#kilo babble

[onelittlemac]

☾ ⋆*☆ Heyyyyyyy~~~

Sorry I have been MIA! My silly husband needed open-heart surgery. lol

He had a birth defect that we had been monitoring for the last 7 years, and it was finally time to correct it. Very scary, but he's been recovering like a pro!

While he was in the ICU, we took a tour of the university's ceramics department with my friend, sister-in-law, and mother-in-law. I happened to see these pieces made by an unknown (to me) student. I couldn't believe that A) someone was making heart surgery ceramics as my husband was recovering from heart surgery in the ICU, and B) that I was able to see them out of the corner of my eye!

I've been missing posting and playing my game, and now that he's more stable and we're getting into a routine, I'd like to get back to it!

💫💫💫💫

Thank you to the three people who like my posts! 🫶

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

wah it is now my birthday and a friend wrote me a little svsss poem and it was so sweet aaaaaaAAAA crying forever

[punkascas]

also, hi.

for all of you who have messaged me and tagged me and texted me and wanted to know if i'm okay and where i've been, a list:

i am very sorry i've been so ghosty and hiding i are bad friend i love you please forgive.

my brain decided to get obsessed (like, really obsessed; like we've not experienced this kind of fandom obsesssion since polar explorers back in 2010 — fckin 14 years ago) with the gay pirate show and that is all i want to talk about or think about autism brain goes gnaw gnaw delicious hyperfixation.

the gay pirate show re-awoke my pre-existent obsession with age of sail and tall ships and the history of that time, so clearly this calls for all the research possible as if i'm going to write a dissertation on some Grand Unified Theory of Pirates.

can you get a PhD in pirates?

the nice thing about the gnaw gnaw is i'm writing again. writing a lot and i've missed being creative and writing metas and fic, even if i haven't shared anything.

my position was terminated and i got laid off from my job. this came pretty well out of the blue for me, and it hit a lot of ouchie spots in the ptsd pinball machine that lives inside my brain. so i've been trying to work through a lot of grief and feelings of powerlessness and i have a bad habit of withdrawing when i do that.

i'm still working through the end of january, which means trying to finish several of the major projects on my plate months and months early because there's no one to pick them up once i'm gone. so work has not only eaten my face but my hands and forearms and it's started to chew on my shoulders now.

right before i was laid off, i adopted a new puppy. my 16-year-old dog died of kidney failure about a month prior. so to help distract from the grief and to always have a tiny tyrant running the hounds ragged, i got a silly floofball. he is very cute and tries to give snuggles by wiggling his entire body against my face and hair, but also possesses a single adhd brain cell and is super into biting and teething. he's figured out how to open the fridge, get up on the dining table and the kitchen counters, and jump any and all doggy gates i bring home, despite being only 4.5 kilos. like even to leave him unobserved for 90 seconds (i've timed it) is to bring destruction and tears. i love him but he is Death and i have no clue how he'll make it to a year old.

i've been in the process of trying to have a kid, and the assorted stress that comes with that, and between health stuff (i had my appendix out but there were complications that i'm still dealing with), mental health stuff (especially meds), job, pup, and other things, it's slow going and expensive and frustrating. and in general, it's just hard and shitty and draining.

i am out of spoons. even if you took every random, ugly, why-do-i-own-this, taking-up-space-but-you-never-get-around-to-donating-it coffee or tea mug from every cupboard in the world and turned it into a spoon and gave it to me, i still wouldn't break zero.

anyway, the point is: it's not you; it's me. every message and every attempt to reach out has meant the world and has helped keep my head above water.

keep reaching out please? let me know how you're doing. if you're cool with letting me babble to you about pirates, even better. i'm love you and i appreciate you and i'm grateful for you. ♥️

[alexisraine]

I love when the tumblr algorithm gives me a "based on your likes" post that's just fandom babble about something I've never watched and sometimes never even heard of. I've never watched peaky blinders and I have no idea what epic the musical even is but my dashboard is selling me posts about them by the kilo

[burnwater13]

Concept art by Christian Alzmann, depicting Din Djarin falling off the Jawa's sand crawler, having been hit by ion blasters. Takes place on Nevarro. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 2, The Child.

The Mandalorian couldn’t remember the last time he had been so angry and felt so helpless at the same time. He wasn’t afraid. Not even of the thump that would come at the end of the fall. He had promised himself that he would never be afraid again. He allowed himself anger, rarely, and irritation, almost all the time. He could disappointed, annoyed, impatient, and disgusted. But not afraid. 

He’d already had that experience and he refused to have it again. Then he’d been a boy. Silly. Happy. Paying attention to nothing but the dinner gong. After the Mandalorians rescued him, he swore that he’d never be afraid again. What was there to fear? Was someone going to hurt the people he loved? Too late. Hurt him? Also, too late. Flip his world upside down? Nope. Been there. Done that. There was no point in fearing what you had survived. 

But he was angry. That ship was his home. His comfort. His refuge. Those wretched Jawas had defiled it. Stolen it from him. Damaged it. Made it impossible for him to do anything other than what he had done and that hadn’t worked. Dank Farrik!

It wasn’t like he’d been gone for days. He hadn’t. It wasn’t like he hadn’t scanned the planet for lifeforms, villages, power sources, and all those other things a good bounty hunter checked for before they went to do a job. He’d done all that and more and wasn’t good enough. That’s what made him angry. At least that was the other thing that made him angry. 

He was also angry that he found himself saddled with a helpless kid who couldn’t even babble in Gal Basic. What the hell was that about? How could the kid be fifty years old? Sure the droid was right about different species aging at different rates, but still, who put a bounty on a child? What had this child done? Drool on someone?

Of course it wasn’t the kid’s fault someone had put a bounty on its tiny green head. It also wasn’t it’s fault that there were obviously two sets of instructions circulating on what to do about the kid. That the droid had intended to kill it wasn’t that shocking. A lot of fobs specified ‘cold’. But his didn’t. So was there one client or two? Or more? Why didn’t this client tell him that others were looking for the kid? Did they not know? Uff. It was a mess and Din Djarin had fallen right into the middle of it without realizing that’s what was going to happen. He hated that. 

When the Children of the Watch had taken over his care and education they had taught him everything he might ever need to know, he thought. He knew at least five languages fluently, and several others to the extent that he could find and retrieve his bounty no matter where they were. Of course his Jawa trade language was one of the ones that he wasn’t great at. He’d avoided them whenever possible because he knew they were a menace. He’d seen that on Tatooine. 

Now he was free falling because they’d outnumbered him and had just the right weapons to deal with a Mandalorian, bounty hunter or otherwise. He knew the greatest strength Jawas had were their numbers and he should have remembered that, but the anger had done its job and made him blind to all the risks he faced pursuing them. 

It had been foolish to pursue them like that. No plan. No back up. No thought as to how it would end. Just anger fueling action. He supposed that was also part of his training. He could run, walk, crawl, climb (if necessary), as long and as far is it might take for him to reach his goal. Mandalorians practiced that sort of thing. They drilled it. Forty kilo packs. Extreme temperatures. Night maneuvers. Force against force. He’d done all that and survived because there was no other choice. 

He’d had a choice here. He could have tried to talk to them. He could have tracked them. He could have hiked back to the Ugnaught’s ranch and asked him for help. He could have just sat in the hulk of the Razor Crest and taken a moment to just let all those emotions run their course and then developed a plan. But he hadn’t and now he had fewer choices and they weren’t any better than when he went running after that damn sand crawler to begin with. 

He’d have to go back to the Ugnaught’s place. He still had the child to watch over and that should have meant more to him than it had ten minutes ago. He’d see if Kuiil had any way to get the parts back. He needed the Razor Crest to be whole again. 

He had to get the kid back to Nevarro for whatever purpose the Client had. He needed that camtono of beskar even more, given all the damage that he had to repair. If that failed, he’d have to find another  way back to Nevarro. Those other hunters must have left ships behind. Somewhere. The Jawas couldn’t have turned them all to scrap? Could they? Uff. They were Jawas. Anything was possible. 

With that, the anger left him momentarily and he wished he’d had a flight pack. That would have really made a difference. 

Thump!

[homespun-stories]

Where Will The Baby Go?

For something that weighs around three kilos and measures in the region of 50cm, newborn babies sure do take up a lot of space. A little shy of three weeks ago, we brought our second baby back home—the same home we had brought back our first, just over four years ago. Many things have changed since then, not least the number of grey hairs on my head, but the one thing that has remained resolutely unchanged is the footprint of our apartment. 

The fact of this sat with me all through 2022 and 2023, as my husband and I journeyed down the path of growing our family and all the complexities (read: hope, loss, love) that kind of process often entails. But where will the baby go? I'd silently fret to myself before I was even sure I’d have a baby at all to hold in my arms again. Objectively speaking we live in a small apartment, with enough bedrooms for two-thirds of the current occupants, excusing our enormous house cat who cares not for doors or boundaries and considers any available surface her territory for a hard-earned nap. To be honest, I’d welcome that kind of laissez-faire approach to our sleeping arrangements, flopping from sofa to bed to rug, but social conditioning and my extremely Type A personality requires routines and structure. No, the baby would need a bed, just like the rest of us, and we would need to work out where that bed was going to go. 

It’s a profoundly modern and Western phenomenon, this suggestion that each individual requires their own bedroom or even their own bed. In the majority of countries around the world, co-sleeping and room sharing between parents and children is the standard practice of care, to the extent that it would be considered completely unreasonable to expect a child (let alone a baby) to sleep alone. In Japan, where co-sleeping ranks the highest in the world, sleep is described as a river, with the parents occupying the banks and the child as the flowing water held safely between. We co-slept with our daughter for the first six months of her life, although it wasn’t in the formation of a river but more like a motorbike (our bed) with a sidecar (her crib). Given the grunts, hoots and whistles she regularly emitted as she dozed, this analogy feels more apt than the backdrop of a babbling brook. In any instance, she was never more than an arm’s reach away during those thick, dark nights when every insane sound she made was heightened in the silence of a slumbering home. After that, we moved her into The Baby’s Room which we had decorated and furnished with playful odds and sods that said more about our whimsy of being parents than they did of any perceived personality trait of our child. It’s a curious thing, to decorate a room that someone else will occupy, without knowing a single thing about their tastes or interests.

The Baby’s Room had also been our study until that point, and when the time came to move the desk into the front room to make way for a changing table and crib, I felt slightly undone. I was ready to acknowledge that parenthood would come with an exchange of gains and losses, but there was something so bluntly literal about the act of becoming a mother that it necessitated my giving up a private place to write. I guess it’s a variation of that oft-debated line from Cyril Connelly: “There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hallway." The irony is that it was only once my daughter was born that I found the capacity within myself to put pen to paper in a more expansive way, and during my maternity leave I wrote the first draft of a book proposal. Perhaps it’s an even greater irony that four years later I am writing these words whilst my son is wailing in the room next door, as my husband tries to rock him to sleep. Perhaps, like nature, art will always find a way. 

One of the consequences of giving up our study in place of The Baby’s Room, was the associated shame (entirely on my part) that came with living in a home that appeared too small for all our needs and wants. I come from a country that places a great deal of emphasis on the Family Home, variations of which most of my peers now live in and are currently extending, remodelling or digging out extensive basements underneath. Family Homes have a garden, enough bedrooms for everyone, a guest room, more than one bathroom, and the kinds of open plan kitchen-cum-dining rooms that are increasingly of a single aesthetic that populates all our Instagram feeds. Family Homes tend to come with their own social media accounts, so we can follow our friends’ #HomeReno updates and post fire emojis under pictures of construction sites. I have spent a good many years reflecting on what makes us feel good, mad and sad about home, and I can tell you that the insidious rise of interior design content which is beyond the skills and budget of the overwhelming majority is making a lot of us fucking miserable about our living situations. 

After a while, the question of where will the baby go stopped masquerading as a concern about where, practically, the baby will sleep, and revealed itself for what it was: a shameful desire to meet some kind of social norm as a Family of Four. This revelation came to me in the winter of 2022, after a shockingly awful year pockmarked by loss. During this time we had tried, and failed, to sell our apartment and buy a house. For nine long months our home sat on the market, and most weekends we spent our free time cleaning and decluttering so the estate agent could bring one or two people over for a viewing that never materialised into anything other than a pass. That weekend, in early December, when we pulled our home off the market and accepted our fate, I wept. It was another grief, of sorts—the ambiguous loss of a life I had imagined in our new house; one with enough potential to become a Family Home. 

These days, when I’m feeling a bit out of sorts at home and in need of a reset, I roam around the apartment and find things to fix or do—packing toys away in their rightful boxes, folding laundry, changing lightbulbs, that kind of thing. Invariably, I’ll end up standing in my daughter’s room gazing at all the things that make this space sing with her personality that we could never have anticipated when we picked out paint colours—the paintings bluetacked at a wonky angle on the wall, the rock and gravel collection, the basket of teddies, the plastic box stuffed with countless beaded bracelets she’s made for us all. I can’t even remember what it looked like when it was a study, and I don’t care any more. I didn’t lose anything when I moved my desk out, because it was never a trade to begin with. The day we turned that room into our daughter’s bedroom, we simply dialled up the joy in our lives. I couldn’t see it for a long time, but now I know that I’ve been living in a Family Home all along.

So where will the baby go now that we are four and our home is still, resolutely, the same size as before? He’ll go right here, of course—with us. 

[onelittlemac]

As soon as we got back, this lady texts us...

um no, I think we're good thanks. 🤣

[i-am-the-balancing-point]

I feel like I want to share and explain how I’ve been and what I’ve been up to in the past two(?) weeks but I don’t completely understand what my mind has been up to myself. wrote down some thoughts under the cut

but please don’t feel obligated to read or react, all optional of course:)

I was so busy with my date mate, I was rarely on my phone which was nice and I still feel super happy and full of love but I was also frustrated I did not have enough social energy for other things. It’s no one’s fault, I am just generally low on social energy and currently especially.

My datemate is amazing! Our relationship is causing me to bloom in a way that I never guessed would have been possible at the point I’m at. There is so much love inside of me and I’ve missed physically expressing that. Suddenly there is a new person in my life who has all my love and I can express it in all the ways that make me happiest. I’m so excited to learn new things about him every day and I’ve also been reflecting myself more than I have in a long time.

Yet I’m still in bad shape regarding my mental health. I never expected stepping back into the dating scene to fix me and I’m not expecting it now. Admittedly, the contrast of flying high on cloud nine and falling so low that I cannot stop my thoughts from revolving around suicide is exhausting. A lot of things that greatly impact me rn are out of my control and I can just hope for them to get better so I can too.

I wish I could give you all so many hugs! I know there is still mail I need to send out and I hope I find the energy to take care of it soon.

[perhapsarat]

literally NOTHING helps my anxiety more than cleaning

[onelittlemac]

I was 10 years old! And it was over 20 years ago! 🤢

I first played The Sims when I went to a friend's house for a sleepover. She had just got the Sims Unleashed for her birthday and wanted to show me her little pets! I immediately went home the next day and begged my mom for it.

A monster was created that day and I have been obsessed with the Sims games ever since! 🤩👹

📩 Simblr question of the day: How old were you when you started playing?

answer in whatever way is most comfortable for you and feel free to share this SQOTD around, make sure to use the hashtag SQOTD and tag me in separate posts ~ 💛

This question was contributed by an anon ~ Thank you for submitting multiple questions ~ (this is question 3 of 4 from this specific anon)

[captain039]

PART 2 He’s down on his knees

Jared Padalecki x reader

Warnings: sexual, smut, oral, light swearing, age gap, praise kink, dom/sub, bondage, public sex, talks about sex/kinks, first times, self esteem issues, body issues, chubby reader Just real dirty unless I put feelings into it xD

Just a random movie I’ll make up for this.

I also live for gay best friend makeup artist

Last part <-

Jared frowned staring at the spot you used to be, did he do something wrong? He felt your body tremble and saw the panic in your eyes as you left. Confused he followed you out the back door worried.

You sighed taking deep breaths, this is fine? Everything is ok. The back door opened and you saw a worried Jared.

“Hey, what happened? You ok?” He said worried puppy dog eyes active.

“Fine,” you said stepping away from him when he came closer. He frowned hurt flashing across his face.

“Did I do something?” He asked genuine worry in his voice.

“No J, no I-“ you sighed wanting to bash your head against the wall and forget anything ever happened.

“I panicked ok, because…. Because that was my first kiss” you mumbled the last part highly embarrassed as you stared at the ground and fiddled with a rock with your foot.

“What?” He asked surprised.

“My first kiss!” You yelled without meaning to.

“It’s stupid I know, nobody’s sentimental about that sorta thing anymore, but it’s special to me ok! You’ve probably kissed a thousand girls it’s easy for you” you babbled hands flying around before resting on your hips. He didn’t say anything, he just looked surprised.

“Now you think I’m stupid” you groaned.

“I don’t think you're stupid,” he said frowning slightly.

“I think it's cute,” he said his cheeks going slightly red.

“What?” You asked baffled by his words.

“You’re a romantic type, first kiss should be sacred, like hiding under the stadium chairs with your first boyfriend, or under the sunset, or first date goodbye” he shrugged embarrassed himself.

“I just assumed you’d you know” he shrugged again and you frowned confused.

“Had boyfriends and done all that” he added and you flushed.

“Jared” you scoffed and he frowned.

“Look at me,” you said and he did.

“I don’t-?” He tilted his head.

“I am fifty kilos too heavy, I have a double chin, my skin isn’t perfect, and I am no actor model! In high school it was worse I got no male attention, suppose it’s good because my taste in men is not that, besides the point! I was not a girl boy or man notice” you sighed arms covering your stomach.

“I’m not someone they talk to or look at” you whispered feeling emotions take over.

“Nobody takes notice of me Jared, not even now, I became an actor to be seen, now though it just feels stupid, I love acting, I can be someone else, I don’t have to be me” you stared at the ground, frowning when shoes came in the view and a hand cupped your cheek.

Your words got muffled by lips on yours, Jared kissed you, really kissed you and your brain didn’t know how to react. Your body seemed to know, kissing him, hands clutching his shirt.

“Do not say that about yourself” he muttered and you went to argue.

“Don’t” he finalised.

“I notice you every single hour of the day, hell the minutes, I am in awe of you, your movement, your body, your voice, your being is intoxicating” he spoke with passion, and determination as his gaze held yours tightly.

“I am obsessed with you” he admitted in a quiet voice. His eyes looked away, to the ground in guilt and disgust with himself. You lifted your hand and cupped his cheek so he looked at you. You were confident at this moment, this giant man practically a tool under your touch almost.

“Prove it” you muttered shocked by the words that left your mouth. His eyes darkened at your words, mouth open slightly as he breathed heavily. His mouth smashed to yours and he backed you up against the house, the man was strong you knew he was, but didn’t realise he was this strong. His hands cupped the back of your thighs and you faltered but he growled softly and you jumped up. His kiss was intoxicating, his hands squeezed your thighs as he moved down to kiss along your neck and jaw. The dress had a high collar so he couldn’t get very far which made him grumble. His hips ground into you seeking some form of friction. You were so lost in the feeling you jumped a mile when the director called for you both. Jared jolted panting softly in your neck as you prayed he wouldn’t come outside.

“Five minutes!” He yelled and you sighed in relief. Jared let you down slowly and you felt a little wobbly but kept your balance. He chuckled lightly lifting his head to look at you.

“I forgot we were at work” he muttered running a hand through his hair.

“No shit” you mumbled and he smiled. He glanced down briefly cheeks reddening and you frowned looking down instinctively.

“I’m gonna- get water” he walked away adjusting his jeans as you flushed furiously. You had your first kiss and first, make-out sesh in the span of ten minutes. You went back inside also hoping to not look too dishevelled. One of the makeup artists came over and fixed your hair and costume before smirking and walking away. She knew, she so totally knew, you were dead, that’s it, end of your career.

“Ok let’s try this again where’s Jared?” The director huffed.

Jared sighed leaning against the counter in his trailer. His mind was going a million miles an hour, thoughts of you, what had just happened. He wasn’t lying about what he said he was obsessed, probably unhealthily so. He groaned his jeans too tight and body too hot, he would’ve fucked you there if he didn’t know you were still a virgin. Some dirty part of him found it overly thrilling and cursed softly. He gripped the counter too hard before locking his cabin door and tugging his belt open and jeans open. He palmed himself, moaning softly, he didn’t have long but he needed to deal with this. He pulled himself out of his boxers and began to stroke lightly. He sighed feeling some form of relief before he spat on his hand and continued. Thoughts of you crossed his mind, the feeling of your body against his, there was so much to hold, so much to feel but he couldn’t because of that stupid costume. His breath hitched as he quickened, and he hung his head and moaned softly. He bit the inside of his cheek, speeding up, movements getting out of rhythm as he finally came in his hand. He slumped against the wall and panted, he groaned slightly pushing himself off the wall and washing his hands. He tucked himself back in his pants before doing them up and heading back to the house.

Next part ->

[sillyrabbit81]

Snow

Summary: Sy takes you and Tilly to the beach.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 750

Warnings: Mostly fluff, implied smut, hinted breeding kink, Dad!Sy, Husband!Sy

Authors Note: This is for @winter2112rose 12 + 1 Days of Christmas Challenge. Thanks for letting me participate. 🙏

This series will be a set of short (approx. 500 word) drabbles. They will be mostly set in Australia and consist of vignettes of your and Sy’s Christmas’s together. The reader is Australian, but I am still aiming to be as inclusive of race, and size as possible.

Thanks to @amberangel112 for beta reading. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

12 + 1 Days of Christmas Masterlist

Day 2 Snow

Laying in the early December sun, you relish its harsh biting heat as you wiggle your toes into the burning sand. It’s the first scorcher of the summer, and Sy insisted on taking Tilly to the beach and you couldn’t not tag along.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watch the two of them building a sand/snowman. Well, Sy is doing most of the work, Tilly just keeps picking up blobs of wet sand and patting them onto the snowman’s rapidly increasing belly. She’s so sweet with her beach hat, rash vest, and those cute little frills on the bottom of her swimmers. Sy squats down low and brings her close to him, you see him pointing to a spot and together they add more filler to the snowman's head. Tilly's tiny hand and his big paw pack the sand in tight.

You find yourself nibbling on your lip as you perve on your husband. Sy is as hot as ever. He’s put on a couple of extra kilo’s since becoming a Dad. You like the slight softening of his belly, he carries it well, he’s the perfect size for a hot Dad bod. His arms and legs are still thick though, you can see the lines of his muscles even from this distance.

You lay down on your towel again throwing an arm over your eyes. You can’t watch anymore. Lately, when you see the two of them together, your body starts telling you to do things your mind is telling you not to. Your maternal instinct is in overdrive urging you to have another baby. But Tilly is only a few months past her first birthday, she’s not even completely weaned yet, still feeding from you at night.

The sun’s warmth is blocked by a large shadow, and you grin as a small weight plops on your tummy. “Oof!” you say looking up to see Sy grinning over you and Tilly sitting on your belly. She’s all smiles, babbling as she claps her hands together.

Sitting up you turn Tilly around so she’s facing the ocean and put her between your legs. You hum as you feel Sy sit behind you, and he puts his legs on either side of yours. Leaning back into him you rest your head on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you.

“Your snowman looks good, Noah,” you tell him.

Sy chuffs. “It was fun until Tilly decided I needed sand on my head.” You chuckle as she smacks at your open hands with hers.

A thought crosses your mind. “Do you ever think she’s missing out being here at Christmas instead of back in the US where it’s winter?”

You feel Sy move sharply, jerking as if surprised. “I ain’t really thought about it. Do you?”

You shrug. “Sometimes I think about it.” Laughing you add, “I always wanted a White Christmas at least once. All the books I read and movies I grew up watching always had snow on Christmas Eve and it seemed so exciting.”

“I never had snow at Christmas when I was growin’ up either,” Sy says. “Granted, it weren’t as hot as here. Shit, sometimes I think even Texas ain’t as hot as here.” You smile. “She’ll be fine, we both survived without snow.”

“It would be nice for her to spend a Christmas with her cousins though. Christmas is more fun when there’s lots of kids around.”

Sy kisses your cheek. “Yeah, that I think she’d like that. She ain’t got cousin’s here yet. Maybe when she’s a bit older we could spend a Christmas with my sisters. No point goin’ now, she won’t remember.”

“Yeah, I think she would like that.” You run your hands over Sy’s thighs, the coarse hair tickles your palms, but you like the sensation. “Maybe she wouldn’t feel so lonely if she had a brother or sister to enjoy Christmas with,” you say, as casually as you can manage.

Sy’s arms tighten around you, and you feel the rumble of Sy’s chest in your back as he growls lowly into your ear. “You sayin’ ya want me to knock ya up again?”

“Maybe,” you say coyly.

Suddenly Sy lets you go, and he falls back onto the towel, his hands cover his face. “Ya can’t do that to me, Sugar.”

You turn and look at him smiling. “I take it that means you want to too.”

Sy sits up quickly with a filthy snarl on his lips. His voice vibrates deep in his throat as his teeth nip at your shoulder. “I think it’s about time we go home. Tilly needs a sleep and we’ve got a baby to make.”

[lexsssu]

𝑷𝒂𝒄𝒌 (𝑹𝒂𝒛𝒐𝒓)

Ao3 ver.

The sound of rustling leaves.

The chatter of squirrels and other small animals.

A babbling brook and footfalls of hilichurls and mitachurls as they guarded their encampment near the body of water.

The smell of greenery, damp earth, and morning dew.

Such was the norm in the wilderness, especially within the Wolvendom where nature rules above all else.

A herd of wild boar grazed upon the grass, bellowing and snorting occasionally as they ate to their heart’s content, blissfully unaware of the several pairs of crimson eyes peering at them through the underbrush.

One particularly plump hog feasted on berries from the bush it stumbled upon which was far away from the rest of its herd, too distracted with the tart sweetness of the fruit as it chewed to notice its every move being watched until it was too late.

A dying screech echoes through the forest, sending birds and tiny critters scattering away in fright. The iron scent of blood fills the air, a testament to the successful hunt.

However, rather than a pack of four-legged predators or grown hunters, four little boys stood in front of the carcass instead. Draped in cloaks and cloth from the pelts of previous kills, each child sports an almost eerie set of ruby orbs which shone against the light and seemed to glow within the cover of dark. Grey mops of hair decorated their heads, reminiscent to that of their father’s own wild mane that had only gotten more unruly over the years.

Each of them held weapons whose sizes fit their current young builds, from daggers to a bow and arrows. It almost looked comical to see such weaponry on children, but the dead boar that lay at their feet and the blood that stained their equipment is evidence enough that they clearly know how to use them.

“...Good work, pups”

The gruff voice that came from a small distance away from them had each boy’s eyes lighting up, their expression changing from its serious disposition into one of excitement.

“Papa!Papa!Papa!Papa!” The quadruplets practically ran towards the tall, muscular scarred man who appeared from another part of the forest, seemingly turning from experienced hunters into the children they actually are.

Razor hadn’t changed much over the years aside from gaining more muscle as his body became taller and broader, receiving a few new scars, but otherwise there wasn’t really much change to him physically. It made him look more frightening to newcomers, but to his pack it only solidified his position as Alpha.

He’d been training his first litter of pups how to hunt for a few months now and this was their first hunt where he completely stayed at the sidelines, simply observing but otherwise leaving the whole hunt from tracking their prey up until the kill for them. Suffice to say, he isn’t disappointed by their progress.

“Your mother will be happy to make food with your kill,” He adds, patting each boy on the head before turning to their fresh dinner.

“Now, watch how I clean. Then we go back to the den right after.”

As the Electro-wielder began the tedious process of cutting up the carcass, his sons patiently observed from the sidelines, imbedding in their minds the invaluable teachings imparted on them.

══════════════════

“Mama, we’re home!”

“And we got dinner!”

“Papa cut it up!”

“But we hunted it down!”

Hearing the various voices of your children, you look up from vegetables you’d been washing up to see your boys walking inside the little cottage located inside the expansive cave where the whole pack (including the wolves) resided. Sabre, Asher, Cayden, & Remus carried several kilos of meat each, nearly vibrating as they excitedly presented their kill to you like the prize it was.

“Pups did a good job today,” said Razor as he walked in after your youngest, Remus.

He carried more than half of the boar meat with him, considering that the beast could weigh from 75 up to 100 kilograms, too much for them to handle despite being sturdier and stronger than most children. It was nothing for him however, all too used to lugging around even bigger kills than this in order to provide for his whole pack.

“This warrants a celebration then! Why don’t you boys wash up first while I set up the grill? We can have an outdoor barbecue with everyone in the pack”

That was everything they needed to hear as they rushed towards the bathroom, leaving you at the kitchen with your husband.

“...They get that from your side of the family,” you tease, stepping on the tips of your toes to elevate yourself and give the grey-haired male a peck on his lips, receiving only a low whine in response at the short kiss.

“Oh, shush! There’ll be more of that later when we’re done with dinner. Now help me cut this up into smaller pieces so we can start with the barbecue soon”

Despite how comically large and fierce Razor looked and acted compared to you, he almost looked like an overgrown puppy when he asks for affection. Of course, he’s your overgrown puppy so it’s not like you can deny him anything at the end of the day.

[dalishthunder]

Imagine....dualscar being tense and grumpy from a nights work on the ship...sitting down in his chair and reader comes out behind him to start rubbing at his shoulders....he has appearances to keep and doesn't like loosening his posture much but it's so hard not to melt under those warm hands

I actually wrote something that went down like that.... let me find it for you. It's between a servant reader and dualscar.... if that is your cup of tea (I'll put it under the cut in case it's not).

But just the thought of him melting..........

“Would you like me to go…?” You asked him, hoping beyond hope that he would say yes. It had been a while since you’d gotten a good sleep in. His first mate always had a task for you to do. Always. Without fail, something else. But if you slipped out now, maybe you could sneak back to your hammock before the sun rose.

He didn’t even turn his head to look at you as he spoke into his pillow.“I need your tiny little hands, there’s a knot in my shoulders. Work it out.” He unclasped his cloak and tossed it to the ground. Lovely.

You sighed, standing up and walking over to the bed. His armor was still on of course, but you weren’t going to mention that, no need to doff that if you didn’t need to. You just wanted this over as soon as possible… and with any luck he’d fall straight to sleep. You really, really hoped he was sleepy drunk.

Your fingers began to rub little circles at first at the top of the shoulders first.

“Harder.”

You applied more pressure.

“No. No, angles off. You should know by now how I like it.” He snipped, voice muffled by his pillow.

You ground your teeth, but hopped up onto the bed and straddled his back, kneading the base of his shoulder blades. He allowed it for a few minutes before speaking again.

“You’re going to have to take off the armor, sweetheart. I can barely feel you.”

“Of course.”

“’Of course’ what?”

“Of course, sir.” Your nostrils flared as you found the buckles on the side, working the stiff leather until it finally came loose. He shifted so you could slide it off of him leaving him only in a lavender silk chemise and pants.

Your palms pressed firmly into his back and you dragged up, eliciting a deep moan from the man below you.

“That’s the ticket.” The troll hissed, arching his back into your touch. You worked your fingers into his muscles, another shameless moan escaping his lips. “Just like that.”

Dualscar The Orphaner, Feeder of the Deep One wasn’t usually so… vocal.

“Mindfang is just so infuriating.”He moped. “That’s the third trade ship this sweep that she’s raided… the third fuckin’ one! That ship had off-world product on it! Four hundred and thirteen kilos of Timoorian steel just gone. She’s probably selling it off to the rebellion for a killing. It'd be endearing were she not such a piss poor kismesis…. She does this all the time. Wind me up with enough hatred to turn my bloodpump black then just fuck off to glub knows where doing glub knows what just leaving me stewing in my own concupiscent rage.”

Ah. He was chatty drunk tonight….

He went on and on as you worked his muscles, babbling like a brook. Mindfang this. The Condesce and Gl'Bgolyb that. You wanted nothing more than to zone out, but a talkative drunk could slip up information that could be used against him. So you listened, giving a thoughtful hum whenever the situation demanded, learning more and more about the intergalactic price of raw dafad wool against your will.

His monologue began to peter off after what felt like hours.

“Do you know why I chose you to be my personal attendant?” He asked suddenly, propping himself up just a bit.

“Because you’re not threatened by me.” You replied without hesitation. “And even if I tried anything an ocean surrounds us so there’s nowhere for me to go.”

“Well don’t we have a smarty pants here… Didn’t realize you could talk so much.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” You muttered under your breath.

Dualscar turned his head to grin at you cheekily, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you under him. “So small.” He murmured. “With such a smart little mouth.”

He was intimidating even on the best of days, but pinned by his weight with his face only inches from your own…. You couldn’t help but swallow thickly as you caught a glimpse of his shark-like teeth.

“Such fragile skin.” His grin widened, teeth so sharp…. So sharp, you could swear you saw serration on the edges. Not the uneven rows of a bull or mako shark… but the perfect even triangles of a great white. The troll bent his head down, tracing his lips along your jaw and down your neck. “I could kill you right now.” His breath was cool against your skin, the bristly hair on his chin scratching against you. “It would be so easy….” He dragged his teeth along the length of your throat, just hard enough for you to feel it.

“… To rip your windpipe right out with my teeth.”

It was all you could do to keep still as he gently bit down, cold sweat covering your skin. No self defense class had prepared you for this. You could feel your limbs trembling as you stared up at the ceiling, view obscured by his bright orange horns.

“Not that I would of course,” He murmured into your neck, chuckling as he pulled back just enough to plant a soft kiss where his teeth had been a moment ago.

You exhaled shakily, and he pressed his lips against your throat again, laughing. “There’s nothing to be scared of… I’m not actually going to hurt you.”

You gave a nervous chuckle, hyper-aware as the prickle of his stubble left your skin as he brought his face back up, pupils blown wide as his eyes met yours, cheeks flushed a deep lilac hue. Your breath hitched in your chest….

Dualscar was a handsome man, Probably one of the most handsome men you had met; Troll or human. High cheekbones, thick black hair, violet eyes framed by golden sclera and long dark lashes… even the thin jagged lines that scarred his otherwise perfect face gave him character.

He loomed over you, his weight on your arms was almost unbearably uncomfortable at this point, pins and needles prickling along your veins, as his eyes bored into your own. Until he closed them, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours gently as though testing the waters. You melted against him faster than you would ever care to admit, and you could feel the smile on his lips. His fingers lit fires under your skin as they slid down your arm to your waist and up against the small of your back. How long had it been since you’d felt the comfort of an embrace…?

Passionate. Insistent. Desperate.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer. You could taste sea salt and his drink, bitter and slightly citrusy, on his lips… So different from what you were used to.

His cool skin was a balm to the heated way he kissed you. You gasped as he groped your ass, claws pricking through the fabric of your pants, taking the opportunity to unceremoniously shove his tongue in your mouth. He absolutely reeked of alcohol but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, getting lost in the cold, foreign feeling as he explored your mouth.

You followed as he retreated, nipping his lower lip before running your tongue along it. He moaned, breath ragged as you dragged your nails along his scalp and behind his fins. You kissed him deeply, hands curling around his horns.

He gabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, Dualscar’s voice just a low growl in your ear.

“No.”

You whined as he nipped your jaw, lathing over the spot with his cool tongue. His free hand slipping under your shirt, blunted claws scraping against your skin as he kissed along your jawline and back up to your mouth. It was hot and needy, grinding his groin against your leg.

You pulled back, ducking your head to kiss his neck. He moaned, hand exploring your chest, thumb rubbing over a nipple, sending a shiver down your spine.

After a few more minutes, of licking and sucking his neck, careful to avoid the sharp plates in his gills, he finally sat up, breath ragged as he looked at you. Nudging you off the bed.

It was unexpected… and you couldn’t help but wonder if you had done something wrong before he spoke once more.

“Now strip.” He was looking at you with a lazy smile, sitting upright, legs crossed.

You flushed, pausing for a moment, mouth slightly agape. The kissing, the groping, the humping… you had figured it would lead up to this, but you couldn’t help but feel nervous. Sure, plenty of people had seen you naked before, but this was far from your forte. It wasn’t that you were a prude or anything… but it had been longer than you’d like to admit. In your younger years you had been so focused on excelling in school, and completing college that romance hadn’t been your primary concern. You’d had a couple of datemates, but it usually didn’t last very long anyways. And since you’d landed on Alternia it wasn’t like you even really thought about romance… probably something about too busy trying to survive to really care.

You must have been taking too long because Dualscar reached out and took your hand in his, pressing his lips to your palm, dragging his sharp teeth along your skin. Giving you an altogether disarmingly charming smile.

[king-bito]

Ok this is awesome I love seeing all the oc

For me I’m definitely a monster fucker. My personality is vary hectic a lot of the time, I’m vary competitive but also just love to chill and do nothing. I am ether at a 10 or a 2 there is no in between. I would love a monster to steal me away. One that is sweat but also a tad bit scary sometimes and will absolutely rock my shit until I’m a babling mess.

I match you with Aym and Raum!

Well I hope you like being fucked 12 hours of the day because this duo will take up all your time. Raum (right) emits a thick purple smog from his mouth that his mask filters. It moves with a mind of its own and is a heavy HEAVY aphrodesiac. Even filtered it is extremely overwhelming to the human senses. He stands about 10ft tall with his horns and thick soled boots, with heavy clothing that covers all notes of a broad frame beneath. His robe alone weighs about 10 kilos, decorated heavily with intricate trimmings and dangling jewels. Each heavy step is complimented with the clacking of delicate metals and the shifting of layers beneath, along with a deep set rumble that seems to be his natural breathing. Slow, precise, and hungry. He doesn’t speak aloud, only rarely in a telepathic link that begins the moment his breath touches your skin. Aym is far leaner, more curvy and androgynous in appearance, and while he goes by all pronouns, male seems to be the more commonly said. Aym is the counterbalance to Raum. Raum will take you, mark you, and have you a babbling stupid mess unable to think of anything but him towering over you and fucking you into blissful oblivion with a dick that I must say.. is fucking gigantic, ornate, and far from human. Aym however, is your soft, aftercare and conversation provider. He will praise you at how well you’re doing when he isn’t taking part and just supervising his beast like companion. He is the only one who can provide you a clear mind if ever you want one, and the only one who can (but probably wont) free you from Raum’s ownership of you. These two predate lucifer himself, did not partake in the war and are rarely seen outside of the far corners of the demon realms. You’re more likely to come across aym, who sees all, sees exactly what you want and need and gives you the tempting offer. He is the first to become bored, and will leave you with Raum to do other things. This doesn’t mean he doesnt care about you, but sex doesn’t mean as much to him as it does Raum. If you are ever allowed on a leash back in public, you will hear Raums voice telling you to return when your time is up. You will reak of them to other demons and any supernatural being will give you a wide birth. You don’t cross these two. You, in their grasp are both the safest you will ever be, and in the most danger imaginable c:

[achtung-attitude]

A woman in a hooded jacket leans with her back against the wall, one foot against it like a teenager. He is hunched over, her hand over her mouth as she tries to stifle her laughter. She glances upward and catches the group’s gazes. This makes her laugh even harder, as she gives up concealing herself any longer, doubling over with hilarity.

“Oh-ho-ho shit, dammit… that’s embarrassing…” The woman sighs loudly, and sweeps off her hood to reveal her shorn head. T’onga shakes her head, refusing to believe what she sees. 

“Phew! Couldn’t keep a straight face, huh?” Sunmi says nonchalantly, pushing herself away from the wall. “I was hoping the girl’s friends would give you some privacy, but they really don’t trust you. That aside, it’s good to see your face again, Tong-Tong~.” 

“H-he…! He wouldn’t… Not you…!” the assassin bleats, her knees shaking.

“You know how that man of mine is,” Sunmi chuckles. “Once his mind is made up, there’s no him!”

Kilo leans to whisper in Moya’s ear. “Who the fuck?”

“I don’t know,” Moya responds. “I don’t know her. I’ve never seen her before…!”

T’onga suddenly hisses and roughly grabs Shizuka by her shoulders. However, she freezes again when Sunmi speaks.

“Ah ah ah ah, slow down there, Tong Tong! Don’t freak out! Nothing’s happening yet! Nothing has to happen. All-Kill said so to me himself, everything you’ve done can still be forgiven! All you need to do is come home with me, and you can talk it over. You, him, and your sweet little girl…”

Shizuka finally seems to regain awareness, turning her head to frown at Sunmi. “Who the hell are you supposed to be?”

“Not now, honey,” Sunmi responds, “The grown ups are talking. Come on, Tong. Just come with me, and I swear nothing bad will happen. You know I keep my promises, don’t you?” 

The two women stare at each other. Sunmi’s expression is serious, her eyes wide open like a predator’s. T’onga trembles before her gaze, a small animal seemingly mesmerized by a serpent. 

But then her expression hardens. She inhales, then exhales. She tightens her grips on Shizuka’s arms, causing her daughter to wince. Bodily lifting her, she hurls the girl straight towards her friends. Kilo blinks and rushes forward to catch Shizuka. 

“GET HER OUT OF HERE NOW!!!” she shouts. 

“Mo-!!” Shizuka yells, before Kilo drags her away as fast as he can. “Kilo?!! What are you doing?!!” 

“MOVE!!!” he shouts in response, shoving her onto her feet and forcing her to run like hell. Jerome follows them, trying his best to keep up, leaving T’onga and Sunmi together.

Sunmi’s face twists into a delighted, murderous grin. Obviously, she’s pleased with T’onga’s decision as her Stand emerges. Or rather, Stands. There is a metallic buzzing that fills the air as over a hundred chrome plated wasp creatures swarm out of her, hovering on silver-dagger wings. In place of abdomens, each has a hypodermic needle filled with a dark red fluid.

T’onga backs away, then runs. Sunmi’s colony doesn’t pursue immediately, and their master ponders. “Hmm… Who do I go for first? There’s no telling where the Princess will run off to now, so I could snatch her up now… but on the other hand, T’onga’s the one All-Kill’s really mad at…” She rubs her chin, then smiles. “OK~. Decision made. Here I come, T’onga~!”

She claps her hands together. Like a flash of lightning, fifteen of her Stand drones fly towards fifteen random people. These civilians wince in pain as the drones land on their bare skin and inject their red fluid into their veins. 

Their bodies begin to contort and they begin babbling nonsense, to the shock and horror of their unaffected neighbors. The white of their eyes fill with blood, turning ominous red. When the convulsions cease, evil intent infuses their expressions.

“Go now…” Sunmi says, raising her hand imperiously, throwing the hooded jacket off her shoulders. “QUEENS OF THE STONE AGE…!!”

END OF CHAPTER 54