#i need terra to do it i know hes so warm

[tinydefector]

Human's effects

More a silly little thing that I had to write out.

Warnings: talks about sex, xenophilia, kinks

Word count: 3k

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Human Effects 2 - characters

Request are open

____

There were a lot of things that fascinated the cybertronians over humans. Their size, body types, skin tones and those soft they are. 

So many of them become so fascinated over the fact that such small and fragile creatures don't have plating to protect themselves but only wear soft fabrics. 

And it slowly leads a lot of Cybertronians to realising they were Xenophiles. 

A list of kinks and fetishes cybertronians discovered from it. 

-size kink 

-skin fetish 

- hair pulling 

- silk and ribbon play

- cum inflation 

-breeding

-pet play

- vore

-fluid play and consumption 

- spiking warming

- Heart and spark syncing 

- new spike and Valve modifications to test on their human lover

There's originally a lot of unknowns about humans, and cybertronians are rather intrigued, for one the first times the a lot of the crew of lost light had encountered them was on black market and high priced pets, and companions. 

There were exceptions such as Perceptor, Ratchet and Megatron who had been around humans before but for a lot of the bots this was their first time seeing them. that is until they are assigned a human communications, relations Ambassador/ liaison. 

But after the black market incident it had led a lot of bots into research over humans. And it just spirals more with them discovering some rather dark history with cybertronians keeping humans as playthings. And finding out their ‘interface equipment’ isn't that different from their own, just more organic and smaller.  

A late night of drinking at swerve slowly devolved into conversation over their local human. Brainstorm sits nursing his drink of engex while he and others of the ship chat away. "So does it fascinate anyone else over the fact that humans don't have natural plating or any kind of protection for their squishy form?" He brings up, he himself had fallen down the rabbit hole of human porn but didn't quite know how to breach the subject with anyone else. 

"Oh Primus, look who decided to join us, thought you were holding up with your Conjunx Chrome!" Swerve said with a chuckle, placing more drinks down. He hopped up onto one of the bar stools and leaned in eagerly, His attention flicks to Brainstorm. "You bring up a good point, Brainstorm," Swerve replied.

 "Those squishy humans are really something else, ain't they? No armour, no defences - I'd be scared outta my circuits if I was just soft protoform all the time!, like i’m so surprised squishy hasn't been stepped on yet" 

Rodimus nodded in agreement. "Yet they've managed to survive just fine so far. There's obviously more to them than meets the eye. Like i've seen some of the things our ambassador can do like the strange stretching"

"I dunno," Skids chimed in. "Seems pretty fraggin' reckless if you ask me. One good shot and it lights out!" 

Rewind shuddered. "Ugh, don't remind me. Just thinking about all those organics and tubes and who knows what else squishing around in there makes my fuel tank turn." He made a dramatic churning sound effect.

Riptide laughed. "I saw a nature documentary once about these hairless ape creatures the humans evolved from. Now THOSE guys were squishy."

“What in Primus have you been watching?!” 

“some old earth docs that Percy’s has, bots got a lot of info on Terra and the planet's history” The bots shared a collective laugh at the image. Swerve took a swig of his energon. "Frag, maybe there's something to be said about living on the edge like that! Sure keeps things interesting, its still strange that they are somehow one of the top predators of their planet yet are smaller than half the things they eat"

Brainstorm goes quiet for a moment. "Have you seen how flexible they are?"

Swerve nearly spit out his energon. "Whoa hey, I don't need those kinds of vivid imagery floatin' around my processor thank you very much!, keep the squishy interface vids to yourself" he said, waving his hands animatedly. 

"You have to admit, the way those fleshbags can contort themselves is pretty impressive," Skids added. "Must come in handy for.. maintenance." He waggled his optical ridges suggestively.

Brainstorm nodded pensively. "Indeed. Their non-metal structure allows for feats we could never replicate by ourselves." He took a sip of his energon. "Always makes me curious what other evolutionary adaptations they've developed to compensate for such vulnerability. The potential for scientific discovery is endlessly fascinating with their species and ancestors."

Riptide shrugged. "As long as they don't expect ME to try any of their bone-breaking yoga moves," he laughed. "This chassis is meant for tough stuff, not Twister!"

"You think they would be soft, you know if you interface with one?" Brainstorm asked while downing his drink, the engex was slowly going to his processor loosening his lips. 

"Oh don't give me that look I know for a fact you all have thought about doing with a human at least once! Rodimus I know for a fact you eye them up everytime our little liaison walks past you" He calls out Rodimus. 

Rodimus nearly choked on his energon in an attempt to look innocent. "Wh-what? That's not - I never -" he sputtered in protest, flustered optics darting around at the other bots.

Brainstorm smirked as Rodimus squirmed uncomfortably on the stool. "Oh please, don't try to deny it, Captain. You're about as subtle as a combiner in a supply closet." 

"Roddy's got the hots for squishy, who knew!" Swerve giggled uncontrollably. 

Skids nudged Riptide playfully. "Hey, maybe we got a xenophiliac on the ship!" 

"Alright alright, knock it off you glitches," Rodimus growled, though the blue flush across his face said otherwise. "I was just... curious, that's all. They ARE a strange species."

Swerve tried to contain his laughter. "Ohhh I bet you are more than curious, if you catch my drift!, wanna get up close and personal" More raucous peals of laughter from the group.

Brainstorm stroked his chin in thought. "They do feel intriguingly delicate. I wonder if their flexible frames would be more pleasurable to interface with than our own rigid forms..."

"Have you seen videos of them, they stretch a lot, like a lot, like I know human skin is resilient but i didn't think they were that resilient " Brainstorm states remembering some of the videos he had seen online. Other bots peak up intrigued. 

Swerve choked again as his fuel tank nearly turned inside out. "Brainstorm! That's... more than I needed to visualise, thank you very much." 

Skids seemed a bit less phased. "Fleshbags gettin' their twist on, huh? Can't say I'm not curious now." 

Even Rodimus seemed intrigued despite his earlier protests. "Resilient is an   understatement. I've seen some of the contortions that humans can do - it's astounding that their protoforms don't tear apart." 

Brainstorm nodded enthusiastically. "Precisely! With the right lubrication and technique, I hypothesise an interface with a limber human form would provide entirely novel sensory data."

Riptide shifted uncomfortably. "Not sure I'm ready to dive into the fleshy deep end just yet.”  

Swerve shot him a sly grin. "Aw c'mon Rip, live a little! Where's your sense of adventure?" 

Rodimus tried to steer the subject elsewhere. "Let's maybe change topics before someone needs a wipe down. Or Primus forbid, Magnus overhears you lot"

"I hope I did not hear what my processor just heard" Ultra Magnus states while staring down at the group of drinking mechs. A Lot of bots in the bar snicker at the group getting in trouble. 

"Come on Sir, get that wrench out of you aft, join us!" Skids called out.

Swerve let out an audible squeak at Ultra Magnus's stern tone, almost dropping his engex in panic. "U-Um, Magnus sir! Fancy seeing you here. We were just, uh, discussing..." 

He shot desperate optics at the others for help, but they all seemed to shrink down in their seats under Magnus's disapproving glare. 

Rodimus flashed an uneasy grin. "Just having a friendly debate about alien species, you know how it is. Brainstorm was bringing up some, er, interesting biological points..." 

Ultra Magnus sighed wearily. "I'd rather not know the details, thank you. Some topics are best left undiscussed in public."

The whole bar erupted into laughter at the group's misfortune. "Ah lay off em Magnus!" one patron called out. "They're just havin' fun!"

Another bot piped up. "Yeah, loosen up that rusty chassis and join us! One drink won't hurt." 

Magnus scowled, unamused. But as the encouragement grew louder, he glanced around hesitantly...

Swerve spotted an opening. "C'mon Magnus, live a little! I'll even give you a two-for-one special." He flashed a hopeful grin.

The enforcer grumbled but his resolve was cracking. Against his better judgement, he pulled up a stool. "One drink." Swerve whooped and poured him a double.

They cheer as Magnus sits down to drink with them. Skids speak up. "So brainstorm you saying you'd hook up with a fleshy, get nice and personal with a human" he calls out with a laugh.

Brainstorm leaned forward eagerly. "Why of course! The pursuit of scientific knowledge knows no boundaries. Though upon further review, direct interfacing with an organic might require certain, ah, safety protocols." 

Skids peered at him suspiciously. "Exactly what kind of 'research' are you plannin' on doing Brainy?"

Swerve nudged Riptide with a smirk. "I'll bet ya 20 shanix Brainstorm's just trying to find an excuse to get jiggy with the humies!"

Riptide snorted. "No way, I ain't takin' THAT bet!" 

Rodimus dropped his face in his palms with a groan. "can we PLEASE stop picturing Brainstorm fragging humans?" 

Ultra Magnus coughed on his engex, catching the comment he'd really rather not have heard. 

But Brainstorm paid them no mind, lost in scientific contemplation. "The human capacity for sensory input and feedback would provide a rich study on cross-species interface protocol adaptability..."

"INTERFACE PROTOCOLS?!" Swerve shrieked. The table erupted into howls of laughter at Magnus's deeply uncomfortable expression. It was going to be a LONG night indeed.

“Primus Brainstorm you kinky fragger” 

"Fine then everyone servo up if your not at least somewhat curious or thought about it at least once" Brainstorm calls out to all of Swerve's bars patrons

"Oooh, Brainstorm's putting us all on the spot!" Swerve giggled with gleeful mischief. He raised his servo without hesitation. 

Skids was quick to follow suit, slamming his half-empty glass down. "Frag it, I'll admit it! Those soft squishy bodies got me wonderin' what else they're good for." 

To everyone's surprise, Rodimus sheepishly lifted a servo as well, avoiding optic contact with Ultra Magnus. Riptide shrugged and joined in the show of servos, if only to blend in. 

The majority of bots in the bar started raising their hands amid roars of laughter and drunken encouragement. Only a select few hesitated, shooting nervous glances at Magnus. 

The enforcement officer's expression cycled through outrage, resignation and back to outrage as his gaze swept over the forest of raised servos. "I cannot condone such deviant interest in alien biologies," he protested, voice stiff. 

But as more servos stayed stubbornly aloft, Magnus sagged with a weary sigh. After a long moment, he slowly, begrudgingly raised one massive hand as well. 

The bar erupted into ear-splitting cheers. Swerve howled with glee, banging his fists on the counter. "Look's like we've all got a bit of xenophile in us after all! Even you, Magnus my mech!" 

Magnus buried his faceplate in his servos as Brainstorm cackled maniacally. Once the bar settles back down its Swerve who speaks up with a smirk on his faceplate. "So... which one of you charming mechs are gonna be the first to try and get our lovely Liaison?" He teases. 

Rodimus sputtered into his drink at Swerve's question, flushing brighter. "W-what? I never said anything about actually doing anything!, it's all just fantasies Swerve!" he protested in a hissed tone. 

Skids rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, well they do have a cute lil' figure. Bet they'd be a wild ride..." 

Swerve grinned slyly at Rodimus. "Aw c'mon Captain, don't tell me you ain't thought about it at least once! I bet they'd be real fun to break in, get all soft and pliable..." 

Rodimus smacked Swerve upside the helm. "Knock it off!" He shot a pleading glance at Ultra Magnus as if begging for rescue.

But unexpectedly, Brainstorm was the one who spoke up. "While the organic's flexibility is intriguing, directly interfacing could introduce unknown health risks or cultural taboos. Outside the fact our people have kept humans as pets and companions in the past. A more ethical approach would be gaining consent for strictly observational research."  

Riptide frowned. "Not sure the liaison would go for that either Storm" 

Swerve sighed dreamily. "Just imagine wrapping those soft squishy bits all around you though... bet they'd feel amazing..."  

"SWERVE." Magnus's warning tone silenced the cheeky bartender immediately. He turned back to Rodimus with a sigh. "Despite certain... Curiosities, directly engaging an organics  such a manner would be unwise, dangerous even, not to mention our form are much larger and could harm a human."

Rewind nodded gratefully at Magnus, relieved the subject was shifting. But the mischievous glint in Swerve's optic suggested his teasing wasn't over yet. It was going to be a long night indeed.

"Relax Mags I'm just riling these drunk mech up. Unless you're interested in our sweet little ambassador" he teases, making other bots choke on their drinks. 

Ultra Magnus's icy glare could have frozen Swerve's energon. "Need I remind you this conversation is highly inappropriate and unprofessional," he said sternly. 

But to everyone's surprise, Rodimus let out an undignified snort of laughter. "As if Magnus would ever break protocol like that! He'd probably recite the entire Autobot code of conduct while fragging."

The whole bar erupted in howls of mirth at the mental image. 

Swerve was nearly rolling on the floor. "Can you imagine?! 'Paragraph 3, subsection B clearly states interfacing with sentient aliens requires prior diplomatic clearance forms in triplicate!'" he cried in a mockingly stiff voice. 

Skids were wiping away fuel tears. "Primus if MR. RULES AND REGS ever broke the rules, it'd be one for the history archives!" 

Riptide jabbed Skids in the side. "Ten shanix says he'd have them memorising regulations the whole time!" 

"Twenty shanix says they'd run screaming first!" Swerve shot back. 

The bets and ribbing escalated as more mechs joined in. Across the table, Rodimus shoved Magnus playfully. "C'mon Magnus, live on the wild side for once!" 

Magnus's rumbling huff was the only response. Watching his rigid commander finally loosening up filled Swerve with delight. Somehow, some way, he'd find a way to get Magnus to break protocol yet! It was shaping up to be the best night ever.

"Ohhh let's make this fun. I list some bots and you say if you think they would hook up with a human" Riptide states. "Rung, Drift and Ratchet" he calls out the names.

Swerve let out a dramatic gasp. "Ooh spicy!"

"Rung is definitely curious but way too professional. Might let loose over a couple cubes of engex though!" 

Skids broke into hysterics at Riptide's suggestions. "Rung and a HUMAN?! Rung doesn't even touch his OWN interface panel!" 

Rodimus snorted. "Can you imagine? 'My dear, it seems you're experiencing some psychological interfacing blockers. Please, tell me how that makes you feel.'" 

"Drift guy's definitely intrigued by other species, if you know what I mean. Plus he's artsy so he'd probably appreciate the 'aesthetic'." Swerve responds

"Drift might go for it, he's open to new experiences," Rodimus mused with a grin. 

Brainstorm nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed, his spiritual philosophies suggest an openness to cultural exchange that others may lack. I think if he and ratchet weren't together its something he might try" 

"Ratchet. bah! As if that grumpy old rust-bucket would try anything so illogical. Unless she's a doctor too and starts quoting his favourite protocols... then all bets are off!" Skids laughed. 

"Ratchet? Nah, too much of a hard aft. He'd just bitch about human biohazards the whole time," Swerve giggled. 

"Well if Drift was interested I'm pretty sure that mecn could get ratchet to do anything with the bat of his optics" Rodimus remarks.

The table erupted in raucous laughter. Swerve took a playful bow. "Alright bring on the next victims!" 

Riptide rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, how about...Tailgate, Cyclonus, and Whirl?" 

Swerve cackled wickedly. "Tailgate would be way too nervous but he'd try for his Conjunx Cyclonus. Cyclonus would 100% use his broody vibes to charm her pants off but only for Tailgate. And Whirl? He doesn't interface, he destroys! So that liaison better watch her interfacing ports around that lunatic!" 

Chromedome interjects stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Tailgate would be way too nervous and shy, I think. He'd probably short-circuit just from holding hands!" 

Riptide nodded. "Cyclonus has always struck me as the kinky type. Wonder if he's into those squishy bits like Brainstorm thinks..."

"Whirl would frag anything that moves," Rodimus interjected with a grimace. "But I don't think an organic would survive the experience!"

Brainstorm stroked his chin. "Indeed, Whirl's interfacing protocol subroutines seem rather...enthusiastic. Consent might be a fleeting concept. Better to observe from a safe distance." 

Swerve shuddered. "Ugh, don't make me picture that psycho getting 'friendly' with a human! I'm tryna keep my fuel down y'know." 

The names continue being dropped. 

 " First Aid! I don't know if the medic-bot's got it in him to break the rules. But I betcha if he did, he'd be real gentle and caring-like. He'd have them feelin' better than new in no time!" 

Skids grinned devilishly. "Yeah but would they feel better? Aid's so straight and narrow I bet he'd put em in stasis lock from boredom!" 

"Now Perceptor on the other hand..." Swerve tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Bookish type, but you know there's a passionate scientist in there waiting to experiment. Think he'd go slow and methodical, really take his time 'exploring the specimen'." 

"his thirst for organic sciences might overpower his good sense," Rewind remarks. 

“optimus prime, Prowl and bumblebee ” Chromedome interjects with his own inquiries. 

Swerve pretended to wipe away exhaust fumes. "Primus help me, this is gonna be good... Optimus Prime is obviously Mister Morality himself, but you know he's got a secret wild side under all that virtue signalling. Just imagine how freaky he could get with some alien nookie!" 

The bar erupted in incredulous, drunken laughter and cheers. Swerve grinned impishly. 

"As for Prowl, I'm telling you that stick up his tailpipe is begging to come out and play. One roll in the berth with a naughty fleshy and he'd loosen up reeeal nice!" 

"And Bee? He's a sweet kid, but you know what they say, it's always the quiet ones! Between his cute lil' face and that tight chassis, he'd have the human lining up to frag that glitch right into stasis!" 

The bar absolutely lost it, bots falling over each other in drunken hysterics. Even Mirage was struggling not to fall off his chair. Swerve took an exaggerated bow as his audience howled. 

"Thank you, thank you! I'll be here all cycle! Now who's ready for the next round?" More shouts and clanking glasses answered his call. It was shaping up to be the wildest night at Swerve's yet!

 Magnus dropping Megatron's name that really sent them over the edge.

"Megatron?! With the liaison?!" Rodimus howled with laughter, nearly spitting out his drink. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all cycle!" 

But Swerve wasn't done. "Megatron? Now THAT'S an image! 'You pathetic fleshbag, you DARE try to mount the great Megatron?! Grovel before my interface array!'" 

Magnus adds more information which makes everyone surprised " He and the ambassador are rather close" He states

Rewind speaks up from Chromedome’s side. "Y'know... they do have a certain chemistry. I'll bet under all that scowling and chipped armour there's a softie just waitin' for the right tender touch to melt his spark. And they have got sass to spare  bet they could handle Megatron's brooding and snarl!" 

"Twenty shanix says he'd have them trembling and beggin' for mercy in no time flat!" Skids bet eagerly. 

"You're on!" crowed Riptide. "But I still think Perceptor's the real dark horse..."

[solbaby7]

Testing the Waters

pairing: rhysand x reader

[ 1 ] [ 2 ]

part 3 to the shy!reader massage mini-series

warnings: sexual content, minors DNI, massages, some swearing, probably typos

summary: Weeks of rubbing up on a certain High Lord is bound to build some tension.

—

“Need you to do something for me, bunny.”

There’s a feeling in your stomach at the pet name, bare toes digging further into the throw blanket and it’s instinctual the way your body rises to meet him, your book long forgotten. Rhysand doesn’t resist when you come ease his jacket from his shoulders and throw it over the couch. “Anything.”

His hands run over the back of his neck, head slowly rolling and the tension in his body is unmistakable. He doesn’t even bother asking you to go grab your oils or salts; Rhysand’s hand waves and it’s all laid out on the table before you. His clothes disappear with a lazy blink and the way the High Lord’s body drapes across the couch in your room was utterly boyish, boxers tight around his thighs. “Please? I always get the best sleep after these.”

You hum in acknowledgement, grateful for his face pushed into the pillows to hide the blush that blooms at the sight of his body. It never got tiresome; the rippling muscles that contracted whenever he adjusted or the gravelly tone that set in when you finally got your hands on him. It begins as a fleeting touch, fingers just barely grazing the smooth skin between his shoulder blades and his body goes still. “Try to focus on your breathing,” It feels weird as you say it, giving the most powerful male in all of the Courts a demand but Rhysand is quick to comply. “Gonna try something a little different this time.”

You’re not even facing him and you can feel the smirk that pulls on full lips. “Is that so? Maybe I should lie on my back instead.”

“You know, Cass said the same thing when I did this for him last night.” Rhys goes quiet a moment, violet irises tracking your every move like hunters did their prey, taking in the gentle tease of the pale purple hem of your nightgown against your thighs, the cute tapping of your toes against the terra cotta rug as you pulled out a black box filled to the brim with smooth rocks that were warm to the touch.

“And did you take him up on his offer?”

There’s a shake in your voice when you answer, skin blooming with heat at the nature of the conversation but you busy your hands with the little glass jars of oil, its contents significantly depleted. “That’d be highly inappropriate. He’s my friend.”

Rhysand relaxes instantly, clearly pleased with your response but his eyes still watch you as you prepare. Dainty fingers dip into a tiny little jar and you’re swift in the way you swipe it under his nose, the soothing scent of lavender filling his nostrils each time he breathed and he couldn’t deny the way it aided in his relaxation. “You’ve never thought about it?”

“Rhys,” It comes out so quietly you barely hear it yourself, skin going warm and you’re quick to sit on the back of his thighs before he can see the affect his words have on you. “You don’t usually ask me questions like this.”

“I’ve had a long week, bunny. Reports and responsibilities; things you don’t have to worry your pretty head about.” You try to focus on the crackle of the fire instead of the casual compliment falling off the deep rumble of his low voice, throat bobbing when he lets out a little chuckle. “Indulge me.”

Heated oils drips on his spine, a deep sigh releasing when you finally put your hands on him. Slow, smooth motions; easing the stress away from the broad stretch of his shoulders to the muscular taper of his waist. “Was that an order, High Lord?”

“No.”

It takes a second for you to work up the nerve to answer and you’re grateful he doesn’t push; taking the time to ease into the feeling of your palms gliding over golden skin. “Yes, I’ve thought about it,” You finally confess, thumbs pressing firm circles near the spot where his wings would sit.

A groan pulls from deep inside the High Lords throat and you can’t tell if it’s from your fingers or the shy admission but you don’t ask; too fearful of the feeling beginning to form between your thighs and you’re quick to readjust your positioning, rising to your knees to avoid any more contact than necessary. He was too handsome—smelled too good and felt like heaven beneath your fingers that you didn’t trust yourself not to grind down on the thick thighs beneath you if he’d asked a thing more.

Mother above seems to laugh at you, winking from above when the Lord of Night leans into your touch, one eye prying open to look at you. “Tell me what you think about. Tell me who.”

“My Lord, I really think—“

“Come on, bunny. I’m just Rhys when we’re like this; just tell me.”

You swallow thickly, hands stuttering to a stop on his back. “You promise not to laugh at me?”

“I’d never.” The seriousness in his words is all you need to nod a little to yourself, one hand bracing at his waist to lean over and grab the warm rocks he’d summoned. They’re smooth to the touch; retaining their heat and once they touch his skin, he finds them to be far more soothing than initially anticipated. “Cross my heart.”

Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, debating on if you were actually brave enough to do as he’d asked—not commanded. It felt like such trust; an opportunity to make him proud and you didn’t want to disappoint no matter how jittery it made you. “Sometimes, when I’m doing this,” You feel him adjust beneath you, head turning to the side and even though his eyes are closed you can still see that gentle furrow of concentration, waiting in anticipation. “—I think about letting my hands wander places I know they aren’t supposed to.”

He sucks in a sharp breath when your fingertip barely grazes under the waistband of his underwear and he’s acutely aware of the tremble of your knees on either side of his hips. He doesn’t want to say anything, violet eyes clamped shut as his mind wandered to just that, your soft hands coated in sweet oils wrapped around his cock, those shy eyes fluttering with wonder at the way he’d crumble to pieces for you.

A High Lord, completely at your mercy.

Rhys swallows thickly, voice so hoarse it’s impossible to miss the affects your words have on him and a confidence brews in your belly, words more sure when you proceed. “I think about what would happen the next time one of you jokingly asks me to strip down for my turn and I actually do it.” A smile works its way on your mouth when you see the way the High Lords brows crease, imagination running wild behind those lids.

“You think about doing that with all of us?”

Silence.

The gentle scrape of rocks against one another as you trail them up and down the sides of his spine, the oil slick and the warmth working out deep knots from the countless hours being hunched over his desk with a whiskey in hand and brain overloaded with information Rhys was no longer processing. “At the same time?”

The noise he lets out is positively sinful and you’re suddenly aware of his breathing beginning to quicken. “You can’t say things like that.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t understand.” But you did now, understood the underlying question behind his inquiry. “I sometimes think about it with Cass on nights he’s trained especially hard because he gets really vocal and sometimes those sounds are really hard to get out of my head.” Rhys hums in strained understanding, body relaxing but his hips keep shifting every now and then, fingers clamped tight around his biceps as he encourages you to continue. “Sometimes, I think about it with Az because when I’m doing an especially good job, he gets so relaxed that his shadows forget to obey and they start playing around in my clothes.”

Rhysand grunts but you take it as your hands doing good work, not the fact that he didn’t blame the slinking shadows; nearly subject to doing the task himself if you’d kept up.

“But you, High Lord,” It comes out breathless, hands stilling as if you couldn’t focus on touching and talking at the same time. “I think of you the most.” He physically shivers at the confession, fingers gripping so hard at his arms he’s sure he’s left marks but he tries to relax, forces himself to breathe and listen to the pure filth of such desires that hummed deep within your brain.

If only he could just slip past and look for himself—

“Especially that night with you in the tub,” You whimper, the noise sending filthy shocks of pleasure straight to his cock. The rocks clamber to the floor, his body twisting before you can comprehend his hands suddenly on your waist, violet eyes half lidded and so lust blown they’re nearly black. You can see the print of his arousal through the thin fabric of his underwear and you’re certain he’s clocked the way your tongue slides over your bottom lip. “Rhys.”

“Keep going, bunny.” His voice is wrecked, tone so low and commanding you don’t resist when strong hands ease you down on the thick bulge. He gives you time to deny it, to pull away and scramble off but it never happens.

“But—“

“You’re just helping, right? Helping your High Lord and this,” You follow his gaze to where both of you touch, the hardness of him pressed between your legs, the embarrassing wet patch that he’s surely felt seep through thin cotton. “I really fucking need this.”

The delicious drag of his hands guiding your hips over the rigid length of him, gaze eating up the way your lips part and your hands slip against his abdomen. "What about me in the tub, bunny? Tell me."

You don't understand how he expects such things from you when you can barely keep control over your body with such intense pleasure coursing through it. The friction of cock and cloth against your sensitive clit is enough to have your toes curling at the pressure, fingers digging perfect marks into your hips as you scramble through the brain fog long enough to remember how to form words and string together sentences. "Fuck," The slur doesn't even sound like you, eyes clamping shut and it takes great effort to remember what had been asked of you. "I've thought about it every night since; picturing what you looked like beneath all those bubbles."

"Was hard as a fucking rock the second you stomped to the door." He feels you clench around nothing, head falling back as you submitted to the pleasure and he genuinely has to hold back from finishing the second your hand slides up your own frame to grab at your breast. "Mother above."

He doesn't even have to guide your movements anymore, hips grinding into him with such hunger it makes the room darken; a deep, rumbling power filling the space and Rhysand actually moans when you don't shrink away from it. "Rhys, I'm—"

"Just a little more for me, yeah?" You catch yourself nodding along with him even when you don't believe you'll be able to fulfill his command. The burn in your stomach was near unbearable, mind stuck in a frenzy when warm hands bunch up the thin hem of your nightgown just enough to show off the wet drag of cloth on cloth. "So fuckin' pretty."

So eager to please, eyes glossy and half-lidded when you peer down at him, hands running over the defined muscles of his abdomen as your hips take on a pace that had the High Lord sucking breath through his teeth. "Thought about being the reason you made those noises. Wanted to use my hands," Your fingers drag over the strong planes of his chest, nails scratching just enough to leave a hint of a trail and your words carry a sultry drawl to them. "—my mouth too."

He's seconds away from release, skin on fire and hands eager in their exploration of your body over the silky material of your clothes. He trials up the length of your belly, fingers smoothening over the hard nipples poking through. The room smells of arousal, male musk and feminine desire twisting about the air so thick there'd be no way denying what had taken place if anyone had decided to walk in.

None of it matters though.

Not when you lean over, hands bracing on his chest and press a whisper of a kiss to his bottom lip.

The bruising grip on your hips leave only to pull your mouth back to his own, both of swallowing the others moans in and you can feel his cock twitch against you the moment your own release shudders through you. He doesn’t stop kissing you through it, hips slowing to a stop and you have to pull away simply to catch your breath before you pass out. “It’s your turn,” You huff out and you’re quick to smooth out the curious furrow of his brow. “To tell me what you’d been thinking about all those times?”

A feline smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I’d rather just show you.”

[solspina]

Into Good Night

mephiston ⋆˙⟡

a tiny blurb so the brain worms will stop eating at me until i can get a full story out. god knows if anyone has ever hugged this man, by the emperor i shall be the first. unedited as i just needed to tell myself a bedtime story.

a lack of rest is not easy or healthy for the mind of a psyker. resting once will not hurt

warnings: none, just fluff :)

rage, rage against the dying of the light

do not go gently into that good night.

but perhaps once, and only once, it would not hurt to slip under into a sleep like death. just a few minutes, mephiston promised himself. maybe it would not hurt to pass his time by resting instead of pushing himself to the very limit of his power, escaping the enveloping warmth of the rage right before it consumed him, again and again.

over and over.

the only other being that resided within his chambers was an assistant of his. they were one who carried around countless vials of blood, always prepared to drive them into the thick skin of mephiston in one of the many cases he had ever slipped too far.

but this being was only human, yet tasked with such a great responsibility. perhaps the rest that he took now was purely for their sake.

that’s what he wanted to believe, that he wasn’t engaged in the selfish and vile sin of resting. he was doing nothing good for himself by condemning himself to vulnerability in the arms of this human. and yet he trusted them with his life on a daily basis as he hung by a thread on the edge of his sanity.

they sat with their legs crossed on his bed, staring down upon him, and he stared back. his head was placed strategically in their lap so that they could brush and weave their tiny fingers through his long blond hair. he thought himself greedy for indulging in their affection, and yet they seemed to think the opposite.

they didn’t see the monster his brothers saw, nor did they see the paleness of his skin or the inhumanity that stirred in those glowing blue eyes.

they simply saw mephiston

or perhaps it was calistarius they saw

for they looked at him and smiled. not in a taunting way, not in a way that makes mockery of him. they saw through the emptiness and rage, and peered their own gaze into the heart of the man he was before he was reborn.

there had been nights that they had come to him seeking warmth, in which he had swiftly rejected at first. until a particular sleepless night that he had accepted their request to join him in his bed. the moment their warm stomach made contact with his cold and bare back, he had felt every ounce of anger, rage, and doubt fade from his mind like fleeting waves.

he was calm, serene, and at peace. a look of bliss had made its way across his features, his lips shifting away from his permanent scowl and into something akin to neutrality.

much as he did now.

their fingertips rubbed at his scalp, careful to avoid the metal pools within his temples as their light slowly faded, the tubes disconnected from his head. his eyes had long since closed, even as they moved to caress his face, their palms settling upon his cheeks as their fingers cupped his sharp and gaunt jawline, he did not move.

the psychic weight had completely faded from the air, as had the light emitting from his body. he looked near lifeless, but at peace.

they traced the scars that covered his shoulders as an after effect of the primaris surgery. it had been incredibly difficult for him to sleep since then, as they had only counted a few hours of proper rest for him over the past several months, for no more than minutes at a time.

they prayed he’d stay asleep, at least for the duration of a solar night around terra. it was easy to have an uneasy mind when you were deprived of rest, even as a psyker and primaris space marine.

they leaned down, placing their lips against the bridge of his nose before pulling away and joining him under the blankets as he breathed softly against the pillow underneath him. by some miracle, his skin felt some sort of warm and the perpetual furrow in his brow had completely disappeared.

just one time, go gently into that good night

[mothiir]

little rabbit - e.g the droit seigneur fic

authors notes: first time I’ve written fanfic in an age and it’s 40k smut. Inspired by @moodymisty’s amazing continuations of that one unhinged ask I sent about the emperor cucking his sons (on anon because I was not expecting people to actually vibe with it)

Cw: dubcon, size kink like woah.

It has been a long, long time since he’s had a human woman -- oh, back in the halcyon days of his youth, back when Terra was the only planet he knew, he was a warlord with the tastes of a warlord, and left many a pretty young thing with trembling thighs and flushed cheeks (or with teary eyes and puffy lips, depending on his mood). But the mission, the hungry endless gaze of the monsters beyond the stars, the crushing weight of his responsibility -- it distracted him. There were far more important things that called his attention, and as hundreds of years became thousands his power grew, and his humanity atrophied. Sexual desire, he assumed, went the way of compassion and affection: sloughed aside, deemed unnecessary and detrimental to his greater purpose. 

But even the greatest man to ever step foot on the red earth can be wrong sometimes, and for the first time in millenia he is glad of it. The girl in his lap was not even born --nor, for that matter, were her grandparents’ grandparents -- the last time he bedded anyone, and the thought stirs some deep, primal part of him, a sense of ownership. 

“Easy,” he rumbles, as she whimpers and shivers, her tiny body barely able to take even the head of his cock. He strokes her sides, kisses her jawbone, then mouths along her jugular, relishing the rabbit thrum of her heart against his tongue. “We have all the time in the world. Take it slowly.”

He’s getting sentimental in his old age, he swears. Time was, he would have split her clean open in his desire to get inside -- though, of course, that was when he was a good deal smaller than he is now. He has no desire to rip her asunder on his prick. 

She hiccups and whines, his hands moving to her hips, spanning not only her waist but the lean length of her thighs. 

“Hurts,” she manages, and he chuckles.

“Yes. But you’re a good girl, aren’t you? You can do it.”

He knows she’s stronger than she looks. When he found her, she was in Roboute’s quarters, smelling of the Primach’s sweat. He didn’t think his son indulged in his serfs, but he cannot begrudge him the distraction -- after all, Gulliman is precisely the soldier the Emperor needs him to be. A little too uptight, perhaps, and altogether too fond of spreadsheets, but a useful strategist. And, apparently, someone who shares his father’s excellent taste in human women. 

“I -- I don’t know --”

She wriggles herself over him, and he spares one hand to hold his cock still, making it easier for her. The mere fact that she is arguing back has him pulsing with desire; it has been so so long that a human has looked at his shining face without falling to their knees in supplication, let alone since one has argued back when he demands the impossible. 

Well: seemingly impossible. He is larger than Roboute, but not insurmountably so, and he has unending faith in the indomitable human spirit. And in the accommodating stretch of the human insides. 

There’s an almost audible pop as he finally pushes inside, and she cries out. 

“Oh god --  I mean -- shit -- I don’t mean I believe in gods -- I don’t -- ”

Her eyes widen with fear, and he laughs -- a deep bass rumble that she probably feels in her marrow.

“Lord is an appropriate term of address,” he says, teasingly, nuzzling at the top of her head. It’s adorable just how nervy she is; like a small animal clasped in his hands. A rabbit cowering before a bear. 

“Yes -- yes my lord --” she pants, and he allows her a moment to adjust, before starting to pull her down onto him. She’s warm and soft inside, overwhelmingly so, and the Emperor moans with appreciation, awkwardly hunching his shoulders so he can continue to lave his tongue and teeth over her neck -- before pulling back so he can admire the way her belly bulges around his girth, his cock pushing aside her insides to make room for him. 

She’s whimpering, her fists clenched in his robes, salt tears starting to drip down her cheeks. He licks them away. It’s all so much for her -- too much. And yet the little warrior does not quibble or complain; she takes him, and takes him, and when he’s seated all the way to the hilt, her small body flush with his lap, he rewards her with a moment’s pause, and another deep kiss, exploring the inside of her mouth. She’s small enough that his tongue practically fills her up, sinking almost to her gullet, heedless of her blunt human teeth. 

“There,” he says, and she coughs out a proper sob, so clearly stretched to the absolute limits. He rubs at the outline of his cock inside her, her skin stretched taut around him. “Now. Let’s begin.”

[jaune-submissive-and-breedable]

Jaune was alive was all Saphron could think about, her baby brother was alive. But now he wanted to leave again and go into more danger, oh no that was not happening. So she talked with her wife Terra and she agreed that it was better if he stayed. That night the married couple took him to their marital bed and showed him why he should stay. He would be their good boy from now on.

Saphron Arc frowned as she stared at her dinner, thought of what she just heard plaguing her mind

"I'm going on Grimm patrol tomorrow.." her baby brother, Jaune, told her. The look of pure determination on his face

"You can't!" her wife, Terra cried out, slamming her fork on the table "You were gone for months....lost in Oum knows where, and NOW YOU'RE GOING TO RUN BACK OUT THERE JUST WHEN YOU FINALLY CAME HOME!"

Tears began leaking from her eyes as she stared at the blonde

"We thought you were dead.......your entire family thought you were dead.....You just can't leave them....us....Adrian feeling like that again"

Jaune shook his head and sighed deeply. His deep blue eyes locked on hers.

"That's the point, Terra....If I don't, then who?" With that he stood up, leaving the table. he only got a few steps in before collapsing onto the ground, his entire body numb.

Saphron rose from her spot at the table and made her way towards her brother, discarding her pants as she did. She watched as he tried to ask what was happening to him, but the numbing agent she mixed in his food prevented him from speaking. She turned him over so he was laying on his back, and straddling his lap she stared into his scared cerulean eyes

"I'm sorry Jaune. I knew we couldn't convince you, no matter what we said.." reaching down, she unzipped the fly of his pants, fiddling with his underwear, and pulled out his flaccid sex organ. slowly stroking him. "So...We'll have to take matters into our own hands. I can't lose you again..."

Once he was sufficiently erect, Sahpron raised herself til she hovered over his cock, breathing nervously since she was about to rape her own brother to keep him safe. She looked to Terra who nodded at her actions. Sliding her underwear to the side, she lowered herself onto him, gasping at the sensation of having a cock filling her vaginal walls.

"It's for your own good jaune," She told him, and herself as she slowly ground her hips into his. Her lips parted releasing small moans from her actions. It was long before she increased her speed and rode him silly.

Terra played with herself as she watched her wife grinding frantically against her brother-in-law. A small part of her felt jealous that it wasn't her. It was no secret she had feelings for the boy, it was evident when he impregnated her with Adrian. She wished he would do it again under, more preferable conditions, but she needed him to stay. If drugging him and raping him daily would keep him with her then so be it. He would come to accept his new life with time. After all, it was for his own good.

Jaune cried as he was forced to watch his sister violate him. He wanted to push her off, scream at her to come to her senses, or maybe even call for help. Sadly thanks to this drug, he could only lay there and watch Saphron stare into his eyes as her climax approached. And his own, much to his shame.

With a final grind, Saphron gasped surprised as she felt his warm seed flooding her canals. Sperm drowning her eggs and pushing itself out the same way it went in. Thanks to his genetics, she was for sure impregnated, and if not, they had all day to try again.

Slide off his cock, which thanks to his aura, was still erect and ready for more, she nodded at Terra. the tan woman hurrying over and planting herself on his sensitive organ. Crawling over to Jaune's face, she gentle kiss lips, and wiped away his tears.

"It's for your own good." she whispered before leaning in for another kiss.

___________________________________________________________

3 months later

"Yes....I understand....Please stay safe...Adrian would hate for his two favorite people to get hurt" Saphron said into the scroll, "And I'll tell Jaune you two sent your greetings"

After the call ended, She made her way to her and Terra's bedroom. Looking inside, she saw her brother, lying on their mattress motionless.

"Lian & Nora sent their hellos," She said, slowly stripping away her clothes, revealing a growing baby bump in her stomach. "The said they be by later tonight"

As she grew closer to the boy, it was event that he was not the same as he was. He was completely naked, the spark he once had in his eye now gone and his hair longer and messy. As she touched his body, he flinched, the rattling of metal made audible by his movement.

Saphron frowned see this, having thought he'd learn by now, "Jaune...please....We all want what's best for you."

She turned her head to the bound and gagged Oscar in the corner, desperately trying to escape.

"What's best for both of you"

______________________________________________________________

Also if the ending is a bit confusing, LIan and Nora knows what happened to Jaune, and are active participants. At some point tied up Oscar with the intent to do the same

[raccoonfallsharder]

✩࿐࿔ do your damn stretches. [new 6/3]

✩࿐࿔ take what you need masterlist | take what you need queue fanfiction masterlist | navigation

fluff | gn reader | no use of y/n | anthology one-shot | word count: 1,980. read ✩࿐࿔ do your damn stretches on ao3 excerpt & warnings below the cut.

the captain expects you to take care of your body, like a finicky firearm that needs a little extra daily maintenance. so add your stretches to your daily frickin' schedule and don't skip 'em, or he'll get sic nebs on you.

for @raccoon-coded ♡♡♡♡ i hope this is even a little bit helpful (i know every body is different and so maybe the result of not-doing-your-stretches doesn't line up exactly with the "you" of this scene, but i hope it's at least somewhat relatable). and i hope that when you are tempted to not prioritize your stretches, you can imagine rocket banging on your door at the same time every day to demand you stick to your schedule.

The voice is far too concerned to be the Captain’s. That’s why you don’t clock it at first: too focused on bunching your muscles, then flexing them — trying to be subtle while you’re surrounded by the Knowhere nightlife. It seems like every other cycle brings some new neighborhood-festivities to the city of Exitar. Usually, these parties are pretty chill: laughing couplets and quintets, drifting in and out of the edges of the street and the open-front bars like starfish when the tides come in. Every night here feels like cool summer — at least when the climate control’s not on the fritz, or Rocket hasn’t turned it down for the Christmas party. The shadows are long and lean and purple, singed at the edges with the warm glow of countless tiny plasma-orbs, tinkling and jingling on their strings like little windchimes. Every breath tastes like spices from the orloni vendor’s stall, sweetened by the astringent fruity smash of spilled skullside moonshine, and cut through by the burnt-ozone and hot-metal scent of fireworks. Well, fewer fireworks and more gunfire, probably. But still, nights like this always call up the scent-memory of your first open-air concert on Terra, and how everything had smelled like summer nightskies and booze and pyrotechnics. Which is why you’re here, soaking up the atmosphere like you do every time there’s a celebration. You grin while you watch a few Star Kids bouncing through the streets, playing some sort of game that reminds you of hopscotch. Endless laughing clusters of adults ramble past, too: pausing to ask how you are, offering to bring you drinks. Normally, you’d be with them: weaving your way through the throngs of people garlanding the edges of the streets, bringing the Broker another cocktail because he’s just always adorably surprised whenever someone does something nice for him. Maybe trading playful insults with Howard, till he gets so flustered and annoyed that he quacks at you. But a lack of attention to your body the past few rotations has instead resulted in this: you, alone, perching on the sidelines — lounging on a bone-brick retaining wall while the rest of Exitar’s citizens swirl around you in little eddies and flows. It’s not so bad, you think as you try to surreptitiously flex and stretch your body, smiling and nodding when Steemie strolls by and grins a hello and a crinkle-eyed smile your way. You may not be enjoying your night the way you normally would, but you are still enjoying it. “Kid,” the voice says impatiently, which is when you realize it does belong to the Captain after all, and that he’s talking to you. “I asked you a frickin’ question.” You blink and half-twist so you can peer over your shoulder, surprised to find him close enough to touch, and almost at eye-level thanks to your seated position. “Oh, hi,” you greet, your smile curling your lips happily. It’s always nice to see him — even when he’s being an ass — but it’s especially good on nights like this, when he actually lets himself come down and join in the community that he’s worked so hard to create and protect. “What was the question?” He crosses his arms across the soft blue canvas of his shirt and squints one eye, raking it over you. “I asked if you’re okay.”

read more on ao3 ✩࿐࿔ for nonnie ♡ ✩࿐࿔ take what you need masterlist | take what you need queue

need more reminders from rocket?

the world is hard, and sometimes it's difficult to complete daily tasks & take care of yourself (aka rocket bullies you for your own damn good).

feel free to ✩ request reminders ✩ via reblogs, asks, and tumblr or ao3 comments if they would be helpful for you. it may take me a hot minute to get to them depending on life n stuff, but i will do my best. ♡ view the take what you need queue to see upcoming installations & the current backlog. SOFT HIATUS: feel free to request things but i am going to take a brief break from twyn. i got a few requests here on tumblr for other things i'd like to take a crack at!

this is about as wholesome as it gets (for me) i think. can be read platonically or romantically. mcu-based anthology, meant to take place post-volume-3, but headcanon however you want ♡

✩࿐࿔ take what you need masterlist

eat somethin. (wc: 576)

go to frickin bed already. (wc: 737)

get outta bed & get your shit done.(wc: 925)

take a damn bath. (wc: 1,375)

leave your frickin skin alone. (wc: 1,579)

take a fuckin study break.(wc: 1,020)

drink some goddamn water. (wc: 1,209)

stop destroying your frickin clothes. (wc: 1,609)

just buy the damn thing already. (wc: 1,271)

it's frickin laundry day. (wc: 1,923)

get some sunshine, sunshine. (wc: 1,614)

did you take your damn meds today? (wc: 1,288)

schedule your fuckin' appointments.(wc: 1,222)

do your goddamn dishes. (wc: 994)

brush your frickin' teeth. (wc: 1,774)

nobody fuckin hates you (wc: 1,231)

stop biting your goddamn nails (wc: 2,920)

take a frickin' shower (wc: 1,359 )

take care of your fuckin injury (wc: 2,102)

cook some goddamn food. (wc: 2,707)

clean your frickin room. (wc: 2,465)

stop hittin shit. (wc: 1,862)

do your frickin homework. (wc: 2,121 )

chill the fuck out. (wc: 1,499)

i'm damn proud a' you, kid. (wc: 1,639)

fuck heartache. (wc: 1,781)

stop frickin' apologizing. (wc: 1,207)

brush your fuckin' hair. (wc: 1,649)

stop bein' a jerk to yourself. (wc: 1,490)

do your damn stretches. (wc: 1,980)

if you find any of these at all helpful, they're meant for you.

teacup and teal line dividers by @/saradika-graphics | support banner by @/saradika-graphics | raccoon divider by @/thecutestgrotto. total wordcount: 47,160.

[lightandheatao3]

The Golden Boy

Fandom: Farscape Summary: John Crichton has changed. Everybody sees it. Maybe his kid sister, Olivia, is the one person who can see all the ways he is exactly the same as ever. A missing scene from the episode Terra Firma. Exploring the way John's relationship with his family has changed due to his experiences, and how it hasn't. Also giving a bit of weight to the lakka story line that I wish we had seen more of in the show. Word Count: 4,210 Warnings: Discussion of addiction Preview:

"Does dad know?" he asked, doing his best impression of someone who wasn't afraid of the answer. Liv gave a single, sardonic laugh. "I mean, he knows you're fucked up. No offense, but that much is obvious. But his golden boy on drugs? Come on. His mind would never even go there." "I'm not-" on drugs, he wanted to say. It's an alien substance, so technically- but he realized instantly that it was a pointless semantic argument, so instead finished the thought with, "his golden boy. These days he looks at me like I'm crazy most of the time." "Aren't you?" she asked, with a raised eyebrow and a teasing glint in her eye. He picked at a patch of grass beside him, pulling out the blades one by one. "You have no idea."

Read on AO3 or under the cut. All comments, reblogs, or kudos are extremely appreciated <3 I would love to hear your thoughts!

Crichton sucks in a breath of salty air, eyes closed to the sweeping harbor views. A beautiful sight that holds nothing of interest to him.

The feeling of the sun on his face, though, he can still appreciate. It was a wonder that a simple pleasure like sunshine could become something rarefied. Something beautiful, not in the way that the view was beautiful, but in the way a memory of childhood summer was. Warm, sublime, forever just beyond his grasp.

He hears a chirp of distant laughter, Chiana playing with his nephew somewhere. He'd retreated to his favorite spot on estate. Just by the water, down the shore a little, near the edges of the gilded cage that held the others away from public view. He was in earshot just in case something went wrong, because disaster was inevitable, but they couldn't see him here unless they came looking.

They never came looking. He'd never asked them to stay away. They knew him well enough that he didn't need to.

It must have been a few hours. The quiet was getting just a little louder and the buzzing in the back of his brain a little buzzier.

The lakka was wearing off.

It used to be one hit would last him half the day, but now two or three could barely get him from breakfast to lunch. He cracked his eyes open, debating whether to reach into his pocket and let his last hit take him into the afternoon, or to walk back up to where his friends and his nephew frolicked under the watchful eyes the ever present secret-service agents.

He saw for the first time that the shade he'd been sitting under had migrated away from him at some point as the sun burned it's way across the midday sky.

Damn. As he mentally scanned his body, he realized he could already feel the sunburn setting in. Frelling Australia. He forgot how quickly that high UV index would mess you here compared to the States.

He shuffled back up the gentle, grassy slope to shelter beneath a large tree.

Whatever. D'Argo would get a good kick out of him showing up red as a lobster later. If he was good for nothing, he could at least be good for a laugh. Maybe Aeryn would even crack a smile. She was trying so hard to pretend to be happy here. Maybe, for just a second, she could be happy for real at his expense.

He reached into his pocket, clasping his hand around the lakka. Decision made. No surprise. He made the same choice every time it came up, which was how many times a day now?

He tried not to keep track.

A twig snapped just behind him.

He whipped his head around fast enough to send a spike of pain through his neck.

His hand was still clenched in his jean pocket and his other first balled tight at his side. His heart was pounding out of his chest.

He drew in a sharp breath.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Liv. Do not sneak up on people like that!" he snapped.

His sister Olivia had her hands raised apologetically. A hint of something he didn't want to read too much into flickered over her eyes, but in a second it was gone behind a teasing smirk.

"It used to be that nobody could get the drop on you," she said, closing the rest of the distance between them and plopping herself down in the shade beside him. "You've lost your edge, John."

He huffed a laugh, relaxing somewhat.

He was still a little loose from the lingering effects of the lakka. A little numb. His heart rate slowed and his body eased a little faster than normal.

"It's funny," he said, not really sure why the thought was coming to him now but rolling with it anyway. "I'm still not really used to people calling me John again."

Liv tilted her head at him. "You mean… your name?"

"Yeah, I-" he shook his head, smiling. "That sounds weird, doesn't it? It's just that everyone up there calls me Crichton. The only person who's called me John in years is-"

Aeryn. On occasion. Usually in a moment of vulnerability, when she really needed to get through to him.

Liv seemed to understand. No surprise. She was always so perceptive. She took after their mom in that way.

"Well," she said, gracefully letting him avoid the topic just this once, "I am absolutely not calling you by my own last name."

He laughed. "I don't want you to. I kinda miss it. Just being regular ol' human John. One of thousands."

She looked at him funny, then laughed too. She bumped her shoulder against his. "Okay, Human John. As long as we're just being regular people, no life-and-death interplanetary brave new world shit…"

He sat up a bit straighter, turning to her. "What is it?" he asked, worried at how she tensed beside him. Was something wrong? Was she in trouble? What fresh hell was going to rain down on them all now?

"You mind if I ask you something? I've been wanting to for a while now, but it can be hard to get a moment alone."

"Oh. Uh… sure. Whatever you want."

"What's in your pocket?"

He narrowed his eyes in confusion. What the frell was she on about?

He followed her gaze to where his hand was still clasped around the lakka. He hadn't even realized he was still holding it.

Too quickly, he relaxed his hand and extricated it from his jeans, hovering awkwardly for a moment before opting to place it on the grass behind him and leaning back.

"Nothing," he said, cringing at how miserably he'd failed at playing nonchalant.

It didn't help that his head was still not entirely clear. He didn't think he'd have to talk to anyone that day if he didn't want to. Hadn't seen the harm in upping the dose a bit.

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, John. I followed you down here this morning to see if you wanted coffee. I saw you. You took something." Straight to the point. Typical Liv. Always has to say what's on her mind, even if nobody asked. "It's not the first time, either. You did the same thing at dad's the other week, out in the backyard when you thought nobody was looking."

"Then why the hell did you wait until now to ambush me about it?" he snapped.

"Because," she said with annoying patience and empathy, "I wanted to wait until you'd had time to come down. I didn't think this was a conversation we should have while you're still high."

"What are you, the hall monitor?" he bristled defensively. "Why don't you go tell the government cronies up there they can all go home. Saint Olivia is here to protect us all from ourselves. You haven't changed at all, you know. Still the same self-righteous little girl who thinks you're the only person in the family with an ounce of emotional maturity."

"Screw you," she bit back with a glare. "Coming from John the Martyr himself. How many 'stay in school, say no to drugs' lectures did I get from you as a teenager, you hypocrite? Do as I say, not as I do, right?"

Crichton stood up, putting a few paces between them and turning his back on her. He stared out over the water, squinting against the sun.

A second later, she was stood in front of him, staring him down.

She took a breath and successfully schooled that face that told him she wanted to rip him a new one.

"I'm not trying to pick a fight. I'm not even judging you. I just want to have an honest conversation with my brother. Is that really so hard for you?"

He met her eyes for a moment, then looked away.

"There's nothing to judge. It's medicinal. I didn't bring it up because I didn't want to freak you and dad out," he lied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Medicinal?" she said cautiously. "So you're sick?"

"No. Kind of. It's like the space equivalent of a cold. Just a minor viral illness that can be persistent over a few months. The medicine just suppresses the cough and stops it from being contagious," he said confidently, like he'd rehearsed the story even though he was completely pulling it out of his ass. "It's totally harmless. I've been cleared by the IASA medical team, but you know dad would freak out if he realized I was treating it with something that hasn't been FDA tested and approved. Hell, he'd probably call it unpatriotic these days and tell me to stick to American made meds."

She surveyed him skeptically, crossing her own arms in a mirror to him.

"Completely harmless?" she echoed.

"Absolutely."

"So it has no negative side effects on humans at all?"

"None at all," he said reassuringly.

"Alright," she said with a firm nod. "I believe you."

"Good," he said, breathing our a sigh of relief and letting his arms drop to his side. "Because it's the truth."

"Good. Then you won't mind if I try some," she said, reaching into his pocket faster than he could process the action.

He tried to dodged back, batting her hand away. They tussled, him wrapping his arm around her head and messing up her hair, her pinching his side hard. After a brief scuffle that he would never have allowed to happen if his recent months on Earth hadn't made him soft, she stepped back.

She held the lakka up triumphantly in her hand.

He looked around, making absolutely sure nobody, not the security team, his shipmates, or god forbid his father, were there to see this.

"Give it back," he hissed. "What the frell is your problem?"

She scoffed incredulously. "I don't have a problem. I just want to try it. It's totally harmless medicine so why do you care?"

She held the lakka up to her nose, and she handled it in a way that made it clear she's been watching him far more closely than he would have ever guessed. It hadn't occurred to him he should have be keeping his guard up around her.

How long had she been psyching herself up to confront him?

She moved to inhale the lakka and his heart dropped to his stomach.

"No!" he shouted, reaching forward and smacking it out of her hand. "Don't fuck with that shit, Liv! This isn't a game!"

The lakka fell to the ground, rolling a short way down the gentle slope towards the waters edge.

He wanted to dive after it, to snort the whole thing and to no longer have to think or feel or have this conversation. Instead, he peeled his eyes away from it and cast them over his baby sister.

She was staring at him with an expression that said one thing loud and clear: Gotcha.

He floundered. He wanted to defend himself, but he couldn't think of anything to say. He wanted to run away, but that would only make him look worse.

"If it's totally harmless," said Liv, a hint of smugness, "then why don't you want me taking it?"

"I-" He shoved his hands in his pockets, now empty. He couldn't scrounge it off the ground in front of his sister while she was already staring at him like he was some kind of frelling junkie. He had a little more back in his room. He could wait. "I don't know how it would…"

He wanted to say, 'I don't know how it would react with your unique physiology,' or 'It's only safe if you have traces of this completely made up virus in your system' or some other pseudoscientific babble in an attempt to keep up the lie that they both knew was a lie alive.

But he didn't.

He didn't say anything.

Why didn't he want her to try it? Why did the thought of it terrify him?

It was harmless and he was fine and he could stop any time he wanted. So why did the thought of his little sister touching lakka make him want to throw up?

He wandered back up the slope to the shady spot beneath the tree and sat back down.

Olivia stared up at him for a short while, arms still folded, looking like she was trying to solve a puzzle.

Eventually, she came and sat by him again.

"Do you remember when I came to visit you in college?" she asked calmly. "When I was starting to think about my own college applications and dad thought it would be a good idea for me to stay with you? He made me take the bus in by myself to 'learn some responsibility' which was actually code for he was working and didn't want to think about how things were changing."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"We were all fucked up after mum died. I mean, I knew you used to skip school to go drink by the lake before you graduated. I did the same thing senior year," she said with a fond chuckle. "Normal irresponsible teenager stuff, but maybe we took it a bit further than the other kids who didn't have a dead mom. I don't know. Anyway, when I showed up at your dorm, you were still asleep at like 2 pm, and your door was unlocked so I let myself in. I remember the whole place looked like a bomb hit it and there were empties all over the floor and a bong on the table."

He glanced at her out of the side of his eye, not sure where she was going with this but not liking it. "Hmm. I was living on a diet of beer and butter noodles through most of undergrad. Good times."

"As a somewhat delinquent 16 year old, I felt like I'd just walked into paradise. I sat myself on your shitty little couch and helped myself to a beer and some free weed. I was having a great time. Until you woke up and freaked out on me."

"I did not freak out," he said defensively.

"You totally did! You told me you were going to call dad and you blamed everything on your roommate and kept going on about how you never touched any of this stuff and I shouldn't either." She adopted a mocking impression of him, giving a faux lecture to her younger self. "Are you trying to ruin your own life? You need to get your act together, young lady. You were worse than dad was when he caught me with a joint that one time."

"I did not lecture you," he insisted. "I just didn't want my little sister turning into some directionless loser. I was worried about you."

"I know," she said gently. "It worked, you know. After that visit, I straightened myself out. Focused on school. Stopped partying. But it wasn't because of anything you said."

He rubbed his hands over his face, the skin stinging just a little where the sunburn was kicking in. "What was it, then?"

"You just looked so tired. That whole weekend, it was like you were empty. The only time you looked like you felt anything at all was when you saw me with that beer." She pondered a moment. "You were scared. That's how I knew it was a problem. You didn't like the way you were living, which is why the thought of me doing the same terrified you. If it was really okay, you wouldn't have cared what I did."

Crichton leaned back, resting on his elbows. He looked up at the leafy canopy.

"I'm not a drunk," he said coolly.

"I never said you were-"

"You were implying it. But I'm not. I partied in college because it was college, and yeah, I was messed up about mom. I got my dren- my shit together after undergrad and have been able to have a few drinks like a normal person ever since. There is a difference between drinking too much and being a drunk. A drunk can't control themselves, and I can control myself just fine."

"Sure," she agreed. "I know. There is a delicate line between drinking because you can't deal with your problems and drinking becoming your problem. Believe me, John, I get it. I don't know if you know this, but I watched my mom die of cancer when I was a kid, and when I finally felt like I had a handle on that, my brother went missing, presumed dead. I've had enough more than enough of my own problems to drown in my time."

His breath hitched. He sat up straight and looked at her. Really looked. She was calm and composed. There was a maturity about her, a weariness, that he was recognizing for the first time.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't realize."

"It's fine," she said, shrugging. "I don't know that I'd call myself a drunk, either. Maybe, former? Recovered? I mean, I'm fine now, like you said, I can have a drink on occasion and it's no big deal. But things got rough for a long while. Without the help of our dear big sister Susan, I don't know. Maybe I'd be in AA. Maybe I'd still be starting my mornings with a shot of whiskey in my coffee. And I'm not trying to accuse you of anything, John. But I think that maybe you and I are similar in this way. That's all."

His heart ached. It was so easy to forget that for all the people he lost, they had lost him, too. And none of them had the benefit of knowing he was alive.

This was his baby sister and he hadn't been there for her.

Worse than any of it was the shocking clarity of the realization that, for all of the vulnerability his sister was sharing with him, he still couldn't take his mind off the discarded lakka. Nothing she was saying dampened that desire one iota.

His stared at it, sat innocuously in a patch of dirt a few feet away. The answer to every question. The end to every pain.

For a few hours, anyway.

He could feel Liv watching him, but this time he didn't try to hide what was on his mind. There was no point. She already knew.

"Do you get sick without it?" she asked, dragging him from his reverie.

He peeled his eyes from the coveted object and glanced at her.

"No," he said. "It's not like that."

A little weak, maybe. A little shaky. A little like something was driving nails into his brain and running a sander over his nerve endings. But hadn't he felt like that all the time before he started taking it? Wasn't that the whole point?

It wasn't like withdrawal. Not really.

Probably.

"I mean…" he couldn't look at her. "I guess I don't know. I- I haven't tried to go without it for..."

For too long a time to say out loud.

He wasn't sure he remembered what he felt like without it anymore.

A soft hand came to rest on his shoulder. The corners of his eyes stung, and a single drop of moisture crawled down his cheek.

"Do you think you can stop?"

He hesitated, hating himself for having to think about it. "Yeah. I think so. If I really wanted to. But…"

Her hand rubbed circles on his upper back. He pulled his knees up, hugging his arms around them.

"But you don't want to," she finished for him.

He whispered back, "Not yet."

She pulled him into a hug, whispering "It's okay," and letting him bury his face in her shoulder. They stayed that way for a while, letting the truth percolate.

"Does dad know?" he asked, doing his best impression of someone who wasn't afraid of the answer.

Liv gave a single, sardonic laugh. "I mean, he knows you're fucked up. No offense, but that much is obvious. But his golden boy on drugs? Come on. His mind would never even go there."

"I'm not-" on drugs, he wanted to say. It's an alien substance, so technically- but he realized instantly that it was a pointless semantic argument, so instead finished the thought with, "his golden boy. These days he looks at me like I'm crazy most of the time."

"Aren't you?" she asked, with a raised eyebrow and a teasing glint in her eye.

He picked at a patch of grass beside him, pulling out the blades one by one. "You have no idea."

Her face softened. "He loves you, John. More than anything. He's just scared."

"Of me?"

"For you."

"I don't remember him being scared of anything."

"Really?" she asked in disbelief. "It's funny. I remember him as being scared my whole life. He likes everything to be black and white and easy to understand, and you're not any of those things anymore. None of us ever were, really. But you were the best at pretending." She paused, a crease forming in her brow. "Maybe it's because I was younger when we lost mom, so I had more time at home alone with him. Don't get me wrong, he was a good, loving father and he did his best. But he didn't have the first clue what to do with a grieving teenage girl who never wanted the things he wanted. I'm not saying he loved you more than me, but come on, John. He respected you. You know it wasn't like that for me. You might be the spaceman, but I feel like I've been an alien to him my whole life."

Again, his heart hurt for her. Instead of saying I'm sorry I wasn't a good enough big brother to you. I'm sorry I never knew how much pain you were in, he just put his hand on hers. She seemed to understand.

"Well, he knows now, anyway," he said with a bitter smirk. "That there's something wrong with me. I think that's why I feel so at home on Moya. The others, they knew it as soon as they saw me. But it never scared them. Not for a second."

"First of all, you couldn't scare me if you tried. Second of all, there is nothing wrong with you," said Liv firmly. "You're a survivor."

"So is a cockroach."

"Well, then I guess we're both cockroaches."

He rolled his eyes affectionately.

"I'm sorry I'm not who I used to be," he said after a long while. "I know it's making everything harder on all of you."

Dr John Crichton. The golden boy. Gifted young scientist. IASA rising star. Brave hero. Explorer. Castaway. Fugitive. Criminal. Survivor. Cockroach. Crazy. Insane. Addict.

Liv smiled sadly at him. "None of us are who we used to be," she said. "But I love who you are. I am so grateful to have you in my life again, whoever either of us are, and whoever we will become."

He gave her hand another quick squeeze, then put both his hands behind his head and lay back in the grass.

"You know, my fourth grade teacher, Mrs Johnson, told me that chewing gum was a sign of degeneracy and would turn me into a junkie and a homosexual," he deadpanned. "I didn't listen to her at the time, but maybe she was onto something."

"Mrs Johnson was a chain smoker whose lesbian daughter moved to New York and doesn't speak to her anymore."

Crichton laughed, and Liv laughed with him. "Abigail is a lesbian? Man, I never would have picked it."

"Oh, you're one to talk," she joked back. "I've heard some stories from Chiana and D'Argo."

"Dammit, I'm gonna kill them," he muttered to himself. Apparently the 'what happens in space, stays in space' talk he'd given them hadn't sunk in. Not like he'd ever engaged in much more than some inebriated exploration on the occasional pleasure planet anyway. It would never be more than that as long as Aeryn was in the picture. "What about you? The perpetual bachelorette? You're not fooling anyone, sis."

The two of them laughed together, ribbing each other as the afternoon drifted on.

Eventually, it was time to head back. His nephew had made an attempt to teach the others how to cook mac and cheese, so they had to endure whatever the end result was for dinner.

Crichton lingered a little behind Liv as she strolled back the house. She glanced back at him, a look in her eyes that said she knew what he was doing.

She said nothing. He was grateful to her for that.

A few minute later, he was jogging to catch up with her.

The discarded lakka was tucked safely back in his pocket, only partially used. Just enough to get him through the dinner, the inevitable pain of sitting across from Aeryn, pretending everything was okay.

Liv held onto his almost imperceptibly trembling hand as they crossed the remaining distance together. He knew she would hold on as long as he needed.

[ms--lobotomy]

I wanna smoke with Angron so we can get high and he eats me out

This one's for you and @undeaddream. I can fix him, (puts a bong in his hands) (sorry this came out on 4/21, the edible was sensational though)

Summary: You smoke a bowl with Angron to try to get the nails to stop hurting him.

Word Count: 1865 (oops)

Content Warnings: drug use, sploinkin' (nsfw), this is my first time writing Angron so I tried, blood, more "good girl" talk because I go absolutely apeshit over it, what I assume is rough sex, female reader so sorry if one of my lovely requesters is not a girl, I can write another version where you smoke him out and it doesn't get wild (like this at least)

Image Credit: @squishyowl (doubly tagging you because you did want an Angron fic at some point. Teehee!)

There wasn't much outdoor space in the Imperial Palace. You were situated on a bench big enough for Primarch or human, on the terrace at the top of your client's wing. It was far overgrown and untrimmed, it was clear that not many visited this area. The single moon of the planet was out tonight, tinged slightly yellow. There was a slight breeze, and you closed your eyes as you felt it on your skin. You had a job to do, the largest one you've ever had at that, but it was nice to be outside tonight.

"You here?" you heard someone bark from behind you. You snapped your head around to see none other than your client, a man--no, demigod-- by the name of Angron. Steel implements extruded from his head, and he bore a pained expression. Scars adorned his face and neck; the rest of his body was obscured underneath brass armor. He was accompanied by a few of his sons, helmed men equipped with bloodstained armor.

"I'm here," you replied, shrinking back into your flesh. He was large, very large. You'd heard of his temper; if you were to mess up even once, you would likely be ripped in half.

No matter. You pulled out your equipment. You had a bottle of water, a funny-looking glass implement, a fancy little lighter with an imperial Aquila on it, and a grinder full of a green flower cultivated on ancient Terra. You were one of the only researchers on the planet that dealt with ancient botany. You were told sometimes that you were one of the best, but if you were to come into contact with Angron, you were clearly more disposable than the others had let on.

He stared at your materials, coming in closer. "What's that."

"Oh!" you exclaimed. "The glass thing is a bong, and--"

"What kind of name is that."

"It's..." you started, your face going warm. Oh no. "It's just what the ancient Terrans called it."

"Do you think it'll help?"

You paused, and looked up at him. His eyes were garnet red, and he stared with an intense expression. He fiddled with his gauntlets a little bit.

"I'm not sure, to be quite honest," you replied. "But it's safe, and trying it will at least not hurt. Unless..." you paused, looking at him. "On second thought, you might need to take bigger hits than me."

"...You're supposed to hit it?" he asked, looking at the glass tool. As he wound up to throw a punch, you put yourself between it and him.

"Not like that!" you exclaimed. "It's how you inhale the smoke. See, you're supposed to mash up the flowers, put them in the bowl and burn them while you inhale."

"And this is supposed to make me feel better?"

"Well... maybe," you said. "It's not going to hurt you to try, at least!"

"If you say so," he sighed, rubbing his temples as you prepared the first bowl. You ground up more of the bud. When it was finally shredded, you put it in the bowl. You felt his stare at your side, but you didn't know whether it was at you or your equipment.

"Here's how you do it," you said. "You put it up to your lips, and inhale..." your voice became muffled as you put it to your lips. You stroked the lighter a few times before a flame came out, lighting the shredded flower on fire. As you inhaled, you felt smoke filling your mouth. When you felt like you couldn't bear it anymore, you exhaled.

"And... exhale," you said, a substantial cloud of smoke leaving your lips.

"Just like that?" he asked.

"You may need to inhale for longer, but yeah," you said, handing off the bong. "Here. Take a hit while it's still burning."

He put his scarred lips to the mouthpiece and inhaled, far longer than you could. He exhaled, a cloud more befitting of a man of his statue escaping him. His furrowed brows raised, and he nodded a little bit.

"Can you light it up again?"

You lit the bowl up as he inhaled again. This time he held it in a little bit before he let it out. You'd debated on telling him whether holding it in would do anything, but he would probably be okay... okay as he could be, at least.

"I..." you started as the pungent cloud hit your face. "I think we need to put more in the bowl." You gestured to the bowl, which was beginning to deplete. You looked up at Angron, whose expression was starting to relax further. After you'd taken a hit, you passed it to him.

The next few hours became a blur. You'd passed the bong between the two of you, getting higher with each puff. At some point, he'd pulled you in next to him, putting a heavy arm around you while you were smoking. You leaned your head on him, the metal cool against your flesh. Soon, one of you put the bong down between you.

"Leave now," he barked at his sons. They immediately turned around and went through the door at the other end of the terrace.

"How are you feeling?" you asked, one of his hands running through your hair.

"Not great," he admitted, "but better."

You looked up at him. His sclera were reddened, but yours didn't feel much. Despite how high you were, you'd been smoking long enough that this wasn't an issue anymore. He was looking down at you with something you hadn't seen in him before. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on. You saw him lean down to your level and plant a kiss to your lips. You put a hand to his armor and leaned in as he added his tongue, barely fitting in your mouth. He was rough, unpracticed. After a while, he pulled away, grasping for your hands. His expression was still stern, but there was a reverence in his eyes that you hadn't seen before.

"My Lord?" you asked, shivering in your seat.

"Angron," he corrected you. Even his voice bore the scars of his previous life, something you've all but heard of. He got up and knelt in front of you, still towering over you. He then went in again, his large hands grabbing at the fabric of your shirt. You let out a pitiful moan as you lifted your arms, letting him take it off of you along with your bra.

He bit your bottom lip, and you let out a little cry, grabbing for his shoulders. He wasn't gentle, and you knew that it was going to leave a mark later. He pulled back. A little bit of blood fell out of your skin, and he smirked. He pushed your hands back with his, pushing them behind your head as he bit you lower and lower, sometimes drawing blood.

"Be careful," you cautioned as he stopped at your nipple. He swirled it in his mouth as he looked up at you, grinding it with his teeth, but thankfully he did not draw blood there. He did the same thing on your other side, and you cried out, your hands tightening around his armored ones.

He bit your on your stomach a few times before he tugged at your pants. He shifted a little bit, hitting the bong with his knee and knocking it over. You looked down there for a moment. It wasn't broken, praise the Emperor. You raised your hips, and he pulled them off roughly, ripping them in some areas along with your underwear. He leaned over to snarl in your ear, giving you goosebumps.

"Good girl," he said, prying your legs open. Moans led to shrieks as he began to feast, roughly rubbing your apex as he held you down by the waist. He explored you as you came on him for the first time, trembling under his touch.

"Nngh... Angron..." you moaned, grabbing at the sides of the bench. As you were working your way up to your second climax, he pulled away.

"I may need to pull off my armor for this one," he said, peeling his gauntlets off first. You watched as each piece came off, falling to the grass with a loud thud each time. He ripped off his bodysuit, leaving the tattered fabric on the dirt. He was just as scarred over the rest of his body, scars trailing along everywhere. As he knelt down in front of you again, you absentmindedly touched one of them rippling across his chest. He grabbed your wrist, and your heart stopped in your throat.

"I'm sorry--" you started before he led your hand along the scar.

"This one was from right after the nails," he said, an almost-grimace on his face. He trailed your hand to another one. "And this one was--"

"Are you sure you want to get into this?" you asked, your other hand shakily finding its way to his face. He leaned into it, not unlike a cat would, and closed his eyes.

"You may be right," he said, his hands finding their way onto your shoulders. His grip was tight and rough, even this was going to scar you. "Let's finish the job then." He had a smirk on his lips as he moved his hands to open your legs again. You whined as he rubbed himself against you, before finally slipping himself in.

He immediately went in as far as he could, eliciting a little scream from you. "A-Angron!" you exclaimed as he pulled himself out before ramming himself into you again. Your face scrunched up in pleasure, and you grasped for anything you could reach before your hands trailed towards his chest.

He grabbed your waist, pulling you off of the bench and onto his lap. He sat up as you straddled him, pushing you on and off of him. Your eyes rolled back in your skull and your face lay against him. He wasn't gentle, you knew that you were going to feel it the next day. You came on him a second time, shivering as he sped up with you. He started grunting as well, a deep, guttural noise.

Not long after he came in you as well, twitching inside of you. You felt each twitch as he filled you up. He remained in you, but there was a little bit of white liquid coming out of you. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing your head into his chest as he panted. You wrapped your arms around him as well, but you couldn't reach your way around him. He ran a hand through your hair as you spoke.

"Are you doing okay?" you asked, your voice small and tired.

"Please, let's do this again," he rumbled.

You had done your job somewhat, but you weren't going to tell your higher-ups that you had relations while on the job. In fact, you might lose your place if they found out. Sure, you had the backing of a Primarch, but your superiors might still have a problem.

You ran your hands along his back. "Of course."

[novankenn]

Date-Day ... T-minus 36hours 23minutes

A snippet from "a Mafia" AU

Pyrrha didn't know what it was, about the Arc siblings, that caused her to feel out of sorts around them. Well she knew why she was that way with Jaune, though she would never give either her heart nor her mind the satisfaction of admitting it out loud. But Jaune's seven older sisters? She had no clue.

It wasn't like they were treating her badly. In fact they have been very welcoming to having Pyrrha around as Jaune's "bodyguard", But there was still something off about those seven women, and Pyrrha was about to voluntarily speak to the third oldest... about dating advice. Her heart fluttered at the thought of really holding Jaune's hand, and her mind... well her mind was a depraved and lewd place that she didn't want to touch right now.

With a slightly shaking hand, which was strange for Pyrrha as she was known to have ice water in her veins, and nerves of steel. Yet here she was shaking as she prepared to knock on Saphron's and her wife Terra's door. The pair were visiting the vineyard for a holiday, from their true home in Argus.

"Come in. It's open." came a very calm voice in response to Pyrrha's timid knocks. Pyrrha slowly pushed open the door and peered around its edge. "Oh, Pyrrha! Come in. Come in!"

Pyrrha plastered on what she hoped was a friendly smile, as she opened the door fully and stepped into the room. Saphron was alone in the well appointed room, sitting in a rocking chair, doing some needle point. She shot Pyrrha a smile.

"So to what do I owe this pleasant surprise visit?" Saphron asked, as she continued to work on her needle point. "I looks like you're troubled about something."

"Well... um..."

"Sit." Saphron pointed to a nearby plush chair as she set her needle work aside. Pyrrha took a seat, and then found Saphron leaning in close regarding her closely. "Is Jaune okay?"

"Jaune's perfectly healthy." Pyrrha reported. "He's in his room with Ruby and Yang playing video games."

"Good." Saphron did not sit back up, but just continued her leaning towards Pyrrha, "So?"

"Um... well... um..."

"Pyrrha, come now." Saphron leaned back into her chair, with a disappointed look upon her face. "A woman of you skills and reputation should have the spine to say what is on her mind. Now out with it."

"Date Night!" Pyrrha blurted out totally missing the comments about her skills and reputation.

"Date Night?" Saphron's warm smile became almost feral. "Are you FINALLY going on a date with Jaune? Who asked? Did you? Him?"

"No... no... Yang invited Jaune and Jaune invited me. Yang is taking Blake, and we're going to the movies, but I... I..."

"Have no idea how to act properly?"

"YES!"

"I can see you're issue." Saphron responded, her smile showing off strong gleaming teeth. "Have you come here to ask my advice?"

"YES!"

"Well firstly, calm down. This is a date, not a wedding ceremony. SO no need to be so nervous." Saphron calmly stated. "Jaune asked you because he wants you to go with him, which means he likes you and treasures your company."

"But..."

"Pyrrha, relax." Saphron still smiling her feral smile, leaned forward once again. "Everyone aside from Jaune knows you're more than you seem, and have it... bad for our adored little baby brother."

Pyrrha shivered, as Saphron said those final words. The emphasis on them giving Pyrrha the hint that a warning had just been issued. She shook the feeling away, much more interested in advice on how to not mess this up, over any implied things like threats of warnings.

"So first, dress nice but casual. No need to be fancy, it is just the movies." Saphron spoke slowly and softly, "In fact wearing that adorable hoodie he bought you would be perfect, paired with a nice pair of jeans, and sensible shoes."

Pyrrha nodded.

"Now for behavior." Saphron clasped her hand together. "This is a modern age, and as such, do not expect jaune to pay for everything. In fact you should offer to split the cost of the snacks, or pay for his and yours at the same time. We know you have the money."

Pyrrha nodded, again, totally missing the end comment.

"Now, just relax and enjoy the time together. Jaune is not going to get upset if you seem hesitant. He will think you're being shy, and not that you are a trained assassin sent to... hurt him." Saphron's vivid blue eyes flashed and her smile grew sinister.

"NO!" Pyrrha shouted as her date night addled mind just now cluing in on what Saphron had just said. She tried to jump from her chair, only to find a pair of strong hands pushing her down into the chair, by her shoulders.

"Thank you babe. I really didn't want to be chasing her through the house." Saphron addressed the owner of the hands holding Pyrrha in the chair. "Pyrrha, you know my wife... Terra."

"Hello!" Terra greeted Pyrrha, leaning over her shoulder, to shoot her a less than comforting smile.

"I..."

"Please be quiet, Pyr." Saphron cut off Jaune's failed would-be assassin by using Jaune's own pet name for her. "We've been watching you, and we're impressed. Even though you... originally were meant to end the life of our precious brother, you have instead been protecting him, that's points in your favor."

"You knew?"

"Of course my dear. We know about you, the five other attempts. We even know about Belladonna and her new line of work." Terra informed Pyrrha from over her shoulder as Saphron shifted in her seat, and began to unbutton the top of her shirt. "And as long as you continue to do as you have been, we have no issue with you being here, or even sharing a room with him."

"I would never..."

"We know you won't Pyr." Saphron commented, her steelie voice causing Pyrrha to focus her full attention on her. "We have faith in the strength of your... love for Jaune."

Pyrrha was stunned into silence not just from the blantant statement from Saphron, but also for what she was seeing. There inked into the flesh of Saphron's left breast, close to where the heart is was a very specific tattoo. A tattoo all knew about, but few if any had ever seen, and Pyrrha was staring at one right now.

"The Sisters of Mercy..." Pyrrha spoke that title with almost worshipful reverence, and utter ass puckering fear. It was at that point she understood why she was always on edge around Jaune's sisters, "You all are?"

"Yes. ALL Arc women are."

(A/N - All the titles now link back to the master list.)

[stars-n-spice]

HAPPY 추석!

It's Chuseok! Aka Korean Thanksgiving!!

So here are some Korean dishes, desserts, drinks, and snacks that I think the different members of the Bad Batch would enjoy!

Hunter:

Lots of spicy soups and meat!

A lot of this is just honestly my dad's personal favorites because,, dads y'know?

I actually don't eat a lot of these things but Hunter's got a stomach of steel so I think he can handle it

Echo:

Had a difficult time coming up with foods Echo might like since he's a picky eater

Lot of it is just really simple stuff with not too many flavors nor is most of it very spicy

Lots of veegtables and also things my sister and mom enjoy (both remind me of Echo)

Wrecker:

So much meat!!! Let's be honest - any and all meat from Korea, Wrecker is going to enjoy

He was the easiest to pick out food for because I think he'd enjoy everything

Lots of street food as well!! Which are my personal faves <3

Tech:

It was a bit difficult to figure out what Tech might like because I can't really get a read on him in terms of what his stomach can handle

I do think he has a sweet tooth though so I've included some of my personal favorite sweets!

I think he's a snacker though so a lot of these are just stuff you can much on

Crosshair:

Another picky eater - so it was difficult to come up with things for him

I also just think that he's not a big fan of Korean food to be honest :/ a LOT of it is spicy and he can't handle his spice so he doesn't really like it

HOWEVER he loves the ice cream and drinks of course <3

Omega:

SNACKS AND DESSERTS!!

Also included some childhood favorites because I think Omega would enjoy them as well!

Honestly most of this is just sweets because I think Omega would enjoy any and all Korean snacks and desserts above all else

Names of the foods and whatnot under the cut!!

Anything marked with an '*' are traditionally eaten during 추석! Anything highlighted in blue are my personal favorites! Read from left to right to identify dishes!

Hunter:

Kimchi jjigae (김치찌개) - kimchi soup; pretty spicy, honestly not one of my favorites but I think Hunter would enjoy spicy foods

Hotteok (호떡) - Korean dessert/street food; it's like a pancake with either red bean or sweet syrup inside and is served warm - I think it's like the one sweet that Hunter can tolerate

Bulgogi (불고기) - popular beef dish; has too much fat on it for me to like it but I think Hunter wouldn't mind and enjoys them

Gamjatang (감자탕) - potato/beef soup - my parents' personal favorite; has big bones with a lot of meat I think Hunter would enjoy stripping off

Sundae (순대) - "Blood sausage" - steamed pig/cow intestine with other ingredients inside; another one of my parents' favorites

Haejangguk/Hang over soup (해장국) - Korea has a heavy drinking culture so they have a whole ass soup to have after hangovers; I think Hunter would enjoy it and since he probably has bad migraines from overstimulation, this soup would help

Baccus (박카스)- Korean energy drink; he needs it - basically uncarbonated Redbull

Jollypong - Cereal snack; my personal favorite - included it with Hunter because my dad also loves this snack and has eaten MY jollypong on numerous occasions

Dalgona Coffee (달고나 커피) -Uhhh, I'm sure you probably know what this is - I think Hunter would enjoy the very needed coffee

Terra Beer - The only beer I like other than Modelo - my 큰아빠 introduced me to it and it's great

Peanut & Squid Ball Snack - This is just such a DadTM snack idk

Muneo-jorim/Braised Octopus (문어조림) - I think Hunter likes seafood and my dad loves octopus so -

Dwaejigogi-bokkeum (돼지고기볶음) - Mmmh spicy pork!

Jokbal (족발) - Braised pig trotters - it's super good and you eat it with a spicy sauce

Soegogi-gui (쇠고기구이) - More meats! Very chewy meat. Can be pork or beef.

Echo:

Bibimbap (비빔밥) - Classic Korean food; think Chipotle bowl but with Korean veggies and meat - basically just rice, ground meat, veggies, and other sauces (if you want) and sometimes an egg

Sikhye (식혜)* - Rice punch; pretty sweet

Mandu-guk (만둣국) - Dumpling soup; pretty plain but one of my favorites

Cucumber Kimchi (오이 김치) - literally just in the name; it's cucumbers made similarly to how you make kimchi; a banchan (side dish)

Buchujeon (부추전)* - Aka "Korean Pancakes" - Various ways to make things; can be spicy, can have seafood, can just be veggies

Mu-Guk (무국)* - Radish soup, pretty simple and plain in taste

Makgeolli (막걸리) - Rice Wine - because Echo is a wine mom, of course he's going to enjoy rice wine too

Turtle Chips - My sister's personal favorite chips - they have a very strong smell and are usually corn flavored

Kopiko Coffee Candy - When he can't get to actual coffee, he can rely on this candy to give him some caffeine boosts - also one of my mom's favorites

Bae (배) - Korean Pear - My favorite fruit ever; tastes like a mix of an apple and a pear

Yujacha (유자차) - Special kind of tea made from the yuja fruit

Injeolmi (인절미)* - A type of rice cake covered in dried bean powder

Gochu-bokkeum (고추볶음) - A banchan that's basically just kimchi-fied peppers

Goguma (고구마) - Cooked sweet potato - another of my mom and sister's favorites

Galbitang (갈비탕) - Beef soup - something simple in taste, good amounts of meat, another of my mom's favorites

Crispy Rice Rolls - Literally just like,, rice sticks; I don't really like them any more :/ but they look like rations - another one of my sister's favorites

Wrecker:

Bossam (보쌈) - Steamed pork that you usually dip in spicy sauces and wrap in a lettuce

Budae Jjigae/ Army Stew (부대찌개) - A popular, spicy, Korean soup made of a lot of ingredients

Kimbap (김밥) - Korea's version of sushi

Jjampong (짬뽕) - Seafood Soup (usually spicy)

Korean Fried Chicken - Any and all types of KFC; it's so fucking good you guys, my absolute favorite

Korean Corn Dogs - Another one of my favorites; a street food that can be made in various ways

Sotteok Sotteok (소떡소떡) - Street food; rice cakes and sausages on a stick

Samgyeopsal (삼겹살) - Black Bellied pork - served with a multitude of things and is one of my favorite things to eat because half of it is the experience of cooking it with my family

Galbi (갈비) - Korean Short Ribs

Jokbal (족발) - See Hunter's (I think they'd both like it)

Shrimp Chips - Chips flavored like shrimp - the man likes seafood so I think he'd enjoy this

Shin Ramen - Spicy instant Ramen

Homerun Balls - Like those Hello Panda candies - it's a cracker with chocolate filling inside

Papico Ice Cream - Chocolate ice cream

Myeolchi-ttangkong-bokkeum/Anchovy Banchan (멸치땅콩볶음) - Baby anchovies that are seasoned and mixed in with peanuts - banchan dish

Tech:

Gyeran Jim (계란찜) - something like an egg soufflé that is steamed instead of baked and doesn't have any dairy products

Japchae/chapchae (잡채)* - Glass-noodles; has a good amount of vegetables in it

Miyuki Guk (미역국) - Seaweed soup; my personal favorite soup - usually eaten on birthdays - also, like me, I think Tech doesn't care for the 'seaweed' part of the soup and will fish it out and just drink the soup

Curry Buldak (불닭) - Big fan of the idea that Tech loves curry so by default he probably enjoys the curry buldak as well

Mandu (만두) - Korean Dumplings - any and all, Tech just enjoys popping them in his mouth

Yeot-gangjeong (엿강정)* - Rice cake dessert mixed with various nuts

Red Bean Hotteok (팥호떡) - Read Hunter's - I think Tech would like the red bean version

Korean Popcorn - Idk how to describe this other than it's just,, Korean popcorn - it's really good despite not tasting like anything

Binggrae Power Cap Soda Flavored Ice Cream - An ice cream that kinda is like a slushie and has a very unique taste

Korean Curry (카레 라이스) - Again, Tech loves curry so he loves Korean curry as well

Ojingeochae-muchim (오징어채무침) - Seasoned Dried Shredded squid - a banchan dish that I think he'd enjoy slurping up

Kkwabaegi (꽈배기) - Twisted Korean Donut - I think Tech has a sweet tooth and these are simple and my favorites; think churro

Odeng (오뎅) - Fish cake - either in a soup or a skewer

Dalgona (달고나) - From Squid Game; a sweet cookie that usually has some little fun shape in it - again, Tech has a sweet tooth but he also attempts to try and get the shape out

Maesilju (매실주) - Plum wine - it's sweet so I think Tech would like it

Crosshair:

Bingsu (빙수) - Korean Shaved ice - comes in various flavors and served usually with condensed milk (he's so getting a stomach ache after)

Tofu Stew (순두부찌개) - But non-spicy (just like me) because Crosshair's stomach can handle only so much

Jjajangbap (짜장밥) - Black Bean Paste with Rice

Cheese-tteok-kkochi (치즈떡꼬치) - Cheesy, fried rice cakes on a stick - Had to give him something on a skewer and it's cheesy so he loves it despite not being able to really digest it

Seolleongtang/Ox Bone Soup (설렁탕) -

Juk (죽) - Rice porridge - something simple to soothe his stomach

Melona - Popular Korean ice cream bar brand

Flavored Soju - Any and all flavors of soju, he loves. It's going to get him real drunk real fast so watch out-

Ice Yogurt Ice Cream - What's better than the Yokult drink? How about yokult ice cream? His stomach is in so much pain.

Milkis (specifically the Strawberry flavor) - Carbonated milk soda! Before you say "Ew, that sounds disgusting" fucking watch yourself because it's the best drink known to man and I'll die on that hill

Banana Milk (바나나맛 우유) - literally in the name - banana milk; he'll drink it and say it's not that bad because it's banana flavored

Choco-Pie - Basically just a moon-pie - it's a chocolate pie with marshmallow filling on the inside

Tteokguk (떡국)* - Rice Cake Soup - it's easy on the stomach and isn't spicy; he also likes chewing on the rice cakes

Cass Beer - Korean beer - my parents' personal favorite

Pocky Sticks - Um,,, toothpicks - must I say any more?

Omega:

Jjajangmyeon (짜장면) - Black Bean Paste Noodles - childhood favorite dish!! Super messy and had to wear a bib for the longest time every time I ate this dish (technically a Chinese dish but shhhh)

Bungeoppang (붕어빵) - Pastries shaped like fish filled with various things like redbean, nutella, or custards (my personal favorite)

Tteokbokki (떡볶이) - Rice cakes with various other ingredients - spicy and one of Korea's more popular/well known dishes

Naengmyun (냉면) - Cold Noodles - kinda like Japan's soba; can be spicy or not and is usually a summer dish - Omega loves to slurp this

Doenjang jjigae (된장찌개) - Soybean Paste Soup - a really simple soup that is sometimes spicy - I just think Omega loves soup

Songpyeon (송편)* - Red Bean Rice Cakes - very chewy, very colorful; I think Omega would like it

Carbonara Buldak (불닭) - My personal favorite flavor of Buldak - Omega can't handle full spice yet but that doesn't stop her from eating it

Yakgwa (약과)* - Honey/Fried Korean cookie - tastes kinda like a donut

Samanco (싸만코) - Like Bungeoppang, it's a fish shaped dessert; but this one is an icecream and usually has various flavors like red bean, strawberry puree, chocolate, or matcha (this is something Crosshair would probably enjoy as well)

Banana Kick - Banana flavored chips shaped like cheeto puffs - one of my favorite Korean snacks

Milkis (밀키스) - Again, like Crosshair I think she'd love this drink

Flavored Onion Rings - Korean version of funyuns - one of my favorites - I can see Omega wearing them like rings or bracelets while she eats them

Chapssaltteok (찹쌀떡) - Steamed red bean bun; street food - nice and chewy

Potato Tornado (회오리 감자) - A seasoned fried potato strewn out on a stick - Korean street food (something I also think Wrecker would enjoy)

Hwachae (화채) - Watermelon fruit punch - served with various fruits and jellies; it's just a cute little sweet thing I think Omega would enjoy very much

[aqua-the-smiter]

Ferrus trying to make sense of some new feelings he's gained for a very special someone. Ferrus X Argena (OC) Mildly nsfw Song - https://youtu.be/Qebf3c-ZaSM?si=9iJ4A2SS3C635zgd Divider by @squishyowl

XX/XX/XXXX   Damn That Woman

I think I was given too good of a blessing when I met Argena.

Make no mistake, the problem is my own, not hers. It’s like I found a bar of purest silver in a bin full of iron ore and coal. I don’t know what she has done to me. What effect the time we spend together is having on me, but I know this much: I have changed, and I have never felt this way before. Ever.

I’m not sure how to really describe it. This potent mix of possessiveness, lust, and a third, utterly and inescapably magnetic thing that I cannot give word to in any meaningful capacity because I have never felt anything like it in my life. I don’t know what it is, but it has haunted me for months now. After mulling over for some time I believe I have a conclusion, although what to make of it is another matter. Love. I have fallen in love with her in the most embarrassing, whole hearted, and true fashion possible. This feeling is the feeling of love. I’m not sure I like it, but she is a different matter. 

It feels like I met her only a week ago, but it has been over a year. Nearly two, at the time I write this, and that time has slowly chipped away at me, day by day. It’s my fault. I have had her by my side constantly since we met. I made her my senechal. I put myself in a position to be close to her. Even when I didn’t need to I went out of my way to spend time with her, be with her. When it began I was happy to grow close to her as a friend. I don’t have many, even among my own brothers, and she was so different from all of them yet so perfect a compion. Maybe that is why I find myself drawn to her now. In some ways she is just like me. Driven to create, to work with her hands, like I am. She works hard, almost too much. Just as she reminds me to take care of myself, I find myself looking out for her as well. She and I both would rather bite our tongues than ask for help, although she gives it more readily than I do. She is honest and doesn’t wrap her barbs in a layer of sycophancy. She is strong, in her own way, maybe not in the way I would usually measure strength but she is. But she’s much kinder than I am, more easily able to be gentle. The things she makes are delicate and beautiful. Creating for pleasure rather than purely for purpose, where I consider practicality almost entirely. She’s a good shot, and could be quite good with a blade, but she’s no warrior. There’s no thrill in combat or danger for her. At times it shocks me that we have so much in common, and at others I wonder how we get along so well when we’re so different. It’s like comparing a black swan to a raven. Both have the dark feathers, but even those aren’t quite the same, much less the rest of the bird.

Although I could hardly be compared to even a raven. They may eat the eyes out of corpses, but they have an elegance to them, and their feathers gleam with opaline colors in the right light. 

I wonder to myself if that is why she is drawn to beauty. Because she herself is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. Eala dhubh, black swan. Or a selkie maiden, from the stories of old Terra. Either is an apt comparison. It is her grace and elegance that remind me that she was nobility at some point, although you’d never be able to tell if you looked at her now. She is that statue brought to life, the kind of feminine beauty that some men will spend their entire lives trying to capture. She is the woman that gets all the songs and poems written about her, not for her. She is beheld her from afar, gazed at like some masterwork painting, but never approached her for fear of inadequacy. The type of woman that catches the eye of even some of my most stoic brothers. Unapproachable beauty, at least if you’re a coward. I am not, but I am new to love. This warmth deep in my heart when I think of her, when we’re together. It’s not something I ever thought of myself experiencing. I have seen some of my brothers find themselves brides, and I have been content to consign myself to watching, and nothing else. No more.

Damn that woman. She has my heart and doesn’t have the slightest idea. 

If I were anyone else I may have cracked already. But here I have to be cautious, and as in many things I must be practical. If I truly want to woo her, what can I give her? What do I have over my brothers, a few of whom I know she gets along well with and could be with if things become truly FUBAR. If she were mine she would have the life of a queen, but that is true for any Primarch’s wife, and that will not be a factor in her mind at all. She was a princess, and left that life behind anyway to work for me. Any man could give her a family, and any of my brothers could see that she wants for nothing ever again. No, I have had to come to terms with the fact that if she is to be with me, it is because it is me and only me she wants. And I am not a handsome man. My nickname is the Gorgon for a reason. The truth is that I have nothing to offer her. Nothing but myself. In spite of my looks, and my guarded heart. This whole love thing, I am learning, is an extremely messy ordeal. 

I know I am a hard sell, but the thought of her being with one of my brothers or another man hurts. Of course, if that is how things would turn out, so be it. She is her own woman, and I cannot force her to love me back. No, if I have to let her go, I will. But it cuts me deeply. At the very least I can take solace in the fact that she would never go with Fulgrim. I can even assure myself that one of my brothers could take care of her at least as well as I could. But she is mo ghaol, and the thought still makes me sick. I want her to be mine. I want you to be mine.

That has been running through my thoughts frequently as of late. I can’t shake the thought no matter how hard I’ve tried, I have tried. But they linger, and they stick like burrs, no matter how hard I try to push them aside. I want…Throne, I barely even know. This whole romance thing is so bloody nebulous. I want to hold her close, protect her from everything this galaxy may throw. I could gladly spend my  days talking with her, and nothing else. She has made me happy in a way I didn’t know I was lacking, filled a longing for a friend I didn’t know I had, and it has grown out of my control. And she is perfect, in a way. Not a perfect person, nobody is, but for me. Gold to silver, her femininity to my masculinity. Oh Throne, that’s a rabbit hole. 

Maybe not one I should get into, but that is why I have this book. Because the contents will never see the bloody light of day, not if I can help it. It was a good idea, and I’m glad I took Roboute’s suggestion. Otherwise I would have nowhere to express all these…thoughts, I have. Gena has been my confidant for a while, but I think I’d rather burn the entire book then let her see what comes next.

I want her.

Even writing that little feels dirty. Appropriate, I suppose. These thoughts I have are equally unclean. I’m good at pushing them aside, ignoring them. Or maybe they just hide, receding into the cracks of my mind and waiting to nag me again. It’s the worst during my rut, but they come at other times, jab me in the kidney, then run off again. But the fact remains. I want her. That in itself is new. I’ve felt sexual desire before, been through enough bloody ruts to ensure that. She isn’t even the first woman I’ve found attractive, but none have sparked this need in me like she has. Gena is special. Truly special.

I’ve mentioned her beauty before but it bears repeating. It also doesn’t help that she is exactly my type, physically. My brothers have assumptions about my taste in women which are decidedly false. But she is absolutely perfect. Slim and soft and deliciously curvy. It’s hard for me not to note certain things when I look at her. The way her robe flows around the curve of her breasts, her slender waist tapering out to wide hips, the thickness of her thighs filling out her skirts. There’s a grace and smoothness to her movements that’s nearly impossible for me to look away from, as effortless as the flow of molten metal. There’s a certain lilt in her voice when she says my name and I can’t hear it enough these days. Her skin is nearly as fair as mine and her hair is as pitch black as a Medusan sea, falling in waves around her face and over her shoulders. She smiles when she sees me, those lovely full lips of hers quirking up and her golden eyes bright like new coins. 

On their own, in the moment these things about her I can set aside, and see only my senechal and friend. It’s when the moment passes. When I’m lying wide awake in bed thinking about her. That is when my mind assembles these fragments into the pornographic. Those images haunt my dreams, linger in the chill on my bare skin. The faceless woman in my mind during my rut is no longer so. It’s her, now. Dead gods of Medusa. I want her. 

I want to feel her lithe legs coiling around my hips in a futile attempt to hold them in place. I want to hear her out of breath and whispering my name, her naked body pressed against mine, that sweet voice moaning in bliss. I want to make that calm, gentle expression she has shatter with unconstrained rapture. Hear her begging me for more as we're both drenched in sweat and panting. I want to see my seed dripping from between her legs.

Feeling her clench as we both fall off the edge. Making her truly and completely mine, making her come undone completely, tangling my hand in her hair and drawing her even closer. Something that isn’t merely the physical act but the primal ecstasy of truly becoming one.

I take solace in the fact that she doesn’t know I even have this book. She doesn’t need to know about this absurd situation., neither about my love for her or that I crave her carnally.

I’m ashamed to think about her like this, even if it’s not the only capacity I regard her in. Far from it. Still she’s not mine, and she may never be, but she is my friend, and very dear to me outside these new feelings. It feels wrong to think of her like this, so…horny. Especially since she values her purity so highly. I keep them leashed tightly, for all the good it does. They’re only my thoughts though. And I have to wonder if she thinks similar things about me. 

A part of me hopes she does, although I know it’s unlikely. Still, woven in with all my desire is the deep, desperate hope that she shares the same feelings I do. The same love, the same lust, the same need to be close. To be wanted by her. Having her wanting me to be hers in the same way I want her to be mine. It’s a harmless wish, if nothing else. One I can only see remaining a wish. Even though I have never been one to indulge in dreams, this one is excessively sweet and I can’t help but revisit it. I speak as though it will only remain a dream. It sounds negative, but it feels the most realistic.

I care for her deeply, but the fact remains that before anything else she has become my friend. If I told her all this, if she didn’t share my feelings, things could never go back to the way they were. Something between us would be irreparably broken. The casualness, the disregard of proper, stuffy respect. She does not say “my lord” anymore unless she’s joking, and I call her Gena, and “my lady” in jest. I can be honest with her, blunt and even ribald. On many levels we are not equals and never will be, but in this bond we have forged, we are. If she doesn't want me the way I want her, if she doesn’t yearn for my embrace the way I yearn for hers. If I’m stupid enough to tell her that and tip the balance, then…no. If I can’t make her my bride I will content myself with her friendship. That in itself has been enough.

If she wants me, she will have to be the one to tell me, on her terms. I don’t like it, having to sit back and do nothing. It is against my nature to, and feels foreign. But I will hold my tongue and be patient. Rather that, than risking something so precious.

Until then the most I can do is hope that our time together sparks something in her the way it has for me. I want her to be mine.

[weird-homosexual-in-your-area]

“Pilots in unit B43C1 are needed for sortie. Repeat, pilots in unit B43C1 are needed for sortie. Assigned technicians, escort pilots in unit B43C1 to docking bay immediately.” 

She was roused from her dream-like state by a blaring siren, louder than anything she remembered. She wasn’t startled, nor did she reflexively cover her ears like she would have done months ago, she just sat up and left her rest bay. A technician, she didn’t have his name memorised- whatever, they all looked the same to her since the conditioning- was at the door, clearly agitated at her for some reason or another. He grabbed her by the arm and tugged her out of the room, toward the docking bay. 

“You know, I had tickets to go out with my mates, evening of that sortie the other day,” he commented, face slightly reddening, grip on her arm tightening. “Tickets to see that Terra-Kadora game- you know the one I’m on about? Of course you don’t, you don’t see that shit now.” 

He suddenly stopped, with a painless jolt to her arm pulling her in front of him. He towered over her, but she felt no fear, more confusion as to what he was getting at. 

“’Course, you didn’t care if we got to see that game, did you? It don’t matter to you that we were stuck in repairs for two full fucking days, fixing your leg after that stupid jump kick trick you pulled,” he muttered. He was clearly unimaginably angry. She didn’t really pay much notice- he didn’t know how good it felt in the cockpit pulling that off. He couldn’t know. The joy of piloting was beyond him. “That was my first scheduled off day for a full month. Can you imagine that? A full month doing nothing but working, and your first day off gets cancelled because some idiotic brain-dead little shitbag felt like looking flashy. Can you imagine that?” 

A dreamy smile fell onto her face. She was imagining it, and it was as close to heaven as she could imagine. 

“What are you fucking smiling at?!”  He pulled her close to him, screeching in pure rage. She reflexively tried to activate her close-range jammers, to fire off an AP volley to disable the attacker, close in for that sweet, sweet kill; but nothing happened- those facilities weren’t available in her flesh-body. She dropped her smile, knowing better than to provoke the anger of the techs- especially ones who work to fix her mech.  

He sighed in exasperation- they were nearing the docking bay, and she’d have to have the helmet on soon. “I’ll be watching you today. If you pull that shit again, we’ll have issues- I managed to convince the highers to let my guys out today instead, and I doubt they’ll be convinced to do it again.”  

He passed her onto another technician, telling him to “put it in the cockpit on B43C1E”, and gave her the pilot’s helmet. She slipped it onto her head, and suddenly, darkness.  

Silence. 

Nothing except the hand of the technician dragging her to her beloved suit. 

She was pushed down a step into the cockpit and harnessed in. She felt several jolts of agony and euphoria, bright light and blackness, screeching sound and empty static, as she was plugged into the neural system. 

Then, the OPH- the oxygenated liquid allowing her flesh-body to breathe in the cockpit- flooded into the heart of the mech. She fought the urge to recoil as it reached her stomach level, the cold seeping down to her reactor- no, her bones. She wasn’t synced with the mech yet, unfortunately, so she had no reactor to keep her warm. 

As the liquid reached her head height, she reflexively held her breath, preparing to drown, but caught herself and exhaled fully. The liquid needed to fully get into her lungs, or the sheer pressure of the liquid around her would crush them. As it made its way down her windpipe, she fought the urge to splutter it up, to get it out of her lungs, and just let it into her body. Her vision filled with stars, red and yellow hues as her brain screamed for air, until suddenly she didn’t need to breathe anymore as the OPH reached her lungs, filling her with ample oxygen. 

Silence again. No sound, no sight, no feeling but the frigid liquid encasing her like a personal prison. Nothing. 

Then, all at once, her senses lit up with the familiar view from the eyes of her true body, one not of flesh and blood but of reinforced titanium and coolant.  She heard the familiar hissing sound of the scaffolding holding the mech retracting, its purpose fulfilled as the body was now inhabited. 

DEPLOY 

She didn’t hear the word, but it popped into her head. One second it wasn’t on her mind, the next it was all she could think of, and she had no choice but to do what she’d been conditioned to on hearing it said. She pushed her rear thrusters to full, leaning forward slightly and engaging the front calf thrusters to balance her out, so as to achieve the best speed she could- the system loved it when she did that, and so did she, as an overpowering wave of dopamine flooded her system as the reward drive kicked in for her compliance. Her flesh-body shook in response, but her true body, her gleaming body of steel, remained unwavering in its flight. 

She wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, but at some point in her flight she just knew what she was being sent out for. A few hundred kilometers away from the outpost at which she made her residence, 7 enemy mechs had been spotted making their way toward a crucial state power station. They were new mechs- analysis put the suits themselves at about a week old, so the pilots wouldn’t have much experience. Her unit could easily deal with them- 16 pilots with a few months’ worth of experience versus 7 with a couple of days? Walk in the park- the only real challenge was doing it cleanly enough for the reward drive to deem them worthy, but at this point even that was easy. 

About 15 minutes after her troop set out, they began to see the enemy mechs across the horizon. They were hulking things- 25 meters tall on average (about 5 meters taller than her), armour-piercing round emplacements on each shoulder, with laser arrays along the ribs of the machine. And that was only the armaments the mechs had that she could immediately see- for all she knew, there could be thousands of rocket pods stored in those four arms, there could be EMP generators hiding in that disfigured face, there could be blades that could cut through her sleek, metallic form like butter hiding in those legs. Those mechs were everything she’d been taught to hate, to fear, to want gone. 

For even a thousand infantry troops, dealing with just one of these would be suicide. For her mech troop? 10 minutes, maybe just 5. 

Mechs 1 through 7 began the assault, opening fire with rocket pods to slow down the bulkier four-armed monsters. They took several hits, clearly not expecting any opposition, the fools that they were. They snapped around, frantically shooting off AP rounds to try and slow down the oncoming storm, but not one shot met its mark, all being dodged by her unit, giving each a little hint of dopamine. God, the dopamine was incredible in piloting. Like nothing else in her life before the program, or what little she remembered of it, or during the program. Those techs couldn’t ever begin to understand how good it felt- she could take whatever “issues” they’d give her if it meant she’d get just a fraction of the euphoria she was going to experience over the course of the sortie. 

As the troop closed in, the enemy mechs grew increasingly desperate. They started firing off all-too-predictable laser arrays, each being swiftly dodged by all the mechs, and releasing some hidden rockets from a compartments in their arms, which she just knew were going to be there. She got another hit of dopamine from that- so fucking good- that was quickly cut short by the shared pain she felt over the comms relay, that was honestly more like a thought-sharing system, from several of the rockets finding their mark on number 5. 

 Hatred newly refueled, she boosted her thrusters into overdrive and sped over to the enemies, a cheetah running after a gazelle. She activated her elbow thrusters and drove her fist clean through one of the enemy mechs’ chestplate, grabbing the fusion reactor within and tearing it out, crushing the still-beating “heart” of the machine in her bare hands, and the dopamine was unlike anything else she’d experienced. A clean reactor kill always was- her system was flooded with pure satisfaction, and her flesh body shivered in reflexive response. The unresponsive shell of her kill keeled over, a deafening crash resounding across the barren wasteland as it hit the floor. 

 She noticed an enemy mech behind her through some optical data from mech 3, and span around on her left leg, whipping out her right with a thruster-boosted roundhouse kick that cleaved the foe in two with relative ease. Another rush of euphoria, slightly less satisfying than the last due to the damage she caused to her leg in the process of the manoeuvre, but still significant enough to make “her” body tense up in the cockpit. 

With the new injury to her leg, fighting at the front line was too much of a risk, even though it would net her so much more reward, so she reluctantly opted to retreat to the backline consisting still of mechs 1 through 7, now also with her mech E, to provide supporting fire for the front liners. They fought with grace and beauty, dodging the more unwieldy days-old mechs’ blows like flies dodging weak attempts at swatting, before countering with devestating punches and kicks that caved in heads, carved off limbs, detonated ammo reserves, each hit only adding to the sheer rush of dopamine they all felt. Her and the other 7’s fire was extremely helpful, provided much-needed openings on the mechs that were far more occupied prolonging their own survival than dealing with the far more apt attackers. 

After a couple more minutes of trading blows, only one enemy remained, its four-armed form glistening in the harsh sunlight like the angel of Death it so desperately wanted to be. Strangely, it didn’t attempt a retreat to save itself, or to fight back, or anything of the sort, it just fell to its knees, like it was accepting its fate. Strange. Why would it do tha- 

Suddenly, it clicked to her. It was overloading its fusion core. It’d result in a massive nuclear explosion destroying everything in a... 14 kilometer radius- just about leaving the power plant safe, thank God. Since she knew it, all the other pilots immediately did too thanks to the thought-sharing process. Everyone frantically turned away, boosting thrusters into overdrive to get as much distance between them and the explosion that was about to destroy everything near it- including them if they weren’t fast enough. 

After two minutes of flying, panic overtaking her and every other pilot in the troop, an all-encompassing blast rang out from the battlefield they were at minutes ago. They were pushed a good 50 meters back by the shockwave, all maintaining balance thanks to their experience with this sort of explosion. Their heads were searing from the sheer pain of the soundwave, everything within 14 kilometers of the mech was reduced to ruins, but at least they were alive.  

Pilot B ran a quick diagnostic check to ensure no major damage had been done to any of them- all that returned was E’s leg (the front panels of which had completely shattered with her second kill), some mild overheating in the backs of all of them except 1, 4, 9 and A which could weaken the armour if left unchecked, and several breached armour plates on 5’s front from the rocket salvo they endured. Still, she’d been on missions that had ended far worse for her troop. 

RECALL 

Again, she didn’t hear the command as much as it became her thoughts, and as soon as it did, she reflexively began flying back to the base. She allowed herself to blank out on the way- if there were no briefings she’d receive, no diagnostics to run, no enemies to fight, she didn’t need sit around in a boring flight back for however long it’d take. 

***** 

Some time passed- she wasn’t sure how much- and her home base came into view over the horizon, a gleaming silver compound contrasting against the blood-stained sand and bright blue sky. She slowed down to walking pace (still many times faster than her pace in her flesh-body) and walked through the bay doors, alongside the rest of her troop. They each slotted into their respective docking bays, and she felt the scaffolding swing onto her, holding her down for the extraction process. She wanted to fight it, needed to stay in her true body, had to stop them tearing her out, but it was useless fighting back, as several anti-mech infantry units were stationed on the various gantries that lined the room like capillaries, weapons trained on each of them, waiting only for the slightest deviation from procedure to open fire. Despite every joint in her body, every cell of her brain that still housed what little remained of her crying out to stop it, she allowed the scaffolding to lock around her. She allowed the piping to drain the OPH from the cockpit. She allowed the doors to be levered open. 

She allowed herself to be torn from her true body in a jolt of pure, unfiltered agony, as the neural ports disconnected from her spinal cord. 

Her brain took a while to recover from the overuse in the mech, and even longer to recover from the sheer shock of the disconnection, so when she next noticed that she still existed, she was being carried by a technician to the debriefing room. She twitched slightly, trying to run diagnostics to ensure she was unharmed- but that facility wasn’t available in her flesh-body. 

“Oh, you’re awake now,” came the voice of the man who was carrying her. She noted it was the same as her earlier assailant, the one who’d warned her about breaking anything- shit, she’d broken the leg, hadn’t she? She tensed up, expecting the technician to break out into a shout, but he laughed softly, almost affectionately. “While you’re here, I may as well just say well done on the mission before the briefing. You did really good, honestly- you took a quarter of them down yourself! That spin-kick was also really well done; I’m kinda shocked.” She relaxed, realising he wasn’t yet aware of the damage she’d done. She knew she was going to suffer when he found out, but that was in the future.  

The technician gently placed her down onto the ground, and she walked alongside him. Several times, she nearly fell over when she had to turn, expecting her thrusters to kick in when she willed them to, but they remained in the docking bay on her true body, not on... this body. They walked in comfortable silence, as she checked every corner, half expecting an enemy mech to ambush her around it, then catching herself and looking ahead, focused on where she was going. 

After a couple of minutes walking, they reached the briefing room, and they went in their separate entrances. The technician went into the main door of the room, into the conference room itself where the details of the mission would be relayed to the staff as a whole by the Base Director, the woman who ran the site. She went in through the back door of the room to behind the stage, alongside the other 15 pilots who were on the mission, catching a glimpse of a pale, unemotive face that wasn’t truly hers in the reflection of the stainless steel door. They were also there for the briefing, to pick up any details they’d missed during the mission, but couldn’t be allowed in the crowd, with their dead eyes and identical gaits being deemed too unsettling for the public to see. 

The booming, yet comforting voice of the site director came over the microphone urging the crowd to quiet down, an order they all quickly obeyed. She then continued; “As you may know, pilot unit B43C1 were deployed into the field a few hours ago. Our sensors picked up a strike team of Forcemesh mechs approaching Power Plant Delta- one of the most crucial plants here on Kadora, for those who make their residence somewhere else. Unit B43C1 was deployed to dispatch of them- if they made it to the plant and were allowed free reign, the consequences would have been disastrous.” 

The crowd murmured in shock- presumably some images of an example of the possible devestation were being displayed on the screen for the audience. There was no screen behind the stage- it would have cost very little to install one, but there was no need for the pilots to experience the briefing (“they’re not human anymore, they wouldn’t get the intricacies,” the Director had said on the topic)- but it didn’t take being shown to know what was being shown.  

“Fortunately, the brave pilots of Unit B43C1 arrived just in time to make quick work of the threat. We have here some footage captured from Mech E’s sensory array of the scene.” The crowd erupted into cheers- likely as her textbook reactor kill was shown on screen. God, that was incredible. “Incredible work from the mech, right?”  

“So, the gains of this mission have been discussed, but now we must talk of the costs. Mech 5’s chest was breached by a rocket salvo, so I’ll need technician section 5 on that tonight. All of the mechs except A, 9, 4 and 1 have had some overheating to their backs from that massive blast the final enemy released, so I’ll need the corresponding teams to check on those at some point in the coming week- it's not the most urgent, but it being done as soon as possible is needed for the continued defence of Kadora. Finally, mech E shattered a couple of the armour plates on its right leg, and the joints need checking too, so section E, you’re on that tonight.” 

She heard some commotion, presumably from section E, after that was announced, with the director chiding them for their childish response. “It’s got to be done, and it’s got to be done today. Sorry, you lot. With that, this meeting is adjourned. Glory to Stormcell!” 

A resounding chorus of the whole room echoing her cry of glory, then footfalls and idle chatter as the crowd filtered out of the room. As per procedure, the Lead Technician of each sector came to the backstage area to escort the pilots back to their assigned rest bays. Her escorter was red in the face, and grabbed her arm with a ferocity that nearly matched that of the rest of her troop. 

They walked in silence, with him almost dragging her along when she failed at rounding corners. When they eventually reached the resting bay block, though, he tugged her arm to drag her into the left turn to the technician dormitories instead of her rest bay. Fuck. She should’ve known this was coming. She should’ve just not broken her leg. It wasn’t necessarily going to hurt- her sensitivity to pain had been annihilated in the conditioning process, as had many other parts of her personality that she missed to varying degrees- but she wouldn’t be in a state in which she could pilot for days. 

As she was dragged into the technicians’ dormitory, she saw the technician who dragged her in- the same one who’d been interacting with her all day, she realised- raise his fist in a punch, and she tried to activate her close range jammers- but they were on her true body, not her flesh-form. As the punch landed, she fell to the floor, and everything went dark. 

***** 

She wasn’t sure how long it was before she came to, but when she was she wasn’t in the grimy, dark dormitories but the unsettlingly clean medical bay, with its flourescent lighting and too-polished walls and floors. She saw a figure sitting on the side of the bed she’d been put on, not one she recognised but not one she viewed as a “stranger”, per se. 

“Sam, it’s awake. Get in here, you’re the one with the damage report,” came the voice of the figure. The voice was bored, like it’d been sitting there for hours and this was the first thing worth his time that had happened. Then, another figure came in. She couldn’t tell the difference between the two- their medical scrubs were identical. 

“Right, E, so you fell off a gantry apparently- side note, pilots seem to have horrible balance on days they damaged their mechs, but that’s just an observation- and ended up with a concussion, extreme bruising pretty much all over you, but luckily for you, no broken bones. Good on you, you ‘landed’ well.” She let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding at that- at least she could get back to piloting fairly soon. 

 “You’re staying on rest for a day or 2 while you recover, but after that you should be good to go back in the field after that. Also, your technicians asked me to pass on a message to you when they found you- ‘be more careful, you braindead piece of shit.’ I’m sure they’re lovely people to be around. Anyway, that’s all, so… yeah.” 

He stood there in arkward silence for a few seconds, before he and the other figure walked out of the room, leaving only her, the hum of the lighting, and a reflection that wasn’t hers in the polished, shining ceiling. 

She could have gotten off worse, at least. 

[just-an-emily-existing]

So I’ve been wanting to do this for a while now and here's how Lady wakes up from her coma and has to fight her sister

Btw I’m super tired so this might be rushed sorry

Lady wakes up, but she’s not in the mountain, she’s in a snowy forest and has on a fluffy coat which keeps her warm. She travel's the forest for 9 years until finally she gives up, she’s furious, she’s confused, she’s tired and scared and just wants to go home. She screams for help which echoes through the branches.

“My my dear friend, why so angry?”

A familiar voice said behind her. She spun around to see a small rose sprouted up from the snow. That wasn’t there before? More roses bloomed to for a path leader her to a small patch of grass.

“Step here friend.”

Lady did and fell through! She landed on a soft pile of golden flowers and looked around to find her friend Terra, the deity of the Earth, tending to her heavenly garden. Lady was astonished! How could this be?!

“Where am I?” She asked. Terra smiled. “You’re home dear, well you’re still in a coma yes but-”

“Where is my sister?! Is Burnett ok?!” Lady was in a panic. Terra helped her to her feet.

“There there Lucinda, it’s ok, I’ll help you out of here, we all will.”

“We?” Terra nodded and opened her eyes.

“All of us will help you but we must prepare you first, you will rest in each of our domains and then take some of our power, once you escape, Grace will be there waiting. Seal that devious child for heaven's sake…”

Terra's tone became firm. Lady knew what she needed to do.

“But how can I find you?”

“Once you know what you’re looking for, you can see it in everything.”

And she did. Lady found each sign quickly, a small waterfall flowing into a river, a quiet bonfire, the wind howling, lanterns on branches, icicles forming on trees, a pool of blood from a wolf eating its prey, raw iron growing out of a cave, a stack of playing cards hidden in the snow, a collection of crystals growing from a huge boulder, the stars shining through the clouds, and a calming hum of a tune she once knew. With each element, she became stronger, more energetic and ready for the fight ahead.

She began to feel sleepy and eventually passed out in the snow, but yet she was warm, so warm, she could hear her own whistle for the first time in 20 years, she felt her body moving, people talking, a voice she knew so clearly. Burnett, he had finally managed to bring her back to steam and she was more than ready.

“So Burnett, you didn’t forget about magic, it's safe inside you.”

*cue the chase scene from TATMR blah blah blah everyone goes home and that night Lady waits in her magic railway for her sister*

“Awww did Lucy finally wake up from her nap? I say these engines you’ve created would be much more fun if we could make them do whatever we want, no?” Gazelle said, inching ever so slowly towards Lady.

“You trapped my in my own mind for 20 years… just so you could do whatever you want, I'd say you’ve had plenty of time for yourself.” Lady said firmly. Gazelle laughed manically.

“Oh but sister, you haven’t had your turn! Come, let me show you what being a goddess really is.” She said as she lunged forward. Lady countered her attack with vines from Terra's magic. Gazelle's smile immediately disappeared.

“How do you-”

“Being trapped in your own mind for 20 years can lead you to emerge more powerful dear sister, allow me to demonstrate.” Lady made easy work of Gazelle and released her magic to summon all of the elemental deities.

“You fool! Think of what we could do together!! This world can be our playground!” Gazelle pleaded but Lady had enough of her games.

“No more shall you torture my engines while wreaking havoc on this realm. This game ends now Grace.” Much like with herself, Gazelle's face was removed, leaving her in a coma, paralysed but still alive.

“You did the right thing Lucinda, I fear that words could never change her soul.” Terra said, putting her leaf on Lady's buffer as she stared at her now faceless sister.

“Maybe one day I can but that day is not today. She must endure what I had to and then we may talk again.” Lady said on the brink of tears.

“Shall we help her like we did with you?” Aqua asked. Lady nodded.

“Show her what being a deity really is my friends.” Lady announced. The deities shimmered out of sight to Gazelle's mind Lady hoped.

*20 years later*

“It’s been done Lucinda. We managed to help change her ways and she’s ready to return.” Aqua said. Lady was surprised, had it already been 20 years? It didn’t matter, she was ready but also nervous to see her sister. What if she was lying, what if this was all an act. She had to see.

Lady slowly put her face back on her smokebox…

She woke up.

“Hello sister.” Gazelle said nothing. Lady's fears were growing stronger.

“I’m sorry, for everything I’ve done.” Gazelle finally spoke, quiet, but just enough for Lady to hear. Lady smiled.

“I’m just happy to have you back Grace.”

“Me too.”

“Come, let me show you what this island's become”

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Pondered

Author’s note: More of Husbandry AU with Draco. Thank you to @kit-williams for letting me borrow Roland and his Bonded human. Becky is the non-cannon name for Roland's Bonded.

Summary: Draco continues to be a dick.

Warnings: None? Let me know if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis , @undeaddream

Draco ponders his next steps, getting the information out of that Hydra's head had helped clear certain things up for him. While he longs to purge Holy Ancient Terra of the filth and scum that plague the surface because of the Chaos Bastards on it, it would be too dangerous to do so at this point.

And that grox shite treaty that the Loyalists had made with the Chaos and Renegade traitors due to a lack of resources and worrying about irreparable harm done to Ancient Terra... are some actually legitimate concerns.

However- one of the individuals that had been in the mind of that Hydra- that small Warp Bond that was between that Hydra's squad and that human. Hm... He wants to research more about those Bond things.

Best way to do that is meet a human that he knows is Bonded and see what he can see. His lips twist up in a smile at that- there was something... warm, that purrs in his chest when he thinks about that Lana- that the Hydras are confusing into allowing them into her life.

So he goes to her place of business- a bakery, he'd acquired some local currency, and from what he'd gotten from the mind of that Hydra he'd interrogated she should be working at this time of day.

That human Lana- who works for another Bonded human who runs the Bakery- spots his massive silver form and ducks in the back. Ah- right, she's Bonded to a Black Templar. Brother Roland, who scowls up at the Uber witch.

The boys had told him and Arnault in bits and pieces about this Gray Knight- and how he'd torment their witch-cursed brothers and call it 'training'. Also how this particular one tried to kidnap Jophiel and Claude.

"What do you want to buy for food," Roland says roughly scowling at Captain Storm Breaker.

"Some of the sweet breads and savory breads," Draco responds pulling out some of the local currency.

"Once you do, leave," Roland says.

"How rude, for someone who you've never met," Draco points out.

"You are a witch," Roland hisses, his blue eyes fever bright- as his hands clench into fists, "be glad I don't strike you down."

"You aren't powerful enough to kill me," Draco sneers down at Roland, "I am a paying customer at the moment, so get the food."

Lana is serving customers- and keeping an eye on Roland and the new Astarte- noticing the way they seem to be getting more and more tense and while she doesn't really know much High Gothic she can tell they might come to blows.

Lana ducks in and calls out, "Becky, Roland looks like he's about to punch someone."

"What?" Becky says sounding surprised as she ducks out of the kitchen and looks the body language of Roland and- that really large silver armored Space Marine. "oh dear."

Lana grabs a mix of sweet and savory breads and nervously approaches the pair of Space Marines. She can almost taste something like ozone coming off of the larger space marine, who's head snaps over to look at her.

"Hello, sir," Lana says a little nervously, "do you want to try some of our baked goods?"

"I would," Draco says, for some reason he feels drawn to this human.

Roland is watching him through narrowed eyes. Draco tastes some of the baked goods and buys the lot on the plate and heads out of the door.

[moodymisty]

Author's note: Huge thankies to @commodoreprocrastinator (if you don't want to be tagged just say) for trading Russ ideas with me to help me finish this. A bit of an 'experiment' just setting a scene with him. Enjoy a drabble with the space viking king. I can't wait till I'm done writing warm-up fluff and I can inflict intense psychic damage on people.

Summary: You worry about meeting any of the other Primarchs, which Russ finds amusing.

Relationships: Leman Russ/Fem!Reader

Warnings: None other than typical 40kness, References to traditional courting style stuff like gift giving I guess

The bed is massive; It's fit for a Primarch, and thus it swallows you accordingly. Almost everything around you does, the massive pelt that drapes over the bed as a blanket covers almost most your entire body, though not the entire bed.

On a planet like Fenris you would've needed it and then some to even attempt at staying warm, but here, you find yourself only laying it over the middle of your body.

"Out of all the things I've gifted you, this is the one you like most?"

Russ finds something perhaps akin to amusement in the fact that you behave so differently than the woman who call Fenris their home planet, as you lay on your side watching him enter the room.

"'Out of all of them, this was the most useful one."

You'd brought it all this way to Terra, rubbing your ankle against the back of your other calf underneath the pelt Russ had hunted and skinned himself. The beast must've been massive, if this was only it's midsection.

Your snide comment makes Russ laugh, a loud rumble in his bare chest as he dresses in more casual garb befitting of Terra and the Holy Palace.

"You best keep that attitude in check today. I don't think they'll be fond of your bite."

Russ' reminder serves little more than to strike a bolt of fear and nervousness in you that you'd hoped forgotten for the time being; Pursing your lips as you lean on your elbow.

Right; You're overdue to meet the fellow Primarchs that Russ calls brothers, now that he's taken you on as, what you supposed would be referred to as consort. Not hailing from Fenris, you aren't aware if they have any sort of specific title for what you are to Russ. And as far as you know, he is the only of the Primarchs to do this; Which makes you completely and utterly alone. Being on Terra in the palace also means speaking with one of them is an inevitability, more so than a possibility.

And to think- many of them don't harbor the same, what you wouldn't call easygoing, but wild nature Russ possesses. You remember the fear that had struck you like a bullet upon realizing his eyes were on you for the first time. Before the gifts, the courting, when you were only a speck on a map in comparison. You doubt whichever Primarch you'd be unfortunate enough to face would have the same neutral nature about baseline humans that Russ somewhat has. To think, many humans in the Imperium would never live to even see an astartes, let alone a primarch; And here you are.

A soft bark however thankfully gives you a jolt from your thoughts, looking over to see a massive hound standing at side of the bed. The Fenrisian wolf is still technically a puppy, but he's growing at a rate that's going to have him competing with you in height, if it keeps up. You rub the top of his snout and the complaints turn into a soft rumble in his throat.

Russ, having been raised beside packs of the massive beasts since childhood, had no issue with you keeping the wolf pup that had been your latest gift right beside the both of you.

Some others in the palace were, noticeably less so. Glorious golden halls were quite quickly filled with roaring deep voices and barks; A sign that the Space Wolves had arrived. You're used to the ruckus, the drunkenness and the smell of wet fur, but many are not.

"You don't suppose I could forgo crossing paths with any of them?" Russ crosses his arms and lets out a loud laugh, as the wolf puts one of his paws onto the bed.

"And you don't think I'd take that opportunity myself, if given the chance?" You roll your eyes, despite knowing that he's more than right. The pelt that drapes over his one shoulder shows off most of his arms, biceps flexing as he crosses his arms and jerks his head in the direction of the wolf staring at you both.

"Bring the wolf; It'll keep half of them away. They hate the stench." You were planning on doing so anyways, but it's good to know it might keep unwanted eyes off of you. At least a few.

Fully awake you decide to leave the bed, only to find yourself unable to simply throw your legs off to the side and stand. You throw the gifted pelt off of you and to the side, looking over to your primarch.

"Help me out of this massive bed; I'm swimming in it."

Russ smiles just enough to show teeth as he leans forward to grasp your right thigh. Your nightclothes bunch under his tight grip as he roughly pulls you closer to him and onto the edge of the bed. Just as he lets you you realize his face is close enough for you to quickly lean forward, giving him a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. You can still feel his rough beard against your skin and the wild strands of unbraided hair flowing over his shoulders.

"Little thief," He growls.

He watches you with raised brow as you ignore his teasing accusation and slide the rest of the way off the bed, until your bare feet finally touch the floor. Shortly thereafter he elects instead of give you a kiss proper; Large hand cupping your jaw as his lips fully meet yours. His left knee has to nearly meet the ground for him to do so, with the sheer difference in your heights.

"Now get ready; Before I lose my patience for this and throw you to the wolves while I get some ale."

[circinuus-dlc]

𝟎𝟏𝟎𝟏𝟎𝟏 | 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢

➸ codex: synthetic sweetheart; on the run android! oc x reader

➸ prompts: "you're not upset that our alternate universe selves aren't together?"

"You're not upset that our alternate universe selves aren't together?"

Koji doesn't answer outright. The ventilator hums lowly as he tinkers with the obsolete toaster on the kitchen counter.

"It's a hypothetical parallel world."

"So.. you don't care at all?"

He doesn't look up. The rusted cord storage falls off with the screws. "Being together in every universe, that's..."

"—inevitable!"

"—wistful."

You make a face.

Koji has never used abstract, sentimental words. This encounter is about as rare as coming across a functioning vintage tech in a landfill. The floor is cold against your feet when you jump down from the counter, peeking the sad toaster from his shoulder.

"So you do want us to be together in every universe?"

"It's not something that can be proven with what lacking data we have about wormholes." He doesn't deny it. The toaster parts are now neatly lined, ready for serious rust scrubbing. He turns to you at last, cybernetic irises flickering.

"This," he doesn't gesture with his hands; he knows you know, "—was, is a miracle. I won't ask for more."

"Oh, sweetheart."

He doesn't stop you when your arms loop around his neck. Koji was a creature hardwired for violence and swift endings; a confused, fearful weapon in the grasp of gentle hands. He's lost you once, twice, a few happenings far too many. His head tilts down while you tiptoe, keeping visual sensors in direct orbit to your eyes.

"Yes. Sweetheart."

You preen. "Did you pick up my theatrics for sappy words?"

"It's your specialty. I don't see any reason to compete."

A string of laugh rings like a gentle wind. He captures and memorizes everything from the way he drinks in your vision. A marvel, a blessing. Healthy and unmarred in his arms and for once not in a threat of a remote deactivation or a missing bio-machine spare part too obsolete to find replacements of.

"You know, it might've really been a miracle." Your hands are soft against his cheeks." But that doesn't make you any less deserving of me. Of us."

"I know." He does know. You say that everyday. "Thank you." he supplies.

"For what?"

"For everything."

Being in Koji's hold feels like curling in a weighted blanket with an automatic temperature regulator. His hands are tentative against your lower back, so you shove yourself forward and meet his hug full on. He hold reciprocates.

"Thank you too then," you breathe against his shoulder. "For shoving me to that emergency pod before the plane fell. For letting me tail behind you. For putting up with every bad synthetics joke. For letting me stay and for staying too."

His chuckle is something warm and low. You regret how you're not in time to pull back and get a glimpse of the curl of his mouth.

It's still there.

Soft and indulgent, tender in a way it encourages blissful sodium chloride tears solvent or a giddy smile. Rapt like a man staring at the ghost of his dead wife who he has never truly lost. You return it with a blooming heart. This is home.

"Paging my husband! Is he there?" You tap his nose with your thumb, still cupping his face. "I'm here, you see? Real and in no way a holo-projected image."

"I know."

"Mm. You say that a lot. Do you really?"

Koji hums, leaning down to tap his forehead against yours.

"Maybe you need a reminder." Your words are giddy smiles and breathy giggles. Koji says. He always does.

The sky is grey and the sun is cold outside the safehouse. But he is warm and so is his breath mingling with yours. You hover for a kiss; his exhale stutters, both of you are too content to peel away from each other.

For a stolen moment from the universe, something so small is worth more than any fancy lootables from the nearest black zones around New Terra.

Something bumps against your feet. It whirrs and beeps until you regretfully pull back from your husband. Koji exhales the breath he's been holding, torn in between chasing back the proximity and letting his system cool.

The culprit—or savior? beeps in the name of attention deficiency. Your Roomba dog finally clicks in glee when you pick it up. Still with the old school sleek metal and round model in all of its glory.

"Aw, look, our son misses us. Who's a good boy?"

Koji shakes his head. "It's a cleaning appliance."

"Our son! You know you love him."

Roomba makes another round of whirring noises. It's sensors blinking with intermittent lights. Koji sighs in both fondness and exasperation. The vacuum cleaner—your son beeps when his hand pats the flat surface of its top cover.

You and him might not be together in an alternate universe. But in this one, you, him, and your Roomba vacuum cleaner are one warm family in a cold world of steel and sinew.