#burnt probe

[thisisadonaldduckblognow]

the way i rewatch any part of rottmnt and once again come away from canon leo wondering where the actual heck are people getting this “oohhhh he only thinks he’s good for self sacrifice or as a tool, he has absolutely zero self worth whatsoever” instead of the canon version who’s kind of a manipulative lil stinker and KNOWS he has stuff to bring to the table but isn’t sure how to be Seen

it’s not that he thinks he’s worthless or not wanted. i fuckin promise you that about rise leo. he does not seriously think he is unloved or unwanted or ~one mistake away from being dropped by his own family~ or whatever

what he IS is rejection-sensitive in the way that makes any time he fails feel like the end of the world to HIM (setting aside that time he messed up and it did literally trigger the near-apocalypse and near deaths of him and his family lol), so he’d rather not try than risk messing up

[polybiusplayer]

17776 fandom needs to make more art please I am begging you all………

[shrimpybbq]

rafe experiences the comfort of a mother

synopsis: rafe appears on his girlfriend’s doorstop, badly burnt and in need of care and affection

Rafe stood in front of the guest room, body stiff and hand frozen against the wooden door. He wanted to knock, he really did, and yet he was hesitant. Only the day before had the couple fought, screaming and shouting until both were out of breath. Rafe had watched his sweet girl leave with teary eyes and he’d felt bad, his heart twisting as she had slammed the door in his face. It was the same door he finally knocked on after realising he’d been motionless for too long. The rap of his knuckles echoed and for a moment, he wondered if she wouldn’t answer the door at all, until a creak sounded. Rafe raised his gaze to see his girlfriend standing in front of him, her fists rubbing the sleep away from her eyes.

“R-rafe? What are yo-”, she began to ask, voice heavy with tiredness, the hour late. It wasn’t until she looked at him properly that she paused, taking in his entire state. Rafe was standing there, clutching his arm to his chest protectively. It wasn’t the childlike pose that caught her eye though, no - it was the way Rafe’s eyes were filled with unshed tears and his bottom lip wobbling ever so subtly.

“Are you ok?” She asked gently, as if she were talking to their son. Rafe could only shake his head side to side, slowly pulling his arm away. At the sight of the red and blistering flesh, she gasped loudly, “Oh my god! What happened?”.

“I-uh, I got into some trouble,” Rafe responded timidly, full of shame and in pain.

“Come here,” his girlfriend said, gently ushering him into the guest room, “sit down. Have you cleaned this?” She asked. Again he shook his head, leading her to hum lowly. “Ok, I’ll need to clean it. Gimme a sec.”

Rafe sat on the bed patiently as he took in the room. He’d never been in there since she began sleeping in there, now taking in all the little trinkets she had lying around. He had been trying to get her to move back into his room but she still refused, and the pair used the nursery as a mutual zone.

His musings were cut off by a gentle voice questioning him.

“What happened Rafe?”

“It’s nothing, just an accident, you know?” Rafe grumbled out as she began to wet antiseptic pads in front of him. She looked up at him, gaze incredulous.

“This is bad, Rafe. You don’t just get something like this accidentally! You said you got into trouble before - what did you mean by that?” She questioned. Rafe sighed, having underestimated just how much she would question him, but he should’ve expected that, he thought to himself. When he didn’t answer, she began to clean his arm.

The sharp stinging sensation that travelled through him as the antiseptic touched his burn made Rafe jump, his voice exclaiming in shock. It was that sudden pain that caused the unshed tears in his eyes to spill over, and it was like once he started he couldn’t stop. All his pain and worries spilled out of him, the tears streaming down his face.

“Oh baby, it’s ok, come here,” he heard her say, cleaning forgotten as she pulled his head into her chest. Whenever she had comforted Rafe in the past, this had been his favourite position, curled up against her chest and having his hair stroked. So she did just that, soothing his heaving sobs with each pass through his hair. “It’s ok Rafe, you’re ok here baby. I’ve got you, ok? Breathe, Rafe.”

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, his sobs wetting the fabric of the tank top she wore. He’d almost completely exhausted himself by the time his sobs stopped, only able to breathe deeply now. It was then his muffled voice could be heard, “it was Barry.”

He felt her stiffen before she tentatively probed further. “Barry, your dealer?”

At the feeling of him nodding, she pulled him away from her chest. Her voice was stern, as if she was talking to a small child,

“Rafe, why is your dealer burning you? What did you do?”

He looked up at her, eyes wide and rimmed with red. He looked just a like their son, she thought, his features so innocent and needy.

“I-I couldn’t pay him back in time… I tried, I really did, but I had this thing and I couldn’t get it all there in time, and I said- I said to him I would get it bu-but he didn’t care,” Rafe began to ramble, his voice pleading with her to understand him. He had been trying to do better, for her - for his family. He watched her sigh, before she returned to clean his wound in silence. Rafe wanted to speak, to explain himself more but he didn’t know what to say, and the idea of her disappointed gaze upon him once more sealed his lips. The feeling of her fingers smoothing a burn cream over his wound tenderly had him curling back into her chest.

She began to card her fingers back through his blonde locks, feeling Rafe relax against her. When he was upset he would be one of two ways: angry and reactive, or clingy and touch-starved. Today, it was clear he was the latter. She couldn’t bare to leave him alone like this, and so she gently whispered,

“Come here baby, let’s get you into bed, ok?”

Rafe pulled away, his eyes wide as he looked up upon her face.

“Here?”

She nodded and began to pull the covers away, creating a space for him to shuffle in. Rafe allowed himself to be guided under the quilt and he couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling of her fingers tenderly brushing his messed-up strands away from his forehead. As he made space for her beside him, Rafe watched his girlfriend pull away from the bed.

“Nononono-” he began to mutter, only to be cut off. His hand was outstretched pathetically to try and keep her by his side, scared to be alone.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. I’m just going to the nursery. I thought you’d want him to stay with us tonight,” she soothed, watching surprised as Rafe shook his head in response.

“No, let him sleep. Just c’mere,” he mumbled, dragging her into his side and under the blankets. Within seconds Rafe had found his position for the night, curled up into her side, his head resting on her chest once more. He was so sullen and quiet as he listened to her heartbeat, hands clutching at her waist.

“Goodnight Rafe,” she uttered sleepily, the events of the night catching up to her.

“I love you,” he said quietly, his voice muffled against her chest. He didn’t say it often, preferring to show his love for her through actions, but she always knew it. With a soft kiss against the crown of his head, she echoed those words back to him, before slipping into unconsciousness,

“I love you too, baby.”

[eccentricallygothic]

Patience

Pairing: Daddy!Ari Levinson | Brat Baby!You.

Description: Ari decides to actually act upon his literal threats of ‘teaching your ass a lesson’ this time around.

Warning(s): D/s dynamics, ddlg, power imbalance, meanie Daddy!Ari, bratty!you, allusions to spanking, size kink, strength kink, begging, humiliation, rimming, ass fingering, age gap (reader is 20’s and Ari is near 40’s), possessive!Ari, dirty talk, brat taming. Minors do not interact. 

Type: Request (anon), here.

Note: Unedited because it's 5am and I have class around 10am. Forgive me for any errors. Hope you like it <3

.

Your hot and pouty face was buried between your arms that were folded ‘petitely’ over your boyfriend's work table even though you were anything but. “Daddy, please!” You whined and tried to shift in his beastly hold only to fail yet again. “I already said I was sorry and I already got a spankie!” You kicked your foot and complained like you had any power against him. 

Ari's rough fingers only groped your stinging ass cheeks harder as he kept them spread apart for his experienced tongue to keep torturing your quivering pucker. “Nah, today is the day, baby. Buckle up” his words made you whine even louder than before and you puffed out your cheeks, your hips struggling to break free from his tyrannical grip. 

“But I already said I was sorry!” You were a sensitive little thing that was used to being spoiled and treated like you were the reason the sun rose everyday, not getting your way or being rough handled was not something you were particularly accustomed to. Especially not at the hands of the grizzly kneeling behind you. 

“As you have a million times before” Ari simply responded before the sharp tip of his tongue ran around your rim again before he probed the opening that was tightly wrinkled shut. As if the tiny stretches he was causing weren't uncomfortable and humiliating enough, the recent spanks on your ass made it even worse. You had no idea how, but the jerk had even managed to spank your poor little backdoor. He was lucky you loved him. “But today is the day punishment will actually teach you something, you little brat.” 

You huffed and shook your disapproval out through your body. “Daddy, you're being so mean!” Your eyebrows were furrowed but you dared not look behind and at him. You were not allowed to do so, as he had ordered you to look ahead when he had begun. “It's not my fault those little boys look at me! I only have eyes for you!” You heard his snicker of disbelief.

“Yeah, right–” your eyes widened when you felt him heatedly spit on your asshole, clearly further instigated by your words, before one of his fingers began to push against your virgin rim. 

“DADDY!” You panicked but Ari was unbothered. “Oh, no!” Your face burnt hot in humiliation but that didn't stop your pussy from tearing up. 

“Oh, yes” Ari's guttural voice was quiet as he leaned in to lick at one of the many fingerprints he had left on your ass cheeks, the digut he had inserted in you now knuckle deep. His thick beard tickled your sensitive skin where his tongue touched you. “Only have eyes for your old man, huh? Is that why you go bowling with your silly girlfriends in those cute little shorts, hm?” He gave you a good few jabs so you would feel his knuckle butt against your rim. “Tsk, like I don't know about those foolish little boys following you around like dumb little mutts.” Okay, maybe you did like the attention. 

“B- But that's not my fault, Dada! I only want you!” That was true. “You know it!” It was the reason why you liked to rile up Ari like this. Especially during periods when his stupid work took nearly all his time.

Ari began to pull his finger out and your ass humiliatingly squelched. He stopped when only the tip reached your rim. You whimpered as your pucker clenched in discomfort. “Too bad that is not going to stop me from breaking this–”

“Daddyyy!” You whined when his finger began to push into you once more.

“– bratty little ass in like I should have a long time ago” you shuddered when he added some tongue to the finger fucking. “Maybe you will finally learn some fuckin’ patience when you limp all over the place like a sorry little baby slut.”

Oh dear, oh dear.

You had a long evening to go.

And a lot of begging to do. 

.

[aetherrx]

LaDS x Reader | Acid Burns

Disclaimer | Fem reader | Injury Wc | 940 Note: Was going to write smut but it just went into a different direction oops. It’s also kind of rushed, sorry ☹. •─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Bang! Bang! Bang!

You aimed your pistol at the terrifying wanderer, its acidic spittle barely missing your face as you ducked and rolled, tucking behind a hidden alcove. Your fellow hunters were scattered around various checkpoints, the multitude of wanderers on this little island needing both the UNICORNS team and foreign team to ward off the frightful beings.

Shots fired, you managed to blast through the creature’s head, its discoloured blood squirting over the ground, painting the green with its insides. “We need backup!” Tara exclaimed from a few meters away, her face scrunched in pain as she held her side.

You cursed, eyes surveying the bloody patch seeping through her hunter’s uniform. “Tara! Get out of here, you’ll be no use to us dead,” you commanded, eyes ablaze. You knew she wanted to argue, but with the blood seeping through her fingers, she knew better than to push on.

Besides, there was only one wanderer left.

Once you were certain Tara had left the vicinity, you jumped from your hiding place, pistols firing rapidly against the wanders breastplate. Fucking acidic bastards.

“That right, bastard,” you snickered, lips pulling as you watched its nostrils flare, breathing in your scent. “Come at me.” You swivelled, jumping over its head as it jumped at you, swirling confidently as your gun pointed at its eye, pulling the trigger.

A blast of acid flew from its mouth as the bullet infiltrated its iris, blasting its ‘brain’ to bits.

You heard screaming. Who was screaming? The last wanderer was dead. That’s when you realised it was you screaming. Peering down, face scrunched in pain, you watched helplessly as the acid burnt through the fabric atop your midriff, burning and gurgling as it settled against your skin.

Groans of pain escaped your lips, hands quivering as they hovered over the acidic burns covering the entire left side of your midriff, eyes welling with tears at the searing pain. Do not cry. Not here. Show no weakness.

You winced at your internal screaming, ignoring the fact it’d sounded too much like the Onychinus boss for your liking.

You watched in a daze, hunters passing by you and to you, their hands cradling and pulling at you. Stop. It hurts.

It hurts so much.

Your vision blurred, a hazy lens covering your eyes as you were lifted, being carried off to a medical carrier, until you blacked out.

You forgot to call Sylus back.

~

You woke to bleary eyes and ringing ears. A small groan escaped your lips as you struggled to sit up, wincing as a sharp pain seared your side. The acid. The Wanderer. Passing out.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” A familiar voice said from the corner of the room. Zayne. “Had the acid been left any longer, it would have completely burnt through your skin and boiled your intestines.” You winced at the image, lifting a hand to rub at your temple.

You were silent, avoiding his probing eyes as your hand fiddled with the thin white sheet covering you, noticing the large bandages wrapped around your entire torso. Was it really that bad?

“It was really that bad,” Zayne deadpanned. “Apply this ointment to the entire area every night for the next three weeks. The pain should be completely gone by then.”

The next few weeks blurred by; your home had become the hub of visitation. Zayne made sure to come by every week to check on your burns and take quick diagnostics, though you surmised he’d been visiting to make sure you hadn’t dropped down dead since your last visits.

Xavier had dropped by once on the second week when you, according to him, had dropped off the face of the earth for an entire month. You seemed to have forgotten that you hadn’t seen the hunter for weeks before your accident.

“You almost died,” he murmured quietly once you’d told him about your encounter with the acidic wanderer. “I should have been there.” You couldn’t stand to watch him beat himself up over it, even if he’d left without saying a word for weeks.

That night he held onto you for hours, murmuring in his sleep every so often; just silly mutterings about neutralizing all acidic wanderers.

Every other night, you’d video call Sylus’, who had raged on for days about being too busy to come and see you in person, but he kept sending over Mephisto to keep you company, the bird always wrapped around your arms like a kitten.

“Silly bird,” you chuckled, finger scratching at his head as his beak opened into a squark. “You better tell your owner to come and see me soon.” You couldn’t help but pout.

A sudden pin sounded from your phone.

Criminal <3: Don’t pout too much. I’ll come and see you tomorrow.

: You Better. Mephisto misses you.

Criminal <3: Just Mephisto?

You couldn’t help the blush spreading across your cheeks. “Cheeky,” you muttered, lips protruding into a deeper pout.

A few days after that, Rafayel swirled in like a sea storm, bringing a multitude of snacks and paints with him.

“I have to paint my damsel in distress. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.” You could only roll your eyes.

Though, he did settle down next to your lying form, resting his palm against your forehead. “Don’t die on me, cutie. I forbid you from leaving me.” You chuckled, threading your hand through his.

“Why would I ever leave you?”

[balrogballs]

"Bilbo had assumed accusing an elven lord of Tookishness in his own house would result in swift decapitation and not a decades-long camaraderie that both parties truly cherished, but it seemed that in this regard too, the Lord of Imladris defied expectation."

The Peculiar and the Deranged: Moments between Bilbo Baggins, Elrond Peredhel, and the most unprecedented friendship in Middle-Earth, under the cut!

(aka this friendship wasn’t leaving my mind so I wrote this on my phone and drew this with the 3 pencils I had on a train because I’m incapable of being normal about anything)

on Bilbo's first visit to Imladris, featuring Estel's pet snake:

"You had a rat?" Bilbo blinked, hoping Elrond wouldn't notice the snake he was glaring at had initially been curled around his own neck. "Sir."

"I did not have a rat," corrected Elrond imperiously, looking every bit the lord of the valley. "I would never have a rat, I do not approve of rats. My daughter had a rat. Lothinvar, it was called, the bane of my household. Until this terrible creature wormed its way in. The snake that is, not the child, though Estel is not in my good books at the moment either."

on the return journey, after the death of Thorin Oakenshield:

"What can I do? How can I ever move past this?" Bilbo asked quietly, unsure why exactly he was pouring his heart out to a being six thousand years older than him, who must have faced far greater sorrows.

"Grief," Elrond replied, staring intently at him, "tricks you into thinking it’s all you have left. As though if you let it go, even for a moment, you betray him. You hold onto relics like lifelines, thinking what else is there to keep Thorin alive in your mind? It is a lonely life, Bilbo. It will turn you into the loneliest person in the world."

"Is there no way out?" he gasped, looking up at the elf.

"Start small. A smile, perhaps, when you think of a joke he made," Elrond said steadily, like he was reciting a recipe. “And then, try telling someone about him. Perhaps you could tell me. Something new each time you visit, perhaps.”

“You say it like you have experience of it, sir,” ventured Bilbo. “Like you know it by-heart. Did you get past it?”

“I did,” Elrond’s voice was confident, too confident. Bilbo chose not to probe.

"Thorin's nephews?" Elrond asked later, after Bilbo had gathered himself together, mopped himself up. "They were slain too? Both?"

"Yes, both."

"That is good," Elrond had said with a blank, intense smile etched into his features. "That it was both at once."

"What?" Bilbo sat up in shock, spluttering. "Good? What is wrong with you?"

"Were they not twins? Thorin's nephews I recall were twins, no?"

"Brothers. But what difference does that make? What do you mean good? I beg your pardon, my lord, that's an unhinged thing to say!"

"Oh. I am sorry, Bilbo," Elrond shook his head, the awful, blank expression still on his face. "I am sorry, I spoke without thinking. It is only that I had thought they were twins. Do forgive me, I misunderstood, and spoke out of turn."

"Don't worry," Bilbo sighed, finding to his own surprise that he could manage a laugh. "With names like Fili and Kili, it's frankly a surprise they aren't."

He still thought it was a rather unhinged thing for Elrond to say, but, well — Bilbo Baggins had always been fond of the peculiar and the deranged.

on a visit to the Shire, sharing burnt scones

"Cel was — is — remarkable. She had an exceptional appetite for burnt bread: she would go into the kitchens and instruct the staff to deliberately burn sweetbreads, just because she loved the crunch, apparently."

"She sounds like a Shire lass through and through."

Elrond laughed, shaking his head: "I am certain had I brought her to visit, she would never leave. Though she is not made for the rustic life. A total terror of any creature on four legs. The first time I spotted her she was in a garden, standing on the bench screaming, because she had seen an enormous beetle scuttling around the grass."

"Oh, so it was a damsel in distress situation, eh?"

"Quite the contrary," he admitted. "She threw a pair of gardening scissors right at my head, and called me utterly disgusting for the crime of allowing beetles to exist on my property, and threatened to cut off my hair with the same scissors if she ever came across another one. And mind you, this is Celeborn's daughter, and that soul would have married an Ent if Galadriel hadn't come around."

"Well, that truly is a surprise! Did she not even like dear Arwen's little rat?"

"Oh, you remember the rat!" Elrond's eyes shone, genuinely delighted. "If I remember right, she paid our boys to get rid of it and told Arwen she had sent it to, well, your people."

"I will be certain to invent an illustrious Shire-based family tree for the rat, if your Arwen ever gets around to asking."

on a Yule visit, when Bilbo forwent self-preservation, featuring the same snake:

"Oh, it was not I who named the snake after the Mariner, it was my… other father."

"That's impressive, sir. Quite bohemian."

"One would wish," Elrond muttered darkly, pouring himself more wine, as if all the talk of snakes had driven him to drink. "Estel is friendly with Maglor, who along with Maedhros, raised my brother and I. And I had banned all talk of pet snakes until Maglor showed up last year with a present for Estel: his very own snake named Gil-Estel, which they both insist has nothing to do with the Mariner and is simply a play on the child's name. Which I would have believed, if Maglor did not also own a remarkably ugly cat named Thingol."

"When they say you are Half-Elven, Lord Elrond," Bilbo blurted out, after a short, surprised silence. "Do they mean the other half is merely mortal man, or…?"

"Yes, the other half does indeed refer to mortal men," blinked Elrond in surprise, looking something other than perfectly composed for the very first time. "Do you… suspect otherwise?"

"Oh, I was certain there was a bit of Hobbit somewhere. Just your life, you know, your family, all of it," he waved his hands about the valley. "It's a little… well, Tookish."

"What in the world is a Took?"

on a midnight wander in Minas Tirith on the morning of Aragorn’s wedding to Arwen

When Bilbo came across the figure sat on the steps, he was ridiculously old and his memory even more ridiculously ragged, so he didn’t know why it was that he thought, reflexively, it will turn you into the loneliest person in the world. He didn't say a word though, only reached out a hand and sat beside the figure. Elrond didn’t say a word, only grasped the offered fingers so tightly Bilbo's knuckles turned white, held on as he shook. When it passed, he looked away and apologised, sniffing. "Forgive me, my friend, I do not mean to get melancholic, especially not on a day of such joy. I —"

Bilbo cut across him, too old to deal with the elvish tendency to be completely insufferable.

“How did you get past it the last time? With your brother?”

"I have one of the longest memories in this land, yet I cannot truly remember this one thing," the elf smiled bitterly, tapping his nails on the stone steps. "I slept, I think. A lot. I shrunk out of the world until the sheer pain of it no longer clawed at me. But I cannot do that, Bilbo. Now, I have duties, responsibilities. I have kings to oversee, a valley to hand over and a people for whom I must keep up something of a brave face. There is no longer any room for the small death I was permitted last time."

Elrond sighed. "You must think I am terribly privileged, or that I have too grandiose an idea about my place in this world."

"No, I was just thinking how unfair it is," said Bilbo quietly. "So unfair that for you there is a last time and now a this time."

Elrond, in tears again, was looking at him with an almost obscene gratefulness, as if Bilbo had done him some enormous kindness and not something any friend would do, looked at him in a way that made the hobbit think again, inexplicably, the loneliest person in the world.

“I’m sorry,” said the lord, catching his friend’s expression. “You should not be h-“

"Shut up," Bilbo huffed, looking truly offended, rolling his eyes. "You're insufferable, do you know that? Stop acting like you've jumped off a damned cliff before my eyes, Elrond. I'm starting to think elven history would have been a lot less bloody and tragic had more of you — and I mean that Fëanor, mainly, but the rest of you too — appreciated the value of a good cry. Emotional constipation is just as bad as the real thing, you know. And you can be sure I'll tell old Fëanor that to his face when I see him."

Elrond blinked, then laughed. "Oh, Bilbo, I am glad you found your way back to Imladris this year, I truly am."

"And I, in turn,” Bilbo found himself saying, cursing the fact that his memory decided to make its wondrous reappearance that night. “Am equally glad our mutual friend Aragorn tried to bribe me to put his pet snake in your office that very first day."

on a ship in the sundering seas, far too early

"Suffering from a spot of morning sickness, are we?"

"My apologies, Bilbo," Elrond stumbled back into Bilbo's cabin from the privy, looking only slightly less green than he had when he left it. "Please do not make any sudden movements."

"I am only pleased that you and I are now such intimate friends that you feel comfortable enough to throw up your breakfast in my bathroom. Maybe you should come around and do it every morning to wake me up, like the world’s most useless cockerel."

"It was not by choice, as you very well know," Elrond muttered, downing a swig of ground herbs and honey from a bottle in his pocket. "My mortal heritage does, unfortunately, mean there are some weaknesses to the constitution. Perhaps this is why it was Elros who took ship for Numenor and not I."

"Well, that, and you couldn't resist micromanaging six thousand years of Middle-Earth now, could you?" chortled Bilbo, settling down in a plush chair and laying his walking stick by his side. "Mortality is all well and good, but heaven forbid you lose a chance to develop domestic policy over the continental grain trade. Besides, and I don't want to be the one who brings it up, but…"

"Elbereth, what now?"

"Your father was known as the Mariner, you know," Bilbo snorted. "As in, the seafaring sort, no? It would truly be such a shame if someone were to… write a poem about the mis-inheritance of seasi—"

"Write that poem, Bilbo Baggins, and I will personally petition Ulmo to turn you into seaweed."

in the house of Elrond in Aman, with the chattiest woman Bilbo has ever encountered (which is saying something)

"I only burned that layer because you made me do it, mind you. You really are as remarkable as he said you were," Bilbo blurted out as she picked out pink sugared biscuits with a dark crust that he knew to be from burning. He had even spread jam on them for a second layer of sweetness. "Mad and irritating, to be frank, but remarkable. I am truly glad to know you, Celebrìan — not as Elrond's wife, but, well."

He gestured at her weakly, meant the peculiar and the deranged. She understood.

"Yes, I do pity all the folk that know me as Elrond's dead wife," she wrinkled her nose, sitting down by him and grabbing a second burnt biscuit. "And considering my poor husband's approach to grieving, and all the laments Lindir said he's made him compose, that is what most end up knowing me as. It is quite a pity, I am as you say, delightful. Oh, Bilbo, this is amazing! So wonderful, I didn't think pastries could be this sweet!”

"No, not when your cheapskate of a husband is in charge of the rations," he said in a carrying whisper. "In the Shire though, we know how to live."

"Who are we referring to as a cheapskate then?"

"The elf who implemented a sugar tax in his valley," said Celebrian dryly. "You may know him. Have a biscuit!"

"I would truly rather nail myself to the birch," he said dryly, picking up a piece of bread. "I do not get the logic behind oversweetening victuals. Impractical, unnecessary."

"Oh," Celebrían clapped her hands to her mouth. "Of course! The Lord Elrond grew up amidst the War of Wrath! Surely, he has not mentioned that to you, has he? He never does!"

"Ah, that he was raised in military conditions by a couple of kinslayers?" chuckled Bilbo. "No, not at all. Not once. He certainly never brought it up in our first ever conversation. Should we ask him to expand?"

[feasibilities]

Games and Gin | Thomas Shelby x Reader

Synopsis: Thomas humors a disgruntled spouse for the night.

Warnings: Mentions of Sex, Violence, Arranged Marriage, Alcohol Abuse, Angst, Infidelity

Author's Note: Just a little blurb that I came up with. I'm thinking about opening up requests. Enjoy!

As you were promised to marry him, you were forced to look past your husband’s indiscretions. This night, however, you were fed up. At the Garrison Pub, drunken husband pulled a barmaid on his lap and whispered sweet nothings in her ear. Little to his knowledge, you were standing close by. You snatched the clueless woman off him and stared angrily. 

“Just having a little fun, ’s all.” He slurred. In a fit of rage, you smashed a bottle of whisky across his face. The pub went eerily silent as they watched your husband writhe in pain on the floor. Blood gushed out of the deep slash on his face. Remembering Thomas’ no-violence rule, you hurried out and threw your wedding ring in the mud. Lighting a cigarette, you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Are you alright?” Thomas asked, shutting the door. 

“Fine. I remembered your rule so you won’t see me again.” You said softly, smoke ghosting in front of your mouth. 

“Who’s paying for the blood-stained floor?” He inquired with a firm tone. 

“If you can find my ring in the muck, take it to a Lombard and pay for it.” You retorted, feeling his eyes on you. 

“A woman like you could have anyone she wants. Why him?” He probed. You felt a twinge of warmth in your cheeks at his compliment. 

“It wasn’t my choice to marry him, Tommy.” You stated. Instead of playing the crying game for another night, you decided to have an indiscretion of your own. 

“Any plans tonight? I’d really like to try your gin.” You signaled, stamping out the half-burnt cigarette. You saw the wheels turning in his head before he smiled to himself.

“If that’s all you’d like to try…” He joked, opening the passenger door of his car. Getting in the driver’s seat, he  looked you up and down before driving off. You two arrived at one of Thomas’ main refuges—a luxury hotel just outside of Small Heath. You were alarmed that the receptionist knew him by name and was a bit too friendly with you. Lewd abstractions of Thomas with his old suitors flashed in your mind as you entered his suite. He meticulously removed his hat, coat, and waistcoat. 

“How many women have you fucked here?” You inspected, grabbing 2 lowball glasses from the cabinet. 

“Including you?” He chuckled. He filled a third of both glasses with gin. 

“I’m here to try your gin, nothing more.” You shot back, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. 

“Right.” He said sarcastically, sliding one of the glasses to you. You swirled the glass briefly and took a small sip. You let the tart liquid coat your tongue and enjoyed the citrusy taste. You gave him a nod of approval before downing the rest of the glass.

It wasn’t long before you and Thomas were drunk. The silliness of his personality seemed to blossom with an inebriated mind. You two exchanged playful insults and funny stories peppered with obnoxious laughter. Things quieted when he stared at you with earnest eyes. 

“Would you like to dance, miss?” He asked, standing up and cranking up the record player. 

“Of course.” You giggled, stumbling out of your chair. Once the player steadied, he took both of your hands in his and swayed gently. The calming music resonated through the suite. Eventually, you pulled your hands away and wrapped your arms around him. You rested your head on his chest. In response, he kissed the top of your head. You couldn’t recall the last time your husband showed you this much tenderness. It was a poignant reminder that you were in a loveless marriage. You began to crumble in his arms. He pulled away and lifted your chin. 

“He doesn’t deserve your tears.” He said softy before kissing you tenderly. 

As expected, you woke up next to Thomas. Garments belonging to the both of you were strewn around the bed like makeshift frippery. You felt a comfortable soreness between your legs. Looking over at him, you gave him a gentle kiss on the nose. His gorgeous eyes fluttered open and focused on you. 

“If you want out, just say the word.” He said with a sleepy voice.

“Good morning to you too.” You huffed, rolling your eyes. 

“You think he didn’t see us leave together? Or he’ll forgive being embarrassed like that?” He explained, taking your hand in his.

“I don’t want him dead, Tommy. I know how overzealous you can be. I just want to be rid of him.” You confessed. 

“Then it’s done.” He agreed, kissing your shoulder. Hearing you giggle, he pulled the comforter over you and kissed you. 

[deathworlders-of-e24]

Liz, Biotechnician

Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Vending Machine whirred softly as it produced the 5th candy bar in a row. It’d been a week since the science division had turned into a chocolate factory, but Liz wasn’t that worried. Coco didn’t have a chemical makeup that could be affected by diabetic amounts of sugar. The opposite, in fact, the little Sprygan was doing better than ever, and wasn’t so little anymore. Just like plants on Earth, botanical lifeforms needed glucose to grow, and apparently when given daily supplements of the stuff, their growth rate accelerated at frightening speeds.

Liz walked back to the lab, with a hearty Halloween’s worth of candy bars in her hands and pockets. Some crewmen gave her odd looks as she passed, but she paid them little mind. The door to the lab opened with a quick hiss.

“So we got milk, dark, white with macadamia nuts, and… what are you doing?”

Coco was standing in the center of the room, their new fuller branches seemingly vibrating. Liz thought they looked excited. The same Coco, who at the time when the mission began, was at best maybe 3 feet tall, now stood almost 5 1/2 feet in height and had a significantly thicker trunk. They were about as big as Liz was herself now, with a thicker canopy in the beginnings of bloom. They leaned in Liz’s direction, vines trembling.

“I just got a message from the bridge. There’s a uncharted planetoid in this system with a moon that might have breathable atmosphere, and they want a full ecological report written up.”

“So we’re going down there?”

“Correct! It’ll take 2 cycles to get there, but then it’s all ours!”

Liz was overjoyed! Finally, some actual field work instead of editing someone else’s papers all day. A whole new ecosystem with god knows how many new species… if it had atmosphere, of course.

Can’t get too excited yet girl, Liz thought.

“Does the moon have water?” She asked.

“Indeed.”

That’s a real good sign though, she figured.

“Can I have my chocolate now please?” Coco asked.

“Oh right, yeah, here you go,” Liz said, setting the bars on the table. Coco’s vines reached out and snatched them, taking them back into their canopy to be the plant equivalent of ‘digested’. The usual humming started up as they enjoyed their snacks. Liz wasn’t sure, but she thought she could see bark physically forming on their trunk now, or perhaps it was simply a discoloration.

“You’re sure this much sugar is good for you hon?” Liz asked, concern slowly winning out over scientific curiosity.

“The thing you call cocoa seeds are not plentiful on my planet, so I’m unsure if any Sprygan has ever had this much in such a short period of time, but I’ve never had so much energy before. My growth rate is miraculous, I’m almost completely out of my juvenile sapling stage now.”

“And that’s a… good thing?”

“Very. Saplings on my planet are the easier targets for predators. With a harder outer layer I’ll be much safer now. I’ve been composing a paper on this for days, it’ll be of great significance to Spryga.” Coco continued humming, ‘munching’ away on her candy bars.

“Well alright then, so long as you’re okay,” Liz said. “So tell me more about this moon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Deep in the Antares System, hidden from scanners by the solar radiation of the tertiary star, was a desolate little rock burnt to a crisp by stellar winds during a flare eons ago. Its moon, however, was protected from the fire while in the shadow of the planet. And so it continued to turn, with barely a few degrees changed, undisturbed.

Until now.

The Noah entered the system from WARP, keeping a safe distance from the tertiary star in case of solar flares, and settled into a comfortable orbit around the planetoid to scout the surface of the nearby moon, now being called MX13.

From the Bridge, Liz and Coco read the initial scans from various probes launched when they’d arrived.

“Gravity reads…damn, big moon,” Liz said, surprised, “9.1, just a little under galactic and Earth standard.”

“Gas spectrometer reads as breathable atmosphere to 70% of known intelligent lifeforms,” Coco read on, “but not humans. You’ll have to wear a mask Human Liz.”

“What’s the chemical makeup like?” Liz asked.

“95% methane… similar to what you call Titan in your Terran home system. Without a mask you’d have a few minutes at best before you suffocated.”

“So yeah, rebreathers are fashionable this time of year,” Liz laughed. Even the idea of suffocating in a potentially hostile ecosystem wasn’t enough to bring her spirits down. It had been ages since she’d set foot on extraterrestrial soil.

“Ahem,” grunted Skitch, as much as a bipedal bug man could go ‘ahem’ with mandibles.

“What does fashionable mean?” Coco asked quietly.

“I’ll tell you later,” Liz whispered.

Captain Skitch had been waiting off to the side for a while now while they geeked out over the moon.

“Now then,” he said, arms behind his thorax stoically, “in six rels[?] [GAIL standard term: 1 rel approximately 1 earth hour(s)] we’re sending a shuttle down to the moon to conduct the requested ecological report. Our main objective is to see if there are any lifeforms, intelligent or otherwise, living there. If it is deemed uninhabited, we’re to declare whether or not it could become a potential colony for GAIL member races.”

Liz was almost painfully excited. Uncharted habitats, potentially establishing a colony, this is what she worked 6 years in the academy for, what she lived for.

“Sir, what are we supposed to do if we do come across any lifeforms down there?” She asked.

“You know the rules. On the off chance you come across anyone intelligent, you do not get involved, you do not get seen. We’re here to record the natural evolution of the universe, nothing more.”

“There’s very little chance of that,” Coco chimed in, “the first scans of the surface are being analyzed, there doesn’t seem to be any structure of any kind on the surface, so it’s unlikely we’ll come across any sentient species.”

“On the off chance you do have an encounter, I’m assigning commander Koatil to the landing party. She’ll be in charge of everything, and has my full authority to make any judgment call she sees fit.”

As if on cue, First officer Koatil made the bridge, her thermal suit fitted with extra armor for the expedition, hiding her powder blue fur. It seemed to Liz she’d freshly sharpened the horns on top of her head as well. She’d always figured they looked like rams horns, and thought how interesting it was that Doun women were the only ones with horns in their species.

“Good to meet you both,” Koatil said. “I’m sure this’ll go smoothly for all of us, just stick with the group and everything will be fine. Permission to depart, Captain?”

“Granted.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Noah’s shuttle bay was about the size of Liz’s old high school gymnasium, vaulted ceiling and wide open space, plenty of room for the three docked shuttles. Commander Koatil stood nearby, doing her final check as bay staff loaded the shuttle with cases of the scientific instruments they’d use to analyze the moon’s ecosystem.

Liz and Coco, along with the shuttle pilot and 2 other security personnel, stood ready to board at the commander’s say. She inspected the crew going down to the moon with them. The pilot seemed fine, even had two more arms to steer, so that was reassuring, but it was the security personnel that caught her attention. If Liz was seeing it right, the two were not on friendly terms with each other. The first one, an Indoprime, was standing at an awkward distance from the other guard, a Sed man. Neither spoke to the other, the Indoprime even slightly leaning away from the Sed, who stared straight ahead and said nothing. Both had plasma pistols on their belts, as well as upper armor over their uniforms. Liz was going to be severely disheartened if they messed up the ‘roadtrip’ she’d been waiting for.

Commander Koatil handed the pad to one of the crewmen and made her way to them at the shuttle.

“All aboard to MX13,” she said, resting her big paw on the pistol on her hip as she climbed in the door. The rest of them, Liz and Coco, the pilot, and the security personnel followed behind her. The door sealed shut behind them.

Liz took her seat, helping to secure Coco in theirs. The buckles weren’t well suited to thumbless species. She’d made sure the belts didn’t dislodge their own pistols from their holsters. Having a rogue plasma shot in here wouldn’t end well.

Buttons were pressed, dials turned, something that looked like a cup holder was pulled out of the dash, and the shuttle came to life.

“Shuttle Alpha, you are clear for departure.”

“Acknowledged,” replied the pilot.

The hangar doors opened, leaving behind the gas mesh, a thin blue wall of light to keep the air in the room from exploding into the void. Their shuttle passed through it easily, heading into open space.

“Haven’t seen this view for a while,” Liz said. Sure, of course there were windows on the ship, but it felt different in a shuttle. Like the void was just a hair’s width away from her now, waiting for her.

“My sensory receptors can’t make out anything but the shuttle,” Coco said, “could you describe it to me?” Coco’s leaves were shaking slightly, so Liz reached out and put a hand on their branch. The shaking calmed.

“Well first it’s just the sheer amount of stars,” Liz said quietly, “like a million points of light. There’s a nebula about 12,000 light years away off the port side that looks like butterfly wings if you squint… if you look at it right. Coco, I can’t express it right, the moon looks beautiful.”

“Human Liz, I’m jealous of you. Seeing in the visible spectrum must been so interesting.”

“Well what does the world around you look like? What do you perceive?”

“Well as you know, my branches have a sensory function to detect my surroundings, vibrations, light, even sensations in a way. But I don’t know how one would compare our two sensory experiences.”

“Your communicator is built into your brain isn’t it?” Liz asked. “Couldn’t it be adjusted to send sensory signals to your mind as well?”

“It’s possible, but the technology isn’t developed yet,” Coco explained. Liz looked at her a moment.

“Think we could fix that? I’d hate for my best friend to miss this view for their whole life.”

Coco didn’t say anything to that. She just listened as Liz described the universe around them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Boosters fired.

Air brakes deployed.

Shuttle Alpha landed safely on the moon MX13.

The landing party filed out, and except for Coco, everyone decided against the worst case scenario and wore respirators. It wasn’t as bulky as Liz first thought, just a face mask with a line to a small air cleaner on her belt. Coco was the only one who didn’t need to breathe, so they were totally fine.

Stepping off the shuttle onto the moon’s surface, Liz was surprised at the vegetation around them. Muddy purple grass bed the ground, surrounded by rocky patches across the valley where they’d landed. Off in the distance were what appeared to be trees, thick branchless trunks growing straight up, splitting into angular canopies. Liz brought her camera up and snapped a photo.

“Alright, spread out but try to stay in sight of the shuttle,” Koatil said over their radios. “I know we’re setting g sensors pretty far out, so if anyone gets into trouble out there, launch a flare and we’ll come get you. Grite! You’re with the science team, go with them.”

The Sed man, Grite, looked almost pained at the idea of tagging along with Liz and the Sprygan.

“Aye, commander.”

“Think you can help us carry the sensors?” Liz asked, hoping to break the ice. She already had 2 bags strapped to her back and another slung over her shoulder. Coco was too small to carry anything.

“You can carry your own supplies,” growled Grite, keeping his distance from them.

What a dick, Liz thought, shouldering another bag on her other arm. The sensors she was carrying were heavy, but she was still in high spirits. Field work! Hurray!

They must’ve walked for over a mile, planting sensors every few hundred feet in ‘places of interest’, namely places Liz and Coco thought looked cool or had neat vegetation or rock formations. They’d made their way into a swampy area, heading towards a line of hills in the distance.

Coco went off a ways to plant a sensor by a small marshy cove they’d detected. Grite followed behind Liz, glaring every time she looked back. She didn’t know what she’d done to annoy him so much, she’d just met the guy, but maybe she’d done something or said something offensive by alien standards.

Whatever, don’t need him for this, Liz thought. This is a brain mission, not a buff rock guy mission.

“Human Liz,” Coco called over the radio, “there’s a rocky area here, with a subterranean tunnel system.”

“Cool, moon caves,” Liz laughed. “I’ll be right there with the another sensor, just wait for me, okay?”

“There are these round stones here half buried in the soil, at the entrance,” they continued.

That made Liz pause a moment.

“Just one or two, or are they in a kind of a pile?”

Static.

“Coco? Talk to me hon, pile or no pile?”

Static still. A few pips and pops, followed by a squeal of feedback noise. Liz’s blood ran cold.

“-uman Liz-… predator-… help-…”

“Grite launch the flare now!” Liz yelled, dropping the bags to the ground before breaking out in a sprint. She stomped and lunged through a few hundred yards of marsh, quick as she could, hitting solid earth at a dead run. The Sed was either behind her or he wasn’t, Liz couldn’t think about that in the moment. She had a pistol herself, and while she may have been the science geek on the ship, her dad had made sure she knew how to use it.

She cleared the marsh and crested a small ridge line, following the trudging trail of the little Sprygan. There she saw the scene, Coco on their side, massive claw marks raked up their trunk, and what looked like a cross between a mountain lion and a gator, long snout and mouth with jagged teeth and a ‘feline’ body, muscled and lithe with a forked tail. The thing’s back was covered in ridged scales, while its limbs were bare, wrapped in fur and old battle scars.

FUCK, Liz thought. She pulled her pistol and shot energized plasma directly at its head, but it barely even burned it. Whatever this thing was made of, its skin was fire proof. Her translator crackled in her ear.

“-human Liz…-?”

Liz didn’t hesitate any further. She leapt from the ridge, landing on the creature’s back. She took the butt of her pistol and started slamming it on the back of the thing’s head, over and over again, before the creature bucked her off.

Liz fell hard, hitting her head and mask on the ground with a sickening crack. Gas started venting fast, there was an inch long crack in her visor now, a whole chuck of it missing, falling somewhere in the dirt. Somewhere above her hair line she must’ve been cut on the rocks, because blood was dripping down into her left eye.

Dimly she was aware that she was already dead, if her mask was broken then there was no way to get back to the shuttle before she suffocated. But that being said, she was going to fuck up this monster trying to eat her best friend before making her grand exit.

What a way to go, huh Liz? she imagined in her father’s voice. He’d be smiling in a situation like this. Liz grabbed the side of her broken mask and ripped it off, throwing it at the creature as it crouched in front of her. She took in a deep breath of ‘air’, filling her lungs, and screamed. Her legs bent into a crouch, her back tensed, she tasted blood in her mouth. Adrenaline poured into her veins, dulling the pain, giving her strength and funneling rage into the center of her brain. She had one job now.

“COME ON THEN YOU FUCKER, LETS FUCKING GO!”

Liz charged the creature, firing bolts of burning plasma as she went, praying that dick Grite was somewhere nearby ready to get Coco out of there while it was busy mauling her to death.

The creature shrugged off the pistol fire, pouncing on her, pinning her to the rocky ground. Stones and the alien’s claws dug into her sides and back. It opened its jaws wide, and Liz realized it meant to eat her head. Fuck this thing.

“You hungry you big bastard?! EAT THIS!”

Liz worked her arm free, the one still holding a death grip on her plasma pistol, and shoved it down the creature’s throat. Its teeth tore into her arm, screaming pain ripped up her side, and Liz never stopped pulling the trigger. The smell of burning filled the air as the creature squealed and whined, its body going limp as bodily fluid poured out its mouth. She didn’t stop, emptying the clip into its blown out organs. Finally the thing was quiet.

Liz didn’t even bother trying to pull her arm out of the alien’s mouth, the thing was ruined, and she was dying anyway. Between blood loss and asphyxiation, her vision was already fading to little pin pricks. With the last shred of consciousness, she let out one more howl, screaming into the air, before everything went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elizabeth Collins didn’t remember what happened after that. All she knew was she was sore all over and weirdly cold, which would make sense if she was just a corpse, but why did she hear… was that ABBA?

Please not an eternity of pop music, she thought sluggishly. Anything but that.

She struggled, oddly weightless, and tried to open her eyes but found they’d been bandaged shut.

Oh good, I’m alive, people hardly ever bandage dead people.

What about mummies?

Shut up, me.

She reached a hand out and touched something smooth and solid. She tried to tap her knuckles against it, but only got one good rap at it before her hand hurt too much. Thankfully it seemed that’s all she needed.

“Human Liz, are you conscious? How do you feel? Are you in discomfort?”

Oh good, Coco was alive too.

“Wait, no, don’t try to speak right now, you’re in the regeneration pod right now, in nano surgery. I’ll be right here when it’s over, return to being unconscious please.”

Oh, okay, sleep sounded good anyway. Night night, Coco.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s gonna be twitchy for a few cycles until it adjusts to your neural pathways, but it should feel just like the old one soon.”

One of the other humans, a woman named Jane Shaw who worked in med bay, had sat down with her earlier that morning to go over her… condition.

“We had to replace the lining of your lungs with a prosthetic mesh to keep them working,” she’d said, “you were out in that methane air for a while. If it hadn’t been for your Sprygan friend feeding you oxygen from their branches, you never would’ve made it.”

“I don’t think even they knew they could do that,” Liz had forced a laugh, coughing a bit. “Now, about my arm?”

“Completely scrapped. Whatever stomach acid that creature had, it melted your arm down to the bone. Can’t repair what isn’t there, I’m afraid.”

“I understand. Thanks, Doc.”

Well ain’t that something? Liz was effectively 15, maybe 20, percent cybernetic now. She told herself she’d trick out her new arm with all sorts of cool gadgets, making every effort to distract herself from the fact that she lost her right fucking arm.

“On the plus side,” she said quietly to herself as she walked toward the lab, “got another new project too.”

The door hissed open. And there was Coco, still as a tree, which she guessed made sense. She could barely see the claw marks on their trunk now, but wished she couldn’t at all. She should’ve been faster.

“Human Liz?”

“What’s up hon, you miss me?”

It’d been three days since the landing party had come back with her bleeding out in the shuttle, three days since she’d gotten to relax in their shared lab. She tapped the new glass enclosure where the eggs they’d gathered were incubating, the sign on the side saying ‘these eggs cost an arm and a leg!’ Apparently Chief Ducane had gone down there to gather what equipment could be salvaged and decided they’d be worth something to the science team. Maybe he thought he was being funny, Liz didn’t know. She did chuckle a little. Just a little.

“Human Liz, you are… okay now, yes? The reconstruction…” Coco’s leaves were shaking.

“Come on Coco, you know me, I’m totally fine! See?” Liz held up her new chrome arm, the new metallic fingers twitching at odd angles.

“That’ll stop in a few cycles, Doctor Shaw said so.”

“Human Liz, why did you do that?” Coco stood stock still in the center of the lab.

“Do what hon?”

“Why did you risk your existence[?] [life] to help me? That is not what we do on Spryga.”

Liz blinked a few times.

“Well that sucks, you all just let people get knocked off there?”

“Yes, in order to maintain the bulk of the colony.”

“Well this isn’t Spryga, Coco, and you’re my friend, of course I was gonna come get you, you asked for my help!”

“I should not have!”

Liz sat down and took a breath. This would be weird and awkward for everyone in the room who wasn’t an egg.

“You asked for my help, and I’m sorry, but I give a shit about you, and yeah, it cost me an arm and some lungs, but I was going to save you. So can you relax about it now? I mean damn, you’re my best friend, I wasn’t gonna leave you out there!”

“I don’t know what that means!”

“Yeah you do. It means exactly what you think it does. That I’m coming to get you, whether you like it or not. We’ve only known each other three weeks on this boat, but you got yourself a very attached human who’ll make sure you live, got it?”

Coco was quiet a moment. Their branches started shaking again.

“I’m very very sorry you lost a branch[?] [limb] because of me,” they said quietly.

“It’s okay hon, I wasn’t mad at you about that. I’m just glad that Grite guy launched the flare so the shuttle could come get us.”

“Grite did not set off any flares,” Coco said, confused. “After you had killed the predator, I fired one into the sky before giving you oxygen from my leaves.”

Oh I’m gonna kill that guy with my new robo arm, Liz thought.

Back burner that for now.

“So yeah, hugs and kisses, make ups all around, love you too Coco,” Liz said, using her flesh hand to brush away the stale air between them. “You wanna help me trick out my arm? I was thinking a laser pointer and a universal remote control, what do you think?”

“I think you should be focused more on rehabilitation. From my research on lifeforms like humans, you require an extensive amount of time to recover from injuries this severe. It’s actually amazing, any other race would’ve been permanently incapacitated in similar situations.”

“Yeah, humans are weird huh? Perks of evolution on a deathworld like Earth.” She tried laughing again, dissolving into a coughing fit. Coco stood watching her. Liz could feel concern mixed with just a hint of judgment.

“Okay, yeah, I got rehab scheduled every other cycle after the shift is over,” Liz admitted.

“Good,” they said, content. “If my… best friend, is not functioning properly, I would be distressed.”

Liz smiled.

“And yes, I would most enjoy retrofitting your new branch[?] [limb]. We could make it… fashionable is the word, yes?”

[boybeholding]

Hi there!

I really loved your 2012 Leo/Stoner Reader and was wondering if you could do a scenario with a very high Leo being mushy and lovestruck to the reader 👉👈 or a headcanons of similar premise? :)

I super duper love the way you write 12 Leo btw ♡ ♡

hi anon!! I'm so glad you've enjoyed my stuff so far!! <33 I must seem biased with how much 12 leo i'm writing, but it's not my fault people keep sending in fun requests lol

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

2012 Leo + Reader Content Warnings: recreational drug use

companion piece

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

When your curtain jostled against the wall, you found yourself turning on instinct, shoulders slumping when it was merely the wind, giving way transparently to the rooftop of the building next to you. 

Leo had texted you over an hour ago, asking if you were doing anything. You’d said no, truthfully, having been laying in bed playing Subway Surfers on your phone. 

It was just about your bedtime, and you’d smoked a bowl to assure a peaceful 8 hours before your upcoming morning shift– but you couldn’t help but wait on Leo’s potential visit. You knew from experience that if he showed up to find you asleep, he’d turn right back around. So you were determined to stay awake until you couldn’t. You rarely got to see him as it was.

After staring out the window for a few more moments, you sighed, and reclined back onto your bed. You closed your eyes, crossing your arms over your head. 

Sleep was beckoning gently, and you found yourself loosening your muscles to it. You could just rest your eyes…

“Hey. Are you up?”

The whisper was so close it nearly made you reel, jolting your head up. As usual, you hadn’t heard his entrance. Leo was standing, slightly awkwardly, over your bed.

“Mhm- yeah.. Sorry, was just stretching,” You mumbled absently, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

You took in the sight of him, a little more intently than you meant to. It was a little odd, that he’d risked waking you to come inside– and on closer inspection, he seemed… tense.

“What’s up? What’d you do tonight?” you asked softly, tone casual, if slightly probing. He gave you a sideways glance, obviously not fooled by your attempted nonchalance.

“Wasted my time,” He mumbled bitterly, folding his hands together in his lap. 

Definitely tense. 

You huffed at him, unsatisfied with that as an answer, though you knew him well enough that you figured it was the only one you were getting for a while.

“...Well, I’m gonna…” you mimed puffing a joint with one hand, pointing to your still open window. “You wanna go put on the TV? I can meet you out there.”

A look of conflict crossed his face, and you were worried for a moment that he didn’t have the time. Truly, you didn’t either, but between Leo and sleep, the pick was easy.

“I’ll wait in here,” He settled, pulling himself a little more upward onto the bed. You stared for a moment, then nodded, grabbing your pipe from the ashtray on your windowsill. 

Leo turned to face you as you moved, staring at your hands intently. It didn’t feel like anything special, packing the ground bud into the glass bowl of the pipe– but every time, he watched, enraptured. 

After taking the first drag, leaving ashes glowing a cherry red, you held it across the bed to him.

Maybe it was a little hypocritical to get on his case for watching you load the pipe. You always found yourself drawn in the same way when he took it from you. He’d close his eyes so gently when he exhaled… 

You had been a little disappointed the first time, when he hadn’t so much as coughed. Why did he have to be so damn good at everything? 

You passed it back and forth until the pipe was burnt down to nothing, and when you decided to load it again, you were immensely surprised when Leo reached over to pluck it from you. One hit was rare for the mutant, and now he was trying to match your pace.

“Slow down, man,” you giggled, catching his breath quiver on a particularly long drag.

“I’m f–ine,” He mumbled, straining with the effort to hold back his own laughter. He held his arms above his head, taking slow breaths until his airway was clear.

“That was, like, 6 hits. You know that, right?” You quirked a brow at him. “What happened to you?”

He pouted, hands tangling idly in his lap as he watched you tap out the ash.

“I… okay. I just…” He sighed, eyes squeezing tight as he visibly searched for the words. “I felt like I was going to do something stupid. So, I… thought I’d come here, instead of… picking a fight at home.”

“So you’d rather do something stupid with me?” You grinned.

He fought a smile, eyes locked far-off on the floor.

“Something like that?”

You ended up settled in your living room, no lights but the television screen you sat in front of. You had scanned the late night broadcasts diligently, but settled on an anime rerun on Adult Swim. You didn’t care much for it, the isekai B-plot lost on you, but Leo seemed to be enjoying himself.

“I’m hungry,” you mused quietly, a little jostled by Leo sitting up.

“I got it,” He said rather quickly. You raised your brow, turning to watch him over the back of the couch as he walked into your kitchen. You couldn’t help your amusement as he bumbled around, looking through pantries like he’d never been in there before.

“Those are the tupperware, bud.”

“Oh…” He mumbled, not even trying to save face as he normally would. He finally made his way to the fridge, though after opening it, he was faced with a new challenge.

“Uh, what do you want?” He asked with a small, bashful smile. 

“There’s leftovers at the top.” You pointed past him, though with the distance between you, it did little to clarify.

He grabbed the black takeout boxes, slowly looking through them.

“You went to sushi without me?” He asked sadly as he walked back into the living room, and you resisted the urge to poke fun at his syntax. 

“Hey, you’re the one who’s always busy. Besides, it wasn’t like it was Murakamis,” you rebutted, taking one of the boxes from him.

“I’m not busy!”

“Please, all you talk about is training and patrolling and fighting all the time. This is the first time I’ve seen you in weeks.”

He frowned, sitting down on the couch a lot closer than he had been. Your knees brushed slightly.

“Well– okay, yeah. We’ve been a little busy,” He admitted with a slight pout. “But you could still text me more.”

You chuckled around a mouthful of sushi, shifting closer so you could pat his shell. You didn’t say anything, just shrugged in half-agreement. 

He let out a slightly strangled noise when you touched him. It startled you, admittedly, and you were about to ask if he was alright, when he leaned back, trapping your hand between his shell and the couch. His eyes had trailed back to the TV screen, so you decided against saying anything, just rubbing your hand up and down along the rigid grooves. The feeling was grounding against your brain fog, something firm to anchor yourself on.

It came to you a while later, on the decline of your high, that you two were… Close. 

At some point, Leo’s head had migrated onto your chest, laying on top of you with your hands roving over his shell. It had been a natural progression at the time. This was the most convenient access point to his back. But looking down at him now, his face smushed on your chest as he hummed and sighed in gentle contentment, you felt like you damn near might explode.

“Is– am I supposed to feel so… blurry?” Leo asked into your shirt, tilting his head up to look at you with wide-blown eyes.

“Yeah, that’s normal,” you mumbled, nails catching on the ridges of his shell. “Are you supposed to be so cute?” You flirted absently, your restraint still loosened by the cannabis in your system. 

Leo blinked, slowly, and you almost laughed at how glazed over his eyes were. He grinned, visibly confused.

“Wait… can you repeat that? I totally misheard you,”

“I said you’re cute.” 

His expression dropped into bewilderment, and his cheeks darkened.

“Ohh. I, uh, I guess I did hear you then.” He chuckled, eyes darting away from you for a moment as the gears in his head spun. “I, uh… Thought I’d imagined it,”

You couldn’t help yourself.

“You think stuff like that a lot?” You prodded. “About me?”

He covered his head with a hand, still looking away.

“...Maybe?” He confessed, an embarrassed smile forced onto his face. 

You felt like american cheese on a grilling burger. Melting, stuck to the couch beneath you. 

“I just think you’re cool,” He added.

You lifted a hand to toy with the ends of his bandanna, twisting them around on your thumb.

“I think you’re cool too, Leo.”

[junkienet]

✱ DEAR LIFE ANCHOR ？ buffoon anaya.

fluff ⌇ being cute with a partner undertone ⸻ ﹙ 𝒜lt ﹒ universe ﹚ established relationships. 𝒻.ᐟreader

LATER THAT AFTERNOON ◞ 03 : 56 o ' clock. ⸻ before a playful banter.

anaya's glum fingers scour along the elliptical crest of your waist—line , squeamish. the orbicular mold of his orbs candied in alabaster phosphoresce , apathetic to the incandescent sun at the edge of his scruff , the burnt sienna of his bosom splosh in a duvet of molasses tufts , herding the ridge of your pigmented cheek in a flush of apricot gradation.

his mango―juice plopping lips chuffed in barks of rapacious tomfoolery , his abdomen upsurged in collision with your mane. his fingernails towed in parallel with the silhouette of your feathery belly beneath the dishevel polyester of your viridian flannel , probing the stretch—marks that watered your hip—joints , dimming the gurgle that embellished the gossamer azure sky.

the apex of his mouth is lenghten in kiddish rouse and skepticism , the zucchini—cushion of his fingers blundered against those of the right palm in a totter. his cloying prickles compose your laughter to rupture , and the inevenness of the rim of your eyes when smiling nacreous cause him to fatten his thorax in veracious deity.

he undulated from side to side , scuttling his talons on the pallid surface of the meadow. his canicular exhalations tang your temple , the periodicity of his voice prattling in the concavity of your gullet. " the echo waist . . . very small. " he scratched with bulbing shoulder blades as he bleats a chortle.

" is that so? " the frolicking ape nods with teeny weeps of assertion , sloping his head in inspection.

the bristly pasture of his exorbitant , herculean arm , bandaged the warp of your torso , his thumb pressurise the shell of your rib cage in proclivity. " made for anaya. "

SEXY JUTSU LIKE NARUTO ©JUNKIENET ╱ 2024.

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

Cookiekind, in general, seems to hold the strange belief that Shadow Milk Cookie, as the Beast of Deceit, does not understand truth. This is because they have burnt ash for brains, and cannot comprehend that a change in superficial title does not mean that Shadow Milk Cookie is no longer the Master of Knowledge. Even if it did, a deciever can only be effective by understanding the nuance of truth, for the greatest lies are created through its flexibility.

So despite popular opinion, Shadow Milk does recognise, understand and know truth. Well, he knows everything, but especially something as fundamental as that.

Look, here's a truth, right now; Shadow Milk Cookie quite likes Pure Vanilla Cookie, in spite of everything.

Not in the soft, fluffy cotton candy way, of course. Shadow Milk likes Pure Vanilla in the same way a cat likes a mouse, or a researcher likes a test subject, or a puppeteer has a favourite puppet. He likes him because he is a source of entertainment – having such a soft, simple heart makes him fun to watch struggle with silly emotions, and easy to taunt and frazzle. That's all, really. Shadow Milk can't even say he likes him to the point of wanting to crack him open and see what makes him tick, because he doesn't need to. He already knows everything about Pure Vanilla, right down to the composition of the yeast in his body, because he has constantly kept his eyes on him since the start.

It must be said though, if we are to talk in truths, that Shadow Milk may have some biases that make him more invested in Pure Vanilla's continued existence. Namely, the fact that he holds his Soul Jam.

Now, obviously he doesn't like that this little half-cookie, this unworthy, flimsy vessel, holds half his power. On the contrary, it is nothing but an insult to watch him clumsily flaunt it around while Shadow Milk stays unjustly shackled. It is the only transgression Pure Vanilla has ever committed against him, but it is a blasphemous one.

And yet, even with his bubbling rage at the disrespectful theft of his rightful power, Shadow Milk sometimes likes to toy with the idea that he is a gift, a plea for forgiveness from the Witches that he can righteously ignore. After all, Pure Vanilla has his Soul Jam – his, not theirs – and does that not make Pure Vanilla his too?

Naturally, Shadow Milk knows that the Witches are horrible, selfish old tyrants and would not grant him that grace, but that does not change the fact that Pure Vanilla is, for all intents and purposes, his other half. There is something powerful in that knowledge, especially since he knows it would tear Pure Vanilla apart.

So Shadow Milk does like Pure Vanilla quite a lot, even with the full knowledge that he's a dirty little thief, because he is entertaining and, most importantly, he is his.

Now, here is another truth, since we're already on a roll; Shadow Milk Cookie will escape the Seal and get his Soul Jam back.

It's an inevitability, really. Even if Shadow Milk feels like he is absolutely crumbling of boredom stuck in this stupid tree, especially since the rest of the Beasts have one by one drifted into a bitterly restless slumber, they are all far too strong to be contained by a single measly seal forever. The day will come when it gives way beneath the probing of his hands, and with the cracks in the tree nearly large enough for him to stick his fingers through, he knows that day will come much, much sooner than later.

As for what comes after he escapes? Well, Shadow Milk has no concerns there.

The Faerie Cookies may have longer lifespans than average, but sadly that doesn't make them any smarter. It'll be a piece of cake to knead their doughy brains into doing what he wants them to, even with half his power missing. The Guardian is the only one who poses any real threat, and even that has a laughably easy solution, because he certainly isn't immune to crumbling.

Shadow Milk picks at the slim seam of the cracks with hands that are not his own, encouraging them to grow as he takes a moment to fantasise standing over the Guardian's pathetic crumbs.

Speaking of laughably easy solutions, Pure Vanilla is awfully kind to come to Beast-Yeast, right on the cusp of Shadow Milk's escape! Really, Shadow Milk was estatic when he overheard him discussing those travel plans. It saves him the trouble of having to track him down once he's finished freeing his friends and razing the Faeriewoods to the ground.

Even better, having Pure Vanilla around to welcome him back to the free air could prove to be useful. It would be so deliciously poetic, for Pure Vanilla to cut down the tree with his stolen power and set Shadow Milk free with his own hands, offering himself up in a syrupy spotlight to reunite the two lost halves of Knowledge to its true owner.

Shadow Milk could push him into it, he thinks confidently as he twists his claws into the fracture, grappling at the edges to force them wider. He knows Pure Vanilla better than Pure Vanilla knows himself, he is sure. It wouldn't even be hard.

Now, let's review! Shadow Milk Cookie quite likes Pure Vanilla Cookie, that is the first truth. And he will escape the Seal and get his Soul Jam back, that is the second.

These truths coexist, and because they do, Shadow Milk has long decided he won't immediately crumble Pure Vanilla into fine dust when he takes his Soul Jam back.

Oh, he could, and so easily too. Shadow Milk has held Pure Vanilla's hunched form in his palms dozens of times, in the pit of the abyss, has felt how fragile and weak it is – not that Pure Vanilla ever notices, the silly, blind thing. He has curled his claws around his silhouette like a cage countless times, and entertained and irritated himself with how easy it would be to crush him in one fell swoop.

Yes, he could crumble him without a second thought, but that wouldn't be much fun, would it? It's not like he needs to destroy him to be able to retrieve his Soul Jam, and really, it would be a bit of a waste. He's been waiting to meet him – really, truly meet him – for oh so long, to get rid of him immediately would just be anticlimatic. Nobody likes a boring ending, least of all Shadow Milk.

There is a sudden, audible crack, and Shadow Milk's hands finally breach the containment of the bark, fingers quickly scrambling to anchor themselves on the edges of the open wound. An uncontrollable, wild grin splits across Shadow Milk's face, or whatever is currently left of it, wide and eager.

He lurches forward, all of his eyes narrowing in on the wispy traces of light outside, with the exception of the one that always follows Pure Vanilla like a curse, currently watching him settle into an airship with some teeny, insignificant Cookies. Anticipation begins to simmer the endless darkness around him, finally, finally, finally making him feel alive for the first time in far too long.

Somewhere nearby, Silent Salt is slowly beginning to rouse, and Shadow Milk's grin stretches even wider. They don't make a sound and hardly move, but Shadow Milk knew they would be the first to wake. They always are.

Finally, a third truth, to neatly complete the rule of threes; Shadow Milk Cookie is looking forward to properly introducing himself and the other Beasts to Pure Vanilla Cookie.

This one doesn't need any further explanation. After all, there is nothing more thrilling than a good reveal.

The wood groans pitifully beneath his harsh grip, the noise mingling with the distant thrum of an airship in motion, and Shadow Milk's quiet but sharp giggling.

Ah, he can't wait to see Pure Vanilla's face when he realises the true identity of his precious Light of Truth.

[sluttysanemi]

✧˚ · . – HIS WOUNDS.

a/n: i was walking up the stairs and then my arsehole got probed by my friends fingers

i also need to interact w more ppl so jst a little reminder my dms r open! nsfw version.

c/w: brief descriptions of wounds, suicidal mentality?, slight angst, then fluff.

He's too rough with himself.

In the early midst of dawn, he shuffles his feet into the estate. Heavy trembles of breath exhale from his lips, as his chest and forearms are daubed in fresh scars. Droplets of sweat streak across his skin as he struggles to breathe smoothly. 

He is uncaring on how he inflicts himself harm. Even if the scars appear to grow heavier, and scathe his body further, he merely accepts them as a Hashira. 

He proceeds to the bathroom, with heavy feet, attempting to wash the ooze of crimson trickling from his skin. He carries a bucket, crafted of timber, beneath the tap, filling it with warm water. He has hazy eyes- worn and burnt out, rendering it difficult for him to see clearly. 

After filling the surface, he closes the faucet and picks a towel. He dips the material beneath the surface of water and squeezes the excess. Repeating the motions he is so accustomed to each night, he begins to apply the towel to his open wounds, extracting the blood.

Yet it hurts, no matter the number of times he does it. 

He sucks in air harshly between his teeth, his fingers clenching slightly. He relieves the pressure, allowing a moment to compose himself before attempting to wash it, yet again. He's whispering harsh phrases under his breath as he struggles through the agony. His brow furrows, and his breath continues to waver. 

You gradually stir from your shared futon, jarred awake by the subtle noise caused. You carefully sit up from the cushioning, following the trail of softly echoing groans and the melody of trickling water. 

You slide the door of the bathroom, coming witness of the scene. The silky fabric of the washcloth had darkened with blood, the material now a remembrance of misery. You gaze to the numerous slashes over his body. You can only feel sympathy.

It hurts to see your husband in such a position. 

Sanemi studies your worried expression before scoffing. He redirects his gaze to the wall. “You should be asleep.”, he spoke dismissively. 

You swallow nervously. “Sanemi…”

“I’m fine. Don’t bother with me. Just get some rest.”

You, however, remained by the door. There was a temporary tense sense in the air, as you both remained silent. 

You sighed quietly as you sealed the door, sitting alongside him. He glances at you, bewildered. 

“What the fuck are you–”

“Let me clean them.”, you said sternly, your tone offering no room of argument. 

He stares at you, his expression softening. He hands you the towel and sits up slightly. Draping the towel to the water again, you attempt to delicately clear around the newly formed injuries.

Sanemi's body loosened, observing how his severe pain had eased. His breathing grows softer as he settles. You have always been so tender.

A comfortable silence persists as you continued your work. 

Something was troubling you, however. You swallowed, eventually speaking up. 

“I'm worried for you, Shinazugawa.”, your words a kind whisper. 

He observes your expression before turning his attention to his own body. 

“Don’t be. I’m used to it. You shouldn’t get your head so wrapped around stupid shit.”

You swallow again. 

“But- You’re my husband. I- I can’t help but to worry.”

Your anxious remarks tore him inside. However, he chose to put other people before himself. Even at the cost of hurting himself. 

“I can take care of myself.”

You observe his face. His apathetic expression. You couldn't let him act so irresponsibly. You had to express your worries. 

You take his hand, trying to collect your words. 

“I just- I wish you wouldn’t be so unthoughtful. I know how important your swordsmanship is- and- and it’s admirable. You put yourself in front of others. But… If you’re prioritizing your life over others.. Who will take care of you?”

Sanemi listens to your heartfelt words, absorbing every detail. Every emotion. He swallows. 

“I know we’ve lost so many to these wretched demons. They only feed on the pain of our children, their mothers- and brothers. I- I just.”, you continue. 

“I just can’t bare to see the way you’re coming home. I hate seeing you so torn. And tired. I hate seeing my husband pain himself further each and every day.”

You felt a swell in your throat. It was going to spill. It was clawing from your throat. 

“I don’t want my husband to kill himself trying to protect everyone but himself. I don’t want him to die on a hill of misery, just like everyone we’ve lost. I- I couldn’t let that happen to you.”, you shook your head, trying to not picture his corpse. 

“I just couldn’t.”

Sanemi observes your expression. He felt his heart throb. He'd never been moved so strongly by an emotional display. 

Had he truly been so irresponsible with himself? Had he disregarded his wife's feelings?

He takes your hand, maneuvering it closely to his lips. He smiles tenderly. 

“You shouldn’t worry about it anymore.”, he said, pressing soft pecks against your fingers. “And I shouldn’t have been so dismissive of you.”

You watch, your gaze easing slightly. He continued to brush his lips against your fingers, eventually to your knuckle. 

“My sweet wife. Such a kind woman. Always lookin’ out for her husband, hm?”, he whispers softly. “Don’t get so conscious. I won’t be worrying you like this again.”, he admitted.

Your eyes widen slightly as you hear his words. “You won’t?” you whisper, your tone expressing disbelief. 

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have been so reckless. I won’t allow those putrid things to scathe me so badly again.”, he passes you a sincere smile. “And I won’t scare you so badly, my sweet. I’ll be more gentle to myself.”

You experienced a sense of relief as his smile filled you with warmth. All your concerns and anxieties faded away at that instant replaced by a feeling of tranquility and happiness. 

In a moment filled with love and dedication, you gently press your lips to his, expressing your sense of fulfillment. During your embrace, you embody a bond through unspoken connection. The outside world fades, as you revel in the shared intimacy of spirits. The comforting warmth of the embrace surrounds you completely.

A serene atmosphere of love, and tranquility, as you enfold the thought of your husband's safety.

[luvrodite]

a fire, the forest and the witness watching it (920)

To be seen, to have been known – and  unflinchingly, at that. You are made, unmade and formed anew. Though he does it unwittingly, Jason could not have expected any other outcome.

There was no other end to this story. 

Mine first, you think meanly, when you sink your teeth into his bottom lip. 

tags: gn!reader infidelity, obsessive + possessive behaviour, delusions, non-graphic sexual intercourse

minors, blank or ageless blogs dni as you will be blocked!

How to describe it – the burning.

These days, you moved through a smokescreen of placid smiles, words coloured by artifice. The world now a burning landscape, ash settles on your tongue and makes a home behind your teeth. Reassurances are spoken to your reflection through blackened gums, steady enough that you can ignore the soot, the whites of your eyes stark against the smog. Now a fragmented picture of the person you’d been before this, you're patched back together by hands that cannot remember, entirely, what had stood in its place before. 

What had lived here, before its ruination? 

Perhaps someone who would have thought twice – or someone who would not have considered this at all. Lines, so strict once they were as good as branded – white hot, searing, burnt into your palms – now brittle, easily smudged by scarred palms, crushed beneath a selfish heel.

You do not delude yourself into believing you were once porcelain, but filth taints you now, you are certain of it. 

You could justify it if you tried, though the remaining dregs of your rationality reasons that it would be poor justification.

He was mine first, seems juvenile – and reductive. 

That the sands of time, the constant turn of the hourglass over what had spanned years could be so neatly packed into four words is laughable. The abyssal depth of devotion, meant to be gleaned from a petty claim of ownership. You know it will never carry across. 

How to describe it. All that there is to be said has already been spoken, stolen from you by the greats, beating you to it by centuries. Your own epithets are meagre in comparison, too pale and clumsy. 

Love, if what plagues you could be something so pure, drives you mad.

Reverence, perhaps. Devotion that nears blasphemy – no longer a man but that which carved your existence with his own hand. All-powerful, holding sovereignty over your every heartbeat and breath. There is no inch of you that has not known the press of his fingertips. No cell a stranger to his touch, no stone unturned by a probing hand. 

At your best. More importantly, at your worst – raving, ranting, phlegm and snot and tear stained – 

He sees it all.  

Your worst sins laid bare, soaked up by teal irises like stones sinking in water. This I will bear with you, not only yours to carry. Your wants, your needs. He takes it all. 

To be seen, to have been known – and unflinchingly, at that. You are made, unmade and formed anew. Though he does it unwittingly, Jason could not have expected any other outcome.

There was no other end to this story. 

Mine first, you think meanly, when you sink your teeth into his bottom lip. 

The phone on his bedside table lays face down, silent, switched off. You feel no need to share his guilt – you are taking what is owed, after all, what has always been yours. What will continue to be.

Your hand on his chin, a palm covering his mouth when the guilt threatens to outweigh desire – loyalty nearly ousted by fickle reason. For a moment your irritation bleeds through – is it not you that has seniority here? Is it not you that had long since staked claim over him? He should not think of any other.

(It’s you and me, remember?) 

You gather he does by the tent in his trousers, the swell of his length between your legs. However reluctantly, his body recalls yours and responds. Shuddered breaths panted into your mouth, fingers twitching by his sides before sinking into the softness of your hips.

This new being, the spectre which replaces you, is pleased. Your lips curve into a smile against his. Leading him to ruination comes with a frenetic sort of satisfaction and when he sinks home, you see white. That you are not alone any longer, that you have reunited, that you have ruined him for all else, too – you reach your own Elysium in the shadows of his bedroom.

There’s veneration to be found in the slide of his cock against you, the stickiness of bare skin pressing, moving, carving. Unwilling to meet the gravity of his transgression, he tucks his face into your neck, panting against the hollow of your throat. You can smell the faint acidity of wine on his breath, heady notes of fruit ghosting over your skin. 

His shame is pale in comparison to the press of his fingers. You’re certain there will be welts when he lets go. He pins you to him, holds you against where you meet and cries out when your nails sink into his shoulders. 

And you think perhaps he’d known when he’d let you in that there was no chance of this resolving any other way. He had not bothered to attempt to persuade you, to compromise, no shameful pleas of don’t leave any marks. He had known that he’d come home to you. That your steps across the threshold was a foothold gained once more – that this time you would not let it crumble beneath you as it had all those months ago. 

When he comes, it’s with a whimper. Fealty sworn, you look down and find the traces of an oath renewed in the warmth of his spend between your thighs. In the smears of milky white against skin, you guarantee his ruination and rebirth. 

When you reach up to cup a hand around his cheek and bring him closer, his kiss tastes like salt.

erm. 'he's my dean!' but make it jason x reader ? anybody? no? i'll see myself out.

anyway i've been working every single day this week and i'm blaming this on my being left alone with my thoughts for 9 hours everyday for 5 days straight. something about not being able to let go of something who's seen so much of you. the humiliation of being known, but also the delusion that where something passionate once burned, it surely must continue forever, right?

[fili-urzudel]

Hello!! Could you do 14, 15 and 31 with Fili? Romantic or platonic, up to you. Thank you 💜

13. Sitting together

14. Handholding

15. Sharing a blanket (potentially violent)

31. Stargazing

This combination is classic and oh-so-fluffy, and with my favorite Dwarf to boot! I went ahead and added another prompt as well.

Everyone lives AU, because there is no other ending in my mind.

BTW I'm sick :( but I'm going to try to get at least one other prompt request out this week

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.8k

Moonrise - Fíli Durin x Reader

The Durin's Day festival was always fun, but it was all the more spectacular in the newly reclaimed Erebor.

"The first autumn equinox since the mountain was reclaimed, can you believe it?" Fíli said with a bright smile, looking with pride at the crisscrossing bridges and vaulted ceilings of the entrance to the mountain. There was still plenty of work to be done, to be sure, but its improvement was impressive regardless.

"And in a couple days, the anniversary of when it was reclaimed," you nodded in agreement. "A few months after that, the anniversary of the first time you walked around by yourself."

"Hush, I'm trying to enjoy this," Fíli gave you a fake scowl, unconsciously probing the scar hidden beneath his tunic.

You changed directions. "Of course, my Prince," you teased. "You look very nice today."

You meant it. His hair was freshly washed, the slightly damp strands frizzing out in the cool morning air. Each bead was carefully placed, a few decorative gold ones added in place of a crown. His tunic was a smooth yet understated silk underneath his leather vest and wool coat. Every detail was precisely placed, the burnt oranges and browns blending seamlessly. He had clearly been seen to with the utmost care. He looked like royalty, even without the royal garb. Most importantly, he was healthy.

His smile softened, his cheeks turning a bit pink under his mustache. "Thank you," he glanced to the ground before looking back up at you. "And you're beautiful as ever."

You blushed deeper than him, unused to compliments. You plucked at the placket of your own wool coat, dyed a deep woad blue. It was your favorite. "Thank you," you said, choosing for once to believe him. "What duties do you have today?"

"None, surprisingly," Fíli breathed. "Thorin's let me have a break, so I can enjoy the first festival in our new home right alongside you." Something about that little word, our, set your heart ablaze. "You want to stick with me?"

"If you'll have me," he smiled again. That smile was impossible to resist.

"Of course I will."

Erebor had been steadily growing over the past year, but that day, it seemed more alive than ever. The market squares were full, overflowing into the wide side streets. Jewelry, blades, shields, ceramics, sculptures--anything made out of earth or in forges were certainly found somewhere in the expansive space. The Ereborian dwarves' tentative friendship with the Men of Dale caused new, less traditional stands to pop up as well: flower stalls, street food vendors featuring fish dishes, and clothing and homeware shops full of bolts of linen. The mountain had only dwarves—and Bilbo—in its halls, a presently rare occurrence, and so you were all free to speak Khuzdul, the sharp sounds ringing pleasantly in your ears.

The two of you strolled as quickly as possible through all the markets had to offer, determined not to miss the afternoon's performances. You exercised exemplary self-restraint, only stopping at one of every five stalls that caught your eye.

"No," became a very popular word as well, what with resisting Fíli's unceasing offers to purchase anything you liked.

"Well, if you will not spend any of your share of the treasure, I must spend some of mine and relieve what must be the terrible, stifling boredom of your living quarters, my friend," he teased, mustache beads swinging from side to side.

"I will have no prince wasting his money on me."

"Oh, it's never a waste if it's you," Fíli told you surely.

There he went again, saying things that made your palms sweat and your cheeks flush. "You're too kind."

Fíli smirked at the way you diverted your gaze. "Well, if I cannot buy you a rug, at least allow me to buy you lunch," he gestured to a permanent restaurant on the corner that was swarmed with dwarrow.

You couldn't help a smile at that. "Hot stew?" You asked, referring to the almost overpoweringly spicy meat-and-potato stew that was a dwarven classic. Benron's was your favorite.

"As hot as you like, of course," He agreed, guiding you forward with a gentle hand on your back.

The stew made your eyes stream in the best way, and you pulled Fíli out of the restaurant scarcely once he was finished eating. "We have to find good seats!" You reasoned as he raised an eyebrow, still wiping his mouth.

"You do realize that Thorin has the best seats, and by extension, we do as well?"

"Right," you said. You had forgotten. Somehow, none of the Durins were royalty in your mind. They were still your traveling companions, dirt poor and looked at as crazy.

"Still, it is sort of nice to take a seat before everyone starts filtering in and it gets too loud," Fíli reassured you. "After you."

The grand presentation began with a song to the mountain. In the ancient tradition, singing was a way to ask the mountain to reveal its secrets, a careful gathering of tones that would uncover its nature.

This song, however, was made more to please the ears of the listener. It was a song of thanks, of hardly believing that this mountain was once again the shelter for her people. You tried your best to control the tears that rose to your eyes.

Fíli leaned over, bumping your shoulder with his. You gave a small smile that he returned, and you could see in his eyes that he was thinking of all that it took to get there.

"We did it," you whispered.

"Yeah, we did."

The opening songs were followed by traditional dances, a speed-forging competition, and a few spars. You cheered on the brothers as they fought each other, with a healthy dose of brotherly teasing. Fíli let his little brother win, or so he told you. The look on Kíli's face was more than worth it. You congratulated him and let them both clean up as you headed to the gates.

The gates were still open, cool air pouring into the mountain as the sun dropped in the sky.

Dale was dimmer than usual—the city was empty. The men were lining the edge of the water with candles. This equinox now also marked the anniversary of the fall of Laketown and many of their loved ones. The dwarves tried their best to be respectful of their vigil.

You leaned against the wall and watched. You hoped they found peace and remembered to enjoy their new lives. Bard, standing at the back of the group, turned around. He caught your eye and nodded.

"Come with me, I think we should see something," Fíli's low whisper startled you from your reverie, and his hand wrapping around yours even more so.

"Where are we going?" You asked, not that it mattered. With his hand in yours, you'd probably follow him anywhere.

He led you on a trek around the front of the mountain, the setting sun turning everything orange and making his hair appear as flames as you went.

Caught in the daze of bliss, it took you a while to notice what was draped over his other arm. "Wait, is that—I told you not to buy that!"

It was the woven blanket you had noticed earlier, the tapestry depicting sunrays falling through a thick forest of firs. "And what if I bought this for myself? I have uses for it."

"Then it's alright, I suppose."

"You can keep it once I'm done with it, though."

"Sly fox."

"Coin pincher."

"Seriously, though, where are we going?" You asked.

Fíli smiled at you. "A certain very large staircase."

You gasped. "Leading to a secret doorway?"

"The very same. I figured, since we were both trying to help Kili, erm, not die, we missed the excitement, and now we can see it for ourselves."

"That's extraordinarily thoughtful of you."

"Eh, I'd say averagely thoughtful at best," Fíli shrugged.

"Perfectly suitable for me," you told him.

"Good."

The achingly long trip up the staircase was rewarded with a very nice sight: another, less decorative blanket spread across the stone, a couple flat pillows, and three lanterns, already lit and ready to face the darkness.

"When did you find time to do this?" You asked Fíli, grinning from ear to ear.

"I have my ways," he said mysteriously. "And help."

"That's where Bofur, Bilbo, and Dori disappeared to," you observed. "I see. Well, it's very sweet of all of you."

"I'm glad you think so," Fíli said, still holding your hand as he guided you to sit on the blanket with him.

The stairs had taken longer than anticipated, so the sun was already almost gone. You quieted as you realized how close the time was. The two of you watched in quiet admiration as the moon rose, bright and perfect, into the sky, before you turned, hoping to catch a glimpse of the door.

You gasped. "There it is!" The moonrise revealed the shape of a perfectly hidden keyhole. "That is very neat, indeed."

"Mmhm," Fíli agreed. "Beautiful." The keyhole was not what he thought was beautiful. He wasn't actually looking at the door at all, but rather you, and the way the moonlight reflected off every spectacular detail of your face.

He had never known quite when he started to feel this way, only that he didn't in the Blue Mountains, when he barely knew you, and he did now.

You turned your gaze from the keyhole once the wonder had made a comfortable space in your heart, and looked to the stars, all too aware of how close Fíli was.

You read out the constellations to yourself in the comfortable silence, assuming the prince was doing the same. You then heard him shift.

"Lay with me," Fíli offered, and you turned around in record time, cheeks blazing and eyes wide.

"What?"

He was already lying down with his head on one of the pillows. "To watch the stars more comfortably."

"Alright," you said, voice quiet. You scooted down until you could lay your head on the other pillow, before changing your mind. You decided to take a risk and settle your head on his chest instead.

"Is this alright?" You asked immediately. The last thing you wanted was for him to be uncomfortable in this situation.

"Of course it is," he said softly, his arm raising to hold your waist. "I enjoy being close to you."

It wasn't quite a grand confession, but it was good enough for your heart to begin hammering in your chest. "I enjoy being close to you, too."

[empresskylo]

━━━━━‧₊˚➛ teasing two men at once will certainly get you into trouble...

a/n: i have never written a threesome before so bear with me. also i think i prefer writing ghost as more submissive but i enjoyed him in this too. and again, i don't play this game so sorry about any inaccuracies.

masterlist

cw: smut (minors dni), threesome, p in v, anal, unprotected sex, jealousy

‧₊˚➛ simon 'ghost' riley x afab!reader x könig

wc: 2.4k

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐔𝐍��𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓

From across the training room, you felt the sensual glare of König and Ghost staring at you, everyone else oblivious to the eye-fucking currently going down. 

You had been teasing both men. It started with just some casual flirting with Ghost, but then you found König’s bashful nature alluring, so you captured him in your net as well. Both men had been subtly returning your flirtatious remarks, completely fixated on you. The only problem was neither of them knew you were rising a dalliance between both men. They assumed they were the only one who was catching your fancy.

Ghost’s hand tightened on the pistol he was cleaning as you bent over to dig through a bin on the floor. 

When you turned around, you smirked at König, as his vision had been locked on you too. 

Noticing your smirk, Ghost followed your line of sight and landed on König, who was currently eyeing your body as if his mask was hiding it. But Ghost could detect the desire in just his stance as he leaned against the wall. 

What game were you playing? Ghost pondered.

Suddenly filled with annoyance, Ghost stood up and marched over to you. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, your heart racing. “Yes, Lt.?” 

“Up,” he commanded, gesturing over one of the barrack rooms down the hall. 

The fire in his voice startled you, sending shivers down your spine. You did as he said and opened the door, Ghost closing it behind you. 

Now it was König’s turn to raise his brows. Why were you going in that room with Ghost? And why did he seem pissed? Curious, König got up and made his way to the door, listening in.

“You think this is funny?” Ghost spat. 

“What? No, I…” You played with your fingers nervously. What did you get yourself into?

Ghost pushed you against the wall, a gasp escaping your lips. His body lay flat against yours, his eyes probing you. “Play with fire, love, and you’ll get burnt.” His hand slid up to your throat, your eyes widening and your thighs squeezing together.

“Tisk. Tisk,” Ghost clicked in disapproval, using his knee to pry your legs apart. Ghost’s hand tightened around your throat, constricting your airflow, but being gentle enough to let you know he wouldn’t hurt you. 

Your hands reached out and gripped his belt, yanking him into you harder, showing your defiance. He groaned, his hardened cock pressed against your belly. Ghost had been wanting to do this for a long time and now that you got him riled up, he was finally getting his chance. A chill of excitement ran up his arms as you looked up at him with those damn innocent doe eyes. “Fuckin’ hell,” he mumbled. 

Before Ghost could act on any other of his dirty thoughts, the door swung open. Slightly embarrassed and also wanting to protect your dignity, Ghost spun around, “Somebody better be bloody fuckin’ dying, or I swear to fuckin’ God—“ Ghost halted when he saw König enter, shutting the door behind him. 

“He hurting you?” König called out in your direction. You peered from behind Ghost and went to answer, your mouth open, but Ghost’s words came out instead, “The fuck it matter to you?” 

Here we go.

Ghost could feel the anger well inside of him again. Why did he care so much about the idea that you were toying with König? He didn’t own you. But, fuck, it pissed him off to see the way you had looked over at him back in the training room. 

Sweet König still hadn't put two and two together. “I don’t believe she’s comfortable being locked in here with you,” König said with more authority, taking a step forward.

Ghost chuckled as you looked up at König in slight shame. “Are you that daft? She’s toying with us, mate. Both of us.”

König had been so drawn to you, that it didn’t even cross his mind. He breathed out your name, his eyes shifting from Ghost to you. König wasn’t upset at the fact that you had apparently been flirtatious with Ghost as well, but he was rather surprised to hear that you had been, in fact, flirting with König this whole time, and it wasn’t just his imagination.

You swallowed, hoping the lightbulb idea that just popped into your sick head would work and not end in bloodshed.

You stepped out from behind Ghost, now trapped between the two men. “Are you guys really that bad at sharing?” You could feel Ghost roll his eyes, already knowing his stance on the matter. “Yes, Ghost, I know you don’t ‘do sharing’. But it could be fun.” You wiggled your eyebrows, hoping to break the rising tension in the room. 

Ghost wanted you for himself, that was true, but his aggravation was subdued when you brushed yourself against him, your small hand groping his crotch trying to convince him. 

König watched in envy at the way you touched Ghost. “Don’t be sad, König,” you said, turning to face him now. He got goosebumps from the way you said his name so softly. “I can be shared,” your hands traced his arms and landed on his chest, feeling his muscles underneath. Both men had been stripped down into more casual attire for days like today, it was nice to be able to see the movements of their muscles under their slim-fitting shirts without all the bulk they usually wore in the way. You pleaded with König through your eyes. Your hands slid to his, gently lifting them in yours and resting them on your hips. His fingers tickled as he adjusted his grip.

Ghost was immediately up against your back as you pressed yourself to König. “Not so sure I like the idea of sharing you,” Ghost whispered against your neck. Your head fell back onto his shoulder, his hot breath making you bite your lip. His actions didn’t match his words as he fondled you, accepting the fact that König currently had his hands on you too.

You glanced up at König. “König?” You asked, wanting his take on the matter. His hands tightened against your waist, bunching up your shirt so he was touching your warm skin. “I want you however you give yourself to me.” His voice was low as he leaned towards you, his blush being hidden behind his black cloth. His hands slowly trailed up your body, resting against your chest. Ghost’s hands were sliding through your hair as he whispered filthy things in your ear. You pushed your ass into his crotch. “Fuck. Still not keen on this, but I need to fuck you. Right. Now.” Ghost’s voice was somehow rougher than usual, his cock grinding against you through your clothes. A small moan escaped your lips as you let yourself lean fully against Ghost, König’s wandering hands helping to keep you from slipping to the floor. Ghost traced your sides until his hands were resting on the front of your stomach. He didn’t bother taking off his gloves before his fingers played with the hem of your pants, pushing them away and slipping his hand down the front of your underwear. You immediately gasped at the sensation. Ghost began rubbing slow circles against your clit as he grinded against you. 

Feeling a little left out, König pushed your shirt all the way up, pleased that you weren’t wearing a bra. He groaned as he looked at your chest. “Touch me, König,” you whispered. 

You didn’t have to tell him twice. His ungloved hands grabbed the swell of your breasts and kneaded them. König leaned down, pushing his mask up just enough so his mouth could breathe. His lips connected with your nipple, gently sucking it into his mouth, while his free hand gave attention to your other breast. You moaned as König grazed his teeth against your bud. 

Ghost’s hands were hard at work, pushing your hips back into him so your ass gave his cock the friction it was desiring. His fingers slid along your slit, teasing your entrance. Ghost could hear the liquid squelch against his gloves. “Hmm. You’re fuckin’ soakin’, love,” Ghost hummed with a grin. 

“Please,” you breathed out. 

König pulled away from your chest and lined his face up with yours, his light eyes always managed to take your breath away. 

“Tell us what you want.”

You gulped, “I want you both to fuck me,” you struggled to say, stuttering as Ghost continued to tease you. 

König grabbed the hem of your pants and tugged them down, his cock hardening at the sight of Ghost fingering you. 

Ghost’s hands released your crotch and slid up to your breasts, squeezing them in his hand. König slid your underwear off, trailing his hand along your legs as he stood. He began unbuttoning his pants and you struggled to reach behind you and undo Ghost’s. 

As König’s cock sprang free, your mouth watered, your thighs clenching together. König wasted no time before he was grabbing you again, pulling you into his body, his cock rubbing against your front side. You felt like you were caught in a daydream, everything was moving so quickly.

Ghost undid his own pants behind you. König peeled his mask up just enough to leave wet kisses along your neck and shoulder. König bent his knees so his waist was level with yours and rubbed his tip against your pussy, making you groan. 

“You sound so pretty,” König mumbled against your skin. 

Ghost had reached down and gripped your thighs tightly in his hands and lifted them up, making you squeal. He pulled your thighs up and towards him so you were perfectly displayed for König. König stood closer to you so you could rest your legs around his waist. “Ready for me?” He asked you. You nodded nervously, his cock just as big as you had imagined it would be. 

König rubbed his hard-on against you and you stifled a moan. You could feel Ghost’s cock against your back as he kissed your neck–his mask must have been rolled up. König slid into you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. “Jesus,” you breathed, your arms gripping König’s biceps. He was so fucking big. König growled lowly as he bottomed out, already out of breath. “Been awhile, eh mate?” Ghost teased over your shoulder, seeing the way König was having trouble containing himself. 

König didn’t hear what Ghost said, completely engulfed in your scent and the way you felt around him. He held himself inside you, groaning while waiting for Ghost to follow suit. 

“Just relax, pet,” Ghost whispered against you. Your head fell back, Ghost placing kisses along your neck. You desperately wanted König to move. 

Ghost used his spit to help lube himself as he lined himself up with your ass. He slowly let you sink down on top of his cock making you gasp and groan. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he moaned as he filled you. 

Both men had bottomed out now, making you feel more full than you ever have been before. You tilted your head to the side so you could see Ghost’s face. His chin and lips were exposed, blonde stubble lining his jaw. He glanced down at you, his intense eyes making you melt. Ghost continued to lock eyes with you as he began to pull out. Your mouth hung open, König mimicking Ghost’s movements and slowly dragging his dick out of your pussy. They both entered you at the same time, gentle enough to let you get used to the feeling of them both fucking you at once. When they began to pick up speed, your arms stretched back and around Ghost’s neck, pulling him against you so your lips connected.  He slid his tongue along your lips messily as he thrusted into you. 

König began to rub your clit, making you break the kiss and gasp. “So. Goddamn. Tight,” König moaned. Your walls fluttered at his praise and König’s head flew back in pure pleasure as his his rocked into you. 

Ghost’s hands slid up to squeeze your breasts, your shirt tucked up under your chin. König felt you tighten around him, making him growl. “You close, princess?” He asked you, his accent heavier than usual. You nodded. König leaned close to your face and let you push his mask up, your face getting lost under it as he kissed you, his thumb still circling between your legs. Ghost was leaving soft kisses on the back of your neck, his breath hot as he mumbled obscenities. Ghost readjusted his stance holding you, making both him and König hit you deeper, your mewl getting devoured by König’s mouth. 

Ghost knew he was near the edge. “Come for us, pet,” he growled. 

König licked down your jaw and neck, sucking on your sweet spot behind your ear. His cock began to expel inside of you without warning at your soft cries as his tongue trailed you. Both of König’s hands now gripped your hips as he rutted deep into you, his seed pooling out around his cock. 

Your walls squeezed against König, your own orgasm matching with Ghost’s. Both men groaned, your body constricting them, dragging out their pleasure. You whimpered into Ghost’s neck, feeling overstimulated as König lazily pumped himself inside you, his fingers teasing your clit again. König halted as Ghost continued to grunt and come inside you. Your hands reached out to König and gripped his shirt, pushing it up and resting your hands on his toned chest, unable to stop your hands from moving. He chuckled, admiring the way you were completely fucked out, babbling incoherently as you clenched down on both men’s cocks. 

Ghost finally came to a stop, his breathing heavy, his seed pouring out of you and trickling to the floor. 

Both men pulled out slowly, making you groan. Ghost set you down on the floor again, your knees weak. König caught you, holding you upright. Ghost adjusted his pants then scoured the floor for your clothes. König helped you dress while you rested your arms against his chest. Ghost came up behind you and whispered in your ear. “Still don’t like the fact that he gets to touch you.” Now that his thoughts weren’t clouded with lust, he remember how much he hated knowing another man was on your radar. 

“Well, I don’t like to choose,” you began walking to the door. “So, it’s either you both learn to share, or neither of you get the pleasure of fucking me like that again.” Both men looked at one another then back at you. Ghost mumbled something under his breath as he followed you out the door, a sly smile plastered across your face. 

[squishysoftmonsters]

Mature +18 Sexual Themes Minors/Ageless DNI

💚Radioactive waste spilled into the workplace via biohazard accident. As the janitor,you cleaned it up,workplace was now deemed unsafe,not noticing a drop on your boot.

When you'd relax on off days,you'd rub off to porn. Slime would secretly eat every baggie full of your seed,getting a taste of you,growing steadily without your noticing of it's presence. It would feast when you went to bed,growing up into a shiny vibrant blob after months of feeding. Tasting you got boring. Now it wanted to feel you! Sime made itself known at last,standing before you.

You : You're that slime from work. [laughs] Stop that.

Slime monster grew closer to you,observing your interest in other males. You'd show it affection by nosing and kissing or rubbing it's underbelly.

You : You're naughty..

It's squishy hands slowly undid your clothing,and you lied on the couch for it,revealing an impressive hole. It immediately got comfortable,distending your belly with massive probes,stimulating your prostate,sucking you off and biting your nipples all at once,drinking your seed like milk.

It squealed excitedly,suspending you into the air by a monster ectoplasmic penis. It bound you,spread your legs and opened your booty hole. Slime burnt as it slithered into your gape,purring in comfort. You moaned as it squirmed around,impressed and pleased with your depth. Your veins are pumped with a psychedelic relaxer that makes your eyes fall back in bliss as you ride.

The slime continuously moistens your stuck open glassy eyes,so when the fog wears off, you can watch him actively taking delight in you before fading into wonderland again.No other men you dated gave this kind of mind blowing,body numbing booty sex. Your throat was stuffed with it's second penis getting it's fill of your body before letting you loose in exhaustion.

Slime attempted to crawl away,in your image,humanoid after feasting on your fluids. You gently stroked his new man parts,he wide eyed,forgetting the long dong he blessed you with.

You : Don't worry. It'll fit.

Through his human lips,purrs of fear escaped from slime as you rocked his prostate missionary style coating it with the seed he loved eating.

You : The good boy is very tight.

Slime : [screeching]

Pinning his hands to the rug,plunging him deep and hard while you sucked his dongs,the exhausted slime had no choice but to accept his breeder mate's anal assault.

You : Take it all in like a good boy.

The slime cried in orgasm and green lube poured from his stretched booty,mixed with yours which allowed you to keep pounding his alien brains out as he sat on your lap,tearing at your skin,begging in screeches and purrs.💚

You : [panting]Yes my good boy. Take it.