#prowl wants to snap his neck

[acritti]

stupid thing that i see in my head whenever i make they interact

[hyperprosexia]

cw: 18+ | omegaverse; dub-con; gn!reader; poly!alpha!141

captain price, who believes he's found the perfect addition for his trusted pack of alphas on his forced leave.

it isn't his fault, though. he wasn't trying to find an omega for himself nor his men; he certainly doesn't mean to go prowling after you through downtown once he catches a whiff of your enticing saccharine scent unmated and ripe, and so ready to be plucked and shaped into the perfect little mate for himself and his pack.

his wolf is howling and snarling inside his chest, and it's something he hasn't experienced since he was but a youngling fresh out of officer training, still brimming with testosterone and eager to spend his ruts with even more eager omegas back then.

however, price knows that he did actually find the perfect match, when he finally pounces, cornering you in a crowded coffee shop until you're blinking up at him with sparkling doe-eyes, nose twitching as you sniff his scent discreetly, clutching your sweet hibiscus tea between soft hands.

curious yet timid. hand-tame. uncollared.

the alpha in him is as elated by your initial reaction as he's furious about your lack of self-preservation and survival instinct.

"gonna havt'a work on that, princess," he growls into your ear as he mounts you that night, laying his first claim on you; one big paw wrapped around the nape of your neck as he fucks his knot past your sopping entrance.

"can't have ya chat up any other random alpha bloke from now on, ya hear? you're under my protection now, love."

you're whimpering and whining as you nod weakly, pushing your supple hips back to shove his throbbing cock deeper into your quivering channel, desperate to feel him all the way up in your guts or so it seems.

all while the captain's eyes are zeroed in on that taunting, virgin mating gland located on the side of your neck.

his canines itch, his jaw ticks, ready to snap and bite as his mouth fills with saliva that he forces himself to swallow.

claiming you as his mate is inevitable, he just wants his boys to be there when he does.

[revelboo]

I had a question for you! What would your headcannons be if a few IDW autobots walked in on you naked. Let's say you finally were able to get washed up and take off your towel when someone like Rodimus or Swerve walks in. How do you think they'd react?

I feel like Swerve would try flirting while failing, meanwhile Optimus apologies profusely, immediately shielding his eyes.

Oh, poor Optimus. Still embarassed even though he’s been intimate with his human

Accidentally Flashing Bots Headcanons

Optimus

• Head thrown back into the warm spray, you’re half tempted to go give Wheeljack a kiss on those blinky vocal indicators of his for rigging up showers for all of you humans. Suspect his human might not appreciate that, though. Poor thing is so lovesick and it’s their luck that their bot is oblivious. You’d told them they should just strip naked, order him to mass shift, and ride him into the sunset. That comment had only gotten you shocked looks from all of the other humans. Except the one stuck with Prowl. They’d gone red faced and refused to meet anyone else’s eyes. Well, at least you’re not the only alien fucker of the group. Shutting off the water when you hear the door open, you push aside the sheet of plastic meant to give you some privacy and step out.

• Turning at the soft rustle, he startles and immediately averts his optics. Because you’re naked and wet. And laughing at him. “I think we’re past modesty, big guy,” you say, grabbing a towel and bending over to dry your hair. There’s no not staring at you now. Especially when you glance back at him with a little snort and pointedly slide your thigh a little so you’re more on display in invitation and his spike throbs. “You know, I can always take another shower.”

Swerve

• Coming in to his habsuite, he rubs a hand against the back of his neck as he stretches. Where are you? You’re usually waiting to greet him, smiling up at him. Being quiet in case you’re sleeping in your nest, he leans to look and vents sharply. Well, you’re in your nest of blankets, head thrown back and naked. A hand between your thighs, little fingers pumping into yourself and he groans. And your little head snaps toward him, eyes wide as you claw to drag a blanket over yourself and he covers his optics with a hand. “I wasn’t spying on you, I swear. I mean, I can leave so you can finish if you want?” Even though he wants to watch you. Wants to touch you. And you groan, completely hidden under your blanket when he peeks.

• Why is he back early? Mortified, you hide under your blankets. And you can hear him awkwardly shuffling around. Probably as horrified at catching you as you are about being caught. Does he even know what you’re doing? He acted like he did. He’d asked if you needed him to leave so you could finish. You’re not going to be able to look him in the optics after this.

Rodimus

• Face turned up toward the spray, you let the warmth relax tired muscles. And nearly jump out of your skin when something brushes against you. Hip and shoulder banging against the little shower Brainstorm had rigged for you, you try to shove a mass displaced Rodimus out while covering important bits. “What are you doing?” And he stares at you before awkwardly turning his back to you. Still not leaving.

• “The wash racks were full,” he mutters, plating heating as you swear at him and try to shove him out. And maybe he’d wanted to see what a human looked like under all those coverings. What you looked like. Flustered, he stands under the spray with his back to you. How angry would you be if he touched you, because you look so soft and wet. Had gotten a glimpse before you’d covered yourself. Enough to realize you’re made to take a spike. That maybe mass shifted, you could take him. Shouldn’t be wondering about that as his plating pops and becomes uncomfortably warm. Becoming dangerous.

[dark-moonlust]

Weretiger’s Mate

Pairing: Weretiger monster x human reader

Summary: getting lost in the jungle puts you face to face with your waretiger mate, a monster born of human experiments.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, monster smut, oral (fem receiving), barbed 🍆, knotting with barb, lots of come. Don’t like, don’t read please.

It was a lovely evening, perfect for an exploration. The sounds of the jungle surrounded you—chirping insects, calls of birds, and the rustle of leaves as you parted the foliage and walked forward. You’d been separated from your traveling group and as you tried to find your way back to the camp, you happened to find a part of the jungle that was incredibly beautiful.

An untouched paradise. You wanted to explore. Just for a few minutes.

So you indulged your curiosity and delved deeper into the greenery.

You froze when you heard a low growl.

Moving as little as possible, you let your eyes scan your surroundings. Out of nowhere, a massive figure emerged from the undergrowth—a beast, looking only a little like a tiger and more like huge and menacing monster. Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. The monster stood tall on its powerful, clawed legs, towering nearly two meters high, and walking like a human.

But he wasn’t a human.

Sharp fangs peeked out of his snarling mouth. His body spoke of raw power, with broad shoulders and rippling muscles covered in a coat of striped fur. The stripes were black, running across his orange-tinged fur. He could snap you without even trying. His face was a terrifying blend of human and feline, with glowing red eyes that seemed to pierce through you.

Suddenly it struck you. He was a weretiger, one of the few ones in the world. Weretigers were failed superhuman experiments, a terrifying merge of monster and human. Only a few existed in the world. And it was just your luck to meet one.

“I’m dead meat,” you whispered to yourself, fear paralyzing you.

The massive beast began to prowl towards you, slowly, his paws touching the ground with grace despite his size— the movements of a predator. More tears leaked down your face when he stood before you and bent down to your height to stare into your eyes. He was mere inches away from your face and he dwarfed your small form. You stayed frozen, apart from your sobs of course.

“Do not weep,” he ordered, his voice husky and vibrating.

Widening your eyes, you gazed at his wild red ones and you felt an inexplicable pull, something tugging at your heart. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body and smell his musky scent. What stupid feelings were these? He was about to eat you—

“Stop crying,” he ordered again, baring his fangs. “I will not eat you, little human.”

“Promise?” you asked as if getting a promise form a beast would make the fear ease.

“I promise,” he said, softer this time.

The fear did ease at the sound of his soft tone.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said and before you could react leaned in and sniffed you, taking in your scent. You tensed but didn’t move. His breath was hot against your skin, his snout trailing your neck before burying in your hair. He growled deep from within his chest and that sound sent shivers down your spine and went straight to your pussy. He growled again, gave you that delicious sound that made your body vibrate and your pussy wet.

His eyes flared with possessiveness. “You’re aroused. I can smell your sweet scent.”

He moved closer, his fur brushing against your skin. You shivered but you no longer felt fear to his proximity. It was strange. Very strange.

“Do not resist the bond,” he said. “Touch me.”

“I… I don’t understand,” you murmured, shaking your head. “Why do I feel this way?”

“Because you’re fated to be mine, little one.”

“No… no it’s not—”

“You’re mine,” he rumbled darkly. “Touch me.”

When you didn’t move, the weretiger took your small hands in his big clawed ones and brought you to touch his fur. Shyly, your fingers trailed through the fur on his chest. He watched you intently, growling in a low primitive sound that, not only did it not terrify you, but aroused you instead. What was happening? You removed your hand with a gasp.

Somewhere deep inside, you understood. The bond you felt was undeniable, you found yourself drawn to him but this… this couldn’t go on—

Your thoughts died out when he scooped you up, effortlessly throwing you over his broad shoulder. You cried out, your hands instinctively gripping his fur for balance.

“Hey! Put me down!” you protested as he walked defiantly forward.

The beast didn’t respond and kept walking, his grip on you gentle but secure.

“I don’t like this!” You struggled against him, but couldn’t do anything. “I mean it! Set me down! This very moment.”

Ignoring your protests, he continued on, until he arrived at a hidden cave. His home. His cave was dimly lit but pleasantly cool. He set you down carefully on a huge stone bed, his eyes never leaving you. His gaze was intense and curious, as if he was trying to decide what to do with you.

You realized with shock that you were still clutching him, fingers sinking into the fur around his neck which was slightly longer.

Damn, but he was big and strong. There was something majestic, some kind of magnetism that pulled you to him even if he represented primal danger.

Terrified to accept your thoughts for him, you ripped your hands from him and backed away, but the stone wall behind you offered no retreat.

Your pulse quickened.

And then the beast in him acted.

His sharp nails were at your clothes, slicing through your clothing, the fabric tearing easily. He didn’t touch your skin, he was extremely precise but even so, you gasped and squirmed, instinctively trying to cover yourself. But his movements were quick and efficient. He tugged at more clothing, ripped your bra and underwear and even removed your shoes and socks. Within moments, you were completely bare before him, your clothes in tatters.

You glared up at him, legs squeezed together, arms crossed over your arms. “You horny beast—"

Your world’s ended in a moan when he bent over you, a long tongue dragging over your neck. A moan escaped you even if your arms pushed against his chiseled chest. But you miscalculated. Your breasts were no longer covered by your hands and he descended upon them with a feral growl, cupping both tits in his large, clawed paws. With surprising gentleness, he reshaped the underside of your pert tits, watching as they molded under his touch.

“Such softness,” he rumbled, his voice deep. “So delectable.”

“Hnn… don’t,” you mumbled even if a shiver of arousal ran through you.

The hint of a smile formed on his monster face then he leaned down, his tongue flicking out to lick your nipples. He toyed with one bud, circling the pink areola before turning to the other. You squirmed, fighting to suppress your moans as his tongue suckled and wetted your breasts, his mouth warm and delightfully wet. His touches overwhelmed your body, more liquid heat gathering between your squirming legs.

“Hmmm, pretty nipples,” he growled, eyes locking onto yours as he circled one tight bud with his tongue. “Pink and delicious.”

Another moan bubbled out from you, no longer restrained but loud. You gripped the fur at his shoulders watching as his tongue travelled down your belly, tracing every inch of your stomach, heading clearly for your mound. Big clawed hands gripped your knees and pulled them wide apart, exposing your glistening pussy.

And then he was down there, burying his snout between your legs, his breath hot against your pussy. You gasped and whined lewdly, your resistance waning as that primal part of you responded to his touch. You heard as he stroked you, his tongue licking your plump folds, slick sounds echoing in the cave. The wet appendage tasted your aching sex, then thrusted inside, his snout nuzzling your needy clit.

“This,” he growled softly, tongue spearing your pussy. “This is the best part of you, little one. Tight little pussy, leaking sweet nectar for me.”

“Ahnnn…hn… there…oh, there,” your hips jerked, hands gripping his fur, pulling him closer. He devoured you like the beast he was and gods you loved it.

“Does it feel good, mate?”

“Feels—ngh… so good...I need..need—”

Your words were a slur, ending in heavy and delirious moans as your orgasm hit you, the sensations electric. Head falling back against the bed, you arched your body and opened your legs obscenely, offering your pussy to him. Pleasure surged from your head to toes and despite your violent thrashing, his tongue still worked you as he drank in every drop of your release.

When you finally came down from your high, you laid beneath him, breathless and compliant. You looked at him, your eyes hazy with lust. With a few more licks at your inner thighs, he settled back on his haunches, huge hands caressing your breasts. He lifted his head, his eyes glowing with satisfaction.

“You are mine,” he rumbled. “My mate.”

There was slight pause before you nodded softly, unable to deny the bond between you.

A soft hitch of breath left you when you noticed the hard cock protruding from his legs. Fuck, he was big and monstrous. The massive cockhead was a little pointy, slick with his arousal, and the rest of his length was thick and long, surrounded by protruding veins. Heavy, hairy balls hung from between his legs but what surprised and aroused you more was the barb at the base of his shaft, ridged and as thick as your fist.

He positioned himself between your legs, draping them over his large hairy thighs and dragged your pussy closer to his monstrous cock.

“I’m going to fuck you now, little mate. Do you understand?”

“Hgh… I want it, too, want your cock,” you said, reaching out to touch him, your fingers were unable to wrap around his girth. “It’s so big. Will it fit?”

“Your pretty little pussy will take me because you’re my mate. My fated one.”

He licked your tits with his rough tongue and at the same time pushed his hips forward, the tip of his cock parting your moist pussy lips and easing the way inside. You gasped as he surged inside you, spreading your walls, inch by inch his fullness invading you. He bottomed out inside you with a growl, cock filling you completely, so deep inside that it took your breath away.

Arching your back, loud whimpers left your mouth as he fucked you. Holding your tiny waist in his big hands, he pumped powerfully inside you, watching as his dick came out covered with your juices before thrusting back inside your depths. You gripped his arms for dear life, nails digging into his fur-covered skin.

Each thrust drove you higher and higher, your climax building rapidly and erupting in an explosion of senses. You cried out as the second climax crashed over you, your walls clenching and unclenching around the thick cock stretching you. He followed right after with a feral roar, the barb at the base of his shaft probing your entrance. A growl and he thrust inside with the barb, locking himself inside you.

Whining in pleasure, you came again, stars floating in your vision. All you could feel was the impossible fullness and the hot cum spurting inside you, filling you up over and over until it dripped out of you. Your weretiger’s powerful body shuddered above you, his arms cradling you protectively.

It was minutes later when he slowly pulled out and with a lewd squelch, his barb came out. You winced at the separation of your bodies. Your mate seemed entranced by the sight of your pussy, leaking with his load. He brought you to his lap, not caring about the mess and nuzzled your neck, a low purr vibrating through his chest.

“My precious mate,” he drawled proudly.

You nodded, your heart swelling with a strange mixture of love and submission. “Hmm, I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

Follow for more!! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[purple-obsidian]

show me (18+, dick grayson x fem reader) wc 1.1k

⭓ this post contains sexual content and is not suitable for minors.

"I'll never grow tired of this." Dick murmurs, brushing your hair away from your neck before placing a kiss against your flushed skin. The contact causes you to shiver, letting out a low moan while he rolls his hips into yours languidly.

You had been sleeping, snuggled up in the soft cotton that adorned Dick's bed, laying on your stomach with one of your legs kicked out to the side. He found you, breathing deep and even, arms wrapped around one of his plush pillows when he returned from his nightly prowl. When he turned on the dim light of the bedside lamp and saw your frame drowning in one of his t-shirts, nothing else keeping his eyes from wandering over your naked lower half, he couldn't help himself. Seeing you here, in his apartment, in his bed, so comfortable and at home…

That's what got you where you are now. Split open on his cock, manicured nails gripping the pillow and sheets, torso twisted a bit so you can look up at his deep blue eyes. The vigilante thrusts into your tight warmth from behind, murmuring against your neck as the sounds of sex fill the room.

"Dreaming about me?" He asks, slowly moving his hips in a steady pace that makes your toes curl. There's nowhere else this man would rather be, than here with you, inside of you, feeling parts of you meant for him and him alone.

"H-how did you-" You stammer out, getting cut off by his mouth that leaves the comfort of your neck to find your soft lips. His kiss is hungry, but not urgent. He's taking his time with you. Dick can tell that you're still fuzzy from your slumber. He loves you like this. All sleepy and slow, keeping his bed warm for him while he's out late into the night. So warm, your skin soft, and your body so welcoming. The little noises and whimpers you make cause his swollen cock to throb painfully inside of you. He nips at your lower lip briefly before pulling away to answer.

"You're soaked, princess." He explains with a low chuckle. "I'm the only one who can make you this wet. So tell me. Did you fall asleep touching yourself to the thought of me inside of you?" He snaps his hips into yours, enjoying your muffled reaction. "Or were you dreaming about me?"

Strong hands reach down to adjust your hips, allowing his arousal to collide with yours at a deeper angle, making your eyes flutter with each soft smack when he bottoms out. You rest your head on the pillow, and Dick lets more of his weight crush you against the plush bedding. You let out a sigh that morphs into a whimper, the feeling of him stretching your walls and molding you to fit him is divine.

"Answer me, baby. Tell me what's got you so wet for me." He moans out with a grunt. "So worked up," He leans his forehead against your hair and inhales the scent of your shampoo, putting just a little more force into his pace. "You're such a pretty little mess for me."

You rub your head against the pillow, squirming and groaning at the irresistible friction of his cock teasing your g-spot. "D-dream…" you finally mumble as you clutch the pillow tighter, arching your back to help him out. You lean into his warmth against the back of your head, craving his closeness, moving your hips back to meet his thrusts as your body becomes more awake.

Dick's mouth finds your neck once again, this time biting at your skin with a satisfied grunt. Knowing that you dream about him? Oh, that makes his already inflated ego soar. To be the one who plagues your subconscious, to be so desired by you that the waking hours of the day spent with him aren't enough, it makes his cock twitch and his pace falter briefly.

Your boyfriend stills himself for a moment, panting quietly as he tries to stay off his orgasm. "Tell me about it." His breath fans over the skin of your neck, wet from his saliva, the cool sensation sends tingles down your spine.

Its a demand. Not a question. He wants every detail, running his fingertips along your arm as he waits for you to respond.

The room is dark, and with his movements stopped, the only sound that can be heard is the soft patter of rain against the windows. You think for a moment, blushing into the pillow when you recall the filthy scenes that were dancing in your mind before he came home.

"I… i think…" You pivot your head a little to offer him better access to your neck, clenching around his length when you feel his warm hand grip your hip a little tighter. He craves any small sign of submission he can get from you. Its like a drug to him, one he's decided he cannot live without.

"Hm?" He grumbles, starting to move painfully slow, sliding even further into your body, eyeing the hickies appearing across your skin.

"…I'd rather show you." you whisper, gazing over your shoulder to try and find his eyes through your haze.

"Show me?" He repeats back with a sly smirk.

You bite your lip as the sensations he's giving you grow more intense. You nod your head, and mutter out a broken "Please?"

Dick's pupils dilate when he hears your plea. Fuck, he loves when you ask nice like that. "My princess wants to be on top? Is that it?" He asks, his tone almost teasing. But it doesn't bother you any. You know who you're dating.

"Will you let me?"

You genuinely aren't sure what his answer will be. Dick is always on top. That's where he's most at home, and he doesn't often want to deviate from his comfort zone. But the man is also head over heels for you, and you can't remember the last time he's told you 'no'.

You almost regret asking when you feel Dick shift his weight off of your body and pull out of your dripping pussy, leaving you feeling empty and aching. But when you see him shift to the side and lean his back against the pillows, hands behind his head and smug smile on his face, you feel your stomach flutter with butterflies.

Your eyes trail over his toned body, drinking in the sight of the man before you. He's strong, chiseled, handsome as hell, and most importantly, yours.

"Go on." Dick encourages you, his heart racing in anticipation, dark eyes swimming with excitement. "Show me."

⭓ masterlist ⭓

[barrenclan]

"The Death of BarrenClan: Part One"

First blood.

It'll become clear soon, but not all of Defiance is here - there are around 100 members in the group in total, and only about twenty here today. But it seems like a lot to the cats.

Also, Prowl did kill Mallowstar by snapping his neck, but I understand it may not be obvious in the art because I didn't want to look at pictures of broken necks for reference. Regardless he died near instantly.

He did his best.

Previous < > Next

[cluelessatthispoint]

A Dragon's Hoard pt.1

(Mythical AU of the 141)

(This fic is inspired by bluegiragi and docdudo.)

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

You've never been one for the warmth that most people eminate. The kindness that sparkles in someone's eyes when they see someone they know and love. The way a person's tone changes to show their interest in a conversation, or how families get close and share hugs amongst one another. It's sweet, you think. Sweet but pointless. Smiles can be faked, tones can be raised and lowered on a whim. Scrunchingbupbyour nose in disdain as you spy another group of travelers walking along the beaten path. The sounds of their laughter and idle chatter already fading as the sounds of gravel underfoot growing fainter.

A pang of envy settles between your ribcage. The feeling of it twisting and festering almost burns. Never once had you ever experienced that. Never a tender smile or a kind word was ever directed at you. Thinking back as far as you can, there was always one constant: being alone. Ever since the great fire raged six summers ago, you've been displaced. Wandering and begging for scraps of food or even taking refuge within the churches when the bitter cold sweeps across the land. It is a harsh life for a child your age. Eleven years old and orphaned. Truly, if the orphanages weren't so full and if the staff cared, you figured you'd be stuck there. But seeing as they were full to bursting and low on income, you were throw. To the curb and barely spared a glance by any passersby.

Which brings you to the present. Living in the woods as best you can, your lean-to near the city's walls, but far enough to be undisturbed by mercenaries and gangs. The farther out away from the city the more people fear to tread. The tales of the great dragon who prowls the far edge of the woods have been told by young and old alike. Each story growing more fierce and bloody with each retelling. But so long as you're living without being pestered by people it's fine by you. Scowling as the bright sun shines brightly overhead, you practically have to squint to make out the shapes of birds flying overhead or in the trees. Sling shot in hand and a pain in your empty stomach spurs you on to find a meal. There are plenty of edible roots this time of year, with a few already back safely tucked into the confines of a nook in your lean-to. The only piece left to a decent meal would be some protein. With the birds twittering and chirping overhead. The sounds of mother birds feeding their squalling chicks is grating to your ears. Already irritated beyond compare from hunger pangs and envy. You screech out an angered shout as you set off your loaded slingshot amongst the trees. A sick hope of the rock somehow hitting a bird makes you smile bitterly. But the only thing you can hear is a gruff chortle followed by a accented baritone voice.

"Well now, what have we got here so far in my end of the woods?"

Your eyes widen as you can see a figure come stumbling out of the foliage. His tone possessive as he mentions the woods being his. A large hand on his head rubbing the sore spot of where the rock made impact. An apology rises to your warbling vocal chords only to be cut off as you see the large, curling horns protruding from his head. Smoke billowing from his mouth in a steady stream as he lets out an amused chuckle at your speechless state. Stretching his arms overhead in a mocking show of strength. You can see one large green wing furled in close to his back.

"Well?"

His deep voice sends a wave of fear through your bones. He could easily snap your neck with a flap of his wing, or crush you with his bare hands if he wanted to. Gazing wide eyed in fear...you can only think of how the stories that were told were true. Looking up at the hulking figure, you can see why the stories were never the same. This dragon...this man...this creature is somehow both. A hybrid of sorts.

Not bothering to stay around and chat. You bolt as if the devil himself were after you. Your tiny legs running as fast as you can. With the way your autonomic nervous system is kicking in. Your legs feel both like jelly and pins and needles from all the adrenaline. Panting heavily as you run the feeling of copper rises to your tongue as your lungs strain for air. Running was never your strongest attribute. The hybrid could tell that as well as even over the beating of your heart in your ears you can hear him running not to far behind you. His strides much longer than yours, a grin on his face as you can hear a giddy sort of chuckle rumblebfrom his chest.

"What's a hatchling like you doing all the way out here sweet thing?"

A pair of strong arms wrap securely around you as you flail and kick wildly. The scent of smoke and sweat fills your nose as you scratch at the arms holding you in place. The rumbling timbre of his voice sends vibrations through your body as he holds you securely against his chest.

"Been watching you for a while hatchling, all alone in these woods. Should have been eaten a long time ago."

As if those words weren't frightening enough, deep down in the pit of your belly you know them to be blaringly true. The amount of times you've stayed up in the night fending off wild animals were more than enough to prove his point. Tensing in the Hybrids strong arms, he adjusts his hold as if holding a squirming newborn fawn. His hot breath ghosting over the top of your head and neck. As if sensing your blinding fear, the hybrid chuckles, a rumbling purr rising from the chest behind you.

"Hush now...Papa's here, lil treasure. Papa's here."

Stilling immediately out of fear at the hybrid’s words. Whether condescending or not, you can't help but relax slightly. The fight leaving your tired body as soon as the adrenaline runs out. Your heart pitter pattering in your chest almost painfully. Sucking in greedy lung fulls of air, you can't help but relax begrudgingly against the warmth that the massive body behind you eminates. You're stuck here now.

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

We all know who the dragon is :) it's everyone's favorite tired dad Price!

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

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

☆ Silver's Sinful Sunday ☆

Week Four: Azriel

Warnings: 18+ [MDNI], enemies with benefits (mates), fem reader, choking, p in v, reader is kinda a brat, dominant Azriel, no use of Y/N, pet names, slight angst at the end, it's my writing — that's a warning within itself (cringe), all actions are with consent ofc

A/N— Week four was originally Vox (Hazbin Hotel). Refer to this post for the reason why it's not. Azriel was intended to be week five, but he's been moved to week four. The style for this one is also a little different than the others. . . Oopsies. . . Your honor, they're actually in love with each other but they're idiots. . .

Word Count: 2.8K

“Let me in.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine despite the massive argument the two of you had been in less than an hour ago. It was over something so petty that you didn't even remember what it was about, but you were still heated over it.

The anger simmered just beneath the surface, a feeling only he could evoke. It both drove you wild and pissed you off at the exact same time. 

“I know you're in there. Let me in.”

After every argument, Azriel found his way to your door. After every argument, it always ended the same way. There were never apologies. Apologies didn't exist between the two of you. The thought of one alone was highly amusing.

You reached the door with a scowl, twisting the brassy colored knob in your firm grasp. The door swung open, revealing the very male you knew it'd be.

His gaze roamed unabashedly over your form. From your hair to the silken midnight blue nightgown that hugged your curves in all the right places, all the way to the soft glow of your skin in the warm light of your bedroom.

“What?” You hissed, eyes narrowing.

He hummed approvingly, noting how you were still heated from the argument. “Are you going to let me in, or just glare at me?” His voice was deep and raspy, telling you everything you needed to know. The reason why he'd come, just like the other times.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, turning on your heel to return to your vanity. The door was left wide open; Azriel stepped in, shutting and locking the door behind him, watching closely as you walked away from him.

“Do you have any idea how mad you made me out there?” Azriel asked as he walked towards you, his steps quick, but quiet. His body moved with ease, like a prowling animal, every muscle rippling with every step.

“You started it. You pissed me off.” You sharply bit back, stopping in front of the mirror to take off the last remnants of the lipstick that Mor had wanted you to try because she thought it would look good on you. She was right, as usual.

He came up behind you, his large frame towering over you in the mirror. Azriel's hands landed on your hips, pinning you against the vanity in front of you. His hard chest pressed against your back, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear. “I may have started it, but you don't know when to shut your little mouth.”

"I thought you liked my mouth wide open." You snapped with a small, barely noticeable rumble of a growl, glaring at him in the mirror as he pressed against you. 

He chuckled and he slid his large hand up your body, gently wrapping his fingers around your throat, his hand almost covering your entire neck.

"I do. But I also like it when you're a good little princess and shut up and listen. I like it when you're good for me." He moved his other hand, letting it run over your thigh.

He moved his lips over your neck, letting his tongue trail over your sensitive skin, feeling your pulse in his hand. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before you open that pretty mouth of yours to say something you'll know will piss me off, hm?"

His hand on your thigh moved higher, letting his hand slide under the fabric of your nightgown, running his hand over the smooth skin of your hip.

“Don't act like you don't fucking love it.” You growled, fighting the urge to react to his touch. He didn't deserve to see you melt into his touch. Ha. No.

A dark chuckle fell from his lips, his breath warm on your skin. “You're right. It makes it more fun when I shut you up. . . I like it when you can't hide how much you want me.” His teeth grazed your neck. 

“Go fuck yourself.”

A low chuckle came from him again, he didn't expect anything different from you. You were stubborn and defiant. But he liked it, loved it even. You were the only one who dared to talk back to him, to fight and argue with him. It drove him crazy.

"Such a filthy little mouth." His hand fell from your throat and he spun you around to face him, lifting you up, sitting you on the vanity and standing in between your thighs.

His hands ran up your thighs, his hands disappearing under the fabric of your nightgown, gripping your hips and tugging you closer against his front. He moved his lips to your ear again, his chest now pressed up against yours as his breathing quickened.

"You know, for someone who was so angry a moment ago, you seem to be enjoying my touch now. Your breathing, the way your heart is racing, the way your legs are opened wide for me.”

You growled at the clear smugness in his tone, your eyes narrowing into a glare once the brief shock from his quick movements wore away.

"You know, your little growl sounds more like a moan to me, love." He grabbed your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he stepped forward, pressing his hips against yours so you could feel how hard he already was. His mouth moved down your neck again, gently nipping and sucking your skin.

"You can stay defiant, but your body is telling a different story.”

Your slender fingers gripped the collar of his clothes and forced him to look at you as your legs locked around his waist, pulling him closer. "Stop. Playing. Games. Azriel." You snarled.

He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him as he stared down at you with his darkened gaze. He leaned close, his lips hovering just inches away from yours. "Why don't you just admit you want me, princess?” 

"Maybe I should just go ask Cassian if he'd want to —”

The moment you mention Cassian's name, something snapped inside of him. His grip on you tightened, and he let out a low possessive growl. His hand slid up, wrapping around your neck. "Not. A. Chance. He's not allowed anywhere near you, do you understand me?”

"It seems I've struck a nerve." You spat, a dark grin spreading across your face as you stared up at him.

He let out a low growl, his grip on your throat tightening a bit more. "Cassian won't be able to give you what you need, sweetheart. I know how much you want me right now, and deep down, you know you can't deny it. You're mine."

His hips ground against yours, making you feel the further evidence of how much he wanted you. "You're mine, princess. Say it.”

“Choke.” You muttered darkly.

His hand tightened around your throat, constricting it in a way that had you releasing a soft moan despite the glare set on your face.

He chuckled again, watching that expression on your face. "I can tell how much you want this." His voice was low and gravelly against your ear. His hips continued to grind against yours, putting just the right amount of pressure where you wanted it.

You groaned, which turned into an almost embarrassingly needy moan very quickly. You glared harder, hating the way he reduced you to a writhing mess so easily. . . Knowing what was imminent, you reached down and began unlacing his pants at a tantalizing slow pace.

The fabric came loose in your grasp and he immediately shed them, along with his underwear, tossing them somewhere in the room before he slid a hand back under the hem of your nightgown, expecting to meet the lace fabric of your panties. He let out a low growl when, instead of fabric, his hand immediately met your slick folds. 

You gasped softly as he ran a finger through them before gently thrusting two fingers into you, while his thumb rubbed gently on your clit, his other hand finding its way back to your throat as if it was magnetic. 

He moved his hand in a steady rhythm, listening to the sweet sounds you tried and failed to stifle. 

“You're so desperate for me, aren't you? You need me, don't you?” 

You could only moan softly as his fingers curled deliciously within you.

“Say it. Say you need me. Say you're mine.” 

"Yours." You gasped out a moan. "I'm all yours — GODS, I need you, Az. . ."

He loved hearing those words from you, loved hearing you admit how much you needed him. . . Loved seeing you completely surrendering yourself to him. "Good girl. That's it, princess. I'm the only one who can make you feel like this.”

He dipped his head down, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin on your neck, as his hand continued to move in that steady rhythm between your thighs. "You're all mine, princess. No one else gets to touch you, to make you needy and desperate for release like this. Say it. Tell me you're mine.”

"I'm yours." You moaned, your hips bucking slightly, seeking more friction than what he was giving you. 

You hated how in control he was.

You hated the way his fingers alone made the heat within you build, threatening to snap.

You hated the way you didn't really hate any of it.

He grinned as he continued to leave marks on your neck, moving down to your chest. "Louder, princess. I want you to say it, louder. I want you to admit how much you need me." His hand between your legs moved faster, applying more pressure, knowing it will drive you crazy.

You let out a loud, needy moan. "Need you so bad, Az. . . So bad. . . Please. . !" You gasped.

You needed him. You hated how much you needed him, but at the end of the day, the two of you were mates, destined to be, and maybe, just maybe, the harsh words exchanged could turn into soft, reassuring words. . . Unlikely, but possible. . . Maybe. 

"Good girl. That's it, princess. I like it when you're needy like this. I love knowing that you're all mine. I love hearing you begging for me." He says against your chest, his mouth moving down to one of your sensitive mounds. He continued to suck and lick, his hand between your legs still moving steadily, but he could feel how eager you were, how impatient you were getting. "Be a good girl for me, princess. Tell me what you want. You need to ask for it.”

“Fuck me, Az. . . Please. . .”

He chuckled, a low, possessive growl coming from his chest. There was an intense look on his face as he slowly moved his hands away from their placements — stealing his fingers away from your core before you could come around them —  gently grabbing you by the hips and pulling you forward off the vanity. With ease, he pushed you up against the wall next to the mirror, pressing himself against you.

He moved his hips forward, letting you feel how hard you made him, letting you feel how much he'd been wanting you. "I'm going to make you remember who you belong to. Who you've always belonged to." He looked into your eyes, his expression full of desire and possession, a hint of a smirk on his face.

You glared slightly but gasped softly as he pressed forward, entering you inch by inch. 

He let his mouth roam over your neck again, moving down to the top of your chest, gently nipping and sucking on the skin, leaving marks that would be visible in the morning. His hands stayed firmly on your hips, keeping you in place as he slowly moved in and out of you.

"You're mine, princess. You're mine, not only in this room, but out there too. Everyone needs to know who you belong to.”

"Fuck you." You ground out, fighting back a moan at how he was making you feel. But the moan spilled out anyway.

He grinned against your skin, knowing he was getting to you. "That's it, princess. You can try and be defiant, but you'll eventually break. You'll break for me, like you always do. That mouth of yours is always going to end up wide open, just for me, whether you admit it or not." He moved his head up, looking into your eyes, his intense stare holding you captive.

You moaned as he hit a certain spot before growling and capturing his lips in a fiery, lustful kiss. It was new territory, but something within you told you to do it. . . Perhaps it was that taunting golden string tethering your souls together. . . Or maybe you just wanted him to shut the fuck up.

He quickly took control of the kiss, pushing your head up against the wall as he dominated you. His hips moved harder and faster against yours, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room, combining with the sound of your and his moans.

"You're mine, princess. No one else can make you feel like this.”

You knew without a doubt in your mind that he was right. No one could. No one would.

He couldn't take his eyes off of you, watching your face twist into ecstasy and pleasure, hearing your moans and sounds fill the room. He loved how shamelessly you gave yourself over to him, how you couldn't fight it, no matter how much you'd tried before. He loved how you were his.

He moved his hands from your hips, one gripping your neck again, his fingers lightly closing around your throat, the other moving to your thigh, hitching your leg up over his hip, giving him a deeper angle to work with.

Your eyes rolled back as you moaned louder. Gods, he knew your body far too well. Your desires. Just the right way to push your buttons — just the right angle to thrust mercilessly into you. 

He loved the sound of your moans, the way your body was responding to him, the way your eyes rolled back when he pushed you right to the edge. He knew you better than anyone else, and he loved that he had this power over you, that you willingly gave into that power, even if you didn't like it a few minutes ago. He knew you needed this, just as much as he needed you. 

He leaned forward, whispering against your ear, his voice low and gruff. "You're mine... say it. I want to hear you say it, princess.”

"Shut up." You moaned out with a slight groan.

He chuckled against your skin. You could always try to resist him, but you'd never be able to win. He loved how stubborn you were, but he also loved being able to take that stubbornness away from you, to make you completely surrender to him.

"You just can't help defying me, can you, princess? But then again, I know exactly how to set you straight, don't I?" He tightened the grip around your neck, his fingers pressing against your pulse point, knowing how wild it would make you. 

"Fuck — I'm yours." You moaned pathetically. "I fucking hate you, but I'm yours. . .”

"That's right, princess. You're mine. Now, and always. You can hate me and fight me all you want, but deep down, you know that you belong with me..” He continued to move against you, faster and harder, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

He moved his hand down, his thumb gently tracing slow circles against your clit, adding even more sensation and pleasure. 

You knew he could tell you were close. He always could. The way your breath caught. The way you subtly met his thrusts. The way you clenched around him so sinfully and your eyes fluttered closed.

"Give in, princess. Let yourself go. Let yourself feel all of this.”

Then pleasure crashed into you as the steadily growing, hot coil snapped and you fell over the edge right into an orgasm, your breathing heavy as you slowly began coming down from the high.

Seeing you completely lose yourself sent him over the edge, his release intense and powerful, his body going taut as he let himself go inside you, his forehead falling against yours as he leaned against you, trying to catch his breath.

He took a few moments to regain his bearings, his body still pressed up against yours as his hands gently held your hips, still holding you in place.

There was some part of you that wanted to ask him to stay, but as he slowly separated the two of you, setting your feet back on the smooth hardwood floor with shaky legs, before going to locate his clothes that he had hastily discarded in the heat of the moment, you knew this was how it was. 

He dressed, sparing a quick glance back at you before leaving your room. Wordlessly. Leaving you with his cum slowly spilling out of you. . . You also knew that you'd have to start another argument with him tomorrow. . . Just so you could have him close again.

Because even you knew that you didn't truly hate him.

[smallestapplin]

Hello! you can make Yandere Blurr, Pharma and Tyrest x Cybertronian female reader wife

I always did like them crazy. Also I apologize I don't feel confident in writing Tyrest, even reading and reading his wiki I can't get a good read on his character QwQ

🔞Warnings : toxic behavior, threats, talks of harm, implied noncon, past murder. I wrote little scenarios too ^^ 🔞

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Blurr

- Blurr is a puppy, if you could place him in a category. He is always so happy to see you, always at your side attached to your hip, and if he's on a mission he gets it done in record speeds just to run back to base for you, yelling your name and tackling you into a hug.

- He's so sickeningly sweet to you, always showing up for you, helping you work, and always does something spontaneous to keep you on your pedes!

- You'd never believe a soul that Blurr could harm friends or allies, not unless you saw it for yourself. He is always such a sweetie, and the reason you agreed to bond your spark to his.

- You even told Bee you just couldn't believe him without evidence "I know Blurr can get a bit sassy, but threaatening to crush your spark in his servos? That's just not like him."

- Blurr knows this, he's not dumb, he knows you placed your blind trust and faith in him, and he will do whatever it takes to keep it that way. It's why he glares, snaps, and makes snide comments to any boy getting too close to you. Even puts on the waterworks, crying about how mean the bot you finished speaking to is, just to make you comfort him and avoid that bot unless for work.

- He loves you, he loves you so so much and never fails to tell you or show you.

- But sometimes it's overwhelming, you never get a moment to yourself, you are never alone to collect your thoughts or to process your feelings on anything, Blurr is right there, cooing at you and nuzzling his helm into your neck cables.

- Even though you're tired, you never ask him to leave you alone, last time you sighed and asked for space he was sobbing, clinging to you harder, pleading with you to not leave or abandon him, that he can't live without you.

- "I want you, i need you! I-I can't live without you! I don't know what I'd do without you- pleasepleaseplease don't leave me, I love you!" Over and over and over again. It had you worried and guilt ridden, leaving you to never mention space again.

- You even apologized to him after that, never meaning to upset him.

- It's like he's draining your battery dry, sucking away your life force.

- But you stay by his side like a dutiful wife, helping him on missions when it's needed, smiling when he comes back, kissing him any chance you get.

- You feel like you're drowning in his love, suffocating you.

- Even as you lay in your shared berth, wide awake, Blurr sleeps in a peaceful stasis laying on top of you.

You sigh, your neck cables stiff from such a long time staring at your data pad and working on reports, but you're glad you got a large chunk of it done, you can finally go to your habsuite and relax.

Your spark clenches at the sound of rapidly approaching pedesteps. You try to hide your exhaustion, just in time to turn around and get a blue glob lunging for you.

You catch your husband with ease, use to his antics by now.

"Ohhhh I missed you so much! The mission was terribly boring but nothing I couldn't handle. Have you eaten yet? I want to have energon with you."

He speaks so fast, excitement showing in his words.

"M'sorry Blurr, I was just about to go to our habsuite and go down for a cycle. Prowl has been on my aft about reports, and I'm tiring."

He looks so crushed, his face plate a mix of sadness and rage.

"He's so pushy and such a workaholic! I have half a processor to go into his office and give him a piece if my brain module! I can't believe that guy, pushing my poor wife for his stupid reports."

He goes on such a long rant about Prowl, pointing out everything the bot has done wrong or the frankly harsh things he's said, you hate to admit that Blurr has a point but you are fond of Prowl.

He's rough around the edges but a nice friend to you when he opens up.

"Blurr, sweetie, it's fine really. Prowl has been swamped with reports and I don't mind helping. He's actually a nice bot once you get through his walls."

Blurr's expression looks like you just shot him. He clings to you, digits practically sinking into your back strut.

"Y-you've been hanging out with him without me?"

"It's just for work. Blurr, you know I love you and would never dream of leaving you, but I'd like to have some friends, even if they are just work friends."

Your spark aches at the sight of his optics welling up with liquid.

You just know you're going to have to start comforting him and avoid Prowl at all costs if it makes him this upset.

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Pharma

- lying to yourself in hopes you'd believe it. Pharma is a menace, you tried so hard to be kind to him, yet your kindness is what lead you here, bound to him in everything but your spark, it's at least the only thing he can't force upon you, no matter how many times he opens your spark chamber.

- No matter how many times he's tried to force the bond, always so calmly muttering his love for you, it never works.

- You once had such a fiery spirit, such a fiercely protective and loyal bot before Pharma got his servos on you. He broke you. The last time you managed to escape him and find help, he just killed them, toyed with them for fun no matter how much begged him to spare them. New parts for him.

- You never forgave yourself for being the reason those innocent bots met their ends, and Pharma takes great pleasure in that. You curl into such a cute ball and silently cry yourself into stasis, with him right behind you, curling around you and buring his face plate into the back of your neck. You want to scream, to sob, to upchuck and empty your tanks at the disgust of feeling his touch. His arms around your waist, holding you so tenderly, rubbing his thumb across your mesh like he's been an adoring lover this entire time.

- If you leave he will just find you.

- "What, you're not going to run again? My, but it was such a fun game we played!" He laughs.

- Pharma flips between knowing you don't love him in return, but not caring as he loves you and that's all that matters, to having moments of truly believing you're just playing games with him, such a playful darling he has! You just want to keep your marriage exciting, right?

- You try to lie to yourself, that you do love him, you love being at his side, you love ensuring he has plenty of energon, you love him.

- You miss the old him, the old Pharma you married, the old Pharma you promised to spark bond with once he returned form work but he never came back. Only for him to come back some years later to...being like this.

- He's draining, but he always makes sure you've eaten today, always makes sure you're safe, always makes sure he's kissed you and said he's loved you today.

- You can't fight him forever, you both know that.

- Why keep fighting when you can be a good little wife and accept his love?

Everyday it's the same, every cycle is new but nothing changes, you're still in the same dark abandoned building. You avoiding leaving your makeshift habsuite and a few other areas, not wanting to hear anything Pharma is doing further in the back.

You don't want to hear screams that get cut short, and the whirl of a saw.

You don't want to hear or see anything, you just want to pretend this is all a nightmare, but you know you can't wake up from it.

You just want a sense of normalcy back, to be back at your nice home on Cybertron before the war, laughing with coworkers and friends, greeting your husband with a smile.

Now you can barely stand to look at him without fear gripping your spark.

He's not the bot you married.

You lay on your berth, back facing the door as you don't want to see him, you don't even want him to see your face you don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear.

Your body trembles hearing his pedesteps growing closer. You will your body to freeze and squeeze your optics shut, just in time for the door to open. Pharma pauses in the doorway, looking over your resting form.

You've been going into stasis a lot more than usual, and a lot more than is recommended, but he can't be too upset with you, after all you look adorable when you're resting.

He moves quietly throughout the room, cleaning up the energon from his face, servo, and saw, knowing you don't like him leaving such a mess.

"I know you're awake, Dear."

You bite your derma holding back a whimper, but remain unmoving

"I'm worried you're sleeping too much, that's usually the first sign something is wrong. Funny how you could be sick, and don't you come to me with it, I am trained in this you know."

You can hear the smile in his voice, as if he didn't kills bots just to meet a quota, tortured someone you called friend, and then all of this.

You'd rather die than let him know anything.

"Are you truly so tired you can't tell me? No matter, I'll find out next cycle, yeah? I'll let you get some rest."

Your optics widen as he lays down behind you, his saw moving to rest under his helm, and his free arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Your back against his Chassis, his face into the back of your neck, pressing feather light kisses across your cables.

Pharma hums, chuckling softly at the feeling of your body shaking. His servo tightens its grip on you, keeping you flushed with him.

"So cute, I wish you'd let me dissect you to figure out what makes you so irresistible."

He laughs at hearing your involuntary whimper.

"No, I could never, but I'd much rather you be my pretty nurse."

You just want to go home and away from this monster.

[dominantslasherking]

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen With Dominant Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+

Backstory: Your basically a mysterious male figure that happens to be around the bene gesserit, (whom not even they could control you) Feyd is obsessed with you, a deep longing inside his soul, his body.

In the dimly lit corridors of the Harkonnen fortress, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen prowled around like a predator his eyes snapping towards the guards whom he gave a lean smile to, showing off his blackened teeth that almost resembled blood stained on his teeth but a dusky nightly color.

Feyd's eyes beam down on one particular figure, "You." Feyd hissed out, his shirtless body walking towards you carefully, his pale skin contrasting nicely with the seemingly smoothness of it.

"You." he once again repeated his voice a low, dangerous whisper that sent shivers down anyone's spine. Your eyes carefully dawned onto him, your stoic face slowly speaking. "Yes?" With a steady voice.

Feyd's eyes seemed to dim even more on your figure taking in your all-black clothing, he looked around you to see if any of those annoying bene gesserit witches were around you, he saw none.

Once his eyes reverted back to you, he finally looked you in the eyes. With a wicked a monstrous smirk on his face he spoke "You intrigue me." His husky voice slowly lulled out in a confession. his eyes gleamed with a mix of fascination and possessiveness.

Not only sensing and seeing the intensity of his gaze you spoke, "And, is there something you desire?" You spoke, your eyes trained on his shirtless body, the skin that you wanted to caress and trail kisses upon, why else would you stay on this morbid looking planet for so long?

Feyd stirred back from your words, he found himself consumed by a relentless obsession that no amount of power or manipulation could quell, he craved to be yours, for you to whisper sweet nothingness into his ear, but he was disgusted with himself, how can something like him, so strong, think of these pathetic little thoughts and desires, that rocked his body like a steaming fire that wouldn't relent.

"I can't seem to get you out of my mind," he uttered preparing his blade as he attacked you. With a quick dodge, and move of your hand you wrapped your arms around Feyd's waist, your tall stature, leaning down slightly to place your lips onto his neck, tasting his skin.

A raspy and heavy breath escaped Feyd, his body tried to submit to your will, Feyds body wanted to, as he couldn't help but let out a groan, as you started to kiss on his neck.

"And why is that?" You asked slowly, responding to what he once said before he attacked you, your other hand slowly made it way to his neck, not to choke harshly but almost in a sensual way.

"Because you challenge me," he admitted, his voice raw with hatred spewing on his tongue. "Because you see through the façade I present to the world, you are caved into my mind, and you won't leave." He growled out, pushing you away, as he smashed his oh so soft lips against yours.

"I see you, Feyd," You said, voice gentle yet firm. "And perhaps... that's why you can't look away." Teasing tone, as Feyd nearly whined, mewled against your touch, he wanted you to break him, ravage him apart.

"Perhaps," he murmured in between another harsh kiss, his voice barely audible over the din of the bustling fortress.

[cozzzynook]

Adding onto Earthspark Prowlbee since its so rare

As the weeks went on Bumblebee couldn't help but feel content all the stress of being a mentor to the Terrans or what ever plan Optimus had to try and get them back home, none of that mattered when ever he was by Prowl's side. Said mech was currently recharging next to Bee with a peaceful expression on his face while softly snoring.

Despite wanting to stay in berth a little longer and snuggle, Bumblebee had some early morning chores to do. With a quick huff the yellow mech hoped off the berth and made his way out the hab and into the main hallway. After a couple of sleepy steps Bee found himself inside the mess hall while sluggishly grabbing a cube of fuel before sitting down at a table. Despite the lack of stress Bee still felt horrible due to early mornings however today was a little worse .

"Up already?" Elita hummed as she took a sip from her cube. "Did Prime want you to scout out another old base, again?"

Bumblebee gave a warm smile as he greeted Elita. "No, I wanted to take an early drive before heading to the Malto's farm. The Tarrens wanted me to take them exploring"

"That sounds fun" Elita smiled warmly before narrowing her optics for a moment. A soft hum rumbled in her chest as she studied Bumblebee a little closer. "Though I should think you should head to the bay first before you leave"

"Huh, why do you say that?" Puzzled the yellow mech raised a brow while one door wing flicked uncommittable.

Giving her best 'Mom Glare' the Terrens would put it, Elita would gently press her free servo onto Bee's helm checking the mech's temperature. "You just seem off today, but you're not warm or cold so that rules out a virus"

"Greeaaat" Bee rolled his optics as he finished off his cube "I'll quickly stop by but I don't feel too 'off' "

"I mean it Bumblebee, I know very well how much you and Prime like to try and avoid your mandatory health checks"

Letting out a nervous chuckle Bumblebee quickly got his pedes and made his way to the bay, the sooner he got this over with the sooner he can get Elita off his back.

Prowl woke from recharge to the sound of his comm going off, with a groggy sigh he sat up and answered with a sleepy sigh. "Who is it?"

"Prowler... uhm sorry to wake you up" On the other side of the line soft shaky vents escaped from Bumblebee's voice. "I-I really need to tell you something..."

Snapping to his senses, Prowl was already halfway out of the berth and was only mere seconds away from running out of the hab. "What's wrong?"

"I'll be blunt with you..." Another sigh "I may or may not be sparked" For a few long minutes the comm line was silent already adding to the amounting anxiety Bee was already feeling. Flicking his door wings Bumblebee checked the line's connection before speaking. "Prowl, you there?"

Without warning the med bay door swung opened quickly followed by a very panicked Prowl rushing to the yellow mech's side. "Are you serious? Are you really sparked?" Gentle servos quickly found themselves pulling Bee closer to his frame.

"Yeah, I mean the sparkling is only the size of a ping-pong ball right now but yes I'm sparked" A soft chuckle found itself escaping Bumblebee as he softly gazed up at Prowl.

"And I thought we were going to take things slow at first" Prowl joked as he already began to place little kisses on Bee's cheek and helm. "Does anyone else know?"

Bee shook his helm before leaning up to place his own kisses. "No just you right now and Wheeljack" A soft hum rumbled in his chest as he felt servos carefully pet his door wings.

"Good, I just want it to be us right now and not have Optimus venting down my neck more than he already is" Another short chuckle followed after as Prowl continued to lazily pet his mech-friend's door wings. The threat of falling back into recharge was slowly getting closer as soft purrs escaped them both. "Want me to cover your shift, little Bee?"

"Mm, Sure. I'd doubt Jackie will let me leave the base anyway, not until he's given me the all clear" Lazily smiling Bumblebee pulled away from the hug only to place a gentle peck on his partner's nose. "And please don't be too aloof with the Tarrens, they can and will come up with every possible theory to why you act like that"

"Hehe, I promise"

"Love you, Prowler"

"And I love you too, Little Bee"

Kfkfoaoofjfowo AAHHHH I LOVE THIS!!!!!

[azrielsdove]

Rejected is one of my fave fics to date, so I have to ask if I can get a Cassianx f reader where the reader has gone through something tragic (what that is totally up to you) and Cassian helps her through it and while healing the mating bond snaps? (Feel free to play with this idea how you see fit)

Safe

Warnings: Violence, Description of attack on reader

***

Cassian was holding you tight against him, flying as quickly as he could to the House of Wind. You could feel each heavy breath drag from his chest, the panic radiating from him. You stared unblinkingly into the night, still comprehending what had just happened.

He landed on one of the balconies, running to the kitchen and yelling for anyone who may be there. He placed you so delicately on the table, laying your too-still body down. Azriel came running, eyes widening as he took in your form in front of him. “What happened?”

Cassian was rummaging through the cabinets, pulling healing supplies out in a wild manner. “I shouldn’t have let her go down there alone.” Azriel looked at him, cocking his head in confusion.

“Cass,” he tried again, “what happened?”

You became aware of the steady drip, drip of your blood landing on the floor below. The realization brought the searing pain in your side and arm back, the sudden feeling of pain almost causing you to wince.

If you had the care to.

Cassian brought the supplies next to you, hands shaking too hard to thread the needle. Azriel took it from him, preparing to stitch you up himself.

“She wanted to go down to the city, get a few drinks and walk around. It was late, I know what kind of people prowl around at that time.” He shook his head, as if that would make the sight of your bloodied body disappear. “I left her in a shop to run to another, just for a minute. She must have left, and-“ His voice broke, shaking sobs racking over his body. Azriel paused stitching your wounds, placing a hand on his friend’s back. Cassian sucked in a deep breath before continuing on. “I went back and noticed she was gone, so I started looking around. I didn’t think anything bad had happened until I caught the scent of blood. I ran, finding her in the shadows between two buildings. Like that.” He buried his face in his hands, ashamed that something like this could happen to you.

Azriel stayed quiet, resuming the careful stitching of your wounds. You hardly felt him, mind still stuck in that little alley. The male who had attacked you, trying to get money. You didn’t understand why he had been so violent. Rhys paid you well enough that you would have easily handed over whatever he wanted, had he just asked. Instead he plunged a knife into your gut, and when you tried to fight back he sliced it down your arm. He ran without even taking any money. He attacked you for truly, no reason.

Azriel was saying something to Cassian, forcing him to calm down. Cool water brushed against your now stitched wounds, washing away the dried blood on your skin. Soft bandages were carefully placed over you, more words shared that you didn’t catch. Someone was scooping you up into their arms, carrying you to your room. You were placed on the bed, warm covers wrapped around your aching body. A vial of something was poured down your throat, and before sleep took over you noticed one of the males placing a chair next to your bed. A glimmer of red was all you saw before falling into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

***

Your head was pounding. You winced as you opened your eyes, sunlight streaming through the windows. Within a second the curtains were pulled shut, your vision adjusting to find Cassian standing by them. He shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “How are you, uh, feeling?” You stared blankly at him, trying to remember what had happened. He cleared his throat, eyes not quite looking at you. He seemed…guilty?

“What happened?” You asked, wincing at the soreness of your throat. Cassian looked up to the ceiling and swallowed deeply.

“You were attacked when we were in town,” he said, his voice quiet. Your brow furrowed as you tried to remember. You could recall being in the shop with Cassian, and then him leaving to run into another. Not much after that-a sudden flash of memory ran through your body. You gasped as if you could feel the blade digging into your stomach again, the males hand tight around your throat. You instinctively curled into a ball, ignoring the sharp pain in your side at the action. You were going to be sick.

Cassian came to your side, reaching a hand out to comfort you. You yelped, rolling over and off the side of the bed. “Please don’t touch me,” you whispered, tears pricking at the back of your eyes. All you could feel was that males hands on you, digging in your pockets and threatening your life. Cassian looked like you had stabbed him, but he respected your wishes.

“Would you like me to get one of the girls?” He asked quietly, hands held tight behind his back. You nodded, still cowering from the floor. He ducked his head in response and went from the room, determined to find someone else to comfort you.

After what felt like hours of you sitting, shaking on the floor, the door pushed open. Mor ran in, immediately diving to sit by your side. “Oh, sweet girl,” she soothed, looking over you. “What do you need?” Her eyes bore into you like she could see what you were thinking. You couldn’t help the tears that slid down your face as you leaned into her, allowing her arms to wrap around you. She held you tight against her, running her hand through your hair. “You’re safe,” she murmured over and over again, reminding you that no one would harm you up here.

Mor held you as long as you needed, soothing you until your tears slowed. She helped you back into your bed, tucking the covers snug around you. “I am going to go get you something to eat and drink, okay? Would you like me to have someone wait with you?” Her eyes were wide with worry, clearly remembering what it feels like to be in such a vulnerable state. You shook your head, feeling better enough to be alone for a few minutes.

You sunk into the warmth of your bed while she was gone, replaying the night of your accident over and over. You and Cassian at the shop, Cassian running to a neighboring one, you going to meet him. The male jumping out of the shadows, dragging you backwards into the alley. The way you tried to scream as he wrapped his hand around your throat, threatening you if you made any noise. Your desperate plea that you would give him whatever he wanted if he just let you go, that you work with the High Lord and can get him anything, just please, please, please let you go. The feeling of the knife in your stomach, the sharp pain burning through your body. How you tried to fight back and he sliced down your arm, ripping muscle to keep you subdued. The darkness coming, Cassians voice yelling….

You rubbed your hands furiously over your eyes, trying to banish the memories away. You didn’t want to think about it anymore. You couldn’t think about it anymore.

Mor returned shortly after with a small plate and glass of water, sitting by your side until you had finished both. “There,” she said, taking them from you, “much better. I’m going to give you something to help you sleep, if that’s okay?” She held up a little glass vial, one you recognized from the night you were attacked.

“Okay,” you answered, reaching to take the drug from her. Anything to keep those thoughts away. You took it in one drink, breathing deep as the dreamless sleep took over once again.

***

“You cannot hide in here forever.” You glared at Mor standing at the foot of your bed, hands on her hips.

“I can do what I want,” you shot back, crossing your arms firmly in front of you. She threw her hands up in exasperation, turning away from you.

“I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself.” You knew she was angry, tired of trying to bring you back to life. You didn’t care. You were happy to lay in bed and hide under your covers, stealing bottles of wine from Rhys at night.

“No one’s making you help me. You are free to leave whenever.” Your eyes burned, dry from the lack of sleep or proper nutrition. Mor turned back to you, fire in her eyes.

“I understand you went through something traumatic, but you don’t need to throw your life away due to it.” She stared at you, waiting to see what you would say. You pushed yourself out of the bed and walked to the door, opening it wide.

“Then leave, Morrigan. I don’t need a gods damned babysitter.” You made a big show of bowing by the door, gesturing her to go. She shook her head and stormed out, turning on her heel before you could slam it shut.

“Rhys won’t let you live here forever, rotting away. Figure it out.” You stuck your tongue out at her, ignoring her shout of frustration as she stormed away. You happily closed and locked the door behind her, walking over to your nightstand and grabbing the wine on top of it. You drank deeply, forcing any guilt away.

The wounds on your physical form had healed, but the mental ones were still strong. How could you tell Mor, who had overcome the most horrific things, that you couldn’t get past what happened? That you had nightmares every time you closed your eyes about that male, that you couldn’t sleep or think without it haunting you. It had been weeks since your attack, and no one expected you to be taken down so badly by it. You stumbled over to one of the windows in your room, sitting on the bench in front of it. You’re pathetic, you thought to yourself, taking another drink. No wine spilled on to your waiting lips, prompting you to investigate the bottle.

Empty.

You cursed, knowing tonight you would have to leave your room in search of another. Fine. Whatever. You would do anything to keep your feelings away, your memories dampened.

You were pondering how best to sneak out when a loud banging at your door made you jump. You sighed, knowing it was someone to yell at you. You walked over, opening the door with a sickly sweet smile on your face.

The smile dropped when you saw it was Cassian standing there.

He looked you over, nose wrinkling at the state of you. You suppose you’d looked better, the days-old nightgown and unwashed hair not the best you’ve ever done. “Mor says you’re a lost cause.” You rolled your eyes. Of course she did.

“Why do you care?” You felt a pang of regret at the pain in his eyes, knowing how heavily he blamed himself for what happened.

He took a breath, standing up straight. “I want to help you.”

You laughed.

“I don’t need help, General. Thanks for the offer.” You moved to shut the door, annoyed when he stuck his foot out to stop you. His gaze darkened as he looked down at you, his size intimidating.

“Let me rephrase that. I am going to help you. Meet me at the training ring tomorrow morning, at dawn. If you aren’t there, i’ll be sure to let Rhys know how you spend your nights.” His eyes dipped down to the empty bottle in your hand, his intention all too clear. You scoffed, slamming the door shut on him.

Who does he think he is bossing me around? You think, throwing yourself on your bed. The wine would have to wait.

***

You shivered in the chill morning air, uncomfortable in your now loose-fitting fighting leathers. You were embarrassed to put them on earlier, shocked at how much your body had changed in the last few weeks. You knew you hadn’t been taking care of yourself, but you didn’t think it would be this bad.

You glanced at the doorway again, waiting for Cassian to come. Was he so sure you would bail that he decided to not even show up? Guilt ran over you, ashamed that you had pushed everyone so far away that this was their impression of you. You kicked at the sand under your feet, hot tears filling your eyes.

Footsteps came from the stairwell and your head shot up, quickly wiping the tears that had fallen. Cassian halted at the sight of you, clearly not expecting you to have showed up. He took note of your watery eyes, concern flashing through his own. “I didn’t think you’d come,” was all he said before continuing on towards the weapons.

You trailed after him, shrugging your shoulders. Truthfully, you couldn’t handle the idea of Rhys coming to tell you how disappointed he was. The High Lord had offered you a job when you were struggling, impressed by your intelligence and outside thinking. You were happy to come live here, a far better home than the little shack you slept in. You could handle anger and disappointment from Mor and Cassian, as your friends, but from your boss? The thought had sobered you up, deciding that accepting Cassians help wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“We will begin with stretching and body exercises, building your strength back up.” He turned to face you, wrapping his hands in training tapes. “Then, we will move on to defense.” You paled at his words, at the reminder of why you needed to learn defensive tactics. The feeling of that males knife in your stomach flooded your senses, your fists clenching tight at your sides. Cassian observed the reaction, his expression softening. “Here,” he said, stepping closer to you and wrapping your hands as well. You forced your hands to stay steady, not wanting him to feel the almost permanent shake in them these days.

He started you on stretches, your muscles terribly tight after so long without use. You groaned at the discomfort. “Let me help.” You looked at Cassian, hesitant to allow him to touch you. He sighed and held his hands up. “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. If you don’t want me to, just say no. I won’t be mad.” Your heart squeezed at his words, at the kindness you didn’t deserve.

“Okay,” you said, “you can help.” He instructed you to lay flat on your back and bend your knees. One of his hands wrapped gingerly around your ankle, while the other laid flat against your thigh. He slowly pushed your leg up to your stomach, the muscles flexing as he did. You couldn’t help the small moan at the feeling, the stretch releasing some of the tension in your body. Cassian’s hands tightened on you and you flushed, embarrassed by your reaction. “I, uh, sorry,” you mumbled out, forcing your eyes to the sky.

“It’s fine.” He set your leg back down and moved to the other. You bit your lip to keep from making the same noise of relief, certain you would combust if you embarrassed yourself any farther.

The rest of the morning passed without incident, Cassian leading your body through more stretches. He ended the session with some practice punches, getting the blood flowing in your body. You were properly sweaty by the time you were done, the cool morning long gone under the heat of the sun. “Hey, if you want to join us for lunch, you’re welcome too.” You were a bit stunned by his offer, but a smile ghosted your lips.

“Okay.”

***

Trainings with Cassian were helping you feel strong again. You began to look forward to the early mornings with him, the sessions quickly becoming your favorite time of day. While you were working your body, thoughts of that night disappeared. It was the nights that drove you to the brink of madness, the nightmares still incessant. Some nights you didn’t sleep at all, choosing to stay awake until the first rays of sunlight came out and you could go up to the training ring.

Unfortunately, Cassian was more observant than you would have liked him to be. He began to notice the ever-darkening circles under your eyes and the way you would stumble from exhaustion. His final straw was this morning, as you were doing weapons training. You swung your sword and fell right over at the force of it, narrowly missing falling on the blade itself. “Alright, that’s it.” Cassian hauled you to your feet and practically carried you out of the ring. He brought you down to the kitchen, making you sit as he got you a glass of water. “Talk.”

You looked up at him and sipped your water. “About what?” He shook his head.

“Don’t play with me. Why aren’t you sleeping?” He stared you down, arms crossed in front of him.

You shrugged. “Just can’t.”

“Is it because of what happened?” You stilled. “I know it bothers you, even if you pretend you’re over it.” His eyes bore into your own, drawing the answer from you.

“Yes.” You hated the shake in your voice at the simple word. You hated the pity in Cassian’s expression. He moved to sit down next to you, body facing yours.

“Can I help?”

You shook your head. Not even the sleeping draught was helping anymore. The nightmares seemed to override the magic, coming to torture you no matter what you did. The strain of it all was threatening to destroy you. Cassian carefully cradled your hands in his. “Let me stay with you tonight. I’ll sit by your bed, and if you need me i’ll be right there.” You thought over the offer and decided you may as well try. Perhaps having someone with you would make it easier.

“Okay.”

***

A hand was tight around your throat, a knife digging into your side. “I should’ve killed you that night, sweetheart.” The snarling voice is in your ear, panic overtaking your body. “I’ll just kill you now.” The knife rips across your abdomen and you try to scream, pain radiating throughout your body.

“Please! Please, i’ll give you anything you want, just let me go!” You were sobbing, voice strangled as he pressed his hand harder against you. The knife digs down your arm, rendering it useless.

“I don’t think so, little girl. This is part of the fun.” Your vision was darkening due to your blood loss and he dug the knife into your other arm. You lost the energy to scream, to fight. You crumpled down against the male, blinking into the brighter light outside the alleyway.

“Cass,” you mumbled before all went black.

You shot up with a scream, your fingers clawing at your neck. Strong hands wrapped around your wrists and ripped your arms down. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe. You’re safe.” You looked wildly at the male next to you, instinct telling you to run.

He rubbed his thumbs over your wrists soothingly, shushing your thoughts. “You’re safe, I promise. Breathe.” You took a shuddering breath, eyes focusing on his face. Cassian. Tears began pouring down your cheeks as you came out of the nightmare, realizing where you were. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, pressing soft kisses into your hair. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

You cried until you were dizzy, the exhaustion threatening to take over. You clung to Cassian and buried your face in his chest. “Please don’t go,” you whispered as you felt sleep threaten you again. He laid the two of you down, keeping his arms wrapped around you.

“I won’t. I’ll always be here.” You relaxed in his embrace, breathing deeply. Sleep came quickly, and for the first time in a long time you weren’t afraid of it.

You were safe.

***

Training the next day was the best session you had ever experienced. You felt refreshed after finally getting a restful sleep, ready to tackle whatever Cassian threw at you. You were full of determination, a stark contrast to the shell of yourself you were before.

You were nearing the end of your training session, knives in both hands, when you made a mistake. You stumbled and failed to block his attack. His knife ended up pressed flat against your stomach, in the same spot you had been attacked. You screamed and pushed him away, backing yourself up. “What is wrong with you?!” You yelled, hands shaking.

Cassian dropped the knives he was holding, hands raised in surrender. “You were supposed to block it. I told you, we were going to work on self defense.” You knew it made sense why he would do that, but your anger and fear overshadowed practicality.

“You’re a fucking psycho Cassian!” You threw the knives out of your hands like they were fire.

“I’m trying to help you. That is why we are up here, is it not? To train?” He stepped closer to you, anger of his own rising.

You shook your head. “Do you want to help me? Or do you just like the idea of the poor, weak damsel in distress? I don’t need you to protect me.”

He laughed and moved closer, towering over you. “That’s not what you said last night, when I basically had to rock you to sleep like a babe!” You glared at him, not shying away from his large form.

“You could have left at any time. I was handling it on my own before you came.”

“Handling it? You weren’t sleeping! You were allowing it to take over, turning to drink instead of help.” He moved even closer, your chests brushing with every breath.

“I hate you,” you spat out, even if the close proximity was making you doubt that.

“No you don’t.” His voice was softer, a hand coming to tilt your face up to him.

“I do.” You didn’t sound like you believed it. Especially not as he leaned down closer to you, lips centimeters from yours.

“Is that so?” He teased, eyes dark. Your breathing was heavy, overwhelmed by him.

“Just kiss me already.” The words were scarcely out of your mouth before his lips slotted over yours, his other arm wrapping tight around your waist. You sighed into the kiss, opening your mouth to his. Cassians teeth bit over your bottom lip, a pleased chuckle at the sound you made.

“I’ve been thinking about this ever since I helped you stretch that first day,” he whispered, pulling away to kiss down your neck. “When you made that moan, I knew I needed you.” He pulled the same sound from you now, biting the sensitive skin under your ear. His hand tightened on your waist, a low growl sending heat through you. “You will be the death of me.”

His lips came back to yours, kissing you hard. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held him tight, enjoying the feeling of him pressed up against you. “Cass,” you murmured, body going still. You looked up into his expression of shock that you were certain mirrored your own. “Cass?” A sudden fear rose through you, worry that he didn’t want a bond. Not with you. Was he going to reject it, was he going to reject you, where would you go, what would you do-

Your panicked thoughts were interrupted by him kissing you again. “My mate,” he said, kissing you again and again. You smiled into his kisses, holding tight to him. And you felt it.

As long as Cassian was yours, you would be safe.

***

First of all, thank you so much for your comment about Rejected <3. I love that one and i’m so happy you do too! Second of all, I am SO SORRY this took me so long to do!!! I hope it lived up to what you wanted ❤️ Thank you so much for being patient with me and for requesting this!

[tojisun]

kinktober — 08: scent kink

konig x fem reader

!! smut - minors dni; scent kink (built within a ‘scene’); d/s play; brat taming; repeating use of being ‘fixed’ as part of the brat taming; mask kink; use of petnames (including daddy)

kinktober masterlist

konig shoots a sharp look towards you, just a quick glance, and you know tonight’s going to be one of those nights – angry, rough, but so, so filling.

you tremble in anticipation, skirting towards your room as though you can’t hear the thundering sounds of his boots trailing after you, purposeful in the way he stomps. because konig has always been quiet, but not tonight.

tonight he’s prowling, making a statement that only you and him would understand. it’s a proclamation. a promise. you pretend that heat isn’t already building in the pit of your stomach.

you barely crossed the safety of your room when konig scruffs you on the base of your neck, holding securely, before he’s locking the door.

your breath hitches, a quiet gasp slipping past your lips, but he remains silent as he guides you to your bed. there was a moment of pause when your shins hit the bed box before konig continues to push you down, folding you in half until you’re left presenting to him. 

“mm,” he murmurs, his voice muffled by his mask. “look at you, meine engel.”

you want to snark at him and tell him you can’t – is he fucking stupid? – but konig’s hand tightens around your neck as warning, and you whine, the first of many tonight. 

“shh, no anger from you tonight, schatzchen. you will just lay down and take me, jo?”

you snarl at the crooning tone, your mind buzzed with the need to lash out. to fight. so you do, you kick behind, blindly aiming for anything of konig – he’s a big and tall target, surely maybe even your desperate lashing out will chance a proper hit. 

but konig just growls, pressing a knee on your lower back to subdue you. “what did i say?” his voice is thick with building anger, his hold on his accent slipping up to coat his words.

still, you know he understands; you know that this has long turned into a scene – a moment where you can be bratty and angry, and konig will fix you right up. the question was: how would he?

the thrill of the unknown shoots down your spine and you mewl, teeth digging into your bottom lip, before hissing at him. 

“fuck you, king.”

you know he hates the nickname – a slight to the personhood he’s built under the callsign ‘konig’ – and you almost purr in satisfaction when you feel him freeze behind you.

konig has always been so beautiful when angry. 

his hand leaves your neck and you almost whimper in protest only to pause when shuffling sounds resonate from somewhere behind you. you blink, trying to feel if it were your gear that konig is stripping, but it wasn’t and tremors overtake you at the realization that he is stripping himself instead.

“k-konig, no-”

“i don’t want to hear it, katzchen,” he says, cutting you off.

you snap your teeth at the petname in an instant, humiliation building at the pit of your stomach. your lips part open for whatever it was that you wanted to say only for your mind to catch onto the sudden shift from your lover, the change so subtle that you almost buckled at the realization: konig’s voice is no longer muffled. he’s removed his mask. 

the fight sizzles out of you and you collapse on the bed, eyes blown wide open despite being blind to whatever he has in store for you. you lay there, still presenting for him, still trusting him, and konig chuckles at seeing you suddenly turn docile.

“that’s right, liebling. this is how i want you – didn’t i promise that i’ll fix you?”

the words are purred on your ear, his lips – unmasked! your mind screams – pressing ever so teasingly on the shell of it, ghosting a kiss.

you whimper, not trusting your voice nor your mind, feeling the fog slowly surround you. konig chuckles and finally, finally, presses his lips on the side of your head, not really kissing but breathing you in, before he’s stepping away again.

a resonating whine rumbles from the base of your throat because you don’t want him to leave. you don’t want the space between you two. you want him to fill you up with his warmth and his cock, his big hands making you fall apart. you want all of him, all of that he has to offer. you need him. you-

“shh, little maus. no need to cry,” his voice cuts through your spiralling thoughts and you realize that tears have begun to slip down your cheeks. his hand drops on the top of your head, caressing slowly for comfort. “i will be all that you breathe. would you like that, mein engel?” 

you blink your eyes open, not understanding what he means, but konig had asked you a question, asked for your consent, and you nod eagerly.

“good girl.”

it takes two heartbeats until something black obscures your vision. it takes even longer for you to realize that it was konig’s mask. 

you freeze, lips parting open as konig brushes your hair away from your face, muttering in german as he tucks in stray strands behind your ears, before he slips his mask on to you. 

it was instant how your senses reacted – your ears are muffled, your vision continues to be obscured as konig fixes the mask to fit in the eyeholes, your skin tingling with the feeling of having more covering. you don’t know if you like the change, then, you breathe in.

konig’s scent hits you, filling you up with flames of desire. you keen as you finally slip under the fog, something snapping in your mind as you fall because this – being surrounded by all that konig is – feels right. it’s not enough but it settles the thrum under your skin, extinguishing the licking flames of your ire. 

you continue to breathe him in, your mind loppy even as desire crashes you with its intensity. konig chuckles like he understands what you can’t voice, like he knows just what it is that you truly need.

you feel him press a kiss on your head then on your back, tracing the curve of your body until he has to stand up to ease him from the strain. you don’t seem to notice as you clutch at the ends of his mask, fisting the cloth like you are afraid that it’ll disappear. 

he coos, running his hands along your body, before planting them on your waist. “you ready for more, liebling?”

you give him a soft nod, still feeling loopy from the way his scent covers you, filling you up with every breath. he is all that you know, all that grounds you, and you tremble at the feeling of his dominance over you.

“words, meine sonne. use your words.”

“konig, please,” you whimper, buckling at his command as your lips press on his mask. you mewl when his scent filters into your mouth, dipping along the surface of your tongue almost like you can taste him. 

you hear him coo, his hands digging into your fatigues, before experienced fingers begin to undress you. you lay there, floating between reality and the safety of his scent, mewling every time scarred palms caress a new inch of your exposed skin, his touch reverent as they massage your tender flesh. you don’t complain when he jostles you up, giggling, instead, as konig gently removes each piece of your clothing until you lay there in nothing but his mask. 

you hear him groan, lust curling along the notes of his voice, and you gasp as his hands grab fistfuls of your ass before spreading the cheeks apart. the cool air hits your exposed cunt and you mewl at the feeling of damp slick trickling down your thighs.

the sound that you make is engulfed by konig’s own growl. “scheiße,” he curses, his grip on you gaining strength. you buck into his hands with a quiet whine, knowing that his patience has thinned enough and that you’re close to getting what you want. 

to getting what you need. 

just one more push. just one more reason to make konig fall to his knees.

you fist his mask, lifting the cloth just high enough that your lips are peeking through. you wonder if he’s watching – he is; his trained eyes always cataloguing whatever it is that you do, greedy in the way they engulf the view you make, greedy in the way they always come back to you. 

you lick your lips, trembling when the faint taste of konig touches your tongue, before you murmur, “daddy, fuck me, please.”

an oath that you’re no longer a brat. that you’re now his good girl, ready to be cared for. ready to be fixed. 

konig’s excitement is silent but you hear the quiet thuds of his knees hitting the floor, long legs bracketing your shorter ones. his hands squeeze your ass, his fingers spreading you open again, but this time it is less teasing as his actions burn with purpose. 

you squeak when his breath hits your backside before a wet muscle licks a stripe on your leaking cunt. your heart lurches into your throat, your hold on his mask loosening to fist on the sheets instead as konig continues to tease your wet folds with his tongue.

fuck. fuck!

“da-!”

your moan peters into a whine when konig pulls away, your pooling desire simmering back down into nothing but a thrum. 

no! you want more!

“shh, engel. no need to cry,” konig’s voice is muffled as he presses his lips along the flesh of your ass. “just wanted to praise you, liebling. just wanted to say how good you smell.” callused thumbs run soothing circles on your skin. “you smell so delectable. so good. all for me, jo?” he swipes a finger along your folds as he says this. 

“yes!” you cry out, trembling for more. “all for you, konig! ‘m all yours!”

konig nips the tender flesh of your ass with a chuckle. “good girl,” he says, one of his favourite things to say to you.

then, he descends to finally, finally, eat you out.

tags: @stargirlrchive @cursingtoji @liwooa

[wisecura]

Sheets

megumi fushiguro x fem-reader

p.1

p.2  ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.4

p.3

AN: Thank you for reading! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series!

warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build.

Short summary: Your arranged marriage to Toji Fushiguro had been sudden and unexpected, but now you found yourself living under his roof alongside his moody stepson. Your only directive from your clan head before moving in was clear: keep a close eye on Toji, the notorious Sorcerer Killer, and his son, a potential sorcerer prodigy.

the pancake incident

Rinse and repeat.

You’d woken up early, the sun barely peeking over the horizon.

The soft light filled the quiet apartment as you made your way to the kitchen, setting to work on breakfast for you and Megumi. You still hadn’t decided what you wanted for breakfast that morning. Maybe some pancakes? You could do some bacon too?

You were one batch in, readying for the second—until you heard it.

That deep, too deep, timbered voice cut through the stillness, freezing you in place. Your heart stuttered, leaping to an uneasy rhythm as your grip tightened on the spatula.

“Whatcha makin’, doll?”

Your head whipped around, panic flaring before you processed who it was. Your hand instinctively pressed to your chest, as if that could calm the racing pulse beneath it. Toji stood leaning against the doorway, an amused gleam in his sharp eyes. His posture lazy, yet still fucking predatory.

You weren’t normally so skittish, but something about the unexpected appearance had you on edge.

So, he just came and went as he pleased?

At least he didn’t look angry. You hadn’t seen the man since the day you first arrived. And he hadn’t interacted with you much either.

You forced a steadying breath, slipping your well-practiced mask of indifference into place. He wasn’t like Megumi—far from it.

No—Toji carried an energy dedicated all to himself. One that set your nerves on edge the moment he stepped into a room. His presence screaming authority.

While Megumi evoked the cautious fussiness of a stray cat. Toji was a more akin to a predator on the prowl, deliberate and calculating. Always watching, always waiting. Ready at any second to snap your neck. This man could send you back to your clan house—in seconds, if you so breathed the wrong way. 

“Pancakes.” 

“Pancakes?” 

The word echoed from the doorway behind Toji, this time gruffer and laced with grogginess.

You glanced over to see Megumi walking into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes, his hair sticking up in a disheveled mess. He looked half-asleep, his usual scowl firmly in place.

How long had he been there?

Your gaze softened automatically as he shuffled to the table, his mood sour but you really didn’t mind.

This, of course, didn't go unnoticed.

Toji’s gaze flicked between you and Megumi before he strode further. Each step carried a deliberate weight, the kind that made your chest tighten ever so slightly. You gripped the spatula in your hand a little tighter, trying to focus on the task at hand. But ready for anything.

His large hand ruffled Megumi’s already messy hair, a gesture that might have seemed affectionate—if not for the immediate tension in the boy’s shoulders. Or the scowl that seemed to darkened his face. You turn around quickly, focusing on finishing breakfast. He must hate his hair being touched—

“Megs,” Toji drawled, almost teasing. “You been fightin’ again?”

The question made you pause mid-stir, your ears unconsciously tuning in to the exchange. 

Fighting? 

Megumi?

Did he say again? The idea of Megumi being a repeat troublemaker was a little...difficult to imagine. But you guessed with the grumpiness territory...

You kept your gaze on the bowl of batter, carefully inspecting for clumps, but you couldn’t help glancing over your shoulder to catch Megumi’s reaction.

Megumi shoved Toji’s hand off with more force this time, his scowl deepening. “What’s it matter to you?”The glare was lethal. You’d never seen one quite like it. Could a teen really give such a nasty glare?

Toji snorted, clearly more entertained than annoyed. You wonder why he brought it up in the first place if he wasn’t going to take it seriously.

“What’d I tell ya about stirring up trouble, huh? I’m not in the mood to keep gettin' calls from your school. Been givin' them hell, yea?”

Your brows arched slightly at that, though you kept your expression neutral, focusing on the mix. Once happy with the consistency, you poured three even dollops of batter onto the buttered pan, the soft sizzle ringing into the stifling air.

“Again, what’s it matter to you?” Megumi shot back, his tone colder this time.

You started counting under your breath, a small habit to keep focused. An exasperated sigh broke the tension.

“Megs,” Toji said, his tone heavy with feigned exasperation.

The bubbles began to rise along the edges of the batter. It was nearly time to flip.

“It matters, kid,” his voice somewhat stern, but in your opinion still somewhat condescending. “You think I like getting phone calls from your school? M’just tryin’ to tell you from experience. You don’t wanna end up going down that way.”

Sliding the spatula under the first pancake, you flipped it cleanly, the golden brown surface glowing under the light.

One down.

Megumi’s scoff cut through the room like a knife. Carrying more bite than you’d heard from him before. You could feel the frustration rolling across you back in waves.

Your grip on the spatula tightened reflexively for a moment, the tension winding through you. But you forced yourself to breathe, counting again under your breath.

Focus: golden brown, no burnt edges.

No need to step in—not your fight.

“Don’t start with me,” Toji warned, his voice dropping, and you could pick up hints of an oncoming fight. “I’m still your old man, like it or not. Show some respect.”

The second pancake flipped smoothly, landing perfectly beside the first.

You tried to focus on the task. But the air around you was thick and heavy. You felt your throat choking up just slightly.

Disbelief laced Megumi’s words, tinged with venom. “Respect? That’s rich coming from you.”

No response.

It crept along your spine, the kind of silence that felt volatile. Like it could break something.

Risking a glance over your shoulder, you saw Toji slump into a chair across from his son, one hand dragging down his face. He looked older than he should, worn down by life—or whatever poor decisions he’s drowning in.

And yet, they continued the conversation, as if your presence was nearly wallpaper. Were they always this…explosive?

You turned back to the stove, focusing on the third and final pancake.

Perfectly round, golden, and ready to join the others.

“Megs,” Toji said again, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “You’re not gonna get anywhere if you keep goin’ at people like this. I didn’t want that kinda life for you. Your mom didn’t want that kinda life for you.”

The spatula slid under the pancake with ease. You checked the underside—golden brown, just the way it should be—before transferring it to the stack.

“Well she isn’t here,” His voice low and bitter. You could practically see his arms crossed, pout heavily etched into his face. But the weight of his words made you stop for a moment. Your chest tightening with an ache that wasn’t yours to feel.

“And she hasn’t been here. Not for a long time, and neither have you.”

The clink of the spatula was the only response. You heard the creak of the chair as Toji leaned back.

“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?” Toji’s tone was light, as if his son hadn’t just accused him of negligence. But there was a definite edge in his voice. The defense masked by flippancy.

Megumi’s response was immediate, brimming with unanswered questions.

“Yeah? For how long this time? A day? Two? Before you disappear again?” His voice flat out irritated. “Just leave already. At least it’s quieter when you’re not here.”

The plate of pancakes in your hands suddenly felt heavier, your grip tightening as you stood frozen, unsure of what to do. The air between them was thick with resentment, the kind of anger that only grows with time and neglect.

Still, you carefully placed the plate on the table, a quiet offering in the middle of their storm. This conversation hitting a little too close for comfort. Toji chuckled dryly, but the sound rang hollow, void of any humor.

“You’ve got a real sharp tongue for a kid, you know that? You think I enjoy just running off? Think I enjoy being out there instead of—”

“Instead of what?” Megumi snapped. “Instead of pretending to be a father for a few hours before you disappear again? Just stop pretending. Nobody asked you to be here.”

Your hand hovered over the table, frozen as you turned your eyes to Toji. They still ignored your presence, lost in their own world. Yet you couldn’t help but feel for Megumi.

Toji’s smirk faltered, then vanished entirely, replaced by something unreadable. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze fixed firmly on Megumi.

“Watch your mouth, Megumi,” Toji said, his voice low, edged with warning.

There’d been more exhaustion, than anger—a kind of weariness that seemed ingrained, as though this wasn’t the first time they’d had this fight.

You cleared your throat gently, pushing the plate of pancakes toward the center of the table—trying again. The syrup bottle placed neatly beside it.

“Please, eat,” you said softly, your voice even but careful, hoping to cut through the tension without stepping on either of their toes. It was a quiet reminder, a nudge toward civility. “They’ll get cold.”

Megumi didn’t budge, his glare still locked onto his father, the intensity in his eyes unrelenting. Toji’s gaze flickered toward the pancakes for the briefest moment before he let out a long, drawn-out sigh, leaning further back.

“Look, kid,” Toji began, his tone rough, but with an edge of resignation. “I’m not gonna sit here and play house with you. I’ve got work to do. You think it’s easy keeping this place running?”

The pancakes sat untouched in the middle of the table, their warmth fading, much like the hope for a peaceful resolution.

Megumi’s laugh broke the silence, sharp and bitter, sending a chill up your spine.

“Keeping it running? You can barely keep food on the table. She’s the only one who’s done anything around here,” jerking his head toward you. The sudden shift of attention caused you to stiffen. “And she hasn’t even been here more than a day or two. You don’t care about me, or her, or this house. So just go.”

Toji’s eyes flashed with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. For a moment, it looked like he might argue, like he might actually try to defend himself. Instead, he shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

“Got me all figured out, don’t you?” he muttered, his tone heavy with frustration.

Megumi glared at his father, his arms crossed. The malice that dripped from his look had you feeling anxious. You knew he wouldn’t be one to let this conversation drop.

You hated seeing Megumi this way—dealing with this. It didn’t seem fair, especially with what he was saying. If it was true, Toji was just an absent, shitty father.

But you weren’t one to judge the paint chip of a larger picture. There had to be more to this, with situations like this—there always was. And yet it seemed Toji was all too happy to feed into this bullshit.

“You’ve got no idea what it’s like out there, kid,” Toji said with finality. “No idea what I’m trying to protect you from.”

“Protect me?” Megumi’s voice was low and brimming with disbelief, a growl of raw anger. “You mean leaving me to fend for myself? Yeah, real protective.”

This was getting to become unbearable. They seemed ready to jump back in so easily.

Your hands are trembling now, unable to keep calm. Your breathing was picking up, a sense of comfort being lost. This will go on all night. Unable to take it any longer, you decide to step in.

You steel your face over, a mask of mastered indifference.

“That’s enough,” you said sharply, your voice cutting through the tension, easily. They hadn’t expected an outsider’s opinion.

Both of their heads snapped toward you, surprise flickering across their faces. Your hands were steeled, not a shake in sight. Your eyes are cold, emotionless.

You pushed the plate of pancakes closer to Megumi, your tone firm as you spoke.

“Eat,” you commanded, your voice brooking no argument.

That was the most important thing to you in this moment.

Then you turned your gaze to Toji, meeting his sharp stare squarely. Your voice was even but unwavering, each word laced with quiet authority. If he wasn't going to act like an adult, you would.

“And you—if you’re going to stay, then stay. If you’re going to leave, then leave. But this back-and-forth stops now.”

The room felt all the more heavy, with you finally weighing in on it. The silence all encompassing. Your gaze never wavered, holding Toji’s with the same cold indifference you'd offered him the first time you two met. You were fully aware that this was a gamble.

Toji had the authority of the house, and it really wasn’t your place to question him at all. Yet the unease bubbling in your gut—constricting your throat—wouldn’t let you back down.

This didn't feel like some passing spat—it felt too personal—too raw, and it struck something in you.

Were they always this way?

Would it always be like this?

You turned, grabbing another plate of pancakes from the counter, and placed it on the table in front of Toji.

You didn’t particularly care if he ate, but you wanted your message to click.

This wasn’t about him.

It was about the kid sitting across from him, the one glaring daggers into his head. But clearly in need of more than just food.

“Now, both of you—eat,” stern. No room for debate.

Toji blinks at you, his expression flickering for a brief moment—surprise, perhaps, or something close to it—before his smirk slips back into place.

The hesitation that lingers in the air feels heavy, almost suffocating, and you’re acutely aware of how still the room has become. He seemed to enjoy watching you squirm—just a little.

Fear prickles at the edges of your mind, but you refuse to let it show. You move to the sink, hoping to distract yourself.

At least the fight has stopped.

At least that all consuming panic from before was gone.

But this man was too unpredictable to fully relax. And you felt protective—of Megumi, of this fragile, imperfect family you’d somehow found yourself in. You had placed yourself into this motherly role. Into their family. And you are, in a way, protective of yourself, because for the first time in so long, you had something that felt almost...stable.

It hadn’t even been that long since you arrived...already, these small, fleeting interactions meant more to you than you wanted to admit. You’d spent too much of your life isolated, and now, the thought of losing the tentative bond you’d started to build made something twist painfully in your chest.

No, you had something to protect. Someone. 

“Taking his side, huh?” Toji’s voice cuts through the room, low and edged with something that makes your stomach twist.

So you did have a bite.

His dark eyes trail over you, assessing, almost calculating. The tension coils tighter in your gut as he stares you down, your back to him. There’s something unsaid lingering in the air, but you can practically hear the gears turning. He might sound teasing, but he was beyond intimidating,

Megumi, for his part, stabs a pancake with his fork, obediently, his movements stiff and jerky as he tears off a piece and dips it into the syrup dish. He doesn’t look at either of you, but at least he’s eating. That's enough for now.

The quiet clink of his fork against the plate is the only sound in the room.

You grip the sponge tightly as you begin scrubbing the pan. Busying your hands.

“Guess this ain’t the time to say I’ve got another business trip coming up?” Toji mutters, his tone light, but the amusement in his voice feels misplaced, almost forced.

Is he really joking right now? You don’t respond, keeping your focus on the dishes, but your shoulders tense as his words settle in.

Megumi doesn’t reply either, but the faint scrape of his fork against his plate tells you he’s still eating. Toji sighs, the sound exaggerated and heavy, like he’s carrying some unseen burden.

It’s not clear whether he expects sympathy or just enjoys the situation, but either way, it grates on you. Just a little bit. 

Finally, he stands, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and slinging it over his shoulder. He pauses by the door. 

"I’ll be back," Toji says, his gaze lingering on Megumi for a long moment before flicking to you.

“Make sure he doesn’t burn the place down," Toji adds with another signature smirk, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. One that neither of you manage to catch.

Megumi keeps his focus on his plate, his jaw tight, and you remain at the sink, scrubbing a dish that’s already clean.

The door clicks shut behind him, and the tension lessons—not gone, but dulled, like an ache that lingers after a particularly harsh slap. The silence feels hesitant, unsure where to settle now that Toji has left.

You glance over your shoulder, watching Megumi as he sits there, his head bowed, his fork dragging absent patterns through the remnants of syrup on his plate. You can’t read his expression, but the way his shoulders hunch tells you enough.

The kid had every right to be angry, to feel irritated. Yet seeing him like this—so despondent, so closed off—makes something twist painfully in your chest.

"Hey," you say softly, drying your hands on a dishtowel as you step closer. "You okay?"

He shrugs, his gaze not lifting. "'M used to it," he mutters. You could see the thoughts running through his head. "He’ll be gone by tonight. It’s easier when he’s not here. ’M sorry you had to see that."

There wasn’t any reason to be sorry.

You hesitate for only a second before pulling out the chair across from him and settling into it.

Resting your elbow on the table, you prop your chin in your hand, watching him. A counterpart to Toji. But you wanted to comfort him, to offer him some sense of stability, even if you weren’t entirely sure how. You felt somewhat out of your element with this one.

When your mother was around, what did she do, again? Mmmm well maybe not that. How the hell do you even comfort a rebellious teen?

"You might be used to it," you say carefully, "but that doesn’t make it fair. Or okay."

His eyes flick up to meet yours, sharp and guarded. The faint shadow of exhaustion lingers in them, and for a moment, he looks like he wants to say something but decides against it.

"You don’t have to say that," he says, his tone softening despite himself. "You just got here—you don’t owe him anything." A pause. "You don’t owe me anything either."

Leaning forward slightly, you offer him a small, reassuring smile. "Maybe not," you reply, your voice warm. "But I’m here anyway."

For a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze searching as if he’s trying to figure out whether you mean it. The guardedness in his expression falters, just a little, before he looks back down at his plate. He cuts off another piece of pancake, the tension in his shoulders easing a fraction.

You don’t press him to say more. Instead, you sit there quietly, the silence between you settling into something gentler, more bearable.

Maybe it’s not much. Maybe it won’t fix anything. But for now, it's enough.

p.4?

AN: Thank you for reading! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series!

I will also be posting updates here:

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/obsessedjjk

come home

[baby-tini]

i present my idea ✨knife kink dabi✨

TW: knife play, toxic relationship, Dabi hits her once, blood, threats, licking of said blood.

It was a weird request at first, he'll admit that. Then again, he's asked worst from you. His handprint branded into your ass proves so. While he does give you a little side-eye, he's absolutely not opposed to holding a sharp little thing to your throat while plead for him to not press down so hard. His pretty little princess wants him to hold a knife to their throat? Say less.

"Which one you wanna use, angel- actually, I probably shouldn't call you an angel anymore, huh? I think masochistic slut fits better, yeah?" Your lips form into a little pout, eyebrows furrowing as you pull on his coat. He chuckles at that, fingers fisting in your hair to pull your head back. His right thumb gliding over your little pout, index tapping your lips and slipping in to press down on your tongue. Sticky drool running down his hand as he finger fucks your mouth. Slipping his wet digit out to gloss your lips with your own spit.

"Why are you so mean Dabi," he scoffs at that. With a flick of his wrist, you're left with a stinging cheek and your head looking to the right. There's an immediate cry that's rips itself out of your throat, feet stumbling back. Quickly snatching your arm before you could fall, he brings you over to the set of knives he has laid out for you. "I won't ask again, either choose one or I will, and trust me... you won't like my choice. I promise you that."

With a meek nod, you glance at the assortment of switch blades, there's pretty black one with blue flames on it that you're positive Dabi would've chosen. But your mind's already made when you see a black steel-blade with rubies embedded into the handle. Pretty vermillion glare at you from its place on the counter. You slide your thumb over it at first, finger playing with the pretty gems. Picking it up to test the weight, you glide your palm over the blade. Sharp. So very sharp, Dabi could kill, given he presses deep enough.

"That one? The blue one is so much prettier," he finishes with a scoff as he pouts. You ignore his comment, nodding your head, you hand it over to him. Taking it from you, he gestures to the bedroom, twirling the deadly blade around his fingers as he stares you down. Glancing at him in uncertainty, you walk past him towards the room.

The room is warm, remnants of Dabis heat still trapped in the comforter, smells like him too, strongly of ash and cigarette smoke. It makes your brain foggy, he always smells so good, his musk is a comforting scent. There's the harsh sound of combat boots walking towards you, eyes snapping to the door, in a first-hand witness to his taunting eyes.

"You look shy doll, I couldn't possibly understand why, you came to me with this request, 'member?" You give a nod, inhaling a shaky breath as you lie on your back. He coos at you in faux sympathy, stepping closer and closer, like a lion, hunting, prowling.. but Dabi isn't one to lie and wait for very long. Especially when you look so innocent, like a helpless fawn who isn't yet aware of dangers like him. You're basically teasing him at this point, eyes too wide for to not think about fucking you, destroying you 'till there's nothing left.

You blink for a second, only for a second. It's quick, no- he's quick. The blade feels cold against your throat, sharp tip pressing a little too deep into your jugular for comfort. The smooth metal running down your throat to your tits, smoothing it over your nipples, perked for attention for the sharp tip. Your skin lifting in goosebumps, hair standing at the back of your neck when he twirls it around your left nipple.

"...I wonder, what do you think would happen if I just-" he presses the blade down harder in-between your breasts, "- ah, well.. would you look at that, hm? You're just as pretty inside as you are on the outside, oh how lucky I am." It doesn't hurt, just stings a little. The sticky scarlet immediately staining your clothes, dripping down your chest in little rain-drops. He eyes the wound for a minute before leaning down and licking it off your tits.

He hums, pulling back to look you in the eyes, "better then I thought, but not nearly as good as that little cunt I love so much." There's blood staining his teeth- your blood at that. The tip of his tongue licking away the remainder on your chest as he moves the tip of the handle of the blade to press into your clit.

There's an immediate jump-back, hand shooting down to grab onto his own, and he doesn't like that. Not even a little. "What? You got a problem with this but not when I'm lickin' blood off your tits? Some priorities you got, huh?" He swats away your hand as he presses the handle back into your clit, sliding it down over your underwear to press into your slit.

"I'm gonna fuck you with this blade, you know? See if it makes you cum quicker then my cock." You want to close your legs but he swats at them before you can even think to do so. "Try an' close 'em, and your chest won't be the only thing leaking pretty red for me." Your eyes twitch close when you feel the solid press into you, fucking you through your panties.

"Ahh, there we go, got that pussy leaking real pretty for me now, huh slut? You like this shit? 'Course you do, you're my bitch after all, ain't that right?"

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

☈ your bones singing into mine [interlude]

one - two

nikto x f!bio-weapons engineer reader (no use of y/n) NSFW A/N: had to write my own damn porn, but thank you, my beautiful envoys and beacon lighters. this is porn without plot and not canon to the main YBSIM storyline. reader is referred to with afab genitalia. as usual, shit's not proofread.

Nikto is a possessive, handsy, and handsome drunk.

Sometimes, he'll downgrade the mask to a balaclava, then tip bottles back to his lips with the fabric between. Always necks the bottle, but he'll only sip at a glass in your company. And, then, he's throwing drinks back like a shot.

Everything about him is violent, sudden, and sharp.

You're of his caliber—together you laugh darkly and call it decisive.

He is decisive when he's been drinking, his cock aching from straining against his zipper, and he snaps an arm around your waist like a shepherd's hook to force you into his lap. There's an armchair in the master suite of one of the hideaway homes he's made for you. It's across from a full-length mirror, and it's perfect for him—he gets to feel and see you squirm yourself comfortable in his lap.

"Pauk," he groans against your neck, humid and needful. His hand drops between your legs, using his grip over your cunt to haul you deeper into his lap. "Our Pauk—soft and warm," he rumbles, burying his face against your neck, breathing your scent hard. You can feel the jutting bone where his nose had been carved off his face, taking all the cartilage and skin.

"Talking about me like I'm a kitten-cat or a down-clothed bird," you snort, arching back against him, planting your feet on his knees. He starts to rub circles over your cunt with his hard, callused, cold hand; in the mirror, you watch his gloved fingers press against the fabric, in a spot you know they'd be teasing your entrance if you were bare.

"Mm. Nyet," he hums, all arousal-rampant thought. "We wouldn't say that. You've got too many sharp corners." He drops the mostly empty bottle in his other hand on the floor, too low in volume to spill out of the neck, and he brings both hands to the waistband of your pants. "Lift your hips. Want you to cum before we get our cock out."

You do as he asks, helping him slide your sleep pants down your hips, past your knees, off and onto the floor over the discarded bottle, but you ask, "Why not fuck, Andryu? Can feel the way you throb against my ass."

The moment you settle back in his lap, he has a hand lifted before your mouth, and you use your teeth to bite down on the fingertip, dragging the garment off.

"Because we'd rather make you cum than fucking breathe."

It's said with the tone of a smirk, and he plunges his middle and ring finger into your wet pussy, finger-fucking you like it's more exciting than every Christmas and first of the month that he's ever lived through. The heel of his hand claps against your cunt with every pump of his fingers, faster and faster, targeting your clit with every landing.

"Lyubimaya, talk. We want you to talk," he growls, shoving his free hand under your shirt to toy with your nipples, pinching and tugging them, making you snarl and buck against his hand, nails digging into the armrests of the seat.

You're not good at talking. Not ever. Especially not when you're getting fucked to within an inch of your purposefully darkened life. But, for him? You try. For him, you always try.

Your legs shake and try to snap shut around his hand, but they jump right back open, as if they refuse to even muffle the wet sounds coming from your body for a single moment. Dropping your head back against his shoulder, you moan, trying hard not to thrash against his body as his breathing grows ragged. And then that moan escalates, turns into a howling laugh, something silver-toothed and prowling, as you warn him, "Andryu, I'm going to squirt, you're making me cum, slow down—!"

He doesn't, of course.

"Yes, Pauk. Yes, lyubimaya, cum. That's a good girl. That's our good girl, our Paukya," he grunts, chin resting on your shoulder, watching between your legs as your pussy spasms around him, soaking his fingers, his lap, every fiber and blessed neuron and synapse of his fractured, tessellated mind.

Just because he loves to make you cum, doesn't mean he has any more patience than he does in any matter of his life. Andre Nikto is swift. He is decisive. When he wants something, he already has it crushed in his fist.

When your hips buck off him, he unzips his pants, letting his cock spring out between your legs. Smooth as reload, smooth as grenade-throw, his fingers slide out of your pussy and stroke his shaft wet, timing it perfectly for your hips to snap down and take half of his length in one motion.

"Andre!" you gasp, too dazed with pleasure to manage a full snap. How could you? Not when his hands are so needy on your hips, urging you low-low, a pretty plea to swallow him up, to blot out all the noise that runs in his head.

When you look up in the mirror, he's already staring back at you, glacier-blue eyes unblinking, rotten with desperation and pup-belly softness. Makes you crack and run like an egg. Like an overripe berry, mashed to red pulp in the hands of an eager child.

"Oh," you swallow. A moment passes, held in the suspension—you're the last two of a kind, preserved perfectly in amber, so long as your hearts can hear the echoing drumbeat of the other's—and a silent agreement is exchanged.

No. Nyet. Not an agreement—a declaration.

You love every one of him; every one of him loves you.

How simple and beautiful a thing—a concept you both can hold gentle in your flesh-rending claws for a soft, turning examination, before you consume it, as if to vaunt the flesh of a beloved death.

He thrusts up shallowly, meeting the gentle rocking of your hips. The hand once teasing the swollen walls of your pussy rests over your lower belly, pressing down heavily just over your pelvis. It makes every stroke of his cock feel tenfold more pronounced—deeper, slower, fuller, all the harder to stave off or deny.

"Can," you start, trying not to squirm too much, wanting to last as long as possible, "I touch your hair? The mask you can leave be, that I won't ask you, but I want to lover-touch the hair at the back of your skull."

He heaves a violent shudder, slamming his way deep, all the way home, and wordlessly nods. More than that, he meets your hand as it darts to the back of his head, guiding you the rest of the way, and pulling up the balaclava only enough to find the satin-slip of his shining black hair.

He holds your hand there, grunting and cutting off moans next to your ear, his head bowed into your shoulder. He prays over you. He prays for you. You are his answer. Perhaps, you have always been.

The pair of you stay in this ecstatic trance, moving together forcefully and slowly, for long, long minutes. You begin to sweat, reeking of one another. You begin to shake, your muscles burning.

His hips move in the way only a drunken, determined man's can. A bit clumsily, but massively greedy. There's a slop in the way he fucks up into you, but there is greediness, too. He can see how wet your pussy is, sucking and spasming around him. He can see how it's made his cock glisten, and how it's darkened the fabric of his pants where it's dripped. He likes it. But a man in love will like anything that comes from his lover.

"Paukyushka," he growls, eyes squeezed closed with the restraint that has always held his entire body together, "can you cum? We're. Pizdec. We're close."

"I can cum, kotik, just keep going," you breathe, fucking down harder on him, mouth curling in a pleased little grin.

He lets go of a ragged moan at that, as if you're the one tearing it from his perforated throat, fucking faster, pulling grunts and tight sighs out of your body as he ramps you up. It becomes hard to hold onto—more oddly, it becomes harder to let go, and, fuck, do you try.

It expands lie molten heat in your lower belly, pressuring your pelvis, your bladder—makes your swollen, sensitive clit throb as your walls start to spasm, clenching wildly around the length of his cock. Shit, you can feel it in your shoulders, tensing the muscles between the blades.

"Mm, fuck—shit, oh fuck," you hiss, your legs jolting and ring to snap closed.

"Pauk!" he barks. Nothing close to a warning or threat, simply a harsh plea.

"Shh! Quiet your mouths," you hiss, "I'll get it done!"

He grumbles under his breath, talking a plan over with his many facets, and acts.

His arm snaps over your rips, trap-sprung, and rucks you up his own body. It makes you squawk, head swiveling as you snake an arm around his neck for balance, and that makes him laugh, gritty as sandpaper. His cock barely manages to stay inside you, by an inch, if that. His other hand goes to the back of your thigh, pulling you open over his knee as he pants his booted foot on the seat of the chair, giving him more leverage.

This weird, tangled position gives the many demons in the both of you fits, and he's not going to last long, but that was never the intention. Two, then three hard thrusts, and you're sucking in air through your clenched teeth, cumming around his cock, digging your nails into his chest and his forearm.

With an ungodly bellow, he pulls out at the very least second, shooting his load straight over his cock, your thigh, his lap. You're both shaking, trembling, disgraced piles of flesh, and you wonder if you sit still for long enough, could you possibly melt into a mingled pile of flesh and splintered bone.

At once, the two of you slump together, though you do turn on your hips to miss a majority of the mess on his legs. He strokes your hair. You reach back to play with his.

"What a mess you've all made," you huff, panting and breathless. "Like a boy; all balls, no control."

"No babies," he says in a stern, but thin voice.

"No babies," you mimic, borrowing his drizzled tone for yourself. "No babies, yes, but my upholstery you've ruined."

"Mm. We...do not care," he finally decides, and you find glory in the smile in his tone.

"Good. I like that," you say, packing in as much dignity as you can manage before the facade crumbles. You're left laughing, stupid and free, and his answers back, a rumble that echoes through your ribs.