#How To Grow Taller Unnaturally

[sahkuna]

TO YOU SOMEDAY — GOJO SATORU

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

synopsis: time makes the heart grow fonder... you think. from your early childhood years to navigating life as adults, there are key moments that gojo satoru holds near and dear. there are so many things he wants and hopes to say to you, someday. but for now, the memories and things he keeps will suffice.

series content warning(s): afab reader, 18+ so mdni, modern au/canon divergence, childhood friends, frienemies to lovers, slow-ish burn, flashback(s) used a lil to drive plot, fluff & domestic fluff, pining, small angst if you squint sorry, eventual smut/smut → resolved sexual tension, #MMC BEING SO IN 🤍 WITH FMC IT'S PATHETIC (WE ALL CHEERED).

word count: 3k :3 | series masterlist

THEN

You’re about eight years old on the wet, gloomy April morning you first met him. 

His arrival was unexpected, especially considering he entered the school year about two weeks after it had started. 

“Everyone,” your third-grade teacher, Ms. Ayase, stood at the front of the classroom with her hands clasped together. Beside her was a child, a boy, no taller than the middle half of her torso. “Today we have a new student joining our class!”

This news sparked excited whispers and chatter that floated through the rows of desks and chairs in the room. You sat a little taller in your seat, your eyes zeroed in on the new kid who stood motionless beside your teacher. 

Ms. Ayase thumped her palm loudly against the chalkboard— twice, then three times— to regain her class’s attention. Pleased once everyone had fallen silent, she opened her mouth to speak again. “I’d like you all to meet Gojo. Gojo Satoru.”

Young, curious eyes around the room took turns peeking at their new classmate with prolonged stares. Sharp blue eyes matched their curiosity with an uninterested gaze. His little fists jammed tight into his pockets as he stared straight toward the back of the room as if he’d rather be elsewhere.

“I trust that you all will make him feel welcome today and going forward,” Ms. Ayase continued. 

You’d seen most kids cry and buckle under the sudden weight of attention thrown onto them while being introduced to 20-something pairs of eyes staring right back at them. In contrast, other kids basked in the spotlight with glee, quick to spew fun facts about themselves or whatever cool interests they were dying to share with the class.

But this kid? Gojo? 

He didn’t even crack the smallest of smiles. Not even when your fellow classmate and friend, Momo, waved a cheerful hand at him.

For a split second, large, bright blue eyes landed on you and settled there for a fleeting moment before he shifted his attention away.

The harsh, bright light from the class’s luminescent bulbs glinted against the rims of Ms. Ayase’s red rectangular glasses when she glanced down at her new student. “We’re having one of our custodians bring you a new desk, Gojo. So for the time being I’ll have you sit tight right next to…”

Your teacher’s warm brown eyes scanned the room of third graders as many enthusiastic arms shot up in the air paired with piercing “Me!”s and “Choose me!”s chorused all around you.

You felt relieved when you saw everyone throwing their hat into the ring to have Gojo Satoru sit beside them because now you wouldn’t have to worry about making small talk, especially with a boy.

Content with the many options Ms. Ayase now had to choose from, you drifted your attention outside the window toward the school campus courtyard. With all the commotion now drowned out, you took the time to ponder about what games you’d play with your friends during the next recess.

Seconds slipped by with you lost in your thoughts, oblivious to how classmates' antics had stopped and the sudden hush that blanketed the classroom. It was so unnatural and it dawned on you that Ms. Ayase must have already made her choice. So, when you snap your focus back to the front of the room, you’re jolted at the fact that everyone is now looking at you. 

It took a moment for reality to sink in that your teacher had called your name until she repeated it, shaking you from your daze. A few more students turned in their seats and cast mixed looks of envy and surprise.

Out of everyone who had raised their hands, of course, she had to have chosen you to be Gojo’s temporary seatmate. Of. Course.

“Huh?” you squawked in bewilderment, taken aback by her impromptu choice. “Me!?” Suddenly nervous under the scrutiny of your classmates, you shrunk into your seat in a weak attempt to lessen the heat of their stares. 

Judging by the looks of it, he doesn’t look all too thrilled about her decision either. As if he were sizing you up, Gojo gives you a jaded once-over before hauling his navy blue backpack from the floor with a quipped, “Sure.”

Fortunately enough for Ms. Ayase, your desk wasn’t far from the front, so it took her only a minute or so to take an extra chair from the corner of her room and drag it aaall the way over to you. 

Once at your desk, she plopped the chair beside you with a resounding thud. She flapped her hand a few times as if to signal you to scooch over and make some room. So, you did. And not far behind her, Gojo walked over to your desk and dropped into the chair next to you, without sparing you a glance.

Great!

You hadn’t even spoken a word to the boy and he was already giving you the cold shoulder. 

Either oblivious to Gojo’s distant nature or blatantly choosing to overlook it, Ms. Ayase—pleased with her seating arrangements—gave you an approving nod before she walked back to the front of the classroom to begin her lesson.

Amid her teaching, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at Gojo inconspicuously. He was an odd case, and you wanted to take a crack at breaking down his stony exterior. You don’t mind being the first to extend an olive branch to kickstart the beginning of a hopefully new friendship.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper so you wouldn’t disturb the flow of other students who tried to learn. First-day jitters get the best of everyone and you had wanted to give this Gojo Satoru kid a chance to at least be acquainted with you before you start to form your own opinions on him. 

You were doing a good thing. You were being a friend, a great one at that. That’s what any new transfer would want on their first day at a new school, right?

Well...

It came as a shock to you that upon hearing your voice, you caught how Gojo’s gaze slowly shifted from his scattered notes and childish cartoon-like sketches to forcefully land on you as if you were doing him a disservice at trying to be friendly.

The kind smile that had graced your lips before his unrelenting stare now turned sour and awkward. 

His expression wasn’t mean, but it certainly wasn’t friendly either. Just… blank. And the more he stared, surveying you, probably looking down on you and your attempts to befriend him, the more annoyed you became.

Yeah, never mind.

What was his damage?!

Never have you ever met a child so strange.

With your lips twisted into a faint sneer and your brows bunched tightly together, you exhaled a vexed hmph at Gojo’s less-than-pleasant attitude and shot your eyes back to Ms. Ayase— who was now scribbling a bunch of numbers and diagrams onto the blackboard. You even shunt your seat a few spaces away from him to show your disfavour.

You simply concluded that getting to know let alone, befriending Gojo Satoru may not be in the cards for you… ever.

Every day you thanked your lucky stars for the handy dandy custodian, Mr. Taro, who had fast-tracked the delivery of your sworn enemy’s (which was one-sided)  desk within the next few days after his arrival.

You no longer had to worry yourself sick every morning on the walk to school about brushing shoulders and sharing textbooks with your classmate, Gojo Satoru. 

That had been a whole five months ago, though, and you now only had a week left of your summer break before your second semester would begin. Since the very first day you met him, you’ve watched Gojo grow into the role of your class’s star student. 

He was everyone’s first choice for P.E. if there were teams for the games you’d play, and he was invited to everyone’s birthday party. Anyone who managed to prompt a conversation that lasted more than a few minutes with Gojo was determined to be one of the lucky ones. It was a known fact that everyone at school wanted to be his friend.

Well… almost everyone.

Tired of swinging on the swings, you launched yourself off the play set and into a pile of woodchips that cushioned the land onto your feet. The sun crept lower on the horizon, painting the sky with warm oranges and blues. You remembered your mom having told you that you were expected to come home before dinner. 

Your buddy, Momo, had walked home from the neighbourhood park long before you, and seeing that you had nothing else to do, you decided to start your short trek home.

“Time to go,” you said to no one in particular. You walked over to your bag that was thrown haphazardly on one of the picnic tables and swung it over to slink your arms through each strap.

Unbeknownst to you, you must’ve forgotten to zip up your backpack completely earlier, prompting most of your bag’s contents to spill across the pavement.

You grunted in aggravation. “Jeez,” you growled to yourself, as you scooped up the scattered pencils and trading cards you had packed into your hands in a crabby fashion. There must’ve been at least 15 of these cards that you needed to gather.

After spending maybe a good two minutes picking up your things and wiping the dirt off them, right as you reached for your last trading card a huge gust of wind accosted you and blew the cards up and into the air. 

“Hey!” you exclaimed in shock. With great dread and an air of urgency, you shoved the rest of your belongings into your bag and chased after your runaway card.

You yelled and hollered down the sidewalks of your quiet neighbourhood thankful for the most part that it was vacant. God forbid if someone you knew from school saw you running and screaming bloody murder over a damn trading card. “Stop!” 

This was the kind of chase scene you’d seen play out in a children’s TV show with the obnoxious laugh track faintly playing in the back. To say you were mortified at your predicament would be an understatement.

The card having a mind of its own took a sharp turn around a corner, and you not far behind followed it. Unfortunately, unaware that there could be another being behind that very corner, your sharp turn wound you to bump into someone’s back. Hard.

You let out an audible oomph right as you tumbled onto the ground. 

Well, there goes one of your most prized possessions. You knew it was a bad idea to bring your high-ranking cards to the park, but nooo, Momo wanted to see them before her family trip to Hakone before school started.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

You groaned and swiped a frustrated hand against your eyes as that nipping, uncomfortable feeling that you just lost your favourite card. 

Do not cry. You scolded yourself, as you pressed your fist harder against your eyes as the familiar heat of tears began to prick at your waterline. Not over a card. Especially in front of a stranger.

Reminded that you had company, you quickly rose to your feet again and dusted yourself off as if nothing had happened. “Sorry,” you said with your head down.

You sidestepped around the person, ready to make your dejected walk home with now 14 cards in tow.

Things couldn’t have gotten any worse is what you thought until you heard the “stranger” behind you make their presence known.

“You like Digimon?”

Oh God. 

When you turned to see your worst-case scenario personified, there in his hand, was your only Skullgreymon Digimon collector’s edition card in all its glory.

You’re half happy— because your card managed to be saved— and half-mortified— because your card managed to be saved by public enemy number one, Gojo Satoru.

Immediately, you decided to skip the formalities and extended your arm to snatch your card away from your hero-turned-villain. But you’re not quick enough.

“You like Digimon?” Gojo repeated, this time with more volume in his voice. The hand that held your dear Skullgreymon swivelled behind his back to keep it far from your range.

This was the most you’ve heard him speak (to you, that is). You tried not to let the wonderment of this event cloud over the fact that Gojo had something that belonged to you and kept you from taking it. 

“Yes,” you grunted and took one step forward in an attempt to grab your card again to no avail. “I do.”

Gojo blinked at you, his snowy white lashes fluttered with thoughtful consideration. When Gojo isn’t giving you blank stares or expressions that practically screamed he was judging you, you think he could be quite nice. You think.

 “Me too,” he finally said.

“... Okay.” you said, because what else are you supposed to say!?

Gauging that Gojo was in no hurry to give you back Skullgreymon anytime soon, your arm fell limp at your side and you huffed in defeat. 

You expected him to follow his confession with something else, but instead, the two of you stood on the side of the sidewalk in silence. This went on far longer than you would have liked for it to have gone. 

Gojo’s blue eyes bore into your soul with a look of expectation that stretched across his features, as he thumbed the back of your sparkly card behind him.

Your gaze diverted away from him and glanced at the slow start of a darkening sky, which was your indicator that you really needed to get home soon. But you’d be damned if you left without Skullgreymon!

Chancing a glimpse back at Gojo, his face is unreadable and serious in all its intensity. His eyebrows you were so used to seeing in straight impassive lines were now creased tight with confusion and… annoyance?

That’s when it struck you that he was waiting for you to say something!

Oh, so now he wanted you to extend the olive branch? Funny! Hilarious, even! 

No shot.

You snorted and answered his unspoken open invitation and question to play with a curt shake of your head, “Give me back my—”

“I don’t have any training lessons with my tutor tomorrow,” Gojo replied, cutting you off. You watched with horror as he tucked your card into the front pocket of his black khakis. He even tucked his hands into them to intercede any chance of you swiping it back from him. “Bring more of your cards here in the afternoon and I’ll show you some of mine.”

Without even bothering to wait for your response, let alone agreement, Gojo Satoru turned on his heel and walked his merry self home.

And that very next day you waited at the park, just like he had ordered you to do, brewed to the brim with indignation that Gojo managed to swindle you into leaving your house to meet/play/whatever it was that he wanted to see you for… with him.

Arms crossed tightly against your chest as you pressed yourself against the swingset beam, you waited for Gojo to make his arrival. Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait long.

“You’re here.” 

Behind you, you spotted Gojo. Today he wore a different set of khakis, all-too-expensive sneakers that were not park material and… a dark blue Digimon tee. Stowed between his arm and side, he carried a black binder, probably decked out with all his Digimon cards.

Just as he had said.

Oh.

There’s a creeping sensation of guilt that bullies your conscience. Maybe you were a tad bit mean yesterday in not being open to meeting up with Gojo because today it seemed like he wanted to make a fair impression on you. 

Maybe today would be the one shot for you guys to get to know each other better.

Noticing your silence that drawled on for too long, you quickly countered with a clipped, “Of course I am!” You nodded your chin at him. “You stole my card!” 

You thought you spotted a ghost of a smile dancing across his lips, but it disappeared as quickly as you must have imagined it.

Gojo flung his binder—you swallowed the urge to tell him to be careful— and sat on the ground.

When you hadn’t immediately followed his lead, Gojo looked up at you incredulously.  “Aren’t you going to sit?”

So, you do. 

You would have been silly to pass up the rare opportunity of talking to Gojo like a normal human being rather than sworn enemies (once again, one-sided on your part).

From that day onward, there was a miraculous shift in the way you interact with your classmates. The shell of the bratty, blunt, and sometimes abrasive nature of Gojo Satoru you once knew him to have was no more.

After summer break when school was back and in session, when Ms. Ayase revealed the new seating chart for the classroom and you discovered you’d only be a desk away from Gojo, you caught the white tuft of his hair whirl to find across the class before he shot you a thumbs up.

But it didn’t stop there. 

No longer did Gojo roll his eyes when you were picked to be on the same team as him during P.E. Instead, if he were captain for one of the games, much to the class’s (and your) surprise, you were almost always chosen first.

He also intruded on the many recess sessions you’d have to play with your friends to urge you to ditch them and start a match of DCG with him. 

This spurred you to learn that Gojo had a grand fixation and bountiful admiration for Digimon— he was (and still) is a class-A nerd when it comes to all things in the Digimon franchise, more so than you.

Things had changed from where it all started in April of 1997. Gojo had changed, and you’d like to say you had to.

Satoru never wound up giving you that card back. But you no longer seemed to care about that, nor his antics. 

Not anymore.

OKAYYYY SHE (me) FINALLY DELIVERED. thank you for reading until the end! if you liked it, please yell at me about it will yell (/pos) right back <333 I HOPE YOU GUYS WILL STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT PARTS OF THIS MINI-SERIES! as it will come soon :) until then DUECES STINKIES!

*EDIT: you know, i think this will be more so a prologue/chapter "0" rather than it being chapter 1...? this is just the bones of this series. nonetheless eeeee, childhood friends to lover trope on TOP. WHO ELSE CHEERED

[electrozeistyking]

i think you guys might be underestimating how long this fella is? i mean, it’s okay if you struggle with characters like this and i’ll be totally understanding if need to draw them a bit shorter to fit your style. but i am still giving you a proper reference of how long i’m aiming for when i draw this fella.

here’s some additional notes “under the cut” or what have you. they can also contain spoilers, depending on where you are in the game and whether you’ve bumped into this instance (it’s not a major one story wise since you can miss it, but i still feel like i should warn you about that regardless :3).

“rotfrin” is currently at stage three of pourrir disease, as shown in the notes talking about it and its stages. rotfrin is much taller than everyone else in the party at this stage, though they do appear shorter due to being unable to stand straight up most of the time.

on account of being stuck in a time loop, siffrin finds themself fighting pourrir disease for clarity and getting much better at that. unfortunately, he never avoids succumbing to it; he can only hold out against it for as long as he possibly can, though it steadily becomes a even more of an uphill battle as the loops go on.

as siffrin grows stronger, the sickness seems to as well. as they becomes less clumsy and more coordinated, the sickness starts progressing faster and harder. fighting it for clarity becomes easier and easier over time, yet siffrin will always find be overpowered one way or another. unless they loop back to the start, of course.

this reference displays rotfrin during their earliest loops, before they’re able to properly fight against pourrir for clarity or stay lucid for long successfully. they’re unnaturally happy, full of unending love towards their party, and feeling incredibly cold; if odile hadn’t taken action the first few times siffrin reached this stage, he could’ve spread the sickness to the others without realizing it.

seeing as siffrin’s cloak was made to grow with him, it will continue to grow with rotfrin and hide a vast majority of their body. however, as they’re a being capable of movement, their body is never perfectly covered at all times; you’d have to lift their cloak up or take it off them in order to see their body (like in this reference).

strangely enough, siffrin doesn’t progress to any stages of pourrir disease every loop. both he and loop theorize that the sickness doesn’t always have time to progress very far, on account of how short some of the loops can be, but it doesn’t explain any of the other ones where he makes it to the end without it happening.

they only figure it out during later loops.

[l1tw1ck]

Discipline

bottom!ftm dabi x top!masc reader

☆ Word Count: 993 ☆

↳ [REQUEST] | AFAB Language Used

CW: Jealousy, Face Fucking, Cum Swallowing, Pussy Spanking, Rough Sex, Overstimulation, Creampie

He’s doing it again. Getting all close to Shigaraki and acting like he isn't dating you. You're too far away to hear their conversation but with the way Dabi’s rubbing up against Shigaraki, you know they're not discussing anything innocent.

You stomp over to him and look down at the two villains. They both cower in your presence. Shigaraki realizes this is his que to leave and quickly walks out of the room.

“What is your problem? Do you realize that you're in a relationship?” You look at him with an expression he's never seen before. A mix of jealousy and anger. God, he’s so horny right now. “That was my last straw. Kneel.”

He’s equally terrified and interested to find out what you're going to do to him.

“Did you hear me, slut? Get on your fucking knees.”

Dabi falls to his knees. He’s never submitted to you before, it feels unnatural yet extremely arousing. You’re already taller than him but now that he’s kneeling, you're quite literally towering over him. He watches you unbuckle your belt and free your semi-hard cock.

“Open.” You order. He opens his mouth and lets you slide your cock inside. You grip his hair and start fucking his mouth. Dabi holds onto your legs for leverage, tears quickly falling down his cheeks as you treat him the way he’s been acting. Like a slut. He hasn’t cried in years and yet this almost has him sobbing. He can barely breath or focus on his thoughts, it hurts and his throat will definitely be sore after this. “You’re so much better like this..” You mutter. He’s finally quiet now, not acting like a spoiled brat. The only sounds he’s making are gagging noises and you much prefer that. Saliva drips down onto the floor in thick globs, he’s trying hard not to choke. You ram your cock down his throat vigorously, venting your anger out on him. He deserves it for acting the way he does.

“‘M gonna come, and you're gonna fucking swallow it, got it?” Your movements grow sloppy. You hear a muffled noise, assuming it's one of agreement. You shove yourself all the way inside of him and fill his mouth with your spend. Dabi tries his best to swallow all of it. You pull him off of you. Dabi coughs and breathes irregularly, trying to catch his breath. He looks up at you hazily, waiting for your next command.

“Get up.” You order. Dabi quickly gets up, almost falling over as he does so. You grab his arm and drag him to your bedroom. You throw him onto the bed and climb on after him. You quickly remove both of your clothes and spread his legs apart. Dabi expects you to fuck him but you have other plans. You rub his wet cunt almost lovingly before landing a harsh smack, startling Dabi. He lets out a moan, his pussy squeezing around nothing. You spank him repeatedly, abusing his poor, now swollen, pussy and feeling no remorse. His head is rolled back and he can't help but wish for more. Just a few more and he’ll come. But unfortunately for him, you stop.

You turn him around and raise his ass, sinking your thick length into his warmth. It hurts a little more than usual since he’s sore from the spanking but he loves the feeling even more because of that. You don't even give him a second to adjust before fucking him. His moans and wet slapping noises quickly fill the room.

“Sl- slow down~!” He rolls his eyes back. “Too much! ‘S too much~!”

You spank him. “Shut up, brat.” You ignore his whining. “You clearly didn’t care how I felt when you were flirting with Shigaraki so I don't care how you feel now.” You speed up. Dabi grips the sheets, letting out uncontrollable sounds. His throat is sore from before but he can't stop himself from moaning. You’re fucking him so roughly that his brain might just turn to mush. You convert all your anger into energy and use it to fuck the brat out of him. He doesn't even think to complain anymore, he just takes it. He deserves it. This is what he gets for trying to get a rise out of you.

“Shigaraki’s not your boyfriend, I am. Don't ever forget that.” You grip his hair and pull his head up, bringing him close to your face. “Got it? You’re mine.”

Dabi comes at that very moment, aroused by your possessiveness. “Yours~”

You let go of him and grip his waist, fucking him through his orgasm and overwhelming his senses. He sheds a tear for the first time in god knows how long and then he starts to cry. “..Dabi?” You slow down before stopping.

“Nn- no- keep-” He sniffles. “Keep going-”

You turn him onto his back and slide back into him. With his clearance, you fuck him at a slower pace than before and chase your orgasm. “Never thought I’d see you cry.” You cup his cheek. He leans into your touch. “I never even thought you could.”

“‘s…too.. too much..” He whimpers, bringing his hand down to his clit. He rubs it in circles, stimulating himself even more despite how sensitive he is. “so good..”

You smirk, allowing him to continue. “You’re lucky I’m in a better mood now.” You speed up. Dabi grins, his mind fuzzy as you fuck him. The both of you reach your peaks at almost the same time, Dabi’s orgasm comes first and yours follows right after. He moves his hand away and relaxes his body as your movements come to a halt. He looks at you with a goofy smile.

“I want to hear an apology.” You pull out of him and pick him up bridal style.

“‘M sorry~” He replies dreamily. “Won't do it again..”

“Good.” You bring him to the bathroom to get him cleaned up.

[orion-archives]

I made a MegaSound fanchild (Fanspawn? Fanspark? Fansparkling???)

Meet Kaon!

^ Adult Kaon ^

- Megatron was the one who named him (because of course he would be the one to name his offspring Kaon). Soundwave loved the idea.

- No, that visor is not something he can take off, that is his face. His actual face.

- Kaon is obsessed with scavanger birds. His favorite is a big bearded vulture he named 'Steelclaw' that he raised from egg. His obsession with birds probably originates from Soundwave's bond with Laserbeak. Why scavanger birds specifically? That's still a mystery.

(These are bearded vultures, in case you didn't know these amazing birds:)

Small concept of Kaon and Steelclaw

The proportions are off, but I really wanted Steelclaw to be visible on Kaon's hand in this sketch. Because in reality, Steelclaw is like a small parrot to adult Kaon.

- As a sparkling, Kaon was very small and slim, with a very fragile looking frame. But growing up he got stronger, resulting that (combined with other factors), as an adult, Kaon is taller than Megatron, very buff and basically a walking tank.

- His alt mode is a AH-64 Apache helicopter.

- Kaon was born (is that the correct term for transformers? Crafted? Created???) with his voice box damaged, making him completly mute. Therefore, Kaon uses radio signals, music and audio/voice clips to communicate.

Some common sounds Kaon uses and their meaning:

- Disco music/Bird chirping: Very happy, excited.

- Animal hisses/Slammed piano keys: Displeased, annoyed, scared, usually when he doesn't like something.

- Air raid sirens/Strings/Screeches/Recordings of actual cries: Terrified, crying, screaming.

- Static/Mix of corrupted noises: In pain, severely stressed.

- Growls/Engine starting noises: Angry, upset.

- Things Kaon loves:

• Cartoons (Megatron watches MLP with him)

• Scavanger birds (Steelclaw is his main bird, but he also takes care of multiple wild vultures and condors)

• Skulls

• Rubber ducks (he likes the noise)

• Music

• Training

• Soft things (plushies, blankets, fur, feathers)

- Things Kaon hates:

• Medical appointments

• Having to stay in the medbay during long periods of time

• Extremely high-pitched noises

● Very bright lights

• "The dark voice that keeps whispering weird things" (wait, the what now–)

• Zombie/vampire movies (Knockout tried)

- Kaon spends more time with Soundwave for safety reasons, but Megatron tries to be with him as much as possible.

- If Kaon doesn't have a normal face, how does he eats?

...Yeah.

Speaking of that, this brings me to another Kaon fact. Well, a few, unfunny, facts:

- Due to Megatron's past use of dark energon, Kaon was born with tons of health issues or body anomalies. A list of the main health problems and things that Kaon has as a result of having dark energon in his entire frame since creation are:

○ Constant headaches

○ Seizures

○ Chronic pain

○ Having a Terrorcon mouth

○ Unnatural amount of strenght

○ Damaged voice box since birth

○ Hearing voices

○ Nightmares and visions of things he hasn't even knowledge of

- Megatron hates himself because of this, since it was his use of dark energon that caused Kaon being born with medical problems. He suffers a lot everytime Kaon has to stay on the medbay due to another complication, when someone looks at Kaon with disgust or horror when he has to drink energon or just all the nights Kaon has woken up crying because he is scared or in pain for an unexplained reason.

- To end this post on a better note, here's a sparkling Kaon I doodled at 2 in the morning because of insomnia:

He tiny

[galaxysupreme17]

Twilight Intruders

Y/n = your name

AgathaRio x daughter!reader!

The crisp, cool evening air wrapped around Westview as twilight deepened and stars began to blink into the darkening sky. Y/n dragged her suitcase up the porch steps, feeling an odd combination of exhaustion and relief. After weeks of grueling classes and sleepless nights at college, being home was like stepping into a warm embrace.

The familiar scent of lavender and sage greeted her as she opened the door, the gentle hum of Agatha's wards brushing against her magic like a reassuring whisper.

“Finally!” Agatha appeared in the entryway, her face lighting up as she pulled Y/n into a tight hug. “I was starting to think you got lost.”

“I missed you too, Mama,” Y/n teased, sinking into her mother’s embrace.

“You better have missed me and your other mother,” Rio called from the kitchen, the sound of pots clanging punctuating her words. “Because we missed you plenty.”

Y/n smiled, kicking off her shoes and dropping her bag near the door. She went to the kitchen, where Rio stirred something that smelled incredible.

“You know, you’re supposed to relax when you’re home,” Rio said, turning to flash her daughter a warm smile.

“I am relaxing,” Y/n said, stealing a quick taste from the spoon Rio offered. “Mmm. Definitely missed your soup.”

“Good answer,” Rio said, winking before returning to the stove.

Agatha was already on the couch in the living room, legs tucked under her as she sipped tea. She patted the cushion next to her, beckoning Y/n over.

“Come on, tell me everything,” Agatha said as Y/n plopped beside her. “Classes? Roommates? College boys or girls?”

“Don’t get her started,” Rio said from the kitchen.

Y/n laughed, a genuine sound that chased away some of the weariness clinging to her. “It’s been… a lot. But I’m surviving.”

Agatha’s sharp eyes studied her daughter. “You look a little drained, sweetheart. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Y/n said quickly, brushing it off. “Just tired.”

But as the evening wore on, that uneasy feeling Y/n had been carrying for weeks crept back in. It started as a faint prickling sensation along her skin, like static in the air. She tried to shake it off, focusing on the comforting chatter of her mothers, but the feeling only grew stronger.

After dinner, she excused herself, claiming she wanted an early night. Agatha and Rio exchanged glances as she disappeared up the stairs, sensing something was off.

In her room, Y/n tossed her suitcase aside and flopped onto her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She tried to focus on the familiar comfort of her room—the soft glow of her fairy lights, the stack of books on her nightstand—but the unease lingered, clawing at the edges of her mind.

Her dreams that night were dark and restless, filled with strange shadows and whispers. She woke with a start, her heart pounding as her eyes darted around the room.

And then she saw it.

In the corner, a shadow pooled unnaturally, darker than the rest of the room. It writhed and shifted, growing taller and more solid until it became humanoid. Glowing red eyes stared back at her, piercing and predatory.

Y/n froze, her magic flaring instinctively, but she was too drained to do more than form a faint shield around herself. The creature hissed, its jagged fingers stretching toward her.

Before it could reach her, a crackling barrier of violet light exploded around her bed, forcing the creature back with a guttural screech. Agatha stormed into the room, her magic swirling around her like a thunderstorm.

“How dare you enter my home,” she growled, her voice low and dangerous.

The creature turned its glowing eyes to Agatha, hissing intensifying as it lunged at her. Agatha raised her hands, summoning a blast of magic that sent it sprawling back against the wall.

Rio appeared moments later, her own magic flaring in vibrant green as she assessed the situation.

“Agatha, take Y/n and get out of here,” Rio ordered, her voice steady despite the chaos.

“Rio, I can—”

“Go!” Rio barked, her magic already crackling in her hands.

Agatha didn’t argue. She scooped Y/n into her arms, the girl too weak to protest. Y/n’s head lolled against her mother’s shoulder as Agatha carried her down the stairs and into the living room.

“Shh, sweet girl, I’ve got you,” Agatha murmured, laying Y/n on the couch and wrapping her in a soft blanket. She stroked Y/n’s hair gently, her free hand weaving spells to fortify the house’s wards.

Back upstairs, Rio faced the creature head-on. It moved inhumanly, its limbs elongating unnaturally as it lashed out. Rio dodged its attacks, her years of battle experience guiding her movements as she countered with bursts of magic.

“You picked the wrong family to mess with,” she said through gritted teeth, her green energy coiling around her like a shield.

The creature hissed, its form shifting as it tried to evade her attacks. It was fast, but Rio was relentless, her determination unshakable. She chanted an incantation under her breath, her voice steady even as sweat beaded on her forehead.

With a final surge of power, she unleashed a binding spell, wrapping the creature in chains of glowing green energy.

“You don’t belong here,” Rio said, her voice echoing with authority. “Return to the void.”

The creature writhed and screeched as it was dragged into a swirling portal. The room fell silent as the portal closed, leaving only the faint hum of Rio’s magic behind.

Downstairs, Agatha held Y/n close, her heart racing from the encounter. When Rio finally joined them, she looked drained but victorious.

“It’s gone,” Rio said, sinking onto the couch beside them.

Agatha reached out, taking her wife’s hand and squeezing it. “Thank you.”

Rio leaned her head against Agatha’s shoulder, her free arm wrapping around both of them. She softly kissed Y/n’s temple, her voice a gentle murmur. “Are you okay, cariño?”

Y/n stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “You… you saved me.”

“Of course we did,” Agatha said, brushing a strand of hair from Y/n’s face. “Always.”

Rio nodded, her expression fierce but loving. “No one messes with our family.”

Y/n managed a small smile before drifting back to sleep, the exhaustion finally overtaking her.

The three of them stayed like that for the rest of the night, curled up together on the couch. The chaos of the evening faded into the quiet comfort of their bond, and their love was stronger than ever.

[sparkypantaloons]

Earth and Heaven

Bruce must be broken inside - because love is meant to be unbreakable, meant to be unshakeable; the proverbial Superman of all the emotions. True and good and honest.

And honestly... sometimes Bruce doesn't love Jason anymore.

~~

Love has always terrified Bruce.

Emotions have never been easy for him, even before those two shots in the dark leached the colour out of the world, and love was the most overwhelming of them all.

He has love and does love and can love. That he knows for sure. But— and who knows, maybe he's broken inside - he's not sure he has and does and can be doing right. Because love, some love is meant to be unbreakable, meant to be unshakeable; the proverbial Superman of all the emotions. True and good and honest...

And honestly, sometimes Bruce doesn't love Jason anymore.

The thought makes him want to vomit. Makes his chest tight and his lip curl and bile rise in his throat at the thought, because— because what kind of man can think, can even consider, such a thing about his own son? Could even dream of calling himself a father with such a thought in his head?

But it's there. And Gods does Bruce hate himself for it.

It's not that Bruce doesn't want to love him, more than anything he wants to love Jason. He just... doesn't know who he is anymore. Doesn't know how to love him anymore.

Jason, the real— the <i>old</i> Jason, his first Jason; he had been all soft edges and warm smiles. Laughter that could fill a room and tears Bruce would move mountains to stop.

His first Jason had been gentle, wouldn't even kill the spiders that lurked in the corner of his room. He'd been kind and patient and earnest, sweet and silly and shy.

The man who had replaced him was none of those things.

It wasn't like with Dick. Children change as they grow, Bruce is no fool. Dick had grown up too, but who he was at his core was still the same bright, mischievous kid he'd always been.

Bruce struggles to see any of the son he once had in Jason, now.

Part of him hates himself for the comparison. Knows that his and Jason's problems stem partly from Bruce's resistance to see Jason for who he is as an adult. Accept Jason for who he is now. But sometimes, sometimes all Bruce can see is the boy he lost.

The grief of it still gnaws at him. Eats away at what little is left of the man he once was. He still wakes at night in a cool sweat, his chest tight and the dead weight of his boy in his arms.

It's a scab that has never healed. That can never heal, and it doesn't matter that Jason is here and grown and living. Because his very existence picks away at the wound, opens it fresh with every shrewd word or bitter retort. Draws fresh blood from an old hurt with every look, every touch, every breath.

Because who is this man? Who is this man but a cruel reminder of the boy he lost?

Martha Kent had once told him, that parenthood was an endless grief. That every first was a last, too. Their first steps, and your baby is a toddler now. Their first day of school, the toddler becomes a child. Their first crush, their first driving lesson, their first job... the child becomes a man, and who he was is there, but also gone forever.

Except Bruce had never seen Jason's first steps, never met his first crush, never given him his first driving lesson. He'd given him a casket instead. A burial in the rain and a plot overlooking the city. An endless grief beyond what Martha Kent had described.

Jason now, Jason now, was so big. Taller than Bruce could even have dreamed. Broad and strong and fierce. His voice deeper, not just from age but... but something else too. Something darker.

His once blue eyes now an unnatural golden-green, his easy smile always hidden, his body taught with barely concealed rage.

Bruce knew how to make him smile once, knew how to make Jason throw his head back and laugh until he wheezed. Had known how to draw out the tension with a simple touch, a hand through his hair, an arm round his shoulder. He'd known how to fix his hurts, dry his tears, keep him safe...

Jason now doesn't trust Bruce.

And who can blame him? In the list of monumental failures, Bruce's can't get much bigger. And perhaps that's the crux of it, because what right does he have to love someone he has so thoroughly betrayed? What right does he have to even dream of loving the man, the boy he lost became?

His heart is full to bursting with it. Broken and overflowing with every aching ounce of how much he wants to fucking love his son. And it terrifies him, all that love? With no where to go?

But he doesn't love him. Because he doesn't deserve to.

[i-heart-hxh]

Hi. I have this question, how do you see Killua and Gon growing up as they mature? I think Killua will be taller than Gon, but Gon will be a little shorter than him. But in my dreams, they're the same height

Hi!

So, we've seen sort of a "preview" of adult Gon in Gon-san, though I really don't think it's that accurate as far as how he'll actually look as an adult. Gon-san is meant to represent Gon if, essentially, all his stats and potential were artificially maxed out, plus his design is clearly meant to be off-putting and disturbing and look unnatural. However, he did seem fairly tall, and I don't think his height was changed by the situation, as that's not something you can "train" to enhance generally.

With what we know of Gon and Killua's genetics, it seems like Killua would have an edge over Gon when it comes to height. His dad, mom, and Illumi are all quite tall, and of course in canon he's taller than Gon currently by just a bit. Ging, meanwhile, is short. However, some of the Zoldycks are also super short, and half of Gon's genetics are unknown (well, maybe), plus it's not like anime/manga genetics are that consistent or true to reality.

My personal preference is that they end up a similar height--within a few inches of each other. Under those circumstances, I'm not too bothered by which one ends up being taller, honestly--either way is fine with me. I personally see them both growing up to be lean but muscular--which seems to be Togashi's aesthetic preference--with Gon maybe just a tiny bit bulkier (he does weigh more than Killua currently despite being shorter, after all) and Killua more lithe.

Of course, these are just my own personal thoughts and headcanons, anyone is allowed to disagree. I wonder if we'll ever see them older (or even as adults) within the series... It would be interesting to see!

[konigenblobbity]

Im literally down on my knees begging and pleading for hobie with a f!reader spiderwoman whos taller then him and strong as fuck like beefy gal who will pick him up whenever and wherever. Either sfw or nsfw is completely up to you pookie

I NEEEDDDDD THAT MALEWIFE OBLITERATED!!!!! 💥💥💥💥💥🕷🕷🕷🕷🕷

Request: I Like ‘em Big, I Like ‘em Hunky

Hobie Brown x F!Buff!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, minor NSFW, suggestive, reference to blowjob

A/n: ON IT! And yes this idea has made me FERAL!

Every spiderman gains unnatural strength after getting bit, it was just part of the occupation! Hobie always found it fun to display his strength, especially to those who had no idea he was spiderman, brushing off their shocked faces when he lifted up a bench with one hand as if it weighed nothing.

Hobie never felt like he needed to look buff in order to be strong, preferring to keep his rather thin and lanky figure. Often joking with others that he had a ‘sleeper build’.

You were quite the opposite. When he first saw you he had to do a double take, completely ignoring what Pavitr was saying and just letting his eyes take in the spider - sorry, massive brick wall, that was talking to Miguel. The fact that you were the same height as, or maybe even taller than, Miguel made him smirk.

It didn’t take long for Hobie to introduce himself, and it didn’t take long after that for you two to become somewhat of an item.

Hobie’s obsession with you was clear to everyone, even you. Every chance he got he would brag about his ‘beefy baby’ who he swore could move a mountain if she tried. Loving how flustered you’d get at how he’d pile praises onto you without hesitation or shame.

No matter how much you complained about the nickname, he never let it go, often coyly naming off other ones he could call you, “Would you rather I call you my ‘beefcake?’ Or maybe ‘Goliath?’ OH! I’ve got it… my ‘Macho mama’. That’s the one”. Safe to say you let him stick to calling you his ‘beefy baby’, even growing quite attached to the name after a while. Although Hobie was the only one who could call you that. No one else.

When it comes to cuddling, Hobie had always loved to be the big spoon In relationships. But now that he met you, the way you’d pull him against your chest and wrap you big arms around his body made him feel so loved. So protected and safe in your arms, he became addicted to the feeling. Every time he comes home in a bad mood all he wants is to be suffocated in your embrace.

“Hey Hobie, welcome home” you smile over at him but immediately pick up on his slouched shoulders, watching as he sighs and closes the door behind him. Without hesitation you drop whatever you’re doing and walk over to him by the door. “Rough day?” He turns to face you and you can see the exhaustion in his eyes.

He nods his head “yeah… I’m absolutely knackered” his voice lacking it’s usual confident attitude. You give him a sympathetic hum and open your arms “Come here”, beckoning him into your embrace, which he happily accepts. Instantly he closes the gap between you two and nuzzled his head into your chest, wrapping his arms around your torso tightly.

When you wrap your arms around him you can feel him melt against your body. Simply content with standing there with him for a few minutes; gently caressing his back with one arm, placing your chin on his head, occasionally placing a kiss on the top of it, and ensuring your arms tightly envelop him.

After a few more moments you speak “Is it alright if I get back to my work now?” looking down at him but his face is still pressed against your chest. He shakes his head and you chuckle. “Would you rather we cuddle on the couch?” You ask and he nods his head making your heart warm. He pulls his arms off from around your waist, moving to snake them around your neck.

Once they’re secure he lifts his legs and wraps them around your torso, you keep upright and feel him nuzzle his face into your neck. “Alright. Whatever you want baby” you walk over to the couch and lie down, Hobie positioning himself comfortably on top of your body. Like he had so many times before when he wants to feel your warmth soothe him like a weighted blanket.

When it comes to your physical strength, Hobie uses it as an opportunity to play the ‘damsel in distress’ just to have you throw him over your shoulder or pick him up like a bride. “Come on Hobie, let’s get out of here” you’d say opening a portal that leads to his apartment. He just pouted and didn’t stand up from his chair. “But darlin’… my legs hurt really bad. Today’s mission was exhausting”

At his exaggerated whine and complaining you roll your eyes. Tilting you head and looking at him with an amused smile, tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek. “Oh? Stopping that actual lizard sized Lizard anomaly was exhausting?” Clear sarcasm in your voice but he just nods “I think my legs are numb from using them so much” he was unable to hide his small smirk.

Chuckling and shaking your head you walk over to him “Well then aren’t you lucky I’m here?” once you got closer to him, he raises his arms up slightly like a child asking to be picked up “I really am… my hero” he winks. You grab him by his torso and throw him over your shoulder easily. “Shut up” you say and begin to carry him over to the portal. Giving his ass a slight pinch as you stepped through. The way you treated him like a sack of potatoes is genuinely so hot to him.

Not only did he adore your strength, but he also loved how tall you were. The way he could always spot you in the crowd at his concerts, how when he hugs you his head could perfectly nuzzle into your chest, and the way you had to look down at him when talking just had him falling to pieces for you.

At least… he adored your strength and height when he wanted you to display it.

Sometimes he curses himself for being in love with someone nearly twice his size. How you’d tease him for not being able to reach up to some of the cabinets in your kitchen. Even pissing him off by using his head as an armrest when around the others, loving how he’ll get all shy when they point it out to him. Swatting your arm off while grumbling under his breath.

Even though he was physically no match for you, Hobie loved to act all cocky and pretend he was. Over time he found the perfect ways to get under your skin. Loving to push your buttons and act as if he stood a chance against you. “Oh that’s rich Hobie!” Your voice was already irritated and he loved it.

“Nah, you just don’t wanna admit you’re all bark.” he’d remark, absentmindedly fiddling with the strings of his guitar. His eyes would glance up at you and he’d shrug as if it was obvious, his smirk toothy and riling you up even more. “Theres absolutely no bite to ya” and he swears he sees a vein popping out of your neck.

The way you scoffed made him smirk, he could see you roll you shoulders back and he knew he was getting to you. “All bark…” you repeat to yourself in disbelief and then stood up, walking over to him. “I’ll show you bite” the small snarl in your voice told him he got exactly what he wanted.

Even though he was good at hiding his plan he couldn’t help but eagerly put aside the guitar and lick his lips as you approached him. Arms already reaching out for his wrists. Wrestling with you was foolish and you’d always overpower him in mere seconds but he loved the challenge. Wrapping his legs around you and grabbing at your arms as if he could push them off him.

Of course it always ended the same way. He was lying on the bed unmoving as you had his wrists easily pinned with one of your hands. The other on his waist and holding him down. “Alright love, you win” he sounded defeated but pleased; eyes looking up into yours.

His gaze had a glint of amusement in it because in a way he had won, getting what he wanted. However, it slowly melted away… as he realized why he loved seeing you on top of him like this. The way you were looking down at him with a victorious smirk, attitude prideful and smug. It made his blood rush. Both to his cheeks and straight down to his cock.

Slowly crimson covered his cheeks and his grin fell, replaced by a slight pout. Gaze shifting to both adoration and slight embarrassment. It made you grin wider. He had to look away; if he looked at you one moment longer he’d lose any semblance of his cool demeanor and would be like putty in your hands.

You chuckle softly and he swears his heart doubled in size. “Of course I do. I always win Hobie” but you don’t move off of him. You shake your head “I don’t understand why you always challenge me Hobie… you know you don’t stand a chance” In your mind he was just naive and got embarrassed whenever you overpowered him, continuing to challenge you to try and beat you.

How wrong you were… Hobie knew he could never beat you in wrestling. He knew that it wouldn’t even be 10 seconds before his hands were trapped and he couldn’t move. However something about that fact had his whole stomach in a twist, the way you would display your strength with such pride made it so worth it to lose every time.

When he did glance up at you and saw the light of the sun shining behind you, as if it was creating a halo around you. His cock pressed harder against the fabric of his jeans, unable to contain a whine at the feeling. It didn’t take long for you to feel his bulge pressed against your inner thigh, chuckling at how easily worked up he got simply from your strength.

“Oh my Hobie. I’m starting to think you like feeling small…” you lean down and kiss at his neck making his body tense slightly. He didn’t deny it… he didn’t even speak, only letting out a soft hum of satisfaction. “That you like how I can make you bend to my will…“ your kisses lead down his collar and sternum.

“Have you at my mercy in mere seconds” you continue to taunt, kisses moving down his abdomen. You let go of his wrists but he didn’t move them from their place. Your hands slowly tracing up his stomach, lifting his shirt to reveal his skin. “You could have just asked me to take control… now I’ll have no choice but to display just how much power I have over you” your fingers slip under the waistband of his jeans.

You could sense how impatient he already was, and at your words his brows furrowed and he chuckle uncomfortably. He looked down, expression desperate and slightly regretful. “W-wait nah love come on. don’t tease me” he spoke softly, his breath shaky as you began to palm him through his jeans. “Please don’t tease me”

You tilt your head, feigning a sympathetic glance “Awww, it’s too late now Hobie” a grin on your face chuckling slightly as you watch him huff out in disappointment. Your tone of voice told him all he needed to know… you already made your mind up. Tonight he would be completely at your mercy.

Nights like these had him at his weakest and most pathetic. When you took control you would tease him endlessly, ignoring his pleads and begs for more, or less, or whatever he was trying to ramble out. You’d suck him off till his cock was swollen, head dizzy, eyes watering, and his stomach was decorated with the evidence of multiple orgasms. Never once swallowing it like he pleaded you to.

He couldn’t fight off your hands as you held his hips still against the mattress. His grip on your hair not strong enough to pull your lips off him. Only able to writhe and squirm beneath you, moaning and whining restlessly as his eyes rolled back. Barely able to process your words of teasing and praise as you made him cum again.

Although he loved when you dominated him, being completely helpless. Sometimes he couldn’t fight back the desire to pound you into the mattress or over the nearest surface. Lucky for him, if he asked nicely, you’d be more than happy to pretend you were delicate and under his full control. Acting as if you couldn’t throw him across the room with a single arm.

In the end though you had him wrapped around your finger, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He loved his tall beefy girlfriend. How you could and would crush anyone in your path just for him.

[alifeasvivid]

Sticky Sweet, unconventional omegaverse ukus based on a prompt, Explicit

This is the prompt. This was a commission from @unhetalia ^-^

Rating: Explicit Warnings: omegaverse, "bitching", canonverse with human names, mild alcohol intoxication, Arthur being problematic af as usual Summary: Arthur muses about what might have been if Alfred had turned out to be an omega. Instead, he is an alpha. As an alpha himself, Arthur struggles with his feelings toward his former charge. Though the struggle isn't great enough to stop them from having semi-intoxicated sex on the couch... but something is different when they wake up. Word count: ~2100 ------

It’s unnatural.

A perversion of the order of things.

It’s incredibly rare for humans and unheard of for a nation.

And yet…

After Alfred’s annual extravagant birthday party, everyone has gone and Arthur is trying to drown his memories of his original birthday celebrations with Alfred with any leftover booze he can get his hands on: memories so old filled with sweet breads and candies rather than massive cakes and fireworks, memories of wooden toys he carved by hand for the sweet, precocious boy who always welcomed him with open arms and a smile like the morning sun.

An ache twists in Arthur’s chest, as he watches Alfred try to clean up here and there, only to get dizzy and down any half-empty drink he stumbles across before attempting to throw the cup or bottle in his trash bag. He sometimes doesn’t miss.

Alfred is very much the quintessential alpha: strong and taller than Arthur ever thought he would be, with broad shoulders, though his face is still lovely and boyish. There had been a brief moment, not so long ago as it feels now, just before Alfred’s type revealed itself, when everyone had still thought he would surely be an omega, that Arthur had entertained cherished thoughts of mating him.

Those dreams were shattered when Arthur returned one day, certain he’d walk into the scent of sweet oranges or perhaps heady magnolia lingering on his beautiful colony, but instead finding the musky, salt-sweat scent of a young alpha. Their relationship would never be the same. How could it be? As an alpha, Alfred would surely demand his freedom and he did so. Arthur could hardly withhold it from him and he did not.

Alfred drops his mostly empty trash bag next to his feet and snatches Arthur’s drink from his hand, tossing it back and wincing from the burn. He then suddenly grabs Arthur’s face, fingers clawing into his hair, while he tries to kiss him but ends up mostly just biting Arthur’s lips, it feels very right.

Not entirely returned from old fantasies, Arthur responds with an instinctive growl and fists his hands into Alfred’s shirt, ignoring the sound of tearing fabric and kiss-bites Alfred back, moving to nip and tug at his earlobe.

It should feel wrong and yet…

It’s effortless… except for all of the manic effort they both put into attempting to devour each other… but the impulse comes from some place sure and deep and Arthur sees no reason to question it.

They barely even make it inside. The sliding door remains completely open, letting in the oppressively hot and humid air.

Alfred pushes Arthur against the wall using that absurd strength of his and then drops instantly to his knees. Shouldn’t that strength have been a sign, so long ago? Arthur’s hands slide into Alfred’s hair as he nuzzles the crotch of Arthur’s tight denims, fingers fumbling with the button and zipper. If the perfume from the magnolia trees outside was strong enough to mask Alfred’s scent, Arthur might have been able to lose himself in a very old dream, but it is not so. None of that stops Alfred’s mouth from feeling absolutely incredible once he engulfs Arthur’s cock with it.

“Fuck yes,” Arthur hisses through his teeth as Alfred takes almost all of him down his throat. His knot is growing even with no omega around. It seems the thought of what Alfred might have been is enough.

Alfred clasps Arthur’s hips and bobs his head up and down, moaning and purring through it as if it feels better to him than it does to Arthur.

Arthur reaches down to Alfred’s chin, tilting his head upward so Arthur can see those gorgeous eyes. His knees almost buckle when Alfred doesn’t stop for even a second. “It’s—ahhh, yes—your birthday, is it not? Isn’t someone meant to be doing this for you?” Arthur would happily volunteer, but it’s impossible to think straight when Alfred’s mouth is hotter and more perfect than the best omega Arthur can remember bedding. Oh why couldn’t his dear boy have been made the type he ought to have been?

Alfred releases Arthur with a lewd pop, saliva and pre-cum trailing from his bottom lip. He spits on Arthur’s cock and pumps it with his hand, kissing and nuzzling the tip. “Like giving more ’n receiving, to be honest.”

A sick jealousy burns in the back of Arthur’s throat as he wants to demand to know who Alfred has done this for previously. Instead, he shoves his cock down the lad’s throat once more and doesn’t hold back as he fucks Alfred’s mouth. His fingers clench in Alfred’s hair, yet Alfred doesn’t cry or try to push him away. He clings onto Arthur’s hips and opens his mouth as wide as he can.

Very submissive for an alpha. That only makes it more maddening that Alfred didn’t grow up to be what he was clearly meant to be.

Arthur could continue for quite some time, until Alfred’s jaw became unbearable sore, but it is the lad’s birthday after all. “What do you like then?” he asks, slowing down to let Alfred suck him as he pleases.

In the dim light of his own living room, Alfred blushes. “Dunno,” he mumbles. “Other than oral, I’ve never done anything with anyone else.”

He is immediately redeemed, at least partly, in Arthur’s mind; though Arthur recognizes the double standard. He justifies it by being so much older than Alfred. He pushes Alfred back onto the sturdy, old oak table in the dining room adjacent to the living room and yanks down Alfred’s trousers and pants without ceremony, without even bothering with the button or zipper. As with the rest of his body being the epitome of alpha ideal, Alfred’s penis is also suitably ideal, large and thick, though his knot, unlike Arthur’s, is hardly showing at all.

Alfred’s hips buck as Arthur sucks the head of his cock into his mouth, teasing just the tip with his tongue. He pumps the rest with his fist and now, Alfred’s knot does begin to swell. He doesn’t taste as good as an omega, of course.

Arthur isn’t as bothered by that as he thought he’d be. He does love Alfred so much—is so much in love with him—that it overrules his instincts.

Alfred cries out, begs Arthur to stop, then begs him for more. Rather than grip Arthur’s hair, his arms stretch out to grip the sides of the table and it’s a good thing too because the wood splinters and cracks under Alfred’s supernatural strength. “Arthur— oh fuck! I’m gonna— oh~” He then chokes on a sob as Arthur releases him.

“Not yet, you’re not, love,” he chides with slight smirk. He climbs up on the table, over Alfred, and kisses him deeply. He grinds their cocks together and groans; his instincts have his brain clamoring for someone—an omega—to bury his knot in, but there is only Alfred. There has only been Alfred for so long now.

Alfred whines and fidgets, clearly bothered by the hard surface of the table against his spine. “Is it… is it weird if I say that I want you to fuck me?”

Arthur growls, a sound he rarely makes unless in rut, “No, pet. It’s perfectly lovely.”

“You want to, right?” His face is so sweet in that moment, so pure and innocent, his voice completely earnest while asking such a thing.

Arthur gets up off the table and pulls Alfred up with him. He mouths and bites along Alfred’s neck, dying to leave a mating mark even if it would do no good. “Yes, Alfred.” Noticing that Alfred might be just a bit more drunk than he himself is, Arthur guides him to the couch.

Alfred obediently kneels low on the cushions, bending and bracing against the back of the couch. He yelps when Arthur tugs his thighs apart, lowering him to just the right height to meet Arthur’s hips. Arthur presses against him, presses his knot right between Alfred’s cheeks and reaches his hand up to slide a few of his fingers into Alfred’s mouth. Alfred moans lewdly as he sucks on them, with just as much and Arthur moans in turn as Alfred’s tongue massages the sensitive pads of his fingers.

Arthur’s knot continues to swell, but he is determined to make Alfred take it. Withdrawing his fingers from Alfred’s mouth, he wastes no time in pressing them against Alfred’s entrance.

“It’s too bad there’s no slick, huh?” Alfred asks, his face buried decisively in the back rest cushions of the couch.

Arthur slips one finger inside him so smoothly that all Alfred can do is gasp. “No to worry, love, we’ll make do.”

Alfred sighs and whimpers as Arthur works him open. “I know… I know everyone thought I would be an omega. You wanted it, right?” he asks, then without waiting for an answer, says so quietly, “I kinda wanted it too.”

Arthur says nothing, just stretches Alfred open until he can no longer ignore the needs of his own body; then he plunges deep inside Alfred, forcing himself in all the way to his knot. He grips Alfred’s hips, digging his fingers in hard enough to bruise and lets instinct take over. He fucks Alfred hard and fast, as feral as he feels. It’s so good. So right. This is what should have been. “Yes, oh fuck, my darling boy, yes, god you feel so good around my knot.”

Alfred sobs, fully lost in pleasure, his hands fisting in the fabric of the cushion.

“You were supposed—supposed to be mine,” Arthur says, each syllable punctuated by a snap of his hips. “My beautiful, sweet boy. I wanted to mate you.”

Alfred reaches down and strokes himself; the alcohol is making it difficult for him to get fully hard, but he doesn’t care. Lots of male omegas stay very soft, even in when in heat. “I wanted that too,” he cries, reveling in the incredible stretch of Arthur’s knot, the length and thickness of his cock. “God, I’m so full, Arthur—yes, fuck yes!” he cries out as he orgasms.

Arthur grips him even tighter, buries himself to the hilt as he pumps Alfred full of his seed. “Yes, fuck, my pretty little bitch.” Out of pure, desperate need, he sinks his teeth into Alfred’s shoulder at the exact place a mating mark would be and doesn’t release until well after he tastes blood.

—

When Arthur wakes up, he and Alfred are tangled haphazardly on the couch. He inhales deeply, something sweet, and nuzzles his nose against Alfred’s damp skin. The smell is actually stronger. It is so sweet that it doesn’t seem natural, but Arthur cannot help but be drawn to it. It is sticky like some kind of syrup, but light and pleasant—as if a food or candy that smelled like it would give him a headache, but from Alfred’s skin, it is wonderful.

Arthur examines Alfred’s neck as best he can. He would have expected Alfred to be fully healed after a few hours of rest… and it’s clear that he’s no longer bleeding, but the mark remains—the dark outline of Arthur’s teeth. How could it be? Alfred is an alpha and a nation, it should have healed perfectly like any other injury.

Somehow, Arthur realizes, he has made Alfred his mate. Perplexed though he is, he can’t help but be pleased. He vaguely recalls hearing about a rare phenomenon where two alphas fall in love and one mates the other, thereby turning them into an omega—an omega that will respond to only the alpha that mated them.

Alfred stirs in his arms and blinks up at him, blue eyes adoring him. “Arthur… I feel weird. Good. But weird.” He reaches down between his legs and his eyes go wide as he brings up his fingers: now covered in slick.

On pure impulse, Arthur grabs him and licks them clean, eyelids fluttering as he tastes his omega for the first time. “You’re my bitch now, love. I mated you and—”

“But we’re both alphas!” Alfred says, still pressing as close to Arthur as possible.

“We were both alphas. You’re my omega now, only mine.” He cuddles Alfred close, breathing in his scent. “It’s almost unheard of, but here we are. Are you upset?”

Alfred slowly shakes his head. “No… no I don’t think so. I feel good. I feel so good, like I’m still full of you. I like it. Do I smell good?”

Arthur breathes in and exhales slowly. “You smell amazing,” he says. It’s like he’s finally meeting the real Alfred and nothing could be sweeter than that.

[lets-try-some-writing]

I love the Unicron "I guess I'm a Sire now" au, like I adore it. But also I vibe the au "humans are other and terrifying, borderline uncanny valley to bots " line of thought......sooooooo, hear me out:

Unicorn sees his offspring: they are very tiny and deceptively weak (at least in comparison to his brother creations), so he decides to meddle and gives us a boon, he changes us....a bit. Maybe he starts with the little ones (to him we are little ones) that are closest to the conflict: the tfp kids + associated humans, and giving it a test trial before moving to humanity as a whole

They still look as humanly possible, but its obvious that they are very other to an external expectator (even to other humans). But one thing is for sure, he made them into predators using human skin...

He builds them stronger, faster and more cunning than ever before, with superior senses. More resilient to the trials of time and less prone to injury or disease (giving his children immortality is anathema to him; chaos brings the possibility of change, which is inherent to them as much it is to him). He re-makes them with a general idea, but gives them a singular extra gift, to make them unique between each other, and as proof of his care snd devotion, but not su much as to isolate them from each other...

If ever asked, he will deny the possibility of partaking in favouritism like his brother. And yet, its a fact that he holds his most favored very close to his core (aka: the tfp kids, much to Papa Op infinite dismay). His children have faced dangers beyond the capabilities, and still, they have percevered despite all odds being against them, and he couldn't be any prouder (he knows that his kids will bring down empires if given the chance, well...HE WILL GIVE IT TO THEM)

In simpler words: I want the kids to become wholly other cause of Father Unicorn meddling, their reactions (and the bots + cons reactions)

This idea is FANTASTIC! I'm mad at myself for not writing for it sooner! Dang. Well I will try to make up for it with my work! Let's see how this turns out. I've always been a bit fan of cosmic horror and uncanny valley type situations. They are fun to write about.

Previous part here.

Not Quite Human Anymore

It was not his wish originally to change his creations. They had adapted and evolved just fine on their own without his interference. However now that Primus's children were involved, things were different. The playing field needed to be evened once Primus's children inevitably failed to protect his in a moment of hesitation or a lapse of judgement. Unicron refused to watch his children perish to forced that were unnatural to their world. They were HIS creations, and they would die in a manner he saw fit, not as victims to Primus's creations ridiculous war.

Thus while he used his avatar to keep an eye on the children who were most affected by Primus's creations, Unicron began to think and plan. He observed Primus's creations, he saw what they gained and what they lacked. He saw their mentalities and watched how they behaved. Then he observed his own children, watching how they preferred to act and what would suit them best.

It took months of careful planning, he couldn't risk hurting his little ones after all. However once he had come up with a plan he liked, he looked to his three most affected children and decided to use them to test his newest alteration. He had never done this to any of his creations, so they would be the first. If all went well, they would be leaps and bounds ahead of the rest of humanity, his little heralds. But if things went south, they would have Primus's creations to guard them, especially the Prime that seemed to taken with them.

Thus very quietly, Unicron began to act. He twisted the essence of the children, molding their flesh, their senses, and their minds to better endure the presence of Primus's eternal creations. It was a slow process, one that had the children growing taller rapidly. The team and the adult humans wrote it off as growth spurts kicking in... right up until they just kept growing. Jack reached a startling eight feet and didn't even seem to be suffering for it. Miko stopped at around seven feet, and Rafael at six. They towered over their peers and didn't even end up being disproportionate in any way.

They were taken to doctors and had Ratchet look over them when they began to start developing other adjustments. Their teeth sharpened, their eyes restructured entirely to be able to see in almost any light condition, and their sensory capabilities skyrocketed to the point of being on par with the bots. Their skin evidently became tougher, not invincible and still very capable of bruising but far less likely to tear. Their immune systems shot up in ability, warding off any and all diseases that weren't severe and lessening the pains of those that were meant to kill. They became faster, able to jump farther, last longer, and more importantly, their reaction times became increadible.

Overall they looked largely the same, if not for the fact that they were now the size of smaller minicons. The only other noticeable difference in them beyond their leap in capability was Rafael's new agility to sense fields, Miko's near total resistance to climate changes besides the worst of temperatures, and Jack's ability to handle pressure changes and hold his breath without fainting or being crushed. The children were rightly panicked, June and Fowler especially so. For the children's safety and to keep the government off them, they were kept with the bots until Ratchet could figure things out.

The team were startled and confused more than anything else when it came to the children, especially as their abilities became more obvious after their run in's with the Cons. Optimus nearly had a spark attack when Jack ended up flying high into the air after grabbing ahold of Laserbeak during battle and being carried off. He was retrieved but Optimus was expecting to find a corpse with how fast and how high the cassette had gone. Instead he found Jack right as rain clinging to Laserbeak's back as the cassette landed on the ground again. He nearly had a similar breakdown when Miko went through a groundbridge without them knowing that led straight to the Arctic. He once again expected to find a body, instead finding Miko rather unconcerned sitting in the snow building an igloo. As for Rafael? He didn't panic when the boy began asking why he was sad even when he was masking it, no instead he focused on helping Rafael figure out his gift if only so that it didn't overwhelm him.

The children startled Optimus, but he loved them all the same even if he had a vague inkling as to what was happening to them.

Ratchet straight up thought they were creepy. He still cared for the children and often found himself staring and running tests, but they worried him. He grew especially more concerned when after the children seemed to settle into their abilities, reports from around the globe began turning up pointing towards humans everywhere gaining a few extra inches and having an increase in strength, skill, and will.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack worried for the children but found their changes more relieving than anything else. Now the kids would be safer and less likely to die from random things that even their sparklings could endure. They found it especially fun to start chucking small lob balls (softly) at the children only to watch Jack or Miko catch it and toss it back. Bumblebee was also relieved, if a tad worried, but mainly took the changes in stride. He had a grand old time setting the children on his shoulders and not having to worry about them as much. Arcee was concerned and took little joy in the changes with how distressed they made the children in the beginning. Most of her time went toward trying to help them adapt while Ratchet tried to figure everything out.

The Decepticons didn't know all the details, but when the children did turn up on the battlefield, they found the vermin harder and harder to kill. A blaster shot just wasn't enough anymore, especially with that squirrel targeting them as well. Of course they grew more and more concerned about the whole thing when they too began noticing the reports of humanity changing into something... other. It reeked of divine influence and they began watching the children more closely to see if they could figure it out.

Unicron for his part simply began his work in relative silence. To ease the transition he sang to his children, every last one of them. During dreams he gave them visions of what they could do with their newfound frames. When they grew fearful he would hum softly to them in their minds through the bonds he forged through his touch. The humans didn't even know it was him, nor did they "hear" his song. But their souls knew him for what he was, their maker.

He tried not to play favorites, but he adored his three heralds. They were gifted, special, and so very unique. Not only that, but they had Optimus wrapped around their fingers. He adored them, and as he watched them grow and learn, he could see their ambitions and their drive. He would give them to the world.

Thus in dreams he sang to them. He showed them all they could be. And just to spite Optimus because he knew the Prime knew he was the one behind the changes, he became more bold with his usage of power around them, showing them marvels and warping the world to his desire.

[akutasoda]

May I ask for chuuya x pm moon (oc of mine ,info on my blog) please

a moon's tale

synopsis - he's known you for ages and maybe you two are quite similar

includes - chuuya ft dazai

warnings - fem!oc - belongs to @myluckymoon, fluff, slight angst, wc - 603

a/n: i cannot apologise enough for how long this took! im so sorry!

↪when chuuya was first coaxed into the mafia by dazai he didn't really expect much, nor did he expect to take an interest in you. he had seen you very briefly around dazai whether on a mission or not and when he enquired to dazai about you he was met with a silence.

↪he didn't understand why but dazai made it very clear he wasn't giving up any information about you despite chuuya's growing curiosity about you. his curiosity would peak when he noticed how your eyes' would change on their own accord or how sometimes he watched dazai have to nullify your 'ability'.

↪fortunately for chuuya, he managed to pry for some information and found very vague reports about your ability and more interestingly - your humanity. he only hoped now that dazai would be less annoying about shooing you away from him.

↪chuuya didn't understand how you saw something in dazai, especially when he had left you in such a state. he knew dazai could be selfish and he was proven correct when he obviously left without a single regard for anyone else - a small part of him could see why he'd leave so suddenly but he could think more reasonably after he comforted you.

↪maybe it was a cruel blessing. chuuya had found you to be very similar to him, you both had become unfortunate victims in a cruel experiment and that made the bond you forged all the more personal. you two had a deeper understanding of the others situation, from past to 'ability' and that made your relationship all the more personal.

↪he had arahabaki, you had doomsday and a small part of him wished that he could come to an understanding with his 'guest' like you had done. however he was proud of you that you had found a common ground to establish that bond with an unnatural part of yourself.

↪you two had practically stuck by eachothers side ever since dazai left - both of you reaching a well respected executive position in the mafia. he thought that you were definitely one of the better executives when it came to managing subordinates, not every executive treated their subordinates with the respect you did.

↪he also looked forward to seeing you at the end of the day. you're normally reserved persona melted into someone who was more playful and friendly and it was a side that was reserved for people like chuuya. he couldn't wish for a better night than the two of you sharing a bottle of wine and forgetting about the stresses of the day.

↪sometimes it did look a bit comical when you two stood next to eachother. you were quite the bit taller than him and so if you ever teased him about that he would happily retort back.

↪he didn't mind your ability per se, maybe he'd like it more if it wasn't such a painful reminder of your history but he was happy you had come to peace with the inhuman being that was your ability. chuuya also knew that you and 'doomsday' liked to talk to each other and he knew nobody could hear the two of you, but sometimes he got a bit skeptical that 'doomsday' wasn't talking about him.

↪he also understood that the regeneration part meant you had to sleep for quite the while, especially if it was a rather fatal injury. so chuuya never minded watching over you while you slept as he knew that it could be someone's most exposed state - maybe if it had been a very rough day, he'd join you.

[flawseer]

WoF Reference guide - #02: Nautilus, Webs, Riptide

Another one of these headcanon visual references I've made for myself. I guess this one is the "Talons of Peace Seawings edition".

With this one and the last entry taken together, there are now two father-son pairs between them. One of my sub-goals with this was to examine and identify traits that would plausibly be passed down from parents to their children. We'll see how that goes.

Build is average, neither particularly fat nor muscular. Size is average too, but he has a tendency to stand very straight and rigid to make himself look taller than he is.

Proportionally large head; small, exceptionally dry nose; high cheek bones; pronounced Adam's apple; stubbly barbs growing out the back of the jaw.

Eyes and general resting expression have an air of self-importance and aloofness to them.

Horns curve upwards and are somewhat smooth, but not perfectly so.

Luminous areas on face and body form an intricate pattern of interlocking and crisscrossing black spirals that turn a bright neon green when lighting up.

Dorsal fringe made of leaf-like sections shaped like curly waves, with large gaps in between sections; ventral fringe is small and wispy.

Build is slender, bordering on gangly; tends to slouch, bad overall posture, makes him look small despite his size being slightly above average.

Head is somewhat elongated with bottle-shaped nose, similar to sea horse or dolphin; cheeks are sunken in.

Sad, tired-looking eyes, heavy eyelids; not particularly emotive. Slightly near-sighted.

Forehead fins are orderly and uniform in size and thickness, but with many splits and blemishes.

Horns extend straight backwards, smooth, little hooks at the end.

Luminous patches on face, limbs, and back are blotty and uneven with no clearly defined shape or size; ventral patches are narrow and slitted, shaped like rice grains.

Ventral and dorsal fringes wavy and all in one piece, reminiscent of sea foam.

Has a small luminous birthmark between two claws of his left front talon.

Frame is rather tall and well-built, muscular, fit.

Head shape angular with bottle-shaped nasal ridge, pronounced jaw and chin.

Eyes are open and friendly, but unnaturally dark for a Seawing. Tends to look serious and dutiful.

Forehead fins sweep forward, shaped in a way reminiscent of a wave about to crash onto the beach; texture is very rough with many splits and blemishes.

Horns curve backwards, texture smooth but shape somewhat twisty and gnarled.

Luminous patches on face, limbs, and back are blotty and uneven, fragmented in small clusters like freckles; ventral patches small, shaped like pomegranate seeds.

Ventral and dorsal fringes upright and protruding evenly, all in one piece.

Not quite sure who to do next yet. Maybe Gill, Coral, and Tempest.

[captain-mj]

For horror night!

Graves is exploring the forest near base during the full moon. It's bright enough he didn't really thing anything of it when he gets attacked by werewolf Price :)

Delicious. Also, consent do be dubious but I can assure you, all parties are consenting.

Graves had just been exploring the nearby area. Ever since he had been put on… probation he’d call it, he had been stuck on base. It made sense he couldn’t go on missions or leave unsupervised but he wasn’t even allowed outside without someone there. If he really wanted to escape, he would’ve done so!

Tonight, the moon looked lovely. It painted everything in a silver lighting that he liked. He slowly walked out into the grass. After a moment, he slipped off his shoes to feel the earth against his skin. Growing up Southern, he was rather used to being barefoot and while he didn’t exactly indulge the thought often, it felt nostalgic, holding his boots and walking through the cold grass.

Graves got to the tree line and noticed how dense the woods felt. Not just because of the thickness of the trees but the underbrush that surrounded each tree. He could barely take a step without something dragging at his pants. Brambles and parts of thicket and even some grass that had gotten longer where humans didn’t seek to control it.

Felt like home.

Graves heard something. Branches snapping. Immediately he started to look around, hoping to maybe catch a deer or fox. Too loud to be a rabbit.

Something peered at him. Eyes glowing in the dark. It was low to the ground so Graves tried to remember local wildlife. Too short to be a badger. Too talk to be a bunny. The eyes were huge and reflected the light easily.

It stood up.

Graves watched it raise up, thinking maybe it had been crouching.

But it kept standing up.

It went from only a foot off the ground to taller than him.

Graves knew when to run. He had only made it a few steps in to the woods. The treeline was still in sight. It should’ve been Fucking easy.

One of the brambles that tugged him earlier wrapped around his ankle and he hit the ground harder. The thing shoved his face in the ground with its giant hand.

Hand?

What?

Graves tried to get a good look but there was too much weight on him. The hand pressed him down hard, bordering on painful now.

He tried to elbow it and it growled so loud his ears began to ring.

Another hand balances in front of him and that’s when he sees it. Price has scarring on his hand. Its a funny shape. Rather unique. Someone had stabbed him in it. Twice. At separate times. It made an x that crossed his palm.

The monster’s hand has the x. It felt like Graves’s world started to slow down a rolling stop.

His harsh breathing echoed the monster on top of him. After a moment, he realized it was copying his pattern of breathing. Ever inhale matched.

More and more weight was put on him until he felt like he was being crushed. Graves started to claw at the ground to get away when finally, finally, the hand shoving him cheek first in the dirt Let go. He raised up a little and tried to escape and wiggle away.

A tongue ran up the bare skin on his neck as if to taste him. A growl resonated from it and then Graves found himself lifted up slightly and flipped on his back.

Price.

It really was Price.

Graves could tell by his eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes. His eyes had to adjust to the dark and what he was seeing. Soft dark hair that curled around giant ears. He still had the body of Price. Maybe a bit bigger. Unnatural. His body seemed to bend and twist in a way that didn't quite make sense as if the tendons were wrong.

"John?" Graves said gently, reaching for him. His clothes hung off in tatters, letting him see all of the tattoos that dotted Price's body. His chest and stomach didn't have much fur, letting Graves gently touch his skin.

Price sank his teeth into his shoulder, hard enough for blood to start flowing. Graves immediately started to fight back, but even with all of his training, he hadn't really learned how to fight off... whatever this was. He kicked his feet, trying to find purchase on the ground.

Why did he leave base? He grew up in the South. He knew all about the things that could lurk in the woods. Should've waited.

"John please." He hit at his shoulders while feeling the teeth sink in deeper. Adrenaline kept the pain from really hitting him, but it was still there. Bubbling under the surface. "You don't really wanna kill me do you?" Could he even understand him?

Price pulled away, blood dripping from his face onto Graves's. His tongue flicked out to get the blood off his face before leaned down and licked it off Graves as well. For some reason, the word tender came to mind.

Then they were kissing. Price's blood covered tongue lapping into his mouth. Graves slowly stopped struggling, hands instead running down the smooth planes of his back before tugging the fur slightly. It came out in clumps in his hand and he quickly decided not to do that.

Price's teeth fit perfectly around his throat as he ripped Graves's pants off. Graves considered for a moment if he should. Would Price be upset in the morning? He couldn't possibly blame Graves for not fighting him off but what if he felt guilty? Price couldn't be in his right mind right now.

A harsh bite to his side dragged him back to the present. Only one way to find out.

Price pawed at him. His hands were normally big, but now they made Graves feel small. Wrapping around his waist with ease. Price nuzzled against his stomach for moving to his thighs, moving down.

Graves considered running for just a moment before Price's sharp claws dug into him. Maybe not. His hot breath fanned against his thighs and Graves blushed more.

Price's fingers were thick and tipped with claws. However, he was so careful as he fingered him. Graves was just happy he was of sound enough mind to think about that. His tongue poked at him and Graves squirmed before quickly being pinned back down. He was helpless to do anything other than take.

He whimpered as Price found his sweet spot, abusing it while he happily lapped at him. Spit started to drip down his thighs and it made him shudder.

Price picked him up and pinned him to a tree, letting Graves wrap his legs around him. He pressed their foreheads together as he pushed into him.

Graves immediately shoved at him, surprised by how big it was. It felt like he was going to break in half and he barely had the tip in. He kicked out but Price didn't pause until he had bottomed out. Graves panted softly, brain turning to mush. Price held him gently, face pressed to his neck. His hips rolled slowly over and over again. Any coherent thought ruined as soon as he did.

Graves panted against him, eyes fluttering shut. Price started to thrust in properly and he couldn't take it. It felt so good. So big and it stretched him out so much. He started to sob against him, holding on tight as he could as Price ruined him.

Pleasure and pain mixed, dripping up and down his spine. His legs shook and he wasn't sure he could stop them if he wanted to. Price licked along his jaw and he moaned softly.

He started to speed up and Graves bit him back. He couldn't really rip into him the way Price did him, but he left a nice row of teeth marks.

Graves came so hard his vision went white. Price started to press closer until he felt something odd. Something thicker pressed against him and Graves vaguely remembered when he learned in biology about knots.

"John."

Price paused.

"Don't you dare." Please do.

Price pushed in suddenly and Graves screamed before devolving to more sobs. He came in him, making his insides feel warm. The knot kept them from separating and Graves panted, accepting the fact he'd be there a while. Price's hand got dangerously close to his cock and he groaned, leaning back to give him more room. He stroked him slowly, gently rocking into him.

"Price..." Graves panted out, feeling his hair stick to his skin from sweat. The moon was still high over head and he wondered if they would be doing this all night.

A small kiss on his cheek and a rough twist of his hand gave Graves the impression that yes, it would be.

[liquid-luck-00]

Red Binding 3

Maribat March Day 3: Butterfly

@maribat-calendar-events @maribatserver

First *** Previous *** Next

~~~~~~~~~~

There was never a day to relax. Everyday brought on more and more studies, text, incantations, and even bruises. Yet she was happier than she could ever remember. She had started to learn the language used in the Order, which greatly improved her relationship with Su-Han, who was appointed her mentor. But that wasn’t the only language she had learned. Those chosen by Kwamii, were of any and every race and culture. So she picked up other languages, ranging from English and Spanish to Arabic and Swahili. Overall she learned about a dozen languages over the six months she was here.

"Guardian Yùnqì." The familiar voice of Su-Han caught her attention in the quiet library.

"Guardian Kuí." She turned towards her teacher, with a slight bow of her head. "I hope the day has been well to you."

"It has." Was his response, yet Marinette noticed his shift in his mood. His usual calm stoicism was replaced by a simmering anger just under the surface.

"Su-Han." She whispered breaking him from his growing stupor.

"I do not know how this happened, yet it has been decreed." His usually intimidating posture sagged slightly. "As of today, you shall begin to prepare for the Renewal Ceremony."

"Is that a bad thing?" Her genuine curiosity on display.

"Follow me."

She stood, leaving the books on a cart, so they would be returned to their place, and followed behind her teacher.

They took a passage that led close to the Supreme’s chamber but took a turn, one she never had reason to go down. They continued down, further and further, to a point that she wondered just how deep they were in the mountian. Soon after they came to a stop. There was a a door, no taller than three meters, and carved into the wood was a symbol she has seen countless times.

A Yin and Yang.

Inside the room was a pool of steaming water, she watched as the pool ebbed and flowed with its own tide. The crystaline torches provided such clear light that rainbows danced around the room, splitting farther on each crystal it touched. But her focus was once again on the pool of water. The water itself was such a deep blue it was a true Indigo. But the water glowed unnaturally a purple that seem to distort the cavern. It made her skin crawl, it wasn't a dark purple like Lavender, or even a soft purple like Wisteria. No this was closer to a Nightshade.

Reflexively she took a step back from the water and it's rising steam.

"You do well to be cautious." Su-Han nodded.

"What is this?" She asked, stating the obvious. "There is a heavy concentration of Magic."

"Very good, this is the Spring of Creation, also known as the Pool of Ambrosia."

"Like the elixir of the gods?"

At this Su-Han laughed, well it was more of a chuckle.

"This pool is where that name originated from. You see anyone who either drinks or bathes in the waters will have an extended life. However all magic has its cost. This pool belongs to Tikki, the Kwamii who has chosen you as its guardian."

"What does this have to do with the ceremony?"

Marinette asked watching her teacher closely.

"The ceremony is simple, whenever there is a chosen of the jewels of either creation or destruction, that chosen will perform a ritual. Water from both pools will be poured into one another revitalizing and balancing both."

"Why would they need to be balanced?" She couldn't help and ask.

At the Su-Han simply placed his hand on top of her head.

"For destruction cannot exist without creation, and creation cannot exist without destruction. You are to help balance them, ensuring that if any magic is used, it would be restored." At this he seemed more apprehensive. "You my child are still young, you should not be burdened with having to do this."

"Well it doesn’t seem that hard." She shrugged, because it didn’t.

Carrying maybe a pitcher of water from one location to another wasn’t that difficult at all. So why is he making it seem like she’s walking into a trap.

"You’re right. The ritual itself is quite simple, however the location of the Well of Destruction, is… "

"It can’t be that bad." She crossed her arms, making herself look more confident, and made a joke. "It’s not like they’re in hell."

"They might as well be." She blinked to his response not knowing if he was joking or not, yet the man never joked.

"In sending you there, I have all but signed your life to death. The Pits of Lazarus are held in the inner sanctuary of the League of Shadows, whoane move commonly known as the League of Assassins."

"I’m sorry what?" She took a step back, almost reflexively.

"There is actually a group of people who call themselves the League of Assassins?" That act was both incredulous and absurd at the same time.

"There is, and unfortunately the head of the organization is not only a very cruel man, but he also knows of your existence, Marinette."

That wasn’t exactly what she was expecting.

First off why would someone so evil be the ones who are tasked with guarding such a place. Secondly, how is it that they know of her? The third reason however was what stuck to the most, the fact that Su-Han referred to her by her name, not her title, not as his apprentice, not the most endearing term he ever gives her of my child, no he referred to baher given name. This is the first time he had done so , which put a new kind of weight on her shoulders.

"can the ceremony be postpond? And if not how much time do I have to prepare?"

"You will be expected to arrive the night before the next new moon. You shall be accompanied by an instructor, and will be there for day over a fortnight."

"Are you saying I have to stay there for two weeks, 14 days, in a place filled to the brim with assassins?"

"That is correct." It was the first time she ever saw him expresses any sort of emotion, the first time she ever saw him shed a tear.

And she was absolutely mortified.

The silence mi's had streaked too long, as Tikki's voice chimed into mind urging her. Marinette, you need to answer.

She dug her heels in, straightened her posture, and took a breath, grounding her self removing everything except for what she needed to do from her mind. "If it has to be done, it’s my duty as the Guardian Yùnqì."

"I do not know if your determination is a result of you finally coming into your own, or if it is simply a façade at the moment. I can still see you as the small child who fell into the courtyard, now your wings only begin to show. I feel your metamorphosis may be close my little caterpillar. Now." He stiffened and went back to his usual self, his momentary lapse in emotion buried yet again. "Tikki would be best to guide you, as she knows where the tomes are for the ceremony."

"I don’t think I can do this Tikki." Marinette ran her

hands down her face as soon as he left the cavern.

If anyone can, you can, comeon Marinette."

Tikki floated around her before floaty at her eye level.

"I’m going to be with people who think it’s drag to kill. I’m either going to be walking on egg shells or under constant supervision, more than likely both. Mari started to pace getting further from the magical water.

"And so long as you can harness my magic, no shadow can touch you. You hold so much power, you have yet to even comprehend. You are going to be the next Grand Guardian."

"That’s if I survive this!"

"Not if, when."

"They can snuff me out if they want it. No harder than it would be to blow out a candle."

"Yes, but just like the Kuì said, you have changed so much. Mari, you have knowledge that took others decades to learn and even master. The progress gained in your studies: language, spells, rituals, defensive combat and magics. You are a child of miraculous, you are creation."

"I don’t know if I can ever truly be the grand Guardian Tikki." She all but dismissed.

Marinette extended her hand towards the Kwamii who sat in her palm.

"I am not brave, and I’m not a good fighter, and my magic is more aligned with healing."

"You are so much more." Tikki flew up to cup her cheek, giving her a hug. "You are perfect Marinette, you just lack a bit of confidence."

"It’s not like I can manifest it overnight Tikki." A small joke made its way to her lips.

"No you can’t my- little bug, but once you do, you will be an unstoppable once my little bug, but once you do you will be a butterfly."

"Everyone expects so much of me, and I don’t see it."

"It doesn’t matter if you’re walking into a room filled with guardians in training, or mountain full of assassins, remember creation did n't simply make flowers, creation also created the poisons that bloom from them." Sometimes she forgets, Tikki may be kind and gentle 98% of the time, but she is also terrifying.

"Destruction can’t exist without creation." She repeated those words, they were having a bit more understanding of them.

She took a deep breath and started to plan. A mental list formed of things that need to be done before she had to set off towards this mountain full of shadows.

"Let’s go get the to me, we can study it in the room, but before that I think it’s time to start training with the guardian Shun’itsu."

the little goddess smiled at her before disappearing from this plane once more.

You’re on the right track bug.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist: @jennifer-rose123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @joydone07 @mizzy-pop @starling218 @crystalqueertea

[cologona]

I have a very specific idea of how the Lazarus pit made Jason taller.

Because see Jason was pushed into the very same Lazarus pit Ra’s was using to restore his youth/vitality, while he was using it.

So on top of fixing Jason’s brain damage I think the pit would’ve also tried to do the same thing it was doing to Ra’s to Jason and “restore” him to his prime. Except ofc Jason was still a teenager, so there was no “prime” age for him to return to.

The pit’s secondary function to preserve youth works, but again since Jason hadn’t gotten to adulthood the effects are abnormal. The growth plates of his bones- which at 15-17 years old should’ve begun to fuse- are kept soft, giving him an unnatural extra growth spurt in his late teens/early twenties.

I also think Talia being repeatedly pushed into the Lazarus pit during DATM should have similar effects. The pit repeatedly “restores” her each time until it begins to bleach and burn away the human parts of herself. (Her skin is too smooth, the whites of her eyes are too bright, her hair grows out straighter and stiffer, and even the way her muscles flex is somehow, indescribably different.)

[thelien-art]

Your Earendil/Elwing and the tags about Melian have made me want to see how you'd do Melian/Thingol. (I'm all about canon pairings this month, apparently). I love this quote about them from Children of Hurin: "Thingol was not there, for he was abroad in the greenwood with Melian, as was his delight at times in the high summer."

I like to think that Thingol is natural really tall but Melian makes him taller. Also her usually form is way more unnatural this is probably just a body she thinks would look elven aka put on some clothes make your mouth smaller and grow some hair instead of lianas and moss

(Earendil/Elwing)

VALENTINE REQUEST OPEN

to everyone who have sent in a request before the Earendil/Elwing post please read the end of my valentine post as I have an explanation there, thank you for your patience