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kvtie444 · 6 months

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✧.*SHES GOT A BOYFRIEND ANYWAY

A/N: wanted this to be a chris fic at first bc hes the type to steal ur girl but the public chose against it💔I have more plans for him tho dw xx

Summary: basically sex by the 1975 lolz

Warnings: smut lol, nsfwwwwww, cheating??!!

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

"Pull over," I grumbled, gazing out of the window. Leo, my boyfriend, and I had just had yet another argument on our way to a party. He had just started accusing me of cheating, which, well I was, though his own loyalty was questionable. I zoned out, drowning out the echoes of his yelling, only to be abruptly pulled back to reality by a sudden stop – we were at a petrol station.

I opened the door and stepped out, the cool air sending a shiver through my body, just wearing a mini dress. "Call me when you're done being a b-" I cut him off by slamming his door shut and headed toward the station's entrance without looking back, the distant revving of his engine signalling his departure.

Frustrated, I decide to reach out to the one person I know will get under his skin the most—Matt. Me and Matt had been hooking up on the low, but it was fairly obvious with the 24/7 flirting anytime we were near each other. I sit down on the curb as I press on his contact and call. After 2 rings he picks up. “hello?” he sounds rather surprised to be hearing from you out of nowhere.

Seating myself on the curb, I press on Matt's contact and make the call. After two rings, he answers, sounding surprised to hear from me so unexpectedly.

"Hello?" he says.

"Hey, can you do me a favour and pick me up, please?"

“Yeah of course, you okay? where are you?” he bombardes me with questions. "I'm at the petrol station by the high street. Leo's being difficult, so I decided to bail before we headed out," I reply. I hear his front door shut and the jingle of keys as he starts driving.

"I'll be there in a bit," he says, and I can practically hear the smirk in his voice. In a flash, his car arrives. I circle around and hop in. "Hey, thank you," I say in a soft tone, going in for a hug. He envelops me, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his nose in my hair. "Anytime, thought you might need this" he replies, reaching behind him to the backseat, where he grabs his blue flannel button-up. I look up and smile at him. "You are the best," I say happily as he drapes the shirt around me, assisting me in putting it on.

"Can't believe he just left you here with nothing. The little dick" he mutters before taking a moment to appreciate me. "My shirt looks good on you," he smirks at me. I bite the inside of my cheek before giving him a smile, his cologne on the shirt sending me a wave of comfort.

As he starts to pull out of the station, I throw my head back, groaning. "These Converse are killing me," I whine. "Then take them off," he laughs at me, steering with one hand as he merges onto the main road. I breathe out a laugh as I remove my shoes, tossing them in the backseat. His eyes briefly glance down to my thighs before he places his hand on them.

Heat rushes to my cheeks, and a swarm of butterflies flutters in my stomach. Glancing ahead, it dawns on me that neither of us mentioned our destination, but a familiar route to Matt's house unfolds, and I don't voice any objections.

His hand inches higher, his pinky finding its place beneath the hem of my skirt. Breaking the silence, he remarks, "Your little friend is delusional for not worshiping you and being a little bitch. If you were my girl, I'd treat you like a princess." ,the car still thick with sexual tension. I turn to look at him, only to find his gaze already fixed on me. His hand now lifts my dress whilst still driving one handed, and his fingers delicately play with the waistband of my thong. "And I think we both know that I fuck you better," he continues, pulling and snapping my waistband against my skin, causing my breath to hitch.

I merely hum in agreement, recognizing a recurring pattern of our conversations taking a sexual turn. His thumb traces circles on the crease of my thigh, as I’m sensitive to even the slightest touch, grabbing his wrist. "Please, Matt," I sigh, using both hands on his wrist in an attempt to pull him closer to my core.

"Please, what, baby?" he teases, smirking. "Use your hands," I whine, unintentionally bucking my hips up, yearning for his touch. "Good girl," he says, pulling my panties to the side and running his fingers through my folds. "Who made you this wet, hm?" he groans at my wetness, attempting to keep his eyes on the road. "You did," I reply, throwing my head back as he inserts his ring finger into me, skilfully pumping his fingers. "Fuck," he groans, hearing the slick noises coming from me as I moan softly. Adding another finger, I moan, "Fuck, Matt," grabbing onto the headrest behind me. He uses his thumb to rub circles on my clit, and I screw my eyes shut in pure bliss.

Suddenly, he withdraws, and I open my eyes, whining in annoyance at the loss of contact. His hand now on the handbrake, he turns off the engine. Looking up, I realize we've arrived back at the house. He opens his door without saying a word, and I readjust my underwear and skirt before following him inside. He takes my hand, and we head straight to his room.

As soon as we step inside, he presses me against the door, his hands never leaving my waist. Leaning in, he finally kisses me, the intensity quickly escalating. His tongue slips in shortly before he pulls away, leaving open-mouthed kisses from my cheek to my jaw and neck. I feel him start to suck as he mumbles phrases like "my pretty girl" and "mine."

In this moment, I don’t care about the hickeys ; everything is too euphoric right now. Rising once more, he kisses me, his hand gliding beneath my thigh, lifting me, and moving us to his bed. Tossing me onto it, he climbs on top, pressing himself against me, and tenderly kissing my neck while removing his shirt from my body. The intensity of desire overrides any inclination for foreplay. I reach down to touch him, feeling his already hard member. Swiftly, I lower his sweats and boxers as I subtly move my hips, allowing my dress to ascend. He cages my head between his hands, once again pulling my panties aside.

Positioning his tip at my entrance, he starts tapping it against my clit and gliding it up and down my folds, gathering my arousal. A shared moan escapes both of us as he gradually eases in, thrusting deliberately slow. "Faster, Matt," I whimper, prompting an immediate acceleration as his hips forcefully meet mine, creating a resonant slapping sound in the room. A stream of curses escapes my lips, as he watches himself moving in and out of me. His tatted arm shifts to my thigh, pushing it up towards my chest, achieving a deeper angle. Groaning as I tighten around him, his free hand moves to stimulate my clit.

"Whose pussy is this, baby?" Matt's groans against my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. "Yours, Matt," I moan in response. A smile plays on his lips against the side of my face as he kisses my jaw. Pulling back slightly, he shifts his hand to my neck. "Mm, does your boyfriend ever make you feel this good?" he asks, his grip tightening around my neck. I moan as he keeps hitting my G-spot. "Answer me," he demands, his hold around my neck growing firmer. "No, he'll never compare to you," I moan. "Oh, fuck," he groans, increasing the intensity of his thrusts.

My legs grow weak as I tighten around Matt. "Matt, please, I'm so close," I whimper. "Taking me so well, let go for me, baby," he responds. I moan as I climax around him, his thrusts becoming erratic as he releases inside me shortly after, muttering curses under his breath.

He pulls out slowly, turning over and leaning against the headboard. Pulling me up, he kisses my forehead while gently toying with my hair.

"I think you should break up with your boyfriend," he says, looking down at me. I gaze back into his blue eyes, no longer filled with lust but now a sense of love.

"I think so too."

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #imagine #angst #chris sturniolo x reader #fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #smut #Spotify

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beatificwrites · 9 months

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TYPICAL DATE NIGHT WITH HOBIE ★

an: a lil sumn sumn with hobie

gender-neutral!reader & no use of y/n

content: cheesy bc i say so, some silly cuteness, heated make-out sesh

You heard continuous light taps coming from your bedroom window. You recognized the sounds as pebbles being thrown and instantly, you knew it was him. Glee began to overflow your entire being as you hurriedly bookmarked the page you were on and dropped the book you were reading.

You practically jumped off your bed and rushed over to open your window. Your eyes drifted downward and landed on Hobie’s figure that was currently in a humanly-impossible position against your apartment’s brick wall. His feet seemed glued to the wall while he balanced himself vertically off of it.

He was always random with the stunts he’d pull since he disliked consistency and loved finding different ways to surprise you. You playfully rolled your eyes at him in disbelief, not being able to fully grasp the fact that your boyfriend was quite literally defying gravity; a perk of being spiderpunk.

“Hey, babe, got somethin’ I wanna play for you!” he shouted.

You watched as he effortlessly whipped out his guitar from behind as if he wasn’t 40 feet off the ground.

“shoot!” you shouted back.

With zero hesitation, Hobie powerfully struck the chords once before playing an impressive guitar riff, just for you. His gifted fingers ran up and down the chords, allowing the guitar to produce the electrifying, melodic sound you loved so much. He was nothing short of a virtuoso, so cool, you thought.

“What’d you think?” Hobie asked, not needing your approval, though he’d appreciate it very much.

“It was awesome!! I loved it, baby.” you gushed with clasped hands.

“Good.” was all he said, then he shot a web at the edge of your window to yank himself up and kiss your lips.

The soft embrace of his lips was all you needed to feel warm and at peace again. Life outside of your relationship was tiring and hectic, but the precious moments you shared with him calmed the storm.

“Come in!” you beckoned, after pulling away.

“Ma pleasure.” he said before tucking his guitar behind him and climbing in through your window.

“So, I got a couple of movie ideas…we down for rom-coms or slashers tonight?” you asked as grabbed the dvds.

“I think we exhausted all the slasher films known to man, love. I could go for some ‘13 going on 30’ right about now.” he threw himself on your bed.

Your mouth slightly fell agape, “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“What? A man can’t switch it up every now and then?” his brows furrowed.

“He can, but every time I put on ‘13 going on 30’ you fall asleep half way through!” you lightly smacked his side as you laid down next to him.

“I’m not the same person I was last week, hell, I ain’t even the same man I was two seconds ago! I’m a changed man.” he shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, cut the crap! You do not wanna watch it with me.” you claimed incredulously.

“Like I said, I’m a changed man.” he told you in a half-serious manner.

“You’re so stupid.” you rolled your eyes again, then you both laughed it off.

“No, but I do wanna see it with you, babe. I can’t handle another modern horror film, it’s all just uncalled for gore and porn; no substance whatsoever. It’s bollucks.” he shook his head disapprovingly.

“I’m sayinggg!” you agreed, remembering how dreadful the last horror flick you saw was.

“Wait, before we watch, can we make pizza like last time?” he asked hopefully.

“Sure, why not?” you got up and tossed the slasher dvds to the side and placed ‘13 going on 30’ next to the dvd station.

Hobie hated ordering pizza. Not because he was too shy to order, that’s why apps exist. Moreover, he hated ordering pizza because the anarchist in him preferred baking pizza at home instead of supporting the cooperate companies that prepared the same pizza.

He’d physically cringe and his face would contort into disgust whenever you’d suggest delivery instead because you were too lazy to bake. “I’ll do it by myself then!” he’d groan.

That is how the first three hours of your date night with Hobie is spent; attempting to bake spidey shaped pizzas with the clash playing in the background, throwing sauce at each other’s faces, eating said pizzas while watching 13 going on 30, teasing Hobie for shredding a tear at the wedding scene, Hobie teasing you for sobbing after that scene, you two cuddling at the end while being wrapped up in your largest blanket, and you rewarding him a kiss because finishing rom-coms with him gives you the best feeling ever. It’s the rom-com glow.

You’ll usually suggest another film or perhaps a show to binge watch, and you two immerse yourselves in that for about another three hours. Sweet whispers are exchanged from time to time and Hobie’s dispersed kisses across your neck make a feature.

“You’re really cute when you look all focused.” he said out of the blue.

You hadn’t realized he had been admiring your face for a while now, or that his focus was shifting elsewhere.

“This is reality tv! There’s lots of drama to keep up with.” you reasoned without turning to look at him.

“Look at me.” he simply said.

“Amanda’s just about to find out her husband’s having an affair!” you quickly tapped him, trying not to lose concentration from the screen. Without warning, the show was suddenly muted.

“Hey, why’d you-

“Com’ere.” he gently grabbed your chin and hushed you with his lips.

You kissed him back, then pulled away asking, “what?”

“I don’ know. Just felt a huge urge to kiss you.” he admitted as his mouth curved into a smile.

“Oh. Well, I have no problem Mr. suspense-ruiner, as long as you continue to do it.” you cupped his face, forgot all about the tv and brought him in for another smooch.

He rubbed one hand on your hip. You two were laying side by side, but his slow, gentle touch made you want to change that.

The hand rubbing on your hip made its way up to your shoulders and down again, in yet another slow, teasing manner. He caressed the side of your body, then let his hand slide dangerously down onto your rump. He gave it soft squeeze and you hummed; his touch aroused the growing swarm of excitement in your abdomen.

You swung a leg over his torso and he was able to smooth his hand over your thigh. He’d run his hand up and down, his gentle caressing becoming a bit more firm. The feel of your bodies pressing against each other made this moment all the more enticing. Neither of you could get enough. With every hum or whimper you’d allow to escape, Hobie could feel himself twitch.

You extended your hand and lightly rubbed his shoulder. After a moment, your hand dropped to his bicep and began to grope the defined muscle. Eventually, you had to pull away to catch your breath and you both would only chuckle while looking at each other.

Hobie kept his hands on you as you took the initiative to straddle his waist. His hands shifted to your hips and he gave you a reassuring look before saying, “Absolutely no pressure, love. We go as far as your comfortable with.”

You appreciated how he reassured you every time to ensure that you were comfortable. He made you feel seen and at ease. Definitely one of the most refreshing parts of your companionship with him.

“Mhm, of course.” you nodded.

“I love you, sweetheart.” he professed with hooded eyes.

“I love you too.”

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mvltisstuff · 1 year

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hello again!! im the anon who requested sweet nothing (also, saw the edit note and don’t worry it was a fantastic fic and i love it, thank you so much for writing it ❤️) i was wondering if i could request another fic for buck where reader is like athena’s protege and she’s a lot like athena so athena and bobby basically play match maker for them, thinking they’d compliment each other very well but buck and the reader have secretly dating since they met bc they hit it off so well and athena and the 118 end up finding out and are shocked they had no idea. thank you if you get to this, no stress if you don’t. i hope you have a lovely day and remember to take breaks and drink water!!

the feels - e.b

summary: above :)

evan buckley x reader

a/n: i love seeing these requests so much, please leave as many as you want, this one is so sweet 🫶🫶 i wanted to recreate the funny scene when may walked in on athena in bobby’s turnout 😭

the grants were sitting in the kitchen waiting for another delicious meal from bobby to be ready to eat. athena was sitting down, playing a card game with her two children as bobby was stirring a boiling pot. sharing stories about their days, athena begins her own.

“the station welcomed a new recruit today,” athena starts while cleaning up the cards. “i think i was telling you about her.”

“y/n? i remember you told me she was going to be working there, i just didn’t know she’d be with you.”

“she’s not riding along with me, but we’ve spoken a lot. she reminds me of myself. she’s young but one of the most determined ones i’ve seen. i think she has a lot of great potential.”

“maybe you should bring her along one day,” bobby suggests. “she sounds cool, you should bring her to the station one night for dinner there.”

“i’ll have to check her schedule. she’s trying to get more comfortable in LA, so that could help her. give her some friends,” athena says. “i know she came here to get away for a bit, i’m not sure why but i think something at home.”

“might wanna be careful bringing her, now that i’m thinking about it.”

“what makes you say that?” she asks.

“i’m worried someone might take a liking to her. buck loves you, and he reminds me of myself. and if she’s really similar to you…” athena walks over to bobby, giving him a light kiss before beginning again. “i’ll see what her timing is, i’ll let you know so you can tame the lion.”

the next day at work, y/n walks in uniform with her chunky belt with her gear. she sweetly says good morning to the people at the front with a cup of coffee before returning to her bosses office. “y/n?” she hears someone say from behind her.

“sergeant grant! hello, i was just about to go get started,” y/n says politely to her superior.

“you can call me athena, officer.”

“ok, athena,” y/n has a bright smile that could be the source of light to the room. “is there anything i can do for you?”

“no, you’re all set. just making sure things are good for you here,” athena knows that she’s strong despite the kindness act she puts on. she’s seen she’s not afraid to stand up for herself against all the men at the station. similar to herself, she’s ready for anything god throws at her. “if you get off earlier tonight, i was going to the 118. my husband is bobby nash, and he’s having dinner. i thought it would be a good place for you to settle in.”

“that sounds great, athena. i get off a bit earlier today.”

“good,” athena says with a thin grin. “i’ll see you then, y/l/n.”

they both walk away, going to do their paperwork and jobs of the day. on the first call, they had to deal with a specific threat, making two arrests as y/n shoved them back into the car.

she had easily clicked into her workplace, impressing everyone with her skill and ease with the job. her quick thinking came in extreme need, and athena knew she was going to be one of the best eventually.

after another call, the fire department had been at a site of a crash with drunk driving robbers. the police had been called to observe the suspects and ask them questions about the accident and even before that. after some of the crash on the street was cleaned up, y/n had been on the side, informing dispatch on the current nature of the situation. she was hanging around near one of the trucks when a man, couldn’t have been over 30, walked over to her.

“hey,” he says with a seducing smile, looking her uniform up and down. “i haven’t seen you around yet.”

“i’ve just started working here, i was a cop before but i recently moved here.”

“you liking it? LA can be a lot,” he tells her. “i’m evan buckley, 118. buck.”

y/n smiles and shakes his hand. “you’re from 118? athena and bobby invited me over for dinner tonight.”

“y-you’re y/n?” buck asks, a little surprised. she’s gorgeous, her hair was done back in neat braids. her uniform complemented her well, making her look like a boss, but also looks sweet with her bright smile and laugh. buck noticed her beauty and grace in handling herself.

athena and bobby stood to the side, meeting up at the end of the shift. “i think it’s too late,” bobby says, pointing to y/n and buck flirting very clearly to everyone but themselves. athena would never admit it, but she was actually happy. she thought buck needed woman like her, and she needed one like buck, and after a whole night of convincing each other before bed, they finally decided to take up a new career in match making.

the dinner had gone well, the team asking y/n about her past and why she wanted to become a cop. someone in particular was mesmerized by her stories. “so, y/n, where did you grow up?” eddie asks.

“i was raised in boston, and i went to suffolk for criminal justice,” y/n says. “i knew i wanted to help people, and i came to LA as an escape honestly. just try something new.”

they all nod and smile as they finish their food, laughing about shared stories and the two spend the night eyeing each other.

a couple months had gone by, and buck and y/n had been better close. very close. they were seeing each other almost every day, meeting up outside work to see each other. for being a bad liar, buck was hiding their relationship very well. they started dating a few weeks after the dinner, and no one had any idea. or at least they thought.

buck was definitely head over heels for y/n. she was a person who dominated wherever she was, but carried herself around with respect and a soothing personality. coming home from work, she was always a person to talk to. her sweet and gentle words were always a comfort to him. he thought she was the most lovely person ever.

y/n was obsessed with buck after she met him. he was incredibly charming, being able to light up a room at any time. being able to spend time with him at the end of their shifts was truly the highlight of her day, and she hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. he helped her get settled in the new city that she was venturing. he was always a shoulder to lean on during the bad days, and one to celebrate with after the good ones.

chimney and maddie had been driving over to bucks apartment. they had all agreed to have dinner together so she could spend time with her little brother.

buck on the other hand, had been too preoccupied to remember the plans.

y/n was dressed in a lace bra and panties set, wearing bucks work shirt with his name and badge on it. she was sitting on top of the counter with buck standing between her legs.

when chimney and maddie walked in, they saw bucks bare back, and both of their half-naked bodies. luckily, buck still had his boxers on, and y/n had his shirt. her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, a pair of handcuffs in her hands. “oh my god! evan!” maddie shouted and buck turned around.

“jesus, maddie!” he yelled and his immediate instinct was to cover up y/n. “what are you doing here?”

“some of us had dinner plans,” chimney adds, watching in a humorous way.

“you had dinner plans?” y/n asks.

buck throws his head back in frustration. “im sorry, guys, i completely forgot.”

“clearly.” maddie and chim say, together. “we’re going to go in the hall, give you a minute. while i call bobb-“ chim starts.

“no! do not call bobby because then he and athena will hate me!”

“i think athena would fire me,” y/n says.

“are you kidding? they’ve been trying to force you two together for months!”

y/n and buck give each other a confused look because they both thought they’d want them separate. surely, they weren’t stopping it but they especially didn’t think they would encourage it. they start laughing at each other hysterically at the thought of their superiors trying to get them hooked up. maddie and chimney exit in a hurry, leaving to the hallway.

“well, wanna continue?” buck asks and y/n gives him a questioning look.

“we have like 2 minutes, babe,” she smiles. “i don’t know if we have time.”

“you doubting me?” he says, leaning back in and kissing her again.

“prove me wrong, then,” she smirks and they spend their few minutes not wasting a second.

“bobby! sorry to bother you tonight, but you’re gonna want to hear this!” chim says after calling the captain.

bobby hangs up the phone, and is sitting next to the athena on their couch. athena hears the whole conversation. “i’ll quit my job if you quit yours, and we can start our own business.”

“agreed,” athena says, giving bobby a high-five at their dating app skills. “i will say i’m surprised they kept it a secret. she did seem a bit more upbeat though.”

“so what’s next? getting them engaged?”

“ok, woah. let’s not get too ahead of ourselves. we’ll give ‘em a bit i guess.”

“fine, but i’m getting every detail about this tomorrow from him.”

“i’ll get it from y/n, we will reconvene after a short recess.”

#911 #911onfox #bobby nash #eddie diaz #evan buckley #evan buckley fanfic #evan buck buckley x reader #evan buckley x reader #athena grant #henrietta wilson #howie han #maddie buckley

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kozumesphone · 10 days

Text

💌┊₊˚⊹꒷ TOO SWEET PT. 1 .ᐟ

⤷ leo valdez x fem!reader ‧₊˚ ⋅

ᝰ. 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 . . . percy jackson and the heroes of olympus

ᝰ. 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 . . . street racing au

ᝰ. 𝐤𝐞𝐲 . . . y/n: your name | y/l/n: your last name | n/n: nickname

ᝰ. 𝐰𝐜 . . . 946

ᝰ. 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 . . . y/n and leo are the queen and king of the shinjuku and shibuya street racing circles, respectively. they meet for the first time at the annual tokyo races to see who's better. (ft. best friend!percy fanboying over racer king!leo + an appearance by passenger princess!leo <3)

ᝰ. 𝐚/𝐧 . . . uhtgufshew tokyo + leo + street racing is such a fever dream for me,, and this one, I wrote bc of my love for leo and fast and furious (esp tokyo drift <3) and I totally based y/n's car off han's from td sue me I love him (: so, enjoy! i'll start working on part 2 soon (:

✮⋆˙ y/n’s pov

'the next station is . . . shinjuku.'

I was busy icing the bruises on my forearm from last night’s race when my best friend barged into the bathroom without knocking.

“HE’S COMING TODAY, N/N!” he screamed, and giggled like a school girl.

“I could’ve been naked, you know,” I muttered, shutting the first-aid box and shoving it into the cabinet under the sink. “who’s coming?”

“ignis-”

“percy, come on, not this again,” I groaned. “you’ve been fanboying about him for the past 48 hours, and I really just want to sleep. and besides, I really don’t see what the big deal about this guy is.”

“uh, hello? he’s the king of the shibuya street races!” percy exclaimed, following me as I walk out, and flop onto my bed. he stops at the foot of it.

“and the people have crowned me the queen of shinjuku’s. so what?” I asked.

‘ignis’, as the others call him, is someone called leo valdez. and apparently, he’s a pretty good racer.

“look,” I continued, interrupting percy before he started fanboying again, with hearts in his eyes or whatever. “if he’s that good, he can come and beat me at the annual tokyo races.” I declared.

“oh yeah, he probably will,” percy commented. I flung my pillow at his head, and smirked when I found I didn’t miss. “OW!”

“whatever. tell me more about him. what’s he like?”

it was almost as if I asked him to marry leo. and this time, he really did have hearts in his eyes, I fear.

“okay, so supposedly, he builds his own car, like you, and started racing at 17! isn’t that cool? I mean, you did too, but still. it’s cooler when he does it. anyway, he’s locally the undefeated champion of street racing, and oh my god, he drives a 1966 ford gt40, it’s so cool-”

“okayyy, i’ve heard enough. I guess it is going to be fun meeting him at the car meet for the races.” I smirked. “let’s battle it out on the roads, ignis.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

✮⋆˙ leo’s pov

'the next station is . . . shibuya.'

“jace, how much farther is the hotel?” I asked, knocking my legs onto the dashboard, and crossing them at my ankles. simultaneously, I pulled down my sunglasses.

“relax, passenger princess, just a few more minutes and we’ll be there.” he replied.

jason glanced at piper in the mirror and smiled.

I would never admit it, of course, but it was terrible being so good at one thing and horribly bad at another. honestly, who would ever believe that the king, ignis, had never been in an actual relationship? the one-night stands didn’t count, obviously. I’d never felt anything close to… love.

pondering my status of being single, I fell asleep in jason’s car.

“dude, bro, homie, my man, whatever, WAKE UP, WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE-”

“did you… did you carry me into bed, jason grace?” I opened one eye and grinned at him lazily.

“you were sound asleep, even worse than a log. I tried kicking you awake, but it didn’t work, so I had to pick you up, ufortunately.”

“aww, don’t sound so happy.”

“shut up. if you don’t get ready to get to the car meet, we don’t get a ticket to race for the entire next month,” he said.

“what- OH, I forgot about that. one ticket’s enough for all 23 races, right?”

“yeah, i’ll explain the details to you in the car, go get ready, dumbass.”

I grinned. “jason grace is cursing, the world is healing-” a pillow hit my face. “i’m going.”

timeskip

“okay, the serious ones you need to look out for are python, shooting star, and tsunami.”

“shooting star?” I choked on my water. “what-”

“weird name, huh?” a girl chuckled behind me, and I whipped around.

“oh no no no no, i’m sorry- are you shooting star? uh, shit, I apologi-”

“nah, but it was funny seeing you get so flustered, valdez.” she smirked.

“do we… know each other?” I asked, confused. her smirk widened.

“not yet, but real soon,” she said, her smirk never faltering and confidence never wavering. she turned and began walking away, and I stood there, mouth open.

“she’s pretty, but she’s also tsunami,” piper commented. oh.

“who said she’s pretty? I didn’t. did you? I don’t know,” I rambled. whatever. “she’s my competition. she’s just in the way of me and my golden trophy.”

“there’s no trophy, dumbass.” jason reminded me.

“a 700$ cash price is equivalent to a trophy, man,” I corrected him.

“ok, well, listen up. she’s called tsunami for a reason. she’s vicious, takes everyone by surprise at every race, and is the queen of shinjuku’s street racing. and most importantly? she’s never lost a single race.” piper explained. I took in every bit of that info, and filed into a part of my brain labelled ‘dangerous and pretty competition, stay away’.

“what’s her ride, then?” I asked, a little curious.

“1997 mazda rx-7 veilside fortune.”

“damn,” I whistled. before I could find out more about her, the announcer on the stage started talking.

“welcome, racers and audience! today is day 1 of the annual tokyo races! here’s a quick rundown about it, in case you haven’t a clue: starting today, there will be 23 races for 23 days, each race held in a special ward of tokyo. we start here, at shinjuku, and end the 23rd race at shibuya!”

everyone cheered and whistled at the mention of shinjuku and shibuya, the two hubs of tokyo’s street racing.

starting at tsunami’s turf, and ending in mine, huh? this was going to be fun.

tags! — @sunnitheapollokid @puffoz

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archie-sunshine · 5 months

Text

Survey Says-! (18+ Rodimus/EVERYONE)

Chapter 5: Software Update (Rodimus/Brainstorm/Perceptor)

Rodimus is NOT bitter about the results of the crew satisfaction survey, in fact, he’s fully prepared to change! He’s determined to change his crew’s minds, and what better way to do so than to get to know them- in the carnal sense that is.

There are no problems with this plan in Rodimus’s mind. There are many in Ultra Magnus’s. Magnus engages in some unfortunate(for Rodimus) damage control as head of Cybertronian Resources. Rodimus is not easily deterred.

Other Chapters Here! Read On AO3 Here!

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FIC TAGS: Rodimus/Everyone(But y’know, not like. EVERYONE. Just a lot of various background characters and also more specifically with some others), Takes place post dark cybertron, but pre the whole ship disappearing thing and the mutiny, smut, Chastity, denial, Rodimus is a slut, Ongoing humiliation, HR Violations as comedy, Ultra Magnus is clueless, sticky sexual interfacing, comedy, sexual comedy, dubious consent (if you squint and tilt your head), contains illustrations

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Authors notes: Okay you guys simply MUST hear me out on this one okay? this one was the fun chapter for archie to have fun writing. okay? okay. btw this chapter is extra long bc it kinda got away from me

CHAPTER TAGS: Plug n play, brain fuckery, submission, bondage, brief loss of bodily control, threesome, throatfucking, thigh fucking, rodimus is ignored in favour of whatever the fuck percey and brainstorm have going on

The broken dataslug felt like it was a thousand tons bouncing around in Rodimus’s subspace. He could keep kicking himself about his fuck up, and probably would be for the forseeable future, but he was on the way to fix things. He could faintly hear the sounds of work down the hallway from the lab, the fizzle of sparks and the whirr of machinery. Rodimus prayed that he’d catch Perceptor alone again.

He tried not to feel too upset when he heard the sounds of conversation floating from the laboratory.

“-mit its impressive, certainly, but the scale is a bit much for our current facilities, wouldn’t you think?” Perceptor’s voice reached Rodimus first, even and calm even slightly shouted over the sound of the power tools working.

“You lack vision, dear Percey, I think we could absolutely handle it!!” Brainstorm called back.

Rodimus paused, waiting for something from Nautica before approaching the door. He started as the door swung open on its own, the aforementioned femme jolting at the sight of him. “Oh! Hello captain.” She greeted, offering a cheery little smile.

“Nautica.” Rodimus smiled back politely. His finials twitched a bit as he felt her field tense back against her just a bit too late to hide the knowingness in it. He attempted to retain a cool demeanor. “Where are you off to?”

“Just on my way out!” she chirped, averting optic contact. “Going to Swerve’s, maybe I’ll see you there later, bye!” The bot scooted around him, ducking under his spoiler and trotting off down the hallway.

“Rodimus?” Perceptor called from within.

Slag. He could already hear the sound of work halting as his presence became fully known. The speedster stepped into the lab, the door closing behind him with a pneumatic hiss. “Yes, hi, sorry for dropping by unexpectedly.”

“...Again?” Perceptor added, biting back a smirk. He was sitting at one of his work stations, in the process of putting something together that Rodimus had no hope of understanding. Brainstorm was similarly engaged, though as Rodimus had entered he’d taken the time to spin lazily around in his seat, resting his cheek knowingly in his palm with a suggestive look in his eyes.

“... Yes. Again.” Rodimus muttered.

“And how could us two geniuses be of help, Rodimus?” Brainstorm prompted, amusement clear in his tone. A flare of heat churned in Rodimus’ tanks, his optics flicking back and forth between the other two mech’s faceplates. “... What’s with these looks, what’s going on here?” Rodimus snapped out, crossing his arms.

Brainstorm snorted involuntarily, quickly resetting his vocalizer. “WELL, Perceptor was just recently telling us about a very interesting project he worked on-”

“YOU TOLD??” Rodimus blurted out incredulously, mortification washing over his frame. It wasn’t as if he was mad at Perceptor for kissing and telling, in fact he hoped most of his partners were inclined to do so. It was more… the whole vulnerability of the matter, that someone else knew he’d been desperate enough to ask for help.

Perceptor shrugged a bit. “I talk about my projects with Brainstorm most of the time we work in the lab.” Projects. Rodimus fought off a shiver. That was what he was in his eyes, then, a project… that should have been insulting, probably.

“Good for morale.” Brainstorm agreed, beaming at his lab partner. He then turned back to Rodimus, all affection in his expression melting out in favour of a mocking smile. “You’d know all about morale, wouldn’t you, captain?”

If he weren’t already in enough trouble with cybertronian resources, Rodimus might have throttled him. “Yep.” He gritted out instead. “Look- I just need a new copy of the… project you gave me.”

Perceptor cocked his head in confusion. “A new copy? Is there something wrong with the last one I gave you, Rodimus?”

Rodimus shriveled. It was embarrassing enough to come crawling back, it was embarrassing enough to ask for a new one, but now with someone else- someone else not sworn to secrecy(with some apparent caveats)- in the lab? This was torture.

He sheepishly reached into his subspace, pawing around for a moment as he approached Perceptor’s desk. He daintily set the crushed dataslug on the table there, offlining his optics in preparation for the reaction.

Rodimus was right to do so, clearly, as Brainstorm burst into laughter. Perceptor cleared his vocalizer, clearly covering up a snicker of his own as he prodded at the shattered circuitry with a stylus. “... You broke it already?”

Rodimus looked away, fidgeting uncomfortably under the two scientists' gazes. “... I actually broke it the same night you gave it to me-”

“THE SAME NIGHT??!” Brainstorm gawked, now peering over Rodimus’ shoulder. “Oh you poor thing.” He crooned mockingly, patting him on his back plating gently.

Perceptor reached into a drawer of his desk, absently picking out a new dataslug and placing it on the table. “Alright, you have a seat Rodimus, I’ll get you a new one.”

Rodimus blinked. “Oh- You don’t need me back on the-” He gestured at the table he’d been on during his last visit.

Perceptor finally glanced up from his work, raising a brow ridge at him. “... No? I have all my work backed up here.” He said, wiggling a datapad in his hand.

“Oh. Okay.” Rodimus blushed a bit, feeling stupid for assuming. It wasn’t as if he’d wanted to spend another half hour getting toyed with and experimented on like some sort of science project… He’d just come to get a new copy of his magic overload stick, that was all.

This was a good thing.

Rodimus wasn’t disappointed even a bit.

Brainstorm brushed past him, now leaning over Perceptor’s shoulder to read the datapad. He mouthed the glyphs on the screen, brows knitting together as he squinted at the lines of code.

“Feh.” Brainstorm sniffed finally, rolling his optics.

Perceptor paused, turning to face the other with a pointed look. “What?”

“... I don’t know, I just feel like you played it a bit safe, Percey.” Brainstorm said. He had that tone to his voice that he only seemed to get when he was trying to play it cool while also silently begging you to ask him what he meant by that.

“What do you mean by that?” Perceptor scoffed.

“I don’t know, I just…” He leaned back, arranging his frame into a haughtier, annoyingly smug pose. He examined his digits nonchalantly. “... Expected it to be a little bit more interesting.”

Rodimus swallowed, optics bouncing between the two of them. “Interesting…?” He mumbled out.

“Well, the client in question didn’t ASK for interesting, he asked for some help, and I gave it to him, and he was happy with it!” Perceptor huffed, spinning in his chair to further face Brainstorm.

“And I’m sure he was! I’m only saying that there are a lot more interesting ways one could have solved the problem, and your methods of efficiency are always very admirable, Percey.” Brainstorm put his servos up placatively, his tone infuriatingly condescending.

Perceptor scoffed again, standing up from his seat. “Well, if you’re so certain you could have done a better job, why don’t you prove it, Brainstorm?” He sneered, jabbing an accusatory digit into Brainstorm’s chest. How Perceptor managed to remain oblivious to the giddiness in Brainstorm’s field was a mystery to Rodimus, it was nearly bowling him over.

“I’d be happy to!” Brainstorm grinned, swinging his helm around to face Rodimus. “What do you say, Captain?”

Rodimus thought for a long few klikks. Brainstorm was just as smart as Perceptor, he could likely play Rodimus’s processor like an instrument just like him too, but his disposition was generally more… unpredictable… in a way that might not have been conducive to his goals.

“... Fine, but I don’t want to hear about anyone else hearing about this, okay?” Rodimus conceded. It was only when he saw the look in Brainstorm’s optics go from excited to elated that Rodimus considered he might have made the wrong choice.

Rodimus was beginning to feel like a bit of a third wheel. Which was odd, because it was him who was currently laying on an examination slab, tilted just a bit upright, while the two scientists bickered over him. He could see his own diagnostics and files brought up on a myriad of screens and datapads that Brainstorm had hooked up around him. Rodimus wriggled uncomfortably on the slab, itching a bit at Brainstorm’s plug in his diagnostic port. He felt less like a mech and more like a missile the scientist was working on. The thought made Rodimus’ plating feel hot and uncomfortable.

“Well see, there’s the problem-” Brainstorm tsked, snapping Rodimus from his thoughts as his servo came down to grip the crest of his helm and tip it to show Perceptor the interfacing port on it’s back. “Who puts an interfacing port at the back of someone’s head?”

“H-hey!” Rodimus started, giving Brainstorm a pointed glare.

“Ahh… I see, that definitely could pose an issue then.” Perceptor nodded a bit.

“Not if you use a topical patch instead of a plug.” Brainstorm waved his servo dismissively, releasing Rodimus’s helm to return to his work.

“But then that makes it harder to take off if you want to stop.” Perceptor said, as if it were an obvious problem.

Brainstorm just laughed, “I have many doubts that Rodimus would worry about stopping.”

“I can- I’m still here you know!” Rodimus snapped.

“Well then you can answer our query then, would you feel more comfortable with a datastick or a topical patch?” Perceptor asked, holding up either one in his servos. Rodimus turned his helm to consider them.

“Uhh-” He began, cut off quickly when he felt the shiver of a command being typed into his processor.

[Action input- Test- Tactile sensors]

Rodimus felt a shudder ripple over his body, each of his sensory inputs warming up briefly before turning off, showing each one was in proper working order. The mech rolled his digits into fists, letting out a shaky vent. “E-either one is fine- I don’t- I don’t care.” He offered helpfully.

Perceptor frowned and sighed. “Fine then.” He broke his attention off from Rodimus when he heard another chuckle from Brainstorm, his frown sharpening.

“Ahh, Perceptor… Really, this code is just adorable, it’s like you didn’t even think of all the ways one can manipulate a sexual code.” Brainstorm mused, mostly to himself.

[Action input- Stimulus reaction- Anterior node- 50%]

Going from zero sensory input to fifty directly on his node was not what Rodimus would describe as ‘cool’ or ‘fun’. A sudden shout punched itself from Rodimus’ chest, his hips jumping off the table as if his valve were attempting to escape the pressure. His pedes came down with a clang, his body arched up in a quivering bridge. “A-AH- FRAG- Brainstorm-!” Rodimus gritted out, waiting for the stimulation to go as he squirmed.

“See, you probably noticed a big amount of his pleasure based coding centers around his valve, right, but-” Brainstorm started to explain, gesturing with his stylus at one of the screens for Perceptor’s benefit. Rodimus blearily noted the diagram was some quick three dimensional mockup of his array. “You know even if a majority of the frame’s favoured stimulant nodes are in one place, it doesn’t mean you-”

“BRAINSTORM!!” Rodimus wailed out, still writhing. The pleasure was burning, his body alight with charge demanding a place to go.

[Cease action input]

Brainstorm sighed and rolled his optics as Rodimus went limp on the table. The whole situation would be sexy if Rodimus were more into the blatant negligence the two of them were clearly treating him to. He tried to focus on steadying his fans as they kicked on.

“As I was saying, I think there are more interesting nodes you could stimulate, in addition to those in the array, to give a more interesting experience.” Brainstorm finished. “At least for a project as boring as ‘data stick that makes you overload’ anyway.”

“B-boring? Primus, Brainstorm, I should’ve considered how scientifically stimulating my own problems were for you before coming here, that’s on me.” Rodimus huffed out indignantly, pinning the jet with a glare.

“Oh, your problems are incredibly scientifically stimulating Rodimus, I can think of a dozen ways to solve your whole panels plight off the top of my head, but Perceptor chose the most boring solution-” Brainstorm rambled exasperatedly, going through a few more codes before hitting the enter button on his datapad.

[Action input- test- oral tactile sensitivity]

[Action input- test- audial sensitivity]

[Action input- test- tactile sensitivity- thigh and hip plating]

Rodimus squirmed. His optics flickered a bit as his processor fought to follow all commands at once. A fuzzy, tingly wash came over his glossa and dentas, then the same over his thigh and hip plating, as if someone were stroking over each bit of plating very lightly. Finally, his audials became suddenly more sensitive, taking in each minute whirr and buzz of the room around him. The sensations came to a slow, easing stop after only a few seconds, leaving Rodimus with an odd feeling in his tanks.

“Boring?” Rodimus finally breathed out, glancing at Brainstorm.

Brainstorm didn’t make optic contact with him, he was too busy inputting commands. “Yes, boring.”

“Would you mind enlightening us then, Brainstorm, on what the dozen other ideas you had are?” Perceptor prompted, folding his arms and leaning back in his seat.

[Action input- Sensory stimulus reaction- valve calipers(1-10) 15%]

[Action input- Sensory stimulus reaction- valve nodes(1-6, 10-18) 10%]

Rodimus moaned lowly, offlining his optics and gritting his dentas. That felt more familiar, his valve squeezing around a phantom sensation, more akin to digits than a full sized spike.

“Well if we wanted to go closer to brute force, there’s technically nothing in the statement ‘crew members are not allowed to remove the magnetizer until the period of punishment is over’ doesn’t extend to one… applying a local anesthetic and removing the lower modesty panels entirely.” Brainstorm started.

“N-no- thats- I don’t want that thanks-” Rodimus’s tanks squeezed uncomfortably. His legs instinctively came together around his panels, earning him a tap from Brainstorm’s stylus.

“Keep those open please, I need to keep an eye on your panels. In fact you could do with squirming a lot less- Ah, don’t worry.” Brainstorm was speaking a thousand miles a minute, leaving Rodimus’s already foggy head spinning.

[Action input- disengage automotive directives from user: Rodimus- neck down]

Rodimus’s entire body went slack with a thud as his legs hit the slab. He let out a choked off cry, willing his frame to move and finding himself limp as a ragdoll.

“W-wait!” Rodimus squeaked out.

“Don’t panic, your body is in good servos, Roddy.” Brainstorm cooed, patting his leg briefly before going back to his work. “Now, I know you’re still keeping up those one on ones, right, Captain?”

“Y-yeah- Hey, listen, I know I move a lot but this is-” Rodimus began to protest, trying his hardest to ignore the ongoing sensation in his valve.

“Relax. I’ve got a way to make those more fun for you if you’re going to be using your intake…~” Brainstorm sing songed, his optics scrunching in an impish little smile. “Here, hold on, I’ll give you your body back in a second, just-” He began, rolling his seat away out of Rodimus’s view and returning with a few yellow painted metal loops. He handed two of them to Perceptor, who seemed to understand the idea just fine as the two of them arranged Rodimus’s limp form into a wide, spread out X shape.

Rodimus dimly felt the familiar sensation of four magnetizer cuffs activating and latching to the metal of the table. “W-why the frag do you even have those in your lab-?” Rodimus asked.

“Don’t ask.” Brainstorm answered, “They’ll just keep you in place for me while I work alright? Do I have your consent to mess with your mouth?” He made a show of asking, clearly more for Perceptor’s benefit than Rodimus’

[Action input- previous input disengaged]

Rodimus was quiet for a moment, the ongoing feelings in his array making him feel like he was about to start leaking. He gave his restraints a testing wiggle, finding himself stuck, but still able to squirm, to a more controlled degree. He cleared his vocalizer, his intake feeling dry as he spoke. “... Yeah okay.”

Brainstorm’s optics flashed just long enough for Rodimus to feel regret before the data inputs came through.

[Action input- cease all inputs- area:Valve]

[Action input- reduce gag reflex- 100%]

[Action input- increase tactile sensitivity- Glossa-60%]

[Action input- increase tactile sensitivity- Dermas-60%]

[Action input- increase tactile sensitivity- Intake- 40%]

[Action input- increase oral lubricant production- 50%]

[Action input- sensory link- tactile oral sensation = pleasure center activation]

Rodimus was overwhelmed for a moment, letting out a glitchy, confused grunt as his intake tingled with sudden sensation. He ran his glossa over his dentas experimentally, turning more pink at the shudder of pleasure that ran down his spinal strut at the feeling. “Oh- Brainst- ah-” Rodimus wheezed. Even just moving his mouth to speak felt oddly good, every brush of his tongue over the expanse of his palate suddenly feeling charged with arousal.

“A brief look at your more recent updated data in your pleasure centers shows general intake sensitivity has already had some spikes on its own, I’ve just..” Brainstorm trailed off, reaching out to playfully tap Rodimus’ lip with his stylus. The feeling sent tingles down Rodimus’ frame directly to his panels. “Heightened the effect. You can call me a genius now.”

Rodimus groaned weakly, too busy squirming in his bindings to pay the scientist much mind. The feeling was weird, good, but weird. He appreciated the thought but it wasn’t like he wanted to go around getting a reputation for finishing just from oral. He had some semblance of dignity to uphold.

A semblance of dignity he was apparently giving up for the time being as he greedily ran his glossa against the roof of his intake, sending sparks skittering across his plating. Rodimus keened, optics flickering and going dim with want.

“Really, this is just gratuitous.” Perceptor scoffed, his faceplate bright pink from Rodimus’ lascivious display. He turned his vision away from him to Brainstorm. “When do you have the time to think of this kind of… thing?”

“Unimportant,” Brainstorm dismissed, standing up and setting his datapad aside. “I have more tests I’d like to run! Rodimus, be a dear and open wide for me?” The scientist patted Rodimus’ cheek, holding his stylus up and wiggling it between two fingers.

The captain complied, letting his jaw drop open and his tongue hang out.

“Very good, Rodimus.” Brainstorm cooed, running the edge of his stylus slowly down the flat of the other mech’s glossa. Rodimus’s valve cycled and squeezed around nothing, his spike twitching and stirring in its housing.

“Nnghhuhuuuhh…” Rodimus answered intelligently. He dimly heard Perceptor clear his vocalizer, but chose not to care, instead opting to curl his glossa around the edge of the stylus and stroke against it.

Brainstorm chuckled, freeing his stylus and running it along Rodimus’s top derma. “It’s very easy to remap pleasure centers to elsewhere in someone’s frame, I could do this to anywhere you liked, but I figured this would be the most advantageous, yes?”

“Y-yeahh…” Rodimus mumbled breathlessly, trying to keep himself as under control as possible. He shook his helm to try and clear the fogginess in it, only to let out a wanton moan when Brainstorm’s free servo came down on his helm crest to hold him still.

“Try not to thrash so much, or I’ll have to take your bodily control away again, and we don’t want that, do we?” Brainstorm hissed, before letting go of his stylus in favour of gripping Rodimus’ tongue between his middle and index digit. Rodimus’ squirmed, trying to hold his helm still as his back arched up off the table. He felt like his whole frame was on fire in the strangest way. He fought to keep from making a further fool of himself, but it was a losing battle. Brainstorm released his glossa, instead shifting his servo to pet his digits over the surface of it.

Rodimus moaned dumbly and began to suck at them on reflex, letting his optics fully go offline as Brainstorm worked his digits gently in his mouth.

Brainstorm leaned down, chuckling as he murmured hotly in Rodimus’ audial. “And I could go further than this, too, I could increase some more of your priorities, make every bit of these ‘apologies’ make you-”

“Alright, I think that’s- that’s quite enough, Brainstorm.” Perceptor interjected. Brainstorm drew his digits from the captain’s mouth with a wet pop, standing back up straight. Rodimus definitely didn’t crane his neck after his servo, and absolutely did not let out an embarrassing noise at having his mouth empty.

“Oh not at all!! We haven’t even tested his throat’s responses!” Brainstorm feigned ignorance at the lewdness of it all, putting his still wet servo on his hip as he gestured across Rodimus’ coolant slick frame. “I’m going to put my spike in his mouth and see-”

Perceptor sputtered for a moment. “This is hardly scientific-”

“Well sure, but it’s more fun if you pretend it is, isn’t it?” Brainstorm chirped, stepping around the side of the table to stand by Rodimus’ head. He hit a button on a nearby console and the slab tilted back until Rodimus’ helm was level with Brainstorm’s modesty panel, at which point Brainstorm carefully rearranged the other bot so that his head was hanging languidly over the edge of the table. “How are you doing down there, Roddy?”

“F-feels weird… good…” Rodimus panted. Had he been more eloquent at the time he might have said something like ‘it feels like my panels are going to fall off’ or ‘please put something in me’, but Rodimus’ foggy mind somehow spared him that added embarrassment. He simply stared at Brainstorm’s panels hopefully, letting out a relieved whine as he saw them transform away.

“Yeah… thats good, I’m glad. Percey, if you wouldn’t mind monitoring the datascreens while I test?” Brainstorm asked, absently petting over Rodimus’ jaw and neck as he coaxed his spike from it’s housing.

“Er- Of course, thats just fine.” Perceptor agreed, turning to watch the readouts with his faceplate almost entirely pink.

Rodimus craned his neck out to Brainstorm’s slowly extending spike, hungry for it in a way he’d never felt before. The first brush of the tip against his dermas sent shivers down his back strut, his engines revving involuntarily as he rolled his tongue against the slit. All this teasing and excess charge couldn’t be good for him, but by this point, Rodimus hardly cared.

He let out a grateful moan as Brainstorm slid his spike carefully into Rodimus’ intake. The captain was vaguely aware at this point that he was salivating more than usual as a ribbon of oral solvent slid headily down his cheeks. Rodimus was startled at the ease with which Brainstorm managed to press his spike into his throat, but any untoward feelings about the matter melted away, replaced with arousal and desperation as his body blazed with charge. He sucked greedily at the intrusion in his mouth, laving his tongue over the topside of Brainstorm’s spike.

“Aaahh, that’s just wonderful-” Brainstorm sighed out, leaning over Rodimus’ body to stroke his servos over the speedster’s overcharged chassis. “I’m so good it scares me sometimes.”

Perceptor chuckled dryly. “All vitals look to be reacting normally. Though, the lack of gag reflex could pose some worries couldn’t it?”

“Oh, you’re too cautious.” Brainstorm dismissed him, beginning to pump his hips into Rodimus’ throat. He disregarded the muffled groans Rodimus was making in favour of teasing his digits along the sensitive edges of the other mech’s spoiler.

“Hardly! I just think things through longer than you do.” Perceptor chuckled again, but there was a note of breathlessness to his voice.

Again, that was probably lost on Rodimus, who was too busy straining his wrists against his restraints in an attempt to grab Brainstorm and press his spike even further into his mouth. He needed it, needed it in a way the other mech couldn’t hope to understand. He swallowed his own drool uselessly, mewling at the feeling of his throat tightening and rippling against the scientist’s spike. He thought he might die if he didn’t keep using him. Every intrusion was getting to him, the feeling of his digits groping at his prone form, the weight of the spike in his mouth, the burning connection of the plug in his diagnostic port. He was helpless. The feeling was so alien, so wrong, so frightening, and yet all Rodimus could do was moan for more.

“Mm-muh-!” He moaned out, gurgling in mindless ecstasy as Brainstorm redoubled his efforts of pounding into his mouth.

“You seem a little bothered, Percey~...” Brainstorm cooed to his partner mockingly. “Is something wrong?”

Perceptor reset his vocalizer with a meaningful click. “No- Nothing, its uhm… only a very… unprofessional display…”

“Well… I’m sure he wouldn’t mind helping you out as well, if all this… unprofessionalism is making it hard for you to focus…!” Brainstorm’s words were heavy with implication and lust, each snap of his hips rocking Rodimus’ frame. The meaning behind his retort finally dawned on Rodimus’ groggy mind, and the bound mech writhed and squirmed, drool bubbling from his lips as he whimpered in need. “See?” Brainstorm chuckled darkly, thumbing lightly at the bulge his spike left in Rodimus’ throat.

It was hard for Rodimus to focus on much other than the weight in his mouth, so he continued to worship, rolling his glossa over each node and biolight and ridge, drinking in each involuntary twitch and gasp Brainstorm let out. He hardly noticed when the magnets on his ankles came away, barely gave any mind as the table below his lower half bowed out, only really giving the movement any mind when he felt Perceptors delicate servos grasping his thighs. His digits seared against Rodimus’ leaking, overcharged panels, making the captain buck and squirm and squeal around Brainstorm’s spike.

“R-Rodimus, is this alright with you?” Perceptor asked, voice heavy with need. Rodimus nearly cried out when Brainstorm pulled his hips back to allow him to respond.

He coughed and swallowed, his mouth drowned in oral solvent and prefluid. “G-hhahh- Go f-for it, please- f-frag- anything-” Rodimus babbled, leaning out to try and get the spike back into his mouth. He whined low in his vocalizer as Brainstorm slipped his spike back home, soothingly petting over Rodimus’ chassis and neck. Rodimus went slack under the two mechs’ ministrations, luxuriating in the rolling sensation crashing over his frame. He felt Perceptor’s spike pressurize between his slick thighs, drinking in the gasp he let out as it slid against the charged heat of his modesty panel.

Rodimus could hardly tell the magnetizer was there anymore, the ache of his array was negligible when compared to the heat of the spikes in and against him and the servos gripping at his dewy plating. His mind went blank, arcs of charge rippling over his body with each thrust, both of the other mecha grounding their own lust through him. Rodimus was lost in it, swallowing intakefuls of solvent and fluid, face growing sticky and messy as his mouth hummed with perverse delight.

He could feel every bit of his plating vibrating, every inch of metal and protoform alight with need. Pleasure gathered heavy in his tanks, drawing him closer and closer to the edge. He couldn’t get enough, squirming between the two scientists, puffs of hot air filling the room with steam. He swallowed around Brainstorm’s spike and felt his valve clench under his panels. Perceptor’s spike between his thighs sped up with a punched out moan from the microscope, his digits digging into Rodimus’ plating and threatening to leave scratches there.

Rodimus felt Brainstorm’s rhythm begin to stutter, his servos coming down to grip the table as he chased after his overload desperately. “O-Oh- Perceptor-” Brainstorm huffed out, steam billowing from the slits in his mask.

Rodimus might have been offended. He should have been offended. The blatant way with which the scientist ignored him, even as he spent his overload down Rodimus’ throat should have made the captain bitter. But instead that heat just gripped him deeper, his engines roaring with lust as Rodimus himself tumbled over into his own climax. His body was strung out taught, writhing and groaning in ecstasy. Transfluid spilled from his dermas and over his face, spurting in equal measure around the seams of his modesty panels and magnetizer. He dimly heard Perceptor gasp and moan at the display, and keened as he felt jets of fluid paint lewdly up his abdomen and across his chassis.

Rodimus laid bare, steaming, panting as Brainstorm slowly dragged his spike out of his intake. Rodimus’ head swirled. He barely recognized the feeling of Brainstorm unplugging his diagnostic cable, hardly noted the stickiness coating the better part of his faceplate and crotch. He allowed himself to bask, savouring the afterglow of his much needed overload as it hung cloyingly to his frame.

Rodimus couldn’t help but feel like he was being rushed out. By the time he was being ushered to the door, he was still a bit out of sorts, a topical patch containing the affectionately named ‘intake interface initiative’ code in his servo.

“Let me know if there are any bugs even though I know there won’t be! And happy trails, take care, buh-bye!” Brainstorm said hurriedly, offering a slightly breathless grin as he shoved Rodimus through the door of the laboratory.

“Uh- Yeah, thanks for-” Rodimus was only able to get the sentence halfway out before the door slid closed behind him. He let out a long, tired sigh, massaging his vocalizer lightly. It was a little bit raw, for good reason. “... Cool.” He muttered, beginning his trek back to his office.

Rodimus eyed the topical patch in its casing, flipping it between his fingers casually. He wouldn’t admit this to Brainstorm or Perceptor(or probably anyone else), but the thing kind of scared him. He was certain there had to be some other bug in there that made his processor work wrong, otherwise he wouldn’t have… well he wouldn’t have gotten so into whatever that was.

He reminded himself frequently what these meetings were: a means to an end. He was getting to know his crew better, he was making a connection, he was showing them he was dependable and generous. What was more generous than sucking spike? Not much, from Rodimus’ point of view.

It was weird to let himself get so lost in the whole matter, like that code had made him do. Yeah, made him. That was it. It wasn’t so bad to let himself enjoy the attention now and then, especially when he’d actually been able to use his array during, but if he got that carried away… just from sucking someone off? That was a bit embarrassing.

Some part of him considered the situation- prone, experimented upon, disregarded but praised, teased… used. It couldn’t have been any of those feelings that had made him act that way.

It was the code!

It must have been.

Rodimus shook his helm, tucking the patch into his subspace delicately. Some parts of his plating still felt sticky, his jaw ached, his vocalizer was raw, there were black paint transfers around his thighs and hips from Perceptor’s groping. He looked like a cheap shareware whore.

…

Rodimus closed out the prompt in his processor to open his panels for what felt like the thousandth time. He let the door to his office close behind him and sat uncomfortably at his desk.

He eyed the fresh stack of datapads and the order his workspace had been brought to and frowned. Ultra Magnus had been there while he was away. Again.

Rodimus took a long, deep vent in.

Just 5 more cycles until his midway meeting with Ultra Magnus. He’d lie his aft off about how much he’d changed, he’d get that magnetizer off, and then things would go back to normal. He’d get through the list once and for all, and everyone would finally recognize how much he did for his crew.

Rodimus briefly considered what it would look like having to endure another 16 cycles if he was unable to convince him.

He swallowed thickly and did the unthinkable to keep his mind off that grim idea.

Rodimus started working on his datapads.

#valveplug #transformers #mtmte #transformers mtmte #/nsfw #my fic #my art #rodimus #brainstorm #perceptor #brainrodceptor #?? is that the ship name? idk #maccadam

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snowmist-hashira · 9 months

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Hey can i request a little after school hangout with Muichiro and yuichiro 🤭 like they finally got the courage to ask reader to go out w them after school (mainly yuichiro making mui do it bc yui is embarrassed (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)) and they go and get ice cream and reader js feeds them or something (sorry im js obsessed with the new official art, and im sorry if this is messy im not the best at explaining (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠))

[Chapter title: Melting Hearts]

[Requested] Tokitou Twins x Reader

Wattpad:(One shots) Tokito Twins x Reader Archive:Kimetsu No Yaiba: Tokitou Twins x Reader Details: ♠ Information ♠ Master list: ♠ Tokitou Twins ♠ Word Count: 1,156

Artist: なつ一 [natyuiti_haru]

Links; Twitter

Pfft, Yui is so damn cute-... I totally enjoyed writing this one, and I think exploring categories like this with the twins isn't so bad (as long as it's not entirely poly). I can imagine them reacting this way if they both developed feelings for the same person. Anyways, I hope this ice cream scene turned out well enough! Let me know your thoughts, Muikitoo~ Tags: @aeolia18 / @demonslayeranimex / @thornrosekaori / @xaeoism / @cascadingleaves (Scheduled)

The school bell then rang, signaling the end of classes for the day, the classroom quickly filled with the noise of shuffling papers, scraping chairs, and chattering students. Some students hurriedly packed their bags and rushed out the door, eager to start their afternoon activities. Others stayed behind, taking their time to organize their belongings.

"Ugh, this heat is unbearable," Yuichiro complained, loosening his necktie to give his neck some relief.

"You're right, nii-san." Muichiro nodded, using his uniform sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead, "how about we grab some ice cream?”

Before Yuichiro could respond, Muichiro's gaze shifted to Y/n, who was sitting a few chairs away, packing her belongings into her bag. "We could invite Y/n to come with us," Muichiro suggested.

Yuichiro flinched at the suggestion, not because he was against the idea, but because he had never found the courage to ask Y/n out, despite both twins clearly admiring her.

"You don't want to?" Muichiro teased, a mischievous grin forming on his lips as he playfully looked at his older twin.

Yuichiro's eyes twitched in response, and he turned away, avoiding his brother's gaze. "You go ask her then," he replied, trying to hide his nervousness behind a nonchalant tone.

"Ah… You're shy for no reason, nii-san…" Muichiro muttered, his words audible enough for the older twin to hear. But before Yuichiro could react, Muichiro walked up to Y/n and gently tapped her shoulder.

Muichiro tapped Y/n's shoulder making her turn to face him with a curious expression. "Hey, Y/n," Muichiro began, trying to sound casual.

“Oh hey, Mui.” Y/n smiled warmly, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong at all,” Muichiro replied, returning her smile. “Actually, nii-san and I were thinking of grabbing some ice cream to cool off from this scorching heat. Would you like to join us?”

Y/n's eyes lit up with excitement at the invitation. "Oh, that sounds like a great idea! I'd love to come along," she happily accepted.

Yuichiro, who was trying his best to eavesdrop on their conversation, couldn't help but glance over at the exchange, though he had wanted to invite Y/n himself, he couldn't muster the courage to do so.

Outside the school building, the sun was relentless, making the asphalt feel like a frying pan. However, the prospect of ice cream made the heat more bearable as they headed towards the ice cream truck parked just outside the school gate.

"Look at all the options they have!" Y/n exclaimed, her eyes scanning the menu on the side of the truck. "I'm having a hard time deciding."

Muichiro smiled, "Well, we can each get a different flavor and share them. That way, we get to taste more varieties," he proposed, mischief dancing in his eyes.

So, they did. There was a bench conveniently placed near the stationed ice cream truck, and the three of them settled down there. Y/n sat comfortably in the middle, flanked by the twins on either side. The cold, creamy ice cream brought instant relief from the scorching heat as they continued to enjoy their treats and each other's company.

"You're quite the fan of mint flavor, huh?" Y/n remarked, glancing at Muichiro, who was enjoying his mint ice cream.

Muichiro playfully teased, "Are you jealous? If you want, you can have a taste, Y/n."

Curious about the mint flavor, Y/n scooped a small spoonful from Muichiro's ice cream cone and tasted it. As she did so, Muichiro couldn't help but pout slightly, expecting her to take a bite directly from his cone. Yuichiro observed the scene and furrowed his brow, wondering what his mischievous younger twin was up to.

In that moment, a mischievous idea crossed Muichiro's mind. "Y/n~" he called, his tone playfully enticing. "Can I taste yours?" He asked, a sly grin forming on his lips. Yuichiro, on the other hand, gave his younger twin a wary look with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Oh, sure.” Y/n replied, Muichiro then playfully snatched Y/n's spoon and took a spoonful of her ice cream, he made sure to make it look casual, but he had a mischievous glint in his eyes. Unbeknownst to Y/n, the spoon he used had made contact with his mouth, resulting in an indirect kiss.

Y/n didn't seem to notice anything unusual and continued eating as if nothing had happened. However, Yuichiro, who was watching the whole exchange closely, felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment and surprise.

Although it was all in good fun, Yuichiro couldn't help but feel a mix of amusement, awkwardness and a bit of jealously at witnessing the indirect kiss between Muichiro and Y/n.

Moreover, it seemed like Muichiro was subtly teasing his older brother for not being able to take the initiative with Y/n. After all, Yuichiro had hesitated even in inviting her to a simple hangout. A subtle smirk graced Muichiro's lips as he glanced at Yuichiro, making it clear that he found the situation amusing.

This somewhat irked Yuichiro, he mustered the courage to express his bold thoughts, his heart raced with anticipation. He softly exhaled, trying to calm his nerves as he looked into Y/n's eyes.

"Y/n, I'd like to try it too," he said, his voice filled with a mix of nervousness and determination.

Y/n seemed a bit taken aback by his request, but she nodded and handed him the spoon. However, before she could react, Yuichiro surprised her by gently taking her hand that was holding the ice cream cup. He leaned in a bit, his heart pounding in his chest, and boldly took a lick directly from the cup.

“…!”

Yuichiro looked up at Y/n, his eyes locked with hers, and he saw a hint of surprise and a glimmer of something else he couldn't quite put into words. He gently released her hand, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through him.

The atmosphere around them seemed to shift, and a moment of awkward silence followed Yuichiro's bold gesture. As both Muichiro and Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, the atmosphere around them became momentarily tense. Muichiro's playful expression turned into a slight frown, his brows furrowing as he processed the unexpected intimacy between his brother and Y/n.

On the other hand, Y/n remained completely oblivious to the shift in the mood. Her cheerful demeanor and lack of reaction made it clear that she had not fully grasped the significance of the moment.

"Y/n! Feed me." Muichiro boldly demanded, a hint of jealousy apparent in how his older twin, Yuichiro, acted, taking matters to another level while Muichiro held back.

"Wha-?!" Yuichiro widened his eyes at the sudden declaration, seemingly realizing that his younger twin was competing for Y/n's attention.

"Huh? You two are going to finish off my ice cream at this rate. Get your own," Y/n said, frowning at the twins. The two couldn't help but sweat drop at Y/n's obliviousness to their obvious infatuation.

‘Y/n, that wasn’t the point…’

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sendmyresignation · 3 months

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if you wanna indulge me, id love to hear your opinions on sing (all of mine are detractory which i know isnt the complete view of the song)

omg id love too!! sorry this took me a sec to formulate post-work haha. i know we don't agree about sing but honestly that's the beauty of music opinions- I feel like it becomes easier to define what I like about things when faced with legit measured criticism anyway

for me, i want to start with the structure and instrumental since it's usually not mentioned (most of the criticisms of sing are exclusively lyrical or intention-focused). it's so cool. and evocative. and full of tension!! my favorite use of synth on danger days, plus the keys and the drums (man i love the dd studio musician drums lmao), really emphasizes sing as a suspended moment both in the album (necessary bridge, tonally, between bulletproof and planetary imo) and in the track itself- its alllll building up to that bridge and final chorus. but there's all these little pieces- the backing vocals, there's so many hidden guitar parts that riff just under all the noise, that opening like, tambourine. sorry for not having a quote on hand but Ray's said he really loved writing sing and it's so totally obvious to me. especially live- part of the reason I was soooooo excited for sing swarm tour edition is that even during dd ray was like absolutely shredding for sing after the bridge. and everytime time it's so good. part of the reason the lyrics don't bother me is sing could stand alone instrumentally and I'd still want to listen to it. (sing also reminds me of Ray's solo music- the sentiment is more significant that the lyrics and the music is itself a vehicle for storytelling)

also though, i think there's a lot of intention with sing (it's up to the listener to determine if that paid off obv) but within the context of dd the record as a pirate radio station, sing has always read as a trojan horse song. making it a single too, like once a song takes on a life of its own outside the record there's new meaning and circumstance. so both within and outside the killjoy universe sing is a vehicle for not just the bridge but the overall sentiment of dd (how fucking excited was gerard when glenn beck took the glee bait) like, yes, i do agree they could've benefited from another pass over the lyrics (i will always defend keeping "sing it till your nuts" bc its sounds like sing it to your nuts though) but I don't personally get the criticism that sing isn't "specific enough" about what exactly it's against or is too optimistic about "sing it for the world"-- i think there are songs on the album (notably planetary right after it!) which do that job just fine. dd is gerard in arguably top lyrical form so theres a lot of meat in the rest of the record like. sing it for the world is a purposely simplistic art is the weapon. like those are the same sentiments rendered very differently!

also like. i do think there was a very directed target at the younger part of their fan base here (girl/boy) which is sweet. to me. like i did hear sing first when i was a young teen (one of the few dd songs i was familiar with) and it did feel huge and empowering at that moment. my chem are their best when they are navigating the dualities of their specific fame, which includes simultaneously making very serious, adult rock music which is concerned with violence death grief and sex, as well as being a role model for younger people and taking them seriously and neither of these are in rhetorical conflict with each other. so like whatever sing is a little juvenile. but it's still filled with passion! taken as a legitimate project with a creative instrumental and a narratively-driven music video. I like that aspect, it works for me. I'll never call it my favorite my chem song but its certainly not the worst when you add in the bridge (i wanted to prove my point without the bridge but like. damn!! it's a good bridge!!!). that's my spiel.

#god this is long but thank you for the ask it made me think :)#like at the end of the day a great instrumental with subpar lyrics is going to beat out #a song with incredible lyrics and a bothersome instrumental bc that effects tone and meaning and listenability and impact #so i think sing is v easy for me to appreciate #my posts #angstics #igottheanswer

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postmodernbeliever · 2 months

Text

lifetimes and lifetimes - fox mulder x fem!witch reader

not every witch needs spells and stones to relive the past, or predict the future. in your opinion, the craft is much simpler than that- what is meant to be yours comes to you, at the right time. and the right thing does come, in the shape of a tall, curious fbi agent. it doesn't take long to learn just who fox mulder is to you- and that it seems you two always find each other, in every lifetime.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

this one is dedicated to @spookybasementboy bc they asked for it :)) i took some creative liberty because i’m not much of a witch myself- i was inspired by the past life situation in the season 4 ep “the field where i died” but also wanted to make sure i made it mystical, so i used a sort of invocation/prayer and vision experiences. but really i wanted to have an amalgamation of a witch and a regular person, who truly is a product of “coincidences”, run into our handsome little fox. i think it came out kinda cool. unlike anything i've written. ok ill stop explaining and let you read. <3

my ao3 | word count: 5,041

content tags: wicca, not too witchy but has spiritual experiences, mentions of bodily blood/gore, past lives, flashbacks, idiots in love, stress, fear, anxiety, slow romance, you both fall hard FAST but it’s gotta be slow!!!!!!!!!!

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

special agent fox mulder believes in everything. he doesn’t know how not to, not with everything he’s seen in his lifetime. because of this blind faith, he gets himself in constant trouble. it was the first thing you noticed about him as he handcuffed you to the chair in the police station bullpen, that he was trouble, but in a good way. in the way that without having said a word, you felt he could turn your life upside down. even in a state of shock, you could sense that.

you sat like a prisoner, eyes shut as agent mulder settled into the desk chair opposite you. behind your eyelids, you relived flashes of moments from not even an hour prior. there was blood and bullets; you tasted wood, glass, screams, more blood. you remembered the red eyes, and the way bodies flooded beneath the pews, the sound of skulls cracking against the cold tile. you remembered reciting the only prayer that you could remember, the first one you learned when you left the church at 18. you felt the wiry carpet burning your elbows as you crawled away. you heard their voices repeating, “baruch hashem, baruch hashem, baruch hashem…” you remembered being chased, and after that, nothing else. as you awaited what surely was to become your interrogation you began to pray again, because it felt like you had no other means of safety. the earth is my mother, i shall not want…

“so, you like to run, huh?” the man teased, easing into his questioning.

agent mulder’s authority was practically dripping from him- tailored suit, slack tie, blue and white badge screaming from his pocket. the print of his gun pressed against the black holster which flashed enticingly behind his coat. you saw power in his eyes, and a boyish attitude in his smile as he awaited your response. he was an understated kind of handsome. the kind that snuck up on you.

you winced as you shifted in the chair, and the man watched you tremble, suspicious of your state. maybe it’s drugs, he thought, but he quickly rescinded that. you just didn’t seem like the type. to the naked eye, you were healthy; plump arms and legs, round cheeks, secretive eyes. you were an intriguing sight, and not just because of your clothes. chained to a chair, your curling tendrils of hair and berry lipstick looked so out of place in a dirty, bustling environment like the one in which you both sat. he saw a girl adorned in earthy colors both muted enough to communicate a soft darkness, and bright enough to draw people to it. the beat-to-shit brown boots on your sleepy feet showed how long you’ve been drifting by, living alone. silver ornamented your neck and ears and poised hands, and agent mulder liked how it contrasted the tarnished handcuffs. you were battered from the events of your evening, with deep cuts in your hands and knees, and bloody scrapes all over your body, taking turns sharing skin with the bruises. you were a dichotomous girl, giving him every reason to be curious; yet all personal inquiries aside, agent mulder had a job to do. he had caught you fleeing a crime scene, after all.

something in his gut wanted to release you, to let you float right out the front door and back to wherever you came from; but in his chronic open-mindedness, he couldn’t be sure if you weren’t tricking him some way into feeling that. so he kept you locked tight and facing him, eagerly awaiting your statement.

“running is for the guilty, agent mulder.”

“well, i had to chase you down, didn’t i?”

“who says you decide what i’m guilty of?”

the agent turned to the computer and opened a statement file, deciding to take yours himself. “what’s your name, miss?”

“which one? i have a few.��

“whichever one i can find in an official file somewhere in this pigsty,” he grinned.

“well, that’s not gonna be much help,” you shot the man a wink, “they know me by a handful, too.”

“well, come up with one, then.”

you sat for a moment, already settled on the name you wanted to hear him repeat, but wanting to tease anyway. when you offered it up, the sound rang in his ears like angel’s bells.

agent mulder simply couldn’t stifle his curiosity. as he typed your chosen name out, he asked, “what does it mean?”

“well, my last name is an old name. for us wiccan, it means old friend. and i like to think of myself that way- familiar, constant, when the world is always moving.”

“and your first?”

“my favorite shakespeare character.” you admitted. the man’s face flooded with color, and you could hear him thinking, is she fucking with me? so you tacked on, “you know, just because someone’s a witch doesn’t mean they’re an isolationist. i read.”

“i didn’t say anything!” agent mulder chuckled awkwardly. your intuition had him drawing nervous breaths. “so, you’re a witch. is that why you were at the church? did you plan to invoke, or just poke fun?”

“i’m not that kind of witch, agent mulder. not all witches are mean-spirited. i was there because i had walked past the church a few days ago, and i saw the stained glass windows from outside. they were so beautiful, i wanted to see them up close. i’m not a fan of what happens at churches, but i do love their art.”

for an accepting person, agent mulder didn’t realize how many preconceived notions he held. sat before him was a girl who pledges to be a witch, but visits catholic churches in her free time like museums. a girl who chose her name according to the day. in what little he knew, there seemed to be not one solid fact on which he could build a realistic profile. tight-lipped, the man asked for your age, place and date of birth, and address.

“i’m not sure exactly how many lives i’ve had, but in this one, i’m 29. arlington, d.c… um, october 31st, 1964… oh, and right now, i’m at 2632 hegal place, alexandria. apartment 42.”

as you spoke, a wind blew through the station. it ruffled the papers on agent mulder’s desk, and it whistled through the links to your handcuffs. the hair stood up on your arms as the wind whispered, and you knew what he was going to say before he said it. you felt it in your gut.

“2632?” agent mulder swallowed thickly, his curious pupils inflating almost cartoonishly. you saw his goosebumps and smiled.

as if you’d known all along, you asked, “you live in the building next door, don’t you? 2630?”

agent mulder didn’t respond, but the blood in his cheeks did for him. you shifted in your seat again, feeling a burning in your stomach. you hadn’t felt that hot intuition for a long time. there was a haunting quality to his face that was drawing you away from your defense; you couldn’t keep up the mysterious act, because something about him made it impossible to hide.

“s-so, what were you doing at the church?”

“you already asked me that, sir.”

you were surprised that even in the chaos of the police station, you weren’t alone. you felt alone. agent mulder seemed to look at you like his eyes didn’t recognize another thing, like the world was unfamiliar to him aside from your face, your eyes. and all those years of sitting in meditation, of attempting to regress, to see who you were before and who your soul was tethered to were useless. you should’ve known by now to trust in your world, in its karma. it always comes when it’s meant to.

“you can call me fox, if it’s easier. sir is so… formal.”

fox’s eyes sparkled. you’d seen that shimmer before, but in water, and in shifting light. you looked into him, and wiped your clammy palms against your pantyhose-clad thighs. for the first time all night, you felt your barrier coming down, the shield you raised back at the church, against the cops and the world. the fear you stifled to survive was finally flooding through your veins, and the tears in your eyes followed like dominoes.

fox instinctively abandoned the report and took your palms in his own, passing his calloused thumbs over your trembling knuckles. “hey, hey, it’s okay,”

“i-i”m sorry,” you hiccuped, struggling to speak. “i’m- m’over… overwhelmed,”

“catch your breath,” he whispered, running his palms up and down your arms. his touch was seraphic, and by it, you knew you’d felt it before. lifetimes and lifetimes of it. “take it easy, i’m here.”

when you calmed down, he began again, “can you tell me what happened?”

“well… i went into the church. to look at the windows, like i said. i was alone, it was maybe around six o'clock by then. they were just finishing mass, and everyone stood up to leave, a-and then they came in,” you stuttered, “the, uh, the shooters. they were- they were in all black, and wore red masks, like ones from the halloween store. they were chanting, they said, baruch hashem. it sounded like hebrew, but i think it was different, i’m not sure. it sounded old. and they were chanting, and they knocked so many people down in the aisles to get to the alter. they fired a few rounds off at the windows, glass fell on my head… i saw a lot of people fall, so i dropped to the ground and pressed my face to the wall. i prayed over and over, to the earth, it’s the only prayer i could remember. i just wanted to hide, y’know? a-and when- when they got up to the altar, they-”

the agent stopped you to ask, “what prayer?”

“why does it matter?” you sniffled.

“because it might have been what got you out in time.”

his eyes were so pleading, and the fire curling around your bones stood to remind you he was to be trusted. so you recited the prayer, a slightly juvenile one that in your newness you cut down to the meat of: “the earth is my mother, i shall not want. she restores my body and awakens my soul. although i walk in the shadow of changing seasons and passing time, i will not fear death, for the essence of life is within me, the peace and beauty of earth comfort me. as i look to the skies with wonder at the immensity of the universe, i know i am blessed beyond measure to live all the days of my life in the bountiful house of gaia.”

the man marveled at how the words spilled from your tongue, so ingrained in your muscle memory that they were second nature. you kept a cadence, and each word was its own. he saw now you were not one to sit surrounded by potions and symbols to cloud your focus; you simply let the power of the world pass through you, and hoped to harness it and be protected as you yielded to it. you repeated that mantra like it was all you had left- he could tell. he’d never met such a modern witch. to him, you were a brand new kind of x file, with subtle powers he has yet to comprehend.

“that’s beautiful,” he complimented as he squeezed your palms. “alright, now breathe. you're safe. keep talking.”

shutting your eyes, you tried to reimagine the horror. you’d never dreamed of seeing anything so inhumane, but maybe these details would be useful. you can’t have just seen them for nothing.

“they, um, they took the priest. one of them shot him, and then another laid him on the table, and- and he used a knife to cut him open. there… there was so much blood,” you swallowed thickly. “they took his… y’know, his uh, insides. they dragged them out, and they chanted, and anyone who stood up was shot. i- i watched them take it all and, uh, they put it in the tabernacle, of all places… and their eyes glowed under the masks, bright red, and they never stopped chanting. once they started taking people from the pews with knives, i crawled out the side door, because i had th-this feeling, like, like it would be me next. i felt it everywhere. and when the cops showed up…”

“you didn’t want to get stuck. and you thought i was one of them, coming to take you, so you ran from me.” fox finished your thought, a resonant pain shaking his ribcage at the thought of making an innocent girl just try to outrun the danger. “you saved yourself, you know. i don’t know how your prayer worked, but you did something, summoned something that saved you long enough to get you out.”

“and it made you follow me.” you sighed, wiping your tear-stained cheeks. “why?”

fox’s eyes traveled across your face, inspecting every detail, wishing he had a microscope. his hand raised deliberately to brush a lock of hair from your face. “i don’t know.”

“what is your gut telling you?”

“its…” the man felt like his lungs were going to pop, two balloons over-inflated, under siege by a swarm of butterflies. “i wanted to follow you. to find you, not arrest you. but you kept running, so… y’know, logic took over.”

fox took a moment to fish the handcuff key from his pocket, and he unlocked your wrists, rubbing softly at the red marks. the agent winced, guilt-ridden for fastening them too tight. “does it hurt?”

“no, m’okay,” you muttered. your head was pounding, and when his fingertips grazed your pulse, you felt somewhat weak.

fox let you rest for a few minutes while he typed up your account. he remembered every word. as he worked, his leg consciously shifted out to knock against your knee, and the two of you sat that way for a while, touching bones. when he was done, he leaned back in the borrowed desk chair and sighed, dragging his big palms down his face.

“can i ask why you’re investigating this?” you brought one leg over the other, suddenly a bit conscious of the length of your dress. you saw his eyes follow, and you flushed.

“oh, well, my partner and i- scully, you met her- we’re, uh, we’re investigating a string of ritual murders. we’ve followed these guys through the state, they shoot up masses and do what they believe to be sacrifices to jesus himself. that- that chant you mentioned, baruch hashem, i recognize it. it’s aramaic, the language jesus spoke. means “blessed be the name”. we’ve gathered they chant that over and over and they, uh,” the agent paused, seeing the discomfort on your face, “you don’t want to know the details.”

“no, i do! it's just a little raw is all,” you flashed a meek smile, gesturing with a nod for him to continue.

“well, they seem to be taking people’s… entrails, the priest’s first, and offering them up by putting them in the tabernacle. my theory is they seem to think that if they offer holy blood, and let it be anointed with the eucharist, it'll reward them with god’s love and immortality. as far as we know, they belong to a cult that moves across the country, sacrificing lives to win god’s favor. and what you saw tonight- what you suffered- it’s going to help us stop them.”

“really?”

“yes, really,” he grinned. “listen, i’m not going to hold you here. you’re a victim, you don’t deserve to keep reliving this. you need to go home, get some rest.”

there was still that fire in you, churning and hissing within your throat, reminding you not to ignore it. you never did. in your practices, you always bended to the will of your fire. every invocation, every motion, was deliberate. it all came through you. you didn’t adhere to the rules of everyone else who believed like you did; you belonged to no wiccan circle, no congregation. you just made your way in the world, a ritualist by nature, working with this life and world while understanding your diversion from it. you let your selves be your guide- every version of you that has lived wisely for your benefit.

thinking of what you are, and what you’ll become now you’ve met fox mulder, the flames licked your tongue, making you honest again. “i’m scared to leave. i… i don’t want them to come for me.”

fox’s comforting grin fell. he saw how you made yourself small in the chair, and he wished he could switch places. in an instant, he’d be the one interrogated, judged, the one seeing guts and blood when he closed his eyes. he couldn’t let that be what you turned into.

“i can bring you. i can get you security, protective custody, anything you need. i’ll protect you myself if i have to,” fox swore, “i won’t let them get to you, okay?”

a sad little laugh bubbled in your throat, and you reached for the hand that rested on the computer mouse. you adored the feeling of his tired skin beneath yours so sensitive. “i guess i don’t really know what’ll feel safe just yet.”

“then let me take you home, at least,” fox offered. “i do live next door.”

“you do.”

you stood up, feeling a bit achy in the knees. fox offered you his arm and you wrapped your palm around it gratefully. you watched him motion across the station to the pretty redhead you’d met in cuffs, who nodded softly. his partner. there was a smart look in her eye, and you knew she had the answers- to what, you couldn’t be sure, but she held a truth within her. it glowed golden against the pink of her skin.

the agent ushered you to a small car outside the station, opening the passenger side for you to slide in. you giggled at his old-fashioned ways, enamored by how he shed his suit jacket and laid it across your nearly bare legs in the car. “so you don’t get cold,” he explained, but you couldn’t care less about why.

the drive was silent. fox went slowly, although you had the feeling he tended to speed. his hand rested on the gear shift out of baseless habit, even though the car was automatic. he was tense, anxious, aware; the muscle at the curve of his jaw clenched and unclenched like it was keeping time, and a stubborn slice of hair kept falling against his forehead no matter how many times he blew it away. you admired him from your side of the car, seeing how traffic lights reflected in his eyes. all it took was for fox to deal a soft glance your way, with just a slight tilt of the head, for you to feel yourself in this car before, within this exact moment some other lateral time. a second wave of goosebumps riddled your body.

show me, you begged in silence, willing to be heard by whatever force was showing you new versions of the man behind the wheel. show me who he is. show me who he is to me.

a sudden burst of rain smacked against the windshield of the car, causing both of you to jump. there was no storm following- it was as if a squall came down, just momentarily, to rinse the car. when you blinked, you saw fox driving a first-edition ford in a tweed coat and flat cap, a cigarette bobbing between his lips as he asked you about your day; then, he was jostling atop a cart, hands on worn horse reigns, singing some folk song you’d never heard. another blink revealed him as a boy, holding your juvenile hand and speaking middle french as he passed you a flower, with that same concentrated head tilt and gaze as all the other visions. you’d been here so many times, protected by him, going towards a life with him. you knew he felt it, too, because the beat of his heart was loud enough to hear how it synced with yours. not a piece of you both was out of time, now that the world had removed its wedge. you rested your hand atop his on the gear shift, and the muscle in his mouth loosened.

when fox pulled up to your building, you waited for him to come around and let you out with a teasing smile. he took your hand gingerly and led you down the sidewalk. he helped you through your building’s door, up the stairs, and he swiped the keyring from your shaking hands and unlocked your apartment for you. the familiar smell of cinnamon air freshener eased your nerves as you switched on the lights, and you saw fox get a glimpse of your life for the first time. he smiled at your home where you lived in the same room, on the same floor, in the same layout one building away, as him. your living room window looked like his. your television was in the same place. you had far more books, and your desk was littered with drawings, but everything was reminiscent of his apartment. and you saw his home now as you looked around, like you had three-dimensional lenses on- you in the blue film, and him in the red. he had no trouble finding the sink and filling a cup for you while you drifted to the couch and sat down. after having time to settle, your body ached.

“i can't believe this,” was all he could say.

you took the glass from him and sipped it greedily, falling out of shock and into need. you patted the cushion beside you, and he took a seat.

“you’re familiar with past lives, right?”

“well, yeah,” he confirmed, “i know different theories and cultural views of reincarnation. it's an interesting concept, to be born again but always the same, an amalgamation of the people you were before.”

“i think so, too.”

“but you’re wiccan, so you know all about that already, right?”

“well, i think you should know that things for me are different, fox. i mean, i tell people i’m wiccan, so they call me a witch, and i go with that. i guess i’m spooky to other people. i lean into it because it does them less harm to simplify me and me less harm to just live how i want in private. if i could create a whole new kind of practice, i would, but sometimes its easier to just let people see you how they do and move along,” you elucidated. “what you might think wiccans believe isn’t always what i believe, y’know? it’s just the closest label. works better than deist or freak or whatever. and being here with you, and all these visions, these memories i’m having… i don’t really know what i’m getting at. this is all to say that yes, i believe in past lives, and i’m not so much wiccan as i am just myself.”

“i get it. you follow your own rules. you have an instinct, just something that kind of… burns in you, right?”

all the words he could’ve used, and he chose burn. because love burns, pain burns, life burns. this entire night has burned you. and he’s burned, too, branded with the belief you share.

“yeah.”

“so, did you know me in your version of past lives, then?” the agent inquired, bumping your knee with his knuckles playfully.

“i know i did, because i asked the world to show you to me, and now i see every version of you. four, maybe five of you, in the same exact moment. you don’t change. and you’re always with me, always a force. this gentle, ferocious thing, keeping me to yourself. and i think in each one, i love you.”

fox’s brain was swimming in confusion while his body buzzed with want. distractedly, he wondered, “how can something be gentle and ferocious?”

softly, you recited, “it’s astounding the first time you realize that a stranger has a body. the realization that he has a body makes him a stranger. it means you have a body, too. you will live with this forever, and it will spell out the language of your life.”

fox beamed, “if beale street could talk. you are well read.”

you set the glass of water down on the coffee table that looked just like his, and you said, “i know you, fox. not in this life yet, but i’ve known you in every one before. coincidences aren’t just coincidences.”

“i never thought so,” the agent nodded thoughtfully. you couldn’t tell what was in his head this time, and you wanted so badly to know. when he did reveal a question, you didn’t expect it. “what was the part of that prayer you said for me earlier? something about the universe?”

quietly, you recanted: “as i look to the skies with wonder at the immensity of the universe, i know i am blessed beyond measure to live all the days of my life in the bountiful house of gaia.”

fox’s face burst into a wild smile, one that used every tooth he had. he thought of how his entire life, he looked up to the stars, worshiped them; hoping they’d be benevolent enough to bring his sister back, to save his life, to make all of his pain worthwhile. and there they were, divine within your oldest prayer, the very same prayer that guided him from the church in your direction in the first place. you could believe it was the earth, or the spirits you confided in all you liked, but to him the stars had made it all possible. maybe he was a witch in his own way, too, if he played by your rules.

fox sat in silence with you for a while, refilling your glass while you collected your nerves. the man offered to patch a few of your cuts just so he could pick apart the details of your life in the apartment. with the cover of looking for a first aid kit, he flipped through your books, searching for your copy of james baldwin. he admired your records, finding music he’s loved for years and some he’s never heard before. he studied your little jars of herbs that coexisted alongside tylenol bottles. he saw the parts of your window that you colored with magic marker, because of how you longed for true stained glass. he frowned, thinking what a shame it was those bastards destroyed the art you’d gone to admire tonight.

as he looked, he learned again what it is like to feel your presence, to be surrounded by you. he felt a sudden gap mending in the space within him, and he didn’t need magic to know why. falling in love was magical enough.

you spent some time allowing fox to nurse your bumps and bruises (once he stopped fake-looking for the first aid kit), and admired how he childishly placed bandaids all over your arms and legs as if they’d heal all. it was more about letting him care for you, and feeling his hands in places you’d only hoped they’d touched before. he hummed softly to himself all the while, and you were a puddle by the time he finished; when you were the center of his focus, he was nothing but a big sap, muttering soft praises and showering you with smiles. you couldn’t believe it took you so long to find him, or rather that the world took so long to bring you his way. you had so much to make up for now.

when it was time for him to go, you followed him to the door like a puppy. you didn’t feel the discomfort anymore, or the fear of your death. you only felt the doting hands of karma, proving to you the night was simply a means to a much greater end. (un)coincidentally, karma’s hands felt just like his.

fox leaned in your doorway, his tie undone and his authority stripped. “i’ll come by to check on you in the morning,” he assured.

“i’ll be here.”

“where do you work?” fox asked, and when your lips melted into a helpless grin, he pushed, “come on, where?”

“i’m a receptionist at the national archives.”

the believer before you fell to the mercy of his faith, picturing the building on the same street as his job. he imagined how many times you must have walked past him to go to work, all those days spent believing in a love he was missing. his ageless eyes folded on themselves with disbelief, and his laugh rattled deep in his chest.

“jesus. are you sure you’re not something else? a genie, a spirit? an angel?”

“nope. just a witch. and a bad one, at that.”

you pushed onto your tip-toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, finding his scruff so familiar to your lips. he sighed softly at the touch of your hands, feeling embers sparking in their wake.

like it was a secret, he murmured, “i have one more question.”

“hm?”

“why do you choose me? if you’ve lived all these lives, why me?”

you settled back onto your heels and smiled. your palm rested against his jaw as you replied, “you know, i don’t think i ever had a choice.”

he wanted to kiss you, but you both know he’s too much of a gentleman. so he only gazed at you for a while, pressing your hand flush to his face, before letting it fall and stepping into the hallway. and as you watched him leave, you imagined every time he’d come back to save you, to love you, to tilt his head and realign himself as the lover you’ve kept for lifetimes.

“you know where to find me,” you called after the man, and he looked over his shoulder with enough love to shatter the sky.

“i guess i always do, don’t i?”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

prayer altered for story, sourced from this website

quote used from novel if beale street could talk by james baldwin

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