#how to put in gutter guards

[itsonlybaby]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 - 𝐛. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞﹒

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

putting out so many bellamy fics, here's the playlist I listen to while writing fics

Bellamy Blake - Arkadia

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ You had a dream about your best friend Bellamy, and you try to suppress the feelings by avoiding him. Bellamy doesn't let this slide. ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: smut, piv, praise, nsfw, gentle Bellamy

His hand glided along my thigh, sending shivers down my spine. My breathing became erratic the closer and closer he got to my cunt, the place I craved his touch the most. Bellamy leaned down, giving sweet kisses to my stomach area before I finally felt his fingers on my pussy, sliding up and down coating his fingers with my slick.

I just about came when he pushed two fingers inside me, thrusting them up and hitting my sweet spot.

"Hey!" Octavia, my roommate, yelled.

I shot up instantly looking around taking in my surroundings, a wave of disappointment washing over me, suddenly missing the dream I had just awoken from. Why had I been dreaming of Bellamy of all people? He was my best friend!

My disappointment was replaced by my guilt.

"You've been asleep an hour past breakfast, wake up." She spoke, putting on her black boots and lacing them.

An hour? What happened to my alarm clock?

Octavia noticed my confused look towards my clock, "You didn't set it last night,"

Shit.

I climbed out of bed and almost tripped on my blanket. I walked to my dresser and pulled out a fairly cute outfit. Shorts, a tank top, and Bellamy's guard jacket I still needed to return. But I knew he'd have to steal it back to get it.

"Where are you off to today?" I asked Octavia, putting on my socks and then my brown boots. I saw her stand and grab her sword, placing it in the holster on her back.

"Gonna spend the day with Lincoln, makes things less boring around here." She opened the door to our room and left.

Leaving me to only my thoughts memories of the dream came flooding back to me. It was like I could actually feel his touch on my thigh. His big, calloused hands, his soft kisses to my stomach, touching me as if I were a porcelain doll.

Shaking my head I snapped out of my thoughts, I had things to do today.

Walking to my little clay shop beside the Armory I sat down on my stool. Reaching under the desk I brought out a lump of clay I left to dry.

I had a clay shop, though it wasn't really a shop. Bring me the dirt and I'll make you whatever you want. It made the days less boring and brought smiles to everyone's faces, people would commission things for their partners, moms, siblings, and friends. Knowing my little sculptures could bring such joy to the people of Arkadia was a nice feeling.

Slapping the lump down on the desk I rolled up the sleeves of Bellamy's jacket and began kneading it, this is where most of my strength came from. Once I was sure it was soft enough to work with I sat back down, dunked my hands in the water, and began sculpting. Taking mini lumps from the big piece of clay.

I had finished two before my thoughts caught up with me.

Kneading the clay again, I thought about Bellamy's hands, mouth, hair, and body. How good he'd feel against me.

"Clays not gonna knead itself," Bellamy spoke in an amusing tone.

I hadn't even noticed I stopped kneading.

The sight of Bellamy made my heart drop, without his usual jacket you could see his muscular arms, a sight I needed engraved in my brain.

Looking at his face my eyes were wide, I had hoped he didn't notice my unusual staring. I needed to get my head out of the gutter.

"Yeah, just got distracted," I replied, an awkward laugh coming after.

Bellamy raised an eyebrow, bringing his hands to his hips. He definitely noticed.

"You okay, princess?"

That name again. I practically melted every time he called me it, though I'm sure he meant it in a friendly manner it just sounded so good coming from him.

I let out a series of stutters before taking a breath, "Yes," It came out as more of a question than an answer, and I knew he didn't believe me.

Then finally, my saving grace came.

"Oh, look, customer," I say, the look on Bellamy's face still evident.

A customer from two weeks ago approached my shop, Bellamy looked between us and took his leave.

A part of me felt bad knowing I had pushed him away slightly. But id never get any work done if he was standing there looking so damn good-

"Hi, I'm here for the fox statue. For my boyfriend." She greeted me with a bright smile, clearly full of excitement to see the final result.

I returned her smile and nodded, "I remember! Let me get it,"

A few hours had passed since then and the sun was setting, many happy customers, and I somehow seemed to get a lot of work done.

Closing down shop I washed my hands in the bucket of water and walked towards the mess hall, feeling my stomach rumble.

Entering the room I looked to see what was on the menu for tonight's dinner.

Fish and tomatoes were an odd pairing but given our resources it was fairly good.

Grabbing a plate from Sinclair I searched for some familiar faces, to which I only found Bellamy.

Thinking the previous feelings for him faded I walked up and sat in front of him, a smile greeted me at my presence.

"Where is everyone?" I asked, getting comfortable and taking a bite of the fish. Not very flavorful.

"They headed to bed early,"

"Why didn't you?"

"Wanted to ask what was up with you earlier,"

Thank god I had finished my food, the intensity of his stare would've made my appetite vanish.

"I've just been distracted," I stated, hoping he would just take that for an answer. But I knew he'd keep budging.

"With?"

"I'm getting pretty tired, I'm gonna head to bed," I stood abruptly, not wishing to continue the conversation further. How else am I supposed to tell me best friend I had a wet dream about him and everytime I see him it comes back to me?

"Bye, bell," I flashed a nervous smile and quickly walked off before he could say anything else.

I knew I'd have to confront him sometime, but I'd hold off as long as I could until then.

Making it to my shared room I quickly opened the door and entered, Octavia probably spending the night in Lincoln's room. I was grateful for that, tonight I just needed to be alone.

Getting undressed I put on a pair of pajama shorts and just used Bellamy's jacket as a top.

Climbing into bed I slid under the covers, making sure to set my alarm this time.

Staring up at the ceiling for a good hour my mind clouded over with thoughts of Bellamy, it was expected at that point. I hadn't even noticed my hand going towards my cunt, rubbing myself through the fabric. Letting out soft, quiet moans at the feeling. As good as it felt I needed more.

My hand slid underneath the shorts and I teased my entrance, just as Bellamy did in my dream. Pushing into myself with two fingers the feeling was amazing, but imagining It was Bellamy again wasn't enough. I craved him, and in my lusty haze, I shot up and headed for the door.

I couldn't believe I was going to do this, I couldn't believe how badly I needed him.

I made a B-line for Bellamy's room, knocking on it. I was practically banging on it. A few seconds passed until I was met with the sight of Bellamy towering over me, his messy hair going in all directions, his shirt that hugged his arms so well, and his sweatpants that barely hid anything.

"Is your roommate in there?" I ask breathily.

With a shake of his head, I connect our lips in a messy needy kiss. The feeling of our lips touching for the first time makes me shiver, Bellamy makes no motion to push me off, instead, he pulls me inside, shutting the door with his hand. He picks me up and carries me to the bed, needing this just as much as I do.

He only pulls away when he sets me down on the bed, unzipping the jacket to find nothing under making him slyly smirk, my face flushed with an unimaginable redness. My mind now catching up with my heart.

This was really happening.

His hands gently fondle my breasts, soon snaking their way down my sides, to my hips, and then to my shorts, with every touch of his fingers, my body shivered, bathing in the attention from his hands and eyes.

He easily took off my shorts, the cool air hitting my now vulnerable warm cunt.

Bellamy was at a loss for words, never seeing something so beautiful before. The bulge in his pants now makes the material stick out in a more than noticeable way.

The feeling of embarrassment caught up with me, I moved my arms to cover myself but was stopped by Bellamy's tight grip.

"Don't," He demanded, letting go of my arms once I nodded shyly.

With a flushed face, Bellamy lowered his pants, revealing his cock. He took ahold of my legs and placed them on his shoulders, "Okay?" He asked, making sure this was really happening.

"Yeah, that's... that's good," I replied, reassuring him.

He guided his tip along my slit, coating it with my wetness as a type of lube. The feeling of him being so close to me made the hairs on my neck stand up.

I had wondered for a moment what people would think of us, but too in the moment to care.

Readying himself, Bellamy looked down at me again, taking in the sight of me with his jacket on.

"Please, I needed this," I muttered, "Needed you,"

"Feelings mutual, princess,"

And before I could reply he pushed in slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size. I let out a moan as he bottomed out in me. My hands reaching out for his, he met me halfway and grabbed ahold of them. His big hands intertwined with mine. He placed our hands above my head and gave them a squeeze.

I squeezed back, hard.

"Can I move?" He asked, he so badly wanted to move. But he wanted our first time together to be gentle, sweet, and full of genuine love.

I nodded hesitantly, preparing myself for the pain and pleasure.

Bellamy pulled out and pushed back in at a slow pace, agonizing to him, it took everything in him not to just slam back into you at a rough pace.

The moans I let out sounded like heaven to him, he couldn't help but join in with his own grunts of pleasure, the way I would tighten around him started to become too much, and he couldn't keep his own sounds in.

"You're doing so good," Bellamy assured between groans, his voice had become gruff.

I bit my lip to try and stay quiet, fearful the room next to him might hear.

Bellamy didn't like that at all, "Let them out, princess,"

And when I shook my head 'no', he slammed into me hard, forcing my moans out as I squeezed his hand more.

"Bellamy!" I moaned out.

This only egged him on, loving the way his name sounded on my tongue.

As much as it hurt, it felt amazing how well he filled me, and how easily he could hit my sweet spot.

"Faster, please," I begged, staring into his eyes.

"Alright, princess,"

Bellamy leaned in closer making my legs bend more, letting him go deeper inside me. His pace began to speed up, making my moans grow louder in volume.

Every thrust was a new place deeper inside me, I felt my legs begin to shake, the familiar feeling of ecstasy creeping up my stomach.

He must've caught on, "It's okay, cum on my dick, princess, go ahead,"

His reassuring words put me over the edge, "Bellamy, Bellamy!"

My back arched as I reached my high with Bellamy fucking me through it.

My climax brought him even closer, the way my pussy clenched around his cock was overwhelming for him. His thrusts became sloppy and unhinged. He tried to keep it in, to make this moment last longer.

His brows furrowed while he stared into my eyes, saving this memory forever, "You're so beautiful," he breathed out, "So pretty with my jacket on,"

With a few more erratic thrusts he quickly pulled out, finishing on my stomach, bringing a newfound warmth all over.

Full of hesitance he let go of my hands, taking off his shirt and cleaning his cock and my stomach off while catching his breath. He threw the shirt into a bin in the corner of his room. Now taking a place next to me, wrapping his arms around my exhausted body.

"Been dreaming of that since we met," He whispered in my ear, placing kisses all over my neck.

I smiled.

If only he knew.

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[yanderedrabbles]

pls!!! more yan gangster!! im begging!!!!!!😖

Yandere Ganster - Rainy Days

It's a miserable day to do collections. It's raining cats and dogs and the gutters are spilling onto the sidewalk. Everyone with sense is tucked away inside, except for him.

The butcher is his last stop and then he can finally head back to you. Maybe you'll ask him to sit with you infront of the fireplace or maybe he can bring you some hot coffee and...

It's criminal instinct that makes him duck when the bat comes swinging at his face.

It throws up sparks as the missed swing scrapes against the brick wall. He's already tossing his umbrella and rolling up, fists ready.

Three thugs, sporting a mean assortment of brass knuckles and metal baseball bats.

"Look at that, the bitch's guard dog," one sneers.

"How 'bout you just hand over that fat stack of collection money and we call it a day? What d'you say, pretty boy?" the speaker drags his bat across the sidewalk and the harsh rasp of it is almost louder than the rain.

Three against one and the alley traps him right in the center of them. He grins. Maybe if he comes back with a nasty bruise you'll kiss it better?

Tired of waiting for a reply, the first guy swings. But he's still too slow and Yandere! Gangster ducks under it and punches at his gut. The man falters for a second that's all he needs to grab the bat and yank it out of the guy's hands.

"Well, well..." He twirls the bat and pulls back for a vicious strike that hits the guy right in his throat. He goes down with an ugly gasping sound, clawing at his neck. "I'd call that a home-run."

The other two are more wary of him now and they back away, circling.

Personally, he thought the whole home-run thing was a pretty witty thing to say, if a bit inappropriate. He wonders if you'd have cracked a smile at it.

The thugs try and rush him all at once. One manages to land a punch on his cheekbone but he snaps the bat backwards into the guy's nose and he stumbles away, cursing.

The other guy is ready for him, his own bat braced to guard his face. So Yandere! Gangster pretends to swing and then steps under his guard, his switchblade already in his hand. The cut he leaves behind is deep and nasty.

Three down. Too easy.

His grin is fading now and there's a strange look to him that makes the thugs shiver. "Bitch, was it?"

When he's done, the rainwater runs with ribbons of thick blood that swirl in pinkish eddies down the gutter.

He's totally soaked and his umbrella is ruined too. Well... At least the blood won't stain.

He rubs his cheek as he walks home. Maybe you'll notice it and tell him what a great fighter he is?

.......

You lean your head on your hand and look at him. His shirt is almost transparent and clinging to the muscles of his chest. An angry red bruise is forming on his cheek.

The only sound is the soft plink-plink of water dripping from his clothes onto the marble floors.

"Sorry ma'am." He looks down, sheepish. "Ran into some trouble."

"Taken care of?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good boy." You stand, bringing your brandy with you. "Come here."

You stand infront of the fireplace and point at your feet. He sits down carefully, aware of the small puddles left in his wake.

The fire warms him almost instantly. Cold, wet clothes are the most miserable thing in the world, he thinks. He's never going to take -

He jumps, his hands instinctively grabbing the towel you drape around his shoulders.

It's warm and he pulls it tighter around himself.

"Look at you..." you drawl, "You poor, soaked thing."

You gently work another towel through his hair. Your nails occasionally scrape his scalp and send shivers racing down his spine.

It takes a while before you're finally satisfied but when you stop, he can't help feeling an awful sense of disappointment.

You put a single finger under his chin and tilt his head up. His eyes are dazed and half-lidded. His skin is still cool to the touch and you click your tongue in irritation.

"You should know to take better care of yourself."

"Sorry ma'am."

You rest your brandy glass against his lips. There's a lipstick stain on the rim and he can taste the faint tang of cherries. He grins a little. Doesn't this practically count as a kiss?

The brandy touches his tongue and spreads a comforting fire down his throat. Is this what you taste like? Sharp and woody and under it all, just a little sweet?

You lean forward and slip your hand down his chest. He's sure you can feel the way his heart is pounding - do you realise what your touch does to him? Your lips are just a hair's breadth from his. For a second, he actually thinks you might kiss him.

Instead, you grab the envelope of collection money from his inner jacket pocket and pull it out.

He almost reaches out to stop you. Your touch is so warm, so perfect. Why are you taking it away after giving him such a small taste?

Thankfully, his brain kicks in and reminds him exactly how dangerous you are.

You tap the envelope against his cheek.

"You did good today, cucciolo."

Dimly, he realises that you called him puppy. And when you dismiss him with a casual wave, he jumps to obey just like a loyal dog should.

[thevoidscreams]

I noticed there are a few days of March you don't already have a prompt for. May I be so bold as to suggest one?

I'd love a sequel to your Guilliman fic. This time, where his wife is pregnant and he is struggling. If it isn't the unreasonable protectiveness/possessiveness he's begun to feel, it's the crippling lust for his wife's changing body. Just a breeding kink in full swing.

Love your writing so much! Thanks!

I love a man who loves his wife. (And gets her hella knocked up)

Day 31 Year 2:

Warnings: Oral, a bit of teasing, (this man plans to keep you knocked up. Watch out)

Word count:3706

Roboute was restless, his hands twitching as he glanced at the time again, it was as if every minute of this Throne forsaken meeting was five and he needed to get out. He had to find you and check on you.

Your feet had been sore today, what if your feet hurt so badly that you tripped? Or your leg gave out and you fell and.. He didn’t want to continue that line of thought. He tried to tune back into the meeting at hand. The one he’d written up the dossier for. “Yes, if we deploy troops here and here-”

His mind tuned it out. The mental image of you in bed this morning springing to mind.

His hands twitched again as he imagined running them over the swell of your stomach as he drew them down to your thighs, lifting your leg up so he could slide in and- He swallowed hard and clenched his fists, prying his mind from the gutter with force.

‘Focus!’ He scolded himself with force, he could find you later. You were with his very best astartes, you were safe.

You would be far less so if this new threat that cropped up with those damned bugs wasn’t handled.

‘Theoretical. If I do not focus I will not be able to make the most strategically sound movements and there will be far greater losses.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Practical, I will be able to see my wife sooner if I get this done by focusing and making the decisions that need to be made.’

He tuned into the conversation again and added his insight making choices that most men would quail at having to make. For the good of the imperium, and for the safety of the love of his life.

As soon as it was done he was up and out the door. Leaving the rest of the group to their confusion at his unusual behavior over the past weeks.

You were sitting with Cato, the tea in your mug warm and the plate of finger foods meeting your cravings perfectly. Vinegary pickle spears, fresh berries and chocolates with a small handful of fried potato wedges. The most recent strange combination of foods that you had requested. Cato had watched you pick at the plate, nibbling at things as you held your stomach with one hand.

He had found it odd and off putting at first how your body had begun to change as it had, but now he found a certain kind of charm to it. You were not the first pregnant woman he’d ever met, but he’d never watched the process of it up close. Not until his father put him on guard over you.

Cato also couldn't deny just how happy you made his gene-sire. To the point that the rigid and overly formal legion had even softened to your presence. He himself was one of those individuals. But never had he been one to question the primarch's decision, not openly, he'd wondered if perhaps you had been some kind of witch who'd put a spell on him. Now however he knew you were just a woman. A human with a heart and spirit who Roboute Guilliman had fallen so deeply in love with. The affection had even seemed to rub off on him to an extent. A fondness he usually only felt for the primarch had taken root in his duel hearts as he looked over you, nibbling a bit of fruit as you stared off into space, clearly deep in thought.

“Do you think he'll be back soon?” You asked Cato, who thought for a minute and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the door opening suddenly and his primarch lunging in. Hands finding your smaller body and lifting you with practiced carefulness as he cradled you in his arms and left the room all in one swift motion. You hadn't even had time to cry out before you were gone.

Cato had been tasked with keeping you safe and keeping you there. He wasn't sure if that applied to his own primarch, but he followed behind anyhow.

Roboute hadn't even noticed that his son was following until you managed to wiggle up and look over his shoulder. “Guess that answers my question.” You chuckled. Roboute slowed and looked at you, then over his shoulder to his gene-son. “What is it Sicarius?” He pressed and the astartes snapped to attention. “I am performing my duty as you commanded.” He spoke, his voice formal and serious.

“You have done so.”

“My Lord?” Cato looked confused.

“How is it you are confused?” Roboute responded.

“You ordered me to guard Lady Guilliman until you informed me otherwise. You have not given me leave to cease guarding her. So it is still imperative that I continue.” He explained.

Roboute closed his eyes and took a deep breath. You only laughed and pressed your face into your husband's shoulder.

“Cato,” Roboute began again, “if I myself am now in possession of my own wife, do you believe it is necessary that you continue to guard her?”

Cato seemed to shrink a bit. “I would never question my Lord's ability to safeguard his own wife, but you were very specific in your wording that I must until you told me otherwise.”

Roboute sighed and you petted his cheek. “Be nice to him Robu, he's done a very good job today.”

The primarch looked down at his gene-son and nodded. “You are dismissed, please return to what other duties you are required for.”

Cato nodded. “Yes, my Lord.” He saluted with the clash of ceramite on ceramite where his fist met his chest plate and he turned to take his leave.

You couldn't stop giggling. “Oh hush.” Your husband murmured and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“He really was being so good to me.” You spoke and Roboute nodded. “He is good at following orders, but I wish he would think more for himself while doing it.”

You rested your head on his shoulder and he sighed happily.

Your personal quarters were a frequent sight as of late, with your feet hurting and all you'd been getting a lot of rest. Often with the company of his gene sons. Hormones had dictated that being alone was unacceptable.

It was also to ease his mind that you were safe. Leaving you made something in him feel hollow. But his work was demanding, and the greater imperium needed him.

Still when there was but a moment of quiet he'd come back to you, breath and reset. You gave him a peace nothing else could. He sat you on the bed, kneeling to remove your shoes. He looked them over from heel to toe and up to the ankle.

“They're a bit sore.” You told him, knowing already that he was going to ask.

He raised your leg kissing the front of your shin and sighing. “Stay, I'll be back.”

He left you for only a minute and not a second longer, returning with an amphora of oil.

He knelt in front of you again. Lifting your leg and pouring a line of oil over your skin. His hands, inhumanly warm, felt good on your cold feet. “My poor wife,” he sighed, a hint of humor in his tone. “Besieged on all sides by discomforts. Allow me to warm and comfort you.”

He massaged the limb with unbelievable tenderness, his thumbs working their magic to make all the aches disappear. You groaned as the persistent soreness finally abated and you layed back to relax into the new mattress the primarch had brought to aid with your hip and back pain. Which was more than sweet to you, since he had those pains finally vanished and you awoke with more energy and feeling much better about the whole ordeal.

As he pressed a particularly stiff muscle in your calf you couldn't hold back a pleased moan. Roboute smiled at that but it was making his earlier imagined scenarios come back with full force.

He held off, even if he wanted nothing more than to jump you and take you.

He finished your first leg and pressed a line of warming kisses up the length, stopping just before the spot he really wanted to kiss. He grabbed the amphora and began on your second leg. Fingers pressing into the soft arch of your foot making sure he got every inch of it a few times over.

“How does that feel?”

You moaned again in answer and he smirked. A rare expression for him.

“I haven't felt this good since this morning.” You smiled and his stomach fluttered with butterflies at the tone of your voice.

Throne, you were the most magnificent thing he'd ever had the pleasure of touching. “Good.”

He took his time rubbing the oil in, fingers loosing tight muscles and easing the strain of the day.

When he was done he lifted your dress higher and poured a portion of oil into his palm, setting aside the amphora he spread it between his hands, warming it. His massive hands cupped either side of your belly and began to spread the oil over the new stretch marks you'd groaned about. He couldn't get enough of them. Of all the things your body was doing, really. He felt a small thump against his palm and he choked on his breath. “He moved!” Roboute grinned, stopping the movement of his hand so he could better feel the tiny jostles of his son within.

The baby kicked again and you groaned at the strength of it. “He's been doing that all day.” You huffed affectionately. “Especially when he hears your voice.”

Roboute couldn't suppress his absolute delight and pressed his lips to your stomach. “Hello.” He muffled against your belly and you giggled until the tiny boy within seemed to do a whole flip to try and get closer.

Roboute pulled his face away and continued to rub, stopping every few moments to feel the movement of the baby.

“I love him.” Roboute sighed, content in that moment.

“As do I. He'll be here sooner than we think, according to the midwives that is.”

The primarch just knelt there in awe. You were giving him a biological son. Growing him within your own body. It was just an aspect of nature but he was amazed by it all the same. You struggled to a sitting position to look at him.

“Thank you.” Roboute whispered, warm tears burning his eyes.

“Roboute? What's wrong?” Your hands went to his face, holding him with desperation, trying to soothe him.

He shook his head and smiled. “I am not sad.” He clarified, eyes still brimming. “It is just,” he swallowed and took a moment to gather himself. “The universe is tearing itself apart, we are surrounded by terrors of unimaginable magnitude. The governing powers of Terra have conspiracy after conspiracy against myself and so many others… and yet.. I have you.” He pressed his face into your chest. “And you are giving me a gift so wonderful that nothing else in the universe could hope to compare.”

He kissed your chest, a silent act of affection.

“I am happier than I can remember ever being. And it is because of you my dearest one.”

You hugged him, eyes also filled with sympathetic tears.

“All I did was get pregnant.” Your chuckle watery as you kissed the top of his head.

“And in doing this you have given me new hope for a future I had begun to lose hope in.”

He looked up and kissed you, softly at first, but as your hands carded through his hair it grew deeper, more passionate.

You moved back onto the bed and Roboute crawled up and over you. His mouth pressing kissed over your face, neck and chest.

“My wife,” he breathed, “my beautiful, magnificent wife.”

He kissed lower, stopping at your belly once more to place more kisses, then down further, only stopping between your legs. His fingers dipped into the band of your panties and pulled them down. You shivered at the knowledge of what he was about to do.

“Roboute-” He placed his hands on either side of your hips and held you still as he dug in, lapping his tongue over your lower folds.

Your sudden sharp gasp of pleasure only drove him on, his mouth lavished your cunt with long hot strokes savoring the flavor of you. You tasted different since becoming pregnant, almost sweeter in a way, he knew it was due to the change in hormones but still he couldn't get enough.

Your nails scratched over his scalp as your fingers buried themselves in his hair.

“Roboute, throne that's good, don't stop.” you moaned and he obliged. His tongue pushed deeper and as gathered your sweetness on his tongue, drinking it in with a please hum.

Your back couldn't quite bow with the weight of the baby but he could feel you shifting, pushing more of yourself into his mouth. Good, he wanted you to have all the pleasure you could. It was the least he felt he could do for what you were giving him.

You tugged at him, fingers grasped tight in his hair. He hissed as he looked up to see what it was that you needed. You were panting, red in the face and there was a familiar gleam in your eyes.

“Love, I need you.”

The primarch didn't hesitate raising up to your level again, only stopping to give you a kiss.

He grabbed your tummy pillow, a soft wedge that he placed at your side and another under your head as you rolled to your side. He stayed there for the long minute it took you to get comfortable before he stood to disrobe.

“Is there anything I can get you before to make you more comfortable?” He asked kneeling on the edge of the bed and carefully pulling the dress up more to so that he could more easily access lower half.

“No my dearest, just you.”

He nodded and laid down behind you. Even down on his side his body was much longer and it gave him some measurements of anxiety that he might squish you or hurt you by accident.

The one time he'd rolled over onto you in his sleep he'd been woke by you patting his face and he'd slept on his back or stomach ever since.

He thrilled as you snuggled back into him. His cock pressed against your thighs as you adjusted into place. His hand began at your hip, massaging as he trailed lower.

“I love you beyond my ability to express.” He hummed and you leaned your head back to look up at him.

“I feel the same.” You blushed, feeling just as giddy to make love to him now as you did the first time. It would never not be a special occasion to either of you.

Finally h stopped at your knees, scooping his hand under it and lifting it gently. His cock slid between yojr thighs and he brushed it over your entrance, preparing it to enter.

“Ready?” He asked softly.

You nodded. “I am.”

With your verbal assent he angled his hips and pressed in, slowly and carefully. He let out a low long groan. Void take him it was perfect, how warm and tight you always seemed to be for him.

Even after having you once earlier he was ready to go again, as were you. The pregnancy had made you seem insatiable, especially the farther along you got. Roboute had breached the idea of getting you some toys, but you only wanted him, stating that in this state he was the only thing that could actually give you any relief. Which he had silently allowed to stroke his ego.

His cock slid in another few inches until he had as much of himself inside you as could comfortably be managed. You exhaled a long breath and he looked down, watching closely for any discomfort.

“Good?” He asked, rubbing your knee idly with his thumb.

“Yes, it just feels good.” You smiled and laced your fingers with that of his free hand and he held your hand back gently. “Alright, I am going to begin then.”

His hips drew back a few inches, till he was half way out before pressing back in. It was a slow, easy pace. A careful and steady roll that allowed him to feel every inch inside you, much to his delight and your soft grumbled frustration. You wanted it harder and faster, but he wouldn't rut into you since you started showing, expectedly concerned about the welfare of the babe growing inside you.

You whined his name, needing him to speed up a bit, his show pace was blissful torture.

“Yes, my love?” He asked, voice teasing as he drew back again and lifted the hand he was holding to kiss the back of it.

“Robuuuu!~” you whined again and he smiled. “You wish to moan for me? Is that all?” You chafed at his cruelty, as he gave you only the slowest thrusts.

“Faster, please. I need you to go faster.” You gripe, and Roboute kisses your hand again. “I see… Theoretical, I will continue to enjoy this slow pace for a while longer.”

You glared up at him as best you could. “Practical, I roll off this bed and finish myself in the bathroom.”

Roboute laughed and hooked your leg over his and with his bow free hand tilted your face up to look at him.

“Alternative Practical. You know you cannot; you told me yourself that you can't get off without me.” He rumbled, voice husky and deep with his lust.

He was right of course but it only frustrated you further. Your eyes went a bit glassy as they filled with the unshed tears and you put on your most pitiful expression.

“Please Roboute… please.” You pleaded and his expression softened.

“Oh very well.” He brushed your cheek with his thumb and withdrew slowly one last time, just because and then picked up his pace to give you what you so desperately craved.

The first proper moan was long and tremulous. The soft slap of skin on skin louder, and you could feel his hefty sack drag over your lower thigh. You reached down to cup them and Roboute groaned. “Enjoying your balls?”

You smiled. “Yes, it is only proper I give them my thanks whenever I am able.” You gave them a loving squeeze and let them go. The primarch groaned so loud it shook your body.

His free arm wrapped around your chest as he hugged you closer. His pace picked up slightly and your head fell back against his chest.

“Throne that's good, just like that.” You moved your hips as best as you could to meet his thrusts.

Roboute grinned ear to ear as he watched you get off on his cock. He loved the way you startled him, the way you needed him. As if it proved he was good enough. It also got him off to know you were enjoying yourself. He kept the pace, knowing it would be enough unless you told him otherwise and he would gasped more easily if you came first.

Your movements became more needy, pushing back with more force, he increased his force but kept the pace. “Is my wife going to cum for me?” He asked and you nodded, your eyes going a bit hazy and half lidded. “Words.” He ordered softly and you moaned as your fingers tightened around his. “I'm,” you moaned again as his cock pressed into the sponge bit of your inner wall and your walls clamped down on his cock. “I'm going to cum. Roboute Im going to cum, don't stop.”

He kept on as he felt your pussy clench, his own guts tightening with the telltale sigh he was going to cum as well.

“Good, cum for me, come for your husband. For your primarch.” He growled, and you did, with a gasp and the clenching of your hand and body.

He came just a few thrusts later. And even if this seed would not fertilize you as you were already full of life he knew that in a few weeks, after the birth of his son, you would be at peak fertility again and it made his cock harder once more.

You looked up at him and touched his cheek.

“Round two?”

He nodded, you didnt even need to ask.

The next morning he was back for another meeting, and his mind felt numb. All he could see was your sweet smile, your beautiful eyes and the way you looked, cumming for him.

He needed to touch you.

The chatter at the table came to a standstill and he looked up from holofeeds to see why.

Your soft, well rounded form came waddling through the door. A very stressed Cato came in after eyes wide as he watched you waddle away with more enthusiasm. “My Lady please!” he urged quietly.

Roboute sighed deeply. “Cato?” He asked. “I'm so sorry my Lord, she wouldn't listen.” The promarch held back his laughter as you came to his side of the table and crawled up into his lap.

“You didn't think to stop her?”

“You never told me how I should.” he seemed a bit panicked. “And she has not done this before!”

The primarch just shook his head. “You may go Sicarious.” He gestured to the door. His son looked crushed to have failed his father.

“You're not in trouble Cato.” He called after him and his gene-son nodded before he went.

Calgar went back to his previous business. And the primarch looked down at you. “You are incorrigible.”

You leaned up and kissed his chin. “Indeed.” You smiled and he placed a kiss on your forehead, turning his attention back to the strategy at hand, finding his focus much less divided as you snuggled into his chest.

He held you close. His tiny wife. His tiny, amazing and magnificent wife.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

What about sleep token x reader where they know reader has feelings for them, but reader doesn't know that they know it! How would they treat you or teasingly hint that they are aware of your feelings before they confess their own? x

(sorry if this is silly. love love your work)

Uuuuuuuuuuuuu I love this!!!!!

Vessel

Look, I think you both would be helpless. If there would be a blueprint for - clueless and blissfully unaware- it would be you and Vessel. So at first, he’s honestly missing all the signs himself. Convincing himself that there was no way that you could like him. But then it’s the rest of the boys that start hitting him with the “So when are you bringing your girlfriend over?”, “off to see your misses?”, and he’s red like a tomato, denying all the comments.

But they make him start looking. Pay attention. And he realizes that you look at him the same way he looks at you so surely you have to have feelings for him. But he’s so afraid to make a fool out of himself so instead he starts humming parts of the songs that hint at his personal feelings. From “My arms belong around you”, to “and you make it more than I could ever feel before”. Watching you bite your lip as you watch him.

“I like this line”, you would whisper, making Vessel hum, “Do you? Why?” You’d shrug, trying to keep your cheeks from turning pink, “Just reminds me of the love I want”. And it’s so loud the implication within your words. The reality Vessel had painted within his mind, slowly unfolding. “It’s the love I want to”, he would breathe out, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

iii

It’s iii… I mean he would be a tease. But just because he’s a sucker for making you smile. It’s like someone is getting him high every time he hears your laugh. More specifically you laugh at something he said.

“Okay one more, one more”, he’s pulling you by the hand. It’s a post-show green room celebration. Everyone is slightly tipsy. He’s been by your side all night. “iii, i will piss my pants”, you grunt but end up giggling as he pulls you back onto his lap.

“I sold my vacuum yesterday”, he nodded all seriously. “Did you”, you bite your lip, “All it was doing was collecting dust”, iii shrugged, but here you were snorting once more at the lamest joke he could muster. “You are diabolical”, you pushed at his chest. “But you love it”, iii wiggled his eyebrows, “Correction - you love me”, he jabbed your chest leaning in. “Oh, shush you… silly goose”, you quickly turned his face to the side. “Don’t wound me. At least kiss my cheek”, he whined, “Payment for all my hard work”. You would roll your eyes leaning in only to meet his lips instead. Quickly pulling away as you clasped a hand over your mouth. Eyes growing big. “That’s more like it”, he smirked, “Don’t be shy, I know you wanted to do that”.

ii

Hmm… ii… ii… ii… see I didn’t know… I don’t think that he’s one for games and teasing. Or maybe…He is guarded and if he loves he loves. It’s straightforward. So when he caught feelings for you, i think he would try to keep it just between you two but it would be the boys that would get the job done. Going out of their way to tease you.

“Yn, drooling again, love”, iii would call out, “ii put a shirt on a girl can’t work”, your cheeks going pink as you instantly rushed to deny that you had been looking at him. “It’s okay, ii likes it don’t you man”, Ivy would smirk. “Get your heads out of a gutter”, ii would grunt. Watching as you quietly busied yourself around the room, cheeks still crimson.

“Hey, sorry about them”, he would stop after the rehearsal, “I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable”. You would quickly shake your head, “I should be saying this. I don’t want you thinking that I’m gawking at you”. ii would nod slowly, “are you, though?” He watches as your face falls, draining off color before bursting into flames. A slight smile spreading across his face, “It’s an honor to be gawked by you”, pushing his thumb beneath your chin, lifting your head up, “Let’s just say you have my permission to do so”.

Ivy

He’s a shameless flirt. You never really took any of his gestures seriously. It was ivy. Ivy thrived on attention. So it killed him honestly. Seeing you brushing it off. That made him scale down on his gestures when it came to other girls. No more playful banter. A joke here and there but that was his personality.

Quite frankly he had lost hope to win you over. You had denied his offers for a date for weeks. But he never backed away. Sending you flowers. Little treats. He was doing anything he could to win you over and it’s a pissed off look at him that gave you away. He had simply walked up to the bar to refill his and the boy's beers when a bartender reached out for his hand. Slipping a note with a phone number into his palm.

Ivy had walked back to find you looking as if someone had shat in your morning coffee. “Missed me so much that your night went sour”, he nudged your shoulder. “Well, your night sure seems to be going great”, you nodded toward his palm. A smirk spread over his face, “You’re jealous, darling?”, he mused making you roll your eyes. “I don’t care what and who you mess around with”, you tried to brush it off but he could tell that you had been upset over it.

“Well, I do”, Ivy stated, showing you both of his palms. Both empty palms. You frowned slightly, looking up to meet his eyes. “I threw it away the moment I turned around”, he pointed out, “Already got my eyes set on the target”, he winked at you. “Asshole”, you huffed, “I could be your asshole”, he chirped leaning in to take your hand.

[in1-nutshell]

Can I request drift (idw/lost light) having an opposite personality, daughter? With said daughter being with him since he was deadlock?

First of the MTMTE cast to have a daughter with the opposite personality!

Hope you enjoy!

Drift with a daughter with the opposite personality

SFW, Platonic, Angst, Familial, Cybertronian reader

MTMTE

Deadlock found the little sparkling while wandering aimlessly through the gutters of the Dead End.

The poor thing was struggling around in a deep puddle of oil, whirling and chirping for help.

Drift immediately went over and scooped her up from the puddle and placed her down.

Using some cloth and thinner pieces of scrap, he managed to get most of the gunk from the little one’s vents and cleaned most of the excess oil off her.

Drift: “There.” He feels a bit proud he managed to help someone out, even if it wasn’t much. The sparkling stared at him with wide optics and curiously chirped at him. Drift looked around. Drift: “Where are your guardian’s at—oh?” The sparkling was attempting to hug his pede. Drift: “Oh! I’m not—Little one I’m—now go on now.” Drift gently pushes the sparkling away from him. The sparkling looks a bit confused before waddling right back to him… but not before tripping going headfirst back into the puddle. Drift quickly grabs the sparkling from the puddle again. She blinks as Drift once again cleans her face. Drift: “You need to watch where you’re going, little one. Now go and this time the other way.” Drift gently pushes the sparkling in the opposite direction. The sparkling chirps at him sadly before waddling sadly away. Drift spark clenched. This was for the best… Right… SPLASH! Drift: “Oh sweet Primus not again!” Drift picked up the sparkling in the cloth, but this time made no move to put her down. Drift: “…I guess you’re stuck with me… At least until your guardians arrive.” The sparkling chirps happily as she snuggles up into his chassis.

What was he doing?

Drift barely had enough as it was to support himself and now, he had a little sparkling!

…But he buckles up a bit and tries working odd jobs to at least get more credits for some kind of energon for the sparkling.

He was grateful that the little thing was quiet and not that fussy.

Though her curiosity and slight clumsiness were the downside.

Drift is looking around for his sparkling. Drift: “Little one! Little one where are you!? I really need to name her…” He hears some chirping and frantically looks around him. A rock falls on his helm. Drift: “OW!” He looks up and feels all the energon draining from his frame. The sparkling was sitting on a rusty guard rail a couple feet up in the air. Drift: “How did you get up there!?” Drift pulls a stray crate and stands on it trying to reach her. Drift: “Hey little buddy, come here. Come to papa buddy!” The sparkling chirps before the rail gives in. Drift manages to catch her just as the railing came down. He frantically looks at his sparkling, who was thankfully unharmed. Drift: “Oh thank Primus… you really scared me there buddy. Buddy? Hmm… that’s sounds nice don’t you think?” Buddy chirps in agreement.

As the years grew on, Buddy matured much quicker than Drift would have liked it.

It seemed that one minute he was holding her servo as she nervously tried her first transformation.

The next she was carrying him to safety after a couple of mechs decided to beat him to a pulp for not giving him the rest of his circuit booster.

She often scolded him about taking those… enhancements and telling him the damage they could cause.

Buddy manages to messily wield a bit of scrap metal onto his arm. Drift winces a bit. Buddy: “…This wouldn’t happen if—” Drift: “I laid off the boosters. Buddy how many more times are we going to go through this?” Buddy gives him a slight glare. Buddy: “Enough times to see when that message gets into that thick helm of yours… I don’t know how to fix you if you…” Buddy grunted a bit, not even daring to say the last thing. Drift gives her a reassuring smile. Drift: “Have I mentioned I have the best daughter a mech could ask for?” Buddy smiles a bit. Buddy: “Not too often… but that still doesn’t mean I’m forgetting about the boosters.” Drift: “Scr—” THWACK! Drift rubs his helm. Drift: “Buddy!”

Buddy was a scrapy youngling when Drift nearly overdosed on speedster circuits and engex.

She remembered cradling his glitching frame, crying for someone to help her.

Was pushed and nearly beaten by some thugs who wanted Drift’s frame, before the famous officer Orion Pax cuffed them.

Buddy tried to stand up and protect her father by trying to shield his body with her frame.

She was utterly terrified but ready to fight for him.

Was surprised when the officer kindly told her he knew someone who could help her and Drift.

As frightened as she was, Buddy decides that any chance of saving Drift was worth the risk.

She makes it very clear that Drift needed more care than she did and would refuse until Drift was okay.

Thankfully Ratchet was able to get Drift stable and moves on to help Buddy.

Ratchet starts patching up Buddy. Ratchet: “I take it the mech I just fixed is your guardian?” Buddy: “He’s, my dad.” Ratchet: “Hmm…” Buddy twitches a bit. Ratchet: “You got a question kid?” Buddy hesitantly nods. Buddy: “What are those tools for?” Ratchet: “Those help me see better into a bots smaller crevices.” Buddy: “…Do you think you can teach me how to save a bot from overdosing?” Ratchet stops for a minute. Buddy: “I just don’t know if he might do it again and I want to be prepared for it.” Ratchet looks at the youngling who had determination and slight twinge of fear in her optics. Ratchet: “I can teach you how to better hide some of the boosters and the warning signs, but I can’t teach you the proper procedure.” Buddy looks down a bit. Ratchet: “Not because I don’t want to, but because it is a difficult procedure to do, near impossible without any prior medical knowledge. If you come to me with at least some sort of certification you can do some healing besides a standard patch job, then we’ll see.” Buddy smiles at him with a new look of determination. Buddy: “Then… can you tell me about that tool?”

Drift is glad to see Buddy okay.

He brings her close as they start to depart.

His audial ring a bit with what the doctor had told him about starting a new life and to watch for his daughter.

Buddy makes sure to remember the location of the clinic.

Ratchet is surprised to find the youngling back.

She wants to help him, help others like he did with Drift.

Buddy couldn’t exactly go to school or medical school, so he was the next best thing.

Ratchet makes her work for it.

Constantly randomly asking her random questions about certain parts of the frame of a Seeker, to names of certain tools and what they are used for.

Buddy makes him proud by putting the work in.

Drift doesn’t notice Buddy’s absence.

He had taken up more tasks and jobs that were taking even more time than before.

As much as Buddy loved Drift, she did wish he was home more.

Those were peaceful moments where they would staring into the sky and see how many constellations they could spot.

Buddy soon stops coming by the clinic, which worries Ratchet but there are other things he needs to worry about now.

As much as it pains him…

What happened?

Drift had brought Buddy to one of Megatron’s rallies.

There was supposable going to be some free energon at the event.

The pair is surprised when the leader of the movement himself came to them.

Megatron asked Drift if he’d like to join.

Drift accepted seeing a new opportunity in life, maybe a better one for him and Buddy.

He was even given a new name, Deadlock.

Buddy didn’t like the name, but never voiced it.

Megatron kindly turned to Buddy and asked her if she wanted to make a difference, to help bots less fortunate to find a voice.

Buddy was onboard with the idea of helping others.

Just like doctor Ratchet!

They became Decepticon’s that very day.

Being a youngling, there wasn’t much Buddy could do but do odd little jobs or be a messenger.

She showed promise in the healing department, and given that the Decepticon’s were short on medics, thoughts on teaching her the ropes didn’t seem too bad.

Buddy was taught by engineers and other doctors around the base.

She quickly rose up to the occasion once the injured started arriving.

It would take a couple more years before she officially was given her doctor’s title.

This happened around the beginning of the war.

Deadlock started becoming this infamous bounty hunter.

Buddy did not like this deadlock persona.

He was rude, snappy, and at times even cruel.

The pairs paths crossing was rare.

The only time they would be in the same room for more than a minute would happen whenever he was sent to the medbay.

Deadlock refuses any medic besides Buddy to see him.

She would feel flattered if the injuries he came back didn’t hurt her spark.

Buddy is patching up Deadlock. He hisses at some of the sparks. Deadlock: “Would it kill for you to be a bit gentler?” Buddy: “Would it kill you to be more careful out there?” Deadlock stays silent. Buddy: “That’s what I thought.” Deadlock: “…How are the exams coming along?” Buddy: “I passed those exams… 6 months ago…” Deadlock: “You did?” Buddy: “I’m a doctor now.” Deadlock chuckles a bit. Buddy swears she hears Drift for a second. Deadlock: “Look at you. I would be proud if you could be a bit gentler with your patients.” Buddy doesn’t say anything as she finishes patching Deadlock up.

The first time he snapped at her, she gave him the silent treatment, a bit in shock that he did that.

Deadlock would later apologies by managing to snag a couple of new tools for her to use.

He would be gone for an unknown number of times, but Buddy found herself trying to cherish the time that she did have with Deadlock.

Deadlock was the last thing she had left of Drift.

Soon enough she stops giving him the silent treatment when she patches him up and continues to scold.

Buddy was tired of seeing her loved ones and friends get hurt all the time, there was some part of her that hoped that nagging enough would get them to be more careful.

It never happened or worked too well.

She hated losing her patients to this war, she hated losing everyone to it.

But the only thing she could do now was do her job.

This was not the future she thought when she stood in front of a smiling Megatron.

Soon enough Buddy was given a promotion.

As Megatron’s personal nurse/doctor.

A doctor that also became a therapist of sorts when he’d started ranting about Prime or the recent battles or just about Starscream.

Given the recent attempts on his life, Megatron saw fit to have someone trusted to care for him.

Buddy just so happened to be the least likely to betray him on his list of medics.

Also least likely to do something other than heal his frame.

Buddy was patching up one of his pedes from a nasty mesh wound. Buddy: “If I’d have to guess… this was Starscream’s doing?” Megatron: “Not entirely.” Buddy: “How so?” Megatron: “I do not believe that is part of your concern.” Buddy gives him a tired look. Buddy: “Yes, silly me, a doctor asking her patient how they got hurt. Silly me for wanting to make sure I am healing it properly.” Megatron: “… I trip down the stairs.” Buddy blinks. Buddy: “You what?” Megatron: “And in falling I kicked Starscream in the face causing him to retaliate.” Starscream on a nearby berth: “How do you think I would have responded!?” Skywarp laughs by his side, ‘playfully’ slapping the Seeker. THWACK! Skywarp was now on the floor groaning as he held his helm. Buddy has another wrench in her servo while not taking her optics off the wound. Buddy: “Don’t touch my patients like that.” Megatron: “…How is it that you never decided to join your fa—” Buddy gives him a sharp look that surprisingly shuts him up. Buddy: “I’d rather fits the bots that I see, not dismantle them.”

Buddy began to see Deadlock a bit more too, no surprise him being one of the few mechs in the warlord’s inner circle.

Though not much was said between the two.

It wasn’t personal, but there wasn’t a lot of time between the pair given one’s job being outside the base taking bots out.

While the other spent most of her time in the base patching up the wounded.

It would be a simple miscalculation that would cause a major shift in Buddy’s life.

Someone had breached the information of the location of Megatron’s base.

It was compromised and they all needed to move.

There was a rapid panic through the troops as they tried to move everything before the Autobots would arrive.

Buddy was in the med bay trying to get patients to safety when the first shots were heard.

She only had two bots left.

There was an explosion knocking her back.

Waking up, Buddy quickly realized that she was pinned down by some of the debris.

The doctor struggled to move when a blaster was shoved close to her faceplate.

Buddy freezes staring at the blaster. Spark pulsing too fast. Suddenly the blaster was yanked back. Buddy just stared dumbfounded at the red and blue mech. The scene seemed strikingly familiar to her. Buddy: “Optimus Prime.” Optimus looks down at the medic before it clicked. Optimus: “Buddy. It has been a long time. I see you made yourself a medic.” Buddy: “Doctor actually sir.” Optimus chuckles a bit before he starts to get some of the debris off her. There are some bots arguing against the action, suggesting leaving her there. Buddy stiffens a bit at the thought of being trapped under the rubble alone in the dark. Buddy: “Sir, if I may. I am a doctor and word around is that you need more medics. Allow me to help you.” The Prime looks at her confused. Optimus: “You’d willingly leave your side of the war to join the enemy?” Buddy gives him a serious look. Buddy: “I joined this cause in the promise to help bots and make a better place for Cybertron… I have been deceived sir. I am disappointed and to say I am furious is an understatement.  I can’t think of a better way to get back at the Decepticon’s than taking away a good medic who knows where the secret compartment of data slugs of the location of the next base are.” Buddy was hoping that the data slug would be enough to persuade the Prime. Optimus looks at her with surprise and slight suspicion. He finds no sign of lying. In a single kick, he manages to get most of the debris off Buddy. She now noticed she was down a pede thanks to the explosion. Optimus gently picks her up. Optimus: “Lead the way, Buddy.” A couple hours later in some remote location… Deadlock gets a call. Deadlock: “Yes Lord Megatron.” Megatron: “The base was compromise. We are moving to the next base of operation in the South quadrant.” Deadlock’s optics widen a bit. Deadlock: “The entire base?” Megatron: “The Autobot’s took no prisoners. Anyone who was in the base has been massacred.” Deadlock is silent. Megatron: “…You have my condolences on your loss Deadlock.” The call ends as the Decepticon screams into the silent night.

Buddy was brought into Autobot custody.

She kept a stoic face on meeting the other Autobot’s.

Buddy knew well enough that these bots did not trust her, not that she would blame them.

The only reason she was alive was because she was a medic.

After a fresh coating of paint and change of insignia the doctor was finally allowed in the medbay.

Her façade almost completely dropped seeing Rachet there.

Buddy had long come to the terms that he had offlined at some point in the war.

Her spark warmed seeing her first mentor had survived this long.

Ratchet was surprised to see his former student in front of him.

Under Optimus’s direct order, she was to always stay by Ratchet’s side unless under dire circumstances.

Buddy knew this was for the team to get used to her, but the thing she cared most was seeing how her mentor managed to stay online for so long.

The two would eventually sit down and talk about the past and why she was a part of the Decepticon’s even though she had different views.

Ratchet’s spark clenched a bit hearing one of the biggest being her father staying.

She truly thought if she left the Decepticon’s earlier that he would not last long.

But now… call her cruel but she did not care where he was.

It wasn’t like Deadlock would look for her.

It was thanks to Optimus and Ratchet that Buddy would get integrated fast into the group.

A lot of the bots thought Buddy would soften up Ratchet considering she was younger.

They were so wrong.

Buddy might as well be known as Mini Ratchet because she acted JUST like him!

Buddy finishing the final patch work on Sunstreaker. Sideswipe and Bumblebee were on the berth next to them, wrapped up and waiting for one more look over. Buddy: “And what was going through your processor when you and Sideswipe decided to take on the Elite Trine alone? And to bring Bumblebee, of all bots as back up? No offense Bumblebee.” Bumblebee: “None taken.” Sunstreaker: “In our defense—” Buddy tightens her grip on his armor making him wince. Buddy: “Try again? Sideswipe: “We had it under control.” Buddy gives him an unimpressed look. Buddy: “Yes because nothing says that you have it under control than sitting in themed bay with injuries that could have been avoided—” Bumblebee: “Aww, you do care.” Buddy huffs and continues working. Buddy: “One more peep and its lights out for you.” Sideswipe: “Yeah, like you’d hurt a poor defenseless mech—” THWACK! Sideswipe was knocked out on the berth with a wrench on his chassis. The other yellow mechs stared at her in shock. Buddy just continued her work. Ratchet enters the room. He glances at Sideswipe. Ratchet: “He couldn’t stop running his mouth?” Buddy: “To be fair I gave a warning.” Sunstreaker: “Are you sure that Ratchet isn’t your father?” The young doctor tenses up. Buddy: “And that’s nighty night for you.” She presses a pressure point and watches the mech crumble on the berth. Bumblebee makes the right decision and lays back down.

Buddy hadn’t exactly introduced herself to Drift.

She remembered hearing about Deadlock defecting and going by Drift once again.

She also remembers waking up in the medslab with a concern Rodimus by her side.

But any opportunity of meeting him Buddy had to stop herself.

It was too painful.

Too many why’s and hurting for Buddy to handle.

Ratchet was very admitted about having her go and meet him, that he was nothing like Deadlock.

She still refused to.

The young doctor knew that if she met this new mech and didn’t see any sign of Drift...

She’d rather avoid that as long as she can.

Timeskip to Lost Light boarding… Buddy was accompanying Ratchet to the med bay when Drift and Rodimus turned the corner. Drift stopped dead in his tracks staring at her. Ratchet continues into the medbay, completely unaware of the inner turmoil Buddy was going though. Buddy mentally and physically steeled herself up. Buddy: “Captain Rodimus, Third in Command Drift. What brings you two to the medbay?” Rodimus: “Buddy you can lose the title thing.” Buddy: “I’m just being polite Captain.” Rodimus raises an optic at Buddy. Buddy: “…Fine. How does Roddy sound?” Rodimus puffs his chassis. Rodimus: “Now that’s better! Anyways, Drift and I were just doing the last walk around the ship. You’ve met Drift, right? You know he defected too?” Buddy and Drift just stare at each other. Buddy: “I am well aware of who Deadlock was.” Buddy pretends not to notice Drift wincing a bit at the sound of his previous name. Buddy: “Now, if you two excuse me, I need to make sure everything is secure and ready for quantum leaps.” Buddy returned back into the medbay sitting close to Ratchet. Rodimus shrugs and continues his walk with Drift who had yet to say anything. Rodimus notices his friend’s silence. Rodimus: “You okay Drift? Did you and Buddy have some sort of history?” Drift: “Rodimus… that was my daughter.” Rodimus: “Oh just your daughter, I thought you—wait what!?”

[greatkittencloud]

Tw: (Very) Brief Mentions of Violence

Black Nova

Chapter 1

Location : Classified

Time : 0200 Hours

The storm had rolled in fast, thunder cracking in the distance, and rain hammering down. The lights flickered once, then steadied, casting sterile yellow hues down the hallway.

Laswell’s boots echoed sharply against the floor as she followed Colonel Ford through a maze of dim corridors.

"Colonel Ford, your request for an urgent meeting better have a damn good reason," Laswell said, her voice laced with suspicion and authority.

Ford didn’t respond. Instead, he led her briskly through a maze of sterile corridors, past locked doors and security checkpoints, before stopping in front of one.

A metal door. Two guards flanked it.

The Colonel swiped a keycard, then placed his hand on the biometric scanner. The door hissed open.

Inside, the room was dim and clinical. At its center sat a girl ,barely in her twenties. She didn’t move, not even to acknowledge their entrance. Shoulders squared, arms folded tight across her chest, her face wore an unreadable calm. But her eyes…

Two voids. Black orbs swallowing the light. Promising death.

Laswell’s gaze sharpened.

"Who is she?" she demanded.

Ford didn’t hesitate.

"They call her Project M-29. Codename: Nova. She’s not just enhanced—she’s engineered. Reflexes faster than a bullet twitch, bones reinforced with carbon weave, pain threshold almost inhuman. She was part of a black program. Classified. Shut down. You know how these things go ,ethics, politics... She was the only successful subject."

He paused, letting the weight of it sink in.

"We figured you might know where to put her."

Laswell met his eyes. No words were exchanged, but the message was clear.

Location: RAF Base

Time: 1200 Hours

"I don’t get it. Why are we taking in another member? Don’t they think we’re good enough?" Soap muttered, arms crossed.

"Speak for yourself, Sergeant," Gaz quipped with a smirk.

"Command has its reasons," Ghost said quietly, standing in his usual shadowed corner.

Captain Price didn’t speak. He was still processing Laswell’s last words: “She’s not your average soldier, Captain. She’s a killer machine.”

No records. No name. No history. Just a codename : Nova.

"How can we trust her ? We don’t even know how old she is?" Soap muttered again, brows furrowed curiosity in his eyes.

"We just watch each other’s backs and hope she does too," Gaz replied calmly.

"And what’s age got to do with anything?"

"Get your head outta the gutter. I just don’t want her beating my record," Soap pouted. "Besides, a woman on the team might actually—"

The low thrum of helicopters cut him off.

The squad turned as the chopper landed. Laswell disembarked, followed by a tall figure in black. Head to toe. The layers of clothing hid any hint of her form. If not for the sharp, analytical eyes visible beneath the mask, they might have mistaken her for a man.

Every movement was controlled. Precise. Not robotic. Calculated.

Laswell walked beside her toward the group.

She stopped in front of Price.

"She’s yours, Captain."

Thank you for reading!!!

Special thanks to @hyperfixiation-station

[poebot]

CAN I REQUEST BABES ABBY WITH A READER THAT SEEMS SOFT AND LIKE A SWEETHEART BUT ACTUALLY ISNT? LIKE READER HAS A TRAMP STAMP AND TIDDY PIERCINGS BUT OF COURSE ABBY ONLY FINDS THAT OUT L8ER 😍😍

a/n: oh darling bless you for this one. i hope you don’t mind that this kinda went into a protective abby tangent (can you tell i have a thing for protective abby) but thank you for the request :) IK ITS KINDA LONG AND TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE I HAVE BRAINROT!! SORRY

abby absolutely adored you from the moment she first lay eyes on you at a random freshers week party for your university. she observed over the rim of her red solo cup as you awkwardly let your friend drag you in. you were standing there, stiff as a board, looking like you wanted the floor to swallow you up as she grabbed your hands and made them sway unrythmically to the music. she felt an amused smile tug on her lips, snorting as your face scrunched up in pure disgust whenever you sipped at your drink. your buddy had finally given up on forcing you to dance, running off to go mingle with other freshmen and leaving you to fend for yourself. she frowned.

you were the cutest little thing she’d ever seen. too good and pure for this dingy place, and certainly too good for the slimy frat bro she watched approach you, grabbing your hips from behind and leaning down to whisper in your ear. abby watched you visibly cringe away from his touch, and her feet were carrying her over there before her brain had even processed she was moving.

she loomed menacingly behind the guy for a moment, assessing the scene to make sure you weren’t actually into the freak before stepping in front of you both. you looked up to meet her gaze and felt your heart physically drop out of your ass. she was the sexiest woman you think you’d ever seen. tall, muscular, blonde hair cascading down her broad shoulders, passionate blue eyes piercing into the creep behind you. she looked straight out of your fantasies and she was smiling warmly at you like you were old friends, pulling you by the hand out of his grasp and into her huge arms like a guardian angel. this must be some type of fever dream. you were drunk or high, you eventually convinced yourself despite only having two sips of the murky liquid in your cup. she leaned down to murmur a soft “just go with it.” in your ear before turning to the guy, raising an eyebrow. he backed off with a scoff, which you internally thought was a great decision considering she was probably twice his mass and at least a couple inches taller.

from that day onwards, you were attached at the hip. where abby went you went and vice versa. she joked that she was your guard dog, put on this campus to protect you from ‘creepy dudes with bad intentions’. you wondered if she’d feel as protective over you if she knew how many nights you’d spent with your fingers buried deep in your cunt, muffling moans into your pillow as you imagined her being the one plowing you senseless. you felt abby had this idea of you as a helpless, sexless girl in need of her constant protection. its not like you did much to disprove it, always speaking softly and feigning innocence. pretending you were unaffected by her bulging biceps whenever she’d lift weights in your presence, low grunts hissing out of her mouth.

until she caught you one day. caught your heavy lidded stare and rubbing thighs before you had the chance to school your expression. you were meant to be studying and abby was meant to be getting an early workout in. instead you’d spent the last thirty minutes staring, your notes forgotten and mind in the gutter. “whats with look?” she questioned, a small smile on her lips. she noticed your gaze ages ago and was playing up her sounds for a reaction, the cocky asshole. abby watched you stutter and fumble for a reply, getting out of her seat to move closer, caging you in against your desk just to gauge your reaction.

“what look?” you attempt, avoiding her eyes. she seemed unconvinced, her brow raised. “you’ve been staring like you want to bite a chunk out of me.” she chuckled, moving her face even closer to watch you squirm. your chest rose and fell rapidly and you suddenly forgot how to breathe like a person. that cocky grin was still on her face, and she grasped your jaw in her large hand to make you meet her gaze. you let out a gasp that sounded suspiciously close to a whimper. she saw the lust in your eyes, knew she was right on the money. this was happening.

“fuck-” was all abby could utter before you lost your composure and smashed your lips against hers, lacing your fingers through her long hair and moaning into her mouth. she growled deep in her chest, grabbing your hips and lifting you up onto the desk to slot herself between your thighs. her lips travelled hungrily down your neck, sucking and licking like she couldn’t get enough of the taste of you. her grip on your hips was almost bruising as she bucked into you slightly, like you’d disappear if she didn’t hold on tight enough. “nnh- abby-” you sighed, head lulling back to make room for her lips and legs wrapping around her waist. “wanted this for so long... wanted you to fuck me.” you gasp out, lost in the feeling of her touch. abby freezes for a moment, staring into your face with her pupils blown and cheeks flushed. “yeah, baby? how long?” she whispers, breathless.

“since i first met you… been fucking myself full to the thought of you.” your voice is small and shaky, overwhelmed at your fantasies finally coming to life. “jesus christ,” abby groans, squeezing her eyes shut like she can see it clearly in her mind. “fuck, that’s hot. my sweet innocent girls’ been thinking such dirty thoughts, huh? want me to make it all better?” you’re nodding, clawing at her arms, desperate for her to touch you. to ease the constant aching you’ve been feeling since meeting her.

she doesn’t hesitate a moment longer, ripping your shirt off of you and unclasping your bra. your tits spill out in front of her and her jaw hangs at the little silver jewellery threaded through your nipples. abby thinks she might cum right now, just from the sight of them. she wonders how she hasn’t noticed this before, considering how long she’s spent staring at your tits when your head’s turned.

abby moans out a ‘holy shit’, latching onto one with her mouth and massaging the other in her hand. you push her deeper into your chest with a sigh, staring shamelessly at her pretty lips going to work. you knew she’d like them. shes sucking and lapping you up like she can’t get enough, toying with the jewellery with her tongue and pulling gently with her teeth before licking fat stripes over the flesh. you’re shaking from the sensitivity, letting out pathetic ‘uh’s, words completely failing you. it’s beyond your imagination, but you feel a knot forming tightly in your stomach just from the stimulation to your tits.

“abs, fuck, abby i think m’gonna-” her mind is elsewhere, completely absorbed by the supple feeling of your breasts in her hands and the cute noises your making. she’s breathing harshly out of her nose and sucking harder, wanting you to moan louder, pull her hair rougher. she wanted to wreck you and your innocent girl persona for good. “mmf- that’s it, baby. knew you were a little slut,” she didn’t. “god you sound so pretty.” your moans are getting more and more high pitched and your hips are stuttering, pushing helplessly into her pelvis as euphoria rushes over you at her filthy words. you cum, still partially clothed, just from the feeling of her mouth on you.

you dig your nails into her hair and pull her mouth off of you, panting heavily. abby seems to finally snap out of it and stares at you as you both catch your breath.

“did you just?”

“shut up. just- don’t say anything.”

[notablenotions]

Masks of Nobility-Chapter 7

Jikta sketched in her notebook, capturing things she had seen throughout the day as though her memory might fail her. She had lost all track of time when the doors to her chambers swung open. She didn’t notice, nor did she notice her husband striding in with purpose—or the disdain he directed at her ladies. She wasn’t sure what he said to them, or how, but they scattered with such speed she hadn’t thought the old crones capable of.

Hans stood there, running his fingers through his hair, eyes flickering between her, the floor,n and his less flamboyant hose—as if hoping they might help him find the right words.

"I spoke to Henry..." he finally said.

Jikta looked up from her sketch."You spoke to just Henry?"

Hans blinked, clearly not expecting that response. She smirked. She might not be great with people, but she did enjoy a well-placed jab.

"A joke among friends," she clarified, amused.

Hans’s eye twitched—was that jealousy? He cleared his throat, visibly thrown off, waving his hands in the air with typical dramatic flair. She’d grown used to his theatrics, even if she didn’t understand them.

He flung himself into the chair that had become his during his visits. She was grateful he respected the routine—it kept things predictable.

Resting his head against his hand, he muttered, "I will speak with Uncle... I mean, we should at least be able to control our own home."

His voice held a note of shame.

"And... about the pox comment from before—"

She interrupted. "Whatever you did—or do—is not my concern. I only ask you avoid those with pox or other ailments. For your own health. And if we must produce an heir."

Hans lowered his head, seemingly grateful for the interruption. She continued, matter-of-fact:

"Besides, who are they to judge, when they’ve been bedded by Hanush of all people? I’m surprised they can move so quickly after having a man of his size on top of them."

Hans snorted, bursting into a loud, gutteral laugh, tears streaming down his face.

"Christ, wife, you sound like a bawdy tavern wench! Heavens... thank you."

He smiled at her with ease, and for the first time, it seemed like something close to friendship was taking root.

"I’ve hired you a maid," he said, still chuckling. "If Uncle refuses to grant my request, I’ll pay for her out of my own purse. At least then, you’ll have someone who truly supports you."

She looked back at her sketchbook, genuinely grateful for the thought.

"Thank you for such thoughtfulness. When time allows, perhaps you could explain the situation with Lord Hanush to me, so I can navigate it efficiently."

Hans looked surprised but nodded. He launched into an explanation about Hanush’s reluctance to grant him full control of his inheritance. She listened closely, filtering for information of value and discarding his embellishments and perceived slights.

"Understandable… for a fourth son," she muttered.

Hans leaned back with a crooked smile.

"As you can see, you are now an unwilling convict in my jail."

Jikta looked around her plush room.

"I’ve seen worse jails."

Hans chuckled at her quip. Was that a flicker of endearment?

"Your family leaves tomorrow, don’t they?"

She froze, throat tight, and gave a small nod.

"Then there’s nothing for it," he said, rising with a dramatic flourish. "I, Sir Hans Capon, and my faithful guard Just Henry, will be your family now."

He looked her in the eye with the kind of charm she imagined had caused untold trouble. ‘Just Henry’ certainly had her sympathies.

She stood awkwardly, joining the show. They looked like children playing at knights.

"Sir Hans," she said dryly, "do not try and force yourself into a joke between friends. You’re unaware of the legend of ‘Just Henry.’"

Hans placed a hand over his heart, feigning shock and outrage. She suspected he was only slightly put out by it.

She sat back down, returning to her book.

"But nonetheless, I thank you, Sir Hans. Please extend my thanks to ‘Just Henry.’ I believe you’ll see him before I do."

Hans looked ready to ask a dangerous question, but Jikta quickly cut him off.

"Here. A gift."

She ripped a page from her sketchbook—a drawing from earlier in the day. It was Just Henry, tongue out, threading a needle. The likeness was amusingly realistic.

"To cement our family bond," she said.

Hans stared at it—and roared with laughter, clutching his stomach, tears returning.

"My God, wife, this might be the greatest gift I’ve ever received! I must buy you more supplies—Christ, I may enjoy this family life with you and ‘Just Henry.’"He glanced at the darkening sky.

"Ah, I’ve been here longer than planned."

Carefully, delicately, he folded the drawing and tucked it into his undershirt like it was something sacred. "I’ll take my leave on that note," he said, bowing formally.

"Please don’t show him. He’d be mortified. And I rather enjoyed teaching him." Hans glanced over his shoulder with a grin. "Heavens, no, wife. This is just for me."He practically skipped out of the room.

Well, at least any reports Hanush received would say Hans left her chambers content—if not with the proper context for that contentment.

Which, of course, was really Just Henry.

Jikta sat back, contemplating the day, then returned to her drawings.

[cultofdixon]

Oddly Fascinating

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Can you imagine a human fucking pretzel? Well you certainly like to freak the others out unexpectedly • SFW/NSFW - Implied Sex

Requested by: Anon

It’s…fascinating. The things Y/N can do with JUST her body. Keep that noggin out of the gutter for a minute.

Y/N joined the group a little after the Woodbury infusion to the prison. She didn’t have a group and sort of ended up in Virginia because she simply didn’t stop walking from where she originated.

One day Daryl, Michonne, and Glenn were out on a run in the closest outdoor mall, which is a few hours away from the prison—so they were going to have to camp. Daryl went to check the store that looked like a miniature Home Depot thinking he could find some camping supplies but when he entered the store…said camping supplies were in use but no person.

“If anybody is here, I ain’t gonna hurt yea,” Daryl stated knowing that wouldn’t go far but to his surprise one of the storage boxes’s lids flung open. Soon a woman’s upper half popped out like a jack in the box and it was a bit unsettling to the archer.

“I had to see who I’m working with and what makes yea think I’ll trust “I ain’t gonna hurt yea” with muscles like those”

“You think I’d hit a woman?”

“It’s the apocalypse. If laws don’t exist, neither does moral code. I follow them still…but still”

“I don’t hit women.” Daryl scoffs. “How do yea fit in there?”

“I don’t know you well enough to share my skills. But I do feel a little better knowing you’re not gonna throw a left hook at my face” the woman began to fully pull herself out of the container and when she stepped out, she locked eyes with the archer’s confused yet curious ones. “Okay I trust you about not killing me but why haven’t you left?”

“Gonna ask yea a few things if that’s okay with you”

“Sure I guess” She put the lid back on the box before taking a seat and crossing her arms.

“How many walkers have you killed?”

“Lost count a long time ago”

“How many people have you killed?”

“Four”

“Why?”

The woman went silent for a moment and avoided eye contact as she held herself. “They were my friends, and brother who were about to turn. They didn’t want to be taken out as a walker and didn’t want to become one so. You know…”

“I do” Daryl leaned against one of the shelves. “It’s hard to take someone you care about out after they’ve changed”

“Getting deep with me and we don’t even know each other’s name”

“Daryl”

“Y/N”

Then she joined their group right then and there. The others that came with Daryl liked her, didn’t trust her right away but given her attitude immediately when it came to them asking the same questions Daryl asked—-both Glenn and Michonne knew that they will grow to trust her. Same with the others. Returning back to the prison with a lot more than they had expected helped the initial image of the new comer. Y/N hoarded a lot of stuff so thinking that she would survive alone in there.

Some part of Daryl wanted Y/N to take the empty cell in their cellblock but given he didn’t speak up and Rick showed her one of the others, that wasn’t happening.

But she was very involved with helping around the prison.

“You good up there Y/N?” Rick calls out to her receiving a thumbs up while she continued to work with fixing part of the fence that disconnected from the gate.

The retired sheriff watches his brother pull in on his bike but stop to watch Y/N a moment. She dropped her wire cutters and as it hit the grass, Daryl hopped off his bike about to grab it when he quickly took a step back when Y/N jumped down somersaulting in the dirt.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” Daryl shouted as Y/N stood up immediately, stretching her back after her action. “Yea could’ve cracked your head open!”

“I’ve done it a million times before. Don’t worry your pretty little head”

“A million times? What, in the circus?”

“How did you know?” Y/N smiles catching him off guard at first and even more when she broke out in laughter. “I wasn’t in the circus dumbass. I’ve done a lot of risky stuff and…gymnastics. But what just happened is nothing compared to other stuff” she states while throwing herself back so she was then in a bridged position and Daryl watched her upper half lay flat on its stomach showing her crawl between her legs and hold her ankles. Exorcist shit.

“Now I think you’re an alien”

“Rude” Y/N scoffs as such action was a bit uncomfortable given her twisted position. “It definitely impressed and freaked out a few hook ups”

Now that led Rick to leave from overhearing their conversation, both knowing damn well he was there. He opened the gate once Y/N was back in the upright position and Daryl was still left appalled somewhat.

Y/N was definitely making a good impression on most. Has been on every run that was planned and no one opposed, she’s especially useful in tight situations.

“Alright, so I was thinking we break down the door and then—-“ Tyreese cut himself off when Y/N gestured for Maggie’s help to hoist her up and she happily obliged.

Next thing the group knew, Y/N was pushing herself through the small window above the locked door landing on the other side and unlocking it.

“Or that” Sasha chimes in with a laugh and smile, impressed by the woman. “Now we don’t have to almost break ourselves to get into places” she walked past her as Y/N brushes off some of the dirt checking her person carefully. Said actions didn’t go unnoticed by Daryl.

After a couple hours passed, the four returned to the prison and dispersed but as Daryl stuck by his bike a moment he noticed Y/N straggling a bit. She stood for a while glancing around and turned to Daryl with a questioning look before turning away.

“If yea need something, you can ask” He didn’t hesitate as Y/N slumped in defeat before turning around and approaching him.

“Crack my back”

“What?” Daryl scoffs confused as he wiped the grime off his hands with his rag. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Imma turn around cross my arms and you’re going to wrap your arms around me then lean back until a crack is heard.” Y/N explained in the most layman terms she could think of and it clicked instantly to Daryl but he hesitated a moment.

“Is that what yea want?”

“Yes, well. What I really want is someone to step on my back but all of y’all aren’t trained to do that and back in the day I had a friend who was a masseuse.”

“Well, I’ll do my best” Daryl grunts bringing himself over after tossing his rag on his bike watching her turn around and do what she had to do before he wrapped his arms around her. “Just lean back holding yea?”

“Yup” Y/N felt a sudden warmth rise in her chest when she was being lifted and the heat came clear in her cheeks expressing more of a red hue.

She heard the crack a bit ago but they both just. Stood there and it went from Daryl holding her to them both holding each other. Still Y/N’s back against his chest but her arms held onto his. Daryl relaxed setting her down but the way he held her for much longer and Y/N didn’t show any sign of letting go.

There was something

When the illness washed through the prison and a few were sent to get the medicine, Y/N found herself in the doorway watching Bob shove alcohol into his bag. He turned toward her realizing she was there and instead of talking first, he quickly took a bottle and threw it in her direction watching her quickly fall back then swing her body back forward.

“Jesus fucking Christ what are you? One of those inflatable car sales string cheese looking things?!”

“That’s very descriptive. Are you gonna be the same way when telling me why you have a goddamn bag of alcohol and not medicine to save our people”

“Oh for fucks sake! You and I are the newest people at the prison and you’re willing to bend over backwards—-even literally—-for people you barely know”

“So?!”

“SO?!” Bob shouted which caught another’s attention, Michonne as the conversation ended the second she joined. Bob brushed past her as she quickly gave a concerned look to Y/N.

I’m fine. Was all Y/N gave her as she stepped out.

Of course the booze was found out by Daryl and that was a more explosive mess to address than when Y/N first confronted him. But it all stopped mattering when they finally got their medicine into their people.

After getting their medicine in, Daryl went in search for Y/N who disappeared after they did such. It didn’t take long to find her because she was in her cell but she was alone in the old Woodbury cell block. Because of the outbreak.

“You alright?” Daryl asks Y/N even if she was currently hiding under her deconstructed bunk.

“Yeah”

“Don’t look like it”

A few seconds of silence. “Yeah…” she sounded defeated and pulls her entire self out from under bringing herself to sit on her bed. Daryl bringing himself to sit with her leaning his back against the wall.

“You can trust me, with whatever is on your mind”

“It’s strange…how easily it was for Bob to just. Not care about the others in the heat of the moment”

“Some people are just like that. Somethin’ or someone has to change them”

“I used to be like that. Not a warm caring person when this thing first started. I just. Had moments that changed me”

“Yeah?” Daryl gave her a questioning look that she noticed in the corner of her eye. “What changed yea?”

“Having to end the lives of people I cared for, the ones who got bit. When…” Y/N hesitated a second before looking at Daryl. “When I met you”

She’s full of surprises isn’t she? Daryl could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he never felt that feeling before.

But this moment was short lived like the many that followed after.

Until they found themselves alone weeks later…in a new place, with strange new people. Y/N stuck by Daryl’s side since they first entered Alexandria and given how the archer was feeling from all the loss, he would find himself following her if she were to stray or disappear from his side for too long.

“Can you hand me the socket wrench?” Daryl asks while under the car Aaron drives for recruiting as he was asked to check something out for the man. Y/N being there to help in any way even if it is just handing tools to the archer.

Y/N was currently repairing one of the angel wings on Daryl’s vest which led her to using her leg to reach toward the bench then her foot hooked onto the handle of the tool box. She then carefully bent so that she could grasp the box with her hands and go through the kit for what he asked for.

“Damn”

The annoyingly familiar voice caught both of their attentions as Daryl pushes out on the skateboard sitting up to look at Spencer confused. Y/N equally confused on the matter while handing the tool over.

“You know I saw you the other day doing your…morning stretches or whatever. Didn’t think you’d be THAT flexible…and limber…” Spencer was starting, or continuing to make Y/N uncomfortable as he starts to check her out making her cover herself with Daryl’s vest in her lap.

Daryl quickly taking note of the reaction and glaring at the man. “Beat it”

“I wasn’t talking to you” Spencer brushed him off keeping his attention on Y/N. “I bet you’re even more flexible in more intimate situations”

Y/N scoffs instantly but before she could bite the guy’s head off. She felt herself being pulled toward Daryl’s direction. Daryl having grabbed the blanket she was seated on pulling it closer to him so he could protectively wrap his arm around her shoulders as she instinctively leaned into him.

“She’s taken. Now I’d fuck off and bother somebody else before your mommy sees her little boy’s face smashed the fuck in” Daryl threats and didn’t let his guard down but it got Spencer to storm off defeated. “What a tool”

“He’s not wrong about something”

“Huh?”

“I am very flexible when we’re intimate” Y/N laughs slightly catching her own boyfriend off guard resulting in the red hue rising in his cheeks.

[v3nusxsky]

OKAY SO I HAD AN IDEA

Lesso is trying on new outfits and decides that a corset would fit one of the outfits she's currently wearing so she puts one on but she needs help to tighten it up so she calls reader over to help her. Reader can't help but let her hands wander as she's admiring how Lesso looks in a corset and it escalates to the point where reader has Lesso pinned to the wall.

I'm very gay for sub Lesso and would like this pretty please.

Helping hand

*Authors note~ a Drabble for sub Leo cause I have it bad for her but also I’m in a long ass uni day needing distractions*

Trigger warnings ~ sub leo dom r teasing implies future smut warnings

prompt ~ see ask

Being the dean of evil means a lot of things for Lesso. But arguably the most important for the firey red head had to be her reputation throughout the newly combined school. Leonora Lesso was the only staff member who could strike fear into the hearts of students, good and bad, just by the sound of her cane clicking along the cobbles in an even pace. One of the many attractions that drew you to her was that trait although she never scared you. Rather the opposite. Seeing her in her element, so unapologetically her, just made you want to jump the bones of the woman. Regularly.

Being her lover granted you some small precious privileges like seeing her lower her emotional guard, the softer side reserved for you only and the small domestic moments. In fact your favourite time of the day was watching her undress. Something about the almost magical way she captured your attention was magnificent. A small delight that normally Leonora wouldn’t draw much attention to. Usually met with a quip about how your mind is always in the gutters, you never can focus around her. I mean can anyone blame you? She’s stunning. Yours. You have every reason to be star struck.

“Sweetheart? Instead of staring at me why don’t you make yourself useful and tie this for me hmm?” She playfully command snapping you out of your haze. Well this is certainly a treat. There she stood, clutching her cane in her right hand while a stunning lavender corset rested on her body. Even un tied the amount of justice it did her cleavage was magical.

Approaching her as if she were a deer caught in headlights you stalked your way towards the magical woman carfully taking the thin straps between your fingers. Silky smooth. “Needy thing aren’t you? Moaning like a whore just at the feel of me in silk? Or is it the thought of me fucking you dumb in this tonight hmm?” Her carful teasing drawing you to the attention that you’d most definitely let an audible moan slip free as the sinful thoughts clouding your brain.

“Tighter dove, I will not break” she demanded when your hands finally got to the task at hand. “I- are you sure Leo? I don’t want to hurt you” you practically whimpered but followed her instructions without much complaints after a stern look was shot your way. Your hands neatly tied the straps before running your hands over her body. Most people would assume you were smoothing out the material for the woman however she could feel how long your hands lingered near her breasts and attempted to travel down her body before forcing yourself to step back ever so slightly to admire the woman in front of you.

Before you could even register what happened, your slender hand wrapped round her throat ever so snuggly before promptly forcing her back into the mahogany door. The gasp you managed to draw from her echoed around the room as her pupils were blown wide, eyes hooded flicking to your plump lips and back arched ever so slightly allowing your hand to rest in the small of her back while the cane clattered to the floor.

“You may like to pretend you have control outside this room. And I may allow it. But make no mistake darling, here you are mine. You submit to me” you made sure to punctuate each word with a squeeze of the column of her throat bringing your lips close enough to feel the little breaths of hers against your lips. Against all odds, your switch like behaviour was Leonoras guilty pleasure. Knowing if she presses the right buttons you will snap, taking what she willing gives without changing any of her reputation. “Please sweetheart” she borderline whimpered, “kiss me.” You would quite literally burn the world for this woman, so who were you to deny her? Allowing your lips to meet hers you immediately established dominance by nipping at her lower lip causing the metallic taste of blood to seep into your how heated kiss. “Mine” you growled as you pulled back to take in her newly fresh needy submissive state. It wouldn’t last long and you both knew that. Drinking her in you made a silent vow to ravish her later before passing her the cane. “Get dressed Leo or are you finally ready for the school to know what a little slut you are for me?”

[sil3ntfr34k]

Postal 4 boyfriend Headcanons

(Guess who found about how to do a buillted list insides of manually putting dots :D)

Mans is probably in his early 40’s and feeling every second of it.

He’s not much a romantic, but he knows how to love. Like he knows he’s supposed to give you gifts, listen to you rant, support you in anything, hug you, give affection and words of encouragement, the whole sha-bang. Is he good at it tho? Kinda,,,

You probably met him during his ‘job hunting’, when he was running around this a sign that said something along the lines of “Willing to do something strange for a bit of change”. Caught your attention IMMEDIATELY

You thought he wasn’t too bad looking, something of a roughed up silver fox. He was pretty toned for someone his age, forearms are pretty big and that’s just what you needed. You ended up taking him up on his offer and made him clean out your gutters. You just sat there and watched as he worked himself throwing out heaps of wet leaves and random junk from your gutters.

He came out obvious dirty so you gifted him $40 and a shower. It’s like heavens light shined upon him when he heard the words “You can take a shower here if you’d like?” fall from your mouth was enough for him to marry you in that moment.

Postal Dude has been raw dogging it homeless style for a couple months up to this point, so any kind of reward he came across was a fortune to him. Gladly accepting this kind gesture, he was still thrown out for the rest of the day. You both came upon an agreement that he could stay the nights on your couch, but he still had to go ‘job hunting’ during the days. Didn’t matter to him, he still accepted it. As long as he had a safe place to sleep with Champ.

Side note, you loathe Champ being around during the day since he digs holes everywhere in your front AND back yard, so you make Dude take Champ with him everyday. Dude doesn't mind since Champ is kinda like an attack dog so homie very useful when Dude's walking around

Once your relationship with Dude has reached it's peak (dating), he becomes very attentive and energetic. Where he was once tired and reclused, he's now got some energy in him and filled with affection

Dude loves to be around you and touching you. Biggest love languages are quality time and physical touch, sometimes words of affirmation if he's feeling extra sappy. He's probably been through the works of brutal relationships, so he really wants to settle down, which leads me to my next thought

Mans is getting old and creaky. Sure he's still got muscle and all, but they're honestly just for show. He couldn't hold back Champ from attacking someone he isn't supposed to even if his life depended on it. So, he's staring to wear down and just wants to find someone to relax with.

Red flag time, he's talking about marriage about 2 months into the relationship and tries to move his scrap in without you noticing, which usually fails. It's not that he's using you for your home, Dude just wants to feel like he's finally in a normal relationship. No bitchy attitudes being thrown around, no constant nagging for something stupid, no arguing over small things, no constant threats, just y’all being in love together

Eventually your gonna have to let Champ wonder the house and train him to be a guard dog rather than just an attack dog. You’re definitely the one to look up dog training classes and making Dude go with you to these said classes.

Even with how much he loves to be around you, there are still times when his mental and physical illnesses make him ill 😔 but he still tries to snap out of it

His main problems are most likely his chronic muscle pains and his auditory schizophrenia. (I think all the dudes are some sort of schizo, it’s just that p1 and p2 are the strongest showing ones)

Being older means his body is slowly deteriorating. Sure he’s not that old, but with how he lived in his golden age, he should really be dead. Constantly on the run from the government, having to stay sharp to kill, and fucking his way through Paradise and Edensin, he’s ready to just lay down and let the earth reclaim him

Having a long history of schizophrenia in the family and his own lifetime, it’s thankfully dwindled down to just hearing voices randomly. Since he can only hear these voices it doesn’t scare him as bad as it used to. All he can really hear is a distant conversation that he can’t make out the words to, it’s sort of like a mumbling between a woman and a man. Many times you’ve found him franticly wondering the house with a confused look on his face saying “I thought there was people in here?”

Overall, he’s an old man who’s been through enough and would just like to relax. Give him kisses, give him cuddles, feed him, and talk to him, and he’ll love you for eternity (so gay)

[mothiir]

the hand that feeds

So I’m really sorry to the anon who inspired this for two reasons: one for deleting your ask accidentally, and two for taking “leman russ puts the reader in a collar” in a direction you did not mean.

cw: violence against wolves, dubcon

—

—

Long ago, the people of Prospero were famed for their hunting dogs — great rangy animals designed to run on the burning sands for days, tireless in the face of famine and thirst, tracking down long-extinct beasts. Later, as the people discovered farming, the hunting dogs became livestock guardians instead; their limbs thickened over generations, but their teeth remained sharp, and their eyes keen. Later still, when hardship was but a tale to tell children, you were born, a squirming red bitch, the only living pup of a litter of four. Your mother was the beloved pet of a sorcerer named Ahriman, and it was he who gave you to his father, and his father who gifted you to his lover as a birthday gift. “Her name,” said the wizard’s father; a one-eyed man you would later know as Master, “is Hathor. After an ancient farming goddess.”

Hathor is your name, but your mistress calls you all sorts of things — sweetie pie, darling, fluffikins. She feeds you treats from her table, and sleeps with you pressed to her breast, even when you are larger enough to lick her face when you stand on your hind legs. In a throwback to your fierce ancestors — or perhaps as a result of your indulgent diet — you grow larger than your mother, larger than your father; a red-furred hound that glitters with jewellery, the only discomfort you know is when Mistress puts you outside of her room so that Master and her can try to make a pup. They try often, and enthusiastically, but have yet to manage it.

All that is to say that you live a coddled, cosy life — and then one day you wake, and the entire world is burning. Black ships blot out the sun; great palaces crumble under the assault of shining lights. All is chaos and screaming, fear-stink and blood-stink and Mistress calling for her mate, over and over. She calls for him as her armoured guard herd her deeper into the palace, to shelter; she calls for him as the park you used to run in explodes in a shower of black dirt and blue-red flame.

She calls for him as she is shut away into a small guard room that smells all wrong, and once inside she calls for him one last time, a weak guttering sob into your fur. You do not know how to tell her what you instinctively know to be true: that Master is Master no longer. You can only lick the salt from her cheeks and whine, switching fretfully from foot to foot.

Your ancestors were livestock guardians once, and hunters before that, and their blood runs in your veins, even if you have never raced along the golden flank of the dunes, eyes fixed on distant prey. You have never prowled the edge of a night-dark field, sheep bleating at your back, watching for the hungry eyes of would-be monsters.

But you remember. You remember.

The four-legged wolves sniff you out; the two-legged ones open up the door. Thick black smoke billows into your hiding place from behind them. The palace is burning. It is all burning. But you do not think of that, because the palace is not — was never — your home.

You do not know that the goddess Hathor was a goddess of war before she hammered her sword into a scythe; you do not know the irony in your name.

You only know that there are wolves, and behind you is your flock.

The four-leg wolf enters first in a hairy fetid spill. He is larger than you, but you surprise him, dropping your shoulder to hit his legs with your full body weight, bowling him off his feet. He was not expecting a fight, and it is his arrogance that costs him his life. Your teeth find the soft flesh of his throat before he can so much as whimper, and crush down.

Blood froths between your teeth and paints your front as you wheel to face his mate; your hackles up, your body bristling. But the she-wolf never attacks; instead, the coward retreats, whining at the loss of her companion.

The two-leg wolf enters instead: larger than most, stinking of battle. His yellow fur is matted with blood and ash. He shows his teeth in a clear threat, and says something in the two-leg tongue, addressing your Mistress. You know a few words — “Easy…girl…” — and these normally mean an attempt at peace-making, but then he reaches for her, with those great hairless paws.

What other choice do you have, but to lunge forwards, and to bite?

—

—

“I am not going to kill your mistress,” says the two-leg wolf, a while later. A new leather collar has replaced your former gem-encrusted one, and you feel vaguely guilty — insofar as a dog can feel guilt — that the leather is more comfortable against your flesh than the gold ever was. “She’s not a witch like Magnus, and she came along quietly enough. We’re just going to keep hold of her to make sure he behaves.”

You huff, and paw at the muzzle around your snout. Unlike the collar, you resent this new hardware mightily. The two-leg wolf chuckles.

“Oh, don’t sulk over that. You have to wear it. You bit me, you vicious bitch.”

He waves his hand in front of you. Much to your displeasure, the wound your fangs left healed almost instantly, clean flesh sealing over the raw red tissue.

“You’re one of a very lucky few to say that they have drawn blood from me and lived!”

He guffaws again. You hate the sound of his laughter; it reminds you of a wolf choking on a bit of meat.

He ruffles your nape. You try and snap at his fingers, knowing you cannot bite them, but wanting him to know how desperately you want to.

“Easy there. Magnus’s girls really don’t like me, do they? You. Your mistress. She almost bit my ear off when I tucked her into her quarters.”

Magnus is not Master, you snap.

“Ah. Of course. A pack leader who cannot defend his pack is no leader at all.”

You understand? you say.

“Of course I understand! Dogs, wolves — you all speak the same tongue. I was raised by wolves.”

Can tell, you say. 

Again: that ugly, ugly laugh. 

“You’re a vicious little thing. I like you.”

He takes a sip from the foul-smelling tankard held loosely in his left hand.

”I was going to bring you over to her. You can share the same rooms. Would you like that?”

Your ears prick up despite yourself. See your Mistress? There is nothing you would like more. 

“You must wear that muzzle. I don’t want to kill you, but if you draw blood on me a second time I will not hesitate to do so.”

—

—

The wolves have at least made an adequate den for Mistress, with a big bed bedecked with skins, and a roaring fire. The smell of smoke reminds you of the burning city, and the battle that still haunts your dreams — what if the wolf had been stronger, what if, what if — but you swallow down your fear and nestle close to her. She pats your ears, and hugs you close. Her eyes are red-rimmed and it is clear she has cried herself empty. The sour reek of her despair is worse than the smoke. The thick, rancid smell of despair; of a heart wrung dry. 

But she is like you: born and reared on Prospero’s ochre sands — not like once-called Master, who tumbled from the stars, and belonged neither there nor anywhere else. She is a survivor, the child of famine and destitution; her grandmothers survived warlords and raiders and worse. 

As you lie in paw-twitching slumber, you hunt wolves, chasing them down and tearing throats loose from shaggy grey fur. You wake with the taste of iron on your tongue, and the hum of exertion in your limbs. And she dreams as well — of other things, of wolves with human forms, of the stories told around campfires, and the things women do to survive. “You’re my family,” she says to you, often. “The only family I have left.”

—

—

The two leg wolf’s name, you have learned, is Leman Russ, and he is the ruler of these wolves, and of more besides; a pack large enough to span the stars. You are not impressed by such vague numbers. He still tries to bribe you with chicken legs, despite you steadfastly refusing to eat a single thing he offers you. 

But he is strong, and steadfast, and ruler here, and you are not surprised when Mistress invites him to her furs. Wolves, humans, dogs: all are lost without the protection of a pack, and Magnus is long gone, lost in the ashes of Prospero. Russ is here, and when he clambers atop your mistress you avert your eyes. He does not bother to lock you outside, as Magnus would have done, but you still feel it is impolite to watch. 

It takes him a while to satisfy himself. Hours pass, and eventually you fall asleep to the sound of the headboard banging against the wall, and Russ’s groaning and effusive praise about your Mistress’s nether regions. 

Honestly. Wolves. 

When you wake, it is to Russ fiddling with the lock on your muzzle. 

“There,” he says, easing it away from your snout. The firelight gleams on his fangs. “I think I can trust you not to bite now, eh? You’re a clever girl.”

He is talking to you. He is talking to your mistress, who lies in the furs, dozing.

When he offers you his hand, you very gently lick his palm. 

[s-rosie]

TIG CRACK HCSSSSS #2

30 hours to live, how should i spend themmm…?

max and avery have a game called “uncomfortable flirting” where they go back and forth trying to make the other person either get too caught off guard to make a comeback or quit bc they get uncomfortable (this is actually a real game that me and my friend made up lol it’s actually fun if you are good enough friends for it not to be awkward)

jameson watches barbie life in the dream house and quotes it without even realizing

avery says stuff like “me personally i would never take that level of disrespect but that’s just me” kinda ironically but kinda not

xander and ave had a water balloon fight using gloves from the nurse filled with water at school and they got detention for it after avery accidentally threw a glove at someone she thought was xan but wasn’t

max tried to become a rapper in like 6th grade and she entered the talent show and everything trying to rap to like nicki minaj but it kinda sucked and now the video of her at the talent show haunts her

grayson has the best fake porn star girl moan but he only did it once on a dare with jameson and no one will believe jamie that he can do it and it drives him crazy

libby can do weird things with her tongue (get your mind out of the gutter) like she can lick her elbow, touch her nose and chin with her tongue, do that clover tongue thingy, etc.

nash did gymnastics when he was little and he does random back handsprings now

jameson, avery, and xander are the reason most of the rules at their school were made bc they always found loop holes

oren is fluent in gen alpha and is a translator for when xander and jamie start talking gen alpha

alisa watches spirit and cries every time

gigi blasted “i don’t fuck with you” when sav finally broke up with duncan

lyra has a shirt that says “thick thighs save lives” and grayson gets so embarrassed bc he knows those thick thighs saved his life

jamie went through a phase for like a week where he didn’t shower and just used chocolate axe spray instead in like 5th grade

max, avery, lyra, and libby make spicy dances together and say they are going send them to their boyfriends but they always get too embarrassed so they just keep them a secret (but then the truth came out and xander hacked their phones to get the videos)

max makes those “i just wanna be part of your symphony 🌈🌈🌈🌈🐬🐬🐬🐬🐬✨✨✨✨🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀” memes and sends them to avery at like 3:30 am randomly

xander will barge into avery and jamie’s room and see them kissing and say “omg guys get a room” just to confuse and annoy them

max and Xander make pov tik toks together

Avery once pulled a monica from friends and pinned Xander down to get his eye drops in and xander couldn’t get up and was like was like “omg why are you so good at this!!!” then “wait, why are you so good at this… 😏” and avery just sat there like 🫣😳

when libby went wedding dress shopping, max and avery also tried on wedding dresses and even bought them just to have fun in

gigi and xander love sexyy red and put her on the hawthorne house speakers to make everyone die because her songs are so dirty

i hope you like theseeeeee

[hauntingofhouses]

hilarious to me how taigen's main insult to mizu is calling her "a dog." literally he's the only one in the show to call her that! everyone else just talks about the blue of her eyes looking like an onryo or demon or monster.

taigen calls her a dog. "round-eyed", an "orphan," with a "whore mother" and "white devil" for a father. talking about she was living on the street eating off gutter scraps. like that's the thing that he pinpoints about her. not about her being a half-breed, but about her living conditions. and i talked about this quite extensively before, about how i feel that everything taigen says about mizu is a projection of his own self-hatred. because everything he says about mizu can also apply to himself.

and necessary disclaimer here before someone misinterprets me on purpose: no this doesn't justify his actions, and yes taigen was an asshole, yes he's not a good guy, etc. i just like the nuances of his character because that's what makes him so interesting to me as a character to pick apart and analyse.

and so WITH THAT BEING SAID, the reason why i find it hilarious that taigen calls mizu a "dog" is because HE IS THE DOG! because literally if you have to assign an animal to each of the characters, taigen would be a dog. growling and barking one second, happy and puppy-eyed the next. taigen as a child loves playing with sticks. he loves getting praises by everyone around him. taigen who is "stupidly loyal." HE IS THE DOG!!

and mizu? would be a cat!!! mizu who stalks and pounces on her prey. mizu who struggles away when people try to grab her or come close. she hides from everyone when she's hurt and licks her wounds while pretending she's fine. she topples vases off of high shelves (read: burns down entire cities and rampages through insanely guarded fortresses) causing chaos all while leaping around gracefully. but then she's still too short-sighted so she gets stuck somewhere with no way to get out of it until her owner has to come pick her up and put her back on the floor again (the owner in this case is ringo).

they are literally both the TYPICAL ARCHETYPES of what a "cat person" and "dog person" would be like and that is SO funny to me.

they even get along as well as cats and dogs do. they fight each time they're around each other. taigen's mere presence makes mizu hiss and her hair stand on end while taigen just keeps barking at her and provoking her even more. he incessantly follows her around while she wants nothing more than to be alone. taigen who won't stop yapping even while everyone else is dead-silent vs mizu who only approaches people to talk when they're nonchalant or even actively avoid her (see: how she's always the first to instigate interactions with mikio during their marriage).

like it's just so funny to me. they're both so stupid and i love them.

TL;DR taigen is a dog and mizu is a cat. ringo is the exasperated but loving caretaker at the shelter in charge of dealing with their antics and keeping them fed and making sure they don't kill each other.

[starshideurfics]

Captive, Captivating

into the steddie-verse, omegaverse, intense dubcon, we’re all in the same imperial rome/war prize gutter together, mdni 🔞

As the emperor’s brother, Geta should not be on this northern campaign, but he is curious of these barbarians and how they live without the bounty of the mediterranean. His tent is rather well-appointed besides, his own personal guard and servants setting up his bed, the furs and chairs, each time they move. He even has a small brazier to heat the tent against the cold night.

That doesn’t make his presence anymore reasonable, but as the only member of the imperial family amongst the generals and their legions, it means the greatest of the war prizes belong to him. Thus far, he has accumulated a beautifully made brooch inlaid with garnets, several gold torcs, a pair of fine horses, and one prince to ransom back to his father—that netted him gold and silver coins from many kingdoms, as well as a herd of goats.

But there hasn’t been anything new for weeks, and Geta thinks they are perhaps between barbarian kingdoms. The sun has set on another day, and he is reading over the report he is about to send back to Rome, when Junius enters the tent and makes his presence known.

“We’ve captured an intruder, your grace. Flavianus sniffed him out, and it sounds like his father is a king. Ricardius Spear-hand, if he’s to be believed.”

“And just what was the little prince up to?” Geta puts down his report, grinning. This is intriguing.

“Spilling wine urns and turning loose horses. But mostly spying. We found him outside the general’s tent. The fool rubbed himself in wild mint, but it wasn’t enough to dampen an omega’s scent.”

Geta burns hot at that, his own smoky scent blooming. He has questions, but more than that, he wants to meet this bold omega prince. “Bring him to me.”

“At once, your grace.”

Junius is barely gone a minute, clearly anticipating this request, bringing in a growling young man, stripped down to a loincloth to ensure he carries no weapons, his hands bound in front of him. His flesh is raised in a thousand tiny bumps at the chill of the night air, and his thick, dark hair hangs limp around his head, stringy with his own drying sweat. And his scent is sweet and yeasty like the honey beer the northern barbarians drink in place of wine.

“He claims to be Prince Stephanos, your grace. I don’t believe we have record that he’s an omega… Other than this.”

“Why do you insist upon changing my name?” the omega asks, voice harsh with his whining little growl. Geta has heard of northerners learning Latin, but he did not expect this prince to speak it so well.

“You are Stephanos, son of Ricardius, are you not?”

The boy frowns, looks away, and waits. Junius raises a questioning brow, which Geta answers with a wave of his hand and a soft, “Leave us.”

Junius bows and backs out of the tent.

Stepping closer, Geta grips the omega by the chin, and turns his head to face him. “I asked you a question, little prince.”

His hazel eyes flash with defiance, and he bites his lip so hard it bleeds. Then he takes a breath. “I am Stepan, son of Rikhardt Spear-Handed. As my father’s eldest child, I did my duty. Please, take your soldiers and leave my people be.”

Swiping his thumb over Stepan’s lip, smearing the blood, Geta wants so badly to taste. To bite. He resists, leaning in closer and whispering, “I am not here to conquer; that is my brother’s doing. I wish only to learn and see and experience what this world has to offer. I will be your willing student, sweet Stepan, but I shall also be your master. You have bought freedom for your people.” He withdraws his thumb and sucks it into his mouth, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue, yet somehow sweeter than he expects.

The omega trembles, and Geta steps back to hive him space, eyes roving over his exposed body. His nipples are hard, pebbled along with his gooseflesh, and his small breasts are puffy, swollen like he’s near his heat.

“I will not take you tonight, so do not fear.” Geta circles him slowly, retrieving a length of soft, woven wool, and steps up behind him, arms wrapping the cloth around the omega’s shoulders. Stepan jolts at the touch, but doesn’t struggle as Geta holds him. “But you will be mine.” His right hand settles low on Stepan’s belly, presses firm. “Soon my pup will be here.” He sets his nose to the princeling’s neck, and Geta is sure he smells even sweeter as he inhales deeply. “Can tell your heat is coming, but maybe you’ll breed true before it can begin.”

He drops a single kiss over the warmth of Stepan’s mating gland, feels the flutter of his pulse. “But tonight we shall simply rest. Come, Stepan. Let’s to bed.”

🏛️🌙🌿

Stepan does not sleep that night, or if he does, it is a fitful sleep. But he has no hope of escape, his captor holding him tight from behind, trapping him in the bed beneath sheets softer than he has ever felt. And surely, the tent is well guarded.

He’s spent enough time awake, looking around the tent for anything he can use, either to incapacitate the roman, or if worst comes to worst…

He hopes it does not come to that.

Strong arms squeeze around his middle, a forehead presses into his shoulder, as the alpha wakes with a sighing hum. “Good morning, little prince.”

The mere thought of replying cordially locks his throat, but Stepan swallows and decides to get it over with; the words will only get easier with practice. “Did you sleep well, Dominus?”

“Best I’ve slept since coming north. How you can sleep in this cold I’ll never understand.”

“It is summer, Dominus?” How soft the romans must be to find a summer night cold. He wonders how his new master would handle traveling through the snow in winter.

“Yes, summer! The air should be hot and leave your skin sticky long after the sun sets!” His hold on Stepan changes, no longer a harsh grip, but one arm loose around his waist, the other snaking up so his hand cups one of Stepan’s breasts. “This is the first time I haven’t woken shivering.” He squeezes, kneading the soft flesh beneath his fingers, then pulls back just enough to grip the nipple between finger and thumb.

He pinches and pulls, and Stepan hates that it feels good. Stifling a moan, he brings his still loosely-bound hands up to grab the alpha’s wrist. “Dominus?”

“You are just so sweet and so warm,” he growls low in Stepan’s ear. Hand spread wide across his chest, moving with each shallow breath, he changes course. No orders to get on his hands and knees, no spreading of his legs, no hand pushing aside the cloth over his sex. Instead, he murmurs, “We shall meet with your father and his counsel today, to talk the terms of peace.”

“The terms being me. In your bed.”

“The terms being you. At my side. I am not looking for a mere bedwarmer, sweet Stepan.” He contradicts this entirely by kissing the side of his neck, sucking the salt from his skin. “You took a risk. It failed you, but now you have learned. And with my guidance you will learn more.”

Stepan’s mind races. He had been certain thot at best he would be a concubine; an omega to give this roman enough bastards to feel good about his virility when his high-born wife managed a sickly pup or two. He no longer thinks that is what his master has in mind. “Dominus?” he asks softly, wishing he could see his eyes now, even in the low light it would tell him more of what he means.

“Rome is a dangerous place. You and I shall need all our cunning when the army returns at the end of this campaign.” He relaxes his grip, finally, and rolls away just enough to make room for Stepan to roll onto his back.

His master smiles, wolf-like, and places a hand back over Stepan’s breastbone, holding him down with the lightest touch as he stares into his eyes. “Do not worry, my sweet omega, I’ll do everything in my power to protect you and our pups.”

“What pups, Dominus? We have done nothing to make any.” Stepan shivers under his dark gaze. “Besides, how can you be certain you won’t grow bored with me in a month’s time?”

“It will take far more than a month to do everything I want with you. Do not worry about my growing bored.” He leans down and takes a dusky nipple into his mouth, biting at the bud with gentled teeth.

Stepan pants, watches as the alpha removes his mouth, tongue lapping at tender skin. A hand reaches for his, working him free from the soft bonds at his wrists and casting the fabric aside. “But you are right; we’ve done nothing to make pups.” He reaches for the ties at Stepan’s waist, pulls them loose, and pushes the fabric aside. “We ought to get started now.”

He pushes off his own coverings, but Stepan does not look. If he doesn’t look, his body cannot lock up at the thought of the intrusion. He can relax enough to keep it from hurting. To keep from being torn apart.

His master has other plans for their coupling, catching up Stepan’s hand and wrapping it around the alpha’s half-hard cock. He guides Stepan in rubbing him to full hardness, tiny moans and soft praise falling from his lips, breath hot against his skin. “Good omega. Yes, touch just like that.”

Finally ready, he boxes Stepan in with his arms, and ruts first against his cunt, just enough wetness there to ease his way and coat his cock. “Even scared you smell so sweet,” he whispers, dipping to nose at his mating gland. “So sweet.” He shifts his hips, and the head of his cock nudges against Stepan’s entrance. He only waits a moment, long enough to whisper, “Deep breaths, my omega,” before thrusting forward.

Stepan gasps, is sure he is being split apart, and moans, “Dominus, please…”

“It will only hurt a little while. Your body will learn.” He stays buried inside, watching Stepan breathe, waiting for him to calm. Only then does he move his hips, picking up speed until he spills hot, his knot tying them fast.

Gathering Stepan to him, he rolls onto his side and holds him close, bringing one of Stepan’s legs over his hip, which opens his cunt enough to relieve a little bit of the pressure there. “Rest, my sweet. Once we untie, we shall bathe and eat. Then this afternoon we shall treat with your father.”

Stepan nods. He has done his duty. His people shall have peace.

part 2

[graysparrowao3]

OK, this is a really silly idea but… Rugan “meeting the parents” aka bumping into Aradin’s dad in the Fugue plane/wherever two bit criminals go in the Faerûn system. Or via speak with dead. (Maybe there’s some information they need to get out of his corpse?)

First of all, not silly at all! I know a few people have had similar ideas coming at it from various angles (shoutout to @fangbanger3000 @faerie-with-a-knife @benicemurphy!)

Second of all, thank you so much for these amazing thoughts! I didn't suppose there'd be a response, this got me so excited!

Third of all... oh. my. gods. Yes. Yesssss! What if... what if we can somehow turn this into a chapter of the ongoing fic?

I'm picturing a scenario where they have to somehow, as you say, interact with Aradin's dad... but maybe it also turns out that this is not the first time that he and Rugan have technically met, and what if we also put in the origin of the original open the bloody gates!

What do you think of something like this as a trial snippet?

Rugan took a breath. “Something you ought to know." His hands had raised instinctively. "That’s not the first time we’ve met. Though, met might be a strong word for it.”

“Try to kill him too, did ya?”

“Not exactly.”

There was a beat of silence before Aradin’s eyes widened.

“No.” He took several steps back, sickened hand searching for a weapon. “No… no, absolutely not. If you tell me you shagged my dad I’m not sure which of the three of us I’ll kill first.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Rugan scowled. “Nothing like that. Long time ago, on a job. Don’t even really know what it was about. Some estate or other, I remember that, owned by one of these rich toffs that have statues in their garden, big wrought entryway to the grounds. Guards were already taken care of, all I had to do was make sure the gate stayed closed while the business was being done. Your old man showed up with what I assume was his crew. Tried to break it open but the thing was designed to keep people out, not in. He wouldn’t stop hollering, that’s how I got a good look at him. Best I could tell he was going to take the brunt of whatever fallout the Network was causing inside.”

Aradin nodded appropriately, it was a reasonable enough story. Just enough vague detail recalled from two decades or so in the past. Everyone playing their part. The Zhentarim doing what it is they do, Rugan managing to cheese his way through an otherwise potentially deadly scenario, his old man failing to do what he was supposed to. Nothing ever changes.

Except maybe a few more lines on his face. Wonder if he wore his hair the same back then, skulking about in the dark, guarding the gate.

“Hang on…” Aradin’s eyelids twitched, a spark flickered behind them. “Say that again, your part in the heist.”

“Keep watch mostly,” Rugan scratched at the stubble on his chin as he strained his memory. “Hold the post. Not let anyone in, up to and including your old man.”

Aradin blinked, then stared. A comical glare of suspicion slapped across his face, it took a moment for his stunned brain to re-engage.  Eventually some incredulous words managed to growl their way out of Aradin’s mouth.

“...are you telling me you wouldn’t open the bloody gate?”