#(is a bit stressful for aliens)

[naffeclipse]

I really need to revamp my aliens au because I stole so many concepts from that AU and shoved them into CS as I had written the initial Aliens post a bit before CS was created. Now I want to make it fresh but still creature-feature with the boys—just Alien Edition™

Just to list off a few things I originally envisioned for this AU:

Sun and Moon can hear heartbeats. Specifically hear, unlike the cryptid boys who have a whole sense for it, but nonetheless, the whole heart awareness started here. I'm thinking of maybe changing this to Alien!Sun/Moon picking up on Y/N's breathing or scrapping it entirely.

Y/N is enthusiastic and wants to study the boys. I think Scientist Y/N can bypass the whole fear thing pretty easily and go straight to nerding out, whereas CS!Y/N is very much in denial about their excitement, and rationalizes it as 'for the hunt'. I think I can make it interesting via scientist Y/N for the Aliens AU even if it's still a concept of 'wants to learn about an intriguing subject that now involves the boys'. Just different flavors.

Sun/Moon eating very unpleasant things. Of course, cryptid boys eat hearts, but the alien boys are just hungry for any kind of meat, and hey, with a desolate and dark ship filled with recently slaughtered humans, it's kind of an all-you-can-eat buffet.

That's the summary of concept similarities, but I do want to focus on the difference, such as, of course:

there being two alien creatures.

how different everything will function in a setting within space/spaceship.

a language barrier between scientist Y/N, and Sun and Moon.

a focus on Y/N's physical trauma with their blown-off arm. They're going to want to make the journey through the desolate spaceship to retrieve said arm that has been preserved and then need to get to the medical bay (think protective cylinder) to hopefully have the ship's installed medical AI and tools perform surgery to reattach it, which is a big risk when there's something else roaming the gray halls that even intimidating and powerful aliens Sun and Moon would rather Y/N doesn't encounter.

Sun and Moon also have their own designs and special abilities relating to their celestial themes as well as indulging in freaky monster details, like Moon's 'nightcap'. It is extremely long and acts as a sensitive feeler for things in the air and is somewhat prehensile. Sun's sun rays have more purpose than just being pointy and armor-plate-like, as well as having those same plates on his spine, and he almost seems to be on the brink of being too hot, sometimes radiating heatwaves like an oven.

their alien design is a mix of translucent, starry, and colored flesh, almost like jelly but smooth and slightly cool and moist to the touch, coating the bones of Fazco brand endoskeletons.

their legs are digitigrade.

their mouths are wide and look like they're smiling all the time, but their mouths can get bigger and open even wider, especially when they're eating/attacking—it's as if their entire face is going to split in half but nope, that's just to let out their other teeth.

That's all I have for now. I want to think about it some more.

#i want to focus on y/n's journey through processing the physical mental and emotional trauma of losing a limb #and that unfortunately means that the surgery doesn't go well (including how much distress it causes sun and moon to be separated from you) #(as watching metal sharp things produce by human technology start working on you while separated by glass that even they can't break) #(is a bit stressful for aliens) #random burst of inspiration for this au i haven't touched in months take it or leave it lol #i've been thinking about aliens a lot lately #aliens au #this just hit me as last thoughts: moon could sense y/n's breathing with his feeler nightcap thing #sun could sense y/n's body temperature and if they got too hot or too cold #okay posting now

[slurpasour]

Happy birthday Spore!!

#spore #spore 2008 #spore game #spore grox #grox #alien art #alien #aliens #slurpasour's art #art #digital art #i only found out about it being spore's release anniversary today so im glad that i managed to make something for it #i'll prepare at least a bit of it in advance next time... that was stressful LOL

[disengaged]

so i left the psych ward against medical advice 💁

they detained me for hours (while classified as a voluntary patient) and when i told them it was illegal a nurse looked me in the face and told me he didn't care about my rights 👍

& then when i got upset about being illegally detained he told me getting emotional is evidence that i am incompetent and if they want they can just keep forming me for it as long as they want 👍

and then they ignored me for two hours and refused to give me my belongings. and also called four (4) giant male security guards to have on standby 👍 even though i have zero history of violence, am 5'5" and weigh (not much) and previously disclosed to them many, many times that i have a history of ptsd, part of which is specifically hospital trauma 👍

and then they locked me in a room and searched all of my belongings to find a reason to form me 👍

like i'm gonna throw up thinking about it. (also they still have my wallet with all my IDs and credit cards.)

anyways i got the fuck out. and it was like 12:30am but my friend picked me up and i had a fucking panic-oh-fuck-oh-shit-meltdown in his car . but i went and took a shower and then he drove me to another hospital

and they formed me too except it's way nicer here and the staff are so nice. & the unit is way bigger and quieter . and they actually listened to me and referred me to a rheumatologist (after ...... 6-7 years of begging various doctors to be taken seriously)

and i have hope for the first time in a long time! & i'm getting discharged tomorrow :)

#bit nervous. the usual 'feeling like an alien/shaky baby deer' thing i suppose #but i have a plan for going home and at the end of the month i have an intake to a 5week day patient program #i'm off work until the end of june which is weird but i guess for the best. since my stress tolerance and fatigue is at an all-time low #i want to register a complaint against the staff at that hospital except i don't think i have the energy #it was so stressful and dehumanizing and ever since i've been having nightmares again and im scared every time someone wakes me up #but i also just want to forget about it #just go home and get my life in order and rest and feel more normal #this whole thing has been so awful #and i'm glad i'm safe but so much of it was so unnecessary and im so mad at the healthcare system #pegasus speaks #ask 2 tag

[etherealvoidechoes]

Having fun slowly making notes for a fic or two and eventually adding Zhao Huiwen(from XCOM Legends) to the Wandering Souls fics(probably a year or two in for that fic).

But right now my brain is partially fixated on making a fic about his hybridization and how that all came to be. Will be somewhat different from what Legends says and happens a few or more years before the absolute disaster of Subject Gamma taking over Vahlen’s facility and the other rulers breaking out.

Will also be partially Vahlen focused and will put her through the wringer a bit that’ll bring on a lot of guilt and apprehension and will have that small part of her brain go “The Commander would kill me as I have let my ambitions get the best of me again.”

A little spoilers below for the fic idea.

In short, Vahlen and co either find data(more or so traded for it) or catch wind of reports of a unique Chryssalid abnormal variant in the nearby region that ADVENT is having trouble catching or killing. Vahlen curiosity if piqued and wants to see/get her hands on it first despite the more concerned company saying it’s probably a bad idea.

But Vahlen puts together a little force to go investigate the whole affair and all the equipment they need and some pleasant resistance contracts she made over the years locate her a small abandoned facility she can temporarily operate from to study the creature as everyone has compromised on that thing is not being transported back to the main base as there is too much risk. And Big Sky is very “that thing better be hyper unconscious or dead before it’s brought onto my ship.”

They get there. They find it and see the difficulty ADVENT has with it. Very different than the normal they know. Manage to catch it, but things go wrong just as they are getting it in containment and Zhao takes a hit that would have been for her. And then they learn another concerning fact about this Chryssalid.

:)

#touching the alien rulers is going to be interesting when the time comes #have to figure out a timeline for when that went FUBAR #probably will have to adjust the Viper King a bit with the reproduction. have a decent amount of failures or defects that arise -> #in the hatchlings so partial population control for now. but he’s still reproducing fast enough so him #the vipers. and neonates overrun the place. #thinking of Zhao being a partial voice of reason (and a few others) that helps keep Vahlen somewhat centered but her ambitions kick that -> #to the curb. and mixed on the turbulent romance aspect Legends says but may see how I can make it work. #may have it be a whole comfort/stress relief/coworker benefits thing that slowly becomes real feelings but both aren’t sure how to navigate #xcom musings

[clamorybus]

granted i grew up in a fairly large family (the kind where it seems like every year someone had a new baby lol) so i have a lot of experience taking care of them, but ive never understood the vitriol against kids

not wanting to be a parent, i totally understand. hating messes and screaming i get; pretty much everyone hates those. but pure hatred i do not get

#like. i know saying 'kids are just little people who are still working shit out' sounds like a shit post but it's honestly the truth! #children aren't a different species than us. they function very much the same as any adult does #its just that 1) everything is new to them and 2) their world is a lot smaller than an adult's #a skinned knee is the worst thing a 2 year old has ever experienced #a standardized test is extremely stressful when you're 8 #a friend playing with someone else at recess is a deep betrayal when you're 11 #as adults we remember those feelings but in the context of our adult lives they feel silly #they aren't silly to kids though #i feel like kids become a lot less alien if you remember that #they really are little humans! they can be rude and loud and messy and cruel. but not uniquely so #and i will reemphasize that its fine if you don't want to be a parent #society might demand it (especially of women) but its not for everyone #hell i love kids and have taken care of them for my whole life but often even i question if i want kids #just. don't be a dick #mickey.txt #also im thinking about cheyenne lin's video about kids under capitalism #especially the bit about how people who grew up wealthy and/or in the suburbs are often the ones #who complain online about children. possibly because they're used to having space and quiet #and not being inconvenienced by others in public spaces. like obviously based on polling data she didn't run #so its not like a guaranteed scientific fact. but i think it does play a factor in a lot of cases #like the hyper-individualism of it all y'know?

[nerdpoe]

Radioactive Hero (but not really) au

Danny moves to Gotham, hear him out! There's really good jobs there that pay through the nose and the cost of living is cheap!

Plus, the city is riddled with heroes and vilains! It's so easy to slip under the radar!

Unfortunately, there are so many civilian casualties. Like, all the time. Even in Metropolis!

So Danny, for his first year in Gotham, opens small portals to the Far Frozen and gets schooled on being a field medic. None of his powers can really be used for healing, but they can make people feel better. He just has to be careful to be as far removed from the Phantom moniker as possible, so he can't use any obvious powers.

He gets a bit of a reputation in Gotham; a small time hero of the people, for the people. A hero not invested in fighting, but in dragging civilians away from the danger. He doesn't even have a moniker; people are too busy arguing over the best one for him.

So while aliens are attacking both Metropolis and Gotham, Danny is out in full kit; a gas mask to hide his face, all black, repurposed kevlar from the vests the GCPD did not properly dispose of, no identifying markers.

But one of the clean up crews notices something insanely worrying; the geiger counter they have to point at alien spaceship parts? Yeah. Yeah, it's going off when they point it at the new small-time hero.

That hero's power is radioactivity. Holy shit. It's not at a level that will hurt people, but when he's dodging through fighting the level goes up.

The clean up crew concludes and shares via Twitter that the medic-hero is only a danger to others if he gets too stressed.

Word spreads fast, and pretty soon the absolute second Danny shows up on a scene, all fighting stops.

After all, no one wants to piss off the living Nuclear Bomb.

Basically, Danny's ghost-everything sets off Geiger counters, and now absolutely everyone is convinced that the medic-themed hero only refuses to fight because his meta power is just...being radioactive.

But he isn't.

So now, because it's the perfect cover and completely disassociated from Phantom, he has to play along and pretend like yes; that is his power.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #radioactive hero (but not really) au #did i already post this prompt? #genuinely do not remember #whatever #story prompt #justice league low key terrified of his existence #superman keeps trying to talk him into going off and owning a farm #danny just like #“dude i'm a city kid born and raised i ain't shoveling cow shit”

[tidetfs]

"Ugh, bro, pleeeeease?"

Max looked at me with those dopey blue eyes of his, staring dully through me and appearing to lack any kind of intelligence or perception.

"I told you, I have a very important club interview," I replied. "This could determine if I can network into a good job after college!" stressing the importance of a job, something my stoner roommate never seemed to understand.

"Just one hit, man, come on! You gotta stop worrying about that stuff and just chill out!" he replied, stretching his muscular arms over his head of greasy (probably unwashed) brown hair and closing his eyes, as if musing about something important. "You gotta try this weed bro, I just, I-" he stuttered as he took another hit. "I don't fuckin' know man, I think you just need this."

Exasperated, I dropped my heavy bag on the floor and strode over to his side of the room, switching to mouth breathing to avoid inhaling too much foot funk from his "clean pile" of clothes, as Max called it. Even three air fresheners weren't enough to keep the pungent smells of weed and sweat at bay.

"What the hell, dude, when's the last time you even washed those?!"

"Oh, I dunno, a couple weeks ago, maybe?" Max replied, shrugging.

I could see some of the dried crust still clinging to the fabric. I couldn't help but be amazed at the sheer size of his stash. The pile was easily four feet across, and it was clear Max was still working to roll his way through the rest. I couldn't even imagine where he got it all.

"Look, just let me finish my meeting, then I'll smoke with you, okay?"

Max's eyes lit up.

"Yeah, for real?" he replied, excited. "You promise? Pinky swear?"

Max stuck his hand out, his pinky raised and his arm shaking slightly. He looked like an overgrown child. I was so tired, I didn't even hesitate. I wrapped my pinky around his, then turned to walk out of the room. As soon as I let go, I felt a sudden, powerful wave of euphoria wash over me. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I couldn't even think straight, the sensation was so intense.

I collapsed against the doorway, unable to move. I could barely even think. The only thought that went through my mind was that I'd never felt this good in my life. Every inch of my skin tingled and buzzed, like a pleasant static that sent ripples of bliss through my muscles. I couldn't even control the way my body twitched and shivered.

"Duuuude," I heard Max say. "You feel that, man? I told you it's the good stuff."

I didn't know what was happening to me. My heart was racing and I couldn't breathe, and the feeling was getting more and more intense. "What..." I struggled to even sound out words. "I didn't even...take a hit..."

"Well, no, not technically," Max said, laughing. "But, uh, that's not what it was, actually. See, I sorta dosed your pinky."

I looked up at him, confused. My vision was blurry and I could barely see him, but he was grinning widely, and I could see the outline of his meaty, calloused hands rubbing the front of his jeans.

"See, it's like this, man. That wasn't weed. That was just, you know, a little something to get you to loosen up a bit. And, uh, well, there's this other thing, too. That shit I sprayed on your hand. It's not, uh, not exactly what you think."

The euphoria was fading, but it was still intense, and it was making my brain spin. "You sprayed my...hand?" I mumbled, barely able to understand what he was saying.

"Yeah, bro, I sorta had to, man. You kept getting me down with all your stress." He flexed his big biceps and gave one a kiss. "Now you're gonna be just like me!" He grinned wide, his perfect teeth glinting in the low light.

I couldn't respond. The sensations were still washing over me, but the euphoria was fading. As my brain began to work again, I suddenly realized that there was something wrong with me. There was a new, alien weight between my legs.

"Wha-what did you do?" I stammered, still dazed and confused. "What...what did you..."

I looked down, and froze. There was a huge, heavy bulge straining against the crotch of my jeans, stretching the thick material taut. It was huge. Like, absolutely massive. It was easily the size of my fist, maybe even bigger. It was so big and round, I could even see the outline of the individual balls.

"Duuuuude, bro, look at that fucking thing!" Max exclaimed, pointing and laughing. "It's totally fucking huge! Holy shit, man, it's the biggest cock I've ever seen in my life!"

I tried to speak, but I was still so confused, I couldn't get my mouth to form words.

"I didn't know they could get that big, man! Wow, bro, you're really packing a fucking cannon, you know that? Holy shit, it's so fucking hot." Max was practically drooling as he ogled the enormous bulge in my pants.

I could feel the heat radiating off of it, and I could tell it was pulsing and throbbing with each beat of my heart. The sensation was incredibly intense.

"It's...it's not possible..." I stammered, my voice cracking. "What...what did you spray?"

"Bro, I'm telling you, it's totally normal!" Max said, trying his best to sound reassuring. "My friend from home, he said, well, it's just that..." Max stammered again, his usually peaceful face betraying some shyness. "I've always thought you were cute, even without that package. You just needed to loosen up a little. And, I mean, I just wanted you to be, like, comfortable with me. It was just a little bit, man, and it was totally safe. Like, I swear, it's totally normal, dude." He grinned and shot me a wink. "Soon you're going to be just like me."

Max was still staring at the massive bulge, and I could see the outline of his huge dick stretching the crotch of his jeans.

"Dude, bro, I-" my hand shot to my mouth. I had never used those words in the same sentence before! "I...I didn't mean that!"

"Oh, yeah, dude," Max replied, not even noticing. "It's totally normal, bro. You're just a little high is all."

"High?!" I shouted, exasperated. "This isn't...I'm not...this isn't how people talk!"

Max just shrugged. "Bro, you've always been a nerd, and it's cool, man, I totally get it. But this is a big step forward. You're gonna love this. I swear."

I couldn't believe this was happening. I was still trying to process everything that was happening to me, when I heard Max's voice.

"Duuuuuude, check it out, bro," he said, gesturing to the bulge in his jeans. "We're, like, totally packing!"

"I can't..."

"Oh, shit, right. Dude, you gotta feel this."

Max quickly reached down and grabbed the bulge in my pants. As soon as he made contact, I felt a powerful surge of pleasure ripple through me. My body immediately responded to his touch, and I could feel my new cock throb and twitch. I groaned, unable to hold back the sounds.

"Dude, holy shit, bro, it's like, really sensitive or something," Max said, his eyes wide. "Like, really, really fucking sensitive, bro."

"No, it's...not..." I moaned, but I could tell it was a lie. It felt like Max's hand was squeezing my balls, and the pleasure was incredible.

"Fuck, bro, it's, like, really fucking sensitive, dude. Like, fucking, crazy fucking sensitive." Max was practically drooling, and his eyes were glazed over. He was clearly enjoying this a lot.

"Please, stop..."

"Fuck, bro, you're so fucking hard," Max groaned. He started to rub my bulge, and his other hand went to the front of his own jeans. "...and, you're so pretty too. I just don't want to lose you to all those meetings, bro. I want you to be with me."

"Wait, no, what are you doing?"

"I can't hold back anymore, dude, I gotta see your big dick," Max replied, unzipping my jeans and reaching in. He slowly pulled down, and my eyes widened as he revealed the huge, throbbing bulge in my underwear. It was so big, the fabric was stretched tight, and it was already soaked in pre-cum.

"Holy shit, dude, that thing is huge!" Max exclaimed, his voice cracking. He was staring at my huge bulge with a lustful expression, and his long tongue darted out to lick his lips. "It's, like, fucking, massive."

I looked down and was shocked by what I saw. It was easily twice as big as it had been just a few minutes ago. It was still growing, and it was stretching the fabric of my boxer-briefs to the limit. Max began to move closer, scrambling to take off his busted old t-shirt, meaty pecs and perfect washboard abs busting out as he did. He leaned forward, and his massive bicep brushed against my new rock-hard dick.

"Oh, shit, bro, fuck," Max moaned as he leaned in closer. At this point I could almost feel the waves of sweat and weed rolling off his huge body, and my cock was throbbing and leaking, straining against the tight fabric of my underwear.

"You're so hot, dude," Max said, reaching out to grab my huge bulge, wrapping his meaty hand around it. His hand was warm and rough, and his grip was strong, squeezing my bulge and causing a fresh burst of pleasure. "You're, like, fucking sexy as hell, man."

"What the hell, bro, no, that's not...that's not right!" I stammered, but Max's words sent a thrill through me. I could feel my cheeks burning, and I could feel the heat radiating from my skin. "That's not, I'm not a fag!"

"You sure about that, bro?" he asked, giving it a tug and sending a bolt of pleasure through my body. I felt the euphoria return. This time, it was a hundred times more intense.

"Fuuuuck," I groaned, leaning my head back. "Bro, it feels so fucking good."

"I know, right? And it's going to feel even better when you're a stoner like me, dude." Max replied, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Fuck, bro, I can't take it, I gotta get naked," Max moaned, frantically undoing his belt and shucking his pants. "I'm so fucking hard, bro, I can't wait to fuck you."

I looked down, and for the first time, got a good look at my new equipment. It was absolutely massive. It was huge and thick, easily the biggest cock I'd ever seen, and it was still growing. It was 10 inches long, and thicker than a beer can. My balls were huge, too, hanging heavy and swollen between my legs. I'd never felt anything like it.

The sensation continued to wash over me, slowly becoming heat as I began to sweat. It felt amazing. I couldn't control myself, I was already starting to moan and groan, and the euphoria was starting to mix with my arousal. My new cock was so sensitive, and the slightest touch made it throb and pulse.

"It's starting!" Max shouted, looking at my side of the room as my clean and organized things started to transform. My desk became cluttered with bongs and pipes, and posters of the periodic table were suddenly replaced by scantily clad men. My clothes started to change, too. My formerly neat shirts were suddenly full of holes and stained with various substances. My shoes were replaced with flip flops and Crocs.

"I can't take it, man, I'm too horny, I need to kiss you, right now," Max moaned, his voice shaking with desperation. "I've been waiting for this day, dude, and I can't hold back any longer."

Before I could protest, Max leaned in and kissed me, his big, thick tongue probing my mouth. The heat was overwhelming, and his kisses were passionate and hungry. His big, rough hands began to explore my body, rubbing and stroking and caressing every inch of me. He broke away from the kiss and buried his face in my neck, licking and nibbling and kissing. He was so close, I could feel the heat from his body, and I could smell the overpowering funk of stale sweat and reeking weed. It was so powerful I almost didn't notice my feet begin to ache and the pain in my lower back.

"What's...what's happening to me, bro?" I asked, my voice breaking. "I feel...I feel like...fuck, bro, it hurts!"

"You're changing, dude," Max replied, grinning. "It's the weed. You're finally becoming one with the bud."

"Fuck, bro, I can't hold back anymore," Max moaned. He reached down and began to stroke his giant cock, pre-cum pouring from the tip. It was easily 9 inches, and his massive balls were swollen and heavy with greasy, unwashed hair.

My feet continued to ache and burn as they stretched out, becoming bigger and broader. I could feel my bones shifting and rearranging, long tufts of sweaty hair sprouting out of my feet as they morphed into giant, hairy stumps. I couldn't believe it. The changes were getting more and more intense, and it was driving me wild. I felt like I was going to explode.

"I can't take it anymore," Max groaned, his voice a husky growl. " I have to make you mine."

Without hesitation, Max grabbed my shoulders and spun me around, pushing me face-first into my mattress. His hands were rough and strong, and he easily manhandled me.

"Holy fuck, dude, your ass, it's..." Max moaned, his voice filled with lust. "It's so fucking huge."

My ass was getting bigger and rounder, and it was stretching the seat of my boxer-briefs to the limits, and I felt a sharp, sudden pain as the fabric gave way and tore, leaving my huge, jiggly, fat, bubble butt exposed.

"I'm so horny, bro" Max moaned, his voice shaky and breathy, as my ass filled with greasy, oily stink, the air thick with the musk of unwashed flesh and reeking, unwashed funk.

"You're so hot, dude. It's so hot that you're getting stoned."

"What? Bro, that's not...wait!"

"Don't worry, dude, you'll get used to it. It's just the weed talking."

"No, wait, bro, you can't..." I moaned again as my legs began to push me taller, my thighs and calves widening and thickening. My feet swelled even more, filling to a size 13, and a sudden rush of heat swept over my body.

"Fuck, dude, you're so fucking hot, man," Max groaned, his voice thick with lust, rubbing my new, tick legs as dark, swirly hair began to sprout, quickly becoming matted with the sweat of hours upon hours of mindless smoking.

"Please, bro, stop," I moaned, as my body began to shake. "I can't take it, I'm gonna...I'm gonna cum."

"Dude, that's the whole point, bro," Max replied, his voice trembling. "Just relax, and let it happen. It's gonna feel so fucking good."

"It's too much," I moaned, my cock throbbing and pulsing. "It's too intense."

"I know, dude, it's just the weed, bro. It'll feel better after you get used to it. Trust me."

I could feel the hair begin to creep onto my stomach and chest, quickly spreading and covering me in a layer of greasy, foul-smelling, sweaty body hair.

"Dude, are you seriously not feeling this, too?" I asked, my voice cracking. "Bro, I can't take it, please, just stop, it's too much."

"Dude, chill, you're fine," Max replied, flipping me back over and rubbing his hand over my new abs and thickening pecs. "Just enjoy the ride."

"Wait, no, I'm not...fuuuuck!"

The sensation was so intense, it was driving me wild. I could barely even think. My pecs were growing larger and heavier, and my nipples were swelling and darkening, the areolae growing thicker and hairier.

"Fuuuuuck, dude, you're so fucking sexy," Max groaned, grabbing a fistful of hair and giving it a sharp tug, making me moan with pleasure.

My cock was throbbing and leaking pre-cum, and I could feel the heat coming from it. My balls were swollen and heavy, and they were aching for release.

"Fuck, dude, I can't take it," Max moaned, his voice filled with desperation, shoving his face into my pit as they began to grow and deepen, quickly filling with rank, musky body odor. As he licked, my arms grew longer and wider, my biceps and triceps growing thicker and bulkier. My forearms became thicker and more defined, and my hands and fingers were getting bigger and beefier.

"Bro, it's so fucking good." Max's voice was muffled by my armpit, and I could feel his tongue lapping up the stale sweat and musk.

My arms were now completely covered in thick, greasy, matted hair, and the same was happening to my back, the swirly pattern spreading like a wildfire. My shoulders were growing larger and rounder, and I could feel the muscles shifting and rearranging.

"Please, dude, don't...I can't..."

"I can't stop, bro, you're so hot," Max moaned, his face buried in my pit. I could smell our odors mixing together as our muscular bodies writhed against each other, slick with sweat and the stinking smell of weed.

I was so turned on.

"You're so hot, bro," Max moaned, his pre-cum leaking all over the place.

"No, bro, what?" I moaned, my voice trembling. "I'm not a faggot."

"That's just the weed, dude," Max replied, his voice low and husky. "You're gonna love it."

"Please, no," I moaned, but I knew he was right. I was so turned on, and the weed was driving me wild as my neck and jaw began to fill out and widen, my Adam's apple growing into a large, meaty knob.

I moaned as my voice deepened, the vibrations reverberating through me, causing me to shiver, my speech becoming permanently relaxed, just like my roommate's.

"Fuck," Max groaned, going in for a slobbery, wet kiss, our body heat generating enough stink to make me gag.

My body was now covered in matted, swirly body hair, and it was growing thicker and greasier, the same thing happening to my chest. I could feel my pecs bulging even more as my face was being smothered in kisses and licks, my nose cracking into a previously-broken shape and the skin becoming rough and scarred.

"Oh, fuck, dude, you're so fucking hot," Max moaned, burying his face in my thick neck, his voice muffled by the hair.

"No, please, bro," I moaned, my voice cracking. "I can't take it, it's too much."

"You can do it, bro, just hold on a little longer," Max replied, his voice shaky.

My tongue grew thicker and longer, and it started to loll out of my mouth, my face cracking into model-level handsomeness. I was so turned on, and I couldn't take it anymore. My balls were throbbing and pulsing, and my cock was throbbing and pulsing.

"I'm gonna cum," I moaned, my voice deep and slow.

"Do it, bro," Max moaned, his voice trembling. "Do it, cum all over me, bro."

I felt his fingers run across my short hair, sending a shiver down my spine. My body was wracked with pleasure as I felt ropes of rancid, stinking cum shoot from my cock, splattering his chest and stomach. I couldn't control myself, I was moaning and groaning, the intense orgasm rocking my body, my new, masculine frame shaking and quivering.

With each rope, my bright green eyes became dimmer and dimmer, coloring grayer and grayer as all of my worries and stress flowed out of me, and I fell into a state of bliss, my cock still twitching and throbbing as the last change began. My hair grew longer and thicker, until it was a long, shaggy, dirty mess, and a fresh wave of fresh musk rose off me.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck," I moaned, my voice deep and slow, my tongue lolling out of my mouth.

"Fuck, dude, you're so fucking sexy," Max moaned, his voice cracking. "I can't believe it, dude. You're, like, totally a stoner now, bro."

"Haha, yeah man...wait bro, haven't I always been?" I looked at myself in the dingy dorm mirror, and realized I looked like a dumb, stoned idiot. My voice was deeper, and my accent was different. My hair was messy and unwashed, and my skin was tanned. My pecs were massive and my abs were rock hard. My cock was huge and throbbing. My feet were hairy and stinky. I had a huge, round, bubble butt.

I laughed a deep, airy chuckle.

"That's right" Max said, staring into my dull eyes. He seemed like the hottest man I had ever laid eyes on until I realized.

"I love you, dude." Max giggled.

"Yeah man, I love you, too" I slurred, leaning in for a sloppy kiss, my tongue probing his mouth, the taste of weed and sweat overwhelming. He returned the favor, and soon, we were a mess of sloppy, stoner kisses, our thick, stubbly chins rubbing together, the sound of slurping and licking filling the room.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck," I groaned, the kiss ending, both of us breathing heavy and panting, a mixture of spit dripping from our chins. "That was, like, totally amazing, dude."

"Fuck, yeah, bro, it was fucking awesome," Max groaned, his voice trembling. "I've been waiting for this for, like, ever, bro. It's fucking crazy."

"Yeah, dude, totally," I replied, staring at his gorgeous, masculine features. His big, thick arms, his perfect washboard abs, his massive pecs, and his perfect, handsome face. He was fucking hot, and he was all mine.

#stoner tf #dumber #male tf #himbo tf #muscle tf

[shit-talker]

The only way I can rationalise people accepting literal children going out and fighting crime as Robin is if they don't think Robin is a real child.

I think it would be fun to see how Bruce would use that to his advantage in protecting his kids. Like, if people think Robin isn't human, if they instead think he's a spirit or a ghost, they are less likely to shoot at him, less likely to try and physically attack Robin because they think it would be no use.

The fun part would be deciding HOW they would do this. I like to think that Robin's domino mask doesn't have a hole for his eyes but instead is glazed over so that he can see out of it, but you can't see in. Maybe they install small lights in it so it looks like his eyes glow in the dark, because can you image how fucking scary it would be to just see these two sentient light-like eyes and just know the Batman must be lurking somewhere close by?

Maybe Bruce installs super strong magnets in their gloves because on the chance that someone does pull a gun on his kid close range, it would be a lot easier for them to grab the gun away if they had the force of magnetism on their side. Also, grabbing onto poles and other metal materials would make all the scaling on tall buildings a little safer. Obviously, they'd need a way to turn it on and off, but still. Can you imagine, you're in a warehouse and there are steel frames fucking everywhere and you look up and suddenly there's a child gripping onto one effortlessly? Horrifying.

Maybe they have a voice box. Want to scare people? Play this really ominous recording of a child's laughter that echoes just a bit too loud to be normal. Play this ominous screaming that seems too silent to be real. Play this ticking that seems to never end that induces stress and increases the chance of them messing up.

What would be even funnier is keeping this act up with the Justice League and other teams.

Batman doesn't bring Robin to these meetings at the beginning because he sees no need to involve a preteen in such matters, but at some point the subject does come up and it's sort of like; So, Bats, what exactly is the kid? Like...is he yours?

And Bruce (paranoid as fuck) doesn't want to admit to these people that yes, Robin is my son because hello? That's gotta be his biggest weakness, he would do anything to keep that kid safe and fuck them if they ever tried to hurt him to get to Bruce.

So, he tells them that he's a spirit sent to haunt him and remind the city of it'd failures and the Justice League just... believe him?? Because this is Batman, and why would Batman ever lie about something so, frankly, strange? And it's not a huge deal, like they're a team comprised of metas and aliens and literal godesses, so what if the one normal human guy has a weird little ghost child? Who cares if he cares about it like it's a real boy? Maybe the baby spirit has rights, too!! They don't know!

So, when the JLA gets more popular and becomes an actual, legal part of the American government, they're required to list all of their members. And they class Batman as a human, because that's obvious but next to Robin, they don't really know what to say or how to ask Batman about it, ao they just put "Unknown Child Spirit - TBD"

And then just... never change it?

So, they don't question why a few years later Robin seems to look entirely different, or why after that he changes again, or why Robin is suddenly a girl for a while before going back to a little boy. That's obviously just some weird spirit thing they don't understand, and it's not like Batman is going to explain it!

#batman #batman and robin #robin #justice league #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #damian wayne #the kids obviously play into this as well making themselves seem not fully human #but also?? #they arent exactly normal anyway so it really doesn't matter #dick joins a team for the 1st time as robin and everyone else is kind of like #“so...do you eat? are you...wanna play video games??” #and dick #who has been raised in a circus before joining a family comprised of batman and alfred has not really played any video games #and obviously there is no way a real human child has not played video games before so everyone never even thinks that MAYBE its not true #shit talker talks

[qprstobin]

The fact there aren't more single dad Steve fics is surprising to me. And I don't mean like, those Steddie fics where Steve is a parent to one of the Party or st. I mean like, Steve is proudly a bit of a slut and sometimes condoms break. Why are there not more fics of like 20-22yo Steve getting suddenly saddled with a child that he didn't know existed, while everyone freaks out around him about it.

Steve wanted kids yes, but in some nebulous future and now there is a tiny person with his hair and his moles that is chewing on the collar of his shirt. He is very much not ready for this responsibility but also like, he's pretty sure that specific weird clean baby smell is curing his depression. He barely sleeps anyway this is fine, this is fine.

Robin is torn between freaking out, giving him shit, making fun of him, and spoiling the shit out of this baby because this baby is part Steve!! This baby is made from her very favorite person!!! Obviously this is going to be her favorite baby! She is extremely entranced by how tiny every baby item is too. Tiny socks, tiny hats, tiny shoes! Robin is Steve's rock and also is the one most excited to help him with said baby.

Several members of the Party literally have younger siblings and yet not a single one of them know what to do with a baby. They are staring at this tiny creature that is part??? Steve??? Like it is an alien from another planet. They are getting close to being adults and have fought monsters but the first time the baby cries while they are supposed to be watching it at least one of them nearly cries too. Dustin does the 80s equivalent of overdiagnosing via WebMB instead with medical and parenting books from the library. He always think there is something wrong every time the baby coughs. Steve appreciates how enthusiastic he is about making sure the baby is okay, but does not appreciate the extra stress.

I just think we're missing out on prime fic fodder material which is that accidents happens and I want everyone to be losing their minds because somehow trying to keep an infant alive is scarier to them than fighting monsters.

#steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin #platonic stobin #the party stranger things #trying so hard not to be weird about stobin on main tonight but #the party #dustin henderson #dustin #steve #robin #walkie chatter

[n0t-y0ur-piece-0f-cake]

The study of human social behaviour

Summary: you get kidnapped by Yautja, as well as some other people. You try to escape but in a twisted turn of events, you end up being an aliens mate for life.

Fem reader x male yautja

Warnings: NSFW, kidnapping, non-con/rape, violence, death, swearing, metion of forced pregnancy

MDNI / MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

For everyone else: read at own risk

Not proof read, English is not my first language

---------- <3 ----------

"I remembered how I was sitting at my dining table, eating.

Just minding my business and trying to calm down from my stressful day at work. But everything changed with a sudden white light illuminating my surroundings completely." I said, looking into everyone's faces. We sat in a circle. On the cold white ground. What seemed to be LED lights shone so bright, it hurt my eyes at the beginning. Now my eyes didn't mind anymore. The walls were empty and cold.

I turned to look behind me. Looked at the big glass where these aliens are probably observing us. "And that's how I ended up here, in this room. That's all I know." My glance shifted right back at the group. We were three women and three men. Some acknowledged my story by nodding, others by just looking at me wide eyed. I was last to tell. Their stories weren't any diffrent. All of them experienced that white illuminating light. And then they were waking up in here.

I have no idea how long we've already been here. But probably not even a day. Neither do I have any idea what these aliens want from us. Or if they would be happy to tell us, if they even know our tongue.

For now we just sat around. Trying to wrap our mind around what we should do. What THEY would do. One guy threw in a idiotic plan on how he would try to escape, which was quickly shut down and discouraged by us. Why? Because we already saw these aliens. We saw how they were built and could easily lift a out of hand human, to throw them out. The guy they threw out was here again, but he was now quiet. I don't know what they did to him. He doesn't tell either.

After a while our conversations got more quiet, less frequent. I personally was frustrated there was nothing to pass time here. Frustrated I still don't know what the fuck they want. I was laying on the ground for a while now. Others laying too, or sitting against the wall. Suddenly the lights dimmed. I jump up and look around. See if I can spot any differences. Nothing. After a few seconds a big plate from underneath the viewing window was brought into the room. On it were various kind of fruits and vegetables from earth. We all looked at each other. Confused. Should we eat it? Is it poisoned? A woman took the first step. "I'm hungry!", she exclaimed. She took a Mango and bit right in it, peeling the skin then, when she punctured the Mango.

Everyone else followed. I did so too, grabbing an apple, inspecting it. I stood close to the viewing window. Out of curiosity I pressed my forehead against it, I could see the shape of these aliens. They stared at me. Noting something in their, what seemed to be, computers. I sat down on the ground. Just like everyone else. We were now gathered around the plate containing food.

After what seemed to be another hour, the light turned even more dim. Enough to see, but significantly more darker. "I have to use the toilet. Real bad", one of the guys said. "Use the corner?" The other guy said. One girl got mad and made a gagging sound "Are you crazy?" "Well where else is he supposed to go? There's nothing here!"

I look up at the window, and point at it. "Maybe we can ask them?" "Oh sure. Please mister or misses alien, give us a toilet." The guy who had to pee said mockingly. The girl that was still quiet since the beginning sighed and said we should give it a try. She stood up. She looked at all of us, unsure if she should really do it. I nodded. The pee guy nodded too. "Toilet! We need a toilet!" She screamed at the window. Nothing happened. I look through the window again making sure someone is even on the other side. Which yes they are. I look at the girl. "Do it again", I said. She screamed again. This time I joined in and banged my fist against the window. The guy who had to pee chuckled and mocked us again.

Suddenly the big plate was taken back. The sound of a motor made us all go quiet. We looked at where the sound came from. We all starred in awe as a new small room in a corner was build. The new walls including a door came out of the big walls. The motor kept whirring until it seemed to lock in. The guy who had to pee stood up and bolted for that room. As he opened the door he screamed out in ecstasy. "It's an actual fucking bathroom!" He slammed the door, locking it and doing his thing. We could hear muffled yelling. "It has a shower and everything, holy shit!"

The girl who was screaming at the window to get a toilet sat down again. We were all still in our spot. And the rest of the room was still empty. We were all in that corner as if the rest of the room is bad. The guy came back from his bathroom break. Sat down with us as well. I didn't know anyone. Not even their names. Would it be awkward to ask now? Whatever. I'll do it. "I'm Y/N."

They looked up at me. Silence.

"I'm Dave", said the pee guy. "Rachel." The girl that screamed but was always silent.

"Maria", she smiled as she said her name. The girl that was disgusted by the 'pee in the corner suggestion'. "Alexander. But Alex is cool too" said the guy who had lost his temper at the start and was taken by these aliens to god knows where but brought back.

The guy who suggested Dave to pee in the corner sighed. "Nick."

"Is that short for anything?" Maria asked. "Nicklas." Silence again. So now we know each others names. I was tired. I layed down. Some others followed soon after. Motor whirring came up again. We jumped up to look. Out of the wall came beds. For everyone one. They were lined up next to each other on one wall, next to the bathroom. We looked at each other again. We slowly stood up and went over. A fight soon came to ensue. No one wanted to sleep right next to the window. "One of the men have to go on that bed!" Rachel stood her ground. "Nuh uh", said Nick, "I won't let them grab me first!"

"There's not even a door there! To be frank the door is over there!", Dave pointed at the other wall, the door was disguised. The wall plate was over it, covering the door. We all know. Because Alex was taken through it. "Nick, they're always gonna be watching us, everyone of us. It doesn't matter." I said. Nick turned to me. "Then go ahead and sleep on this bed. It's all yours."

I rolled my eyes. I looked at it. At all of them. None of them had blankets. Only pillows and a matress. I nodded. "Fine." Since this discussing was over we all just laid down. Alex still sat on the foot end of his bed. Starring at the opposite wall and where the door is. I was too tired to hold more conversation today. And I don't want to push him. So I just fell asleep.

The next day was more of the same. Our day was started by being woken up by motor whirring sound. Another plate with the same food being brought in. But instead of grabbing something everyone groaned and made a run for the bathroom. Some were faster some slower. I stood up slowly. I didn't have to pee that badly. I passed Alex bed. He was still laying in it. Eyes closed. Snoring. He's a deep sleeper. The line became smaller and smaller. And at last we were all gathered around the table and eating. Except for Alex.

"What did he see?" Maria asked. Everyone shrugged their shoulders. Silence. Maybe no one wanted to keep talking about it because maybe these aliens will get mad. Understandable. We left some food for Alex on the plate. As we stood up and went back to our respective beds to sit down on soft ground the motor starter whirring again. The plate with Alex's food was taken back. Since I was closest to the window and the plate I jumped up and grabbed the left overs before it was fully gone.

I placed it at the foot end of my bed. Waiting on my bed for anything to happen. Dave stood up and banged his fist at the window. "We're bored!" Maria rolled her eyes. There was no reaction even after a while. "Ask for something specific." Rachel said. I nod. "Oh! Like a PC or something." We all looked at Maria's comment. "A PC? What would you want with that? I doubt they have earth Internet access or would allow us to use theirs. If they even have that." Dave said.

"Well they do have PCs so I think they might have Internet? But... yeah. Ask for something else maybe?" I said. Dave resumed banging on the window. "Give us paper and pen! Paper! Pen!" Alex was awoken by the comotion. He grunted. "Shut the fuck up!" Motor started whirring again. A table with a chair like thing appeared. Right in the middle. On it, was nothing. Dave turned to the window again. "For gods sake, Pen! Paper!" Another whirring. This time the plate where usually the food was, came with several pencils and a stack of paper.

Dave grabbed a pen and paper. "If you're up for it, let's play some paper games." Not even a minute later we all gathered on the ground playing 'Town, Country, River'.

It's been days now. Painted and written paper was scattered underneath our beds. We requested a few more things. Like music, but it was a Walkman or whatever you called them from the 80s. We tried requesting a movie, all we got was a Disc, but no TV or anything. It doesn't even say what kind of movie or other media it contains. We requested a flashlight because Maria started to freak out when the lights dimmed for the night, which they granted. We requested actual cooked meals. But all that came was questionable looking things. They tried their best but... didn't look to edible. We did taste it. Either it was bland or not cooked through. So we kept eating fruits and vegetables. Yes. We did try to request raw foods, even going as far as to write and draw the ingredients and what tools we'd need, but they didn't do anything. None of them ever came in since Alex little incident. Not until this day.

We weren't sure if they had cameras in this room or not. Or where their blindspots are. So we came up with something. Nick, who had suggested before that we should try and escape, 'invented' the human pile. We would throw ourselves on a pile, laying on the ground with our stomach, basically. So our heads would be looking down at the same spot in the middle and our heads would be so close together we'd maybe have the chance of a camera not catching what we write on a piece of paper. We'd also be stacked upon each other, and someone would have to hold Maria's flashlight so we could see what was written on the paper. Because that's how close our heads had to be. Of course these aliens must wonder and get suspicious what we'd do. So we started out with drawing really weird things like memes. Of course we'd laugh about it. We all hoped the aliens would think we were just doing some stupid human bonding stuff drawing these pictures.

And only in-between we wrote the plans and discussions for escaping. We'd black them out or overdraw them with memes. Just to make sure. Our plan so far? The strongest must pretend that he has a heart attack or something. Everyone else needs to back up against the empty wall and pretend to be scared, where the door is. So when they open it the second strongest and strongest can distract them aliens. But why try to escape? We were here since days. Pretty sure we're on a planet. Not ours but a planet. We can hear no big motor sound that made us think that we were still in space or something. Also the fruits and vegetables changed in shape, size and color that it made us think that these ones are not from earth anymore. They looked more alien yet earthly. Like they've ran out of earth veggies and fruits and now only have their similar stuff left.

Maybe we'd have a chance of surviving out there. But we won't stay here forever. We asked them on how long they plan on keeping us here. What they want. But no answer ever came. They just starred back at us through the window. We're not gonna die here.

The day of the plan finally came. We all kept acting as always. Wake up. Eat. Do something. Nick and Dave worked out, push ups, squats, whatever, trying go get more pumped up for later. Alex was still in bed, not yet getting up, but due to the circumstances fully awake. Maria, me and Rachel on the ground playing or drawing. Rachel then got up. She took some tomatoes from under her bed that she kept there from this morning and started screaming and acting weirdly. The plan has started.

Maria and I got up. Looking at her. The men turned to look at her. We all pretend to be in shock. She started throwing the tomatoes on the window. Taking the table and throwing it against the window. Dave shoved the table to the wall, where he ordered us to go and stay safe away from Rachel. Still the plan.

I felt my heart pumping hard. I am so nervous. This could go so wrong. Suddenly the plates were moved and the door was opened. An alien came in and headed towards Rachel. Dave immediately grabbed the table and smashed it down on the alien. They got into a fight, the table broke so Dave took a piece and hit it over and over again. The alien groaned. We ran towards the door. It was closed. There were buttons tho. Alex pressed the one he remembered the most from the day he was taken. It opened. Just as wanted to slip through the door closed on me and Dave. Dave got stuck between the door. It didn't do much. But the wall plates started moving to shut close. We heard the others scream from the other side. Nick and Rachel quickly taking over and running away with the other two.

The wall plates didn't stop. Dave screamed for help. I grabbed his arm and started to pull him, but his other arm was stuck in the door. He flexed it, twisted and turned it, but it was stuck. The wall finally came to a close. I screamed and looked away as a crunching noise emitted the room. I shut my eyes and held my ears with my hands that quickly let go of Dave. I looked at the ground. My back was turned to Dave. A puddle of blood came close to my shoes. I took away my hands from my ears. Listening if I could hear Dave speak or breath. Nothing. Silence.

I felt nauseous. I felt like I was about to drop dead myself. I couldn't bear looking back at him now. I dont want to see his crushed body. The alien that has been hit layed in front of me. Seemingly unconscious as he was still breathing. Defeated I sat down next to it. I couldn't even bear to sit on the bed now. I heard commotion behind me. The wall plates and door moving to open. Daves body hit the ground, before he was dragged out. When I was sure he was gone, I turned as well. Ther was no alien standing guard. So I jumped up and ran- but the unconscious alien grabbed my arm and jerked me right back down with one motion. He wasn't unconscious. He was pretending like we were. "Please let me go." I said, still trying to pull away but the alien was just too strong.

It got up. Its large frame hovering over me. It was wider than me too. His muscles seemed so large and its grip... two things that showed me that it could crush my skull easily if it wanted to. I was as well lifted up to stand. Another alien, unlike the one holding me, wore white instead of silver armor. The one now standing in the doorframe also seemed to wear more fabric. Was more covered. The one holding me seemed to wear the more basic armor or clothes. So I thought. They communicated in a tongue I couldn't understand. When they were done, the one holding me looked down to me, looking deeply into my eyes. I looked at it back. It's eyes shone yellow, against his dark, almost black and brown shades of reptile like skin.

I couldn't read its emotions. Out of no where it yanked me with it, dragging me god knows where. Are they going to put me down, out of my misery like the experiment animals that we maybe were? I was dragged out of the room, I jumped over the puddle of Daves blood. Feeling disgusted and being reminded about these sounds his body made. I'd never forget that. Hallways and hallways without end. We seemed to get into another testing facility. As it still dragged me, we passed embryos of various types of unrecognisable creatures kept in large tubes.

I didn't fully understand, couldn't grasp on it that quickly. Until we reached a empty room. It wasn't large. Maybe 10 feet in every direction. "Are you going to kill me?" I asked. The alien looked at me. It shook its head no. It could understand me. "What will you do then?" It tilted its head to the side. A deep voice, growling animalistic, started to speak. "Experiment." "Experiment?", I looked at it shocked. It could speak. But what does it mean? "What were you planning with my group?" It took a while until it could form another sentence, like as if it was trying to make sure it was using the right words. "Ooman social Experiment. But now they dead." It said in broken English.

I looked at it wide eyed. "You just wanted to observe our behaviour?" It nodded. "When ooman is entrapped, yes." "And then?"

"Let ooman free again, but oomans tried escape, now dead." My eyes widened even more. "You would have let us go??" A tear ran down my face, knowing we would have made it out alive anyways. "They're dead? I saw them run out!" "We killed." It said almost confident. I looked at it now with confusion. "So why not kill me, huh!?"

"Other experiment. I decide." I tilted my head now too. "Other experiment?" "Yes, but ooman will not get out of this." It said stepping closer to me. I took a step back, trying to create distance, it tried to grab my arms but I quickly turned and tried to get to the door. It did reach it, but I didn't know which button to press, neither did pressing all of them help. Or all of them at the same time, before it grabbed me by the waist, to slam me onto his frontal body. "No escape, ooman", it growled above my head. Not long after it placed its hands on my pants colar. I placed my hands on its arms, trying to get these arms away from there, knowing where this will go. My pants buttons were ripped right off, didn't matter how much I tried to get it away. It then pulled down all of that I wore underneath my waist. Now my bare ass and vagina were exposed to the cold air. One hand was placed right between my legs, cupping my vagina, while it's middle finger started working on my clit. It send out signals to my brain I didn't want. I yelped like a puppy. I saw how it threw a cloth to the side of us. I remember it, it was the cloth between its legs. That was seemingly worn as a type of pants.

I grabbed its arms, that was still cupping and working on my vagina, still trying to push it away, I clenched my legs together, making the feeling and every movement even more intense unwillingly. My yelps have turned into small gasps of air. I leaned back on its chest, looking up on it. "Please stop" I begged. It leaned down, so much so that I was made to bend over in the process. Its hand stopped cupping me. And the other was on my neck, its pressure on my neck and now waist made me arch my back. "Stay." It demanded. I whimpered, but I obeyed. Pleased that I stood still, I felt it part my fold with its fingers. If I wasn't sure if this alien was male before I was sure enough now.

Before I knew he placed the tip of his cock into my vagina, before grabbing my hips and slamming his length into me. A scream left my mouth. A pained one. It was something I never felt before. A girth what felt like almost 4 fingers wide and a length that hit my cervix on the first slam. And from what I could feel, he still had more, that just couldn't fit in. He leaned down back to me, so my back and his chest weren't ever to part. "Mate." He said. He started with a slow pace, i could feel more of his cocks texture. It seemed to have some kind of small knobs on it, on its shaft. My face felt hot. Almost burning. I didn't know where to place my hands, so i placed them on top of his. Almost grabbing him. "My mate." He growled even more as his breath seemed to picked up with his pace. Him hitting my cervix now harder made me squirm in pain, but at the same time it felt good. His pace got even more faster. My right hand traveled to his right side of his hip, trying to push him away, or at least to make him slow down. It was too much for me, as I let my head drop, my eyes roll back and soft moans now escaping my mouth, his pace dropped but his thrusts became more violent, as well as his grunts. Not long after he buried his cock as deep as he could, standing up straight and letting me feel his warm cum fill me, as he still held me in place with his hands on my hips.

I saw it drip down along my thighs, it was a glowing greenish substance. "My mate." It repeatedly muttered. My heart pace calmed down after a while. As well as my body seemed to as well. So he pulled out. "Ah'kun", he said, pointing to himself, before he put back on his cloth covering his dick. He left the room without a word.

I stood there trembling, unsure what to do now. How to even process what just happened or throughout the whole day to be exact. Ah'kun did come back after a while. Bringing another cloth, almost looking like fancy panties, with sumo like cloth in the front and back. He held it infrong of my feet. He wanted me to step in so he could make me wear it? I guess so. So i did. He pulled it up. It was almost a bit too tight. But it should do for now. In the same motion as he pulled up my new panties or pants, he undid my shirt and bra. Of course I tried to go against it, but he just didn't bother. He was still stronger. He disposed all of my clothes with a trashcan that came out by pressing something on an empty wall. Right after he dragged me out. I was now wearing nothing but these weird panties. "Forgot..." He said. Taking a necklace of his neck and binding it around mine. "What is that?" I asked, looking at the necklace seemingly made out of bones. "Shows everyone your mate. My mate."

I look at him. At this point, I wasn't a experiment to him anymore, wasn't I? He took my silence for an answer, that was good enough for him. As we stepped outside into the daylight, we were right. We were on a planet. A tropical one. With what almost looked like aztec pyramids. And it seemed to be normal that these aliens wore only these panties. Even the female ones. Only few wore armor. "Why don't they all have armor?" I looked at him, as he held my hand. "No hunters or warrior" he pointed at the majority that didn't wear armor. "And you?" I said, I looked back and forth at them and him. "I, elite hunter. You have luck, my mate." He started to get confident again.

"Why luck?" "Elite hunter, high status." He said even more confident. His ego definitely stroked. He dragged me down the stairs of the pyramid we were in. The lab pyramid I'm taking. As we stepped out of the shadow, it was even a smart idea of him to remove my warm clothing. Because the sun here was brutally hot.

We were walking for a bit, the other aliens looked at us, specifically me. Some talked with Ah'kun, in their native tongue of course. Giving him proud pats on the back. Was a human mate an achievement? A trophy? Who knows. I don't. We finally reached another pyramid, one of those many. "My home, you live now too, here."

He closed the door behind me. In here, the air was cool again. The decorations and furniture style felt similar to several antique human civilisations, but yet held their advanced alien touch. I looked everywhere. There was even an armor room. Where his helmets and other armor were displayed. A trophy room with several heads of all kinds of creatures.

I kept looking. I found everything you'd expect from an house. Bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, living room. And empty or barely filled rooms. "What's all the empty rooms for?" "Storage. And little ones." I tilted my head. "Little ones?" He nodded. Did he mean kids? Was I even able to give that to him? What was I thinking. When did I start to be okay with this? This isn't my planet. In that moment it dawned on me. Was this my life now? I started crying. Not just because of the fact that I was here, but because of all of this.

Ah'kun patted me caringly on the back. "You will be good mom, no worry."

#the predator #yautja #predator x reader #yautja x reader #yautja x reader smut #alien x reader #yautja x female reader #yautja x human #preadator x human #smut #monster fucker #slasher x reader #slasher smut #monster lover #mates #yautja imagine #slasher imagine #monster nsft #yautja nsft

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny covered his nose with his hand. Where ever he landed smelled absolutely foul, like rotten fruit and burning tires mixed with chem lab.

"Remind me to bring a face mask the next time I explore the Infinite Realms." He muttered, before kicking a soda can down the alley he was in and being repulsed by the squelch sound it made when it came into contact with a very questionable looking puddle, "Better yet, a gas mask." He glanced at the puddle again, "Or I could go full Hazmat." Clockwork had told him this world was full of superheros and villians and to steer clear of it, but once he learned there were aliens in this world he couldn't help himself. Danny had always been weak to his curiosity, but he liked to believe he was cautious, and chose to stay in his Phantom for for added protection.

Turning on his heel he exited onto a deserted street lined on one side by a chain-link fence. The sky above him was filled with clouds so ominous and dark that Danny honestly couldn't tell you if it was night or day, all he knew was that it was going to rain soon and hopefully these awful smells would be drowned out by the downpour.

Danny got his wish only minutes later. Thankfully Phantom was unbothered by the cold and could just bask in the rain as it fell apon him. A lesser known fact about ghosts is that thier clothes are made from thier ectoplasm and are part of thier bodies, much like a second layer of skin, so one would be able to feel things on thier clothes as easily as they would with thier bare skin. The level of sensitivity varies with the type of clothing however. All this to say Danny loved the feeling of the rivulets of rainwater traveling down his ghostly hazmat suit.

He was so preoccupied with enjoying the sensation that he didn't notice anything was wrong until he was jolted forward from the weight of someone landing on his back. The person was quick and precise, taking no time at all to have his wrists pinned behind his back and- weirdly enough- thier teeth digging into the material around his neck.

His parents designed the Hazmat suit Danny was wearing not only to deal with dangerous chemicals, but to fight supernatural foes. The area around the neck was reinforced with the intention of protecting against fatal gunshots and decapitations so naturally someone's jaw wasn't going to be enough to break through to his neck.

Danny let out a laugh as the person kept chewing on his neck like a confused puppy. Oh, Danny thought, they've gone feral. It was odd for someone to go feral but it could occur when a person has gone through something traumatic recently or through extreme stress. It made sense since the person ridding piggy back on him was dressed like a superhero. Danny wondered if that was why the person didn't have a scent. Danny learns facepalmed when he remembered that scentblockers existed and not everyone's scent dramatically changed whenever they went out as a hero. The scent change was probably one of the few things that have kept him alive up to this point to be honest.

"So, I guess you're not going to tell me why you're chewing on my neck like the worlds most pathetic vampire, are you?" No one deserves that title more than the fruitloop to be honest. He made a mental note to use that one against Vlad the next time he saw him.

Chewy whined at this, seeming to slump a bit from the apparent failure to bite him. What was that about? Was this actually a vampire? How would a vampire even react to Dannys ecto-blood combo meal anyway? Would it be like food poisoning? Or would it taste amazing from one undead to another. "I'm not exactly human, are you sure you wanna bite me? I might not taste so good." Danny warned, but the moment he mentioned letting the person bite him they were eager again.

Danny chuckled and unzipped the material only a bit before it was loose enough to move out of the way. The vampires bite came with a sharp pain like he expected but there was no suction. No drinking of blood. Just some weirdo biting Danny on the neck. Huh.

Danny hoped he didn't get rabies from this.

He must have accidentally said that out loud as there was a small laugh from the rooftops above them. There stood another person in a superhero outfit with some really tall dude dressed as a giant bat, and that was when Danny decided to bail. It was one thing to let a maybe vampire bite you in a random street in the middle of the night but more of them? And ones a big scary furry? Hard pass.

Phantom did as Phantoms do and went invisible and intangible, escaping from Biteys jaws and startling the heros. He ignored the distressed whine Munchy let out after loosing their spookyest chew toy and quickly rubbed the scent gland near dannys jaw on the top of thier head as an act of comfort before bolting.

----

Danny poked at the bite mark on his neck. Screw rabies, he better not get turned into a werewolf. He didn't need that on top of his ghostly crap. Sam seemed fascinated by the mark, after all, it wasn't every day that Danny got a scar, especially one so obvious. Most injuries heal quickly and leave no trace of him ever being injured in the first place which helped a lot in keeping his secret identity.

Luckily Danny hadn't needed to lie to mom and dad. He truthfully told them about some wierdo jumping off of a nearby rooftop and plunging thier teeth into his neck and that two other people had tried to corner him during this. He assured his mom that he had gotten away quickly but was a little shaken by it and his dad praised him for being brave and managing to escape.

That was nice. But he still had to figure out what was up with this bite...and why he felt so compelled to go back to that city.

Back to that hero.

-----

Aka an A/B/O au where in Danny's universe all the Alphas are extinct and the betas followed soon after and the DC universe all the Omegas went extinct and betas followed after . Not like a "they finally went extinct in the 1700s after centuries of thier numbers dwindling" thing and became a myth/fairytale (tho I like that too) but a "this might be the missing link between cave men and modern humans" kinda thing.

Its up to you which bat bit Danny and exactly what that means. I love abo aus without smut cause there's so much potential for chaos and I am very much ace.

#dp x dc #fanfiction prompts #prompts #abo #everyone is confused and no one has answers #i would however like some slowburn romance #whichever bat you choose is going to get teased forever for running up to some random meta and biting the crap outta them #i tricked yall into reading an abo prompt didnt i? #i slept little over an hour last night so i woke up choosing violence #its been a very bad day #the store didnt have a lot of the stuff i needed to buy and on the walk home i saw an older kitten that looked kinda like my cat get hit #the car didnt even stop. poor thing got hit by the next car too and i just stared and it started raining like a freaking movie moment #tw: animal death #tw for the tags #so i got new trauma today #gonna make that everyone elses problem #a/b/o dynamics #kinda #just wanted to add the tag incase yall have it filtered

[pinkanonwrites]

As Our Fingers Entwine

The end of the trilogy!!! I hope you all enjoy, both newcomers and those who have been eagerly anticipating this piece! It is in fact NSFW, appropriate tags below. Read it on AO3 here!

TRIGUN STAMPEDE EPISODE 7 SPOILERS IN FIC BELOW!

Vash/Reader, 6,000+ Words, AFAB Reader but no specific pronouns used, mutual pining, body worship, frottage, vaginal sex, alien biology, praise kink, enthusiastic consent, begging

You couldn't say for certain why the ambience of the peaceful town didn't lull you to sleep the same way the rattling underbelly of the Sand Steamer seemed to, but you had a distinct feeling it was because you weren't right next to Vash.

You'd never admit it aloud, mainly for fear of revealing your painfully obvious affections for your blond companion, but nowadays you always slept better with Vash by your side. And as happy as Vash seemed to have a room to himself and time to catch his breath, a selfish little part of you had hoped he'd be cheap again, crowd the two of you into a single room to save a few double dollars. The last time you truly got to sleep side-by-side with him was a few bumpy hours on the Sand Steamer, before the incident with the Bad Lads and the shootout and the, well, the entire steamer nearly catastrophically crashing to pieces. There wasn't much sleeping on the bus ride into town either, no matter how exhausted the both of you were. 

And yet, when you collapsed face-first into the surprisingly comfy hotel bed, you found yourself agonizingly conscious. Somehow, a simple wall in between you and Vash was enough to keep you from getting a good night's sleep. Just when did you become so dependent? Now three nights have passed, each one spent tossing and turning, unable to get more than a few blissful moments of shuteye. It wasn't like you were scared, or even stressed! Your body had just acclimated to the idea of sleeping curled up next to Vash, and now without him…

"Hey, anybody home in there?"

"...Hmm? Oh! Oh, yeah, I'm listening." You hadn't realized you'd started to doze off at the diner table over your supper until Vash leaned over and snapped his fingers in front of your face. You jolted up, grabbing a wedge of your sandwich and jamming it quickly into your mouth as he gave you a soft and sympathetic smile, his salmon sandwich basically finished and his free hand twiddling a stray french fry back and forth across the plate. Ah, he must have been waiting for you.

"You're a little out of it today. Everything alright?"

You waved him off, taking a swig of water to force down the mouthful of bread and various fillings. "It's fine! Just not sleeping well, it's no big deal."

Your response didn't seem to soothe Vash's worries at all, as his little smile fell into a frown. "That's no good. Is everything alright? You don't feel unsafe or anything, do you?"

"Nonono, nothing like that, really!" His concern really shouldn't have been enough to fluster you, Vash would have been worried for just about anyone who looked as worn-out as you did. But it still hit a soft little spot in you, something eternally sensitive to Vash's care and attention that you had to do your absolute best to stifle basically every moment of every day. "It's just too quiet, you know? I'm not used to having a room to myself anymore, heh. Pretty silly, isn't it?"

Judging by the soft and further  furrowing of Vash's brow, your  placations did nothing to assuage his concern. "Is there anything I can do? To help, I mean."

Stay. Stay with me, always.

Yeah, right. Like you could actually say that out loud. You sunk further into your seat, feeling a bit like an insect under a magnifying glass in the face of his consideration. It felt as if one wrong word or move would suddenly and jarringly expose the affections you held for him that seemed so glaringly obvious at all times, always.

"I dunno. It's not a big deal, anyway. We don't have to worry about it."

He seemed to sense your own discomfort with the subject matter, and leaned gently back in his seat. "I saw there was a tailor in this town! If you want you can come with me tomorrow, maybe get that tear in your cloak patched up?"

You thumbed the rugged fabric edge in your hand, almost not wanting to. Vash had patched it for you last time, and though the job was a touch on the rough side you didn't exactly like the idea of someone undoing his heartfelt, albeit clumsy, stitchwork. But shopping with Vash? That definitely sounded like how you wanted to spend your afternoon.

"Yeah, that'd be nice. Anywhere you wanna stop by?"

"Might pick up some ammo, but not much besides that!"

And you were certain that would be the end of it. Even after thumbing out a few double-dollars to pay for dinner, opening the diner door for you with a cartoonish bow, and chatting idly as the two of you made your way back towards the hotel, Vash didn’t broach the subject again. By the time you’d made it to the door of your room you were certain he’d forgotten about it. But just as you were about to wish him goodnight and slip through the crack of the doorway his hand came to rest upon the door handle, that familiar soft expression of concern sneaking back up across his face.

“If you wanted… I could stay until you fall asleep?" There was a distinct shyness about it, like he was genuinely afraid of what your reaction may be. "Just to see if it would help?" 

You blinked at him once, twice, needing a moment to process the words he was saying before it actually clicked in your mind. Face growing hot, you prayed your expression didn't fully give away your embarrassment as an image wormed itself into your brain, an image of yourself in Vash's arms, his lips resting on the jut of your collarbone peeking from the hem of your shirt, of warm hands on the soft dip of your hips climbing higher, and higher…

Seeming to take your extended silence as rejection, or worse, disgust, Vash began to frantically backpedal, hand flying from the doorknob to tangle in the soft hair at the base of his neck. "You can say no! I just wanted to offer. Maybe that was a little weird, huh? Sorry, you can forget about it.”

But you didn't want to forget. Forgetting meant a return to… To whatever you and Vash were before that first night you woke up and saw him gazing at the stars. Forgetting meant pulling away again, faking a smile, pretending there was nothing there when you so desperately wanted there to be. Forgetting meant not acknowledging that he kept offering his hand to you, and that out of your own foolish anxieties you kept drawing away. 

And yeah, maybe things could still go catastrophically wrong. But wasn't that what you loved about Vash in the first place? How the entire world could fall apart around him and he'd still get up again, offer you a smile and put his best foot forward? 

You loved him. You loved him. And you were fucking sick of pretending you didn't. Your fingertips had closed around the fabric of his sleeve before you could second-guess yourself. 

"Stay with me."

And oh, oh, if the expression that crawled its way up Vash's face wasn't worth any and every possible humiliation, rejection, or vague discomfort. Red bloomed up from his collar, creeping up his neck into his cheeks and the tops of his ears. He blinked twice behind his oversized lenses, gaze flicking from your face to where you'd gripped his sleeve and back again a few times over. A thin, wobbly smile snuck across his lips, making his relief obvious despite his conscious efforts to hide it. A peek of sharp canines glinted from the gap as he shot you a crooked, sheepish grin, despite being nearly as red in the face as his signature coat.

"Y-Yeah!" He winced at the way his own voice cracked, oblivious to just how endearing you found it. "Yeah, heh, no problem! Let me, let me get my… I'll be right back. Five minutes? Give me five minutes, pinkie promise."

He even interlocked his pinkie with your own, a small, familiar laugh sneaking out before he slipped, momentarily, from your grasp. You watched as he stumbled down the hall to his own room, fumbled the door handle once, twice, banging his body into the wooden frame before managing to get it open, never once taking his eyes off you until the door slipped closed. Cute.

You stepped into your own room, clicking on the bedside lamp and flooding it in a warm, yellowed glow. Shedding your day clothes as quickly as possible, you kicked them into a heap in the corner and scrambled into your pajamas, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Without Vash's buzzing, eager energy at your side you had just enough time before he returned to briefly feel incredibly embarrassed at your show of need, face growing hot as you replayed the little scene over and over in your mind. Your hand around his sleeve, his expressions, your choice of words… God, you were so obvious. Had he really not picked up on it at all? But he seemed so eager, as eager as you were at the very least. Maybe he wasn't the only one who had been a little oblivious lately.

True to his word, it couldn't have been more than five minutes before you heard a soft knock on the door to your room. Standing on the other side was Vash, not clad in his signature red jacket but rather his familiar, beige pajamas. The worn out shirt hung loose around the collar with the sleeves draping just long enough to cover half of his hands, the loose elastic of the sweatpants held tight with an old, white drawstring. His hair was floppy and now shower-damp, hanging partially in his face as he gave you that so soft, so sweet little smile.

"You look comfy." He said, voice as soft as his grin.

"I could say the same for you." You responded, cracking a similar smile. Stepping to the side you let him join you in your room, door closing with a soft click as a palpable air of… something simmered between you two. Tension? Nervousness? It felt like a melting pot of just about everything you had or could feel when it came to Vash. He stood awkwardly in the center of the room as you flitted around him towards the bed.

"You should probably get some rest, huh? I'll just grab a seat at…" He gestured vaguely towards one of the two chairs set at the table by the window, words dropping from his lips as he watched you pat the open space in the bed next to you. He blinked again, face flushing pink once more.

"...Only if you want to." You added softly. He visibly swallowed, nodding so gently you could have almost missed it, and set his glasses on the nightstand with a soft clack. Carefully, hesitantly, he pulled back the covers and let himself into the bed beside you, moving like he was afraid at any moment you were going to change your mind and ask him to leave. 

You would never. You wanted him beside you. At all times, always.

He clicked off the lamp, and the two of you were plunged into darkness. A single stream of moonlight filtered between the thin curtains, falling diagonally across the bedroom floor and providing just enough light for you to keep Vash's face in view. When the two of you shared a sleeping bag for the first time the closeness was a necessity, there was nowhere else for you to go in the tiny shared space. But even now, with the width of the bed slim but still far greater than a sleeping bag could provide, you couldn't help but press yourself close to him. As always he was warm, so warm, heat radiating under the thin covers to soothe you, a constant thrum of energy just beneath his skin even when he was relaxed and doe-eyed as he was with you right now, laying on his side mirroring you, unable to look away. 

In this moment you couldn't help but consider that Vash was more alive than you had ever been in your own lifetime, or that you ever would be. He was a walking enigma, incredibly powerful yet so gentle, capable of such inhuman feats but so intimately, painfully fragile. Maybe you'd never fully understand him the way you wanted to, maybe there would always be secrets he couldn't share or stories he wouldn't tell. But you didn't mind, not as long as he was yours and you were his.

"Hi." He murmured, breath hot against your lips, that small, sappy smile never leaving his own.

"Hi." You replied. "Is this… Is this okay?"

"Yes." There was a relief in his voice, a borderline reverence. His hand hovered, briefly, coming to rest on the small of your hip and sending a jolt of need crawling up your spine fast enough to give you a headrush. "Are we… okay?"

"Always."

He let out a low, shuddering breath, hand flexing around your hip. "I haven't… I want… I want…" His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips and back again. He let out another breath, a short, warm huff as he hesitated, brow knit like even now he was afraid of the oncoming rejection, the inevitable hurt.

The two of you really had been completely oblivious, hadn't you?

You closed the gap yourself. Slowly, carefully, for no more than a few moments, you pressed your lips to his. He gasped when you did, a sharp, surprised inhale through his nose before his entire body seemed to melt into your several points of contact: your legs, his hand on your hip, your lips. You watched his eyes slide open again after you pulled away, crease in his brow receding as he blinked at you, almost owlishly.

"You kissed me." He murmured, that air of reverence returning to his voice.

"I did." You said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, and that's because it was.

"You'll… You'll always be in danger. You know that, right?"

"I do."

"We're always going to be moving. You wouldn't rather settle down somewhere nice?"

"Not if you're not there."

He sucked in another shaky breath, corners of his eyes growing glassy and wet. "It won't… It won't be easy. Being with me. It's hard."

"Vash." You cupped his face with your hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I promise you it's not. It's really not."

He positively beamed, knocking his forehead against yours as he burst into quiet giggles. "You're really amazing, you know? You're the most amazing person I've ever met."

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?" Your own laughter joined his, and any hint of apprehension or concern Vash may have still held seemed to melt away in the face of your smile. "Now shush. Kiss me again."

He was clumsy, clearly overeager as he pressed his lips to yours once more. It started as another soft, fluttering thing, then a second, then a third, before you tipped your chin up and opened your mouth into the next kiss, inviting him to do the same. Fingers tangled in his soft hair, you pressed further into him, tasting honey and sunlight as you licked into his open mouth and he moaned against your lips. You didn't even realize he was moving you until you found yourself on your back, Vash's sturdy build boxing you in, knees framing your thighs as his teeth clicked wetly against yours and he groaned again at the feeling of your mouth moving against his. It was a messy, relief-stricken thing, like finding sweet, cool water after a day trekking across the open dunes. His still-flesh hand gripped your hip, fingertips indenting your soft skin, but his prosthetic hand cradled your cheek so gently, with such veneration it could have brought you to tears. There was a wet smack and a sharp gasp when he finally pulled away, like he was coming up for air. A single sticky strand of saliva still connected your lips, and as you swiped it off of his lower lip with a smile he gave you a sheepish grin in return.

"You gotta breathe through your nose, Vash."

"I know, I just…" He watches as you bring your thumb to your mouth, licking off the smear of spit there. He gulps, teeth worrying his lower lip. "...Just got a bit sidetracked, is all."

When he leaned back in a second time his target wasn't your lips, but the gentle slope of your neck. He placed a featherlight kiss upon you, relaxing when he heard your content hum and your fingers carded through the hairs at the base of his neck. Then he sucked a mark into the soft junction between your neck and exposed collarbone, teeth grazing and tongue lathing over the sensitive spot as you writhed beneath Vash's touch. His breath ghosted hotly over your neck, goosebumps prickling out across your skin as heat pooled low and eager in your stomach and you fisted one hand in the front of Vash's night shirt.

"Vash." You whined, and his low groan in response rumbled out against your already sensitive neck. "Vash." You moaned again, louder this time, needy but not completely sure what for. 

"Hmm?" His questioning hum was barely discernible from his soft, pleased groans, only the uptick at the end of the throaty sound cluing you in that Vash had even heard you at all. His lips rested on the curve of your jaw, thumb trailing back and forth across your cheekbone. You fisted the back of his shirt in one hand and tangled the other in his messy hair, whimpering at each barely-there kiss he left as he trailed his way up your jawbone to your ear. "You're so soft. So, so soft."

His lips brushed the shell of your ear and you couldn't help yourself, whining as your hips jerked up against his. His breath stuttered and he jolted back from you to blink with wide, shocked eyes. Immediately a hot flush of shame coursed through your body, searing behind your eyes and cheeks. Was he disappointed? Disgusted? 

"I'm so sorry." If you could shrink back and disappear you would, but it's not like there was anywhere for you to go. Vash's brow furrowed again for a moment before his eyes blew wide once more, immediately taking your face in both hands as gently as he could.

"No, no it's alright! There's nothing wrong you just- just surprised me a little! That's not bad! I just- Aw jeez." He pressed a kiss to your lips, then your nose, then your forehead. "Please don't cry. I promise I'm not upset or anything, so don't cry, okay?"

"I'm not gonna cry! I'm just… embarrassed." You mumbled between squished cheeks, eyes trained down and away from Vash's sympathetic smile.

“There’s no need to be.”

“I know that.” You whined, covering your eyes with the palm of your hand. You felt another fluttering kiss on the tip of your nose, and peeked through your fingers to find Vash beaming at you. There was a cautious apprehension behind his eyes now though, a similar fear to what you knew you were currently feeling.

“There is, uh, something I have to tell you though.” He fidgeted a little, not quite meeting your gaze. “It’s just that my body is kinda… Well, it’s a little… different? And I don’t want to freak you out or anything. But if you do freak out… That’s probably completely valid, I’ll be honest.”

“Vash, I’ve seen your scars before. You know I don’t mind, right?”

He winced a little, lower lip jutting out in a bit of a pout. “...That’s not what I’m talking about. It’s a… It’s a PLANT thing.”

“Oh.” As Vash sat back on your thighs you propped yourself up a bit to meet his gaze. “Well, that’s alright too. I won’t judge you for anything you can’t control, Vash.”

“Yeah but it’s… It’s pretty out there.”

“Try me.”

Vash opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it, then shut it again, blush crawling its way up his cheeks with his fisted hands tucked into his lap. He twiddled his thumbs, worried his lower lip with his sharp teeth, and still failed to meet your gaze. 

"It's, uh, it's just that it's a bit… different. My, uh… y'know?"

You'd been pretty oblivious to Vash's affections for you, but that didn't mean you were stupid. The way his gaze flickered down and then back up again when he spoke? The way one hand fisted the fabric of his pants and the other remained firmly tucked between his thighs, not quite against his crotch but definitely blocking it from your view? You could at least put those puzzle pieces together.

You rubbed the top of his knee with your hand, and tension seemed to melt from his stance with your touch alone.

"Would you… be willing to show me?"

He grimaced a bit, continuing to nibble on his lower lip until you ran the thumb of your other hand across it, trying to soothe the reddened skin. "I just don't want to freak you out or anything, is all."

"You really think at this point there's anything you could do or say to freak me out?" You bumped your forehead against his, the same way he had for you just moments ago. "Hate to break it to you, but you're kind of stuck with me now." He barked out a laugh, saying nothing but finally meeting your gaze, so you continued. "I don't want you to feel like you have to make yourself uncomfortable for my sake, but I also don't want you to run away from me. You trust me, right?"

"I do."

"Then trust that I won't run away either. I promise. I just want you, Vash, that's all."

He sucked in a shuddering breath, nodding softly against you. "Yeah. I want you too." Looking up at you through his eyelashes, he flashed you a cartoonish pout. "Maybe if someone gave me another kiss I'd get a bit braver?"

"You dork." You giggled, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him breathless once more. He leaned into you again, mouth open and eager, finally letting his hands trail back up your body where you'd wanted them. "Wait, switch with me."

"Hrmm? Whoa!" You wrestled Vash to the side, rolling the two of you over until you were now the one straddling his hips, not the other way around. He blinked up at you, mouth agape and lips slightly slick as he took in your form in the pale moonlight. "Oh. I could get used to a view like this."

With a single, sudden twist upwards of your arms, you pulled off your shirt and let it fall somewhere off the side of the bed, baring your chest to him fully. Vash gasped, hands squeezing against your soft sides as his gaze raked over your form.

"This one too…" He murmured. Trailing your fingertips down the length of his chest, you fiddled with the hem at the bottom of his shirt, lifting a bit but not quite tugging.

"This okay?" 

He nodded, hands joining yours to help wrestle his shirt off over his head. Immediately you were upon him, a featherlight trail of lips and fingertips upon every inch of scarred skin, tracing the outline of the metal reinforcement over his left pectoral as gently as you could. Your thighs squeezed around his hips, the front of his loose pajama pants tented and straining where they met your clothed core. He was big, that much was obvious. Another roll of your hips, not accidental this time but intentional, left Vash gasping out a sharp, labored wheeze as his hips finally jerked forward against yours.

"Sensitive." He panted, shuddering helplessly as his hips stuttered forward again. "C-Careful, it's sensitive."

That sensitive, with several layers of clothes still between you? Now you were getting really curious. You rolled your hips again, friction sparking pleasure up your spine but it was nothing compared to the way Vash positively mewled, back arching and hips rutting erratically to meet you. A dark, damp spot was beginning to seep through the fabric at the tip. You cupped his clothed length with your hand as gently as you could. 'Sensitive.' You reminded yourself. But a bolt of surprise rocketed through you instead when you could swear that, just for a moment, you felt his cock squirm against you, pressing up into your hand without the aid of his hips.

"Please don't freak out." Vash wheezed. You squeezed his length again, pressing in firmly, but it was impossible to tell what writhing was from Vash squirming around and what came from, well, Vash squirming around.

"I'm not freaking out." You reassured him, and in all honesty you weren't. Were you surprised? Of course! But there wasn't really anything about Vash that could truly "freak you out" anymore, even this. You stroked his length through the fabric once more and watched that wet spot at the tip bloom farther and darker, Vash shivering like he'd just touched a live wire. "Is it okay to take these off? Only if you're okay with it."

You hooked a finger into the waistband and waited, Vash's gaze laser focused in on your hand. Slowly, carefully, he nodded. Fingers looped in the elastic of both his pajama pants and his boxers, you gave him plenty of time to change his mind as you tugged them down, Vash letting out a quiet, hitched gasp when his cock sprung free.

Well, Vash certainly wasn't lying about it being different. Arching upwards from between his legs was what you could only describe as a tentacle, thick base sprouting from slick folds at the apex of his thighs. It curled upwards towards his belly and tapered slim at the tip, beading semi-translucent liquid that dribbled down the length of the shaft. It wasn't the same shade as his skin; It was closer to a bluish-white, marked up the length with abstract patterning similar to the glyphs on the outside bulb of a PLANT. Vaguely you wondered if it was always out like this, or if it settled itself snugly within those wet, petal pink folds when he wasn't aroused. You had to think it did, if Vash was as sensitive as he made himself out to be, otherwise he'd be on the verge of cumming with each step he took.

On second thought, that wasn't a bad image either.

Vash gulped, squirming a bit under your gaze, knees pulling together but unable to close fully with your body in the way. "So, uh, you're not screaming. I'm gonna go ahead and take that as a good sign!" You smoothed a hand up the length of his thigh, pausing right at the junction of his hip, and his cock twitched towards you subconsciously like a writhing tendril. He seemed to shrink in on himself a little at this, shoulders pulling up towards his ears as he anticipated your reaction.

"Vash, God Vash… Do you even have any idea how pretty you are?" He had to know, you couldn't let him wake up tomorrow and just bumble around for the rest of his life not knowing. He was ethereal, scarred skin painted in hues of blush pink, cheeks burning, eyes soft and wide… He had to be a PLANT, because it just wasn't feasible for a normal human to be this achingly beautiful. "You're so, so pretty Vash."

"Oh." His breathing shuddered, hips twitching when you squeezed down on the fat of his thigh. 

"Sensitive, right? I'll be careful, just tell me if it's too much, okay?" Fingertips trailing off the junction of his hip, you finally, finally, closed your palm around his length. It was hot, slick to the touch everywhere you put your fingers on it, and you could swear for just a moment that those glyphs pulsed with a faint blue-white light as Vash whimpered. "This is okay?"

He nodded furiously, hands fisting the bed sheets as he all but gasped for air. "Good! It's good. I haven't, it's been a long time since I- ohhh please…" Another bead of thick, slippery pre-cum drooled from the tip, slicking your palm as you moved it so slowly up the length of his cock, squeezing slightly on the downstroke and making Vash's back go concave against the mattress as he moaned. Heat burned low in your core, and you wrestled a hand down the front of your pajama pants to stroke your own slick folds directly. You couldn't help but picture how the silky writhing of his cock would feel inside of your pussy, slick oozing around where your bodies would meet as it pushed upwards into your aching core…

"Me too…" Vash groaned, hand grabbing for the waistband of your pants as he struggled to sit up. "Lemme touch you too, please." You stumbled off the bed for only a moment, but it was still far enough to make Vash whine at your lack of contact. Slick from Vash's cock smeared across the fabric as you wrestled both the pants and your underwear onto the floor before crawling back into Vash's lap like you couldn't stand to be away from him for another moment. His hands found your hips the moment you were within reach, rubbing soothingly up and down the outer curve of your thighs as he stared down at you, eyes swirling with arousal and adoration.

"Beautiful." He murmured, pressing his lips once more against the curve of your neck. "Tell me what you like, tell me how I can make you feel good."

Hand around his wrist, you guided him to the dark patch of hair between your legs. His fingers crooked carefully, curiously, two fingertips swiping upwards through your wet folds and catching over your clit. He shuddered when you moaned, the very act of giving you pleasure seeming to do him the same. Finding your clit again, he rubbed over it with his fingertips in slow, almost soothing circles.

"That's good." You cooed, taking him in hand again. "You're so good for me, Vash, such a good boy."

"Yes!" He moaned, his metal hand coming around to grip your ass, urging you to roll your hips against his hand. "Yes, 'm good, I'm so good." Sharp teeth dragged over your collarbone, just hard enough to send a prickle of pleasure up your spine. As you began to rock your hips he pressed his hand further in, letting you grind your clit against the heel of his palm as he slid his middle finger into your entrance. The intrusion was slick, effortless, and you couldn't help but moan as he curled his finger against your soft, hot walls. You pumped him again, another thick glob of pre-cum dribbling over your fingers as his cock wriggled in your grasp. "You feel so good inside." He continued to babble, drooling against your neck as he whined and gasped. "Wanna… wanna feel you, so bad…"

"Yeah?" You purred, shifting your hips further up his. With how keyed up you were you doubted you'd even be able to last more than a thrust or two with Vash inside you, but still you wanted. Nudging his hand out from between your legs, you shifted your hips down to trap his cock in between your pussy and his tense stomach as you rolled your hips and let it slip messily back and forth between your folds. Vash positively howled, head tossed back against the pillows as his other hand came around to grip your ass as well.

"Yes! Yes, please, oh please wanna make you feel so good." Shifting your hips to align his tip with your entrance, he peppered wet kisses across your neck and up your cheek as you hovered over him. You tipped your head to catch his lips with your own, moaning into his eager mouth as you finally let him nudge into you. Euphoria crackled up your spine with each small movement, an almost unbearable heat between the two of you as he shifted you so gently down his slick cock. It was almost effortless the way he slid inside, your combined wetness leaving no room for pain around the incredible pleasure as he stuffed you full, coiling and massaging your walls as you finally found your thighs resting on his and your lungs gasping for air.

"Oh, oh Vash." He shuddered at the sound of your name leaving his lips, hips snapping forward and once again driving the breath out of you as white-hot pleasure exploded behind your eyelids.

"Sorry, 'm sorry, not gonna last. Gotta make you cum, fuck, please cum for me…" His chest pressed to yours and his face pressed into the curve of your jaw, his hips thrust forward again, and again, wriggling one hand in between your sweaty bodies to thumb eagerly at your clit, rolling the swollen bud beneath the pad. You wailed, pleasure prickling tears at the corners of your eyes as your stomach coiled tighter, pushed you higher. 

A sharp blossom of pain erupted from the crook of your neck, making you cry out as Vash growled against your skin. His sharp canines dug into your sensitive flesh, bruising the soft skin there and blooming pain and pleasure into a swirling cocktail of overwhelming sensation. You dug your nails hard into the flesh of his back, shivering helplessly in his grip. The desert had been cruel, and crueler still had been its people, but you would make sure that any marks you left on Vash would be ones he wasn't ashamed to show, to feel.

"Love you." You sobbed, bleary-eyed and desperate for release, babbling similar nonsense to Vash as you tumbled into pleasure-drunk ecstasy. "Love you, I love you I love you Vash!"

He wailed, teeth pressing further into your soft neck, hips stuttering forward once, twice more before he finally shuddered, pouring his load into your awaiting core. Molten heat flooded your pussy, sending you tumbling into your own release. Rapture flooded your senses, writhing in Vash's hold as waves of pleasure overtook you, walls fluttering helplessly around his length again, and again, and again. He was spilling so much into you, you could feel it pooling out around where the two of you were joined, slicking his thighs and inevitably staining the sheets below. Even as your own orgasm began to subside, little aftershocks of pleasure sparking in your mind, he was still spilling more into your fluttering heat.

"I love you." He sobbed into your neck, drool and tears dampening your skin as he clutched you tight, so tight. "Love you so much." His tongue lathed over the bruise his teeth had left behind, a silent apology for daring to leave a single mark upon your body. With a final, shaky thrust of his hips, he seemed to spill the last of his cum into you, muscles relaxing with a stifled groan. You curled a hand in the hair at the base of his neck, pressing a kiss to his temple as he nuzzled into you. He whined as his cock seemed to slip from your heat of its own accord, another gush of hot slick spilling from your entrance as it went limp.

"I've got you, baby." You cooed. Slumping gently into his lap and ignoring the sticky-slick feeling cooling between your bodies, you let yourself melt fully into Vash's gentle hold.

"...They're probably gonna charge you extra for cleaning, you know?" He quipped, and you could feel him grimace a little at the tacky feeling between your thighs. "A lot extra."

"I'll take my chances." 

He guffawed against your neck, dragging you down to the mattress with him in a sticky heap. You curled into the curve of his body, head resting on his shoulder. His arm immediately rose to curl around you, pulling you tight against his side.

"Mmh, we should probably clean up." You mumbled, eyelids already beginning to flutter.

"...Five minutes?" He rumbled, pressing his nose into the crook of your jaw.

"Mmm… Five minutes."

#vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #trigun x reader #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #trigun #my writing #long post #alien biology vash

[oliversrarebooks]

chemical imbalance

You know that trope where horrifying things are treated as mundane? You know that trope where the whumper is talking around the whumpee like they aren't even a person? This is that story.

TW: alien abduction, alien parasites, body horror, brainwashing, mind control, restraints, tentacles, forced drugging, forced medical examination, complete dehumanization, condescension, defiant whumpee

The receptionist was young and lovely, their skin a fetching shade of blue-purple, and their human host was healthy and smiling, with the dazed, glassy expression that indicated it was well taken care of.

5X2 couldn't help the wave of intense jealousy. Their own human host's gut churned in panic. It was lucid enough to know it was being brought to the doctor, and didn't like the idea at all, stress hormones flooding its fragile body. 5X2 pumped out chemicals to soothe it, beamed calming imagery into its mind, even tried to reassure it through its psychic connection that it was just the doctor, the doctor was going to help it, and hopefully they'd both be feeling better. 

All of their efforts only put the smallest dent in the distress their host was feeling. Well, no wonder -- 5X2 couldn't even remember the last time their poor host had properly slept. They took a deep breath, reassuring their human host that they weren't angry at it, not at all. They loved their host and knew it wasn't its fault it was struggling so hard. The host thrashed mentally, adrenaline rising, coming dangerously close to waking fully as 5X2 wrangled its consciousness back under control.

"I'm 5X2-YLL, and I'm here for my 3100 appointment," they said to the receptionist, hoping they couldn't tell how much trouble they were having with their human.

Sympathetic waves rolled from the receptionist as they looked 5X2 up and down. Oh, they could tell. 5X2 knew their human looked an absolute mess, with a wild expression, deep bags under its eyes, and poor hygiene. The past few days, 5X2 had even taken sick leave from work, embarrassed to go out in public in this state -- that's how they knew they had no choice but to make a doctor's appointment.

"Right this way, 5X2. The doctor is running a bit behind, but if you'll just go into this examination room, they'll be with you shortly. Please have your host change into this medical gown... if you're able."

"Yes, thank you." The door clicked shut behind the receptionist as 5X2 looked around the small examination room. It looked like any other doctor's office, but they couldn't help but notice that the examination chair had formidable looking restraints on it. They supposed it was to be expected for a doctor who specialized in disorders of host control.

The far too lucid human noticed too, and all of its muscles tensed as it signaled to every corner of its body to escape, escape, escape. 5X2 had no choice but to inject yet another low dose of paralytics into its bloodstream, just to make sure it couldn't actually act on that misguided impulse. 

The paralytics kept the human from moving, but also meant that 5X2 had to do much more manual work puppeting its body, and they were so, so tired. With their host's clumsy fingers, they pulled off their shoes, shirt, and pants, and slipped on the flimsy medical gown. The human was expressing distress at having their physical form exposed, of all the ridiculous things. Sometimes 5X2 wished that its constant fears at least made sense. Instead, it was scared of the doctor, of being nude, even of the everyday, ordinary sight of other human hosts with their passengers atop their heads, tentacles nestled neatly in their ears and euphoric expressions on their faces.

I'm trying to help you, 5X2 conveyed through their psychic connection for what seemed like the billionth time this cycle.

All they got back in return was terror, anger, and the intense desire to go home.

We can go home after the appointment, 5X2 reminded it, beaming soothing images of their quarters, the cheery artificial sun lamp, their collection of exotic plants, their vibrant fiber arts, the beautiful view of stars from out of their window. Their host had always been calmed by these things in better days, but it wasn't working now. It didn't make any sense to 5X2 -- if it wanted to go home so badly, why didn't it respond to sensory landscapes of home? 

Surely it wasn't lucid enough to desire its human habitat...? The human habitat was a death world compared to the safety and comfort of the space station.

There was a knock on the door, and the doctor walked into the room. They carried an air of authority about them, perched on top of a petite human who moved with unusual grace. "Hello, 5X2," said the doctor in a kindly voice. "I understand you're here because you're having difficulty in controlling your human host. Is that correct?"

5X2 looked anywhere but at the doctor, pretending to be very interested in a cabinet full of jars of multi-colored fluids. "Ah, yes, that's correct."

"There's no need to be ashamed. There's a lot of unfair stigma attached to host difficulties, but I assure you that it's a far more common problem than you think. There's no judgement here. Please, tell me about what you've been experiencing."

"My human host is almost completely lucid for most of the cycle," 5X2 confessed, trying to suppress their waves of shame and sadness. "I can't keep it fully entranced, I can't soothe it, I can't even put it to sleep. It's constantly scared and stressed and won't stop filling its body with adrenaline."

"I see."

"I have to spend so much of my energy just keeping it from fully waking, and it's affecting my work and my social life. I can't even relax on my days off, because every time I let my guard down, it decides it's a good time to fight me," they said. "I love my host, but I'm at my limit. I can't go on like this. It's sick all of the time from stress hormones, and I'm constantly fatigued. If there's anything you can do, anything at all that would help..."

The doctor's host nodded sagely. "There's a number of common conditions that could cause symptoms like you're describing. If you don't mind, I'd like to take a blood sample from your host so we can run some lab tests while conducting the examination."

"Of course," said 5X2, holding out their host's arm while the doctor prepared a needle for the blood draw. As the needle grazed the host's skin, the human managed to wrest enough control to jerk backwards, irrationally panicked at the sight of the needle. "I'm so sorry. It's been especially determined to fight me on everything today."

"It's nothing to worry about. I see it all the time. Hosts can be smarter than we give them credit for -- it's probably realized that the doctor's appointment is for putting it back under."

"But why does it fight that? That doesn't make any sense -- doesn't it want to be calm and happy? Why would it want to be stressed and miserable?"

"Oh, it's not that it wants to be stressed and miserable. It's just the natural state of hosts that aren't fully entranced. It's not its fault that it's acting this way -- it just doesn't know any better," said the doctor. "To make the examination easier, it might be best if we strapped your host into the chair, if you don't mind the restricted mobility."

"Not at all. It'd be a relief to not have to suppress their impulses," said 5X2. Their human predictably howled with displeasure, scraping and clawing for any bit of control over its limbs as 5X2 fought its body into the chair and tried to hold it still as the doctor restrained it. It was even managing to resist the paralytics, utterly desperate to escape.

If this doctor couldn't help them, 5X2 was going to lose their mind.

With the host's body securely restrained, the doctor was finally able to take a blood sample. The human's consciousness was thrashing like a wounded dust-moth, but with their body secured, 5X2 could devote their whole efforts to dampening their mental distress.

"If you'll excuse me a moment, I'll bring this to the lab. We should get results in around ten deciclicks."

5X2 tried to relax in the chair as the doctor left the room, but of course their exhausting host was having none of it.

Why are you fighting so hard? they asked.

The answer was always the same.

I want to go home. I don't want to be a host. I don't want to be hypnotized again. Please let me go.

Incoherent nonsense. The poor, confused thing.

"All right, that's taken care of," said the doctor, entering the room and perching on a nearby stool. "Now, may I ask you some questions? How long have you been noticing these symptoms?"

"About a quarter star turn."

"I see. And have you previously sought help for them?"

"...No. I really should have, before it got to this point, but I was ashamed. I thought it was temporary, and that I could fix my host myself."

"At least you're here now. You're doing the right thing," said the doctor encouragingly. "How often does the human sleep?"

"Only once every few cycles, and for only a few clicks at a time. I can't keep it to anything resembling a schedule, either, and it doesn't seem to respond to sedation at all. The only mercy is that it often sleeps while I'm at work."

"And how do you normally soothe it?"

"I think I've tried just about everything. Before this all started, it was so easy -- a quick wash of sedative and neurotoxin, some soothing hallucinations, a little gentle urging of slumber, and it was out in a milliclick. It would normally sleep for half the cycle. But now, nothing works. Not toxins, not hallucinations, not psychic compulsions. It doesn't matter what I do, I simply cannot put it to sleep.  The only reason it sleeps at all is because its own consciousness turns itself off when it becomes too exhausted."

"You say it was easily controlled before?"

"Very much so. It took very well to deep trance, especially if I was listening to music. It enjoyed art and scenery and was calm as can be. I never imagined it was capable of so much anxiety."

"How close is its consciousness to the surface?"

"...Very. It's listening to everything we're saying. It might even be able to understand us. Well, as much as any host is capable of understanding."

"Has it ever become fully awake?"

5X2 hesitated.

"Please, don't be ashamed. I'm here to help you, but I need you to answer my questions honestly. Has it ever become fully awake?"

"...A handful of times," 5X2 admitted. "It didn't get very far before I was able to paralyze it and return it to my control, but... it was so terrifying, to feel my host wake, to take full control from me and do what it wished with its body."

"That's a very traumatic experience," said the doctor sympathetically. "Once we have the main issue sorted out, I recommend a visit to memory alteration to remove the unnecessary fear generation."

"Won't they judge me for losing control of my human?"

The doctor seemed lightly amused. "5X2, it's the memory alteration department. Don't you think they've seen far worse than that?"

"You're right, just a silly insecurity on my part," said 5X2, mirroring the doctor's amusement.

"Let me perform some quick examinations on your host's body while we have you here," said the doctor. "Your host is partially lucid and fearful right now, correct?"

"Extremely so," said 5X2, feeling the horrible squirm in their host's gut at the mention of the doctor examining it.

The doctor waved a small light in front of the human's eyes. "Pupils are very dilated. It's focusing clearly on my light, indicating a high degree of responsiveness. Dark circles indicate a dangerous lack of sleep, and the skin seems unusually flaky and dry. This all matches the symptoms you've described."

They moved around to 5X2's side, using the light to peer into its host's ear. "Everything looks healthy and normal here," they said, giving a slight tug to 5X2's left connector tentacle. "Connection seems firm. I assume it's enmeshed with the correct portions of the brain? You have at least six tendrils on each side of the frontal lobe, three in the parietal, and two in the occipital?"

"Of course, doctor."

"I know it sounds obvious, but I have to ask. Believe it or not, I've had more than one patient that neglected to enmesh the frontal lobe entirely. You can imagine what kind of a state their poor host was in."

"I'm amazed that anyone in this age is so ignorant. That sounds like torture for them."

"You're not wrong," said the doctor, clicking off their light. "From the outside, there doesn't seem to be any issues, but if we can't resolve the problem, we may need to do some scans to check that all of your tendrils are properly connected. It's uncommon, but there are certain disorders that prevent proper cohesion of tendril to host brain."

"I'll subject myself to any tests if it will help."

"I know how intensely uncomfortable it must be to have your host so wakeful, for both you and it," said the doctor. "I'm certain we can help you. It's extremely rare for this sort of problem to be beyond the reach of modern medicine."

A knock at the door, and the receptionist entered the room. "I have the results from the lab for you," they said, slipping out again quickly.

The doctor's host took the readout and looked it over, as 5X2 waited in anticipation and 5X2's host trembled in terror. Finally, there was a wave of satisfaction from the doctor. "I have good news for you, 5X2. The lab results may have given us an important clue to your problem."

"Truly? What is it?"

"You see here..." The doctor placed the readout in front of 5X2. It was full of miniature graphs and jargon that they didn't have a hope of understanding. "Most of the toxin levels in the human's blood were highly elevated -- no doubt due to your efforts to keep it under control -- but one in particular was abnormally low, almost undetectable."

"And that is?"

"In basic terms, it's a powerful hypnotic, the primary toxin used to keep the human mind asleep and docile. Without this important chemical, your host's mind is far more alert than it should ever be. That makes it less receptive to all of your efforts to soothe it, allows stress and fear hormones to build up in its delicate brain, and causes it to resist being put to sleep."

"And that's what's missing?" said 5X2, feeling waves of relief at having an answer.

"It would seem so. The absence of this hypnotic would make it next to impossible to keep a healthy human under trance. It's no wonder your efforts to sedate and entrance your host were fruitless. I'm honestly impressed you were able to walk into my office."

"Is there a cure?"

"There are a few different conditions that can cause this. To start with, I'm going to give you a prescription for a course of medication that should help promote the natural release of this chemical from your toxin glands. It has a few minor potential side effects, which the informational packet will describe."

"No side effects can possibly be worse than what I'm going through now. How long will that take to have an effect?"

"It should be at full strength in eight to ten cycles. We can see how you're responding, then, and I can advise you on a further course of treatment."

5X2 steadied themself. Eight to ten cycles. They could endure eight to ten more cycles.

"But in the meantime, we can simply inject your host with a big, healthy dose of the chemical cocktail it's been missing."

5X2's elation was almost drowned out by its host's panic and despair. "You can do that? You can do that right now?"

"Certainly," said the doctor, pulling a jar of translucent blue liquid from a shelf. "Let me prepare the injection. It's all natural and safe for both of you. I'm sure you're both eager to get some reprieve from fighting each other."

"And I'll be able to put my host to sleep? To keep it under trance?"

"With this extra strength, time release formula, it should be well out of it for the next few cycles, exceedingly simple to control. You can both finally get the rest you need."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, you don't know how much of a relief that is."

No! No, no, no! the human was screaming through their connection. Don't let them inject me with that! Let me go! I want to go home! I need to wake up -- I need to --

"I need to wake up!" 

5X2 felt their consciousness suddenly cut off from their host's body as the human woke. It pulled at the restraints, trying to get its hand free.

"Please let me go! Don't do this!" the human yelled, as the doctor looked on with curiosity.

"Oh, you're awake? Now, now, we're only trying to help you," said the doctor. "Aren't you tired of fighting? Aren't you scared and hurting?"

"I'm scared and hurting because of what you're doing to me! This isn't right! Humans aren't meant to live like this -- you've taken my entire life from me!" Tears streamed down its face. "You're a doctor -- if you have any compassion at all, please listen to me! We don't want to be hypnotized and turned into puppets. We don't want to spend our whole lives sleeping and hallucinating and floating along in a mindless trance. We want to be free!"

The doctor patted its head. "I know this must all seem so scary to you, but it's only because of a chemical imbalance. That's why your passenger brought you here to the doctor, to help you. Your passenger loves you very much and only wants the best for you. Do you understand?"

"No, I don't want this. This is wrong -- please listen!"

"You're going to feel so much better in just a few minutes. I promise. Just trust me," said the doctor, their host easily pinning down 5X2's host's restrained arm and administering the injection. 

"No, please!" 5X2's host struggled uselessly against the tight restraints, its panic reaching a fever pitch, as 5X2 sat in their own mind and watched. "Please! Please listen! Let me go! Let me... go..."

The human host's body relaxed, sagging against the restraints as its control over itself suddenly diminished. 5X2 could feel a lovely sense of peace wash over their host, a sensation they hadn't felt in a quarter star turn. 

5X2, eager to take back its host, sent deep, hypnotic compulsions to fog its host's mind, to sink it into a pleasant daze, to pull it back under their control, and they were delighted when the host responded swiftly and easily. All of that fight, that fear, that anger began to evaporate like mist as 5X2 gently soothed its host into a trance.

You want to be a good host, 5X2 coaxed. You want to stop resisting. You want to weaken your feeble mental defenses and let me in.

I want to... Their host's thoughts were faltering and slow, easy to manipulate, just as they should be. I want to be a good host... want to let you in... want to drop my defenses... stop resisting...

Yes, that's right. Lower those defenses. You're safe, completely safe. You can relax now.

There was only a slight hesitation before the response. Safe... relax...

 5X2 felt the human's resistance melt away, leaving its mind like soft clay in their grasp.

Finally.

5X2 rewarded their host's compliance with a pleasant vision of the ship's recreation district, filled with laughter and games and live music, one that their host used to be fond of before it became impossibly defiant. Their host latched onto the familiar, mollifying hallucination right away, like a young one with its comfort-toy.

Fun... pretty...

Yes, it is fun and pretty, said 5X2. You deserve it, because you're being very good right now. Aren't you glad I took you to the doctor?

Feels... hazy...

And isn't that good?

Mmhmm... good... so good... thank you...

"How is it feeling now?" asked the doctor. "Any better?"

"Oh, yes, that was absolutely brilliant," said 5X2. "It's completely docile and enjoying its favorite hallucination right now. I can't thank you enough."

"Excellent. I'm just glad that worked. I'll make an appointment for you ten cycles from now, and give you the prescriptions for the medication I recommend, along with a course of injectables to keep your host nice and compliant. It shouldn't give you any more trouble."

"That sounds perfect."

"I recommend putting your host to sleep for the next cycle. It must be so fatigued after all of that pointless struggle, and a prolonged period of rest will help it to reacclimate to your control."

"I don't think I need to worry about the last part," said 5X2 gleefully. "It seems so relieved to be back under. But I agree that it needs sleep. Maybe I can get some sleep too."

5X2's host was already flooded with the injected sedative, so they sent a simple but strong compulsion to lull it asleep. Its exhausted mind responded right away, filling it with a deep, irresistible drowsiness, its remaining thoughts dulling and fading as it drifted away peacefully. The cheerful hallucination of the recreational zone would give it pleasant dreams. 5X2 couldn't remember the last time their host had been so quiet, not a hint of stress or nightmares.

It was so charming to feel their delightful host curling up comfortably in its own mind and going to sleep. It reminded 5X2 of how much they loved their host, before everything had gone wrong.

"It worked," said 5X2 in awe.

"Asleep already? I thought so. It was so worn out."

"Thank you again, doctor, for all of your help. My host wanted to thank you, too, before it fell asleep. I can tell that it already feels so much happier."

"It's my pleasure." The doctor released 5X2's host from the chair. 

5X2 stood up, shedding the medical gown and putting the host's clothes back on its body. Control was simple and seamless now, the host's body moving exactly in accordance with 5X2's wishes. They could hardly believe what a difference a little chemical persuasion made. With their newfound freedom, a part of them wanted to go out and indulge in all of the fine pleasures they had missed out on for so long -- but really, they knew it would be far more prudent to go home and sleep.

They'd do that after they picked up those prescriptions, of course. They weren't going to let a simple chemical imbalance ruin their life any more.

Masterlist

It's always the weirdest things you need to get out of your system, right? I don't know where this came from, but I'm tempted to write more about this alien parasite society. Like how they acquire humans, and how other pairs are doing...

What would you do if you had a passenger of your own?

#whump #whump writing #alien #alien abduction #alien parasite #alien whump #defiant whumpee #brainwashing #hypnosis #drugging #medical whump #clinical whump #pet whump #kind of #dehumanization

[leclsrc]

sweet pea ✴︎ cl16

genre: friends to lovers, dad charles/pregnancy au, fluff!, humor, super slight angst

word count: 4.6k

“I thought the puking was food poisoning,” he says. “Jesus, you know how many takeout places I’ve avoided lately?” “Well, it’s not Panda Express. It’s your alien sperm.”

Or: you finally reap what you sow after fooling around with your best friend. The reaping in question is a kid.

notes... some nsfw allusions, nothing too bad. if pregnancy isnt ur thing this is all about it so.

auds here... i hated this for a long time so i thought id never post it hahahah but i will now bec i just redid some scenes and its okay in my eyes... also this is a bit overdue. i hope u like it everyone! :) title from this

It’s an hour before the race and you’re absent from your usual spot greeting friends and guests along the paddock. Instead, you’re leaned against the wall of the tiny motorhome bathroom, silently digging your toes into your sandals. Charles knocks twice before trying to open the door and succeeding. He beams when he sees you, goes, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

He offers a hand, but you let your eyes shut, refusing to take it. You fail to even make eye contact, holding up the plastic stick that’d been in your clammy grip for about twenty minutes. It’s an omen, a portent, a cursed thing, casting your best friend into silence.

It’s cold and sterile in the bathroom—a stark contrast to where other families might find out they’re pregnant for the first time. You imagine a lemon yellow room bathed in noon sunlight and a happy balding doctor going “It’s positive, mama!” You picture a white family SUV in the parking lot, a happy blonde couple jumping into each other’s arms with unadulterated happiness.

Instead, you get: “Do you have COVI—oh.”

“Yeah.” You say, pursing your lips. You swallow. “Oh.”

“I thought the puking was food poisoning,” he says. “Jesus, you know how many takeout places I’ve avoided lately?”

“Well, it’s not Panda Express. It’s your alien sperm,” you counter, lifting yourself from the wall and bumping past Charles on your way out and into his room. He follows, brows knitted together, muttering something French under his breath. 

“By that logic, that’d mean you’re an alien now, too. See, your kinks have finally met their match.”

You turn, effectively stopping him in his tracks. He almost collides with you, his eyes trained determinedly on the positive pregnancy test in his hand. You cross your arms and narrow your eyes, annoyed. “Seriously. Jokes? Right now?”

“I mean—”

“Whatever,” you say, waving him off. “Just go and drive. We can talk about this later.”

“I’ll dedicate the race to the little alien.” He giggles, mimicking a champagne spray, waving the invisible bottle back and forth toward your still-not-showing stomach. His accent switches to a measly English one when he goes, “Oh my Gawd! And there goes the alien Leclerc! Wins in first! From pole!”

“Get out. Or so help me God this baby is growing up without you.”

He ends up winning. (“Should I dedicate every race to the ali—” “Stop calling it that.”)

—

This is nothing but a final culmination of your very layered relationship with Charles. For years, you two had comfortably gone by the “best friends” label, with a hidden “with benefits” clause. You’d grown up together, separated only when you went to university in New York. Your re-arrival in Monaco, coupled with the both of you having grown older and more independent, marked the start of the sex.

It works like clockwork. To relieve stress, to celebrate, to cure boredom. At some point, both of you just inwardly admitted there was a certain weakness to it. A glass of wine, a stick of tobacco, and you’d give in to the temptation easily. Then, in the morning—sometimes in Monaco, other times in foreign countries where your body feels like it’s still three a.m.—you come to a mutual agreement to never do it again.

But you always do, laughing in between kisses, mumbling whispered nothings between the sheets (or in the bathtub, or against the wall, or—that one time—on the balcony.) And now there’s proof of it. Well, barely any yet, you realize, staring at yourself in the mirror of Charles’ hotel room. You turn and flop yourself onto the bed, but face-up. You inch yourself toward the headboard and lean against it in a half-seated position.

“I can’t believe I’m…” You sigh. Finally, the jokes fizzle. This is the real talk.

Charles burrows himself next to you, shirtless and in a stupid pair of boxers with red hearts all over them. You’d gotten them as a Valentine’s Day gag two years ago, but now you’re thinking of the future, of telling this kid their dad has a pair of heart-decorated boxers. Momentarily, and temptingly so, you weigh the options of telling Charles you were joking and running away before sunup.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks. He’d learned the phrase from some obscure American rom-com, if you recall correctly. He uses it constantly, and for many years, improperly.

“I’ll give you them for free,” you say, breathless with worry. “We’re having a kid.”

A hand places itself on your knee. You almost jerk away, but you relax. “What do you want to do?”

“With?” You ask, emptily. There’s so much to do. “The baby?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, but also us.”

“We’re not dating,” you say, a bit sharper than intended. 

“We could.” He pauses. “For its sake.” He pokes your abdomen.

“I don’t—” You inhale, trying to reorganize all your thoughts. “I don’t want people thinking we’re suddenly dating and engaged and happy just because I’m about to pop a Charles Jr. out. I mean, what are you going to do with your racing? With a kid on the way, how’s travel going to work? My job? My masters?” 

“I think… I think you and I are lucky enough,” he says slowly, “to be able to weigh all these options without losing too much time or resources. I will support you no matter what, and you know that. And really, who cares if people think we ‘date’ because of the baby? You and I have been ‘dating’ since we were eleven.” 

You don’t realize you’re crying until your laugh is mixed with a sob. You don’t know if you’re sad, pissed, overwhelmed, loved—or all four. “Okay? So… let’s both think about it. More you than me. And tomorrow, we can weigh this all over again. Let’s sleep on it. Remember? La nuit—”

“—porte conseil,” you finish tearily. “Okay.”

—

It’s two weeks later. Charles gets stuck in the paddock doing something or other for Sunday, so you’re left to your own devices in the parking lot. Five minutes of waiting turns to fifteen, then a half hour. That’s the catalyst for your mid-evening freakout—suddenly you’re thinking about all the times you and this weird thing inside you might be alone, left for work, by an athlete dad.

“Are you okay?” A voice asks when you’re heaving out another dry, panic-induced sigh. You turn, finding it familiar, and see Seb behind you. He may have been Charles’ teammate, but he’s a friend to you, too, and you find he’s always the most grounded in heated discussions.

“Seb,” you croak, caught off guard. “I’m fine.” Your voice breaks on the ine, and suddenly fat tears roll quietly down your face.

You tell him eventually, when he asks you again if you’re okay, making him the second person to know; still, the telling doesn’t get easier. You didn’t even tell Charles, you think. You merely shoved a Clearblue stick in his face and waited for the goofy reaction that would undoubtedly meet your ears.

“A baby,” he says softly. Happily. “Congratulations. This is a big step… but you don’t sound excited.”

“I mean,” you say in between waves of tears, “I am? I am. But—it happened so fast—we’re not even officially together—and Charles is—”

“Do I need to talk some sense into Charles?” Seb asks suddenly, concerned. 

“No. He’s—he’s being great. Really supportive.” You wipe the tears and fresh ones come. “He’s happy. You know him. I think I’m just overwhelmed. I mean I’m the one who’s toting this baby around.” 

“Take it one step at a time,” he muses. “See a doctor, work out non-race schedules with Mattia, get everything in order. If I know you, this baby will be in the best hands. And that’s not even counting Charles.” He pulls you in for a hug that lasts ages, one that says thank you and I love you better than words. You inhale, find the tears have stopped. You realize what comes after this—it’s telling everyone else. Lily, your best friend. Carlos. Charles’ family. Your family. The fans, oh God you’d forgotten about the fans. The social media announcements. 

Charles strolls into the parking lot—runs, more like, with apologies spouting out of him, just two minutes after Seb leaves. He presses a delicate, apologetic kiss to your forehead, a hand on your stomach. “Hey,” he says. Then, to your abdomen, covered by a sweatshirt, “Hey there, alien.” You wonder what this will be like in two months. In seven. In nine.

—

You tell your families over lunch on a lucky off day. There is little surprise—just tears from both your moms and Arthur teasingly asking you to recount the details of conception. You’re in a sundress serving crostini when Pascale pulls you aside to the back of the yard.

She presses a kiss to your cheek, one of conviction and faith. “I always knew,” she says. “You’re going to be a wonderful mom.”

—

The drivers all find out one way or another, news trickling through the grapevine like honey. You share it to Lily first, and of course she tells Alex. You tell Lewis, too, over spring rolls that he claims will power up the baby when it’s born. Charles tells Pierre, who tells Yuki, and Carlos, who tells Lando. You tell Mick, who hugs you and says, “Oh my god! I already knew, Seb told me. I kept wanting to say congratulations.” 

It’s a matter of two weeks before everybody knows. You know because you’ve barely taken a step into the dimly lit Ferrari motorhome when you halt and bolt back outside, harboring yourself a few metres away at a safe distance. Charles, who had been walking beside you, arm looped around your waist, turns, puzzled.

“What’s going on?” He asks.

“No. Nuh-uh. It smells in there.”

He sniffs the darkness, fumbles for the light switch. “No it doesn’t.”

“It smells like”—you grit your teeth, trying to identify the stench—“cheese. And champagne.”

“Why would it smell like che—”

He bangs the light open and illuminates a surprise party. The entire grid starts cheering, having unheard the entire conversation. There’s a huge banner that says CONGRATULATIONS PARENTS, and on a makeshift table in the centre, an assortment of cake slices, cheese, and flutes of champagne. Charles laughs with delight at the surprise, and then turns to find you squatting on the ground, trying to quell your stomach. 

“Give me five,” you say, waving him off.

He returns after ten to find you still trying to calm the waves of nausea. You hear his footsteps and heave yourself up, standing to face him. “I asked Esteban and Max to evacuate the place of cheese and champagne. It’s just coffee and cake now. I even got three fans going.”

“Desolée,” you say, miserable. He wraps two big arms around you, nestling his chin atop your head. “I feel like a high-maintenance monster.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not the monster. The alien is.”

“I told you to stop calling it that,” you say, shutting your eyes and leaning into his touch. “Before it catches on.”

“Okay. E.T.? Spock? Open to suggestions.” Hand in yours, he walks you gently to the party, arising loud cheers again. In between sips of hot water, he says, “How about Chewy?”

—

The sense of smell proves to be useful in endeavours elsewhere.

“You never clean your car,” you say, lying horizontal on the leather seat and picking bits of dirt off. “I can smell month old Cheetos.”

Charles watches you obsessively nitpick at the detailing. “Last time you looked like this, I gave you a baby.”

“One more word,” you warn sharply. 

“But seriously, be careful. The alien might get stressed.”

You brace yourself for the stupid words that will indubitably follow.

“Don’t worry. If it falls out I’ll plop it in a race car and it’ll be the next Hamilton. Imagine how light it’ll be.”

There it is.

—

Your first trip to the doctor’s is interesting. Charles insists on wearing a wig because he’s so easily recognized in Monaco, so now you look like you’re conceiving a baby with Weird Al Yankovic.

The doctor wheels in a cart with a monitor and all the necessary equipment, and even if it suddenly feels all too real, Charles squeezes your hand and you’re calm again. “I’m back,” she says, sliding into a wheely chair beside you and gelling your stomach.

“Hi, Back,” Charles responds in a crude, twangy Texan accent. The dad humor starts early, you suppose.

You grit your teeth to try and excuse his embarrassing behavior, but suddenly the monitor clicks open and there it is. It looks like the ones in movies, print-outs from friends, but at the same time it doesn’t. It looks different. Special. Yours. You zero in on it, breathless. That’s yours. The doctor says a couple minor things—nothing worrisome—and when you turn to relay it to Charles in case he’d zoned out, you find his face splotchy.

“Are you crying?”

“That’s ours,” he says, dipping down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s mine and Charles’, not mine and Bob Ross’,” you say, but you pull him closer anyway. 

You order two printouts. The week next, you discover that Charles snuck back in to order an extra eight and has mailed them out to friends and drivers. You find out because Kylian Mbappe messages you “Due in April? Make me godfather!” on Instagram.

—

Gradually, you fall into a pattern of being queasy constantly. You get nitpicky with meals, and not irrationally—Charles had fed you a spicy hotdog and you’d gone half a bite before hurling it, and your breakfast, into the nearest toilet. You find solace in your cravings—all of which happen to be the same everyday.

Chinese takeout from just about any restaurant ends up being your best friend. You somehow can’t stomach anything but that specific cuisine, much to your own surprise. You find new ways to combine them with each other. Rice paper wrappers with chow mein. Hotpot with fried rice. If you’re not eating Chinese, you reduce your appetite to crackers or hot tea to avoid becoming too nauseated.

It’s poetic almost, the way he sets out the food carefully, in the order you like them. He always presses a kiss to your forehead after. 

Around this time, you develop a crazy sex drive, waking Charles up at numerous points of the night, begging into his neck for something, anything. You last an hour before you’re asking again. This proves especially difficult before races, where Charles gives in a bit too easily and Carlos has to knock on the door, going “You have to finish somewhere else too, Charles!”

—

You insist Charles hold off on telling the fans, for a few months. It goes okay until your outfits on the paddock evolve into the variety of “Charles’ hoodies” to hide the increasingly evident bloat of pregnancy, and nosy fans start speculating all over Twitter. That’s when he sits you down and gently tells you he thinks it’s time you both announce it.

You’re sitting beside him in his hotel room, after two calls with his bosses, trying to formulate the proper announcement. You download PicsArt to make it pretty and clean and formatted—because the poor guy was about to post a Notes app screenshot—and then it’s on the Internet. 

“She’s truly MOTHER,” one fan comments. Despite yourself, you press the heart icon beside it. It’s your bit of comfort when you catch sight of the nastier comments under the post.

—

You’re ironically gifted an ancient 80s aerobic exercise DVD for mums by Lily and Alex. You’re sure it’s older than you. Charles, though, in his valiant effort to connect with you and Chewy, does the routine everyday. You wake up to the electronic synthpop and Charles doing booty squats in the living room.

The permed instructor smiles through the scratchy 80s quality and goes, “You are rocking it, momma!”

“You hear that?!” Charles pants. “I am rocking it!”

—

Your first parenting fight ends up being one over the baby’s name. Yeah. Of all things. You don’t know why you’re so worked up about it, considering you don’t even know the gender of the baby yet. You arrive in Monaco to mark the first of five off days and Charles makes some random, offhand joke about naming the baby Daryl, and you suddenly start rambling on and on about how it’s too ugly, even if you’d never thought about names before now.

“It’s not going to be Daryl. It won’t be Daryl,” Charles says, hands on your shoulders. You heave another sob. “Please stop crying. You never cry. I’m a bit freaked out.”

“It’s—just—that,” you hiccup, “I—don’t—want to name a—our—baby—Daryl.”

“Yeah, yep,” he says, soothingly. “I got you. It’s not going to be Daryl. Never. We don’t need to decide anything. You gonna calm down for me?”

“I can’t—stop—crying,” you snivel desperately, burying your face in your hands.

He presses a firm kiss to the corner of your quivering lips, and you tug him in for a real one. You calm down when you pull away, exhaling. You gaze at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Blame the alien,” you sniff. 

He kisses your stomach, which shows signs of pregnancy more and more as the days pass. “Hear that?” He whispers into the skin. “She’s blaming you, Chewy.”

—

Your next trip to the doctor’s is with your appointed private physician, Dr. Davies. Two minutes before the doctor walks in, you make a serious and compelling order for Charles to remove the Weird Al wig, which he does—but stores in your bag, “just in case.” It’s also his opporunity to play teacher’s pet and showcase how involved he is in your pregnancy, which, judging by the amount of weird cultish pregnancy books he’s burned through, is very much so.

“It’s gonna be a boy,” you declare while you’re being gelled up. You’re past the point of denial and bloat, now showing way too obviously. “Mom’s intuition.”

“Well, all the books say it’s a girl,” he says proudly.

“Yeah, they also say drinking lemon juice while trying to conceive gives you a girl. I’m sure scientific accuracy was their greatest objective.”

“Girl.”

“Boy,” you say dismissively.

“Girl.”

“Boy.”

“Girl.” It’s not Charles this time, it’s the physician, with a small smile on his face.

You squeeze Charles’ hand so hard you’re half sure it’s chipped off and fallen to the tiled floor. You’re having a girl. Normally Charles would turn and make some petty statement about he’d been right, but—you’re having a girl. A pretty baby girl. You almost can’t believe it. He totally can’t, pressing kisses to your hair and face.

You let him buy pink paint later that day.

—

You predict it, but it comes—fights and squabbles over nothing at all.

First it’s about work, then housing, then his job, then the danger of his job. It’s petty, and usually you storm off in an emotional cloud of irrationality, brought down after a talk, a play-by-play, compromise, reassurance. It’s hard when you’re carrying around a human being, you want to say. Try being in my shoes.

“Can we talk?” Charles says, in the thick of another fight. You’re on the balcony of your flat, mulling over nothing at all. Your stomach is heavy, you’re always exhausted, you never feel pretty anymore even if Charles is always unfailing at telling you you are. 

“Okay,” you murmur, turning. You’ve already developed a habit of placing your hands on your bump always.

He inhales. “I’m scared.”

This is a first. And you realize—in these six months of being pregnant, Charles has been your rock, but has never expressed much fear until now. He’s always been good. Great. Supportive. “Of what?”

“Of—becoming a dad.” He pauses, as if to weigh his words. “I don’t have… a blueprint anymore.”

It dawns on you what he’s talking about. You accept the hug when it comes, holding the nape of his neck. He isn’t crying, but is close to it. His voice is shaky when he continues, whispers against your ear. “What if I don’t know what to do?” 

“Baby,” you say, weakly. You push him gently so he’s looking into your eyes. “If the way you’ve taken care of me the past how many months is any indication of how you’ll treat this alien, I know she’s in good hands. You’ve got so much of your dad in you. You’re caring, sweet, you even got a headstart on the dad jokes.” He laughs. “I want this. And the only reason I ever did was because I knew you’d be with me, being an amazing dad, and an even better…”

“Boyfriend,” he says. His eyes hold hesitance—but you quell it with a nod.

“Boyfriend,” you echo. “For now.”

—

The nursery looks like a nursery in February. It was a storage room in Charles’ flat that had really, at some point, become yours, too. Full of boxes and old suits and memories, it’d taken weeks to properly store everything and make way for the furniture. Charles, of course, insists on painting it himself, with the shade of pink he purchased especially for the room.

He hits his head twice and touches the wet paint. There’s a handprint embossed above the bassinet. (Yours is next to it, at his insistence.)

—

You’re a yoga ball by mid-March, having trouble sleeping and dealing with everything being swollen. Charles helps you through it all, turning the heating up and down every time you get even a bit scratchy with the temperature in the flat or motorhome. Your cravings also morph again at this point, into rigatoni that Charles cooked sometime over winter; he requests Ferrari add an induction stove to every race weekend motorhome that you can make it to so he can cook it at your beck and call.

The season begins. Every race is dedicated to Chewy, and every race is won.

—

It’s early morning in late March when Dr. Davies sends you an email with a one-liner that sounds firm enough to set you and Charles in place after two races that involve you being flown around.

Absolutely NO more air and long car travel for Mommy. 

“Can we manage?” You mope, rereading the email, genuinely distressed as you watch your boyfriend pack for Australia. It’s a long haul flight, with only one stopover in Zurich, and you’re filled with anxiety. There isn’t a compromise—until you’re popping the baby out, Charles needs to try and score the title.

“You know I can always drop out of races,” he says softly. “That’s what reserve drivers are for.”

“It’s not the same,” you argue. “I’m just worried.”

“You’re not due ’til the 12th,” he assures you. “I’ll be back then, even if it means dropping a race.”

He leans down and kisses you softly, rubbing your shoulders and ankles. “I’ll be back before you know it. Get some sleep first, okay?” He repeats the sentiment to your stomach, adding a kiss and a bye bye Chewy. You drift off to a sorrowful sleep when he departs, a slow ache in your lower back blooming that feels just like many of the other slow aches lately. 

You’re up after a half hour with discomfort. You suppose something is just up with your sleep position, and readjust yourself. The discomfort sharpens, then melts. You sigh with relief, a long whistley exhale, and sleep again.

Bliss lasts about three hours, then you’re up again, groaning. You’re not due for a prenatal yoga class until four in the afternoon, and your body isn’t used to being awake. Hell, it’s not used to being this pained. You shift once, twice, trying to sleep with fruitless and exhausting attempts. It takes a while, but in between shifting positions and trying to make yourself yawn, it registers.

“Chewy.” You groan, cupping your gigantic bump. “Seriously?”

—

The first person you call is Charles, naturally. He should be in Zurich, but maybe signal is spotty or something, because none of your texts or calls ping. So you move down the list to the person you know will be in Monaco and not off racing, like everybody you know is—and it just so happens to be Dr. Davies.

You always thought Charles would be nowhere but beside you when you went into labor. But you’re here clutching the straps of your overnight bag being driven to the hospital, exhale, inhale, try Charles, try Carlos. Exhale, inhale. Try Charles. Try Carlos. Your contractions don’t quell; they only grow in intensity and you wince the whole ride through.

“Looks like it’s going to be a fast labor,” Dr. Davies says when he’s done checking you in and making sure everything is in order. You nod, breathless and flushed. You’ve called your mum here and she’s on the way with Charles’ but—Charles is the issue.

“I will weld myself shut if it means I’m giving birth without the dad,” you beg. “Without Charles.”

Charles, who picks up after forty-five minutes of radio silence. He’s in the jet. Give him an hour. “I will pilot this plane myself if I have to. Don’t do anything—don’t make any decisions without me.”

“Too fucking late.” You say, wheezy with labor. “I’m putting N/A on the certificate.”

“You carry Chewy around for nine months and I don’t get to meet her first?” He asks, in a last-ditch effort to cheer you up. You tear up, splotchy and red all over.

“We can’t call her Chewy. We never discussed names. And oh God it can’t be Daryl,” you say, whimpers turning into half-sobs of overwhelm and yearning. You’re scared. You need Charles, who’s been with you for every week, every milestone, every kick, every rigatoni craving. But he’s not here. You have Dr. Davies, and in five minutes you’ll have your mum and Pascale, but they are not Charles. You breathe heavy into the phone.

“I love you,” you say finally. “Please, I love you.”

“I love you more,” he says gently. “I love you. I’ll be there, okay? Just—just wait for me.”

—

Lil 3s ago

does it hurt?

i know it does but i’m trying to make u feel better

love from houston. i will call you ASAP.

You 1s ago

yeah it hurts so bad

apparently they don’t do epidurals

fuck europe

—

In between quiet periods and intense ones, you finally reach your peak. A nurse takes one glance and nods and your bed is disengaged and wheeling around again. Pascale squeezes your left hand, your mum the other. “Wait!” You pant, voice spent, totally tired, flustered.

The nurses exchange a look. “Ma’am—”

“No, you don’t understand. The dad, my—the dad—he’s out—and I don’t.” You pause, the onset of a cry coming on. Pascale takes the lead, firm, asking for a few more moments of patience.

“I can’t do this,” you say hopelessly, throwing your flushed head back. “No. Not without Charles.”

“I’m here,” Charles says, bounding through the door. He’s in official Ferrari gear and his hair is disheveled and he's clearly been crying. Had Chewy not been wedging her way out, you would’ve kissed him right then. You feel nothing but love.

“You’re a sneaky fucker,” you say instead, and the rest is a blur.

—

It’s an hour before the race and Charles is absent from his usual spot greeting friends and guests along the paddock. Instead, he’s leaned against the wall of the motorhome, silently digging his toes into his shoes. You knock twice before trying to open the door and succeeding. You beam when you see him. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

His two girls.

Julia stretches out a chubby hand, but he smiles teasingly, refusing to take it. He holds eye contact, holding up the ring that’d been in his clammy grip for about twenty minutes. It’s a symbol, a sign, a blessed thing, casting his girlfriend into silence.

It’s a bit dark—a stark contrast to where other guys might propose for the first time. He imagines a Caribbean beach bathed in sunset. He pictures a Jeep in the sand, a happy blonde couple jumping into each other’s arms with unadulterated happiness. He figures if you don’t like this, he’ll pay for that.

Instead, he gets: “You’re a doofus—oh.”

“Yeah.” He says, pursing his lips. He swallows, gives you the biggest smile of his life. “Oh.”

It’s perfect.

#f1 #leclsrc1000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader

[pandoraslxna]

⋆｡° ✮ minors dni 🔞

⋆｡° ✮ Kinktober masterlist

⋆｡° ✮ Warnings: handjob (duh), praise, sub!neteyam

⋆｡° ✮ Translation: yawne = beloved, paskalin = honey

Neteyam enjoys simple things, doing things that help him calm his mind after yet another stressful day, or in between tasks and daily duties as the future olo’eyktan. Simple things he’s learned to accomplish to the point of perfection at such a young age, that he didn’t even had to think anymore as he did them now. Things, such as weaving, skinning his latest hunt, braiding his hair, sharpening knifes and craving arrows.

Neteyam senses your warmth at his back before he even hears or feels your breath on his neck, as he kneels on the floor in your shared marui.

"Yes, yawne?" He says, not looking up from the way he slowly moves a woven thread between his fingers.

"Don't mind me", you say softly, but Neteyam can hear the grin in your voice. "Keep doing what you're doing." Your arms encircle his middle and you nuzzle your face against the muscles of his back, barely able to reach your arms all the way around his waist.

Neteyam absently reaches for another pearl, while you put your lips between the space of his shoulder blades, up, up, up, all the way until your lips meet his neck, tongue sliding over his skin in a teasing lick.

"What you're doing is distracting", Neteyam huffs out a breath, trying to hide the smile that forms on his lips.

"Huh. Is it?" Your other hand has gone to work now, dipped down lower to where his loincloth sits, palming, until your fingers brush over a bulge that now presses against the woven cloth. Your palm pushes against it and he sucks in a breath.

"Yes, it is." Neteyam keeps his voice level, but it’s getting harder the more you palm his cock over the thin fabric. Alternating your lips to small nips with your pointy teeth along his neck, you then finally manage to tug him free. "I just want to help you relax", you giggle softly.

It's incredibly difficult to concentrate on weaving such complex patterns under these conditions, but Neteyam tries his best, reaching for another pearl, tying another knot with skilled fingers. Your own skilled fingers however, they were entirely busy stroking his cock now.

He feels a bit ridiculous, he had to admit to himself. With his loincloth hanging so low that you could easily play with him and your chin resting on his shoulder to get a good view, while he pretended to be entirely focused on that damn piece of clothing he made purely to calm his mind– when there was something way better to do, something that could help him relax like no other task could.

Your hand pushes harder, movements quickening and Neteyam drops the threads in his hands, choking back a moan.

"C'mon, paskalin", you whisper, breath tickling his ear. "You can do better than that. I want to hear you." Both of your hands move to his cock, stroking simultaneously, twisting in opposite directions, thumb teasing his slit where pre-cum oozes in thick droplets.

"O-Oh great mother", he shakily exhales, and you kiss his jaw as you stare down at him, watching the way his abs flex and hips instinctively buck forward and into your fist, seeking more.

"Hmm, you like that don’t you? My mighty warrior likes getting his cock stroked like that?", you purr, before your tongue glides over the shell of his ear.

With a sense of helplessness, Neteyam thrusts into your touch again, a desperate way to let you know that he needs more– faster, harder. His mouth hangs open and his eyes are only half lidded, yet he’s transfixed at the sight of your delicate hands that aren’t even able to close entirely around his shaft, as you pick up a quicker pace.

"Fuck", he curses, the alien words clumsily tumbling from his lips in a whimper, his mind too busy focusing on the pleasure to separate the sky peoples language from this of his own people. Still, you understand.

"We‘ll get to that soon", you giggle softly.

You don’t speak it fluently, but there are certain words and phrases that you picked up over time, often slipping out of him when he felt especially good, and now you understand their meaning to a certain degree.

"That's it, just relax for me, yawne. You can come if you want to", you coo into his ear, once Neteyam lets out a truly shameful low, strangled groan. "Go on, make a mess. Let it all out."

He can't help it, the noises that get out of him. And he can't help the way he comes so hard that it's almost as blazing white as his grace, everything gone but your hands on him and your warmth on his back and the sound of your encouragement, loving praises and content hums blurring with the rushing noise in his own head before he feels his brain turn to mush and his whole body relax.

This is undoubtedly better than weaving, skinning his latest hunt, braiding his hair, sharpening knifes and craving arrows, he thinks. So much better.

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