. Johnny shifts, rubbing your back, kissing your shoulder blades before pulling out slowly, his come dripping from your rim, sliding down your skin to mix where Simon’s leaks from your cunt. “Shhh, we’re here, we’re right here.” He moves to pull out, so he can carry you into the bathroom, or lay you down, but you hold him tighter, breaths coming in sharp pants, and you cry harder into his skin. It’s not just the sex, or the orgasm denial, or any of it, but something more, something complicated that lives within you, that settles darkly against your soul sometimes. “It’s alright. Breathe, just breathe. You’re okay, you did so good.” Johnny presses light kisses to your temple, your cheek, all while rubbing your back with a firm, grounding touch.

“Washcloth.” He mouths to Simon, voice just above a whisper, and Simon agrees, reaching for his hand before he gets up, holding it tight in his grip and pulling him in for a kiss. If you notice Johnny’s absence after he slips away, you don’t say anything, steadily keeping your face buried in Simon’s neck until he gets back, breath stuttering in a choked hiss when you flinch away from the wet fabric against your skin.

“I need to clean you up, love.” Johnny gently dabs you with the cloth, moving you as needed to check for bruising or tearing, just as Simon does for him, before tossing it on the bed, and holding you by your upper arms.

“Bathroom.” Simon instructs, and Johnny nods, pulling you from his lap, displacing Simon’s cock and cuddling you into his arms, while Simon follows behind. You’re still crying, but you let Johnny place you on the toilet, mumbling for him to ‘get out’ while you pee, so they both stand on the other side of the door, even though it’s half open. They don’t leave you alone after something like this, as a rule, choosing to wait just a few steps away instead. While they do, Simon holds Johnny in his arms, rocking him back and forth from their standing position, caressing gentle fingers through his hair.

“I love you.” He whispers, the full effect of his own emotions cresting over him like a tidal wave, leaving him both wrecked and overflowing, while Johnny smiles. “I love you both.”

“I know. I love you too, Si.” They stay like that, until you come out, hands reaching for them, a little bit panicky like you thought maybe they disappeared, and Simon scoops you back into his arms, carrying you into bed while Johnny takes care of himself, and works on the aftercare list: pain cream, hot washcloth, water, snacks.

You burrow yourself in the blankets, tucking into Simon, face still teary while he speaks softly to you, telling you how good you were, how happy you make them, how proud he is of you, soothing your vibrant emotions until Johnny comes back, and they trade off so Simon can get cleaned up. Johnny will need aftercare too, time curled up in Simon’s arms, but they’ll do it after yours, sticking to the routine that has always worked for the three of them.

Simon’s grateful to see you slipping into a dream-like state upon his return, happy and floating, no longer crying with eyes soft and full of bliss, content in Johnny’s hold, half empty water bottle on the bed. He slides in between the blankets, his own body lax and sated, and reaches for Johnny and you, anxious to hold his whole world in his arms at this moment, unwilling to give it up or let it go for anything.

His Johnny. His darling. His.

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summer-nights19 · 1 year ago

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Hii! Can you make a Murasakibara x reader . Murasakibara calls his s/o by a cute nickname after his basketball practice is over and his s/o came to see if his practice is over so they both can go home together after school + the reaction of GOM when they get to know murasakibara is dating someone.? Bye, have a great day /night!

Hi anon ! Thank you so much, and this is really cute, thanks for the mental picture <33

Reading you guys' KnB imagines always makes my day, so please continue to send em in !

When his friends find out you're dating

Murasakibara x gn reader

(AU in which the GOM remain teammates after middle school)

@neoo you might like this one

You took your phone out of your bag to check the time as you walked towards the school gym. If you remembered correctly, Atsushi's basketball practice should have ended around five minutes ago. It was the last practice session of a very busy season, so he'd promised to take you out as soon as it was finished. When you asked where, he said it was a surprise and that he'd take you there after practice. The more you thought about spending the evening with your beloved boyfriend after a few weeks of barely seeing him outside of school, the giddier you felt. When you finally reached the gym and pushed the door open, you saw Atsushi talking with the other members of the generation of miracles as they walked out of the changing room. Even though most members of the generation of miracles were pretty tall, Murasakibara still managed to tower over them. He'd changed out of his basketball kit and into a loose fitting black shirt with short sleeves and grey sweatpants. His hair was also up- he knew that was a weakness of yours. You didn't mind that he dressed more casually- in fact, as you checked out his long, toned arms, you realised how much you liked it. As soon as Murasakibara saw you standing and starin at the door, he smiled slightly and walked over to you.

"Hey baby, you ready to leave after this ?" You opened your mouth to answer but Kuroko beat you to it.

"What ? Murasakibara and Y/N ? Why didn't anybody tell me ?" You tried not to laugh at the look of utter shock on his face as his eyes darted between you and Atsushi. Aomine cut in, frowning

"Yeah ! And why does he get to date someone that hot ? Y/N, if you ever grow bored of this dry ass man then you know where to find-" This time, it was Atsushi who cut Aomine off by shoving him in the opposite direction to you.

"Over my dead body," he said, glaring at Aomine. The latter simply smirked and raised his eyebrows

"Control yourself, Aomine. Anyway, you're all just idiots. This has been rather obvious for a few weeks now. Whenever Murasakibara has free time, he spends it with Y/N, and he always takes every opportunity to text them during practice. Akashi has noticed it too. While I normally wouldn't condone dating within a friendship group, their signs are perfectly matched," Midorima explained, a triumphant look on his face, while Akashi stood there silently. You hadn't expected much of a reaction from him, because you realised on some level he'd always known, and had given you and Atsushi small windows of time in which you could meet and talk all throughout the last basketball season. When you'd thanked him for all his help, he'd just nodded and smiled slightly.

You listened and tried to hold in your laughter as Aomine and Midorima began to squabble over his remark. These guys were idiots, but they were your idiots. They'd been your best friends since middle school and you were glad that you finally had the opportunity to share this with them. Kise finally broke the spat, smiling in your direction as he spoke.

"Yeah, you guys really weren't as discreet as you thought. I mean, Murasakibaracchi literally has a picture of you in his basketball jersey as his phone lockscreen. Anyway, though I agree with Aominecchi that this is slightly unfair, I wish you two all the best. You look really cute together, as well as being well matched,"

"Yeah," Kuroko agreed, smiling at you as you blushed.

"Aww guys... thank you so much ! We would have told you earlier, but we were afraid it would change things between the group,"

"Nah. No matter what happens, we'll stick together. We've made it this far, right ?" Aomine replied, and the others nodded in agreement. Atsushi put an arm around your waist and looked at the guys.

"Now that you know, I'd appreciate it if you stopped wasting our time. I'm taking Y/N on a date tonight. Also, keep your hands to yourselves. Y/N is mine," he said, glaring at Aomine and Kise. You smiled up at him, your heart beating faster as he revealed this new possessive side to his nature. He squeezed you a little before hoisting you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing.

"Wha- Atsushi ! What do you think you're doing ?" you asked, squirming in his grasp playfully.

"We'll get there faster like this,". He tightened his grip around you and you let yourself relax, breathing in his warm scent as he carried you out of the gym.

"Bye guys !" you said, smiling as Atsushi carried you out. The others smiled back at you, waving as they watched you and Atsushi leave the gym.

As soon as you'd left, Kuroko opened his mouth again

"So that's why Murasakibara was asking about where the rose garden was,"

Kise facepalmed and laughed a little

"Yes, it was. He wanted to surpris them with a truly romantic spot. God, you really are dense at times, Kurokocchi,"

Masterlist

#knb x reader #gom x reader #atsushi murasakibara #murasakibara x reader #knb murasakibara #murasakibara fluff #murasakibara fanfic #knb fanfic #knb fluff

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ein-shtink · 9 months ago

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Sometimes I think about the fact we’re neighbors. There are more things that bring me and a Palestinian woman living in Gaza together than things bringing us apart.

We grew up watching the same sunsets, the same sunrises. If there were no borders, it would take about an hour for us to go and visit one another. We grew up listening to the same music. Our parents did, too.

Our grandparents read poetry in the same language, watched the same Egyptian movies. The foods are similar, the hobbies are, too. When I was in high school I met a girl my age, who grew up in Gaza but relocated with her family to an Arab village within Israel, a five minute drive from where I used to live. We made movies together. We joked a lot. We were one and the same, more often than not.

I can’t stop thinking about the Palestinians in Gaza. I can’t stop thinking about the horrors they endure. I can’t stop thinking about Palestinian men, women and children, having to fight for food. For hygiene products. For water. I can’t stop thinking about them having no time to hide before a bomb hits, about them not being allowed to evacuate. I can’t stop thinking about the ones who died protesting for a better life, long before this war started. They are my neighbors. We watch the same sunsets.

I can’t stop thinking about the hostages, either. I can’t stop thinking about the desecrated bodies of innocent women paraded around Gaza’s streets. I can’t stop thinking about the sisters who were raped and murdered together, aged 13 and 16. The older one was my sister’s friend. I can’t stop thinking about Shlomo Ron, the art-loving 80 year old man who sacrificed his own life to save his wife and grandchildren. He looks just like my grandpa. I can’t stop thinking about Thomas Hand, who was told his little girl was dead and cried tears of joy, because being dead is better than being taken hostage. I can’t stop thinking about the fact Emily Hand didn’t die, and actually was taken hostage. Ever since she was released, she only whispers, too afraid to speak up.

I can’t stop thinking about the suffering. About the loss. About the mothers on both sides of their border who had to watch their children die. About the pain.

Their faces haunt me.

I don’t understand why the West is calling for a ceasefire when they should be calling for peace. I don’t understand why the West is calling for the destruction of Israel when they should be calling for a solution that will allow both people to live side by side, in peace. I don’t understand why the existence of Israel is a bad thing. I don’t understand why the West refuses to call out Hamas, for the crimes of October 7th and their gross mistreatment and neglectful leadership of the Palestinian people ever since they rose to power. I don’t understand why the West views this decades old conflict through a one sided lens, amplifying the voice of one people’s crying and shutting down the other’s.

We deserve better. Palestinians and Israelis deserve better. We deserve to prosper, we deserve to live long and proud of our heritages in the land we both call home.

Maybe one day nations around the world and our own corrupt leaders will stop making us paint one another as the enemy. Israelis and Palestinians, we’re not each other’s enemies. We’re each other’s neighbors.

We deserve to let our children play.

#israel #palestine #gaza #i/p war #I don’t know. just had to let it all out #I’m sad and I’m angry and I’m frustrated and I’m so fucking scared #I just want this war to be over already #am yisrael chai #non Palestinians/israelis can rb but as I mentioned before idc about your opinions on the matter

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pricegouge · 5 months ago

Note

what about bear!price being a major sleep cuddler & get grumpy whenever bunny has to pry herself out of his grip whenever she needs to pee or something

You guys know him so well.

It doesn't matter in what position the two of you fall asleep, you always wake up like this: John's heavy body draped over you, leg thrown over your's. You're lucky if he's not drooling on you, face smooshed to your cheek as it usually is.

Half the time, you fall asleep on his chest, but you know he follows you the second you roll away. He insists he's not awake for it, but you've heard him huff poutily a time or two after rolling away from him, wrapping you up in his arms within seconds of escaping him. If you fall asleep already enveloped in him, he'll roll you underneath him the second he dozes off, using your big soft body like the comfiest pillow he owns.

Rarely, he'll let you fall asleep all the way on the other side of the bed. Those are the worst nights, when you wake up to find him so thoroughly entwined with you you're not sure where you end and he begins. You don't usually mind, except when you wake up thirsty enough to drink Lake McDonald, or have to pee so bad your kidneys hurt.

Prying yourself out from under him is hard enough, but you've gotten it down to a science that doesn't involve a visit from the fire department at this point. No, the worst part is the choice between waking him up and listening to him whine about you getting out of bed, or letting him sleep and having him track you down when he wakes up alone. The balance you've found is this: wake him up whenever you have to pee so he doesn't follow you (seriously, he is far too casual for your taste about sitting on the sink while you tidy up, it is not welcome in the dead of night), and trying to let him sleep when you just have to run to the kitchen. Although more often than not, that decision results in him scaring the shit out of you when you turn away from the fridge door to find him glowering down at you, standing inches away without a sound.

Tonight you're staring down the barrel of another potential kitchen jump scare when he wakes, your body half wiggled out from under him in a way that made him flop to the bed too hard. The man could honestly sleep through an alien invasion, but god forbid he senses you leaving him for even a second.

"Where're you goin'," he slurs, voice thick with sleep. He doesn't even bother to wait for your answer, already trying to pull you back under him.

"Need a drink, John."

He whines, there's no other word for it. "C'me back t'bed."

"I will. In five minutes."

He rolls onto his back like he's been shot, arm swinging dramatically across the bed. "Fine," he gripes, and pulls himself to his feet next to you.

"You can stay here," you point out, but he's already running into the door frame on his way to the kitchen. He curses, and you suppress a laugh, shuffling after him to rub his back soothingly because you know he'll be even more of a grumpy baby if you don't.

He slumps into a seat at the kitchen table, chin propped onto his fist as he watches you get yourself a drink. You don't bother turning on the lights, moving about his kitchen with the kind of confidence only earned after months of basically living there. "Want anything?" you ask, and hum knowingly when he nods at the stove. A nice cuppa before bed, just as you thought.

The kettle's quick, but John falls back asleep faster. You laugh when you set his mug in front of him and find him slumped forward, soft snores a preview to the heavy saws he'll be emitting in just a few minutes. You don't let it get that far, pressing a kiss to his scruffy cheek to wake him up. "Drink your tea and we'll get back to bed."

"Should've never left," he grumbles, but he dumps enough milk into his mug to cool it off, and drinks it all down in one go. Honestly, he acts like he follows you out because he can't stand to be away from you, but at this point you're fairly certain he's using you as a means to a free snack in the dead of night.

Next>>

#fatted rabbit #asks

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 1 year ago

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earth-42

pairing: miles morales x gn!spidey (platonic)

WC: 2.8K

warnings: thoughts/mentions of death, mention of a syringe, light panic attack. honestly should be all.

summary: you made it out safe... or did you?

A/N: ATSV SPOILERS LIKE PLEASE WATCH THE AMAZING MOVIE FIRST BEFORE READING!!!! honestly thank you for the love with spider society. it was posted as a little experiment just to see how much traction i can get if i post fics related to the media when its fresh and really popular. does about the same as my others tho more or less. i know there was more conversation in the last scene, but i liked the cliffhanger, giving you the movie TO BE CONTINUED treatment.

masterlist

spider society

the two of you were spit out by the wormhole and tumbled to the ground of a building. your suit was gaining wet spots from the puddles you rolled in and the rain pouring from the sky. you came to a stop on your back, panting through your mask as you stared at the gloomy sky. you thought for a moment that you died, not even making it out of hq. but no, the air stung your nose with the fast intakes and you were pretty sure your heart was gonna jump out of your body.

stretching an arm out to the side of you, palm touching the bumpy ground trying to find your companion. he wasn’t within reaching distance so you rolled over to your side and squinted into the neon light. “miles?” wanting to make sure your friend was safe. he didn’t call back, so you looked over the roof and found him just a few steps away.

his back was pressed to a wall, his mask was pulled off his face. his breathing was frantic and he looked to be shaking. “hey, miles.” a hand to his shoulder, but he flinched so you held it up and away. “miles, you gotta breathe. we’re safe. i need you to breathe.” doing exaggerated deep breathing and exhaling to get him to follow your rhythm.

miles fell in sync with you. he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the brick wall, hands covering his face. “we’ll be okay, miles. it’ll be okay.” needing reassurance for both of you in these dire times.

a warm sensation tingled over your arms and legs then pure hot pain hit every cell. you glitch out of reality. hands fell to the floor to keep you up as sweat gathered at your hairline while you tried slowing your heart. might not have been the best idea to rid yourself of the watch, but you didn’t want to risk miguel or anyone tracking you to miles. you didn’t even know how bad the glitching would be. if it would be slow for a while then accelerate or if you start glitching every ten minutes before you're dead within the hour.

“y/n…” miles stopped your spiraling thoughts of death. “we should- we should head to my house. it’ll be safer.”

he stood from the ground and held a hand out for you. arm feeling like lead as it fell into miles’s open palm while your legs felt like jelly. you took a moment to focus on your heartbeat, listen to the thump thump thump as it drummed in your ears. might be your last day to hear it.

“hey,” miles said over the rain. your masked eyes opening back to their bug-eyed nature. “we’ll be okay.” he repeated your words from just five minutes ago.

“yeah… we have each other.”

the two of you swung through the night. rain smacking against your body like bb-bullets. your wandering eyes took notice of the broken billboards and closed-down businesses. how there seemed to be a lot of police cars on the street, and fewer people walking the sidewalk. it didn’t seem miles noticed any of this, his swinging getting faster in speed like he was running away from something. you didn’t bother telling him to slow down, you just focused on his directions.

eventually, miles came to a stop on a building and he pushed a window open. he climbed first and you followed. you pulled your mask off to obverse the small space. his room was blanked in darkness, walls, and shelves bare of personal belongings or collectibles. it was like he had to grow up quickly, not allowing himself the chance to enjoy his childhood.

your body glitched, only briefly. second time tonight and after about thirty minutes, not too bad. it still twisted your insides, making you lightheaded and a bit clammy. you dragged yourself to miles’s bed so you don’t collapse to the floor.

“wishing you had your watch?” miles sat beside you and the bed slightly dipped.

you toyed with your fingers, “only a little. just so i’m not glitching until i die.” humor to take the edge off. a spider trait.

“you’re not gonna die.” miles grabbed the hand closest to him and held it. you stared at two gloves hands, then looked into miles’s soft pupils. he’ll probably be the last human connection you have.

“oh, miles… i don’t have a home anymore. whatever happens, is the end for me. and you know what…” fingers giving his hand a squeeze with a teary smile, “i’m okay with that. i should’ve gone a long time ago. with gwen, with my family and friends. but at least i’ll have one more night to be spidey with a new friend by my side.”

vision getting blurry and then the tear fell and you didn’t bother to wipe them away. just letting them stain your skin with the sorrow you’re trying to avoid. miles’s lips wobbled, his nose slightly scrunched as he tried to contain himself. he threw himself at you and pulled you into a tight hug, one you reciprocated with just as much hold.

“miles?” a new feminine voice entered the space. then footsteps closer to his bedroom door.

miles pulled away and rushed to find anything for a cover-up. he threw an oversized jacket into your lap and both of you managed to be normally dressed when the door was pushed open.

a woman, who you assumed was miles’s mom, walked in with a laundry basket sitting on her hip. she looked surprised when her eyes fell on you, still sitting on his bed. you gave a sheepish wave and a nervous smile, “hi, i’m y/n.”

“uh… hi. miss morales.” she still seemed unsure of your presence so you decided to make yourself scarce for now. “i’ll, uh, i’ll leave the two of you alone. nice to meet you, miss morales.”

just as you exited the room you heard her ask miles, “you took your braids out?” you didn’t think anything of it.

keeping your steps light, you curiously did some light snooping. everything looked clean, and well taken care of. in general, the apartment looked normal, but when you took a closer look something felt… off.

photos. miles said his dad was still alive, soon to be police captain in two days. yet when you look at the few pictures placed on the walls, there only seemed to be ones with miles and his mom. and if there is a photo with his dad, miles was younger with his baby face or it was a picture taken when his parents were younger.

with the creak of the door, miss morales walked out of miles room and into the dining area. miles followed just a few steps behind looking confused, he called out for her and then-

miles started to glitch.

it’s like your own heart stopped beating when you saw how his body shifted and stuttered. and then you glitched again for another second. the both of you leaned against the railing, knowing eyes staring. you were in the wrong reality with no way out.

your spidey senses started to go off like a warning signal, but you couldn’t see anything that was a possible danger. whereas miles went wide-eyed at the front door and even more so when a tall older man walked through the entrance.

“uncle aaron?” miles practically whispered. now you were even more sure this was the wrong universe. you saw miles crying over his uncle back at hq.

the older man walked over to him and held his hand out for a shake, “what's up miles?” aaron’s brows raised a bit when miles just continued to stare at him, “what? not happy to see me, little man?”

“no! no, no. sorry, just- just a bit tired.” he stuttered out an excuse. aaron seemed to buy it, but he still looked suspicious of him. eyes going to his hair, “took your braids out?”

miles unconsciously touched it, “yeah. not- not used to the feeling yet.”

his uncle hummed. then his eyes fell on you, watching you from head to toe and it made your senses flare up again. “who’s this miles?” hands fell into his jacket pockets.

miles looked at you then back to aaron, “my friend, y/n. from school. upperclassman.”

he was quiet for a minute, again just watching you as you meekly said hello. he hummed once more before walking away to where his mom disappeared.

you stepped closer to miles and tugged at his puffer with urgency. “miles we have to leave. now.” your hushed whispers said with a faint shake.

he looked out of it, disoriented. you kept tugging, whispering for him to snap out of it. by the time he did, uncle aaron was walking back to the two of you.

“miles, come on man. gotta do some errands.” he cocked his head when looking at you, “you're welcomed to join us as well, y/n. i’ll get to know one of miles… friends.” the drawl in the word crept goosebumps over your skin.

you didn’t want to leave miles, but you needed to distance yourself so you could keep an eye from afar. you know his uncle wouldn’t put him in danger. “actually, i should- my mom’s been blowing up my phone. so i- i’ll see you tomorrow, miles.” hoping he knew you weren’t leaving him behind.

“it was nice to meet you, miss morales and mr aaron.” keeping the polite act up until the door was shut on your way out. you sprinted outside and crawled up the side of the building for a vantage point.

you were crouched on the rooftop with your eyes peeking over the edge for when miles and aaron exited. though after a while you don’t see them leave the front door, but you do hear them on the rooftop door open. you scrambled away into the shadows, head popping around a corner to see the two males.

aaron walked ahead of miles with his back rigid and hands hidden in his pockets. miles followed on unsure feet, head swiveling around as he finally took notice of the destruction done to this reality. you crawled not far behind, keeping low to the ground and deep in the dark.

they came to a stop and a train roared with its blinding headlights. it lights the dark rooftop in a white glow and something caught your attention, color. bright color on the next building over and seeing the way miles reacted subtly, you knew who it was. miles’s dad was dead in this world.

spider senses went off like a blaring siren. body crouched into a defensive position as your eyes scanned the crates and trash. trying to find the lurking danger before it could get the best of you. there was some rustling, a can knocked over making you stay on high alert.

the ringing and tunnel vision wasn’t stopping and it was almost making you dizzy. with your back to the city and eyes on miles, you almost missed the body rushing at you. almost.

senses zeroed in, body moving on its instincts, your fist caught the metallic glove just inches from your face. staring back at you was a mask that was similar to one they use for spray painting. they tilted their head slightly to the right as if they were examining you. it was like you were suddenly an actual spider under a microscope, just waiting to be squashed.

they swung their other arm, this one free of gloves or claws. you stopped it with ease and gave a twist, spinning them around and pinning their arms behind their back.

“if you just let me and my friend go, this will be over. i’m not here for a fight.” hoping to be reasonable would win the day. they just fought against your hold.

you looked over your shoulder to check on miles, and he wasn’t there. neither was his uncle, they were gone. “miles!” you couldn’t help but shout in worry. focus clouded on the state of your friend, you didn’t notice your grip was slacking and how the enemy took advantage. it wasn’t until you felt a prick on your arm did you turn to the forbidding mask.

you looked down and saw as they pulled a syringe away, you stumbled backward. body glitching, longer than a second. feet hitting a fallen trash can causing you to tumble to the floor, head hitting something hard. vision blurring and limbs going heavy, you couldn’t get away as they walked closer. squatting with their elbows resting on knees, lit up purple holes burning your skin with another slow tilt of their head. and then everything went dark and quiet.

your head felt heavy like a bowling ball. the back of your neck strained from the way it fell forward. slowly like you were awakening from a deep sleep, eyes blinking to feel normal instead of weighted. you picked your head up slowly, trying to take in your surroundings. when you tried to move your arms, they were locked by your side, a heavy chain wrapped around you tight as you sat on the floor with your ankles locked together.

grunts and huffs from your mouth as you tried to get some type of friction, just a bit of space you could move your arms or hands with.

“i wouldn’t bother, kid.” a rumble within the dark room.

uncle aaron walked into the patch of light from the windows. his steps were slow, and calculated. he was playing with something in his hand and only when it was bathed in the glow of lit-up billboards did you see that it was your mask.

“look, i don’t want any trouble. neither does miles. we’re just lost.” the both of you were just kids, you older and miles younger. aaron wouldn’t hurt either of you… right?

he huffed, “yeah, well… the two of you being here… already causes trouble.” and he walked away from you and towards a punching bag.

he spun it around with a push of his palm and you saw miles strung up with the heavy chain tied around you, the tips of his toes grazing the floor. he stirred.

“miles! miles, wake up!” pleading for his attention. he shook his head and you saw how his body tensed and how his eyes widened. “miles! oh, thank goodness.” a sigh of relief.

“what’s- what’s going on?” he pushed against the chains, “why- why am i tied up?”

“i don’t know, man. why are you tied up?” aaron had his back to both of you, facing a table and messing around with something.

“look, uncle aaron, please-“

it felt like time slowed down, but you didn’t see it coming, only the result. how miles’s voice stopped in the middle of his sentence, uncle aaron spinning on his foot. a loud boom and the sound of something breaking into pieces. the sand was spat out from the seams of the bag and for a second you thought there were specks of blood… or brain.

“miles!” a scream was ripped from your throat. he can’t be dead, he can’t be dead, he just can’t be dead. the tears fell quietly.

aaron’s sadistic laugh stung your ears and you could feel the anger brewing but was pushed away. he spun the bag again and there miles was, panting, alive and scared. you began to sob uncontrollably, shoulders shaking as you bowed your head to your chest.

you can’t lose any more people.

“ah, why you crying?” “y/n, it’s- it’s okay. i’m okay, we’re gonna be okay.”

“well, we gotta let the bossman decide that.”

tears and sobs trailing off, head pulling up. you were confused. wasn’t he the boss and the person you were fighting with his goon. as you stared, you noticed movement from the corner of your eye. and those looming purple eye holes spiked your heart.

they were crouched on a beam before dropping with one hand holding the beam, then they dropped to the floor. they looked… small. way shorter than aaron, so that means they’re younger. they had a purple collar with a purple prowler marking on their shirt. regular sneakers on their feet. they caught the glove that aaron threw with ease and slipped it on then it activated making a noise.

“who are you?” miles asked when they were just a step or two away. you wanted the answer as well.

they were quiet for a moment and then the mask robotically pulled away from their face. and staring back at miles was… “i’m miles morales.” his voice was different and held more of the accent his mother carried.

his hair was pulled into two braids, the ones his mother and aaron were questioning in the apartment. he looked tired, eyes heavier. the purple lighting wrapped around him, “but you can call me, the prowler.”

a/n2: THERE WILL NOT BE ANOTHER PART!!!

taglist: @bath1lda / @maya-custodios-dionach / @argentlsv / @justmare /

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katewalker · 4 months ago

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oc smash or pass

got tagged by @camelliagwerm (thank you 💟) to do the smash or pass : oc edition

tagging (no pressure) : @hylfystt ; @cryptcombat ; @zahra-hydris ; @seance ; @fantasmagoriam ;

@sloubs ; @thanekrios and everyone else wanting to do it ✌️

*click for better quality footage of my girl*

BASICS:

pernille beaujont

1m96

31 years old (during endwalker)

she/her

bisexual

duskwight elezen

adventurer/summoner/warrior of light

PROS:

long ears even for an elezen

big book collection (just please don't touch the ones with runes inside)

has a ton of funny pompous titles you can jokingly call her

can summon a small cute yellow fox-like creature for you to pet (she can turn it blue/green or red too)

will help you even with the most mundane problems and will protect you from literally anything you can think of... yeah even gods (she beat several of those already)

her aura magnetises people and commands so much respect and admiration she comes off as aloof at first, but she really is all soft spoken, delicate gestures, shy tender smiles within five minutes of talking to her

will listen to all your hopes and fears and concerns and vents just so you can get it off your chest and feel better

will really just patiently listen and won't give you unwanted advice if you don't want it or dote on you if you prefer

she's a talented weaver and will repair the small holes in your socks, can also makes you cool and pretty clothes for free

overall she's genuiely a good crafter and can totally equip you for battle

loves going out for a stroll in a various landscapes, keeps a sketching book to study the fauna, flora and rocks

for history lovers, she can have cool visions of the past

CONS:

but there's a 95% chance she'll have visions of your past

also she doesn't control when it happens so you'll probably have to watch out for her so she doesn't get killed, yeah it happened in battle before...

often lost in her own thoughts (not the vision of the past kind) so she'll have you repeat your words once or twice

thirst traps, but will most likely never act on it

is being courted by a lot of people (including a litteral murderous sociopath) and everyone is consistantly asking for her attention and she will listen to as many as she can (it's in her nature of service)

might have some romantic tension with her alter-ago who fusioned his soul with hers

has two adopted teenagers (twins) who can and will interrogate you for hours to see if you're worthy of her (at best you'll be a debatable case)

you might have an entire ngo to go through as well

will disappear without a word to go on an adventure

literally never rest or listen to her body to the point of passing out

she might not be done grieving her dead boyfriend nor her dead friend/crush

bought an appartment in a freezing cold city to have a resting place close to her boyfriend's grave and her kinda in-laws

said appartment is more like an unkempt bedroom full of books and parchments, she doesn't spent much time in it

#oc talk #polls #tagged #pau.txt #maybe i'll do one for delphene as well if by popular demand

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unsleepingtales · 1 month ago

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Oh boy those content warnings look fun. Mismag episode four time?

(Excuse the lack of excitement please I’ve had a shit day and this promises yet more emotional damage) (I know I’m choosing to watch this I promise I’ll turn it off if it feels like it would be bad for me to keep watching)

Not the long back

Oh god

He has every right to be saying this but ouch

Okay so this is reasonable and devastating

SAM

That’s the thing that gets Brennan to break

Oh god Sam is a child of divorce and her saying that HITS

K. K. This is not it? Maybe?

Where’s Brennan’s mic bc it sounds a bit weird

Ooooh cool shadow stuff

Oy.

Disturbing!!!!

Is there a conspiracy about my ass happening in the group right now?

Yeah Evan there is 100% a conspiracy about your ass

Cool cool. So that was jokey but definitely implied K is still into Evan

His BODY

Maybe it’s the book he picked up?

Hmm! Upsetting.

This is not great for my mental health 😐

Is Carlos doing this live or did they have him record new stuff in between episodes?

I mean that’s fair you did earthquake him

Aabria looks surprised so I am gonna guess Carlos was doing that live

There’s a lot of rules for sleeping outside

That is disturbing buddy

LEVITY THANK GOD

Are you gonna do a scrubbbbb

I love the editing on this

The face dropping the minute you get off the call is SO real

Oops oh no

UH OH

ERIKA WHAT

The very model of a modern chipmunk animal 😭

Awwww them

This is fun

Oh nooooooo

I love him SO much

That is. An ADHD symptom.

Hey babygirl what are you doing

AHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA

Ok so maybe that was prerecorded because they just had that projection ready to go

You’re gonna shoot a cocaine spell into your MIND

They can help now!

What’s a fun cocaine movie 😭

I just watched Aabria’s eyes light up at challenging Erika lmao

Okay her art is pretty

I love table acting. I think every actor should have to play a ttrpg and learn how to act and communicate within the confines of a table and it will be helpful!

Well at least she’ll have something in common with Tabby

GET FUCKED sorry that was a gut reaction to a British person using the American version of a word because I have been slowly infecting my British partner with Americanisms and our friends and their family never let them hear the end of it lmao

Cocaine!

Hello?????

Oh my GOD how did we get here

What?

A skrillion!

Lemli! Hi!

Brennannnnnnnn

Incredible. Five questions. You rock.

Evan!

That’s soooo unsettling.

Discomfort is a great place for everybody here to be and we can all bump up the paranoia by one!

Iconic tbh

HI!

I don’t have the strength to explain skibidi toilet 😭

Ooooh boy oh boy

The matrix crossed with Glinda’s bubble that’s really cool

Oh for fucks SAKE

Another dc 40 for Erika whyyyyy

Oh god

Oh FUCK HER

Holy shit that’s hot. Sorry but. Oh my god that’s hot.

What’s the smallest most efficient effort that makes a living person a dead body? I’m sorry but that? Is hot.

Evan immediately no hesitation snapping his wand to kill the person who attacked someone he loves. HOT.

Oh my GOD that’s terrifying. Hot. A silent custodian walking through the halls of her mind turning off her lights.

Art!

FUCK.

Listen I didn’t claim to be okay ever.

Oh this is interesting also

Sorry I’m. Fine.

Oh this could go so wrong.

Hey nobody look at me for a minute I’m gonna be in the corner processing my reaction to Brennan’s facial expressions just now.

This is FINE I’m not gonna rewatch that scene what are you TALKING about.

We’re fine we’re moving on we’re processing.

Sam not to be weird but yeah why the fuck would you put yourselves through that again for someone who did try to kill you and also just tried to break your shit and hurt your friend.

Attacking someone I love around me gets you dead. Yeah that’s it.

The bad part of cocaine!

Oh god. Oh that’s so horrifying. Oh Aabria you’re so good at what you do.

That’s heartbreaking and terrifying oh god.

Fuck.

A moment of peace. Okay.

Yeah Jammer hasn’t said anything in a While he doesn’t look like he’s having a good time

Glad I’m not the only one who thought that was fucking TERRIFYING

They’re friends!!

God. This is why he left.

Aabria. FUCK.

So next episode looks. Fun.

#verbal component #reactions #misfits n magic #mismag 2

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loganlostitall · 9 months ago

Text

Better Off Dead

Rating: ehh… I’ll go with 13+

Word count: 2k

Characters: Rick Grimes x Gender neutral reader

Setting: Alexandria, after TOWL ep 1 (SPOILERS!!!)

Content warnings: HUGE SPOILER WARNING FOR THE NEW EPISODE!!!!!!!! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN READING!!! That’s two warnings don’t blame me. Self harm and suicidal ideation, this is an almost entirely mental health related drabble. Heavy talk of cutting and scars. Typical TWD themes.

Summary: FINAL SPOILER WARNING! Rick hasn’t even been back for a full day. He is also not the only one who suffered a psychiatric decline over the years you spent apart. Both you and him are unaware that the other was in a similar spot. Hurt/comfort ensues.

Author’s note: Did NOT expect to be writing a Rick x reader in the middle of the goddamn night but my theory about Rick’s hand got proven right within not even five minutes and I was losing my shit. I started trying to think of plot immediately and once I saw more on mental health I was gone. Me and my love for mentally ill men <3

I wanted to post this the same night as release it fought me hard 😭 never expected to be doing Rick x reader and wanted to be perfect. Once again, the title is linked to the songspo so you can listen along.

Unbeta’d again, hope this is decent for u guys :3

The very moment you woke up, the first thing you became aware of was the fact that you found yourself in bed alone. Not unlike all the other nights. It was routine by now. The occasional, unique circumstance of this particular morning though, was the urge. Unshakable. All encompassing. It crashed through your brain and down into your body, pulsing through your veins, begging to be drawn out and released. Trapped under your skin. Grief.

It was almost completely overwhelming, tears flooding your lower eyelids and venturing down to your lips just as a strangled sob ripped from between them, the sound a little hoarse from your voice being unused during sleep.

You reached out blindly to the nightstand, your fingers grasping for the knife you always kept at your bedside in case of waking up to a walker breach or anything similar. Even through blurred vision, you found the handle, and brought the blade to the criss-crossed skin of your arm.

What a way to start off the morning with a bang.

Inflicting harm over previously healed scars always made you flinch harder. But you didn’t care that it hurt more. If anything, you appreciated it. It was more effective, faster. You never felt the need to leave quite as many.

Hissing through your teeth, you sat the knife down on your knee and brought your pointer and middle fingers to either side of the new wound and spread it open, luring more blood to flow out. It tickled as the thick crimson rolled down your wrist and came to a stop right where the skin curves to the heel of your palm, and you grabbed the handle once more to start the process over again.

Halfway through the next was when the door creaked.

You practically jumped out of your skin, throwing the reddened blade to clatter on the floor and snatching the covers to pull back over yourself, press them to your arm. Your free hand wiped the tears from your face as you sniffled, clearing up your sight well enough to see….

Rick. Blue eyes darkened by confusion and worry.

He stepped in cautiously, taking care to slowly and quietly shut the door behind himself and return his attention back to you. “Hey, what are you doing that for?”

“Wh— what the fuck?”

It left you as no more than a whisper, and you knew that same confusion was reflected on your own face. Rick wasn’t supposed to be here. ‘Am I hallucinating?’

“No, you’re not hallucinating. I’m right here.” Rick had nearly asked if you were okay, but stopped himself short. He’d just walked in on you cutting yourself, there was only one answer that you would, or could, give him.

You were apparently not fully awake yet, or you were still reeling from the self harm, because you’d seemingly asked the question out loud and not in your head.

His manufactured arm piece remained immobile at his side while his real hand patted himself absently in various locations, the pockets of his shirt as well as on each side of his jeans, searching for something although knowing that it wasn’t there. Rather than stand there idiotically, Rick held up a finger to signal ‘one second’ and made his way further into the room, dropping to one knee to pick up the knife you’d flung down carelessly and wiping the blood onto his shirt. And then, while he was down there, he pulled open each drawer of your nightstand until he actually found what he was looking for. Bandages. Or, more specifically, a small med kit with bandages in it. Packed full of random, useful supplies.

He remained kneeling at your bedside and spoke as he opened it. “Already forgot that you have me back?” His smile had an odd edge to it, like he was happy to see you but simultaneously disheartened by the state you were in, and concerned about the fact you’d forgotten. There was so much emotion on his face your eyes filled again.

“Yeah, I guess, I-”

You jumped when Rick pulled the blanket away from your arm and instinctively drew it back toward your chest, shielding the mess of dried blood from his worried gaze, but he simply reached for it again and coaxed it back to himself. Tentatively, not one sign of upset visible on him.

As he assessed the damage, you ashamedly looked elsewhere and returned to what you had previously been saying. “When Siddiq was still around, he diagnosed me with C-PTSD. Honestly, I think we all have something like that by now.” Laughing weakly, you bit the inside of your cheek for a few moments as Rick took care to clean the area with a small, square cloth soaked with witch hazel. It wasn’t the medication that burned, just the contact. You carried on. “He told me one of the side-effects would be my memory. Short-term, long-term, or even both… so, probably that and the fact I dreamed about finding you as a walker and having to put that knife between your eyes.”

A flare of insecurity sparked in your chest when that last statement had Rick’s eyes flitting to yours. Suddenly you found yourself critically self-conscious that he’d decide you were too much work now and leave to find better. Memory problems? Who would bother dealing with that?

“Okay,” he said surely, his voice steady. “That’s okay.” You were overwhelmed with the urge to hug him, but it would have to wait until you had your arm back. After a moment of eye contact for a second time, Rick patted the skin dry with a square of gauze and shook a small bottle of bactine before spraying a thin layer on top of the area.

The tingle of numbness was immediate. You sighed in relief as he rolled a Q-tip covered in Vaseline over each laceration and used that same last piece of gauze to delicately wipe up the excess surrounding them. And then to preserve resources, Rick opted not to open another and instead flipped that pad over to lay the dry side on your wrist; wrapped a length of blue self adherent cohesive bandage around it a few times to keep the wound dressing in place. Brought the heel of your palm to his lips, only to pause when his eyes wandered to find the array of scars littering your inner forearm. There was one in particular that he couldn’t take his attention off of.

Trailing the pad of his thumb down the length of your arm, you glanced down to see what he was looking at.

And felt nauseous.

“This one?” he asked faintly, voice barely discernible. Jagged, raised skin followed your radial artery vertically. Perpetrated on yourself while you’d searched for him.

You shrugged in an attempt to play it off as a lot calmer than you actually were. “Didn’t go deep enough.” Shame, once again, enveloped you. You felt fucking pathetic.

“Me either.”

The words felt like a bucket of ice water being dumped right over your head. Freezing your entire body, soaking your flesh and seeping beneath it to chill your bones. Your eyes found his natural fingers to discover that they were pulling his shirt collar away from his neck to reveal a slash that scabbed very recently going about a fourth of the way across his throat. Your vision swam again.

“You’re here now,” you tried. It was a lousy consolation, but you still weren’t… entirely grounded yet. Pushing yourself up to sit on your knees, Rick muttering ‘careful’ under his breath as you put weight on the hand connected to your injured arm to lean the upper half of your body off the edge of the bed, you nestled your lips just above the new scar and kissed his thrumming pulse. “We’re both here.” The two of you were equally as anxious; the way his heart was racing proved that fact. Perhaps even for the same reasons. Feeling exposed.

It was hardly a long journey from Philadelphia to Virginia. You made it back with Rick before the day was over. Subsequently, he had barely been here for twelve hours. Perhaps you hadn’t spent enough time together yet for the fact that Rick was home to truly register with you.

It seemed he may have had the same idea.

He offered you a tired half-smile and stood, closing up the med kit and returning it to its previous location only to round to the other side of the bed, make quick work of kicking off his boots, and climb in beneath the blanket. Rolling to face him, you sidled up to rest your forehead on his chest immediately, and his genuine arm fell over your side whilst the sculpted metal one lie idle beneath the pillows. The numbing from bactine was still a thing to revel over because it meant you could throw your arm over his bicep and card your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. You did not miss Rick’s short hair. His fingers soothed up and down your back in a comforting manner and you both laid utterly still, breathing the same air, sharing the same body heat.

“I’m grateful I didn’t go deep enough,” he whispered once the silence stretched uncomfortably. “You found me.”

For what was probably not the last time today, your eyes stung again. And yet, you opted to lift the spirits of him and yourself with a joke. It was the first thing that came to mind. “Well, you do seem to fail at slitting throats, Rick.”

You grinned up at him when he scoffed; giggled when he started to chuckle himself. The pair of you sounded as exhausted as you both looked, and when the laughter died out, you absorbed each other again. His presence was so consoling to your brain that had successfully convinced itself he was still gone, that after a length of time you realized you’d fall back asleep soon. And Rick would probably ensure you didn’t wake up alone again.

You hadn’t gotten a chance to do something, though.

Propping yourself up on your right elbow, you blinked sleep out of your heavy eyes while pulling weakly at his new arm attachment; more as a question rather than an unpermitted attempt to uncover it. “Can… can I look?”

Unease cast a shadow over his blue eyes, despite the trust in them, and he nodded. Which you’d only half expected him to do. You’d braced yourself for a no.

You would see it eventually, so he figured it was best to do it now and get it out of the way rather than prolong it.

Sitting your pillow off to lean it against the headboard, Rick adjusted and repositioned to lay on his back instead, which gave you a better opportunity to look at his hand. It was strapped on in two different places; one at the elbow, and one at the shoulder. The fingers were hyper-realistic, yet closed into a fist with no opening for a weapon to be gripped. It was almost as if he could read your mind, because Rick drew his arm away from you to demonstrate the release of a blade triggered in the wrist.

You lifted a finger to trail it along the sharp edge of the custom weaponized extension and hissed through grit teeth when it left a thin, shallow cut on your fingertip.

“I’m not getting the med kit back out.” He finished saying it with a playfully chastising call of your name.

No need to bother. You sucked the blood from the pad of your finger and threw him a drowsy smirk. “This is hot.”

That definitely caught him off guard.

“Yeah?” Rick shook his head with a dampened smile. “Well, I’m glad you see my suffering as an upgrade.”

The greatest salve for your pain was his lips on yours. Maybe it would do the same for his wounded pride.

Quite the valid reason to try it.

“Shut up.”

Your smile met his, and they stayed there even after you fell asleep again. This time, dreaming of the future.

National suicide and crisis hotline: call or text 988

Help with self harm: text CONNECT to 741741

LGBTQ+ inclusive resource: https://www.thetrevorproject.org/resources/article/support-for-self-harm-recovery/

Numbers for different parts of the world: https://blog.opencounseling.com/suicide-hotlines/

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melodicaria · 11 months ago

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Transformers: Goosebumps | Dark Autobots Snippet

So my silly bitch ass was thinking about dark Autobots. Not quite Shattered Glass, but similar, but like they're as evil as I want them to be! Here's just a snippet that I pumped out in a few minutes, not finalized or edited, but I had finished watching this Netflix movie, 'Leave the World Behind' and it just sparked me with an idea on how to start this. I jotted this idea down a while ago and just never got back to it- until now. Could you tell I had listened to Goosebumps by Travis Scott!? :p

Title: Goosebumps Summary: As Sam watches aliens descend upon their planet, he realizes with horror that they're not as peaceful and freedom loving as they claim to be.

It's the cellphones that go first. Sam's not too disturbed, after all, he still has his computer.

But soon that goes too.

12 plane crashes. One day.

There are thousands of people dead. Their corpses littered the pavement. Three said flights landed in a major city, hitting five buildings, with a blast radius double their length.

Every once in a while there's an odd ringing. Worldwide.

Nationwide blackouts.

The crops stop growing.

The water is drying up faster than they can calculate.

Metal sprouts from the ground, sharp jagged edges in a brilliant silver impaling people at random.

It's no longer safe to go outside.

People start getting sick, some are dying within days, others are cured from their disease.

Situations are too dire to upkeep most public spaces. School is canceled, prisons are full of riots, people storm their capitals and raise hell until their questions are answered.

And the government is silent.

The kings and queens are silent.

Because they too, haven't the faintest idea of what will happen next- what has happened.

Sam as an inkling.

The world is ending.

And then…

Metal beasts descend from the sky. Cybertronians, they call themselves.

The Universe is under attack and Earth holds the one object to save it.

But of course, humanity figures it's not a good idea to give it to them.

If only they had known.

The steel giants show no mercy, especially after one of their own is injured in a scuffle.

Hell is unleashed in a torrent of waves. Fire. Water. Ice. Wind. Bullets.

Bombs.

Sam thinks it's funny that now everyone on Earth decides to band together to a united front. He's picked up and torn from his family to protect the very thing the aliens are here for. He doesn't quite understand why they just don't give them the damned thing.

But he guards it like his life is on the line. Because it is.

Bombs are strapped to their bodies, in case they get any lucky ideas.

But he gets good at his job. His parents are held at gunpoint, along with another dozen or so, and a cap will be put in their skull if they don't comply.

So Sam has no other choice but to be good at his job. His fuck up, fucks them up.

Maybe, he gets too good at his job. He sees too much. He watches people bargain using other people as currency. He stays guarding the AllSpark at all hours. The only exception being getting sleep and eating.

He contacts his parents once a month. He has no clue where Miles is, and sometimes it gets so much to the point where he can barely remember his name. His parents name.

He gets bored. The others don't speak to him so…

He speaks to the AllSpark.

In an interesting turn of events, it speaks back, in a way.

The giant metal cube will shift whenever he's near, panels and plates clicking and elevating, swirling in a flurry of energy around his body. For a long time in a while, he laughs, and enjoys the time he spends here.

And for all of the horrible things that the world is faced with, for all of humanity's struggles and strife, for the brink of destruction they are forced on, the very object that started it all is the one thing that brings him hope.

He hopes the war ends soon.

But the insanity is only beginning.

#transformers bayverse #transformers idw #autobots #decepticons #sam witwicky #allspark #allspark & sam antics #snippet #story idea #ao3 writer #fanfic #tfp

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dcawritings · 9 months ago

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Green Hills and Blue Skies

Solunis is an Eclipse-style animatronic made for the exclusive use of a renaissance fair. He was designed to be flashy and entertaining, charming and witty, able to dazzle guests with his unique feature of flipping between two modes — Solar and Lunar Eclipse — upon whim or request. He’s exuberant and talented across a wide range of musical and storytelling skills, but most importantly he’s—

Lonely.

So very, very lonely.

Three hundred and six thousand, five hundred and forty-two minutes.

Five thousand, one hundred and ten hours.

In other words, a touch under seven months exactly, down to the very moment in time that he was initially powered on -- when his systems came to life beneath blinding floodlights and his mind suddenly stuffed full of awareness.

Activity. Life. Pain.

The sensory overload was almost as agonizing as it was immediate. From cold and lifeless to the functional equivalent of a fully-grown adult, it wasn't something one could simply describe. The act of living when one was dead just a moment before — though non-existence would be more fitting of a description. It was as if every single byte of information within his body was on fire all at once, tearing through metal and wire and plastic until it engulfed him with the raw, unfiltered sensations of being alive.

To call it a shock would be an understatement.

At least the employees had the decency to power him on for the first time a few days before the grand opening of the fair. Not enough time to cope with the existential dread of suddenly being alive, mind you.

But long enough to learn how to hide it behind a mask.

That was seven months ago.

Seven months ago, he didn’t even have a name — not really, at least. He had a model type (Eclipse ver 2.32) and serial number (so long a string of letters and numbers that it isn’t worth mentioning), but neither of those concepts constitutes a name proper. His handlers came to calling him ‘Eclipse’ in passing, but his official title was dependent on what of two distinct forms he took on.

Solar Eclipse and Lunar Eclipse. Catchy, one might think. Creative. Witty, even.

With his flashy attire fitting for that of a fantasy bard mixed in with the aesthetic of a royal jester, he truly was eye-catching. His signature feature was being able to switch back and forth from warm reds and golds to cool blues and purples in the blink of an eye. Not into separate personalities, as some earlier models did as a cost-saving measure, but simply to impress crowds of onlookers drunk on mead and happy to listen to a blissful tune of an animatronic almost tailor-made for entertainment and charm.

He has a name now, of course. One of his own choosing, not to be pried from his cold, power-drained fingers no matter how many times his systems were reset — the employees stopped doing that after a while, when it was obvious it was more effort to do so after every weekend than to simply let him roam about freely in the hours between shows and seasons.

Solunis. His name was—

His name is Solunis.

And it is Solunis who stands at the edge of the fairgrounds, beyond where the markers urge fairgoers not to tread, lest they wander into the thicket of the forest beyond and end up lost to the monster of mother nature.

In the last seven months almost exactly, Solunis had contemplated leaving the fairgrounds completely. He bore no physical shackles, no tether of which connected him to the buildings and fake castles currently inhabited by ghosts of crowds that wouldn’t return for several months when the weather grew warmer and more… pleasant. Only the utility bots remained, silent and passive. They felt like ghosts too.

Solunis ponders on what lies beyond the forest. And beyond that. And beyond that still. There is a vision wrapped somewhere deep in the animatronics programming. It’s… odd, like a memory he never lived, but colorful and vivid all the same.

Of rolling green hills and a soft spring breeze, a wide sky of beautiful cerulean that seems to stretch on for an eternity. The sun is bright and warm against the surface of his body, so much that there’s not a single worry or want in the bot’s entire being. He wonders how far this place is or if it even exists at all.

But maybe Solunis can find it. After all, nothing is keeping him tied here, right? He could charge using sunlight and had the newest kind of internal power engine that meant he could stay active for weeks at a time without so much as a sliver of the morning dawn. It’s what kept him active in the cold, dark winter weeks since the last fair. And… maybe it’s what will give him a chance to leave.

To find this place of green hills, blue skies warm sunlight. Away from everything.

But Solunis isn’t free just because he wears no physical leash; he learns this the hard way upon trying to take but a single step beyond the forest line.

It’s something inside of him. A computer chip most likely, triggered by gps coordinates or some other horrifying assertion of technological dominance hidden somewhere on the grounds. It sends a sudden wave of horror through Solunis’ entire body a mere millisecond before the shocks tear through him. Though he had never once been struck by lightning (nor had such an experience stored in his memory banks) he would describe it exactly like that; suddenly struck with a thunderous weight of a mountain that buzzed and burned through every single wire.

It’s pure agony.

He’s on the ground in seconds, screams of pain filtered and reverberated as his voicebox can barely produce noise at all beyond a shrill whine of metal and fear. And it gets worse. And worse.

And worse.

It’s only when Solunis manages to drag himself just a few feet back, struggling to crawl as his body trembles with an electric misery that only fades when he is back outside of the forest line once more.

He lies there for a while, staring up at the clear moonlit sky.

The sky in winter is often clearer, a preferred condition when trying to stargaze. Something about how the cold makes the air dryer, so there’s less water vapor to make the dark heavens above seem muted and fuzzy. Solunis had come across that fact somewhere in his information archives tucked deep into the unconscious parts of his systems.

He can count almost every single speck of light visible beyond a certain threshold of light, but he can’t take a single step beyond his tiny, isolated world. The only one he’d ever known.

The pain has been gone for a while now, but the specter of it remains in his thoughts, branded into the bot’s memories. He doesn’t try his luck a second time.

Green hills and blue sky will have to wait for another day.

Even if that day will never come.

#fnaf daycare fandom #daycare attendant oc #fnaf dca fandom #fnaf dca oc #dca oc #Solunis #fnaf dca #dca fandom #writing #ficlet #nonreaderinsert #I am actively rotating him in my brain #him and the other OC I’m making named King #please look forward to the ficlet for King

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twigg96 · 2 years ago

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Daddy! Daryl X Reader Fic

Is this an excuse to write my first Daryl X Reader Fic? Maybe Lol. But how can anyone blame me? Boi is just a god damned dream <3 I can only hope I do him justice here and I hope to write more fics like this featuring him later.

Princess

A Daddy! Daryl X Reader Fic

Warnings: touches on histories of child abuse and neglect, Merle (Drug/Alcohol abuse)

Pronouns Used: She/Her

Summary: Taken within the memory of Daryl himself, told in the form of a bedtime story, the archer retells the tale of friendship, sweet summertime crushes, lasting love, and the crushing fear of an epidemic.

"Long before the walkers had become a threat to any common society. Before the quaintness of the forest had become a warzone and any feeling of peace were lost to the chaos held within the shadows. Before the fall of the major cities and the government itself. There stood two children. One child was forced to face the perils of the world too early. The harsh reality of adulthood thrust upon him without remorse. Beaten. Bludgeoned. By the very man, he was supposed to trust. His protector was thrust into jail once more. This time for a minor scuff protecting the very boy himself from the very man they both begrudgingly called father. The second child lived not too far of a life different than the first. Neglect wrecked this child's body down to the bones. Dirt stuck to her skin and dug deep into her nails even after minutes of scrubbing under hot water. The child's hair was cut short to prevent matting or bugs. Hunger constantly pained her. Illness wracked her body from lack of nutrition. However, together the two children were unstoppable forces of nature. Together, they grew as the saplings that refused to succumb to the fowl weather they were forced to grow under."

Bright blue eyes grew wide as the little tot scrunched deeper under the heavy woolen blanket. At only five years old the little girl had asked her father to tell her a story to keep the nightmares away and lull her to sleep as the moans of the dead had only gotten louder outside of the prison walls.

"The best of friends from the day the two met in the public hell hole-" The little girl gasped out cutting Daryl off. "Daddy cuss word." She chastised. With a roll of his eyes Daryl continued. "Public-crap hole they called school. The forest behind their trailer park served as a playground and a better school than any the state of Georgia could offer out of brick and mortar. It was there Daryl-" The little girl gasped out smiling widely at her father. "That's your name Daddy! Does this mean this is a story about you and Mommy?" She giggled, all too pleased to be able to piece together the puzzle by herself. Smiling down at his daughter, Daryl chuckled leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Yeah, it is." He whispered sitting up with a smirk as his little hellion kicked giddily. "Now lay still and listen, or yer mama will be pissed." He laughed, "Where was I... Oh! Daryl taught his best friend to hunt using only a stick, string, and tiny pocket knife to craft a simple bow from the elements around them. He taught her the value of patience. To hold as still as possible despite the adrenaline and jitters caused by the hope of a fruitful dinner. She in return taught him all she knew. She taught him to fish and how to lay traps in the warm months. Taught him never to waste a single article of a meal and to thank the land for any food taken for then nature would be more fruitful come the next bounty. But most importantly. She taught him to trust, to love."

The little girl made a show of making large doe eyes at her father batting her long lashes at him. "That's beautiful." She whispered dramatically. "Oh trust me, baby. You haven't heard the best part." Daryl whispered back caressing his thumb over her checks.

"Years passed. Daryl got his license. With every right, he could have run. He could have chosen to leave everything he knew behind and start life anew. He could leave his father behind without so much as a second thought. He'd miss his brother but held some lingering hope that after his extended stay at the state penitentiary for drug possession, Merle would find his way to him." The little girl blinked up at him sadly. "You mean... Uncle Merle?" She asked sadly. Daryl couldn't meet his daughter's eyes this time, simply nodding and continuing his story. "He'd gotten along fine without him so far. But he would be damned if he left her behind. Daryl had dropped out and gotten his GED the first chance he'd gotten.-" Daryl paused meeting his child's curious gaze. "That just means I... Daryl quit school to work." He answered the question he knew was lingering at the back of her mind. The small girl nodded in acknowledgment.

"He refused to give her a solid answer why the day he did it. He guess he just assumed she was planning on doing the same. But... she didn't. She told him she was determined to stay and finish her degree out. The thought truly baffled Daryl. They both had talked about how much they fucking-" The little girl gasped out in shock once more looking completely appalled. This time Daryl knew he messed up however when he heard her whisper a little. I'm tellin' momma. "ain't no reason to tell yer momma! I'll change the damned word just... go to sleep." Daryl sighed scrubbing his face. "They both had talked about how much they really despised school. How they hated the town they lived in. From what he gathered the plan was to leave as soon as possible. He heard Atlanta had work. Lots of it. They could just go there and get jobs now instead of wasting another year and a half in a town they both despised. But she insisted it was something she felt she needed to do. It was only a year and a half... Fine... Daryl hated it but he could live another year. It gave him time to start saving for that ring he saw in the jewelry store window."

The little girl giggled once more earning a pointed look from her father. "What is it?" He asked a little less patiently than he intended. "Daryl's gonna buy her a ring! It means he like likes her." Daryl couldn't help the snort that escaped his throat at the absurd statement. "Yeah, baby. He really like likes her." He responded pinching the bridge of his nose. "Daddy." The girl whispered out grinning from ear to ear. "I like like a boy." She teased earning a low groan from her father.

"One and a half years passed." Daryl continued making a point to ignore her obvious teasing. "The glittering diamond ring now sat proudly on Daryl's best friend's ring finger. A promise for a future untold as she walked proudly to accept her diploma. Daryl had never been so proud of anyone in his life. Nor had he ever been so happy while wearing the most uncomfortable clothing he could possibly imagine. A white button-down, Khakis, dress shoes, and a tie he "borrowed" from Merle's closet. None of it matched the piercings he refused to remove or the tattoos the sleeves and shorts failed to cover. But she loved him so deeply anyway unbeknownst to her that he would look even more handsome in a few months' time standing next to her in the courthouse in his rented suit. With Merle standing by their side he would never look prouder to be a big brother in his life than when he looked on at his little brother and his wife."

"So they got married?" The tot asked sweetly, sleep finally winning as she yawned. "Yes. baby. They got married."

"Another two years. Another blink of an eye. Daryl stared at his apartment with his brother and wife. If he had any say in the matter it would just be he and his wife but Merle was fresh out of jail... again and the pain in his heart every time he watched his older brother throw back more and more liquor or use whatever the drug of choice for the day was kept him from throwing him out on the streets. He knew where Merle's pain was rooted from. The difference, was Merle hadn't been sheltered or protected as much as he was... which wasn't an excuse but warranted warmth from him. This time was different, however. His wife was pregnant. She was going to have a little girl. Fantastic news for the little family. Even Merle seemed excited to have a niece. But the time would come when the baby would come and Daryl and his wife would need their trailer to themselves..."

Daryl's daughter's eyes grew heavy but the small tot fought sleep, curling her self around Daryl's middle and laying her head in his lap. "Is the baby me?" She whispered sleepily. "Yes, princess." He whispered combing through her soft hair.

"Well... that's not exactly how things turned out. It had been exactly six months after the birth of their beautiful daughter, Phoenix that the world went and crapped itself. When his little family had first heard about the outbreak, Daryl specifically remembered Merle laughing before telling his wife to change the channel before it gave the baby nightmares. She did. The news broadcast was on every channel... No matter what they turned it to. Cartoon Network. The Food Channel. All of it was covered by a constant feed of various news anchors covering the horrific new virus everyone should be aware of. Live footage of people... human beings devouring each other in the streets filled the screen and all Daryl wanted to do was turn it off. But Merle has glued a seriousness plastered to his face he'd only ever seen twice before. It scared him. "This has to be a fucking joke..." He remembered whispering, holding Phoenix close to his chest to lessen the soft whimpers of her cries until her mother could fetch a bottle for her to feed with. But as some glass broke outside of the trailer followed by the high-pitched screams of their neighbor, Daryl wasn't entirely sure anymore. Merle had been the one to creep to the window peeking out of their broken blinds before stepping back and looking horrified. "We gotta get the fuck outta here." That was all Merle said as he started grabbing furniture and shoving them against the flimsy door of the trailer. Grabbing whatever they deemed important, they stuffed everything into duffle bags. Guns, arrows, bows, baby supplies, baby food, blankets, and survival gear. They'd all unfortunately trained for this moment. For a life of hardship outcast into the forest to fend for themselves. Daryl, his wife, and Merle. But poor Phoenix... How Daryl and his wife had wanted more for her than what they knew."

Daryl waited for Phoenix's feedback but smiled when he heard none, only feeling her grip on him tighten when he moved and a soft sigh escape her tiny body as she got comfortable. Daryl wanted to be the kind of dad that told his daughter fairy tales of princesses, dragons, trolls, vampires, monsters, and fairies. Not life before the turn. He didn't want to tell her stories to keep her safe from the walkers that existed just outside the prison gates or even the people that could harm her if he or his wife weren't there to protect her. He wanted to be the dad that took her to t-ball and dropped her off at school bawling at the drop off on her first day. Not took her to the courtyard of the prison to practice how to hold and use a pistol should the need arise, shoot a bow just her size to hunt should she ever be left alone for too long, or worry what a lack of education was going to do to her in the long run. Looking up as his wife climbed the stairs to their shared sleeping area Daryl tried to push all his anxiety away. Kissing his best friend, his greatest love, his wife, the mother of his child so deeply before she laid down beside Phoenix he tried to convey that love. He tried to let them know they were the princesses to his fairy tale.

#the walking dead #twd fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl dixion x reader #first twd fic

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