#and so the arachnids make their appearance

[foldingfittedsheets]

The location of the sex shop I worked was a haven for spiders. We had tall ceilings and skylights and unused storage rooms. It was a spider paradise. We quickly sussed out which coworkers to call on in case of emergency. The Dorito lady was a solid ally for spiders but absolutely petrified of moths.

But there’s actually a hierarchy of fear. Most people don’t realize. The person least afraid is the one forced to deal with the bug in question. If coworker B was scared, but coworker A was petrified, well coworker B was gonna have to screw their courage to the sticking place because by the law of fear they were the most competent person on scene.

Thus enters Rick. Rick first appeared in the back storage room. This room doubled as a second bathroom so we went in on a semi frequent basis. The girl who’d gone in to pee shot out again gibbering with fear about the biggest spider she’d ever seen had just run across her boot.

We sicced Dorito lady on it. She returned, shaking her head. “He was squatting on a power cord where it plugs in. I couldn’t get a clean shot at Rick.”

“Rick?”

She shrugged. “Spiders that big need a name. Seemed like a Rick.”

Rick, freshly named, became a store menace. I’d normally say this was probably a case of multiple spiders being mistaken for one but everyone who encountered him swore up and down there could be no mistake. This spider was massive, fast, and distinct. A gladiator among arachnids.

I never encountered Rick. His exploits grew in the telling but the theme was consistent: no one could kill him. He’d hunker in places that no one could reach and dart away when a strike missed. He also chased off the more faint hearted, charging them in bold dashes. There could be no benign cup transplant to remove Rick from the premise. He was not leaving.

The saga of Rick continued for two months. Not seeing him was almost worse, a fearful wariness when going to the bathroom or stepping into quieter areas. I waited with dread, hoping my eventual run in would have me on shift with Dorito lady to protect me.

It was not to be. There was a girl the same who hated my one moment of singing that was absolute piss-herself scared of spiders. She’d slam straight into a panic attack and couldn’t think or speak. And so it was that one night on shift, I heard her scream.

It was unmistakable. I was in the front window turning off the open sign. Through an obstacle course of mannequins and lingerie I performed an acrobatic sprint out of the window, darting up to find her quivering at the front counter, fully crying. I radiated calm at her and said, “Just point.”

I knew it was Rick. Our destinies were intertwined and we had always been pulled toward the inexorable battle that was drawing nigh.

Her hand raised to point to our sandwich board sign at the front of the store. So Rick had the metaphorical high ground. There was no quick easy strike on the slanted signs surface.

I armed myself and marched into battle, my knuckles white on my chosen weapon. I would do this, because I must. Because there was no one else. And because I wanted to close and go home.

I saw Rick immediately and I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen a bigger spider since. Outside of a tarantula, he was truly the most massive spider I’ve ever beheld outside a zoo enclosure or terrarium.

We regarded each other. Rick launched off the sign toward me and I stomped my foot reflexively, making him pause in his charge. Then I raised my weapon. Anything else, I believe Rick could have evaded. He’d bested most of the store thus far. But I had chosen chemical warfare.

I doused the shit out of that spider with cleaning spray, stunning him with a barrage of chemicals. While he froze, choking on the unexpected deluge, I dropped a paper towel over him. My foot came down.

I felt his exoskeleton crunch and I can feel it still to this day. The shattering was as of bones and I truly mourned that we had been forced into senseless war. If only he has cleaved tighter to the shadows. If only he’d crawled willing into a cup for relocation. I released a full body shudder of horror, fear, and adrenaline as I stepped back.

I took several quivering breaths. I donned a veneer of calm and tidied the battlefield of it’s corpse then went to reassure my coworker that all was well, while internally I still shook.

You fought well, Rick. I hope you sired many more monstrous children to haunt retail workers in the years to come. Rest in valor, you monster.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ You better lock your door and look at me a little more (we both know I'm worth waitin' for) ❞

Vander x ftm!reader | fluffy, NSFW, slight angst | there's some plot at the end | reader has had top-surgery & bottom growth | versatile. bottom. reader | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 5k

warnings: r! is a prostitute, brothel mentioned, mentions of addiction, spanking, fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock, terms like boypussy, pussy, boycunt, cunt are used)

masterlist;

authors note: you guys have @strayjester to thank for this because of the thirst we had for this fine-ass single dad...

*song on repeat: Billie Boss Nova by Billie Eilish *YN is described as being shorter than Vander in this fic.

He’s getting that itch under his skin again. Muscles aching and throat begging for the soothing burn of addictive smoke. Vander tosses a rag on his shoulder, scratching at his beard as he fixes his posture. His skin feels stretched thin, aching for a salve to fill the crevices and drought; his ears muffle the bar, and the song playing floats into his ears.

The playful percussions, the whispering tone of the singer, and the sighs of the adlibs remind him of the fairytales of fairies, sirens, and boys in masks in nothing but a see-through robe.

Vander straightens up, briefly glancing over at the doors of the bar. The underground doesn’t get sunlight, but like a dog, he knows when people are starting to head back home. The crowd in here was mostly gone, some were passed out in the booths and some intently eating sunflower seeds in their corner. He’d have to clean it up and make sure the tables weren’t sticky, and the floor needed a good sweep too.

Impatientness grows in him. Vander sighs, pouring himself a shot of something to reinvigorate him, and slams the glass down. It startles the man at the bar enough to have him reach for his coins, the rest get the same hint.

“You look like you need a nightcap," Spider mutters. Vander thinks it’s ridiculous for people to call the seamstress such an intimidating name when she vehemently despises the arachnids, but it stuck and she has no choice but to embrace it. She has the courtesy of bringing her bowl of opened sunflower seeds and an empty glass to him instead of just stumbling off.

But Vander knows it isn’t exactly out of the kindness of her heart.

It flatters him that she finds him attractive. Really, it does. She was a beautiful woman and a capable one too. But Vander is tired and truly, he doesn’t want his rendezvous to be chattered on about everywhere. His kids didn’t need to hear about any of it.

“Aye’, that I do. Thankfully, I own a bar,” she chuckles and reaches forward to swat at his shoulder. Vander just smiles, taking her dishes and placing them elsewhere so his back is turned to her. “It’s not good practice to drink your own stock,” Spider places her elbows on the table and Vander doesn’t need to spare a glance to know her breasts are on display too. This isn’t the first time she’s done this, and most likely won’t be the last.

The song ends with a soothing croon from the singer and Vander’s cock twitches in his pants as he spots the business card stuck between the frame of the mirror.

“Ya’ sober enough to make your way back safe?” Spider’s brows pinch and she mutters, gluing her gaze on Vander’s face as he pulls the rag down to wipe the table. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

Vander nodded, bidding her a good night she simply replied with a wave. She was the last to leave through the front door and Vander manages to not groan in relief at the click he hears.

‘ Hurry! ‘ A voice tells him. It’s early in the morning now, the window is closing but he can’t possibly leave the bar in this state. He’ll be the one regretting it when he opens tonight. Vander imagines he must’ve looked a bit dumb as he stares at the state of the bar when Vi appears at the top of the stairs.

“What?” Vi tilts her head at him but gestures loosely to the tables and chairs. “I said I can clean it, you look...tired.”

He sighs, squeezing the back of his neck. “What’re you doing up so early, Vi?” she shrugs which is a non-answer but pushes through the doorway and meanders behind the bar. Her head pops out and she places the iron bucket of cleaning supplies. Vander walks to her, handing her the rag as he reaches for a broom.

“Vander, I can clean the place just fine,” she huffs. “All by yer’self? S’gonna take ya’ forever,” he’s jesting but she finds no humor in it. The girl crosses her arms as she glares up at him. A part of him wants nothing more than to dash out of here, to find that salve he desperately is aching for, but there was no way he could leave his daughter to clean up by herself just because he wanted to get his dick wet.

“Dude, just go,” Vi grabs the bucket and rag and marches to the tables. He frowns a bit, crossing his arms as he contemplates it.

“Ya’ couldn’t sleep?” Vi shakes her head. “Nope! Milo was snoring and Claggor kept moving in his sleep. Powder must be tired because she’s sleeping through it with no problem.” Vi’s always been a light sleeper. Most of the people in the underground were. But Vander just needs to ask; “Ya’ sure it wasn’t the nightmares?” Vi pauses in her wiping and Vander watches her face as she sends him a pouty expression.

“Yes, I’m sure. I haven’t had one of those in forever anyway — just go rest, old man. I can wipe down tables and sweep floors by myself.”

“Are you sure — “

“Dude!”

The path he takes is always quiet. Hidden between tight alleyways and old wires hung too low — he rarely saw characters here other than the occasional cat or shady hooded figure but that was a normal sight anywhere.

The back of the building is less glamorous than the front but not out of neglect. It was purposefully made that way — fewer lights, fewer signs, and fewer girls spilling from the door. But he peeks up from the hood of his jacket and he sees the voyeuristicly lit windows. The shadows of bodies behind the thin curtains, the seductive glow and thrum of the others. The back door is not locked, it's just made to look that way so people feel dirtier pushing the heavy door open.

He hears a whistle and his cock honestly to god jumps at the sight of your naked shoulders. Your mask was askew, your hair messed up, and smears of lipstick on your lips, and your skin; Vander is envious of the cigarette holder you have in your grip.

When your lips wrap around it he feels the exhaustion melt away. Plumes of purple smoke pour out from your mouth; “Had a feeling you’d be comin’ over."

Vander laughs, moving to the door with his eyes still on you. “Yeah? Just knew, did ya’?”

You nod, placing your chin in your palm as he opens the door.

“Yeah. My ass has been wanting a good stretch the whole day, only gets that way when you’re comin’ over.”

' Coming over ', you make it sound like he’s a teenage boy sneaking through your window. Vander says nothing as he walks in and you grin at it. His silence was good — it meant he was going to give it to you just how you wanted. You finish the cigarette and slip the curtains close.

Vander liked his privacy after all.

The hallways are familiar, but he still thinks the wallpaper is a bit too busy and the creak in the floorboards should have been fixed. Saying it out loud feels a bit shameful. After all, how often would he have to come over to recognize these things?

He passes by a doorway guarded with beaded curtains and he ignores the moans of the woman who is being devoured by another. The doorway next to it has the sounds of leather rubbing against leather so he peeks as he passes by to see it shines under the low lights.

Reaching the stairs, Vander is greeted by Sevika lip-locked with another woman. He lowered his head, hoping she was too busy fingering her to notice. At the landing, there’s a wall of hooks, and on each of them held a mask of an animal. They differed in all sorts of sizes, and materials, each handcrafted by different artists. Customers wear them if they’d like but it was a must for employees.

The allure, the secrecy, the seductive notion of masked strangers sucking your cock, blah blah blah.

He grabs the wolf mask, slipping it on with ease, as he climbs the rest of the stairs. He misses Sevika staring at his back with squinted eyes.

“D’you know him?” she asks. The girl in the doe mask pants but eyes Vander’s frame through the wooden bars of the stairs. “Him? Oh, he’s a regular. Secretive, and never lets anyone else see his face other than the Fantastic Mr. Fox.”

That makes Sevika snort. “(Y/N)? He only comes here for him?” She can’t exactly blame the man. You were a talented little beast. Hands, mouth, feet, cunt, ass — every part of you was made with pleasure in mind. She enjoys having you in a headlock as she pounds into your asshole, enjoys your tongue inside of her and your filthy little words.

But just for you? This pleasure house had a gaggle of beasts for him to lay with. Hairy beasts with cocks just as big as their arms who enjoy plowing and being plowed. Demure little nymphs with a talent to make people beg for their cocks to be stepped on or to cry in pleasure. Tall beasts, short beasts, catering to every need and fetish a man could have.

“There’s a betting pool,” the Doe says. Sevika turns to face her as the masked man enters the hallway leading to your room. “About?” Sevika pulls her fingers out to pull away the negligee and kneads at her small breast. She shudders, arching her back into her but continues; “The Wolf and The Fox. That he’s smitten, maybe even a bit obsessed.” Sevika scoffs, rolling her eyes as she pinches Doe's perk nipple between her fingers,

"Poor bastard."

"I think it's — ah — cute," Doe retorts as she squeezes Sevika's biceps. "To you maybe, a smitten customer gets you more coin," Sevika grunts out, her tone light despite it.

"Falling in love with a whore is just stupid."

"You saying you don't love me, Daddy?" Doe pouts her lips. Sevika chuckles as she lowers her head to nibble on it. "I'll love you tonight, baby. Think that'll be enough?"

The door has the symbol of your mask, painted in gold. It's ajar, a sliver of light lighting the carpeted floors and Vander rolls his shoulders as he pushes the door open.

Your room is heavy with the smell of incense. There's thudding against the walls, moans of pleasure echoing despite it being muffled. Vander's shoes make no noise. The carpets on the floor provide more than just comfort. Discretion. This room and the others on this floor are all for high-paying customers.

He closes and locks the door behind him. He reaches for his mask but your voice stops him.

"Keep it on," you push yourself off the door frame, the beads clattering softly, and Vander tits his head at your sashay. Your mask was left on the bed, leaving your face bare, and Vander cocks a brow as he looks down at you.

"One of those nights?" His hands settle on your waist. The size of them, the roughness that's felt through the silk of your robe, it makes your grin stretch wider. "You got other ideas, Vander?" you muse. "Was hopin' to kiss ya'," he huffs.

The grip on your ass lurches you forward further into his broad chest. Vander's eyes are heavy, the shadows attempt to hide the desire but it's futile. He's kneading, hitching you up higher until you're barely on your toes.

Head tilting, he leans in. Your head floats away, hands still gripped onto his shirt as he chases and you don't give in.

"(Y/N)," his tone suggests a warning. But it's amusing. Here you are, in his arms. His strength keeps you in place and in the air; the mask is akin to a muzzle. Except he's fully capable of taking it off if he wishes.

The fact that you asked for him to keep it on is not lost to you. Your words alone held so much power over him. You place his neck between the gap of your thumb and pointer finger, barely there pressure keeping him still despite the yearning in his eyes.

"You're exhausted, big guy. Long day, yeah?" Vander nods at your words.

"Lay down on the bed. I'll make you feel good."

He hesitates for a moment. But your feet find the floor again and he begrudgingly parts. When he walks past you, you follow behind him. He pauses when you reach for the front of his pants, looking at you from over his shoulder.

"Take off your clothes for me, baby."

Your bed is shaped in a semi-circle. The curtain around it was drawn all the way back. There's a mountain of pillows and bolsters that welcome Vander's naked frame as he settles on it.

The trail of his clothes on the floor has your silk robes accompanying you as you stand at the end of the bed.

Vander tilts his head, widening his legs and stroking his hairy thighs. Leading your eyes to the thick dick that's already at full mast.

"Damn," you whistle. The bed dipped under the weight of your knee. "I know I'm good looking but you can't be that hard from just 5 seconds of laying your eyes on me."

He can't tear his gaze from you. From the marks on your face to the state of your hair; the bare skin that he loves to bruise and mark up — despite being told by you it's not exactly encouraged — Vander is convinced you're not real sometimes.

The arcane has been long gone now. Yet, here you are. Living, breathing, proof that its remnants linger in pumping hearts and honey-sweet skin. With just your voice, you make his knees buckle and his cock strain through the material of his pants.

Just the whisper of your name has his entire day derailed as he thinks and thinks and thinks of you.

Oh, (Y/N).

You're his undoing.

Gooseflesh spread at your touch and Vander groans as you settle yourself between his legs. That haunting touch makes its way to his crotch, ghosting along his aching rod, up his soft stomach, and towards his chest. It rests there and his heart threatens to escape his ribcage. The heat from your cunt has him sighing and settling his hands on the arch of your back. It makes you chuckle.

"Please, darlin'," he begs, "I been needing you so badly. All day."

There's no way you can deny him. Not when your cock jumps at the airy tone he has, that gravelly husk that comes with it. It peeks up, just as hard as his. He can feel it drag along his own and he tightens his grip on you.

"Yeah?" You nose at his neck, trailing your painted lips down. The hairs on his chest tickle your cheek when you place your face there, breathing against his perk nipples.

"Shit, yeah. Can't you feel me?" He grows a bit bolder in his next move. Urging your hips forward so he can feel your wet folds, forcing your stiff cock to rub up. The motion makes your eyes flutter close, sighing against his pebbling nub.

"For such a big man, you're such a teddy bear," you lift your hips, lining his thick head with your needy cunt. He laughs, his masked face tilting downwards as his blue-grey eyes all but glow in excitement.

"I've been told I am a bear," his words end a moan when you slip him inside. The bowl of condoms littered just about everywhere outside this room wasn’t there for decoration. They were there for the John’s and Jane’s who needed them.

But you know Vander. You’ve been the only thing he’s been hitting and you make sure the rest of your clients are always wrapped up.

Everything about him is thick so it’s no surprise you feel the twinge of discomfort as you accommodate to his size. It lingers briefly but once the mushroom tip of his dick is inside pleasure runs up your spine.

“Oh fuck yes,” you wrap your arms around his neck and press your chest together. He instantly embraces you, adjusting his grip to your ass again so he can help you straddle his legs.

“Fuck, baby. Your dick is so big,” and for once you’re not lying about it.

Vander’s a big boy. His thick arms, square jaw, the delicious shape of his nose; his wide chest and sturdy shoulders, and his soft but firm stomach. Fuck, everything about Vander makes your head fill warm.

His dick twitches inside you as you slide down. The snout of the wooden mask bumps into your forehead and you laugh as he leans in.

“S’fuckin’ needy,” he has no protests. You reach for the bottom of the mask and push it up, blinding him but rewarding him with your lips. His beard is soft. As you feel through it, you cup his jaw and he groans into the kiss.

More of him inches inside of you and halfway down, you’re pulling away to breathe. His fingers are going to leave handprints with how roughly he holds you; flesh spilling from the gaps of his greedy digits.

“Fuck, (Y/N).”

“Yeah, say my name, baby.”

Vander grunts when you fix the mask into place. When you lean back, he takes in the sight of the bump on your stomach.

“Perv.” His dick twitches again. So you laugh.

“Absolutely rotten.”

Your eyes slip close as you let gravity take over. Fuck, the way your hips buck up and twitch as he fills you up has his toes curling. You’re dripping wet, the thick and clear liquid travelling down his balls.

“You’re so fuckin’ hard,” he thumbs at your cock. When he uses his knuckles to stroke it, his mouth goes dry at the way it twitches and righteously stands tall.

“All ‘cus of you,” you purr. Vander groans, now idly touching the bump of his dick and you sigh as he presses down on it.

“Ooooh fuck, Vander.”

He rolls your hips, moving to ground his heels into the bed but you beat him to it. Your hands brace his knees and you lift up and up and up — his tip bumping into yours in the brief time it’s out of you — then slipping him all the way inside again.

Vander curses, his accent thickening as you throw his head back.

You chew on your bottom lips, savouring the explosion of pleasure behind your eyelids. As you look at his heaving chest, you cannot stop the sharp grin that crawls onto your face.

Placing one hand on his shoulder, you put your thighs to work. Vander is at your mercy. Panting and moaning behind the mask as he watches your work on his cock. Riding him, grinding down on him, using his thick dick for your pleasure.

Your other hand leads his own to a surprise.

Between your ass that he adores so much, he bucks up when he feels the base of a plug inside of your ass.

“Oh, you liked that,” you moan. All high and airy as you slow down into grinding, thighs burning. Vander is tugging onto the plug and your rim stretches as he teases it in and out.

“You’re gonna kill me one day,” he growls out.

“You’ll die happy, don’t — mngh — duh-don’t...Shit, Vander. Baby. Oh fuuuck.”

The exhaustion of the day has seeped out from him it seems. He’s leaning forward, caging you between his raised knees and firm front.

In one smooth movement, your back bounces on the bed and he’s on top of you. The acoustic of the wooden mask makes him sound like an animal as he growls above you, he huffs and pants like a proper wolf.

You share a long look, even as he rocks in and out of you and you feel your heavy eyelids threaten to squeeze shut. He braces onto his elbows, his weight on you making you whine and keen.

He takes the reigns and smiles when you reach to take his mask off. It thuds onto the carpet, mere inches away from your own mask.

“Hey, handsome.” You stroke over his cheekbones, gasping into his mouth as he kisses you. A particularly deep thrust makes you arch off the bed and it distracts you from his deft hands pulling out your plug.

“Your cunts got me all nice and wet,” he growls into your ear. “Perfect for fucking your ass then,” you whisper back.

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” He slips out and you whimper at the loss. You’re not empty for long. He taps his tip onto your winking hole and you chew on the insides of your cheeks in anticipation.

“C’mon, baby. Fuck me.”

“Yes, sir,” he purrs with a devillishly handsome smile.

He rights his posture, holding your ankles in one grip and folding your legs so your knees are nearly at your chest.

The stretch makes you toss your head to the side, cunt gaping as he fixates on the sight of your greedy holes.

Vander spits onto your hole and pushes in deeper. It makes you sing like a proper whore. Clutching onto the sheets while your chest heaves.

God, when he takes over like this — it makes you fantasize about how good it’d feel to wake up in his bed for once — but fantasies like that are dangerous. Vander is smarter than that, he’d know better than to bring a whore back home. Especially a whore like you.

His heavy balls slap against your ass. It knocks the breath out of you. You cry out, tears pricking your eyes when he strokes your dick. Vander splits your thighs and he holds your face with so much care you feel your heart pound our of your chest.

“(Y/N),” when he moans your name you want nothing more than to keep him here with you forever.

When he fucks up into your ass, you inch forward with every strong thrust. So he holds you down, keeping you in place as he stretches out your ass. The friction on your dick makes you even wetter. But you still hiss in discomfort as your rim clenches around him. Vander pants above you, slowing to a stop.

“Lube, darlin’?”

You nod, gesturing to the nightstand. Vander kisses you, pulling out as he turns and grabs the strawberry-scented bottle. You lay out on the bed, breathing heavily as you recompose yourself.

Vander lubes his dick up, eyeing your cunt a little too hungrily for your liking. So you knock your knees together, staring at him pointedly when he blinks innocently at you. “No double dipping,” you warn. Vander scoffs, grinning loosely.

“I know that, boy.” “D’you?”

Your expression makes him snort. He parts your legs again, smearing some lube on your hole before he presses his heavy cock inside of you again.

“‘Course I do. Your cunt’s just so sexy, can’t help but stare.”

“Yeah? Should I call another client and make him fuck my pussy while you fuck my ass?” You’re goading him. He realizes that. But the flash of jealousy that comes across his face is not something he can control.

Vander doesn’t respond. Merely grunting as he fucks into you. You yelp at the strength he’s using, cursing as you’re dragged onto his dick. Helpless as he uses you.

“Yuh - You pissed?” he glares at you but shakes his head.

“No.”

“Yer' a shitty liar.” You moan out his name as he turns you over onto your stomach, barely having time to process his movements as he pulls you onto your knees. He’s bruising you with his grip and when he spanks your ass, you know it’ll be sore till the next day. Every spank makes you tighten up around him. He presses between your shoulder blades and you are keen as he reaches deeper than before.

“M’just joking, Vander,” you pant out. “It’s all yours, all of it — all of me.“

Vander vengeance is in his hips. An unrelenting force that turns your body into nothing but a conduit of pleasure. Your gummy walls are torn between pushing him out and keeping him in — it doesn't matter, in the end, the one with power over you was him. There's bliss in relinquishing control. It's a whisper of voices, serenading you to a high that even the strongest drugs could barely scratch.

Or maybe you were just an addict for sex — or just Vander.

No seasoned whore lets their guard down with a client. There's a degree of trust needed. It's surface level. The bond between you and Vander — there's something oddly binding about it. You've heard of the religions scattered around the world. Of monks who abstain from worldly pleasures, those who worship an entire militia of gods, and those who only believed in one Maker; they spoke with such certainty of their beliefs. The punishment and euphoria waiting for them at the end of the line.

Fucking Vander feels like religion. When he makes your body burn from the inside out with a lust only he can quench — you're doomed and there's no one to blame but yourself.

That's a lie, you bite down on the bedsheets as you feel his balls slap against your cunt and dick. There's someone to blame for putting Vander in your way, (Y/N).

"Shit, sweetheart. I'm close," Vander groans. You moan, forcing yourself to reach back so you can kiss him. Vander feels his heart hammering, reaching to pinch your cock between his fingers to distract himself from these bubbling emotions.

Loving you was a freedom he had long forgotten about. Hearing you moan out his name, digging your nails into his skin and kissing him so deeply. He aches for you — his veins burn when he even thinks he sees you in the crowd.

He loves you.

Vander murmurs something on your lips that you don't catch. But you're too far gone to acknowledge your senses. You're so close to unraveling. Teetering on that edge of bliss as Vander holds you like he wants your bodies to become moulded together like clay.

"Vander, Vander — "

He slips his fingers inside your cunt. You gasp, feeling yourself clench around him like a vice as you squirt onto his fingers and cum around his dick. Vander is close behind, growling out your name as he thrusts in balls deep and floods your ass with his thick ropes of cum.

The both of you ride off the orgasm. His hips still fucking in and out of you in shallow motions that have your breath hitching with every drag and poke. Vander slips his fingers out and brings it to your lips — you chuckle softly, letting them inside as you clean his talented digits.

"How much did you pay the madame?" You nuzzle into his neck, relying on him to hold you up. He kisses your shoulders, his beard tickling your skin as his hands roam your front.

"Long enough. You sick of me already, darling?"

Don't think that's possible, you thought with a loose grin. Vander groans into your mouth as you grab his chin and kiss him.

"Don't flatter yourself, baby."

Vander looks younger when he rests. Not like a boy again, just younger. The lines on his face were less prominent and the softness of his body was more inviting. You're tracing mindless shapes into his chest, chastising the city of Zaun for beginning its morning cycle. The noises from beyond the window are beginning to shift from the noisy nightlife of hookers calling for Johns and booming music from clubs to the food stalls opening and wagons being pulled along the worn-down roads.

You can hear the thudding of Vander's heart under your ear. It squeezes your own so you lift your head and gaze down at him, just taking him in from a new angle. The door clicks and Vander's brows pinch but he does not stir. He trusts you enough to rest. For you to keep vigil over him.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" his voice drawls like a thick caramel. A seductive purr with a certain husk that tingles your senses. The tall, lanky, man enters the room and he is shameless as he takes the both of you in.

"He paid for the whole night, not the day." Silco comments. "He gets a pass on good behavior. What do you need?" Vander's hand is carefully guided to hold one of the pillows and you carefully move to stand.

Silco takes in the sight of you. Moving forward, he grasps your chin in his hand and tilts your head back; "He's always been such a possessive man."

"Yeah? He marked you up like this too?" He regards you with a tepid glance. "Sir," you add smoothly. Giving him a half-hearted grin.

It works. Silco's eyes soften, just slightly but it's a crutch you're leaning on. He likes you more than he'd like to admit and you're beginning to feel guilty for all these emotions brewing inside of you for these two brothers-in-arms.

"Did you learn anything from tonight, (Y/N)?" Silco looks past you to Vander. Turning his voice into a whispering tone that feels more romantic than he probably intended it to.

You contemplate telling him. Pursing your lips for a second before you lean in and embrace Silco, pressing your lips up his jaw and whispering in his ear.

"He's friends with the Sheriff. Grayson. But he worries." "About?" Silco's hands wrap around your waist, shadowing Vander's marks with his own. "He worries about the fresh meat she has on her team. Piltover's steady now but one incident and he doubts he'll be able to keep the peace, no matter how hard Grayson tries. The children," you pause and he turns his head to look at you. You gulp thickly, then continue: "The eldest daughter, Vi, she's getting restless. Dangle bait and she'll bite."

Silco stares for a moment. You take him in, unable to stop the grin that crawls on your face as he presses a long kiss to your lips.

"Well done, (Y/N)." His praise had once been something akin to a drug to you, a high you desperately needed to keep your doubts at bay. A soothing coolness that'll keep this rage inside of you to a lukewarm temperature; the promise that Piltover will soon fall to its knees to Zaun had been your motivation to live for years now.

Yet, your chest tightens and your stomach twists as his words wash over you.

"Of course, sir."

[dollfacefantasy]

INFECTED WITH INFATUATION ♡

pairing: carlos oliveira x fem!reader

summary: you and carlos are out on a mission when you come into contact with an unfamiliar plant specimen. the effects are unexpected to say the least.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, dubcon (cause of the pollen), sex pollen, breeding kink, overstimulation

wc: 6k

a/n: omggg kinktober already over halfway done. crazyyy. i hope you guys like this one. it was fun to write so thank you to the person who requested. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <3

kinktober slot: day 17 - sex pollen

"Carlos, watch out!" you shout.

Your partner, the man you called out to, takes heed of your warning as soon as it hits his ears. He ducks down, giving you a clear shot at the overgrown spider crawling down the hedged corridor at the two of you. The moment you have a lock on the target, you shoot. You never hesitate in the field. It only took you one day of dealing with bioweapons to learn that lesson.

Your finger presses down on the trigger of your gun hard, firing multiple rounds right at the creature. The bullets tear through its flesh. Its limbs fumble, and it crumples to the ground. Your heart slows down a little. The sight of its death helps to calm your nerves.

Carlos pops back up, his black hair swishing out of his face with the motion. He turns to you with an approving smirk across his lips.

"Nice work, sharpshooter," he says.

You roll your eyes at the nickname. He'd given it to you after your first mission together in which you encountered an infected dog and managed to miss every single shot you fired at the thing. It had been first day nerves you insisted, and so far, that had proven to be true. But that wouldn't stop Carlos from making fun of you.

The two of you walk over to the deceased organism. You silently thank every possible higher power that this mission is almost over. There's only one more sector after this one, and then the two of you are done for a few weeks.

You hesitate to get too close to the arachnid. Even though it lies there motionless, some sort of innate survival instinct told you no. Your eyes scan it with disgust, looking at the coarse hairs and the multitude of eyes. Gross. You would just have to step around the thing.

With extreme caution, you traverse over its large legs. You wonder what kind of psychopath would want to engineer spiders and make them this big. Your feet land firmly on the ground with every stride you take. The absolute worst case scenario here would be falling over onto it and finding out it still has some life left. Another few steps though, and you're in the clear.

However, your partner apparently does not possess the same inherent fear of spiders you do. He walks over the dead thing without any extra care. In the process, his boot catches on the end of its thorax.

You watch as a baby spider bursts from it and bolts away from the body, making a beeline towards you. And you know it's ridiculous. You know it's humiliating. But you scream.

You're not sure if it's because it's tinier and faster or because it's appearance is so sudden. Either way, you shriek. You recoil before you can control your reaction. Shooting at it would probably be smarter, but in your panic, you don't want to blow a hole through Carlos's foot. You just jerk back and accidentally send yourself tumbling into a bush.

Luckily, he's quick to get to it, not discharging his weapon at all. He simply stomps on it with his large boot. It squishes beneath the sole and splatters on the dirt. His eyes then turn to you in the foliage.

Laughing a little, he heads over to you and parts the leaves. He looks at you with that same smug expression and extends a hand.

"Need some help down there?" he asks.

You glare at him but still accept the offer. It would be easier to get out of this mess of branches and little pink flowers with his aid. You reach out and wrap your fingers around his palm, feeling the warmth of it in your grasp. He pulls you up, and you shamefully watch his bicep flex as he does.

On the way to your feet though, he hisses in pain.

"Ah, fuck," he mutters, letting go of you as soon as you're upright.

He pulls back and brings his arm to his body, holding it there and examining the source of pain. You step closer to try and look too. Your eyes catch the sight of the injury almost right away. It would be hard for anyone to miss.

A red stripe spans from the outer side of his forearm to up just past his elbow. The ending of the cut seems like a deep gash while the beginning is only a thin line. Blood already begins to trickle onto his skin. It looks like a thorn had snagged him while helping you off the ground.

You pull a small cloth from the pouch attached to your belt.

"Here, let me see," you offer, your voice softer as your mind snaps into a more caring frame. It's the one you used to use everyday when you worked as a medic. Before you had been roped into this mess with mercenaries.

He offers his limb up to you without resistance. If there was anyone he trusted to look at him, it was you. After most missions, he stayed with the doctors Umbrella provided for the mandatory observation period, but you were the one to actually patch him up. With you, there were no ulterior motives or chances of being double-crossed. You wanted to help people, and that's what you did for him.

You do it right now as you take the small piece of material and dab up the crimson fluid seeping from his wound. He grunts as you get closer to the source.

"Sorry," you say. You try extra to remain gentle, lightly swiping at the edges of the injury. "Looks like a piece of the plant caught you. I can take a better look at it later, but for now, you should be fine. You're not bleeding too much," you tell him.

He nods and gets back to holding his weapon in the proper position. The two of you continue onward in the direction of your target. You only hope you've seen the last of those spiders.

Fortunately, your wish had been granted. You and Carlos hadn't encountered any more spiders, big or small, for the rest of the mission. The path to the objective from the sight of the last one had been pretty easy, presenting no real challenges.

The two of you made it back to the nearest Umbrella base for the night following a short ride there. You had to get checked out first and now stay overnight for the waiting period as was the procedure for all field operatives. The idea was to ensure you all didn't harbor any infections that remained undetected during the examination. But after that, you'd be home free.

You'd already completed the mandatory screening with the doctor. After finding nothing out of the ordinary, you headed to the assigned room they'd given you for the next twelve hours. It was pretty small, just a bed, table, chair, and shelf. You didn't need anything more though.

You change out of your grimy cargo pants and black sweater and pull on a much more comfortable pair of gray sweats and a t-shirt matching in color. Laying on the stiff mattress, you take a few moments to decompress from the earlier events. Your body seems to hold a dull ache all over, something you attribute to the heightened stress you experienced for hours on end. Your adrenaline has started to wear off, and as it recedes, the ability to feel in entirety returns.

Some time goes by, and Carlos knocks on the frame of your door. It feels like only moments have passed, but in reality, you're sure it's closer to thirty minutes. You look up at him with curious eyes.

"You need something?" you ask.

He walks in, and you see he's also changed. A charcoal t-shirt covers his upper body while gray sweatpants adorn his waist. You try to keep your gaze casual although it would be obvious to anyone with eyes that he looks statuesque in them.

"I was wondering if you're too tired to take another look?" he asks.

Sitting up, you pat the space next to you on the small bed. "Never too tired for my favorite patient," you answer with a small smile.

He returns the fond expression and takes a seat. You take your medical pouch off the table next to the bed. Unzipping it, you pull out the few things you predict you'll need. He rolls up his sleeve even though it's not necessary, allowing you to see his arm in full glory.

"You know they do have doctors here. Ones with much better equipment than me," you say teasingly as you rip open a small cleaning wipe.

He looks at you and shrugs. "I doubt they'd know how to use it as well," he says.

You shake your head and rub the alcohol-soaked patch across his wound. He hisses from the sting but manages to hold still. Your fingers work as quickly as they can, not wanting to prolong his suffering. You clean the dried blood off and make sure the open cut has been completely tended to. But your eyes narrow as you look at his skin.

"The doctors did look at you, right?" you ask.

"Yeah, why?" he responds.

"They cleared you?" you check.

And he nods. Maybe he was right not to trust them.

"Well, this doesn't really look normal," you say with uncertainty, "You have some discoloration around the cut. Your veins look a bit darker than they should. It could be an infection."

His eyes find yours. You can see in his stare that he's looking for reassurance.

"Does it hurt at all?" you continue.

"No. I mean, a little. Feels like I have a giant scrape on my arm. But not more than normal," he says.

A puff of air leaves your nose as you try to think. "Hm. You might be ok then, could be just some abnormal pigmentation," you offer, "I've never seen an infection manifest this fast, but if it were already showing, you'd probably have some symptoms too."

"So you think I'll live?" he jokes.

You scoff and nudge his arm away, putting up a playful front. 

"Don't ask me that," you say. 

In truth, you didn't want to think about Carlos dying. You'd seen so many people die since joining this task force. Your worst fear when coming into work was seeing that happen to the one you care most about.

"Alright," he concedes and surrenders, but his attitude doesn't dampen any.

You pull up your small roll of gauze next and begin to bandage him up. With careful hands, you rotate the thin material around his forearm, making sure to cover the entire scratch in a durable layer. The room is so quiet. There's no sounds except for the two of you breathing. You're tempted to say something and cut through the silence, but you don't. The moment feels intimate. It feels wrong to try and interrupt it.

When you finish wrapping his arm, you tear the gauze and tuck it under to keep it in place. Clearing your throat, you pat his shoulder and give him another sweet smile.

"All done," you say.

"Do I get a reward for being so well-behaved?" he asks. His voice lowers, and he leans in the slightest bit closer to you.

Heat blooms in your stomach and spreads up to your chest, but you'd never let him see the effect he has on you.

"Get outta here," you say and give him a light push.

He laughs and rises to his feet. He heads over to the door but doesn't leave before turning back to look at you again.

"Thanks, sharpshooter," he says.

"You got it, soldier," you respond with a small mock salute.

He shuts the door behind him after that. You put your things back in your pouch and lay back in bed again. A sudden wave of tiredness crashes into you. Sighing, you rub your face and yawn. Tonight it didn't seem like you'd have any trouble sleeping, a rare blessing as of late.

Rolling over, you wince as you feel a small burst of pain in the back of your thigh. You're so exhausted though that you chalk it up to a pulled muscle and resign to check it out when you wake. All you really want to do right now is knock out until the sun is up and the transport vehicle is ready to drop you off at the airport to go home.

It's still dark out when your eyes flutter open. The lids feel heavy with sleep. Your brain wants to be unconscious again, but something has pulled you from the comfort of sleep. It might be the fact that you're burning up.

Your entire body feels as though fire rages within it. Sweat coats your skin and causes your t-shirt to stick to you. You can feel your pillowcase beneath your head damp with it. You sit up, but you have to do so slowly because of how the simple motion causes the room to spin. You try to blink the dizziness away to no avail.

Once you're upright, you feel more conscious though. You're able to better assess your symptoms and maybe pinpoint the cause. You register that you feel tingly. Fizzling sparks rampage all throughout your body; though, the most intense area seems to be the back of your thigh. You peel down your sweats a bit and arch your back to try and get a look.

Your eyes widen as you find a puncture wound with the same discoloration you saw on Carlos.

Fuck, you must have landed on a thorn in that bush and not realized it with everything else going on. Panic rushes through you at the thought of being infected with something that shows symptoms so fast, but a more intense surge of it floods you when you realize that this means Carlos has it too.

You try to get out of bed to go inform him of your discovery, but a round of cramps doubles you over and has you curling up on the twin-sized mattress to ride out the pain. Small whimpers exit your lips. They were so intense, worse than any period cramps or stomach aches you'd ever experienced.

They start to ease up after about a minute, but it's then that you begin to notice the constant throbbing between your thighs. In the midst of all this other stuff coming to light in your groggy condition, you hadn't really noted how consistent it was, but it seems to have grown stronger after that bout of pain.

A strong pulse emanates from your clit. You whine and shove your hand in your panties to try and rub it away. A few strokes bring little pleasure, but not enough to ward it off for good.

You realize your breasts feel heavy too. With every breath you take, they call out for a pair of hands to cup them and squeeze them, to fondle them and toy with your nipples. Just some form of stimulation.

Your legs bend up to your chest while your hand still fruitlessly fumbles around between your thighs. You whimper in frustration now. These symptoms are unlike any of the infections you've encountered in your career. You're not sure what to do.

As you're trying to formulate some sort of plan, your door opens. Carlos stumbles in. He looks to be in the same condition as you. The gray fabric of his t-shirt is soaked in sweat at the underarms and neckline. His skin glimmers in the dim light while he looks at you with hooded eyes. The door shuts behind him, and the air between you feels thick. His scent drifts to you across the room, making you squeeze your thighs together hard with desire.

It takes everything you have to not lunge across the room and pounce on him like an animal in heat. From the strained expression on his face, it's not a wild guess to imagine he feels similar. He's panting, leaning against the wall for support.

"Safe to say we're infected with something, huh?" he chokes out.

You turn your head and nod against your pillow, unable to bring yourself to look at him anymore. If you did that, you wouldn't be able to control your reaction.

"What should we do?" he asks.

You have no clue how he's managing to stand or speak or even think through these questions. All your mind can conjure at the moment are visions of him on top of you. They're so vivid you can almost feel the sensations of them. You see him above you with your legs over his shoulders, plowing into your cunt with no reserve or hesitation. Visions of you on your stomach also flash through your mind. You picture him with an iron grip on your hips, pumping his thick, meaty cock into your dripping hole over and over and over.

It's enough to bring a moan out of you. Carlos winces at the sound, and he approaches your bed. You're visibly faring worse than him. Maybe it's because you have a puncture wound, and he has a simple scratch. Or maybe it's just a difference in your biology. You're not sure, and there's no way you're going to figure it out while you feel like this.

He cautiously lays a hand on your arm, and you moan again. But this time the sound is so much needier. It echoes between the four walls of this small bedroom, the volume enough to cause concern that you would wake other employees here. He pulls his hand back and looks down at you. Your hips rock on your hand, humping it desperately in an attempt for friction.

Your eyes crack open and cast onto him. You intend to look up at his face, but with where he's standing, right at eye level is the huge tent in his pants.

His cock strains against the gray material. You can see the outline perfectly. The sight makes your mouth water. You don't know what's happening with you. Sure, you'd always found Carlos attractive. Maybe you could say you have a little crush on him, but it was never anything so raw. You thought he was charming more than anything. Never before had you just wanted to tear off both your own and his clothes and start going at it.

He sees where your eyes lock on, and he feels a strong burst of arousal in his stomach.

"Hey, hey. Look at me," he instructs and pushes you by the shoulder onto your back.

You look up into his eyes. Your mind finds peace in them. They're serene and calm and offer a sense of comfort despite every other part of your body going haywire.

Your own hand reaches up and wraps around his wrist. You tug his palm down onto your breast. His brows raise, but he makes no move to pull it away. Instead, he gives the mound a squeeze, relishing the way you arch your back and mewl for him.

"Wait," he tries to resist, tries to be the responsible one, "Are you sure we should... do this kind of stuff? What if it makes this worse? We don't know what's happening yet."

If you weren't so wound up, you'd probably laugh at the way he poses the question. The man who could flirt with you like there was no tomorrow asking if you should do "stuff." But you don't laugh because "stuff" is all you want to do.

"I don't know what's happening. All I know is I need you," you rasp and start pulling his arm more, trying to get his entire body on top of your own.

He half indulges you, beginning to climb on the bed before stopping above you. Looking down at your lust-stricken form, he wants you so bad. His cock leaks precum with the urge to just slip inside. But at the same time, Carlos does like you. Really likes you. It isn't a maybe with him - he has a crush on you. And while thoughts of you spread beneath him happen to be what he jerks off to each morning in the shower, part of him can't help worrying that if he takes advantage of this, things between you two will shift and fracture.

"Are... are you sure?" he asks. Words are hard when your scent clouds the air around him and you look up at him with needy eyes like this.

You want to tell him to stop talking and just fuck you senseless already, but your lust-stricken brain seems to comprehend that in order to get fucked dumb, you have to handle his concerns first.

"I want it. I need you inside me. Please just give it to me," you whine. Your legs squirm, and you tug on him again. He's still hesitant. Looking into his eyes, you whimper, "You'll still be my favorite."

And that's apparently good enough for him. That brief statement of reassurance shatters the thin pane of resistance he had left. After hearing those words, he collapses on top of you in a flurry of passion. His lips collide with yours. He pants against your face and squeezes your hips.

Your tongues meet and slide against each other as your mouths move. One of your hands slides around the back of his head to grip his shaggy, dark locks. He groans and bucks his hips against your thigh. Your other hand rubs his chest, fingers digging into the muscle with desire.

He leans back for a split second and rips off his shirt. Under more delicate circumstances, you probably would have admired his sculpted figure. You would have traced your fingertips along the defined lines of his abs, swirled the delicate pads around his nipples and up to his collarbone. 

But not right now.

You don't possess the ability to move with that much focus or care right now. Instead, you reach out and pull him back down again, almost crushing yourself with his bulky frame. It's worth it though because you lick up his happy trail, tracing your tongue over the contours of his muscles. He moans from the light touch before scooting down so he can remove your shirt and have access to your breasts.

"Look at these. Fuck," he says in awe. He gropes them, hands rough as they feel up the plump flesh.

He lowers himself on top of you again and kisses down your collarbone to your chest. You whimper as his mouth glides over the swells of your breasts before latching onto one nipple. He sucks with fervor, eyes fluttering shut as he focuses on the task. You gasp and moan. Between your legs, he ruts against the mattress.

His tongue swirls around your stiffening bud. He laves the smooth wetness over it a few times before switching to the other and giving it the same treatment.

"Been wanting to see these tits so fuckin' bad," he mumbles.

"You have?" you whimper, still squirming from the attention directed at your chest.

"Course I have. Those tight little sweaters you wear, the way they bounce every time you fucking move. God, drives me crazy," he mutters.

He spends some more time on your breasts before relenting and shoving down his sweats. His cock all but jumps out, eager for some attention as well.

"I've been wanting to see that so bad," you breathe.

You have to rub your thighs together once you get a look at his length. It's long and meaty just like you predicted. There are prominent veins spanning from the base upward. The tip is already leaking for you, oozing sticky white precum. His heavy balls hang below. All you can think about is how bad you need them drained inside of you.

He tears off your soaked panties and wastes no time slotting himself at your wanting hole. With both of you in frenzies of carnality, there's no teasing. He doesn't rub it over your folds or work himself in. No. In one go, he slams himself inside. A deep, guttural sound rumbles in his chest while a breathy whine erupts from you.

Your eyes roll back while your toes curl down below. You nearly cum from that stroke alone. He just fits you so perfectly. Even through the amorous fog that clouds your mind, you can't help wondering why you didn't do this sooner.

Just like in the flashes you saw minutes ago, his hands clamp around your waist. He doesn't take time to set a pace or give you a few moments to adjust to the girth of him. As soon as he's had the first taste of that warm, wet heat, he's slamming in and out of your little pussy with no thought.

His hot skin slaps against yours. Both of you pant with exertion while the cot below you scrapes against the concrete floor. Your legs bend upwards and you hold them to make sure nothing gets in the way of his thrusts.

Each time his cock slides all the way in, you think you see heaven. Your vision blots with white and then splotches of color. Your brain feels as though it's melting out your ears in the most blissful sensation. You're pretty sure you don't actually need thoughts anymore. Why would you when this seems like the only thing you'll wanna do ever again?

You bounce around with his strength pounding against you. Your head bobbles while your tits sway up and down. His head has been tilted back for a while, but he drops it now to look at the sight of you before him.

"Fuck, baby. You take my dick like you were made for it," he grunts.

Your walls squeeze him tight as a reward for saying that. He groans and fucks into you harder. The rhythm breaks for a moment. He has to slow down to deliver the small collection of particularly harsh thrusts.

With each one, his tip rams further inside you. The fourth one strikes some trigger inside you that rips a yelp from you and rockets you over the edge. Your body shudders hard beneath him while your walls spasm desperately.

"Hnghhh- Carlos- ah! You're fuckinmesogood," you babble out, eyes drooping so much they're practically closed.

You hear him growl above you and then feel his weight collapse onto your body. Your thighs are smooshed between the two of you, keeping you bent in half. He's as deep as physically possible now. That you're certain of. His cock kisses the opening of your womb with each jolt of his pelvis, making you cry out in an intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain.

His head closes in on yours, connecting the two of you in a sloppy kiss. You move without sense. Every action stems from a place of pure desire.

He knows he's getting close. And he also knows he should pull out. But he honestly doesn't know if he can right now. He's burning so hot for you that in his head, the loss of your tight walls wrapped around him may seriously result in death. It doesn't just feel good, it's pure euphoria. He's not even at the peak yet, but this feeling right now is more intense than any orgasm he's had before.

"Fuck-" he growls, trying to work up the will to slide back and burst on your stomach instead. His mouth falls away from yours, landing against the crook of your neck. "You're making this so hard for me, sweetheart," he grumbles.

You're so shaky and blissed out that the words almost pass you by, but his close proximity allows you to catch them. You know what he means without him having to say it because you feel it too. A deep yearning in the most carnal recesses of your soul, a craving for him to sate the most base desire burning within you.

"Just do it," you whimper, lazily rolling your hips up, "Cum inside."

His muscles tense. You can feel them twitching against you.

"Don't say that," he breathes.

A petulant whine seeps from between your lips. You pull him closer by the shoulders with more force, digging your nails into the skin.

"Finish inside, Carlos. Pleaseeeeee," you try again, "I'll worry about it later. Just need you to fill me up so fucking bad."

His resolve chips away piece by piece with each strike from your pleas. Reasons to detach from you that had seemed logical moments ago lose whatever little appeal they had. His mind feels overcome by the desire to pump you full of his release, to fuck his seed deep inside your awaiting cunt, to let it take.

With a rough snap, he throws his head back and groans. His fingers dig into the plush flesh of your hips. The high overcomes him in a powerful blow, whisking the air from his lungs. It makes him feel lightheaded, actions completely guided by impulse created under the influence of whatever that plant had sapped into the two of you.

Hot, thick ropes of cum shoot against your inner walls. You whine at the sensation, eyes fluttering and rolling back in satisfaction. He works it into you over and over till the urge is sated.

Finally, he feels like he won't lose all capability to function if he pulls out. He eases his hips back, slowly freeing himself from the sinful confines of your slick walls. Every inch he reveals shimmers with the combined gloss of his and your fluids. It coats the area between your thighs thoroughly, marking the site of your connection.

While the throbbing in your clit and the burning throughout your bones has lessened, dull remnants of them remain. Your chest puffs up and down as you catch your breath and recover from the intensity of before. The air still feels thick, just less like a landmine than before.

But when you gaze down between the two of you, your eyes land on his cock. He's still fully hard. The shaft stands forward proudly while the tip remains darkened in color. His need for more of you plainly visible to anyone who looked.

Your eyes flit from it up to his eyes, connecting in a tentative stare. The question between the two of you is left unspoken. Neither of you really need the words to understand that you both want more.

His hands fly to your waist again and flip you over onto your stomach. Your face squishes against the pillows as he boosts your hips to the right angle and slides right back inside. You whine at the intrusion, fingers gripping the pillow for some way to ground yourself.

He gives your ass a firm smack before leaning forward and boxing you in beneath him. You have no way of knowing for sure, but you're almost certain the thrusts reach deeper now. He's moving at the same frantic pace from before, yet every stroke feels like it bumps a sweet spot within you. That or you're just more sensitive from your previous release.

You can hear him panting in your ear as he pounds you into the mattress. Every small grunt and soft growl drifts out behind your head.

"Fuck... think we should just do this till we're all better," he murmurs and nips at your shoulder.

"Mhm," you whine, arching your back and pushing your hips against him further. The next set of words comes out slurred and muffled both from your position against the pillow and the blurry state of your mind. "Never wanna stop. Just want you all the time."

He huffs out a laugh. "Yeah? That's what you wanna do, huh? Let me fuck you nonstop? Use you till you can't fucking move anymore? Breed you till I've had my fill?"

You mewl sharply and nod eagerly. "Uh huh, give it all to me till- ah! mmm... till we're both better," you whimper.

Skin continues slapping against skin in the otherwise quiet of the room. In the back of your mind, you wonder how far down the hall the sound echoes. It's a fleeting thought though, quickly overwhelmed by the repeated thoughts of how good you feel.

"Yeah? Maybe a baby in your belly is what you need. Maybe that's what we're supposed to do. Can't get this thing out of our system till we meet nature's demands," he rasps.

He doesn't even know what he's saying. He assumes the sudden desire to procreate comes from the infection, but the words feel as though they blossom from somewhere deeper. Whatever the case, it's obvious you like them. You clamp around his cock like you're trying to drain him dry.

"I'd probably fuck you like this every night if I saw you nice and round with my baby, sweetheart. Fuck, you'd look so good. Swollen in all the right places, aching for me to take care of you," he mumbles out.

"Give it to me. Want it so bad. Wanna... mmm fuck," you trail off, panting out the lasts of your desires.

The peak builds much faster for you two this time around. You squeeze around him till your rhythmic convulsions devolve into a burst of spasms. His thrusts land hard throughout his high, but you feel his muscles tense as he pumps another load into you.

Drops of his spend leak from your cunt and smear against both of your skin. This time he doesn't even bother pulling out. He knows he's still hard and that he has one, if not more, rounds in him. He keeps fucking you hard, through your cries of overstimulation and desperate squirming.

The rest of the night is a blur. You don't count how many times you go at it or keep track of the variety of positions you do it in. You know at one point you were on top, at another your head dangled off the edge of the mattress and bobbled around like that of a doll's. The intense passion and lust pervades all memories and casts the experience in a hazy fog.

All you're sure of is that now you feel better. For the moment, the two of you are satisfied, your bodies no longer alive with an electric craving for one another. Your head rests on his chest while the rest of you presses against his side. His hand rubs up and down your back in lazy, thoughtless strokes.

Neither of you say anything. Dashes of sunlight begin to shine through the windows that sit high on the wall. Both of you bask in the calm of the moment as you grapple with what happened.

"You think that cured us?" he asks softly after a while.

You pause before shrugging. "Can't say for sure, we'll have to wait and see," you say, looking up at him.

Somewhere inside of you, you believe that was it. That was the magic fix. You're almost certain that you fucked whatever that was out of your systems, but you want to be honest with him. Still, you can't help offering a little reassurance.

"We'll be ok," you say with a small smile.

He returns it. "If you're the one taking care of me, I don't doubt that," he teases.

You hum and squeeze your arms around his waist. Questions of a changed relationship status or potential future together going forward plague your mind, but you know it's not the time. If your supervisors hadn't heard the racket coming from in here, they'd realize something was up as soon as you and Carlos emerged from the same bedroom. You decide to take what semblance of peace with him you can get before having to face a possible onslaught of hazmat suits and probing tests.

Your eyes flutter shut as the beating of his heart lulls you into a state of peace. Even without the confirmation, you aren't worried about your connection. You're pretty confident that he'll be more than just your favorite patient in the coming weeks.

[whatever-i-dontknow]

Warning: Some TFO spoilers❗❗

Sentinel's Pet

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Sentinel wouldn't expect to have Arachnid bring him a certain organic she had captured shortly after one of his meetings with the Quintessons. Especially one that had managed to escape the Quintesson ship after they had destroyed your planet and took you in as a prisoner and a science experiment. You are probably the last of your species of human. Sentinel thought about just squishing you for a moment to just get rid of you...but then he decided he wanted a pet. What kind of king doesn't have a pet?? He takes you back to his tower and he has you cleaned up and out of those dirty rags you referred to as "clothes". Whatever that means. You insisted on having them because they were all you had to wear, but he instead just has some bot make some newer and better "clothes" for you (he makes sure that they make you look so pretty.)

And oh you'd be the most pampered and spoiled creature on Cybertron. You are Sentinel Prime's personal pet, of course he's only going to get you the finest and most lavish of treatment that the city of Iacon can offer. You are groomed and bathed every morning AND night and whatever you want, Sentinel's gonna get it. Almost everything is pretty much at your beck and call. Though just because you're his pet whom he treats like royalty, doesn't mean that he's gonna be sweet with you all the time. 😘🤭 He's an asshole, he'll always be an asshole.

Of course it'd be a bit degrading because most bots just see you as some animal that Sentinel seemed to have attached himself to, but hey, you get free food and a place to stay that DOESN'T require rent, and even better, you're not being cut open and poked and prodded like those frogs in a middle school science class. Neat! And this bot who took you in appears to be rich or something or whatever from being the leader of Cybertron. An added bonus! Maybe things won't suck ass after all!

[dailybugfacts]

You have subscribed to DAILY BUG FACTS

🪲

TODAY'S FACT IS

Did you know that the House Centipede (Scutigera coleoptrata) is a fantastic hunter? These sentient eyelashes are quick and powerful insectivores, killing and eating whatever insect (or arachnid) they come across, including each other.

They have excellently developed eyes and use their fantastic vision and antennae to gather information around them and even discern what they can hunt and what they shouldn't.

They love to spend their resting time in dark and damp areas so they often appear in bathrooms and basements.

Because of their pest control abilities and reclusivity, they make excellent roommates...as long as you're ok with them not paying their share of the rent.

🪲

Thank you for subscribing to DAILY BUG FACTS

Picture by me of my idiot roommate getting stuck in the shower...again

[bogleech]

Also going to finally make a pinned post for all my stuff:

BOGLEECH - my tumblr blog is named after this website I created around 2002 and still update. Thousands of pages worth of content focusing on creature design as well as real biology. My review of the original Legend of Zelda monsters might be the most straightforward example of my articles.

Links to some of the most popular content:

POKEMON REVIEW ARCHIVE: - I rate and review each and every single Pokemon, in Pokedex order, on its merits as a creature design. I also do so as someone whose favorite animals are all parasites.

DIGIMON REVIEW ARCHIVE - same, but more chaotic.

CREEPYPASTA COOKOFF ARCHIVE - for several years I hosted a yearly writing contest before it grew too big for me to keep up with. There are over a thousand user submitted horror, fantasy, sci fi and surrealist stories here emphasizing unconventional, original ideas you seldom see from the "creepypasta" community!

The original "MORTASHEEN" Monster Archive - since the early 2000's I've created and illustrated more than 800 creatures and counting for my own monster-catching world, now set for release as a tabletop RPG setting.

AWFUL HOSPITAL: SERIOUSLY THE WORST EVER (page one): an interactive comedy-horror-sci-fi webcomic I started in 2014 about a medical facility that could maybe be better.

Some of my other internet stuff:

PATREON - constant work makes my patreon updates inconsistent, but the content backlog goes back years with a huge amount of exclusive art and writing. I try to put up new exclusive stuff whenever I can.

ETSY - I design all sorts of original enamel pins like these, plus I sell zero-maintenance terrarium plants (just leave them in a jar!), original books and other things!

COLOR THE ABYSS (available on the above etsy!) - a 30 page educational deep sea coloring book! Includes a few famous favorites like giant isopods and hagfish, but mostly focuses on less popular, often much weirder animals.

UNBELIEVABLE BUGS - also regularly restocked in the etsy store, 30 of the strangest and most surprising arthropods most people have likely never heard of, illustrated by myself and @revretch, written for even the youngest kids to understand (but will likely teach you something new at any age)

My Itch.io and Ko-fi - both sell digital versions of my books, including some creepypasta collections and my first novel, "Return of the Living," about a world of entirely ghosts suddenly dealing with the appearance of ghost-hunting monsters.

TWITCH CHANNEL - I now try to stream something at least monthly, sometimes weekly when possible, from horror games to books and art.

YOUTUBE CHANNEL - archives my twitch streams and other little things.

INSTAGRAM - look at pictures of my huge weird collection of toys and Halloween collectibles

BLUESKY - I'm going to put mainly just updates to my stuff on here.

SEE ALSO:

HUMANS-B-GONE - a science fiction animated series by my partner @revretch, about a world of kaiju-size, technologically advanced insects and arachnids to whom vertebrates like us are just pesky little "gubs." Also has a tumblr account @humansbgone

FINALLY, HERE'S MY GUIDE AND RESOURCE TO MAKING YOUR OWN INTERNET WEBSITE IN A FEW MINUTES WITH NO KNOWLEDGE OF CODING

[ctrlhope]

I need a Spider Jimin in my life. I have a fear of them and had a giant one in my room, I couldn't kill it or move it, so I just stared at it, hyperventilating and crying. Couldn't look away because if I did, where would it have gone! In the end, my roommate got it after I called for them.

I need Jimin to tell them to leave my space alone or for me not to see them 😔

NOOOOO!!! I used to be so scared of spiders too <//3 like once there was a spider in my room and i stg i looked like i was working in a meth lab with the gear i put on to grab it and take it outside AJHBJSB like had a hoodie tied tight around my head, my old lab safety goggles on, gloves, and a face mask armed with cup and paper in hand. I don't know what i thought it was gonna do to me bro 😭😭 now they don't scare me (i'm now the designated spider-taker-outsider lol) but it must've not been fun at all for you :(((( i'm glad your roomate was there to help you out!! Little spider jimin blurb under the cut to help you cope with the trauma 😔😔

— Dangerous Predator

wc: 1.7k

genre: fluff, hybrid au, soft yandere

content: soft yandere!jimin, hybrid!jimin, spider!jimin, fem!reader, manipulation, kisses, jimin is a good actor, and he’s really sweet <\\3 -> the pitfalls of silk drabble

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

Oh god. Oh god what is that– that thing?! 

If your eyes were a second slower, they would’ve missed it. If your reaction speed was just a feather more hesitant you would’ve never noticed the massive creeping brown arachnid skittering across your floor. Legs longer than you’ve ever seen, a massive thorax sticking high in the air making it look all the more menacing, as if it was actually threatening you. As if it had its sights set on you.

The yelp that tears through your throat makes its way out faster than you can stop it, your body jumping high as it tries to scramble on the kitchen counter– plant itself high off the ground, away from where the predator lurks. Ready to do… do whatever it was thinking of doing… yeah. 

Okay, maybe you don’t exactly know what its plans were, but they can’t be any good! Not when it was moving towards your foot like, like that! When your boyfriend is nowhere to be seen, hiding away, sulking in the basement, pretending the food you're cooking doesn’t smell as amazing as it does. 

Sure, you can handle the small spiders– the little ones that appear as no more than dark spots in the corners you can’t see. The ones that cohabitate peacefully, giving you your space and keeping theirs. Two lives nearby yet never crossing paths. But the big ones, the big ones are a struggle no matter how hard you try to adapt. Especially when they move so close to you, disrupting the peaceful environment you’ve created. 

Jimin normally handles this, is normally the expert on dealing with 8-legged creatures you’d rather not share your domain with. But right now, he’s nowhere to be found. A disagreement only a few hours ago putting a halt on all communication with him. Rather feeling the urge to  stew in your own feelings.

But now, right this very second, you could not give less of a shit about the petty argument. Can’t even remember the cause of it in the first place. The only thing you do know is the rush of adrenaline through your veins, the way your eyes lock onto the predators on the floor. The way it takes slow steps in your direction, moving ever so slowly to where you sit pressed on the kitchen counter, lettuce in hand– the perfect defence. 

If you truly believed what Jimin told you about his ability to talk to spiders, if you thought any deeper about them then you do right now– you would think that it’s actually mocking you in the way it steps. Each slow, careful movement as it keeps its eyes locked on yours deliberate and teasing. 

Fucking prick. 

“Jimin!” Your voice calls before you can stop it, another yelp leaving your lips as you helplessly toss your leaf of lettuce at the mighty beast, completely and utterly missing. It’s almost ironic, really, that the biggest spider of all is the only one that can save you at this moment. 

No more than a second passes before you hear his legs bounding up the stairs, scurrying as fast as he can to meet you. To see what the problem may be. Faux nerves taking over his being as he hears the fear in your tone, calling for him. Wanting him above anybody else. 

He wants to laugh once the scene in the kitchen comes into frame. He really does. He almost feels bad for it, honestly, but you just look so cute as you try to struggle away, eyes not leaving the arachnid below. 

But he’s supposed to be your knight in shining armour. He can coo over how adorable his mate is later. 

“Pretty? What happened?” He asks in a hurry, concern buried deep in his tone as he quickly approaches your shaking form. Arm reaching out, gently taking one of your hands in his own. He brings it to his face, using your palm to cup his cheek as he presses a gentle kiss into the surface, gaze burning with worry over your tied expressions. 

You wish you could say you were soothed, that his presence alone brought peace to your quivering heart but it couldn't. Now that the predator was out of your vision, blocked by the very man you called for, you couldn’t be more alarmed. Your body twisting against him, head trying to poke past him to see the beast still lingering nearby. 

“Min! Min there’s a spider! You have, it’s going to eat me!” You shout, pointing over his shoulder with the other hand. How could he not see how urgent this is! This is a matter between life and death!

The gentle annoyance that finds its way into his veins is quickly washed away, discarded into his brain for later. The only mention of it being the quiet narrow of his eyes, ever so slight that no one would notice it. How could you still be concerned over a little spider when he is right in front of you, saving you? 

Did you forget that he is a predator, too? He can’t believe he’s jealous of a spider right now. 

Mmm, but he knows how humans can be. When they get all scared like this they can’t help themselves but to clamp up, frozen out in fear. One of the reasons he never wanted to be the cause of it. The misfortune that bespoke your mind every waking minute. No, he wanted to be the sunshine on a beautiful day, a field of flowers to dance in. Maybe even a handsome prince on a horse, ready to carry you away. 

So that is exactly what he’ll be. 

Soft eyes looking up into your own, half lidded and dangerous with affection, “Well that just won’t do, will it?” He pouts, lower lip jutted out in a cute expression that can’t help but take your breath away. Mince your mind in half, one side still focusing on the obvious threat while the other causes your heart to pound. Causes a fluttering to erupt from deep within. 

Your pretty boyfriend spins on his heels, placing his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest in a manner that can only be described as the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. His cheeks blown out in much the same way, forcing your brain to think about nothing else other than kissing him.

“Now listen here!” He tuts, admonishing the spider. Somehow, he even seems to make glaring cute. “You better leave my pretty mate alone! This is my territory so unless you wanna mess with me, I suggest you leave.” He huffs, yet can’t hide the playful undertone in his words, only half serious. 

You know he probably isn’t taking you seriously. Can never truly understand your fear of the same arthropod you're dating. And you know the spider probably doesn’t even understand a single thing going on– but at the same time you can’t help the battering of butterflies in your stomach at his words. That he’s going these lengths to make you feel protected and safe. 

“She doesn’t like you around here, and she’s the most important in the world to me. So, if you don’t leave right now and tell all of your friends you're not welcome around here, I'll have no choice but to do it for you.” The spider takes a hesitant step back, suddenly lowering its body closer to the floor, almost as if…

Shit. Maybe he really can talk to spiders. 

“Get out.” And with those final words, the spider quickly turns around and scurries out of the kitchen and into the yard, practically waving a white flag all the way. Your eyes widen in shock, mouth hanging open as your legs drop against the counter walls. Fanning either side of Jimin in his embrace. 

A cute smile is on his lips as he turns around– the cocky, proud kind that you normally roll your eyes at. But this time you can’t help but stare at him in shock, blush dusting your cheeks. Even as he leans closer, planting a gentle kiss against your lips as a reward for himself.

“There.” He smiles, hands coming to rest against your thighs. Any thoughts of dinner completely abandoned. He’ll just order take out once he has you in the nest. “All better.” 

“How– you, you!” You hesitate against the sound of his adorable giggle, his hands pulling you closer to his body. Legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. 

“Mhmm, they won’t come around here anymore. I promise, baby.” He hums, lifting you as if you were nothing more than a stuffed animal clinging against his body. “What do we say when your handsome mate helps you out?” 

Your eyes narrow into a glare at his teasing, but you can’t help wrapping further around him. Pulling him close as he ensnares you further into utter devotion. Becoming your safety net against all things scary in the world. 

“Thank you.” You grumble quietly, a gentle peck against his too-soft lips given as a token of your appreciation in that moment. Stopping yourself before you melt into the feeling of his fangs pressed against your lips. “I appreciate it Min…” 

As you’re finally able to hide your face away in his neck– snuggling against his skin and blocking your vision from any other scary things that might exist in the world, you completely miss the way Jimin tosses a small pile of bugs near the window. The same window that was left open just a crack too wide. The same window that he allowed a spider to crawl inside.

The same spider he may have made a deal with.

He hates when you’re mad at him. Hates it more than anything else when you take away the single thing he craves most– you. So could you really, really blame him for hatching a little plan? One he knew would send you into his arms. Make up for your whole little argument in a second. 

Never, ever wants to be the cause for your fear. But every once and awhile it can serve a purpose, he supposes. Especially when it gets him out of the dog house. Gets you nestled into his web, watching movies for the night. Curled in his embrace, gentle words and soothing hands warming you. 

[folkdevilfables]

✵ Arachnid Ambuscade | Solomon x gn!reader

drabble (0.7k words) | sfw | gn!reader | fluff/angst

cw: spider mention, set in Nightbringer, mutual attraction, no established relationship, MC is an oblivious dunce & Solomon is touchstarved to the point that sudden close physical contact with his LI nearly makes him faint on the spot lmao

You were simply minding your own business, reorganizing some things in your room at Cocytus Hall when you suddenly noticed a huge spider twice the size of your hand on the wall to your left.

You let out a little scream and jumped away from the wall, bumping into something. Or someone.

"MC? Are you okay?"

You felt Solomon behind you stiffen in surprise as you bumped into him, one of your hands brushing his thigh. Or his hip. You couldn't really tell, you were too occupied with anxiously staring at the big spider on your bedroom wall to keep watch of whether it was moving or not.

While the sight of a spider didn't put you in a state of panic, you didn't really like spiders all that much. Especially when they were potentially dangerous and/or appeared on the wall of your bedroom wholly uninvited, deciding they intended to make your room their forever home and not pay any rent. You weren’t a big fan to say the least.

Small spiders weren't really a problem, it was the bigger ones that you were mildly terrified of. Which was stupid when you thought about it, since the smaller ones were usually the venomous ones and the bigger ones rather harmless... But you were in the Devildom and just assumed that everything was out to get you six feet under by default.

"Please get the spider out of my room, Solomon. Please please please."

You shrieked and winced as it moved.

"Anything for my adorable apprentice."

One incantation later and the spider was gone.

"...Is it gone?" Yes, you were looking at the obviously spiderless wall, but you wanted to make extra sure. Just in case. Better safe than sorry.

"Yes. I used a teleportation spell to send it to another place, away from Cocytus Hall."

"Oh, thank Diavolo." You let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Solomon!"

Turning around, you hugged him.

The surprise of a sudden hug caught the sorcerer off-guard. It took him a second to regain his composure and hug you back.

"Anyday, MC."

As you wrapped your arms around him, you felt his heart beating ferociously in his chest.

You looked up and wanted to ask him if everything was alright, but then you saw that he had small ivory feathers in his hair.

"Did your pillows explode during one of your experiments? There are feathers in your hair."

Without asking for his permission, you reached up to gently pluck the feathers out of his hair, your hand brushing his cheeks and nose several times in the process.

A good look at his face showed that his cheeks were now pale pink and his breaths ever so slightly shallow.

You eyed him worriedly. "Sol, are you okay? Do you have a fever? Was the spicy zombie dragon liver curry you ate for lunch today a little too much for you? Do you want me to go get you some medica-"

Before he had the chance to respond your D.D.D started ringing, the sudden loud noise startling both of you. Taking a step back from Solomon, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and answered the call.

"MC, there’s a giant spider in the House of Lamentation and it has already devoured Asmo's vanity and Mammon's car and now it’s chasing us!" You heard Asmo's blood curdling scream in the background while Levi was panting, trying to hastily explain the situation while presumably running for his life. "Lucifer is currently at the Demon Lord's Castle - Please, you need to help! I don't know how much longer we can run!" Mammon yowled as Levi shrieked and the sound of something being smashed could be heard.

You looked at Solomon.

The sorcerer was attentively watching you, sporting a sly smirk.

"I... erm... Levi... I don't know how to tell you this, but I can't handle spiders myself. I'm sorry, I doubt I’d be any help."

"Please MC, anything -"

Solomon gingerly plucked the D.D.D out of your hand.

"I'm sorry Leviathan, but this is one of MC's scheduled off days and they're very busy currently. I'm sure you'll be able to handle the spider on your own. Good Luck!" He cheerily ended the call and placed your phone back on the nightstand.

You shuddered. "Well, I won't be setting foot into the House of Lamentation until that spider is gone, that's for sure."

Solomon smugly smiled. "Perfect, that means I get more time to have you to myself."

Unedited Solomon icon can be found here | support banner and divider made by @/saradika | all rights reserved banner by @/cafekitsune

[in1-nutshell]

Hey!

I don't know if you alredy watched the movie by time I send this so just in case spoiler alert.

Can I please request for Transformers One Bee where before he was sent to floor 50 he use to have a spark make/conjux (Buddy) that was miner but since is been so long Buddy worked hard and got promoted to Elite guard with the mission of finding what they did to Bee only for them to be reunited when she was given the task to protect guard Sentinel when he got capture after the attack, also I like the idea that Sentinel did it on purpose to remain Buddy of who was in power since he is that evil and suspected Buddy was about to strike.

Was thinking on going for a more angsty route... but then I saw B-127's face again and couldn't do it. B must have FLUFF!

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy being B-127's Conjunx and a Guard

SFW, Platonic, Slight Angst, Romance, Cybertronian reader

TF1

B-127 didn’t have a lot of luck going on in his life.

He knew that but tried his best to think optimistically.

Sure, he has been bouncing from job position to job position, but it was thanks to all that bouncing around that he found the love of his life.

B-127 met Buddy under… less likely circumstances…

B-127 walking around looking at his new work environment. B-127: “Not too bad of a place. Maybe a bit of color and some entertainment, but other than that its—” SHRIEK! BANG! CLANK! He was now on the ground groaning in pain. B-127 looked up to see what exactly happened to him. His vision was a bit blurry when a silhouette appeared in front of him. A pretty face…

B-127: “Primus…” Buddy: “Sweet Solus Prime! I didn’t see you there! Let me help you up!” Buddy takes their servos and helps the disoriented bot up. Buddy: “I am SO Sorry! I know the mining carts go fast but I didn’t it would go that fast! And by the time I saw you the breaks were too slow, and I tried getting you attention—and now I’m rambling again…” Buddy vents before putting on a smile and offering him a handshake. Buddy: “I’m Buddy.” B-127 finds a goofy smile creeping onto his faceplate. B-127: “B-127.” Somewhere in the crowd someone calls out Buddy. Buddy: “I’ll catch up later D! Go ahead with Pax!” Buddy turns back to the yellow mech. Buddy: “Sorry about that, my neighbors wanted to show me something, but I’ll do it later.”

It didn’t take long before the two started going out as a couple after a few months into their jobs.

Things got a bit harder when B-127 was moved to another job position a bit farther from Buddy’s.

But that didn’t stop them.

 No, if anything it made Buddy more determined to spend time with him.

It would be a while of courting each other before they finally decided to perform the Conjunx Endura rites.

Sadly, shortly after that, B-127 went ‘missing’.

Buddy was demanding every supervisor they saw any information on their Conjunx.

No one said anything about his whereabouts.

A new goal was set.

Buddy was to rise above the ranks, higher than any miner could even dream of.

Climb the ranks to become one of Sentinel Prime’s Elite Guard.

It sounded insane, but if anyone knew where their Conjunx was, it would have to be Sentinel.

Buddy nearly gave up several times but the soft hums of their spark, of the bond reminded them why they were fighting for.

It took longer than they would have liked it, especially given that they had no T-cog, but they finally managed to become one of the guard.

Sentinel looking over at his newest member of the Guard. Sentinel: “So, you’re the little bot who’s been making all the commotion within my guard.” Sentinel walks around them. Buddy stiffens as he walks and as Arachnid watches silently. Buddy: “My only wish is to serve and protect you Sentinel Prime, sir.” Sentinel stops in front of them, then smiles. Sentinel: “I like you. How about you become one of my personal guard bots? You’ll be by my side almost all the time and you get a room near my quarters.” Buddy’s optics widen a bit but manages to keep their composure. Buddy: “It would be a great honor Sentinel Prime, sir.” Sentinel: “Stop calling me sir and you start your new job tomorrow?” The Prime offers them his servo to shake. Buddy smiles and shakes it. Buddy: “I’m looking forward to it.”

Buddy gained a position even better than what they had hoped for.

B-127 was going to be found even sooner!

…except it didn’t.

Sentinel was a busy bot and always wanted to drag Buddy with him everywhere.

So much so, Sentinel had gotten Buddy some wax and new Guard paintjob.

It felt… wrong.

They didn’t know how to explain it, but the paint, new blasters, and mask felt wrong.

Something was wrong.

Whenever Sentinel wasn’t dragging them around Iacon, he had them guard special levels in the Archieve’s.

Buddy thought for sure that they would find something about B-127’s location there.

Buddy looks at the data chips and slugs in their servos. Buddy: “One of them has to have it…” Suddenly a large frame turned the corner and shown a bright light in their face. Buddy: “ACK! Darkwing its me!” The guard turned off his flashlight and scoffed. Darkwing: “What are you doing here? Sentinel got tired of you?” Buddy: “I’m just doing some research Sentinel asked me to do.” Darkwing scoffed before leaving. Darkwing: “Miners…” Buddy scoffed once he was out of earshot. Buddy: “Miner guards…” Meanwhile… B-127, D-16, Orion Pax and Elita-One walking on the surface. B-127: “My Conjunx would love it up here!” D-16: “B, you don’t need to start talking about your ‘Conjunx’ again.” B-127: “Hey! They’re real!” Orion and Elita: “Sure…”

Nothing.

Buddy felt as if they were going on a wild chase all over Iacon looking for their Conjunx.

…But anything was worth it in the end, for him it was.

It would be a couple of days later that Buddy would receive a message for all guard bots to report to Sentinel.

Buddy was not expecting for cuffed mech’s to enter the room.

Many they recognized from B-127’s rants on the High Guard.

They nearly broke character when they saw a bot that looked suspiciously like B-127 and an old berthmate D-16.

They could not believe what they were hearing when Sentinel started talking about executing them all and for the trade he was doing with the Quintessons.

Buddy is gripping their staff tighter with all Sentinel was confessing. Behind their mask was a scowl and a look of betrayal. Their world came crashing down when they heard the yellow bot speak. B-127: “That is not the truth!” Sentinel got up in B-127’s face and presses his sword against his face. Sentinel: “The truth is what I say!” SHINK! Buddy pulled out their staffs point. Sentinel: “Ah, yes. Do me a favor and terminate the one with the mouth.” Buddy just walked over to the pair before ramming the blunt end into one of Sentinel’s joint, catching him over guard and pushing him back. The High Guard, D-16 and B-127 looked in shock. Buddy stands in front of B-127. Buddy: “You not only have lied to all of us, but you just threatened my Conjunx’s life. And no one, and I mean, NO ONE does that on MY watch!” B-127 stares in disbelief as Buddy takes off their mask and throws it to the ground. B-127 and D-16: “Buddy!?” He turns to D-16. B-127: “I told you I wasn’t making them up!” D-16: “Now is not the time…”

Buddy tries their best to stay in between Sentinel and D-16 once they saw the Prime going to the standing miner.

The Prime easily grabbed them, bent their staff and servo in the process and casted them aside like scrap.

B-127 tried to get up, but Arachnid quickly restrained him.

D-16 looked downright murderous.

Buddy didn’t get up until they saw the engraving Sentinel gave to D-16.

They grabbed their broken staff and tried to stab the Prime.

Sentinel once again grabbed them with one servo while the other held his sword…

Sentinel: “Any last words miner?” Buddy glanced at a panic B-127 and a disbelief D-16. They looked back at the Prime and spat in his face. Buddy: “Rust in the Pits Sentinel.” HONK! HONK! Buddy: “Is that Pax?!”

The train had crashed into the wall throwing Sentinel and Buddy back.

B-127 quickly ran to Buddy’s side and pulled them out of the wreck with D-16 and Orion.

Buddy finally regained their conscious and hugged B-127 tightly.

He only hugged tighter.

Soon blaster fire was exchanged.

B-127 pulled Buddy close and covered them with his now larger frame.

The pair did not want to let go of each other, but Pax needed him.

Buddy just told him to go while they had D-16’s back.

D-16 and Buddy fighting Sentinel. Buddy: “When did you guys get big! And transform!?” D-16 blasting away: “Are you seriously asking that right now?!” Buddy ducking bast a stray blast. Buddy: “Absolutely!” D-16: “Long story short, Dead Prime gave us some T-cog’s, which we had but HE stole them!” Buddy scowls at Sentinel managing to kick him in the chin. Buddy: “You sick son of a—” D-16: “When were you going to tell us you were Conjunxed!?” Buddy: “I told you already!” D-16: “But why B!” Buddy: “He makes me laugh!” Buddy and D-16 look at each other then at Sentinel by the balcony. D-16: “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Buddy: “This is some grade A Pax stunts. Absolutely!”

The three of them stumbled out of the building and into the center arena.

It almost looked like some sort of stage now looking back.

Despite the size difference, Buddy and D-16 fought together like a well-oiled machine.

They both wanted Sentinel to suffer.

All they had worked for was ultimately for nothing.

Everything they worked for was to support this tyrant and his selfish ways.

No more…

No more!

Buddy stopped fighting for a minute when Orion pushed D-16 canon out of the way.

They didn’t know what was happening.

Then Orion was hit.

Buddy and D-16 both dove in grabbed the same servo. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Buddy: “Orion!” Orion: “Buddy?” D-16: “Why… why did you…?” Buddy remembered the sickening chill that went down their backstruts when they saw D-16’s optics go red. Buddy: “D?” D-16: “I’m done saving you.” D-16 let his grip go of Orion’s servo. Buddy quickly reached with their other servo to Orion’s. Buddy: “Orion hang on! D! D! What are you—” They felt a large servo grabbing their back and yanking them so hard that their grip loosened on Pax’s servos, sending him plummeting to the darkness bellow. Buddy looks at D-16 with tear filled optics. Buddy: “What did you do?!” Last thing they remembered was a fist heading way too fast to their face and screaming before everything went black.

When Buddy woke back up, they were in some sort of medbay.

The doctor gave them a curt nod and called in the visitors.

Buddy vented in relief when they saw Orion, now Optimus Prime, Elita-One and B-127, the last one racing towards them.

He placed their helm on his as he took a shaky vent and held their servo.

For once, he had nothing to say.

B-127 nearly lost the love of his life today and was not keen repeating the feeling again.

Never again.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Soulmates with Peter Parker? 🥺💕

.⋆｡Arachnophobia｡⋆.

Peter Parker x plus size reader

Who knew that moving to New York could be just the kick the universe needed to fulfil your destiny?

Warnings: fluff, soulmate AU, explosions WC: 876

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

6k Celebration Bingo

Well this spider doesn’t hate you.

Those were the words that appeared along your collarbone the day you turned 18. The black lettering was just barely visible when you awoke that morning but by lunch time, all of your friends were poking fun at the strange phrase now permanently branded into your skin. You glared at them as you told them to back off and that you at least had an interesting soulmate if their first words to you were as strange as that.

But a nagging part of your mind wondered if they were right, if the person that burned with the same flame as you did was some kind of weirdo. As the months went on, you imagined countless scenarios where those six words would be uttered to you. Maybe at a frat costume party where they would be dressed like a spider. Or they were your next door neighbour and they saved you from a stray arachnid that had made a home in your kitchen. Or maybe they were just really into spiders in general. Needless to say, your obsession with your soulmate's words had slowly developed an aversion to the insects, going completely out of your way to avoid them just in case your soulmate was a weirdo like your friends had predicted.

Three years after you finally escaped the social wormhole of high school, you moved to New York City. With a scholarship under your belt and dreams of going to a college that could handle more than 300 students, you moved into a tiny dorm right at the edge of Columbia’s campus. You were excited to chase your dream but first- you needed groceries.

With headphones fitted tightly against your ears, the deafening sounds of the city blurred around you. You weren’t really sure exactly where you were going but it was early afternoon and your phone was fully charged, so what was the harm in wandering for a while. 

New York City opened up before you, the skyline glittered with thousands of windows and bright lights capturing your gaze no matter where you turned. It was all so exciting and rather distracting. You were ignorant to the commotion building behind you, until a strange heat licked at the back of your neck.

In a second, your world went completely upside down, literally. The only warning you received before the wind was knocked from your lungs was the blast of some sort of explosion and then, the world zipped by you. Someone had a firm hold on your thick waist as dots of light swirled around you. You clung to them, your head spinning as they lifted you higher and higher, until it all suddenly stopped.

Gravel crunched under your shoes as you stumbled forwards. A hand curled around your wrist, keeping you upright. You crashed into his strong chest. Your eyes slowly came into focus as the ringing in your ears faded. Sirens filled the air yet all you could think about was the insignia of a spider splayed across the red suit right in front of you.

“God I hate spiders.” The white eyes of his mask widened comically as you heard his breath stutter. His grip on your waist tightened for just a second.

“Well this spider doesn’t hate you.” The world stilled in that moment. You leaned back just enough to look into his eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“I didn’t expect this.”

“Neither did I, I mean I am Spider-MAN and you hate spiders.” Heat crawled up your cheeks while you bashfully glanced away but quickly looked at him as he laughed. Something deep in your chest came to life with his laugh, quickly spreading through your veins and making your heart flutter with a whole new emotion. 

His gloved hands slipped down to the small of your back. You could feel the way his body shook with adrenaline, just the same as yours was. “Maybe I don’t hate this spider.”

“I could be venomous.” You shrugged, your fingers slowly creeping up the expanse of his torso, feeling the toned muscle that lay just beneath his suit.

“As long as you don’t bite, I think we’ll be ok.” His mask scrunched up where you imagined his lips would be.

“I-“ Another explosion rocked the building beneath your feet. He tore his gaze away from you. He sighed heavily and reluctantly took a step back. “I have to go.”

Your touch lingered on him for as long as you could, almost fearful that he would completely vanish the second you let him go. “I know.” The tips of his fingers brushed against the swell of your hips.

“I’ll come back, I swear.” His voice cracked. 

“Go save the world Spidey and I’ll let you take me on a date.” And with a gentle kiss to his masked cheek, you fully broke away from the other half of your soul. 

He jumped onto the ledge of the building you stood atop of. “Just so long as there’s plenty of flies for me to eat.” And as he swung away, your laughter still ringing in his ears, Peter was suddenly glad that there was one person in the world who hated spiders.

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[rvlse]

Greetings and happy new year! 🎉

Could I request an one-shot with TFOne Sentinel Prime, please? Write any scenario you want. I'm so thirsty to read about him 🥲

(It's okay if you don't want to take this request)

HII! Happy new year, I'd be more than happy to take this request <3 I hope you enjoy it!

Tbh I hope nobody already did this yet lol I've had this idea in my head for a few weeks..

ALSO for everyone who sent me asks, I'm working on them all!

(SENTINEL TFO X GN! READER)

WARNINGS: not too bad, does get a little suggestive tho 😉

Oh, you were going to kill Orion. What had he been thinking? Joining the Iacon 5000? What was wrong with him?

You, Orion, and D-16 had absolutely embarrassed yourselves out in the race. There was a reason miners weren’t allowed to participate, and of course Orion needed to find out why. 

“I just wanna know what your thought process was. I mean, seriously?” You scolded the red and blue bot, who was finding the floor extremely interesting. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, Dee, but I just wanted to-” 

“You always want to do everything! You can’t ever just stay in your place!” You interrupted him. You were absolutely fuming. Shocker that no one could see the smoke coming out of your audials right now.

Orion didn’t reply, so you just crossed your arms and looked the other way. Dee hadn’t said anything, either.

Just as you were about to open your intake to spit a bunch of curses at Pax (again), four thin black cybertronian legs appeared in the doorway of the medbay, followed by heavy footsteps.

It was pretty obvious who was about to appear. Arachnid, the four legged cybertronian bodyguard, was the only hint you needed. Sentinel Prime. Wonderful. You could only hope he wouldn’t demote you for the stunt the three of you- Orion had pulled… or worse.

Arachnid’s many optics deep scanned you and your friends’ frames, giving all three of you a suspicious glare up and down.

“All clear,” she finally spoke, backing up as the one and only Sentinel Prime stomped into the room to take her place. You wouldn’t lie, he was quite the sight. Blue and gold was a gorgeous color combination, and he wore it perfectly. But… he was pissed. 

His optic ridges were furrowed together, his lips pulled taught, and the glare he held in his optics would offline bots if it could.

“D-16, Orion Pax,” he started, bringing his servos to his shiny hips as he gave your friends a firm once over.

“Y/N…” his dominating gaze narrowed on you. You suddenly felt a bit tense, straightening your backstrut and holding your helm up a bit more. 

Sentinel’s curious optics scanned your frame from your helm to your pedes, and then slowly… too slowly, back up to your optics. Your digits fidgeted with themselves as you tried to make sense of the situation. 

“What you three did today was one of the craziest things I’ve ever seen,” he started off, servos still on his hips.

Orion Pax got up off the medical berth and opened his intake, “sir, this was all my idea and we’re so sorry-” 

“I loved it!” Sentinel interrupted, his servos going up into the air. The three of you gave him a blank, confused stare. 

“You did?” Orion questioned, not believing the Prime’s words.

“How could anyone not love it? You gave my best racers a real run for their money,” Sentinel continued, getting down on one knee to be optic level with the three of you. 

You weren’t too certain of the mech in front of you. He seemed… too animated. Too excited. Too friendly. 

“So… we’re not getting demoted?” Dee spoke up, his voice soft and hopeful.

“Demoted?” the Prime repeated, shocked at his suggestion. Then, Sentinel let out a thick, hearty laugh, the type of laugh that just screamed arrogance.

Uncomfortably, Dee and Orion tried to laugh along, unsure of what the joke was. You just sat there on the medical berth with your arms crossed. You weren’t buying whatever show Sentinel was putting on.

After another few awkward moments of chatter, Arachnid finally let the Prime know his time was up and that he had places to be.

“I’m sorry, my friends, we’re preparing our next trip to the surface,” Sentinel told the three of you, his apologizing gaze travelling over your frames. But then, for the second time today, the Prime’s optics fell on you, his optics half lidded and dark.

“But in the meantime, I’ve got a treat for you,” he continued, letting his vision trail across your body.

“Arachnid, have someone escort these heroes-” he turned to his assistant and gestured to your friends, Orion and Dee, “-to my personal service facilities. The best care in Iacon,” the Prime congratulated the two mechs.

And then he turned his helm to you, and raised his servo. Confused, you opened your intake to ask questions, but Sentinel’s digits touched the bottom of your jaw, and closed your intake for you.

“As for them,” the blue mech addressed you, moving his thumb up so it was just barely grazing your lips, pushing your helm up as if he was inspecting you.

“Take them to my quarters. I want a word with them,” he finished, letting go of your face and standing up to his full height. It was worth mentioning that he absolutely towered over all three of you.

Arachnid didn’t ask questions, just nodded and called someone up on her comm link as Sentinel Prime gave you one last look before he turned and left the medbay. 

What the frag just happened? 

Your helm turned, bewildered, to your friends.

“What was that? Why was he so touchy-feely? Why am I going somewhere else?” you panicked, your servos in the air as you interrogated the two miner bots, faceplates burning hot.

Dee raised his own servos to try and calm you down. 

“Woah, woah, I’m sure it’s fine! He’s a Prime, he wouldn’t hurt anybody. You’re fine,” Dee tried to comfort you, smiling. Orion nodded enthusiastically behind him.

“Yeah, Y/N, you’ll be okay. I’m sure whatever he has planned, it’s go-” Pax tried to say.

“URGH… MINERS!” Darkwing bellowed from the hallway, clearly infuriated. 

“Well. That’s unfortunate,” you stated upon seeing him, raising an optic ridge. 

And just like that, Orion and D-16 were taken away, and you didn’t think they were getting the ‘best care in Iacon’ anymore.

Another pair of footsteps sounded in the hallway, this time lighter and more friendly seeming. Prepared for whatever it was that was about to appear, you sat stoically on the med berth.

Closer, and closer… 

“Hi!” the mystery figure spoke, popping out from behind the wall. 

“I was instructed to bring you to Sentinel’s quarters… so c’mon!” the pink and white bot exclaimed, grabbing your arm and dragging you off the berth. 

“Uhm.. okay,” you complied, not wanting to get in any more trouble than you might already be in. 

About five minutes later, you stood outside of two humongous gold doors. The cheery bot that had brought you here knocked three times on them, and then retreated behind you, putting their servos on your shoulders. 

You swallowed nervously when you heard the same heavy footsteps as you did earlier, and after another second, those golden gates flung open, revealing Sentinel’s daunting frame. 

The pink and white bot shoved you rather harshly forward, gave you a pat on your back, and then turned and left. Great. So it was just you and the Prime. 

“Please, come in…” Sentinel started, a cunning, attractive smile on his features. You gave him an untrusting glare, and hesitantly, warily, stepped inside his abode. 

“What do you want?” you questioned him the second you entered his quarters, turning around to face him. Bad idea, that height difference really was extreme. 

“Oho, straight to the point, are you?” he chuckled, putting his servos behind his back as he took a couple steps closer to you. His optics were doing that stupid attractive stare again. Frag. It would be bad if you were actually getting horny right now. Which you were. Frag again. 

You didn’t answer him, just clenched your servos into fists and glared defiantly up at him. 

“Okay, then. I can play that way, too…” he murmured.

“I saw you out there. In the race. You’re… frag, you’re gorgeous,” he scoffed, laughed, as if it were obvious why he had called you here.

Your optics narrowed, your glare only getting harsher. 

“So, I decided I just had to have you, princess,” he confessed, bending his upper half down so that he could see you optic to optic. Which, his were still half lidded and his gaze was extremely intense. 

At his pet name, you reeled back, the density of your situation finally weighing on you. Ohhh slag. The Sentinel Prime wanted you. YOU. 

You swallowed again, your optics going wide. 

“Pshh- you’re kidding, right?” you fake laughed, heat rising to your face.

The Prime’s cursingly hot smile only widened, and that only made you hornier.

His torturously tall frame took one, two, three steps closer to you, close enough so that his face was inches from yours. 

“Of course not. Why would I go through the trouble of calling you up here?” he chuckled again, closing his optics for a second.

“Listen… I’m giving you two options,” Sentinel’s smile suddenly fell, and his optics narrowed to glare down at you.

“Since you like it straight forward, I’ll keep it short,” his tone was low. Honestly, it scared you. Whatever he was about to say, it wasn’t about to be good.

“Either I get to bend you over that desk right there-” he gestured to what you could only assume was his work desk, as papers and data pads were strewn everywhere on its surface, “-and frag you until you start to see stars…” he spoke carefully, tentatively, as if he was spelling something out for you.

“Or, you become my sparkmate, and I get to screw you anyway,” he finished sourly, searching your expression.

Well, wasn’t this a turn of events. Clearly, he wasn’t giving you much of a choice right now. No matter what you did, he would get what he wanted. You couldn’t run, there were way too many guards who would offline you without a second thought. And you didn’t even want to think about fighting. 

Now, if you really thought about it, he wasn’t giving you bad options. You thought about the first one. You wouldn’t mind getting fragged senseless by him, in all truths. The question, though, was what he would do with you after he was finished with you. 

You didn’t want to know.

Being his sparkmate would be quite the honor. For slag’s sake, he was a Prime, and you just a miner bot. He must really like you… 

“I’ll be your sparkmate,” you told him slowly, carefully, your tone low, matching his. 

Sentinel’s lips curled up into another one of his cunning, unnecessarily attractive smiles. 

“Good girl.”

SOOOOO... I realized this was getting a little long for a one shot.

Anybody up for a part two where they get freaky?

Have an amazing day/night!

[amywritesthings]

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: march/farmer (fields of mistria) Word Count: 2.5k Summary: It's your first Halloween in Mistria, and you're excited for the costume party at the inn. One small problem: you accidentally match your costume with the worst possible person.

Tag: halloween, mild language, enemies to something, everyone ships you with march except march, friday night at the inn, unresolved romantic tension Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

HALLOWEEN AT THE INN.

Maybe the Kiki costume is too on the nose.

While you’re technically the new farmer of the town, tending your crops has recently begun to feel like a secondary job to the impromptu delivery service you’ve tripped into.

Not that you mind — if Hayden leaves a communal bulletin stating he needs an egg, then you’re more than happy to pop by and deliver.

(Though… doesn’t he technically own a ranch? Why would he need more eggs?)

Whatever.

Not your problem, just your solution.

Tonight marks your first-ever costume party at the inn.

While it’s been a town tradition for years, perhaps even decades, you find Hemlock stating that this year simply feels different.

Lighter, maybe. More exciting.

(Because the town needs a little excitement that isn’t privy towards an earthquake.)

You stand in front of your elongated mirror tucked against your bookshelves, tugging at the purple-blue skirt skimming your thighs.

It isn’t difficult to guess what you’re dressed as: between the massive bright bow wrapped around your head like a headband, the flats, the smock dress, and the stuffed black cat tucked under your arm, you should hope your friends know what you’re dressed as.

Kiki, the delivery service girl from the Studio Ghibli movie of similar title.

With one last huff of anxiety, you turn for the front door and trudge through your dilapidated (see: work in progress) farm to make your way towards the heart of town.

Josephine has already decked out the front with strings of paper bats and pumpkins lining the doors to the inn. The gentle glow of recently-carved pumpkins framing said doors with the bails of hay you donated to tonight’s event brings a nostalgic warmth to your heart. 

You can’t remember the last time you went to a Halloween event, much less a costume party.

As your hand reaches for the door, you’re met with a sudden burst of wind.

The door flies open towards you, revealing a button-nosed Dell peering up from her perch. Whiskers streak her rosy cheeks, the black cat ears a stark contrast to her cropped blonde hair.

“You’re here!” she chirps excitedly, beaming up at you.

“Hey, Dell,” you greet politely, opening the door for her. 

It appears the rascals of Mistria are following in tow — as they tend to do all over town in a troop — all equal parts dressed up as various animals.

Maple has a small painted bunny nose with tall ears in her hair.

In true Luc fashion, a spider body with fuzzy arms attached to his appendages. He doesn’t look the least bit comfortable, but he’s clearly excited to be an arachnid nonetheless.

“Are you Kiki this year?” Dell inquires.

Luc fixes his glasses with his many arms before perking up at your added props. “Whoa, and you have Jiji with you!”

Dell gets this look on her face, as if knowing something you don't know, but you think nothing of it at the time.

“Celine is back by the kitchen with Adaline and Orlic,” Maple suggests as if assuming you’re looking for the eldest sister.

Celine had been one of your first friends in town, so it’s no surprise to you that one would anticipate you would gravitate right towards them.

However, hearing Orlic’s name in the mix makes your stomach flip-flop, because—

 .

. — —

.

.

    Well, let’s get it out of the way early.

For the record, you love to spend your time at the blacksmith shop.

For the past month you’ve been hard at work in the mines, exploring the ins and outs of such a mysterious place, so naturally you’ve come to the shop to forge your tools and weapons.

And you’ve gotten good at offering a helping hand when it comes to blacksmithing.

Like, really good.

So good that Orlic has even set up a little spot for you to consolidate and work.

—only issue is that it’s right next to March’s bench.

March.

The bane of your existence, if you ever had one.

The naysayer that wants you gone from this damn town.

The only person in town who seems to have a big problem with you being here.

You wish you understood why — it isn’t like you did anything wrong to him.

You show up to the shop with an ever-revolving door of gifts from the mines.

Slowly but surely, you’ve learned what each brother likes. Olric is easy to please: he’s happy to take any stone you find, hoping one day to find a gem in the rough.

March, however…

He couldn’t care less that you show up after a long day’s work, dirtied and exhausted, holding out a piece of copper ore like a proverbial olive branch.

(Tch, he clicks with his tongue like clockwork, I could do better.)

Still, you persist.

Because deep down, you don’t think March actually hates you.

Orlic has said it time and time again — his brother can be tough to get used to, but that’s because he doesn’t have many friends. A loner at heart; March would rather sit in solace and march (no pun intended) to the beat of his own drum.

He likes you in his own way!

If it wasn’t for one of the first nights at the inn, then you wouldn’t believe it.

You distinctly remember walking in with Adeline after accomplishing a renovation of a bridge (to nowhere, you’d like to preface, but a job’s a job) when a voice jumped out from the fray of baseline chatter.

“Yo, farmer!”

Slurred, maybe, but after so much time at the blacksmith shop, you know it well.

However there’s little bite to March as he stands from his bar stool, face flushed with a flourishing pink as he sips from his mug.

He makes it a point to poke his head over his brother’s to see your face, and he…

Smiles.

Not in mockery.

Not in hatred.

A real, bonafide, drunk-as-a-skunk smile.

“Come here,” he hiccups, sloshing some beer as he tries to beckon you closer. “C’mere—”

You don’t think March remembers, but he talked to you.

For three hours straight, actually, about nothing in particular.

Your farm.

Your week.

Your future plans.

Chin dropped to his propped-up fist, his eyes are hazy, but he listens. Intently. Like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say.

At first it was jarring, especially since Orlic hopped up to give you his seat and never returned, but after twenty or so minutes it was… nice.

The next morning you were strangers.

Six straight days of snappy remarks, but without as much bite.

By the time Friday rolled around again, you found him in the same position — drinking, happily enjoying a communal game, while waving to you periodically to get your attention while you’re busy spending time discussing the week with Celine and Reina.

You want to ask Orlic.

Hell, you want to ask anyone to make sure you’re not imagining the once-a-week friendliness.

But you don’t.

You just endure six whole days until the next Friday rolls around.

.

. — —

.

.

    As the kids shuffle out of the inn to get some air, you walk into the festively-decorated venue looking for a drink.

Reina had said something about themed finger-foods and drinks, both mocktail and cocktail, that she was beyond proud of.

There’s a circle near the tail end of the bar where Celine, Reina, Orlic, and Ryis all chat. Ryis has gone traditional cowboy, while Reina and Celine match in regency ball gowns, presumably a period-piece costume. Orlic is standing in an inflatable dinosaur costume, so you can only make out the visor of his eyes in the blow-up ensemble.

And when their eyes land on you, they stop talking completely.

At first it feels normal, albeit intimidating, but you wave and walk over anyway.

(Why has Ryis’ jaw dropped to the floor? And why is he excusing himself with a little laugh?)

“Hey, guys!” you greet as cheerily as you can, and Celine gives a look to Reina.

…huh.

The same kind of look Dell had on her face, like there’s something unspoken being passed around by your appearance.

“Oh — hello,” Celine replies in her musical voice, curtseying in character. “Lovely costume!”

“Yeah, it looks amazing on you,” Reina adds, but she keeps looking around.

You feel like there’s something you’re missing.

Staring down the cat and broomstick in your arms, you open your mouth to compliment them in return, but—

“So that’s why March didn’t want to match with me!”

Orlic pipes up, his dinosaur suit squishing and swishing around as he holds his arms out.

“I would have never guessed you’d plan a costume together,” pipes up Celine, shoulders deflating as if glad someone brought up the elephant in the room.

Except you can’t see said elephant — it’s still invisible.

“I… sorry,” you start, fixing your bow. “I don’t really know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t have to be coy, Kiki,” Reina teases with a wave of her hand. “I think it’s cute!”

“But what’s cute?” you urge. “I feel like there’s something—”

“Hey, nerds, I got us the stupid punch. You could’ve told me the ladle was for baby hands. Took me like five minutes to make four drinks.”

At the sound of a gruff, annoyed voice, you turn—

Oh.

Oh, no.

March stares back at you through black-rimmed glasses with equal horror, sloshing one of the drinks he’s delicately balancing in his hands in a diamond.

His hair’s a little flatter than usual, but the fluff fights the frizz of the heated inn. On his body is a striped red and white t-shirt, along with some light blue denim jeans rolled up at the ankles.

The costume is just as distinct as yours.

Tombo.

“The hell are you wearing?” he blurts directly at you, and you hear a high-pitched giggle of excitement behind you come from Celine.

“I… a costume,” you lamely reply.

March scowls. “Yeah, genius, I know that it's a costume 'cus you never wear bows.”

“Yes, I do?”

“Not as big as that one!” he snaps. “They’re always smaller or, like… two, on either side of your— Whatever! But why that costume?”

“Thanks for the drinks, little bro!” Orlic happily states, waddling around you in order to gingerly pick up his punch. “We’re gonna go see how the mummy-wrapping game is going.”

March's eyes shoot wide in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Yeah,” Reina adds, taking two drinks for her and Celine, before giving one back. “Actually, I’m totally hydrated. Our lovely Kiki might need a drink. You two have fun.”

“Huh?!”

March’s head whips side to side so fast that you expect the glasses to fly off of the bridge of his nose.

You stand with your plushie cat and broom, blindsided by the matching outfits.

Oh, god — it clicks.

They think the two of you secretly conspired together to do a couples costume.

That’s not good.

“Why’d everyone leave?” March grumbles. “It took a lot of damn effort not to spill those drinks.”

When you say nothing, he reluctantly returns his attention to you and holds out a drink.

“For the record, I planned to be Tombo before you even got to town, Farmer Girl.”

“I put together whatever I had in my suitcase,” you confess, taking the drink from his hand.

“Sure you didn’t sneak a peek of my costume hangin’ up when you were at the shop?” he accuses, squinting while he sips on his alcoholic punch.

“No, March,” you groan, dropping your head back. “Trust me, I don’t want to be matching with you, either.”

In true March fashion, he contradicts himself without missing a beat.

“Why the hell not?”

“Why?”

“Yeah, what’s so bad about matching me?”

“Because people will think—”

“So?”

“So?” you repeat, slightly higher pitched. “Uh, hello, it’s your worst nightmare?”

“Nah, dressing up as a t-rex is my worst nightmare,” he corrects, like everyone knows this vital piece of information about him. “Orlic was pretty hell bent on getting us to match this year, but I wasn’t sweating my ass off in a damn blow-up suit.”

“And accidentally matching with me is significantly less than that?”

March pauses, marinating on the words, before growing silent to sip more of his drink.

Exasperated, you throw your hands up and switch plushie Jiji from one arm to the other.

“Well, I’ll go home and change. Maybe I have a black shirt and jeans.”

Surely you have to have something basic in your arsenal, even if you were really excited for this costume. But the implication is rearing its ugly head into a territory you’re not sure you went to venture into.

Friendship with the one guy who hates your guts, or worse.

Yet his voice rumbles against the lip of his cup. “What’s a black shirt and pants combo gonna be for a costume?”

“I don’t know, a cat?”

“But Dell’s already a cat.”

“Then a raven! I don’t know.”

March snorts, shaking his head. He uses his free hand to push his fake glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“That’s dumb. Just keep being Kiki.”

The huff out your mouth is laced with disbelief. “And what, have you be my Tombo?”

You don’t mean the words to come out as harshly as they do, but the options to rectify this awkward situation are limited.

It’s either he changes, you change, or—

Well, or you match with your sworn enemy of the town.

Both of you stand shoulder to shoulder, watching the rest of the party rage on.

For what feels like hours, neither of you speak.

A few people greet the two of you, but beyond your initial friend group, no one else seems surprised to see the two of you in a common duo costume.

“I like your bow, by the way.”

The words are so quiet that you almost think you caught wind of a ghost.

Turning your head, the sight before you is one you’ve grown accustomed to: March’s cheeks are flushed, sprinkled with an embarrassed pink.

He side-eyes you, studying the bow before flickering his attention to your face.

You sip your drink, trying your best to look neutral.

“I… think you look nice with glasses.”

That pink turns into crimson, and he buries his head into his chest like he wants to curl into himself to hide the fact that your compliment affects him so deeply.

“...thanks.”

With a curt nod, you bring the cup back to your lips, only to realize it’s only left with ice. 

Huh. You didn’t think you drank it all down.

In your peripheral you see it, but it doesn’t register until something warm lands on your hand — 

March’s fingers overlap yours, gently nudging the cup out of your grip and into his.

“You're empty,” he mumbles. “I’ll get you some more.”

Before you can protest, he turns on a heel and rushes back to the punch cauldron. The blush goes so far as to creep up the nape of his neck and into his dyed-red hair.

You watch him disappear, your stomach flip-flopping with anxiety and…

Butterflies?

Weird. That’s new.

(But that’s how it goes on Friday night at the inn.)

.

author's note:

I wrote this in about an hour because I have been dying to try my hand at an FoM fic, and since I'm in a very Halloween-y mood, I figured I could write a little cute heart event for March!

If you got this far, thank you so much for reading! What other costumes do you think March would be cute in? Let me know in the comments! (And thank you for any reblogs, likes, etc.)

[kiame-sama]

I have a very important question!

Do the birdy bois do the pupil thing? Do the cat bois? (The pupil thing in question is when the critter's eyes become almost completely black due to the pupil expanding when seeing something interesting or appealing)

They do! Almost everyone's eyes have dynamic pupils that shrink to pinpoints when upset/angry and that dilate quite a bit when looking at something that appeals to them/something they love.

Malleus and Leona are the most noticeable when their eyes dilate due to the green color and the fact that their pupils are typically slits at most times. The way they seem almost hostile as they stare others down, only to turn to that soft Human they adore and their pupils expand wide enough to almost encompass their iris, making their eyes appear almost black instead of green.

Light colored eyes make it a lot easier to see this change as many of the monster men seem to be impacted by the presence of the small Human. There are many whose eyes react rather obviously, but there are a few who don't seem to have that same reaction. Ace and Deuce, for example, don't show the same extreme dilation due to their horizontal pupils. Some are much more obvious, such as Azul and Vil whose pupils expand an extreme amount whenever they are around the Human.

Rook is a bit of a special case as most regular spiders do not have pupils or an iris. This is the clearest case of dimorphism between the sentient species (Drider) when compared to the other non-sentient species (Regular spiders/Giant spiders) of Twisted Wonderland. Rook has pupils and an iris- as do most Driders- but when he is hunting or otherwise in a heightened or excited state, his pupils actually eclipse the iris and take over most of the whites of the eyes until they seem completely black. This typically scares others given the less than predictable nature of arachnids, so he usually doesn't hunt in the company of others and if he gets too wound/excited, he will excuse himself from the presence of others until he calms down.

[deathworlders-of-e24]

Liz, Biotechnician

Part 1

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

“Sir, with all due respect, this is horseshit.”

Elizabeth Collins stood in front of the giant desk, usually manned by the entirety of the Admiralty, now barely a sixth taken up by one man, Admiral Townes, who just sighed. This was clearly not how he wanted to spend his afternoon. He could be golfing with the Riltayon ambassador, their species had the lower half of arachnids, but no, he got picked for this.

“You knew going in that the Herald was set to be decommissioned at the end of this year, you knew it would be a short posting when you asked for it,” he said, bracing himself. This was gonna be rough. Ensign Liz was infamous for being…vocal.

“Sir, that’s not the issue here and you know it. I worked my ass off to get that posting. I got to cut my teeth on a heavy cruiser for god’s sake,” Liz said, flushed. “My grades at the academy were flawless, and my record shows-”

“Your record?! Let’s talk about your record for a moment.” A few taps on the table and a holoscreen appeared. Through the transparency Liz could see her file photo as well as lines of shifting texts as updates and memos filed in. “Your first week aboard you locked a supervising officer in a containment field and sedated him with gas.”

“The guy had a zeno-sporic infection, so I only really gassed the mushrooms. Plus I cured him.”

“A month later you stole a shuttle and jumped to restricted space to collect samples of…” a few scrolls down, “…why does this just say glowing rocks?”

“Because the proper noun for them isn’t pronounceable by humans, we don’t have beaks, sir.”

“Why’d you need glowing rocks?” Townes asked.

“Because the rocks were radioactive, and one of the Zilgrats we had on board at the time needed an interesting blend of chemotherapy, it’s actually really cool when…”

“Enough, ensign.” Admiral Townes cut her off, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Elizabeth…Liz. Clearly, you are your father’s kid. You are brilliant, and fearless.”

“Thank you, sir, I know dad would be happy to hear you say that.”

“I wasn’t finished. You’re also completely irresponsible, have zero regard for protocol or regulations, and think you’re always right. I’m reading that word for word from your file, your last captain made it the first thing you read in there.” Townes clicked off the hologram and sighed.

“Look, Liz, I’m not saying this as an admiral right now. I’m saying this as your uncle. Your dad, my brother, made me promise to watch out for you when he left the service, so that’s all I’m trying to do here.”

Liz took a beat before speaking.

“I understand that, sir.”

“Your new assignment has already been certified by the admiralty, and you ship out from Tranquility in two days on board the Noah.”

Liz, in the middle of rolling her eyes, actually did a double take. “The Noah? That test ship for interspecies cooperation?” That might actually change things, an opportunity to examine different species up close for extended periods of time was a goldmine of research for her.

“You need to know though, this is your last shot. Every rules, every regulation, to the letter, or I can’t help you anymore, regardless of what I promised your dad.”

Liz didn’t stop to think too hard about it.

“Deal.”

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

In the 50 years since the Human race had joined the GAIL, or the Grand Assembly of Intelligent Lifeforms, Earth had undergone several extreme and extraordinary changes. The first being the level of technology. In the early 21st century we got to experience communication and information technology progress by leaps and bounds, and that was managed just by ourselves. The addition of alien technology added rocket fuel to that particular bonfire. Our understanding of biological and technological sciences shot forward by centuries, as well as transportation, namely space flight. Our first interplanetary guests, the lizard like Quintins, shared their forcefield and artificial gravity specs to make interstellar travel safer for us as well.

They were, however, initially horrified at our ‘rudimentary’ first designs. There were a lot of questions like ‘you use explosives as initial propellant?’ and ‘you shot into space at faster than light speeds without any shield array?’ In retrospect, the human race should not have gotten as far as it did. But there we were, members of a collective 200 species strong, setting out into the stars to explore the universe.

Ensign Liz Collins was thinking about such things as she walked the gangway aboard the Noah, a midsized exploratory ship, the first in a new line of experimental expedition vessel. The experiment was two fold. The first, and more practical, was to test a new propulsion system the science and engineering division of the GAIL had submitted. In theory it was capable of long sustainable WARP time with a significantly higher energy efficiency compared to older models, as well as a new power core make up to keep the ship running longer between docking. Supposedly the Noah would be capable of going at least a year without a recharge.

The second, more dubious aspect of the experiment was to see how many different species handled being in close proximity to one another. The Noah’s full crew compliment numbered exactly 100, and of the 200 races in the GAIL, 25 volunteered to put 4 members each of their species on board. Meaning Liz would only see 3 other humans for potentially the next year of her life.

How exciting, she thought. Finally a chance to study what the Galaxy has to offer up close and personal.

The cast off ceremony was boring. The captain, she believed he was a member of the Mergal species, was the only reason she didn’t try to sneak out. It appeared he had a cybernetic limb above the second insect set on his abdomen, which was interesting. Definitely more interesting than the other three humans she saw in the crew line up.

Afterwards she finally made it to the science division and booked it to biotech. The lab was state of the art, next gen super computers, stasis field generators, even a gene splicer!

“Oh hell yes,” Liz said, taking it all in. “Yeah, I can make this work.”

The only thing that stood out to her, however, was the potted plant in the corner. It was about 5 foot tall, standing in a square aluminum ‘pot’, the only thing in the room that wasn’t made of metal or ceramic. Upon closer inspection, it was more like a small tree or sapling, where its vines had wrapped around one another to grow up instead of hang down, with a lush leafy canopy.

“Why is there a tree in my lab?” Liz said, mostly to herself, but apparently the tree had an answer for her.

“Because this is my lab as well.”

Liz was so startled she thought the translator would fall out of her ear.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know there were any Sprygans on the crew!” Liz dropped her stuff onto the counter and approached the tree, who she now recognized as her crewmate. “I’m, uhh, Ensign Elizabeth Collins. You can call me Liz, if you like.” She held out her hand, unsure of even how they’d shake. As she stood there, the tree pulled itself out of the pot and onto the floor, dragging soil and dirt with it as its roots retracted into its body. Outside the pot the Sprygan only stood about 3 1/2 feet tall.

“Why is your…hand(?) out?” It asked. Liz’s translator registered two questions asked, and she realized the Sprygan wasn’t sure what a hand was.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, dropping her arm, “it’s how my people greet each other. Sorry.”

Great. First new species she’s gotten to meet and she’s acting the fool. Chocking it up to nerves, she tried to get back on track.

“What should I call you?” She asked. “Any pronouns I should be aware of?”

Liz watched as a vine extended from their body and reached out to grab a photo bar and switch it on. The bar lit up with synthetic star light and Liz realized the Sprygan was eating.

“You can call me whatever is convenient for you. On Spryga only the colonies have names, and I am not there right now.”

Liz was simultaneously baffled, intrigued, and mortified. She knew this, she knew all of this, this was practically social studies 101. She had to get her footing here. Townes voice in her head was disappointedly saying ‘Last chance’ over and over again. Change of topic then.

“Why’d your people volunteer for this mission then? I thought Sprygans didn’t leave their home world for anything.”

The Sprygan looked at her a moment, or at least she thought it did. Hard to tell when it didn’t have eyes.

“We came to see how predator species behave, so as better to surpass(?) them on our home world.”

The word ‘surpass’ flagged an error in her translator. Liz tapped the earpiece she was wearing and went to the alternative translation.

[Survive]

Oh. Oh god damnit. Liz you idiot. The Sprygans were a plant based race, they weren’t hunter or gatherers, they were basically the vegetables to other species on their home planet, of course they had predators they’d have problems with.

“Yeah, uhh, that makes sense.”

Before she could make any other off handed mistakes, Liz was quite literally saved by the bell.

“Attention all hands, this is your captain speaking. The start of our year long mission begins now. You all know the purpose of this ship is to test not only our mettle, but our spirits as well. Every species, every crewmate aboard this ship is going to be tested in ways they never have before, to the utmost limits. Help each other. Stand with each other. Because together, we’re going as far as our connections can take us. Everyone, to your stations. We’re going to WARP.”

The announcement clicked off. The Sprygan climbed back into their pot. Liz sat down at her station and sighed.

It was gonna be a long year.

[selineram3421]

*is tired*

Courting Pursuit

Part 3

Part 2

Alastor X Deer Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ mule deer reader, gender neutral (gn) reader, assuming Alastor is a marsh deer, Spanish translated, cussing, blood, Valentino's dialogue is pink italics in quotation marks, mentions of aphrodisiac(drug), italics= thoughts ⚠

"Where's Gentle Giant?", Angel asked looking around for the tall deer.

"They have a name you know.", Vaggie sighed.

You were not seen at all today by the others and caused some slight worry among some of the group. Of course, Alastor could care less.

"I know but really, where are they? I didn't see 'em this morning."

Husk turned to look at the spider demon with a raised brow.

"They wake up at five in the morning to start breakfast early. You've been wakin' up early?", the cat demon asked.

Angel raised his arms up. "How could I not!? Have you seen them make breakfast? That's a whole meal on its own! Shaking their ass around to the music they put on, half buttoned up shirt, and those leggings.", he crosses his arms. "I didn't get to see shit today! Kitchen was empty!"

"I didn't get my bugs today!", Niffty piped in. "They usually give me bugs that they find in the kitchen after cooking."

The group continued to wonder where you had gone until Charlie came into the lobby with Sir Pentious.

"Oh, I gave them an errand.", the Princess said.

"WHY!?", the arachnid cried out.

"Shut up Angel.", the white haired woman sighed.

"They said they wanted to do something outside, so I offered them to pick up something from a shop. It's not that far.", Charlie reassured.

"Charlie.", the porn star dead panned.

"Yes?", the Princess smiled.

"How long have they been in Hell? I mean out there, not in the hotel."

"Less than a day..."

Everyone is quiet before rushing out of the hotel.

"Damn it Charlie! They might die!", Angel shouts.

"I didn't think it'd be that bad! Oh no no no no no-!", she apologizes as they all run down the road into the city.

Alastor just sighs and follows calmly behind the group.

What a way to start the day..

.

You were getting groceries for the Princess.

She said that most of the food was gone and with the help of Vaggie, you got a list of the things you needed to get.

At the store, you were a bit confused but you met a nice older woman that helped you learn what the aisle signs said.

"Muchas gracias." (Thank you very much.)

"De nada!", the woman waved her hand. (You're welcome!) "Qué demonio tan atractivo eres." (What an attractive demon you are.)

After paying and carrying all the bags, you made your way through the city and tried to go back to the hotel quickly.

But a tall bug stands in your way once you make it to the entertainment district.

"Ah~ The deer that appeared on the screens.", the tall moth demon smiled wide and approached you. "Valentino is my name and I want you to work for me. A face like yours is well liked among the sinners.", he said and reached out to hold your face.

"No quiero lo que me ofreces.", you quickly moved your head away. (I don't want what you are offering.)

"Ah, pero imagina todo el dinero que ganarás~" (Ah, but imagine all the money you'd be making~), he continued. "Todas las delicias pecaminosas que podrás darte.", his eyes glowed as he circled you like a snake, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. (All the sinful delights you'll get to indulge in.)

You grabbed the moth's face roughly and brought him down to eye level with you.

"I said. I don't want it.", you glared, shoving him away after feeling the groceries shift in your hold. "Adiós. Espero no volver a verte." (Farewell. I hope to never see you again.)

"¿¡Quién te crees que eres!? ¡No puedes darme la espalda!", Valentino hissed out and pulled you back by your arm, making you drop the bag. (Who do you think you are!? You don't get to turn away from me!)

Some of the groceries spilled out onto the street, now no longer edible as blood and grime soiled it.

The moth continued to yell and shout vulgar words, but you just frowned at the loss of food.

"Are you even listening!?", the tall demon shouted in your ear as he tightened his grip on your arm.

"No.", you said and looked at him with a dead stare.

It was the tipping point for him, his anger boiled over and he went to strike you with his hand.

Quickly, you lowered and tilted your head down just a bit before lunging forward. Your antlers stabbed into his chest and blood sprayed onto the top of your head and shoulders.

"¡Pedazo de mierda!", he shouted and grabbed your antlers, slamming you back into a brick wall. (You piece of shit!)

You felt your back sting with pain as he held you in place to remove your antlers from his chest. He managed to kick your stomach, knocking the air out of you. You tried to hit back but he moved out the way.

The moth demon sprayed some pink liquid on you before escaping.

It got in your eyes, making you close them as it felt like burning. The smell was sweet but strong, like a syrup that was too sweet. To the point that it made you feel sick.

After cleaning off the liquid, you salvaged what you could and continued your way back to the hotel.

.

"Where are they!?", Angel cried out.

The hazbin group returned from their search and met up in the lobby. Sir Pentious was still out with his egg minions.

"I didn't see them anywhere! I went to the grocery stores, checked alleys, and bars! Do you know how many bars there are in Hell!?"

"At least we didn't find a body, so we know they are still alive somewhere.", Vaggie muttered.

"Perhaps they've been eaten!", Alastor smiled cheerfully.

The group looked at him in horror.

Niffty not so much, but she was still upset about not getting bugs.

"That's not-", Charlie started.

"WHAT IF THEY WERE EATEN!?", the spider screeched.

"DAMN IT ANGEL, THEY WEREN'T EATEN!", the white haired woman yelled back.

"BUT WHAT IF THEY WERE!?", Niftty jumped into the conversation, smiling.

"You ain't helping Nift.", Husk grumbled.

"I swear to Satan-!"

"Calm down!"

The others stopped screeching at each other when hearing the entrance door open, all turning their heads to find the mule deer dragging their feet as they walked into the hotel.

Covered in blood, holding a bag of groceries.

"Hola..", they waved with a tired smile.

The spider called their name in relief and rushed over, checking them for injuries.

"Holy shit! What happened to you!?", Angel grabbed their head and brought it down to see their blood soaked antlers. "You've got blood all on top of your head!"

"Estoy bien, estoy bien.", the deer mumbled. (I'm ok, I'm ok.)

"¿Qué mierda paso?", Husk spoke up. (What the fuck happened?)

"Nada demasiado importante.", they gave a small reassuring smile. (Nothing too important.)

"Where are my bugs!", Niftty ran over and tugged on their pants.

"Glad you're ok.", the Princess sighed.

"Yes, yes. We're all glad that they aren't dead.", Alastor says as he walks over. "Now, lets have them cleaned up and well-"

Before the Radio Demon could touch them, the mule deer flinched back.

"Lo siento. No me encuentro bien.", they said and handed the grocery bag over to the spider. (I'm sorry. I don't feel well.) "Voy a descansar en mi habitación. Perdonadme.", they managed to get out before heading upstairs. (I'm going to rest in my room. Pardon me.)

Curious.. He thought as the others dispersed, but then noticed that the arachnid stayed put, staring where the mule deer was last seen.

"What is it now? Aren't you satisfied that they are safe and sound?", he asked.

"Somethin's not right.", Angel said. "They smelled like aphrodisiac was poured all over them."

"A what?", the deer demon replied, a bit confused. "That is a drug, correct?"

"Yeah.. And right now, it ain't a good one.", the fluffy demon stuffed the grocery bag in the fridge before running upstairs, shouting out the mule deer's name.

Curious indeed...

As I was writing this during break, coworker walked up and asked what I was writing and I immediately hid my phone.

~Seline, the person.

Part 4

Taglist@

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ML II Alastor🎙 | CP ChL🦌

[mpicabo]

Just had a dream about this insect with an impossible life history. Supposedly it was in the order Diptera, true flies, and this was bizarre for many many reasons. It did not exhibit a larval stage, instead having juveniles mimicking juvenile cockroaches. It then would develop into a nectar feeding pollinator with a long extended head to reach into flowers as opposed to a proboscis. This development stage would already have forewings, and halteres, so as far as insects go it really shouldn’t be molting further.

However, it then gains sexual dimorphism, vaguely resembling termites. At this stage they are social, but not eusocial or sexual. I remember being told there was a stage after this and between the sexual adults; why there was a stage here and no where else that would make more sense, I cannot tell you. Maybe this was where the pupal stage would have gone, as little sense as that makes.

Finally, in the mature stage, the sexual dimorphism becomes far more extreme. The males become far larger, and appear to fuse their head and thorax into a cephalothorax, more closely resembling arachnids in the order Solifugae than insects, but on closer examination that would quickly fall apart. The females meanwhile take on a body more similar to that of a worker ant. I do not believe this stage to be eusocial either, but they do exhibit a high degree of sociality, traveling in large colonies similar to those of the army ants, gobbling up whatever comes across their path. I did not see any caste division or was made aware of any differences in reproduction.

So yeah, there are a TON of problems with how this dream insect would function in our world, but here is a weird fake fly. What should we call it? Let me know!

(Also pinging @humanbyweight cause I wonder if she’d have any ideas, hope ya don’t mind ❤️)