#yes the plot is used to oblivion

[naluwalker]

Once again he has poisoned me with ideas

Brother, why are you so mean to me? If you know that I don't really have much desire to write, especially not with this fandom.

So, Naruto x Genshin Impact AU, including Zhongli Jiejie x Boy Taru ZhongChi.

So after the whole Tsarista VS Celestia mess and the traveler and they sibling taking off outside of Teyvat, Tartaglia has achieved godhood out of sheer spite and is enjoying an incredible married life with Zhongli (male at this point), where despite having retired from Fatui himself, he dates, travels and fights to his heart's content.

One day he comes up with the wonderful idea of leaving Teyvat in a similar way to the Traveler and going on a second honeymoon with his husband somewhere in the multiverse, and after much effort, he has convinced his husband that his idea is incredible and they should do it.

Many hijinks later, they end up in Naruto's world. Zhongli (at that time Zhongli-jiejie, because I consider him gender fluid) and Tartaglia, or rather Ajax, land in Uzushiogakure where they are received as a kind of divine envoy and stay there for a few decades, and then say goodbye to travel further afield from the Shinobi Continent.

For this reason, unfortunately they cannot help during the fall of the village and the news reaches them almost half a year after the event, that's how far away they were.

Anyway, they both continue traveling until they finally stay in the Snow Country for a while due to Ajax's nostalgia for Snezhnaya. There they meet Minato who is on a diplomatic mission as Hokage and mistakes Ajax for an Uzumaki and extends an invitation to Konoha. Zhongli and Ajax decide to think about it.

Unfortunately while Zhongli and Ajax are traveling to Konoha, the Kyūbi occurs. By the time they arrive, two weeks have passed, Minato and his wife are dead, and the village is in very bad condition. While investigating what happened, Ajax learns everything and also about Naruto's existence and what the villagers think of him. He gets pretty pissed off, because he lived for decades with the Uzumaki and learned the difference between container and content, so he again convinces his spouse that infiltrating the village and taking care of the child of the deceased Hokage and his wife is an incredible idea.

Zhongli, Prime of Adepti, decides to follow his mischievous spouse and begins to modify some memories and falsify papers so that their move took place a little before the Kyūbi and they were already there during the event.

They pose as a somewhat eccentric marriage of a half-Uzumaki and a woman from outside the continent, Zhongli again begins to work in a funeral home as a consultant and Ajax throws himself into the life of a merchant and mercenary.

Anyway, knowing that they couldn't approach Naruto in plain sight due to the Hokage's ban, Zhongli begins to approach Naruto when the orphanage's nannies and the ANBU neglect him (which is often) and he dedicates himself to taking care of him.

Feeding, diaper cleaning, sleep and "maternal" care, Zhongli takes care of everything. Naruto, despite the orphanage's nannies, is a cheerful and well-cared for child. You are not neglected or malnourished and your room is starting to look incredibly stylish. Rumors of a ghost begin, especially when the boy starts saying "Mommy" into the air.

All thanks to Zhongli making everyone "forget" about his existence, even when he is next to a shinobi, to the point that he is invisible to everyone around him. Ajax laughs his butt off on the other side of the village when the Hokage himself visits to see the ghost and ends up mistaking it for Kushina.

By the time Naruto is five years old, and the Hokage gives him his own apartment, he begins to spend less time in it unless it is his allowance day. The rest of the time he spends with Zhongli and Ajax, whom he sees as his parents despite knowing that they are not. The Hokage is unaware of this until years later when Kakashi informs him of this when he accidentally sees it.

The rest of the time it's married shenanigans as they take care of a child and prepare him to be a powerhouse while gleefully mocking the Hokage and his shinobi.

Anyway, the plot of Naruto being cared for by different characters from other worlds is something that has been seen and read in hundreds of other fanfics, but I have never seen one from Genshin, so here we are.

I've been obsessed with Zhongli-jiejie turning off the lights on BoyTaru for a couple of weeks, so we're implementing it here. So in fact, yes it is a ZhongChi, no, I don't want to change it Jedny, don't make me repeat it.

PS: Does anyone want to adopt this? I really don't feel like writing

#genshin impact #naruto #zhongchi #鍾タル #zhongli #zhongli genshin impact #childe tartagalia #childe genshin impact #childe tartaglia ajax #tartaglia #naruto uzumaki #konohagakure #yes the plot is used to oblivion #but tell me you don't want to see these two idiots taking care of perhaps the most idiotic child of all time #and that wouldn't make you happy #I know you would be lying #the Zhongli-jiejie thing is because I really want to see Ajax getting stepped on by four-inch heels and being grateful for it. #especially since he is definitely not the top #zhongli-jiejie

[mothmanchronicler]

here's a romance plot explainer i made because i'm a maniac and can't just write a fic for the fun of it

ps i made this for myself because i wanted to, but there are an endless amount of ways to structure and outline your fics and stories. just because this is a traditionally profitable and well known structure doesn't mean that fics/ stories need to have this structure to be good!! in fact, i think stories that deviate from a formula are fundamental to the literary world

#yes that's my bullet journal!!! no more to do lists i'm a full time fic writer now #anyway lots of my favorite long fics (and romance novels) follow these patterns and structures #and i noticed that i am more satisfied when long fics (i'm talking 150k+) use this blueprint because it creates a really #good emotional roller coaster momentum that carries me through the story #plus i think it's fun that for some reasons we as humans really just enjoy stories told in this way #somewhat interestingly the three act structure is often attributed to aristotle but that doesn't seem to be true #aristotle envisioned a two act structure for story telling (binding and unbinding) (before and after tragedy strikes) #there's so many more plot structures that are too complicated for me to think abt lol #if anyone ever wants me to regurgitate writing and plotting advice i'm here lol #i've researched myself into oblivion #how to write romance #fanfic #writing advice

[tommysversion]

Oblivion { Joel Miller x Reader }

Summary: Joel bends you over and fucks you until you pass out. You’re into it. There’s no plot, it’s just smut.

CWs: established consent / choking / praise / dirty talk / use of “good girl” / no daddy kink this time / unsafe sex / rough sex / dom!Joel / aftercare

MDNI / 18+ ONLY

Tagging @dreamingofdaddydin & @joelsgirl 💜

Joel has you on all fours. It’s one of his favourite positions, because it really gives him a good sense of how much bigger than you he is.

You’re not sure what the fuck he was eating in the QZ, but he’s far more broad and strong than most men in Jackson. Hell of a lot better looking, too. And not that you know really, but you get the sense that he knows his way around a woman far better than most men, too.

Not that you can really think of anything right now beyond what he’s doing to you.

He’s so much bigger than you, easily caging your body with his whenever he pleases, which is often. He goes between draping himself over you and sitting up straight, depending on how he wants to look at you.

Presently it’s the latter; he has both hands on your waist, pulling your much smaller body back against his hips, slamming his cock into you without much care as to how rough he’s being.

He knows you can take it. Knows that if you couldn’t, you’d tell him. He’d stop if you asked, wouldn’t be remotely pissy about it or guilt trip you for it, no questions asked. But you’ve never once asked him to stop.

Begged for more? Absolutely. Demanded he be rougher? Also a yes. You’re open to pretty much everything and anything, as long as it’s with him.

Your hands - so fucking tiny, they look so small and delicate whenever they’re wrapped around him - are fisted into the rumpled bed sheets, like holding on will keep you from losing your mind entirely. It won’t. Not with the sounds he’s already dragging out of you, high pitched moans and mewls that sound sweeter than anything he ever heard in a porno or real life.

You’ve got your ass in the air, back arched down in just the right position for him to hit that sensitive spot inside you with each thrust, heavy balls slapping against your clit as he fucks you.

And still, somehow, it registers that he’s holding back on you. That’s not what you want. You want him to fuck you senseless, literally. Fuck you so dumb that you can’t speak, can’t think, left a drooling mess in his bed with his cum dripping out of you down your thighs.

“God dammit, Joel…” you wriggle yourself back onto him, earning yourself a slap on the ass for your trouble.

“What, sweetheart? Not hard enough for you?” He grunts as he slams into you, hard, forcing your body forward into the mattress with the momentum.

You squeal loudly at the force of it, letting him know that’s exactly what you wanted.

You don’t know where the fuck he got his stamina, but you love it. Know he’ll complain about his back hurting later, but that’s fine. You probably won’t be able to walk later, so it seems even enough.

He doesn’t slow down, one hand leaving your waist to snake up to curl around your throat, hard enough to cut your airflow. Not too tight, not dangerous, but tight enough that with the force of how hard he’s fucking you, the room starts to spin.

Joel knows you, though. Knows the telltale signs of your body about to hit its peak, grinding his enormous length into you hard enough to tip you over the edge. He releases your throat just as you start to cum, holding you up with one hand as you shake beneath him.

“Fuck, baby, you get so tight when you cum for me…”

You know; it feels so fucking good it hurts, feeling your comparatively tiny cunt fluttering around him as he fucks you through … fuck. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum for him tonight. Four? Five?

You’re getting to your breaking point, but you still won’t ask him to stop, won’t tap out. You don’t care what happens to you, how overstimulated you get. All that matters is him, the heat of his body against yours, the feeling of being so full of him, the rough praise of his deep voice as he fucks you.

“Such a good girl for me. Getting tired, darlin’? Want me to stop?” Joel knows the answer, taunts you anyway. He just wants to hear you say it.

“Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

You almost hiss it over your shoulder at him, feel his cock throb inside you at the words.

It’s like you’ve awakened a whole new side to him; his hands are vicelike on your waist as he pounds into you, no longer trying to be remotely gentle after you’ve just climaxed.

Harder and faster, one hand twisting into your hair and pulling hard as he fucks into you. The room fills with the sounds of your bodies moving together, your mewls and whimpers, his increasingly louder groans and curses.

“Fuck, baby, could just stay buried in this tiny perfect pussy forever, just made for me, weren’t you?”

You can’t answer him, just scream for him instead, the only intelligible word that comes out is his name. You’re exhausted, your climax building again, closer and more uncontrollable this time.

He knows it, holds you as steady as he can as he feels you start to shake, your tiny body finally reaching breaking point as you come undone around him.

Your eyes roll back in your head, vision fading with the intensity of your climax, every nerve in your body on fire as you shake in his arms.

It’s not the first time he’s literally fucked you unconscious. The first time, he stopped, and when you woke up? You demanded to know why.

It’s a spoken rule now that he doesn’t stop. There’s something unbelievably fucking hot about waking up to him inside you.

Still, he slows, caresses your back, strokes your hair, being almost gentle with you now as you slowly start to come back to yourself.

“There you are… there’s my good girl… you doing okay, sweetheart?”

You blink a few times, open your eyes. He’s still inside you, thick and full and practically splitting you open. Perfect.

“Mm… Joel?”

“Yeah, baby?” He rocks his hips lazily.

“Don’t fucking stop.”

You can’t see the grin on his face as he keeps moving, chasing his own release now. He won’t admit it, because it feels a bit fucked up, but he likes that you trust him so much, likes how helpless you are when he fucks you into oblivion.

“Not gonna stop, darlin’. Gonna make myself cum now, pretty little pussy gonna make me cum…”

He’s been holding his own release back for god knows how long, edging himself just to get you to this point, but fuck if it isn’t worth it.

He’s comparatively gentle now as he chases his own release, still rough but less controlled, deep sloppy strokes that have him groaning as he bottoms out each time.

“Fuck, baby, so good for me…”

He punctuates the sentence with a long moan, the sort of sound you want to commit to memory because it’s so fucking sexy, but then he’s throbbing and pulsing inside you, filling your aching overstimulated cunt with hot, thick ropes of his seed, grinding deep before he pulls out, watches it drip out of you onto the sheets.

Finally, finally, you collapse onto the bed, eyes half closed, panting and whimpering. The bed creaks as he gets up; vaguely you’re aware of him coming back, a warm cloth between your thighs, cleaning you up.

Once or twice, you’ve both been too exhausted to move, but Joel likes to take care of you after. The mattress dips again and then he’s there behind you, pulling your exhausted body against the solid wall of muscle that is his chest, the slight softness of his stomach.

“Did so well for me, sweet girl. So proud of you.” He presses a kiss to your temple, strokes your hair.

“Sleep now. My perfect girl…”

You’re more than happy to let him rock you into oblivion, a small part of you hoping you’ll wake up to him inside you again.

#my writing #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fic

[delimeats-000]

Matt with a breeding kink. After he’s done fucking you into literal oblivion he watches his cum all leak out if of as he slaps your thighs (I feel so awkward writing that I am so sorry 😭) anyways have a great day/night 🤍

do not say sorry. ily..

No Wasting

summary: matt fucks u🤷🏻‍♀️

warnings: no plot js filth

pairing: matt sturniolo x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

he’s got me face down ass up and i wouldn’t want it any other way.

“FUCK”

“that feel good baby?”

“yes- fuck. yes daddy”

he thrusts in and out not, his pace seemingly quickens with each stroke. hitting all the right spots i feel him filling me up with his cock.

“tell daddy how good it feels” he moans, leaning over to my ear.

“feels so so good daddy”

“yeah baby? want me to fill you up, wanna make me a real daddy?”

“FUCK MATT- do whatever you want please js don’t stop”

my head burrowed in the pillows, i scream his name somw more as he continues pounding into me.

his pace grows even sloppier and he grabs my hair pulling my head up to hear me better, “let me hear you pretty girl.”

“matt- daddy im so close”

“cmon baby lemme feel you come around my cock” he pushes further into me making me scream out even more.

“SHIT MATT”

my walls clench around him and my legs fall weak my cum drips down onto him and the clapping of his hips against my ass grows louder.

“such a good girl for me, so go-good” he struggles to speak, right then i feel his dick twitch inside of me. warm smooth cum fills me up and he continues to fuck it into me.

“fuck y/n feels so fucking good” he whispers riding out his high.

slowly pulling out he flips me over. both of us are out of breath but he still has the energy to lower himself between my thighs, getting a better look at my swollen, dripping cunt.

“so so fucking pretty.” he whispers to it before caressing my folds. blowing cold air onto my already sensitive pussy, he wipes up some of the leaking cum and shoves it right back in.

“FUCK” i cry out from the overstimulation.

“sorry pretty girl, no wasting” he winks and slaps my thigh making me wince again. “gotta get your belly nice and full.” he plants a kiss on my stomach before laying with me.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

short. mb. im gonna try to start writing again i promise 🙌🏼🙌🏼

love you 🫶🏼

tags-

@dev-speaks @daddyslilchickenfingers @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @strniohoeee @sturnphilia @sturnioloshacker @mangosrar @mangoposts @its-jennarose

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #requests are open #fanfics #reader insert #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #matt girls #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you

[yanderestarangel]

DOUBLE PUNISHING PLEASURE - KUAI LIANG AND BI HAN X AFAB READER

Synopsis : you were one of the Lin Kuei ninjas, but you were a poorly raised brat, often making Bi Han angry on purpose, so he decided to get back at you along with his brother.

TW: Double penetration, anal sex, vaginal sex, blowjob M!receive, degradation, asphyxiation, saliva, pet names, submission, master!kink, porn plot, smut, nsfw, punishment, afab reader, power play.

A/N: I did this after seeing a horny comment that would fuck these two, so here's this sinful shit for you guys.

Kuai Liang is the lines marked in orange and Bi Han is marked in blue.

You were thrown hard against the wall of the empty training room, the pain in your back from the impact showed signs immediately, your flesh tingled as you saw the tall figure of Bi Han, your grandmaster, you two didn't get along, Bi Han was the typical brutish and authoritarian leader which made you irritate him with small actions being rebellious with his orders was the main one but this time, even you recognized that you had crossed the line by purposely disrupting a clan mission.

"-I'm tired of this shit (Y/N), you're a fucking brat I've tolerated your behavior for too long." -Bi Han shouts at you, pointing his index finger in your face, obviously he was very angry with you. Soon Kuai Liang also appeared, upset but a little calmer.

"-Calm down Bi Han, I think (Y/N) also made a mistake but let's maintain control and find a punishment that matches the mistake that was made." -Kuai spoke calmly, smiling sideways with a predatory and lustful look at you. "-After all, (Y/N) may be a brat, but he's/she's a cute brat." -He completed by placing his warm, calloused hands on your shoulders, while Bi Han smiled sideways, with an extremely sadistic and dominant look, practically dripping with lust with each step he took towards you.

"-Oh yes, you finally have a good idea Liang, I think I have an idea for you (Y/N)." -Bi Han said, holding your chin, squeezing the flesh of your face. "-You will accept and obey our commands like a good boy/girl right?" -He spoke in an authoritarian tone, with no room for discussion.

Bi Han knelt you down in front of him while Kuai locked the door.

"-You're going to be the fucking little slut you were born to be... Now..." -Bi Han quickly lowered his pants, enough for you to suck him, his dick jumped out of the black fabrics, his veins throbbed and a small, shallow path of hair could be seen below his navel going down to his groin. "-Suck my cock now, like the good slut you are." -Bi Han complemented in a growl, bringing your head to his dick, pushing with all strength and aggression your mouth to his dick, your lips forced themselves to accommodate the salty and musky taste that the grand master's dick had, while Kuai stood behind you, the yellow ninja's fingers traced waves on your pants, making designs on the edges while exposing and teasing your wet pussy, making Liang laugh at the result.

"-Do you get excited this early? I thought you were more of a brat than that (Y/N), you're just a pretty little slut in heat, aren't you?" -Kuai speaks in a murmur, while you saw him take off your pants, fully exposing your pussy.

Bi Han continued to thrust into your mouth, the hard length became even hotter with each erroneous but painful movement he made in your oral cavity, his pink glans hit your throat in a pattern, making you choke and cry with pleasure and pain, the burning of Bi Han's need to achieve his own release using you like this was inexplicably pleasurable but painful, but he didn't care, just smiling as he watched you cry on his dick.

"-You love having my cock in your mouth, don't you? Such a good little slut." -He growled with authority, as he grabbed your head with both hands, the tears that came out of his eyes only drove him to fuck you into oblivion even more.

"-Well, well, well, look at that sweet pussy. Just begging to be fucked, isn't it?" -Kuai Liang says smiling, running his fingers provocatively over your smooth folds, making you shiver. Liang knelt behind you, while using his tongue to pass through your smooth folds, on the outside of your pussy, first teasing your clitoris, he was going to give you pleasure, but he was going to torture you first. You moaned against Bi Han's cock as you felt Liang eat you from the outside with his tongue, but Bi Han didn't let you move a muscle on his cock.

"-That's it, lick me and suck me anyway. You're doing great, my slut." -Bi Han spoke mockingly, pretending to be falsely proud of you, then he felt you suck him harder.

Kuai, getting tired of playing with your pussy on the outside, decided to fuck you another way, with his dick. He took off his pants quickly, while stroking his own member, he teased your clitoris again with the head of his cock, as he slowly pushed his length inside your wet and needy little hole, making you moan loudly against the ninja's cock. old man in front of you.

"-Don't worry, baby, I'm going to give that pussy the pounding it wants, you're going to take every inch of my cock, like a good boy/girl, aren't you?" -Liang spoke with a hoarse tone, while moaning lowly, grabbing your hips while squeezing the soft flesh on your sides, Bi Han didn't release you from his mouth, even though you choked until you hit his groin with your nose, smelling his woody soap that overflowed from the grand master's rough skin, while his cock curved into your throat, leaving you breathless for a few seconds.

"-Holy shit, you're a fucking Brat in heat, hungry for cum, aren't you? I'm going to fuck you so much that you won't be able to think about anything other than serving me." -He spoke between his teeth, freeing you from the cruel grip of the painful blowjob you gave him, after he came all over your tongue. But he soon grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks and telling you to open your mouth, even though you were too embarrassed to do such a task.

"-Open your mouth you cumslut, open that dirty mouth of my cum, now." -the grand master ordered, squeezing your cheeks even more, to the point of pain. Liang noticed this behind you, making him fuck your pussy even harder, making you feel him hitting your womb repeatedly, making you moan and open your mouth, making Bi Han smile satisfied as he watched his cum leak out of your mouth, running down your chin, lips and neck, with strands of saliva connecting to your teeth.

"-Such good little whore..." -With that he spat in your mouth, his saliva mixed with the semen he had on your tongue, telling you to swallow it all, which you quickly obeyed. Kuai took his dick out of your pussy, while he supported you in his arms, hugging your body as he put his throbbing dick inside you.

"-You love being fucked by a real man, don't you? Enjoying every inch of my thick cock deep inside your tight little hole." -Liang's desire grew with every movement of his hips, the feeling of your pussy gripping him tightly bringing him closer to the edge.

Bi Han saw your tight butt hole, but already lubricated by your pussy juices, causing him to smile devilishly, as he took his dick to your second free hole, he entered painfully and quickly, widening you with a single thrust, while you she was shaking in Liang's arms, who just said: "-You're a good boy/girl, you'll handle everything, right?"

They both started to move at a steady pace, Bi Han's hips were bumping against his ass, while Kuai Liang's were against your pussy.

"-You're so good, baby, so tight and wet. Just how I like it, a good pet for my pleasure." -Bi Han said with an extremely sadistic smile while fucking her ass even harder. "-This is your fucking punishment for being such a fucking brat." -He added again, moaning hoarsely while you just moaned, feeling your two holes being filled by both men.

Without prior warning, Liang let out a loud moan, giving a few more thrusts into your pussy, enjoying the hot and sticky liquid on your soft walls.

"-Fuck (Y/N) so beautiful and tight, made me cum early." -Liang spoke softly, smiling as he saw your pussy tremble around his cock, but he soon pulled out, denying you the orgasm you wanted so much. Bi Han still fucked his ass while holding his hips, purposely hurting the sensitive flesh with loud, punishing spanks.

"-Just a little hole for my cum, craving my thick cock deep inside you."

Bi Han soon left you too, kneeling you again, your knees hurt from the impact with the hard floor, while you watched him jerk off quickly, just stimulating his already sensitive thick cock, while he held your face in place and cummed, dirtying your cheeks, lips and every area that Bi Han's sperm jets could reach, he slapped you hard on the face, while smiling satisfied.

"-Was that really necessary? The slap?" -Kuai says to Bi Han, who just laughed looking at you, a dirty, shaking mess on the floor, denied orgasms and marked by slaps and semen.

"-It was necessary for him/her to learn, wasn't it (Y/N)?" -Bi Han replied categorically, leaving the room while Kuai covered you with a sheet, giving you a quick pat on the head.

"-Maybe next time, if you're obedient, you'll be able to cum, okay?"

⸺It was up to you now, to decide to face both again and be punished or to be obedient and see what the future would bring you.

#yanderestarangel #afab reader #tw smut #smut #mortal kombat smut #kuai liang x reader #bi han x reader #bi han headcanons #bi han mk #bi han sub zero #bi han #mortal kombat fandom #mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat #sub zero mk1 #mk1 #kuai liang #kuai liang headcanons #smut x reader #mortal kombat x reader #two characters #imagine kuai liang #mortal kombat imagine #bi han imagine #mk1 smut #mk1 bi han #mk1 kuai liang #mk1 sub zero #mk1 scorpion #mk1 x reader

[prettyoatmeal]

Just The Way You Like It (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader)

Horny posting again sorry ☹️

GENRE: Smut 🗣️ Porn w/o plot time

Summary: He makes you cum around his cock while staying completely still inside of you teehee 🤭

Names Used: Love, lovie, sweetheart, gorgeous, good girl

Word Count: 567

Masterlist here!

***************

"I want you to get off like this."

"What?" You asked, a little confused with his request.

He had prepped you so well, fingering you until you were practically crying him to fuck you when his fingers weren't enough. Now you're laid back on the bed, finally inside you, but still refusing to move.

"Please," he begged, voice filled with desperation, "I want to feel it."

You swallowed as his hand moved from your hip down between your legs to press his fingers against your swollen clit, making you let out a small sigh of pleasure. Already you were squeezing around him from just that small act. His fingers moved in tight, small circles, but he was too slow. You still wanted more.

"Simon.." you whined, propping yourself up on one of your elbows to get a full view of his movements.

"Move, move," you whispered to him so you could replace his fingers with yours. Lucky for you, he obliged. Biting your lip, you could finally feel how wet you were for yourself. Your breaths only got quicker as you could finally do it the way you wanted, the feeling you've been craving for so long now was creeping closer. And Simon was certainly enjoying the show, all your whines and moans going straight to his cock.

"Fuck, love. Just like that." His breaths matched yours, groaning each time he felt you squeeze or pulse around his cock. He could barely hold himself back from thrusting into you and pounding you into oblivion, but he desperately wanted to feel you cum around him while he was cock-warming you. He laid his hands on your waist and gripped at the soft flesh, pulling towards him just to get that tiniest bit deeper inside you, causing you to whimper again as he pressed against that sweet spot inside you.

"Just the way you like it, yeah? Keep going, gorgeous."

You moaned at his praise, your stomach tingling and filling with butterflies at every word he whispered to you. Your fingers moved faster as you began to chase your orgasm. You were so close. So so close. You looked up at him through your half-lidded eyes, you needed him to keep talking at you, and Simon very quickly picked up on this.

"Mm, feels so good, doesn't it?"

Yes.

"Fuck, squeezing around me so tight," he pulled you back against him again, a whimper leaving your mouth, "pretty little cunt practically sucking me in. You getting close, sweetheart?"

Yes.

He earned another whimper out of you in response. Your fingers moved quicker, the circles becoming tighter as your legs wrapped around his hips to keep him as close to you as possible. You felt yourself getting completely lost in the pleasure, barely able to think properly at this point as you brought yourself over the edge.

"That's it, come on. You can do it. Cum for me, lovie."

The knot in your stomach finally snapped as your free hand quickly made its way to cover your mouth.

"Oh god- Simon~!" you moaned out as you finally reached your heavenly release, your eyes rolling back as you came around his cock.

"Fucking hell.." he groaned at the sensation, "such a good girl f' me."

Once your breathing had finally levelled again, you felt his hands grip tighter on your waist.

"Now," he started, "time to fuck you like you deserve."

***************

Thanks :3

#cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #Ghost headcanons #Ghost cod #Ghost x reader #Ghost mw2 #Ghost x reader smut #Simon Riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #Simon Riley fluff #Simon Riley smut #Ghost Headcanons #Simon Riley Headcanons #Ghost Imagines #Simon Riley Imagines #mw2 imagines #mw2 x you

[multifandomslxt]

BESTIE I NEED FUCKABILITY FOR 127 NEEOOWWWWWW

😭😭

PLEASE

This was sitting in my drafts finished and everything y'all.

MDNI

NCT 127's F*ckability scale

How likely it is that they'll fuck you based on the following...

Taeil

Cooking for him: This translates to wanting to have his kids and take his last name. This is some wifey-type shit baby. He WILL fuck a child into you.

F*ckability 11/10 Will Happen

Playing in his hair: depends. if he's tired he's going to fall asleep but if you know good and well this man minding his own business and you come to play in his hair he's giving you backshots on the floor

F*ckability 6/10 Likely

Taeyong

Calling him Baby boy/ baby/love: This is what I call the rare inevitable fuck because you cannot delay this one baby. He created the sentence "Fuck you into the mattress"

F*ckability 100/10 YES. IT'S GOING TO HAPPEN

Being extremely knowledgeable on something he's interested in: A mouthful I know but not to worry that's not the only thing that's gon' have your mouth full lmaoo. He loves it when intelligence is displayed. Teaching him = seducing him.

F*ckability 10/10 Will Happen

Johnny

Literally just being shorter than him: Self-explanatory. Just struggle to reach the top shelf once and you'll see how just fast he's ready to help and to fuck you into oblivion. He loves that shit man, makes him feel needed.

F*ckability 8/10 Highly Likely

Sarcasm: He loves a sarcastic bitch. let him ask you an obvious question and then you reply sarcastically. He'll be shocked and turned the fuck on. OMFG if you match his energy and be sarcastic to him when he's being sarcastic to you??? Fuck outta hereeeeeee!!! I'm so serious when I say he takes it upon himself to fuck the sarcasm out of you. In other words...he fucks you dumb.

F*ckability 12/10 Will Happen

Yuta

"literally anything"

Eye contact: We all know he likes to stare MFS down. His gaze is piercing I'm sure we've all seen that by now so when I say eye contact I mean how long you can hold his stare. so if you're shy and can't hold his stare he's fucking you. If you can hold his stare...he's still fucking you lmaooo. So it's inevitable just meet his eyes for a millisecond and you'll see.

F*kability 12/10 Will Happen

Sleepy/Morning voice: Just stop. shhhhh. I can confidently say a sleepy/morning voice would make THE NAKAMOTO YUTA harder than a rock and he IS going to tell ask you to fix it.

F*ckability 1000000/10 Will happen (just spread them cheeks and call it a day)

Doyoung

Taking care of him: Specifically when he's sick. My God. you're feeding him soup and the whole time he's just plotting how hard he's going to fuck you once he gets better. Imagination so damn vivid he can hear the sounds of his balls meeting your pu- lemme stop

F*ckability 9.5/10 Extremely Likely

Praising him: Who doesn't like praise?? Hehas a praise kink (you didn't hear it from me)

F*ckability 10/10 Will Happen

Jaehyun

I honestly don't even know what to write here...this man is turned on by any and everything you do once he likes you. He's also always down to fuck so imma just say

F*ckability 14000000/10 (never dropped btw it's been here since he hit 18) WILL HAPPEN JUST NAME THE PLACE AND TIME

Jungwoo

Using his shampoo/cologne: Oddly specific but he loves it when you smell like him. He's obsessed with it actually. He licks you when you do this btw but once again...y'all never heard it from me.

F*ckability 6/10 Likely

Sitting on his lap: 5 minutes tops before y'all are fucking. He's just always horny and for you to sit on his lap knowing this??? yeah he's fucking you dumb <3

F*ckability 9.5/10 Extremely Likely

#nct 127 #nct smut #nct imagines #nct yuta #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct doyoung #nct dream #nct scenarios #nct taeyong #nct jaehyun #nct jungwoo #nct taeil #nct johnny #nct mark

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: Saturday Morning

Plot: Jamie and Y/n spend an unconventional day off together.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: f!reader, language, mention of child abuse/neglect

A/N: Annndd we’re finally in it in it. A little bit of backstory, a little bit of trauma bonding and a whole lot of fluffy angst. Enjoy!!

(I also fell way behind w/ the taglist and since this series is maybe PG-13, I’m dropping the 16+ 💕)

—————

Someone was knocking on the door.

No, not knocking. Pounding.

Y/n slipped out of bed silently, as if the intruder was already inside her apartment. Bleary-eyed and stumbling in the dark, her hands fumbled for the baseball bat she kept behind her closet door. She’d had it since college and she couldn’t believe she was finally going to have to use it.

The banging continued as she walked through the apartment and down the stairs, growing louder the longer it went unanswered. Whoever was coming to abduct or rob her was clearly in a rush to do so.

Y/n steadied her breath and adjusted her grip on the bat, daring to peek through the peephole and see what she was up against.

“Wha-“ she uttered, lowering her bat and unlocking the door. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

On her stoop, Jamie was bouncing in place, “Can I use your loo?”

Y/n squinted, putting up a hand to block the bulb of Jamie’s stupid headlamp. “What?”

“Roy and I are on a run and I’ve gotta take a piss,” Jamie explained hurriedly, “You’re the only person I know in the neighborhood.”

With a heart rate well over 120 and a mind sluggish from sleep, it took Y/n a second to process his words. “I thought you were a fucking burgler,” she groaned.

Jamie whipped his hand frantically, “Is that a yes?”

Y/n was tempted to shut the door and let him take his chances with a public urination charge. Her friendlier instincts won out and she stepped to the side, letting Jamie race up the staircase to her bathroom. She shut and locked the door once more before trudging back up and setting her bat on the kitchen counter.

A moment later, Jamie emerged, calm and laughing to himself about something. “What kind of burgler knocks before robbin’ ya?”

Y/n was in no mood for his sense of humor. “It is 4-fucking-AM,” she pointed to the stove clock, “I am a single woman who lives on her own and it is 4-fucking-AM.”

“Alright, alright,” Jamie held his hands up in surrender, “Coulda texted you. I’m sorry.”

Y/n leaned against the back of her couch and wiped her hands over her face. Jamie made his way to the stairs, but was struck with a grand idea before he could take the first step.

“Do you wanna come with?”

Y/n glanced up from her palms, “What?”

“With me,” Jamie continued, “Roy. Go for a mornin’ run?”

“What part of 4-fucking-AM isn’t getting through to you?” Y/n asked, floored by his oblivion.

“Yeah, but you’re gonna be up anyway now,” Jamie shrugged, hopping from one foot to the other, “Get your blood pumpin’. Some endorphins.”

Y/n stared at him and wondered if she tried hard enough, could she kill him with eye contact alone?

“It’ll be fun,” Jamie smiled, jutting out his neck a little.

As much as it pained her to admit, he was right. There was no chance in hell she was getting back to sleep with all her senses dialed to 11. It was either tossing and turning in bed for an hour before she admitted defeat and started her day, or do something productive.

Y/n rolled her eyes and brushed past Jamie to grab her running shoes. “4 fucking AM…” she grumbled as she passed him once more.

Jamie made two victorious fists, too pleased with himself to acknowledge the fact that he’d robbed her of a precious Saturday sleep-in. She’d enjoy herself once they got out.

Grabbing a hoodie and locking up her apartment, Y/n followed Jamie out to the street where Roy was waiting on the sidewalk. Under the light of his own headlamp, he looked as confused as Y/n had moments before when he saw her trailing behind Jamie.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

“Convinced States to join us, yeah?” Jamie answered as Y/n yawned.

“I’m gonna fucking push you into the first lake we see,” Y/n glared at the back of Jamie’s head.

Roy looked between his trainee and the woman he barely knew, but respected for the threat alone. Nodding, his eyes landed on Y/n, “You can stay if you keep up.”

“No problem there,” Y/n sighed, taking off into a jog. If Jamie was going to ruin her day off, the least she could do was beat him.

Sharing a glance of amusement, Jamie and Roy ran after Y/n, into the early London morning.

—————————

It turned out to be a fair fight between Y/n and Jamie. Jamie hadn’t underestimated her, per se, but he figured her exhaustion would slow her down. She’d held her own right up against him and impressed even Roy.

“You’re fuckin’ fit, you are,” Jamie said after, the two of them having gone for tea afterwards. He quickly realized the double meaning of the word, “I mean, not like that. I mean, you are, yeah, but I mean-“

“Oh my gosh, words,” Y/n groaned, reaching with one hand to Jamie’s mouth, “Stop.”

Jamie swerved to avoid the hit, chuckling after. “You’re a proper asshole when you’re tired,” he snickered.

“Well, when I get woken up at 4AM,” Y/n glared over at the man, “No, I don’t feel particularly kind.”

The two of them strolled through Richmond, Roy having left them mere minutes ago. They’d run on and off for about an hour before Y/n had to sit through the rest of their regiment. She’d taken a great deal of joy in sitting back with Roy and yelling commands at Jamie.

“I think Roy’s gonna invite you every mornin’ now,” Jamie mused, taking a sip of tea.

Y/n faked a gasp, grasping Jamie’s bicep, “Getting to hurl insults at you? Every day? Oh, well, that’s it. Better hand Keeley my resignation.”

Jamie laughed, shoving her off him before spotting and leading them to a bench. Richmond on a Saturday morning was bustling with people, but it was a peaceful kind of frenzy. The kind you could watch and enjoy.

“Admit it,” Jamie said, sitting down, “You had fun.”

Y/n sighed, pulling her tea to her lips. No such thing would be admitted.

“Why are you even still doing this?” She asked, looking out into the park where a group of kids were kicking around a football, “Zava’s gone. You’re back to being number one. Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

Jamie ran his fingers over his chin, she wasn’t wrong. Zava had made his unannounced exit two weeks prior. The whole reason Roy had offered to train him was to get him back to being the best. He may not have earned it, but the title had been bestowed back to Jamie. Mission accomplished.

“Think it’s more than that,” he answered, “More than Zava. I think…I know I can be better. And I wanna get there. See what I can do.”

Y/n nodded in reply, that was something she could understand. How many times had she pushed herself in school? At work? Not to beat anyone, but to know she had done her absolute best?

“Maybe it’ll pay off in Amsterdam,” she commented before taking a sip of tea. The exhibition match was just one week away.

“Ah,” Jamie smiled, “You excited?”

Y/n tilted her head from side to side in a shrug, “I guess. I’ve never been.”

Jamie’s face transformed in a split second, from content to near disgusted.

Y/n leant back, “What?”

“You’ve never been to Amsterdam?” Jamie was darn near incredulous at the mere notion.

“No,” Y/n replied, her voice jumping an octave under his judgement.

Jamie scoffed and turned away from her. “How the fuck do you live here this long and not go to Amsterdam?”

“And yet somehow, I still walk the earth,” Y/n chuckled at how bothered he was, “I’m guessing you’ve been.”

Jamie’s lips popped out very duckface-ish. “‘Course I have. Practically a fuckin’ tour guide.”

“Alright,” Y/n said, “Gimme your recommendations.”

Settling back against the bench as if he meant to stay a proper while, Jamie ran through his index. He picked through the pleasant memories, stag parties and one emergency diverted flight that ended in a particularly rowdy five star hotel evening. None of those amounted to anything stacked up against one trip taken much earlier in life.

“Gotta go to the Anne Frank house,” he began to list off ideas, “It’s super sad, but you gotta do it. There’s a really good place nearby to get stroopwafel, gotta go there. Eh, a boat ride down the canal. The tour guides driving ‘em give you all these fun facts about the architecture and the history and stuff.”

Y/n listened, it was the first time she’d seen Jamie properly excited about something. He was passionate on the field, but this was a childlike joy.

“You do remember there’s a match, right?” she laughed, “I’m only gonna end up having, like, one night.

“Then fuckin’ pack it in,” Jamie shrugged and gestured ahead of them like the country was laid out before them, “It’s Amsterdam.”

Y/n raised her cup to take a sip, “How do you know so much? You’ve really been that many times?”

“My mum took me when I were about 16,” Jamie answered, “Took me to all the historical sights and stuff. Guess it all just stuck.”

“Hm,” Y/n nodded, “What about your dad?”

What prompted her to ask, Y/n couldn’t know. She’d noticed that Jamie’s mother came up in conversation sometimes, but his father never did. Her subconscious curiosity had gotten the better of her.

Jamie felt his chest tighten at the mention of his dad. Y/n couldn’t have known anything about their relationship, he knew this. He just wasn’t sure how to reply when it was a subject he didn’t want to pick up. At all.

“Not really a thing,” he chose the safest answer, “He took me before me mum, but…wasn’t nearly as fun.”

Y/n watched his expression shift, how his eyes went from watching his fingers slide over his paper cup to the air in front of them. How Jamie was always fidgeting, but was now doing it with purpose. Worse, she recognized something about all of it.

“I’m sorry,” she backtracked, “That was way too personal, I shouldn’t have-“

“No, it’s-“ Jamie quickly held up a hand. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel bad for her innocence. “It’s fine. He’s just a,” Jamie shook his head, “Fuckin’ asshole.”

Y/n gazed down at her tea, sensing there was more that he wanted to say. Looking away not only saved her dignity, but it allowed him some quasi-privacy to say it.

“What about your folks?” Jamie finally looked back at Y/n, nudging her elbow a little.

That was worse, Y/n decided. Far worse.

“Uh,” she stalled, there was no choice but to answer, “We don’t really talk, to be honest.”

“Why not?” Jamie didn’t hesitate to ask.

Y/n inhaled deeply, blowing the air out with puffed cheeks. It was a piece of her history that she’d left in America, sending it into silent submission the second she stepped foot in London.

“We just…” Y/n shrugged, “Don’t have a relationship. Never have.”

Jamie’s brows dropped in confusion, “What’re you, like, adopted or somethin’?”

“Nope,” Y/n’s lips popped around the syllable, “They’ve just…never had any interest in their kids. Me and my sister, we kind of raised ourselves.”

“Fuck,” Jamie muttered, realizing he had definitely dug too deep. It was too late to back out though, their secrets were spilling themselves out. Better to lean into it than try and patch the all too massive leaks.

Y/n bitterly chuckled over her tea cup, “Yeah.”

Jamie absorbed what she said, leaning on his knees now. It was like he had to take a defensive position up a past that was nowhere near, yet all around him. If Y/n was going to be honest, the least he could do was match it.

“My dad and I,” he started, picking at a loose corner of the cardboard around his cup, “We kinda got in a fight. Earlier this year.”

Y/n turned to face Jamie, thinking he meant an entirely normal type of argument.

“Came back to the locker room after we lost a match,” he continued the story, “Talked a bunch of shit. Got ugly and…” Jamie hesitated, his fist feeling the phantom pain of the confrontation, “Yeah…”

Y/n’s lips parted in gentle shock, he didn’t need to finish for the meaning to come across.

Jamie could feel her eyes resting on him and found the strength to meet them. The tight smile across his face didn’t match the story, but it felt necessary. He sat back, hating the silence they were wading in.

“My parents never yelled. Not because me and my sister were perfect angels or anything, but…they just didn’t care enough to get that emotional,” Y/n admitted before she could even realize the vulnerability in which she said it with, “I mean, there was nothing we could do to even get them to pay attention to us. No recitals, no science fairs, no achievements…nothing. So long as they kept a roof over our heads and kept us breathing, they felt they were doing enough of a job.”

Jamie scoffed, bitter for both of them. “Me dad couldn’t be bothered to show up to any matches. Not when I were a kid.”

“What about when you went pro?” Y/n asked.

“Only in Manchester,” Jamie answered, “Screamin’ at me on and off the pitch that I were doin’ it wrong.”

Y/n traced the curve of Jamie’s jaw with her eyes, watching it clench. He made sense. For the first time since they’d met, he made total sense. You couldn’t go through a childhood like his and not come out with something to prove.

Their conversation became an exchange. One would share and, to make the other feel not so vulnerable, the other would chime in. “Once me and my sister could cook for ourselves, get jobs,” Y/n countered Jamie’s revelation, “My parents were even more done. It’s the main reason I came to England. To get away from them.”

Jamie was fully engaged now, his body turned to face Y/n as she matched his honesty. He knew all about running away.

“I worked so hard in school to get As, extracurricular stuff, anything I could,” Y/n gestured to the air with her cup, “So I could get out.”

“Yeah,” Jamie interjected, his memory sliding back to mornings before dawn spent on the pitch near his childhood home. He’d been just as relentless then as he was now. “Can’t tell you how many fuckin’ hours I spent just…tryin’ to get good. Tryin’ to do something he couldn’t touch.”

Whatever tolerance Y/n and Jamie had start with had long since morphed to a sort of comfortable acquaintanceship. It felt like, without ever moving from their bench, they had made some grand leap into kinship. They were both members of a club neither of them had asked to be in. With their shit spilled out on the ground before them, there was so very little left for them to hide.

“Y’know they’ve never visited me?” Y/n said softly, catching the shock on Jamie’s face out the corner of her eye, “Not once. I’ve been here since I was eighteen…not even for my graduation.”

Jamie watched with sadness as Y/n tried to hide hers. Once they found one another, it felt like there was nothing else to do but…laugh. It was one of those, this is our life laughs. Here we are, our families don’t love us, and it’s not right but here we are. Gentle and faded, but still unbelieving.

“Think we did pretty good,” Jamie said, “Yeah?”

Y/n’s smile came back, she’d allowed Jamie to cross so many of her self-drawn lines and she’d believed it had simply been out of convenience. No, there was something about him she’d only ever recognized in herself. Resilience. “Resentment’s a tremendous motivator, isn’t it?”

Jamie smirked at Y/n, wondering how he’d gravitated towards her knowing just the best, only to find out they had the worst in common. They were both a little broken, and it certainly felt better to be broken with someone else than by himself.

“I’ll drink to that,” he smiled, the two of their paper cups knocking into one another.

————————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @mentalistfan

#ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #heartfirst

[holybibly]

Divine Rosa  ❢ot8xreader❣ 

❣ Pairing: yandere!otx8 x reader ❣ Genre: Dark Romance, vampire au, angst, horror, yandere au, smut ❣ Summary: The moth always pours itself into the flame; what a pity that in the end it burns out. After the tragic death of her sister, MС tries to find answers to the questions she left behind. This leads her to a gated cottage town known for its luxurious rose gardens. In addition, there are also these mysterious men who manage all the affairs in the city. Too sweet, too helpful, too intrusive, and too in love. ❣ WARNING: only!18+ Themes of death, suicide, severe depression, stalking, blood, yandere behavior. ❣ Disclaimer: I don't support yandere behavior, stalking, or religious imposition. Themes include violence, obsession, possessiveness, and emotional or psychological manipulation. This book is intended solely for entertainment purposes.

English is not my native language, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know.

Published on AO3 like FleurRi

❣ Prologue: Roses scarlet like blood ❣

 Every story has a beginning: a magical, inexplicable moment—an elusive contact between reality and dreams. When thoughts emerge from the edge of consciousness, a stream of colorless letters appears on the parchment of our fate, eventually becoming an event. Life's intersections, fragments of various plots, are continuously repeated, lost, or deliberately forgotten. They are like unwritten melodies; the echo of their angelic voices follows us through life, like the bright tent of a wandering circus that incessantly makes noise. is full of tinsel, and raves with dreams.

  There are millions of them. No. Billions, like the sleeping stars, sway peacefully on the sky-blue wire; their scattered light tells the wayward souls the way in the velvet folds of the night's darkness. These are our memories. Some are dazzlingly bright, as fresh as summer breezes, while others are barely flickering, covered in the marble ashes of time and a diamond crumb of emotion. And they all live so far away and at the same time prohibitively close together, there, in the labyrinth of the underground sky and on the endless roads of the blood rivers, where it is impossible to find them: in our memory.

  Just as a pebble thrown into the ocean sinks into the murky depths, so does memory. Drowning into the viscous muddy depths without a bottom, in that rich and uncharted area that we call “oblivion,” it sinks in time. And few of us have been given the opportunity to preserve living images of memories of the feelings we have ever experienced: to drown in the bittersweet water of sorrow and joy; to fill our consciousness to the brim, like a vessel with golden honey, with the feelings of pain and keen passion, and to die. Die happy. The greatest privilege of all.

  Seconds, minutes, days, and years—colorful fragments of time; sharp crumbs scattered under our feet. Unlike us, those who plunge into eternal sleep, our memories that have insidiously dissolved in ink in our blood will not disappear. They fear death, flee from it, and hide in the thick of the earth that blossoms with fluttering glass, forget-me-nots and drunken petunias that, in their intoxicating happiness, kiss the eyelashes of the blind God. You hear them whisper, “I’ll never forget you…”

  My story begins with an innocent question that I’m sure you’ve heard more than once: “Do you like roses?”

  Once upon a time, I would have answered, "Yes, I love roses." But, as it turns out, all our words are followed by consequences, and small rosy spikes can be much more dangerous than they seem at first glance, just like in the fairy tales that we were told in childhood.   You know, there are things that we might call fatal: people who decide other people’s lives as long as they reach out to them like they're God. And then there are the flowers, which keep the mysteries tenebrous and ancient.   I'm almost a hundred years old, maybe more. I should start my story right now; this is the perfect moment.

  I will tell you about who I once was and who I am now. I will tell you about love, which is akin to obsession, and the death of her faithful friend. I will also tell you about the people, ghosts, or maybe illusions that were around me. They were with me once…   Now, there are others, but they’ll be in my story later. They will come into my life with a chorus of angelic voices; the sound of a heavy autumn downpour, and the pretentious solemnity of death. Yeah, they’ll be there, though, if you think about it, they were always there, from my first breath to my last breath, by my side.   But I’m forgetting what’s important.   I have to tell you about the roses, and only about them.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

Mina's long hair shimmered like luxurious silk under the early morning light. Bloody strands fell in curled doll curls onto her bare shoulders, as if in Baroque paintings. The lush blossoms of white roses woven together in her hair made her look like the ancient Greek goddess of spring.   Her appearance has always been astonishing, blatantly perfect rather than real, but that was sometime in the past. Now she was like a pale ghost of herself, a blurry reflection on a black surface of water on a moonlit night. The only thing that reminded her of her former beauty was her hair, which remained perfectly groomed and scarlet, like blood. Oh yeah, there are still roses.  These flowers… there was something unnatural about them, something otherworldly. Each petal was painfully perfect, as if made of satin. But the flowers were real; they were alive and breathing and too demanding. It seemed that just because they wanted this, Mina could wear them in her hair. It was their choice, not hers.  “Do you like roses, Rosa?” · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

This is the moment when my life changed forever. If I had known that this innocent question would be the beginning of my end, but can this be called the end? Would my answer have been different?

  I’ve thought about it a thousand times. Over and over again, I played this scene like a broken record, crossed my answer out of the script, wrote a new one, and made comments and footnotes, but…   But the answer was the same. I couldn’t change anything; it was destined. Much later, when I fall asleep in a warm bed, I will feel a gentle kiss on my closed eyelids and hear San’s angelic voice whisper in my ear that fate is never wrong. That they would find me or that I would come to them does not matter; in the end, we would still be together in life and in death. In eternity.

  I’ll come back to that later, I promise. In the meantime, I’ll continue. · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

“They’re beautiful, Mina, but I don’t like them anymore.”  I sounded terribly rude from the outside, and I could see Mina’s eyes filled with tears, as if I had slapped her.

 “But Rosa!” Mina reached out her pale arms to me. “Look how perfect they are; don’t you care about their beauty? Doesn’t your heart beat faster when you look at them? O Rosa, these flowers are special; they never wilt.” She shook her head, as if confirming her words. “Yeosang gave them to me before I left” Her long, thin fingers reaching for the white rosebuds in her hair. “I want to give you one.” Hooking the flower, Mina gently pulled it out of her curls and stretched it towards me. I didn't have the desire to accept her gift; something in her behavior and her voice caused me anxiety. And there was this name: Yeosang. It wasn’t the first time I heard it, but it was a long time ago, and I still remember that Mina mentioned others with that name: Hongjoong, San, and Mingi. They sounded familiar to me as a song once learned by heart. She pronounced them in a special way: with a gentle intonation and an exciting euphoria. As if it had been repeated countless times at the same completely new to her.  All I could hear was the echo of that song, which came along with those names in the conversation. It was an ominous echo, like an impending, inevitable storm. Mina was still holding out a rose, and I looked at her hands. Arms with a faint web of blue veins that looked like dried stems of faint flowers. For some reason, I came up with the idea of sirens holding out their hands to pirates while their voices led them into the welcome embrace of death. Did they look like Mina’s hands now?

I remember these hands weaving long pearl threads into my hair during festivals. I remember the feeling of intertwined fingers as Mina led me down the dark corridors of my grandmother's old house. I remember them gently wiping my tears when I was rubbing my feet until I bled in ballet class.

I remember the touch of those hands… I know him. These cold fingers that so carefully hold the snow-white flower no longer belong to my sister. Their touch changed, becoming foreign and distant, as did the mysterious land where these perfect, never-fading roses grew.

Didn’t that sound like a fairy tale? Just in our history, there has been no magic mirror, no Queen-Witch whose crown shines like a star, and no apple full of poison, but there is a coffin of shimmering crystal, and a prince that sleeps in it. Of course, there are also roses—thousands of roses.

“Rosa” Mina turned to me again. “Please take them; you will surely love them. Just try to feel them…”

She put a flower in my hands. The drops of nectar froze on the wax petals, and the first rays of the dawn sun made them sparkle like diamonds. “This variety is special.” Her voice sounded soft. “It's called the Deva-Rosa. I want to show you where they grow. It’s so beautiful. I want you to come with me, Rosa. We’ll be there together, you and me.” Mina smiled dazzlingly, but something was wrong with that smile. The once-sensual kiss lips were painfully curved, the corners awfully lifted, like the forever-frozen smile of a Venetian mask, and the warm pink shade was gone.

I was always jealous of her lips. They were so tender, plump, and enticing. All her features attracted attention, but it was her lips that made Mina's beauty unique.

She shone like the sun, easily becoming the center of everyone's attention—a beautiful white swan. The main heroine of the story. 

Then there was me, only a shadow of her perfection—gloomy and pale as the moon, the complete opposite of the burning heat and the sexuality of my sister. Unlike Mina's, my features were not sensual and breathtaking; no, they were old-fashioned, like those of a porcelain doll. I didn’t find myself ugly or unattractive; just ordinary. One of a hundred million. The classic tragic heroine of a Gothic novel, someone like me, doesn’t make it to the finale.

Now looking at Mina, I can no longer see her life; her fire has almost been extinguished, leaving embers smoldering. And only her hair, like a burning sunset, was the only bright spot in her appearance. They crimson her white dress like blood rivers in the snow. 

 “Rosa, come with me.” The touch of her hands was icy and gave me a nasty shiver. It wasn’t Mina anymore. “Let's go, please. We can admire roses together. We can be together, Rosa. Remember what we promised each other when we were kids? Forever.”   Mina leaned towards me with her whole body, completely trespassing into my space, and with her intimacy came the suffocating, sugary smell of roses. It was a thick, enveloping aroma that instantly sat in the lungs. I thought that if I breathed it in deeper, these strange, unnatural flowers would sprout in my veins, intertwine with my bones, and create a new home for themselves in my body.

 “No!” I exclaimed, pushing Mina away from me. “I don’t want that, Mina. I don’t want you or those freaking roses in my life.”

  Suddenly on my feet, I took a few steps away from the pale Mina, who was staring at a rose that had fallen to the ground. Her posture was as vulnerable as that of a wounded animal, and her limp arms reached for the flower, which, surprisingly, began to darken and fade, touching the ground.   In her eyes, once radiant with happiness and dreaming, stood tears, and her lips began to tremble. It was as if a child whose beloved toy had been mercilessly abused had fallen to her knees, picked up a dying bud, and, in despair, pinned it to her lips.

“How can you be so cruel, Rosa?” Mina whispered, her lips gently touching the petals. “You hurt them; it breaks their heart. Can’t you just accept their love? Accept the roses?” She continued to kiss the petals.

 “What are you talking about, Mina? Whose love should I accept?” I asked cautiously. Her behavior began to frighten me.

 “You must give yourself to them, Rosa; I must give you to them.” Mina ignored my question, methodically kissing a faded flower. His dead petals began to fall away, slowly, baring his heart. “O Rosa, the rose is a rose; the rose is a deva; the deva is a rose; is a rose.”

 “Mina!” I called her by her name in an alarm. The entire situation had me in a state of primitive terror.   Mina began slowly swaying from side to side in time to your words, all the while continuing to say, “Rose is a rose, the rose is a deva.” It was meaningless, like the ravings of a madman.  The words were repeated in an endless circle, like a prayer or a ritual chant. Mina’s voice grew louder, higher, and higher until it broke, and abruptly she stopped all movement, standing there like a graceful statue.

  Once I admired her every move; now I want to cover my eyes so I never have to see her again.   What happened after became the most traumatic thing in my life. I can never forget it, no matter how much I want it. It seemed to be imprinted on my eyelids, and even after closing my eyes in my sleep, I couldn’t get rid of those memories.

  Her movements were fleeting, like the wings of a butterfly. Here she is before me, tense and waiting, and then her throat crosses a ragged line, and blood rushes through her body like a waterfall.

  Eyes shining from tears are wide open and so resemble smooth black pearls, and lips are opened as if waiting for a kiss.   For a second, Mina's body stretched like a thin string and then softened, falling on the grass.   I heard someone start screaming; the sound was so deafening and heartbreaking that I wanted to curl up in a ball and cover my ears with my hands, so I couldn’t hear.

  I found myself screaming. I needed to call for help; I had to call an ambulance, and I had to try to help her. Put my arms around her neck and cover her gaping red velvet wound.

  But I was yelling about something else instead.   My name is not Rosa; you hear me, Mina!   I am not her. · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

I awoke in a frenzy, sweating profusely and with a wildly pounding heart from an endlessly recurring nightmare.

 This dream has haunted me for months since Mina’s funeral. Night after night, I have lived this sunrise over and over again. I didn’t like morning anymore; I started avoiding sunlight and hiding in the velvet folds of the night, sharing my loneliness with the darkness. I made the moon my friend, and the stars my silent witnesses.

  My memory is folded paper, folded a thousand times. Sometimes, I want to unwrap it, but not completely: open the brittle edges of the fragile sashes, smooth out the folds and creases with my fingers, spread out the time sequence. Unwrap it just a little, and then fold again, mixing letters and days, reality and dreams. I never want to open the pages where the memories of that morning are stored. Every time I get almost to the end, moments before the final, I run away to the safety of happy days.

  I try to come up with a new ending to this story, a different ending, but the dream comes to me like a cat, gently calling me into its embrace, and I find myself again in a place I don’t want to be.

  It’s early in the morning, and the sun is just rising above the horizon, shimmering like a limitless purple-pink ocean.

 In Mina’s crimson hair are snow-white roses, and her dress looks like an intricately woven ruffle and lace. Her pale hands holding flowers, her puffy lips in a painful smile, and her bare feet—the ground must be cold since it was the middle of October.  Her blood… and the roses.   And if it were possible to personify hatred and death, then for me, it would be roses.

  I hated and despised these flowers with all my heart. They brought only sorrow and gloominess into my life. The beautiful symbol of mourning solemnity.   They started it. They ended it all.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

I was sixteen when Mina first called me Rosa. One January afternoon, she came home with a basket of the most gorgeous flowers I’ve ever seen in my life. Scarlet like the blood of a rose, they were magnificent and perfect. From that day on, I became Rosa. Why did Mina start calling me that? She never spoke.   But she completely forgot my real name. For the whole world, I was now Rosa.   After this case, every day in our small apartment, the roses became more and more numerous, until every inch of free space was filled with scarlet buds. Their smell was suffocating, thick, and sticky like honey. It is absorbed into the skin, hair, and dissolved in the blood. It made me dizzy and nauseous, and I could taste it on my tongue with every breath.   But it wasn’t just a smell. It was a color that screamed “red,” like blood itself. It poured over our house, coloring the entire apartment in a disturbing shade.

  After that, every day in our house, the roses became more and more numerous until they filled all the surrounding space.

  Soon, they became so numerous that our house looked like a tomb filled with scarlet petals hanging from the ceiling. We've been arranging here with all honors, breathing in a haze as imperceptible as rose-scented mist. 

  In all the time I lived there, not a single flower withered. It was frightening and exciting at the same time. Day followed night, and night gave way to day; but no petal lost its pristine beauty, and no bud bowed its heavy head in sorrow. There was not a single bouquet that would dilute this velvet sea with its mourning black.

  And if that did happen, Mina cried long and hard over these flowers and blamed herself for not saving them. At night, I heard the sound of her apologies and her fanatical prayers. 

  Whether she prayed to God or to the Devil, I couldn't tell. I'll find out for whom these prayers were intended many years later.

  Roses were always sent with a postcard and a box of expensive chocolates with some intricate filling. The box was necessarily in the form of a heart. The signature was also one; once the unchanged calligraphic handwriting deduced only one phrase, “For you,”

  Mina never told me who gave her these magic flowers or why the roses didn’t wither.

  I tried to ask her these questions several times, but she only brushed them off, throwing her long hair from one shoulder to the other and angrily declaring, “You must love them; you don't need to know more.”

 Mina also dyed her hair scarlet, like roses.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. Constantly surrounded by these flowers was unbearable, and one day I packed up all my things and moved in with a friend, leaving Mina alone in her regal rosary.

  My first night away from home, away from the roses and Mina, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned anxiously in bed hour after hour; but the dream never came, and then the phone rang. Mina called. Crying, she begged to come home, and when I asked her why, she barely whispered, “The roses are wilted.”

  I hung up, and Mina never called me again. Two years had passed. My life had changed, and I think my luck had smiled. I found wonderful friends who were eccentric and bright. I had a great and caring boyfriend, and the internship at ballet school was promising. Everything worked out perfectly, and there were no more roses.

 Until my twentieth birthday, a huge bleeding bouquet of scarlet roses tied with topaz-embroidered ribbon appeared in my new apartment. The candy box was heart-shaped, and the caption read, “For You.”

  I burned the bouquet, threw out the chocolate, and tore the note apart, and blew it to the wind.

  No one was supposed to see or know.   Even me.    Exactly eight days after these flowers appeared, I got a call from former neighbors in the apartment complex Mina was still living in.   I was urged to come and deal with the situation; the smell of rot and death was unbearable, and Mina didn't open the doors or answer the phone.   I opened the door with my key. Opening it wide, I crossed the threshold and could not contain a short scream. All the once-luxurious roses had rotted, dripping thick, stinking jugs on the floor and accumulating in gleaming poisonous lakes. Every corner of the space was occupied by large vases with black velvet buds and tall candles. After my move, Mina got rid of all the furniture, leaving only the big bed, which was now covered with dried stems strewn with thorns.

 This place was like a grave — cold and dark — where my sister was supposed to rest.   Going deeper, I found no hint of Mina's presence. Absolutely nothing.     Only putrid roses and an empty heart-shaped box.

  Mina was gone. For a whole year, I tried to find her without success. Old friends, distant relatives, acquaintances, and any other connections she might have ever had—I checked everything, but there was nothing to help me find her. It’s like she never existed.

 In the two years we’ve been apart, I didn’t know anything about her. Mina didn’t call, and when I tried to contact her, she would reply with a short message, always the same: "Roses have wilted; come back." just like the night I left her.

  All Mina had ever thought about since that unfortunate January day were these sinister roses.

  The police began an investigation. Two years after her disappearance, Mina became officially missing.

  And a year after that, she showed up at my door in the twilight of the fall morning, barefoot, in a sophisticated lace dress with a rose crown on her head. From the Mina that I knew, all that remained was her hair—long, silky, and crimson like blood and roses.

  She still kept calling me Rosa, calling me out, and promising that we’d be happy together. That it will be only us, forever. She promised to show me where these strange flowers bloom, which she called the Deva-Rose, although these were not her words, but those of someone distant and unfamiliar to me, Hongjoong.

  And then...then Mina died. The dawn painted her body in pink shades, flooded the grass with sparkling gold, and dyed the white roses of her crown scarlet. She slit her throat. Ragged a sharp spike into it. As it turned out, even the tiniest rose spikes were deadly.   It was a nightmarish and, at the same time, majestic end to her story.   The image of Mina haunts me in dreams even now—this distant gaze in her pearly eyes and a complete absence of fear of death. No, Mina wasn't afraid. She welcomed death as an old friend, graciously opening her arms.

  It was her exodus.   I remember screaming loudly. Blood thundered in my ears, and tears flowed in an endless crystal stream. I screamed that my name wasn’t Rosa; that I wasn’t her, and never would be.

  Her funeral was truly a royal one. Rain and thunder rattle in the sky, as if raising a toast in her honor. The flat haloes of the black umbrellas swayed peacefully as the guests made their sorrowful speeches.

  Mina seemed to fall asleep, dressed in an old-fashioned wedding dress, lying there like a princess, drowning in thousands of roses.   The flowers were brought at dawn. Their color was deep and dark, as if every petal was filled with the gloaming of the night. They mourned with me.   But I knew better. It wasn’t the end; it was the beginning.  Death follows life in an endless cycle of rebirth. When one flower fades, plant a new one.  Back home that night, I found a black envelope at my door, sealed with a monogram wax seal.

  It lacked an address and the sender's signature. The message was clear and concise. "I live for you, my Rosa."

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·   I went to the window and opened the curtains with my newfound determination. It’s time to stop being afraid and run away. Whatever it is, I’ll find out what happened to Mina. Let her start it all, but I’ll be the one to finish the story.   The last surviving girl.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·   How naive I was then, how stupid. The moth always flies to the flame, attracted by the warm fluttering light; he himself goes to his death.

I was that moth. Without realizing it, I came to my inevitable fate, which has been waiting for me for centuries, maybe longer. Their hands have stretched out since the darkest times, when the light didn't exist, and the Devil was as real as you and I. At that time, everyone knew his face, felt his hot breath on his skin.   The story I’m going to tell you isn't going to be bright and sweet; we’re going to go down to hell and come back. I'll take you through the dark woods to the horrors of uncharted lands where barefoot priestesses rock their sharp teeth in alluring smiles. I will take you to the castle where the prince rests in a crystal coffin and make you drink wine that tastes like blood.

  Now I have to ask you, "Are you afraid of the dark and what’s hidden in it?"   But my question is, "Love, do you like roses?"

#ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez yandere #ateez #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez ot8 #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #yandere ateez #ateez fic #ateez smut

[wysteria-clad]

Jake losing his virginity to you

paring: sub! virgin!Jake Lockley x dom! fem! reader

a/n:

warnings: consensual sex, dom/sub dynamic

minors dni

based on an anon sharing thots with me ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

no plot, literally just reader taking papi's v-card

papi being a good boy for you

---------

At first you don't even doubt he is a virgin cause he is so damn good at kissing and confident.

But when he didn't know how to unhook your bra and gets sloppy thrusting into you, you figure it out.

You reach out to touch his face and tell him it's okay.

"Do you trust me?"

He breathes out a 'yes'

You push him down and climb on top of him, taking the lead and guiding him. You don't jump dive right in. You didn’t want to seem like you were coming on too strong.

You take his lips in your mouth like it's the most sweetest thing you've ever tasted, feeling the hint of alcohol and pleasure in it. You take your sweet time slowly build up the tension, touching and kissing his hot skin. You drawl out a deep moan from his throat when you bite under his jaw, sucking the spot, before soothing with flick of your tongue.

He breathes and loses himself in the mixed intoxicated scent of your perfume, your sweat and your arousal. "Y/n.." his voice is a bit whiny, he looks up from under you, his eyes half lidded and laden with heavy lust. To him, you are a Goddess—confident, powerful and sensual.

"Shh, baby, let me take care of you" you coo softly, leaning closer to his ear, your breath hot against his ear, which turns red from your previous actions.

Cute.

"You look so pretty, baby. Under me, all flustered and ready for me" you trace a finger on his cheek bone, making him even more flustered. His ears turn into darker shade of pink.

You decide to tone down your teasing, your hand sliding down to reach his cock. You stroke his thick, pretty cock with your experienced fingers, drawing out a string of throaty groans and moans from him. "Are you ready, honey?"

He frantically nods, seemingly lost his ability to speak under your touches and strokes.

"Use your words, pretty boy" you tantalize him further, still holding his cock in your hand. You slightly graze your finger nail in his slit.

"Yes-" he let's out a gasp, "yes, Y/n/n" he manages to choke out.

"Good boy" you praise, pushing back his curls away from his forehead, slick with sweat beads. You glance at his eyes to make sure he is comfortable and alright.

You guide him and let himself get used to you for few moments. You watch him close his eyes, a rush of pleasure washes over him in blissful waves. You let out a salacious moan of your own, adjusting to his length. "Oh, Jake" you moan again, swallowing thickly.

Setting a painfully slow pace, you roll your hips, grinning when he groans in content.

"Look at me" you say in softer tone, reaching out to touch his cheek.

His warm brown eyes meets yours, he watches you pant, your breasts bouncing with a loopy grin on his face when you increased your pace. He enjoyed you being in charge. His toes curls in absolute bliss, his hands clenches bed sheet on either side of him.

You gently unclench his fists from sheets, and guide his hands to grab your waist. You close your eyes, savouring everything in that moment, your hair falls over his face as you lean down to press a sweet kiss on his lips, still thrusting into him. Your sweet love with your heavenly touch sends him into oblivion.

¡Dios mío! could you get anymore perfect?

You smile, opening your eyes gazing into his eyes lovingly. His hands slides up from your waist to touch your neck and face. He pulls you for another sweet kiss. He found himself falling in love with you all over again.

-------

taglist (let me know if you wish to be added or removed 💕)

@twwcs @friendlyneighbourhood-parker @fayes-fics @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @devilish-mirage @syrma-sensei @gaymistakeboi @scarabgrant @mintpurplemnm @kittiesluvyou @luke-o-lophus @nana1000night @this-is-me19 @thatdummy-girl @vinsevena @hot-mess-express1 @hotbisexualmess @fandxmslxt69 @beaxtrice

#sub jake lockley #sub jake lockley x reader #sub jake lockley imagine #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley imagine #jake lockley #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagine #moon knight

[tobiasdrake]

Well, I was supposed to wake up in a field but instead.....

Some sorta void beyond time and space. Neat. It would seem I have gained the ability to determine for myself how far back to loop.

I credit this new ability to my brilliant decision to touch the timedrop. Clearly, I have absorbed its power and added it to my own through temporal osmosis. I have based this observation on nothing whatsoever but I will hear no argument otherwise.

In any case... I still need to find out who keeps breaking that bread so--

Oh my god you read my Pocket Notes and listen in on my conversations and now you're just being controlling I NEED SOME SPACE LEMONFRIEND

>_< I am in a toxic relationship. With time.

A revelation that wasn't the main goal of dipshitting myself into oblivion but is a welcome discovery nonetheless. At least we know that everyone who's frozen is a) somewhat conscious but b) not in a state where they would be suffering.

10/10 Great service, satisfying experience. I look forward to killing myself again in the future.

Alright. Well. Guess we'll get back to it. Grab the tonics from the side room and my ding ding and then--

No. Fuck you.

I was thinking about my ding ding it could not be helped

Ugh, this place is so rude! I want to file a complaint.

Moving right along. Nothing to see here.

Like those two buildings back in Dormont that are inexplicably locked. Must be some kind of regional locking mechanism popular in this area but I have no idea what.

Oh, there we go. That was easy. So we just need to figure out the pass phrase for any of these doors we find.

I see where this is going. It would behoove me to throw myself on that Tear over yonder and die so I can go get the password.

...but I have the utmost confidence that I'll get myself stupidly killed anyway soon, so I don't need to bother.

In a suspicious place, yes. That sure is a pillar.

I do not trust this pillar, okay?

This pillar is watching us.

Plotting.

It knows I'm on to it.

You say that like we should feel bad for it, Isa. Unfortunately, feeling bad for things is a form of Sadness so I'm afraid all of my sympathy's getting chopped up with scissors.

Along with this boss fight.

Alright, cool. Some kind of key thing that can be used to something something with the tears, so let's keep going and--

...okay so maybe it's actually dangerous to hussle the group past all of the deathtraps I already know about. I may be trapfinding so well at this point that it's putting everyone in danger.

Who would do something so monstrous

Okay now I'm super onboard. King needs to die.

Go on, Bonnie. Take a wok on the wild side. *wok-a wok-a*

Am I... am I supposed to scramble it? Wait, is this a metaphor? Does this key have gender dysphoria that it hasn't quite realized yet?

...so that's a yes. Yes, the key has undiagnosed gender dysphoria.

Cool. I'm happy I caught that. I feel proud of myself for my ability to pick up LGBT subtext.

This philosophy is pretty deep. I took the religion of Change for a silly joke at first but no, this is some serious shit.

Is this whole religion a metaphor for the experience of being LGBT? There is clearly some strong coding going on here with Vaugardian society. In fact, the entire concept of worshipping change is itself so tightly connected to gender and the trans/non-binary experience that--

BONNIE

NO

You take that gender out of your mouth this instant! The experience of self-discovery is NOT breakfast!

*sigh* Kids.

#in stars and time #drake plays in stars and time

[aylinvail]

Tanna Talk: This Week in the Rogue Trader (Video Game) AO3 fandom (March 24- 30 2024)

"Oh, yes, a dance was never just a dance. It was also a display of the soul. It was love, and war, and didn’t they say that all was fair in love and war ?" - Tapestry of Fate, Ch. 34.

Lots of new plot bunnies this week in the trenches. Anyway, this is user aylinvail reporting to you live over vox caster from the Starseeker Bridge.

Cool new fics

Maybe the fic did something new. Maybe it innovated. Maybe it's an entirely new concept we haven't seen yet. A non-comprehensive list.

Two sides of the same Aquila - An AU where the Warrant of Trade is held by two most incompatible individuals in the Koronus Expanse. A series of pivotal moments of their relationship where they need to learn to share the power, space and an Interrogator in order to make it out alive. BOY THAT IS FRESH @vitanithepure.

Eliminate - A fic about Epitaph and Calcazar telling Heinrix to kill you. Told in 500 brilliant bittersweet words. @pycnolite's masterclass in how to keep it short and sweet.

Omega von Valancius - OMG @pallysuune has finally brought us the first A/B/O RT fic. As an omega, Violet von Valancius wasn't fit to be the Rogue Trader, and everyone around her seemed to know it too. But no one was more vocal about it than her so-called-peer. Can her actions ever earn his respect, or will she forever be lesser in his eyes?

The First Engagement - I know, I know, but listen. Have you seen a Lord Captain Heinrix x Interrogator RT yet? No. Fits here. Anyway, if you wanted to see what Heinrix is like as a jackass who "summers" in Janus, here ya go.

Who updated?

Here are the longfics that updated this week.

Starseeker - Heinrix/RT intrigue rewrite of game events with Kunrad-related canon divergence. And a shoujo romance.

gossamer of starlight - RT/Yrliet. Yrliet watches her elantach's dynasty fall apart in slow motion. Non chronological.

Predator & Prey - RT/Marazhai. Aurelia von Valancius has a secret. Marazhai Aezyrraesh has a craving. They're perfectly matched opposites, so long as as they can overcome their differences.

Theatre of Hearts - RT/Nocturne of Oblivion arranged marriage. And from what I hear, getting really cultural difference-flavor of interesting.

Much ado about the Lord Captain - A Comedy of Terrors - RT/Heinrix. A retelling of Rogue Trader with tons of pining. A forest of pine trees. And smut.

Immortalium - RT/Heinrix. NEW! From @cawyden-gaming. The story follows Venria von Valancius on her journey of coming to terms with her past and present.

Iron Maidens - Multiship. An Iron Widow x Rogue Trader crossover.

Omnissiah Forgive Me - RT/Pasqal. Pasqal Haneumann owes his life to the Lord Captain, Kassard. When he joined the Lord Captain's retinue, Pasqal found he had got more than he had bargained for. For the Lord Captain was enough for Pasqal's faith to be shaken to its core.

My Knight So Daring - An Imperial Knight!Heinrix x noble!RogueTrader arranged marriage AU. And from what I hear, getting really hot.

Into Temptation - RT/Marazhai/Heinrix. Former Ministorum Priest now Rogue Trader Cassius Von Valancius must contend with his heretical desires for Marazhai. Matters become even more complicated as his feelings for Heinrix Van Calox deepen.

Edge of Daybreak Unbroken - RT/Heinrix. Heretic Rogue Trader gets brought back to the start of the game. Time travel shenanigans ensue.

Once we were - RT/Heinrix. A story following the events of the game, in which Imogene von Valancius allied her dynasty with Xavier Calcazar and brought peace and prosperity to the Koronus Expanse. But neither last long, and the line between hero and heretic is always blurred.

Domino Effect - Multi. Betrayal is terrible. It never comes from one's foes. But instead from those closest. It comes from a place of safety. Of love.

Addendums

they go here. for in case there are late night updates. im out of spoons bros.

#rogue trader #rogue trader crpg #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40k rogue trader #warhammer 40000 #fanfic #fic #ao3 #fic rec

[beneathashadytree]

MISSED YOU - SASUKE SARUTOBI X READER

Warnings : none that I can think of, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : fluff <3

Word count : 1.3K words

Additional notes : No plot, just some cozy friends-to-lovers vibes (because yes, I adore this man and his trope).

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

“Your friendly neighborhood ninja comes bearing gifts.”

“Sasuke!” Immediately dropping the needle and thread in their hand, they jumped up from their work desk. The kimono they’d been carefully embroidering was long abandoned by the time they’d catapulted themself into his arms, already open and waiting.

A rare smile of his (though, was it really all that rare if he’d been giving them so many glimpses of it freely these days?) was on his face, brown eyes twinkling with what they could cleary tell was unadulterated joy as he pulled them into a tight embrace.

“Missed me?”

“When do I not?” They shook their head helplessly, before quickly reaching up to pull him into a sudden, passionate kiss, all eager lips and teasing tongue.

A slightly dazed look was on his blushing face as he finally pulled away for air, clumsily adjusting his glasses with shaky hands. They couldn’t help but muffle a laugh; it was a special kind of delight, flustering their normally straight-faced boyfriend. “I should go away for longer periods of time is this is the kind of reception I receive when I’m back, you know.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Playfully pushing him by the shoulder, he caught their wrists in his hand, an infinitely affectionate look in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t. I’d probably miss you too much.” Frank as he sounded, and straightforward as his words were, they couldn’t believe that he had the gall to say such things so seemingly-easily.

“Flirt.” Rolling their eyes despite their warming cheeks, they tugged him to have a seat by their little table by the window. “Have you been spending too much time with Shingen lately?”

“No, why?”

“Ah, adopting Yukimura’s oblivion now I see.” Humming, they began to pull out the stash of snacks they’d set to the side for breaks amidst their work. “Having fun messing with me, are you?”

Sasuke couldn’t help himself and cracked another smile, giving up on the act as he took a seat, wrapping an arm around them and stopping them from bringing out even more food tht they would surely be unable to finish and still have an appetite for dinner. “Sorry.”

“You’re not in the slightest.”

A huff of a laugh, and a squeeze to their shoulder came at that. “Not really, no.” With his free hand, he popped a round thing into his mouth, a pleasantly surprised expression coming on his face. “Oh? Are these supposed to be kettle-cooked chips?”

“I tried my best.” Shrugging, they pointed to the teapot in the corner of the room—or, what used to be a teapot, considering that it was currently half-charred and half-melted. “Apparently, we’re still a few hundred years too early to go experimenting with that and make it out unscathed.”

Their boyfriend hummed in satisfaction, taking another one to pop into his mouth. “For what it’s worth, they’re actually good, even if they came at the price of one historical artifact,” he said between chews, giving them a thumbs up.

“You did mention missing your favorite chips last month…”

After swallowing, Sasuke remained still for a bit, unmoving and almost unblinking. They liked to call this his “rebooting” and gave him the customary minute or two for him to school his expression into something else. Much to their delight, it morphed into one of raw happiness and a sweet shade of affection.

“You’ll do me in one day.” Taking their hand in his, he squeezed it fondly. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful of you.”

Feeling slightly bashful at his praise now, they waved him off with red cheeks. “Let me do something grander next time, and we’ll see if then you’ll die of surprise. But I will die of curiosity if you don’t show me the gifts you declared you brought!”

“Well, they’re only really two small things, not much.” Digging into his seemingly-never-ending pockets, he pulled out two little boxes, carefully wrapped with intricately designed silk bows.

Though they were eager to see what he’d gotten them, they had half a mind to keep those ribbons for repurposing later on, and so handled them quite deftly. The two boxes now sitting on their little table, they could feel their heart melt bit by bit, until all they could feel in their chest was this oddly fuzzy feeling.

“Sasuke… this is adorable,” they breathed out. One was what they assumed was an expensive-looking silver paper weight, in the shape of a very familiar squirrel and adorned with sparkling gemstones of varying vibrant colors. They shone with every angle they turned it, and it somehow managed to be just as cute as the pet it was fashioned after. Grinning up at him, they paused from admiring the delicate craftsmanship. “Now I won’t have to worry about missing Kunai when she’s away with you.”

“Though I highly doubt this would offer the same benefits of protection, it bears a striking resemblance, I think.” His attention now turned to the other box, still covered by the velvet cloth covering what was inside. “Here, I’ll put yours on you.”

Before they could get a curious glance at it, he’d already fiddled with their forearm, and then sat back to admire it. Once they’d gotten a good look at what he’d made them wear, they instantly stiffened and their jaw dropped. Sasuke’s eyebrows furrowed at their reaction.

“Do you… like it?”

“Like it?” they incredulously asked, twisted the snake-shaped bracelet that now encircled their arm to display the emerald eyes. “Sasuke, did you, I don’t know, sell a kidney or something?”

At that, a slightly smug smile made its way on his face. “This is what happens when you read ‘Saving Up 101’ and memorize it as a kid. I happen to have a lot saved up.”

“I didn’t know ninja work paid that well. Might as well shift careers, honestly,” they mumbled, still in shock as they carefully touched the gold bracelet that looked like it had taken a painstakingly long time to craft. “This is gorgeous, Sasuke. Thank y—oh?”

When they looked up, they saw Sasuke sheepishly presenting his own arm, with a matching bracelet snaking up his arm, only this one with blood-red rubies for eyes. “I thought I’d get us matching ones. Since I can’t wear something that dangles or makes noise or is too flashy, a tight bracelet that I could wear under my sleeves seemed like the most plausible choice, and—oof!”

Before he could continue, they’d already thrown themself ontop of him and sent them both toppling down to the floor in a fiercely tight hug, before quickly peppering so many kisses on his face that it was physically impossible to point out a spot that wasn’t covered in chapstick. An airy laugh bubbled up in his chest, and his arms automatically pulled them in closer so that they perfectly slotted against each other.

“I’m kind of glad you didn’t think of a ring,” they mumbled against his chest, “So now I can surprise you with one down the line.”

And Sasuke, calm and cool Sasuke who was always unperturbed by most non-fanboy-related things, was rendered speechless again—partially because he couldn’t believe he’d been so hilariously stupid to forget about the existence of unobtrusive rings, and partially because the promise implied in their words turned him into a flustered mess that couldn’t produce a single cohesive thought.

All he did was shakily inhale a long breath, his trembling fingers clutching at the back of their shirt, desperate to ground himself for a moment or two before he lost all senses. They really are going to be the death of me, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to will his fluttering heart to still in his chest; a request too difficult to achieve when someone had fallen so utterly and helplessly in love.

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[randomnameless]

Something that really bothers me about the rose coloured glasses vis a vis tellius and fe fans (ESPECIALLY from 3h fans who learned about tellius later) is that many like soren purely because of his main ship (i mean i like ikesoren too but come the fuck on) and jokingly characterise soren as a stereotypical nasty mean limp wristed sarcastic gay man instead of a deeply flawed branded angry at the world and definitely trauma bonded to ike, but micaiah is still absolutely getting raked over the coals over the blood pact and not being ike’s fangirl

Well,

Jokes often involve flanderisation, so Soren being flanderised to oblivion when people joke about him isn't something I really care about, but maybe that's because I'm not really fond of Soren to begin with lol

What annoys me more is when some people try to rationalise Soren's anger and backstory by either pointing at Almedha or Deghinsea being responsible for everything, and I'm like, what.the.fuck?

Almedha's just, idk, I won't call it sexism, but damn - that woman loves her son who is the only reason why she hasn't completely lost her mind over 1/losing her powers 2/being casted away like trash by her "BF" 3/being rejected by her dad 4/thinking her brother was tortured and abused to death because of her actions 5/being separated from her beloved child.

Deghinsea being "uwu bad bcs he's the reason why brandeds are rejected by both beorcs and laguz" is another take I really am not fond of, and iirc I wrote a post earlier this year about it? But to some people who buy the "Crusts BaD" as the reason why Fodlan sucks, I guess they need to have someone to name and pill all of the world's nonsense rather than, well, in Tellius' case, realise that the worldbulding and the lore really sucks, to the point where the duology touted as the most "against racism" of the franchise, is pretty much way more racist than anything Tru Piss can throw us (yes, because in Tru Piss we have characters rejecting coexistence, in Tellius, it's the world mechanics - whenever a Beorc and a Laguz coexist too much, the Laguz dies...).

As for Miccy,

Just like, imo, Soren gains some "new" attention and "uwu excuses for why he's being a snarky jerk at times", Miccy used to be bashed when FE10 was released (with all the Mary Sue accusation being thrown around!) because she was written to be a sort of foil/antagonist to Ike, and when the party reunited, she was demoted to a "soul-jar" role, let it be regarding the greater plot, or, even, her own backstory!

TBH, for people who didn't play FE10, if Ike is the bestest thing since melted cheese, Miccy, who opposes him, must be BaD and so you can pile everything you don't like on her, hoping to see it stick.

Or even worse, I've seen posts here and there comparing Miccy to Supreme Leader and how misunderstood uwu she is, which is the worst insult poor Miccy ever received since FE10 came out rofl

#2goldensnitches #do you want to kill me friend lol #once upon a time discussions about soren and miccy were very animated lol #anyways i still don't like how some part of the fandom tries to uwu him #he is a character with flaws that sure are never called out in the game and by the main character but #they exist #and to uwu them away is imo a disservice and not a good reading on him #'but his backstory sad uwus' Sephiran also has a crapton of sad uwus for his backstory #and yet the game chews him out about his plans to destroy the world because hey fuck off #it's not fair to condemn the world and everyone who lives in it for your suffering #It's sort of hilarious because sometimes I wonder if Miccy wasn't also written as a Soren foil #Miccy is the one who doesn't like when Beorc call Laguz names #she lives in racist land and knows she has to hide else she'll die too #but she still came to care about the people who live here #she gets to talk to Vika who feels weirded out by her being a branded and yet they agree to continue talking/being friends despite it #Miccy never insults Rafiel calling him a half beast #Soren follows Ike and his lead but Miccy has to take the lead despite wanting to follow Pelleas at first #tfw we know more about Soren's backstory even after being kicked away from Daein than Miccy's lol #granted I loved what FE10 with Almedha when you see that some of his worst traits/flaws are actually shared by his mom lol #tl;dr : a Soren raised by his mom would have been even more of a jerk than the one we got #i have a lot of feelings about how Miccy was treated in FE10 which in turn sort of explains the vitriol she received from the fandom #but that's for another post lol else it'll be too long #basically FE10 is more Ike v.2 than a game where Miccy is the Lord

[sigma-el]

25 and/or 38 for an oc of your choice? <3

Hiii ! I'll chose Sigma-El Sangre, known as and sometimes spellt Xangr (or Xgr), my fellow exiled ashlander.

25 : What topic do they know a lot about that is completely useless to the direct plot ?

Well, Xangr hides the true lengths of his knowledge for his own safety. He often assures to appear as someone uncultured because of how easier it makes things for him. Most of the time, he pretends to be a mere dancer from the ashlands, where spelling is a rare skill, or what may look like a sex worker - he thinks that people underestimating him is the best situation he could hope for... But if you talk with him a lot, under many covers and masks, there is an over-enthousiastic autistic goblin. Xangr knows much, about many specific topics. He reads a WHOLE LOT and spended many many years copying books for the Mage Guild then the Worm Cult. He's impressively sharp in everything that touches to Oblivion and/or biology - he loooves telling people about liminality, daedric planes and (un)natural phenomenons, so when there is a safe opportunity, he speaks a lot.

He once met a maormer called Kelondil, with whom, moved by curiosity, he had sexual intercourses. He just HAD to check if maormers, like snakes or sharks, had two penises... and he talks way too much about his discoveries to EVERYONE that slightly mentions the subject. You cannot stop him. He's a master in making people uncomfortable with incessant infodumping when he feels fine somewhere.

Most of the time, it is not helpful, and he can not restrain himself. An other subject he's very found of is clothing/makeup. Xangr is the kind of mer to help you with your eyeliner and giving you tips and explanations while braiding your hair. He just loves taking care of himself, everything he wears is thought and well agenced. It is rarely useful, except a time he helped a young woman to dress as an Altmer and did all her costuming. It was such a nice RP, they're precious friend daysince.

48 : Who would they say "yes" to if invitated to do something they abhorred/strongly didn't want to ?

Depends.

If it is only a matter of taste (Xangr for exemple does not like noble parties), then he can do an exception for someone he sees as precious that would appreciaite his companionship. Those people are rare. He's an extremely peaceful mer. If his presence helps you and you're close enough, for exemple to soothe anxiety like it has been the case few times, Xangr will come with you. He will not enjoy his time, but he will remain calm, keep an eye on you and cheer you up. Just do not ask him to actively be a part of the party, he finds most people to be boring as hell and tolerates badly boredom. Let him stare at flowers, pick his nails, stim with his jewelry, pay respect to his regular need of loneliness then you'll have a loyal friend that would gladly share your pain. If you're doing something you love and are passionate about, Xangr will appreciate your enthousiasm and remain with you. You just have to assure you do not ask more of him he agreed to give, and he'll great you with apparent neverending patience and tenderness. He soothes people, it would not be a first for him.

The other case... Is if he identifies danger wheresoever. You can NOT drag him somewhere he feels even vaguely threatened. He will dodge the Mage Guild bc he fears they may remember him and throw his masquerade away. He fears people may take a guess for his past and flees anytime strangers are too insisting. He does not like to lie, as it is his previous master's main weapon and he tries to change, so he prefers to keep distances anytime he's with too inquisitive souls. If the danger is too palpable...

You won't be able to take him with you. His survival is paramount to him. He will find an escape, and ask of you to NOT mistake this reaction for empty cowardice. It is self preservation. Wisdom. Instinct.

#i think its filled with spelling mistakes #i have bad vocabulary im sorry it would be so much easier in french for me aha #but thank you for the ask #i hope you'll have the idea i tried to share #i loved it <3 <3 #tesblr #ask meme

[starvonnie]

One More?

This fic is for a trade with @xstrawberry-sorbetx !  I hope you like it :D

Megarod

Rating: Explicit Tags:  Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Multiple Orgasms, Aftercare, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Summary: Rodimus often doesn't know his limits, but Megatron always knows just how far he can push his frame. And he never leaves him unsatisfied.

Also on AO3

Rodimus had long since screamed himself hoarse.  His lover's name croaked from his overused voicebox between shaking ventilations and gasps.  Their plating rattled together and created a never ending cacophony of ecstasy.

Megatron was the only thing keeping him in place.  His huge, hulking frame dwarfing his own, his sheer weight making his strength moot when Rodimus had no chance of dislodging him. 

And he tried to no avail.  Not willingly.  No, he wanted absolutely everything Megatron was giving him—more even—but his cursed frame kept trying to squirm away.  Too much, too much, it complained.  His node throbbed to the point of numbness under its constant abuse from the vibrator strapped there.  

He was on his third.  The first two had run out of batteries and had given him brief reprieve.  

But even then, he’d begged for more.

“Megs, please, I can’t—I want—nnh!”  Rodimus' words came fast and disjointed.  Unfinished thoughts from a processor on the fritz from overbearing pleasure.

“Shh…”  Megatron’s voice, in stark contrast, was calm and static-free.  It flowed into Rodimus’ audials and soothed the chaos he’d been enduring.  “Yes, you can.  Because you’re my good boy.  You’re doing so well, Rodimus.”

He thought he might lose consciousness.  Every passing moment felt like too much for his mortal frame, burning ever hotter.  One of his cooling fans had spun itself to oblivion, while the others roared in vain.  His plating, too, puffed out—or attempted to—trying to rid him of this excess heat.  But he’d only find relief once Megatron allowed him relief.

Overload crashed through his systems and forced him into a hard reset.  When he came to, Megatron hadn't stopped the push of his hips, pressing him deeper into the berth.

"How many was that?  Five?  I think that's a new record for you," Megatron purred in his audial.

Rodimus could do nothing but whimper.

"I bet you could do one more."

Rodimus made a choking sound as tears pricked at the corners of his optics.  His calipers rippled from the abuse, lubricant gushing from his valve as Megatron's spike slammed home again and again.  

"Would you like to come again for me, my love?" Megatron asked in a sweet voice to the depraved display beneath him.

Rodimus nodded emphatically.

Despite the many warnings littering his HUD, Rodimus felt safe in the strong arms that wrapped protectively around his frame.  Though he wiggled, his frame trying to escape the too-much feeling, Megatron held him right where he wanted him.  And right where Rodimus wanted to be.

Megatron slipped from his valve as he flipped them.  Rodimus sobbed with relief, but clenched down on air as he mourned the emptiness.  Never one to leave him unfulfilled, Megatron easily sat Rodimus down on his length.

Rodimus stuttered through Megatron's name.  He clawed at whatever he could get his hands on, but he couldn't get any purchase.  Held firm by his thighs, Megatron all but used his frame as a frag toy.

"I've got you," Megatron whispered.

Rodimus shuddered.  He felt wonderfully out of control.

"F-fuck, Megs, mm…"

With all the focus on his array, Rodimus flinched at the kiss Megatron planted on his finial.  He let out a high pitched note of pleasure while his thighs quaked, but Megatron held him steady.   

"Easy…"

He'd lost complete control of his frame.  Completely at Megatron's mercy.  But he knew he'd take care of him.  He knew the mech holding him—the mech ravishing him—would keep him safe.  Even as Rodimus' frame told him that he needed to stop, Megatron knew his true limits.

And he hadn't reached them yet.

"Look at you," Megatron whispered in his audial.  "Dripping for me.  You take me so well, Rodimus.  Such a good boy."

Another overload, this one not as intense, surged through Rodimus’ lines.  Megatron didn’t even notice with all the noise Rodimus was making and how his calipers twitched and clenched even between climaxes.  But it left Rodimus strutless, his limbs becoming dead weight.

Megatron’s spike met no resistance as he thrust up into the sopping metalmesh, splattering lubricant across their thighs and adding to the debauched mess that was their berth.

With every hit of his ceiling nodes, Rodimus lost more of what little sanity remained.  The world around him turned to static.  His existence began and ended with scarred gray plating and hands that nearly wrapped around the entirety of his slippery thighs. 

“I want to see your face,” Megatron decided aloud.  

Rodimus could do nothing but groan as he was left mercifully and horribly empty.  Megatron didn’t leave him wanting, though.  He carefully laid him down, even avoiding whatever mess he could, and sheathing himself inside his rippling channel.  He fucked him hard, but not carelessly so.  Each slam of Megatron’s hips sparked his ceiling nodes and dragged more desperate moans from Rodimus’ voicebox.  

Megatron grabbed Rodimus’ legs under his knees, folding him and getting just that much deeper.  It was impressive that he kept his grip, given how they were shaking and slick.  Rodimus’ plating rattled wherever they touched.

“Megs, p-please,” Rodimus said desperately, not even knowing what he was begging for.  “I need—need!”  The static in his voice made his words nearly indecipherable.

“Hush, my love,” Megatron whispered to his mewling little Prime.  “I know exactly what you need.”

Coolant streaked his cheeks and dripped into the mess of oral solvent.  Rodimus’ HUD tinted the world red with warnings, but he knew he didn’t have to worry about any of them.  Megatron had him.

Rodimus was given little warning before he was shrieking in overload, his aching calipers clamping down on the relentless spike spreading him open.  He writhed in the condensation-soaked sheets, babbling incoherently.  But no matter how he moved, Megatron held him, never stopping.

When he got the slightest control of his frame, all Rodimus could do was cry out his lover’s name in quick succession while the aftershocks rippled along his array.  At some point his spike had sprung free, dribbling prefluid.

Megatron wasted no time in wrapping his hand around it and bringing Rodimus to another climax, coating him in his own transfluid.  It stayed erect, still twitching and spurting out whatever remained in his tanks.

“Beautiful,” Megatron whispered.  “I love seeing you like this.”

Rodimus tried to meet Megatron’s gaze, but he couldn’t hold it.  His vision blurred as the ecstasy forced them to roll back into his helm, panting.

“Not done yet, are you?” Megatron purred to his shivering, fluid-drenched mess of a conjunx.  “What do you think, hm?  One more?”

Rodimus’ processor and array ached at the prospect.  But no matter how tired, how sore, how delirious, when Megatron asked for one more, he’d give him one more.  

Even if it was the third “one more.”

“Keep fucking me,” Rodimus managed to string together.  

With a pleased hum, Megatron lowered himself, hips still pistoning, to give Rodimus an incredibly chaste kiss, given the situation.  “Good boy,” he whispered against quivering lips.

Rodimus wasn’t even aware he was moving until he was once again sat in Megatron’s lap, this time facing him.  He only noticed how his valve ached from emptiness, and then ached from Megatron’s girth filling him up.

“Hold on,” Megatron gently instructed.

Little strength found his limbs, but Rodimus readily obeyed, wrapping his arms around his neck.  He clung on like his life depended on it.

“So good for me,” Megatron praised.  He tenderly stroked Rodimus’ spinal strut and sent a shiver running down his back.  “Don’t let go or hold back.  I’m going to fuck your pretty little valve until you overload for me one more time, and then I won’t stop until I come inside of you.”

In spite of his overwhelming exhaustion and numbing nodes, Rodimus rocked his hips.

“Don’t move.  Just hold on.”

Rodimus did as he was told, choking out a sob when Megatron started with slow, methodical thrusts.  Each and every aching node protested.  He had half a processor to beg Megatron to pull out, but he would never voice such thoughts.

“I’ll be so good for you,” Rodimus whispered.

Megatron gripped his aft with need as he moved a little faster, but not fast enough.  Never enough.

“Please, please, I’ll be so good,” Rodimus begged.  “Please, please, please.”

Rodimus choked on Megatron’s name as he gave him what he wanted—what he needed.  His valve felt molded to the shape of Megatron’s spike.  Like he would never be complete without it.

He shook violently.  His strength ebbed, but he held on.

Megatron’s arms constricted around him, holding him flush.  He pounded into his abused valve, mouthing at his finials.  Between kisses and licks, he whispered Rodimus’ name over and over.

“Come for me, love,” Megatron said, his voice finally showing some strain.

Rodimus’ frame betrayed him and did its level best to squirm away from the too-good feeling.  But he didn’t let go.  He relished in how full he felt.  In how Megatron’s ventilations grew ragged and his movements less careful.  He slammed into his valve with reckless abandon and Rodimus could do nothing but shake and moan.

The wave of his overload crashed into his systems, and whatever words Rodimus intended to say were lost as his voicebox finally gave out.  Not even static escaped his mouth, open wide in a silent cry.  He felt his consciousness slipping, but before he shut down, he felt hot, thick spurts of transfluid stuffing his valve.  

Rodimus came online slowly.  He became aware of Megatron’s hands on him before he could see him.  He blinked sluggishly, lifting his helm.  It took nearly all of his strength to do just that.

Megatron’s hand moved from his waist to his cheek, which made it much easier to look into crimson optics glowing with love.

“How are you feeling?”

Blinking a bit more, Rodimus shifted slightly, feeling the blanket wrapped around his frame shift along his plating.  His clean plating.  But he also felt just how much he ached.

“Sore,” he said.

“Bad sore or good sore?”

Rodimus smiled.  “Fucking amazing sore.”

Megatron chuckled.  “You were so good for me.”  He pressed a kiss just next to his audial, then whispered, “And incredibly sexy.  I love watching you come undone.”

A fresh burst of arousal made Rodimus groan.

“And I love you,” Megatron said.

“I love you, too.”

“What would you like to do?  Watch a movie?  Take a bath?  Go right to sleep?”

“Movie and cuddles,” Rodimus said.

“Done and done.  I already have Die Hard ready, if you wish to subject me to that again.”

“You know I’m always down for Die Hard.”  Rodimus snuggled closer, shutting his optics.  

It truly didn't matter what the movie was, though, because he always fell asleep before the end of the first scene.  Then Megatron would carry him to berth, pull him close, and they'd drift off together.  And Rodimus would wake the next morning, wrapped up with his conjunx, with pure bliss coursing through his lines.

These sessions were one of the few times that Rodimus would wake up first, but he'd always pretend to be asleep until Megatron stirred.  Because then Megatron would pepper his face with kisses, gently rousing him.  He'd also bring him his morning ration in berth and they'd slowly wake up together, knowing that they had nowhere to be for the rest of the day.

It was these mornings—these moments—that Rodimus was eternally grateful to be in a universe that didn't know their names.

#megarod #megatron/rodimus #rodimus/megatron #valveplug #starvonnie writes #hannah dont look at this