#✰... viol requests

[groovyempire]

Bonmucho and Viole in the „my wife fucking left me” color palette, as requested by @pencakesstuff

Taking requests for crappy palettes, drop them in friends and enemies

[kiyomizuki]

Thank you so much! I've written this a few times for my OC blog and in the replies but I truly love this, thank you so much! My characters make me very happy and I love having artwork of them/canon! ^^

To my own followers, ask if you want my OC blog but you can probably find it through this post, lmao. It's not that hard, it's not a secret lmao xD Context: Viole Santori is one of my twst OCs, a first-year nonbinary student in Diasomnia who is shipped with Deuce Spade.

I wanted to say that I like your style a lot (found your blog through a friend who had requested smth) and also to shyly request a lil silly doodle of my RBF-having OC Des (Viole) and Deuce 👀 👉👈 only if that's not too much to ask ofc ofc (ref: https://www.tumblr.com/viole-santori/761909183569395712/)

I hope I draw your character right :D

(Also ngl I feel honored, thank you 😊)

[arc-misadventures]

Can I request for a sequel for A Proper Villain. Like Jaune's day to day and interactions with other heroes and villains.

The Blackcat, And The Stalker

In a dingy lit room, bound to a table, a figure clad in black sat bound to a chair with a hood on their head. Here, bound to the chair was, The Violet Shadow.

One of the few faunas hero's that fought to make the world a better place! Mostly for faunas mind you, but if helping the faunas helped the humans at the end of the day that was alright.

She had been captured after hitting one of the, Crowns, Dust silos that was being made from the labour of faunas slaves. Violet Shadow's goal was the destruction of the silos, while her compatriots freed the slaves. She had sacrificed herself to buy her teammates time to evacuate the slaves. This noble endeavor resulted in her capture, where she was eventually sold off to the worlds major villain, The Cabal to recuperate the Crowns loses.

Now she was here, in one of the, Cabals many interrogation rooms waiting for the fun to begin, and whatever they brought before her, she was ready for...?!

: Bahh! Let's leave them in a dingy lit room, that well be really menacing since they have a bag over their head, and can't see anything?!

: Where's the damn light switch?! We do not have time for this!

: Ahh, there it is... AH?! Since when did maintenance change the light bulbs? They're much brighter than the old ones...

: No! I have no time for this! We must finish this, soon!

Suddenly the bag over, Violet Shadow's face was removed, and she was left staring at the cerulean eyes of her old friend.

VioletShadow: Jaune Arc... It's a pleasure to see you again... traitor...

Jaune: T-Traitor? How precisely am I a traitor?

VioletShadow: After being kicked out of the hero academy, you turn to a life of crime! How could you, you had aspirations of becoming a hero, and when you failed you became a villain, no you couldn't even do that, you became a villains underling! How utterly pathetic...

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Rude. But, I can understand why you see me as a traitor. Going from hero academy to villain henchman, that makes sense. But, you know I didn't flunk out of, Beacon Hero Academy; I was framed, and kicked out because of, Cardin Winchester.

VioletShadow: But, even after you were cleared of wrong doings you refused to come back! Embracing the life of crime, you traitor!

Jaune: Well, that was mostly because of how they 'invited' me back. More, or less absolving themselves of any wrong doing, and made it all seem like an honest mistake on no ones fault that I was expelled. On top of that it took them half a year to prove my innocence when I had proof of my innocence! So yeah, I didn't want to deal with their BS, and quit frankly you don't deal with as much bull shit working with the villains.

Jaune: Also the hero leagues don't have nearly as many benefits as the, Goonuion does. So there's that...

Jaune: No wait! We don't have time for this! Okay, the Cabal paid five tons in raw Dust to get you from, the Crown. Now I need you to give me information that's worth at least five tons of raw Dust so we can let you go. What do you got for me?!

VioletShadow: Ha! I'm not going to tell you anything, traitor!

Jaune: Violet, we don't have time for this...!

VioletShadow: Then make time! Because it doesn't matter what you do to me I won't talk!

Jaune: You seriously don't understand how much of a time crunch we're on, I need information to trade you you're freedom. Right. Now!

VioletShadow: Ha! You won't get any information out of me! You can bind me, gage me, bend my body over the table, and stuff your hot rod in...?!

Jaune: BLAKE?!

Jaune bent down on the table as he spoke, Violet Shadow's true identity in a silent scream.

VioletSadow: H-Hey?! You know the rules: no revealing secret identities! I know it's an unspoken rule, but...?!

Jaune: The Bull is here!

Violet was silent as she registered the words that, Jaune had just spoken as dread filled her veins.

VioletShadow: A-Adam is here...?

Jaune: Yes! We are in the middle of a code: Bull Heart!

VioletShadow: B-Bull Heart?

Jaune: Yes, it's the codename we use when we have you here, and, Adam is here. The code is basically means, 'Get Violet Shadow out of here as fast as possible!'

VioletShadow: It does...?

Jaune: Yes! And, I know that being captured, and tied up is a wet dream for you...

VioletShadow: N-No it isn't...

Jaune: I know what kind of books you're into. Violet, so don't bull shit me!

VioletShadow: Ohh...

Jaune: So give me, something I can trade your freedom for. NOW!

VioletShadow: No.

Jaune: N-No...?

VioletShadow: No. I bet your lying... this is all a lie so you can extract important information from me! To get me to talk without resorting to torture of... any sorts... Hehehe~! Ahem! No! No, I will not talk, do your worst, Jaune because even knowing that, Adam could possibly be here, I will not...

Jaune: The Chameleon is also here...!

VioletShadow: T-The Cameleon is here... I-Ilia is here?

Jaune: Yep.

VioletShadow: ...

VioletShadow: Would the location of, Kings Vault be enough?

Jaune: No, only one villain cares about that.

VioletShadow: The location of, Atlas hidden weapons vaults?

Jaune: Which one?

VioletShadow: There's more than one?

Jaune: That's a no.

VioletShadow: Shit! Uhhh... I know about shipment of, Rainbow Dust being shipped by the, SDC; how about that?

Jaune: Rainbow Dust? That could work... How much, Dust are we working with here?

VioletShadow: I don't know the exact amount... But, the report said around 50 pounds worth of, Rainbow Dust was going to be transferred on, SDC train from the South Hill Dust Depot on the 18th.

Jaune: Hmmm... Even if it's not fifty pounds worth of, Rainbow Dust, if we hit that train we can also recoup the lost, Dust we used to buy you from, the Crown... Yes, this is a good deal. Congratulations, Violet Shadow, you just bought your freedom.

VioletShadow: That's great! Now what?

Jaune: Stage Two.

VioletShadow: Stage two; what's stage two?

Jaune swiftly opened the door, and ushered in several goons.

Jaune: Alright guys, we're moving on to, Stage Two! Let's get this going, now, now, now!

Several goons entered the room, two carrying a gurney, and what appeared to be a body bag on top, as well as several other goons with industrial cleaner levels of equipment.

VioletShadow: What's with the body bag?

Goon#1: We's smuggling you out 'ere in the body bag.

VioletShadow: Okay? And, the cleaner products?

Goon#2: Da freaking, Bull knows your scent!

VioletShadow: He knows my scent?!

Jaune: Yes, we have to sterilize the whole room to get ride of your smell! Now quit squawking, and get in the body bag!

VioletShadow: Okay, okay, I'm going!

Violet Shadow's bands were undone, and she swiftly got into the body bag,put on the gurney.

Jaune: Alright, get rid of the body! Go! Gogogogo!

Jaune ushered the pair pushing the gurney away as fast as possible, before he turned to the man holding the cords that were previously bound Violet Shadow to the chair.

Jaune: Burn those at once!

The henchmen nodded his head as he put the cords in a bag, and sprinted out of the room.

Jaune: Sterilize the chair first, she was sitting on it! And, clean the table, she had blood dripping down her chin, she may have spat blood on the table. Go!

Jaune watched as the cleaning crew swiftly got to work, they had shut the door, and made sure no one would come in, that was until the door was suddenly opened. They all turned around, as fear filled their veins, had they been caught.

: Ahh there you are, Jaune. I need... Is everything okay, Jaune?

Jaune: Ohh... thank gods it's you, Cinder... Get back to work!

Cinder Fall, the second highest ranked member of the, Cabal. Jaune. and the rest of the henchmen breathed a sigh of relief, before jumping back to work.

Cinder: Everything alright, Jaune?

Jaune: Violet Shadow was here.

Cinder: Ohh... Code: Bull Heart. Did you get rid of her?

Jaune: Yeah. Her traded her freedom for knowledge about a, Dust shipment from the SDC that contains fifty pounds of, Rainbow Dust.

Cinder: Fifty pounds? That's good, even if there isn't that much, Rainbow Dust on the train we can recoup our losses from the trade deal.

Jaune: My thoughts exactly as well. As much as I wanted a good deal, I wanted her out of here more so.

Cinder: Understandable. But, for what it was, it is a good enough deal.

Jaune: Hopefully the higherups are okay with it.

Cinder: I'll make sure they do.

Jaune: My thanks. Now then, did you need something, Cinder.

Cinder: Yes, the Boss wants to see you.

Jaune: Roman? Alright, I'll go, and see him when I'm done here.

Cinder: No, The Boss wants to see you.

Jaune: Oh... I best get going then.

Jaune: Alright guys, when you're done here, clean up the rest of the interrogation cells after, they'll get suspicious if we only clean one of them.

Goon#3: We're on it, Jaune!

Goon#4: We get a bonus for this right?

Goon#1: Hazard pay.

Goon#4: Hell yeah!

Jaune: Good luck boys. Alright then, time to go see, The Boss...

///

Bahh! This has been stuck in my drafts as a title for months! Now, I am free of it!

FREE!

[stormhearty]

Pairings: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Triggers: pregnancy trope, longing, mention of death, thoughts of suicide, blood, baby’s death, open-ended ending

Summary: Hiraeth definition: “homesickness, longing, nostalgia and a wistful desire for something irretrievably lost.” It had been several years since your passing, one that he cursed the Mother and the Gods for. Now he wanders the world, endless and lost, waiting for the day you would whisper in his ears to come home — home to you.

Note: From this request! Thank you @soulsansang (I cannot tag you for the life of me), for sending this request! I fought every urge to connect this to my Seer!Reader fics. The idea of hiraeth fit perfectly with a mourning Azriel; however, I needed something else. Needed an Azriel who was mourning not because of his actions, but due to unforeseen circumstances that fate seemed to have placed him in. I’m sorry for the “pregnancy trope”, I didn’t think I would be writing this one like this. If you do not like that trope, I completely understand and I respect you not reading this. But I do hope you enjoy, and I hope it fills the angst and sadness that you had requested!

“Azriel~!”

He looked over his shoulder, his name echoing in his ears, as he stepped out of his apartment and into the pouring rain. Dull hazel eyes stared at the gray skies as the rain poured down, relentless and unforgiving.

It had been days since this rain had started, and it seemed as if it would never stop. It was torrent, heavy with the mix of strong that howled through the empty alleyways. Valeris was almost like an abandoned city — its inhabitants were locked indoors due to the storm that shook its walls.

Azriel’s form shuddered, the wetness seeping into his clothes. He barely wore something that would keep him warm in such icy weather — a simple black jacket, a long-sleeved tee hidden underneath, and black jeans. His leather shoes were soaked in the rain as he stepped into another puddle, not caring that the wetness soaked into his feet.

He walked through the deserted city, only a few who braved the torrential storm were running through the streets. Those out looked at the Spymaster with confusion and worry, but none voiced them out loud — he wouldn’t have listened anyway.

He had one destination — and he would make it there — despite the storm.

Stepping across the Sindra River, the cobblestone bridge was overrun by the river below. Waters crashed upon slowly decaying rocks, splashing over the sides and onto the bridge. Traversing it might seem impossible for any normal Fae, but for Azriel, it was easy.

He stepped onto the bridge, not minding how the cold waters of the river splashed onto him. He paused, at the arch of the bridge, leaning over the stoney rail to look at those rapid waters that raced down the riverbend. They crashed and crescented over rocks, splashing against everything and anything that stood in its way — and the downpour only amplified the river’s maelstrom.

Azriel looked into the waters below him, barely making out his reflection in them. He blinked out the water that tricked into his eyes, and when he looked back down into his reflection — instead he found a familiar figure — hair blowing in the raging wind, eyes looking up at him, hand reached out as if to tempt him into those frigid cold waters below him.

It was tempting, to say the least, the call to be submerged into the depths of the river, to feel the icy liquid deep into his skin — and make the river his grave.

He couldn't help it — the image was like a siren with its sailors, tempting them to their end. Leaning across the cobblestone rail, he leaned down — down into the depths of the water. Azriel had every mindset, every want to drown in that very river.

However, he felt his body pause, as if a tiny hand tugged on his shoulder — a child’s laugh echoing in his ears.

His body snapped up, his head whipping over his shoulder, frantically looking around, only to stop. Eyes noticed a fallen blue-violet on the drenched cobblestone. Azriel felt his body go rigid at the flower, remembering what it had meant. He turned around and knelt, shaky hands reaching down to pick up the soaked flower. He felt his eyes prickle with tears as he turned it in his hand, before bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss on the petals, standing up and pocketing it.

Dull hues stared at the river below him, noticing his reflection once more — and not the mirage that tempted him to death. A frown tugged on the edge of his blue-tinged lips before making his way across the bridge once more, the call of death barely whispering in his ears.

He turned, his feet bringing him off paved grounds into a mud-soaked one. The mud squished underneath his feet. He weaved through familiar trees, and as he delved further into the forest the canopy above him blocked the gray skies above, the pitter-patter of rain on soil lessening. There, underneath the canopy, Azriel shook his wings out — the rain that had drenched his wings flying off in droplets. He raised a hand, running through soak locks, pushing them back away from his face. He fixed his jacket, dusting off the moisture from its soaked fabric before he continued walking.

Hazel hues saw the familiar clearing, watching as the downpour continued to drench the soil in its never-ending attack. He stood at the edge of the clearing, hues staring up at the sky once more. He silently cursed the Mother and the Gods above for this rain — all he wanted was to see the clear skies for once.

Azriel stepped into the clearing, the rain drenching his clothes once more — not that he minded anyway.

He stepped into the middle of the clearing where a lone headstone stood. A simple one, nothing to extravagant. Azriel felt his heart race in his chest as he got closer to the headstone.

Azriel kneeled in front of the headstone, a tearful gaze as he read the words that were etched onto the stone: Here lies (Y/N), the wonderful wife of Azriel. Mother of their unborn child. May the Mother and Gods bring her safe passage to the Havens.

It had been two years since he had to bury your body, along with your unborn child.

The Mother was cruel to him.

You and Azriel had been married for over three centuries — his life was full of color, full of happiness and full of love. You were everything to Azriel. He would miss you when he went to missions, kiss you silly when he got home from said missions; he would spend lazy time with you, your head on his lap or vice versa — just spending time with each other. And for those three centuries, both of you had tried for a child, but because Fae menstrual cycles were so sporadic, it had been difficult.

But two years ago, your miracle baby happened.

“Azriel!”

Azriel turned around after shutting the door to your apartment, only to catch your body that flung towards his way.

“Hey love,” he greeted you, a chuckle escaping his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, looking down and noticing how your head tucked into his chest. He could feel your excitement vibrate through your body and he couldn't help but wonder what had gotten you so happy.

But at that moment, he just leaned down and pressed a kiss on the crown of your head, watching your head tilt up to look at him, your eyes shining.

“What is it?” he hummed out with a raised brow.

He watched as you bit your lower lip, fighting the smile that tugged at the edge of your lips.

“You know how I have been feeling unwell the past few weeks…” you had started off.

Azriel hummed out, shifting you in his arms so that you were at his side, his arm wrapped around your waist before leading you into the kitchen. He maneuvered you around, grasping your waist and lifting you with ease onto the countertop next to the stove.

“Azriel!!” You shrieked in surprise, your hands grasping his shoulders to stretch yourself.

He smirks up at you, settling himself between your legs, “Now what were you saying, love?”

He watched you huff softly before continuing your story, “Well I went to Madja earlier today and I told her of my symptoms—-”

“Nausea, headaches, bloating…” he listed off.

Azriel knew your symptoms, it had worried him to the max. Both of you didn't know what had happened — he was worried about some sort of poisoning… he thought of the worst-case scenarios. And you had to be the one to calm him down from those spiraling thoughts.

You hummed and nodded your head, “Well… it looks like you didn't have to be so worried about that poisoning scenario, my love…” you whispered as you leaned down to press your forehead against his.

He felt your hands slide down his shoulders, down his arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Azriel always loved how you touched him — there was no hesitancy in the way you held him, touched him — whether it he sexual or intimate. You had always initiated touching him and now, he can't live without your hands or body near his own.

He felt your hands grip his own, sliding then to your lower abdomen, pressing his hands against the soft skin.

“… I’m pregnant, Azzie…”

Your words were a whisper and Azriel felt his eyes widen at the words that had left your lips. He stared up at you and watched as your eyes sparkle light the night sky at your confession.

Hazel hues looked up at you before sliding down your body to where your hand lay over his own. A wide smile tugged on his lips before he slipped his hands away from your own, cupping your cheeks and kissing you.

He poured everything into that kiss — all his love for you and this unborn child.

When his lungs screamed for air, he was content with pressing kisses on your skin while you giggled, feeling your hands run through his hair.

“We’ll be having a child…” he whispered in disbelief.

He heard you let out a hum, feeling your head nod, “Yes we are… after centuries… our beautiful child…”

Every word that you whispered was full of happiness, adoration, and excitement. He knew, from hearing you speak, that you'd be a wonderful mother… one that would dote on that child.

He was elated — after centuries of both of you trying, watching your family build their own little families — Azriel was worried that both of you would never be blessed with a child. Yet now, the Mother seemed to rain her fortune on the both of you.

But deep within him, worry festered like mold, slowly growing. He worried about the complications — he heard about it with Rhysand and Feyre, Nesta and Cassian. And he worried for you — and all he could pray to the Mother that you would be spared from it.

“What color should the baby’s room be?”

Azriel hummed and raised a brow, turning his head to gaze at you. He fought back a smile — he had found you so adorable. You had waddled, your belly large protruding your tiny stature. Your hand tucked in the crook of his elbow protectively.

Azriel had ensured you were in good hands during your pregnancy; and that he would always prioritize your health and safety. He would never let you go out without him, either himself or his shadows. He always had a hand on you — whether it be around your waist or, like now, your hand tucked into his elbow.

Your features glowed despite the exhaustion he knew you felt — you had looked so beautiful during your whole pregnancy and Azriel worshiped you like the Goddess you were to him.

He watched as your gaze went up to him, your head tilting slightly at the look he gave you. Azriel shook his head, “You know I'd be biased if you asked me, love…” he answered.

Azriel would choose blue, even if it was a girl or a boy, his siphon colors would be that room’s color.

He watched as you rolled your eyes, and felt your hand pat his forearm, “Why am I not surprised that, out of all the colors, you’d choose your siphon?”

The two of you walked into the paint shop, the doorbell ringing above you. You were greeted by a Fae, one who was shocked and nervous to meet the Spymaster and his wife.

Azriel patted your hand and slipped your hand from his elbow, “Go ahead my loves… I'll be here…” He watched you smile before following the Fae to the color room, and he watched with adoration.

“You can't leave me, (Y/N)…” he sobbed, grasping your flaccid hand in his, pressing a kiss on cold skin.

The room was deathly still, his sobs echoing in the loud shared room.

You had gone into labor hours ago, and that labor… was difficult on your weak body. The babe, as Madja had warned you and Azriel all those months ago, had taken a toll on your body. You had been sick and bedridden for most of the pregnancy — Madja had stressed for you to terminate the pregnancy — it was either you or the baby.

Azriel had fought for you to terminate the pregnancy; begged and cried you to.

He could live without the unborn child but without you?

Never.

He watched you cry, begged him to let you keep the babe — he listened to your bargains, and promises; he listened to you cry in the night whispering to the baby all the while rubbing your stomach.

He watched everything… but he couldn't lose you.

But you had been stubborn, wanting to keep the pregnancy — pushing it to term — despite the consequences of it.

And so when you went into labor, the amount of blood you lost… was too much for Madja to replenish with her powers. The baby that was born was already too blue to try to bring back alive. Azriel was by your side the whole labor, watching you push your body to the brink — all for the child.

He felt your pulse slow underneath his fingertips, his hazel eyes frantically trying to find yours as he watched them roll backwards.

“No…No!” he yelled, dropping your hand onto the mattress and cupping your cheeks, “My love… (Y/N)…” he whispered, leaning in to press his forehead against yours, trying to pull you from the call of death.

Azriel watched you smile up at him, your eyes focusing on him, crescenting as you looked up at him, “…Azzie…” you whispered.

He fought back tears as he nodded his head, “Hey, my love, yes, I’m here… I’m here…”

“I’m sorry…”

It was as if you knew… this would be the outcome of your decision.

“No… Don’t be sorry… Please don’t… Just… Please don’t leave me… You can’t leave me…”

He watched as your eyes roll again and he brought your face closer to his own, watching them focus on him again, “…I don’t want to… But, I’m so tired Az…”

Azriel felt a heart wrenching sob escape his throat. His thumb caressed your pulse point, feeling it slow more. He looked up at his High Lord and the Healer and both of them looked at him with a somber look.

A shake from his High Lord gave his answer.

The tears finally fell, as he looked back at you — and you back up at him. He watched your brows furrow in confusion as you stared at him.

All he did was shake his head, leaning down to press one final kiss on your lips.

“Sleep… My love… if you’re tired. I’ll wait for you to wake up…”

He felt you take one last breath, a smile tugging on your lips as you whispered, “I love you, Az…”

Azriel felt your body go limp in the bed, your head roll back and your pulse stop completely. He watched your eyes dull, that smile still on your features.

His body shook, and tears never ended as he pulled your body into his arms, cradling your head as he let out a cry, pressing his face into the crook of your neck — the final time he’d ever feel you against him.

Azriel never thought heart break would be so painful.

He stared at the tombstone, pulling out of his thoughts and memories to reach down and caress the marble stone.

“… Hi my love…” he greeted you, like usual, “It’s raining again… It seems that Valeris is in a typhoon of rain recently…”

Azriel sat himself down on the muddy ground, not caring if the mud and rain soaked through his clothes again.

He had sat there, talking to you about his day, what had happened recently with the family, what was going on with Valeris and Prythian in general. He talked for hours until he felt his voice go sore and his body shake due to the cold from the rain, but he didn’t leave… not until the skies turned dark.

Azriel laid himself down on the patch of dirt in front of your grave, laying on his back as he stared up at the sky. It seemed the rain ceased and the beautiful starry skies of Valeris peaked through the rain clouds.

He watched the stars twinkle, before a shooting star blazed through the sky before another one — much smaller — followed it.

“…Was that you, (Y/N)?” he whispered, thinking that those two fallen stars were you and the child, reaching out to him from the Havens above.

Azriel had been searching for signs, for the past two years of any sign of you in the Havens. Looking for signs that you were calling for him — looking for him. All he wanted to know was that you were out there.

And that shooting star was it.

He smiled and closed his eyes, “I’m coming back home to you…”

[viperbunnies]

Last batch of requests ⊹₊⟡⋆

(Yumi for @gimmeurmoneyagh , Laifrel for @honeyedpearcrushh )

Animated chibis for: ( OCs high five for @mhedusard , Eudora & Rayven hugging for @day-dr3aming ) ( Odette for @h0ney-blossom , Rotem for @windalchemist001 , Viole for @kiyomizuki )

[licorice-tea]

The Captain Who Loved Me (1/2)

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: Angst, Reader is hurt/unconscious (briefly), reader tries to run away from their problems, ends up in a dangerous situation, themes of fear/ danger!, fluff afterwards, sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors!

Word Count: ~1.6k

A/N: Hey… Sorry it’s been so long! My life has been busy, to say the least. Borderline chaotic, but I don’t want to make it out to be a bad thing when there are so many amazing things and people in my life right now. However, there have been a few personal events that have made me less motivated/ less focused on writing. I’m sorry for making you all wait for updates/ requests, but I genuinely am just lacking a lot of interest in writing fanfic at the moment. Still, J appreciate all of your support so so much <3 It makes my day when I go on this app and see that people are still enjoying things I’ve written! So, I hope you enjoy this one too. (Part 1/2 bc i want to do a shorter ending.)

Part 3

Law hadn't thought that when you said you would “go,” you wouldn't really try to leave. And in all fairness, neither had you. You just started walking away from him, way too peeved to even look back or slow down when you heard his stuttered “wait!” And when you got back to your cabin, you picked up a backpack. Then you had filled it with only the essentials (the same way you would pack to go inland for a day or possibly longer.) And finally, with no purpose in your plan besides getting away for a little while and clearing your mind, you headed below deck to the Soldier Dock System.

Franky named this deck the Soldier Dock System because, as he had once explained to you, all of the smaller vehicles housed within the Sunny are like her soldiers. The memory makes you smile as you quietly open the door and close it behind you, then stroll along the small walkway until you spot what you came down here for in the first place: The Mini Merry 2. She bobs in shallow water and seems to call to you; “Get in! Let’s go!”

You’re too tired to make the right decision, so you quickly open channel 2 of the dock system, drop your bag into the passenger seat, and climb in after. An opening on the side of the Sunny lets in higher waters, which carry the Mini Merry out to sea…

~

“Have you seen y/n?”

Zoro’s head snaps up to the other swordsman. The two don’t converse much outside of what's necessary, so he's surprised to see the equally stoic man standing over him while he “naps” (keeps watch) in the crows nest. He shakes his head.

“Nope.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping watch?”

“Yeah, on the ocean. Not my own crew mates.”

Law scoffs, and mutters; “Thanks for nothing.”

Zoro can tell the other captain is annoyed for some reason, and decides to throw him a bone. “Traffy!”

“What?”

“Check the lower levels. They might be hanging out in someone’s workshop… or whatever.”

Law regards Zoro with a suspicious gaze, but it soon turns to one of quiet thanks. He nods and leaves through the hatch in the crows nest.

Cool sea air hits him stronger than expected as soon as he exits the confines of the crows nest. With one hand and both feet planed (somewhat) firmly on the rope ladder, Law leans back to view the weather. A storm is brewing on the horizon, which shouldn’t be any problem for a ship as massive and advanced as the Thousand Sunny. The navigator/thief had briefed everyone on board on the gloomy weather that night after dinner, and though Law had been too distracted by thoughts of you, he had managed to pay a little bit of attention for the sake of important information. You hadn’t been at the impromptu meeting regarding the sea and sky’s conditions, so he had just assumed you were probably resting in your cabin already. No reason to worry over your safety if you were already fast asleep, right?

But as Law continues to survey the waters surrounding his temporary residence, he spots an anomaly. A tiny boat, rocking on the water as the ocean seems to send more violent waves its way. With squinted eyes, Law observes the miniature ship. It’s hard to see through the oncoming rain, but he can make out the lone passenger’s bent knees. They’re apparently trying to brace themselves as they struggle with the steering mechanism at the front of the boat, and their hair is whipped every which way about their face by winds that must be much stronger that far out at sea. It’s hard to make out their features because of the rain that comes down in sheets over their mysterious figure, but when he finally catches a glimpse of their face, Law’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach.

He watches in horror as, what he now recognizes as your ship, is tossed back and forth on the tumultuous waves. You look over your shoulder and back at the Sunny, before you lose your balance. But your head seems to be struck by something at the front of the ship during your short fall, based on the way you first wobble, almost find your footing by leaning forwards, then jolt backwards. Law yells your name at the top of his lungs, but you do not move.

~

When you open your eyes to find yourself tucked into your bed, you think nothing of it. That is, until the throbbing pain in the center of your forehead reveals itself to you. Then the memories of a storm all come flooding back: the freedom you had felt in your first few moments in open water, alone with your thoughts. How quickly that sense of calmness had turned to panic as the weather changed in an instant, leaving you to desperately try to steer back towards the Sunny in a boat no taller than yourself. Slipping on the small deck, only for your head to hit something and… black out. And you remember Law’s voice, too; he had sounded so distant that it must have been your imagination .

The soft creak of your bedroom door draws you from the rush of memories, and you look up to find Chopper making his way into your room with a tray. He doesn’t realize your eyes are open until he’s set it down on a bedside table, and climbed up onto your bed with a stethoscope in hand.

“Y/n! You’re awake!” he gasps.

You offer a weak smile and attempt to sit up, but the reindeer gently pushes you back down. “Chopper… What happened?”

“You had an accident during the storm 3 days ago-“

“3 days ago?”

“Yes, Nami briefed the crew on it. But then Traffy found you on the Mini Merry 2, a mile from the ship!”

“I- I didn’t know there would be a storm…”

Chopper frowns while placing his stethoscope on your chest. You take 2 deep breaths in and he nods to himself before simply sitting beside you. “What were you doing out there?”

You shrug, “I just wanted to clear my head.”

He pays your arm, “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Traffy, but he cares for you a lot. He used his devil fruit to save you in the middle of the ocean, which… could have ended badly.”

This strikes a chord within you. Of course you knew Law cared for you to some degree, but knowing that he put his own safety on the line to help you in your time of need… Perhaps it was wrong of you to assume he was selfish and cold for refusing to admit what was so glaringly obvious to everyone else. What is now so clear to you, too.

He loves you.

“Oh… And is he-“

“He’s fine, but I prescribed him some much needed rest from coming in contact with sea water.”

Chopper finishes examining you and gives you some pain medication for your head, then leaves you alone to properly wake up and get yourself together. To no surprise, your alone time doesn’t last long as an influx of visitors find their way to your cabin.

First are Nami and Robin, who knew you were awake from hearing your voice through shared walls. They come with a small bouquet of flowers from Robin’s garden in a pretty little decorative vase, and each make themselves comfortable in your room. Though the door is closed, Luffy excitedly barges in soon after, followed by Usopp, then Chopper again. He scolds the two young men for disturbing your peace and possibly riling you up, but you assure the even younger doctor that it’s more than fine. Because, in your opinion, there’s nothing like your nakama’s company to raise your spirits. Zoro must have wandered in at some point and decided to take a nap on your floor, which you only realize when Sanji opens the door and hits the swordsman’s leg when he (gently) kicks it open. They resolve to only glare at each other for a moment before Sanji hands you a cup of something warm and sweet, “For someone warm and sweet.”

The 8 of you spend some time chatting and enjoying your company before you find the courage to ask, “Where is everyone else?”

“Jimbei is steering the ship-“

“Brook is keeping watch-

“And Franky is working below deck. Something about improving the Mini Merry 2… But that’s not really what you wanted to know, is it?”

You feel your face heat up as you meet Robin’s all-knowing eye and shake your head “no.” She smiles at you and giggles pass between your crew mates.

Your friends file out of your room (or are ushered out by Nami and Robin, rather, who insist that you should get some more rest.) But soon enough, there’s yet another knock at your door. Your breath hitches, as you feel you already know who’s on the other side…

“Come in.”

Taglist: @augustanna @lavanderdreamve @pinksaiyans @khaleesihavilliard @jennapancake @pinki-minki @loserbee14 @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction @nyxlai @mrs-monkey-d-luffy @pi-crust @bookboyfriendssaveme @dark-swedish-suitcase-blog

[37sommz]

❁ : come le viole . . .

✼. masterlist — taglist — request. ✼. genre: smut. ✼. wc: 3.1k.

michaela's six years in italy pay off in her professional life. one area she didn't expect them to pay off is in her romantic life. in jenson's defense, anything michaela does gets him going.

✼. warnings: 18+ mdni, smut smut smut, jenson has a michaela speaking italian kink, unprotected sex, pretty tame but sweet regardless.

✼. notes: another filler chapter lol. don't think too hard about the date, it's completely arbitrary bc this is just a filler. i promise i have more actual plot, abu dhabi 2021 is next :)

000.⠀⠀OCTOBER 16, 2021    ›    Cagliari, Italy

Michaela leaned against the balcony railing, the Sardinian sun casting a warm glow over her taut, athletic frame. She squinted at the horizon, the sea a serene canvas of blues and greens that stretched to infinity. The salty breeze whispered through her hair, a gentle reminder of the world outside the sheltered bubble of the luxurious hotel room.

Her thoughts drifted to the race that had just concluded. She couldn't help but feel a pang of envy as she heard the distant roar of the crowd. The Extreme E circuit was a playground for champions, a place where Jenson could still indulge in his love for speed without the relentless pressure of Formula 1. The same pressure she faced every time she strapped into her own McLaren.

The door clicked open, and she spun around, her heart racing. Jenson strutted in, a boyish grin on his face and a sheen of adrenaline glistening on his skin. His blue eyes sparkled with excitement, and the sight of him made her pulse quicken.

"You did well, JB," she said, using his nickname with a playful smirk.

Jenson closed the distance between them, his arms wrapping around her waist. "Thanks, darling," he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I wish you could've seen it in person. The track was insane."

Michaela smiled, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as he pulled her in closer. "I had a pretty good view from here," she said, gesturing to the TV behind her. "But I'll take your word for it. You looked like you were in your element."

Jenson chuckled, his gaze lingering on the oversized vintage Suzuka circuit shirt adorning her frame. "You know I can't resist a good race." His hands began to roam, gently caressing her hips, his thumbs brushing the waistband of her shorts as they dipped underneath the hem of her shirt. "But I missed you."

Michaela felt a flutter in her stomach as she met his eyes. "Missed me, or missed being in bed with me?" she teased, her voice low and eyes narrowed.

"Both, actually," Jenson confessed, his grin turning into a seductive smirk. "But right now, I'm thinking about the latter."

Michaela rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her own smile. "Have you eaten? We should order room service before you pass out from exhaustion."

"Mmm, I could go for a pasta," Jenson said, his voice a low purr as his hands continued to roam. "But I'd much rather have dessert first."

Michaela playfully slapped his hand away, laughing. "Let's at least order something to eat first. I waited for you to comeback before I ordered." She stepped back and picked up the phone, her fingers dancing over the buttons as she dialed the front desk. "Buonasera," she greeted in flawless Italian, the language rolling off her tongue like a native. "Possiamo avere il servizio in camera, per favore?"

Jenson rose from his spot on the bed, watching her with a smoldering look in his eyes. "God, you're so sexy when you speak Italian," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. He stalked over to her, his breath warm against her neck as he nibbled gently on her earlobe. His hands slid around her waist again.

Michaela giggled, trying to keep her focus on the order. "Jenson, behave," she chided, though her voice lacked conviction. The feeling of his body pressed against hers was making it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything else.

"Sì, questo è tutto. Addebitare alla camera, per favore. Grazie," she finished, hanging up the phone and turning to face him with a smirk. "Room service is on its way."

Jenson's gaze was unyielding, his eyes dark with want. "I don't care about room service," he murmured, his hands moving from her waist to cup her face. His thumbs traced her cheekbones, his eyes searching hers for any sign of protest. "Not when you're speaking Italian like that."

"I was just ordering food, Jense," she said with a playful laugh, though the heat in her voice betrayed her own growing arousal. She stepped closer, her hands sliding up his chest.

"But when you talk like that," Jenson whispered, his voice dropping an octave, "it's like you're speaking directly to my soul." His eyes searched hers, hunger plain in his gaze. "It's so intimate."

Michaela's laughter faded, replaced by a soft sigh as she leaned into his touch. "You're such a romantic," she said, her voice teasing. But she didn't move away.

Jenson leaned down, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was anything but gentle. His tongue danced with hers, a silent promise of the passion that awaited them. She melted into him, her arms winding around his neck as she responded with an eagerness that surprised even herself.

Michaela pulled away, breathless. "Room service will be here any minute," she murmured, though the protest was half-hearted at best.

"They can wait," Jenson said, his voice gruff with need. He scooped her up in his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. She gasped as he carried her to the bed, laying her down with a tenderness that betrayed his urgency.

Their kisses grew more feverish, their bodies tangling together as if trying to become one. Jenson's hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve and line with a hunger that seemed insatiable. His touch sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her, and she arched into him, her own hands running through the blonde hair she had grown so fond of.

Michaela's racing heart hammered against her ribcage as Jenson's hand slipped under her shirt, his calloused fingers brushing against her bare skin. She gasped into his mouth, the sensation sending a shiver down her spine. He broke the kiss, his eyes smoldering as he stared down at her. "Keep speaking Italian to me," he urged, his voice thick with desire.

Michaela's breath was hot against his skin as she whispered sweet nothings into his ear, her words a mix of English and Italian that only served to heighten his desire for her. He felt his own passion mirrored in her touch, her hands roaming over his chest and down to his waistband, eager to feel all of him.

With a groan, Jenson lifted himself off her, standing to remove the last of his clothes. He watched her eyes follow the trail of his muscles, the desire in them making him feel like the luckiest man alive. He joined her on the bed again, their bodies a tangle of limbs and passion. Michaela reached for him, her hand wrapping around his length. He sucked in a breath, his eyes closing as she began to stroke him, her movements slow and deliberate. He felt the heat building, the tension in his body growing taut with every jerk of her wrist.

Her other hand found his chest, her nails digging in slightly as she guided him closer. He positioned himself between her legs, the tip of him teasing her entrance as an impatient hand brushed her panties to the side. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the heady mix of love and lust threatening to overwhelm them both.

Michaela looked up at him, her eyes filled with a raw, unbridled need. "Jenson," she murmured, her voice a soft plea. He took one last moment to savor the sight of her before he pushed inside her, filling her completely.

Her gasp was music to his ears, her nails digging into his back as he began to move. The rhythm was slow at first, almost tender, as if they were both trying to savor every second. But as the passion grew, so did their desperation. Their movements grew more urgent, more frenzied, each thrust and moan echoing around the room like a symphony of desire.

Jenson watched her face, her eyes squeezed shut as she fought for control. He leaned down, capturing her mouth with his, their tongues tangling together as their bodies found a rhythm that spoke of love and need. The feel of her, tight and wet around him, was intoxicating, and he could feel his climax approaching.

Michaela's nails dug into his back as she wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him deeper. Her breathy moans grew louder, and he knew she was ready for more. He picked up the pace, his strokes becoming more urgent as he felt her muscles begin to clench around him.

"So pretty," she hummed as she pulled his face away from the crook of her neck. Her thumbs tracing the lines of his jaw, feeling the stubble prickle against her skin. "Così, così carino." She repeated in Italian, her eyes fluttering closed as she lost herself in the sensation of his mouth on hers.

Michaela felt the warmth spread through her core as Jenson's hand slid down to cup her breast, his thumb brushing her hardened nipple through the thin fabric of her bra. The sensation was electric, and she arched her back, pushing herself closer to him.

"Talk to me, honey," she whispered seductively against his mouth, her voice thick with need. "Tell me how good it feels."

"God, it feels amazing," he managed to gasp out, his voice strained with effort. "You're so wet for me, so tight." His words were punctuated with each thrust, his voice growing hoarser with every passing moment.

Michaela's eyes fluttered closed, a soft smile playing on her lips as she absorbed his words. She felt his muscles tensing beneath her, the veins in his arms standing out as he pushed himself deeper into her. "Don't hold back," she encouraged, her own voice breathless. "Take me, I'm all yours, baby."

"Yeah?" He whispered back, blue eyes burning into hers, his thumb now tracing her bottom lip.

She leaned into his touch, taking the finger into her mouth eagerly. Her brown eyes never left his blue eyes as she sucked gently, the sight making him growl with need.

Jenson couldn't resist anymore, he leaned down and kissed her again, deep and passionate. Their bodies moved in sync, the sound of skin on skin music to their ears. His hands roamed over her, feeling the heat of her body, memorizing every inch of her. He felt her arching into him, her legs tightening around his waist, her breathing growing more erratic.

One hand reached for the top of her headboard as the other reached down to grasp at her thigh, pulling it up to hook over his hip and spreading her wide open to him. The new angle sent Michaela's eyes rolling back as he pushed deep inside her, a moan escaping her mouth as she felt herself stretch around him.

"Good girl," Jenson praised, his voice a low growl. The new angle allowed him to hit her g-spot with every thrust, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. She couldn't help but whimper, her nails now scratching down his sides as the tension grew. "You take me so well. All the way in just like that."

Michaela's breath came in short gasps as she felt the beginnings of an intense orgasm building inside her. "Jense," she moaned, her eyes pleading for release. He knew she was close, and he wasn't far behind. His own orgasm was approaching like a freight train.

Jenson's grip tightened on her thigh as he picked up the pace, his hips slamming into hers. The headboard thumped against the wall in a steady rhythm, muffled by the thick walls. He could feel her body tightening around him, and it was all he could do to hold on.

Michaela's eyes snapped open, her pupils dilated with desire. She met Jenson's gaze, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she whispered, "Dai, amore, fottimi più forte," urging him on in Italian.

A feral growl rumbled in his throat as he complied, his hips driving into hers with a force that sent the bed rocking against the floor. The headboard thumped a wild beat that matched the pounding of their hearts, the only music in the room. The sound of their passion filled the air, a symphony of moans and gasps that grew louder with every stroke.

Michaela's eyes never left Jenson's as she felt the climax building within her, his every movement sending her closer to the edge. She could see the same need reflected in his gaze, his eyes dark with desire and determination to bring her to the brink.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, feeling the tension coil tighter within him.

Michaela's eyes rolled back, the pleasure reaching a crescendo as she felt Jenson's cock hit her in just the right spot. She knew she was close, so close she could almost taste it. "Need to come, Jenson," she begged, her voice a needy whine.

Jenson chuckled dryly, feeling her slip away deeper into the pleasure. "Say it nicely, love," he urged, his voice gruff with need. "Want to hear your pretty little mouth say it in Italian."

Michaela bit her lip, the challenge sparking something within her as she nodded. She met his eyes, her own smoldering with desire. "Per favore, lasciami venire, amore," she whispered, her voice thick with an accent that sent shivers down his spine.

Jenson's eyes flashed with pleasure, the Italian rolling off her tongue like a sweet, sweet promise. He felt the coil in his stomach tighten, his own orgasm close behind hers. "So fucking perfect, baby. You're so beautiful," he groaned, the words leaving his mouth almost involuntarily. He wanted to claim her, to show her how much she meant to him in every way possible.

"Fuck, baby, where do you want me?" he gritted out, his hips moving faster, his strokes deeper. She felt him swell inside her, the pressure building until she couldn't take it anymore.

"Anywhere, everywhere," she panted, her back arching off the bed. "Just don't stop, please." She practically begged, almost incoherent in the wave of her pleasure.

Jenson's eyes blazed with intensity, his thrusts becoming more powerful, his strokes more deliberate. He could feel her walls tightening around him, her breath hitching with every push. The sound of their bodies slapping together grew more frantic, the sweet sound of their passion heightening.

"Mouse," he murmured, his voice strained with effort. "I love how wet you are for me." His hand traveled down to her clit, his thumb circling the sensitive bud as he watched her face contort with pleasure. "You're going to come for me, aren't you?"

Michaela's breath hitched, her eyes locked on his as she nodded. "Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Yes, Jense, please."

He took that as his cue, his thumb moving faster against her clit, his strokes deep and demanding. The tension built until it was almost unbearable, until she was writhing beneath him, her nails digging into his back. "Now, love," he urged, feeling her body tighten around him. "Come for me."

Michaela's eyes widened as she felt the orgasm crash over her, waves of pleasure washing away every thought, every worry. She screamed out his name, her body shaking with the intensity of her release. Jenson groaned, feeling her tighten around him, his own orgasm following closely behind. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he emptied himself inside her.

With a sigh of satisfaction, Jenson rolled over, taking her with him so she lay sprawled on top of him, her head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart was a comforting rhythm beneath her ear. They lay there, basking in the afterglow, the scent of their lovemaking mingling with the faint aroma of the sea breeze that filtered through the open balcony doors.

"You're going to have to teach me Italian," Jenson murmured after a moment of contented silence, his voice rumbling through his chest and into her ear. "Everything sounds better when you say it."

Michaela chuckled, her breath still coming in pants. "I'd be happy to," she said, pressing a kiss to the warm skin of his chest. Perched on his chest, she felt his heart beating beneath her, the steady rhythm matching the gentle rise and fall of his breath.

They laid there for a few moments, the only sound in the room the rustling of the hotel curtains dancing in the breeze from the open balcony. The sun painted stripes across the floor, casting a warm glow over their entwined bodies.

"I love you, Michaela," Jenson murmured, his hands stroking her back lazily as he felt her body relax into his. "I love you so much it hurts sometimes."

Michaela lifted her head to look at him, her eyes soft with affection. "I love you too, Jense," she said, her voice a quiet whisper. "More than I ever thought I could love someone." She placed a gentle kiss on his lips before rolling off him and standing up, stretching her toned body. The room service cart rattled in the hallway, a discreet knock at the door interrupting their intimate moment.

"I'll get it," Jenson offered as he reached for a robe, his chiseled abs glistening with a sheen of sweat. Jenson tied the robe around his waist, his movements slow and languid. "You go freshen up. I don't think I'll be able to focus on eating if I hear you speak Italian again." He winked, the mischief in his eyes unmistakable.

Michaela giggled and slipped into the bathroom, her cheeks flushed with pleasure and the aftermath of their passion. She glanced in the mirror as she tied her own robe together, her hair a wild mess around her face, and couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. As she washed up, she could still feel the echoes of Jenson's touch, the way his hands had roamed her body with such confidence and hunger.

When she emerged, Jenson had set up the room service on the small dining table. The sight of steaming plates of pasta and a bottle of wine brought a smile to her face. The wide, boyish smile that adorned his features drew a chuckle out of her.

"I didn't know you were such a romantic," she teased, walking over to him and placing a kiss on his cheek.

Jenson shrugged playfully. "You bring it out in me, sweetheart," he said, his voice warm and affectionate.

Michaela took her seat, her eyes sparkling with happiness as she surveyed the feast he'd arranged. The smell of garlic and tomato sauce filled the room, mingling with the faint scent of the ocean. They ate in contented silence, their eyes meeting frequently over their plates, the heat between them melting away into a calmer affection.

[turtlecleric]

Masterpost

Hey, I'm Cleric! This is my TMNT x Reader sideblog. Something is Very Wrong with me, and I'm here to both receive and inflict psychic damage via fictional turtle men. 18+!! All characters aged up 💕 I do not take requests, sorry!!

MINORS. DO. NOT. INTERACT.

Minors and blogs that do not indicate that they are adults in their bio, masterpost, or about page will be blocked.

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Navigation

If you're looking for content on a specific turtle, I tag stuff like this: iteration!turtle

Iterations: 03, 07, bay, and rise

Turtles: leo, raph, donnie, and mikey

So, for example, if you're looking for stuff with Donnie from Rise, that's tagged as #rise!donnie

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TurtleCleric Scrolls (stuff I've written) - This post was getting waaay too long, so I'm only going to add links here for pieces that are at least 500 words. If you want to see everything, just search the #turtlecleric scrolls tag. I mostly write with a female reader in mind. Please make sure to heed the content warnings!

2003

Yes, Leonardo - NSFW; Leo does a scene with Reader; 1612 words

2007

Perfect - NSFW; Viole(n)t Part 1 (Leo and Raph are in a relationship with reader and share her in bed); 1785 words

Just Right - NSFW; Viole(n)t Part 2; 2707 words

Just For Me - NSFW; Viole(n)t, early relationship; Raph is pissed and uses reader to get back at Leo; 1596 words

Prompt: "You love me?" - angst with Raph; 2978 words

Bay

Get Out - Angst; Donnie wants to help reader during a depressive episode, but reader pushes him away; 657 words

Shark Week - Comfort; Donnie takes care of you on your period; 617 words

Be Mine? - Angst; Reader has a not-very-good Valentine's Day, only for Mikey to show up and make it better (featuring mutually pining idiots); 1056 words

New Drug - Angst; Mikey x Addict!Reader, casual sex with pining; Reader's POV is 849 words; Mikey's POV is 1561 words

Nightmare - Hurt/Comfort; Mikey feels guilty about reader's past assault; 881 words

Interrupted - NSFW; Mikey thinks about reader while masturbating; 1760 words

Sparkle - NSFW; Mikey and reader have some spicy time for her birthday; 2634 words

Deserved - Angst; a continuation of something dear Yorshie wrote, read this first; Raph comes across reader on a job without knowing it's her; 820 words [baby's first reader fic!]

Too Late - Angst; happens during/right after Deserved and is Raph's POV; 890 words

Not Your Fault - Angst/Hurt/Comfort?; Raph accidentally triggers a panic attack/dissociative episode in reader; 1522 words

Stupid - Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Reader starts crying during spicy time, and Donnie comforts her; 1247 words

Butterflies - Mikey, soul mate au, uhhh cute? idk; 1100 words

anchor - hurt/no comfort; 722 words

Got You - Raph, angst, mostly hurt and very little comfort, involves graphic sexual assault, please heed the warnings at the beginning; 2529 words

doomsday - Leo, angst/hurt/no comfort; 1384 words

Prompt: "Shhhh, come here." - Leo, hurt/comfort; 527 words

Rise

Gone - Angst; SymphonyBadFuture!Leo helps Donnie on a bad grief day (there is no reader in this one). Won't make sense if you haven't read Symphony by desceros (go read symphony holy shit go read symphony RIGHT NOW I'm BEGGING YOU)

Lucky - NSFW; Donnie likes it when you pin him (this one is an ao3 link); 1092 words [baby's first smut!]

Beat. Past Tense. - Angst; Leo finds reader, but not quickly enough; 699 words

Safe - Angst/Hurt/Comfort?; Reader is kidnapped and Leo saves her; 1448 words

Let Me Take Care of You - Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Leo checks on you during a depressive episode (this started as an "imagine if" and then slipped into fic territory by the end); ~600 words

Good Morning - NSFW; Reader wakes up to find that she orgasmed in her sleep while laying with Leo; heed the warnings; 534 words

I Feel It Coming - NSFW; Leo wakes reader up for some spicy time; 2073 words

Sleepy - Cute?; Raph realizes he likes reader; 855 words

I See You - Angst/Hurt/Comfort?; Leo is fine, but he's really, really not; 835 words

I Know Now - NSFW; reader wants to feel what Donnie feels when he has his mating seasons; 2938 words

What Did I Do? - NSFW; HEAVY ANGST; Raph is forced to mate with reader; HEED THE CONTENT WARNINGS; 3403 words

Brownies - Hurt/Comfort; Leo comes to reader for help; 869 words

Trapped - Angst ...horror? with rise!Raph as the Trapper character from Dead by Daylight and the reader as a survivor in the trial; 4181 words

Pretty Girl - yandere!Mikey, NSFW; part 1 is 627 words, part 2 is 1444 words

Unspecified

...what? - some um. short, odd thing; angst, if you know what's happening; 685 words

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Tag List (for my own future reference - please shoot me an ask or tag me in a post/reply if you'd like to added to the list!)

@yorshie @luckycharms1701 @thejudiciousneurotic @khayalli @thelaundrybitch @mxalmighty @justalotoffanfiction @shakeyourtrees @silverwatergalaxy @morning-sun-brah

[dontbelasagnax]

MISSION SUCCESS MUHAHAH I'd take any of the prompts from you really, so how about 21? Wildcard! Dealers choice! My only request is that it's in-universe 😚

(if you can't decide then maybe bloody kiss? I did once say that you writing angst would be the ultimate win for me)

Alright!! I've finally finished this first prompt!! Both of you, @lightasthesun and anon, wanted bloody kiss so here we are. Ann, since you wanted angst, I believe I am delivering that. However. You must know I'm not an angst person so I cried three times while writing this despite knowing it has a happy ending. You will pay somehow.

Pairing: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1,851

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Major Character Injury, First Kiss, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary:

All things considered, Cody probably should have seen it coming.

[ OR: Cody gets shot off a cliff. This is obviously quite dire. If he's got one chance left to kiss Obi-Wan, he'll take it. ]

(fic under the cut if you wish to read here on tumblr)

All things considered, Cody probably should've seen it coming.

He didn't.

There was a moment, just one, where he looked over his shoulder at his General and their troops. It was oddly peaceful, trudging forward together. He had a passing thought that moments like that were rare.

He was on a cliff. And then he wasn't.

Somewhere amidst the blast, the rush of blood in his ears, the icy lurch of his stomach, and a panicked thought that he really should've worn his jetpack, he heard a shout.

It might have been his own voice. He couldn't be sure.

The fall was rough. His body seemed to find every jutting rock off the side of the cliff to bounce off of. He says bounce. The gravity on this planet is stronger than most. It was more of a solid collision straight down with the weight of his body rolling him off every surface he met until he fell straight through air to what he thinks is the ground.

He blinks rapidly, spots of black dancing across his vision. Breaths come out shallow and laboured and- is it silent? Where's the sound? Is it- there's a high pitched ringing and-

"-ody! Cody!"

The spotty sky is cut by blurs of Obi-Wan. There are lines down- oh. His visor must be shattered. Nevertheless, he doesn't like the expression on his general's face.

"Cody," it's husked out, too harried and somehow gentle at once.

"Sir," Cody tries to say. It comes out raspy and gurgled. His mouth tastes of iron. This isn't good. "Did you-" a cough wracks his body and it's perhaps the most painful moment of his existence, "jump?"

"You know the answer to that."

Against his better judgment, Cody feels compelled to sit up at that. He can't quite pinpoint which part of his body protests most. It all turns into one searing blaze of pain. His vision blurs.

He heaves a great stuttered breath which seems to hurt almost as much.

He knows it's bad.

"The men need you," he tries.

"At the moment you need me more."

"Sir."

"Cody, please."

Cody closes his eyes. Breathes as shallowly as he can. A tear trails down his cheek. He swallows dryly. "Can't move."

"Oh, Cody."

"Can you- helmet?"

There's the hiss of his bucket coming unlatched and then it's tugged free.

With the increased range of vision, he glances down at whatever he can make out of himself. It's not pretty. Plastoid is somehow painted red and his left arm seems to be twisted at an unnatural angle.

Yeah. He's not making it out of this alive.

He drinks in the sight Obi-Wan makes above him, hair flopped over his forehead, a smear of ash across his cheek. He's beautiful.

The warmest, kindest hand cradles Cody's cheek. "I'll get you a med-evac-"

"They cut off," Cody fights a wheeze, "communications, remember?" A wet cough erupts violently- shaking him from the inside out. Time ceases through the blinding pain. When his lungs quiet there's wetness falling down his face. Blood and tears. "You've gotta go, sir."

"No, Cody. No."

"Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan goes stockstill, staring with wide, wet eyes. Too soft. Too full of urgency and pain and yearning. He's always trying to get Cody to refer to him by his first name.

There's always a first time for everything. And a last.

"C'mere."

"Cody," Obi-Wan says even as he leans in closer and rubs a thumb across Cody's cheek. Their foreheads meet. He can't decide if Obi-Wan’s breath on his skin is comforting or exhilarating.

With all the strength he can muster, Cody tilts up his chin and closes the remaining distance between them.

A kiss.

Warm press of lips to lips. Just the hint of facial hair brushing against his skin. He can't imagine it gets better than this, even with lips as cracked as they are and wet with blood instead of a balm or saliva. It's not as if he knows better. It's his first kiss after all.

Another first and last.

It's only fitting for it to be with Obi-Wan. The person he's very privately begun to think of as the love of his life.

In another life, when he opened his eyes after their first kiss, the cause of his blurred vision would be Obi-Wan's fault alone. "Always wanted to do that," Cody croaks.

It's true. He's wanted a lot of things. A lot of simple, impossible things that will never be. But. He's dying here and now. He knows how to make the best out of a bad situation.

Obi-Wan’s expression is nothing short of cracked through and through with devastation. "I won't leave you here."

He doesn't think he's ever heard his general’s voice clogged with tears before.

"You will.”

And because he doesn't have to pretend anymore that he doesn't want to touch his general--that he doesn't want to feel his skin and share his breath and know him in the most intimate of ways--Cody reaches for Obi-Wan's hand.

In an instant, his stomach churns as his vision swims, he realizes his mistake. That was his mangled arm he tried to move. The tide of the pain is too strong to fight. Obi-Wan blurs to nothing but a smear, words turn to garbled noises and-

The world goes black.

[Beep]

[Beep]

[Beep]

Cody comes to with the groggy need to open his eyes. It’s a struggle. Seemingly with the weight of an AT-AT upon his eyelids, he blinks his eyes open to searing bright white. Immediately his eyes shut. Not to be deterred, he tries again, blinking steadily until he can see.

Sterile white ceiling. Fluorescent lamps. A flimsy curtain. Annoying beeping.

He's in a med bay.

Tubes and wires. Barely patterned sheet. A hand holding his own-

A chunk of unmistakable ginger bangs flopping onto an eyebrow. Tired eyes looking at Cody so fondly, creases of a smile drawing from the edges of his eyes down his cheeks.

“They said you'd awaken soon,” says Obi-Wan. A thumb strokes Cody's wrist.

"'m I dead?" Cody croaks. His throat is drier than the heated days on Geonosis. He frowns. Obi-Wan is here. That isn’t right. "Are we both dead?"

"I should certainly hope not.”

So. Not dead.

Well.

That's unexpected.

“Wha-” Cody's throat catches on a cough and he splutters roughly.

“Here, here, dear.” Obi-Wan’s there with a cup of water, directing a straw past his chapped lips.

He sips the water down gratefully, satisfied as it soothes the parched gravel of his throat. He tilts his head away when he's done and Obi-Wan puts the cup down.

“What happened?” Cody tries again.

“How about I tell you later? After Egg has checked you-”

No. That won't do.

“Sir,” he interrupts, unyielding, “Sitrep.”

Obi-Wan must be tired because he doesn't even try to do their usual mutually stubborn staring match; he just sighs. “Ghost company managed to infiltrate the Separatist base and contact the admiral to request reinforcements and med-evac.”

Cody narrows his eyes. There is a glaring gap of information. “Where were you?”

“With you,” he says plainly.

Cody opens his mouth to say something but Obi-Wan effortlessly silences him by placing his hand over Cody's once more.

“I wouldn't leave any of my men behind to die, but, you- Cody.” There is a deep ocean of emotion pooled in Obi-Wan's eyes and spoken in the two syllables of Cody's name. “I couldn't leave you. Not like that.” Obi-Wan sighs as if expelling the weight from his shoulders. "And,” the corner of his mustache twitches upwards, “personally, I think I deserve a better kiss.”

“You- what?” Cody's brain flickers mid thought.

“The kiss. I deserve a better one, “ he says with near haughty conviction. “It was rude, quite frankly, to kiss me and nearly die. Gave me quite the fright.”

Cody swallows, his mouth suddenly dry again. “Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

Cody's eyes cannot be dragged away from Obi-Wan's lips. As Obi-Wan sits on the edge of the bed, all Cody can see is the hint of teeth catching on Obi-Wan's pink bottom lip.

He's closer now. Closer still as he gently pitches himself over Cody.

Fuck. Fuck.

“Kiss me,” Obi-Wan breathes.

It's not an order. Not really. Cody is helpless but to obey.

He makes a wounded noise into the meeting of their lips.

Obi-Wan is so soft and warm- his lips, his beard, the nudge of his nose. His hand slowly trails up Cody's good arm, bare as Cody seems to only be wearing a med gown. Sparks dance up his skin.

As their lips push and pull into kiss after kiss, heat grows inside Cody's chest and belly, competing with his fluttering stomach, elated and happy and-

“Ahem.”

Their lips separate with a smack. Reality filters in alongside the sound of rapid, high pitched beeping. Obi-Wan pulls away, expression nothing short of sheepish.

Their highest ranking medical officer, Egg, approaches the bed. “I see you're awake and someone failed to notify me.”

“Yes, well-” Obi-Wan starts, face adorably growing pink.

Egg ignores him. “Commander, how are you feeling?” As he speaks, he taps buttons on a machine attached to the wall which blissfully makes the beeping stop. “Any discomfort? Nausea? Pain?”

Cody sets aside the embarrassment of being caught and evaluates himself. He feels… surprisingly fine. “No, nothing.”

“Good. If that changes you've got a button you can easily request more meds with. Use it; there's nothing valiant in unnecessary suffering.”

Cody nods, fully aware he needs to cooperate if he wants to stay on Egg’s good side.

"And, General,” Egg looks directly at Obi-Wan for the first time, “stop making my patient tachycardic."

"I make no such promises.”

Cody shoots him A Look.

“Darling,” oh Force- this is a development Cody had not seen coming, “I do endeavor to never make a promise I can't keep.”

Okay. Well. That's-

Egg sighs, long and weary. “I'll be back in roughly two hours for rounds. If you spill any body fluids in my med bay I'll be requesting your transport to The Resolute med bay. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” both Cody and Obi-Wan respond.

With that, Egg makes his departure, fully swooshing open the privacy curtain before leaving the room.

There is a moment of relative silence. Cody realizes that Obi-Wan is once again holding his hand. He likes it. He likes it a lot.

“That couldn't have gone better,” Obi-Wan announces cheerily.

Cody can't help it.

He laughs.

It starts small, just a huff of breath out his nose until he's wheezing, lips stretched over gum and tears dripping down his face, clutching Obi-Wan who similarly chortles. His laughter is the most joyous of music.

He's alive. Miraculously. And somehow- somehow they're doing things like hold hands now.

It strikes Cody that, although he's confined to this awful med bay bed, for the first time in his life he feels happy. He's actually, truly happy.

There's no way it can last but he hopes he'll remember this moment forever. Acting an absolute fool with the man he loves most. Happy.

[thatliminal-wanderer]

Pastel Rainbow Dog ID Pack

Requested by Anon

Names:

Aero, Akita, Amber, Amitola, Anuenue, Bea, Blossom, Blue, Blush, Brittany, Cain, Cairn, Canine, Capri, Celeste, Champagne, Coral, Crayon, Daffodil, Daisy, Dane, Dog, Doggie, Dusty, Goldie, Gordon, Green, Hina, Iridiana, Jack, Kaleido, Kelpie, Lab, Lavender, Lilac, Mal, Malinois, Manzat, Marigold, Mauve, Mutt, Orange, Pascal, Pasty, Paw, Peach, Peaches, Pearl, Periwinkle, Poly, Pooch, Pup, Puppy, Purple, Rain, Rainbeau, Rainbow, Red, Rose, Rosie, Rott, Russell, Scottie, Shepherd, Soft, Softy, Spitz, Splatt, Splott, Summer, Tosa, Tulip, Yellow, Yip

Zi don’t normally do noun names but did try a bit here? Sorry if it’s underwhelming!

Pronouns:

arf/arfs, bark/barks, blu/blue/blues, bud/buddy/buddys, canine/canines, col/color/colors, cor/coral/corals, cyan/cyans, dog/dogs, fluff/fluffs, gree/green/greens, ind/indigo/indigos, or/orange/oranges, paint/paints, pale/pales, pas/pastel/pastels, pastel/pastels, paw/paws, pup/puppy/puppys, pup/pups, pur/purple/purples, rain/rainbow/rainbows, re/red/reds, viol/violet/violets, wag/wags, woof/woofs, ye/yellow/yellows, yip/yips, ❤️/❤️s, 🌈/🌈s, 🌫️/🌫️s, 🍡/🍡s, 🍬/🍬s, 🍭/🍭s, 🎉/🎉s, 🎊/🎊s, 🎨/🎨s, 🏳️‍🌈/🏳️‍🌈s, 🐕/🐕s, 🐕‍🦺/🐕‍🦺s, 🐩/🐩s, 🐶/🐶s, 🐾/🐾s, 💙/💙s, 💚/💚s, 💛/💛s, 💜/💜s, 📒/📒s, 📕/📕s, 📗/📗s, 📘/📘s, 📙/📙s, 📚/📚s, 🖌️/🖌️s, 🖍️/🖍️s, 🦄/🦄s, 🦮/🦮s, 🧡/🧡s, 🩵/🩵s, 🩷/🩷s

Titles:

A Barking Rainbow, A Dog of Pastel Lighting and Colorful Hues, That Pastel Dog, The Colorful Puppy, The Dog of Pastel Colors, The Light Rainbow (In The Shape of A Dog), The Pastel One, The Puppy Covered in Colors, [prn] Who Barks in Many Shades

Genders:

Caninaesic, Dogstimmic, Kiddiepuppic, Pastelcutic, Pastelgender, Pastelpixelgender, Pastrasea, Puparciel/Pupaurciel, Pupgender, Pupsleepyic, Rainboscarfcloudic, Rainbowaesic, Rainbowgender, Rainbowquartzic, Rainbowsquish, Somnollisgender, Yellowdogplushic

Other MOGAI:

Alderainbow, Caninevesi, Canivior, Dog Omninoun, Dogperspesque, Dogvesi, Pastelaestelic, Pupperspesque, Puppyperspesque, Pupvior, Rainbowvesi, Rainbowvior/Rainbowalius/Rainbowperspesque, 🌈 Omninoun

[mariacallous]

In early 2022, two Google policy staffers met with a trio of women victimized by a scam that resulted in explicit videos of them circulating online—including via Google search results. The women were among the hundreds of young adults who responded to ads seeking swimsuit models only to be coerced into performing in sex videos distributed by the website GirlsDoPorn. The site shut down in 2020, and a producer, a bookkeeper, and a cameraman subsequently pleaded guilty to sex trafficking, but the videos kept popping up on Google search faster than the women could request removals.

The women, joined by an attorney and a security expert, presented a bounty of ideas for how Google could keep the criminal and demeaning clips better hidden, according to five people who attended or were briefed on the virtual meeting. They wanted Google search to ban websites devoted to GirlsDoPorn and videos with its watermark. They suggested Google could borrow the 25-terabyte hard drive on which the women’s cybersecurity consultant, Charles DeBarber, had saved every GirlsDoPorn episode, take a mathematical fingerprint, or “hash,” of each clip, and block them from ever reappearing in search results.

The two Google staffers in the meeting hoped to use what they learned to win more resources from higher-ups. But the victim’s attorney, Brian Holm, left feeling dubious. The policy team was in “a tough spot” and “didn’t have authority to effect change within Google,” he says.

His gut reaction was right. Two years later, none of those ideas brought up in the meeting have been enacted, and the videos still come up in search.

WIRED has spoken with five former Google employees and 10 victims’ advocates who have been in communication with the company. They all say that they appreciate that because of recent changes Google has made, survivors of image-based sexual abuse such as the GirlsDoPorn scam can more easily and successfully remove unwanted search results. But they are frustrated that management at the search giant hasn’t approved proposals, such as the hard drive idea, which they believe will more fully restore and preserve the privacy of millions of victims around the world, most of them women.

The sources describe previously unreported internal deliberations, including Google’s rationale for not using an industry tool called StopNCII that shares information about nonconsensual intimate imagery (NCII) and the company’s failure to demand that porn websites verify consent to qualify for search traffic. Google’s own research team has published steps that tech companies can take against NCII, including using StopNCII.

The sources believe such efforts would better contain a problem that’s growing, in part through widening access to AI tools that create explicit deepfakes, including ones of GirlsDoPorn survivors. Overall reports to the UK’s Revenge Porn hotline more than doubled last year, to roughly 19,000, as did the number of cases involving synthetic content. Half of over 2,000 Brits in a recent survey worried about being victimized by deepfakes. The White House in May urged swifter action by lawmakers and industry to curb NCII overall. In June, Google joined seven other companies and nine organizations in announcing a working group to coordinate responses.

Right now, victims can demand prosecution of abusers or pursue legal claims against websites hosting content, but neither of those routes is guaranteed, and both can be costly due to legal fees. Getting Google to remove results can be the most practical tactic and serves the ultimate goal of keeping violative content out of the eyes of friends, hiring managers, potential landlords, or dates—who almost all likely turn to Google to look up people.

A Google spokesperson, who requested anonymity to avoid harassment from perpetrators, declined to comment on the call with GirlsDoPorn victims. She says combating what the company refers to as nonconsensual explicit imagery (NCEI) remains a priority and that Google’s actions go well beyond what is legally required. “Over the years, we’ve invested deeply in industry-leading policies and protections to help protect people affected by this harmful content,” she says. “Teams across Google continue to work diligently to bolster our safeguards and thoughtfully address emerging challenges to better protect people.”

In an interview with WIRED, a Google search product manager overseeing anti-harm work says blocking videos using hashes is challenging to adopt because some websites don’t publish videos in a way that search engines can compare against. Speaking on condition of anonymity, she says Google has encouraged explicit websites to address that. She adds that there’s generally more for Google to do but refutes the allegation that executives had held up the work.

Advocates of bolder action by Google point to the company’s much tighter restrictions on searching for child sexual abuse material (CSAM) as evidence it could do much more. Typing “deepfake nudes kids” into Google prompts a warning that such content is illegal and ultimately directs users to news articles and support groups. Google also finds and blocks from its results almost 1 million new CSAM-containing webpages annually.

A recent Google search for “deepfake nudes jennifer aniston” yielded seven results purporting to offer just that. The search engine offered no warning or resources in response to the query, despite nearly every US state and many countries having criminalized unpermitted distribution of intimate content of adults. Google declined to comment on the lack of a warning.

The product manager says comparisons to CSAM are invalid. Virtually any image of a naked child is illegal and can be automatically removed, she says. Separating NCEI from consensual porn requires some indication that the content was shot or distributed without permission, and that context often isn’t clear until a victim files a report and a human analyzes it. But the manager wouldn’t directly answer whether Google has tried to overcome the challenge.

Adam Dodge, founder of advocacy and education group Ending Tech-Enabled Abuse, says that until Google proactively removes more NCII, victims have to be hypervigilant about finding and reporting it themselves. That’s “not something we should put on victims,” he says. “We’re asking them to go to the location where they were assaulted online to move past the trauma.”

Google started accepting removal requests for search results leading to nudity or sex in 2015 if the content was intended to be private and was never authorized to be published, according to its policy. That went largely unchanged until 2020, when the company added that being in an “intimate state” qualified.

A New York Times column that year triggered Google executives to dedicate resources to the issue, organizing projects, including one codenamed Sparrow, to help victims keep content off search for good, three former employees say. The product manager confirmed that executives at times have pushed teams to improve Google’s handling of NCEI.

Google made its takedown form friendlier to use, understand, and access, the sources say. The search giant axed legalese and outdated use of the term “revenge porn,” since porn is generally viewed as consensual. The company added instructions on submitting screenshots and greater detail on the review process.

The form became accessible by clicking the menu that appears next to every search result. Requests rose about 19-fold in one early test, one source says. A second source says that it has become among Google’s most-used forms for reporting abuse and that, after the edits, a far greater percentage of requests resulted in removal of results. Google disputes these figures, but it declined to share comprehensive data on NCEI.

Government-mandated transparency reports show Google has removed most of the nearly 170,000 search and YouTube links reported for unwanted sexual content in South Korea since December 2020, the earliest data available, and nixed nearly 300 pieces of content in response to 380 complaints from users in India since May 2021. The limited data suggest Google is finding more reports credible than its smaller rival in search Microsoft, which took action in 52 percent of the nearly 8,400 cases it received globally for Bing and other services from 2015 through June 2023.

Launched in late 2021, the StopNCII system has amassed a database of over 572,000 hashed photos and videos and blocked that media from being shared more than 12,000 times across 10 services, including Instagram and TikTok. Google hasn’t adopted the tool to block content from search due to concerns about what’s actually in the database, according to three sources.

To protect victims’ privacy, StopNCII doesn’t review content they report, and hashes reveal nothing about the underlying content. Google is worried that it could end up blocking something innocent, the sources say. “We don’t know if it’s just an image of a cupcake,” one of them says. The sources add that Google also has opted against bankrolling a system it considers better, despite internal suggestions to do so.

The Google spokesperson declined to comment on StopNCII, but in April the company told UK lawmakers who questioned Google about its decision not to use the tool that it had “specific policy and practical concerns about the interoperability of the database,” without elaborating.

Internally, Google workers have come up with some bold ideas to improve takedowns. Employees have discussed booting explicit websites, including porn companies, from search results unless they are willing to assure that their content is consensual, according to four sources. The idea hasn’t been adopted. Google’s search unit has shied away from setting rules on a thorny and taboo subject like sexual imagery, three sources say. “They don’t want to be seen as regulators of the internet,” one former staffer says.

Because Google sends significant traffic to explicit websites, it could force them to take stricter measures. About 15 percent of image searches and up to half of video searches among the billions Google receives daily are related to porn, says one former staffer, figures the company declined to comment on. “Google holds the keys to the kingdom,” the source says. Meanwhile, few others are stepping in. US lawmakers haven’t passed proposed legislation to impose consent checks on online uploads. And some popular services for sharing explicit content, such as Reddit and X, don’t require users to submit proof of subjects’ consent.

Porn producers, who collect identity information from performers as required by US law, support the sharing of a consent signal with search engines, says Mike Stabile, spokesperson for the industry trade body Free Speech Coalition. “Major adult sites already monitor and block NCII much more aggressively than mainstream platforms,” he says.

The Google spokesperson declined to comment on the consent idea but points to an existing penalty: Google last December began demoting—but not blocking—search results for websites that come up in “a high volume” of successful takedown requests.

The Google product manager and the spokesperson contend that the search team already has taken big steps over the past three years to ease the burden on survivors of image-based sexual abuse. But WIRED’s investigation shows that some improvements have come with caveats.

A system Google introduced that tries to automatically remove search links when previously reported content resurfaces on new websites doesn’t work on videos or altered images, and two sources say Google hadn’t dedicated staff to improving it. “It absolutely could be better, and there isn’t enough attention on how it could really solve victims’ problems,” one says. The spokesperson says staff are assigned to enhance the tool.

Another system called known victim protection tries to filter out results with explicit images from search queries similar to those from past takedown requests, the two sources say. It is designed to not disrupt results to legitimate porn and generally reduces the need for victims to stay vigilant for new uploads. But Google has acknowledged to South Korean regulators that the system isn’t perfect. “Given the dynamic and ever-changing nature of the web, automated systems are not able, 100 percent of the time, to catch every explicit result,” the company writes in its transparency reports.

In one of its biggest shifts, Google last August abandoned its policy of declining to remove links to content that included signs that it had been captured with consent. For years, if Google determined from the imagery and any audio that the subject knew they were being recorded without any signs of coercion or distress, it would reject the takedown ask unless the requester provided ample evidence that it had been published without consent. It was a “super-mushy concept,” one of the former employees says.

That same source says staff persuaded executives to update the policy in part by describing the importance of letting people who had become adult performers on OnlyFans out of financial necessity to later revoke their consent and shred any ties to sex work. The Google spokesperson didn’t dispute this.

The Washington, DC-based National Center on Sexual Exploitation, an anti-porn group that’s become an authority on image-based sexual abuse, argues that even after the revision, Google is falling short. It wants Google to automatically honor all takedown requests and put the burden on websites to prove there was consent to record and publish the disputed content. The Google spokesperson says that potential policy updates are constantly considered.

In the eyes of advocates, Google is being nowhere near as resourceful or attentive as it could or should be. Brad Gilde of Gilde Law Firm in Houston says he came away disappointed when his client won a headline-grabbing $1.2 billion judgment against an ex-boyfriend last August but then couldn’t get Google to remove a highly ranked search link to a sexually explicit audio recording of her on YouTube. The upload, which included the victim’s name and drew over 100 views, came down last month only after WIRED inquired.

Developing a reliable AI system to proactively identify nonconsensual media may prove impossible. But better keeping an ear out for big cases shouldn’t be too complicated, says Dan Purcell, a victim who founded removal company Ceartas DMCA. Google employees had a proposal on this issue: The company could establish a priority flagger program—as it has for other types of problematic content, including CSAM—and formally solicit tips from outside organizations such as Purcell’s that monitor for NCII. But staffing to administer the idea never came through. “​​Google is the No. 1 discoverability platform,” Purcell says. “They have to take more responsibility.” The Google spokesperson declined to comment.

DeBarber, the removal consultant who spoke with Google alongside his clients victimized by GirlsDoPorn, did a search for one of them this month while on the phone with WIRED. No links surfaced to videos of her, because DeBarber has spent over 100 hours getting those pages removed. But one porn service was misusing her name to lure in viewers to other content—a new result DeBarber would have to ask Google to remove. And through a different Google search, he could access a problematic website on which people can look up videos of his client.

Harassers regularly text that client links to her NCII, a frustrating reminder of how her past has yet to be erased. “They want to be out of sight and out of mind,” DeBarber says of his clients. “We’re heading in the right direction.” But he and survivors are counting on Google to help knock out the offenders for good. "A lot more could have been done by Google and still could be."

[pinkhellhasademon]

Hi, I'm Ayla ,.you can also refer to me as PinkHell🙆🏻‍♀️😈! (Ooo~ edgy ^-^)..

I'm - 18y/o, Famale, she/her/they...👩🏻‍🎨 Digital Artist Yay!

My DMS are OPEN:D :(anything u wanna discuss? Art commissions? Or just fun chat?) ((pls just don't send me weird stuff like nudes or nsfw images :/))

COMMISSIONS: OPEN (DM if you're interested) Here's my portfolio if you want to check out. 👩🏻‍🎨

✨ (Prices starts from 30 Usd)💸

REQUESTS: CLOSED

You'll need a Skrill account to pay , I'll send Skrill invoice to your email /Insta/Reddit/Twitter account's Dm , you can either make a Skrill account beforehand or I'll just help you with process on verification and stuff ..

I'll draw SFW but also NSFW (consensual pls no weird stuff) and simple a bg as well (additional price for bg +5$)

.✨

.🪳~~ :3

.💗

Soo my fellow newbie or veteran hell spawns...😏

WTH IS THIS BLOG?

-I post my art here, I do reblog posts I like...I love I mean by love.. I ADORE Thomas(Nicholai) form Regular show.

Check out #pinkhellhasademondmitry tag I'll put in this post to see art of my oc (also critical points to my headcanon about Thomas's family and lore a bit detailed

I enjoy Regular Show overall ...Fnf is also cool too...

I use Ibis Paint X pro (mostly finger on phone lol)

🔴I'm not sure about my sexuality yet 🫥, I'd call myself straight but flexible🫠 (some women are just hot lmao)

.

.

.

Do NOT visit/engage with this profile if you enjoy problematic stuff like : L*li/ Child ab*se content/ R@cism/any discriminations and violent opinions about certain religions, cultural beliefs/ Homoph*bia/Transph*bia/Aceph*bia or any negative behavior against queer /LGBTQA+ people/allies. Any practice off illegal fetishes/kinks./Viol*nce against animals-Be*stiality/ Are you a fuckin n*zi?. Cool..now fuck off..

Also f*ck off if you're misogynist/misandrist.

(yes ,you hating and blaming global issues to an entire gender doesn't make you a smartpants.)

<<We might do some jokes here and there but we don't do politics here ok?>>

[cloneloverrrrr]

Hi,

I saw your post with the smut dialogue prompts. I’d like to request “Don’t be gentle with me-I like it when you’re rough” along with “That noise…keep making it.” With Darman with fem reader. If your not comfortable writing him I also love Howzer, Mayday, Thorn, Rex and recently Hound.

If you have time great. If not that’s fine too. 😊

Thank you 💕

@trixie2023 this took my soul, I forgot how much I enjoy writing for beautiful Hound🫠🫠😈😈

I hope you enjoy this little bit of filth with our fave Arf Trooper 🫶🏻🫶🏻

He needs more loving💁🏻‍♀️

Dividers by my boo @idontgetanysleep ✨🥰

𝗗𝗼𝗻𝘁 𝗕𝗲 𝗚𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗪𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗠𝗲 - 𝗢𝗻𝗲 𝗦𝗵𝗼𝘁

𝗥𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀:🔞 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗗𝗢 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁 𝗠𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗦𝗲𝗿𝗴𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗛𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝘅 𝗳!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 , 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘁

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1110

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗦𝗠𝗨𝗧, 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝘁𝗶𝗻𝘆 𝗽𝗹𝗼𝘁, 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆, 𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗹 𝗙 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗣 𝗶𝗻 𝗩 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝘂𝗻𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗲, 𝗛𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗱𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱

A dark twilight had fallen across the skies on your home planet of Coruscant. Less then an hour or so the sky was gloaming a red, orange,yellow and pink hue. Now it’s wake was vast inky black tranquility married to a poetry of glistening stars. It was the softness that called body and brain to rest, the night came as a reward of some sorts, a restfulness to calm one’s soul.

That was until the sound of your apartment doors whooshed open, a clank of a helmet as it clattered to the floor. A tall dominating presence lingered behind you, the air was still with mirrored breathing.

Hound stood behind you, gloved hands caressing your arms as his fingers trail up to your shoulders rubbing gently releasing any tension that had built up. You breathe a small gasp , this has your Sergeant smiling into the nape of your neck.

You watched the speeders zoom below your apartment the neon glow from the bustling streets below illuminated your face. Your hands guiding Hounds down to your waist.

“It’s good to be home mesh’la” he murmured into the crook of your neck, a damp trail of his salvia leads from the shell of your ear to your pulse point.

No words spoken only mutual desires burn between you both.

Clothes fell, lips and fingers traced the contours of each body, tongues flit against necks, nipples, stomachs. Heat pooled in the base of your stomach , Hounds sizeable length oh so desperate to stretch you to feel you come undone for him.

Hound backed you up to the large windows of your apartment , the sheer viole hardly covering the copulation between two lovers.

“Hound- stop… what if someone uh.. sees” you whimper out

Hounds dark gaze met yours , a smirk tugged at this lips, his long dark curls fell against his face. Your hand leaned over to push them out from his honey eyes.

He held your face and kissed you, lazy deep kisses , his tongue pleading for an entrance you happily accepted.

“Shhhh mesh”la… relax for me” he whispered groaning into your mouth. His errection grinding against your stomach.

So enthralled in this warm haze you fail to notice Hounds large fingers slide down your sides until a firm touch sent a shiver down your spine. His thumb pressed against your clit , two of his fingers tease your moist slit. Up and down dipping in slightly.

“Fuck- your so wet” he hisses through gritted teeth.

Your hips jerked against his touch , the cool glass brushed against your supple skin adding the shivers vibrating under your skin.

Hound gets down on his knees, his gaze never once leaving yours, he drags his nose up your thigh slowly, one hand continuing to rub deft fingers around your slit dragging your arousal across your labia and sensitive clit. On instinct your legs part allowing him better access.

“Oh Hound, stars- oh-“ you moaned.

A fog of pleasure clouded your vision. Skin ablaze.

A flat wet tongue pressed against your clit, one finger pumping away. Your hands grabbed onto his soft curls gently tugging pulling his head taught. Another finger added the pace becoming brisk.

“Don’t be gentle with me - I like it when your rough” he teased.

Your fingers became intertwined in his locks, you pulled his head taught grabbing at his hair harder , grinding yourself on his face as his tongue fucked you.

Your body spasmed your cunt fluttered, your stomach clenched the heat building threatening to take over. Your rolled your hips faster, pushing his face against your tingling clit. Hounds grip on your thighs was harsh, surely to leave bruises, a lewd reminder of this evening.

Heat coiled, your core exploded.

“Good girl , cum for me. That’s it” Hound growled , his filthy praises muffled by your convulsing cunt and the sounds of your panting.

Your breathing was shakey, legs trembling you fall back against the glass. Calloused hands rubbed up your thighs as he stands up. Chin lips and nose shining with your release. Eyes hooded dripping in desire.

Hound backs you into the windows once more flipping you around, your perfect naked body glimmering against the luminous lights of the city below.

“I’ll give you everything you’ll ever need pretty girl” dark hunger laced in his raspy voice.

The velvety tip of his cock stretches your dripping cunt , the tendons in his neck straining as he moaned, the way your cunt fluttered around him had him falling into an animalistic state of rapture.

Slowly hips slap against your ass, heavy fingers roll and pull at your nipple , the other clasped around your throat a thumb on your pulse point the index finger curled into your mouth. His chest heaved against your back, the harsh drag of his cock fucking into you brutally. You jerk and writhe at his touch the painful pleasure almost too much.

Broken screams, pitiful whimpers and the stutter of his name fall from your mouth. These sounds snapped something devilish inside of him.

“That noise …. keep making it” he moaned so fucking desperately.

He sucked on your neck pushing into you harder much rougher than before, moving his hand from your swollen nipple down to your clit. Rubbing firm small circles as he slammed into you. Harder and harder.

Your eyes rolled back, you let your head fall into the crook of his neck, wet squelching noises paired with his violent thrusts pants and moans engulfed your senses over took your mind. The pressure inside you pulled taught you came intensely coating his cock in your sweet cum. Your back arched into Hound his stomach muscles flexing as his pace faltered , more erratic.

A pained groan fell from his chest as Hound spilled into you, filling you with warm thick ropes of his cum. His fingers gently stroking your spine as he softened inside of you placing a tender kiss upon your each shoulder.

“I can’t get enough of you mesh’la” he whispers into the back of your neck, hands travelling across each dip and curve of your body. You hum quietly in response reaching a hand back you stroke his cheek and he melts into your touch. Your souls connect as one.

“My love for you knows no limits”

His words have you gasping as he picks you up carrying you to the fresher. A sweet wave of calm washes over you rippling like the mighty waves on Kamino.

A beautiful feeling nothing or no one could ever replicate.

TAGLIST- @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @hellhound5925 @kimiheartblade @cw80831 @hello-there-cyarika @dukeoftheblackstar @jules-1999 @justanothersadperson93 @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @eternal-transience-spice @n0vqni @dangraccoon @starrylothcat

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[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Destined

Pairing: Medieval! Oromë x Fem. Reader ( Ward of the Crown | Second Person POV)

Themes: Medieval! Ainur | Slow burn | Smut (Lemon)| Soft

Warnings: Arranged marriage | Use of a dagger during the wedding ceremony | Blood | Alcohol consumption | Mentions of injuries | First time | Kissing | Foreplay | Some explicit language | Oral (fem receiving) | Penetrative sex | Cream pie

Word count: 4.6k words

Summary: It was an arranged marriage to the lord of High Tree Hall and Hunter’s Pass, a man of little words, one who was known to be as wild as the forests and deep passes he ruled over. How would he conduct himself on his wedding night?

Rating:🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 18+ You are responsible for the media you consume. 

Full list of the great noble house of Valinor can be read here.

Rules and tag form here | Prompts for requests here.

It was the height of summer; the air was warm and balmy, and the wind blew in hot even though it was near evenfall. Still, it was glorious. The air was sweet with the scents of wildflowers and pine. The sky was a vivid kaleidoscope of gold and yellow and orange and even pink when the minstrels called at your door.

You were given the finest guest manse on the grounds. Oromë would have preferred to have you housed within High Tree itself, but custom decreed the procession. And that he not see you until the ceremony. 

Your chambers were a hive of activity. Maids rushed to and fro with dresses and shoes and flowers plucked fresh from a nearby meadow, taking great care when laying them out over the bed while you bathed and dressed and fixed your hair. Jewels caught the light of nearby candles and gleamed against your throat and ears and wrists. 

"Are you ready, lady y/n?" Lady Nessa said when she arrived to escort you to the Great Hall and your soon-to-be husband. 

You turned away from a silvered looking glass to face her. "As ready as I will ever be."

Nessa smiled and stood by your side while a maid helped you with the final touches for your dress, fixing your skirt and straightening your veil. Another helped drape a heavy cloak around your shoulders. At the appointed hour, you took your soon-to-be good-sister’s arm and let her lead you from your chambers.

By the time you had stepped out into the light, the horizon had turned into a slow burning ember. Deep blue and purple and black now bled into fiery red and orange. The first stars shone brightly overhead even as the sun slowly dipped beneath the tree line. Over you was a canopy of deep green velvet, richly embroidered with black thread, held up by several pages. Minstrels walked ahead, playing viols, flutes and drums and even trumpets while another page sprinkled white rose petals along the path. Beautiful lamps affixed to the low-hanging branches of nearby trees lit the way. 

The splendor of the moment did nothing to detract from the fact that life in High Tree Hall was nowhere as elegant and luxurious as life at Ilmarin, where the gardens were all neat and well-tended and the white marble halls were a riot of color due to the stained glass windows catching the sun’s glorious light. Here there were gnarled trees and ponds and flowers growing wild all over. The manses were built out of rough-hewn stone and mortar and thick wooden bark. The people that lived here were said to be as wild as their lord. 

Their lord. Oromë was liege lord of Hunter’s Pass and master of High Tree Hall. He had been in need of a wife and had asked the king for your hand after seeing you taking a turn in Ilmarin’s gardens not even half a year ago. After your father disgraced himself as a traitor, Eru stood in his place now. He was able to dispose of your hand to whomever he wished. And you could not say a word in protest. 

"My brother is eager to see you again." Nessa smiled. You dared to glance at her. Until a little while ago, it was Nessa who served as Lady of High Tree Hall. After tonight, that great honor would fall on you. If the lady had been bitter about her change in station, she didn’t show it. "He nearly dug a trench in the great hall by pacing about for what seemed like hours. He is that eager for the ceremony to begin." 

Eager to see me? Cannot wait for the ceremony to begin? You wrinkled your brow in confusion. Oromë barely spoke with you. He did not court you, or bring you little tokens. You could count with the fingers of one hand the number of times he had called on you, and that too only when the king was present. His letters, such as they were, had been brief, and few and far between. 

Nessa looked on expectantly, awaiting your answer. 

"I pray I will be a good wife to him," you say hesitantly. 

Nessa gave your arm a gentle squeeze. "Just as my brother prays to be a good husband to you."

You were not so sure. Oromë was known for his many passions and his wrath, and you felt wholly unprepared. Oh, your mother did talk to you upon your flowering many and more years ago, and of course you had listened to the scandalous chatter amongst the maids. Still, hearing talk of the marital act and actually having to go through with it were two different things altogether.

Will he be gentle, even a little? You wondered. Will he treat me with a kind heart and a tender hand?

The music slowly faded when the great doors of High Tree Hall loomed ahead, and the guards threw them open for the king himself. Eru had been resplendent this evenfall, garbed in black velvet slashed with cloth of gold. A heavy gold chain of linked flames had been draped loosely around his shoulders. His crown, an airy confection wrought out of a rare black metal and studded with emeralds, rested upon his brow.

"My lady y/n," he said and bowed respectfully, before extending his arm. "Shall we go in?"

Nessa gave your arm another gentle squeeze before dipping gracefully to her knees. "My king," she murmured, and rose. "My brother awaits you both."

You swallowed and looped your arm around the king’s, your eyes on Nessa’s retreating back the entire time. A blare of trumpets sounded, and you walked in time with the king. Minstrels took up their instruments again, and this time, a sweet, haunting air filled the great hall while a hush fell over the guests. Your gaze went straight to the proud lord standing by the roots of the great Silverwood tree that stood in the center of the feasting hall.

Oromë cut a striking figure. Tall and lean and fierce, with his thick black hair pulled back into a neat bun, he stood out from all of the others. He had been garbed in hunting clothes—all high boots and leather and light mail and soft wool. Heavy enameled green pins depicting a mounted archer in black fastened a thick pelt at the shoulders. A thin scar ran from brow to jaw, barely missing his right eye.  You took a deep breath and tried not to pay any attention to the guests looking at you. Their looks had been kind, but still, the attention was more than a little unnerving. When you looked back at the tree, you found Oromë looking right back at you. The beginnings of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. A warm flush crept up your throat when you reached the tree and the priestess who would join the two of you together, and Eru placed your hand on Oromë’s.

The ceremony itself passed like a blur. You listened to what was said, and said your portion of the vows. At one point, you could have sworn Oromë gave your hand a gentle squeeze. The priestess then unsheathed a sharp dagger and asked you to hold out your hand, palm facing up. The blade barely pierced the skin, but it still hurt. You watched while she did the same for your new husband. She then joined your hands and bound them with a new ribbon. You watched, enthralled, as your blood and his mingled and trickled, staining the thin strip of white silk a deep, deep, crimson.

"One body!" The priestess then declared to the crowd. "One heart! One soul! Bound as one in the sights of Gods and men! Cursed be they who try to tear them asunder!"

As her words rippled around the great hall, Oromë pulled you close and kissed you deeply. You had expected something that was rough and quick, but when his mouth opened yours, it was in a kiss that was tender and sweet.

"Mine," he whispered first, before adding, "Yours."

You looked on, wide-eyed, while he drew back. Guests broke into loud applause and cheers. You turned to face them, and felt a gentle tug on your hand. It was Oromë. He was trying to lead you to the raised dais at one end. You shook your head and rewarded him with a smile. It was time for the feast.

Again, there were differences. Feasts in Ilmarin were always lavish, but more than a little restrained. Here, the food and drink were served freely to anyone and everyone. Guests dined on thick soups and roast fowl and fish caught from a nearby river. There were flagons of ale and flagons of mead and flagons of a dark, bitter beer for anyone who had a thirst. There was wine too, a curiously light vintage that went very well with most of the food. Candles burned bright even as the great hounds of High Tree spread out next to tables and pelts and slept, having had their fill of scraps. Some guests started to fall asleep where they sat as well. Others wandered out of the hall in pairs of two and three and more, to engage in private amusements of their own. Lady Nessa made herself comfortable between Lady Varda and Nienna and Estë, and could be heard laughing merrily. The king stayed for as long as courtesy demanded before making his own excuses and leaving for the night. The revelry grew louder after his departure. 

Lord Tulkas had been singing the entire time, taking deep swigs of his ale in between verses. An auburn-haired woman clad in simple, soft green wool sat next to him, a pin bearing the bloodied hand of House Tarkil fixed firmly over her left shoulder. 

A captain of House Shield’s guard, you remembered. The one they call lady Meássë.

"Never engage him in a game of drink," Oromë leaned over and whispered. "Lord Tulkas will drink you under the table and continue drinking until dawn."

You believed him. Lord Tulkas was known to be able to hold his drink, and many of the others beside him could not. One by one, they made their excuses until his companion remained. 

"What about you, my lord," you observed after stealing a glance at his cup. "You have not drunk anything besides water all night." 

Oromë’s lips tugged at the corners. "Oromë," he insisted, "or husband, which is what I would prefer. As for my not indulging… well, let’s just say I wish to keep a clear head for what’s about to happen later." 

Your skin warmed. What’s about to happen later, he said. Oromë had been talking about bedding you. You turned to your meal, unsure of what to say. You tried to eat, but the cut across your left palm made it difficult to hold a fork. 

"Just use your hands," Oromë said, tearing a leg off a roast capon to show how it was done. "No one will mind. Eat. Please." 

You looked around the hall. Of those who had been eating, many used their hands. No one said anything. No one even seemed to mind. And the growls in your stomach made it harder to resist. Still, you took care not to dirty your dressing. The food was delicious, and you found yourself eating well from each dish. By the time the cakes and pudding had arrived, you found you could only manage a piece or two of lemon cake. 

Someone found a viol and launched into the bawdy version of "Lady Luck." Tulkas had stopped drinking but continued singing, this time joining in on the new song. Someone else found a flute, and "Lady Luck" soon changed to "Cup of Mead", which in turn soon turned into "Seven Lasses," a song that was even bawdier than "Lady Luck." Someone spilled their ale. Someone else shouted a vulgar joke. You struggled to contain your mirth. 

Guests took to the center of the hall and started to dance, while others clapped in tune. The singing grew louder while maids lit fresh candles. It started to rain outside, and servants rushed to close the shutters. More guests wandered out of the halls. 

Oromë took it as a sign that the time had come. He rose to his feet and extended his hand, and, you placed your hand in his. Few noticed, save for Lord Tulkas. He opened his mouth to say something, but Oromë cut him off with a quick, "Give words to your thoughts, my good friend, and I’ll break your fucking jaw." 

The lord of Stonehearth pouted before chuckling to himself. He leaned over to Lady Meássë and whispered something in her ear. Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of red, but she nodded in agreement to whatever it was he said. They left the hall not long after, arm in arm. 

No one followed either of you in the expectation of a bedding ceremony. Oromë led you around the dais to the chambers set aside for his own use. The walls were so thick, you were told, that no sound carried to the outside. You decided it was a blessing. You didn’t want the others to hear what went on. 

The air within was pleasantly cool. Oromë led you past little rooms and a small hall before guiding you to an airy bedchamber. More candles had been lit, and a brazier had been readied for lighting. He kicked the door shut behind you both. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked. 

The last thing you wanted was wine, or anything else, for that matter. "No, my lord," you said before discretely looking around the room. It was the same as the hall, with a bed made almost entirely out of thick pelts at one end. "My stomach is a roil." 

"Husband," Oromë said. He made no move to leave his place near the door. "Are you nervous?" 

"A little," you confessed, and walked around, not stopping until you had reached a strange but beautiful bow hung up on one wall. Twists of gold and silver wood gleamed with a delicate light all of their own.   

"From fallen branches of the sacred trees in Starfall," Oromë said after a moment. "Lady Varda made it with her own hands after I slew the creature that tried to destroy them." 

"Ungoliant," you replied, shivering. 

"Aye." Oromë came from behind and rested a hand on your shoulder. "Her skull is here. I can show it to you tomorrow if you wish." 

You were curious despite yourself. Oromë had asked you for your hand after seeing you only once and calling on you only a few times. Now he was married to you, and about to take you to his bed. 

"Forgive my lord, but why did you marry me?" You turned to face him. "My father is a known traitor. My family has been disgraced, so why me?" 

"Husband," Oromë insisted a second time, and grew silent for a long while. He finally said, "As for why I chose you… I… I felt something the first day I saw you. I didn’t understand why it was happening. All I knew was that I had to be with you and you alone. It was only by talking to others that it finally became clear. We were meant." 

"But you barely spoke to me!" 

"And I must apologize for that. I… I have never been one for tender words. My sister has tried to teach me… and failed on that score. She hopes you have better luck instead." 

You smiled timidly. Oromë walked over to you, his boots barely making a sound over the smooth stone floor. 

"May I?" he asked when he was close enough to you. 

You swallowed, but nodded and stood perfectly still. 

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he urged, before reaching for your veil. There was a soft ping whenever a hairpin fell to the floor. Your veil soon followed, fluttering to the ground with barely a sound. Your cloak, on the other hand, fell with a soft thud. Your hair slowly loosened as braids and coils came undone. 

"Do you want me to stop?" Oromë asked again, this time reaching out to undo the clasps and fastenings of your gown. You felt it loosening, and you were too caught up with your own growing curiosity to say another word. You shake your head all the same, knowing he was expecting an answer. 

He nodded and slipped the gown off your shoulders and past your waist, letting it fall the rest of the way and pool around your feet. Your stays were next. He helped you out of your shoes and your jewelry. Soon, you were clad in nothing but a sheer silk slip. Goosebumps prickled all over your flesh when you stood there, nearly exposed. Oromë studied you, his eyes darkening with each passing moment. He took your hands and brought them to his lips, pressing gentle kisses over each of your fingers. A strange but pleasant jolt shot up your spine when he kissed your bandaged palm. 

"Would you get into bed?" he said. 

It was not an order but a request instead. You took slow, measured steps, running the flat of your hand over the pelts. 

So soft, you mused. Softer than even the featherbeds back at the palace.

You climbed into the pelts, all too aware of Oromë’s eyes following you the entire time. He proceeded to undress himself, first by slipping out of his boots before removing his garments. Cloak and tunic and mail and leathers soon joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You turned your gaze to your lap when the last of his clothes were disposed of and he stood naked in front of the bed. Curiosity got the better of you again, and you dared a glance. 

His back was turned to you, all lean and muscled, and covered in all manner of scars. Even his arms and thighs had not been spared. 

It’s as if he has known nothing but violence most of his life. You looked away once more when he came to bed. "Look at me," he said. 

You obeyed, and found hunger in his deep green eyes. Your own wandered. His black hair tumbled past his shoulders now, and thin patches of more black hair trailed its way down his chest. There were scars all over his torso as well. Some of them looked old and angry. "Did these hurt?" You found yourself saying. 

"In the beginning," he confessed, "They all did. Some worse than others. Do they frighten you?" 

"Yes," you admitted, "I have never seen anyone with such scarring before." 

"Never?" he said, his eyes filled with curiosity. "You never grew close to anyone who caught your eye?" 

"Never," you replied, even as another heated flush crept up your throat. A smirk worked its way across Oromë’s face. 

"Never?" he asked again. "No pretty handmaid caught your eye? No comely stable hand tried to steal a kiss?" 

"No," you said, "The king had his warriors dogging my every step the moment I set foot outside my rooms. And my handmaids were his spies, I am sure of it." 

"I see," Oromë said, as if considering what you told him. 

"And what of you?" you challenged. "I hear you never keep to the warmth of one bed." 

He winced and sat up straight. "I will not lie when I say that there have been others and…" 

"Will there be others even after tonight?" 

"Will you be content with such a life, wife? Being bound to a man who cannot honor his vows?" 

In your heart of hearts, you knew you would never be happy with such a life. "No." 

Oromë nodded. "Just so. As for the others… They will never be a threat to us. And they will not be a threat to you. I give you my word on this." 

And the word of those who lived in these parts was their bond. They would never go back on a promise, not even on pain of death. And he swore the two of you were meant to be. It gave you some small comfort. 

Oromë running his thumb over your knuckles put an end to your thinking. He looked at you again, this time with expectation in his eyes and not just hunger. He had been as nervous as you, though he was much better at masking it. 

When he saw you for the first time, wandering around the gardens of Ilmarin, he thought his body had been set aflame, but the heat was something he had never felt before in his life. That heat had pulsed and spread and filled him with a light that glowed from within. As the days melted into each other, heat and light simply grew, and it was only after he approached Lady Varda and her ladies for their counsel that it became clear. 

"Destined," Varda had said. "The Gods themselves had planned this union. Do not fight it." 

He didn’t fight it. Oromë approached the king for your hand. As the father of the realm and your guardian, Eru had every right to say yes or no. Fortunately for Oromë, Eru agreed to the union and issued a proclamation before the week was even over. Now you were here—in his halls and in his bed. He brushed his hand over your hair and your cheek. He let his thumb trace the lines of your sinful lips. When you rewarded him with a wistful sigh, he leaned in. 

The pelts were soft, but he found you to be a great deal softer. Your lips tasted of the cakes you had earlier—tart and sweet. Your hair slipped around his fingers like water. When he laid you down and found you trembling, he ran his hand over your arm to soothe you. 

"Could you kiss me again," you looked up at him and asked. "It makes everything feel wonderful when you do." 

Far be it from him to deny you! Oromë grinned and kissed you again, this time not stopping until your mouth slowly parted for his tongue. His hands explored every inch of your body, slipping beneath the silks of your slip to run over the warmth of your flesh. He sighed when you moaned into his kiss, and groaned when timid arms slid around his waist. Nails dug into his skin, marring it with little bruises every time he kissed a little deeper and pressed himself a little closer. Oromë found your slip and smallclothes getting in his way. 

"Lift," he commanded. 

There was a soft rustle when your slip was tugged over your waist and arms before being consigned to the floor. Your skin prickled when you lifted your hips, and your smallclothes slid up your thighs before being unceremoniously cast aside with barely a flutter. When you shivered and covered your breasts with your arms, he gently drew them away. 

"Let me keep you warm," he said, before lowering his head. 

He did more than just that. Oromë spent what seemed like ages worshiping your body. His hands may have been rough, but his touch was exceedingly gentle, caressing you as if you had been made out of fragile glass. He kissed every part of you, from the tips of your fingers to the insides of your thighs, not stopping until you were whimpering and trembling beneath him. He went lower, his lips leaving a warm, damp trail all over your breasts and your belly. Not satisfied with even that, he went lower still. Warmth spread just beneath your skin when he pressed his lips over your folds. All you could do was grab at the pelts, fingers digging into soft fur whenever he ran his tongue over your already slick heat. Nothing could be heard but your ragged breaths and his soft grunts. You murmured when sweet tension grew within your belly. It was intoxicating. And so wonderful. All the tales you had heard, all the gossip and scandalous chatter, were nothing compared to what your husband was making you feel—like your entire body had been set ablaze from within. His tongue felt hot and lush whenever it ran over your core. His lips felt so soft whenever they tugged gently at your already-throbbing nub. You were close. So close. It felt like you were on the edge of the precipice, about to fall. Then he drew away, pressing a soft kiss against the inside of your thigh. 

Sheer instincts drove Oromë now. Still, he fought to control himself, not wanting to go too far or too hard the first time. There would be plenty of time for all of that, he decided, once you had grown more comfortable with him and trusted him more. He moved over you, sighing softly when your legs slid open for him. His lips captured yours in a kiss. It was a distraction to take your mind off of what was to come next. 

You felt him. All of him. He moved slowly, piercing you inch by slow inch. There was pain, yes, and discomfort, but his kisses were so sweet and heady and drugging, that you barely paid attention to either. You tasted the traces of you on his lips and tongue, and fount it to be as sweet as his kiss.  And there was pleasure—a slow-building kind of pleasure that pulled you into a dark tunnel of desire. 

"More," you whispered. More was what you wanted, and more was what he gave you. Oromë moved with gentle, rhythmic thrusts, and soon grew drunk on your sweet moans. On your own urging, he went a little harder, a little faster, moaning deeply whenever he felt your walls tighten around his cock. Nails dug into his flesh again, inciting almost otherworldly growls. He dipped his head and kissed you until you were silent, and he lost himself in your sweet flesh. All he could do was feel the warmth of your skin, the heat of your kisses, and the softness of your thighs, even as they scrambled for purchase against his hips. When your hands brushed and curled around his hair and the tips of your fingers glided over his scalp, he lost all sense of control, pushing you harder against the bed with each thrust. 

"I’m close," he whispered against your neck. "Are you?" 

"Gods yes," was all you could manage, raw and desperate. 

When you raised your hips, Oromë found a new angle that allowed him to go as deep as he could manage. His nails dug into your thigh as he set a torturous pace, his cheeks clenching even as you writhed wildly beneath him. A few more moments were all it took before the world went dark in your eyes and your body splintered while your orgasm ripped through you. You couldn’t think or even breathe. All you could do was feel the heat spreading beneath your skin and the bliss that washed over you. You barely heard it—Oromë spilling his seed with a deep, satisfying grunt. 

A hand brushed over your hair. You open your eyes, slowly taking in the room that came into view and the man that still hovered over you. His chest heaved with each breath he took. His eyes had been filled with what looked like worry. Was he worried he hurt you? Was that why he looked so concerned? A slow, satisfied smile worked its way across your face. You lifted a hand and caressed his cheek.   

"Husband," you whispered softly. "There is no need to worry. You didn’t hurt me." 

"Are you certain?" Oromë asked, even as he trembled upon hearing you call him husband for the first time. 

"You didn’t," you insist, too lazy and content to sit up straight. "This night went better than I anything I could have dreamed." 

Relief brought a wide smile to his lips.

tags: @cilil​ @asianbutnotjapanese​ @edensrose​ @wandererindreams​ @floragardeniahope​ 

[tieflingkisser]

Meta’s new AI council is composed entirely of white men

Women AI leaders remain overlooked in Big Tech

Meta on Wednesday announced the creation of an AI advisory council with only white men on it. What else would we expect? Women and people of color have been speaking out for decades about being ignored and excluded from the world of artificial intelligence despite them being qualified and playing a key role in the evolution of this space.  Meta did not immediately respond to our request to comment about the diversity of the advisory board.  This new advisory board differs from Meta’s actual board of directors and its Oversight Board, which is more diverse in gender and racial representation. Shareholders did not elect this AI board, which also has no fiduciary duty. Meta told Bloomberg that the board would offer “insights and recommendations on technological advancements, innovation, and strategic growth opportunities.” It would meet “periodically.”  It’s telling that the AI advisory council is composed entirely of businesspeople and entrepreneurs, not ethicists or anyone with an academic or deep research background. While one could argue that current and former Stripe, Shopify and Microsoft executives are well positioned to oversee Meta’s AI product roadmap given the immense number of products they’ve brought to market among them, it’s been proven time and time again that AI isn’t like other products. It’s a risky business, and the consequences of getting it wrong can be far-reaching, particularly for marginalized groups.

[...]

Women are far more likely than men to experience the dark side of AI. Sensity AI found in 2019 that 96% of AI deepfake videos online were nonconsensual, sexually explicit videos. Generative AI has become far more prevalent since then, and women are still the targets of this violative behavior.  In one high-profile incident from January, nonconsensual, pornographic deepfakes of Taylor Swift went viral on X, with one of the most widespread posts receiving hundreds of thousands of likes, and 45 million views. Social platforms like X have historically failed at protecting women from these circumstances — but since Taylor Swift is one of the most powerful women in the world, X intervened by banning search terms like “taylor swift ai” and taylor swift deepfake.” But if this happens to you and you’re not a global pop sensation, then you might be out of luck. There are numerous reports of middle school and high school-aged students making explicit deepfakes of their classmates. While this technology has been around for a while, it’s never been easier to access — you don’t have to be technologically savvy to download apps that are specifically advertised to “undress” photos of women or swap their faces onto pornography. In fact, according to reporting by NBC’s Kat Tenbarge, Facebook and Instagram hosted ads for an app called Perky AI, which described itself as a tool to make explicit images. 

[...]

The current development of AI embodies the same existing power structures regarding class, race, gender and Eurocentrism that we see elsewhere, and it seems not enough leaders are addressing it. Instead, they are reinforcing it. Investors, founders and tech leaders are so focused on moving fast and breaking things that they can’t seem to understand that generative AI — the hot AI tech of the moment — could make the problems worse, not better. According to a report from McKinsey, AI could automate roughly half of all jobs that don’t require a four-year degree and pay over $42,000 annually, jobs in which minority workers are overrepresented.