#Studded Tire Chains

[bohurubber]

The Versatility of Weldless Chain: A Key Component in Industrial Applications

In the realm of industrial equipment and machinery, Weldless Chain stands out as a go-to solution for reliability and strength. Weldless Chain, with its seamless design, offers unparalleled flexibility and durability that are unmatched by traditional welded chains. These characteristics make Weldless Chain a preferred choice for a multitude of applications, from heavy lifting to secure fastening.

One of the most notable traits of Weldless Chain is its ability to bend and flex without breaking, which is a testament to its robustness. This flexibility allows Weldless Chain to be used in dynamic environments where chains are subjected to constant movement and stress. The absence of welded links means that there are fewer weak points, which is a significant advantage over welded chains that can fail at the welds under heavy loads.

The durability of Weldless Chain is another key feature that sets it apart. In industries where machinery and equipment are exposed to harsh conditions, Weldless Chain's resistance to wear and tear ensures long-lasting performance. This durability reduces downtime and maintenance costs, which is a significant benefit for businesses looking to maximize efficiency.

In addition to its flexibility and durability, Weldless Chain is also favored for its low maintenance requirements. With fewer points of failure due to the lack of welding, Weldless Chain requires less frequent inspections and repairs, leading to cost savings and increased productivity.

In conclusion, Weldless Chain's flexibility, durability, and low maintenance make it an indispensable component in various industrial applications. Whether it's used in construction, material handling, or agriculture, Weldless Chain's seamless design ensures that it can handle the toughest demands without compromise. This is why Weldless Chain is not just a chain, but a symbol of reliability and efficiency in the world of industrial hardware.

[kamospeach]

plot: exbf!choso is a simp and is begging for his ex girlfriend's forgiveness.

content warning: heavy cursing, drug use, high sex, public sex, car sex, piv sex, mating press, cowgirl, oral m!recieving, fingering, cum eating, choking, praising, softdom choso, dacryphilia, the whole nine really

peachy's yap: this is my first time writing on tumblr ! if there's any tips you have pls comment them :3

Saturday at 4:42 pm

"mama, I'm sorry," choso pleaded, pushing your door open. this was the fourth time he showed up at your house this week, and you were honestly getting tired of this. coming to beg for forgiveness but never hearing you out.

"choso, please leave before my mom comes back," you say, not even looking at him. he came over to your house dressed in his fucking sunday's best, and that was the worst. he knows you so well and how much you like all the things he's wearing right now. 

hair down, a black tee that never fits right, sweats, the black and white ugg tasmans you got him for his birthday. gold chains around his neck, his usual nose stud changed to a hoop and rings on his fingers. he didn't even try this hard to dress up when you went to kenjaku and geto's birthday party. and was that? is that your pink scrunchie on his wrist? 'he's pushing it,' you thought to yourself.

"come on, don't do this," he says, pushing the door harder. you were now using all your strength to try to close the door.

"you have some nerve coming to my house dressed like a slut." you huff, giving up on pushing the door as he throws his head back in laughter. he knew what he was doing and he thought it was funny you were acting like his attempt was futile. but he noticed the way you looked at him when you opened the door.

"i thought you liked me like this," he asked softly and you sighed knowing it was true, you did like him like that.

"i do." you accept defeat, letting him in the house. "you're only here so we can talk about it. that's it." you pushed open the door and he followed behind you after taking off his shoes. 

"why'd you want me gone before your mom got here?" he asked with furrowed brows since your mom knew of your and choso's relationship. you just didn't want her to think you both were still together, and you couldn't bring yourself to break the news to her.

"i didn't want her to see you here and think we were still together." you say walking into your room and sitting down on your bed. he hummed about to sit on your bed and you stopped him by his chest. "nah strangers don't get to sit on my bed."

"y/n," he said your name in a tone that sounded pathetic, honestly.

"choso," you say, and he rolls his eyes, sitting on the chair in the corner of the room. you crossed your legs as the both of you looked at each other in silence. he looked down at your legs that glistened under the sun, then moved his sight to your freshly done toes. light pink french tip, just how he liked, and you said he had nerve. "since it seems a cat caught your tongue, i'll start the conversation. i don't want to get back together if she's all in our business. done."

"she's my friend y/n you don't like her and don't know why. you know if you had a real reason i'd drop her." he reasoned, getting upset all over again, having pretty much the same reaction when you broke up with him two weeks ago.

"i don't like her because she's always running back to me telling me our business. she might've told someone else. even before then she always seemed messy." you stressed to him and he still couldn't wrap his head around your explanation.

"what does that have to do with me, i didn't tell her to be messy. why does her being messy mean we can't be together?" he questioned raising his voice and you put your hand out telling him to stop.

"i already told you if you're going to yell, we aren't going to speak to each other," you warn him.

"i'm not trying to yell but fuck you gotta be reasonable." desperation was clear in his voice, and you sigh, knowing the way choso was. he didn't get mad often, but he does get frustrated and he's stubborn about what he wants.

"all that i'm saying is going to another woman about our relationship and not me is crazy." you felt the tears sting your eyes. "then she has the nerve to tell me 'choso says he really likes you but... oh i shouldn't say that' and run off with her friends." you ranted as you began to full on cry, he looked at you his heart aching at your pain.

"when you told me she said that i got on her right then and there. you can't punish me for her actions," he argues looking you in your eyes.

"i'm not punishing you; I'm doing what's best for me," you explained trying to help him understand where you were coming from.

"is it what's best? you've been crying before right now, i could tell. i saw you at school, and it looks like you aren't getting any sleep. shoko told me you haven't been out since we broke up. You left without giving me a chance to right my wrongs." he says, and you hum, thinking about it.

"i left because you weren't trying to see my point. you said i was jealous and then dodged me for two weeks." you say making it clear you didn't just leave him because of that. "i tried to meet up and you always claimed you were 'busy' with your band."

"take a ride with me later today? let's talk about it more then." he asked out of nowhere, and you laughed at his abruptness. "i'll take the top off the jeep we can drive around like we used to do. like before we got together, you don't have to immediately take me back. just vibe like when you actually used to fucked with me." you laughed at his lame attempt at a joke.

"okay." you nod as he stands up, holding his hand out for you. you place your hand in his as he helps you stand. 

"i still love you, mama i hope you know what." he says as he wraps his arms around your shoulders and your arms wrap around his torso. "no other girl could change that," he assured you, you nodded sniffling from crying earlier.

"i still love you too, cho," you say, looking up at the man who's been by your side for 4 years. choso was a sweetheart, quiet, and would never intentionally hurt you. it just hurts to know he went to someone else for problems instead of you since you've been together for so long.

"you don't have to say it if you don't mean it." he joked and you rolled your eyes at him.

"m'serious, cho." you stomp your foot, and he nods, still laughing at you a little.

"i know," he kissed your forehead, the only thing you'd allow. "i'll come to get you at six, okay?

"i'll be ready." you nod, and he smiles.

"it's warmer than usual today, you can wear them shorts i like," he smirked referring to some shorts you bought a couple of years ago that fit fine until choso started stuffing you like a pig. now you fill them out better and part of your ass peeks out the bottom. you never wore them outside the house only when you took drives with choso or you both stayed in the house for the day. 

"and risk you thinking you're back in? no," you say shooing him out of your room until the two of you run into your mom. just your luck. she squealed running to hug choso. this was normal when she hadn't seen him for a while. she always claimed choso was her son and even if you didn't bring him around she was asking for him.

you looked between your mom and choso in disbelief. your mom squeezed him so tight rocking him side to side and he smirked at you. this is exactly what you didn't want to happen she would be talking about this meeting for the next month and a half.

"hey mom." he greeted her with a shit-eating grin that had you five and a half seconds away from hitting him square in the back of his head. he knew calling her mom was going to make her love him more than she already did.

"aww hello my baby!" she cooed and you blinked slowly looking between the two of them as they engaged in a conversation that lasted way too long. she asked about his band, his classes, his brothers, and then your relationship. to which he responded with 'we're good y'know we would never leave each other' as he side eyes you with the meanest glare he's probably ever put out.

"okay, cho don't you have to go take the roof off the jeep? that'll take some time won't it?" you frown as you bat your lashes practically begging him to leave. he glances down at you as he holds a cup of tea your mom gave him. 

"i can't finish my tea?" he frowned and your jaw dropped at the audacity of this man.

"no? get out!" you take the cup from his hands and push him towards the door. "i can't believe you." you grunted as he slowly put on his shoes. "you know i didn't want you to see her and you spent 15 minutes talking to her." you huff as he opened the driver's side hopping into the truck.

"then you'll just have to hold out for a while until you tell her." he smiled down at you. "i can't get a kiss?" 

"leave," you said as he laughed at your angry expression. he started the car and drove off as you walked back into the house. you skillfully avoided your mom not trying to hear her gush over how sweet choso was. as you entered your room you decided to take a shower before he returned.

after your shower, it was going on 5:45 meaning choso would be there soon. the sun was setting and you looked out your open window at the pink and purple sunset. you keep your eyes peeled for choso's truck while listening out for your mom. you did not want her to know he was doubling back, if she found out she'd probably end up serving him dinner.

another 10 minutes passed and choso drove up to your house top off like he promised. he had music playing and it sounded like it was a song from his band's more recent album. although you always listened to RnB you knew every song that his band made. you never thought you'd been into hard rock or metal until choso sent you his playlist. 

when he turned in the driveway you quickly grabbed your phone and small purse. you sped down the stairs almost tripping on the last one and letting out a small 'fuck'. your mom watched you run out of the house not even bothering to ask where you were going knowing it was either with shoko or choso. 

as you suspected it was his band's music and he turned it down when you walked out the door. being the gentleman he is got out of the truck to open up the passenger door for you. you looked him up and down seeing he changed specifically his hair that was now back in two buns. not interested in analyzing his fit you hopped into the jeep and didn't even bother to thank him. he just laughed at your sass getting back in the driver seat.

"not talkin' now?" he asked and you huffed loudly crossing your legs and arms. your resolve was wearing thin and you knew going on a drive wasn't going to help. his scattered tattoos on his arm as one hand steered, your nameplate around his neck, and his clenched jaw. that was enough for you to forgive him right there and then. 

"cho." you whispered lowly after you both sat in silence for 15 minutes and he gave you a quick glance. "i hated the break but i think it was good for you," you admitted as choso hummed putting the car in park. he ended your drive at the beach the breeze was a little colder but it still felt good.

"what're you tryin' to say?" he asked leaning the seat back grabbing the half-smoked blunt out of his ashtray. your face dropped not even noticing the blunt when you got in. it made you think to yourself 'Let me check if my chair in the right position'. and you did just that looking around your seat and making sure everything was right. humming in satisfaction when you saw that it was. 

"i'm just saying that the break was needed. you realized you needed to talk to me about our problems. because she can't help you fix us if there is no us." you explain and he nods, you could admit that the reason for your short break was selfish. still, you didn't like what he did and you weren't willing to let it slide. if he had first apologized or even listened to you instead of trying to guilt trip you it wouldn't have got this far.

"i can admit that, yeah, and it won't happen again. i'll do whatever it takes to make you happy and you know that," he says turning his head a little and handing the blunt to you. you grabbed it from him bringing the blunt to your lips, taking a hit letting the smoke fill your lungs. choso put his hand on the top knee of your crossed legs. 

"if you promise to talk to me, i can promise i'll never leave." you bargain passing the blunt back to him. he looked at the blunt seeing your cherry lip gloss all around it. he sent you a pointed glare and you shrugged already knowing what he was thinking. 

"that'll work, so can i get a kiss now?" he asked and you scoffed, that was all this man thought about. Little did you know choso had been thinking about kissing you since you got in. your perfume intoxicating his brain along with the effects of the weed make him extremely horny. he needed his kiss now!

"that's all I'm good for?" you asked playfully and he laughed shaking his head.

"no but it's a plus." he mumbles as you lean over the middle console pecking his lips quickly. as you were moving back he gripped your waist locking you in the position. "what the fuck was that?" he asked and you laughed at his reaction. 

giving in you press your lips against his this time not a peck. your tongues danced with each other and you melted into the kiss. his lips were soft and you both kissed almost as if you were starved. although you were broken up for two weeks you hadn't seen each other in a month. this was what you both needed to be back in each other's embrace.

your hand reached for his face just needing to feel him. your hands grazed his jaw down his neck and to his chest. while his freehand stayed content on your left ass cheek. 

your hands traveled down moving lower and lower feeling on his abs. you were hesitant but you let your urges go against your better judgment. your reached down to palm his hard-on and his hips bucked up as he moaned in your mouth.

"either you do something about it or sit back in your seat." he leaned out of the kiss ashing the blunt. without being told another word you pulled the waistband of his shorts and boxers up grabbing his dick. you took it out of his shorts and looked at it as if you hadn't seen it many times before. this time the tip was a deep angry red like it was begging for a release.

you gave his tip a little kitty lick tasting his precum and he hissed placing his hand on your ass. you slapped him on your tongue before taking him into your mouth. not taking him all the way down your throat and just focusing on his tip. choso began to get impatient, the anticipation making him exasperated. he was trying to be nice and take things your speed but he was seconds from combusting. 

getting fed up he grabs your hair pushing you all the way down until his cock head hit the back of your throat. you gagged on him as spit bubbled around him and he kept you down with your nose pressed against him. 

he gave your throat small thrusts until you tapped his thigh letting him know you needed to come up for air. he pulled you up looking you in your face liking the view of drool dripping down your chin.

"y'know better," he said and you looked him in his eyes seeing the way his pupils dilated. this wasn't soft choso who didn't mind letting you be in control he was feral. what he didn't want you to know was that he held himself back for that month. he hadn't touched himself so he was little, 'backed up' if you will.

not wanting to anger him further you quickly took him in your mouth. tongue out and throat relaxed you began to please him how you know he wanted you to. not once stopping your constant movements as he moaned. head thrown back as his hand stayed in your hair only guiding your movements lightly. 

"i missed that mouth of yours." he groans as you take him out your mouth to spit back on it. you used your hands to stroke him while you looked up at him. "you're doing great." he praised you knowing exactly what you wanted to hear. just like he expected with that statement you went back to work. bobbing your head up and down gagging on him here and there. his moans and groans were exciting you and it started to become more enjoyable for you. 

you felt choso's leg spasm you knew him well enough to know that meant he was close. usually, you'd pull off and whine to him saying 'i want you to cum inside me'. but today you wanted to have the satisfaction of making him cum off head. 

you pulled off him licking up the dribble of spit along the vein of his dick. going to back and deepthroating him as he twitches in the back of his throat.

"fuck 'm cumming." he grunted loudly as he came down your throat. by this time you were absolutely soaked your legs were squeezed together. his sounds, the taste of him on your tongue, and the friction of your thighs rubbing together enough to make you finish. you swallowed but it wasn't enough for you, you continued to suck him off. "fuck... mama wait s...shit" he whimpered trying to get you off of him. once you were finally content you got off looking up at him. 

his eyes were closed and there were bite marks in his lips. his chest heaved up and down rapidly and his hand was on his head. you giggled to yourself reaching to take the tight buns out of his hair. you rake your fingers through his hair and he smashes his lips onto yours. the kiss was rushed and he pushed his tongue into your mouth tasting himself on your tongue. you massaged his scalp and he shuddered as he pulled away from the kiss.

"you'll be the death of me, swear to God." he huffed nodding towards the back seat. "get in the back," he instructed and you nodded climbing over the middle console to get in the back. he smacked your ass before you made it to the back. 

he put himself back into his shorts and got out of the driver's side. he looked around seeing no other cars or people around. which wasn't surprising since you both lived in a small town with a low population. he joined you in the back and you wasted no time climbing onto his lap. 

"i didn't take you for a public sex guy," you said as he scoffed looking down at you.

"says the girl who begged me to take her in the dressing room two months ago and your best friend's birth-" he rambled and you covered his mouth with both hands not wanting him to continue.

"enough." you roll your eyes as he grabs your wrists pulling your hands from his mouth. he licked his lips as he leaned forward making you fall on your back against the seat. the leather was cold and your back arched off the seat. he grabbed the waistband of your shorts sliding them off along with your panties. 

"this wet just from suckin' me off?" he mumbled to himself as he looked at your dripping folds like a starved man. he licked his lips again as he hovered above you reaching down to rub your clit. you let out a soft moan and he kissed down your neck which now doubled your pleasure. he pressed his nose against the curve of your nick taking a deep breath.

"did you just sniff me?" you ask in shock and he doesn't respond instead he pushed his fingers in your wet cunt. "cho..." you gasped at the surprise of his fingers. his fingers were thicker and longer than yours hitting spots you haven't been able to reach this last month.

"yeah?" he asked knowing you would barely be able to form a sentence while his fingers pump in and out of you. you began to talk but he added a third finger as your breath got caught in your throat. the squelching was loud and the feeling was overwhelming as you grabbed at his wrist. 

"just fuck me," you said eyes looking around his face practically begging him to get to it.

"please?" he was still vigorously fucking his fingers into you not too much caring about your request.

"p...please," you repeated and he smiled pulling his fingers out of you. he pulled his shorts and boxers down to his knees and pushed your legs to your chest. he put his three fingers at your lips and you quickly wrapped your lips around his finger tasting yourself.

he smiled at you in adoration loving the way you were splayed out in front of him. he grabbed his dick sliding up and down folds and lightly hitting his tip against your clit.

"ready?" he asked and you nodded and he gave you that same pointed glare. "use your words y/n."

"yes im ready," you reply and he nods nudging your entrance before slipping in halfway. you moaned out as he stretched you out the pain fading away just as quickly as it came. 

to get you adjusted he began to stroke with just half of himself before abruptly pushing himself all the way in. you threw your head back grabbing the headrest with your left hand. your right hand grabbing choso's wrist that was holding your legs to your chest.

choso's eyes were locked on yours as he wasted no time sending steady thrusts. your moans were getting louder by the minute and his grunts became more animalistic. he lowered down so that your foreheads were touching. 

his eyes glanced between you and your lips not sure where to focus. noticing his indecisiveness you leaned up to press your lips on his. the kiss was nasty and sloppy while his thrusts were pointed and relentless. you moaned into each other's mouth as he hit the spot that made your legs shake.

"you feel so good wrapped around me. s...so warm." he whimpered against your lips and your jaw was slack in pure bliss over his sensual strokes. "hold your legs." he tells you and you nod grabbing behind your knees keeping your legs to your chest. 

he places one foot on the floor of the car. he wrapped both of his hands around your neck and your eyes widened in shock. with newfound stability, he began to send longer and faster strokes. the pleasure became overwhelming as tears began to spill from your eyes. 

choso loved it. the way your eyes rolled back and the tears stained your cheeks. you crying from the immense pleasure he gave you boosted his ego. he knew it was pleasure or else you'd be tapping out or yelling out the safe word. 

the roughness of his thrusts and the noises that left his mouth pushed you toward the edge. your walls tightening around him restricting his movement and milking him for everything he had. you couldn't think straight as your climax approached.

"cho...ch..." you mumbled not looking away from his eyes and he nodded moving one of his hands from your neck to your clit. 

"i feel you... 'm right behind you." he moaned out speeding up the rubbing on your clit. all it took was two more strokes before your body shook from the overstimulation. you saw stars as your juice drenched his shorts and leather seats. "yeah, that's it... fuck." he said as he pulled out and fucked his fist a couple times before he came on your pussy. his cum landed on your swollen clit and drenched lips.

"are you...?" you gasped watching his dick get hard again and you looked back up at him. that was his second nut and you were starting to question who this man had become in a month. he'd usually be sensitive after one orgasm but good enough to go for a second round. which never bothered you since you usually could go for just two orgasms before you were ready to tap out. 

"it's been a month." he huffed chest moving fast as he scratched his head. "just help me get another one i should be done after this for real." you nod looking him up and down, he looks bigger too and his jaw is more defined.

"how many times were you going to the gym?" you asked and he rolled his eyes.

"you can ask me that later just ride me," he said clearly not in the mood for your questioning. you rolled your eyes but obliged getting as he sat in the middle seat. you straddled his lap and choso pulled up your crop top letting freeing your boobs from your bra. you grabbed his dick lining him up with your entrance before you lower yourself down onto him. 

"wait cho you're too deep." you whimpered, it felt like he was almost in your chest and you couldn't move. 

"take your time. you're doing so good for me." he praised you rubbing circles on your hip as you took deep breaths. once you felt more comfortable you planted your feet next to him. you began to ride him bouncing with a steady rhythm. 

"mmm..." you hum as choso's mouth latched onto your nipple sucking a biting as you continued bouncing on him. he pulled off your nipple looking at your fucked out face.

"hah... you look so sexy like this love," he said fucking up into you meeting you with half-assed thrust. he was getting sloppy and you knew he was close. his hand slapped your ass and it only encouraged you to ride him faster. his head lolled back enjoying the feeling of you gripping his cock.

"close so so close." you babbled and he gave you a lazy smile. he gripped both of your ass cheeks lifting you and fucking into you. 

"tell me you love me while you cum on this dick," he grunted into your ear.

"shit... i love you baby, love you so fuckin much." you moaned as you came this time not only did you drench his shirt and face you even got it in his hair.

"i love you too mama" he hummed pulling out. "turn around wanna cum on yer ass," he grunts as you turned around and he grunts stroke himself to his finish as his cum spilled all over your ass. you both sat in silence as you both struggled to catch your breath. choso reached into the pocket of the backseat and wiped you off.

"don't ever... tell that bitch nothing else," you said still out of breath watching your now not ex-boyfriend clean you off.

"why are you even thinkin' about her right now." he laughed helping you put back on your shorts. which he now realized were the shorts he advised you to wear earlier

"just thinking we can't ever break up again, i'm not letting you fuck nobody else like that," you said dead serious as he laughed at your comment. he helped you to the front seat and started up the car driving you to his house instead of taking you back home.

-

2 weeks later

"did you hear the band's new song?" shoko asked and you shook your head not even knowing they had put out a new song. 

"no? choso didn't tell me there was a new song," you admitted and she shrugged playing the song for you. from the speaker you heard your boyfriend's sexy silky voice singing falling in love with the song as always. until. you heard something that just didn't sit right with you. "what did he just say?" 

"huh? i don't know." shoko frowned as she re-winded the song. you couldn't believe your ears. you both looked at each other in shock.

choso was singing about fucking you in the back seat. 

[ifearzombies]

What You Wear

Little things I headcanon MC wears on their RAD uniform to keep the people they love close during the day.

From Lucifer:

A small brooch of a peacock feather on your RAD jacket. It’s a beautiful golden feather with multi-colored gems to detail the colours. You love how it accents your uniform and makes you feel slightly more regal.

From Mammon:

You have not just the chocolate lizard keychain, but there’s one of a bird on your RAD uniform belt. It’s not really gold, and the gem eyes are just crystals, but the bird sits on your waist everyday and you fiddle with it when you miss your first man.

From Leviathan:

You have a small goldfish pendant. The chain is a snake-chain design and the pendant is made of acrylic to make it look real. On the back it reads ‘To my Henry’. You can’t help but occasionally kiss it when you pass Levi in the halls to make him blush.

From Satan:

A small golden ring with cats carved into it sits on your middle left finger (with Satan’s instructions to show Lucifer just the one finger to show it off). The cats have emerald eyes to match Satan’s and you fiddle with it when you’re in class together and watch him perform his spells.

From Asmodeus:

A jangly charm bracelet with little chibis of him sits on your right wrist. He wants you to remember his beauty when you’re separated and this was the perfect way for you to look at him when you’re apart.

From Beelzebub:

He gave you a fitbit that you wear on your left wrist so that you can keep track of your health. Humans have short life spans, so he wants you to stay healthy so you can have as much time together as possible. Plus he likes to compete with you slightly over who has more steps per day. He always wins, but you can’t help but keep ‘competing’ to see his overjoyed smile.

From Belphegor:

You have a ring on middle right finger with Belphie’s bear emblem on it, the stones amethyst and diamonds to show his colours. He smiles when he sees the ring on your hand and is sure to comment on it. You ruffle his hair in return.

From Solomon:

You have fire topaz earring studs from the magician. They’re enchanted to boost your magic abilities during exams that involve magic since your powers (without boost) is weak in comparison to him. He smiles whenever he sees you wear them outside of RAD.

From Simeon:

On another belt loop you have a couple of the diamond shaped gold plates that came from Simeon’s angelic clothing. He got the ones he removed replaced, but he wanted you to have the originals so that he’d always be with you- like a guardian angel.

From Luke:

Your feet never get tired from walking around RAD all day because Luke gave you several pairs of socks from the Celestial Realm that make it feel like you’re walking on clouds. You thank the little angel every chance you get because you walk EVERYWHERE in the Devildom. The socks have been your biggest lifesaver.

From Barbatos:

In the breast pocket of your RAD uniform is the most exquisite pocket watch with the emblem for RAD on it’s cover and on the back, Barbatos’ demon symbol. You’re an example. And should always be on time and presentable, in his opinion. Whenever you’re caught using it, Barbatos gives a nod of approval and smiles.

From Diavolo:

In another pocket of your uniform is a glasses case with Diavolo’s symbol on it. The glasses are enchanted to translate demonic texts to a language you understand as when you first arrived, you couldn’t understand some of your textbooks. You cherish the glasses. Plus, Diavolo has stated he thinks they look great on you, so you tend to wear them most of the day you’re at RAD.

[high-dragon-bait]

I've almost got all the descriptions for the hypothetical Dragon Age 5 companions complete, but I'm too tired to finish them tonight. Here're the four that are concretely done as a little WIP/motivation booster to finish these tomorrow

Hypothetical Dragon Age 5 "Plot":

Playing as either a child of or a great admirer of a past protagonist, 30 years after the events of Veilguard. It is 9:82 Dragon, and you are determined to become the last great hero of this Age before it ends.

You have decided your path is not in Thedas, but across the sea, and have joined a dangerous expedition to discover what may lay beyond the world...

Companions WIP

Asala - Qunari Rogue - Female

Summary - A qunari in her late thirties. Asala has lived her life in deep devotion to the Qun, but she carries a secret. She was never truly satisfied with her role, no matter how hard she tried to be. She eventually met a Sten, and trained with him in secret, discovering her love for the physical arts of combat, and passion. In time Asala gave birth to a child, whose conception was not approved by the tamasraans. Asala has joined the expedition to atone. Taking on the name "Asala" meaning "Soul", she will become the embodiment of the very soul of the Qun and carry it to wherever the Qunari began eons ago, and perhaps then she will be worthy of her role once again.

Appearance - Dark, dark grey skin with a violet undertone. Incredibly fine tuned muscles on her back and arms. She has just as dark black hair, thickly curled and tied into a long black cascade down her back, with a single shorter lock falling in front of her face between her horns. Her eyes are molten amber, set into black sclera. Burning at you from the rest of her face. Her horns are long, ribbed and twisting like an antelope's. She wears silver rings between each rib, with a thin chain connecting them from two pierced points at the tips.

Hissera - Qunari Mage - Female - Romance Interest

Summary - A qunari in her early thirties. A tal-vashoth seraabas, the qun shaved her horns to nothing and cauterized them with molten gold, after cutting out her tongue, and sewing shut her mouth. Hissera lived like that for years before she finally escaped, and has slowly been reclaiming herself and the identity she was denied, scars and all. Hissera has joined the expedition in hopes of seeing where the qunari came from, and if the cruelty she experienced at their hands is truly part of their very origin.

Appearance - Warm grey skin, like a storm cloud at a dawn, contrasted against glittering silver hair. She wears it in a half-braided style, one thick braid in the center, and the rest of her hair being allowed to flow down beneath it. Her horns are sawed away and covered in once-molten gold to keep them from growing back. Forever set in a frozen drip pattern down what's left of them. She wears heavy golden weights in stretched ear lobs, and gold studs in the holes that once held her mouth shut. The largest stud being in the middle of her upper lip. Her eyes are a vibrant blue set into bluish-white sclera, like a clear still pond.

Tamsin - Elf Warrior - Female - Romance Interest

Summary - An elf in her fifties, Tamsin became a Warden only a year before the sixth blight ended all blights. While there were still Darkspawn to be fought, Tamsin felt she had missed the golden age of being a warden. Now, darkspawn are growing scarce, as is the time Tamsin has left before the taint takes her body at last. She has decided to join the expedition for one true adventure, before it is all over.

Appearance - Dark brown skin that has just begun to settle into creases around her eyes and mouth. Once vibrant brown eyes have faded under age and blight, and her full curled hair is growing in grey at the roots, with some strands already beginning to streak through. She wears it tied back haphazardly, and many stray strands stick out of various places on her head. She carries many scars of being a warrior. She has a long jagged scar from the corner of her right eye to the center of her cheek, and she is missing half of her left ear, a matching scar cut into the scalp just behind it.

Glory - Spirit Warrior - No - Romance Interest

Summary - A spirit of glory drawn to you and your quest by your drive to be remembered. It becomes infatuated with you, and molds itself into your idea of what is "glorious" as the story goes on.

Appearance - A faceless golden impression of a person. Its body ends at its hips, leaving it floating legless a few feet of the ground. It carries a large yellow blade on its back, and a flowing swirl of energy around its echos of shoulders that could be an attempt at hair or a cape, depending on how you choose to look.

[mya-valentine]

February 22nd - That's You by Lucky Daye - Suguru Geto x Reader

The soft hum of city life filtered through the partially open window of Suguru Geto’s penthouse. Neon lights flickered against the glass, casting fleeting shades of blue and purple across the pristine white walls. It was the kind of luxury most could only dream of—marble floors, silk sheets, and art pieces that cost more than some made in a year. The kind of life he had always imagined would bring him peace.

But peace was as foreign to Suguru as happiness had become.

He leaned against the window frame, fingers curling around a crystal glass half-filled with aged whiskey. The burn did nothing to numb the ache in his chest, the hollow space that wealth, power, and fleeting company had failed to fill. On the surface, he was everything—the powerful sorcerer, the man with the crooked smile that made hearts flutter and enemies tremble. Women came and went, faces blurring together like a montage he barely paid attention to. They laughed, touched, whispered promises they thought he wanted to hear.

But none of them were you.

Suguru cursed under his breath, setting the glass down with a sharp clink. His phone lay on the counter, screen dark except for the faint reflection of his tired eyes. It had been months since he last saw you, since you walked away with your head held high, refusing to be another accessory in his meticulously curated life.

“You don’t get it, do you, Suguru?” you had said, voice trembling despite the steel in your eyes. “I don’t want your money, your gifts, or your empty apologies. I wanted you. Just you.”

And he’d let you go, standing there like a fool while the only person who ever made him feel whole walked out the door. Pride had chained his feet to the ground, and arrogance had sealed his lips. After all, people didn’t leave Suguru Geto. He left them. It was easier that way—clean, controlled, detached.

But you weren’t people. You were you.

The scent of cocoa butter lingered on the edge of his memory—a cruel reminder of the mornings you spent tangled in his sheets, skin glowing in the soft dawn light. Suguru ran a hand through his dark hair, pulling it loose from the tie that barely held it together. He’d tried everything to forget—lavish parties, first-class flights to nowhere, drowning himself in meaningless pleasure—but no amount of excess could replace the warmth you left behind.

“Pathetic,” he muttered to himself, pushing away from the window. The penthouse’s emptiness seemed to mock him—all this space, all this wealth, and not a single moment of true contentment. He could buy another diamond-studded watch, another property in some glamorous city, another fleeting distraction.

But he couldn’t buy you.

The phone vibrated, the sudden noise breaking the silence. Suguru’s heart skipped a beat—an involuntary reaction that annoyed him. He picked it up, eyes scanning the notification.

Yaga: Mission update. Call when you can.

Suguru swiped the notification away, thumb hovering over your contact—“[Name].” No emoji, no cute nickname. Just your name, stark and simple, like the imprint you’d left on his soul.

He shouldn’t call. He had nothing to offer you except the same cycle of empty promises and self-destructive habits. But the silence was deafening, and the weight of regret far heavier than pride.

Before he could overthink it, he tapped the screen.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

“Suguru?” Your voice was soft, surprised—the same voice that used to call him home.

He exhaled slowly, gripping the phone tighter. “Hey.”

Silence stretched between you, filled with words unsaid and wounds unhealed.

“Is everything okay?” you asked cautiously, as if bracing for another disappointment.

No, everything wasn’t okay. It hadn’t been since the moment you left.

“I don’t know why I called,” he admitted, running a hand down his face. “Or maybe I do. I… I just needed to hear your voice.”

You sighed, and he could almost picture you—sitting on that worn-out couch you loved, legs tucked under you, brows furrowed in that way they always did when you were trying to decide whether to forgive him one last time.

“Suguru,” you began, but he cut you off.

“Don’t hang up. Please.” The word tasted foreign on his tongue—he never begged. But for you, pride was a small price to pay.

Another beat of silence. Then, softly: “I’m listening.”

Suguru closed his eyes, leaning against the cold marble counter. “I tried. I really tried to move on. Thought I could drown it out with noise—money, cities, people… but nothing works. I’ve had everything I ever wanted, and none of it means shit without you.”

Your breath hitched, and he pressed on, desperation cracking through his usual calm facade. “I was a fool, Y/N. Thought I was protecting myself, keeping my heart out of reach. But all I did was push away the only person who ever made this stupid, hollow life feel real.”

The line was quiet for so long he wondered if you’d hung up. Then you spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “Do you really mean that, Suguru? Or is this just another moment of loneliness you’ll forget once the sun rises?”

He swallowed hard. “I mean it. Every damn word. I don’t want the world, Y/N. I just want you.”

Another pause. Then, softly: “Come over.”

His heart leapt into his throat. “I’ll be there in ten.”

Suguru didn’t remember grabbing his keys or locking the penthouse door behind him. All he knew was the rush of cold night air against his face as he sped through the streets, heart pounding in a way it hadn’t in months. Not from adrenaline or danger—but from hope.

When you opened the door, eyes wary but soft, Suguru realized just how starved he’d been—not for pleasure, not for power, but for the quiet, grounding presence of you.

“Hi,” you murmured, arms crossing protectively over your chest.

Suguru didn’t speak—words felt useless now. Instead, he stepped forward, hesitating for just a moment before wrapping his arms around you, holding on like a drowning man grasping a lifeline.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, the hollow ache inside him eased.

Because it was never the money, the diamonds, or the fleeting highs he truly wanted.

It was always you.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[faun-the-fawn77]

Next Contestant

Sinner!Adam x F!Reader

desc: Adam is so so tired of the demon scum hitting on you…especially when you’re working…in that outfit.

warnings: swearing(it’s Adam guys…), some violence, that’s about it:)

note: i am obsessed with Adam and he just for some reason fits Nickelback so much to me so be prepared for like… 18 more Adam fics with Nickelback songs(I’m doing ever song i have of theirs on my playlist)

word count: 1.7k

I judge by what she’s wearing

Just how many heads I’m tearing

Off of assholes coming on to her

And I wish she’d take the night off

So I don’t have to fight off

Every asshole coming on to her

The bar was packed tonight. Sinners of all types crowded the booths and bar table with drinks in hand and eyes bleary. The lights were dimmed to accommodate the partiers for their headaches and turning stomachs. The two workers behind the bar were making drink after drink and passing them out to the customers who ordered. 

The older worker was an octopus-looking demon who was able to make and serve drinks with all six of their arms. The other worker was that of a beautiful demoness who you could tell was only there for the paycheck. Her outfit was what made more of the male demons ask her to make their drinks. 

The door to the packed bar opened and was slammed shut. No one batted an eye at the sound but those who caught a glimpse of who just walked in looked surprised and horrified. This new demon was bigger than most. Decked out in full leather with a plain white tee under the jacket, chains dangling from his neck with a couple that had crosses(One being a rosary), the horns protruding from his head were pitch black that faded into a nice golden colour at the ends. His eyes were bright gold and golden piercings littered his face. 

Adam growled at the people who stared and whispered. He should be used to this by now but he wasn’t. That little insecure part of him always tugged at his brain. When he caught a glimpse of the bar, he made his way through the throngs of demons. His golden eyes caught onto the demoness working tonight. His eyes scanned her up and down, taking in her scandalous outfit she chose for work tonight. A black, ripped crop top with a push-up bra and high waisted black shorts with a leather studded belt to hold them up. Fishnet tights and arm covers were incorporated and he could tell that the outfit caught many demon’s eye. 

It happens every night she works

They’ll go and ask the DJ

Find out just what would she say

If they all tried coming on to her

Don’t they know it’s never going to work

He strides closer to her side of the bar and noticed a couple male demons “flirting” with her…Or what was an attempt at flirting. Adam let out a low growl and grabbed two of them by their collars. 

“Get your filthy demon asses outta here before I really show you what happens when you piss me off.” He dropped them and watched as they scrambled towards the exit. The others who weren’t as scared had held up fists and glared at the bigger demon. Adam rolled his eyes and with a flick of his bracelet-clad wrist, a shot of gold light struck the demons in the chest which blasted them across the room. 

“Fucking bitches…” Adam huffed and turned towards the demoness who was staring at him in amusement. Her eyes were lidded as little giggles escaped her black lips. Adam smirked and leaned against the bar counter. 

“Got any wine back there or is this only the hardcore stuff?” The demoness smiled and produced a bottle of vintage red wine. She only served this stuff to Adam since he was basically the only one to request something at such a place. 

They think they’ll get inside her

With every drink they buy her

As they all try coming on to her

This time somebody’s getting hurt

Here comes the next contestant

Adam noticed all the drinks left at her right side and tsked. Of course some of these fucking pricks would buy her drinks that she, no doubt, had to make herself. He could already see that none of them were any of her favourites. 

“Does this happen every night you work when I’m not around?” He gestured towards the drinks that weren’t touched. She looked at the drinks and then him and nodded her head. 

“You know I’m not working here willingly but for the money. This is the only place nearby our apartment that actually pays good. And yeah, maybe dressing this way doesn’t help me personally but does help to make more money.” Her gaze bored into his gold eyes. 

Adam was never happy about this. About having the one person he loved, dressing skimpy just to get the money to provide for them. If he could do more then he would but no one would hire him because…yeah. 

The next night was no better. Adam walked through those bar doors and noticed a shark-like demon getting real handsy with his lover. He stormed towards them when he noticed his lover struggling to get the guy off of her.

Is that your hand on my girlfriend?

Is that your hand?

I wish you’d do it again

I’ll watch you leave here limping

And I wish you’d do it again

And I’ll watch you leave her limping

There goes the next contestant

“Is that your hand on my girlfriend you fucking freak?!” The shark demon let go and turned towards Adam. 

“Touch her again and you’ll leave here limping you sorry sack of shit,” Adam growled. The shark demon nodded and scurried out of the bar. 

Adam turned back towards his girl and noticed how shaken up she was. He reached out for her hand and waited till she put her smaller hand in his and was pulled towards his chest. He hugged her tight and whispered sweet little things in her pointed ears in hopes of soothing her. He could feel himself cringe a bit and was a bit angry at both the demons here and that the shitty redemption hotel that Lucifer’s brat hosts is actually working for him.

“Let’s call it quits tonight, babe.” His girlfriend nodded and he gently guided them towards the exit. He knew this type of shit wasn’t gonna stop but he’ll try and be there to stop every single asshole who dares to touch what’s his.

And I even fear the ladies

They’re cool but twice as crazy

Just as bad for coming on to her

Don’t they know it’s never going to work

And each time she bats an eyelash

Somebody’s grabbing her ass

Everyone keeps coming on to her

This time somebody’s getting hurt

Here comes the next contestant

A few weeks had passed with no more incidents. Adam showed up when he could and made sure to handle those who were getting a bit too much for his girl. On this particular night, however, was when shit really hit the fan and opened up Adam’s eyes. 

A flock of succubus were crowded around his girlfriend’s side of the bar. Their tails all seemed to swish in sync as their little bat-like wings fluttered whenever the demoness behind the bar talked to them. 

The hearts in their eyes are what really threw Adam off. They were attracted to her? To his girlfriend? He glowered at the thought that there was more competition for his girl than just the male population of Hell. 

Don’t they know that it’s never going to work? That batting their eyelashes and attempts to grab his girl’s ass was really just about to make him blow a gasket. He saw red. He made his way towards them and cracked his knuckles. This time someone was going to get hurt. 

“Hey sluts! She clearly doesn’t want you so why don’t you back the fuck off and leave her alone?” The group of succubus turned towards Adam and glared. Did they think they were scary? What are they gonna do? Scratch him and pull his hair?

“I’m not afraid to hit bitches like you.” The group of women looked at each other and nodded. They rushed towards him at incredible speed and attempted to catch him off guard. A blast of holy light shot from his palm and nailed them straight in the face. The screams of the succubus were deafening. 

“There goes the next contestants…” Adam wiped his hands on his jeans and made his way towards the bar. His girlfriend smiled at him and thanked him profusely. He can’t believe how crazy those bitches were. 

“They were cool for a while but they started getting twice as crazy as the men who hit on me.” His girlfriend complained. Adam laughed. He knew women could be crazy. He could picture how some of his exorcist bitches would get on the battlefield. After chatting a bit, Adam sipped on his wine while his girl stirred and shook up drinks for the different patrons. He scanned her outfit for this night and grumbled.

I’m hating what she’s wearing

Everybody here keeps staring

Can’t wait ‘till they get what they deserve

This time somebody’s getting hurt

Here comes the next contestant

“I really hate what you’re wearing tonight, sweet-cheeks.” The demoness paused and glanced down at her rather skimpy-looking outfit. Her cheeks puffed as she playfully glared at him. 

“Really? I thought this was a favourite of yours? I mean, that’s what you said last nigh-” Adam slapped a hand over her black-stained lips and shushed her. 

“I just hate that everyone is staring at what’s mine. Only I should see you in clothes like that,” he grumbled to himself. He glanced around and noticed how some were looking at her with lust in their eyes. He growled.

“They’ll get what they deserve, hon. Just wait.” His girlfriend hummed and went back to cleaning several glasses before making more drinks. Adam huffed and nodded. He knew that. Karma was a bitch and these lowlife demon scum were definitely going to get what they deserved.

Is that your hand on my girlfriend?

Is that your hand?

I wish you’d do it again

I’ll watch you leave here limping

I wish you’d do it again

I’ll watch you leave her limping

And I wish you’d do it again

Each night seems like it’s getting worse

And I wish you’d do it again

This time somebody’s getting hurt

There goes the next contestant

MY FIRST EVER ONE SHOT!!! Hope ya'll like:) I now have sympathy towards all the writers on here who write fanfics. That was hard and I tried my best with this one! I read too much and write too little.

Also! For future reference: I will be giving Adam a last name in my fics cause it's so hard writing someone with no last name:(

His full name for me will now be Adam Edenis. I thought of it while I was writing another fanfiction...on wattpad...Anyway! That's it:)

[mychlapci]

Do you know how, many animals are not allowed to breed naturally, because they might hurt the female, so it’s mostly artificially done.

With that said, I have a few ideas!:

1) Mer Ratchet is way too precious to be breed like a common animal, but they still have to retrieve the seed from a very irate Drift. They place a cycling Ratchet in a special container, small, made of two separate layers of thick, metal bars, similar to those cages used to “swim with sharks”.

The double layer is to make sure Drift can’t reach in with his spike(spikes?).

When Drift is rutting against the cage, someone has to get close and use a fake valve to get his transfluids. Usually, being this close to Ratchet while he’s in heat is all it takes for Drift to go completely nuts, and he’s kinda approachable. The problem is taking Ratchet out, Drift would cling to the cage. Fortunately, several orgasms later, Drift is way too tired and blissed out to really put out a fight.

Ratchet is also not super happy about being filled artificially, Drift was ready for that job! Never less, they get the result they want. The problem is, Drift is extremely hostile and not ready to be released as long as Ratchet is around…

2) that post about mer Drift and Roddy being only interested in vet Ratchet. It’s decided that the two mer would be perfect studs, but he problem, again, is retrieving their fluids.

Since they’re usually either indifferent or plain right aggressive with everyone but Ratchet, it is decided that he will be the one retrieving the samples. The doctor will get into the water, with a protective suite, a chain and a fleshlight, he will let the mer get frisky and collect the fluids, what can go wrong?

The moment one of them climbs Ratchet’s back to mount him, the doctor is quick to reach between his legs to slip the spikes inside the fleshlight. Off course, things can’t to right. Drift can feel the difference between Ratchet’s protoform and the cold toy, he can also feel the thick, rubber suite keeping him separated from Ratchet’s platings.

One moment the mer is jumping the fake valve, the next one he’s ripped a hole in Ratchet’s suite and he pushing one of his spikes inside Ratchet’s valve.

Despise that, the process is not interrupted. One way or the other, they’re gonna get the mer’s fluids. After even Rodimus has his turn, Ratchet is retrieved and his stuffed valve and aft port are cleaned up, the transfluids collected and stored for later uses.

But maybe, the iper pressurized fluids have reached Ratchet’s forge anyway… mmmhhh

oOuuuh yesss i love this, we've had some freak mer-sperm extraction on here before, it's always fun. I can sexualize insemination.

1)I bet Ratchet is pissed that they won’t let him mate during his cycle. Horrible infraction on his personal rights aside, putting him in a cage and making Drift rut against a fake valve was as insulting as it was arousing. Ratchet really wanted that spike. Unfortunately, all he gets is a dozen veterinarians holding him down and a cold insemination gun up his puffy slit… Drift is a little out of it after the “mating” but he believes he impregnated Ratchet successfully, and the appropriate protocols turn him into a protective sire for the carrier of his pups.

Poor Ratchet though. He didn’t even get to take the edge off of his heat :(

2)Aaaa Ratchet definitely has a hard time trying to collect sperm from Roddy and Drift. Having the two large mers rubbing up against him, sliding their spikes against his body, trying to find a hole to slip them into… He offers one, but it’s not enough. Drift and Rodimus aren’t stupid. Horny, but not stupid.

I do hope they managed to knock Ratchet up with merpups… He’ll see soon enough if his belly starts growing over the course of the next few months.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Stud.

Pairing: Yandere!Miguel x Reader (Spider-Verse).

Summary: Miguel wants a family. You don't, but he doesn't care.

A Grab Bag For A Very Lovely Anonymous Commissioner.

TW: Trans!Miguel, AMAB!Reader, N0n//C0n, Overstimulation, Forced Breeding, Bondage, Themes Of Helplessness, and Unhealthy Relationships.

You almost wished that he would paralyze you.

It was an awful thing to think, an awful thing to want, but you just couldn’t help it. You knew what it was like to be at the mercy of his venom. You could remember how it felt to have your body stiffen against your will, your joints lock into place, your mind remaining clear and lucid and hyper-aware that you couldn’t do anything to get away from him, and still, you couldn’t help but think it’d be better than this – than the feeling of his webbing pulsing around your wrists and ankles, of your body going limp not because of anything Miguel forced into your veins, but due to just how weak you were, compared to him. Then knowing he’d given you a fighting chance, and it hadn’t changed a thing.

Not that he’d meant to. It was a matter of practicality, of limiting as many adverse variables as he could without pumping you full of aphrodisiacs and turning you into a brain-dead toy. There’d been tests, nights spent with his fist wrapped around your cock as he measured your sensitivity, your refraction period, your… output, for lack of a less off-putting choice of words. Paralysis made things difficult, dampened your reactions, made it difficult to get what he wanted out of you and into him, and therefore, it was off the table, along with sedatives, tranquilizers, or anything else that might’ve made the experience less excruciating. You’d fought back at first, kicked and screamed and clawed at him in hopes that he’d do something to put you out of your misery, but that’d only earned you your improvised restraints and a knot of soreness in your pelvis, where his hips beat into yours. He was straddling you, knees bent and hands wrapped around the bars of his headboard, his expression caught between concentration and empty-headed lust. You couldn’t imagine how he was still upright, still rational, still riding you just as violently as he has been when he first slid you into him. You hadn’t done anything other than moan and cum, and you were barely on the verge of consciousness.

Barely, barely, then not at all. Your eyes fell shut, your mind going blank for all of half a second before one of his hands dropped to your face, cupping your chin and tilting your head back, keeping you awake despite your best efforts to save yourself just a few minutes of suffering. His pussy clenched around your cock as your eyes met, but any semblance of pleasure was lost to the agonizing burn of overstimulation. You wished you were numb. You wished he would let you go numb. “C’mon, amor,” he panted, his voice raspy and a tired smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “I know that’s not everything you can give me.”

It was. It really was. He’d already taken everything he could, from you. Your cum was already spilling out of his cunt, already mixing with his slick and pooling on his sheets. Your sides were rubbed raw where his muscular thighs were slotted against them, and you couldn’t begin to imagine the pain you’d be in tomorrow, after the adrenaline faded and the ache set in and Miguel’s ‘aftercare’ proved to be a glass of water, a military-style shower, and more unwanted affection. That was, if he even decided aftercare was necessary, if he didn’t just leave you tied up and prepped for your next breeding session. You wouldn’t put it above him, knowing how he tended to leave his half-finished projects spread across any available surface for months at a time. Despite your immobility, you shuddered, imagining yourself staying chained to his bed and milked dry until he got the two little lines he was looking for. Until he had something to fill the empty void in his chest where his heart should’ve been, the one your exploitation alone couldn’t heal.

You forced yourself not to think about it. You forced yourself not to think about the future. You forced yourself not to think about anything as his pace sped up, as he took to grinding himself against you, as his back arched and his head dipped lower and he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His skin was damp and hot, but it wasn’t a feeling you’d have to suffer for long. With labored, jerky movements, he raised his head and forced his lips against yours. The kiss was messy, violent, all teeth and tongue and fangs. You didn’t kiss back – if you had the strength, you wouldn’t have wasted it on that – but that did little to deter Miguel. He wanted to use you. Your cooperation (or lack thereof) wouldn’t change that.

“That’s it, just— Fuck, I know you’re going to love her.” You could feel him clenching around you, his slick dripping onto your stomach. He was going to cum again, and judging by the tightness in your chest, the raw agony clawing at the back of your skull, you weren’t far behind. “Do it. Knock me up. Breed me.”

It was an order, a demand, and you were too exhausted to disobey. It was more pitiful than anything – barely the forced, rigid aftershocks of however many climaxes he’d forced out of you. Still, his tight cunt forced every last drop out of you, milking you for all you were worth as he clenched his eyes shut and convulsed around you. Finally, finally, he went still, letting out a breath of a sigh before straightening his back. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched his hazy features contort into a careless grin, felt something deep inside of your chest fall and crack as he rolled his hips, falling back into a steady rhythm before you could so much as start to hope he was actually done with you, this time. “Just a little more,” he muttered, as your vision blurred and, exhausted and in agony, you slipped out of consciousness and into a restless, dreamless sleep.

“Just a little more, then we’ll be a family.”

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

New Meat

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x Reader

Warnings: mentions of weed, reader is definitely unphased by the whole ghost kids controlling animatronics things, i'm sorry i just had to, i've watched that fucking movie over six times now, it's a disease, i don't understand why i'm being pulled back into my fnaf days, more to come most likely, piereced!reader

Words: 1187

Summary: You train Mike in being a Fazbear Security Guard.

Susie

Mike didn't really know what to expect for this security job. Mr. Raglan said the owner was sentimental and that was why the place hadn't been demolished yet.

At least he would be paid. The first night he wouldn't even be alone either. There would be someone to train him on the night shift. A veteran Fazbear security guard that has been working there for a little more than a year. A record, Raglan exclaimed in reverence.

What kind of person would work at such a shitty job for that long? Must be as desperate as he was for employment. Beggars really couldn't be choosers.

Making sure Abby was set with Max, Mike made sure to show up at least fifteen minutes before his shift started. When he tries for the front door, there are chains that prevent him from opening it.

"Around the corner."

He jumps at the tired voice. You slump your shoulder against the corner of the building and watch him. "You'll want to enter from the backdoor." You offer him a wan smile. Underneath your heavy 'security' jacket was a metal band t-shirt. Piercings line the curve of both of your ears, studs and rings alike. A weary shadow is cast under your eyes.

You hold your hand out to him in introduction. "Nice to meet you Mike."

When he grabs your hand to shake he finds it shockingly cold.

Mike follows you as you give him the grand tour of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzaria. The main stage held three, tall animatronics. A smaller cove, you explained, housed the animatronic known as 'Foxy'. A spare closet room housed crumpled, metal forms in various stages of disassemble. More than anything in the restaurant that was the one room that really had Mike's skin crawling. Something about it didn't feel right.

Every step you take, Mike notices something bobbing along your leg. Initially he thought it was your flashlight but you held it in your hand. When you entered the lit security room, Mike finally realizes it's a large taser hanging from your utility belt.

You catch his eying and show him the taser. "I'll leave this with you for tonight."

Incredulously holding it in his hand, he feels it's heavy weight. "Is this really necessary?"

"You never know who you'll encounter here at night. Could be an aggressive tweeker or something. . . worse." Your voice trails off. "Keep it on you at all times. Trust me."

Wearily you rub at your eyes and collapse into one of the computer chairs in the security room while Mike takes the other. He leans back against the chair's weak support. You were scheduled to stay and help Mike the rest of the night shift. Then tomorrow night you'd finally be able to get some relatively good sleep. You've been awake for far too long. Feeling rather shitty, you grab for you bag of Red Vines to fill the dullness. There was little possible the Fazbear gang would act up tonight. They stayed quiet when it was someone's first night. Like they were trying to feel out the new security guard. You gave them a talk before Mike had shown up.

Really, it was Bonnie and Carl that you were worried about the most. They were particularly aggressive and wouldn't hesitate to take a chunk out of the new guy.

Eyes leisurely moving to check the cameras just to be on the safe side.

Vanessa told you that Mike wasn't allowed to know the truth. Her father instructed the both of you that much via phone call. Plus after having worked there for some time now, you knew better. William Afton wasn't someone you wanted to disobey.

But it ate away at you. The longer you were around him, the more guilty you felt for not screaming 'Run! Get out of here and don't come back!'

Many other night shift security guards have come and gone; either quitting or being killed by the animatronics. Only you have been able to survive past your fifth night.

You had an advantage though that the others didn't. One that made them more docile around you.

"Hey, if you want to leave early then go ahead." Mike says out of nowhere after some time basking in the silence. "I think I got it."

You shake your head. "I need the hours." His offer was tempting. They were shitty hours with even shittier pay but any little bit helped. Just enough so you could afford to go to college. Receive a degree and maybe get out of your little town.

That answer didn't seem to be the one he was looking for as he anxiously runs his tongue over his lower lip in contemplation.

Eyebrow arching, you tilt your head in puzzlement. He made it obvious he wanted you gone. You felt like you should take offense to that. Maybe you came off as too uncaring. Positive it wasn't your body odor. While your dietary needs were lacking you made an effort to be as hygienic as you could. When you work double shifts (which is often) you tend to sleep in your car. It worked out fairly well when you put down your back seat and cushion the bottom.

Nowadays Freddy Fazbear's felt more like a home than your actual apartment.

Mike just slumps in his chair.

"You'll be in for a long night if you don't at least bring something as entertainment."

"What do you do?" He asks after a moment.

You open up your backpack and show him the overstuffed contents, including a strong stench of marijuana.

Word searches. Crossword puzzles. An embroidery hoop with plastic bag of different colored threads. Two books. Mike could see the stitching of your backpack beginning to tear. He pulls out what he thought was a notebook but it was actually a Mad Libs. At that he glances up at you.

You shrug. You couldn't just tell him that the animatronics loved them. He wouldn't understand.

Placing your backpack back onto the floor, you go back to your licorice.

"You're allowed to smoke this here?" He gestures with his head to where you kept your weed supply kit.

"'Course not but you really think the boss stops here to check? I've never met the guy. Just spoken with him over the phone." You zip up your bag and push it under the desk.

Now Mike is staring suspiciously at you. "And you don't fall asleep?"

It makes you roll your eyes. "Relax newbie. Besides checking the cameras frequently, this job is a breeze. And believe it or not, when I'm high, I'm incredibly productive. I wouldn't recommend you taking drugs during your shift though. You're still new. At least get a hang of things before you start fucking off."

You couldn't help but add "Also- if any of them give you trouble, just tell them that you know me."

His brows furrow. "Them?"

He wouldn't believe you even if you told him everything. What sane person would?

Sighing, you reach into your jacket pocket for the playing cards you had. "You know how to play 'War'?"

[quixotical-lymbo]

Pairing: Party!MK x fem!Reader Rating: SFW-ish Warnings/Tags: Toxic relationship/dynamics, implied substance abuse, suggestive themes, implied manipulation and gaslighting, and yeah. Word Count: 1000+ words

🪩 Let's all assume MK allowed Party!MK, Party or DJ for short, to roam around as long as he doesn't fucking hold people hostage again. Because of this, Party was able to meet you at the arcade.

🪩 After the whole song and dance of 'does he/she want me or not?' the two of you got together after making out in a janitor closet at the arcade. 

🪩Did he make the first move or you? Surprisingly, you did. Granted with a little help of liquid courage, you managed to grab his attention enough to step away from his equipment and dance with you. 

🪩 The relationship was definitely in it's honeymoon phase for a while, the two of you being somewhat awkward around the other until y'all grew comfortable enough to the point you two became the couple that others would cringe at whenever they did PDA. 

🪩Dates? 99% at the arcade, 1% at some burger joint.

🪩Nicknames? He's a clone of MK, ofc he'll use some cringy ass nicknames; angelcakes, babygirl, sweetcheeks, and ofc, apple butter biscuit. You'll entertain his theme of nicknames and call him stud, big daddy, hot stuff, and your personal favorite–boytoy (he doesn't like this one as much). 

🪩Gifts? Expensive shit for his little apple cinnamon biscuit, even if it's tacky large gold chains or faux fur coats to match his own, he'll splurge on you from money he made from DJ-ing.

🪩First Kiss? Within ten minutes of dancing with each other, you two took the 'party' to a janitor's closet and kissed there. 

🪩How he would be with a partner: Definitely possessive to an obnoxious degree, not the edgy cool bad boy way, but more of a 'will slap your butt and force you in his lap to make out' if someone even thinks about putting the moves on you. He'll encourage you to come out of your shell and try out new things the arcade is trying to promote to others—alcohol, desserts, junk food, etc. 

🪩 You don't mind the extra attention from him, but sometimes you get tired of the random bursts of love bombing especially after he ghosted you a few times in favor of preparing for another bash at the arcade. 

🪩 Any complaints go out the window the moment he hits you with 'Aren't cha having fun though?' 

🪩 Ghosting aside, I think Party would try to be a good bf on the surface before convincing his partner to go with the flow of how 'busy' he is and convince them his top priorities aren't always going to be you. 

🪩 How he acts around them vs others: Party can be dismissive and not romantic at times, but his love language is physical touch and he'll have his hands on you regardless if you're in public or not. 

🪩 However, without the prying eyes of others, he's still his 'wild animal' self but toned down a bit—teasing you here and there, cuddling, and maybe allowing you to drag him on another shopping spree around the city. 

🪩Around others, his main priority will always be to keep the party going so you're invisible until he needs you. Whether that's to sit on his lap, display an image of 'power couple' to others, or be a dancing partner to hype up the rest of the patrons in the arcade. 

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

The hand on your waist slipped past the waistband of your skirt and gripped the round of your backside, giving your cheek a few squeezes before you felt two fingers attempt to travel lower. You swatted the shoulder of the man whose lap you were currently perched on. The aforementioned man snickered as his smirk grew. 

"Why are you gettin' shy all of a sudden, angel cakes?" Party's pink shutter glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose enough to reveal his raised brow. You furrowed your brow and looked off to the side. The blinking multicolored lights shining down on the many bodies, either floating or moving their bodies along to the beat, gave you more than enough excuses to not answer him. 

Party stared at your side profile for a moment, his eyes almost rolling to the back of his head before he pushed his glasses back against his face and rose from his 'throne' with you in his arms. You squeaked at the abrupt movement and clung to him, your head whipping around with a questioning expression on your face. 

Party's wide grin revealed his sharp fangs as he exclaimed, "I know! You're getting bored! If you wanna dance-" 

"Baby, wait-!" You were raised above Party's head and couldn't latch onto him as he did. 

"-LET'S DANCE!" Party shouted as he chucked you over his equipment and jumped off of the perch to join you. 

Cue the montage of the two of you twirling around the arcade's dance floor. Passing the initial fright of being thrown off of a high place, the anti-gravity calmed the cardiac arrest brewing in your chest.

You felt dizzy as Party dipped you for the nth time before raising you to spin around him. When your back hit his chest, a pair of hands greedily clutching your hips to grind them against his own. 

Party's face halfway buried against your neck, you felt overwhelmed. Party must've noticed how tense you were because you heard a sigh from behind, and then you were pulled along to the bar in one of the corners. You were placed on a stool, and not long after, a drink slid in front of you. You squinted at the brightly colored liquid before glancing at your boyfriend who wiped the sweat off his brow. 

"Whew, I'll let ya have a break before we move onto the climax of this show! Don't forget to rest your pretty muscles, sweet cheeks cuz I'm not done with you yet," Party smooched your cheek before dashing back to his equipment. 

You watched him run off, exhaling as you dropped your face into your hand, and pushed the drink away from you. The thought of drinking your feelings anyway tonight didn't sit well with you.

🍜 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. banner(s) by @dollywons !!

[astr0exe]

K9 [COD MEN (POLY??) X M!READER] CH1

Ch.1 , Ch.2 , Ch.3

CAS’ MASTERLIST !!

reader is transmac and autistic cause i said so :)

AO3 VERSION : K9

SUMMARY: The boys meet someone new. He seems cool but his dog seems to enjoy ripping people apart.// The boys meet the K9 trainer

(first time transferring my AO3 work to tumblr so)

(my writing is also quite shit but hey ho)

( i project so so bad with this character)

(pls give me feed back)

CHAPTER 1

Soap's POV :

The Captain dragged us into a meeting and we have no idea why. I was busy watching Princess And The Frog after working out for ages, I just wanted to relax after so many back-to-back missions.

"Thank you all for showing up I do appreciate it, I know we are all probably tired, however I thought this was important to discuss before you saw them around the base." Huh saw who around base? Is someone new joining? I glanced around the room and caught Gaz's confused eyes.

"See who sir?" I asked cautiously, "___ they are the K9 trainer and his callsign is K9 because of this. He has a fully-grown perfectly trained cane corso who is with ___ at all times. If any of you are scared of big dogs then I am sorry because Bucky is huge. There will be a meeting introducing you all do not worry but I thought I should give you a heads up. Dismissed." Answered Price.

Whilst walking next to Ghost in the hallway I couldn't help thinking about what Price said. I don't even know what a cane corso looks like. Oh well, when I get to my room I'll find out cause Google is my friend. "Hey, Lt. Do you know what a cane corso looks like?" I questioned, "I think I have an idea, pretty sure they grow up to 70 cm (27.5 inches) ish and weigh up to 50 kgs (110 pounds) They are massive dogs." Ghost murmured.

I could feel my eyes bulging out of my sockets at the thought of a dog that big.As I finally got to my room, I instantly looked up what a cane corso looked like and I think I shit myself. I have to meet one of those tomorrow.

Time skip : meeting K9 and Bucky

We all sat in the common room for our introductions. Me and Gaz were playing uno whilst Ghost was just watching us like a babysitter would with two children whilst we were waiting for Price and ___. Slowly we heard footsteps, they sounded heavy like platform boots, you could hear heavy breathing coming from Bucky and mumbling muffled talking from K9 and Price. The footsteps gradually increased in volume until Price walked in along with an awkward-looking guy. He wore large combat boots which had to add at least 3 inches to his height, and a large leather jacket with lots of patches on ranging from band patches to quotes. Oh and a trans flag. Nice. His belt was studded like he bought it in the 2000s with added chains which actually looked heavy, he had black eyeliner on and a face mask. If he wasn't like 5"7 with his boots on I'd say he was terrifying.

After I finally stopped staring at this Greek god of an emo boy and got my shit together I noticed his dog, Bucky, who was eyeing everyone wearily as if at any point we would attack him or ___. With how intimidating they both look I think they suit each other.

"Um hi I'm ___ or K9 and I'll be training dogs you take on missions and sometimes taking the dogs on the missions myself. Nice to meet you all. As you all know, this is Bucky, he won't hurt you." He giggled towards the end and oh my god it's like I heard heaven gates open and when I gazed around the room I knew everyone felt the same with all the wide eyes and stuttering introductions.

"Well these are my boys, Lt. Ghost Riley , Sergeant Soap Mactavish and Sergeant Gaz Garrick. Boys this is Sergeant K9 he will be working with you as he described he will also be living on base and training with you lads so I expect them to come back to me feeling welcomed into the Taskforce is that clear?" Demanded Price. "Yes Sir." We all responded in unison.

As I observe K9 and Bucky I cant help but smile at how at ease he seems with his dog. I think he is gonna fit in perfectly.

[astheforcewillsit]

Sound of the Saw (original ao3 link) Summary:

Aside from a brief meeting between the two where Quinlan ended things, Fox hasn't heard from Quinlan Vos since he supposedly deserted. Fox had made peace with it as best as he could, and prepared to live a life without Quinlan. That is, until he finds his former Jedi in his bedroom asking for intel about Coruscant and the Chancellor months later. And oh. His eyes are yellow. (heavy on the angst, eventual happy ending, brief vostress mention)

Commander Fox walks towards his room that evening with all the strength of B1 Battle Droid who’s a good thirty minutes or so away from shutting down. 

Which is to say none. It starts with his legs–stiff and achy. Like the bolts are rusted. Only it’s his bones and muscles, and unlike a droid he can’t get his replaced. He feels as if agony’s child has thrown itself on his back, tiny arms wrapped around his neck, legs locked around his waist. 

Pulling, constricting, until it burns. The stress of the day blanketing his body like a layer of soft snow. Ever persistent. Ever there. 

His armor doesn’t make it any easier. And though he will take it all off and toss it to some corner of his room (he’s not like his brothers, it’s not some prized, sacred relic he honors. It’s a chain. A gold, studded collar), his body keeps its memory even while free of it. 

With great effort he forces his tired, exhausted body through the threshold. Bucket loosely pinned to his side by trembling fingers. A migraine floundering behind his eyes.

Needless to say Commander Fox is a walking ball of pain, both physically and mentally. His brain has gone on autopilot, commanding his body to make a beeline for his bed. 

And yet..

And yet he can tell something is off immediately. Things are too calm. 

At this time of night, despite his perpetual weariness, the initial embrace of sleep is difficult to come by. Coruscant’s nightlife creeps into the Commander’s Quarters, sound from the living planet seeps into his room. A speeder going above the legal limit, lights shining through his blinds. 

On a good night, he gets maybe two or three hours of sleep. But it’s sleep nonetheless.  

The point is, he dragged his tired body into his quarters today fully expecting to battle Coruscant for somewhat of a decent night's sleep-for him -only to find something completely wrong. 

This evening, his room is dark and silent. The kind of dark and silent that seems to wedge its way into one of those lower level bars after a shootout that kills just about all of the bar goers. Silent and dark in a way that is unnatural. Like death is waiting patiently in the shadows, head cocked and brows knitted as if he's debating on whether or not you'll be his next victim. 

His room is splashed with vantablack. As if there’s been a black hole materialized into the corner where his bed sits against the wall. 

And yet–he can see those piercing, yellow eyes. He thinks he’s seen those eyes before, in his dreams. In between the strange, gaps in his memory. In between the walk from the mess hall and the walk out of the Chancellor's office. He doesn't like to think of that. Of those times when the Chancellor feels off. The Chancellor is a good man. 

“Hey Foxy, I think I made a mistake. And I really need your help.”

No shit, he wants to say. The void speaks using Quin's voice, the mock light heartedness and aloofness 

He thinks of what General Windu came to tell him months ago. After Quinlan had gone off radar and left Fox completely in the dark (and that’s not entirely true. Quinlan gave the most professional ‘i can’t do this anymore’ one day and Fox hadn’t heard from him since. That day had been…difficult.). 

After he’d interrogate him about the intricacies of their former relationship. 

“Do not engage with him under any circumstances, Commander. Comm the temple immediately and get you and your men to safety.” 

General Windu did not elaborate when Fox asked what was going on. He knew enough about his defection, but to his knowledge Quinlan had returned to the Order. Still, he nodded before letting General Windu know that there was absolutely no reason Quinlan would stop by the Guard’s HQ again. 

He thinks of what the Chancellor had said to him after he sensed his tense shoulders, “The Jedi will not tell you the entire thing, Commander Fox, but I am afraid that they fear that Jedi Quinlan Vos has deceived them again. The one you were so fond of. I am sorry to be the one to break it to you, but I believed you deserved to know.” 

Then, it had hurt like he’d swallowed a live grenade. And when Cody had confirmed it for him after he asked for clarification (because what exactly was Quinlan doing?), adding that Quinlan had gone off with Ventress at some point or another,  the grenade exploded. 

“He’d fuck a clone killer before he touches you again,” Wolffe had gritted out, venomously, “If you see him again, put a bold betewen his eyes. If you don’t, we will.” 

He had punched Wolffe for that one.  It wasn’t his proudest moment, and it took a Jedi to split them up because both the Wolfpack and the Guard erupted into a full out brawl.  But at the time, those words had been a package thinly laced with blame, and he was already feeling like shit. 

Like he had anything to do with Quinlan Vos of all Jedi defecting. Again? 

Even the Jedi’s shoulders slouched when Wolffe opened his mouth, and according to the grapevine, that was supposed to be the optimistic one. 

“Quinlan?” His voice raises an octave, trembling as he approaches the figure on his bed. His quarters are as dark as a starless night. Those eyes follow his every movement, a tenseness like a rancor about to strike. 

It lacks the warmth that Quinlan’s gaze usually has to it. It’s unnatural on him. The Jedi– his– Jedi (though not his anymore. Asajj Ventress’s now) does not stare at Fox like he is a piece of meat. 

“I need something from you, Fox. some information about the Chancellor. Give it to me and I’ll leave you alone.” 

There’s a finality in that which Fox doesn’t take too well to. 

This is over. Whatever was between them is done. He’s asking him to betray the Republic. He’s asking him to betray his brothers. That’s a line no clone crosses without a good fucking reason. And Quinlan knows this. He knows the fucked up, jumble of emotions this is for Fox. 

Because Fox doesn’t know if his brothers would feel the same about him. He doesn’t know who would betray him in a heartbeat if they could. Especially after Fives (though Rex has come around. Tries to, at least).  And still, he’d give the world for them if he could. It’s an ugly, uncomfortable, shitty feeling. A feeling that Quinlan Vos with brown eyes and sunkissed skin had shared with him. 

It was over. It was over for Quinlan before he’d broken into Fox’s room, but now, it was over for Fox (spoiler alert from the author, it was not). 

But he’d give him a last kindness. For all he’d done for the Guard. For all this Jedi had done for him. He helped Fox when he was at his lowest. 

And if Quinlan Vos has fallen, then surely it’s lower than he’s ever been in his life. 

He steels himself, his voice steady, “I’m going to call someone. To help you. Stay here, do not move.”

The room becomes frigid. Freezing. In a way that hurts. Small knives prick into his skin, his eyes water. His throat tightens. Quinlan’s eyes narrow. 

Fox’s fingers are already on the communicator Windu gave him, index hovering above the button. In a split second he will alert the Jedi. 

In a split second, Quinlan Vos upon him, his saber slashing through the device on Fox’s wrist. 

Shit. Kriff.  This is the closests he’s been a saber before. And the saber is fucking red. And a dread he’s never felt fills his room.

The saber has sliced through his armor. His skin burns against the molten plastoid. Did Quinlan just fucking hurt him? Betrayal unlike any other erupts through him, burning hotter than the pain on his wrist. 

Quinlan smirks. His face is clear as the red illuminates the two. Fox could scream. He looks fucking deranged. 

“Well Commander , I didn’t know you had it in you. I can feel your anger. Your pain.” He chuckles, a distorted, disorienting sound, “you’d make a good Sith.” 

With a rush of adrenaline, CC-1010 takes over in that instant. And the small part that is Commander Fox dissociates as he hides behind his training. 

His hands are on his twin blasters. He’s prepared to die with them there. He shoots, and Quinlan snarls. 

Fox closes his eyes as CC-1010 fights. He plugs his ears closed as bolts deflect around his room. 

This is not Quinlan in the room before him. This is a twisted, convoluted disciple of Asajj Ventress and Count Dooku. The one that put the Jedi Order behind him. The one that was coming to Coruscant for secrets about the Republic.

Fox thanks his training. When he gets the courage, he watches his body as if  from a distance. Watches as it dodges and shoots as a sith tears through his bedroom. Alpha-17 would be proud. Hell, even Fett would be proud. For the first time in his life, he thanks the genes of Jango Fett, because he’d be dead if it weren’t for him. 

Still, he’s not invincible. 

He tries to look away when the saber cuts through the plastoid, the pain strong enough to jerk him back into his own body. One of his DC-17s bounces on the ground, escaped from his grip during this dangerous dance (why, he doesn’t know? He’s never dropped a blaster in the middle of a battle). 

He puts his effort into his remaining blaster. 

CC-1010 retreats to regroup, reassess. Commander Fox is left alone to defend himself against Quinlan Vos.

He will die here, but he will die fighting to live. A foolish part of him fights because he can’t imagine what the guilt will do to Quinlan when he comes to his senses. Be it today or fifty years from now, when the clones and their armor and their pain is a memory on the wind. Maybe then, he’ll join Fox wherever the Force takes him after all of this. 

For his part–Quinlan is angry. Furious ( CC-1010 may have said some choice words about his new girlfriend. ). And Fox can feel it in the way he attacks him. It’s cruel, taunting. Picking at pieces of Fox until his body is a canvas of small burns and slow forming bruises. It’s calculated and cruel, like a predator tiring its prey before it catches it. 

It has Asajj Ventress written all over it. And for a small, harrowing moment, Fox finds a sickening moment of clarity in what Vos is doing.

He’d zoned out during most of what Cody was saying when he’d filled him in on what went down with Quinlan, but now his brain remembers bits and pieces of the conversation. The bits that he filed away as he crumbled in front of his brother (and thank the Maker his bucket was on). Something about the Dark Side–something about killing loved ones to grow strong.

Ahh, so that’s what this had become? 

By now, he’s sloppy in his dodging. Uncoordinated in his shooting. The exhaustion from the day has come back. Agony’s child has returned to suffocate him, bringing that blanket of snow with it. Quinlan has cut through his remaining blaster. Has pierced his knee through his armor. 

And when his knees hits the ground, that’ll be it. Won’t it? That’s how Thorn went out, isn’t it? Something like that. There’s a comfort in knowing his brother went before him. Will be there to guide him through it. Has practiced this and performed this final act. 

He will die in this armor. And suddenly it is not a gold studded collar anymore. It’s different. It has protected him how it could, and now it will die with him.   He wishes he could live to tell the entire GAR ‘i told you so, we do die fighting’ As if Thorn wasn’t enough. 

And so his knee hits the ground. And Quinlan Vos raises a saber above his neck. And hesitates, just slightly. Eyes flashing from yellow to brown, to yellow again. 

At some point his door zips open. His beheading interrupted. Purple light penetrates the cloud of smoke that the union between a saber and a blaster cause. And there are hands on him,. No–claws. Thick, leathery claws. Pulling him away from the action. Purple and red clash in the background.  

Mace Windu is ferocious in the way he fights. In the way he defends a clone from a Sith. Ponds used to speak highly of him. He sees why now. 

Plo Koon–the optimistic one–the one who sighed when Wollfe opened his mouth (and who doesn’t at this point) guides him out of his room, cups his head as he tries to look back. At a point he is thrust back into the fluorescent lights of the guard HQ as the Jedi presumably takes him to the medbay. 

He can’t help how his knees buckle beneath him for a second time. Plo Koon goes down with him, scooping him up before he hits the ground.  

When they arrive to the empty med bay, Plo Koon gently settles him into the bed.. Instinctively, he reaches for the comm on his desk. He needs to let Thire know what happened. 

But his comm isn't there because he’s in the medbay.  Still, his body tries to reset itself by going on autopilot. He needs to warn Thire, let him know what’s happened. He reaches for his comm that isn’t there and his stomach drops. His hand is gone. 

Quinlan cut off his hand. 

He makes a noise between a sob and a squeal. Plo Koon is beside him in an instant, and Fox is so eager for touch that he buries himself into the Kel Dor’s robes. He wonders how many times another clone has sought comfort here, in between these thick, dark robes and the scent of something alien. But pleasant. 

He wonders if he sits long enough, here in the silence, if he can smell Wolffe. 

He tries to calm himself. Tries to remind himself of the positives. He is alive. Quinlan did not harm his brothers. Windu did not look like he was losing. And if he did lose (which was very unlikely), apparently the Jedi next to him can use lightning. Palpatine will not have him decommissioned. The Chancellor says he’lll protect him. Protects his men too, he tries as hard as he can even when they still go missing. 

It’s enough to stop him from going into a full blown panic attack. That, and the way the Jedi soothes him. It’s a nice reminder that the Force isn’t just the frost that Quinlan had brought into his room. It’s not his mangled knee or his missing hand. It’s whatever is coming off of Plo Koon too. 

At some point his medic arrives to the med bay, and when they look at each other, Fox wants to cry. 

Because the Coruscant Guard has a tendency of playing hero when natborn officers can’t be bothered to do the job they're actually paid for. They take calls that the natborns should take, but won’t because for some reason, saving a wife who’s beaten shitless by her husband is above their pay grade. And Commander Fox has been on several of those calls, and his medic has tended to several battered wives, husbands, children, and partners.

And Fox has personally escorted those battered individuals to the Coruscant HQ, and always he and his medic give each other that look. Because the world just gets eviler in Coruscant every day. 

And today his medic looks at Fox like he looks at them. Speaks to him  in the same, soothing tones that he does them. And Fox supposes now, he is one of them. 

Though when he's a bit better, he'll find a way to argue against his new label. 

For now, there is a hand on his head. Those four leather like fingers. Plo Koon wills him to sleep. 

[sea-salted-wolverine]

Story time from fish camp: content warning for the god damn dog

So, yeah, fish camp, forget connecting with nature, nature's connecting with you at high-speed impact via fish gut. Yes, the damn dog deserves every ounce of derision, buckle up, here we go.

Let's preface this by saying the dog does not go to fish camp. He stays at home. We are all aware of this issue. No one was surprised by this chain of events. Well, maybe the dog was surprised because he has half brain cell bouncing around in his useless skull but no one else was surprised.

So Adak is a gorgeous dog. He is a specimen of his breed. He goes out in public on a leash and strangers walk up and ask about his stud. We are talking kennel club level specifications.

He is also the most cringe fail fucked up canine who ever lived. You see pugs that can't breathe because their faces are too squashed and their legs don't work but their supposed to look like that because some eugenicists thought it would be fun to pose new and exciting questions about ethics. Those fuckups are intentional.

Adak is a retriever. He was intended to be a duck dog. He is meant to sit quietly next to you while you shoot a duck and then go get it for you. That's the entire purpose of his breed. He came from a litter of pups that do this competitively, and his owner used to train dogs to elite levels of competition. He now no longer does this for reasons we will get into in a moment, but suffice to say this dog started with higher expectations. He's not a Labrador he's a Chesapeake, a breed known for their intelligence but somewhere along the line something went fucking wrong.

The dog cannot retrieve. He doesn't know how. Its not instinctual and he refuses to learn. We have tried. People can't teach him, dogs can't teach him. He won't fetch a stick, or a dog toy or a training bumper or anything else you throw for him.

The dog is gunshy. He panics at the sound of a shot. Sometimes he forgets he's gunshy and there's a solid thirty seconds between the shot and when he decides to lose his shit.

The dog cannot sit quietly. If he is not the center of attention he makes sounds I have not heard from any other organic creature. Is is a squeaky hinge, a far off engine, something stuck in the garbage disposal? No, it's the dog, steadily getting louder because no one has looked at him in the last 2 minutes.

So yeah, arguably the worst possible example of a retriever. He's pretty, he's friendly, he's a good dog and a wonderful pet, just never expect him to do anything useful. Currently his primary function is vacuuming up toddler meals from underneath a highchair so he's happy.

But there's another peculiarity about this damn dog.

He has an engine fetish. A fixation, an obsession, whatever you care to call it. This animal's one true goal in life is to meld his skull to an engine plate and crack off all of his teeth on a spinning flywheel. Yes, some of this is learned behavior because he knows that when an engine starts up his people are off to go do things, fun things, and if he makes himself annoying enough he'll get to go with us. But that only accounts for about a third of how fucking bonkers this dog gets around internal combustion.

Fire up a snowmachine? His head is between the skis and he's doing his best to get inside the cowling. He has chiped his teeth trying to chew on a moving dirt bike tire. He has been run over multiple times, by multiple different machines. There is nothing you can do to dissuade this dog from hauling ass after a four wheeler. His mania is limited to small engines because if he was this stupid around cars he would have been roadkill years ago.

He's been to vets, he's been to experts. He has a wonderful doggy life with plenty of stimulus and affection and exercise and socialization. There's just something wrong with him.

So this is the animal we brought to fish camp. He's having the time of his life because he's surrounded by strangers who would love to pet him and stinky fish smells. Our camp has plenty of people so someone always has his leash to walk him around and he doesn't need to stay in his kennel. There are lots of other families here and a good number of them have wheelers for hauling people and nets and fish up and down the beach, but as long as he has a firm hand on his collar he is at least smart enough not to chase strangers wheelers. He can behave. He just loses his damn mind when it's a machine he recognizes.

We have a four wheeler with us, Adak is insufferable and loudly announcing to the entire beach that he's being cruelly oppressed because he's not allowed to eat the engine, or make love to the engine, or have some long and tender yearning romance with the engine, I don't know what goes through that dogs head, all I know is that passersby are looking at me like I'm skining this animal alive because that's what it sounds like.

We also have a boat, a mid size inflatable with an outboard. Our group has six families and it does make sense to show up with everything but the kitchen sink. Harvest from the beach is perfectly fine but dipnetting from a boat is fun.

There is no way the dog is going on the boat. There are too many people, too many moving parts, some of those parts being live flailing fish, and the dog is not going on the boat. Everyone knows this, including the dog. Yes, he's got a thing about boats too.

So what happens is this.

I've got the dog leash. I've already been out on the boat and now I'm taking a break and getting a rest while someone else has a go. The four wheeler is at the head of the beach, after being used to launch the boat. I'm braced against the dog for when the wheeler starts up again and he inevitably lunges for it.

People are loading into the boat at the waterline. While the dog and I are up on the gravel of the beach, they are down in the indescribable glacial river mud, slick as soap and thick as cement.

My sister inlaw comes down the beach, phone for photo taking purposes in one hand, coffee cup in the other, toddler strapped to her chest. She hands me her coffee cup, to better situate her dozing baby.

I take a hand off the leash and accept the cup.

My beloved husband pull starts the engine.

On the boat.

In the water.

I am suddenly 15 feet further down the beach than I was, skidding through the mud, heels digging a trail behind me. It is worth mentioning at this point that I out weigh the dog by a slim margin of about 30lbs. I let go of the leash. I'm not going in that fucking river.

The dog is going in the river. At speed. He's gonna be the first dog to eat a running propeller. In a river.

(Some dogs are smart enough to be current savvy and not endanger themselves swimming in rough waters. Based on the information you know about this dog, what do you think the odds are that Adak is smart enough for that?)

Despite everything, this animal is a beloved family pet and we do not want to see him swept out to Hawaii or his face made into mincemeat. So now there are 2 adult men in chestwaders wrestling this suicidally stupid dog out of the water and away from the running engine. Oh wait, they were in the process of launching the boat into a stiff current. Now they have to pull the dog and the boat back up into the nightmarish morass of glacial mud, were I'm trying not to lose my boots in the calf deep mud so I can grab him again. Someone is shrieking to kill the engine, which is the most sensible course of action so off course no listens.

Thirty seconds ago my dad saw me telling Adak to stay out of the mud. He blinked and missed the initial drama so now he looks back down the beach to see me and my inlaws mudwrestling that same animal out of the water. He is a master of the "not my circus, not my monkeys" mentality, but he's thrilled to see the show. My sister inlaw came to take pictures and record the moment and she's doing just that, with glee and a sleeping baby.

I have the damn dog. I am back on solid footing. I am only mostly covered in mud. I have not dropped or spilled the coffee.

(Most amazing part of this story tbh,thrashed. The coffee never hit the ground, it was one of those nice insulated to-go cups but still)

The boat and it's fishermen are pulling away. I have given up on the leash and have the dog in an armbar around the belly with a fistful of scruff. He doesn't care. He wants so badly on that damn boat that he's fully committed his weight to his hind paws. If I let go of him right now he would biff it on the concrete pad of the boat launch before launching right back into the water. The four wheeler starts up. I do not outweigh the dog by alot but I now have lifted him bodily into the air with all feet off the ground while he squeals and thrashes.

The sound coming out of this animal is what I imagine a whale overdosing on cocaine would sound like. A weasel in a blender. A clowncar demolition derby. A millennia of tortured souls cursed to damnation possessing a kazoo played by a maniac elephant.

People are staring.

Theres a lot of profanity coming out of me. I feel it's pretty justified.

2 and a half minutes later, the boat is gone. The four wheeler is gone. Adak and his stupid doggy brain have calmed down and quit thrashing. He looks up at me with a completely empty skull and a the canine personification of 😄

I'm gonna skin him for mittens

[wanderingmirror]

(You can't draw so you try to write how you imagine the two gods and one mortal from the musical you like to look.)(my newest fixation:D)

Poseidon:

The first time Odysseus saw Poseidon, he froze. Not out of fear but out of the shear need to keep his thoughts in check. There stood a raven haired warrior he knew had a past. Scars were littered across the god's tanned body like trophies displayed on a shelf. Even his head wasn't spared. The left side of his head looked nearly clawed off, opening his sharp incisor like teeth to the world around. The eye was still seeing, both eyes cold and almost ice like. What remained of his mouth was bordered by a beard. Long raven hair was pulled back into a half up, braided in places to hang topaz, opal, and sapphire gems braced in silver.

The visible left ear had an earring, a simple opal stud that barely pulled the eye away from the scarring. The outfit the god had on looked nothing like a king. Armor as dark as ebony lined in silver. It covered his chest and back, his shoulders, his lower arms, gauntlets shaped like claws, and from his knees down. Even his feet were covered. Along his shoulders rested a cape that reached the waters surface where the god stood. It colored in a beautiful ambry of deep navy to sky blue. You would almost mistake the raven for a haunting spectre of war and not the God of the Seas. No he looked nothing like the stories said. Not only was he not this young looking king, he looked tired. As if he hadn't slept at all in a while.

That tiredness faded however when the God spoke to them. Deep and rich like rolling waves. It had Odysseus nearly shuddering. The god's eyes hardened into steel and only anger was visible. A ruthless sort of anger that seemed like it had a cause. The brunette king felt himself wanting to dig into the god's history. See what made the raven tick and react.

That thought would not last long, however, when most of his men were slaughtered all at once. Then the brunette stopped thinking about anything else but surviving.

____

Hades:

Odysseus was exhausted. Down to his bones, he felt drained of all energy. He hardly slept anymore. Too scared of what he might find in the depths of his mind. That didn't change the fact that he froze at the sight of the Underworld's ruler. Tall with black to smoke grey hair that hung like a curtain on the right side of the god's head. Pale golden eyes that bore no iris or pupil but he knew was looking at him. An ebony circlet framed his head and a dusting of stubble framed his jaw. Pale skin was clothed in simple grey and black robes mixed with silver armor. Not as much as Poseidon, but near enough to match. He had a simple rose gold chain necklace around his neck, something Odysseus could only assume was a gift from Persephone. As the goddess had an ebony bracelet on her right wrist.

The god was calm. Almost unnervingly so. And after a few days in the god's realm, Odysseus figured out why. Hades had a slow temper. He wasn't quick to anger like Poseidon or gleeful like Zeus. It was a type of anger that you could only see right when it became too late to fix it. The mortal was shocked when black-grey hair ignited like firey gold. Burning and flowing like fire as his eyes burst into similar flames. Sharpened teeth flashed like a snarling hound. Odysseus felt as if the Underworld's temperature had risen with its kings anger. Right up until the gods wife appeared and kissed the gods cheek. Asking him sweetly to calm down before he scared the residents there.

Coughing, the gods appearance became calm. Fire like gold cooled into coal and ash. Golden to pale gold again. His voice went from roaring inferno to warm fireplace. He leaned down a little to kiss his wife's own cheek as she moved to return to her conversation with another goddess. Odysseus gulped when pale gold locked on him next.

____

Odysseus:

Poseidon wheezed as his own trident hit the ground, his frame full of holes in sets of three. Above him stood the mortal he had been chasing for nearly twenty years now. Shoulder length chestnut brown hair was now a deep chocolate with grey. Coal black eyes replaced deep brown, specks of red like rubies in coal. The were narrowed in tension where they once looked like ovals. Peach skin had tanned into a near browned caramel. Scarred and marked with the past near three decades the mortal had suffered.

His maroon colored clothes remained the same, albeit torn and dirtied in some places. His blood red cloak sat on his shoulders, patched with water and dried blood. The mortal was panting too. Poseidon calmed the storm and remained still. Not able to help the last remark that left his scarred mouth.

The response didn't shock him one bit.

[raspberryjars]

Can you do a Designer! Miles and Model! Hobie?

little snippet so far!! (u can except more to be posted either this weekend or next week x)

Lights flashed from all corners of the room as he put one foot in front of the other, steadily making his way down the catwalk. He could feel the loose, chainmail-esk vest bush against his skin as he moved his arms slightly, leaving a pattern of goosebumps in their wake. The large clunky boots he’d been handed were cool as well, big and powerful, maybe something he'd wear in his day-to-day, if they weren’t ridiculously expensive.

Whoever the designer was for this collection though, they were definitely cool. Lots of street wear, baggy jeans, large jackets, trainers and that, but also more punk elements to things, for example his chainmail vest. And he’d seen a girl ahead of him with liberty spikes. One of the other guys too, he’d had loads of patches all over his pants. He liked to imagine the designer as someone chill, maybe tall, definitely a similar music taste to himself. Maybe they’d be pretty similar over all. Seemed like it by the look of the garments and styling.

He turned on his heel and strode back up towards the entrance/exit for models. Not turning off his walk until he was definitely out of sight of any crowds.

As soon as he knew he was safe from any guests, he stopped where he stood and slouched his shoulders, taking a deep breath in through the nose as he slowly made his way to where the others should be sitting around. It was probably his favourite part, the moments right after the runway. When everyone was pretty tired, but still riding that high. It was always fun to hear about what mishaps had taken place too.

So when Hobie pushed through the plastic swinging door and saw his sort of co-workers sitting around on different chairs and tables he didn’t think much of it. He just scanned the room for a spare seat before sitting himself down next to Gayatri. He quickly scanned her outfit, tall knee length boots, a short chequered skirt, a tight black, sort of mesh-y top and a big puffer jacket. Lots of chains, charms and belts had been slung round her neck or tied round her waist, looking messily organised. Her hair had been slicked back and her eyes had been outlined in kohl, making her eyes look a lot more imposing than usual.

“Sick look.” He smiled. He meant it too, he did really like a lot of the designs.

“Thanks Hobie, I could say the same to you.” She smiled slightly, eyes skimming what he was wearing.

“Well, I can’t take credit.” He laughed, casting his eyes around the room. Two more models had come in, one of which was staring quite obviously in their direction.

“Hey, look, you’ve got an admirer.” Hobie whispered, a slight laugh in his voice.

“Oh calm down, like you don’t?” Gayatri smirked back, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head in the direction of the door.

Hobie turned his head to see someone standing in the doorway, someone with an oversized collared red shirt, and some baggy black fatigues. He was looking around with a certain look on his face, one Hobie couldn’t place. And no offence to the guy, but he didn’t exactly look like a model, he just looked slightly plain compared to the room full of accessorised models in chunky platforms. Plus the guy was absolutely not tall enough for a runway, again, no offence.

But he did look cool, he had some silver studs and a thin silver ring in his nose, plus his choice of smart business wear looked pretty casual which he had to respect. And he looked like he loved the collection. It was just confusing thinking about why he was actually back here. He didn’t have a pass around his neck or anything, and he definitely wasn’t tech, too dressed up.

Maybe a friend of someone’s? Who knew honestly, not him, and to be honest, he wasn’t too bothered. The guy looked happy enough. And Hobie had never minded a few stares, what was one more pair of eyes? Beautiful, big, brown eyes, but still. Not anything too unusual.

The last few models slipped in through the doors and suddenly the guy from the doorway wasn’t standing there, and just as Hobie was scanning the room for him, he was making his way down the hallway.

[bonefall]

I was never able to really get a feel for Leafpool's personality in the books, especially since she's always contrasted with Squirrelflight who has a pretty consistent personality (at least for Warriors standards). She's kind of like Hollyleaf where they change her personality depending on what they want to happen in the plot I think. How do you approach writing her? I'm really fond of your Spottedleaf, so I was wonder if Leafpool has any fun quirks like her.

[ID: Leafpool from Warrior Cats. She is chunky, has a mane, and green eyes. Her stripes are horizontal.]

I approach Leafpool as being VERY tired. Her life is characterized as never really being in control of her own fate, being punished for any simple pleasures she takes tenfold, so I write her as becoming very defeatist. Poor girl.

Because Leafpool is never in REAL control, somehow, it gives her this air that she's in total control. You can't scare her. StarClan can tell her that her kids are cursed, Hollyleaf can tell her to kill herself, Bramblestar can jump in front of her and snarl, she's never more than briefly phased. "Yeah sure this may as well happen."

In a way, she's almost the total opposite of Jayfeather, who never met a rule he wasn't willing to punch. It is interesting that each one of the Three has a unique relationship to the fate that chains up Leafpool.

Allows herself to love Mothpaw... war breaks out and Moth has to return to RiverClan.

Tries to warn Squilf about Brambleclaw in spite of StarClan wanting them to be together, first fight with her sister ever.

Runs off with Crowfeather, returns home to find out her mentor died before she could say goodbye.

Gives birth, allows Squilf to take them, eventually gets threatened by Hollyleaf.

(side note: i am considering leafpool's name being an honor title, with her old name being Leafstripe, and Squirrelpaw failing two assessments just like Nightheart)

But a big change in my rewrite is that the dramatic scenes that aren't consistent with that resigned sorrow go to Crowfeather. He's a complete and utter ham. Leafpool isn't out here trying to name Hollykit 'Crowkit' or confessing her unwavering love for him in front of his wife and child, THAT is Crowfeather making an ass of HIMSELF in front of that wife and child lmao.

Leaf's feelings are more complicated and repressed. Hard life.

On the bright side though, there ARE changes from canon so that the Clan has more nuanced feelings about her instead of her whole life being a nonstop beatdown.

Most of ThunderClan, which heavily leans Fire Alone, agrees that Leafpool did the right thing by giving her kits to Squilf to invoke the Queen's Rights. Sure she lapsed, but Fire Alone cats are softer on the Cleric's Vow in general.

Bramblestar demoting her in Cruel Season has a VERY mixed reception. It's Leafpool!! Leafpool Moonpool!!!

Her death many years later in the Sister Raid actually tanks Bramblestar's reputation. It was seen as cruel, pointless, and avoidable, and they lost a very popular and experienced Cleric.

(side note again: still considering how the 'unclear sign' plot beat is going to go in my rewrite, because i cannot imagine jayfeather not just lying about that. "yeah yeah yeah they said yes bramblestar, im supposed to heal this cat obviously. move.")

Misc Design Stuff:

She's got a mane that you can see on Dovewing too, since Dove is Leaf's grandchild now.

Like Sandstorm, uncle Longtail, and grandpaw Runningwind, Leafpool's stripes are horizontal.

I'm still doing research into what she has specifically, but Bonefall Leafpool is intersex. Those are stud jowls.

Considering the cat version of PCOS because it explains a lot; weight gain, a receding hairline that could be shared with Lionblaze, the jowls as a facial hair parallel, difficult pregnancy, etc.

Still doing my research though.

And lastly, Mothpool is endgame in this Rewrite. They can never be together officially, but it's about the yearning. It's about finding freedom with your escapist fantasy partner or being in shackles with your true love. She chose the CHAINS.