charmac · 6 months ago
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just wanna say I agree wholeheartedly with your tags on that fandom post. I have been following sunny on here since 2015 and there is a constant cycle of sensitive, and frankly delusional people, who claim the show, make crazy headcanons and justifications to make it tolerable and acceptable to them before they eventually shun and condemn the show altogether. it was very bad in 2018 and made me withdraw from the fandom lmao. I remember being most annoyed with the endless woobifying of charlie and the absolute condemnation of dee above everyone else. like, they're all bad. that's the point of the show. I just don't understand how they could stomach it in the first place
You are a warrior, dude.
The reason it took me so long to join Sunnyblr in the first place was the fact that ~early 2020 I was rarely seeing anything here that was based in canon, mostly weird headcanons that made no sense to me, and Reddit genuinely seemed like a more based place to exist for this show.
I literally needed a friend to give me specific accounts to follow because the tag was (and, sorry, lowkey still is) a nightmare. (Though to be fair I’ve been in fandoms on Tumblr for over a decade and literally never liked scrolling tags.)
I got into Sunny and I fell in love with Sunny because of canon. Because it’s so fucking weird and fucked up but it’s FUNNY, and there’s genuinely nothing like it. The characters are horrible stupid terrible people but they’re actually deeply complex and rich to study, so much so that you feel extremely compelled in a multitude of ways to dedicate yourself to some part of them, or all parts of them. But.. if you strip them of those core identities, of what the characters stand for, that compulsion is gone, void, irrelevant.
Because it’s the extremely raw, almost purely acting on basic instinct, unfiltered humanity, worst parts of the self, inability to recognise or follow societal norms aspects of these characters that are relatable. It’s relatable in a way that *should* make you uncomfortable, feel unsettled, and maybe a little relieved that these parts of people can be acknowledged... That’s a unique and interesting feeling, something people engage with media like this to explore and expand upon, and it’s often something that genuinely helps or supports people who wrestle with a lot of the heavy concepts Sunny satirises (and sometimes just, shoves at you head on).
When people start to disregard all of this, for whatever reason they do, that’s when you end up with the Fandom using Sunny Characters as an “ability to project” or (much worse) a “near blank canvas to play with” (because, yeah, if you strip them of their literal reason for being created and continued existence, ofc you lose their whole identity!?)
The problem seems to be that either 1) they just don’t understand the show well enough to get that they’re disregarding this aspect of the plots and characters, and so they genuinely don’t recognise that the fandom for Sunny exists because of these terrible compulsions and insane trauma exploration and that’s why we enjoy discussing and playing with these characters or 2) they do understand this but they can’t engage with it without some kind of personal moral conundrum or extreme discomfort, so they have to sanitise or completely alter the characters to enjoy them.
The thing is, if you fall into category 2, you just don’t belong in the depths of it all, and it’s an unfortunate truth you have to face. If you cannot enjoy canon, if the actual show makes you extremely uncomfortable and you’re only here for a gay ship or to project your gender and sexuality onto one character, you need to go stan something else. I say that with the greatest intentions for you. As Anon here has stated, it’s an insane cycle in this fandom over and over, you’re just going to upset yourself and resent the show and the people here, because we like the canon and the fuckery because that’s what the show is for. That is the literal point of the show at the end of the day.
Now if you’re in category 1, I heavily encourage you to actually *talk to people about the show and the characters*, read analysis, watch the episodes with different frames of reference and in alternate states of mind. Do your own analysis or character work, try and just write out the plot of your favourite episode and put to words *why* you like it. Hell, try and write a fanfic or a spec script from the mind of one of the characters, even if you think you can’t write.
Honestly, honestly, honestly, if you genuinely like this show at face value but you’re only engaging with fanon because you feel like you ‘shouldn’t’ openly enjoy the canon because it’s seen as ‘bad,’ the best thing you can do is have a conversation with someone, or multiple people, who get the show.
That being said, I do wanna open this shell Discord I’ve made to people. For people who *enjoy* the canon, who want to discuss actual Sunny (and also have fun with it, of course!) you’re welcome to join.
A lot of you get it. I’ve made some amazing friends in this fandom and regularly have extremely stimulating and insanely throught provoking convos with the people I’ve met here. I love it, it drives my insane passion for this show and I am eternally grateful to have found people who love this show for what it is. I hope, if you’re struggling to figure out why you like this show or struggling to accept that you like media like Sunny, you reach out or join a conversation and learn to love it too. And if you don’t, if you genuinely hate the canon of this show and only like the version of Macdennis you saw in a dozen different Tiktok edits to Taylor Swift songs, I really hope you move on for your own sake.
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inquisitornocturn · 4 months ago
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⊱─ 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕣𝕠𝕒𝕕𝕤 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕕 ─⊰
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➺ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Cazador Szarr x f!tiefling reader the Dark Urge
➺ 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: no y/n is used, rating - E, POV second person, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, canon-typical violence (when it comes to Cazador that is), graphic depictions of violence, sadism, smut, inappropriate use of Mage Hand spell, non-con, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, asphyxiation, grinding on a boot (sort of), dubcon, painful injury, tongue wound, bleeding, hair pulling, humiliation, degradation kink, PiV, rough sex, vampire bites, blood drinking, creampie.
➺ 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: A former Bhaalspawn, now aimless, you wander Faerun until you get a letter from no other than Cazador Szarr, beckoning for you to visit him. You're not sure why, he's not the man to show gratitude even if you did give him Astarion and helped him Ascend, nor he is the one to suddenly feel grateful years later after the fact, but you feel a pull to learn why the Vampire Ascendant wants you back in Baldur's Gate. So you return, too arrogant to realize that you're walking into a dragon's den.
➺ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 11,225
𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: This was written for the wonderful, supportive and always amazing @velvolktra. Thank you for being just an incredible human being, and for matching my freak lol♡~
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Baldur’s Gate.
Disgusting little city that you poured energy in saving. And what for? For these peasants to stroll the streets, smile and laugh with no gratitude? Hero of the City, ptui, maybe they would get some actual semblance of real gratitude if they built a temple for you instead of this meager statue.
You look at it with your face upturned, eyes squinting in the sun and the gentle late spring breeze in your hair. You see the visage of you, actually quite closely resembling your image, carved out of stone with precision. Your unblinking eyes gazing over the city and onto the sea, your hand victoriously raised in a fist, your expression made to be determined but still gentle, your other hand holds a banner of Baldur’s Gate. You nearly spit at the feet of the statue from annoyance, the pigeons lingering on your stone horns only irritate you further.
For a moment you wonder how often the city servants have to scrub the statue to make it look so clean even years after the big battle, but you don’t linger on this as you gaze down the statue’s form, despising even the armor they carved upon your body. You don’t remember much of your past, but you do remember everything since you woke up in that damn squid ship, and you know for a fact you never wore armor.
Maybe you should go and talk to the current Duke, demand that they change the statue if they want to have one displayed for you in the first place. Maybe, but not now. You’re here for a reason and that reason is not to bicker with people who are below you, who should be groveling at your feet, but instead barely recognize you as they pass you while you’re standing right in front of the idol erected in your honor.
When you finally peel your scrutinizing gaze away from the monument, you look around, doing your best to ignore the people that seem to be crawling the park like pests. You’re close now, to the Palace Szarr, but you’re in no rush. It’s enough already that you came at all after receiving the letter.
You have it with you, in your small travel bag hanging off your shoulder, and you pause digging through it. The paper stained and bent after being shoved among other items for weeks, but when you open the envelope and pull out the letter itself, the elegant yet sharp lettering is still as black as the day it was penned down, telling you to come for a visit. Telling you to witness the fruits of your subordinance.
At first you didn’t even consider coming back. You have no reason to visit Baldur’s Gate again, not after you saved the damned city only to save yourself, and especially not after you rejected your murderous daddy before he stripped you of your powers in retaliation. Withers, that dusty corpse, revived you when Bhaal took your life along with your abilities, spouting something about destinies and doing good.
Doing good. You smirk at the thought of the memory, because you don’t think you have done a single relatively good thing since you left the Sword Coast.
Still, the letter found you and so did your memories of Cazador Szarr, the man who seemed to be a better ally than most. At least he kept his end of the deal after you brought his sweet wayward son back and watched him explode into a cloud of blood mist and gore the moment Vampire Lord closed his fingers around his prize – the Ascension. You were only mildly angry with him for not showing up at the final battle, but the minions he sent to aid you were enough, obviously, otherwise you would not be standing here today, basking in the sun in the middle of a freshly rebuilt Gate.
You stuff the letter into the envelope and that you shove back into your bag, rising your eyes to the greenery around you and pushing a lose strand of hair out of your eyes that the soft wind blew there. You’re not quite sure why you decided to heed letter’s invitation and return, you left because there was nothing for you here, because you wanted to see what’s out there. Between the lost memories of being stuck in the Temple of Bhaal and present memories of fighting your way through enemies to get rid of the damn worm that was lodged in your brain – you realized you didn’t actually see anything in your life before, for however long you lived it. So you picked up what was left of your belongings after Orin’s reign in the Temple, and left.
For years you traveled all around Faerûn, trying to find something, that purpose that you can’t quite grasp even now. Some strange yearning is gripping your heart and you try to find something to alleviate the discomfort that’s firmly lodged in the middle of your chest, but so far you haven’t found what it is. The cure evades you, whatever it is.
With a deep sigh you begin walking, knowing full well where the palace is so you head there, navigating among people, making sure no idiot manages to snatch or step on your tail. You haven’t seen another tiefling since your arrival and while nobody is exactly staring at you, even despite your fame and legacy, you still doubt that these people are accustomed to avoiding sensitive limbs that they themselves never had to experience.
One thing you notice as you make your way towards the main entrance of Cazador’s home, is that the city seems to be full of life. Not only with spring bringing nature back to full bloom, but with people. You see races of all kinds, children running around and goods being sold by traveling vendors. There are bard songs in the air and laughter. There’s music and countless smiles. It looks like since the partial destruction of the city and your departure the population grew. You smile to yourself, imagining how the vampire coven must be thriving with so many veins to bleed.
You pass a stall and grab an apple from it with your tail when the man selling them doesn’t pay attention, then grip it with your fingers firmly and bite into it, chewing as you look around, noticing all the changes that have been made since you set your foot in these streets years ago. You have to admit, Baldur’s Gate is growing and becoming… well, maybe not nicer, it’s still a slum in your opinion, but cleaner. You can give the city at least this kind of compliment.
By the time you arrive at the main Szarr gate you get rid of the apple and now look upon the palace that you entered only couple of times before. First to negotiate with Cazador, then to bring wonderfully clueless Astarion back to his master and then once more, after the final battle was done, to finalize the deal you two have made. You parted ways quite cordially and the Vampire Lord did tell you that you can come visit, saying how he would not turn away one woman who actually knows how to get a job done. But disgruntled that he still saw you no more than his servant you never came back, instead leaving Baldur’s Gate entirely.
But now you are back.
Standing in front of the gate of Cazador’s home.
If not for your curiosity to know why he wants you here, and you doubt that he went through the trouble of finding you just to tell you to come by and witness his glory, you would not have bothered. Well, that’s at least what you tell yourself. Despite your pride and your ego, your heart did leap in your chest when you saw who exactly signed off the letter.
But he still better have a very good reason to make you drag yourself back. That’s what you tell yourself when you push open the gate and approach the door, knocking on it. It only takes a moment before it is opened and you see a spawn, her red glowing eyes studying your face for a moment before she lets you in, staying in the shadows as the sun threatens to touch her.
When you walk inside you look around. Before there were heavy curtains everywhere, covering the windows and preventing any chance of sunlight possibly sneaking inside like a silent assassin, but now the place is bright and full of light. Everything looks spotless and golden décor glints softly in the sun’s rays. For the first time you realize – it’s beautiful here.
“Please follow me.” The female spawn shuts the door behind you and scurries in front of you, avoiding to look at your face. It puzzles you, but only for a moment, because you have to start walking and keep up with the woman who seems to be in utter hurry to deliver you to her master.
You don’t mind, in fact you’re growing more impatient with every step, and while you do appreciate the paintings that adorn the walls depicting scenes of nightmares as you pass, enjoying the tasteful horror of them, it’s still no use in lying to yourself – you are dying to know why you’re here. And you can’t guess the answer even with the help of changes that you see. Just like Baldur’s Gate, the palace also changed. Maybe not in how it’s furbished, but in the number of servants you see. Some of them even wear same clothes, showing their status as official part of the Szarr family, however lowly that status may be.
When you’re led to the massive door that opens up to the ballroom, you are not surprised to see it filled with sunshine either. Neither you are surprised to see Cazador himself in his throne-like chair, listening to a man tell him something in hushed whispers. After you enter the room, the man stops and the woman that led you here bows deeply to her master and without another word walks off.
Briefly you glance in her direction, perplexed by such behavior, but you turn back to Cazador and see him wave the man away. When he passes you after bowing as well, you notice his glowing eyes. Another spawn. Looks like the Vampire Lord quickly grew his coven since sacrificing thousands of them for more power.
“So you have come.” He says, not exactly a greeting but you don’t mind.
“You wanted me to come. Care to explain why I’m here?” you ask with irritation clear in your voice as you approach the few stairs that elevate his seat above the ballroom floor. When you’re closer you see Cazador’s relaxed body language, his arrogant smirk and eyes, narrowed, as his gaze inspects you from head to toe.
“You haven’t changed much.” Every word coming out of his mouth sounds like mockery and your frown deepens at that.
“I’m not exactly out there looking to get my eyes plucked out.” You snap back, making vampire rise his eyebrows in feigned surprise.
“Really? And here I thought that without protection of your father you’d soon end up in a ditch somewhere.” He taunts and you ball your fingers into fists, trying to keep your temper in check, but your tail betrays you as it swishes behind you in couple clearly annoyed movements. “Now, now, no need for your attitude, Bhaalspawn.”
“I’m not a Bhaalspawn anymore.” You immediately shoot back and Cazador chuckles, rising from his chair and for a moment you are taken aback by his height and the imposing stature that could cast a shadow over you like your worst nightmare if he chose to become one.
“No? What are we if not children of our fathers?” Szarr asks and takes one step, then another, heading towards you. “You may be free of his urges, but you will never be free of his legacy.” He grins as he speaks and you’re not sure if he is trying to anger you on purpose or is this what he truly thinks. But you do remember his speeches about family, you remember how he insisted that those he had doomed from the moment of creation are his children.
Maybe he’s not wrong.
“I didn’t come all the way here to talk about Bhaal.” You cross arms on your chest and tap your foot impatiently. His eyes give you a dangerous look for a split second before he stops in front of you with an eyebrow raised and arrogance etched in every pore of his face.
“Then maybe we should talk about how deliciously treacherous you are even to those who consider you a friend?”
For a moment - memories of countless betrayals flood your mind as if you’re flipping through a book written in sin, but then it quickly dawns on you.
“Astarion?” you rise your eyebrows, forgetting your annoyance for the time being and Cazador’s head bobs in a taunting gesture.
“Have you forgotten about the boy so quickly?” he asks and you roll your eyes now.
“Why would I remember him?”
Cazador only laughs in response and begins walking again.
“Come.” Is the only thing he says and confused you follow him with your eyes only before your legs start moving.
“What about him?” you can help but wonder while you trail Cazador, but the vampire seems not to care to answer your questions, only irritating you more. “Did you want me here just to talk about Astarion?” you try again, growing impatient with each step, not really caring to notice where he is leading you – to his study, the door that Astarion himself told you no spawn were ever allowed to pass, except this time the door is ajar with cold invitation.
“Shut up for a moment, you idiot girl!” Cazador snaps back at you and you grit your teeth.
“I just want an answer.” You reply and that makes Szarr stop and spin to you, his eyes narrow this time not from amusement but from anger.
“Stop your yapping before you regret it.” He threatens like you’re one of his servants and stares straight into your eyes that are defiant and furious, but for reason unknown even to yourself – you remain silent. “Better.” Cazador doesn’t seem to be actually pleased, his temper was always easy to provoke, and it’s clear you nearly did just that so maybe that’s why you instinctively obeyed. After all, Cazador is the Vampire Ascendant, who knows what he can do besides walking in the sun’s rays, which you confirmed for yourself when you watched him pass the windows just moments ago.
Couple seconds tick by as he looks you in the eyes, waiting for you to defy him again, but when that doesn’t come - his lips twitch in an emerging snarl that he manages to control in time, then turns from you again and passes the doorway. Wordlessly he gestures for you to get onto the dais and you pause, your eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“What’s down there?” you ask, not putting even a single toe on the platform just yet, and you hear Cazador push air through his nose, then he turns to you with a dangerous smile on his lips.
“You’ve been there before, you know what’s down there.”
“What I’m going to see there?” you ask again and Cazador waves his hand at you dismissively.
“I don’t remember you being so scared before.” He mocks with that same grin and you frown.
“I’m not scared, I’m being cautious. I haven’t forgotten what you are.”
“No, of course not. Now stop acting like a child and come.” He instructs with his voice clearly strained in attempt to be patient and you hesitate for a moment longer, then step onto the platform, keeping your distance from Cazador.
The moment you’re on it, the dais begins to move, lowering you and Cazador down. You look at him in a moment of silence, eyeing his expensive looking clothes, the doublet he’s wearing, the embroidery on it. Rats, like the ones on the massive steel door in front of the ballroom.
With a couple of lurches the dais finally comes to a stop and you look down the corridor that hasn’t changed even a bit since the day you brought Astarion back to Cazador. Betrayal, he says, but you don’t see it that way, you never did. You just did what you needed to do to gain a powerful ally so that you could get rid of the damned tadpole. Sure, you gambled, maybe Cazador could’ve changed his mind and killed you with Astarion, but no, he kept his end of the bargain and not only let you go, but also helped you out. Maybe he was wary of Bhaal still in your veins, maybe letting you go after the battle was over and you no longer carried the corrupted divine within you, was done not out of mercy or good will, but because he simply didn’t want to bother. You wonder if the vampire would answer if you asked him. You doubt it.
With the dais nestled in its landing spot, Cazador begins walking, his hands clasp behind his back as he strolls with pride towards the stairs that you know lead to the ritual chamber. Your head swivels as you inspect the dungeon, but you don’t see any change whatsoever and the door that you know once led to Cazador’s private room, the one with Vellioth’s skull with which you had a pleasant chat, is closed with magic once again.
“Are you preparing for another ritual?” you can’t help but ask, feeling slightly awkward in silence that is only filled with yours and his footsteps, but as you now pass the empty cages scrubbed clean from blood, you realize that even if he is, it’s not the same one as the Rite of Profane Ascension.
Of course, why would it be.
“In a way.” Cazador’s reply is cryptic and his tone of voice drips with sarcasm. It puzzles you and you look at him for a moment before you have to watch your feet as you both begin to descend the steps.
The vampire doesn’t pause, just keeps leading you downwards. At one moment you have to duck as a swarm of bats fly right over your head but avoid the master himself, and when you are finally at the bottom of the stairs you see a familiar view – the ritual platform with his coffin still there. But Cazador doesn’t stop, he leads you forwards and you follow him, noticing the blood flowing beneath the golden grates, flowing towards direction of his coffin and giving it an eerie sanguine glow from below.
Your mouth opens, you want to ask another question, but finally the Vampire Lord stops right in the middle of the ritual circle. When you stop as well, you still see the infernal runes etched into the stone, now cold and still, unlike how they glowed when Cazador let you witness the birth of the Vampire Ascendant. It was a sight to behold, you have to give him that, the one you quite enjoyed as well. You always liked the smell of blood and that day the air was thick with it, as seven thousand and seven souls got sent straight to the hells.
All to make him a vampire unlike history has ever seen.
“Do you remember, Bhaalspawn, the moment of my Ascension?” Cazador asks and your eyes snap from the floor to his back. You see that his face is upturned and you glace upwards too, seeing the ceiling of the cavern. When your eyes land on the back his head, he spreads his arms as if reliving the greatest moment of his life. “Do you remember how he screamed before he died? How all of them screamed?”
You smile, of course you remember. You step closer to Cazador, sensing that he’s about to tell you the reason why you’re here.
“I do. It was beautiful. Magnificent.” You exhale at the memory, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment, your smile becoming wider. You remember clearly because you looked Astarion straight in the eyes as he screamed, as his body began to deform and as he eventually exploded, becoming nothing but a pile of guts on the ground by the end of it.
“You did me a favor then.” Cazador’s voice snaps you out of your memory and you open your eyes to find him now facing you, his look is curious because he most likely saw the ecstatic expression on your face and he most likely suspects what kind of memory brought that kind of expression about.
“It was beneficial for both of us. I got a powerful ally for the battle, you got to Ascend.” You give him a small shrug, trying to sound like it’s no big deal for you. And in truth – it wasn’t. You don’t have a single regret about giving Astarion away, because by the time you arrived to the city, the pale elf was beginning to get on your nerves, begging to be gutted somewhere on the side of the road.
“Maybe so, but not many would betray their allies, their friends.” Cazador tilts his head slightly to the side, a satisfied smirk on his lips and his hands by his sides – a perfect image of a non-threatening man, but you know better. Despite Astarion’s shortcomings you believe his stories about his master’s cruelty and short temper.
“He wasn’t a friend.” You correct Cazador and he raises an eyebrow at your words. “He was an ally of convenience. When that convenience came to an end – I made a new ally.” You now gesture to Cazador and he chuckles, a low, menacing sound that makes a shiver run down your spine and you’re not sure if out of caution or… something else.
“Delightful.” Szarr comments, his fangs looking as sharp as ever when he smiles or speaks, and you wonder how it would feel to be a vampire. You’ve been a Bhaalspawn already, surely being a vampire can’t be worse, but maybe under Cazador’s heavy boot – it can be. “Still, it’s rare to find… allies worth having, especially nowadays. And to find such ally in no other than a hero of Baldur’s Gate was a twist not even I have expected.”
“I’m a hero to peasants and idiots. I only did it to save myself.” You respond and surprisingly this makes Cazador laugh. It’s a slow, arrogant laugh, coming deep from his chest, and you find yourself blushing slightly because you don’t think you said anything funny.
“Isn’t that right.” He says and offers you his hand. You look at it, hesitating, not taking it. “Do you know how hard it is to find useful allies?” Cazador asks and the way he keeps using the word ‘allies’ makes you feel like he’s taunting you again for saying it earlier, but you ignore it. “And how much harder it is to find spawn who are worthy of serving?”
What?
Your eyes snap to Cazador’s face and the grin now looks less arrogant and more dangerous. Your mind begins to reel, putting the puzzle pieces together as he keeps talking, now making one careful step towards you, then another, a predator in action.
“One thing I overlooked the last time I saw you, was the influence you could have if I only had you at my disposal. Your word could sway even the Duke, I’m sure of it.”
Unknowingly you begin stepping backwards, your heart racing in your chest and your eyes widening the longer Cazador speaks.
“You want me to speak to the Duke?” you ask because you hope that it’s all he wants, but the unwavering grin on vampire’s face immediately tells you that’s not the whole truth.
“Yes. As my spawn.”
Immediately your eyes narrow. Fight or flight - you choose the former. You always do.
Your knees bend in preparation for a leap, your claws ready to slash and rip, and you jump towards Cazador, seeing his face, aiming for his throat. You denied Bhaal, you won’t be enslaved by another demi-god wannabe.
But the moment your feet leave the stone underneath as you vault yourself at your sudden enemy, he makes just one step forward and with a single strike with the side of his clenched fist he brings you down, your back slamming onto the ground with a thud that pushes air out of your lungs.
You attempt to scramble to your feet before you feel a kick to the side and you cry out from pain.
“I knew you would fight, that’s why I didn’t proceed to turn you up there. You can make such a mess from what I have heard.” Cazador ridicules you and with a huff you try to get up again but another kick to the same side takes your breath away once more, especially so because this time the kick is strong enough to make your body rise in the air and turn, landing you on your stomach.
You hear his laughter, cruel and cold, while you get to your hands and knees, trying to crawl away now. Fear, something you have long forgotten, begins to grip at your chest. Fear that you’re not leaving this dungeon alive.
But before you can get any further, your chest slams into the hard stone again as Cazador pushes you down with his boot on your back, sharp heel of it digging painfully into your spine and you wince.
“Let me go!” you shout, your voice disappearing into the air without even an echo, and the vampire just chuckles, the weight of his boot increasing as he leans down. You gasp when you feel him grab one horn and yank your head back so that he can look you in the face.
“Oh Bhaalspawn, you have no power to fight me.” Cazador jeers with sly boasting in his every word. “Although I don’t think you would be able to fight me even if you were still your father’s rabid lapdog.” He chuckles and pulls harder on your horn, making your spine bend in an arch that makes your muscles tremble from pain.
“Stop!” you cry out now, desperate to be released and your tail moves as if on its own, wrapping around his wrist that holds your horn, but with other hand he quickly grabs it and yanks on it so hard you hear an unpleasant crunch.
You yell at the sensation, tears gathering in your eyes and you wait for worse to come, maybe Cazador really breaking your tail, but he suddenly releases both and you collapse onto the floor panting and sweating, your body screaming at you with pain that radiates through every tendon.
“Stop.” You beg this time, your eyes heavy lidded as you try to recover and a trail of saliva leaks out of the corner of your mouth because you can’t seem to close it, still gasping for air.
“No, not yet. I need you to realize something.” Cazador’s boot lifts from your back but you can’t move, not yet, you need couple seconds more, maybe then you have another fighting chance against the monster that so easily lured you down here.
“What?” you ask, hoping that if you have him talking - he won’t be as vigilant about your possible attempt at escape.
“That I prefer my spawn obedient.”
Before you can truly realize what’s going on, you hear fabric rip and only a moment later you comprehend that it’s your dress that is being ripped. You rise your head, quickly lifting yourself on your hands and look back in horrified awe as you watch three mage hands tear your clothes away. Even your bag gets tossed aside and skids nearly off the edge of the platform.
“You bastard!” You shout and get to your knees, trying to stand up but one of the mage hands moves quickly and pushes your chest down to the floor just like Cazador’s boot did before.
Instead of words, an arrogant chuckle first reaches your ears as you make a sound of angry frustration, your claws scraping at the stone as you try to lift yourself and simply can’t. Your hips in the air provide an easy angle for the magical limbs to remove last of your clothing. Before Cazador speaks you feel even your shoes being dragged off your feet, leaving you completely and utterly naked in front of him.
“You will learn to address me appropriately, but I’ll ignore it this once.” He says like it’s a mercy he’s granting you and you clench your teeth for a moment. Your face is burning with shame at being exposed like this and your tail tries to swat the other two mage hands that are holding your hips in place and in the air.
Suddenly your tail gets caught and by the cold touch you can tell it’s Cazador himself that has snatched it again. Then he yanks it upwards, making the base of it bend painfully once more. You cry out from the sensation, trying to scramble away or at least alleviate the suffering in your vertebrae, but you can’t, the spectral hands are holding you better than chains would.
“Wet already? I suspected someone like you might enjoy pain.” Cazador mocks and you freeze, your eyes widening with horror. He can’t be right, can he?
And yet when you feel his finger a sharp point of his nail trace along your slit you know he didn’t lie, you feel your arousal being smeared on your skin and you blush heavily. Partially from anger and partially because you feel the unwelcome sensation of desire beginning to burn below your stomach.
“It means nothing!” You shoot back with your teeth clenching immediately after you finish your sentence, because Vampire Lord starts inserting one digit into your cunt. You whine because slow penetration of his sharp nail feels dangerous, too close to real damage for it to be comfortable and sensual, he would just need to curl his finger and you would bleed.
“Nothing? I think it means everything. Lost without your father, an aimless daughter, wandering the land with no purpose. I’ll give you that purpose.” Cazador’s tone loses the mocking undertones because they get replaced with strange possessiveness.
His finger proceeds to embed itself in your body to the knuckle and you grind your jaw with both fury and fear. Fury because he has you at his mercy, fear because you know he’s a master at inflicting pain, more pain than you know you could handle. “But first you need to be shown that you ought to serve.”
The finger moves in your cunt slowly, one thrust, two, three, then Cazador pulls it out and your body relaxes. You didn’t even notice until now how firmly you were clenching around his digit, as if in hopes to prevent him from harming you. But your tail gets released too and you move it down, to try and cover yourself at least in this small, insignificant way, wrapping the end of it around your own leg in a way to comfort yourself.
But then you hear footsteps as Cazador walks around you in just three of them. At first you only see his shoes and pants, then your horn gets gripped again, your head yanked backwards and your nails try to cling to slippery, polished stone to no avail. And then your eyes meet the crimson gaze of his, you see the ever-present smirk on his face and you grimace from pain when the vampire makes your neck arch uncomfortably.
“Open your mouth.” He commands and you pause for a second, your eyes widening again for a brief moment before you frown even more. You press your lips together and now see Cazador’s own frown spelling danger as he glares at you. “I said open. Don’t make this difficult.”
You don’t listen, you don’t want to listen, you don’t have to listen. Even if you are aroused that doesn’t mean you will obey his every command, that’s not who you are and he should know better. As you glare back at him, still with one magical hand pressing your chest painfully to the ground, you barely pay attention to other two such hands. One keeps your hips up, but second one moves without you noticing, and then it makes you cry out. You feel ghostly fingers, two of them, thrust themselves into your cunt and then another one – right into your other hole.
You cry out and thus you open your mouth. With a sly grin Cazador shoves a finger into your maw, rubbing it against your tongue and you immediately taste yourself. His eyes gleam with conceit the moment realization comes to you and you flush harder, you simply can’t help it. The spectral hand begins to thrust its fingers into your holes and you mewl because the vampire makes you suck on his own digit. Maybe instinctively, maybe because you really want this, you do as he wishes, wrapping your lips around his finger and swirling your forked tongue, cleaning his skin from remnants of yourself.
“Perhaps you will be a fast learner.” Cazador muses as if to himself, watching you suck on his finger like it’s your newfound religion. “We shall see.”
You turn your gaze away from him and try not to moan, your throat swallowing the saliva that’s quickly pooling in your mouth around his finger. It’s hard keep quiet and your tail wraps around your leg tighter in a reminder to not give in, but you can barely hold on as is. Something about how Cazador is treating you is making every muscle in your body uncoil and every nerve in your brain dull from desire. The ghostly fingers work your holes and you shiver, feeling moisture dripping down your inner thigh from your body submitting itself to the pleasure despite your mind commanding it not to.
Suddenly Cazador pulls his finger from between your lips and you gasp, instinctively following it with your mouth but how he’s gripping your horn prevents you from moving more than an inch. He scoffs, as if judging you for your eagerness, and releases your horn, letting your chin drop to the cold floor, then straightens his back. Vampire’s eyes flick to the side of you and you moan when the spectral fingers retreat, leaving your body with a sensation of emptiness. Realization of just how much you enjoyed this torment crashes on you like a wave and you blush like you haven’t in your life before.
“So this is your plan? To fuck me into submission?” you ask, still unable to look at him, and Cazador scoffs again, but this time louder and with surprise you feel the mage hands releasing you.
With shaky arms you begin to push yourself upwards, seeing Vampire Lord’s shoes still in front of you before you rise your eyes.
“That’s enough of a plan for a feral animal such as yourself.” His words cut you deeply and you grit your teeth, slowly getting on all fours because your strained muscles scream from tension even when you unwrap your tail from around your own thigh.
“How dare you-“ your words get stuck in your throat when a hand appears in front of you and grips your neck with such speed that you barely see it.
Your eyes widen and you gasp couple times for air, unable to inhale, feeling how the magical hand pulls you by your neck upwards, making you kneel. Your fingers shoot to your throat, trying to grasp at the ghostly hand that is utilized not unlike a collar in this moment, but then the other two grab your wrists and bend your arms with no regard for your pain. You grunt with frustration and effort to fight them, but to no avail, soon your hands are pinned to the small of your back and you snarl at Cazador, who’s smug expression is beginning to drive you crazy.
When you’re finally wrangled into position he obviously envisioned for you, the grip on your throat relents and you inhale deeply, nearly beginning to cough, greedily sucking air into your lungs because you don’t know if you will be forbidden it again.
“Down.” Cazador commands and you narrow your eyes at him, your lips parted and your teeth clenched so hard you can hear them near squeak from pressure.
“Caz-���
“DOWN, YOU DOG!” He suddenly bellows and you immediately sit, your naked rear pressing firmly to the stone, it sends a shiver through your body because of how cold it feels against your skin.
But the most terrifying thing is Cazador’s face. Full of fury, full of power. Your eyes widen because you sense something terrifying about him now, like a power that his body starts exuding because his emotions burst through. He waits for a moment longer, waiting for you to protest or talk back, but when you remain silent, with your heart beating fast in your chest and your entire body otherwise frozen in the moment, he lifts his arm and with a palm slicks back his hair. Couple of strands escaped his neat appearance when he shouted at you and he clearly will not allow this.
“If you act like a mongrel – I will treat you as such. Did Astarion tell you nothing?” he asks with irritation not disguised in his tone but he smirks again, composing himself once more and steps closer.
You keep watching his face with your breathing quick and shallow, your eyes trying to find any signs that might tell you if he’s about to show you rage again. You’re so focused on it that you don’t pay attention to how close Cazador is getting, his form towering over you and casting a shadow like an ominous sign. You want to tell him that you don’t understand why he’s doing it, but you do, you understand perfectly, because the chill that begins to seep into your bones from the stone floor make the realization abundantly clear to you.
Then the spectral hand around your throat tightens once again and you’re about to make a noise, to complain, maybe even bargain but before you can get one syllable out, you feel Cazador’s shoe between your legs, the nose of his boot pressing against your slit, smearing itself in your arousal and when you gasp in shock, the nose moves and rubs against your clit, pressing and rubbing against it too strong to be pure pleasure, but it’s pleasure nonetheless.
You press your lips into a thin line, embarrassed that this is enough to make you shiver with need and you look away from Cazador, turning your eyes to the side from his face and then flinch when he presses the boot against your sensitive nub harder, making you gasp.
“What do you want?” you ask, flicking you gaze back to your tormentor and Cazador grins widely, his eyes narrowing from genuineness of his expression.
“I want you to beg.”
The answer is simple but it takes a moment for you to process it. In your silence Cazador rubs his boot against your folds again and you cast your gaze down, shivering in response, watching black leather smear with your wetness. Cazador’s fingers grip your jaw, making you once again look up at him and he can see your heavy-lidded gaze. Despite your protests and defiance, your body and mind are succumbing to him, you know this too. With dread you realize that everything within screams to submit just as he wishes.
“You will beg, Bhaalspawn. And then I shall grant you one last mercy.” Vampire Lord speaks in half a whisper, his sharp nails digging into your skin.
“Mercy?” you ask because you can’t help yourself even though you suspect the answer already.
But Cazador doesn’t answer, he just grins at you.
“Open.” He commands like he did just earlier and you hesitate for a moment but slowly part your lips for him. Last time he shouted, this time he might not be as lenient in his displeasure. “Good, girl, good. You’re beginning to learn faster than I anticipated.” It’s not a compliment, not a praise, not really, more like small encouragement for you to keep obeying him or else.
While still holding your jaw, Cazador uses his other hand to raise it to your face, index finger extended, and then he puts it in your mouth. You wait, unsure what to expect when it presses your tongue down and you keep looking him in the eyes, seeing that sinister satisfaction spell danger. And then pain comes.
Vampire’s finger curls and you whine when his nail pierces your tongue, almost pinning it to the bottom of your mouth. You tremble but don’t move, frozen from sudden shock and agony that envelops your orifice in full. Blood quickly pools around your tongue and his finger, warm and coppery, and you feel it begin dripping down your chin, maybe it’s dripping down his hand too, you can’t see, your eyes now locked on the man in front of you.
Yet without a word he yanks his hand away like he’s suddenly disgusted by you, his grip leaving your jaw as well and you watch him straighten his back and look at his bloody hand just before you dip your head down and spit the blood on the floor with a painful shiver. Your tongue feels both throbbing from agony and numb at the same time, but when you glance at Cazador again, you watch him silently as he sticks out his own tongue and drags a bloody finger against it, satisfaction clouding his gaze for just a moment. Godsdamn vampire.
When his eyes flick to you they narrow, and you are not sure what to expect now, maybe more pain as you swallow the next mouthful of blood instead of spitting it out, but then his eyes sweep over your naked form and stop at the bottom. His shoe, still pressed between your legs, remain there for a second longer, then he pulls it back.
“Clean it.” He demands and with your head swimming from pain, you take another second to comprehend his words. In your confusion you don’t see his still bloody hand raise, you don’t register as he first swings it back, then towards you.
When his slick from crimson palm connects with your cheek you cry out, your head snapping to the side with force, your hair spilling over your face and more blood drip past your lips. Before you can gather your bearings, your hair is gripped, your head is pulled back, most of the hair falls away but some stick to bloody skin of your face and you gasp once, your swimming vision trying to anchor itself on something but before even that can happen, Cazador’s lips crash against yours.
You can barely understand what’s going on, but you feel him kiss you, the action more punishing than passionate, but you’re not sure of anything anymore. You whine at the back of your throat when his tongue enters through your parted lips and laps at the blood coating the inside of your mouth. The spectral hands tighten around you as if to make sure you don’t move even an inch without Cazador’s permission and you tremble, your body responding to the kiss on its own, your forked tongue caressing his and you hear him hum as if in approval or maybe it’s his own desire stirring at last.
Vampire Lord’s face then leans away from you, his eyes studying your face, the blood smeared on your cheek and chin and dripping down your neck. Your lips smeared in life’s ichor, just as his are, and he releases your jaw, his back straightening again.
“I said clean it.” Cazador repeats the command and your gaze follows his when it drops down, to the smeared leather of his shoe.
You glance up at him again, then down again, and feel the mage hand on your throat finally release you, bruised spots where the spectral fingers held throbbing with sore relief. You begin to bend down, the other two mage hands letting you do so even though they remain holding your wrists behind your back. You try to move your knees, position yourself so that you don’t drop face-first onto the marble the moment you get lower, and with the help of your tail you succeed.
The boot is right in front of your face now and you pause, swallowing heavily and still tasting blood when you do so, but you hang your wounded tongue out and begin using it, cleaning the shoe where you see moistness of your cunt dirtying his expensive footwear. Again you taste yourself, but this time leather too, and you make sure that everything is clean before you stop. When you do – you finally feel the remaining two mage hands disappear and you immediately move your hands, pressing your palms against the cold stone underneath you, as you feel your wrists throb in pain too.
“Good.” Cazador hums again, the boot disappears from your field of vision and you’re sure he’s inspecting your handiwork for a moment before he proceeds with a new way to make you submit. And while everything in you is telling you to do as he pleases, it will hurt less, it will be less degrading, but there’s still a part of you, the Bhaalspawn part that Cazador himself spoke to you about in a room just above, in the ballroom.
That part wants to put a fight, to try and escape, to run from him and to return later to kill him, if that’s even possible to someone like you, without dark powers of your father protecting you and making you a formidable enemy in battle. That matters none right now, details can be figured out later, first you just need to escape.
Slowly you rise yourself on your hands and look up at Cazador, watching him watch you, his gaze completely unreadable but the little smirk, as always tugging at his lips, tells you that he’s not done with you, not even close.
But then opportunity presents itself. The vampire turns his back to you, walking to his coffin for a brief moment and you quickly look around, seeing your discarded clothes tossed about the ritual platform, and you decide that you don’t care if you run naked. Silently and carefully you being to turn your body to the staircase that leads up to the dais, to your salvation. With a corner of your eye you keep watch on Cazador as he does something, you’re not sure what, his back covering whatever his hands are doing, but the moment comes when you have to focus on your plan and you look at the grand stair, wondering if you can be faster than a Vampire Ascendant or not.
You frown, ignoring the pain in your knees and wrists, ignoring the throbbing of your tongue and already swollen from the hit cheek, ignoring the humiliation that makes your insides clench from both anger and secret desire that you don’t want to acknowledge even to yourself, not yet at least, but you begin to rise from your hands and knees, preparing to sprint the moment your feet touch the ground, your tail taunt like an arrow.
The second you begin to rise, one knee still on the ground, you feel cold fingers wrap around your throat from behind, pulling your body backwards until your spine presses against Cazador’s chest. A small breath against your ear as your face becomes a mask of shock and fear, you didn’t even hear him get closer.
“Where do you think you’re going, disobedient pup?” he mocks and his nails dig into your skin, piercing it, making you wince.
Your hands fly to your throat, grasping at his fingers and wrist but failing to really get a grip, scratching his skin and leaving marks. You hear Cazador hiss with disapproval against your ear and then his fingers release you.
Immediately you scramble forwards but not for longer than a second before you feel your horns being gripped and pulled at. You have no choice but to clamber after the movement, trying to keep up, before you feel yourself being pulled off the ground. You yell in pain and terror, your fingers trying to make Cazador release his grasp on you, your tail swishing wildly, looking for something to hold onto when weight of your own body begins to pull you down, giving a feeling like your horns are being ripped out of your head. Tears gather in your eyes and spill down your face, leaving clean streaks on the blood-smeared skin. You see the promise of escape, the many steps that you took just to come here, for a moment longer, before your whole body is spun and flung.
You find yourself flying through the air for a split second before you crash to the ground with a painful thud and skid slightly, your talons wildly grasping at the floor until you come to a stop. Panting, you lift your head and see the looming shape of Cazador’s coffin facing you. You whine when you try to get up, your body now feeling bruised and sore all over, your skull throbbing around the horns, and you choke out a sob, finally and fully realizing that there’s no escape for you, not from him, not from Cazador Szarr.
This time you hear him walking closer, his boots sounding heavier than the weight of all the sins you have committed, and you look back at him, real terror reflected in your eyes as you see his smile that promises no salvation.
“Stop.” You beg this time, your lips tremble, your whole body is shaking and tears keep spilling down your face, running down your neck and to your chest. You’re unable to move even if you wish to, petrified when the weight of the situation finally catches up with you.
“You’ll have to do better than this.” Cazador taunts, he’s right behind you now and you expect more pain. A kick, a hit, maybe this time a broken bone, a ripped-out horn, mangled flesh.
But instead you see him kneel with one knee behind you, as if you’re a wounded dog he’s approaching with caution, but you remain frozen, still on all fours, not sure what he wants from you now.
“Come.” He offers you his hand and your eyes flick to it, then his eyes, trying to read vampire’s intentions, trying to understand what he wants to do to you now, but no answer comes. His expression looks almost kind, deceivingly so. “Come, I said.” Cazador’s tone grows harsher and you know by now that you have only a second to obey.
So you obey. You turn on all fours, not unlike the wounded dog he sees in you at this moment, and glance at his extended hand again, but before you can move closer and take it, Cazador moves and sits on the ground, splaying his legs, one hand behind him, palm pressed to the stone for support, and his other hand, now instead of being offered to you, waves at you, invitingly.
“Come.” A third command, empty of any tone indication and you get closer, crawling to him with fear in your heart and blood drumming in your ears. At least your tears stopped, for now.
You hesitate as you get close, but Cazador’s eyes remain unreadable while he pats his thigh as if you’re a pet. You obey again. By now you know that you have no choice.
“Turn around.” He mutters to you almost softly when you begin to search for a position to sit between his legs and you follow this command as well, turning around even though your sore body does not want to easily listen. Everything hurts but with resignation you sit.
The moment you do, you feel Cazador’s palms on your shoulders, pulling your back against his chest, then one arm wraps around your waist.
“Do you see it?” he asks and you look in front of you, seeing his stone coffin rise above you both, like a monument to vampire’s immortality.
“Yes.” You whisper after you swallow a lump in your throat. Talking hurts, your tongue is still radiating with pain, but you try your best as you sit on the ground, leaning against Cazador’s chest, your hands in your lap and your thighs pressed together for that last bit of dignity you pretend still having.
Sitting like this with him is not uncomfortable. You smell blood and a hint of decay, something you became familiar with when hanging around Astarion, but with Cazador this smell has become alluring. Despite your pain you grow aroused again, this time the fire in your abdomen is so hot it feels like it’s searing your skin from the inside. You press your thighs tighter but that doesn’t go unnoticed by the vampire. He doesn’t continue the thought he had, instead moving his head to look at your legs.
“Open them.” He says and you try not to obey, but your body listens even before your mind succumbs and you part your legs, smelling your arousal, seeing it glisten on your inner thighs and you hear Cazador scoff. “You’re easier than I thought, besides your rebellious streak that I will beat out of you sooner or later.”
He hums against your ear and his hand leaves your shoulder, his fingers now landing on your stomach, gently tracing down, and you almost squirm because you want him to touch you. Thoughts of danger swim in your head but you shove them away, not now, not again, and your own fingers grip the flesh of your thighs as Cazador’s hand slips lower, over your pubic bone and then-
The moment his fingers slip to your clit you exhale with pleasure, your eyelids drooping from the sensation that your body gets overwhelmed with.
“Do you like it?” the vampire suddenly asks against your ear the moment you lean your head back against his chest and you shiver.
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
You don’t reply but his fingers compel you as they begin to massage and circle your clit. He plays with your folds for a moment, your wetness making his strokes easier, slicker. He traces your slit and then rubs your pleasantly throbbing nub again, making your legs quiver and your tail wrap around his shin. You don’t see how his eyebrows rise at this, but even if you did you wouldn’t care.
“Yes, master.” You finally succumb and you see the coffin in front of you, wondering for a briefest of moments if you will get one of your own.
“That’s a good girl. You learn fast. I knew you were a right choice, I just needed to break you.” Cazador chuckles against your cheek, the tone of his laugh menacing and arrogant, but even that you now find alluring, sensual in its own way.
Sweat begins to bead your skin, slipping down the ridges of your tiefling body and you tremble again. Cazador is better at this than you would’ve assumed, your pleasure is building fast, moving like a slippery snake inside of you as his fingers work you to your pleasure deliberately and precisely. Then you have an urge to see him, to see the man who so easily made you submit, and you move your head, your eyes finally finding vampire’s face and notice that his expression is calmer and less malicious, his eyelids heavy as he gives you a glance that washes over you like a sea of crimson.
No words get exchanged, no permission is given, but you move, twisting your body so that you can swiftly move one hand to the back of his neck and lean Cazador’s face to you only for you to capture his lips in a kiss. He doesn’t resist and doesn’t stop you, kissing you back in a slightly reserved manner at first, but then giving in. His tongue grazes over your sharp teeth the moment you part your lips, and you do the same, exploring his fangs, knowing that soon they will mark you as his forevermore.
Cazador’s fingers toy with your cunt, but then falter, you feel his own arousal, his hardness press between your back and him, and you can’t help but want it, need it even, to feel it, maybe you always wanted him, maybe you at last give in to the desire you carried within you from the moment you saw him. Maybe you hoped for this the moment you offered to give him his spawn back.
Maybe it’s finally coming true.
Unexpectedly now, Cazador moves his hand from your waist and pushes you forward, making you slip over the smooth stone from him. His fingers leave your drenched cunt and you whine with despair, trying to turn to him, to try to kiss him again, but when you glimpse at his hands, you see that the Vampire Lord is now fumbling with his clothes, his hard cock quickly emerging from the fabrics he’s wearing and you swallow at the sight like you’re an animal in heat. A promise of pleasure instead of pain, you want it, you need it.
Cazador’s hand tugs at your waist again, your back pressing to his chest once more, and you whine with no shame, expressing your temporary disappointment.
“Take it.” He commands, the words being the permission and a guarantee you are craving for.
It takes only a moment for you to plant your feet to the floor and your palms on Cazador’s thighs as you lift yourself. His arm around your waist helps you lift yourself even higher and when you look down you see his hard length ready to impale you. You bite your lower lip and watch vampire’s other hand grip the base of his cock, ready for you to take it in. So you do, lowering yourself upon it as if you were made for this moment and this moment alone.
When you feel his soft tip nudge at your entrance and then slip inside with ease - you moan, your body trembling in delightful response. You keep sinking upon his cock, letting it enter you, letting it stretch you, and you moan louder the deeper you insert him into yourself. Finally, when you take him in full, you sigh loudly.
“Such a needy whore.” Cazador taunts but you don’t care, you begin to move.
It’s difficult to ride him like this but you try your best, making sure that your feet won’t slip and even put one of them on his thigh for better support. You gasp every time you are impaled again, but seems Cazador is impatient with your clumsy attempt to find a good position, because you hear him grunt, something between annoyance and pleasure of his own, and then his arm wrap under your other thigh, the one still on the ground, while his free hand grips over the inner thigh of your propped up leg.
“Incompetent, even in this.” Vampire grunts and begins to move you, making your body rise and fall so much faster and so much harder. You hurry to find purchase with your hands but the only thing you can do is twist them just enough so that you can weakly grab onto his shoulders behind you.
Your moans become louder and at first you look at the imposing coffin in front of you, but then lower your gaze to watch yourself getting fucked, his cock glistening with your arousal, leaking down his balls that swing every time you are brought down upon his length. You moan and shudder, your eyes locked on the sight, and your tail is still squeezing his thigh as he uses you to pleasure himself. Cazador’s grunts are like a most wonderful song against the side of your face, and you let your eyes close as you begin to feel your climax approaching.
Just as you begin to grasp at the strands of your bliss, your body beginning to tighten in Cazador’s grip, he suddenly pushes you off, making you fall chest first onto the ground. You gasp, confused and shocked, and your mind is bleary from pleasure still radiating through your body that’s begging for it to be prolonged. You only glance behind your shoulder to watch Cazador get up, hold his pants with one hand and with other he grabs your hair, yanking you upwards until you somehow manage to find your feet planted onto the floor.
“Cazador-“ you start, forgetting that he wants you to call different now, and you pay the price for your transgression as you are marched some steps forward and the side of your face gets slammed against the rough stone of his coffin. It feels like your bone cracks from the impact and you cry out, but then moan when Cazador plunges his cock into your cunt again.
“You will address me appropriately, girl.” He grunts right against your ear, his height so imposing that he needs to crane his head down to do that.
“Yes, master!” You cry out enthusiastically, your body shivering when he begins to plow into you with no concern for your pain.
His thrusts are rough, demanding and relentless as he fucks you against his coffin, your chest pressed painfully against the stone, your skin scraping against the sharp edges of it, making you bleed, but you feel none of this. Consumed by your lust, you grip onto the side of the coffin and hold on as if for dear life as he pounds into you. Cazador holds you down by your hair but his other hand comes into your view when he presses it palm-first onto the surface next to your face, his nails scratching at the rough texture of it.
You hear him pant and grunt as if he’s performing a task and not chasing his pleasure, maybe in his mind it’s both, but you don’t stop to think about it, in fact you don’t think at all, letting your body succumb to the pleasure while your tail once more wraps around his leg.
“Say it again.” Cazador demands and you have to wet your lips with your sore tongue before you are able to answer him.
“Yes, master!” you cry out again, your mind begins to swim as your climax approaches you and you cry out loudly with his every thrust, feeling your spine arch and bend as your body prepares you for pleasure.
“Never forget this.” Vampire Lord hisses and his grip in your hair tightens before you suddenly shout the moment his fangs pierce your neck.
In a moment you hear him swallow a mouthful of your blood and then he moans against your skin, his thrusts becoming erratic, but the coldness of his cock doesn’t stop you from realizing that he began to spill himself deep inside of you. You wail from both pleasure and pain, then feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as your climax takes you, making you shudder and spasm as Cazador’s slowing thrusts help you ride out your pleasure to the fullest.
When he finally stops, you are left trembling, with your knees weak, your body sore and your head dizzy. And then the pain returns, the one in your neck, so sharp and so overwhelming, that it nearly erases any traces of pleasure you just felt. Tears gather in your eyes once more and you whine as if begging for him to be gentler, and it’s like Cazador understands.
He leans his head back, releasing your throat from his bite, and then leans to the side to look at your face. You see his smug expression and blood painting his lips. Without a warning he releases you, pulling you back and roughly turning you around, harshly gripping your throat so that you don’t crumple to the floor at his feet. Cazador smirks as he watches your sweaty, bruised and bloody face, and you can feel the coldness of his seed beginning to leak down your inner thigh, a mark you haven’t expected from him but do not find it unwelcome.
“Maybe I’ll keep you alive for a little while longer.” Vampire’s gaze sweeps over your form, some sort of idea obviously just occurred to him, and you wonder what he means before he presses a palm to your lower stomach. “Maybe you can serve in a different way first, before I turn you into a spawn.” He muses and it takes you a moment or two until you realize what he means.
You try to speak but he finally releases your throat and you fall to the ground with a gasp. When you lift your head to him, your hair spilling around your face and your eyes still betraying your dazed state, he suddenly leans over you and caresses your cheek with a grin, his thumb smearing your tears over your swollen skin.
“Even cattle have their uses.”
With that his touch leaves you and you watch him button up his pants, then straighten out his shirt, not giving even a glance in your direction.
“I advise you don’t try to run, girl. There’s no escape for you anymore.” He chuckles and turns on his heel, then stops for a moment. “Get back upstairs when you can walk, ask someone to show you where you will be staying from this point on. I’ll call for you when I want to see your face again.” Cazador’s words are curt, cutting and insulting at the same time, and you flush as you watch him slick back his hair with one palm. He’s waiting for something.
“Thank you, master.” You whisper with your throat dry and your tongue painfully swollen, but you hear him exhale, satisfied with your response, then he walks off, climbing the stairs and leaving you behind, his footsteps not leaving even an echo in the vast cave surrounding you.
Exhausted, in pain and yet trembling from pleasure at the same time, you remain sitting on the floor, trying to understand what happened, how it happened and why. But before long, the chill of the stone begins to seep into your bones and you get up, gathering your scattered clothes and putting them on slowly, carefully, being mindful of your aching body.
And you smile.
You can’t help smiling widely, like you never smiled before. You better hurry up and find where you will be staying from this point on. Excitement clutches at your chest as you begin to climb the same stairs Cazador used just earlier.
Maybe this is the purpose you were looking for all along. To belong to someone. Maybe you don’t know any other life, but it’s not that you mind this. What happened was everything you ever wanted and more. And so much more still awaits in the future.
You feel excited.
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fountainpenguin · 1 month ago
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Small 'Fic Posting News
I moved a lot of early FOP character studies and warm-ups to my unrevealed Riddle WIPs collection on AO3, so they're easily on hand for me to tag and post when I feel ready.
A lot of these are things I enjoyed, but didn't feel comfy sharing back in 2016/17. They're cool to look back on and I'm ready to let them go. Some are suggestive, some are emotionally intense, some are very simple character studies, so as always, tread with care.
I also think they're neat because they don't build on each other, so they're pretty low-brainpower reads (imo), which some people may like.
I don't expect to post one of these old things every week, but they'll probably show up on Mondays or Wednesdays or something like that (Once Life of a Loser stops posting on Wednesdays, which is in two weeks).
As per the norm, M and E works will be under the ScarletPenguin pseud, so if you know that's not your cup of tea and you see the email, you can delete it without needing to open it or check tags.
These old pieces will be exclusive to AO3 (Organization, easier for my brain, etc.) On the off chance anything becomes a Prompt, it will go on FFN.
Not planning to do Tumblr announcements or cover images for them. They're off to the side for the people interested. Might shout out a few favorites, though.
AO3 series to subscribe to or avoid at your preference:
🌈 Rainbow Train - All FOP 'fics that aren't 130 Prompts (i.e. It will include these old pieces). 🖤 Off the Rails - Stuff that doesn't fit my main AUs (Cloudlands, City Lights, Reedfilter). Most old pieces will go here since they're non-canon now. ❤️ Red Train - Romantic or sensual works (All FOP AUs).
Additional reminder:
🚂 130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash - Everything in this one-shot series is G or T. If you feel uneasy about Rainbow Train, you can filter M and E stuff out by subscribing just to this one!
Under the cut, I have examples (i.e. screenshots of these WIP titles and summaries like what you would see when scrolling AO3) to help people get a feel for the vibe.
Suggestive or gross summaries & commentary; proceed at own discretion. Obviously, #ridspoilers.
Reminder - These are WIP screenshots. The pieces will have proper tags and meta before they're posted. Titles may also change.
Bonus disclaimer: If you see a line in an old WIP that seems familiar... I do yoink things from these sometimes because I wasn't planning to post them, yes <3
This will be the first one:
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Exactly what it says on the tin- Super simple.
Here are a few more examples (No specific order)-
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A scene from Frayed Knots I've always regretted cutting even though it was for the best, but y'know what? It deserves to be shared because it's funny :)
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Another moment from canon translated into my style! There's also a "Flappy finds out Gary and Betty knew about magic the whole time" bit somewhere in here that I had to throw out after "Solo" happened.
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I will not apologize for my deity break-up drama. I might apologize for Prince Thursday's seasonal torment, but he's the nature spirit of Leaves, so-
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Unpleasant non-con / dubcon situations... We know how this goes.
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And the obligatory sequel to the above. That pixie sure can character arc!
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Very cursed flirty pixies, my beloved...
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Do you have any idea how weird it feels to post pre-reincarnation pieces out of context... skldjf...
It's gross! It's goofy! Cupid's ancestors took her mobility aid because they're unpleasant people! We just keep winning!!
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Uncut version of the Ambrolara scenes! I sadly cut some of my favorites lines from "Hate That I Love You" because it would've crossed the line... but I love them....... my cursed OCs who are awful for each other.
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No one understands Sanderson's mind, not even me 7 years later... He can do whatever he wants forever.
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Foop's romantic scenes during the late-Prompts era are some of my favorite warm-ups... He's here, he's queer, he's having a mental breakdown spitting and crying over his dad not noticing him sneaking in a girl, he was forced to marry someone he desperately does not want to be intimate with, he loves his mom, he's losing the power struggle against his alt personality, he's this close to losing his inheritance, he calls his wife his mistress's name... No one is doing it like him. Probably because he's doing SO bad!!
The preview scene you see in "Trouble Beyond Paradise" finally broke me... It's been a favorite since 2017 and I just really want to share... That one's a multi-chapter and I hope you guys like it. I love Foop/Anti-Marigold and their weird situation... Like, of COURSE if Poof has severe anxiety about accidentally forcing them into dubcon, Foop's genius idea is to get the first time over with before Poof/Goldie can bind them into it. So funny. They are silly little guys... the people have a right to know...
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Very old anatomy study. It's about bees ripping apart when they mate. It's... sort of cute? Mostly horrific and full of pain and sobbing? :'D If you pick this up, you will very quickly see why I never intended to post it, but... It's 2024, baby! Welcome to my mind...
- This one will likely get a new title, so be careful if this is one you want to avoid. - Where is that post that goes like "Why do all my ace friends write the most bizarre sex scenes?" followed by "Have to throw in something interesting for us." sdfkj. Yeah... It's me, I'm that guy. And this kind of guy.
And more!! I hope you like reading these old pieces, but if they are not your thing, that is perfectly fine. Some of these are not even my thing, but sometimes you have to write it to know that! Sometimes you knew that and wrote it anyway because ??? idk.
I think it's neat to see my style change over the years. I hope you get some joy out of them, even if they're hyperspecific.
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the-odd-job · 3 years ago
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Close Your Eyes to This Disaster Chapter 5: What Have I Done?
Rating: Explicit Warnings: Chose Not to Use, Rape/Non-Con Category: Other Fandom: Transformers G1 Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Ratchet, Prowl, Optimus, Ironhide, Jazz Additional Tags: Dubcon, Sticky, Abusive Relationships, Mind Games, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Canon-Typical Violence Words: 4118
( Previous )
They didn’t contact the Ark after Soundwave lifted the jam over their communications systems. What were they supposed to say? They had no idea. Maybe they would know once things weren’t so fresh, but as things stood…
So, instead of letting a single spark know about what had happened, they sat side by side on the open field for the better part of an hour, going through their newly reacquired memory files, and Sunstreaker staring at the trickle of fluids seeping from his valve. They dried slowly.
He needed a wash. Especially after getting ‘faced on the dirty ground–
…He needed a wash.
Instead they sat in silence, trying to just make sense of this turn of events. They couldn’t change the past even if the memories made it difficult to understand why their relationship with Megatron had even been a thing–
But he was one to talk when even the present him hadn’t done what he was supposed to do, what the smart thing would’ve been.
He’d slagging… Fragged the mech. Or gotten fragged by him—technicalities when the truth was that he hadn’t… Disliked it. His spark was still abuzz with all manner of emotions that weren’t even supposed to exist, but that grew more undeniable the longer he looked at them. He wasn’t ready to call the mess love, but it wasn’t… Inconsequential. There was affection.
Why was there affection?
What was wrong with him?
They came no closer to answers no matter how long they sat there and eventually Sideswipe roused them with a quiet, “Should head back. They’ll want to… Want to know what happened.”
Back to the Ark, looking as they did—like something had happened. They had answers to some of the command’s questions now, at least, and they would need to… Report all of this. Somehow.
Though maybe without going into his personal crisis. How much detail they would give outside of that they could decide on later, once the time came.
Sunstreaker nodded and after he’d transformed his modesty panel back in place, they cleaned away the evidence of his little frag session before returning to the road. They were a little past the midway point of their patrol so they didn’t turn around, but rather continued onward after some… Extremely painful transformations. Sunstreaker especially.
At least they could still transform and drive, though, despite the damage they’d taken. Their ability to drag their own afts back meant they didn’t need to contact the Ark just yet. Or, ever. They kept their comms off the whole way back to the Autobot base, content to live in ignorance and not know if someone was trying to contact them. With the speeds they had traveled the first portion of the patrol route, they weren’t going to be late even with the… Delay, or the fact they weren’t driving their usual speeds on their way back—both because they were both in varying amounts of pain, and because they weren’t looking forward to whatever might happen upon their return.
Mostly because of the latter.
But they couldn’t dawdle forever and ever, and slowly but steadily their distance to the Ark decreased until they were driving over the desert surrounding the ship. Closer and closer, to the point they made visual contact with the mostly buried vessel—and the lone figure silhouetted against the light coming from the open entrance.
It turned out to be Prowl, his wings held stiffly behind him as they approached–
But they fanned in surprise when the Ark’s light touched the brothers and mercilessly revealed their less than stellar condition. Sunstreaker grit his denta through his transformation back to his bipedal mode as parts scraped against each other in ways they definitely weren’t meant to, torn plating screeching as it was forcefully shifted into its other configuration.
He met Prowl’s optics with challenge in his own, daring the damn mech to say something about the state of their frames.
Prowl didn’t comment on it though. “Ratchet,” was the only word he spoke. He needn’t say more than that, anyway. They needed repairs and when the SIC stepped aside to let them past him, the twins didn’t do more than head inside—without so much as an impish comment from Sideswipe.
He could just see Prowl’s frown from the corner of his optic before they’d passed him.
They were leaving drips of energon and who knew what else behind them as they walked the halls towards the medbay, but they were on their own pedes and moving under their own power. That was good enough. Luckily for them, they saw no one else before they’d reached the medbay doors that parted with a hiss. Ratchet was already waiting for them, arms across his chassis and face stern. Prowl had probably let him know he could expect visitors.
The medic had one look at them, his expression tightening all the more from what he saw. “Megatron?” he asked even as he ushered the brothers to medical berths, ready to triage their injuries.
“Yeah,” Sideswipe confirmed. They laid down and… Said nothing more.
Ratchet filled the silence, anyway. “Didn’t I slagging tell you to not come back to my bay because of him?” he growled at them, thoroughly scanning them both before he focused on Sunstreaker, likely because his injuries were slightly more severe. Megatron knew how to hurt.
And yet, it could’ve been so much worse, damage wise. He could’ve been dead.
“You were kept from longer patrols for a reason,” Ratchet continued, removing and transforming pieces of Sunstreaker’s plating away to take a look underneath with surprising caution. The fact he wasn’t even half as rough as he usually was said a lot.
Indeed, everyone knew he could’ve died. That he, frankly, should be dead after something like that.
“No one wanted to risk Megatron succeeding in whatever he wanted to do with you, for your own damn good—but no, you cannot possibly listen. Did you even think? You knew he was gunning for you, but off you were anyway! Oh, and Cliffjumper and Brawn are in hot water too because of you, not that I expect you to care.”
Sunstreaker stared at the ceiling and let Ratchet do his thing and say his piece. The medic quieted suspiciously once he started on the damage on his chest, transforming his armor aside, then his protoform too when the damage ran deeper than he expected. He didn’t really react, but Sunstreaker still knew the exact moment Ratchet came by the damage to his spark chamber. He made sure it wasn’t about to off him—it wasn’t—then… Placed his servos on the berth next to Sunstreaker’s frame and leaning onto them—looking at him, searching his face.
Sunstreaker reluctantly met his optics. “Twins,” Ratchet said, too quietly to go well with his usual demeanor.
But then, this wasn’t his usual demeanor. “What happened?”
The big question.
Sunstreaker’s gaze shifted back to the ceiling. They tried to think of what to say, how to start—because there was the what, but more important felt the why. Besides, he wasn’t too eager to talk about the fragging. It wasn’t necessarily damning depending on his own response to it, but… That was the problem. Why it wouldn’t be damning.
Yeah, he didn’t really want to go there. He still had his pride.
But that was only what he wouldn’t say. What would he say?
He reset his vocalizer several times in indecision—almost said one thing, then decided against it. Almost said another thing, but on the last second decided against that too. Ratchet didn’t rush him, surprisingly.
They gave up on finding the perfect words, eventually, and just spoke. “Did you know I was Megatron’s lover?”
That didn’t look to be what Ratchet had been expecting, if the way his optical ridges shot up and he leaned back was anything to go by. Sunstreaker couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t what they had been expecting, either.
“What? When?” the medic asked after he’d recovered some, leaning back in. Sunstreaker didn’t meet his optics this time, just stared at the bright orange ceiling, counting the scratches he already knew by spark.
But he answered. “In the Pits.” It wasn’t a secret they had been Pit fighters. It was part of their reputation even if… Even if they hadn’t actually remembered it. Weird as that detail was, it had always been undeniable that their fighting style screamed gladiator. The war had further refined their skills, but anyone who knew their shit couldn’t claim it wasn’t clear as day that they had gotten their education in the Pits. What had claimed their conscious memories hadn’t done so to the subconscious, background ones. Something had been left behind in that near total wipe.
A wipe that wasn’t as permanent as they had always thought. “Ratchet?” Sideswipe spoke up, prompting the medic to glance over his shoulder at him. “Did you know part of my memories were locked away?”
Again Ratchet looked surprised, but then nodded, carefully. “Yes. It’s in your restricted medical files and I’ve looked at them myself.”
The twins frowned. “Why did you never tell me they weren’t completely gone?” Sideswipe asked.
Ratchet frowned too. “You had already spent most of the war without them and didn’t seem to be adversely affected by their absence. Depending on what they contained… You could have had an adverse reaction—that could have distracted you to the point you wouldn’t function at your best anymore.”
And were possibly killed as a result, they could conclude that much without Ratchet stating it directly. Their best had kept them alive. If they didn’t have that anymore?
“You should have still given me the choice,” Sideswipe said with half a growl. Primus, why was everyone, anyone, every time, anytime, always so eager to take their choice from them? They could’ve gone without that being the repeating theme in their damned life.
Ratchet was quiet for a moment, then nodded slowly. “I’m sorry I didn’t. I should have given you the option to remember, despite the potential cost.”
His field flared, confirming the apology was genuine, that the words were sincere.
But Ratchet was only one in a long line of medics they had had poking around in their systems. Any one of them could have offered them their memories back.
No one had. And despite this one matter… Ratchet was still the best they’d had.
Their number one medic cleared his vocalizer, glancing between them. “Did something happen to those memories? Can you access them now, somehow?”
Both twins nodded. “It’s what Megatron wanted,” Sunstreaker was the one to answer out loud. “For me to… To remember him. Soundwave restored them.”
“You put up a fight, first,” Ratchet said the most obvious observation in the world, looking back at Sunstreaker’s frame. His optical ridges drew down very low. “He didn’t offer, did he?”
They snorted. “One guess,” Sideswipe said, and just that was enough to turn Ratchet’s mouth into a thin line. By the common estimate it wasn’t really Megatron’s style to ask before he did what he wanted to do. As much as they now knew about some other sides the warlord also had… The basics were still the same.
But there was also… “Ratch, did you know what was in those memories?”
Ratchet shook his helm. “No. They were inaccessible even with a cipher without the patch I assume you got. If I had known…”
He trailed off, but they could assume there were several ways that could’ve potentially gone down. Maybe it would’ve been reason to give them the memories, or it could’ve been a reason to intentionally withhold them; maybe it would’ve made them suspect or seen as risk factors for the nature of the relations they’d had.
Maybe it could’ve been something else.
“Do you remember all of it, now?” Ratchet asked.
They nodded. “Far as I can tell, yeah. At least it’s all on a timeline that actually makes sense. What… Why did we even lose those memories? Did it have something to do with the slave coding?”
Ratchet straightened, displeasure written on his face and in his field likely due to the mention of the coding—but he didn’t look surprised. That was really answer enough. “Yes. Your record says that the removal of the slave coding from your systems corrupted the memory of the entire time you had the coding. The medic that performed the operation didn’t even try to restore them.”
And no one after that had done so either, not even Ratchet, but that was where it had all begun. They frowned. “Why not?”
“According to his written explanation, he ‘didn’t see it necessary’,” Ratchet said with air quotes, “and that ‘the memories could be traumatic’, so ‘patients are likely better off without them’. Mind you, he had no immediate way to restore them, anyway, so I expect getting you in fighting condition and on the field as soon as possible also played a role. The fix was only discovered later.”
Ah, priorities. Sunstreaker growled to himself. “Waste of time to make sure some gladiators have their memories, huh?”
“Apparently. And I fell into the same hole without thinking—again, I apologize for that. Megatron shouldn’t have needed to step in for you to get them back.”
It was probably too late to slag that original medic. Most of their species was straight up dead and chances were he was among those numbers, rather than in the ranks of the few hundred still living.
But oh how satisfying it would have been to give him a painful piece of their mind. True, their lack of memories hadn’t bothered them or come with any unfortunate side effects that they knew of, but those were their fragging memories. They had a right to them!
“I agree.”
It was only after Ratchet spoke that they realized Sideswipe had ranted out loud. His mouth snapped shut on that stroke of self-awareness, but at least they hadn’t divulged anything important in their distraction.
Their medic sighed and scanned Sunstreaker’s frame again, as if he didn’t already have all the readings. “If you’ll let me, I’ll have a look that the memory patch is working as it should, and after you’re repaired, the command would like to have a meeting with you to sort this mess out. Are you alright with that?”
About what they expected. The twins nodded their agreement and Ratchet got to work.
——————————————————
Soundwave had done a perfectly good job with the restoration of their memories, it turned out. The physical damage to their frames took some hours to repair, but by the end of it they were good as new. Sunstreaker’s spark chamber was back to having no torn holes left by a former love’s claws, his chest armor back on the task of protecting it, cut energon lines put together—so on and so forth to all of the injuries they had acquired. They’d need to do some repainting as soon as possible, but first… The command wanted to hear what had happened.
That landed the twins at the table of the meeting room usually only the command used, instead of their quarters doing far more important things. Sunstreaker was frowning down at the bare grey piece on his thigh, sour in mood for several reasons by now. That was one of them, and fraggit, it was one he could’ve done something about if it wasn’t for the impatience of others.
But no. Couldn’t have that.
“Twins. Could you start from the beginning?” Optimus requested. “We would like to understand Megatron’s interest in you.”
Sideswipe, at least, was looking at the members of the command that had gathered just to listen to them—Optimus, Prowl, Jazz, Ironhide, Ratchet, Wheeljack. Red Alert wasn’t invited for some obvious reasons. He’d probably glitch just at reading the report of this… Pits, they weren’t looking forward to dealing with the accusations that would follow.
“Beginning beginning?” Sideswipe asked to make sure, but they didn’t wait for an answer before Sunstreaker had already begun to speak.
They wanted from the beginning, they would get from the beginning.
Sans all the detail. He was not going to go too deep into his private life for them. “I met Megatronus in the Pits and we became… Lovers. We stayed that way for several vorns, until the start of the war. However, I was a slave and my frames slave coded, and on removing the coding when joining the Autobots, all of the memories of the duration of having the slave coding got messed up and out of my reach. That’s what Ratchet says, anyway. I’m not a medic.”
Sunstreaker didn’t lift his gaze, but Sideswipe saw Ratchet nod at the questioning looks he got. That confirmed, Sunstreaker continued, “So, I didn’t remember any of that—my time in the Pits, what Megatron was to me—for the entirety of the war. I also never ran into him during the war, up until the Exodus and ending up on Earth. Looks like he hadn’t really let go of me, though.”
“He was trying to make contact with you?” Prowl frowned. Sunstreaker shrugged. That seemed like the sensible answer, didn’t it?
“And you didn’t remember him so you had no idea he might even want to do that,” Jazz surmised. “Looks like buckethead decided to just corner you when you wouldn’t talk to him willingly.”
“Looks like it,” Sideswipe sighed.
“What did Megatron do, exactly?” Optimus asked, all gentle and careful as if these might be some unpleasant memories for the twins and he didn’t want to upset them. Sunstreaker looked up enough to direct his frown at him. The Prime, of course, looked as earnest as ever.
“Soundwave occupied Sideswipe,” Sunstreaker nevertheless started, as much as there wasn’t much to tell—not much he wanted to tell. “Megatron fought me into a standstill, and when I didn’t recognize him, he had Soundwave restore our missing memories.”
And that was all he wanted to say about that, so that was all he said.
It didn’t satisfy the command, though.
“That was all?” Prowl asked, sounding a little skeptical. “He didn’t want anything else? He didn’t say anything?”
Sunstreaker revved a tune of annoyance and let his helm fall back to stare at the ceiling instead of anyone else. Sideswipe dropped his gaze onto the table, but everyone would be able to tell they were lying if they said that was all. Megatron coming along, returning their memories to them, and buggering off right after just didn’t make much sense, did it? He had to tell them something.
Primus damn it all, but Sunstreaker bit the bullet in the most vague way he could. “He talked about how he’s missed me; apparently he thinks there’s still something between us. Told me not to forget him again, then left.”
There was quiet as everyone digested those news. Jazz was the first one to speak. “That’s how he feels about you, if he was speakin’ the truth. How do you feel about him?”
Right. Did Sunstreaker still love Megatron? Was he going to run right back to his former lover’s arms to continue where they left off?
He lifted an arm to run a servo down his face. What a fragging mess… No, he wasn’t about to run back to anyone, but his feelings? He wasn’t as sure about his feelings. They weren’t listening to sense very much.
“He was never the easiest mech to be with,” he eventually landed on saying, dropping his arm and tipping his helm back forward to stare at the opposite wall past everyone looking at him. “What I remember makes a damn big part of me wonder why the pit I was with him in the first place. ‘Sides, he made a piss poor reintroduction.”
From the corner of his vision he could see Jazz’s visor flashing just a bit. The TIC could probably read between the lines that he wasn’t just referring to the fight, but blessedly, he didn’t say anything. The others didn’t look surprised in the slightest. Wasn’t it so easy to imagine it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows with a mech like Megatron? Because it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.
And yet…
But they didn’t need to know about the and yet. He was going to sort himself out without bringing his loyalties into further question, thank you.
“How do you go from being that bastard’s lovers to becoming Autobots?” Ironhide wanted to know. Sunstreaker glanced at him, offering the weapons specialist a shrug.
 “We were slaves. That doesn’t always leave you with an overabundance of options.”
“Twins,” the Prime said almost immediately, sounding damn concerned all of a sudden—not that he hadn’t been concerned for this whole duration, being the caring sort— “Did you join the Autobots willingly?”
Oh boy, Optimus wasn’t going to like the answer. Sunstreaker met his optics head on and said it as it was: “Not everyone had the privilege of choice.”
Their grand leader looked downright distraught at that, but Prowl took the turn to speak. “If Megatron still has an interest in you, we can expect he’ll try to get you to his side–“ an assessment Sunstreaker didn’t exactly disagree with, “–but the real question is your response to such attempts.”
Sunstreaker nodded his understanding, and the SIC continued by asking, “What would you like to do about this?”
Everyone’s attention was squarely on him. Sunstreaker gushed a heavy round of air from his vents. “I’d prefer things didn’t change,” he said to even partially alleviate the obvious concerns of where his loyalties would go from here—and he wasn’t lying, either. “I’ve gone the entire war fighting for the Autobots and felt perfectly content that way. This isn’t swaying my thoughts on that.”
“Kid,” Ironhide said, a little carefully, “If you’d gotten the choice in the whole thing… Would you have joined the Autobots?”
Sunstreaker huffed–
But couldn’t pretend to find that funny for more than a handful of seconds before he sighed. “I wasn’t in the… Mindset. Something drastic would have needed to happen for me to make that choice for myself.”
Again there was silence as the command considered that answer. Then Optimus’ attention turned to Sunstreaker’s twin instead. “Sideswipe, what is your take on all of this?”
The brothers frowned, but Sideswipe didn’t waste much time jerking his thumb at Sunstreaker. “What Sunny says.”
It didn’t seem to be the answer the Prime was looking for based on his own frown, but it was all the answer he was going to get. He didn’t push further, either, though that may have just been because he didn’t have the time before Ironhide was voicing another question. “How’d the slagger even know how to set yer memories right?”
Sunstreaker shrugged, but Ratchet answered, “It’s in their restricted medical files. If someone got their hands on those, they’d know the cause, the state, and the fix.”
Prowl joined in on all those already frowning. “So we may have had a security breach.”
“Seems likely,” Ratchet agreed.
“Gotta give to ‘im, he was determined to have you remember again,” Jazz commented. “Figuring out you’d lost your memories, gettin’ the reason and the remedy, cornerin’ you to rectify the situation… This can’t be all he wants.”
“Agreed,” Prowl said, looking between the brothers. “No doubt he will have further intent for you—and he may not ask for you agreement for any of it.”
“I’m aware,” Sunstreaker growled. “Doesn’t mean I’m just going to slagging roll over and let him have his way.”
Except hadn’t he already done that? Hadn’t Megatron only needed to speak select words and touch him right for him to let the fragger get what he wanted?
But ‘facing was one thing. Whatever else Megatron was after… That was another. He would be more prepared next time, too.
It wouldn’t happen again.
He earned several nods for his words. “We will work around this,” Optimus promised. “Megatron will not be given a chance to do what he wills with you.”
“Does that mean I’ll still be kept from going far from the Ark?” Sideswipe asked, reflecting the twins’ unhappiness with the idea.
“Do you not agree it’s for the best?” Prowl asked in return, one of his optical ridges rising. “Or would you rather this event repeat itself?”
“…Point taken,” Sideswipe muttered to that, far from thrilled with that, but… Did they really want to run into Megatron again?
“Let us know if something happens despite our precautions,” Optimus said. They nodded their understanding and the Prime continued, “Dismissed. Go get some rest.”
( Next )
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fyeahcodegays · 5 years ago
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suzalulu fics for when ao3 isn’t enough
a couple of gen mixed in, but if you have rose tinted shades they’ll work fine
btw these aren’t necessarily exclusive to ffn; some authors have imported their works between sites and thus you might come across something you’ve read in ao3 already.
I may or may not have been depressed that I can’t find fic recs besides this one (which has a lotta good fics, I thrived here) and the lj rec lists dont even load so yeah.
on another note, in the midst of making this, I also found this fic rec (the best playground for my angst loving heart tbh) so I decided to remove the overlaps I found.
i’m personally a fan of dark fic (more like unhealthy codependence) so there’s that I guess
1. In Birdcages | toujourspret
Escaping is only the illusion of freedom when your wings have been clipped.
2. Guileless | J Plash
“Stay with me,” Suzaku whispers, and pretends he doesn’t see the lie when Lelouch says “okay”. Because Lelouch can’t be Zero, not again. All the evidence proves it. And Suzaku couldn’t love Zero like this. 
3. To Err Is Human | tastes-like-ciel
All Zero had to do was string together a few words to bring the knight to his knees. Suzaku never stood a chance and Lelouch never saw the betrayal coming.
4. The Enemy Of My Enemy Is My Friend | tastes-like-ciel
Zero and Suzaku call for a truce in order to defeat a common enemy in their never ending war for Lelouch’s affections. Their enemy’s name? Gino.
5. Excused Absences | YamiPaladinofChaos
Maybe Zero’s meeting with his secret lover?“ The Black Knights discuss their leader’s absence.
6. Scarred But Not Stronger | YamiPaladinofChaos
Suzaku always makes Lelouch stand up again, even when neither of them really wants it. Nunnally and Suzaku, after Kaminejima.
7. Abandon Thyself | Sanjuno
“The strongest soldier cannot balance long upon the blade that does divide his honor and his heart, and whatever way he falls, the cut will kill him.” ― Susanna Kearsley, The Firebird
8. Sleeping Beauty | tastes-like-ciel
And so the brave and noble Prince Suzaku rescued the lovely Princess Lelouch and, in doing so, created a fairytale bound to be told long after they were dead and gone. AU. NOT a Genderswitch.
9. Battleship Grey | tastes-like-ciel
On the day of Nunnally’s kidnapping, Suzaku was absent because of military duties. With no one to aid him, Lelouch was forced to face Mao on his own.
10. Leading Moves | elarielf
Lelouch may be the “girly” one and the “uke” in the relationship, but the whole world knows who wears the pants in his and Suzaku’s relationship.
11. Just Another Game | elarielf
Lelouch takes Suzaku to one of his chess matches, only this time Lelouch loses. The other player orders Suzaku to screw Lelouch over the chess table while he watches.
12. Higame | elarielf
Suzaku thought that all the times Lelouch went out to gamble with Rivalz they were really having sex.
13. Retribution | spare
But somewhere between grabbing Lelouch by the collar of his shirt and shoving him against the wall and glaring into his eyes—one violet, the other glowing red even in the dim light, Suzaku had miscalculated.
14. Get Your Hands Off My Girl… Er, Guy… | elarielf
AU, in which Suzaku and Lelouch go to a club with Rivalz and a guy starts to flirt with Lelouch… So Suzaku gets angry, and at the end they start to fight for Lelouch.
15. Walk On In | Tainted Ink And Paper
Lelouch had an odd habit of taking strays… especially unwanted ones. Suzaku, the Japanese biker who waltzes into his home without permission, comes with more baggage than he can handle… like the Black Knights, like Zero.
16. Mismatched Yarn | Cat In My Fridge
Because in the end, when everything else had been stripped away, there was still one thing Lelouch had to give: himself.
17. All That Remains | LawliPop
Something terrible has happened.
18. Forever, With You | VirtualDraconium
They thought Zero Requiem would be the end of their problems. However, due to unexpected events a considerable amount of time later, the two are brought together once more. Very post-turn 25.
19. Requiem | LawliPop
It was the word on everyone’s lips. A quiet murmur that steadily grew louder with each passing second until it evolved into a celebratory chant.
20. Pure Hearted Love | DnKS-giRLs
What if, instead of waging war against Japan, Britannia sought after an alliance by arranging a political marriage between them? What if the two parties involved was Lelouch vi Britannia and Kururugi Suzaku?
21. Snapshots | DnKS-giRLs
A collection of one shots following the event of Pure Hearted Love. Some mere snapshots portraying the live of Lelouch vi Britannia and Kururugi Suzaku as the royal couple of The Holy Empire of Britannia.
22. Juicy Footage | Coral Blush
Gino thinks Lelouch is sexy, and Suzaku wonders if it’s possible to break his friend’s fingers when no one is looking.
23. In My Memory | KiraxMomo
When all you have are memories, you cling to them. When those memories start to fade, what do you do?
24. Twisted | pretense
“Protect Lelouch and Kill Zero… Well isn’t that just grand?”
25. Mosaic | abovethenightsky
Through the years, the pieces fall into place. It takes Lelouch and Suzaku a little while to learn, but eventually they do. Follows the dynamic duo through R1 and R2, and cycles of fluff, angst, and forgiveness.
26. Revision |  DnKS-giRLs
After the regicide, Zero found himself walking to Emperor Lelouch’s bedroom with fear in his heart. Yes, this is a CRACK fic.
27. The Royal Command | Seto’s Darkness
After defeating Britannia in a bitter war, Suzaku Kururugi is the Prince of Japan who takes a liking to the purple-eyed prisoner, Lelouch.
28. At The World’s End | Seto’s Darkness
Lelouch has always copied Suzaku, the stronger of the two of them. And Suzaku will always protect Lelouch, no matter what.
29. The Moments Between | Zure96
After Charles erases Lelouch’s memory of Zero and Nunnally he has another plan for him before sending him back to Ashford to draw out C.C. Placed in Suzaku’s care, will the newly appointed Knight of Seven abuse his power? Or will he do his duty?
30. Windowless | ucco
Euphemia may hold the title of being Suzaku’s girlfriend, but she’ll never own his heart.
31. The Elegy of Suzaku Kururugi | Coeurlito
The Zero Requiem was not the end. For Suzaku Kururugi, it will never be the end.
32. Thunder and Lightning | Jynova
Thunder and lightning. Two different words denoting the same entity. Two parts of the same phenomena, separated only by the expanse of time. Lelouch Vi Britannia/Lelouch Lamperouge/Zero/99th Emperor of Britannia/Emperor of the World, strikes so brightly. Suzaku Kururugi, plain and simple in his thundering justice.
33. Wrong | faecree
After Euphie’s confession to him, Suzaku simply felt wrong. And, when something feels wrong, isn’t the best way to properly remedy the situation to counter it with something “right” instead?
34. Safe and Sound | Lovelily Lion
In a different world they were ordinary boys caught in a dystopian society bent on watching them lay down their lives. Lelouch grieves over the lover he never had and Suzaku finds a way to get back to him at all costs.
35. Ariadne’s Thread | anlaaria
It could have been perfect. Inception AU.
36. the disloyal order of sunflowers | tenshiplz
Marianne’s eldest son—eight years old and proud of it—the eleventh Prince to the Britannian throne, had attempted to escape three times in the past two days over that wall, but this fourth time was the charm.
37. Fanfic ABCs | Cat In My Fridge
Turning lesbian seemed like the logical thing to do when Suzaku and Lelouch kept being MIA having sex in yaoi fanfiction. At the time, anyway.
38. Retrograde | Libek
At the end of R1, on a whim, Lelouch receives a very different punishment for his actions. Now everyone must deal with the consequences. Themes of “white” slavery, and yes, he does now technically belong to Suzaku.
39. A Friendly Chat | Vermillion Lies
Emperor Charles and Suzaku have a brief conversation regarding memories.
40. Behind Those Wonderful Double Grand Doors |  DnKS-giRLs
That day, the four ladies of Ashford Academy heard some very interesting things behind the closed door of student council room. And what part exactly does aloe gel play in that?
41. Selfish | shimo hyozan
If he was just given the chance, he would’ve been selfish.
42. In Loving Memory | Strawberry Scented Paperclip
An accident has left Suzaku with no recollection of the past two years. He doesn’t mind much, but who’s that dark haired stranger haunting his dreams, and why is his girlfriend acting so distant?
43. The Emperor’s Waltz | realms of fic
Empires may grow and crumble, but music plays forever. 
44. Seeing Double | elarielf
Two Suzakus teaming up against Lelouch, Rock'n'Dolless’s Kiss doujin style. Consensual; semi-public outdoors. …because there can’t be too much Suzaku?
45. Absolution | ficshun
Suzaku must make a choice when confronted with the truth of Zero’s identity.
Bonus Round: cgkinkmemeii fill personal faves
Lelouch is alive with a code, sex with Suzaku ensues
Lelouch turns to Refrain, dubcon
Lelouch switch between good au and canon
Suzalulu RP as each other 
Photographer!zaku
Decayed by rex_sun sidestory (by rex_sun)
MMORPG pk Zero
Student Council/table-kun
Continue? [Yes/No]
Lelouch has fujo fangirls
Cold!lelouch, Passionate!zero
Conflicted!zaku after R1
eyes are windows to the soul
post-R1 non-con
ghost!lelouch
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elsajeni · 5 years ago
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Chocolate Box 2020 Letter
Dear Chocolatier: thank you for dropping by! I know I will enjoy anything you write for me, but if you’d like a little more detail on my preferences, here it is. First all the general stuff, which is all in my sign-up, but for the sake of having everything in one place:
Likes: bantering and bickering; moments of humor even in dark situations; pining; misunderstandings that turn out all right in the end; hurt/comfort; rescue missions; casual relationships; “undercover as a couple” tropes; “actually a couple, undercover as something else” tropes.
Sex & Kink Likes, if you go in that direction: light bondage; lots of talking during sex, both sweet and dirty; laughing during sex; inappropriate use of magic/Force powers/miracles; “foreplay” activities as the main event; overstimulation; orgasm denial, orgasm control, forced orgasm; light D/s dynamics.
DNWs: rape/non-con unless specified; incest; explicit scenes with underage characters; detailed description of bodily fluids; mundane AUs (coffeeshop, high school etc.); A/B/O; lifestyle or outside-the-bedroom D/s; infidelity; pregnancy, miscarriage, or infertility; unrelentingly dark and grim stories (I like a glimmering of hope); unhappy endings in Good Omens fic specifically.
Onward! to the pairing-specific prompts!
Luke Skywalker/Wedge Antilles -- this is a long-time favorite pairing, and I would love pretty much anything about them! Given the Thrawn trilogy as a setting, I’m interested in the pressures that their respective positions and commitments put on a relationship, and especially the complications of maintaining a relationship with someone who’s always running off on incomprehensible Jedi business (Luke just... up and fuckin’ vanishing off of Hoth is a pivotal moment in how I tend to see their relationship) -- whether they’re trying to make a committed relationship work, or deciding that a casual whenever-we’re-on-the-same-planet thing is the best they can manage, or what. How do you deal with loving someone when circumstances never seem to let you make him your first priority, or you his? (If it comes up, I strongly prefer Wedge’s old EU/Legends backstory.)
Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker -- another long-time favorite! Another pairing where I would like basically anything you give me! I’m especially interested in the innate connection between them that exists before they even meet, and how that shapes their relationship. I am, of course, very into their eventual true love and the canonical slow build into it; that said, I’m also super into the idea that they had the occasional purely-chemistry-driven goddammit-I-don’t-even-like-you hookup long before that. (If you’re into soulmate AUs, this is also the very rare pairing where I’m into soulmate AUs, not least because of how completely furious Mara would be about it.)
Mara Jade/Darth Vader -- I’m interested in Mara’s youth in the Emperor’s court, and the sort of... just-under-the-surface yawning horror that we know is there, but that doesn’t get dug into much in the EU. Give me something with her and Vader encountering each other -- as rivals for Palpatine’s attention, as tentative allies in court intrigue, as student and tutor? This could go in a lot of directions, from something as relatively innocent as a kid’s crush on the one person she thinks understands her to something as dark as the Emperor ordering one of them to the other one’s bedroom; whatever way you go with it, I do want you to treat the power dynamics and age dynamics here seriously, and lean into the darkness it suggests -- no one here is having a nice time or doing something they’ll be really happy to look back on.
(This is my one sort-of-exception to the “no rape/non-con” clause; it’s a pairing that lends itself to questionable or compromised consent, and I’m into that. The line between “dubcon” and “non-con” is blurry, but as much as possible, I’d like you to stay on the dubcon side of it -- deceit, coercion, and uncomfortable power imbalances, yes; violence, physical or Force-based force, or explicit non-consent that’s ignored, no. This is NOT an exception to the “no explicit scenes with underage characters” clause; if you write this with Mara as a teen, please keep anything explicitly sexual off-screen.)
Garik "Face" Loran/Ton Phanan -- listen, this is a long shot and I know it, but: GHOSTS. Give me Ton still hanging around after death -- where else does he have to go, after all? Haunting all the Wraiths, or just Face, or trying to figure out how he can go haunt some Imperials and ruin their day. Making Face miserable, or still making him laugh (and is he real, or is this some kind of coping mechanism, and does Face want to find out which?), or not seeming to know he’s dead. Just… Ghost Ton. Pls. (If ghosts aren’t for you, I’d also be very happy with them getting into shenanigans and having lots of pleasant casual sex during happier days!)
Wedge Antilles/Wes Janson -- I’m just looking for more Wraith Squadron/Starfighters of Adumar-style shenanigans here, really. Maybe some silly undercover-as-a-couple type stuff, or just some pure stress-relief casual fun? Alternately, this is a pairing that lends itself to hurt/comfort; both of these guys have more than enough canonical close calls, let’s see the aftermath of one of them. If you’re feeling ambitious, you could fix Isard’s Revenge for me by writing their post-Distna reunion, after they’ve both believed each other to be dead for weeks.
Son of Havoc/Ivelisse Velez/Angelico -- I just love these beautiful dysfunctional dipshits and I want them to love each other! I’m into this as a casual stress-relief thing among teammates that accidentally turns less casual; I would love some hurt/comfort, which I feel like wrestling fic is basically made for, and I have a special love for “oh no, *I’m* the one who hurt you” h/c in particular, which I feel like these three squabbling idiots are basically made for. My general taste in Lucha Underground fic is “turn the supernatural nonsense up to 11,” so go nuts with the “persecuted by the literal goddess of death” business; I have a particular weakness for regular mortal Ivelisse and Havoc getting dragged into supernatural nonsense because their boyfriend is a supernatural creature with no sense of self-preservation.
Aziraphale/Crowley -- hi, yes, like everyone else on tumblr I am now a full-time Good Omens obsessive. This is another pairing that I like pretty much any way you take it -- six thousand years of angsty pining and “no actually they’ve been fucking and/or married since Eden” and anything in between all equally welcome. I love the historical scenes that we get in the TV show, and would be delighted with anything looking at what they’ve been up to throughout the rest of history (ooh, how about a Robin Hood interlude?); I love rescue missions and hurt/comfort of any kind; I have a terrible weakness for the delayed-action total fucking breakdown that Crowley is clearly going to have post-Armageddon; I’m down for them not being quite as safe as they thought they were post-Armageddon, and having to fend off one last attack from Heaven or Hell or both. I love the warm soft side of how ludicrously much they love each other, and also the absolutely crucial part of their dynamic that is “I can’t believe I have somehow been stuck, for six THOUSAND YEARS, hanging around with the SINGLE MOST ANNOYING PERSON IN THE UNIVERSE”. My one specific demand is: I don’t mind some angst on the way to my happy ending, the payoff is all the sweeter if you make me suffer for it a little, but this is the one pairing where I feel really really strongly that you gotta give me the happy ending, or at least leave them on track for it if they’re not quite there yet.
(A note: I requested Aziraphale/Crowley under both book and TV fandoms, and I’m lumping them together here because I honestly don’t care much about the distinction. I love the book, I loved the show, fics set in book canon, TV canon, or a sort of pick-and-choose hybrid canon are all equally fine with me!)
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stellarbisexual · 6 years ago
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A Memory of Love (1/?)
Oh friends. Here we go. My next multichapter monster. 
Summary: Richie and Eddie, who haven't seen each other since they were kids, get cast as the lead couple in an indie film.
Canon-divergent, Reddie are in their 30s.
*Consent warning: I did not tag for dubcon or non-con, but because of the nature of this fic, these are not typical consent circumstances. I don't consider it dubious consent because these are two actors who have mutually agreed to be "method" together, so consent is implied. That said, they do talk about it and check in with each other throughout. But just a warning if you think that might trigger you.
READ ON AO3
Chapter 1: CASTING
“Acting isn’t something you do.  Instead of doing it, it occurs. If you’re going to start with logic, you might as well give up.  You can have conscious preparation, but you can have unconscious results.” - Lee Strasberg
It’s the end of an era, Richie thinks, watching silently as his castmates dance, drink, and party, floating around him like an impressionist painting.  
He’d started at The Friday Show, or TFS, a more risque LA-based SNL knockoff, when he was a baby—twenty-five, an age that, eight years later, it seems impossible for him to have ever been.  There isn’t a trace of melancholy or regret about his departure; it’s time, and he’s ready. As for what he’s going to do next, though? That’s a big fucking question mark.
Bev, his best friend going on six years now, materializes in front of him with a tumbler of really good bourbon, the kind reserved for a party like this.  He looks down at her with gratitude. She stands nearly two heads shorter than him but can still level him with her fiery green eyes at the drop of a hat. “Want it?”  She waves the glass in front of him. “Or would you rather sneak out?”
“As soon as this is empty,” he says, grabbing the glass from her.  He’s so glad she’s here; she’s one of very few people—or maybe the only person—he can be serious with.
“I’m ready,” she says, smiling.
He and Bev were actually childhood friends, but their middle school friendship had been short-lived, and neither of them remembered much of it.  In fact, Richie’s life from the ages of twelve to about fourteen is nothing but a big, gaping black hole. Bev had moved away, gone to FIT, and landed in LA after making quite the name for herself in New York.  She’d ended up outfitting him for a photo shoot when he first started picking up steam on TFS, they’d taken one look at each other, their jaws dropping, and the rest is history.
Everyone who meets Richie says he’s “so LA,” that he might as well have been born here for how much the city of angels suits him.  He’s not so sure about that, especially not now. In fact, lately he’s been thinking of picking up and disappearing completely for a couple of years, doing some humanitarian work, something that actually matters at the very least.
Bev presses a kiss to the shoulder of his jacket and fades back into the crowd, mingling dutifully as the reservoir of Richie’s bourbon gets lower and lower.  
A friendly-looking man in a suit approaches him.  Richie’s on his guard, already ready to go home, but the man asks more genuine questions than the usual “What’s next for you?” bullshit and he seems to actually be listening, so Richie listens, too.  
He cuts to the chase soon enough.  “I have to admit, I’ve been working up the courage to approach you all night.”
Richie’s eyes go wide.
“No, no,” the guy is quick to say, laying a comforting hand on Richie’s forearm.  “I’m a producer. I’m in early pre-production on an indie that’s basically like a gay Blue Valentine.  Have you ever thought about doing any dramatic work?”
Richie purses his lips.  ���No, do you think I should?” he jokes, and instead of laughing, the man—Greg—nods enthusiastically.  
“Your transformative skills are incredible, and there’s something really accessible about you.”
Richie shakes his head like he’s been punched.  He pictures a mouthpiece flying out of his mouth.  He’s been approached by producers before, but none of them have ever talked to him like they know what the fuck they’re talking about.  Greg actually seems to know and give a shit about good performances, which is not common.
“The other lead is already cast.  He’s still sort of an unknown, but he’s this incredible character actor.  A total throwback to the great method actors of the 50s. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s on a serious award track.”
Ah, so Greg is a producer, after all.
“It may take a few years, but that’s how good he is.”
“What’s his name?” Richie asks, eyeing Bev, who’s pointing at his empty glass from the other side of the pool and giving him a thumbs up.
“Eddie Kaspbrak.”
*
Richie and Bev have been pulled up in front of his house huddled over his phone for the last ten minutes.  
“I can’t believe Eddie’s an actor now.  Who knew?”
One of Bev’s manicured fingers swipes through an endless string of photos of grown-up Eddie Kaspbrak, who they both remember as petite, asthmatic, and extremely high-strung.  Richie doesn’t remember much from their friendship as kids (about as much as he remembers of how he and Bev first met), but from what he does remember, Eddie’s the last kid he would have expected to become an actor.  
He’s attractive, sure, in an everyman, Anthony Perkins-ish way, but he was never the most outgoing or confident of his friends (that spot was reserved for Richie himself, thank you very much).  He would have remembered seeing a spark like that. Right?
It’s a bit of a battle wrestling his phone back from Bev, who’s horribly intrigued by this turn of events.  Richie’s exhausted, though, and eager to be alone after the last couple of weeks of high-octane schmoozing, so he gives her a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek and pushes the car door open, strolling quickly away from the cul-de-sac and up his front walkway.  His feet drag heavily to a stop as he spots the thick manila envelope leaned up against the bottom of his front door. Greg had mentioned having the script delivered by courier within twenty-four hours, but Richie hadn’t expected it quite so soon, and without his agent’s involvement.  It’s like it’s been dropped right down from the sky.
He bends down with a grunt, picking it up and confirming that that’s indeed what it is, tossing the package up gently in his big hands, testing its heft.  He smiles and slips his key into the door. It’s good to feel wanted.
Richie heaves a big sigh as he closes the door behind him, taking in the wonderful, welcome silence, only to feel unsettled by it less than a minute later.  He putters around for a moment, considers pouring himself a nightcap, then decides against it, setting the house alarm and heading straight for his bedroom.
As he slips off his suit, looking out the sliding doors at the back, at the expanse of land he’s had big plans for for years but still has yet to turn into a proper garden, he smiles out of the corner of his mouth.  “Eddie fucking Kaspbrak.”
He hasn’t agreed to anything yet, but he has a feeling he will.
permatag list: @reddie-to-fight @hurleyhugo @raspberrywind @losver-kaspbrak @lilgeorgie @geckolover001 @its-stranger-than-you-think @gazebo-motherfucker @waypunsarelife @reddietofall @happytozier @librablossom @creamy-brown-eyes @aesteddie @tapetayloe @spagheddi-kaspbrak @sadhelianthus @adhdtozier @justcallme-trashmouth @bitchin-eds @fuckboyrichie @thetheatregal @bandaids
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xwishfulxdesiresx · 4 years ago
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Rules For This Blog:
[This is a supernatural Fandomless adult theme side blog for all the oc/canon characters I rp. As well as a made up town so supernatural beings can be safe. I have no lore about the town so you don’t have to worry about rules or anything like that. The reason I’m doing this is, because I don’t want it to clutter my blogs with the verses and other things as well. Now the rules, and more reasoning as to why this blog is the way it is.] Now here are the rules for the blog: -These icons, images, and gifs are not owned by me. They belong there there original creator/respected owners. There are some I made, and taken from official manga, but I rather not address them, due to laziness. -My fandom (FGO/Arknights) muses are in a modern verse. So know they are not the same person as they would be in there world. They are different people with different lives. -Same for my fandom Ocs (Quinn and Dimitri), and if you have come from another blog to rp with them, then know you have three verses to pick from. -Everything on this blog is not connected or canon to my other blogs. (eternal-servants-of-old, and asexual-incubus.) -The blog has city of it’s own. So know that if we rp I might think we are setting it there with out talking or plotting about it before hand.    - This blog is very OC friendly. Give me your ocs please! I want to see the ocs you wrote so hard to make. -This is a multi-muse/multi verse blog. No cheating will happen on here, and each ship is set in there own universe. - Okay it’s a adult blog for both themes and the characters ages. This blog will deal of themes of drinking, smoking, consensual sex, light bullying from some character’s bio, and one of my oc has a past abusive relationship. These will be tagged in there bios. So that way you can prepare yourselves or not read it if it’s too much for you. Don’t force yourself if you don’t want to. It’s okay to ignore a character on here. -Triggers: Okay I had to think about this and look at blogs but blood (No Gore), fangs/teeth, and monsters with eyes, werewolfs or Yoakis (These are not furries. I don’t know what to tell you.) mentions of suicide are okay on this blog. I will tag them like the eye one being body horror. so no one can see them, but if I forget to tag something please remind me in cause there is a chance I forgot to. -Ruby aka host/hostess club verse has drinking in it. And to those who don’t like drinking or alcohol know, that the ruby menu page has it where the first thing you see is alcoholic drinks. I have non alcoholic drinks as well, but if you can’t handle anything involving drinking, then this verse might not be for you. -The Blue Rose aka the Brothel verse has nsfw things in it. Now I will not go into the darker side of people who work in places like this. Its a safe verse, and if you don’t mind smut, then this verse might be for you. -The Royal Chow Chow Cafe aka the Cafe Verse has food in it. This is to those that don’t like to see food, and I will not tag food being mentioned cause sorry I think that’s dumb. I will only tag food photos never rps. So if that’s not your thing, then block me and move on. -On the topic of this blog being adult it doesn’t mean mostly sex or anything nsfw. It means adult topics, and plots. If you are not okay with that and want a pure smut blog, then sorry to say, but this blog is not for you and you can unfollow or block me if you so wish it. - I will try my best to tag things. The tags will be ’“//Abuse Mention” “//Drinking Mention” and so on. Meaning it will be under //Mention tag. - I will put my NSFW threads in keep reading.. -In the NSFW threads I will tag them as lemon for sex/smut, bdsm as bd/sm, and tag kinks as K!nk  in case no one wants to read it. - I don’t do smut with anyone. One, you can’t be underage to rp smut with me, and if you are 18 and over, then understand I ship off chemistry. One night stands are a thing here, but if I can’t work with the rp, then understand I will drop it. - if you want your muse to have a sexual relationship but do not want to write it then know I can do fate to blacks and plot with you on how our muses feel afterwords if you like. - Speaking of underage, if you have a under aged muse, and want to write smut with me, then I will block you and it will be the end of it. - I’m going to be a bit selective with smut. Sorry, I just can’t do it with strangers with a drop of a hat. So we would need to build on our muses interactions. We can even plot what kind if you are up for it. My DMs are always open. - I am open for plots whenever, but if I am late to a message, then know I will get to it between a day or a week. It depends on how my IRL is at the moment. - I don’t do the “only manuals should rp with me” thing. But if I don’t follow you then there is a change that I might not want to rp with you. It’s nothing bad really. Most of the time that it has happen was with very dark blogs. So if you don’t have that then don’t worry about it. - I don’t rp with blogs that use real life people. Like youtubers, movie stars, or tv actors. Sorry just not comfortable with it. -I also don’t rp with blogs that use kid cartoon characters or ponies. Adult cartoon characters i will be okay with and iffy with some. - Do not rp with me if you have things I don’t like: Cannibalism, forcing my muse to do things for your muse kink wise, and are a dick. Try it any of these things on my muses, and I will block you. Things I will do that I never have a single problem with. Also addressing somethings: - If you want to rp a event with my muses by discord. Then I am fine with giving you my Discord name. Just ask by mailing me a tumblr message and, I will tell you my username. - This blog is Multiship and Multiverse friendly.- This blog It’s okay with some crossovers and most canon characters. And it goes with out saying as well as ocs. Just don’t do anything crazy. Also I can not rp with fandoms I do not know. Sorry but, I lack that kind of skill. - The character I rp dose not equal me. And I don’t equal them. - You don’t have to match my length in a rp. But please don’t do short one liners over and over again. I find those dull, and will lose interest in the rp. - I didn’t come to Tumblr to find someone to date or be with romantically or sexually involved with. So if you confess to me then, I will just deny you on the spot and, that will be the end of it. About certain muses: I have two trans muses. one I do not feel ready to talk about or point out on this blog, and another one, Quinn who you can see is trans in there bio, and in all verses. Knowing this, please be respectful of these muses. You can hate them for there personality, actions, or just your muse not liking them for what ever reason, but do not be a terf. You will be blocked. Balan is someone you can not smut. BUT if you want to do a long thread of your muse going through Wonderworld, only for Balan and your muse developing feelings for each other, and the heartache of them having to say good-bye, then we can do that sad fairy tale shit! Kinks/Ideas: Yes we are finally here! Kinks and things I’m fine with. If you don’t see a kink or thing you want to rp, then there is a chance, that I don’t like it or forgot to put it on here. Also my muses have a kink list so it should make things easier on you. But if you still don’t see anything you want to be addressed, then go to my inbox to remind me or to see if I’m down or not writing it. -Kinks: bondage, tentacles, boob job, blow jobs, handjob, blindfolds, light spanking, chocking, riding, mutual masturbation, masturbation, pegging, crossdressing, toys, phone sex, humiliation, monsters (Depends), NSFW Audio, edging, lingerie, quick/long orgasm, threesomes, begging, teasing, light dirty talk, overstimulation, more then one round of sex, biting/marking, size difference, after care, and vanilla. -Kinks that get passes from me, but I will not write it a lot: Angry sex (consensual on both people), Woman with normal sizes or small male members, Guys with a lower female part. (I am not writing the slay terms you can’t make me.) - The ones above will be tagged as //not for your eyes as well as under keep reading. You do no have to like this, which is fine, but know I am doing everything I can to make everyone comfortable on this blog -Ideas: Unrequited love/onesided love, one night stands, friends with benefits, crazed love to the point of obsession (No killing or anything abusive if you please), friends who just want to help another friend out by making it a monthly or weekly thing, booty call, romantic love, and just fluffy cute couple stuff. -Kinks I will not do: Pedophelia, bestiality (furries count), anything with human waste, watersport, vore, gore, guro, eating a person, over eating or forcing someone to eat more food, non-con/dubcon, knife kink, mind break, incest, drugging people, hypnosis, cheating (Yes some people get off on this), breeding or anything with pregnancy, anything with feet, and body horror. [The list might get bigger over time. As of right now this is the things I will not do.] -You and not liking a kink: Look going to say this right now. I will NEVER force something your muse or the mun is uncomfortable with. That’s not me, but if you come to me and want to try out something, due to thinking about it, and want to see if it will be your thing. Then also know, that I’m okay with that, and if you say you are not feeling it, then I will stop everything, and give you the understanding of just experimenting with your writing. (Yup. That’s pretty much it. These rules might be updated at a later time, but for now it’s good.)
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sumigakure · 7 years ago
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Winter Wishes 2017: Wish List
We’ve got a list, and we’re checking it twice! 
Prompts cannot be claimed until Dec 1st. See the Event Post for all Rules, Dates and Info.
@arrowsbane:
Wish: In an AU where Orochimaru never took Danzo up on his offer for labs, Sarutobi dumps a trio of genetically-altered brats on him and hands him a ‘Teaching for Dummies’ book, which is not appreciated. Turns out, Orochimaru is pretty good with kids, but thinks he isn’t. Nobody else is buying that lie though.
Likes: Snakes being awesome. And Orochimaru being awesome. I blame @blackkatmagic. She did this to me.
Dislikes/Triggers: I’m pretty chill, but not keen on sexual abuse or non-con. It just feels like crossing a line, even if they are essentially paid assassins. Like, murder is one thing, but it’s just… nope.
Bonus for: Danzo trying to steal Oro’s brats and getting curb stomped.
Porn/No Porn: I do like porn on occasion, but I don’t think this wish needs it - unless Sakumo is alive in this AU, and has seduced Oro. But don’t strain yourself if you’re not comfortable.
Claimed
@modernart2012
Wish: Pacific Rim AU. Preference for MadaTobi, but I’m open to any pairing, romantic or otherwise. Doesn’t have to follow the movie, can follow the comics.
Likes: ghost!Drift (specifically to Pac Rim, anyways)… I’m pretty game for anything not in my “Dislikes”?
Dislikes/Triggers: No incest or pedophilia (not even allowed in this collective, but gonna state it anyways); Abuse - physical or emotional; if this gets porny, no noncon or dubcon or bloodplay, emetophilia, or scat. HARD NO On COCKROACHES.
Bonus for: background Xanatos Gambit, not necessarily for the kaiju, but someone else and doesn’t have to be evil. Morton’s Fork will similarly be accepted.
Porn/No Porn: Either is good. Writer’s choice.
Claimed
@sanjuno
Wish: I would like to see Madara taken from post-death (whichever of the 3 canonical instances best suit your narrative) and dropped into an AU, either replacing his otherself or having his otherself be dead/missing. It can be a trope influenced NRT world, (i.e. Soulmate Marks, ABO) or a crossover-fusion world, (i.e. NRT characters in a Star Wars or BNHA setting) or just switching out ninja for mainstream scifi or steampunk or magic. Cue Madara flailing and being overly dramatic.  I would prefer a happy ending. Gen is fine. I basically want to see Madara screaming about how little sense the AU rules make while simultaneously snuggling his little brothers. B/c Madara is the Most Extra.
Likes: TobiMada. Effective Communication. Madara oblivious to (Tobirama’s) flirting. Fussing over baby brothers.
Dislikes/Triggers: Character Bashing. Non-Con. Unaddressed Dub Con.
Bonus for: n/a
Porn/No Porn: Sure, if you’re feeling it or the story calls for it. ^_^
Claimed
@definitelynotaminion
Wish: Sasuke really, stupidly likes being fingered. Team 7 obliges 
Likes:  healthy polyamory, kinking the fuck out of Sakura’s super strength, and gentle ribbing/teasing the fuck out of Sasuke/poking fun or dirty talking to embarrass him a little
Dislikes/Triggers:  uh the normal squicks, you’re probably good. Dislikes non-bi all of them. Dislikes feminization of Sasuke
Bonus for: Sasuke totally gets off a little on being embarrassed/dirty talked to/them talking about him. Also he’s stupidly in love with them.
Porn/No Porn: Porn, pls. Obvs
Claimed
@dimancheetoile
Wish: NaruSakuSai, their first time. Sakura is coming home from a mission where she almost died and the boys need to make sure she’s doing fine. Featuring lots of fluffiness, some worship and praise kink because Sakura deserves it.
Likes: Honestly, everything that deals with their respectives issues would be great. Sai probably doesn’t like being touched much, but loves touching them, Naruto needs to show his love, Sakura enjoys the praises and attention.
Dislikes/Triggers: non-con, in any way, shape or form. As long as the characters are mainly true to their canon selves, I’m good.
Bonus for: Naruto putting on lipstick to leave marks on Sakura and Sai + morning after cuddles.
Porn/No Porn: Porn. Lots of porn, pretty please with a shinobi on top.
Claimed
@fineillsignup
Wish: At some point in the Chuunin Exams arc (post-Forest of Death, but pre-Tsunade’s arrival) Sakura travels back in time to Kakashi’s attempt to rescue jinchuuriki Rin. She’s not much good fighting at that point but her sudden appearance causes enough confusion to allow a few crucial seconds such that Obito arrives while Rin is alive. And then…?
Likes: ObiSaku would be nice, no pairing is also fine.
Dislikes/Triggers: Cannibalism or humans being eaten generally.
Bonus for: 13 y/o Kakashi being a better teacher than 26 y/o Kakashi.  
Porn/No Porn: Not unless you put in a big timeskip
Claimed
@will-zeke-thomson
Wish: I’d like to see a story about how Tenzou fathered a bunch of kids (doesn’t need to be from one woman or be romantically involved with one at all) because he wanted his wood release to be carried on to future generations. Just him as a father training and raising a bunch of kids which some (if not all) have his wood style.
Likes: I like family fluff and maybe a little angst but nothing too heavy.
Dislikes/Triggers: I dislike character bashing and any general cruelty but I’m not Triggered by anything but I don’t think that will be something for this type of thing to worry about.
Bonus for: Tenzou just being a good dad and doing his best and maybe Naruto helping train the kids and maybe even passing on the start of how to do the rasengan to them or the shadow clone to help them train.
Porn/No Porn: No porn for this please
Claimed
@pwnie3
Wish: Everyone in Konoha lost something on the day of the Kyuubi attack, and Genma Shiranui is no different. But not everyone can say they gained something. All of seventeen years old, he finds himself with a dead sister and her daughter Tenten to care for. Let’s hope he doesn’t screw this up.
Likes: Family fluff, obviously. Also Genma freaking out over how to parent.
Dislikes/Triggers: Just don’t be too gross I guess???
Bonus for: the Talk and Tenten’s first date.  
Porn/No Porn: No porn please.
Claimed
@rezelis
Wish: Time travel with Kakashi peferably during the warring clans era or some form of supernatural creature thing.
Likes: dork!Madara, Gai. Angst in moderation. (Kakashi)
Dislikes/Triggers: Overly emberassing moments, like the level of romantic comedies. It can take me months to read such things.
Bonus for: troll!Kakashi
Porn/No Porn: No porn please.
Claimed
@stormwind13
Wish: Sakura is sent on a long term mission with Team Eight. What the mission is is up to the author. What I want is Sakura and Team Eight being awesome.
Likes: Sakura/Kiba, Hinata and Sakura friendship, Shino
Dislikes/Triggers: Non-con, dub-con, A/B/O
Bonus for: Sakura/Kiba
Porn/No Porn: No porn.
Claimed
@miss-fandoms-shakespeare
Wish: Genma and Raidou+the desk chuunin have many late nights in the tower, to make it better they play some music, one things leads to another and suddenly it's a dirty dancing competition! And it's all fun&games until a jounin coming in from a late mission walks in. The chuunin are embarrassed, but the jounin ends up joining in too???
Likes: Side-characters, dancing to cheesy early-2000s pop music, random fluff, multi-pairs/poly pairs (if you are up to writing it)
Dislikes/Triggers: Character hating, non-con, daddy kinks, etc
Bonus for: The jonin who walks in is Kakashi.
Porn/No Porn: Either is fine for me, it depends on how the story is going for you.
Claimed
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starboysinspace · 8 years ago
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Klance Recs #3
Tidal by  noero ( PG-13, 1.6k)
Summary: Although Keith may not consider himself a theorist, he figures the impulse that fuels his own inertia is the only force that can stop Lance’s aimless velocity. They just fit. Far be it from him question the laws of nature. [Pining!Keith]
String Theory by noero (NC-17, 4.3k)
Summary: The prospect of piloting the Red Lion had excited Lance at first, even if the mere thought of abandoning the Blue Lion made him uneasy. In hindsight, that should have been his first clue that something was bound to go wrong. Omnipresent robot lions were usually right about these things. [Soulbond, Black Paladin!Keith]
Intermezzo by noero (NC-17, 3.2k)
Summary: Their relationship had always been backward like that, needing to turn left before they turn right. They go up just so they can come back down and one step forward for every two steps back. They’d been running in circles so long that they skid the turn when they try to stop. Everything is urgent and feverish. Alternately, the one in which Lance is handsy and Keith just really wants to kiss him. [Friends With Benefits] 
Pendulum by noero (NC-17, 5.2k)
Summary: The funny thing about falling for someone is you don't even realize you're falling until you hit the ground. It just happens that when Lance falls, he hits hard.
Best Laid Plans by agrestenoir + ErinNovelist (PG-13, 2.5k)
Summary: “If by dream, you mean your worst nightmare, then yes, sweet Paladin.” Lotor’s voice was soft and saccharine as he crept closer Lance, lips pulling into a twisted, cruel smile. “I am the vengeance my father seeks, the fear you feel in the nights, I am—” “Batman,” Lance whispered. "Lance," Keith whispered. "Please don't antagonize Zarkon's son." Or: Lance and Keith get captured. Lotor is a Diva. There's kissing, and somehow they escape too, but who's really here for that?
Entangled by mackerelmademedoit (R, 101.8k)
Summary: When Keith found himself mentally linked to Lance of all people, he never thought that it would end in anything but irritation and misery on both sides. He certainly never imagined that it would be a useful asset in team Voltron's fight against the Galra Empire. Now if he can just keep his feelings in check, they might actually have a chance at defeating Zarkon. Needless to say, when he'd wished for a 'bonding moment' with Lance, this wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind. [Mental Link/Soul Bond]
pepsicola by corydalis (PG-13, 10.3k)
Summary: It starts like this: Lance looking up at the scoreboard only a few days into his Garrison training and muttering to himself, “What the hell kind of a name is Keith?” -- Or, Keith and Lance fall in love. Eventually. DAY 2: love // hate [Enemies to Friends to Lovers]
Like Devo by surveycorpsjean (NC-17, 8.3k)
Summary: As rival jammers, they're rough, skating around the rink, giving bruises, bloody noses, broken ribs and snapped fingers- But when the cops show up, Keith grabs his hand and yanks Lance into the storm drain. And thats how they start dating. [Roller Derby AU] 
Crossroads by manamune (Light R, 106.8k)
Summary: When Keith crashed his Lion into a Galra warship in order to stop it from destroying a solar system, and more importantly, his friends, he was fully prepared to die for it. What he didn’t prepare for was to wake up in an alternate universe where he and Lance were dating. [Time Travel/Alternate Dimension]
electromagnetic by seabear (PG, 25k)
Summary: Lance spends a lot of time wondering about his place in the universe. And his place with Keith. Oh, also there’s a heist and some fake dating. [Heist, Fake Out Make Out]
The Outfield by EdgarAllenPoet (R, 22.9k, WIP)
Summary: "The first time Lance meets Keith, Rihanna’s “S&M” is playing in the background, which Lance thinks is incredibly ironic considering where they are. Also, Keith’s naked." [BDSM AU, Safe; Sane; Consensual, WIP]
equations for a falling body by csoru (R, 25k)
Summary: “So, good news,” says Lance, voice a little strangled. “I seriously doubt that’s a killer neurotoxin. Or knockout gas.” (Keith, Lance, an alien drug and an enclosed space, and what happens after.) [WARNINGS: Non-con drug use, non-con branding, dubcon]
Shut Up and Dance With Me by wittyy_name (R, 132k, WIP)
Summary: Lance and his friends have been regulars at the Altea Dance Studio for years. Not just for classes, but to hang out, practice, and spend time with good people who love dancing. Every year, they audition to be one of the few representing Altea at the regional dance competition. Lance always auditions solo, but this year he misses out on auditions and blows his chance to participate. And so does his self-proclaimed rival, Keith. Luckily, Shiro comes up with a brilliant plan: convince Lance and Keith to audition as a duo. With a little convincing, and a lot of effort, these two might just be able to pull it off and go to regionals... or they might crash and burn. [Dancer AU]
Trouble’s Making Everything All Right by Mytay (R, 44.4k, WIP Series)
Summary: Two Paladins become two rough and tumble mercenaries, donning their leather coats and gun holsters, righting wrongs (while committing a few heists of their own), and fighting to get off this bleak, crime-filled planet. Also known as Lance and Keith's Space Cowboy Adventures. [Space Cowboys, Canon Divergence, WIP Series]
Far Away From Nothing by Ikira (NC-17, 12.5k)
Summary: When Lance is the last of the paladins to be recovered after their separation through the corrupted wormhole, everyone is a little concerned for him, considering how much Lance likes to be around people. Surprisingly, Keith seems to be the most concerned of all. But that concern quickly shifts to flustered preoccupation when Keith finally finds Lance and discovers that his time living on an uninhabited jungle planet have wrought some changes in the Blue Paladin. Some really nice changes. Turns out there are no barbers or hair stylists in the jungle, and Keith? Is unexpectedly okay with this. Really okay with this. Oh boy. [Hair Kink? Hair Length Kink?]
The Games We Play by Lys ap Adin (lysapadin) (NC-17, 3k)
Summary: Lance likes games. Through a lot of trial and error, this is what Keith has learned: the more random and casual Lance is being, the closer Keith needs to be listening, because it means Lance is trying to tell him something important. [BDSM]
From the Ruins, We shall Rise by (R, 18k, WIP)
Summary: This is a tale of two countries finding peace, a tale of a jealous emperor, and a tale of how a team was put together to save these two countries from their doom. The kingdom of Altea seeks peace with its Galran Empire neighbor, but the tyrannic Emperor Zarkon refuses to let Altea flourish while his turns to sand. It takes a prince, a general, a hitman, an inventor, a smith, and a guild of assassins to ensure that peace will reign throughout the continent of Cygnus. [Dragon Riders/Fantasy AU]
Burnout by lovetheinkstains (R, 12k, WIP)
Summary: Keith has a death wish and his entire department knows it. Running back into the flames of cleared buildings as if he's looking for a way to die a hero. The way his detective friend did. But the EMT with the pretty blue eyes hasn't given up on him just yet. And oddly enough... neither has the dead detective... [Firefighter/EMT AU, Mystery, WIP]
Touchdown by InsominiacArrest (NC-17, 4.6k)
Summary: Lance starts to get hot and bothered by the fact Keith sometimes gives out congratulatory ass slaps, and it becomes an issue when they start dating and it's hard for Lance to ask for what he wants. [Spanking]
from the mouths of liars bycsoru (NC-17, 7k)
Summary: “Dude,” says Lance — foolishly, because it means he has to breathe and now if they get sucked out into the vacuum of space, he’ll suffocate — “Are you mutating? Is this going to be the kind of deal where you get all messed up and turn into a horrible monster?” [Galra!Keith, Friends With Benefits, WARNINGS: slightly dark fic, Dom/sub undertones, body horror, consent issues and not entirely healthy relationship, under negotiated kink]
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the-odd-job · 3 years ago
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Close Your Eyes to This Disaster Chapter 4: …Trapped in Your Cage
Rating: Explicit Warnings: Chose Not to Use, Rape/Non-Con Category: Other Fandom: Transformers G1 Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Megatron, Soundwave Additional Tags: Dubcon, Sticky, Abusive Relationships, Mind Games, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Canon-Typical Violence Words: 5290
( Previous )
After the little incident with Megatron, some smartass decided that it wasn’t safe to assign the twins to the longer patrols. Or the mid range patrols, even. Or any that went outside of highly populated areas. The only good thing about that was that they were stuck on asphalt roads and not abusing their undercarriage on someone’s orders.
Those restrictions alone would have been annoying enough, but on top of them they got a command all the way from the Prime himself that they weren’t to leave the Ark’s vicinity even during their free time.
Because it wasn’t safe. Primus forbid something happen to the twins. Their own concerns over the situation were rapidly drowned out by everyone’s intent to fragging coddle them, as if running into Megatron without backup was the worst thing that could ever happen.
Granted, it would likely end very badly for them one way or another, but slagging pits shouldn’t they have been the ones to make the choice on whether or not to take that risk? Did the command really care for their wellbeing that much, or was it about their value to their faction? They may have lacked rank, but not skill. They were an asset on the battlefield, and held no illusions to the contrary. Losing them would be a notable hit for the Autobots.
Whatever the underlying reasons that they ultimately cared little about, the brothers didn’t last long before their frustration mounted to uncomfortable levels. They sparred and sparred some more, got even more promiscuous than they usually were, but their efforts to expel their energy only pushed back the inevitable. There was a whole planet right there, and they were forbidden from making the most of it? For god’s sake, it wasn’t as if they were traveling in fragging space and stuck on a ship because of that! It would’ve been a good reason to just put up with the whole slagging thing, even if it would have started to get tiresome.
This? This didn’t have a good reason, no matter what some others seemed to think. They endangered their life every time they stepped on the battlefield, but they wanted to effectively lock them up until risking the battlefield was the only risk they were allowed to take? They hadn’t signed up for this.
Things came to a head, but not violently—for once. Instead they approached Cliffjumper when the minibot with Brawn were scheduled for one of the longer patrol routes. There was no love between them, and they predicted right that Cliffjumper didn’t give two frags about their safety in relation to Megatron. He was happy to change shifts with them after Sideswipe bribed him well enough, not one word said about the what if.
What if something did happen?
Who the frag even cared at this point. They sure didn’t.
It was a nighttime patrol, half intentionally on their part—late hour and most of the mecha were following the planet’s day-night cycle and opting to recharge. Less sparks to catch them sneaking out, to the effect that they did indeed get out of the Ark without anyone stopping them.
They were far enough from the downed spaceship to relax when none other than Prowl pinged their comms. They could guess what that was about, and when they opened the connection, sure enough…
::Twins. Turn around and return to the Ark and your assigned duties.:: Prowl’s tone was clipped in the way it had a habit of being when he was pissed.
Were they anyone lesser they may have even listened… But they weren’t. ::Nah, don’t think I will,:: was all Sideswipe said as they continued onward, following the patrol route like good little mechs.
::That. Is. An. Order,:: Prowl not quite hissed, not quite growled, but still managed to make it clear he was getting angrier with every word. Disobedience just didn’t set so well with him.
::We’ll be back after we’re done with the patrol, don’t worry,:: Sideswipe assured him, as if Prowl wanted assurances right then.
::Should the end of Cliffjumper and Brawn’s patrol be your time of return, I promise you, you will regret it.::
Honestly, they probably would, knowing Prowl. Did they care?
After being cooped up because of someone else’s will, not really.
::We’ll return after the patrol,:: Sunstreaker growled. ::Do what you will then.:: With that, they cut the connection, blocked out their comms, and drove faster—just in case Prowl got the bright idea to send someone to fetch them back, unlikely as that was.
But they got what they wanted in the moment: they were on a patrol that should take them most of the night. If it wasn’t a chance to let loose and unwind, Sunstreaker didn’t know what was. So they drove… And drove… And drove, along roads near abandoned by the humans, enjoying the starlit sky and the crescent moon, the lights of a city in the far distance. The cool night air washed through their vents, taking the heat from their roaring engines.
Two and a half hours and absolutely nothing happened. They weren’t lulled into a false sense of security during that time, but still holding onto their caution or not, that helped them none when the sound of a jet approached them at a concerning speed.
It wasn’t an Earthen jet. No Earthen jet sounded like that.
They went for their comms immediately, but those were already thoroughly blocked. A bit of a déjà vu?
They could never outrun a fragging jet, so the twins stopped instead, in the middle of absolute nowhere with nothing in the form of cover nearby.
In other words, they were screwed.
But that didn’t mean they’d go down without a fight. Transforming out of their alt-modes, the brothers turned to face the flier that could be no one but Megatron, a fact confirmed not with the help of a signature—there was none to be found—but with their optics once the jet got close enough. They could recognize it well enough. Cybertronian in design, making not the slightest effort to blend in on the organic planet, and colored in simple silver. Soundwave was likely aboard, judging by the effectiveness with which their communications were obstructed.
Megatron flew all the way to them, only slowing down to transform some paces from them. Soundwave did indeed appear on the same move, landing next to his leader. The Decepticons wasted no time, approaching as soon as they were on their pedes.
The twins held their ground, Sunstreaker’s deep growl sounding his rising anger in time with his field lashing out with the same emotion. Slagging Megatron was the fault they even had gotten written off patrols like these, and now that they had managed to get on one anyway? Look who’s here.
They drew their weapons, all four of them, a rather clear indication that this wasn’t going to be a friendly meeting. Sunstreaker squared his shoulders and took two steps closer to the Decepticons, ready to meet them with the violence that was really the only appropriate response in situations like these, no?
But… “You haven’t changed,” Megatron said unexpectedly—almost fondly.
That was enough to halt Sunstreaker, and Sideswipe by extension, the both of them frowning in confusion.
Changed from what? “The pit’s that supposed to mean?” Sunstreaker demanded, his engine revving in warning when Megatron was mere inches away from the range of his sword. No surprise, Megatron didn’t take heed, and unlike last time, took the first attack.
Sideswipe would have attacked the warlord with him, had Soundwave not moved to intercept him, forcing his brother off to the side where he wouldn’t be able to intervene without going through the Third first. It was to be just Megatron and Sunstreaker, again. This time Sunstreaker was expecting it and quickly took notice that it didn’t look like Megatron’s goal had changed—injure, cripple, but don’t kill.
Well, Sunstreaker was out to kill. The bastard had managed to become a personal problem on top of being the embodiment of the entire enemy faction. He had no reason to hold back, and every reason to give it his all. He made Megatron work to cut down the amount of damage the tyrant was receiving, but, unfortunately and as before… It was quickly Sunstreaker that began to gain the greater number of injuries despite his best efforts, even if he managed to stay out of the way of the worst of it—block this or dodge that with only half of the damage intended actually landing on him.
Half the damage too much. Megatron wasn’t faster than he was, he wasn’t as agile, but he was several times stronger, not to mention more durable. He could take more punishment than Sunstreaker could ever dream of, and there was strength behind his attacks that Sunstreaker simply couldn’t match, and couldn’t take in full force. One strike of Megatron’s sword across his chest cut him too deep for comfort, even if it was clearly not intended to stab him in a way that would have endangered his spark. Another sank into his thigh, barely missing components that if damaged, would have given him one mighty limp. His shoulder got the same treatment.
Pain or not, Sunstreaker didn’t allow himself be distracted. That would only result in… Well, not death by the looks of things, at least not instantaneously, but definitely in Megatron succeeding at whatever the fuck he was trying to achieve with all of this.
However, he paid a bit too much mind to the warlord’s sword, and with Sideswipe occupied by Soundwave, his brother couldn’t alert him to Megatron’s intent before it was already too late—a servo armed with wicked claws struck forward, catching into the gape on Sunstreaker’s chest Megatron’s damned blade had left behind, and thrusting up.
And this time his spark was definitely threatened. Sunstreaker could feel the claw tips pressing against his spark chamber, and didn’t fool himself into thinking Megatron wouldn’t have had the strength to pierce through all of the shielding and snuff his spark within seconds.
An ugly snarl twisted Sunstreaker’s faceplates, but he slowly and with very clearly broadcasted motions placed his sword back into his subspace. Dropping the thermal blade to the ground would’ve only started a wildfire, a fact he trusted Megatron was aware of, and the tyrant did indeed allow him to subspace his weapon fully.
He was staring potential death on the fragging optic by meeting Megatron’s gaze. He couldn’t read it, though. He couldn’t read his damn field for that matter, the current thoughts and emotions of the nemesis of their race veiled from him. Expecting the worst all the same, Sunstreaker tensed from helm to pede when Megatron retracted his own sword and reached for him–
But instead of ripping his helm off his shoulders or whatever, his servo came to his chin and the tyrant’s thumb–
Brushed across his lower lip.
If Sunstreaker wasn’t still before, he sure as fuck became still as a mech already grey at that move. The surprise that hit them like a freight train had Sideswipe stumbling with a gasp, and Soundwave ruthlessly took the chance to send him crashing down and pin him there. His brother cursed, but quickly confirmed he wasn’t going to escape the hold with his life intact, and… That was it for them, was it not? They’d lost good and proper.
But they weren’t dead. That was one small victory, but time would show whether it would remain that way.
It would just be lovely to know what the slag Megatron was doing.
“Do you not remember me?” Megatron asked, his thumb running over his lip again, this time with just a touch more force. Sunstreaker scowled and tried to jerk his helm away, but Megatron both caught his chin and pressed the servo in his chassis deeper, clear in not allowing something like that.
Sunstreaker scowled harder. “What kind of question is that?” he growled back, quite effectively submerged in a pit of confusion. Somehow he got the feeling Megatron wasn’t just meaning his formless status as the enemy leader, or the times they’d seen each other in the battles here on Earth.
Megatron didn’t look pleased or displeased by his answer. He merely… Glanced to the side, at Soundwave and Sideswipe, and nodded.
At once Soundwave had forced one of Sideswipe’s ports open. “Hey–!” was all his twin managed before the telepath plugged into him, both him and Sunstreaker flinching at the potent intrusion into Sideswipe’s systems and psyche. Sunstreaker jerked to go help instinctively, a snarl rising from his engine–
But Megatron stabbed his digits upward just so and Sunstreaker’s vents seized when the tyrant’s claws truly did pierce into his spark chamber’s shielding. Not deep, not deep enough to take his life, but the warning was beyond clear. Sunstreaker had to still himself, his optics flicking between Megatron and Soundwave, uncertain which of them he was supposed to glare at when Soundwave went about rooting in Sideswipe’s systems.
There was a method to what he was doing in his brother’s head. He cleanly cut through all of Sideswipe’s internal defenses and went deeper and deeper into his programming, Sideswipe shivering beneath him from the sensation. The look in his optics was distant, and Sunstreaker had a front row seat to the way the red twin could do nothing but watch as Soundwave descended into the deepest reaches of his… Memory files?
He aimed into the distant past, yet ignored everything he came across until he arrived to the long span of blank they had never had an explanation for. Where they had simply assumed something had wiped those memories from existence entirely, Soundwave now focused on the empty space and… Uploaded a patch into Sideswipe’s systems? He went on to install it on that empty space, which had to mean there was something there after all–
And after a few more commands forced upon Sideswipe’s inner workings, it all came back. Every memory of that time was restored to its full glory and Sideswipe could do nothing but gasp as it all reintegrated with him.
Their optics widened at the same time, the memories of Sideswipe’s frame bleeding through to Sunstreaker as knowledge.
Knowledge of where they had been at that point of their life, what they had done…
With who they had been.
True recognition flooded in. Emotion, old emotion bled into Sunstreaker’s field before he could stop it, and as it swelled past his control, Megatron purred. “There you are.”
Sideswipe was wheezing and didn’t even try to get up when Soundwave released him. The telepath came over to Sunstreaker instead, and he wasn’t sure he would have fought the opening of one of his ports even if Megatron’s servo hadn’t remained as a warning in his chassis. Now knowing where to look, Soundwave took little time to locate the same blank in Sunstreaker’s memories. The same patch was uploaded and installed into his systems, and the memories, every last one of them, restored to their rightful places. It wasn’t just Sideswipe’s memories anymore, vaguely passed by their spark. Now they were all ones belonging to Sunstreaker’s own frame.
And Primus, there were so many. Vorns worth of them, and it would take a while to reintegrate all of them, but when he made a query—Megatron, Megatronus—the amount of returns was… Something else. The sheer size of the role Megatronus had in those memories spoke volumes of everything he had forgotten, and quite well explained Megatron’s seemingly abrupt interest in them.
It wasn’t abrupt. Just opportunistic. Old.
But as he shifted through the memories as fast as he was physically capable, a trend quickly made itself known. Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed up at Megatron who was staring at him with something expectant–
And Sunstreaker said: “You’re a real jackass, did you know that?”
Megatron raised just one optical ridge at him. “Really? That’s the first thing that comes to your mind?” There was still an undercurrent of a purr to his voice, his field pulsing with something entirely suggestive, and when the warlord’s thumb pressed against his lower lip again, Sunstreaker could make an educated guess of where his thoughts were supposed to go, according to Megatron.
But he wasn’t going to just play along. “Was it not supposed to be?” he asked instead, cocking an optical ridge of his own. “The last I remember you were trying to prevent me from going to a goddamn party.”
“You put up quite a fuss over that—and then you disappeared,” Megatron said, and now there was… A hint of a growl. Anger. Sunstreaker didn’t feel like it was directed at them, this time, but rather at whatever—whoever—had so stolen them from Megatron’s clutches.
If nothing else, the servo in his fragging chassis was carefully pulled away. Sunstreaker shuddered at the stabbing pain it caused, but couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved to not have the tyrant’s claws threatening his lifeforce anymore. Memories or not, he couldn’t bring himself to trust the mech any further than he could’ve thrown him. He carefully rubbed at the gaping wound once he was free to do so, not that that achieved anything more than more grating discomfort.
And he glared.
“You look different,” Megatron commented in the silence that followed, and oh dear but he didn’t sound happy about that.
“Yeah, well, if you haven’t noticed I’m not a Pit fighter anymore,” Sunstreaker grumbled, because this was one topic where he didn’t find himself in disagreement with Megatron’s obvious displeasure. He’d liked his looks, but of course, he very well couldn’t look quite so Kaonite among the Autobots.
So here he was instead, not looking as he had.
“Did the Autobots do this to you?” the warlord asked, now outright growling and gripping Sunstreaker’s jaw tighter until the smaller mech was grimacing. Oddly, Megatron’s hold immediately loosened.
“They didn’t do anything I didn’t agree to,” Sunstreaker argued back, but he knew his discontent was too visible. There was no way Megatron would buy that, even if it was the truth. Mostly.
“Did you have the option to refuse?” Megatron asked, confirming that no, he didn’t buy it.
But the golden twin just barked a laugh. “Some slag, coming from you.”
“I would have never stripped you of your edges like this.”
“What about all other shit you would do and have done?”
“Such as?”
“Primus, you really need to ask?” Sunstreaker growled and tried to jerk his helm away, not that Megatron was having any of it. “I can think of a goddamn laundry list off the top of my head, but we’d be here the whole night if I started repeating all of it. How about that party incident though, or how many times you straight up forced me into an interface?”
“And how many times did I give you pleasure? How many nights did we spend together?”
“Is that supposed to–“
Before he could say more, Megatron had leaned down and pressed their lips together, softly, gently—but when Sunstreaker tried to turn his helm away with a low snarl, Megatron only grabbed one of his helm fins and kept him right where he wanted him. Still Sunstreaker refused to return the kiss despite Megatron’s glossa requesting entry; the twin stubbornly kept his mouth closed. Megatron didn’t seem to care too much about that, and while he kept his control of Sunstreaker’s helm with one servo, the other began to… Travel. It started from his neck, blood soaked, dangerous claws brushing against the cabling there and then wandered down—carefully playing in the open cuts left on him by Megatron himself until Sunstreaker shivered from the shy increase of pain.
Then it moved on, slipping to his waist, dragging along seams… Lower still.
There was no question of what Megatron was after.
“Why?” Sunstreaker snarled, then gasped when the servo flashed between his legs, scraping the edges of his valve cover.
“Do you not miss this? Miss me?” Megatron murmured against his mouth, but didn’t give him a chance to answer before his glossa thrust in past his now parted lips.
Sunstreaker shook. There was no way that he could have missed something he didn’t even remember, but now he remembered.
He remembered the attraction, the danger, the strength—the bad and the good. He hadn’t made a habit of ogling the enemy leader, but now he didn’t need to have done so to know every detail of Megatron’s frame. Unlike Sunstreaker’s, it had barely changed over the millions of years the war had ravaged their species.
The millions of years they had been apart.
Had his spark had the time to forget those emotions? All the perilous thrill that had come to such an abrupt end, the magnetic allure that had never cooled back then in spite of everything, and perhaps still hadn’t. He couldn’t strike from his mind the way Megatron’s physique had always titillated him, how he’d loved every curve, every spike in his thick armor, making him look as dangerous as he really was—the embodiment of everything it was to be Kaonite, a gladiator.
Now it was wrong. They were on opposite sides of the massive chasm their race had been torn into by the same damned mech now touching him–
And still he couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t deny the way his spark quickened in its rotation, pulsing urgently.
It hadn’t forgotten.
Megatron’s touch never turned rough as he toyed with Sunstreaker’s valve panel, teasing and coaxing until Sunstreaker was squirming in place, unable to pull away with the grip Megatron maintained of his fin—and the tyrant still kissing him with heat. Where Sunstreaker had forgotten, Megatron had no reason to have done the same, but it looked like the warlord hadn’t gotten over his own feelings for him any more than Sunstreaker’s spark seemed to have.
Whatever those feelings actually were. Sunstreaker wasn’t sure what he should have called it, recalling all of the behavior Megatron had always displayed. Was it just his version of genuine love, or only possession and obsession?
If one day he might know, now wasn’t that time. In the present Megatron was expertly turning Sunstreaker’s frame against him, and before long he could no longer pretend his valve wasn’t slicking, that his ventilations weren’t turning unsteady. It wasn’t just about the physical sensation, either. That had to be the worst part. Memories, so many of them of situations just like this, pushed to the forefront of his mind—reminded him of just what Megatron could do to him, the ecstasy he could bring. His spark responded too, pulsing with vim even as his mind rebelled against it all to no notable effect. Good sense said he shouldn’t be doing this, that this was everything he shouldn’t be doing–
And yet, on one scratch across his cover, Sunstreaker couldn’t keep himself from groaning, and couldn’t keep his panel from retracting.
Megatron’s digits dipped in immediately, encountering all of the lubricant that had already gathered, and the tyrant purred with clear pleasure. Indeed, what reason did he have to not enjoy the way he could turn Sunstreaker on with such ease, as if he was irresistible to Sunstreaker… And maybe he was. The past sure suggested he was.
He should have fought it. Maybe that would have gotten him exactly nowhere, but he should have fought it out of principle. They were enemies. They had to be. Megatron was a Decepticon. Sunstreaker was an Autobot.
This was wrong.
But still, despite knowing that with every reasonable thought he had, Sunstreaker didn’t fight it when Megatron pulled from his mouth only to take a hold of him and gently lower them to the ground until Sunstreaker’s back hit it with barely a thud. Megatron didn’t quite pin him even as he caught Sunstreaker’s servos in his own and pressed them to the ground a little above his helm. Despite the tenderness of that and everything else, Sunstreaker wasn’t certain he could have actually pulled away if he had tried.
But he didn’t even try, not even when Megatron’s spike cover transformed aside. Sunstreaker didn’t look. Not like he needed to to know exactly what he was getting into.
Megatron released one of his servos to run his hand down Sunstreaker’s frame, all the way to his hips that he then lifted, aligning their equipment. The tip of the tyrant’s spike nudged against his valve entrance and Sunstreaker shuddered with his entire frame, his helm tilting back as Megatron began to push—slowly, but never once stopping. The entry was controlled, methodical, and Sunstreaker did no more than feel every inch, every caliper that expanded, gave way to the wide length pushing into him. Among the Autobots, few on top of Optimus could compare to this, and Sunstreaker wasn’t sure his frame and spark didn’t welcome Megatron with far more affection and eagerness than they had ever done with the Prime.
He was gasping by the time Megatron’s hips were brought flush to his. The warlord rumbled as he stopped there, simply enjoying the heat of Sunstreaker’s frame and the uneven clenching of his calipers as they adjusted around his girth. Sunstreaker gladly took the moment to try to arrange his thoughts into some sort of order.
Tried to remember he wasn’t supposed to want this for so many reasons.
Then his once lover began to move, pulling back leisurely, pushing back in with the same calm ease—gentle as he ‘faced him. His mouth came to Sunstreaker’s again, lips pressing against lips. Sunstreaker’s parted before conscious thought caught up and Megatron claimed the invitation it wasn’t.
They kissed until Sunstreaker couldn’t find the will to not return it.
“Oh, how I have missed this,” Megatron breathed, pulling away from his mouth only to dip his helm to the side. “Missed you,” was whispered directly into his audial.
Sunstreaker moaned—just a small sound, but he moaned all the same, as if those words were something he wanted to hear.
As if they brought him pleasure the same way the steady thrusts of Megatron’s hips did.
“You were mine once upon a time,” the tyrant continued. “Do you remember how I cared for you? Protected you, from your owner, from your inexperience—taught you until you could win every fight to the death.”
“Don’t take all the credit,” Sunstreaker would have liked to growl back, but the words only came out as a husky groan. “You weren’t the only one we trained with. You weren’t–“
“But I was the best and the only one who loved you. Recall my affection. Recall everything I did for you and still claim I didn’t have your best interests in mind.”
“Oh, I recall,” the twin managed to hiss. “Every time you tried to order me around, all the control you tried to exert over me. Tell me what to do, what not to do, when this, when that, who to associate with–“
“And you never listened to me. Don’t you see you left me no choice if I wanted to keep you safe?”
“My safety wasn’t your concern–!”
“But it was. Your misguided attempts to deny my help were just that: misguided. Was that not what led you here? Without your memories, no knowledge of all the time we spent together, as lovers, in love?”
Sunstreaker’s arguments died in his throat as Megatron sped up the steady rhythm of his hips, while still remaining as gentle as he knew the mech to be capable of. The softness… He doubted many had ever seen it.
But Sunstreaker had. It had belonged to Sunstreaker. Wasn’t it proof that not everything Megatron said was a lie? That maybe the now-tyrant really believed what he said? He’d brought terror upon their entire species, all but torn their planet apart, killed millions… Yet he fucked Sunstreaker so gently.
Kissed him with such care.
Sunstreaker could find no words to speak against the grey mech’s lips as the charge climbed higher, as his spark danced in all those long forgotten things he had been given back…
His overload was sudden and anything but insignificant. Sunstreaker’s back arched as the whiplash of energy exploded in his frame, sending him higher than he could remember being in a stupidly long time. He groaned deep from his chassis and Sideswipe repeated the sound to the side of them, where he still lay and now pressed his face into his arm as the overload claimed them both.
And the arrhythmic tightening of Sunstreaker’s calipers had Megatron growling two thrusts before he pushed in as deep as he could go and Sunstreaker felt the transfluid pumping from his spike, into the very back of his valve.
He slumped against the ground once the energy stopped exchanging between their frames, venting heavily. His optics fluttered back open, only to see Megatron already looking at him, his gaze the deepest red, reflecting nothing but his immense power.
Just as Sunstreaker remembered—and like he had never feared the intensity in it, all the promises it held of what Megatron was capable of… He didn’t fear it now either.
Megatron’s digits came to brush the side of Sunstreaker’s face, still so loving, at such complete odds of what he knew most thought of the warlord. Megatron wasn’t loving. Megatron wasn’t gentle.
Megatron was violence and brutality, ruthless in his pursuits. Nothing stood in his way.
And yet here he was… Anything but that, just for Sunstreaker.
Well, aside from the “nothing stood in his way” bit. Certainly Sunstreaker’s reservations were of no concern to him when they didn’t align with what Megatron wanted.
“Don’t forget me again,” Megatron murmured with one last stroke along Sunstreaker’s jaw before he withdrew from his valve, leaving the twin to shiver from the sensation of his retreat against sensitized sensors, and that of copious amounts of lubricant and transfluid both leaking out of him afterwards. Sunstreaker didn’t get up even as Megatron rose to his pedes, merely propped himself up on his arms and quietly watched as the warlord walked over to… Sideswipe.
Sideswipe, who still hadn’t gotten up himself, but was staring at Megatron with rapt attention. Their old lover crouched in front of him and hooked just one digit under Sideswipe’s chin, gently guiding him up onto his knees before laying a kiss on his lips too. It was a fierce thing, desirous, and Sideswipe mewled into it, unsure of how he was supposed to react—aside from the knowledge that he certainly, certainly shouldn’t have allowed it.
But he did. He did allow it, and when Megatron pulled away with one final bite on Sideswipe’s lower lip, his twin’s arms were shaking from the inarticulate bundle of emotions violently ricocheting between them. They could only name desire and qualm out of it all.
Megatron said nothing more; neither did the brothers. Or Soundwave, for that matter, whose presence they had managed to mostly forget with how still and unresponsive the telepath had been through everything. They only registered him again now when he transformed onto Megatron’s servo, the tyrant following that with his own transformation around his Third.
Then he was off, all over again, just like that… Except this time he had gotten what he wanted.
And by the pits the things he had wanted—and however more he would still want, now that they remembered. Now that they knew, again.
Megatron was their past, and after all this they wanted to make no guesses as to what their future would be.
( Next )
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elsajeni · 6 years ago
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SWRarepairs 2018 Letter
Hello! Thanks for checking in! I’m sorry if you saw this letter in its draft state -- I wasn’t expecting matches to go out as fast as they did! It’s all complete now. You’ve seen my likes/DNWs section in my sign-up already, but let me restate it here so it’s all in one place, and then we’ll get to the ship-specific stuff:
Likes: family feelings; bantering or bickering; moments of humor even in the darkest situations; pining; misunderstandings that turn out all right in the end; poly relationships; casual relationships; hurt/comfort.
Sexy Likes, if you go in that direction: light bondage; lots of talking during sex, both sweet and dirty; realistic funny or awkward moments. If you're writing about teen characters (since some relationships I've requested would lend themselves to that), I'd rather not have anything explicit on-page, but I'm fine with offscreen or fade-to-black implied sex.
DNWs: rape/non-con unless specifically requested; incest; explicit scenes with underage characters; detailed description of bodily fluids; drastically different AUs (I don’t mind what-ifs or canon-divergent type of fic, but I’m not interested in coffeeshop AUs, supernatural creature AUs, A/B/O, etc. – you know what I mean); infidelity; unrelentingly dark and grim stories (I like a glimmering of hope).
Star Wars canon preferences: you can probably tell from my request list that I love and miss the old EU/Legends content. For any relationship that features Legends characters, I’d be very happy with a purely-Legends-based fic, but I also love gluing the loose ends of Legends continuity into the loose ends of sequel trilogy continuity; please feel free to mix and match Legends and canon material!
Relationship-specific prompts:
Lando Calrissian/Mara Jade, Lando Calrissian/Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker
I liked Lando and Mara’s EU relationship, and wasn’t too happy with the “it was a cover” retcon – show me the time, or times, that it wasn’t just a cover. Or, how about an earlier meeting in their lives, when Mara was brand-new to Karrde’s organization, or during the few days they must have overlapped at Jabba’s Palace?
I’ve always liked Luke and Lando as a romantic pairing, too, so why not bring it all together? Three people who all care deeply for each other, who aren’t often in the same place at the same time, but when they are, well... let’s meet over a mug of hot chocolate and see where the evening takes us. (I’d prefer this with everyone on more-or-less equal footing -- not with Luke and Mara as an established/married couple and Lando as the outsider.)
Winter Celchu/Leia Organa
I’d like to see this as a youthful experiment between friends – something casual that doesn’t last, but that remains a fond memory and a little bit of an in-joke.
Oola/Leia Organa
There wasn’t a LOT of time for dancers to hang around unwatched at Jabba’s Palace, and they were only there together for a couple of days (and even that, only if we fudge the timeline a little). But sometimes it only takes a couple of days, and sometimes all you need is a few bright stolen moments.
Wedge Antilles/Leia Organa
This is definitely a Legends-influenced pairing for me – I’ve always been really fond of their close friendship in the EU novels. This is another relationship that I like better as something casual, more of a FWB arrangement that grows out of that friendship or a fling that ends happily than a long-term romance -- maybe during their early days in the Rebellion, or during the post-ROTJ period where Leia and Han are still sorting their shit out.
I’d also be interested in bringing this into the sequel-trilogy timeline. Leia and Han have separated, her kid has run off to join the Dark Side, the Republic she helped to found has turned in a direction she can’t follow -- maybe she can find some comfort, or some help, with an old friend.
Talon Karrde/DJ
I’ll be honest, I don’t really have a plan here, I just think this is a fantastic idea. I was thinking about Karrde the whole time DJ was on screen, and half-expecting him to turn out to BE Karrde, and I am delighted by the idea of this pairing. I think there’s something interesting here about grey areas, and the “rogue with a heart of gold” archetype, and what, realistically, it means to play both sides against the middle when one side is clearly and melodramatically evil.
Biggs Darklighter/Luke Skywalker
I like this best as a teen relationship that grows a little awkwardly out of their friendship, is fun while it lasts, and transitions pretty easily back into friendship when it ends. That said, whatever you do with this pairing, it’s going to be a little bit tinged with sadness; if you prefer it a LOT tinged with sadness, I’d also be delighted with a fic taking place in the brief window between when they reconnect in the Rebellion and the Death Star run.
Alternately, get weird with it -- find a way for Biggs to survive, or bring him back from the dead. Write that Space Winter Soldier AU that I secretly kind of love, or Luke being haunted by the literal ghosts of his past.
Wedge Antilles/Luke Skywalker
I would really like something that brings Wedge into the sequel trilogy timeline, and especially a look at what Luke’s choice to isolate himself means for their relationship. Was Wedge ever on Ahch-To with him? Have they been in contact at all since he disappeared? When he’s found, is Wedge in a rush to see him again, or are his feelings more complicated? (As you may be guessing here, this is an area where I am very comfortable with a “not actually dead” AU! If you like a more tragic tone, though, do feel free to go with the canonical ending of TLJ.)
The one thing I absolutely don’t want is for Wedge’s absence from the sequel films to be because he’s dead. We are not at home to the Moping Island of Widowhood, thank you, leave it as just a regular old Moping Island.
Wedge Antilles/Wes Janson
Let’s be honest, I’m mostly looking for more Wraith Squadron/Starfighters of Adumar-style shenanigans here. Alternately, this is a pairing that lends itself to hurt/comfort – both of these guys have more than enough canonical close calls. Or why not a bit of both? If you’re feeling ambitious, you could fix Isard’s Revenge for me by writing their reunion after they’ve both believed each other to be dead for weeks.
Myn Donos/Gara Petothel | Lara Notsil
Hurt me. Do your worst.
Listen: I re-read Solo Command recently and spent, conservatively, 90% of it crying about these two. What really works for me is those agonizing scenes where Lara’s trying to convince Myn to stay away from her, and clearly trying to convince herself as well – I’d love a fic that puts them in a situation where it would be so easy to give in, or a situation where she does give in and then has to try to figure out how to take it back.
Leia Organa/Han Solo/Wedge Antilles, Lando Calrissian/Leia Organa/Han Solo
What can I say, I love a threesome. With either of these, what I’d most like to see is Leia and Han inviting a friend (or, in Lando’s case, a friendly ex) into their bedroom as a one-time fling or a casual, but ongoing, FWB arrangement; I’m less interested in a long-term triad. If it’s Lando, I’d love to see a little tension between him and Leia as they sort out the boundaries of their respective claims on Han, but ultimately I do want this to be a happy, fun encounter for everyone involved. If you go with Wedge, I’ve always been very fond of his close friendship with Leia in the EU, and I’d like that to be his closer tie to her and Han.
Obi-Wan Kenobi/Owen Lars/Beru Whitesun
Obi-Wan -- Ben, now -- stays nearby, after he leaves the baby with them. Maybe it’s to keep an eye out, to make sure Anakin’s child doesn’t draw any undue attention. But maybe it’s not just that.
I’d love basically anything you do with this -- a one-time fling that everyone is a little embarrassed about in the morning; an arrangement that sees Obi-Wan stopping by the homestead infrequently for dinner and conversation and, after the kid goes to bed, a night of companionship; a full-on AU where Luke grows up with Uncle Ben as essentially a third parent.
Flim/Gilad Pellaeon
I saw this in the tagset for this exchange last year and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. The way I see this pairing, it all comes down to it really being about Pellaeon and Thrawn -- whether he believes Flim is Thrawn and Flim takes advantage of that, or he knows Flim isn’t Thrawn but accepts him as close enough (as long as he stays in character). With the latter, you might even go with Flim not knowing that he’s been found out and thinking that he has to stay in character... and apparently Thrawn would have done this, so... (Whether Thrawn ever actually did do this, or whether it’s a fantasy that Pellaeon was never able to act on, I leave up to you.)
This is one of my sort-of-exceptions to the “no rape/non-con” clause. It’s a pairing that lends itself to questionable or compromised consent, and I’m into that. The line between what’s “dubcon” and what’s “non-con” is blurry, but as much as possible, I’d prefer that you stay on the dubcon side of it -- deceit, coercion, and uncomfortable power imbalances, yes; violence, physical force, or explicit non-consent that’s ignored, no.
Mara Jade/Darth Vader
This could go in a lot of different ways, from something as relatively innocent as an uncomfortable attraction between two people with no one else to talk to, to something as dark as the Emperor ordering one of them to the other’s bedroom. Whatever direction you go with it, I do want it to treat the power dynamics and age dynamics here seriously, and to lean into the darkness that’s present in what we know about Mara’s childhood and youth -- no one here is having a good time or doing something they’ll be happy to look back on.
This is the other sort-of-exception to the “no rape/non-con” clause, for similar reasons. As above, questionable, compromised, or coerced consent, yes; violence, physical or Force-based force, or explicit non-consent that’s ignored, no.
(This is NOT an exception to the “no explicit scenes with underage characters” clause. If you write this with Mara as a teen, please keep anything explicitly sexual off-screen.)
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