#Ozone face wash

[frostbitebakery]

WILL YOU PLEASE RING IN YOUR DESTRUCTION

surrender au

“Genera—“

Obi-Wan is already on his feet and running before a sickening crack cuts off the trooper’s warning.

Cody is hot on his heels, does not let the red lightning rumbling down from the sky freeze his movements even if his thoughts blank for the slice of a second.

He skids to a halt, blaster already drawn, ozone burning through his senses. He registers Obi-Wan lowering his hand—

“Cody, I want every man to back away fifty feet. Close the perimeter but don’t interfere unless I say so.”

That’s not Obi-Wan. Washed out and grey, veins prominent and red and broken. But it’s the same face, underneath it all. The not Obi-Wan sighs in disappointment at— fuck- fuck, that’s Wooley’s paint, Wooley’s body lying on its stomach, visor staring up at the sky.

“Are you alright?” There’s a soldier, back towards them, heavily armed, and voice too, too familiar for comfort.

The facsimile smiles ruefully. “I’m fine,” he reassures as if he hasn’t just killed— “He was so loud.”

“Cody,” Obi-Wan, his one, says and he remembers his orders.

The soldier sighs, gently takes one of the not Obi-Wan’s - precisely scarred, what happened - hand in his own gloved one and squeezes.

Activating the battalion frequency is second nature by now. “Perimeter 50 feet from hostiles. Do not engage. Wait on the General’s orders. I repeat, do not engage until further notice.”

“You’re starting negotiations somewhat abruptly,” the soldier scolds with a smile in his voice.

His Obi-Wan takes a step forward, hands vanishing in his robes.

“He’s trying to find the difference,” the— the wrong— yellow eyes flick over the soldier’s shoulder at his General, a bright smile blooming on dry lips - the utterly wrong Obi-Wan— “Oh…”

The soldier turns around like an afterthought, like there aren’t dozens of blasters and a Jedi Master focused on him. A cybernetic eye whirrs, scar tissue tight and just as familiar as the voice’s cadence. An unimpressed look washes over Cody and he can feel his hackles rise despite himself, swallowing up the fear of what-ifs turning all too real.

With a twist and turn the wrong Obi-Wan, the Sith, is around Cody’s doppelgänger, the cane sharply digging into the ground.

“General, behind me,” the soldier orders, is promptly ignored in favor mad yellow eyes digging into Obi-Wan.

“You’re so Light,” the Sith whispers to himself, taking another step forward to Cody’s General.

The soldier - Cody will deal with the implications of it all, but later - snags an arm around the Sith’s waist and pushes him behind the bulk of his body, careful and practiced. He musters Obi-Wan noncommittally. “Is he what you’re looking for?”

“Cody, they’re all so Light.”

The soldier nods, hand drifting towards - Obi-Wan’s, what the hells - the lightsaber clipped to his chestplate.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan, Cody’s, says with a polite incline of his head, “we do try not to succumb to the Dark Side around here. It’s splendid for my youthful looks, evidently.”

The Sith smiles in cracked stretches, takes a step forward like a moth to a flame until he bumps into the soldier’s outstretched arm. “Would you like to discuss your surrender, General Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan folds his hands behind his back, his own smile going tight, and Cody sees the hand signals. “Over a cup of tea, perhaps?”

[thebunnednun]

For you

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Summary: "My life is always better with you in it."

Katsuki's life really would be if you hadn't jumped in front of him.

Request: Found here.

The battlefield was a wasteland—once a city, now reduced to rubble.

Shattered concrete and twisted steel framed the scene of devastation, the remnants of skyscrapers lying in crumbling piles.

Heavy with smoke and ash, the sky was a sickly gray, and every breath felt like inhaling fire. Explosions echoed in the distance, like thunder rolling through the earth, but all you could focus on was the looming figure of Shigaraki.

He stood amidst the chaos like a nightmare come to life, his decayed fingers twitching with the promise of death. His grin was twisted, his eyes cold and dead despite the frenzy around him. The ground beneath his feet crumbled into dust, the very air around him feeling heavy with decay, as if everything he touched was fated to fall apart.

Screams rang out from somewhere, the city below was full of chaos and destruction. The sharp smell of burnt ozone and blood mixed with the nauseating stench of decay—Shigaraki’s touch spreading its corrosive influence.

You were barely holding on, your breaths ragged and uneven, eyes locked on Katsuki as he prepared to charge at Shigaraki once again.

His sweat-slicked hair clung to his forehead, dirt and blood staining his usual fiery expression. His movements were sluggish—he was running on fumes. Each explosion from his palms faltered, a shadow of their usual strength.

‘Katsuki!’

Your eyes locked on him, heart racing as you watched him push his battered body beyond its limits. His breaths came in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling erratically, blood streaking down his arms from wounds he had no time to tend to. His hands were charred, trembling with the effort it took to summon even the smallest of explosions, but he kept going, his fierce determination burning brighter than his injuries.

You could see it—the blood dripping from his hands, the slight shake in his knees. He wouldn’t last much longer.

And Shigaraki knew it too.

With a twisted grin, Shigaraki raised his hand, the decaying aura sparking around him as his fingers outstretched toward your boyfriend. 

"Time to die, Katsuki Bakugou."

Time slowed.

He wasn’t fast enough this time. You could see it—the moment Shigaraki’s eyes gleamed with recognition, the sick satisfaction of knowing Katsuki was about to fall. Your heart pounded in your chest, an overwhelming sense of dread washing over you. You didn’t think. 

You couldn’t think.

In that moment, all you saw was Katsuki standing there, vulnerable, facing a death he didn’t deserve. 

Before you could think, your legs had already launched you forward, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. Time slowed to a crawl, every second stretching out in agonizing detail as Shigaraki's decayed hand shot toward Katsuki, the sheer force of it warping the air. Your voice tore from your throat, but it was drowned in the chaos.

“Katsuki!” 

Without a second thought, you launched yourself between them, throwing up a barrier of crimson energy, your body moving before your mind could catch up. You barely registered the crackle of crimson energy that flared from your fingertips, instinctively separating them.

Red light surged from you, forming a shimmering dome of protection, but even you knew it wouldn’t hold. Shigaraki’s raw power collided with your shield, and for a brief moment, the world was reduced to a blinding clash of red and gray.

The world trembled as Shigaraki’s decayed fist smashed into your shield. The barrier crackled, and you could feel it faltering. A shudder ran through you, pain lancing up your arm as you braced for the full force of the hit. The shield cracked, fragments of red energy bursting into the air like glass.

Then the barrier shattered.

The sound was deafening, like glass exploding into a million shards, and then there was pain—unimaginable pain. Shigaraki’s blow landed squarely on your arm, crushing bone and flesh like they were made of paper. The force of it sent shockwaves through your body, your ribs cracking as the blow slammed into your chest, knocking the air from your lungs.

You were weightless for a moment, suspended in the air like a limp doll before gravity seized you, and you hurtled backward, smashing into a crumbling wall with enough force to send debris flying in every direction.

And Shigaraki’s blow connected with you.

Your arm crumpled under the force, bones cracking like brittle wood as his attack crushed into your chest. The impact ripped the breath from your lungs, sending you crashing back, skidding across the ground until you slammed into a pile of debris.

‘Pain.’ 

That’s all you felt. A sharp, burning pain that made it hard to breathe, your vision blurring as blood trickled from your lips. You heard Katsuki’s scream, distant and muffled, like it was coming from underwater.

You heard Katsuki scream your name, but his voice felt distant, as if the world was muffled by the ringing in your ears. Darkness crept at the edges of your vision, blood filling your mouth as you gasped for air, each breath shallow and ragged. Your entire body throbbed, every nerve alight with agony, but even through the pain, your mind clung to one thought—

‘He’s safe.’

Through the haze of agony, you could see him running toward you, his face contorted with a mixture of anger and fear—fear you’d never seen on him before. His hands trembled as he dropped to his knees beside you, trying to pull you into his arms without hurting you further.

"Why the hell did you do that?!" 

His voice cracked, betraying the fear that lay beneath his anger. His eyes searched your face, as if trying to hold on to every detail, as if afraid that you’d disappear the moment he looked away. He was pressing down on your chest, but it didn’t stop the warmth of your blood from pooling beneath you or slipping through his fingers. You tried to laugh, but it came out as a wheeze. 

"Couldn't... let you die." You gasped for air, wincing as another wave of pain surged through your chest. You managed a weak smile, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. Your lips trembling as you coughed, tasting the metallic tang of blood. 

"Couldn't... let you die." 

Your voice was barely more than a whisper, each word a struggle. Despite the agony, you managed a soft, lopsided smile, your hand weakly reaching for his. "We both know... you’d do the same."

"Besides... I’m stronger... when you’re safe."

"Shut up," he muttered, his voice thick with frustration. His grip on your hand was tight, almost painfully so, as if he could anchor you to the world through sheer fucking will alone. His hand was shaking as he pressed harder on your wound, blood staining his palms. 

"Don’t say that. You're not... you're not supposed to get hurt like this!"

You blinked up at him, your vision swimming as the world began to tilt. "You’re safe... so it’s okay."

But it wasn’t okay.

“Fuck,” he growled, though his voice was softer now, his forehead pressed against yours, the heat of his skin a stark contrast to the cold creeping through your body. 

"You're not dying, ya hear me? You can’t."

Shigaraki’s voice cut through the air again, dark and mocking. “How touching. Sacrificing yourself for someone weaker than you.”

Katsuki tensed, his hands clenching into fists. You could feel the heat of his rage boiling beneath his skin, his entire body vibrating with barely restrained fury. "Shut up!" he roared, his voice tearing through the battlefield. But he was shaking, and you could tell—

he was scared.

"Kats..." Your voice was barely a whisper, but it got his attention. You tried to push yourself up, your body screaming in protest, but you forced it. "I’m... not done yet."

The energy within you stirred, burning hotter and hotter, wild and uncontrollable. You could feel it coursing through your veins, the red light surrounding you growing brighter, warping the very air around you. This was the full potential of your quirk—a dangerous, volatile force tied to your emotions. And right now, with everything on the line, you were willing to risk everything.

But it came with a cost.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the energy writhing inside you, threatening to consume you entirely. Every time you pushed it this far, you felt a little more of yourself slip away, the power darkening your thoughts, twisting your mind. But you didn’t care. 

Not now.

With a final surge of strength, you jumped up and ran. You unleashed a pulse of crimson energy, sending Shigaraki flying backward. The ground beneath him crumbled as your quirk warped reality itself, distorting everything around you. Your body trembled under the weight of the power you were wielding, but you kept going, forcing Shigaraki back with every ounce of strength you had left.

But your vision was going dark, your limbs heavy. You could feel the corruption setting in, the darkness tugging at the edges of your mind.

In the midst of your fading consciousness, something deep within you stirred. The raw power of your quirk, the energy that had always been just beyond your reach, was now surging forward, fueled by desperation, by love, by pain.

You could feel it, like a wildfire racing through your veins, burning brighter and hotter with every passing second.

Scarlet energy crackled at your fingertips, your entire body thrumming with power. It swirled around you, dark and menacing, tendrils of crimson light warping the air as the sheer force of it distorted reality itself. This was the full potential of your quirk, the untapped well of power you had always been too afraid to unleash.

But now, with everything on the line, you didn’t care.

It felt like the world was collapsing in on itself as your power surged. The ground beneath you trembled, the air thick with tension as you rose to your feet, every step leaving a crack in the earth beneath you. The energy pulsed from you in waves, your vision blurring as the strain of it began to take its toll.

You knew what this meant. You knew what would happen if you used this much power—if you let it consume you. But all that mattered was that Katsuki lived.

With a primal scream, you unleashed the full force of your quirk, a torrent of scarlet light exploding from your body, slamming into Shigaraki and sending him flying back, the ground disintegrating in his wake. The air rippled with the intensity of your power, warping the space around you as reality itself seemed to bend under the pressure.

But your body couldn’t handle it. You could feel the corruption setting in—the darkness that came with overusing your quirk, the way it clawed at your mind, twisting your thoughts. Your vision flickered, black spots dancing at the edges of your sight as your strength drained away.

Through the haze of pain, you saw him—Katsuki running toward you, his expression raw and desperate in a way you had never seen before. You fall to your knees in agony, your bones feeling like they were being ripped from your hot flesh and eroded into nothing. You could feel the wound in your chest opening further.

His eyes were wide, panic stark in their depths, his breaths coming in sharp, uneven bursts as he skidded to his knees beside you. His hand hovered over your broken form, trembling, uncertain of where to touch without causing more pain.

And then everything went black.

The next thing you knew, you were being cradled in Katsuki’s arms. His face was blurry, but you could make out the frantic expression, the wild look in his eyes as he held you close.

"Stay with me,"

He pleaded, his voice cracking. You could feel his hands trembling as he secured your broken arm, as if holding you tight enough would stop you from slipping away. 

You could feel the tremble in his arms as he tried to press down on the wound in your chest, the blood staining his fingers. His hands were shaking, his breath hitching in his throat, and you could hear the faintest quiver in his voice—a crack in the armor he always wore.

"You can’t die here, damn it!"

Your lips twitched into a faint smile, even through the pain. "You’re yelling again," you whispered, your voice barely audible. 

"I’m not going... anywhere."

He didn’t respond, just pressed his forehead against yours, his breath shaky. The chaos of the battle had faded into the background, but all you could focus on was the warmth of his touch, his soul wrapped around you like a lifeline.

The energy within you flickered, ebbing away as you slipped into unconsciousness, feeling Katsuki’s presence anchoring you to reality.

“I love you. Please don’t go. Don’t leave me here.”

The world was quiet when you awoke. The sterile, antiseptic smell of the hospital greeted your senses, the sharp contrast to the battlefield jarring in its serenity. You blinked slowly, your body feeling impossibly heavy, the weight of bandages pressing against your chest and arm. Your mouth was dry, and your head throbbed with a dull ache, but the pain that had once been overwhelming was now just a distant echo.

You were alive.

You blinked groggily, turning your head to the side. It took a moment for your eyes to focus, but when they did, you saw him. Katsuki was sitting slouched in a chair beside your bed, his arms crossed over his chest, head bowed slightly as if he’d been waiting for hours. His face was pale, shadows dark under his eyes, and his hair was messier than usual, like he hadn’t slept in days.

His hand, however, was still wrapped around yours, his grip firm even in sleep.

A small smile tugged at your lips. You squeezed his hand gently.

"Hey," 

You croaked, your voice hoarse. Katsuki jolted awake, his red eyes wide with surprise, quickly masking the fear that had flashed in them. Relief then washed over his face, though he quickly scowled, masking any softness. His brows furrowed, and his grip on your hand tightened as he leaned closer, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

"You’re awake," he muttered, the relief in his voice palpable even though he tried to hide it.

"Looks like you... ended up protecting me after all," you teased, your voice weak and horace but laced with warmth.

“Stop that,” he grumbled, his eyes flicking away for a moment before settling back on you. But the hard edge to his words was gone, replaced by something softer, something vulnerable. His hand never left yours, his warm thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. 

“Just... don’t do something that stupid again.”

Your smile grew, though it hurt to do so. You could feel the exhaustion pulling at you, the warmth of his presence making your eyelids heavy. Katsuki glanced up from your joint hands to squeeze your smaller one in his rough palm. 

The look he gave you was one of complete nakedness and transparency. It was just you and him right now and forget everyone else. 

"I couldn’t let you die," he whispered. 

There’s nothing here to ease the quiet except the beep of the machines you’re connected to and the hum of the monitor he’s hooked up to. You want to open your mouth and tell him everything was fine but something inside your tummy pulled at you to just let him talk so you did. 

"You make everything... feel better."

You didn’t respond right away, but Katsuki caught the faintest twitch of your lips—just enough to let him know you heard him.

"Shut up," he muttered, sitting up straight, but his hand never left yours. He glanced away, his jaw clenched. "Just... rest, idiot."

You chuckled softly, the sound weak but warm. "You make everything right, you know that?"

He didn’t respond, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. 

Neither of you had to say a word. The silence between you felt full, a soft understanding that words could never quite capture. Your eyes met his, and in that shared gaze, you knew—everything you had been through, all the pain, the fear, the sacrifice—it was worth it.

No words were necessary. In the quiet of that sterile hospital room, amidst the beeping machines and distant echoes of footsteps, you both knew what the other was thinking. There was no need to say it aloud.

‘I am safe here.’

‘I have you.’

And that was more than enough.

Taglist for Bakugou: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, @raendarkfaerie If you wanna be added lemme know!

I own none of the images or art!!!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a post war Aizawa x Prohero/Teacher Reader here in the master list. I also have a Pro Hero! Bakugou x Sugar Baby fic.

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I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[mechdyke-after-hours]

INSIDE THE SHIP OF FLESH

second part to Inside The Tower of Gold!!

⚠️ WARNINGS!! ⚠️

transformers one spoilers, NON-CON, tentacle sex, ovipositon + egg laying, sounding, semi-public sex

y'all... I have NO idea how this fic turned out like this. I wasn't even expecting to write this chapter, let alone make it this... explicit. enjoy!

Going to the surface wasn't exactly a pleasant experience on a regular day, let alone after Sentinel's... experience last night. The more he thought about it while getting ready, the more conflicted he got. He still ached all over and the ozonic scent of leftover transfluids practically wafted off his frame. He buffed out as many scratches and paint transfers that he could in around 10 kliks, which admittedly... wasn't a lot.

Sentinel had respect for the Quintessons, of course he did. They helped him get everything he wanted and then some, all in return for a bit of energon. But they weren't exactly friendly, to say the least. They were very demanding creatures. Always wanting more. But he always just grit his denta and smiled, something he was very practiced at doing by now.

His announcement was slightly more rushed than usual. He still looked a bit of a mess, despite his best efforts. Scuffs and scratches littered his usually perfect plating, and his smile was slightly more forced. His powerful voice boomed over the Iacon display screens as he explained how he was once again "going to the surface and risking his life to find the matrix, for the greater good of the cybertronian race!" with a wide, toothy smile. He could hear the cheers from the broadcast room, mechs and femmes alike screaming his name. He puffed his chassis out slightly, grinning as the broadcast ended. He turned to Airachnid, and gave her a nod as they finished the final preparations.

As he stood in front of the Quintessons he couldn't help but feel that something was off. Sure, he had brought a little less energon than usual, but the way their red glowing eyes stared him down was wrong. He kept his cool, even when the high commander moved closer, hot breath washing over his frame. Slimy organic tentacles grabbed at him, bringing him up to its face. The Quintesson sniffed him, its eyes glowing just a little brighter as it lifted Sentinel up, eyeing his shoddily welded-on modesty panelling.

"I'll be bringing extra next time, I promise." Sentinel smiled as much as he could, trying to ignore the damp breath of the Quintesson high commander as it wafted over his face plate, the stench of something astringent filling his olfactory sensors. He was so focused on the smell, he didn't feel the slimy appendages inching tighter around his limbs.

It happened so quickly. His already once injured modesty panel was being pried off. Without thinking, he retracted it. The Quintesson sniffed again, the traces of leftover transfluids having leaked out and stained Sentinel's valve. He shot a glance towards Airachnid and the other guards, who were simply looking the other way, keeping an optic out for any other threats and ignoring the scene in front of them. Traitors.

The Quintessons tentacles tightened around his wrists and ankles, stretching him out until he was completely spread eagle, barely able to move. His wings twitched uselessly as he tried to get away, but the sight of glowing red eyes and bared teeth quickly put a stop to his attempts. He hung uselessly in the air as horrifyingly organic appendages probed and explored his frame, leaving sticky trails on his already marred plating. Grin and bear it. Grin and bear it.

The first slide of the appendage along the plush golden folds of his valve wasn't as unpleasant as he was expecting. He vented heavily as it toyed with his node for a moment, before sliding inside. The taper made it an easy fit at first, especially after the rough treatment his valve had already faced just hours before. But it kept sliding, and each segment kept getting thicker and thicker. It wasn't long before his callipers felt stretched to their limit, the small blunt tip pressing against the entrance to his gestation chamber.

As Sentinel's intake opened to protest, another one of the high commander's tentacled limbs pressed against his glossa. The taste and texture was vile, unlike anything he'd ever put in his mouth. It pushed forwards, filling his intake quickly, and slowly sliding down his throat. He gagged, but it didn't stop. He didn't realise he was crying, sobbing even, until he tasted the salty tang of coolant on his glossa. The tentacle went impossibly deep, down his throat to the point he could feel it in his tanks. The one in his valve pressed harder against his gestation chamber, and he felt a sudden pop. The delicate silicone ring gave way, allowing the Quintesson to slide even deeper.

To his horror, a third tentacle started prodding at his frame. He was no stranger to aft play, but with his body already so stuffed full he couldn't even begin to imagine it fitting into his port. But that didn't stop the Quintesson from trying. The natural lubrication of the appendage helped it slide in with ease, the tapered end once again proving useful. He cried out loudly, oral lubricants spilling out of his intake around the intrusion and onto his chassis. His port stretched painlessly, and for that he was thankful.

The high commander set a brutal, punishing pace. Sentinel tugged at his restraints again, his optics squinting closed as tears continued to spill down his cheeks. An overload was forced out of him, static energy arching and bouncing off his plating as transfluids shot out of his spike and splattered onto the ground beneath him, staining the floor pink. The Quintesson didn't slow, further bullying Sentinel's overstimulated and stretched valve.

A fourth, much thinner tentacle slid around his leg and up his thigh. It wrapped around the base of his spike, providing even more unwanted stimulation. Sentinel felt a strange pressure at the tip of his spike, his optics shooting open just in time to see the smallest appendage slide into his transfluid lines. The stimulation was confusing, the area so sensitive that it almost hurt. He let out a series of mumbled, confused moans as his spike was stretched, the thin tentacle thrusting slowly and releasing even more slimy fluids to aid the stretch. He bit down on the appendage stretching his intake slightly, his venting heavy and uneven, his frame overheating to the point his tears sizzled against his cheek plating.

The tentacle in his valve started flexing, becoming slightly thicker suddenly. Sentinel panicked and choked as a round object pushed itself into his valve, pushing against the entrance to his gestation chamber. He was suddenly thankful for the earlier stretching as the slightly gelatinous orb slid into him. He'd heard tales of how Quintessons reproduced, but he wasn't expecting to ever experience it firsthand. A second egg pressed against him, sliding in with surprising ease. The thin tentacle filling his transfluid line stopped him from overloading, leaving him frustratingly right on the edge. He sobbed, but no tears fell.

After a long moment, the barrage of squishy eggs finally slowed to a stop. His abdominal plating bulged out obscenely, creaking under the strain of his stretched out protomesh. The ovipositor tentacle twitched before releasing a sticky thick slime, filling him up even more. It retracted slowly, leaving his valve empty and stretched wide. A gush of fluids followed it, splattering onto the floor between his legs with a disturbing squelch. Next slid out the one in his spike slit, followed by the one in his port. The one from his intake was the last to retract, making his insides churn and lurch as he struggled not to purge his tanks.

The Quintesson high commander didn't let Sentinel go; however, if anything the appendages restraining him only got tighter. He tried to speak, but his throat felt raw, his glossa heavy in his mouth. His voice box let out a burst of static uselessly. His optics flickered offlined for a moment, before he felt a rush of pressure in his core.

The slime started to leak from his gestation chamber, providing a tingling numbing sensation not unlike the circuit booster patches from the night before, but located entirely in his valve. The pressure started soon after, the eggs having swelled slightly in the short time they had to germinate inside of his chambers. The Quintesson spread his legs slightly more and let out a chittering noise. Even more slime gushed out of Sentinel's abused valve, the blue and gold folds gaping open obscenely. His node blinked in time with his ventilations, his frame feeling slow and relaxed despite his current situation. He vaguely understood that he needed to start pushing, and he did just that. His valve stretched wide around the firm yet jelly-like eggs as they fell onto the floor below into a wet pile. His optics offlined again as he crashed into another overload, aiding the birth of the last few Quintesson eggs.

The high commander signalled to the other Quintessons who quickly rushed over, picking up the eggs and carrying them inside the grotesque looking ship. Sentinel was dazed, his helm spinning and throbbing in pain. He was dumped rather unceremoniously onto the sticky floor beneath, his plating suffering another few dents from the landing alone. His limbs twitched rather uselessly as he wiped drool and slime off his face with the back of a servo. The Quintesson left rather quickly after that, leaving him and the rest of his party alone in the techno-organic wasteland.

The last thing he saw before he finally passed out was Airachnid staring at him with unblinking optics, almost definitely recording and saving everything into her seemingly infinite memory banks. Whether to use it as blackmail against him or the Quintessons, he wasn't sure. But he'd have to ask for a copy later as... proof.

[finchly-tintinnabulation]

- Scout's Honor - Part 4

Original Ultramarine (Aristaeus) x GN!Reader

<<Prev = Next>>

Tags: SMUT, fluff, cuddling, intercrural sex, reader being affected by bond nonsense, Aristaeus is a big virgin be nice to him

Thank you to @candyswirls for the cuddling headcanons, @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond for reminding me why Aristaeus has big brown eyes like a baby cow, and @daily-shenanigans784 for the beta read WE FUCK 4 MACRAGGE

The Chorus: @thisuserislilsilly

- - -

Your hand flew to the side of your neck, the low ache of the mark stinging anew as your face grew hot. Were there details you had missed, or more likely were omitted for the sake of a professional documentation?

“Come on, you absolutely reek of him.” Diomedes teased, but there was a gentleness in his tone, especially with how alarmed you looked. It was clear enough that you and the Astartes had been given different levels of information about their unusual bodily processes. “I’m sure he’s absolutely dying for you to return the favor. At the very least I’ve heard it can help with a… temporary lack of proximity.”

You smelled stressed. Something clicked into place remembering Aristaeus’s concern. The Astartes had incredibly enhanced sensory capability, being able to track a scent like a bloodhound across a burning battlefield, and read emotions by the subtle cues of baseline hormones. Oddly enough it made sense that the intensely instinctual nature of a bond would be so tied to those primal senses.

“Chin up, Brother! We can show your little human how to make a proper nest, they’re going to be part of the squadron anyway.” Reaching across the table to where Aristaeus sat with his face in his hands, Pallas patted him on the shoulder. Hilariously his ears were flushed as pink as your face felt, and you bit your tongue before accidentally embarrassing him further.

-

Staying alert was a vicious fight that you were rapidly losing, the contentment of being enveloped by warm bodies irresistibly washing over you. The life of a serf was hard labor and strictly rationed rest, so you had little hope of resisting the lure of an afternoon nap. Once finishing lunch, Diomedes had wasted no time dragging Aristaeus off to your now shared room while Pallas went to fetch materials; an armful of well worn blankets and threadbare cushions all in the same Ultramarine blue. It wasn’t hard to imagine generations of neophytes being comforted by these simple amenities

Pulling out your little mattress, the two scouts cheerfully began constructing the nest, something they had been taught to comfort each other. Even without a bond, rut made the Astartes clingy, so they had been instructed to keep their squadmates close. Speaking of clingy, while Aristaeus had resigned himself to Pallas and Diomedes and their help, he sat on his cot and watched them work, keeping you cradled defensively in his lap.

That was where you stayed, even once all three Astartes had settled themself in their pile of soft things, with your head tucked under Aristaeus’s chin and his squadmates snuggled up against either side of him. There was absolutely no hope of escaping with an assortment of enormous arms and legs wrapped around you, but what was the point when it was so very comfortable. All three scouts let out low rumbling vocalizations, something you now recognized as analogous to purring, turning your nerves and thoughts to white noise.

Eyelids heavy, a drowsy sense of curiosity had you shifting slightly, burying your face in the sinewy crook of Aristaeus’s neck. You had nowhere near the senses of an Astartes, but the hind-brained thought of your mate’s scent had you breathing him in. The chemical smell of his enhanced physiology hit your nose like ozone, but it was only for a moment before being superseded by something more warm and sweet, spices and musk and smoke. Somehow you didn’t mind the odd metallic aftertaste of it, knowing it was him.

Is this what he had marked you with? Besides the physical bites, of course. Some signal that you were his, and… you wanted others to know Aristaeus was yours, as well. You hummed, nuzzling against where you could feel the thrum of his hearts pulsing through his carotid artery, his purr trilling as you pressed your lips to it.

Marking him. Without a second thought you sank your teeth into his skin, sucking at his flesh to taste the honeyed tang of his pheromones. Warm and blissful, your mouth tingling as a whine slipped from Aristaeus’s throat, faintly feeling something pressed against your backside. 

“Get out. Both of you, out.” Aristaeus muttered hoarsely, his voice a pleasant buzz to your ears. It took a moment once the enveloping warmth subsided that you seemed to properly rouse, realizing that Pallas and Diomedes were standing and Aristaeus’s purr had become a growl. Had you fallen asleep? It certainly felt like you were awakening from a nap.

“We were getting comfortable, what’s—”

“I said out.” Oh dear.

There was no more arguing as the two scouts hurriedly took their leave, shutting the door behind them, and you finally registered the feeling of embarrassment. You’d seriously just bitten him. Were you about to be punished?

“Sorry…” Aristaeus whined in your ear, and suddenly his bid for privacy took on a much different meaning. What had been pressing against your rear was now rubbing, the marine’s hips twitching as if trying and failing to keep still.

“Uh. What for?” You replied dumbly as the hands that had been wrapped around your torso slid down to grip your hips. You may have had an inkling of what he was apologizing for, and you turned to try and get a better view of his face.

“...I need—” His words were bitten off by a whine as he forcibly tried to loosen his hold on you, face flushed and eyes squeezed shut. “You are so small, I was warned of… harming you. I can’t do it, I’m bigger than you, I don’t know how to—” Never in your life did you think you’d hear a space marine sound scared, but Aristaeus was downright afraid, his deep voice so unsure.

“Oh, Ari.” What sort of sex ed did they give the Adeptus Astartes? Whatever crash course Aristaeus had been absorbed clearly hadn’t prepared him for the act of intercourse, and that was even more disastrous when the poor scout was so immediately needy. Internal damage was also not on your schedule for today, so you tried to think quickly. “...You know you don’t have to go inside, right?”

“I don’t?” Right, so that’s a no. Gently you brushed his hands off your hips, to which he hesitantly obliged, hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your trousers and shimmying them down, trying to ignore the choking whimper Aristaeus let out at the sight.

“Between my thighs should provide enough friction. Since you seem to… like them?” You chuckled shyly recalling your first meeting, kicking off your pants and undergarments in one go and shifting off his lap. “Let’s… lay on your side, please.”

“Emperor forgive me.” Aristaeus’s voice was small and harsh, but again he did as he was told, shifting down in the nest and waiting as patiently as he physically could for your next move. Carefully you lay in front of him, not quite slotting yourself against him yet but feeling his body heat radiating against your bare backside.

“...Pull your pants down.” Your voice cracked, feeling him move before you finished your sentence and subsequently punctuating it with something hot and hard slapping against the small of your back. Hands shaking, you tugged the hem of your tunic up and out of the way, lifting your knee by way of invitation for him to… arrange himself.

Hot and heavy, Aristaeus slid himself between your thighs, hovering there for an unbearable moment before pressing you to his body. He was already leaking, dripping thick clear precum onto your skin, the tip flushed so red it seemed to glow with heat. His cock pulsed and he shuddered, as if overwhelmed by the mere touch of your skin, moaning as he pressed his face into your hair.

“Nnh… oh, by the Light…”

Neither of you needed any more encouragement as you squeezed your legs around his shaft, shifting your hips to grind against it, your own arousal growing rapidly. Aristaeus mirrored your movements, small and slow and a bit nervous, following your lead. Back and forth, gauging a rhythm as his leaking tip began to make the space between your thighs slick, gliding like silk. He thrusted forward as you pushed back, your breaths growing heavy in tandem.

That wetness combined with a briefly found tempo finally bore fruit, as the lewd smack of skin on skin met your ears, and Aristaeus was pushed past his anxiety to pure unadulterated need. Gasping, his arms tightened around you like a vice as his hips slammed forward, relentlessly pistoning as a torrent of cries and broken prayers spilled from his throat.

His lips found the junction of your neck again, but instead of his teeth the touch was his soft heated mouth, sloppy ministrations hardly silencing his pleas. The slapping of his hips to yours was growing almost deafening, thrusting so hard it practically knocked the breath from your lungs, struggling to get enough air between that and the fierce hold he had around your chest. The force and friction made your head spin, relentlessly humping up against your groin.

Drooling against your nape, Aristaeus’s words dissolved into a cacophony of pants and groans, his pace lost in favor of desperation. Breathless and dizzy, you barely had time to recognize how close he was, subsequently realizing the mess you were both about to make. You clumsily grabbed a blanket, attempting to cover your crotch just as Aristaeus tipped over the edge with shuddering wail.

Flushed and with your hands covered in spend, you felt struck dumb as stillness suddenly fell over you, the only sound being the shared ragged breathing of you and your mate. Warm, listening to the faint buzz of the machinery tucked into the fortress-monastery’s walls, just breathing.

A large hand gently gripped your shoulder, turning you gently to see Aristaeus looking at you with those big concerned brown eyes. Then, cupping your face, he kissed you. Soft and thankful.

[novlr]

Hi, can you write a paragraph about rain? Can you also give tips on describing nature? Thank you.

Rain can evoke a range of emotions and associations, from the childlike joy of splashing in puddles to the melancholy of grey skies mirroring a character’s mood. But while we’ve all experienced stormy weather, capturing its essence on the page can be surprisingly tricky. Here are some tips to help you write about rain in a way that will make a splash with your readers. (You can also adapt this advice to almost any nature description, but we will try to put out a separate post on more general nature advice at a later date.)

How does it look?

Use vivid adjectives to describe how the rain looks at different times of day and in different conditions.

Mention the angle the rain is falling at. Is it falling straight down? Angled? or even sideways?

Describe the size and shape of the raindrops – are they small and needle-like or large and heavy?

Note if the rain is clear or if it’s tinged grey or yellow from pollution.

Does the rain form puddles, streams, or mini-rivers as it flows?

Describe any ripples, splashes, or concentric circles the rain makes when hitting surfaces.

How does it sound?

Use onomatopoeia like “pitter-patter,” “tapping,” “drumming,” “plinking,” or “hissing” to mimic the sound.

Show the surfaces the rain hits and how that changes the noise — a “clattering” on windows, a “thumping” on the roof, a “plopping” in puddles

Describe the overall volume, from a soft “murmuring” or “whispering” to a loud “pounding” or “roaring”.

Note any variations or patterns in the sound, like a steady drone vs. syncopated rhythms.

How does the sound fill a space? Does it echo? Reverberate? Or is it dampened and muffled?

Describe how the noise of the rain interacts with other ambient sounds in the scene.

How does it feel and smell?

Describe the temperature of the rain and how it feels on the skin. Is it cool and refreshing or shockingly cold?

Describe the tactile sensations, like wetness, dripping, soaking, or chilly dampness.

Note how the rain changes the air, making it humid, misty, or heavy and saturated.

Describe the smell of the rain, which can be clean and fresh, dusty, earthy, or laden with ozone.

Describe how it feels to be out in the rain — are characters getting drenched to the bone or finding shelter?

Use metaphors to compare the feeling to other sensations, like tears on the face or a massage.

What mood and atmosphere does it evoke?

Use the rain to set the overall tone and mood you want to evoke, from gloomy and sad to peaceful and cleansing.

Show how the rain affects the setting, like making colours more vivid or obscuring things with mist.

Describe how the lighting changes, with skies darkening or a glistening sheen over everything.

Describe how the rain makes characters feel emotionally as well as physically.

Use the rain as a symbol or metaphor to mirror the characters’ mental states or the themes of the story.

Show how the rain transforms the world, slowing things down or washing things away, and how characters react to that.

Positive story descriptions

Rain can bring a sense of renewal, growth, and life to the world.

There is a cosy feeling of being inside looking out at the rain, safe and warm.

Rain can make everything glisten and gleam in the light, looking fresh and new.

Show the soothing, hypnotic quality of the rhythmic patter of raindrops.

Rain can be invigorating, energising, and joyful.

Rain can symbolise a fresh start, washing away the old to begin a new chapter.

Negative story descriptions

Rain can create a sense of melancholy, isolation, or loneliness

Rain can be an obstacle or hindrance, slowing characters down or forcing them to change plans.

There is a chilling, bone-deep cold that comes from being soaked in the rain.

Describe the bleak, colourless world that seems to exist when the sky is endlessly grey and stormy.

Show how the rain can feel oppressive, like a heavy weight pushing down on everything.

Describe how the rain can make the world feel dreary, soggy, and depressing, sapping energy and vitality.

Helpful vocabulary

Use words like deluge, downpour, torrent, cloudburst, hammering, lashing, pelting, battering, or thrumming to describe heavy, intense rain.

Try terms like drizzle, mist, sprinkle, shower for lighter rain.

Describe rain-soaked things as drenched, saturated, sodden, waterlogged.

Describe how rain dimples or stipples surfaces.

Gutters may babble, gush, trickle or overflow with rain.

Puddles can slosh, ripple, or reflect like mirrors.

Raindrops may bead up, roll, or slide down windows, leaves and other surfaces.

Adjectives like windswept, blustery, driving, relentless, or unceasing can evoke a storm.

The air may feel close, clammy, sticky, or muggy from humidity.

Petrichor is the earthy scent released when rain falls on dry soil.

Slickers, macs, wellies, brollies, and goloshes are rain gear that can add character details.

After a storm, the world may seem scoured, quenched, drenched, or newly baptised.

[pandorxxx]

Search & Rescue(Chapter 2)

Lo’ak x Omatikayan fem reader (all aged up)

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, mentions of depression, fluff, oral, p in v, spitting, creampie, soft-dom lo’ak.

Synopsis: Lo’ak has a bit of a reputation that he’s been trying so hard to break out of. He just needs the right girl to come and rescue him. Looks like he found her tonight.

For the best reading experience: listen to Ozone by Chase Atlantic or Search and Rescue by Drake

“Yess lo’ak! Right there!” You whined, gripping the sheets as he sent you hard/firm strokes from behind. Clapping sounds so loud that you feared people could hear.

“Mhm, you feel me baby?” He moaned, watching the source of pleasure before smacking your ass. You nodded, throwing your head down on the cot to arch your back for him.

“Shit, just like that! Don’t fucking move!” He growled, wrapping your hair around his forearm. He sped up his pace, making sure to smash against your sweet spot with every deep stroke.

“Baby, y-you’re gonna make me fucking cum!” You screamed, muffled by the sheets beneath you. “Oh yeah? Go ahead, mama. Cum on this dick, I know you want to.” He chuckled, smacking your ass a few more times before gripping your hips, bringing you back to meet his thrusts. Your mouth fell agape, and your eyes rolled back in pleasure.

“Mmm fuck, im cumming!!!” You let out a high pitched scream, letting your eyes fall shut…waking up from your wet dream. You sat up lazily, wincing from your pounding headache.

“Goodmorning, my little screamer.” Lo’ak said sarcastically, sharpening his knife in the corner. You grimaced, eyes narrowed from the sun pouring in.

“Huh?” You asked in a confused tone, going to shift your legs to the side of the cot. “How was your….dream?” He asked, still razor focused on knife. That’s when you realized that he heard everything, and a wave of embarrassment washed over you.

“Shit, you heard?” You asked hesitatingly, running your hands through your hair in frustration. “I think everyone heard. They probably think I’m in here giving you the best dick of your life.” He joked, standing to his feet. You let out a stressful sigh, hiding your face in your dainty hands.

“Umm I- I should go.” You stuttered, standing up swiftly before grabbing your cloths off of the floor. You went to walk past him and he picked you up, placing you on the table behind him.

“Not until you eat something. I brought you breakfast. I kinda figured you would miss it, and I was right.” He smiled, grabbing a price of fruit off of the plate, holding it up to your mouth. You hesitated at first, but finally opened your mouth for him to place the fruit in. You started to chew slowly, staring into his golden eyes.

“I umm- went by your hut today. Grabbed some cloths for you. Your comb and hair accessories too. I didn’t know what you wanted, so I grabbed some options.” He spoke sweetly, pointing to your items on the drawer behind you. You were shocked, never in a million years did you think he was even capable of picking out an outfit for any woman.

“You know I’m leaving, right? You didn’t have to do this.” You chuckled, watching him bring another piece of fruit up to your mouth.

“About that. I was hoping you’d stay with me again, tonight? We can even go to the party together.” He confessed, watching you lick his fingertips clean after you ate the piece of fruit. You looked up at him in confusion, chewing slowly.

“You… w-want me to stay here again? Why?” You asked, eyeing him up and down. He rolled his eyes, stepping closer to stand between your legs. So close that his loincloth rubbed against your bare cunt, shielded by his huge T-shirt.

“If it’s not already painfully obvious. I like you, dumbass.” He spoke lowly, placing his hands on either sides of your thighs. Your breathing hitched, and your core began to heat up in arousal. His eyes were glued on yours, looking at you with nothing but interest.

“I’m not fucking you, lo’ak.” You said, voice shaky as you watched his lips come closer to yours, hoping that he would close the gap in between you two. “I’m not fucking you, y/n.” He smirked, glancing down at your lips before meeting your eye contact again.

“Why not?” You asked, completely tranced by his closeness. You glanced at his large arms, engulfing your thighs. Then to his broad chest, trailing all the way down to his chiseled abs before meeting his gaze again.

“Because you’re not ready.” He replied. “Ready for what?” You spat. He dropped his head, chuckling before looking back up at you.

“I’ve gotta go. Go get yourself cleaned up. I’ll be back later on tonight. Then we can go to the party.” He smiled, backing up from between your legs, walking over to his bow, placing it across his chest.

“You’re just gonna leave me here? What do you suppose I do?” You shouted, watching him walk towards the hut door.

“Just stay your pretty ass here! I’ll be back later on!” He shouted, walking out of the door before shutting it behind him.

“Ugghhh! LO’AK!” You shouted in frustration before the room fell silent. You looked around, noticing the bottle cans you missed from last night, and the drawer with cloths falling out. Probably from when lo’ak picked out cloths for himself this morning.

“He’s such a fucking pig.” You whispered to yourself, rolling your eyes before hoping off of the table. You took this time to deep clean his hut. Grabbing buckets of water and towels to wipe dirty areas. Hand washing his dirty cloths, fixing the sheets on his cot. You picked up all of the garbage on the ground, and organized all of his accessories.

After you were done, you walked to the nearby stream, taking your morning shower. Ridding yourself of all the makeup and body glitter from the night before. You spent most of the day in lo’aks hut, desperately waiting for him to come back. In your free time, you did your hair in 2 Dutch braids, decorating them with the hair accessories lo’ak brought for you earlier.

It was starting to get dark, and you were expecting lo’ak any second. You sat on the floor in-front of his mirror, doing your make up and applying the same body glitter from last night.

“Hey, pretty girl.” Lo’ak spoke in an exhaustion as he limped to the neatly made cot. You snapped your head at him, scanning his bruised body, wombs patched up and cured with yalnabark.

“Lo’ak, what the hell?” You shouted in concern, standing swiftly before darting over to him. He sat on the edge of the cot with his head hung low. You kneeled before him, taking his bow from around his chest, removing his necklace and other accessories.“You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?” You looked up at him, his hair hanging in front of his face.

“Thanator.” He replied. “You’re lying.” You spoke sternly, pushing the strands of hair behind his ear. He sighed loudly, meeting your gaze.

“I got into a fight.” He replied, clenching and unclenching his jaw in anger. You hit his chest hard, however, it didn’t even phase him.

“Why?! Why do you continue to get yourself into trouble?!!!” You shouted, eyebrows furrowed as you awaited an answer.

“Doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “Tell me, or I leave.” You spat, pointing in the direction of the door. He looked into your eyes, looking for any sign of you joking. Finding none, he finally came clean. “Some guys were talking about you, inappropriately. And it pissed me off.” He confessed.

“So you fought all of them???” You asked with a slight whiny tone, hoping he didn’t fight multiple men for you.

“You’re damn right! And I’d do it again. No one talks about you the way they did! NO ONE!” He growled, angered to the point of no return.

“Ok, ok. Just calm down, please.” You stood, wrapping your small arms around his head, bringing him to your chest. He instantly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in between his legs. And without a second to spare, he finally let it all out, weeping loudly in your arms.“I know. It’s ok, lo’ak. Let it out.” You comforted him, rubbing his back as he clung to you tightly.

“I-It hurts so bad, y/n. I-I don’t know what’s going on with me.” He whimpered, tears falling down to your chest. “I’m just so fucking tired. I can’t do this shit anymore.” His voice became lifeless, shaking his head in defeat against your chest.

“No, don’t talk like that. you- we are going to get through this. And I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, lo’ak. Always and forever, no matter what. Do you hear me?” You spoke softly, caressing his head, blinking back tears as you’d never seen him like this.

It hurt your heart to know that behind the facade, he was struggling. Struggling with his identity, struggling with his relationship with women, struggling with alcohol, struggling to find reasons to wake up everyday. And then there you were, with him every step of the way. In the past 24 hours, you’d seen more

of him than anyone ever has. Seen him at his absolute lowest. Yet and still, you didn’t run away like every other girl. Instead, you listened to him with no judgment, held him close to your heart.

“Mhm.” He whimpered, sniffling against your chest. You bent down again, wiping his face dry. “I-I’m sorry if I’m scaring you. Just please…don’t leave me.” He whispered weakly, eyes red from his emotional breakdown.

“I wasn’t planning on it. I’m here to stay.” You smiled, voice shaky as you held back tears. And that was the moment he knew that you were the one. He had a feeling before, but the way you were willing to stick by his side, flaws and all solidified it for him. His emotions got the best of him, and he swiftly picked you up off of the ground, placing you on the bed gently before he hovered over your small frame.

“I guess we’re not going to the party tonight?” You spoke breathily, heart beating at the speed of light as you waited for his next move.

“Nope.” His voice was low and deep. He shook his head with a smirk. You smirked back.“I’m not fucking you, lo’ak.” You joked, this time hoping that he would give in.

“You don’t have to. Just lay here and look pretty for me.” He said, licking his lips before bending down, french kissing your neck. You gasped, immediately feeling that tingling sensation in your core. He kissed your neck sloppily, moving down to your chest.

“You better not play me.” You moaned, throwing your head back. He grabbed both of your hands, pinning them above your head.

“I won’t, I swear on my life.” He spoke breathily between kisses. He slid down to his knees in front of you before sliding your loincloth off of your legs. Then he went for your thigh-band embroidered with gorgeous crystals. He flashed his fangs at you before attaching them to the band, sliding it off of you like he had been dying to do ever since he laid eyes on you.

“You trust me?” He asked, grabbing the band out of his mouth, staring at you as if you were his last meal. “Mhm!” You hummed, nodding your head frantically.

“Hold out your wrists.” He commanded, and you obliged immediately. He proceeded to wrap your thigh-band around your wrists firmly, just enough to securing you. “Too tight?” He asked, pulling you closer to him by your thighs. You shook your head no, desperately waiting for his next move.

He bent down in between your legs, pulling them over his shoulders. He looked into your eyes hungrily as he started off with kitty licking your clit, just to see how you’d react. You completely lost it, back bowing to the cot as you let out a high pitched moan. And that was all he need to know. “Mmm you’re a virgin, huh?” He spoke lowly, before tongue kissing your cunt.

“H-How can you tell?” You moaned, focusing on the soft kisses he planted on your throbbing clit.“You’re so sensitive, like you’ve never been touched before.” He hummed into your cunt, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. He backed up, spitting on your clit before going back to work on you.

“Mmm yes!” You moaned, screwing your face in pleasure. “Look at me.” He growled, flicking your clit with his tongue. You looked down, locking eyes with him as he devoured you whole. That scene alone was driving you crazy, and he knew it.

“Lo’ak I-I think!-“ you whimpered, tears blurring your vision. Your legs started to shake around his head, and you felt your stomach muscles tighten.

“You’re gonna cum.” He mumbled against your clit. “Go ahead, cum in my fucking mouth. I wanna taste you.” He growled before sucking on your clit like a pacifier.

“I-I think I’m cumming, lo’ak!” You screamed before releasing your juices onto his tongue, and he guzzled them greedily.

“Fuuck!” You screamed sharply, as you reached the very peek of pleasure. Your breathing was heavy as you finally calmed down. Lo’ak sucked your sensitive clit one last time before detaching completely. Standing up in between your trembling legs.

“You feeling ok?” He asked, walking to his drawer to grab a towel. You watched him intently as he walked back to you, wiping your core and inner thighs gently. He was learning how to be a gentleman for you, and it made you hot. You wanted nothing more than for him to fuck you senseless. “What are you doing?” You asked in a confused tone. He smirked, glaring at you will wiping you clean.

“I’m cleaning you.” He replied. “No I mean- I thought we were going to-“ you started before he cut you off. “I wanna do things differently with you. I wasn’t going to do anything you weren’t comfortable with.” He confessed, throwing the towel to the side. You sat up, shifting to your knees in-front of him, wrists still tied together.

“And the fact that you’re willing to wait for me shows me all I need to see. So I’m begging you…please. Please fuck me lo’ak. I need you.” You rambled, looking up into his eyes desperately. His ears perked up, mouth agape with shock.

He grabbed your wrists, holding them close to his heart before kissing your knuckles. “The things you do to me…” he spoke lowly, chuckling against your dainty hands. “Let’s just wait, y/n. I want your first time to be special.” He explained, going to caress your head. You backed away before he could.

“All I need is you. That’s special enough.” You spoke sensual, turning around to bend over in-front of him. You let your head find comfort on the cot as you spread your legs farther apart, exposing your dripping cunt to him.

“Give it to me, lo’ak. I’m so fucking needy for you. I can’t help it anymore.” He watched the whole scene unfold in-front of him with intent. His tail wagged quickly behind him, looking down at your glory, practically sitting on a platter all for him.

“Shit…” was all he could say. Running his hands down his face as you backed up into him. Your bare cunt rubbing against his growing bulge. This provided the right amount of friction for you, causing you to let out a series of soft moans.

“All you wanna do is fuck me. What about “hello” or “how are you��.” He joked, smacking your ass hard, causing you to wince in pain.

“Yeah yeah. Just give it to me..Pleaaasseee?!” Your whines muffled by the cot. He rolled his eyes, before smirking slightly.

“And here I thought you were a good girl. But deep down, when it’s all said and done. You’re really just a fucking slut.” He explained, untying his loincloth from around his hip, letting it drop to the ground beneath him. His cock sprung up, hitting your bare cunt in the process, causing you to moan at the friction. Beads of precum dripping to your ass, gliding down to your aching hole. It was such a beautiful site for him.

“It’s no coming back from this, mama. Once I give you this dick, you’ll be fucking hooked, I promise you that.” He growled, jerking his cock in the direction of your cunt. His words had you hooked already. He knew exactly what to say to have you wrapped around his finger.

“Mmm, lo’ak! Put it in me!” You cried desperately, pushing back onto him again. He chuckled at your desperation before lining up with your cunt, sinking it into you slowly, inch by inch.

“Fuuuck! I’ll move in a second. Just want you to get used to me first.” He moaned, watching you screw your face in absolute pleasure, whimpering and squirming around under him.

“No, lo’ak I’m ready! Fuck me! fuck me! fuck me!” You screamed, throwing your ass back on him, immediately finding the relief you were looking for. He was completely dumbfounded, watching you use him for your own pleasure.

“Mhmm! “Im not fucking you, lo’ak”…. Does that ring a bell, baby?” He spoke sensually, smacking your ass. He deemed it a good time to start meeting you halfway, thrusting into you firmly. Your eyes rolled back, smiling deliriously as your moans rippled with every hard stroke.

“Yesss! Keep fucking me just like that. I-it’s so *thrust* fucking *thrust* gooood!!” You whined, tears threatening to fall as you gnawed on the sheets deliriously. He watched you fall apart right before his eyes. And it sent him over the edge. He moaned loudly with you, throwing his head back as he drilled deeply into you.

“Shit baby! Let me see your wrists.” He moaned, watching you shift around slightly to expose your wrists to him. He untied you quickly, throwing the restraints across the room.

“Fuuuck!” You whined, reaching around to grab your cheeks, spreading them wide for him. He took this as an opportunity to stick his tongue out, letting his saliva glide down in between your folds. You turned your head, meeting his lustful gaze.

“Lo’ak, I fucking love youuuu!” You whined, moans staggered from his hard thrusts. He bit his lip, staring at your screwed face. “I love you more!” He moaned, jaw clenched as he watched your eyes roll back.

“N-Never leave me. Ok?” He grunted, grabbing your arm, and you clung to his arm as well. You two stared into each others eyes, as he tried to blink back tears, his emotions getting the best of him again. He didn’t know what you were doing to him, but he loved it. He had never felt this way about any other girl.

“I-I’m not going anywhere, baby! I promise!” You cried, feeling that familiar sensation from earlier. The eye contact had your stomach doing backflips, and you just couldn’t quite explain the way you felt for him. You didn’t know what he had done to you, but you couldn’t get enough. This moment that you two shared was indescribable. He couldn’t help but let his tears fall, biting his lip as he watched you share the same exact reaction. Tears blurring your vision as you let out a series of moans, maintaining the most dangerous eye contact. The type of eye contact that could make you fall In love, and you two were falling deep.

“I love you, y/n. I love you so fucking much!” He cried, voice shaky as he sped up the pace slighty. “I-I love you too!” You moaned before your legs started shaking beneath you.

“Cum with me, y/n. I know you’re just as close as me. I can feel it!” He grunted, smacking your ass once more. He felt his stomach tighten, signaling that he was going to cum any second.

“In me, please? I need it.” You whimpered, feeling his swollen tip slam against your sweet spot. His eyes widened at your request.

“You sure, my love?” He spoke breathily, focusing on his in coming orgasm. You nodded frantically, shutting your eyes tightly as you started to shake violently underneath him.

“OH MY- FUCK LO’AK! IM CUMMING!!!” You screamed, every stroke revealing his cream coated cock. “Shit, Me too! Me too!” He whimpered, before his jaw dropped. His thrusts became sloppy, releasing his seed inside of you, filling you up just how you asked him to.

“Mmm yesss, so good lo’ak!” You hummed, feeling his seed leak into your empty womb. You two came down from your highs, breathing hard as your sweaty bodies collapsed. You shifted around to face him. You both stared at each other, with new found love lingering in the air.

“Come here.” He chuckled lazily, gripping your neck before kissing you passionately. And you two kept this same energy all night. Fucking each other for hours and hours until you both finally crashed.

- - -

“LO’AK WHAT THE FUCK?” Echoing screams muffled in your mind, waking you up from your sleep. Your eyes squinted from the morning sun as you grimaced.

“LO’AK! ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? WHO IS THIS BITCH IN YOUR BED?” A clearly angry voice shouted, waking you up completely. You saw a girl standing over you two. She went to hit him, immediately waking him up.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE? GET OUT!” He shouted, halting her attempts to hit him as he held her wrists together.

“W-What’s going on?” You spoke groggily, watching the entire scene unfold in-front of you. “Why are you in his FUCKING BED!” The girl hissed at you. Your eyes widened, wrapping the sheets around your naked body.

“I-I didn’t know you two were together.” You whispered, completely heartbroken. Your eye contact shifted between him and the girl he was holding onto for dear life, trying to stop her from hitting him.

“WE’RE NOT TOGETHER Y/N, I SWEAR ON MY LIFE! SHES JUST FUCKING CRAZY!” He growled, shifting off of the bed to push her out of the hut. It was a slight struggle before he pushed her out completely, shutting the door in her face. He faced the door for some time, knowing exactly what your reaction would be when he turned around.

“Y/n…I know what this looks like-“ he started before you cut him off. “No.” you spoke, voice shaky from your incoming breakdown. He turned around, darting over to you before kneeling next to the cot.

“Y/n, I swear! Me and that girl are not together! We had a one night stand a couple of weeks ago and that was it! I swear baby, please!” He rambled, tears streaming down his face.

“I-I’ve gotta go.” You whimpered, wiping tears from your puffy eyes. You pushed passed him, putting your cloths on swiftly before grabbing the rest of your things.

“Y/n, please! You said you’d never leave me, just let me explain. I-I can’t lose you. I CANT!” He cried, kneeling down in front of you. You stood before him, so confused on how you felt. A part of you knew it wasn’t his fault, but you just couldn’t take it. She wouldn’t be the last girl you had to deal with, and you knew that. You didn’t know if you were strong enough to deal with that. So you chose not to…

“I-I just need time to think. I can’t do this right now, lo’ak.” You spoke, barely above a whisper. “Please…” he whimpered, reaching out for your hand before you backed up from his embrace. Completely shattering his heart.

“I-…goodbye lo’ak.” You whispered before turning around, darting out of the hut door, not even looking back as you walked to your own hut.

And there he was. Just as empty, if not more, As the day you found him. And just like that, the cycle starts over…

Taglist: @number1gal @loak-bae @tiredmamaissy @neytirishottie @viajaeger @terrorthewolf @lethargicluv @reyzzsostellar @m0nst3rfk3r @agelsully @jakescumdump @wekiamo @st-cass @cleardonutangelwagon @tsireqas @satanlovedays @afro-hispwriter @thecutieyahia @urfavgirlmakenna @fanboyluvr @iameatingmyhair @secretflowerobservation @violet-19999 @neteyamsprincess @xreadersstuff @sweetllamaparadise @lia-nath @sullymenrhot @dotheyevenknowmars @xdbluesky @slay-nt @domino-x3-blog @ladylovegood-69 @itssomeonereading @sweetirilly @skxawngmia @downbadforloak @loaks-tanhi @loaksbabyy

[nomelwelloy]

Legolss drabble / imagine | Legolas x reader

☆彡

Legolas nimbly dismounts his horse, giving it a soft pat as he hands it over to the stable hand, before he navigates the winding streets of the White City, up steep flights of stairs, weaving through fish markets and stone gardens, until he reaches the shopping streets and dips into the jeweller’s store.

You look up at the rattle of the door chime and a smile blooms on your face, as does a warm feeling in your chest. “Legolas,”

“Darling,” he says with a quiet rush of air, like the sight of you has stolen his breath. His smile mirrors yours, and his eyes shine. “My apologies for the wait,” he pads around the counter, peering at your workstation. He touches your shoulder, desperate for the slightest connection to you even while you’re in the midst of work, yet cautious enough of your task at hand.

When you secure the final ringlet to the headband, however, it is swiftly set aside to crush him in your arms.

Almost like a competition, Legolas squeezes you as tightly, taking a deep breath as he presses his face into your shoulder. You do the same, tightening your hold while he waltzes the two of you into the middle of the shop, doing a little spin on the spot.

He smells of fresh earth and jasmine and ozone, but his hair carries the slightest hint of his citrus-scented wash. This tugs at your heart, and you’re suddenly hit with immense nostalgia; brief flashes of memories in Mirkwood, of days spent lounging in bed, sparring and racing one another through the forest’s twisting, ancient trees, and stargazing by those said trees, sometimes falling asleep to her soothing winds and quiet lullaby. Legolas would watch over you when you do, his hands soft on your hair in absentminded ministrations.

You sigh into his neck. “I’ve missed you,”

You can feel his smile, and his hand comes up to the back of your neck, stroking fondly. “As did I,” he brushes over your lips with his own. “My love,” he presses a littler firmer. “My starlight,” Legolas steals another breath, his mouth moving ardently against yours. “Meleth nin,”

You melt against him before you even know it, going weak in the knees when that familiar term of endearment slips past his lips. You’ve ached to hear it for months, imagined it on lonely nights and busy days until finally, your lover is before you, quelling the absolute longing you didn’t know was so intense, until he stepped through the door.

Your eyes are closed, relishing in his warmth when you hear a noise from outside. Cracking open one eye, your face flushes when you see one of your regulars knocking the glass window, a teasing grin plastered into her face. You instantly move away, groaning inwardly with a little wave, and you are already begging for the floor to open up and swallow you whole right there.

“Hello, hello!”

The door jingles, and Legolas turns, naturally placing himself between you and her. “Good afternoon,”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt such a sweet moment,” she giggles, pressing a hand to her mouth. “I just wanted to check on that order I placed,” she gestured, “the hair piece?”

You clear your throat and straighten yourself, going behind the counter to retrieve the package. “Here,” you pass it to her and receive her payment. “Just in time for the festival too,” you add, but her arching grin makes it difficult for you to continue being polite.

“Oh yes,” she glances between the two of you with another sweet smile, “Everyone will be there, it’s going to be wonderful!” she hugs the package to her chest. “It’s about to start! Don’t want to be late,” she turns to Legolas before she leaves, shooting him another grin. “It was so lovely to meet you, I’ll see you two later!”

When the door finally shuts, you groan, cursing quietly, much to Legolas’s amusement.

“She… she’s a bit of a gossip,” you explain, head in your hands. “Always nosying about other people’s lives…” you huff in exasperation. “Oh, she’ll have the time of her life with this!”

“We cannot let her have all the fun.” Legolas grabs your hand and he twirls you on the spot. “Shall we go too? I even brought the tunic you liked,”

You feign a gasp. “You came all prepared! How devious!”

Legolas laughs, pressing a kiss to your temple, gently rocking you sideways in a little dance. “It has been too long,”

You hum in agreement, letting a brief silence settle as you consider the idea of going, of all this time and distance you’ve spent apart, waiting and making do with irregular letters and quiet longing.

You feel the adrenaline begin to build in your veins, and with a firm resolve you twirl Legolas around, catching him close to you. “It is decided! A festival we shall go, and a gift I have prepared, for my princely elf.”

The handmade circlet that rests upon his head is perhaps your finest work to date: Thin silver curling gently in ornamental half ellipses upon his forehead, encasing a small round moonstone in the center, metal curving around it like vines. It’s random moments throughout the night when you dance and drink and laugh yourselves silly until your stomachs hurt, and Legolas has to catch you before you trip over yourself, when the circlet catches the light and reflects the same soft shine in his gaze towards you. It is stirring, and it makes the months of waiting and yearning all seem like a foggy memory, now that you are back in each others arms.

☆彡

a/n: more of an idea dump that just kept going until it became this! I am not entirely clear on the city’s layout and have written it very generically but I find it quite fun to come up with things esp given it’s awesome structure?? hope you enjoyed reading it though! (also thank you for all the love on the most recent Legolas drabble ;; <3333)

[tunnelofdusk]

jjk ficlet: gego, a/b/o, dubious consent

wc: 1234 words

Yaga Masamichi has no delusions about his role—he sends children to die. They call him sensei as he teaches them how to kill—how to maim. It is for the greater good and he teaches these children to find purpose in the lives they will save with their power. 

Masamichi teaches his children to kill curses and curse users. They are not meant to hurt each other and yet, Masamichi listens as Gojō Satoru fiercely defends his new alpha. 

“He didn’t know I was in heat. It’s not his fault,” Gojō says. 

But he did know. I told him. 

Helplessly, Masamichi stares at Getō Suguru’s unlined face. The gentle curve to his mouth makes Masamichi wonder where he went wrong in teaching him. The magnitude of this betrayal could break Gojō, who is already disillusioned by the fiasco of the Star Plasma Vessel incident, and Getō knows this. How placid his eyes are—daring Masamichi to shatter his own student to pieces. 

—

Dried blood splatter flakes off the curve of Getō Suguru’s jaw as he enters Yaga-sensei’s office for a preliminary debrief of his assignment. He smiles and more blood flakes off. It itches his skin but his hands still stay loose at his sides. There is blood beneath his fingernails, tinting them pink. 

Yaga-sensei waves a dismissive hand when Suguru’s eyes flicker down to the red-flaked carpet. “How did it go?” he asks. Seated behind his desk as Suguru stands at attention, he idly shuffles a pile of papers. 

“I executed the curse user,” Suguru says. “Unfortunately, his hostage didn’t survive the fight.”

The deepening frown on Yaga-sensei’s face is not an unfamiliar sight, but Suguru does not care. His casualties grow higher and the higher-ups stay silent as long as their dirty work gets done. The death of a monkey here and there has no impact upon the world of jujutsu sorcerers. What does the lion care about the ant? 

(“Jujutsu exists to protect non-jujutsu sorcerers.” How naïve.)

“He was just a kid,” Yaga-sensei murmurs. 

So was I.

“I’ll hand in my report tomorrow, sensei,” Suguru says. He is still smiling, muscles aching,�� and blood is still flaking off his face—a decaying mask disguising nothing. 

“Ah, fine. Wash up…Would it have killed you to have at least cleaned up a bit before you came in?” Yaga-sensei grumbles.

“Hey, at least I’m not like Satoru. You can barely get a debrief out of him,” Suguru says wryly. 

Yaga-sensei shifts in his seat. “Speaking of Gojō-kun,” he says, “be careful. He just went into heat.”

All the muscles in Suguru’s body tense for a fleeting moment. Under Yaga-sensei’s sharpening gaze, he relaxes and smiles. “I always am careful,” he says as his canines begin to ache. Nowhere near his own rut, and yet, venom pools bitter in his mouth.

Yaga-sensei dismisses Suguru with a few words, and the smile sloughs off Suguru’s face once he exits Yaga’s office. Be careful, Yaga says. Be careful. Suguru is tired of caring—of caring so deeply that he hollows himself out. Ever since Amanai’s murder, he and Satoru exist on parallel paths as the higher-ups bury them under curses and curse users to kill and kill and kill—

The scent of ozone suffuses the air outside Satoru’s door, escaping its imperfect seal. Instinct has led Suguru here. He wonders if Satoru can smell him, heat and cursed energy elevating his senses to inhumanity. After all, only jujutsu sorcerers still atavistically bear alpha and omega traits—the primitive world of surviving amongst predator and prey reflected in their monstrosity. The life of a jujutsu sorcerer is about survival and bearing offspring to propagate bloodshed.

Suguru lingers outside Satoru’s door, jaw ever so slightly unhinged and exposing glistening canines. He could never forget the taste of Satoru’s skin, the scent of him, the sight of him flushed with his first heat and the way Satoru had almost been his until Yaga had stumbled upon them—juvenile scents turning acrid with the first bloom of maturity. And now Suguru and Satoru haven’t talked to each other in days…

A soft keen ensnares Suguru’s attention and he splays a palm across the door. One movement and he could change the trajectory of their lives. Satoru will leave Suguru behind if things continue as they are. Is it so wrong of Suguru to do what is best for them? Poor Satoru—too powerful, too pretty, too arrogant to be left alone. They will isolate Satoru in a cage of his own making and Satoru will let them—is letting them. 

You’re my best friend, Satoru had said, trying to cajole Suguru into another Digimon marathon. And Suguru had burned with the indignity of it all—a fire in the pit of his chest where longing blows sweetly on dormant coals. Best friend? Suguru spends his nights lying in bed and listening to Satoru’s nightly routines as if awaiting the sun to set in his sight. He now knows him only by the sound of him—the creak of his bed as he collapses in a mess of limbs and the sweet exhales of his burdened body. 

You left me and never gave me the chance to catch up, Suguru whispers.

“Suguru?” Satoru says hoarsely. His bare feet audibly pad across the floor and Suguru knows that the distance between them only relies on this flimsy door. The social contract of jujutsu sorcerers—the polite fiction that doors and locks can keep each other out when they regularly break concrete and warp metal with their human bodies. 

“Satoru,” Suguru dares to croon, hot breath fanning across the door—so close is he. “I thought we were going to watch Digimon tonight?”

“...Digimon?” Satoru says. 

The shakiness of Satoru’s voice incites Suguru’s heart to beat quicker and quicker in anticipation—a hawk catching sight of a lame rabbit and preparing to swoop down. They are on the edge of precipice, but heat disables Satoru’s mental faculties—none of his wit and charm maneuvering him out of this situation. Only Suguru knows the pheromonal danger blooming in this moment.

“Satoru, let me in,” Suguru says. “We’ll watch Digmon like you promised.”

“I…promised?” Satoru says haltingly. He pants softly at the conclusion of his words, like a dog dying of heat. A bitch.

“Satoru,” Suguru croons. You know me, the undertones promise. Deliberately, he pulls down the collar of his shirt and rolls his sleeves back to bare his scent glands. The scent of sandalwood fills the air—heavy and redolent. There is nobody else on this floor; there is nobody to accuse him of manipulating an omega in heat with the scent of a trusted alpha. Even now, Satoru knows who his alpha is. How beautifully he responds.

“Suguru,” Satoru exhales. He opens the door.

Out of heat, Satoru is a beauty—all long limbs, long lashes, pouty mouth, and bratty behavior. In heat—Satoru is just as Suguru remembers from that fateful few months ago in the gymnasium. Satoru’s first heat had struck like lightning, illuminating the fertile, febrile nature of his body. The flush of his skin, the soft part of his mouth, the grace of his body surrendering…the scent of him…the taste of him…the curve of his mouth…the dip of his waist…the flesh of his hips…the curve of his ass…skin upon skin upon skin upon—

Satoru’s first heat had triggered Suguru’s first rut.

Now, Suguru does not have the excuse of his rut for the actions he takes. 

[mayashesfly]

Gathering the Pixels Left Behind

Relationship: Valentino/Vox, Valentino & Vox, One-sided Alastor/Vox, RadioSilence Tags: Soft Valentino, Fluff, Angst, (Emotional) Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Sex, Post-Coital Cuddling, Sharing a Bed

After a wonderful night with Valentino in his arms, Vox can't help but fall asleep in contentment. While Valentino thinks about how much Vox was running himself ragged ever since the Radio Demon's disappearance. ...his dream started off so well... So imagine Valentino's shock upon seeing the nightmare Vox was having on his screen. And the emotions and vulnerability that came with it.

Read on AO3

"Dreams rarely make sense" "Yet so, I stayed"

━━━━━━━━━

The post-sex bliss washed over Valentino as he sighed in contentment, smiling softly to himself as he cuddled with the out of sorts tv demon. Still loading up as his fans whirled from the exertion, shoulders lax as Valentino looked him over.

For all the horrid things Valentino is, these times with Vox is the only time he enjoyed the post-sex scene as he waits for his partner to slowly resurface from his brains getting fucked out.

Valentino hummed in contentment as he traced the edges of Vox's physique. Careful not to touch anymore of his erogenous parts. His pale blue skin contrasted nicely with his cyan gills. Broad shoulders thinning to a nice snatchy waist and a soft cute belly.

Vox looked beautiful like this, unchained from his perfect pristine appearance. The nearly ever present smile. The unending scowl from stress. Too riled up and kept taut that Valentino couldn't help but want to unravel what kept him so restrained.

Once upon a time, dear Vox wasn't nearly as controlling with himself and his surroundings.

Though that was a time of transition. A time without much power.

He had always gotten the feeling Vox wanted more than power. More than attention.

Whether or not that shy little boy from before was all an act, he didn't know. All he knew now was how much he clung to control.

And oh, how desperately Valentino wanted Vox to give up control just for him. To finally let go and just be.

These times were just like that. Vox pliant underneath his fingers and caress. Fans whirling in overdrive as that beautiful shade of red graced his screen, his blush beating to the sound of his own heart. Crying out his name as his voice glitched and buffered, reaching a high only he would allow Valentino to see.

(Perhaps that's just a daydream, as surely Vox has used his service once a few times himself. He wouldn't blame him)

Vox's screen finally flickered back to life. Light dim from the tired bliss as his blurry face stared at Valentino with a soft smile. His fans slowing to a more contented whirl, almost like a purr.

"Wow..." He simply said as he studied Valentino's face with his own eyes. Noting the soft grin he graced him with as his hand rested on Vox's bare chest, in between his dark blue buttons.

"Had a good time, mi amor?" He asked, eyes half-lidded as he stared into his bright blue eyes before slowly trailing down to his relaxed smile.

A flicker of amusement crossed his flushed face. "Yeah... I did" He replied. Before he slowly leaned up, cupping Valentino's chin gently as their mouths softly intertwined.

There was no tongue. No heat. No rush.

As Valentino slowly melted in such gentleness. Their breaths melding into one another as he took in the wonderful scent of ozone and pheromones.

When they parted, Vox had a wonderful grin on his screen. Eyes half-closed with a self-satisfied smile as he asked deeply, "Satisfied?"

Valentino squeaked sweetly in agreement, wrapping all of his arms around Vox. His wings draping over the both of them as they cuddled. "Yes"

Their eyes slowly fell down, closing shut as they basked in each other's presence. Listening to each other's slow breaths and heartbeats before drifting off to sleep.

━━━━━━━━━

Vox dreamed of gentle mornings, slow mornings as he didn't need to rise and shine early to broadcast. Smiling softly to himself as he admired his partner's work. The smell of freshly cooked meat and vegetables permeating through the air with the sweet smell of smoke.

Bright smiles and gentle laughter as they banter. Talking about themself and each other before exchanging kisses. Some soft turning into heated as tongues pressed together and his back meets the counter.

The taste of pheromones and liquor. And blood.

His chin being propped up with gentle fingers as he stared up towards his partner. Content with watching their beautiful smile grow before diving in.

Cane and hooves tapping on the floor before the cool microphone meets his chin. Head heavy but buzzing with delight that he could float off into heaven.

Red smoke. Red suit. Black antennas. Black ears.

The soft and intense gaze.

He melts under.

His heart full of affection as he stared at his lover. Cupping their chin gently as he moved away their hair. Their hand holding his.

"Mi amor"

"My good pal"

Smoke billows as their eyes half-closed. A content smile gracing their lips as they stared at him. Grip tightening.

Before the shadows fade. Disappearing with the wind.

A slow creep of dread clutched his heart as he looked around his surroundings getting darker and darker. The lingering touch becoming cold.

He shivered from the cold. Billions of eyes staring at him unseen in the darkness, judging him.

"Alastor?" His voice called out in the darkness.

"Alastor? Where are you?" Vox called out again, voice wavering in the dead silence. Shaking as he took a blind step.

Static rang in his ears. In his head. In his chest.

He ran.

"ALASTOR!!!!!"

He looked around in the darkness in panic. Breath heaving in exhaustion as his fans whirled in overdrive.

"ALASTOR WHERE ARE YOU?!!!!"

He felt the broken lines gathering in his screen as he tried not to tear up. Voice warbling as his throat filled with static.

No no no no no... He couldn't be gone! He coUlDN'T BE GONE!!!! HE COULDN'T BE GONE!!!!!

"ALASTOR!!!! PLEASE ANSWER ME!!!!!!" Please be alive. Please be alive. Please be aLiVE     

He paused upon seeing it.

A trail of red... leading to.... something.....

His screen blacking out as he stares at the striking color.

No.... it couldn't be.....

He follows the red road.

Screen blank as he merely walks.

And walks. And walks. And walks. And walks. And walks and walks and walks and walks and walks and sees      

Him.

━━━━━━━━━

Valentino slowly blinks awake as a soft light encompassed the room.

He smiled softly as he stared at his partner's screen. Unsurprised to see a soft domestic scene gracing his screen.

It was blurry, a myriad of colors and pictures. Almost like a watercolor painting that shifted and changed with the wind and way of water.

It was quite surprising seeing his partner dream of something so domestic at first.

He was always such a workaholic. Barely having any time for breaks or even eat a proper meal. Resorting to cans of Volts and bowls of Voot Loops to get through the day. Not stopping by once as he moved from meeting to meeting, appearance to appearance, broadcast to broadcast, and surveillance in just one day.

He closed his eyes, allowing Vox the privacy of his mind. He was just content knowing that Vox was having a good dream. Hell knows he needs it, after all.

Valentino drifted off to sleep yet again until he felt Vox shift in his sleep. Bleary and confused, Valentino peaked out an eye to look at his partner turning in his sleep.

His breaths were uneven. Heaving as he turned his head. His fans whirling in overdrive. Mumbling to himself as streaks of dead pixels started to appear on his face.

Valentino sat up. Eyes wide as a single sob wracked through his voice box. "Al    no"

More and more lines gathered at his face as his screen seems to break apart in lines. Valentino tried not to look at the scene behind the dead pixels as he tried to carefully shake Vox awake.

"Vox     wake up. Wake up! It's just a dream!" A desperate trill entered his throat as he tries to wake Vox up from his nightmare.

Still he saw the red color that caused his nightmare. Caused the gathering of lines of dead pixels in place of his tears.

A flash of anger struck his heart as he thought about that ugly radio demon. How dare he just up and disappear after hurting him and destroying Vox.

(His antenna still throb in phantom pain)

And now here he is, gathering the pieces Vox foolishly let himself be ripped away by the Radio Demon.

"v-Al.... i'm so sorry......"

His fury disappears as his heart throbs for his partner.

He stops shaking him awake as he carefully held his chin.

Freezing, Vox stopped shaking as he slowly falls limp in his touch.

Relaxing, Val could barely see his face from all the dead pixels. But still he whispers softly, "It's okay, Vox... I'm here. Val is here. It was just a dream"

His thumb rubbed Vox's screen as if he was trying to wipe away his tears. But it did nothing towards the dead pixels still decorating his screen.

A wave went through the pixels as Vox slowly croaked out, "Val...?"

His voice warbled in radiowaves. And Val couldn't help but chuckle, teary-eyed. "Seems like my sleeping beauty finally woke up"

Waves continued to move through his screen as the dead pixels slowly disappear with each one. "Val, I can't see you"

"Pixels, my dear" He informed, slowly lifting his hand from his face to rest it on his shoulder instead as he tried not to breath outloud in relief.

He never likes having to deal with Vox's nightmares...

"Oh..."

His voice sounded out so small. Probably embarrassed to know Valentino saw him like that.

"I'm so sorry"

Valentino huffed in exasperation. "There's nothing to be sorry about, mi amor. I can understand if my flat-faced prince needs to cry sometimes"

Till this day, Valentino was honestly surprised when Vox admitted to him that was how he cried. It warmed his heart that he trusted him as much as it crushed him.

There was so many dead pixels. So many dead pixels within the dead silence of radio and static.

He swears he won't do the same.

(Although Valentino was nothing but unable to keep his word.

At least he stayed. )

[tornadotame]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐄

WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE. standing at 5’6”, kate’s build can be described as deceptively delicate. with long legs and arms, thin wrists, and not much in terms of curves, she holds a wiry sort of strength, built from a childhood of farm-chores and a young adulthood of hefting around at times heavy meteorological equipment. her hair’s natural shade is a dark golden brown, though she’s been lightening it for years. it’s thick, and holds a gentle wave when she doesn’t straighten it. very large, very dark brown eyes framed with thick lashes peer out of a somewhat sharply formed face, with a pointed nose, squared off chin, high cheekbones and ears that are a touch prominent. her mouth is wide in her face, with a lower lip slightly more full than the upper, often slicked with a hint of sheer pink lipstick.

kate doesn’t tan, she freckles and burns, so she wears sunscreen religiously and can occasionally look very washed-out and pale.

one thing most do notice about kate, especially when wearing shorts or sundresses, is the long, prominent scar dragging down her left thigh, caused by flying debris, cut deep enough to reach bone. starting just below her hip, and ending an inch or so above her knee, she has only recently started showing it, though the injury is five years old. she also has smaller scars littered across her body, and a botched stick-&-poke tattoo in the shape of a twister on her ribs, just below her right breast.

WHAT THEY SMELL LIKE. kate has a preference for clean, fresh scents. bergamot and citrus, patchouli and fresh grass, that sort. she enjoys wearing rain by clean when it comes to perfume, and likes lemon scented shampoos and soaps. coffee and cigarette smoke also clings faintly to her, as well as hay and old wood whenever she’s back home in sapulpa. when she’s out in the field damp earth, grass and ozone tends to linger on her clothes, mixed with sweat.

WHAT THEY TASTE LIKE. sweet tea, coffee and mint. she’s trying to quit smoking, a habit she picked up in her years living in new york, so she’s frequently chewing gum or sucking on mints or guzzling caffeine. she isn’t picky when it comes to alcohol, she tried the assortment of cocktails and high-end drinks when she was in the city and going out on perfunctory friday nights with co-workers, but she genuinely just prefers beer.

WHAT THEY SOUND LIKE. kate worked hard to mask her natural oaklahoman accent, to avoid people asking her where she was from, so at times her voice can come across a touch flat and emotionless. but it slips out regardless when she’s back home, especially when talking with other southerners. the elongated vowels, the slight drawl. her voice is a touch breathy and girlish, though she can easily turn sharp and blunt in a snap.

WHAT THEY FEEL LIKE. kate has poor circulation in her legs, especially her left, so her feet are almost always cold. her hands though, are small and warm, with faint scars on her palms from her nails digging into them when she held onto the overpass during the ef5. she does keep her nails trimmed neat and short, and uses hand cream religiously so her skin doesn’t crack. she’s very lean, somewhat bony to the touch, and the scar on her thigh feels knotted and raised. when kate hugs someone, she holds on for dear life, throwing her entire heart and soul into it, and it shows.

[fanfoolishness]

starlight + hunter? :)

Please enjoy! This ended up being a little longer. Hunter walks beneath the stars of Pabu, set in season 2. :)

The Soldier

He isn’t sleeping well.

It doesn’t make much sense, objectively.  Pabu is the safest world they’ve been on in months, maybe in their lives.  It’s a paradise here.  The people are genuinely kind, grateful to them for all of their help during the sea surge.  Omega runs and plays and laughs, and he keeps losing her in crowds of dozens of other children, all unique.  Hunter knows he should be sleeping better than ever in a place of such security.

But night after night he wakes up after a few hours of uneasy, broken sleep, and eventually gets up, going on walks alone.

He lets the night-voice of this world wash over him as he walks the mountainside.  He’s used to the blending of a place’s scents, sounds, light spectrum, gravity, weather all combining into a particular signature.  Pabu is painted in a rich new palette, and he walks through it in the dark, memorizing it on his own.

There’s the ever-present lap of the waves on the shore; during the day he’d have to go to Lower Pabu to pick out the sounds in the maze of the village’s ambient noise, but here in the quiet it’s easy for him to hear, even hundreds of feet from the shore.  It mingles with the songs of tree-crickets and the chatter of sea-bats.

There’s the scents of the large shade-trees, green vines bearing lush fruits on the sides of homes, the smells of sand and surf and leaf.  He breathes deep of all of it, marveling at the lack of oil, exhaust, ozone.

There’s the mercurial breeze, sometimes sweet and gentle from the south-southwest, sometimes a bold blast from the wild north seas, sometimes a constant gust from the utter west.  It dances over his face, flutters his hair against his neck and cheeks.  

There’s the low-pitched hum of tectonic plates deep in the stone, the deep and vital shift just barely palpable when he lays his hand on stone.  It always makes him pause; he stops, digs his palm against the stone wall, prays for the sake of the people here that there will not be another quake.

There’s the starlight.  It’s still so strange to see a starfield unmarred by the steady stream of ships, the lights of landing fields.  Countless constellations smatter the darkness in white and twinkling gold.  He wonders if Tech knows their names already, if Crosshair could see them in incredible detail.

One night he turns at the top of the stairs.  The wind has shifted; someone is coming up behind him, though they exercise no attempt at stealth.  Hunter takes a pace forward and pauses as the person steps beneath a string of glowing lights on the veranda above.  It’s only Shep.

“Can’t sleep?” Shep asks kindly.  “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you making the rounds.”

Hunter shrugs.  “I’m just not used to it here.  It’s so…”  Peaceful.  “Quiet.”

“And you seem restless.  A tough combination,” Shep observes.  “Do you ever watch the stars?”

“Sometimes.  More to scan for any potential threats than for the stars themselves, I suppose.”

“That’s about what I thought,” says Shep.  He points up to the sky, to an arc of bright white points loosely near each other.  “You see that up there?”

He squints.  “Sort of.  Is it supposed to be something?”

“That’s the Soldier,” says Shep.  

“Really now.” 

Shep gives him a rueful smile.  “Hey, I didn’t name them.”  He gestures, drawing a hint of an outline.  Hunter studies the stars above them.  If he tilts his head to the side, he supposes he can see something like a figure up above, holding a sword, or maybe a rifle.  

“If you say so,” he says.

“In the stories, the Soldier is a tragic figure,” Shep says.  “Doomed to wander the skies.  It’s one of the easiest constellations you can see shift with the seasons.  Sometimes it seems like he’s never in the same place twice.”  He turns to Hunter.  “It must be hard to settle down after seeing so much.”

The stars glitter above them.  The Soldier’s rifle swings high; his feet march onward.  Hunter lets out a long breath.  “Yeah.  I guess it is.”

Shep reaches out, squeezes his shoulder before letting his hand fall.  “I hope it gets easier.  You and your family deserve it.”  He nods to him.  “Try to get some sleep, Hunter.”  He heads back the way he came, and Hunter’s left alone beneath the stars.

He slowly makes his way back to the ship.  For a moment, he thinks about asking Tech in the morning if there really is a constellation here called the Soldier.  But the more he thinks about it, the more he decides he doesn’t need to know. 

He climbs back into bed, the sounds of night-crickets and waves in his ears.  He falls into a deep and dreamless sleep, and when he finally wakes again, the sun is high and the stars are long forgotten.

[helps-the-writing-brain-go]

More Imaginary Captain Marvel AU bits

Billy jumps off the Magic Train (the title in proper caps, because little Billy knew important things, wonderful things were always thought of as such), barely wobbling as he made it over the large gap between the gleaming chrome beast and the dirty, crumbling platform of the station.

The train hisses, sputtering steam that seemed to tousle Billy's hair, making the boy giggle. (In truth, the Train looked like a modern thing and hence should have no steam, but really, who was there to judge aside from a delighted little boy what a Magic Train desired to do?)

Billy turns on heel, the warm, bright light that had since made its home in his chest smoothening the movement, almost-there warm, phantom hands bracing at his shoulders before letting go. Billy grins even wider before waving the Train off to wherever it was that Magic Trains went when they weren't ferrying little boys to and fro from Wizards to the Mundane World.

"Bye! Bye-bye! Thank you for carrying me Mr. Train!" He shouts and the train whistles loudly in farewell (even despite it having no whistle), and races off, sparks of all colours of the rainbow shooting off the rails, leaving the scent of ozone and the ground right after rainfall.

Billy keeps waving until the train is out of sight, then leaves the platform himself, his tiny body shooting off like an arrow, years of familiarity guiding his steps.

The low light sifting through the holes in the roof after the Train had gone had let Billy know all he needed to. It was getting dark, and even little boys who'd been granted an Amazing Thing should know better than to be out in the open after dark.

He makes to turn a corner, (that street is always dark, the streetlights near it never having been fixed, but Billy knows it, so he's not that scared of it-), but hears his Papa's voice whisper:

'Not that way today, Champ.'

And Billy listens, hand fisting over his heart and the pulsing, warm glow that shone ever brighter.

His Papa nudges him a little more as he goes and he makes it home in good time, and even better yet, had the wonderful fortune of passing by a generous baker, who, having not sold a few baked odds and ends left at the end of the day and who had been surprisingly full himself, had taken one look at little Billy crossing the street and happily gifted them to him instead. (Somewhere in the back of his mind, the scent of bread intertwines itself with other comforting smelling things like Ms. Polly's gardenia perfume, the down of feather boas, inks and papers and burning sands-)

Billy, having arrived, carefully unlocks the door to his apartment, shoving hard to make sure it is in place and locked before he putters over to the corner of the tiny room that served as the kitchen.

His Mama is the one that comes out to help this time. He can't hear her, but he can feel her warm prescence at his back, her arms over his as she plates his bread all pretty and radiates such a feeling of pride at him for managing to keep everything so clean despite his circumstances that Billy's face is nearly all the way pink, flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and pride. (Other bits and pieces cheer him on too, someone laughing gaily and complementing his fine manners, another brief sensation of a person petting his head for a job well done and-)

Billy washes up, then sits at the table with the lone chair he'd salvaged and fixed from the building one over's trash, with mismatched legs and lets himself revel in the warm feeling, like hugs inside and out as he eats, his mind and body filling with something even more wonderful than food.

He knows, kind of, that these aren't really people, aren't really his parents, but at the same time they aren't not people and his parents. Or so Billy understood from what the agitated Wizard had tried to tell him.

Billy knows now that when the Wizard had tried to give him Powers, he'd meant for him to be a Hero, a Protector of Magic and its Balance and of the Rock of Eternity itself. He'd seen the comic peeking out of Billy's bag and been confident in how the Powers of Shazam would take shape in the little boy. Unfortunately, the comic had been more a gift and Billy's idea of heroes, nebulous as it was, came from his father's words about kindness and goodness and from the dozens of bits of kindness offered to him from people around him that had shaped him and let him live till today. Billy idolized heroes like Superman and Batman and Wonder Woman, but in his heart of hearts, heroes had meant something entirely different.

So when Billy had said Shazam's name...it hadn't been Billy, stylized as a Hero version of himself that had emerged, but a Hero born of all the other people, experiences and kindness he had ever been exposed to. Captain Marvel was someone wholly Billy and yet not. Built from his memories, from his experiences and Heart, based off his form yes, but also from the amalgamation of the other people who Billy had thought of as true heroes.

On the one hand, Tawky Tawny, who had spawned in at the Wizard's palpable confusion and almost-distress, had commented that Billy would be far safer with the Captain quite far removed from who Billy truly was, but was also shot down by the Wizard's own assertation that with Him not being entirely based on Billy's good heart as Shazam had picked, meant that he could be unpredictable, that he might turn as-

Well, Billy hadn't quite heard the last bit as the Wizard disappeared in a shower of sparks, leaving his funny robes and hat behind. Tawky had looked terrible sad for a single, deep moment, before covering it up and ushering Billy away back to the train.

"What's done is done." he had said and mentioned that in place of the Wizard, Tawny would help watch over Billy and the strange Captain that had been borne from him.

[pen-of-roses]

Storm’s Call

Excerpt written for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt

Sleep eluded them again. The persistent aches flaring to life, and the crackling under their fingertips made them restless. Looking out the window, they knew why.

Under the thick blanket of clouds, the sky had turned black.

They slipped out the front door, any noise they caused swallowed by the wind and drumming of raindrops. The candle was the first to go, blown out and left by the door. It was followed by their cloak, shed on the porch. Finally, they abandoned their shoes on the steps.

The world lit up for a few, brief, blinding seconds.

Their fingers twitched.

Stepping off the small path, they sank to their knees, and let the cane fall so they could dig their hands into the soft, wet soil. With the air heavy with petrichor and ozone, they could breathe.

Funny. Didn’t they used to be scared of storms? Crawling into someone else’s bed, and clinging to them as a child, just to get through the night. Breathing uneven, but handling it better when they could get laughed at.

Thunder roared overhead, an angry dragon of a noise.

It’s there before them, scales glinting in the light, eyes wild and frenzied, teeth longer than their sword, yet so very afraid. So afraid they can taste it in the back of their throat, acrid burning smoke that chokes them. The sword wavers in their hand…

Is that what had changed? Seems a foolish thing to fear a storm after facing down that.

Another blinding flash highlighted the buildings and trees below.

The fingers of their ruined hand twitched again.

But perhaps it was too simple to say that facing down the dragon had been what changed them.

Burning white hot pain as every bone in their body twists, and snaps, and rearranges. The world turned too loud, too sharp. And so much smaller than before. Power crackling just under their skin threatening to burst.

There’s an ache in their teeth, a pressure in their head, an itch near their spine. It’s stronger than it had been in awhile. That thing inside begging to be let out again.

Not that they could.

The next roar rattles through them.

They tipped their head back, and the rain washed away the tears.

[dollsonmain]

Ok I'm going to explode if I don't talk about the big batch of unfortunate ponies that are on their way in for an emergency cleaning.

I am so excited and happy and grateful that I get a chance to clean them up because I'd never get to see many of these ponies in person otherwise since they're too pricey for me to buy.

I'll put it behind a cut, though, so their owner can choose whether or not to view my preliminary assessments which are based on the sales photos.

So, these were an expensive eBay lot with a lot of rare ponies in it which was an excellent price for all of them together. When they arrived to their buyer, it was discovered that they absolutely reek of mildew/mold. That's extremely disappointing.

They got packed right back up and are already on their way here.

Normally, boxes of ponies coming from there say they'll take a week and a half or so then suddenly appear after a couple days. I don't think that's going to happen this time, being Giftmas.

I had linked to the sale a while back but I didn't look super close at the pictures because there was no way I was going to be bidding, until today. They certainly LOOK stinky.

Mildew stink is easier to remove than smoke, regardless of whether it's cigarette smoke or whatever my Wave Runner smells of (it smells like she was in a house fire). Mildew stops stinking for the most part once it's all dead, and it's all certainly going to be very dead when I'm done with these ponies.

I have an ozone generator which will help if the bad smell doesn't wash off sufficiently. They can also be treated like rustbutts and given an oxyclean soak inside and out though that's rough on the hair so not my first choice. I may also get that UVC lamp and add it to the SunBox which is good for killing off mold and mildew. Then it's a question of how efficiently I remove it all from the vinyl, or how deeply the scent has gotten into said vinyl.

I'm both feeling optimistic and wary of that optimism. I don't want to get my own hopes up. Gotta keep that shit realistic.

If everyone got wet enough to mold, I don't think Talk-a-Lot is going to be functional. Hopefully she doesn't have batteries corroding in there. If that stuff on her face comes off, though, she'll at least be good for display. She looks very bright and fresh, otherwise.

Look at that scrungy hair on Merry Treat. hohoho bitch I am so excited. She also has some yellow on her face that will hopefully wash off. If it doesn't, yellow does cooperate pretty well with hydrogen peroxide and the SunBox.

I can already see that Mommy has unstable vinyl. That's a shame. Mommy and Baby are Euro exclusive IIRC, and difficult to get, here.

I'm not sure those dark spots on Baby aren't stains. I hope not, but it kind of looks like marker eyeliner.

These little pearlized babies are downright disgusting... Poor things. The pearl paint is surprisingly not as difficult to clean as I'd feared when the first ones showed up, what was it last year? It can withstand a gentle melamine sponging just as well as the cutie mark and eye paint. I also have a matching pearl paint to help with patching in where needed, though I don't have any semi-gloss sealant so any patched areas would rub off again rather easily. Good enough for display. I am rather confident they will turn out just fine.

Look at that knotted up wad of tail tinsel. (❁´◡`❁) I can't WAIT to make that all smooth and pretty again. Hopefully the stuff on her will come off... I can't tell if she has all of her hair and there were no photos of her other side. It looks like it might be shorter, but that can be caused by being matted, too. Fingers crossed it's all there.

Even with a haircut, Rapunzel's resale value is preposterous, which is why I will never own one.

There's some yellow grime on Birthday Pony and Firefly. I'm wary. It will either wipe right off or is stained. No way to know until I start cleaning.

There are no photos of the other side of Li'l Pocket. I wonder if she has her piggy bank and coin, still.

There's a little Remco donkey in there! I was wanting to see one, and now I don't have to buy one to get to.

Swirly Whirly.... I can't tell if the grime is ON her or IN her. She does seem to have shadowing in thinner areas but that can be both caused by dark mildew inside the body and just the fact that it's thinner, there, and there's a bit of a shadow inside. I won't know until I crack her open. When there's dirt stuck in the rooting holes like that, in my experience, it's coming from inside the body. Which is not a problem.

Her horrible hair texture excites me.

I have seen a few Glow n Shows go opaque even more than Starglow there... No idea what causes it. Happyglow in this same batch seems fine.

Someday I want to have some Glow n Shows.

I expect this to be stains. When it's been little round blooms like that, it's generally stained. I hope I'm proven wrong. She has her key, which is EXCITE.

There have been times where I've picked up a pony that looked like they had blooms and I didn't think they'd come off, and they wiped off no problem.

I actually have this one. She's my only remaining childhood pony. My Secret Beauty's key is long gone, though, and her saddle can barely stay latched anymore. The spring for the latch is worn out. She also has an ink stain on her cheek.

.... I don't even know. The listing doesn't say what this dog is.