#my skin loses malleability

[strangepetscomicbooksbat]

Me when my entire face is an open wound (Don't ask) and my mother has dragged me out to join her and her mom friends to eat, and when one of them tells me to lighten up on the pink eyeshadow I gleefully take my mask off so the whole group can see my actively bleeding lower half of my face :D I revel at their sudden discomfort and shame :D :D

Me: *looking at a porcelain hand in the home decor aisle of a store* if I lost my hands in some kind of tragic accident, I’d decorate my entire home with hand-shaped things. Then I’d invite guests over for like, dinner parties and such and sit there expectantly just basking in their discomfort.

My boyfriend: Do you hear what you say when you talk? Do you know what you just said to me?

[ovaryacted]

JAGGED EDGE

─ QZ Joel Miller x f! reader || WC: 900

CW: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Age gap implied. Possible dub-con. Rough sex. Degradation. Dom! Joel. Dom/sub elements. Hair pulling. Daddy kink. Joel is a meanie & a big scary man. Ambiguous/toxic relationship.

A/N: This is literally something I wrote and typed out based off of this singular picture that was shown to me. I had to do this, for the people! Proofread by moi.

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

Joel was pissed.

Coming back to the QZ with less supplies than he’d like had him on edge, a shit deal led to two less bullets in the magazine of his gun. A waste of his time, a waste of his energy and whatever fucking else he managed to have left in this dying world.

The parasitic things around him continue to take, and take, and take until he’s a dog fighting for scraps again. He’s already worked for the current rations he has, bribed or killed for the rest, did whatever he had to do just to get by and ignore the stench of rotting bodies he has to dig up and burn. He’s already dealing with enough, he doesn’t need to lose any more of what he had.

At least he had you.

Steady. Solid. Real. The only constant in his world, something so tucked away from other people's grasp they couldn’t tell the difference between their Joel and your Joel. He holds you at arm’s length, just close enough to let you touch him, but far enough to consider you an outsider, another survivor amongst the rest of the poor unfortunate souls that seek purpose with death creeping around every corner.

Though the moments where he grants you closeness, you don’t take it for granted.

Pliant. Malleable. All for him to have and to hold. You’ve come to learn that Joel was a naturally rough man, all of him was. You can’t blame him, he was a product of the losses that haunts him in his nightmares, slowly chipping away at his wavering humanity one death at a time. A predator with razor sharp teeth containing a bite full of jagged edges. You just happened to fit the role of his prey, a lamb that has ventured too far from the herd, ensnared in his grip with no way out. Not that you’d ever want to leave.

His molars grind in his mouth as he growls from behind you, the pistoning of his hips filling the dingy apartment with an audible slap of skin. Large hands kept you pinned by the neck underneath him against the tattered mattress, your nails digging into the comforter as Joel pummeled into the arch of your back. Every brutal thrust he gave you sent you inching higher up on the bed, spine curved to keep your ass high in the air, right where he could see you at your best.

The glistening skin of your pussy wrapped tight around him, clutching at his cock every time he slipped out just to punch back into you with a snarl, your body wishing to keep him inside for as long as he allowed. His heavy balls slammed into your pulsing nub with each resounding drill of his hips, amplifying the sensations and sending you closer to your impending release.

Joel fucks without mercy, his touch as ragged as the rest of him. But this was your Joel, and you loved him in any way he came, in any way he’d allow. After all, you weren’t given any other option.

“Joel, please…” your gasp was followed by a moan, eyes rolling to the back of your skull when the tip of his length kissed your cervix with precision. You shrieked as your head was quickly yanked backward, thick digits pulling on the strands of your hair, now wrapped around an iron fist.

“Please what, hm? What does my fucking slut need from me this time?” He bit harshly beside your ear, the tone of his sharp voice forcing your walls to clench around him.

“I need to cum,” you cried out meekly, his unforgiving pace had your eyes fluttering, wishing you could look at Joel at this angle, but he wouldn’t let you get more than what he decided was enough. He tugged at your head harder, the pain rushing to your sensitive nub between your thighs, throbbing from his intensity.

“What you need is to take what I give you. You fucking got that?” Joel muttered next to your temple, your heart pounding in your ribcage at his command.

“Yes.” Another forceful jerk to his body made you jolt, deepening the curve of your back.

“Yes what?” The gears in your head began to turn, finding the right words in the back of your mind to avoid pissing him off any further.

“Yes daddy.”

He slams you back down to the mattress with a groan, grabbing hold of your hips and fucking into you with such force you know you’ll be left with an ache in your pelvis afterwards. You know he doesn’t mean to be so aggressive, that’s just who he is, it’s within his nature. You understand him despite others viewing him as anything but human. A man with so much blood on his hands shouldn’t have the ability to make you cry for him, to make your body sing and crave him when he deserves nothing of the sort.

Yet when the textured tips of his fingers reach your slick pearl to circle it with intention, sparks fly under your eyelids and you spill around him with a loud wail of his name, tears stinging the corner of your eyes as you fall apart. You’d consider it an act of kindness on his end, the only time you’d ever think the man, or any man, touched you with such reverence.

He’s rough all around, but perhaps you’ve always liked them that way.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[lymtw]

Weathering A Storm Together

Toji calling you over to his place because there's gonna be a storm and he wants you to weather it with him. If it gets too bad, you can't travel to each other, so you might as well shelter together before you lose the option to do so.

He didn't greet you in a fluffy manner, but when does he? Usually, when you greet him with a hug, it'll start out normal and then his hand goes down south towards your ass, where he'll squeeze until you break the embrace.

You expected him to be handsy and up in your space because he really can't last five minutes without touching you, but it was as if he was being powered by the storm. You were pushed to the edge of the couch by him, his body wedged between your legs as he ambushed your lips with his own. His hands firmly grounded your hips to the couch cushions as if he were silently telling you not to move. Most of the lights in his apartment were off, just a lamp illuminating the scene of you and him on the couch and occasional lightning strikes that would cast light on your face. It was pouring outside, the sound of heavy rain and thunder filling your ears.

"What would you have done alone?" He plays with the hem of your hoodie, picturing the body beneath it.

"Nothing, Toji. Absolutely nothing. And you?" You tilt your head, allowing him to kiss your neck. One of your hands settles on the back of his neck, the other makes a mess out of his hair.

"Mm..." he groans at the feeling of you scratching his scalp. "I would've beat my dick to the thought of you and those pretty pictures you send me all the time. 'M glad you're here so I can fuck you instead."

You giggle, digging your heels into the cushions as he keeps smothering you with kisses. His crushing weight is completely welcomed by you as you attempt to bring him even closer.

"This my sweater?" His hands use their privilege on your body, going under the sweater to run up and down your waist. The warmth elicits goosebumps from you, and you can't help but writhe in his hold.

"You said I could hold onto it until you remembered to take it back, and I sure as hell am holding onto it."

His gaze pins you down, lips curling at your playful sass. He knows the obsessive thoughts that go behind sharing his clothes with you. You take his sweaters and he tells you to "hold onto them until he remembers to take them back" but that's just his code for 'think of me when you get off to the scent of my cologne'. He only takes the sweater back once your perfume overpowers his cologne, and it's then his turn to fantasize about you.

"That's good, doll. It smells like you, now." He presses his face against your chest, inhaling your scent deeply. "Mhm, that's my girl."

You giggle, brushing down strands of his hair with your fingers. You swear you felt something poke you down there while Toji face was pressed into you.

He pushes the bottom of your sweater up, over your midriff, until he sees the bottom of your bra. He kisses up your stomach, sucking a couple marks above your belly button and on your ribs before reaching your bra.

"Fuck, I love that you go shirtless sometimes when you wear my hoodies."

You laugh. "Yeah, my boobs are constant victims to your manhandling."

You play with his hair as he continues to explore your skin, littering more marks on it as he works his way up to removing your bra.

"They call me, baby. Who am I not to answer?" He pushes up the cups of your bra, watching intently as your breasts are exposed. "So soft and pretty, could keep my mouth on them all day if you'd let me."

He squishes the underside of your right boob, mesmerized by its malleability. His lips latch onto your nipple, sucking on the soft skin while his hand paws at the other one. You sigh, wishing you could press your thighs together.

"Fuck," he groans. "So soft, princess. I wanna ruin you."

You look down at him, your fingers still tangled in his hair. "Who's gonna stop you, baby? Me?" You take in his lustful gaze before finishing. "Absolutely not."

You sacrificed yourself to Toji. Your words got to him in a way you didn't think they would, but because of them, he was thrusting in and out of you mercilessly. He enjoyed watching your breasts bounce with every snap of his hips into yours.

"Fuck... fuck, mama," he almost whimpers. "You did this to yourself," he pants. "Was gonna fuck you... all nice and slow this time," he chuckles, breathlessly. "But, you won't ever let me be romantic, so fuck that." His nails dig into your hips when you start arching you back off the mattress.

"Oh my- Toji, Toji, fuck!" You claw at the couch cushion, your fingers shaking as you quickly lose grip.

You see another lightning strike behind Toji, through the window. You have two amazing views combined into one, tonight.

Toji wraps your legs around his waist to keep that strict rhythm in his thrusts. He leans forward, his forearms beside your head like a cage. "Why're you crying? Pretty girl's gonna cum? 'S that what's happening?"

You nod, gasping at his precision inside you. He's abusing his ability to find your sweet spot, torturing you with every roll of his hips. You hold back a sob, your heels digging into his lower back. Toji catches your tears with his lips, savoring the slight saltiness on his tongue. "Who else is gonna fuck you to tears like this?," he mutters into your jaw. "Huh? Who else?" He huffs against your cheek.

You let out a high pitched cry, your abdomen quivering against Toji's. "O-Only... you, T-Toji. Just, you...!"

"Uh-huh. Good girl." His nose drags down your cheek, leading his lips to your neck. "Absolutely no one else," he says before attaching his lips to your delicate skin. He knows you bruise easily so he uses this to his advantage.

"A-Ah... o-ow, Toji," your nails claw at his shoulder blades. You shudder at the sharp pain in your neck and collarbone.

"Hold still, just a couple more." His hips continue rolling into you, slower as he focuses on leaving hickeys on you skin.

"F-Fuck..." you inhale sharply when you feel his teeth on your shoulder.

"Mine," he mumbles beneath your ear. "These..." he presses on the bite mark and the litter of fresh marks on your skin, making you wince, "prove that you are mine."

He straightens his posture but keeps his gaze lowered to meet your dazed expression. Your brows are pinched, and though your eyes are lidded, he can make out tiny hearts in the slivers of your eyes that remain.

"Toji?" you moan.

"Yeah?" He groans, feeling your cunt clench around him.

"Can I," you shudder at the intensity of his green eyes focusing on you, "wanna cum."

He laughs. "How did that go from being a question to being a statement? Try again, doll face."

Your thighs quiver around his hips as he picks up the pace of his thrusts again. "U-Uh... Um..." your eyes roll back for a second. "Fuck, can I cum? Please?" It came out sounding desperate. There was a slight whine in your voice.

"Keep going."

"Toji, please? Please, make me cum. Please."

Your begging was working him towards his own peak, which is why he pushed for more from you.

"How badly do you want it, because to me it doesn't really sound like you want to cum. Convince me, mama."

You felt like tearing out your hair. You were going insane with this solid rhythm of his, holding you inches away from am earth shattering orgasm. Just a little more and you'll be tossed into a pleasurable void.

"Toji, please. Pretty please. Please, I need you to make me cum."

His hips pick up the pace the more you beg, his rapid breathing now audible to you.

"Please... daddy?" You plead, meekly.

That was it. That was enough to get whatever you wanted from Toji. His eyes widened, and for a split second, his soul was in your grasp. You willingly gave it back with twinkling eyes, and in return he made you cum so hard that you thought your spine would snap from how hard you arched off his bed. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing it up as you cried his name out until it didn't sound like a real word anymore.

You felt Toji tremble against you, his hips pulling back before rocking back into you, languidly. All you could hear were little shaky breaths near your ear before feeling his warmth spew inside you. You could hear his strangled groans becoming soft moans as he slowed down.

"F-Fuck, fuck, Toji," you shuddered, tensing up at the sensitivity you felt in your cunt even when he slowed down. He groans, leaving a kiss behind on your shoulder before leaning back to look at you. His dazed expression mirrored your own. He leaned forward one more time to kiss you. It was lazy and sloppy, saliva coating your lips more and more each time they brushed his.

Toji released you, sliding his cock out to see the result of such an amazing fuck. He whistles, impressed by the sight of his cum dripping out of your pussy and onto the couch.

"God, really, Toji?" You can't suppress the smile forming on your lips.

"What? You look stunning, darling. Can feel my dick getting hard again." His hand finds your knee, stroking it gently with his thumb.

"Wait, give me two minutes. Still sensitive." You smile sheepishly.

"Take your time. You're stuck with me 'til the storm passes, anyway."

You smile. "Shouldn't be too long."

"That's cute. You're trynna be gone by tomorrow?" He hisses with fake sympathy, like he's about to break bad news to you. "Tough luck, doll. Forecast says the storm should last the next four days."

[knavcsblade]

hear me out.

breeding with chlorine

i need f/f content for chlroinde like she sso pretty and fine and she has a gun that could go down my throat as she finishes inside me bc shes amazing like that!1!1! (sorry im rambling)

killshot.

+18!

cw: transfem!clorinde x f!reader. overly descriptive. cunnilingus. edging. a little biting. gunplay. breeding/creampie. (half proofread)

wc: 2.3k

summary: lesbian sex and a little gunplay. tasty!

a/n: the whole gun thing awakened something in me that had been dormant for too long, so this is as self-indulgent as it gets too (horny jail). i love freaky requests, tbh

Now, how did you get into this situation with the Champion Duelist? The last few memories you had were of the tranquil conversation you both shared over warm tea at her home—before the world became a blur of desire and pure, unadulterated bliss.

Perhaps she was overly stressed at the moment—that job was utterly demanding of the poor woman, and everyone needs to blow off some steam from time to time. You simply didn’t expect the usually put-together Fontainian to be so… intense.

The sudden goosebumps on your soft skin managed to bring you back from attempting to recall any sorts of details, all due the faint caress of Clorinde’s gloved hand. “Look at me,” she purred as her digits trailed up the curve of your hip, “I want to see you.”

And her command would be followed, naturally. The attention she brought to your newly uncovered clit with her clothed fingertips was nothing short of maddening, and if that weren’t enough, the manner in which she palmed the swell of your breast threatened to draw a whimper from the depths of your throat. It wasn’t to her surprise that you’d seek to do whatever she said just to feel more contact—you were just so good for her, weren’t you?

She had managed to lay you on her plush bed what seemed like hours ago, even if it was only mere minutes that had passed by, just to unrobe you and have you exposed to her lustful gaze. Were you truly losing track of time already? The intimate moment had just begun, and she would make sure to enjoy it wholly, even if it felt like an eternity to you.

A low, rumbling chuckle that vibrated through Clorinde’s chest could be heard from where she hovered over you, and it sent a shiver down your spine that couldn’t be concealed. With a hand between your parted legs and the other resting on your ribcage, she leaned closer to your ear to take in the aroma of your perfume mingling with increasing arousal.

“Squirming already?” Her words were dripping with a sensuality you weren’t quite used to yet, but was oh so enticing.

You were flustered beyond measure at this, your reaction being to shudder beneath the plump lips that now traced the column of your throat with vexatious provocation. Open-mouthed kisses were spread over your skin like sweet honey, leaving trails of saliva at their wake as she made sure to make her way through the valley of your tits just to turn you into that malleable mess she knew you could be.

Through the haze of the situation, you managed to feel the leather of her gloves against your inner thighs and hear her usually serene voice turn into a low grumble. “Keep them spread.”

Next thing you knew, Clorinde’s languid tongue glided through your slick folds to gather whatever evidence of your growing desire she could to sate her thirst, practically moaning against your cunt as her fingers massaged the supple flesh of your legs to keep herself grounded. 

Surely you could feel her gaze boring into your face, all to gauge your reaction to the way she so desperately began to eat you out like a starving woman, though you couldn’t meet her eyes. Your head had already lolled back into the pillows at the delicious chills she had caused you with a simple suck to the puffy bundle of nerves she had been teasing for too long.

You were putting on a show for the expert duelist now; moaning loudly at every slurp and obscene kiss, your hips surging upwards to grind against her mouth, arching your back to display the swollen peaks of your nipples. If only she hadn’t been determined to fuck you into oblivion soon enough, she would’ve found her own release right then and there.

And so her heavenly ministrations continued. Her trained digits dug into the moldable skin of your ass to keep you still as her nose now pressed roughly against your mound. Pleasure, white-hot and all consuming, radiated from your core and set your nerve endings alight at such lewd stimulation.

She kept her lips wrapped around your clit for some time, all to enjoy the tangy taste despite the obvious chaos of mixed fluids now dripping from you and her chin alike. She could tell you were close already, the way your moans turned frantic and desperate as your legs jerked around her head being evidence enough of the impending orgasm that threatened to wash over you like a tidal wave.

A wet pop suddenly drew you out of your blissful trance, and you instantly let out a whimper of protest as you now struggled to look down and meet those purple eyes through a pool of tears. She was already pulling away from your needy cunt with glistening lips and lightly flushed cheeks.

“Why? What are you…?” Your breathless words were cut off by Clorinde’s as she busied herself with spreading your legs further.

“Hush,” she started, sitting back on her knees to lower the new pair of deep indigo pants she had recently bought. “Don’t be so greedy.”

You were rightfully upset at her—she had taken that glorious climax away from you, which had begun to slowly subside only to leave you sensitive to any sort of touch. You were too far gone to realize, however, that her idea was for that to be the case from the very first moment she lay her hands upon you.

Out of sheer astonishment, a gasp was caught in your throat when her thick, hard cock proudly jutted out of her clothes. The dim lighting was enough for you to catch a glimpse of a growing bead of pre-cum dripping down the shaft, and now all resentment was gone. The aching need to be filled was back, and more intense than before.

All she had to do was line the swollen head of her dick with your sopping entrance to draw a wanton mewl from your mouth, and she knew she had you on the palm of her hand.

Using barely a third of her strength, she pushed your thighs up and apart to give herself leeway to plunge into you in a swift motion that forced you to take her entire length in an instant. Needless to say you moaned at the sudden intrusion, and despite the slight pain, you were so eager to take her that you instinctively fluttered around her just to welcome her. She stretched and filled you so perfectly.

“You’re so… tight,” she groaned through gritted teeth, her hands now propping her up as they found their spot on each side of your head against the mattress.

Your velvety walls now gripped her like a vice, and she was beyond the point of attempting to be gentle or teasing due the exquisite feeling of your pussy gripping her tightly. Your senses were utterly flooded, even the scent of shared arousal permeated the air, a musky and intoxicating aroma that left you both lightheaded.

Despite being thoughtful enough to give you short-lived seconds to get accustomed to her size, she set a pace with her hips that harbored all her pent-up need for pleasure afterwards. She hadn’t even fully rid herself of her uniform yet, but that didn’t stop her from pounding into you in a steady rhythm that quickly built in intensity.

The sound of the creaking of the bed and cries of rapture filled the room, mingling with those of the headboard banging against the wall as strands of Clorinde’s hair curtained your face. Her regularly neat ponytail had untidied due to her harsh motions, and you’d be foolish to believe this wasn’t the most bewitching sight you had ever witnessed.

Angling her cock just right, she managed to rub the most delicate spot of your insides that sent a flash of electricity down your stomach towards your cunt and made your toes curl. Your legs wrapped around her hips unconsciously, drawing her closer. In spite of being utterly hypnotized by the heat, she lowered herself to capture one of your nipples in her mouth and bit hard enough to make you yelp—she soothed the sting with a flick of her tongue, ripping a hard moan from your chest.

She rammed against your most erogenous zone with fervent enthusiasm, clutching the sheets beneath you in her fists at the overwhelming feeling pooling in her lower stomach. A sheen of sweat now layered your bodies as the physical activity grew rougher, more demanding, and through erratic movements and tensing of her muscles, the duelist got a sudden idea—she didn’t vacillate this once.

She always prided herself on being methodical, always taking steps back before making a decision. Her mind was numbed by the passion of the situation, however, so all inhibitions and hesitations were out the window. All she wished to do was turn up the heat, to make you moan and writhe beneath her in an orgasm you couldn’t control.

She unholstered her pistol in a deliberate, measured motion, the leather whispering as it surrendered its hold before she trailed it upward against your middle. Its muzzle now sat against your lower lip, forcing your eyes to widen at the obviously dangerous position you were in while she continued to fuck you like it was all the most common of things.

At your clear confusion, a wolfish smirk crept upon her face. Such an adorable thing you were, still moaning and clinging to her cock even when she held her weapon against you.

“Suck it,” she ordered in a murmur, voice strained though still authoritative enough to make you whimper.

The handgun was discernibly unloaded, and its safety lever was locked. With no true peril in the request, you immediately relaxed and limited yourself to wrapping your kiss-swollen lips around the barrel to present her the picture-perfect image she seeked.

She kept her eyes on your half-lidded ones, merely watching you coating her firearm in saliva that slowly started dripping down the corners of your mouth. Seeing you struggle to indulge her little whim while your cunt squelched as she plunged into it with single-minded focus.

It wasn’t long after that your muscles clenched and fluttered around her cock, trying to suck her deeper, to hold her inside you. You were so close, teetering on the brink of a mind-shattering climax. The coil of heat in your lower stomach grew tighter and tighter with each passing second, threatening to snap at any moment.

She wasn’t far behind either, and you could notice from the way her thrusts became erratic, as well as the hand that held the pistol in your mouth slowly began to shake. All she wished for now was for you to shatter into a million pieces beneath her to take in your beautiful, breathless form.

You only pulled away from the muzzle to gasp to moan for her, these wanton cries having shifted from mere mewls of pleasure into desperate, urgent ones. The meaning behind them was clear—you were utterly lost to the throes of lust thanks to her, and all she had to do was push you just a little further over the edge to have what she desired.

“Oh, no. You were being so good,” she cooed in faux disappointment, her dick burying to the hilt with each brutal charge. “Don’t stop now, my dear.”

Her free hand found your clit once again, rubbing quick, merciless circles on the sensitive surface just to gauge a reaction out of you—good thing you were overly generous.

The intense stimulation became too much a few seconds in, and the reaction your body had to it made her tense up. Your legs began to jerk and push her closer, inner walls clamping down like a vice around her thick length as your back arched clean off the mattress. An expression of pure pleasure etched on your face, snapping the thin string of saliva that still connected your lips to the barrel of her gun.

Clorinde’s experience sent electrifying shocks of ecstasy through your veins, forcing you to finally find the climax you’d desperately accept. Due to the way she had denied you of it earlier, this one was overwhelming you beyond belief.

You let out a silent scream of rapture as your body writhed beneath hers, juices gushing out around her cock to dampen her pants and dripping down onto the bed below. You were clearly drowning in a sea of pleasure, consumed by the sheer intensity of your release, and the duelist only followed close behind.

Your release crashed over you like a cold tidal wave, sweeping you away in a torrent of mind-numbing bliss as the intruder that had brought you there continued its relentless assault to extend your crescendo even further.

You were too lost in the precious ache between your legs to even look down, though a guttural moan caught your attention. Clorinde’s own climax hit her once your cunt squeezed her persistently enough to milk her of every last drop of cum she could possibly deliver. Thick ropes of hot release painted your inner walls white, the pistol long forgotten among messy sheets just so she could tightly hold onto your hips and fill you up properly.

She pulsed and throbbed inside you as her head fell back with a shuddering gasp, exposing the column of her throat for you under the candlelight. Your gaze was still clouded by the slowly ebbing orgasm, though you could’ve sworn the way in which drops of sweat dripped down her temples and neck were about to make you beg for more.

Slowly, with muscles still spasming, she drew back just to take a better look at the new artwork she had created—you. The creamy ring you had left encircling the base of her dick sent a shiver down her spine, though the sight of you spread out and thoroughly fucked was one she wished to commit to memory.

She wasn’t the type to be openly vulnerable, however. “My new pants are ruined,” she muttered as she gave your trembling thighs a soft squeeze.

She knew that next time, she’d have to ravish you fully bare, and she couldn’t wait.

[hunkpossession0]

The locker room was quiet, save for the distant hum of the overhead lights. He was there, leaning against the lockers, fresh from the shower, unaware of what was coming. The jock—everything about him screamed physical perfection. He was the type who’d peaked early, confident in the power that his body gave him. But tonight, that power would be mine.

I moved silently, the syringe hidden in my palm. It was filled with a substance I’d perfected over years—something that would transform him from a person into something wearable, a skin that would soon become my own. I approached him casually, as if I belonged there, and before he could react, I struck.

The needle plunged into his neck, and the fluid surged into his bloodstream. He spun around, eyes wide with confusion, but I held him steady as the process began. The substance spread quickly, numbing his body, turning his flesh malleable. He tried to speak, but all that escaped was a strangled gasp.

As he collapsed to his knees, I could see the change taking hold. His muscles, once hard and defined, began to soften, his skin turning almost translucent. His entire body was losing its structure, his strength dissolving into nothing. But the real transformation was still to come.

I reached down, grasping him by the base of his dick feeling the last bit of resistance in his once-powerful form. With a firm, deliberate motion, I began to squeeze, forcing the last of his essence out of him. His soul, his very life force, was being channeled through that final point of connection, expelled with each pulsing throb.

His eyes widened in a mix of shock and disbelief as he realized what was happening. He could feel himself draining away, his identity slipping out with each forceful squeeze. I didn’t stop until he was empty, until every last drop of his essence had been extracted, leaving nothing but a hollow shell.

The body, now nothing more than skin, slumped forward, utterly devoid of life. I lifted him carefully, his once-imposing frame now light and pliable. With a sense of anticipation, I began the process of stepping inside. The skin wrapped around me like a glove, his features, his muscles, molding to my shape, tightening as if I’d been born in this body.

Once I was fully inside, I flexed his fingers, rolled his shoulders, feeling the power that was now mine. I looked in the mirror, and there he was—no, there I was. The same smirk, the same confident stance, but with my mind, my will behind it all.

The transformation was perfect. I was him now, and no one would ever know. His life, his body, all mine to command. And as I walked out of that locker room, feeling the residual warmth of his essence still tingling beneath the surface, I knew that this body was just the beginning of what I could achieve.

[uravitypng]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐲-

god your tummy is just so squishy and they want to lay on your stomach to feel your warmth and your plump body underneath them. they just want to lift up your top so that there's skin to skin content while they just place their hand on your tummy because it's the most comfiest place their hand can rest on. they want to take a bite of your stomach rolls, give them a nibble, they just want to mark your tummy up so much. he wants to wrap his arms around your soft tummy and pull your body against his. they lose their train of thought when they think of you wearing tighter clothes that make your tummy more visible and prominent than in your other clothes. if you ever wore a crop top in front of them be ready for them to lose their minds, they'll insist on taking a photo together of the two of you as a reminder about how confident you look dressed up all cute in the crop top but really they just wanted a photo of you wearing it because you look so hot.

— EIJIROU KIRISHIMA, izuku midoriya, keigo tamaki, hizashi yamada, ATSUMU MIYA, shoyo hinata, yu nishinoya, lev haiba, TORU OIKAWA, manjiro 'mikey' sano, yuuji itadori, satoru gojo, MEGURU BACHIRA

(my hero academia, haikyuu, tokyo revengers, jujutsu kaisen, blue lock)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬-

they try to keep their eyes on your face, they swear they do but when they see your thick thighs expand as you sit down they find it hard, they're memorised watching as your thighs increase in size as you get comfortable in your chair. they're the ones who fuck into their fists at nights imagining that they're fucking your soft thighs instead, imagining the jiggle of your plush skin and how your thighs look like they're swallowing his cock. they're the ones at night who hump their pillow, creating friction on their clits, while they dream about riding your soft thigh instead. they watch you stand on your tippy toes trying to reach something on a high shelf, they see your skirt lift up higher and they basically drool as they see your upper thighs, catching a glance of the dimples of your skin and your cellulite before your skirt goes back to normal as you come back down off your tippy toes.

— denki kaminari, mina ashido, rumi usagiyama, IZUKU MIDORIYA, keigo tamaki, issei 'mattsun' matsukawa, TETSURO KUROO, ryunosuke tanaka, hitoka yachi, osamu miya, ken 'draken' ryuguji, takuma ino, satoru gojo, yoichi isagi

(my hero academia, haikyuu, tokyo revengers, jujutsu kaisen, blue lock)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬-

oh boy your love handles are so multipurpose for them. the need to kneed them after grabbing you by your love handles and keeping you close to their body. they watch as you walk your love handles move along with you, almost hynotisingly. they think about holding your love handles while you're sitting on their lap, imagining stroking your skin delicately and moving you by your love handles up and down on their thigh or their cock, having control on the way you move above them. they're imagining holding so tight they'll leave pretty bruises on your soft pudgy skin so you'll remember who made you feel good as they drag you along their thigh pressing perfectly against your clit, they'll imagine holding your love handles as they move you up and down on their cock while you take it and try your best to not to collapse feeling like a pile of jelly due to the pleasure you're receiving. they imagine about how your love handles would so malleable underneath their hands.

— TOUYA 'DABI' TODOROKI, hitoshi shinso, katsuki bakugou, mei hatsume, shota aizawa, enji todoroki, KEI TSUKISHIMA, keishin ukai, rintarou suna, TAKASHI MITSUYA, maki zenin, kento nanami, rin itoshi, rensuke kunigami

(my hero academia, haikyuu, tokyo revengers, jujutsu kaisen, blue lock)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐬-

short legs or long legs either way they're into it. they love the plumpness of them. when you wear raised shoes, even if they've only slightly have a heel or a raise they're drooling over your legs in them and how your legs have a curvy shape while wearing them. when you're not wearing heels or boots they're still going to be drooling over your legs because they just look so squishy and pillowy. they reckon you'd squeal and feel ticklish if they placed delicate kisses underneath on the bottom side of your knee. wrapping your legs around them for any reason? they love it. they imagine when they're in bed having you in a mating press with your legs on their shoulders. they imagine wrapping your legs around their waist if they're strong enough to carry you. they've had to change the bedsheets on more than one occasion because they've had a wet dream or have gotten cum everywhere on the sheets as they picture you wearing knee high socks and matching canvas shoes.

— tenya iida, OCHAKO URARAKA, momo yaoyorozu, mirio togata, kotaro bokuto, wakatoshi ushijima, hajime 'iwa' iwaizumi, TADASHI YAMAGUCHI, kiyoko shimizu, kazutora hanemiya, hakkai shiba, shoko ieiri, anri teieri, toge inumaki, reo mikage

(my hero academia, haikyuu, tokyo revengers, jujutsu kaisen, blue lock)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬/𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬-

the squish, the softness, the stretch marks, the flabbiness, sign them up. they love everything about your arms and hands. they're the ones who love when you wear short sleeves they see your stretch marks that decorate your arms and it's just so beautiful. when you grab hold of them by their wrist or you hold hands they think about how soft your hands feel, your chunky fingers grabbing on tightly to them, bringing you both comfort. they love it when you carry anything under your upper arms, they're not really sure why but it just gets them going. they cherish when you stroke their hair, they get to feel your chubby fingers make patterns on their head and they could easily fall asleep. they love hotter days when you wear summer dresses with spaghetti straps that slightly dig into your skin.

— tsuyu 'tsu' asui, shoto todoroki, TAMAKI AMAJIKI, jin bubaigawara, kyouka jirou, shinsuke kita, kenma kozume, kenji akaashi, osamu miya, CHIFUYU MATSUNO, kasumi miwa, OKKOTSU YUUTA, hyoma chigiri

(my hero academia, haikyuu, tokyo revengers, jujutsu kaisen, blue lock)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭-

they're not perverts, they're not! they swear it! ...but they spend the majority of their time thinking about your chest or looking at it. they can't help it, no matter what you're wearing they always look so good and pliable, it's not their fault if your tits look squeezable. they love when you wear those push up bras on night outs, especially when you wear low cut tops with it. their favourite is when you're not wearing a bra at all though, they love knowing that you're comfortable enough around them to prefer comfort over style when you're alone together hanging out. sometimes they feel the need to look away bashfully when they spot that your nipples are visible. they love when your breasts swing low and move freely in the long comfy tops you wear, it makes them imagine the feel of them in their hands, how soft and heavy they are. they've heard before that bigger chests typically have sensitivity, they want to test that so bad.

— HANTA SERO, denki kaminari, neito monoma, natsuo todoroki, TAKAHIRO 'MAKKI' HANAMAKI, satori tendou, saeko tanaka, takemichi hanagaki, geto suguru, megumi fushiguro, meguru bachira, SEISHIRO NAGI

(my hero academia, haikyuu, tokyo revengers, jujutsu kaisen, blue lock)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐬-

they're the human embodiment "i hate to see her leave but i love to watch her walk away." they can't decide if they prefer it when you wear short skirts, mini skirts, short dresses, pencil skirts, or leggings, your ass looks so good in all of them. they love the way your leggings and pencil skirts cling to your body and they love the short skirts and dresses that show more of your ass when you bend down or dance and sway, if they look close enough they can spot your underwear while you spin around and dance. they love the jiggle of your ass and they imagine late at night the loud slapping noises that would happen when their hips make contact with your ass while they thrust into you. doggy style and spanking are two things that make them go wild with the wobble of your curvaceous ass bouncing in time with their movements.

— tomura shigaraki, eijirou kirishima, touya 'dabi' todoroki, KATSUKI BAKUGOU, daichi sawamura, tobio kageyama, sakusa kiyoomi, takashi mitsuya, AOI TODO, YUUJI ITADORI, shoei barou, jinpachi ego

(my hero academia, haikyuu, tokyo revengers, jujutsu kaisen, blue lock)

not all chubby people have bigger breasts, obviously, but the last line on the chest section suggests that it's about someone that does

[inkykeiji]

Vox and electrical play I'm losing my mind

I KNOW he'd zap you when you get too close to cumming, a silent signal for you to stop nnnnnnnhhhjjhhhhh

OKAY YES YES YES holy shit anon this is an absolutely delicious idea and my brain totally short-circuited (lol) when i read it ooooh my gosh

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, electrical play, edging, implied mindbreak, overstimulation words: 428

he likes to use the electricity conducted in his claws—finds it more personal, more intimate that way—and will absolutely use it to edge you. he knows your body so well, has analyzed all of your mannerisms and micro-expressions right down to every twitch and quiver and whine, so he knows how to pull you apart and painstakingly put you back together. he knows that the trembling of your thighs means you’re teetering on the edge of ecstasy; that the scratching of your nails at his wrists, his shoulders, his chest means more, more, more, fuck me harder, faster, rougher; that the rolling of your eyes, whites framed by fluttering lashes, means your brain’s turned to a pleasant buzz of incoherent static.

as such, he knows exactly when to strike.

it’s so sweet to see the way you jolt with each zap—he swears it’s one of his favourite sights, the way your flesh ripples so prettily as the current surges through your veins. he swears he can almost see it, that bolt of teal electricity racing your blood, leaving sizzling sweat beading on your skin. 

it’s so precious, how a little too much will leave you stunned and stupid, body gone rigid for a few seconds before it mollifies beneath his touch again, shimmering cords of drool oozing from your mouth and crystalline tears embellishing your eyes, glittering as they catch on the jagged strikes of cyan lightning cracking around his form.

it’s so cute when you ask him for more even after his relentless assault, your body malleable and aching, fresh burns in the shape of his claws singed into your hips and thighs, your pleads heavy with pleasure and tangled in threads of spit. it makes him feel fucking incredible, invincible, how desperate you are for him, how devoted you are to him, even as he sears your mind to nothing but pretty blue cinders. it’s beautiful; you’re beautiful with him coursing through your body—his electricity crackling in your muscles, his love fizzing in your heart, his cock stuffing your cunt to the brim. 

but what he doesn’t expect is when his warning tases evoke the opposite of the intended effect—instead of halting your orgasm, it accelerates it, the sparks zipping through your veins coalescing in the pit of your tummy and forming one dense, pulsing ball of heat, furling tighter and tighter in on itself until it explodes, your cunt convulsing around him in the cutest spasms, gushing all over his cock. 

and, oh, he just learned some very valuable information. 

author’s note: alsooo i absolutely think vox has the ability to ‘store’ energy in his claws to save it up for more intense shocks, and i think he’s obsessive and methodical with the whole process, even as he’s fucking the life out of you, analyzing which type of shock he wants to use next; something big and stinging? something that’s just going to send tiny zaps of electricity shooting through your veins? which is best for the present situation? it’s all part of the fun to him ♡

[marleysfinest]

blame @neiptune for sliding into my dms with this out of nowhere and plaguing me with thoughts of teasing and begging. this is not proofread and I am isane.

gojo x fem reader. cw spit mention, teasing

when you crawl into bed at knocking on midnight, you half suspect that satoru will come knocking right as you fall asleep. he has a bad habit of waiting until you're right on the brink of sleep, dozing in and out of consciousness as you slowly drift to sleep, before making his move. his explanation? it makes you "cuter" (you know, in fact, it's because you're more malleable in this state of almost-slumber). he's in his office, fingers tapping away as he either burns through his inbox or has yet another stab at writing his "memoirs", you're not sure, and you find that you've become fond of this muffled typing as he works into the small hours. you wrap yourself in your duvet, head burying itself against your pillow and immediately feeling the weight of sleep descend. until, that is, it's halted.

like clockwork, satoru tip-toes into your bedroom and slides into bed, slotting himself against your back like a puzzle piece. his slender arm snakes around your waist and pulls you in tightly, trying (and failing) to be discreet in his intentions. you come round to the feeling of his warm breath on your neck, his slightly chilly palms resting on your stomach, and his hardening cock against your ass.

with a mental eye-roll, you fidget beneath him, but his hold on you is made of iron.

"you awake?" he whispers, knowing full well that you are. you grunt a reply, attempting to match is apparent playfulness, and keep your eyes firmly shut.

"c'mon," he whines, gently tugging at your waist, "I know you are. I can't sleep..."

his ability to be so brazen is never lost on you. there was something about it that was to be commended, how he was staunch about what he wanted and would do anything to get it, even lie a lie whiter than the hair on his head.

"I'm tired, satoru," you croak in return as you nuzzle deeper into the pillow, only semi-meaning it, mostly just playing along to see how he reacts. to see if he will be the one begging for once.

"then let me send you off to sleep," he purrs, right in your ear, "just the tip, I promise."

with a sigh you roll onto your back, bringing you face to face with your needy beau. with lightning speed he climbs atop you and shifts your legs apart with one knee before resting himself between your legs. it's in moments like this that he's almost tender, romantic, eye to eye and chest to chest, nothing between you except hot air and whispers as your skin bristles beneath his touch. he runs a hand through your hair, pulling stray strands away with an otherworldly gentleness before adjusting himself and just entering you. he leans in and stops the groan about to leave your lips in its tracks, kissing you with meaning as he lets you adjust to him.

your tongues dance around each other, all the while he's abiding by his plea, refraining from filling you completely. he guides your hands so that they rest on the pillow on either side of your head and entwines his fingers in yours, eagerly lapping up the building spit on your lips. his hips grind back and forth with care and attention as he focuses on not losing himself in you completely, knowing that his ultimate goal is to tease the whining, mewling kitten out of you that he knows is there.

he's so sloppy and firm, and once again you feel yourself losing to his sheer willpower. the tip of his cock easing in and out of your entrance, stroking your clit with every thrust soon sends you into a haze that begs to feel him inside you. to feel his top against your cervix again and again before lacing it white.

"please," you whisper, trying to free your hands from his, "go deeper."

his eyes glisten as he looks down at you, silently marvelling how he can make you like this every time. his grip tightens.

"what for?" he asks, "I thought you said you were tired. I don't wanna overwhelm you."

you instinctively arch your back as you whine like a scolded child, much to his amusement. he doesn't cave when you try to thrust your hips up to meet his, no matter how good it feels when your folds are so wet with yours and his slick.

"please," you whine, all care flying out the window as he shows no sign of giving in to you, "wanna... I wanna come around you. please, baby."

his glee is contagious, apparent from the grin on his face and the twitch of his cock. he throbs seeing you so needy, and he already knows he's not going to listen to you. he lets himself leak onto your dripping cunt just to make you all the more desperate.

"why?" he asks, almost breathless with excitement, "I like you like this."

"come on, satoru!"

he huffs a laugh at your tone - desperate. pathetic - and feels his core tighten along with you. your clit is so sensitive now but there's no helping the fact you're going to cum like this whether you like it or not.

your mouth falls open into a slack 'o', and together with satoru you cum hard, the release offering some clarity but hardly any of the satisfaction. he collapses on your chest and listens to your thumping heartbeat for a moment, before tilting his gaze up to you and revelling in your pouting expression.

"what?" he asks, "not enough?"

you scowl and attempt to wriggle free, but you know already you can't escape him. as he crawls up to face you once more, he pecks a final kiss on your lips.

"go clean yourself up. if you want the works I'll give it to you, if you ask real nice."

[du-sailarar-nerilia]

Alagaësia Lore And Headcanons Series, Part 1: The Ra'zac and Lethrblaka

Not sure how exactly this series would be structured just yet, but in this post I will try to compile all the information we have on the Ra'zac and my personal headcanons about the species

-mod Mist

Appearance and Behavior

The species has three known forms - eggs, which are blue-black and "pitted like sandstone", the "pupae" - the Ra'zac, and the adults, the Lethrblaka. The existence of a fourth form is strongly implied (more on that later).

The Ra'zac have a vaguely humanoid bipedal posture with hunched backs. Though distinctly strange, they seem to be able to fool humans for quite long - the imperial soldiers under their authority in Eldest must have worked with them for at least weeks and did not seem to recognize them as non-humans.

Their appearance is probably best described in Eldest, p. 185: "A hideous, tortured face screamed at him. The skin was shiny black, like a beetle carapace. The head was bald. Each lidless eye was the size of his fist and gleamed like an orb of polished hematite; no iris or pupil existed. In place of a nose, mouth, and chin, a thick beak hooked to a sharp point that clacked over a barbed purple tongue."

Another description comes from Inheritance (p. 196), of a newborn Ra'zac: "The Ra’zac had a deep, ridged chest that made it look as if its ribs were on the outside of its body, not the inside. The creature’s limbs were thin and knobby, like sticks, and its waist was narrower than any human’s. Each leg had an extra backward-bending joint, something that Eragon had never seen before, but which accounted for the Ra’zac’s unsettling gait. Its carapace appeared soft and malleable, unlike those of the more mature Ra’zac Eragon had encountered. No doubt it would harden in time."

The lethrblaka are much larger and winged, also described in detail in Eldest, p. 188: "Their bodies were naked and hairless—like newborn mice—with leathery gray skin pulled tight across their corded chests and bellies. In form they resembled starved dogs, except that their hind legs bulged with enough muscle to crush a boulder. A narrow crest extended from the back of each of their attenuated heads, opposite a long, straight, ebony beak made for spearing prey, and cold, bulbous eyes identical to the Ra’zac’s. From their shoulders and backs sprang huge wings that made the air moan under their weight."

This description, at least to me, strongly brings to mind old outdated art of pterosaurs that are often depicted as grey, emaciated bat-like monsters:

Rhamphorhynchus, W Francis Phillips

Quetzalcoatlus, William Stout

Pteranodon, Zdeněk Burian

According to Oromis, a Ra'zac will shed its exoskeleton on the first full moon of the twentieth year since its hatching (Eldest, p. 357). This would mean the Ra'zac also have a whole endoskeleton underneath their exoskeleton, or that the endoskeleton forms later and is possibly not made of bone.

The Ra'zac and Lethrblaka both feed on humans. While the Lethrblaka can feast on anything, the Ra'zac prefer human flesh. Based on the frequency of offerings by the priests of Helgrind, a Ra'zac needs to feed at least thrice a month (Brisingr, p. 5)

The Lethrblaka (and presumably the Ra'zac as well) have metallic blue-green blood. This sounds a lot like their blood is based on hemocyanin similar to insects, or some other similar substance (since hemocyanin is more transparent blue).

In Eragon (p. 64), Brom expresses bewilderment at the Ra'zacs' ability to replicate human speech. Since they have beaks, it is likely that they mimic speech the same way corvids and parrots do using their syrinx, which erases the issue of lacking lips. Though the Ra'zacs' voices are notably hissy (the way they are shown in dialogues), they likely struggle with sibilants or possibly replace these sounds with hisses as the nearest equivalent. Lethrblaka seem to lose the ability to mimic human language.

Their own langauge, which they share with lethrblaka, is a series of clicks, hisses, whistles, warbles and other sounds that are described as similar to either birds or insects.

In Brisingr, while debating making a pact with Eragon, the last Ra'zac makes a series of noises to himself. This may be either simply him talking to himself or alternatively, a way to express his emotional state. In other passages of the books, the Ra'zac react with hisses and screeches when angry or frustrated. It is possible that due to their hard exoskeleton, lidless eyes and stiff beaks, they make up for their ability to show their mood via facial expressions by expressing their feelings with different noises.

The Ra'zac and Lethrblaka seem to form close bonds among themselves - the Ra'zac show great respect to their parents, and the last Ra'zac seems to mourn his "hatchmate" enough to wish to disobey Galbatorix and avenge her death by killing Eragon.

Abilities

They are shown to be much stronger, faster and able to jump higher than humans. It's a question whether they are weaker, equal to or stronger than elves.

Their physical strength also makes them formidable swordfighters. It is possible they forge their own weapons, since their swords are described as unique in Alagaësia.

They have highly acute senses, most notably their eyesight, which lets them see perfectly under low-light conditions including near total darkness, and their sense of smell. Smell seems to be their primary sense, they are said to be able to track prey like a bloodhound and to never forget a smell.

They possess an "evil breath" that presumably contains toxic fumes that reduce the ability to think clearly, to the point of paralysis. This is the most effective on humans, barely affects dwarves and does not affect elves at all (Eldest, p. 357).

In multiple scenes they are also shown to have some kind of power over humans merely by looking at them. It is not certain whether this is strictly the effect of their poison breath or if they can use some sort of hypnosis.

The Ra'zac are described as "cunning and full of guile" (Eragon, p. 64) but "narrow-minded" (Eldest, p. 359). The Lethrblaka on the other hand "have all the intelligence of a dragon. A cruel, vicious, and twisted dragon" (same page).

They use Seithr oil, but it is unlikely that they produce it, since its creation requires magic (Eragon, p. 100).

Weaknesses - according to Oromis they are terrified of water since they cannot swim. Their highly developed eyesight also makes them vulnerable to sunlight and any other sharp light, which seems to be strong enough to cause physical pain.

Magic and True Names

The Ra'zac and Lethrblaka cannot use magic and their minds cannot be detected by magic users, as can be seen when they take Eragon and Saphira by surprise at Helgrind

There is also the reasons why they serve Galbatorix. According to the priest at Helgrind, he "stole their eggs and killed their young, and he forced them to swear fealty to him lest he eradicate their line entirely" (Inheritance, p. 192). Galbatorix prefers to control his servants through their True Names (such as Murtagh or the burrowing grubs from Vroengard he used to torture Nasuada), however, it seems that this was not the case since the last Ra'zac was able to disobey Galbatorix when attempting to kill Eragon in Brisingr.

All in all, some of the anomalous characteristics in terms of magic the Ra'zac possess are similar to the mutated species from Vroengard, such as the snalglí which seem to be immune to magical wards (Inheritance, p. 332)

This leads me to believe that the Ra'zac as a species somehow exist outside the framework of the Ancient Language and therefore lack True Names

We know that it is possible to give creatures a True Name (the sundavrblaka and íllgrathr, Inheritance, p. 532), but such thing is only possible using the Name of Names. Galbatorix is only shown controlling the grubs in Inheritance, after he has already learned the Name, which he had not known yet at the time of the death of the last Ra'zac in Brisingr.

Therefore, since they lack a True Name, are invisible to magic and cannot use it at all, it can be assumed they are not bound by the effects of the Ancient Language. This is somewhat supported by the fact that the name of their parents, Lethrblaka, is very clearly in the Ancient Language but does not seem to change anything about their ability (or inability) to be controlled. Ra'zac might also be "in the Ancient Language", but we will probably never know. In Eragon, p. 64, Brom says this about them: "They are called the Ra’zac. No one knows if that’s the name of their race or what they have chosen to call themselves." There is a chance that if they have indeed named themselves in the Ancient Language, the name would have no effect anyway.

Their existence outside the magic system of Alagaësia is also supported by what Saphira says first time Eragon mentions the Ra'zac: "Oaths betrayed, souls killed, eggs shattered! Blood everywhere. Murderers!" (Eragon, p. 44) As we know, for most races, even non-magic users, it is impossible to break an oath made in the Ancient Language. This might effectively make them the only sapient race capable of lying in the Ancient Language.

The Helgrind Cult

The cultists near Dras-Leona worship the Ra'zac and Lethrblaka, calling them the Old Ones and revering them by sacrificing their own flesh to them to "satisfy their desires". They also keep and protect the last (known) remaining Ra'zac eggs.

The high priest describes them as "the three-faced god—the hunters of men, the eaters of flesh, and the drinkers of blood". The three "faces" of the Ra'zac may be these listed three aspects of their species, or it may refer to their three distinct life forms.

According to Brom, the priests "spend much of their time arguing about which of Helgrind's three peaks is the highest and most important and whether the fourth - and lowest - should be included in their worship" (Eragon, p. 150).

They follow a certain Book of Tosk, presumably a human from the early history of human settlers in Alagaësia, a long enough time ago that the language of the Broddring Kingdom has evolved enough to make it incomprehensible to Eragon (Inheritance, p. 184)

Their goal seems to be to liberate the Ra'zac from Galbatorix and the Riders who have brought the species to near extinction shortly after their arrival to Alagaësia.

Origin of the Ra'zac

"They are the monsters in the dark, the dripping nightmares that haunt your race." “What manner of creatures are they?” “Neither elf; man; dwarf; dragon; furred, finned, or feathered beast; reptile; insect; nor any other category of animal.”

The most hints we get are from Oromis in Eldest (p. 357). He expresses the belief that they were the reason humans originally emigrated to Alagaësia from wherever their old homeland was.

From the way he describes them, the Ra'zac come off as almost otherworldly. Every species has relatives connected by a common ancestor. In Alagaësia even the dragons have distant cousins in the fanghur. The one-of-a-kind creatures of Vroengard seem to be easy to classify into categories of insects and birds. The Ra'zac seem to be the sole exception.

Oromis says "all areas where humans are weak, the Ra’zac are strong", and that they are the "nightmares that haunt your race". This is oddly specific. The Lethrblaka are said to hunt everything, but this might be simply a matter of finding enough prey to fuel their much larger bodies, or the Lethrblaka under Galbatorix's rule may have simply been instructed to seek other prey as not to draw attention to themselves.

These descriptions, the Ra'zacs' unusual abilities and complete separation from magic make it sound almost as if the Ra'zac were not a naturally evolved species, but rather created intentionally to hunt humans.

Theories

Who created the Ra'zac?

The Grey Folk - we have extremely little information on them except that they merged their language (the Ancient Language) with magic itself. They would certainly be capable of creating a brand new species. Problem is, the Grey Folk are said to have resided in Alagaësia (and were presumably native there) and after their magic ritual they faded away living among the "younger races" (it is not specified which ones, presumably elves and possibly humans after they settled Alagaësia). The Ra'zac arrived with the humans, so unless there were other Grey Folk living outside of Alagaësia this would make little sense.

The elves - they are said to have arrived to Alagaësia across the sea after a "terrible mistake" (this is a generally accepted fandom opinion, but I could not find any mention in the books). The problem with this theory is that elves and humans most likely do not come from the same place (elves are said to have arrived across the sea (Eragon p. 34), while humans came from "far to the south, beyond the Beor mountains" (p. 437))

Humans themselves - possibly an ancient civilization that intended to use them as population control/a force to keep citizens in line (this would make sense considering the juvenile Ra'zac are obedient to Galbatorix and "narrow-minded", meaning they would likely be easily trained), but the project went terribly wrong

Someone else

They are the result of random mutation similar to the creatures at Vroengard

What is their natural behavior?

The Ra'zac and Lethrblaka in the books are the last of their kind, their behavior and lifestyle cannot be considered a representation of their species.

There are four peaks at Helgrind and the cult of Ra'zac worshippers only worship three of them which are named, as well as describing the Ra'zac species as a "three-faced god". It is possible that there is a fourth form that is never shown, a rare one that was lost and forgotten in the times when the Ra'zac were decimated by Riders shortly after their arrival. Since the Ra'zac are very insect-like, there is a possibility this form may have been something like a matriarch, with the Lethrblaka being drones and the Ra'zac juveniles with different roles based on their size and maturity. This could be supported by the canon Ra'zacs' apparent sense of hierarchy. As for the last pair of Ra'zac being born from the Lethrblaka, to borrow from Dragonriders of Pern lore, it is possible that the Lethrblaka do not normally reproduce but may do so in the absence of a matriarch as a matter of preserving the species until the conditions for the birth of a new matriarch are met.

To go off of the previous theories, if the Ra'zac were indeed artificially created, the existence of a matriarch may have been sort of a failsafe to quickly reduce their reproductive rates in case the Ra'zac became too numerous. Unfortunately this failsafe did not work and humans were forced to migrate to Alagaësia. The Ra'zac that followed them had their own matriarch(s) among their ranks, but the Riders were able to kill them and therefore easily bring the entire race to the brink of extinction.

It is possible that the Ra'zac do not normally form the same close emotional attachments as they do in canon, and only do so due to the lack of companionship of an originally numerous species.

That would be it for now, I might add/change things later if I come up with anything that makes more sense

[wreckedandpolemic]

to my knees you do promote me - matty healy

prompt: queen of hearts

(mdni) day 6 and my final entry into valentine75! these were soo fun thank u vee @abiiors

warnings: sub!matty, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex

Your leather pants cling to you fluidly, like a second skin, matching gloves stretching up to your elbows. You pose dramatically, raking a hand through your hair and pressing your tongue against the inside of your cheek, savouring the way Matty’s gaze burns against your skin. He doesn’t know where to look, eyes darting wildly from the laces that cross over a strip of bare outer thigh; to your bare stomach, silver jewellery adorning your belly; to your tits, cradled in a black lace bralette with straps crossing your décolletage in a way that’s reminiscent of a harness.

“You like it?” you ask, smirking as he swallows thickly.

A charged, silent moment passes. “You can’t wear that,” he finally gets out, voice low and gravelly.

You take a deliberate step towards him, boots clacking on the wood floor, lips stretching in a predatory grin when he flinches. “Why not?” you pout, “Don’t I look hot?”

Matty’s answer comes embarrassingly quickly. “God, yes,” he groans, eyes lidded as his gaze sends heat flushing under your skin. “You can’t wear that, ‘cos I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

Laughing to yourself, you close the distance between you and sling your arms around his neck. Matty stiffens, a trembling breath ghosting over your lips. “Can’t control yourself, hm? Am I driving you crazy, baby?”

“Mhmm,” he murmurs. You can see him slipping, eyes glazing over, wide and needy. 

You grin, sly and teasing, and reach down to palm his cock through his jeans. He whines softly, already melting in your hands, pliant and sugary-sweet under your touch. “Oh, baby,” you murmur, tone drenched in faux concern. “You need it, huh?” High spots of colour paint Matty’s cheeks and his eyes fall to the ground as he nods. “Words, baby,” you instruct.

“Want you,” he says, the confession coming out quiet and penitent. You press a kiss against the corner of his mouth in reward, his lips twitching in a pout as a silent plea for more. “Please,” he adds, anticipating the words balanced on the tip of your tongue.

Matty’s hips jerk involuntarily against your hand as you slip your hand into his boxers and squeeze lightly. “Such a good boy,” you coo, admiring him as your words pull him deeper into that soft, malleable state. Getting him like this is rare, and you usually don’t get a sign before it comes on; Matty has a tendency of bottling up his stress until the glass shatters under the pressure and he comes to you pleading to lose control. “How do you want me?” you ask, still stroking him gently. Matty shudders, cock drooling into your fist.

It’s not always like this, all whispered praise and reverent quiet — sometimes, Matty needs some coaxing to let go, pushing back against you defiantly until you can bend him enough to fall. “Want your mouth. Please.” He’s quiet but sure, and you smile indulgently at him.

He inhales sharply as you drop to your knees in front of him, nuzzling your cheek against his clothed cock. A whine falls from his lips, so pathetic that you almost feel guilty about the scant tease. You free his cock, kissing the flushed head, crooning praise as he fights to hold still. “My pretty boy,” you murmur, watching through your lashes as a flush spreads over his cheeks and he smiles shyly. “Such a pretty dick, too,” you add, stroking over him and relishing the way he moans and shivers under your touch.

You run your tongue along the length of Matty’s cock, the salt of him intoxicating in your mouth. Your name falls from his lips, rapturous, as you swallow him whole. His head lolls back, his moans a litany that has heat buzzing under your skin. There’s power in this, in reducing him to a needy, obedient mess; him who bends you over and fucks you until you’re crying, who fists a hand in your hair and whispers sweet cruelties in your ear, who tells you shut up and take it like a good girl.

Desire throbs sickly in your gut. You press a hand between your legs and grind down against it, moaning around Matty’s cock as it bumps the back of your throat. Pulling off, you lap at his tip, thin tendrils of pleasure curling up your spine as your hips roll against your hand. You go to take him in your mouth again but he stills you with a gentle hand.

With a question in your eyes, you look up at him. “Wanna get you off,” he says, eyes wide and glossy with desire.

You smile up at him, his face open and earnest as you stand to face him. You press your lips to his, swallowing his whine as he tastes himself on your tongue. His kiss is shy as he accepts whatever you give, controlled and ascetic. “Such a sweet boy.” You walk him to the bed, pulling him down on top of you without breaking the kiss.

Inhaling greedy lungfuls of his quiet moans and shuddering breaths, your hands slide to the laces of your pants and you start to untie them. Matty’s hands tremble as they come to cover yours, the knots coming loose under his touch in a way your body recognises. His eyes don’t leave yours as he makes his way down your body, his gaze sparking heat under your skin that drips down your spine and pools between your legs. You tangle a hand in his curls as he tugs your pants down just enough to fit himself between your thighs, his pained whine syrupy-sweet against your skin when you tug at them just slightly.

White spots dance across your vision as Matty’s lips connect with your skin, his tongue insistent and feverish over your clit. You moan softly, pleasure rolling over you in gentle waves; he takes the sound as an encouragement, redoubling his efforts with fervour. He’s losing himself in you, eyes fluttering shut as his tongue roves over your cunt, teasing your clit and then dipping inside you, back to your clit before you even feel the loss.

“Good boy,” you say, cunt clenching around Matty’s tongue as he fucks it into you in a gorgeous, deliriating rhythm. The praise has him reeling, his hips grinding down against the bed as he whimpers into your cunt. “I love you like this,” you murmur sweetly. “Don’t care about getting off, do you? Just wanna let me use you, hm? Making me feel so good, Matty. So fucking good,” you promise, carding your hands through his hair as he brings a hand up to you with your clit, a burst of pleasure buzzing up your spine when he rubs a skilled circle over your sensitive nerves.

“Wanna make you cum,” he whines, pleading, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. The calloused pad of his finger brushes divinely against your clit, the scrape sending a thick pulse of heat winding around your organs. Your responding moan has Matty burying his tongue in your cunt, devouring you with a ferocity that sends ecstasy ricocheting through your body, your hands fisting in the sheets as you moan and writhe uncontrollably.

His hips grind down against the sheets brainlessly, his body chasing his pleasure while his mind is singularly focused on yours. Desire ramps up under your skin, setting you aflame. Blood pounds in your ears, your world tunnelling down to where Matty’s hands grip your thighs, where his fingers circle over your clit, where his tongue thrusts in and out of you in an earth-shattering rhythm. His nails bite into your tender, sweat-slick skin, the faint edge of pain tracing lovingly around the curves of your arousal.

“God Matty, fuck,” you whine. “Feels so fucking good. God, I love your fucking tongue. My good boy.” He doesn’t let up, practically dragging your hips down to fuck his tongue impossibly deeper into you, until your body can’t take it anymore. Your hands fist in his hair as your body catches alight, screaming his name as you soak his lips and chin. Euphoria pumps in your veins, your heart working in overdrive as it seeps into your organs. All the air leaves your lungs, pleasure choking you out, Matty’s tongue still working over your clit as your cunt clenches around nothing.

You come back to your senses and Matty’s eyes meet yours, pure adoration passing between you. Need is written openly on his face, underlined by his flushed, drooling cock hanging hard and heavy where he kneels between your legs. “Can— can I cum? Please?” he murmurs, hands hovering nervously over his stomach, his body a hard line of tension that hangs on your strings.

Slowly, you move around the bed, stripping out of what remains of your clothes and helping Matty out of his. You climb over him, resting your hands on his shoulders and pushing gently.  “Lie back, baby. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

He nods obediently, letting himself fall against the pillows, his eyes glued to your slick, messy cunt as you lower yourself onto him. His name falls from your lips in a low moan, the stretch in your cunt familiarly divine, burning pleasure pulling at all of your limbs at once. “You feel so good,” Matty whimpers, hips bucking and striking that perfect spot inside you that sends ecstasy careening through your bloodstream. “I love it when you fuck me like this. So fucking pretty,” he moans.

You drive your hips down at a punishing pace, eyes rolling back in your head as your moans mingle with his in the air between you, thick with molten desire. Bracing your hands against Matty’s chest, you lean down to kiss him, swallowing his gasps as his hips meet yours, heat kissing up your spine. “Doing so good, baby,” you murmur, losing yourself in his eyes, so wide they look black, so liquid you could drown in them. “My good boy,” you promise, sitting up and clenching your cunt around him, his quiet whimper sweetly pathetic in your ears as you roll your hips.

Nails biting into your thighs, Matty’s breathing turns sharp, unsteady. His hips crash wildly against yours, delicious arrhythmia pounding between your bodies. Your head tips back and your mouth falls open in a gasp, sticky heat pooling low in your belly. “‘M so close,” Matty whimpers, eyes falling closed as he writhes powerlessly under you. “‘M gonna cum, can I cum, please, please, please.” He draws the words out, stretching them into a sweet, broken moan that squeezes around your heart before kicking fiercely in your cunt.

“Hang on for me, just for a minute, okay, baby?” His eyes go wide, fearful, and you press a finger to his lips to silence his protests. Pleasure arcs up your spine, sharp bursts following every movement of your hips. Gazing down at him, you catalogue every inch of his face, scrunching in effort of holding back. “Good boy,” you murmur, the vast chasm of ecstasy yawning beneath you threatening to swallow you whole. “You wanna cum?” Matty nods, his whole body trembling feverishly. “Then cum for me, baby.”

The moan he gives is enough to tip you over the edge, plummeting into ecstasy so deep you lose yourself in it, stomach twisting and head coming unglued from your body. Matty’s cock pulses gloriously inside you, pumping you full as your cunt clenches around him, euphoria flooding your limbs. You slump forward, pulling Matty with you as you roll onto your side and slinging a leg over his waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin there.

You run your fingers through his curls gently, curling close and basking in the warmth of his body all around and inside you. “Such a good boy,” you murmur fondly, eyes slipping closed as you press a kiss to the top of his head. “My good boy.”

[noisyquokka]

Hi hi! First, I'd like to say how wonderful your writing is and how much I enjoy it. It always makes me smile :)

Second, I have a request. Could you do a GN!reader with Minho where we feel and listen to each other's heartbeats? Maybe throw in a good kiss for extra flavor? I just think it would be really cute, and being a cardiophile who ults Minho, seeing a story like that would make my day.

No rush at all of course, and thank you for your amazing writing. Keep up the great work! ❤

Midnight Symphonies

PAIRING - Minho x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS - What more is needed than the sweet song of your Lover's heartbeat in the silence of the night.

WORDCOUNT - 1.1k

WARNINGS - Fluff, Soft Cardiophilia, a tad suggestive? (more like petting and caressing idk), a soft and domestic Minho who just needs a good night's rest

A/N - Love this request so much!! I apologize for it being so short. I was hoping to make this a little longer, but I'm not a fan of writing more in only to have it feel forced. I hope I've done your request justice, Dearie 😅

It's been roughly a half hour since he walked through the door. You heard the apartment door click shut through your haze of sleep, footsteps pad down the hall, even the subtle rustling of clothes slipping off at the foot of the bed. The water running in the shower was the last thing to ring in your ears before you dozed off again.

It's late now; just a little past midnight when Minho slips into bed. Your brows twitch as the mattress dips behind you, the sheets flipped up so he could slide in beside you. A warm hand coming to rest at your waist. You instinctively lean into his touch, hips shifting against the mattress to lose that space between you. To find his warmth.

"Can't sleep?"

The question has you stifling a yawn, rolling over so you're facing him. He smells like evergreen and lavender, the notes coming together to wash over your senses. Utter tranquility.

"No... jus' heard you come in." You mumble. 

"Sorry."

"You're fine, Babe."

Minho shifts until he's lying on his back, eyes closed as he pulls you on top of him. Your body settles into his embrace, falling into place as if you're the missing piece to his puzzle. Slender fingers run up and down the length of your spine, callouses coaxing you back into a sleepy haze as the minutes tick on. Your head falls against his chest and with that, the sure and steady thump thump of his heart hits your eardrums. It's the perfect metronome, as if his very existence were a symphony. It's more than enough to lull you back into that liminal space between conscious response and dreams. Though you're not quite ready to go back there yet.

"How was practice?" The palm of your hand travels as you pop the question, tired limbs and muscles twitching beneath soft flesh. 

"Good." He hums, lungs swelling under you only to release a great sigh. You can tell he's exhausted, if not by the short responses, by how needy he's being. Strong arms keep you pressed against his chest, lips making contact with your scalp. "Just glad to be home."

You smile at that, picking your head up to trail a few kisses of your own over the expanse of his chest, the skin dewy and warm from the shower. Minho purrs, his fingertips sweeping over the swell of your hip and you glance up to catch the beginnings of a lazy smile pulling his lips. He searches for your hand among the sheets, a short hunt that ends with your elbow propped up on his chest and lips ghosting over your wrist. Your pulse spikes at the contact. Brown eyes find yours in the dim lighting of the bedroom, half-lidded and malleable in your presence. 

"Feeling's mutual." You murmur, observing the way his fingers press into the underside of your wrist. The action alone is something so simple yet so... intimate. 

You've always found the sound of Minho's heartbeat to be hypnotic, to feel the muscle quicken under your touch. Strong and steady. Minho has never been opposed to the ritual. In fact, he'd been more curious than anything when you first brought it up. Now, you often find yourselves in bed like this— a mess of limbs and tangled sheets, few words spoken because you're both enamored by the life force that keeps both of you going. 

Minho has his own way of reciprocating. What started out as the subtle nuzzling of his head against your chest turned deliberate, always accompanied by the warmth of his hands sweeping over your flesh in search of your pulse points. His actions are always attentive and measured, even when he's trying to be subtle about it, having spent more than enough time discovering what makes your heart tick. 

Right now is no exception.

He's tracing small, soft patterns into the underside of your wrist, his fingertips dancing along the skin lightly enough to make you shiver. You let him continue his ministrations, your eyelids drooping as his hand slides up your forearm in a soothing manner. A ghost's caress.

"You trying to get me back to sleep?" You ask, your voice nothing more than a whisper. 

"Maybe I am." He mutters with a lazy smirk, a light grunt leaving his throat as he hikes your body further up the mattress. So you're draped over him. So that your chests are level with one another. That hand slips back down to your wrist, fingers dancing over the veins. Lingering on each as he explores the delicate network of veins hidden beneath the thin flesh. 

Each move is deliberate, but Minho is much too tired to tease. He's simply taking his time. Touching just to touch. But when he finally pinpoints the surge of blood running through your veins, you swear you're melting like butter on warm pancakes. 

Minho moves to adjust the position of your body, bringing you impossibly closer. Pressing you against his own frame. There's a pause. Brown eyes taking you in. An uptick in his heartbeat, you can feel it against your own. Then he's leaning in and you can't resist meeting him halfway. 

It's a slow kiss— a wave that crashes against your ribs and leaves you aching, a heat settling in your soul like the last burning embers of a fire. Minho breathes you in, feels your heart pounding against your ribs the same as his. His fingers run down the curve of your spine, sending shivers down your back as Minho shifts and pulls back. He presses another kiss to your forehead, eyes fluttering in exhaustion.

"Get some sleep, hm?" He whispers against your temple, his arms winding around you as your bodies entangle in one another.

"Alright," you murmur, snuggling up against him. Your muscles relax in his hold, loosening with every back and forth of his thumb. You let out a tiny sigh, resting your head against Minho's shoulder. 

Sleep is catching up to you, but you can't bring yourself to fall back into that liminal space right now. Not yet, anyway. You are content to simply lie here with him, skin-to-skin, feeling his heart pulse against your chest. Listening as his breathing regulates and those loving caresses slow until there's nothing but two souls tangled up in each other. 

Sleep can find you sooner or later. 

Right now, this is enough.

Psst!! If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my work 💕 I appreciate you!

[rasenko-tsudzu]

Gestures

Warning for the malleable! My ramblings sometimes make people a little dizzy and trancy! Be careful, ok?

It's been a while! Again! Hi!

There a loooot of ways to hypnotise someone, but I think there's something really special about the fact that sometimes, all it takes is a few little gestures to make it happen! If you're eager enough, sometimes all it takes is the simplest of things to take your mind away~

Like a finger! That's such a simple thing! But isn't it tempting to follow around and around when someone swirls it before your eyes? When someone flutters their hand in intricate patterns and you start losing track of your surroundings? The way that you feel yourself dropping just from the way their hand gestures down?

There are other things, too! Little touches and traces that feel so~ good~ and make your tension just fade away the moment you feel them. All these little instructions you get without even realising. Falling limp as their fingers glide across your skin, feeling your mind slowing when one circles around your forehead as if dragging your thoughts slower, and slower, until they just...stop~

Sometimes there's a lot of beauty in reallyyyy simple things, you know? And hey, if you did end up a little dazed there, make sure to come up gently for me! I'd never want you to be lost by accident, ok?

[moodymisty]

In His Shadow

Author's Note: A fun, personal project for one of my favorite clones. Finally a fic that I actually feel somewhat pleased with; It just seemed to work out well. I hope other people think the same, or at least enjoy it.

Summary: Sev has always been very purposeful in his gentleness towards you, but you don't want that this time.

Relationships: Sev/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Rough sex, Clothed sex, Alleyway sex, Quickies, Getting boned by a clone in full armor, Unprotected sex, Mentions of alcohol, Big meanie Sev has two modes

Word Count: 4368

Ao3 Link

Sev has two sides.

He’s a romantic. You remember how surprised you'd been at that; How you'd read his messages to you that would be so heartfelt and dreamlike, telling you of pretty skylines on faraway planets and how he can still feel your touch on his skin. What he says could be at times be considered poetry in it's own unique way, sending them to you in the middle of the night when he’s just off the battlefield and the adrenaline was just starting to wear off, or when he's stuck on Kamino in the same routine since he was first popped from his pod.

Sev is also gruff. Cut off, quiet, to the point; Rough.

He rarely speaks a word at times, eyes always watching and thinking. Clone Commando training has sharpened him to a point, and leaves him stern, tight-lipped, and at times overprotective of the few things he loves.

You love both sides of him. You couldn’t get one without the other, and you wouldn’t want to in the first place.

But it would be wrong to say that you always want him to be a romantic. You love him, but you also wouldn’t mind if for a night, he didn’t handle you like you were a fragile figurine.

You know he can do it. You’ve seen glimpses of it, when he’s moments away from losing control, the edges fraying like a shoddy old rope about to snap. But he always manages to hold it together, to kiss your lips like it’s the first time, to gently cradle your neck instead of grabbing a fistful of your hair.

Maybe it just needs to be teased out of him. You know some of the things that make him hot under the collar, so you think you have the gathered up confidence to do so.

It helps that Sev is a little looser than he usually is tonight; Not by much, you don't think he'd ever let himself get plastered, but a good drink and some post deployment rest have made him just the tiniest bit more malleable. The same goes for the rest of his brothers, who sit at the same booth all relaxing over some drinks. Scorch and Boss have ordered the most by far, but no one is truly drunk yet.

You take a quick glance outward and note that the bar isn’t too busy; But the Deltas aren’t the only clones having been given a rare break from the war effort, so there’s still plenty of colored armor organized in batches throughout the bar.

The shinies will intermingle, but clones painted with the colors of a particular squad or battalion will usually stay within groups of their own. It's more so just familiarity than anything else, but it's something that's hard not to notice. The behavior is even more so common with the rare squads of Commandos who come in here or presumably other clone friendly bars, as they always stay with just their pod-brothers; And everyone else eager to stay away and let them do so.

It’s less so a suggestion and more a general rule of thumb; You don’t fuck with Commandos.

They are stronger, larger, and more antisocial. And when you pick a fight, you get the whole squad. Rarely do you deal with only one. As such, it’s not out of the ordinary for Clone Commandos to have bubbles around them, as many are too nervous to risk offsetting one of them. Rightfully so. And you aren't dealing with the usual training; Commandos are a whole 'nother level, at least according to troopers you've spoken to. Hell, one of them still thinks you have a screw loose for asking Sev out all those cycles ago.

Maybe you just have a thing for the odd ones.

“Come on, who wouldn't be confident in our flawless record?” Looking back across the table instead of staring off, you join back into the conversation. Scorch downs the last of his drink, and you’ve lost count of how many down he is now.

"I just think you all should keep being careful,” You look towards Fixer. “At least for Fixer’s sake. He has to deal with you lot the most.” He rolls his eyes, but hopefully for his sake they'll listen even a little bit. You'd like Sev to remain in one piece.

"Don't bother. They'll never listen. Not like I haven't tried a million times." Fixer shrugs his shoulders in less so defeat, and more so acceptance. He knows his brothers well. It makes you laugh, but you can't help but worry about Sev's recklessness at times; He always promises to come back home, but you can't help thinking about something happening.

But now isn't the time to worry about that sort of stuff anyways. Not when he's right beside you.

As if he felt you looking at him Sev turns his head slightly and looks down at you right against his shoulder, his eyes softening just a tad. He gives your knee a little squeeze, before taking back his hand. He throws his arm back around the top of the booth, so it lays just behind your head.

He's said before he loves the soft feeling of your skin, and once admitted in a moment where his lips were looser than normal that it distracted him. It's a weakness of his, and one that as you'd planned earlier, intend to exploit quite heavily.

It's been weeks since you've touched him, and now that he's finally back safe from deployment, you want him riled up.

Hidden underneath the table gently take Sev’s hand, holding it with both of yours. You keep it like that for just a bit, before finally making your move.

Slowly you pull his hand until it lands on your thigh, his fingers brushing just what would be the middle. Not high, but close. He glances over at you curiously for a moment, before looking back to his brothers. You've done nothing crazy, so he doesn't take too much mind to it; It's not as if he wasn't doing something like it moments ago.

You don’t even know what the rest of them are talking about anymore; Scorch is a blabbermouth when he drinks and conversations are changing so fast. You're more distracted by Sev now anyways, and you can feel your face start to heat up just a bit at the thoughts running through your head. You fan feel his large hand gently squeezing the meat of your thigh, feeling it mold underneath as he moves his fingers in an almost mindless gesture. Or maybe it isn't so mindless? He's sitting upright a little more now, and seems a bit more on edge.

With one hand you place it over his again, and slowly you begin pulling it upwards towards the tops of your thighs. His fingertips fall between, and he can feel how warm you are through the fabric of his gloves.

Sev this time gets keen on your plan, however. He only has to turn his body a tad, before he leans down into your space. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear, and you swear you can smell him even through the liquor and greasy food. But no one can hear him but you.

“Thin ice.”

Is all he has to whisper in your ear.

If his goal was to stop you, whispering in your ear with a voice so deep like chocolate over gravel isn’t going to calm you. If anything, he only makes your thighs tighten together, a jolt of sensation traveling down your spine directly to your cunt. You can feel his now warmer than usual skin as he presses his forehead to the side of your face, still looking like he's whispering something in your ear for a moment.

You have no plans to heed his warning however; And in another feat of daring, you slowly take a few of your fingers and slip them into his glove, your skin brushing against his as you try to take it off. You can hear his disapproving hum- even though he makes no effort to actually stop you- and once you manage to get his glove off your thighs spread just enough that you push his hand deeper between them.

He can feel the softness of your skin just below the hem of your dress, and given how sitting has risen it up slightly, he wouldn’t have to move much more to reach their apex. In fact, he swears he can feel your clothed pussy brush over the outer side of his hand. You only need to move his hand once to rub against the fabric of your underwear, before he pulls his hand away.

Sev leans back to look fully at you, and with one glance at his expression you know it’s over.

That ice he mentioned? It’s cracked under your feet, and you’ve fallen into the dark water. He is going to kill you.

Sitting up more rigid you clear your throat in an attempt to get the rest's attention, while also trying to ignore Sev glaring holes into the side of your head. Maybe you should've done this a little later, or maybe a little more slowly.

“Sorry guys, I’ve had a great night tonight, but I think I should head out.” Scorch is loud, louder than usual with so much spotcha in him, groaning at you.

“Oh come on! Don’t leave me with the two hardasses! You’re the only other fun one!”

You ignore his plea, and with hands pressing on the edge of the table you get up, moving to slide out. Sev follows, almost like a shadow. When you’re both standing he has a hand gripping the fabric on the small of your back tight.

‘Hurry it up.’, is what the silent gesture clearly says. You back up into him just a tad and your body presses against him, and you hear him make a quiet noise.

“Sorry Scorch. I’ll make it up to you all later." You take one step back, giving a small smile. "See you guys next time.”

With hasty farewells given, Sev's hand on your back pushes you in the direction towards the back of the bar, where there’s a hallway; At the end a door leading into the alley. It’s mostly storage back here and whatnot, but it avoids having to push through the crowds at the front of the bar, which is what Sev wants right now. He wants the soonest possible spot where he can surely cuss you out for this, feeling himself strain against his armor. No matter now many times he attempts to make room for his heated neck or adjust his codpiece, nothing gives him relief.

You glance up at him while you both walk, before looking down and seeing the way his hand is gripping the edge of his own helmet; You fear any stronger, and he might snap it.

Pushing the back exit door open you both quickly shuffle through it, the warm summer air feeling much cooler than the stuffy heat from inside the bar. Neither of you comment on it, despite there clearly being some unsaid words being between the two of you.

They definitely aren't about the weather, however.

The moment the door closes and the two of you are finally alone, he grasps your shoulder, pushing your back against the wall. He stands in front of you, trapping you against it as an unmovable force. Though not that you'd want to leave.

The alleyway is dim; The lights are burning out and the shell around them is old and worn. As such Sev’s face is shadowed, his body pressing you hard against the wall.

“What were you thinking?”

His voice is strained, glaring at you while you sink into his shadow. You purse your lips and roll your eyes.

“Can I not hold your hand?” Sev’s tone of voice is borderline venomous, strained as the rough fabric of his glove slides along the exposed skin of your shoulder.

“You were not just holding my hand. You know it.”

You do, but half the fun was pretending otherwise. Especially since that was another part of teasing him.

Your can feel the rough texture of the brick and ferrocrete through your clothes, all the while Sev’s chestplate is nearly pressing against your own chest. His helmet, which he’d been holding in his hand drops to the ground, settling upright so now both hands can grip at your form.

Leaning down his lips are ghosting against yours, and you can just barely feel them brush over your own as he whispers.

"You did that all on purpose, didn't you?"

He hears you let out a breathy laugh.

"Maybe." It didn't seem like Sev had the chance to shave since coming back, so the stubble on his face is rough when it brushes against your skin.

"Would you have kept going if I didn't stop you?" You more than likely would've hauled him off far before things got crazy, but it's not to say you wouldn't have dragged out the torture just a little bit more.

"...Maybe."

You feel his hands tense against your waist, and in one smooth motion you go from facing him to the wall, to your chest pressing against it. His hands slide downward to grip your hips and pull them towards his groin, forcing your hands to press into the rough texture of brick to keep steady. He takes a step closer, trapping you harder against the wall. One of his hands leaves your hip, pulling the front of your skirt up before sliding forward to slip between the front of your underwear and stomach.

It lingers for a moment, as if he's internally debating something; Before suddenly the tips of his fingers slip below the hem of your underwear, and you can quickly feel them roughly pressing against the soft mound of flesh just above your cunt.

“That little head of yours is going to get yourself in trouble,” He says, his lips pressing against the side of your neck just below your ear and feeling your blood thump with your heartbeat. It's a good thing you were in the market for trouble.

“Fuck Sev,” His gloved fingers finally slip between your folds, the rough texture teasing before he quickly removes them.

“Bite,”

He says, raising two of his fingertips to your lips. Gently you bit the fabric, helping him pull the glove off so he can shove it into one of his belt pockets with one hand. Once finished his hand quickly returns to it’s spot snug inside of your underwear, brushing across your clit as his fingers become slick before slipping inside of you.

"I missed you too..." He doesn't seem to respond to your silly little joke about his roughness, his fingers deep in your cunt as you pant.

The weather has been warming, so the evening is less a freezing nightmare and more so a cool evening, with just enough of a breeze to make your shiver. At least in normal circumstances, with Sev’s stuffy breath against your skin and his body right against yours, you feel more than warm enough- even with plastoid armor impeding.

You attempt to swallow your moans and keep quiet, even though the likelihood of anyone actually hearing you is quite slim. The music from the bar, and even more so the crowds of people, are producing an almost deafening amount of noise, not even considering the other ambient noise of the district; As well as the alleyway being tucked back between a maze of buildings.

“You’re so warm,” He growls in your ear, the deep gravel of his voice you can almost feel in your gut. It’s even deeper now, almost more so than it’s even been. At least that you remember hearing.

He hears your soft mewl as his fingers curl inside of you, the soft sounds audible even with the amount of noises from outside. Your thighs quiver just slightly before you manage to steady yourself, pushing back against him.

His hand slipping away from your cunt you can hear him fumbling with his armor, forehead leaning against the side of your head as he does so. You can feel how he has you nearly trapped against the wall, body looming over yours.

You know the moment he’s managed it, as suddenly you can feel his groin- and subsequently the outline of his cock through his bodyglove- against your ass. He groans, in both relief and ache as he feels your soft body against him. He's slow however, taking his time pressing his hips against you, lips against the corner of your mouth.

“You act all needy, and now you’re going to make me wait forever?” Sev’s grip noticeably tightens around your hips, slipping along the sides of your underwear and wrenching them down around the middle of your thighs.

“You’re really trying to test my patience, aren’t you?” Sev is a patient man, he has to be at times given his trigger discipline, but somehow you always manage to make it run thin. You turn your head over your shoulder in an attempt to look up at him.

“I thought I already did; It’s why you dragged me out here to-” Sev’s cock pressed harder against your ass, while his lips press against the corner of your mouth.

“You need to be quiet,”

He says, before pulling back and tugging at the seam of his body glove, pulling out his cock to slide against your cunt. Instantly it becomes slick against your outer lips, Sev letting out a shaky groan as he grinds between your thighs. It makes you press your body almost backwards towards him, even though you don’t have much room to move.

You can hear the strain in his voice, clearly already pent up from weeks apart. He might not say it, at least not often, but you know that's the case.

You gain a bit of room when he pulls back just far enough, though only to press his cock against your entrance and slowly sheath himself inside of you. While he isn't overly rough, he certainly isn't gentle; You're absolutely going to feel it in the morning. The feeling makes you gasp; The angle making him feel even larger, if that’s even possible.

The hem of your dress lays on the small of your back, pushed up by Sev while the front remains somewhat in place. He makes you suddenly gasp as his hips hit your ass, fully sheathed inside of you as the rough fabric of his bodyglove and sharp edges of his armor press against your exposed skin.

Even though he had just hissed at you to be quiet, he’s not exactly setting a good example.

You can hear the lewd sounds as he fucks you, as well as the grunts and groans from deep within his throat. Sometimes he swears, sometimes he has a moment where he mumbles your name against your skin, though it holds less sweetness than usual. Not to say he isn’t loving, but he’s more, animalistic.

He isn't saying those usual little mutters of incomprehensible praise, or giving soft touches, instead gripping your hips and driving into you hard enough to almost press you into the wall, borderline desperately fucking you. Your knees keep wobbling, unstable though Sev's grip is helping keep you upright. Your underwear slides farther down to your knees, upper thighs slick from how wet your are.

“I love it when you act like this,” His hips slam into yours harder, making you moan loud enough that you quickly clap a hand over your mouth for a moment.

“Rough? Fuck you with all my armor on like this? That why you kept acting like a tease?”

His teeth gently nip at your skin, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave dents. It’s not too hard, he’s teetering right on the line. Like he knows exactly where it is, as he’s had to steer clear of it. Now that he knows you aren’t made of glass, he can step just a bit closer to it.

“Want me to put the helmet back on?”

He teases, the deep gravel of his voice you can feel directly in your cunt. Next time you’ll consider the bucket, but your little escapade is already running on borrowed time.

He’s close, you can feel the way his face is so hot against yours, and how he can barely keep an even pace; Now so less fast and hard, and more uneven but slower, and deep. He's still nowhere near gentle, fucking you for all he's worth enough to feel like your feet are going to leave the ground.

His hips stutter, slowly almost to a crawl as he grits is teeth, hearing it in your ear as he groans as he finishes inside of you. Your body feels so warm, almost overwhelmingly hot; The building the only source of cold feeling.

Slowing down you feel his one hand slip from your hip back to your front, sliding over your already battered pussy. You just need that little bit more, heart thumping against your chest and lower stomach tight and twisting in knots.

His hand presses against your clit harder, almost rough- too rough- making you gasp and bite your lip. He wants you to cum on his cock and is on a mission to do so, his teeth scraping against the heartbeat he can feel against his lips.

“Fuck, fuck Sev-”

So so close, right on the edge...

He can feel your cunt tighten around him as he finally coaxes it out of you, your knees barely able to hold yourself up even with with being pressed and held so tight by Sev. Your breath leaves a moist patch on the wall, hands scratched and sore. All of you is sore, and will be even more so tomorrow.

But you did coax it out of him, with this being the goal. So while it this was the cost, you consider it more than worth it.

“Fuck,” Sev pants, his body heavy against yours- even more so with the added weight of his armor. “We should get out of here. Before someone sees.”

The likelihood of someone coming back here, other than maybe a clone with a similar idea as you, is incredibly slim. But needless to say you still agree. You're now a disheveled mess; Your dress is wrinkled and underwear stretched, a few stitches snapped and what amount of makeup you'd been wearing is now far less clean than it had been. It still looks in place, but you can see where your eyes had almost been watering, or your lipstick smudged across your face.

And Sev's; He's sporting a little kiss mark on the corner of his mouth but you elect not to tell him about it because of how good it looks against his tan skin and stubble.

Leaning away from the wall, the way Sev had you for so long it made your feet almost numb, stinging like little pinpricks. It makes them harder to walk on, your knees wobbly and body still hot.

“Just, give me a minute.” Sev’s hand weighs gently on your hip even after you gather you bearings, looking up at him. He gently brushes a chunk of hair from your face as you fix your clothes, before he follows you. He stays close the whole time, a hand on the small of your back.

“Don’t give me that look,” He says, even as you make sure for the fifth time your clothing is totally fixed before emerging from the back alley. Once you do his hand leaves your back, but he's still staying quite close.

“What look?”

He doesn’t answer, just looking down at you with a firm set brow, while hailing a taxi with his hand.

You both squeeze inside, and you give the address back to your place. While Sev doesn’t mind the barracks as much as the average clone, he’d still much rather go back to your place than them. Especially after everything.

You could more than do for a bit of a lie down after all of that, and surely Sev will join you. You only have him till sunrise, so you'll also like to get in some nice, quiet time.

He seems all for that as well, as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

----------------------------

It’s in the mess hall after he's returned to the base, that Scorch finally decides to pry into Sev’s absence, doing so over a tray of lukewarm soup. The subpar food isn't of any interest to Scorch, especially since gossip is on the menu, and Sev was caught by them sneaking back into the barracks far later than he should've been.

They won't tell, but it's not as if they aren't going to pester him about it.

“So…” Sev looks up, just knowing that was a warm up sound to the question he knows is going to be thrown at him.

“How’d it go with the princess?” Sev takes a bit of his own food, not even bothering to look up at his brother. He knows Scorch is referring to their abrupt absence at the bar, and that's where his intel ends.

“None of your business.”

Fixer isn’t even going to step into this minefield of a conversation, and even makes effort to avoid eye contact and thus being roped in. He continues eating his food as normal, and hoping it eventually sizzles out.

“Oh what, did you finally scare her off with your shitty attitude?” Boss gives Scorch a stern look;

‘Play nice’, as he’s starting to tread into territory that is beyond his sort of teasing jokes.

Sev seems to have the matter settled on his own, however. He gives Scorch one look that would boil anyone else’s blood, along with the cover of unwavering confidence.

“She doesn't seem to mind it.”

Scorch rolls his eyes and resists the urge to audibly gag.

“Ugh, you two were made for each other. It’s disgusting.”

[chadillacboseman]

What if Hanzo Hasashi with a slightly dominant S/O? 👀

What if you killed me right here with your bare hands?!

"Keep still."

The pyromancer's hands are fidgeting, longing to touch you- to run the pads of his fingers along your skin, committing every inch of you to memory.

But, he diligently obeys. He stays still, almost rigid, watching your every move as you perch on top of him. Warmth radiates from his body, growing with every languid move of your hips over the top of his clothed erection.

Hanzo could overpower you, he knows that. He could throw you onto your back, tear your clothes from your body, and take you however he wanted.

He could make you beg.

The thought is pushed from his mind when you press your full weight to him, scooping his wrists into your grasp and pinning them above his head in one swift movement. He grunts, drinking in the way you grind down against him, your eyes glittering fiendishly in the dim light.

Heat grows in Hanzo's chest, roaring, burning like a coal fire beneath his ribs. You feel it too, feel the way his breath quickens as the heat hits its peak. It takes everything in his power to stop himself from erupting into flame as you free him from his fabric constraints.

"Easy now," you murmur, and he feels like putty in your hands, soft and malleable, ready to do whatever you ask of him. The fire abates for a moment, but returns in full force when you run your fingers along his length.

Hanzo hisses as you sink onto him, fingers desperately flexing against your grip, but not enough to break it. He bucks his hips upward and you tut at him softly, "Did I say you could move?"

"No," Hanzo grumbles through gritted teeth; fire dances in his eyes as he watches you set a slow, grueling pace. He wants to roll you over, pin you to the mattress, and-

"Hanzo," you croon and his eyes snap to you, heavy and full of flame, "Eyes on me."

That alone is almost enough to send him over the edge. You're never this commanding of him, always letting him take the lead to reach his own end.

Your eyes flutter as you near your climax, hips stuttering into an erratic rhythm that makes Hanzo furrow his brows. He's so close himself that the change in rhythm throws him off, making him lose focus.

It takes everything in his power to not grab your thighs and set the pace himself, still diligently obeying your orders.

You come undone with a whimper, falling to his chest in a sweat-soaked heap as the waves crash over you. Hanzo chuckles, a deep rumble beneath you.

"My turn?" he murmurs, and you nod weakly, face still buried in his broad chest.

Hanzo's movement is swift, grabbing hold of you in an instant and rolling you onto your back, eliciting a surprised yelp from you that is quickly swallowed up by his mouth.

He's in control again, and you know you'll pay for making him wait.

[quibbs126]

Okay so I ended up actually finishing off this page today

So do you remember when I talked about wanting to make Legally Distinct Transformers sometime after watching Transformers One like 2 weeks ago? Well I actually did start trying to make their designs afterwards, but then I ended up losing interest. But then listening to the Transformers Prime theme song on loop got my brain a-thinking about these guys again, so I went back and tried to at least make some of the designs in my head

Right now this is what I have in mind for their designs. The basics are that they have solid eye colors (I just shaded them like CRK to give them some more life), skin that's at least the color of metal, which tends to be grey but can be other colors as seen, and also hair. Maybe hair doesn't make the most sense, especially considering they are still supposed to be made of metal, even if it is living and malleable, but listen. When I was originally internally thinking of designs for these guys, golden guy there specifically had long, wavy, luscious golden locks, and I had to keep that. So they have hair now. Also pointy ears because why not

They also have those square cores in the middle that are the same color as their eyes, which is basically supposed to be like their heart/power source

As mentioned, they are still metal alien things like Transformers, and they still have transforming capabilities. I don't know what specifically they transform into though, at least as some sort of alternate mode. They can just transmute their metal at will into other things, like weapons if they so choose. Also most of their world is also made of living metal, so with some reformatting they can turn anything into a weapon or some other object, including severed limbs

So far, I really don't feel like I've gotten distinct enough with these guys, both in design and concept. Also their designs just aren't really that unique or special in any way, just in general. But I don't know, I don't really know what to do with these guys design wise. I think you people know I never really get too weird with my designs, at least not now. It's pretty much just humans and mostly human looking beings. I know I need to get out of that more but I just don't know how

I also want to give them clothes in some way, but I don't know what to do on that front either. They're all naked right now, but that doesn't really mean anything here since they don't really have private parts. At least not yet anyways. I'm not giving them boobs or anything though. But yeah, they maybe wear clothes, mostly because I don't know how else to make them distinct, but I don't know what kind of clothes to give them

Something I'm realizing is with the Transformers, generally what makes them the most distinct is their head/helmet design, as well as what's around their body that's part of their alternate mode. But since I don't really know what I'm doing with these guys, I don't know how to incorporate that

I don't know, I think I should move on to a different topic, I'm just repeating myself on the design front. I don't know what I'm doing and I am not skilled enough to make these guys anything exceptional, even if my brain wants to do stuff with them

I guess we can talk about character stuff? Though granted, we still only have one character named, that being (tentatively) Howler, whom I'll mention later

I've mentioned this before, but basically as a refresher, Purple and Gold here are fighting a civil war, after their people had an uprising against the previous tyrannical leader

Basically the story I have right now is that the two started out very close, at some point joining against the ruling class to elicit change and revolution for their people. Also, they were in fact, gay and in love. But then during one encounter, likely after saving Purple, Gold gets captured by their enemy and basically left to be tortured and die in some horrible punishment place they have or something. I haven't fleshed out the details of this place yet. But it did lead to him getting horribly mutilated with his eye being ripped out and by the end of it, half of his face being basically gone and ripped apart. I have this very distinct vision of him having this red line (same color as his eye) going all the way from the top of his head to at least his neck. Meanwhile, Purple and their other allies tried to get him back but failed, and they rallied more forces and eventually lead an assault on the ruling class in revolution

This is also where Gold came back, having basically done the impossible of surviving that place he got sent to, and also bringing other survivors from there to basically be the cavalry and the two both working together to defeat their tyrannical leader

But they differed when left to decide what to do after, and how do deal with the ruler, Gold's experiences making him more ruthless, leading him to personally execute their former ruler and have some sort of altercation that left Purple with his arm now gone. His yellow one is a replacement he got sometime after this fight

This event sparked the creation of the two sides of this new civil war, with both disagreeing on how they deal with the rest of the ruling class and the structure of the government going forward. But also, for Purple and Gold, who are either the leaders of the movements or people with high standing in both sides, the conflict is very personal, since they both feel personally betrayed by the other

So yeah, basically Transformers, particularly One

I really need to work on making them more distinct from Transformers, I really do. I know I eventually was able to do that with Ralia, but that was over the course of at least two years, and was when I was in junior high, aka I had a lot less responsibilities, and I actually had creative juices back then as opposed to the constant drought of nowadays. Also my attention span is even lower, and I'll probably forget these guys yet again before I do anything meaningful

But anyways, I guess we talk about the last person here, aka Howler?

To be honest I don't entirely know what her name means. I think in my brain she was originally Sparrow or Raven, but then I wanted to change it, and so my brain thought Nightshade, then Night Howler (like from Zootopia), which then just got shortened to Howler. But it's a name, so I'll take it

Note that Purple and Gold are not the characters' actual names, they're just placeholders because I don't have any for them

Basically Howler's whole deal is that she suspiciously looks like Purple and Gold's love child. She's on Gold's side of the war, and is a younger member who's quick and good with knives. Gold also does treat her nicely, though they never refer to each other by a familial connection, but also Gold isn't evil like Megatron is supposed to be, and he's not horrible to the people who serve under him, unless he just doesn't like them. She is also supposed to be young enough that she was born after the war has started, although very early on in its timeframe

In my brain, because it's also for some reason an actual series someone watches, Howler's relation to the two is supposed to be something people commonly theorize/headcanon, but at least at the beginning of the story, isn't outright stated, and I've left it semi-ambiguous in my mind. But I think I'm going with the idea that yes, she is

Also the specific setup is that Purple isn't aware of their relation and Howler maybe hasn't specifically been told of Purple's relation to her, because Gold was the one that had her and this was not that long after their split, so emotions were kind of running high for him and he didn't feel like doing that out of spite

Also don't ask me how they reproduce. I guess it's sexually based on Howler, but I'm not sure I want to think about the whole process of it. They're made of metal, but it's also supposed to be living metal or some sort of metal-like alien substance, so they have some amount of organic-ness to them. But gender doesn't matter with them, or at the very least their concept of gender is different than ours and lets this be a thing

I'm not sure I have much else to talk about, so I guess I'm done here. I just wanted to talk about these guys I suppose. I like them and I want to do more with them, but I struggle with drawing them, or at least making designs of them that aren't just really boring and uninspired

[krikeymate]

For @wabitham, who requested something from fog in my head & smoke in my lungs. Found here.

The first (and last) night Tara comes home high, Sam thinks she’s going to lose her sister forever. It seems like she’s been losing her for a while now; she thinks this must finally be the moment that the frayed remains of their relationship snaps.

Sam didn’t mean to yell, she didn’t mean to grab her, to push her. She’d just been so angry.

It wasn’t the cold fury of realising her sister was betrayed by her best friend. It wasn’t the empty detachment of a knife slicing across Richie’s neck, or the adrenaline-fueled are you fucking kidding me moment of facing down some little bitch in a Ghostface mask. 

No. This was red-hot. It was a burning in her stomach, her heart in her mouth, venom - dark and insidious - searing through her veins. It was months of fear and rage simmering under her skin. It was her hands fisting Tara’s shirt - if it could even be called that - and shaking her, dragging her through the door, screaming.

Where have you been?

Do you know what time it is?

What were you doing?

Why didn’t you pick up your phone?

I’ve been worried sick!

Tara remains malleable in her sister’s grip, pouting up at her through furrowed brows. “I was having fun,” she chirps. “Something you don’t seem to remember how to do,” she adds, voice sharpening itself along Sam’s bared teeth.

Tara’s words are always designed to strike her these days, and tonight they make her strike back.

She slams her against the closed door and bends down, teeth an inch from her ear. “I’ve had enough of this, I won’t take it any more. It stops right now.”

Her sister just laughs, something cold and foreign from her mouth. But not unfamiliar. It was a sound she knew well, one ingrained in her memories from a childhood raised by a woman who had only ever hugged a bottle, who kissed only wine. 

“Or what, Samantha,” her sister spits with their mother’s voice. “Are you going to run away again, are things too hard for poor little Sammy-”

She hears the slap before she recognises the stinging in her palm or understands why her sister is being wrenched from between her fingers, falling to the floor.

“Oh,” Tara mumbles, confused by the sudden change in location, no worse for wear. But Sam stands over her, horrified at the quickly-reddening print on her baby sister’s cheek. 

Tara blinks up at her, pupils blown and black under this evening's influence of choice, and frowns. “Why’d you do that?” she whines, voice petulant.

“You- I… I didn’t mean to,” Sam stutters back, hands raised. She didn’t mean to, she didn’t want to. She would never raise a hand to her sister. 

But this isn’t your sister, a voice whispers in her ear. Not when she’s been drinking, not when she’s been smoking, not when she’s been using. Just like how their mother disappeared the moment she picked up the bottle, how Sam had lost herself for so many years. 

Tara wasn’t Tara right now. Sam would do anything to get her back. 

She’s tried being patient. She’s tried being kind. She’s tried being strict. …Maybe being soft has led her baby sister to this place, to this moment. Maybe Sam’s been too weak to do what needs to be done to set Tara straight.

Sam swallows hard, watching her sister sit up and rub at her cheek. Can she really do this? Does she have a choice?

Do you want to lose her?

She hates how much the voice sounds like Billy. She hasn’t seen him since she began this new course of medication, but he’s still there inside of her, she can still feel him. He’s just waiting for an opportunity to break free, to carve himself from her skin. She needs to gain control over the situation, and fast. This can’t happen again.

Please don’t let this be a mistake.

Sam hardens her expression, stepping closer to her sister. She bends down, grabbing her under the armpits and heaving her up from the floor. 

“We’re not going to do this again, Tara,” she says, voice stern. Unrelenting. She can’t show weakness right now, no matter how sadly her girl looks up at her. She needs to be the big sister. She’s always played the good cop in Tara’s life. She can’t do that anymore.

She can’t look her in the eyes or she’ll falter, so she turns her in her arms and begins to push her down the hall towards her bedroom. One hand grips Tara’s arm tightly, holding her sister up as she stumbles forward. Sam reaches around her to open the door and speaks solemnly. “If it happens again, I will leave. I won’t risk my sobriety, even for you.”

It’s a lie, of course. But one Tara believes, if the way she tries to twist in Sam’s grip is anything to judge by. She doesn’t let her, she only pushes her into the room. 

“Wait, Sam- wait- I-”

Sam pulls the door closed before her sister can see how she falters at her desperate tone. “Goodnight, Tara.”

She clutches the handle with a firm grip, hating the way it struggles under her hand. Tara’s cries from behind the door are claws piercing her skin, tearing grooves into her body as they drag her down with her. Sam got what she wanted, her words got through to her sister, but it doesn’t make them hurt any less.

Sam’s never been able to abide Tara’s cries. Causing them feels like she’s the one taking a knife to her little sister. Just another stab in the back, in the heart. Every twist of the door handle is a blade in her chest, digging in and searching. For what? Compassion? Love? Help? Or maybe Tara’s scooping it out, hollowing her ribs so she can hide from the world. Sam would let her if it would keep her safe, if she could guarantee Tara would never hurt again.

But this isn’t the way. Hiding in a bottle never solved anything. Smoke in her lungs, pills on her tongue, all it ever did was stack skeletons in her closet and invite ghosts into her life. Sam doesn’t want that for Tara, she wants better. She needs her sister to be better.

Sam stands there outside Tara’s door for what feels like hours, holding her silent vigil and listening to her sister fall apart. By the time she crawls into her own bed, exhausted and empty, a new day has already dawned.