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witchyweasley · 3 years

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Release the Tension Part 2

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: After a rough practice, you and Fred continue your FWB agreement.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: smut, 18+ themes, oral (female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~

Quidditch practice is never easy, but it’s normally not this bad for me. I was constantly distracted, both by my thoughts and by one of the redhead beaters.

“What’s wrong with you?! Get your head in the game, girl!” Angelina yelled to me as I dropped the quaffle she threw at me.

I groaned and flew down to pick the ball up from the ground and try to redeem myself. Right as I was throwing the quaffle into the goals, someone’s broom knocked into mine, causing me to almost lose my balance. A hand grabbed my waist and steadied me back on the broom.

“Whoa love, sorry about that. Was trying to make sure the bludger didn’t kill you, didn’t take into account that I would,” Fred said before flying away.

Practice after that didn’t get any better. I kept dropping the quaffle or missing the goal entirely. Harry kept yelling at me, which wasn’t helping my stress levels. As soon as the practice was over I hurried into the changing rooms, trying to get in and out without talking to anyone. I’m sure they could all tell something was up. I haven’t been that bad at quidditch since I was learning it as a child.

“Hey! Wait up!” Fred yelled to me as I sped out of the changing room. He lightly jogged to catch up with me, slipping a shirt over his head as he did so. I turned around to face him, not sure of what to say.

“Are you alright?” Fred asked, walking next to me as we headed into the Great Hall.

“Honestly, not great. Classes were awful, quidditch practice was awful, everything is just awful right now,” I ranted.

“Thanks,” Fred said sarcastically.

“Okay so you’re not awful,” I corrected myself, taking a seat in the great hall. Fred sat down next to me.

“Sorry about practice by the way, I really didn’t mean to almost knock you down,” he said, filling up his plate with food.

“It’s fine, I should’ve been paying more attention,” I said as George and Angelina sat across from us.

“Yeah is everything alright? You seemed a little off today,” Angelina asked.

“A little off? I dropped every quaffle you threw me!” I sighed.

“Okay yeah, you were kind of terrible out there,” she admitted.

“Fuck,” I said, putting my head down on the table.

“I’m sure it was just a fluke, you’ve had a lot on your mind,” Fred said, rubbing my back.

“Yeah we all have our bad days,” George said, “Speaking of which, we should probably get going, Angelina.”

“Where are you two going?” I asked.

“Remember? Greaseball gave Angelina, Lee, and me detention this morning because of our potions,” George said.

“Oh shit, that’s right. Well have fun cleaning the trophy room,” I said.

“I wish we were cleaning the trophy room. This time he decided we needed to clean the potions room and his storage cabinet. It’s going to take hours, even with the three of us,” Angelina said, taking a final bite of her food before they all headed out to detention.

“So…” Fred started.

“So?” I continued.

“Remember what I said earlier? Both of my roommates just got hours worth of detention…” he said, hoping I would catch on.

“Oh...oh!” I said, remembering when we almost got caught by Filch in the corridor. I got up from the table and started heading back to our common room. When I turned around, Fred was jogging to catch up with me.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“Really? I swear you Weasley’s can be so dense at times,” I laughed, rolling my eyes.

“What? What do you mean?” he asked.

Once we were out of view from people I turned around, grabbed his shirt collar, and brought his lips down to mine.

“You’re the one who said your roommates were gone, and right before practice you said ‘We can continue this after quidditch practice,’ so I figured we could go continue,” I explained.

“I know, I just wanted to see if I could get you to kiss me,” he smirked, kissing me again before heading towards the Gryffindor common room again.

Thankfully, most Gryffindors know I’m friends with the twins and Lee, so it’s not strange to see me go to their dorm room to hang out.

As soon as I closed the door to his room, I was pressed up against it with his soft lips against mine. His arms wrapped around my waist as mine slid up his chest and into his hair. He pulled away to lift my shirt over my head, revealing my lacy bra, before pulling me back into the kiss. I slipped my hands under his shirt, lifting it over his head, with some much needed help from him due to the height difference. Before he could pull me back into the kiss, I cast a quick silencing spell and made sure the door was locked.

As we kissed, we slowly moved to his bed. He backed into it, pulling me down to straddle his lap as he did so. His hands gripped my hips as I slowly grinded against him, causing him to moan softly. I tugged his hair back, exposing his neck so that I could trail kisses down it. Right as I got to his collarbone, he pushed my hip and flipped me over. He quickly removed his pants before getting on top of me.

He pressed a quick kiss to my lips before trailing down my neck, leaving wet kisses and softly nipping at the skin. His hands rested over my bra, rubbing circles around my nipples through the thin lace, as he kissed down my sternum and down my stomach. I lifted my hips slightly so that he could slide my pants down.

As he crawled back on top of me I reached down to palm him through his boxers, only to have my hand pinned above my head.

“Nope, this is all about you. I had mine earlier, now it’s time for you to get yours,” he smirked. He kissed me harshly before dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed. His arms wrapped around my thighs and pulled me closer to the edge, holding me so that my legs were spread out in front of him.

I propped myself up on my elbows, watching his every move. His arms were still wrapped around my thighs, his hands now massaging them gently. He pressed wet, open mouth kisses to my inner thigh, moving closer and closer to the edge of my underwear.

Locking eyes with me, he licked a stripe right over where I wanted him most, causing a small whimper to escape me. He smirked and moved one hand to rub circles over my covered clit, his other hand continuously massaging my thigh as he did so.

My hips moved slightly, trying to grind against his hand, but my actions were soon stopped by his strong grip.

“Uh uh, you may be getting yours but I’m still in charge,” he smirked, continuing his slow circles. My breathing became deeper as I felt myself get wetter at his actions.

His grip on my thighs loosened as he moved his hands to the waistband of my underwear, snapping it against my skin before slowly pulling it down. I lifted my hips slightly to help and watched as he tossed my lacy underwear to the side. His hands returning to their original spots around my thighs, holding them open for him.

I locked eyes with him as he pressed more soft kisses to my inner thigh, sighing as he lightly sucked in one spot, creating a small mark.

“Now let’s see how the pretty girl tastes,” he said, spreading my thighs further, and licking a long and slow stripe against my wet pussy, never losing eye contact. I whimpered softly as he repeated the action teasingly.

“What is it, doll?” he smirked before continuing his slow torture.

“More,” I breathed out, “please.”

He laughed and attached his mouth back onto my aching pussy, still continuing a slow pace but now focusing on drawing circles around my clit with his tongue.

My head threw back and one hand tangled itself into his ginger hair, grabbing fistfuls of it. Fred groaned as I tugged at the hair, sending small vibrations around my clit.

“Fuck, Fred,” I moaned out as he quickened his pace. When I tried to buck my hips again he pulled away. I opened my mouth to question him, but all that came out was a moan as he slipped a finger into me.

His head rested on my thigh as he slowly fingered me, occasionally brushing his thumb over my sensitive clit. He then added another finger, still pumping slowly into me. His other hand that was wrapped around my thigh moved over and started rubbing my slit as he slowly sped up his pace.

My breathing was heavy and my moans were sporadic as he pumped his fingers in and out of me. Right as I could feel my orgasm creeping up, he removed his fingers from my clit and replaced it with his tongue. Swirling the bundle of nerves with his tongue and increasing his pace with his hands, my hips bucked unintentionally. Instead of moving away like he had previously, he just continued to try and hold me in place where he wanted me.

“Fuck, fuck Freddie, I’m gonna cum,” I whined. He continued sucking my clit and fingering me, looking up at me as he did so. I felt myself tense up, trying to close my legs due to the stimulation, but Fred’s strong grip kept my shaky legs open as I reached my high. He removed his fingers and slowly licked up the length of my slit, cleaning up my juices before sucking on his fingers as well.

He leaned over me and pressed a kiss to my lips, letting me taste myself on him. When he stood up to take off his boxers, I stood up as well on my shaky legs.

“What are yo-whoa!” He started as I pushed him down onto the bed.

“I wanna ride you,” I said, straddling his hips, grinding my slick heat against his erection.

“I’m not gonna stop you,” he smirked, putting his hands behind his head. I lifted my hips slightly and lowered myself down slowly, feeling how much he filled me out. He let out a low moan as he watched himself disappear inside of me. His hands grabbed onto my hips as I began riding him, guiding me up and down his cock.

He reached up and cupped my breast, pinching my nipple through my bra. Our moans filled the room, and I was very grateful for the silencing charm.

Fred suddenly sat up, causing me to pause in my movements. He pressed warm kisses to my neck as his arms snaked behind me, swiftly unhooking my bra and slipping it down my arms.

“Why’d you stop?” He breathed out, kissing my collar bones. Instead of giving a verbal response, I continued riding him. His hands continued guiding my hips as he pressed a hot kiss to my lips, our moans mixing together. One hand wrapped around my waist and held me tight as he began thrusting his hips up to meet mine, his mouth now traveling down to my breast and catching my nipple and swirling it with his tongue.

“Fuck Fred, you feel so good,” I moaned out, letting him take control of the pace.

“So do you, love,” he groaned, flipping me over so that he was on top. His hips pounded into me, and one hand moved down to rub my clit. I felt myself tensing up again, reaching my second orgasm of the night.

“Where do you want my cum?” He breathed out.

“Wherever you want,” I moaned out.

“Fuck, can I cum in your pussy?” He moaned out, his thrusts getting sloppy.

“Cum in my pussy, Freddie. Fill me up,” I moaned out. His sloppy thrusts quickened, grunting as he did so.

“I’m gonna cum, baby. I’m gonna cum in that pretty little pussy,” he groaned as he continued pounding into me. Soon his thrusts slowed down and I felt him release the hot liquid into me, filling me completely. Both of us moaning loudly as he did so. He slowly removed himself, looking at the mess he made before grabbing a towel so that we could both clean ourselves up.

“Feel any better?” He jokingly asked.

“Loads better,” I teased.

#harry potter smut #fred weasley smut #Fred Weasley x reader smut #fred Weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred Weasley one shot #hp smut #smut #weasley twin #weasley smut #fwb fic #fred weasley fwb

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official-weasley · 3 years

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The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley: Pt. 1, Ch. 5

PART 1: WHERE IT ALL BEGAN Chapter 5 - Saving a Weasley

Nova

I felt so bad for Penny having to stay behind and clean the slugs that were without a doubt brought to the classroom by Tonks when she went to the bathroom and were the jelly things hitting the floor.

I wanted to find Tulip and Tonks as soon as possible as I couldn't help but be a bit angry with them, my head still hurting.

I was almost at the Great Hall when I heard someone calling me.

“Nova, over here!” I turned around and saw Tonks and Tulip waving at me.

“Where's Penny?” Asked Tulip, oblivious.

“She got detention because of your slugs!” I said, trying to control my voice. Tonks had to bit her lip no to burst out laughing as I continued.

“I stood up and stepped on one of them and fell flat on my back. Snape, of course, noticed at once and since the slugs made their way under our table and Penny and I were the only ones left in the classroom, he blamed her, took 20 points from Hufflepuff, and made her clean the mess all by herself! I tried defending her but Snape threatened me with detention as well so Penny nudged me to leave.” Seeing that I was angry, massaging the bump on my head, Tulip and Tonks' faces changed.

“Blimey Nova, I'm sorry.” Tonks said sincerely. “Are you going to be okay or should we go to the Hospital Wing just in case?” She added.

“I'll be fine. And it should be Penny you should apologize to because I don't want to know how mad she is at you! Not only is Potions her favorite subject and she asked you not to pull any pranks on the first day, but you also got her in detention on the first day of school!”

“Tonks, I think Nova is right. Why don't we go back to the Dungeons and tell Snape the truth.” I could see Tulip felt really bad, just for thinking slugs in the Potions classroom were funny.

“Alright, alright. You girls will make me a better person if this continues!” She groaned but Tulip and I knew she liked that we made her responsible for her actions.

“Are you coming with, Nova?” Tulip asked me as I was about to head in the other direction.

“Are you kidding? I don't want to be anywhere near Snape until our next lesson on Thursday!” I exclaimed. “I think I am going to the Courtyard to draw. Meet you at dinner?”

“See you later!” They both said and ran towards the Dungeons.

It was weird going somewhere alone. I know I have only been at Hogwarts for 3 days but I always had at least one of the girls with me. I was debating between the Owlery or the Courtyard to relax and draw. I decided to go to the Owlery to check if Pip was sleeping.

It didn't surprise me that the second I stepped in, he was already on my shoulder, hooting happily and nibbling my ear, probably to thank me for the visit.

“What do you say we go to the Courtyard and I draw you, you beautiful bird?” Pip hooted ever so loudly, moved from my shoulder to my arm and we made our way down the stairs.

I was happy it wasn't as full with students as I thought it would be since there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

I sat down on one of the stone benches, putting Pip and my bag down and taking out my drawing book.

“Oh, how I've missed you!” I whispered to the notebook and hugged it slightly. I haven't drawn for about 4 days and I was angry at myself for it.

I sat on the grass next to the bench rather than on it because it was easier for me to use the bench for a table and Pip positioned himself so well as if he was posing.

“Good boy, Pip! Now stay still so that I can at least make a good sketch.” Pip hooted at me and returned to his posing. I chuckled as I took out my brand new pencils, bought by my dad as a 'you're going to Hogwarts and I am proud of you' gift.

It felt like ages to complete the sketch as Pip constantly wanted to peek and see if his portrait was done yet. “I told you to stand still. The more you act like a statue the quicker I can draw you.” I explained to which he replied with a single 'hoot'.

As I started to draw details on the feathers, I heard a rather mean laugh a little away to my left. At first, I didn't put any attention to it.

“Oh, look at that. What a loser!” I couldn't help to overhear a girl say. I tried to mind my own business and went back to drawing.

“What are you doing? Are you reading?” The girl continued, in a baby type of tone.

“And look how old his book is, it's going to fall apart any second now, ha!” A boy spoke this time.

“What's the matter, Weasley? Can't afford a new book and you have to reread an old one?” As the third voice spoke I turned around to see what was going on. I saw 3 Slytherin students that looked at least 2 years older than me standing in front of a boy with a frightened look on his face, clutching the book that I assumed they were mocking him for.

The one on the left was probably shorter than me. She had long black hair, made into a braid on each side. She had an upward crooked nose so that I could see her non-existent brain. The one on the other side was the only boy in the group. He looked fairly normal except for the fact that he was so large that if someone pushed him right at that moment, he would've rolled straight out of the Courtyard. The one in the middle, for which I assumed was the one who started to mock the boy was tall, slim, with thin rat-colored hair that was so greasy that if the wind blew, it wouldn't even move. She had pimples all over her face; one so big that it could easily be mistaken for a boil.

Then I looked harder at the boy. He was the freckled Gryffindor that's in my year! He looked so uncomfortable, looking around to see how he could escape the trio that now surrounded him. He kept pressing his book to his stomach and I could see he would do anything so that they wouldn't take it.

“What, not going to say anything?” The fat boy asked.

“Your parents aren't able to buy you a new one? Are they too poor, Weasley?” Mocked the greasy-haired girl.

“Leave him alone!” Before I realized that the voice came from my mouth I was already on my way towards them. Raising my hand at Pip to make him stay on the bench.

“A First Year defending a First Year. See this Shmeasley, this is your protection!” The greaseball said as all three of them burst out laughing, holding their stomachs.

“That's right, I am a First Year!” I almost shouted at them now, coming even closer. I put my hand in my pocket, trying to grab my wand as I saw their faces get even angrier for disturbing their bullying but I reached for an empty pocket as I put the wand in my bag that stayed with Pip. But that didn't stop me from talking more. “Maybe you should pick on someone your own size, or better yet, your own age!” They laughed at me even more now.

“What are you five? You're sure acting like it.” I continued. Apparently, this was the last straw, as their faces frowned so much from anger that I thought one of the pimples from the girl in the middle was going to burst straight in my face.

“Zip it Ravenclaw! What are you going to do to us? We are smarter than you AND you are outnumbered!” Yelled the boy now as they simultaneously pulled out their wands.

“Flipendo!” Yelled one of the girls. I couldn't see as I closed my eyes but nothing happened. I opened them slowly and all I could see was an emerald cloak in front of me. It was Professor McGonagall and she had to block the spell from hitting me. I stepped on her left side, still hiding a little behind her cloak.

The freckled boy was now staring at her with an opened mouth.

“Miss Bellgrim, Miss Tailbottom, and Mister Morgan, what do you think you are doing!?” She yelled at them, her eyes filled with such fury that I thought I could see little lightning bolts shoot from them. Both the Gryffindor boy and I chuckled when Professor McGonagall said 'Tailbottom'. “Attacking a First Year without their wand! Explain yourself!” She shouted further.

“I...we...well.” The pimpled girl wasn't so loud now.

“I thought you had no explanation for such act of foolishness. 30 points will be taken from Slytherin and I will make sure your Head of House picks good and long detentions for you!” Said Professor McGonagall.

“30 points?” Exasperated the boy, the Professor called Mister Morgan.

“Each!” Professor said, moving her hand to indicate that they should get out of her sight. The trio nodded and hurried from the Courtyard. She then turned to me.

“Are you okay, Miss Blackwood? Why were they trying to duel you?” She asked, concerned.

“They were being rude to him,” I said and nudged my head to the freckled boy, “and I wanted to help. They were really mean to him, Professor.” Her expression softened.

“You stood up to three Four Years to help a fellow First Year?” She asked gently. “The Sorting Hat was right thinking to put you in Gryffindor, you are as brave as you are foolish, Miss Blackwood.” She added.

“If I haven't blocked that spell in time you would've been in the Hospital Wing right about now.” She continued, worry in her voice.

“50 points to Ravenclaw for such braveness and the will to help a fellow student. She then turned to the redhead boy. “Are you alright, Mr. Weasley?” The boy just nodded. She examined us both from head to toe. “Please be careful, Miss Blackwood, Mr. Weasely. And if this happens again, come straight to me. That means you too.” She looked at me again and walked away.

The boy with red hair finally closed his mouth as he realized it was all over. He looked at me, still sitting on the ground, holding his book. “Thank you so much for that. I thought they were going to take my book this time.” He said sadly.

“This time? This wasn't the first time?” I asked puzzled.

“No,” the boy said, lowering his head, “it happened on the train too. I was alone in a compartment, you know reading about Dragons,” he said casually as all anybody ever really does is read about Dragons, “and they came in and started picking on me. Thank Merlin that my brother Bill came to see me and he shooed them away. He then stayed with me just to be sure that they wouldn't come back.” He said and smiled a bit, reminiscing on the memory.

Pip decided that I have left him alone for far too long and he flew on my shoulder and hooted loudly in my ear.

“Is he yours?” The boy asked excitedly.

“Yes, would you like him on your arm?” I asked and sat next to him. I then nudged Pip from my shoulder and tapped on the boy's arm to indicate that he should sit there.

“Wow, she is beautiful. We have a family owl, Errol, but she is more clumsy than my younger brother Ron.” He said as he stared at Pip with amazement.

“It's a he actually and his name is Pip.” I smiled.

“Such a cool name!” He finally looked at me. “I'm Charlie by the way. And in case you haven't heard those Slytherins shout my last name before, it's Weasley. Charlie Weasley.” He extended his hand to me with a look of embarrassment on his face due to what happened earlier.

“I'm Nova Blackwood.” I shook his hand. Pip suddenly flew from Charlie's arm, back to the bench where all my stuff was still laying around. He flew back with everything in my bag and dropped it right in front of us. My drawing notebook flew out of the bag as it hit the floor and opened several pages in, revealing a drawing inspired by my Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Thembook.

“Woah, that's the Common Welsh Green!” Charlie said in awe. “Did you draw this?”

“Yes.” I said proudly.

“Wow, you are really talented. Would you mind?” He asked, shaking my book, indicating if he could go through my drawings. I nodded.

I loved how careful he was while turning the pages. Sometimes he murmured something to himself. He gasped and let out a little squeak every time there was a drawing of a Dragon.

When he was done, he gently closed the notebook, turned to me and gave it back. “Thank you for this. You standing up to those bullies and letting me see all these beautiful creatures you've drawn is the best thing that happened to me so far at school.”

“But the year has just begun.” I said, smiling.

“Unless I see a real Dragon at Hogwarts, nothing can top this.” He smiled back. “Want to see my book?” He offered. “It's about Dragons but it's very old.” Of course, it's about Dragons, I thought.

“I don't mind. The older the book the better the smell and more valuable it is.” I said genuinely.

“I forgot you're a Ravenclaw.” He chuckled and opened the book.

He showed me so many different Dragon species that I haven't even heard of. The illustrations in the book were so beautiful that I couldn't stop admiring them. I don't know what holes those Slytherins had in their brains but to me, this was the best book I have ever come upon.

He then told me that his dream is to work with Dragons and that, even though very ambitious, would like to get a job in the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary. He told me that he has 6 siblings, about which I gasped and said that he is the second child in the family.

“My favorite Dragon is the Hebridean Black. What's yours?” He said, excited. “Oh, don't answer that, I can't expect everyone has a favorite Dragon like me.” He lowered his head.

“Chinese Fireball.” I said before he could say another word. “Has been since I first saw it in the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. My dad bought me the book. He was hoping it would shut me up about wanting to own a Chimera and a Fire Salamander.” I chuckled.

“You wanted to have a Chimera?” He laughed but I could see he was imagining having one too.

Before we could go back to his book, a voice called for Charlie.

“Charlie?! Charl... there you are! I was worried sick. Why aren't you at dinner? You know that I promised mum I would look after you!” The boy with longish red hair said after finding us, still in the same spot as before. From what Charlie told me, I assumed that was his older brother Bill, who was currently in his Third Year.

“I'm sorry, Bill!” Apologized Charlie. “I was showing Nova my book after she saved me from those Slytherins again.” Charlie said thankfully.

“Those Slyth...again? Charlie, we have to tell Professor McGonagall now!” Bill was furious.

“Oh, I don't think that will be necessary.” Grinned Charlie as he told his brother how I intervened, how McGonagall saved me from the Knockback Jinx, and how they lost the Slytherins House 90 points and I gained Ravenclaw 50.

“What is your name?” He looked at me astonished that I stood up to 3 Slytherins much older than me just to help his brother.

“My name is Nova Blackwood.” I said as I shook his hand.

“Thank you Nova for saving my brother. I don't even want to imagine what they could do to him if you weren't around.” He said with a worried face.

“Bill!” Said Charlie, obviously embarrassed as the pink hue between his freckles started to show. “You are starting to sound like mum.” He mocked him to take attention off himself.

“You know what mum would have done to me if something ought to happen to you. I would receive a Howler and then the whole school would know I'm a bad brother.” Bill defended himself.

“Get off it Bill, you're the best brother!” Charlie said and smiled at him. Bill smiled back and ruffled Charlie's hair.

“Now, as much as I like that you are making friends Charlie, I would like for you two to go to the Great Hall and get some dinner before it's too late.” Bill said, helping us get up.

I turned to Pip and told him to go get some rest in the Owlery. Bill accompanied me and Charlie to the Great Hall. There he thanked me again for helping his little brother. “See you around, Nova. Was nice to meet you!” He ruffled Charlie's hair again and went towards the Gryffindor Tower.

Charlie and I entered the Great Hall together, which by now was half empty since dinner time was almost over. Charlie was called over to the Gryffindor Table by that boy who could barely see through his thick black hair. He turned to me.

“Nova, thank you again. I had so much fun with you!” He said and to my surprise gave me a hug. “We'll see each other around, we have a lot of classes together, we can hang out then.” He said, rather excited and hurried to the Gryffindor Table.

I looked around and saw a blond, pink, and redhead at the Ravenclaw Table. I hurried to the girls and sat down.

“Blimey Nova, where have you been?” Tonks said.

“We got worried that you had to go to the Hospital Wing because of your fall.” Added Penny.

“I almost ended up at the Hospital Wing, but not because of the fall.” I said and they gasped.

I then told them all about how those Slytherins attacked Charlie and how I forgot my wand in my bag, to which Tulip commented that it can happen to anyone. I told them how McGonagal protected me from the Knockback Jinx to which they stared at me with opened mouths. I then told them all about Charlie and how he is as excited about Care of Magical Creatures as I am. Tonks murmured something about how we are all too excited for school and we laughed at her comment.

When I finished my story Penny told me that Tonks and Tulip apologized to her and that they wanted to take full responsibility for what happened in Potions class but Snape wouldn't let them. To my surprise, Tulip said that Penny thanked them both as her detention with Snape enabled her to show him her knowledge of potions and that he gave Hufflepuff 5 points for knowing all the potions she had to sort.

Of course, she is confident that she will never receive such detention again as Snape soon realized that it wasn't a punishment for her at all.

While lying in bed that night, I couldn't believe the day I had. The year has hardly started and I was having so much fun. I would even dare to say that I have made a new friend and I couldn't believe how much we had in common. Nobody I knew loved animals as much as I did, not even my aunt who was breeding Abraxans. Nobody, until I've met Charlie.

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bunnyjoyce-blog · 6 years

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What to Do with Your StEx OCs Now that You Got Them - Part I

You’ve been in this fandom for awhile now, and you’ve encountered an unexpected problem. Oh, you’re having fun alright. You’ve learned about so many different kinds of trains and have so many ideas for OCs. There’s that McDonald’s dining car, the school car, the movie-theater car, the disco car as well as a few fanbabies for your OTP(s), a new trainsona, and a few cabooses. You look at your OC roster, and a nagging question comes to your mind: “What do I do with all these characters now?”

OCs can be divided into three categories: fanfic OCs (which can include characters in fan comics or fan videos), RPG OCs (which can include ask blog OCs, depending upon the creator), and what I like to call “doll OCs.” Doll OCs are just what they sound like: they are the mental equivalent of being inside your room and playing with your Barbie dolls. They exist just to please yourself. Where it is totally okay for you to have your Barbie doll be a half-angel, half-mermaid, half-Veela, half-fairy princess who is totally the smartest, bravest magic user who flies the Millennium Falcon against Darth Vader and Jareth (and becomes Jareth's bride in the end), doll OCs are the ones that you use for your own imagination to express yourself.

Doll OCs include those OCs who only exist because you wanted to design a costume ("Hey, look! This is what I think a female engine would look like!"), OCs who only exist because you wanted to take an existing actor and turn them into an OC ("Hey, if Jeffrey Daniel is the original Electra, then this is what Prince and Diana Ross would look like as trains!"), avatar/persona OCs, ask-blog OCs (though these can double as RPG characters depending upon the creator), joke/crack characters ("An animal truck who carries serpents -- Snakes on a Train!"), and basically any character that you created for your own amusement and/or for an intellectual/artist challenge. This can even include an OC that you like for xir back story but can’t really think of an actual fic to insert xem in. So, you can make xem the most Mary Suey-ish Mary Sue that ever Mary Sued because this is done for your pleasure. You don’t even have to research trains for these OCs - have yourself a merry little caboose who can turned into a steam locomotive at will and who can hop dimensions to play with the Jellicle tribe!

When you look at your McDonald’s dining car, you probably have had this thought: “I must do something with my OC, or I will be wasting an idea.” However, the thing with doll OCs is that you don’t need to feel pressured to do anything with them. If all you do is draw pictures of your OC, you’re doing something valuable: you’re practicing your drawing skills. If all you do is design different outfits, you’re doing something valuable: you’re practicing your design skills. If all you do is tinker with the back story and figure out how that affects your character’s personality, you’re doing something valuable: you’re practicing characterization. Since I’m from Miami, I have a special memories riding the Metromover, so one day I doodled a design for a pair of cars. However, I probably won’t be inserting my OCs into a fanfic anytime soon, unless it’s a cameo. Are my doll OCs wasted then? Nope! They provided both drawing and design practice which then helps me in the long run.

“But weren’t you the one who wrote that readers read fanfiction because they want to see the canon characters do cool stuff?” some of you might ask. “What hogwash are you spewing, you huffing hypocrite?”

It’s true that my StEx tutorials are written for aspiring authors who have moved onto the step in their writing career where they are thinking of what will attract readers, but for some people, they need a doll OC for their own mental health. When my parents divorced, I needed my imagination to cope with my divided family and being forced to move far from my home to where I knew nobody. My doll characters helped me with their excessive dimension hopping, going from Hogwarts to making friends with Digimon. So, if you need a doll character, then have at it. Go wild and let your imagination fly.

However, this does come with a two-part disclaimer. Like almost any aspect of fiction, doll OCs and Mary Sues are okay in and of themselves, but they can become a problem. The first major way is when the OC in question is used to promote something unhealthy. “The canon villain violently raped my OC -- squee! Isn't that just sexy and romantic? She’ll know just what to say to turn him into the perfect boyfriend and become his immortal queen! My OTP foreverz!!!” (Unfortunately, you can find a boatload of these types of fics in just about any of the bigger fandoms.)

The other potential problem with doll OCs occurs when the creator resorts to cyberbullying and Internet temper tantrums over feedback (or lack thereof). Now, if you honestly did not care who read your fic and just posted it on the Internet for your own personal enjoyment, regardless of whether you got any response, and could spend the rest of your life content about not getting any reviews/reblogs at all because it was for your pleasure first and foremost, that's one thing. However, if you honestly did not even once think about the readers’ enjoyment and wrote out your own fantasies and then expect to get 100 reviews telling you that your fic should be the next best seller with a movie deal in the works, you should not be surprised if people pass over your fic and choose not to leave you those 100 glowing reviews, if any at all.

Similarly, if you do get a review which you don’t like, you can’t then turn around and start cyberbullying the person in question.

“This fic isn’t my cup of tea. Sorry.”

“WHAT?! HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT ABOUT MY GENIUS!!!! I’M GONNA TELL ALL MY INTERNET FRIENDS TO START SENDING YOU DEATH THREATS AND HATE ANONS!!!”

It’s a little like cooking. If you are cooking for yourself and make yourself a deep-fried burrito with sauerkraut, pineapple, Lucky Charms, and chipotle peppers, then you can enjoy it because you made it for yourself. However, if you put in front of a complete stranger, and xe try it and don’t like it, you can’t then start overturning tables and making death threats because you claim xe don’t have the brains to worship the ground you walk on.

“But what if someone is being legitimately mean?” some of you might ask.

In that case, the best thing you can do is ignore xem. “Don’t feed the trolls” is always a good rule of thumb here. Most of the people who resort to bullying are doing it for attention (because negative attention is still attention) and are trying to feel powerful by bothering you. It’s best to ignore xem and not resort to insults yourself: if you’ve ever been on a debate team, you know that a person loses the debate the moment xe start making personal comments about their opponent.

In conclusion, if you’re not promoting something unhealthy or resorting to disproportionate retribution toward reviewers, your doll OCs should not be a problem. Go out and enjoy your mail coach OC who can fly to outer space and who dates Electra, Greaseball, and Thomas while being the lost princess of Sodor!

-- Stay tuned for Part II where we will tackle RPG OCs!

#starlight express #doll ocs

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xennariel · 7 years

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Hello, can I ask for Royai + 26 please? :)

This ended up being much longer than a ten sentence drabble. Whoops.

And yeah, this kind of thing has been done before, sorry I’m not being original here, but I’m a sucker for this trope and jealous Roy, okay? Also, there’s a World of Warcraft reference in this fic. I like throwing in easter eggs for WoW for some reason.

Jealousy (Thy Name is Roy Mustang)

The Slaughtered Lamb was a seedy joint nestled in the back alleys of First Street in one of Central City’s more unsavory districts. On the surface, the tavern appeared to be nothing more than a scummy bar with shady patrons and blunt staff, but it was reported to be a front for illegal human trafficking networks focusing on prostitution. Mustang’s team was put in charge of the investigation into the matter.

After much deliberation on how they would go about infiltrating the place, Hawkeye eventually suggested that she go in as bait. The rest of the team would be in the area to watch her back, and she could certainly handle things on her own, but Roy still hated the idea and voiced his concerns. It turned into an argument and the rest of the team knew to keep quiet when Mustang and Hawkeye butted heads, so they remained silent and stationary in front of the colonel’s desk.

“That plan is too dangerous, Lieutenant, I won’t allow it.”

Riza sighed and glared at the colonel.

“And what other options do we have? They’ll certainly be suspicious if a group of men they’ve never seen before just waltz in like they’re regulars.”

“That’s still a better option than letting you go in there alone. Safety in numbers.”

“You and Havoc can keep watch inside the bar while I attempt to draw their attention. What about that?”

That gave Roy pause and he leaned forward in his chair, running a hand through his hair and sighing in frustration. She had a point. She was always right and he didn’t know why he ever tried to argue with her. He rarely came out the victor in any of their spats. He grit his teeth and frowned as he struggled to think of a better solution before finally taking a deep breath, letting it out in a low growl.

“Fine. We’ll go with your plan. Havoc, you’ll accompany me inside the bar and help keep an eye out for suspicious activity and make sure the lieutenant isn’t harmed. Fuery, you’ll be stationed in a hotel room across the street to relay the situation back to Falman who will be here in the office. Breda, you’ll be hidden in the alleyway to back us up. The usual. You’re all dismissed. See you tomorrow night.”

The team saluted and filed out of the office, but Riza hung back, knowing Roy was not finished griping to her about the mission.

She was right.

“Lieutenant,” Roy said, gesturing into his interior office. “A word?”

Riza held back a sigh as she draped her coat back over her chair and stepped into his interior office. He closed the door behind her and crossed his arms, glaring at her. She returned the gesture, mimicking his posture in preparation to defend her stance on the subject until he dropped it.

000000

The night of the undercover operation was overcast and cool. Rain was in the forecast for the evening and that was just another thing added on to the list of reasons why Roy Mustang was in a foul mood. The main reason being his beautiful first lieutenant smiling and giggling uncharacteristically on a stool at the bar next to a greasy yet well-dressed man whose hands were wandering to places that made Roy fume. He wanted to burn the man’s hands off, but instead, he composed himself and averted his gaze, taking deep breaths so he wouldn’t do anything drastic and blow their cover.

Hawkeye was wearing a form fitting black dress that barely reached her mid-thigh and had a high collar with a scooping neckline. She was gorgeous and for someone else to be touching her while she looked like that was killing Mustang. If they didn’t get out of there soon, he was going to torch the place with his jealous gaze alone.

Havoc was sitting on the other side of the bar in a booth kiddie corner from Roy and he glanced at his superior officer warily. Even from his distance it was easy to see that the colonel was agitated. He lit a cigarette as his eyes drifted back to Lieutenant Hawkeye. He’d have to be extra alert tonight. If anything slipped by his notice, Mustang would definitely chew him out and that was something he’d much rather avoid.

Riza was uncomfortable, but did her best not to show it. Roy was an excellent actor and Riza could match him when it came to pretending to be someone she was not. She tried not to look at Roy too often throughout the night, knowing he was not happy.

Nothing suspicious had caught her eye yet so there was no reason to get Roy’s attention. As much as she wanted to go over to him and scold him for acting so childishly, she kept her focus on the man beside her, the supposed owner of the tavern and possible leader of the illegal prostitution ring. With any luck, he’d attempt to coerce her into joining his business and that would be all the proof she needed to put her gun to his head and place him under arrest.

Focusing on the weight of the gun in her thigh holster was helping to get her through the night. The man next to her was wearing too much cologne and was far too friendly and handsy for her liking. It was definitely a show and Riza matched his good natured facade with her own Elizabeth persona, flirty and loose, but ready to whip out her gun at the detection of even the slightest bit of hostility. She only hoped that Roy would also keep his emotions in check until the time was right to act.

Roy nursed his whisky on the rocks and glared at the man whose arm was wrapped far too low on his lieutenant’s waist. Every time Riza giggled and scooted closer to the man, whispering in his ear, Roy’s fingers twitched, itching to snap. He shouldn’t have agreed to this mission. It was too risky and it put Riza into the worst kind of situation. It took every ounce of control to not stomp over there, pull her from that greaseball, wrap his own arm around her waist, and punch the man in the face. But Riza would kill him for such a stunt, so he gripped his glass tighter and waited, staring at his reflection in his drink to distract himself from his anger.

The sounds of wood scraping across the floor brought his attention back to the bar where the man stood from his stool and held Riza tight against his side as he casually made his way toward the back of the bar. Roy’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Riza would never have allowed herself to be half dragged like that. Something was wrong.

Roy made eye contact with Havoc and the second lieutenant seemed to have come to the same conclusion, because worry lined his face as well. They moved simultaneously, but the moment Havoc stood, his legs gave out and he fell into a crumpled heap on the floor.

Panic flared in Roy’s gut. If they had drugged Riza and Havoc’s drinks, then his was probably drugged too and that meant their cover must have been blown from the very beginning.

Mustang was suddenly grateful that the man had distracted him so much. He only had a couple of sips of his drink and felt no different then he had when they arrived two hours earlier. But that meant that Havoc and Riza were out of commission and, with no time to run out the door and contact Breda, Roy was on his own.

“That’s as far as you go, pal,” came a voice to Roy’s right and he turned to see the beefy bartender had a gun trained on him.

Roy frowned and his mind worked double time to come up with a way to get Havoc and Hawkeye out safely. Thankful for his foresight, Roy lifted his left gloved hand and snapped, singeing the bar tender’s hand and surprising the man enough that he yelped and dropped his gun. Roy dove over the bar and grabbed the gun before the bartender had time to recover.

“I’ll be taking this,” Roy said to the man before knocking him out with the butt of the gun.

With the bartender taken care of, Roy hurried to follow Riza, cautiously opening the door she and the bar owner disappeared through. He found himself at the top of a staircase and he descended quietly, gun held at his side, hand raised and ready to snap. At the bottom of the stairs was a long, dark hallway, damp and musty from lack of use, and Roy crinkled his nose when the scent of mold and decay hit him.

A light was on in a room at the very end of the hall, the door to which was slightly ajar, and Roy picked up the pace, jogging over to it and counting to three before bursting in, his gloved hand held in front of him.

Mustang froze at the sight before him, rage bubbling up inside as he took everything in.

A half unconscious Riza was still being held closely by the bar’s owner whose hand was paused midway from lifting her skirt. A shocked expression was on his face as he stared at Roy who had interrupted his inspection of the newest asset to his line of goods.

“So, the drugs didn’t affect you, hm?” The man asked, taking his hand from Riza’s skirt to place it on her shoulder. “This beautiful specimen is part of your team, I take it?” The slimy bastard smirked and ran his hand down Riza’s side, pointedly brushing the side of her breast before stopping below her waist. “She’ll make an excellent addition to my collection.”

“Get your hands off of her,” Roy growled, low and menacing.

The bar owner took an involuntary step back under Roy’s furious gaze.

They were supposed to bring the man in to be jailed, but all Roy wanted to do was burn him alive for hurting the members of his team and especially for what he was doing to his most precious of subordinates. The way the man was touching her was disgraceful, and Roy couldn’t stand it. Orders be damned. He put the familiar pressure into the motion to snap, but before he could, Riza’s voice broke the silence and he stopped, gaze focusing on her.

“Colonel, don’t.”

“Lieutenant!”

Roy started to argue, but Riza, even in her near oblivious state, was coherent enough to reach for her gun and shoot the man in the leg. He went down with a cry of surprise and Roy immediately sprang into action, rushing to Riza’s side to catch her before she fell. Roy pressed his gun against the bar owner’s temple and smirked in triumph.

“It’s over for you,” Roy said just as hurried footsteps approached from behind.

Roy gripped Riza’s waist a little tighter, holding her closer to him in preparation for trouble. If the bar owner had backup, Roy would protect Riza at all costs.

Thankfully, it was Breda who ran into the room, gun held high. Once he took in the situation, he holstered his gun and leapt forward to grip the bar owner’s arm, tugging him to stand up then handcuffing him.

“I’ve got this asshole, boss, you take care of Hawkeye.”

“Havoc?”

“He’s fine, sir. A little disoriented, but he didn’t drink enough of whatever drug they used to cause problems.”

“Good to hear. We’ll follow you, now get him out of here.”

Breda nodded and practically dragged the man out of the room.

Roy turned his attention to his lieutenant pressed against his side and she gave him a tired, weary smile. Things had almost gone very badly and she knew he was going to reprimand her for it. She had been careless with her drink, having taken several sips to keep up appearances in front of the creepy bar owner.

“You were too reckless, Lieutenant. I told you this was a bad idea.”

“It worked… out though,” Riza replied, barely able to keep her eyes open.

Roy sighed heavily.

“But it almost didn’t…And the way he was touching you…”

Riza cut him off with a light press of her index and middle fingers against his lips.

“But you… stopped him. You… wouldn’t have let him…do anything. I trust you.”

Roy smiled softly and squeezed her hand.

“That’s enough talking, Lieutenant. I’ll get you to the medics, so don’t push yourself. If you pass out, I’ll be here to protect you.”

Riza returned his soft smile before succumbing to the effects of the drugs in her system.

Roy slipped his hand under her knees, placing the other over her shoulder, and carried her out the door. They captured the criminal and Riza was safe, and the latter was all that really mattered.

——-

I ended up rushing the end because I just couldn’t stop writing. Lol Sorry. It could have been so much better but eehhh I was sick of writing for this. xD Hope you enjoyed this anyway.

#royai #fma #fanfiction #writing #my writing

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delphicoracle-queen · 6 years

Text

Sparks Fly (Starlight Express fanfic, Greaseball/Electra, CB. NSFW)

Greaseball/Electra, literally having all the sex, with CB being the horny voyeuristic little sadist he is. Expect rough sex, bondage, electrocution, voyeurism, masturbation, and clear indications that this was the first StEx fic I ever wrote and was still trying to figure this whole train thing out.

“I don’t like losing.”

The words weren’t addressed to him—in fact, CB was so inconspicuous at the moment that no one would have thought to address him. No, the hissed and low frequency words were meant for a certain diesel engine, who was not given time to reply before being violently shunted from behind by a bright, sleek, metallic train.

The motion jostled Greaseball on his wheels and the momentum carried him forward until he crashed into the wall of a nearby shed. But the diesel was a strong and sturdy engine and it would take more than a bashing to knock him out, let alone frighten him, CB knew.

The red caboose huddled behind the corner of the shed and watched as Greaseball whirled around and thrust his limbs up in time to block another bashing, though the impact still sent him crashing back into the wall with a resonant thunk. CB flinched a little as the shed rattled under the impact, but the sight made his systems pump and flare in interest.

Electra had a fierce snarl on his features. This could be good. CB knew the electric engine was none too pleased about coming in second to Greaseball in the first heat. Would they fight? Tear each other apart? CB groaned a little at the thought and watched.

“I… come… first,” Electra hissed.

“A little sore about the race, toots?”

Greaseball meant to raise a limb, give the electric engine a playful little tweak on the cheek. It was no surprise the diesel found Electra to be rather enticing. Heck, CB thought the very same, with all that ruby-red and silvery-blue plating that was just begging to be marred and dented. And Electra was even more fabulous when thrumming with all that righteous indignation. Much more fun to break.

Electra let him get within microns of his cheek. A half-second later, Greaseball yelped as something white-hot buzzed over his limb, and he and CB realized at the same time that Electra had shocked him.

This was getting good. Greaseball wasn’t going to take that without a fight. CB pressed his face to the side of the shed, watching raptly, panting softly at the action unfolding.

Indeed, Greaseball did not take kindly to being electrocuted. The smarmy look on his face turned stony as he tried to grab Electra again, getting shocked twice for his troubles before he was able to clasp Electra’s arm in his own steel-powered grip. That didn’t seem to discourage or stop Electra from letting loose with the electricity, and in fact a shower of sparks erupted from the place of contact between Greaseball’s hand and Electra’s arm.

CB wondered what it felt like to be shocked like that. Probably it hurt, and the thought of pain, his and Greaseball’s (and anyone’s, really) turned him on. Greaseball’s face was tense under the assault, staring down the electric engine, until he managed to twist Electra’s arm around and bring the other engine back-to-chest with him. He probably thought he had Electra immobilized. But from where he hid, CB could see the grin of triumph on Electra’s face. It was a fierce, evil grin, and it made CB’s systems flare with heat, tingling as a rush of lubrication went straight to his pelvic plating. This little display was arousing him beyond belief and they hadn’t even seriously started hurting each other yet!

Electra gave a sudden burst of power and shunted backwards, taking Greaseball with him until they struck the shed hard. CB brought a hand down to his pelvic plating, the metal hot under his touch. Oh, this was getting too good. He expected Electra to ram Greaseball into the wall a few times, at least until Greaseball got the upper hand back, but what followed was less like fighting, as Electra merely arched against the diesel engine at his back and released a groan.

CB nearly squeaked. Was Electra turned on by violence too? Was Greaseball, for that matter? CB watched as the diesel slapped a hand around Electra’s chest, but instead of punching or forcing the electric engine off him, his fingers slid along the dips and grooves of metal and explored the smooth paneling of Electra’s hips.

“Are we fighting?” Greaseball asked, punctuating the cheeky smarm of his question by pressing his digits against Electra’s hips until they found a crease in the plating, dipping the tips inside and caressing sensitive circuitry. “Or fucking?”

“You’re too dirty to fuck,” Electra purred. His streamlined body arched and undulated against Greaseball’s touch, forcing the digits harder against his circuitry. The harder he pressed, the more Electra twitched in pleasure.

“You’re not wrong.” Greaseball’s digits slid along the crease, across the smoothness of Electra’s plating. When he reached the juncture of Electra’s legs, CB saw him hesitate for a moment before he pressed the release switch, and the plating came off in his hand.

CB couldn’t wait any longer. He mimicked Greaseball’s movements, wishing that the diesel himself was the one fumbling with his body, and CB groaned as he released his pelvic plating and let his spike extend into his hand. The metal was hot and dripping with lubrication as CB closed his hand around it.

The caboose heard a zap and a yelp and his head snapped up. Slag. He’d missed something good, as Greaseball was now flat on his back, shaking his head to clear it, as Electra lasciviously rolled towards him, his generous, pure-silver spike bare and fully extended, glistening with lubricant.

A crackle of electricity caught both Greaseball and CB’s eye and they followed the path of the energy as it danced over Electra’s plating and ending with glowing white sparks over the engine’s groin.

Greaseball watched as Electra slid his digits into his own mouth, probing over them with his tongue, bringing the moist digits down to his spike where a small arc of electricity bounced between the tips of his fingers and the tip of his spike. Electra’s moan was melodic.

The sight brought a roar to Greaseball’s engines. CB wasn’t too far behind, his eyes fastened to that beautiful silvery shaft, and his own spike tingled in sympathy as he stroked it.

“Shall we make sparks fly, darling?” Electra purred.

Greaseball’s eyes were riveted to Electra’s spike. One thing that was clear from CB’s vantage point—Greaseball was not planning to let that thing inside him. Too bad, CB thought. All those lovely sparks looked like they would hurt, and CB for one would not have minded that.

Greaseball subserviently got to his wheels, but the move was a feint. CB saw the way his body tensed a second before he shunted Electra hard against the shed, grabbing one of the loose cables dangling from the metal paneling and keeping the electric in place with his other limb.

He pinned one of Electra’s limbs to the wall, looping the cable around it and cinching it tight. The movement caught the electric engine off-guard and by the time he thought to react, it was too late. Greaseball squeezed the other metallic wrist-joint in his hand and slammed it against the wall, awkwardly higher than Electra’s head, pouring his strength against the other engine’s until he securely fastened the limb.

CB’s hand flew up and down his spike and he had to force himself to slow down, venting some of the heat from his systems before he finished too soon. Electra struggled, but probably not as hard as he could have, and the way he rolled his hips and opened his legs indicated the struggle was just a token gesture.

Greaseball took a moment to admire his handiwork before pressing the release to his own pelvic plating, releasing his thick spike. CB’s hand worked fasted on his own spike, his hand slick with lubricant, as Greaseball grabbed Electra’s hips and dragged his spike along the gilded plating of Electra’s thigh, drawing tiny sparks.

“You said something about coming first?” Greaseball said with a smirk, and his hand disappeared between Electra’s legs. CB huffed in frustration; he couldn’t see, and judging from Electra’s deep groan and the soft wet sounds, he guessed the diesel’s hand had found his way inside Electra’s body.

Greaseball ran his palm over Electra’s chest plating as his other hand worked lower, driving the electric into a frenzy, and CB spared a curious thought about all this switching business Electra had teased them about. What could Electra’s exotic body do, exactly?

There came a crackling warning of electricity before Greaseball was tossed back onto his wheels by a sudden jolt. The motion caused his hand to slide free of whatever prize it had found between Electra’s legs.

The sizzle seemed to go straight to Greaseball’s spike, energizing it, energizing him and CB couldn’t tell if Electra was surprised the shock hadn’t knocked Greaseball out, or if the damn sleek engine had meant to arouse him like that.

Greaseball was a big engine, CB mused, shuddering as he squeezed his spike from root to tip. He could take the heat.

“Don’t think that’ll stop me,” Greaseball drawled, and rolled back into the heaving curve of Electra’s body. He didn’t bother to soften his motion and deliberately bashed into the other engine, making him moan.

The sparks in Electra’s eyes were as blinding as his mad grin. “Don’t think that’ll stop me.”

Another shock, probably meant to throw Greaseball flat on his aft. However, Greaseball stood strong, anchoring his hands on Electra’s hips, and with a sharp roll his spike slid hard inside the electric’s duct. Electra’s cry was loud and wanton.

CB’s own duct clenched in jealousy. What would it feel like to have that thick, hot spike inside him? To have someone like Greaseball shunting him against the wall, over and over? Greaseball was not gentle, slamming again and again into Electra’s body, shaking the electric engine’s body and straining the cables that held his arms.

Electra moaned and moved like someone quite used to fucking, and quite used to controlling their own pleasure, even bound to a wall. For his part, Greaseball’s expression was one of triumph, though CB guessed there were no real losers in this particular arrangement. CB’s own wheels wobbled as he watched Greaseball throw his mouth against the delicate plating of Electra’s neck, applying pressure until Electra let loose with another shock.

The slamming of metal on metal, the sizzle and sparkle of electricity, the soft wet noises of something beyond mere metal and circuits… Ooh Starlight, it was rapidly pushing CB over the edge. He watched, trembling, his hand flying up and down his spike, as Greaseball continued to make dents in Electra’s neck, his hands still anchored to Electra’s hips. CB’s eyes went to the joint at the juncture of Electra’s legs, the place where Greaseball had teased and applied pressure earlier.

The spot seemed to have driven Electra wild. CB would have touched it now, for Electra. Maybe he could have licked it, and watched the electric engine cry out in ecstasy, and then he could have fastened his teeth in the circuitry and ripped it apart and listened to Electra cry out in something else entirely.

Greaseball suddenly made a loud cry, thrusting harder—as though that were even possible—and CB saw the tiny dancing sparks spreading up and down Electra’s body. Nothing meant to harm or turn off, quite the opposite. CB had the impression the shocks were involuntary, following the crescendo of Electra’s deep sighs and moans and signaling imminent climax.

He was right. Electra came first, as Greaseball had promised, with a hard shudder and a loud moan and a thick arc of electricity and fluid jutting from his spiketip and nearly dislodging Greaseball. The sight was enough for CB, who made one last stroke to his slick spike and spread his fluid all over the side of the shed, struggling for air to cool his systems as Greaseball bit into the plating of Electra’s neck and jerked hard a few times before relaxing.

CB moaned, both from the intensity of his climax, and the intensity of his disappointment that it hadn’t been him feeling Greaseball’s hot fluid deep inside his duct. He let his spike pulse and cool as he watched Greaseball slide out of Electra’s body, giving him an insufferably smug wink before loosening the cables around Electra’s wrists.

They straightened and quickly cleaned up and adjusted their plating and within seconds it was as though the two hadn’t just hate-fucked so hard they nearly brought the shed down. They didn’t share so much as a word before leaving the shed, leaving no evidence of their violent tryst behind aside from a shuddering, grinning, satisfied red caboose.

One thing was for sure—CB was going to be keeping a very close eye on these two. This looked like the start of a beautiful relationship…

#Stexual

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