#Cause it’s about Helms Deep

[meteors-lotr]

So was anyone gonna tell me that we’re getting an animated lord of the rings movie about Rohan, or was I just going to find out about that when checking the upcoming movies for my local cinema

#I thought about making the actual meme but I decided against it #Worst part is that I was complaining to my friend about how there were no movies coming out that was worth going to the cinema to watch #And joked that they should make a Lord of the rings four #(Before immediately being like please don’t make a Lotr four that would be awful let’s be honest) #Let’s just say we popped OFF when reading that #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #the war of the rohirrim #Miranda Otto is in it so I’m assuming her storytelling is gonna be the framing device #Cause it’s about Helms Deep #Like hundreds of years in the past #I like that it’s a story abouy men tho #Caude we’ve had hobbits (Lotr) Dwarved (The Hobbit ironically enough) and elves (Rings of Power) #So here’s the human movie #Huzzah!

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

This post used to hold a poem inspired by the Rev. Munther Isaac's declaration that "God is under the rubble in Gaza."

After a few anons and a conversation with a Jewish friend, I've decided to take the poem down because, regardless of my own intentions with it, it risks feeding the long and extremely harmful history of blood libel, because I included imagery of the infant Jesus and his parents being killed by an Israeli soldier, as many Palestinians are being killed now.

Before talking with that friend, I wrote in this response to an anon about my intentions with the poem — but while I do believe that intentions do matter, they don't matter nearly as much as impact does.

My friend helped me come to the conclusion that while the poem I wrote could be interpreted as I intended by people who already have all the context I wrote it in (see below), it could also all too easily be interpreted much more harmfully by those who lack that context — or worse, who are looking for more fuel for their antisemitism. The poem is not worth that risk, not at all.

___

Ultimately, I hold two things I believe to be true in tension:

that Christians throughout the ages have found deep comfort and encouragement in understanding Jesus as suffering in and with them. I support all Christian Palestinians who, like Rev. Isaac, experience God-with-them in this way — in this horrific time, they deserve any ounce of comfort they can derive. And them personally seeking and finding the Divine presence with them is not antisemitic.

that for Christians like myself in the USA, who live in the beating heart of Empire and Christian Supremacy, it is vital to take care in how we talk about this theology in this current situation, where the oppressors are Jewish. Providing more fuel for Christian antisemitism is inexcusable, and I deeply apologize for writing and sharing a piece that can be used in that way.

Because modern-day Israel is a Jewish state, exploring that Divine solidarity in this context comes with a great risk of perpetuating the long, harmful history of antisemitic blood libel and accusations of deicide. How do we affirm God’s presence with those suffering in Palestine without (implicitly or explicitly) adding to the poisonous lie that “the Jews killed Jesus”?

In wrestling with this complexity, I tried to write this poem to uplift both Jesus’s Jewishness and his solidarity with Palestinians. Jesus was born into a Jewish family, his entire worldview was shaped by his Jewishness, and he shared in his people’s suffering under the Roman Empire. His solidarity with Palestinians of various faiths suffering today does not erase that Jewishness. Nor does it mean that Jewish persons don’t “belong” in the region — only that modern Israel’s occupation of Palestine is in no way necessary for Jews to live and thrive there, or anywhere else in the world.

I also aimed to point out that Israel is by no means acting alone in this attack on Gaza or their decades-long occupation of Palestine. There is a much larger Empire at work, with my own country, the United States, at the helm. Israel is entangled in that imperial mess, and directly backed and funded by those forces — not because of what politicians claim, that we have to back Israel or else we’re antisemitic, but because Israel is our strategic foothold in the so-called Middle East. How do we name our complicity as our tax dollars are funneled into violence across the world, and act to end that violence?

___

I'm sorry this post isn't as articulate as I want it to be. All of this to say: I deeply apologize for any hurt my poem caused. I understand how horrific Christianity's history of — and ongoing present — antisemitism is, and how it poisons and warps so much that could have been beautiful. I'll keep educating myself; I'll keep having hard conversations; I'll keep working to uproot antisemitism in myself and my communities.

___

I'll close with a list of resources for learning about Palestine's history and getting involved.

#deeply grateful E that you were willing to have that conversation with me! #you didn't have to and i appreciate the time and energy you spent doing so. solidarity forever <3

[jpitha]

They’ll eat what?

A Telmurian is walking around the promenade on the station, talking to their family on their pad.

What was that? Your signal is pretty weak. Oh! Yes, they have humans here.

I know. Their planet has a really big moon, they won’t stop telling everyone they meet. Yes, they told me about it at least three times. I saw the photos, it’s pretty big I guess.

Yes, they’re strong. I remember the time that human from the helm picked up two Sefigans and carried them around on his arms. I didn’t tell her, but I was impressed. Why didn’t I tell her? I don’t know.

They also have odd thought processes. Remember that story about the one that learned that the water filters were the same as the outer compensator on the FlashWarp drive? They still teach us to check other parts for commonalities like that. The Sefigans are building a whole reference of parts that can be exchanged for other parts.

They walk around, oblivious to everyone else on the promenade. A Gren glares at them, and clacks their mouthparts irritatedly. They are speaking loudly. They walk on, oblivious to the disruption they are causing.

I didn’t call you to talk about any of that stuff.

I just learned about their ‘food.’

Did you know they don’t have a specific food? They don’t have one or two or even three items that they consider food, they have hundreds.

Maybe even thousands.

They stop and stare out a window and are silent for a few moments.

Not only that, but they combine them in so many different ways. Even wilder, they have modifiers to their food. Can you believe it? They have things that aren’t technically food that they add to food to make it ‘taste’ different. They’re called spices or seasonings.

I know! Have you ever heard of such a thing?

They have this thing called ‘taste.’ It’s a whole sense for them! It’s what enables them to try and test foods and discover ones they like and reject ones they don’t like.

I have a hard time with it, to be honest. Imagine, food you don’t like. It’s food right? By its very definition it’s something you consume to survive.

They clack their wing covers together, like a sigh. A Sefigan sitting at a cafe near them makes a gesture, like they’re trying to shoo them away.

Not for the humans I guess. They have whole careers, whole philosophies, maybe even whole religions about food and its preperation.

I read about the first time some humans came onboard a Coalition ship. They asked where the kitchen was and when we said “the what” it was like you unplugged them. They just stood there with their mouths full of their scary sharp teeth open in surprise.

I imagine we had a similar face the first time they showed us a kitchen. Imagine, a whole room, a whole part of the ship that was turned over to their pursuit of food.

That’s another thing! They can get bored of food. Whoever heard of such a thing. It’s food! You eat it, you feel full, you continue with your day. That’s like… like being bored of breathing.

Have I tried any of it? I mean, so much of it is straight up poisonous to us. No, you’re right, some of it isn’t.

All right fine. Yes. I tried one. There was this one, it was something they called a cookie. It was made of something like ten ingredients all in very precise measurements, then mixed together and shaped into balls and cooked at a high temperature. How did they ever come up with that?

The cookie? I don’t know, it was fine I guess. I didn’t get sick. I guess I can’t taste like they can it wasn’t much of anything, just food. I didn’t want to hurt their feelings so I said I liked it. They gave me four more! I didn’t know what to do with them. They’re still in my room.

Okay, yes, I love you too. Tell the rest of the crèche I said good evening.

They disconnect the call and look up. There’s a group of humans sitting down at a human style cafe eating. One of them looks up at them. Their large wet eyes seem impossibly deep. In the corner of them, wetness wells.

“You didn’t like the cookies?”

#writing #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #humans are deathworlders #humans and aliens #jpitha #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are space capybaras

[physalian]

Pacing your Story (Or, How to Avoid the "Suddenly...!")

Arguably *the* most important lesson all writers need to learn, even for those who don’t give a damn about themes and motifs and a moral soap box: How your story is paced, whether it’s a comic book, a children’s chapter book, a doorstopper, a mini series, a movie, or a full-length season of TV (old school style), pacing is everything.

Pacing determines how long the story *feels* regardless of how long it actually is. It can make a 2 hour movie feel like 90 mins or double the time you’re trapped in your seat.

There’s very little I can say about pacing that hasn’t been said before, but I’m here to condense all that’s out there into a less intimidating mouthful to chew.

So: What is pacing?

Pacing is how a story flows, how quickly or slowly the creator moves through and between scenes, how long they spend on setting, narration, conversation, arguments, internal monologues, fight scenes, journey scenes. It’s also how smoothly tone transitions throughout the story. A fantasy adventure jumping around sporadically between meandering boredom, high-octane combat, humor, grief, and romance is exhausting to read, no matter how much effort you put into your characters.

Anyone who says the following is wrong:

Good pacing is always fast/bad pacing is always slow

Pacing means you are 100% consistent throughout the entire story

It doesn’t matter as much so long as you have a compelling story/characters/lore/etc

Now let me explain why in conveniently numbered points:

1. Pacing is not about consistency, it’s about giving the right amount of time to the right pieces of your story

This is not intuitive and it takes a long time to learn. So let’s look at some examples:

Lord of the Rings: The movies trimmed a *lot* from the books that just weren’t adaptable to screen, namely all the tedious details and quite a bit of the worldbuilding that wasn’t critical to the journey of the Fellowship. That said, with some exceptions, the battles are as long as they need to be, along with every monologue, every battle speech. When Helm’s Deep is raging on, we cut away to Merry and Pippin with the Ents to let ourselves breathe, then dive right back in just before it gets boring.

The Hobbit Trilogy: The exact opposite from LotR, stretching one kids book into 3 massive films, stuffing it full of filler, meandering side quests, pointless exposition, drawing out battles and conflicts to silly extremes, then rushing through the actual desolation of Smaug for… some reason.

Die Hard (cause it’s the Holidays y’all!): The actiony-est of action movies with lots of fisticuffs and guns and explosions still leaves time for our hero to breathe, lick his wounds, and build a relationship with the cop on the ground. We constantly cut between the hero and the villains, all sharing the same radio frequency, constantly antsy about what they know and when they’ll find out the rest, and when they’ll discover the hero’s kryptonite.

2. Make every scene you write do at least two things at once

This is also tricky. Making every scene pull double duty should be left to after you’ve written the first draft, otherwise you’ll never write that first draft. Pulling double duty means that if you’re giving exposition, the scene should also reveal something about the character saying it. If you absolutely must write the boring trip from A to B, give some foreshadowing, some thoughtful insight from one of your characters, a little anecdote along the way.

Develop at least two of the following:

The plot

The backstory

The romance/friendships

The lore

The exposition

The setting

The goals of the cast

Doing this extremely well means your readers won’t have any idea you’re doing it until they go back and read it again. If you have two characters sitting and talking exposition at a table, and then those same two characters doing some important task with filler dialogue to break up the narrative… try combining those two scenes and see what happens.

**This is going to be incredibly difficult if you struggle with making your stories longer. I do not. I constantly need to compress my stories. **

3. Not every scene needs to be crucial to the plot, but every scene must say something

I distinguish plot from story like a square vs a rectangle. Plot is just a piece of the tale you want to tell, and some scenes exist just to be funny, or romantic, or mysterious, plot be damned.

What if you’re writing a character study with very little plot? How do you make sure your story isn’t too slow if 60% of the narrative is introspection?

Avoid repeating information the audience already has, unless a reminder is crucial to understanding the scene

This isn’t 1860 anymore. Every detail must serve a purpose. Keep character and setting descriptions down to absolute need-to-know and spread it out like icing on a cake – enough to coat, but not give you a mouthful of whipped sugar and zero cake.

Avoid describing generic daily routines, unless the existence of said routine is out of ordinary for the character, or will be rudely interrupted by chaos. No one cares about them brushing their teeth and doing their hair.

Make sure your characters move, but not too much. E.g. two characters sitting and talking – do humans just stare at each other with their arms lifeless and bodies utterly motionless during conversation? No? Then neither should your characters. Make them gesture, wave, frown, laugh, cross their legs, their arms, shift around to get comfortable, pound the table, roll their eyes, point, shrug, touch their face, their hair, wring their hands, pick at their nails, yawn, stretch, pout, sneer, smirk, click their tongue, clear their throat, sniff/sniffle, tap their fingers/drum, bounce their feet, doodle, fiddle with buttons or jewelry, scratch an itch, touch their weapons/gadgets/phones, check the time, get up and sit back down, move from chair to table top – the list goes on. Bonus points if these are tics that serve to develop your character, like a nervous fiddler, or if one moves a lot and the other doesn’t – what does that say about the both of them? This is where “show don’t tell” really comes into play.

4. Your entire work should not be paced exactly the same

Just like a paragraph should not be filled with sentences of all the same length and syntax. Some beats deserve more or less time than others. Unfortunately, this is unique to every single story and there is no one size fits all.

General guidelines are as follows:

Action scenes should have short paragraphs and lots of movement. Cut all setting details and descriptors, internal monologues, and the like, unless they service the scene.

Journey/travel scenes must pull double or even triple duty. There’s a reason very few movies are marketed as “single take” and those that are don’t waste time on stuff that doesn’t matter. See 1917.

Romantic scenes are entirely up to you. Make it a thousand words, make it ten thousand, but you must advance either the romantic tension, actual movement of the characters, conversation, or intimacy of the relationship.

Don’t let your conversations run wild. If they start to veer off course, stop, boil it down to its essentials, and cut the rest.

When transitioning between slow to faster pacing and back again, it’s also not one size fits all. Maybe it being jarring is the point – it’s as sudden for the characters as it is for the reader. With that said, try to keep the “suddenly”s to a minimum.

5. Pacing and tone go hand in hand

This means that, generally speaking, the tone of your scene changes with the speed of the narrative. As stated above, a jarring tonal shift usually brings with it a jarring pacing shift.

A character might get in a car crash while speeding away from an abusive relationship. A character who thinks they’re safe from a pursuer might be rudely and terrifyingly proven wrong. An exhausting chase might finally relent when sanctuary is found. A quiet dinner might quickly turn romantic with a look, or confession. Someone casually cleaning up might discover evidence of a lie, a theft, an intruder and begin to panic.

--

Whatever the case may be, a narrative that is all action all the time suffers from lack of meaningful character moments. A narrative that meanders through the character drama often forgets there is a plot they’re supposed to be following.

#writing advice #writing tips #pacing #writing tools

[onlyyvette]

TF NSFW Headcanons #2 - Optimus Prime

Warnings: sub/bottom Optimus Prime + heavy praise kink + breeding kink + he's so malewife + size kink + lots of kissing + rough sex + oral fixation + slight humiliation kink + he's such a whore for praise + i hope you guys like transforming trucks

A/N: The interpretation is up to the reader, but I was imagining idw Optimus while making this.

-> Frame Optimus is your type of mech if you like big, beautiful mechs who are most likely stronger than you. Optimus has wide, heavy set hips and thick white thighs that many of his berth partners ask him to suffocate their heads with. He has a wide and heavy chassis that's warm and soothing to the touch especially due to the matrix inside of him. His finials are actually very sensitive and he loves to have his partners tug on them as he whines a bit. His deep baritone is so soothing to listen to, and sounds heavenly when he lets out long moans or the occasional whine or whimper when he's overstimulated.

Optimus' array is exactly what you'd expect from a mech of his size. His spike is quite proportionate, the same gray color as his faceplate with red and blue strips of biolights decorating it. His valve is so pretty, a blue color with blue pulsing biolights and a bright red node which also happens to be very big, drawing his partner's attention. Optimus' valve is plush and deep, softly massaging his partner's spike as they sink themselves in as far as they can. His matrix-powered frame has built in magnets that makes his valve suck in his partner's spike even deeper and stimulates their spike.

-> Breeding If there's anything you want to do with Optimus during interface to guarantee that he'll overload is to promise to breed him. This kink shows when Optimus hears his conjunx talk about how they'll fill his gestation tank up with their transfluid and have him carry their sparkling, he doesn't take it as a threat, he takes it as a promise. When his conjunx finally frags him just how he likes it, his deep moans fill the room as his valve takes the spike inside of him deep. Once his conjunx announces that they'll breed him well and good, no matter how close or far he is from his overload, he will overload so hard that he might just short circuit, his HUD flashing with warnings of overheating. Finally, the feeling of transfluid filling his gestation chamber is so euphoric that depending on how far off he is, might result in an overload so powerful it causes his whole systems to reboot. This kink makes mating press is his favorite position<3

-> Size Kink Optimus has a size kink but not in the way that many people would think. Optimus doesn't care too much about the size of his partners, but he definitely enjoys when his partners can manhandle and dominate him, especially when they're smaller than him. He loves to see his smaller partners on top of him as they push him into whatever surface they're interfacing on and just frag him so hard that his helm is left spinning. His smaller partners get an ego boost when they see how compliant the Prime is for them that it riles them up, giving them the energy to last longer in Optimus' tight valve as they tease him about how desperate he is for a mech that's almost half his size. It makes him burn with humiliation yet he just can't get enough of it.

-> Oral Fixation Optimus loves to have something filling his mouth. He gets easily excited when his partner brings their servo up to his mouth and presses their digits into his intake, prodding at his glossa. He'll gladly choke on those digits if his partner wishes so. Even more gladly, he enjoys sucking spike. He'll worship any spike in front of him no matter the size, his glossa working itself up and down the spike's length, deepthroating it as far as he can. And he will take all of it. He lets out adorable moans as he bobs up and down on the spike in front of him, making sure to pleasure his partner. Even he gets off on it, his charge quickly raising as he services the spike in front of him. And if his partner fucks his mouth? He'll absolutely lose it. Optical fluid will streak down his face as he lets out choked moans, his partner ramming their spike down his intake. His panel will retract and his lubricant will drip onto the surface below as he tries desperately to not touch himself.

-> Kissing Connecting to his oral kink, Optimus loves to kiss his partner. It's embarrassing for him to admit, but intense makeout sessions is one of his biggest kinks. The way that his partner's glossa invades his intake, wrestling Optimus' own glossa for control. Optimus gets so light headed that all he can do is whimper into the kiss as he allows himself to be dominated. He enjoys it at any pace, whether the glossa invading his intake is slow and loving or rough and passionate. He could very well overload just from the feeling of his intake being assaulted by a highly skilled glossa, bonus points if the mech is holding his hips or waist tightly as they grind their leg against Optimus' panel.

-> Praise Optimus has a praise kink. No arguments. The poor mech has the weight of the whole world on his shoulders, his autobots always looking up to him as their leader, all his enemies wanting his head, it's just so much for him to deal with! But whenever his partner has their servos roaming his frame as they coo into his audials of how much of a good bot he his, how beautiful he is, he'll be putty in their hands. He always whines when he's being praised because he truly doesn't think he's deserving of it :(. Optimus loves being praised while sucking spike because it makes feel so good. To just swirl his glossa around a spike as his partner grunts above him, praising him for all the hard work he's putting into servicing them. It always gives him this fuzzy feeling in his processor and is the easiest way to get him deep into subspace.

#vetty's works. ✿ #vetty's fics. ✿ #yvette's works. ✿ #yvette's fics. ✿ #valveplug #optimus prime #transformers smut #transformers idw #transformers #maccadam #optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #i was debating whether i should make his name blue or red

[deadlymistletoe]

Mistletoe Kisses 🎄

Pairing: Legolas x f!reader

A/N: 1. I’ll be using the word ‘Yule’ in this fic, rather than Christmas due to it being in Middle-earth. 2. It’s only vaguely mentioned, but I imagine the reader as being from Edoras & getting to know the others both on the way to Helm’s Deep and through Eowyn. 3. Merry Christmas!

Genre: Fluff, Christmas Romance

Description: During a Yule celebration at Minas Tirith you introduce Legolas to mistletoe.

Warnings: None

Word count: 1092

Yule had always been a celebration you looked forward to since you were a young child, the festives never failing to bring you joy. There was just something about the tinkling of bells and flakes of now in your hair that brought a smile to your face.

And now, in the aftermath of the War of the Ring, such a celebration was exactly what you needed. As the days turned colder and light dustings of snow began to fall, the mood in Minas Tirith only grew better.

By the night of the celebration, the city, particularly the large room in which the main celebration was held, was nothing short of festive. 

When you excused yourself from your friends for a moment long after darkness had fallen outside you made your way towards an archway leading to a somewhat secluded balcony, a smile still etched across your face from laughing with your friends at jokes you couldn’t even remember while you watched Eowyn and Farimir glide around the dance floor not far from Arwen and Aragorn.

That was one good thing that had come from the War - your friendships with people you never would have given second thought to before.

You ducked through the archway, dodging the plant that hung from the top and made your way to the balcony bannister where you closed your eyes as you breathed in the fresh air, the music and chatter from inside drifting through the entryway.

To your credit, you only jumped slightly when a voice spoke beside you. “The hobbits are very loud, aren’t they?”

You opened your eyes, turning to see Legolas beside you, and you couldn’t stop the jump of your heart at his close proximity as he stood beside you. At least now you knew why you hadn’t heard footsteps.

“They’re joyful.” You countered. “And rightfully so. It is Yule after all.”

He nodded in acceptance, and the two of you stood in silence for a moment. You weren’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere between Edoras and Helm’s Deep, you’d grown closer to the elf than you’d ever imagined.

“Do you miss it?” You asked, curiosity taking over. At his confused look you elaborated. “Your home. Is Yule very different there?”

He tilted his head at the questions, giving them some thought before answering. “I miss it, but in other ways it is very freeing to be somewhere else for a change. No responsibilities so to speak.” He glanced inside for a moment. “Our Yule is… different in some ways but very much alike in others. The parties are similar, but you humans have your own traditions.”

Your eyes moved over his shoulder, landing on the plant hung from the top of the archway the two of you had come through, the red berries standing out against the green of the distinctly shaped leaves. 

“Yes,” you murmured. “We do.”

You’d had run-ins with mistletoe before - hell, your first kiss had been because of mistletoe, when you were 16 with a crush on the baker’s son. But this time the sight of it caused different feelings to rush up, and you knew that the elf beside you was the reason.

You glanced back at Legolas, eyes darting to his lips. It was the perfect excuse. No one else had to know.

The elf in question tilted his head, your wandering attention not being missed. “What is it?”

You swallowed. You hadn’t meant to be caught, but his question gave you the opening you needed, and you nodded towards the mistletoe, Legolas following your gaze.

“Have you ever heard of mistletoe?”

“The name, yes.” He shook his head. “But it’s not something we are familiar with at home.”

His eyes landed on you again, holding you captive in your spot and a hint of curiosity shone in them. You clearly saw something special in the plant - lots of humans did. He wasn’t unobservant. He’d heard the giggles as the servants hung the plant throughout the city and buildings in the lead up to the yule celebration, shooting sly glances at those who passed.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s so special about mistletoe then?” Legolas suggested, and you were sure you weren’t imagining the way he moved ever so slightly closer to you.

You cleared your throat, looking away for a moment before you turned back to the elf and spoke. You could feel your confidence rising.

“It’s a tradition.” You murmured, moving a step closer. “Usually it’s hung over doorways, so it’s harder to avoid. See, when two people get caught under mistletoe at the same time, there’s only one way to get out.”

“And what would that be?” His own voice was just as quiet as yours, and you could see as he slowly put together what you were saying, clearly being able to guess the implications of what came next from your tone.

By now there was hardly any space between you and as you worked up to answering, he lifted the hand not resting on the balcony bannister to brush a piece of stray hair back from your face, fingers lingering.

“A kiss.” You whispered, feeling his hand land on your waist as he slowly walked the two of you towards the mistletoe, stopping underneath it.

Blue eyes stared into yours, a smile on his lips. Snow was now lightly falling from the sky, having started sometime during your talk, small flakes landing on his pale hair, almost white in the moonlight.

Your eyes darted down to his lips once more as he spoke again, his voice barely louder than your own previous whisper. “Show me.”

In that moment, there was nothing apart from his words, resounding throughout you. They were the only thing that mattered; not the snow, not the fact that he was a prince, or an elf, not the light wind that ruffled the skirts of your dress, not the even sounds of celebration coming from inside.

You didn’t waste words, instead leaning forward to press your lips lightly against his own.

Somewhere along the way your hands had ended up on his chest, the smooth material of his tunic under your fingertips. One of his hands rested on your hip, the other lightly caressing your face as you pulled back.

You let out a breath, your lips tingling with the aftermath of the touch. You risked a glance up at Legolas again, only to see a soft smile directed at you as he spoke, eyes shining.

“We should get caught under mistletoe more often.”

Permanent Taglist

@fizzyxcustard, @bookworm-with-coffee

Temporary Taglist (this fic only, let me know if your want to be added to a permanent taglist for anything)

@nerdygothzippermuffin, @aheadfullofsteverogers, @coopsgirl

#christmas fic #imagines #lord of the rings #female reader #legolas #legolas x reader

[starliights-shining]

Bayverse Megatron and Optimus prime w gn cybertronian crush

Where he gets asked by reader's old friend, "Are you their conjux?" Cause apparently anyone who knows reader well enough knows that they're into large mechs who can definitely dominate them.

Also also, reader reluctantly explaining to him as to why he got asked that question

Hi hi! SOrry this took so long to come out, but don't worry its here now! I hope this is what you were looking for, Enjoy :)

Charaters: Bayverse! Optimus Prime, Bayverse! Megatron

Warnings: Megatron got a small spice kick at the end other than that none

Optimus Prime

He'd questin why the Bot is asking him and not you, but then wouldn't really be worried about it.. He might wounder if you two look that comfy and cozy with each other. He'll bring it up to you, expecting it to be some simple and easy mistake, but is a little worried and confussed when you hesitate to tell him why they asked him. Honestly I feel like he'd find it just a tad bit funny and would even ask if they assume things like this alot. With Optimus I feel like its all light hearted.

You spent a lot of time around Optimus Prime, I mean he is leading the autobots in a battle over Earth. The same battles that were in and the same battles he asks for your expert opinions in, So of course you spent a lot of time with him. Helms clicking together as you both looked at the same holo projected map of the battle fields. If you asked anyone from an outside perspective they’d say you two looked quite cozy for just ‘co-workers’, which gets you in this situation. Face to face with them as they ask why that boy asked if he was your Conjux.

His cobalt optics staring down at you, you could feel them watching, taking in every bit of your small frame while you thought about how to tell him the reason. Your processor moving quicker than you can actually keep up with. You felt yourself shrinking into your frame, shoulder plating coming up to touch your audio receptors, you honestly didn’t want to be in this situation. If they could have just kept their mouth shut and not said a single thing, you could have your feelings and further more information to yourself. Your optics searched for answers in the surroundings.

“So, I would like for you to answer.” 

Your optics flickered back over to him, locking with his blue optics, those same blue optics that seemed to be searching yours for an answer. You thought more, you could just turn around and walk away, or maybe say it super fast so he doesn’t understand, or you could ‘man up’ as Sam would say and tell him the real reason. You sighed, lowering your shoulders and moving closer to him. Your servos go to grab his and you look down at him. Studying the grey metal and all their scars. You finally look back up at him, Squinting your optics as you smile sweetly. 

“Promise you won’t be upset or mad or weirded out or,” 

He cut you off. 

“I swear.” 

You smiled, letting out a small sigh, you guess now is the time. 

“They asked you because they know,” 

You trailed off, the one thing you were trying not to do, because primus knows how hard it is for you to get back onto the same sentence. 

“They know what?” 

He was confused, which is valid, he has every right to be confused. He should be so confused that he doesn’t want to know why they asked him such a question. It would make your life so much easier right now. 

“They know,”

You took a deep breath, the thought to just spit it out crossing your processor. 

“They know I’m into bigger mech who can like totally dominate me in any situation whatsoever.” 

You took your chance, a sigh leaving you. You now stood servo in servo with the Autobot leader with a terrible poster, helm looking straight at the ground between the two of you and your optics squeezed shut. 

You heard him chuckle, the sound causing you to open one optic and peek up at him. 

“What nonsense, all this for that.”

You were awestruck, stuck looking up at the ‘larger totally dominating’ mech frozen. You could hear him talking, see his mouth moving, a smile gracing his features but you can’t hear him. He gave your servos a light squeeze, bringing you back to him. 

“Don’t fret, this will not change my views on you.” 

You let out a relieving sigh, a small smile forming on your face. 

“It enhances my views of you.” 

Megatron

Is confussed, gives the Con who asked the question an evil look and pushes them away. Honestly I think he'd take it as in insult. He'd say something like, "You think me, Lord Megatron, Is soft to some random Con." He truly thinks they saw him as weak, weak enough to have a conjux, he cannot concern himself with such minor things during this war. When he brings it up to you about being asked, he'll just stare at you, waiting for some or any response. After explaining he'll take it as a completement that they asked, and even thought he looked dominating.

Once again you find yourself in the questioning crossfire of your leader, Megatron, after one of your dearly beloved Cons let their mouth slip. Asking Lord megatron if he is your conjux, landing you this great conversation with the war criminal. He seemed uninterested, more concerned on why they’d think he’d marry and have a weakness during such a turning point within the war. His optics actually hadn’t even landed on you, more concerned with Starscream.

He trailed off, punching and pulling things off Starscream while also yelling at the Mech. He just so happened to be doing the one thing that got him asked the question. Your smaller frame standing in front of the ruble Megatron called his ‘throne’ watching as he ‘dominated and controlled’ the screamer. His assault came to an end, pushing Starscream away with his foot and saying something about him being useless, oh well not really what you were focused on. 

Your optics stared at the leader, his back turned to you as he let out audible intakes, you could see his frame moving up and down from where you stood. The damage from his fights with the Autobots shows you the wear and tear of him. Besides his face the only thing that drew your attention was his wound, the gaping gash peeking over his shoulder plating with its screeching red and fire orange melted end, the little bot critter trying his hardest to put him back together. He stretched, showing off the movement of his joints and other moving metal, he turned around, facing you. That face mixed with displeasure and satisfaction traveling into his optics as he looked down on you. Your own optics not paying much attention to his, just taking in the way he frame looked, traveling all over his chest plating and then down to his midsection, your optics taking the way his midsection tapered into his hips, primus you loved it. 

“You do know why you’re here. Get to the point and start answering questions.” 

Your optics flickered up to his, cherry red staring you down. You felt like you were shrinking, in a terribly good way. You would smile up at him, but seeing as his temper is already short, you didn’t. You brought your servo up to your mouth, letting out a throat clearing noise as you got ready to speak. You stepped up to the Mech, keeping a serious face, your mouth opened and then it hit you. You didn’t know exactly what to tell him, How to say it, and how to explain it. You looked away, for this might be the first time since you joined the Decepitcons you’ve held yourself back around him. 

“Go on, I don’t have all day.” 

You lifted your servo, squinting an eye and smiling, your optics looking up at him. He's just looking down at you, crimson optics staring holes into you, waiting for an answer. You thought you’d play with his time, the worst that could happen is he yells at you, stands over you, or kills you. 

“What did you call me here for again?” 

He scoffs, backing up and sitting in his, pile of trash, throne. 

“Why was I asked if I'm your conjux.” 

He slumped in his chair, manspreading out his ass and a servo coming up to support his helm. You froze, shoulders slumping, you wanted him, you wanted to sit in his lap and be dominated by him. You shook your helm, once again locking optics with him and sighed, why waste time when he already has you right here. 

“They know that I like mech who can dominate at any time.” 

Your voice got smaller and quieter the longer you talked, you were sure Megatron couldn’t hear what you said. You looked away from him, taking interest in the leftover scraps he pulled from Starscream, before you heard him hum. Your optics flickered back towards him, locking with his cherry red’s. 

“Interesting.”  

He didn’t seem upset or anything, more pleased. You guess it's because it sounded like a compliment, they thought he was your conjux because he looked dominating. So he has no need to be upset or angry at you, too bad the poor bot who asked barely got away after asking him that. 

“Perhaps, I can show you true dominance.”

#stars writings #transformers #transformers x reader #tf x reader #transformers bayverse #tf optimus prime #tf megatron #tf #optimus prime x reader #transformers optimus #optimus prime #megatron x reader #megatron #tf megatron x reader

[iovetecchou]

Blighted ⧸ Yato.𖥔 ݁ ˖

༞ Contains...! smut and fluff! shinki!reader, first times, masturbation (m), making out, nipple play, fingering, gentle sex, unprotected sex (please don't do this irl, this is simply fiction!), creampie, slight!aftercare, honestly really cute and clumsy, blushy!yato, blighted!yato... reader feels really guilty over it. reassurance, praise, terms of endearment (baby, babe, sweetheart)

༞ AFAB Reader.

༞ 2,645 words.

kinktober masterlist!

Ever since you began dating Yato, things have become complicated.

He was the first person to love you for as long as you could remember. In all the chaos of helming your new life; he was your guiding light. Sure, he was a crybaby at times. Clingy and shameless when he drank but gentle and reassuring when he needed to be.

You fell for him, naturally. What was there not to love? But this was hardly your little secret. Considering you were Yato's shinki, he comprehended every emotion you discerned.

You could still remember watching Yato whirl his head in your direction. There was a very prominent flush to his cheeks as he gawked in your direction. He took a step toward you, azure eyes swirling with joy as he stammered,

"You… lo-love me…?"

Before you could even respond, Yato cupped your cheeks, pulling you in for a chaste kiss. Your eyes were blown wide as you shared such an intimate embrace.

After that moment, Yato confessed to you. He blabbered on and on about how he'd loved you for as long as he could remember. Your relationship blossomed from there, and four months later… another little secret crept up.

Your feelings toward your boyfriend developed into something more filthy. You could not help yourself. The closer you became, the more you craved his touch. So the first time you blighted him over it— Yato kept it a secret.

Heat swirled in his abdomen when Yato realized you had a dirty thought about him, slightly dulling the pain from the blight. The tips of his ears turned red, cock twitching under his tracksuit as he began to sweat. You gave Yato a puzzled look as he excused himself, feeling extremely concerned at the sight of his disheveled state.

When you asked him what was wrong, he just brushed it off like it was nothing. Yato explained that he just needed to grab something from upstairs. In truth, he was going to your shared bedroom to relieve himself. Yato couldn't remember the last time he felt sexual desire— authentic sexual desire.

Sure, he made cheeky comments to you here and then, but it was all in good fun. There was no weight behind those words at the time. But knowing that you thought of him in such a desirable way and feeling it— proved to be too much for Yato.

The moment he got upstairs, Yato slumped to the floor. Not daring to tug off his tracksuit all the way as he fisted his cock. Barely lasting more than a minute in his ministrations before he came all over his fist, biting his lip harshly to suppress his moans.

Yato felt dirty once the aftershocks of his orgasm dissipated. He felt guilty for getting himself off to the thoughts you had about him. But as more time passed and your relationship progressed, you began blighting him nearly every day. He managed for a while, trying his best to keep it from you. But one night, while you were lying in bed with your boyfriend, you saw the damage you caused to his body.

You were straddling his hips, tickling him playfully, and giggling at his cute reactions. But when your hands dipped under his plain white tee, exposing his midriff, you saw the welt.

Immediately, you halted in your movements. Your laughter died out on your tongue as you pulled Yato's shirt higher, gasping as you saw how the bruise stretched up his torso. You felt the tears well up in your eyes, gaze entirely fixated on the deep purple marks littering his porcelain skin.

"Baby… It's okay."

Yato said sternly. He knew you were spiraling— he could feel it. He tugged the hem of his tee from your grasp, covering his blighted skin from your blurred vision.

"No… It's not! Why didn't you tell me… I'm so sorry."

You tried to compose yourself. The last thing you wanted was to cause Yato any more harm with your tumultuous emotions. Yato brought his hand to your cheek, wiping a stray tear away.

"I… was too embarrassed. Plus, I didn't want you to worry about me."

He confessed. Tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Why were you embarrassed? You weren't the one having bad thoughts about your partner…"

You scrunched your eyebrows in disgust as the words slipped past your lips. You felt ashamed, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a deep dark hole.

"Because," Yato's face turned crimson as he took in a sharp breath before continuing, "I'm… I've never… done anything with anyone before. So feeling those emotions that you have for me just—" You brought your hands up to his lips, stopping him in his tracks.

"I'm sorry. I promise you I'll be more careful from now on. The last thing I want is to hurt you any more than I already have."

Yato pulled your hand away from his lips, not before leaving a gentle kiss on your knuckles. He sighed deeply, letting his hands trail down to your waist before he spoke up.

"Baby… I don't want you to beat yourself up over this. Another reason I didn't bring this up to you is because… I'm scared I won't be able to satisfy you in that way… and all I want is to make you happy, my pretty girl."

Yato confessed, drawing soothing circles into your hips with the pads of his thumbs. Your heart pounded against your chest. You didn't want him to feel like his efforts wouldn't be enough for you in the sexual department.

"Yato… you always make me happy… and trust me, you could never disappoint me. I haven't been with anyone in that way, either. We can navigate through this together."

Yato pulled you close, craning his neck up to capture your lips. Your words reassured him in a way he needed more than anything. Your hands came up to wrap around his neck as you deepened the kiss, involuntarily grinding your hips down into his lap.

Yato let out a whine. Breaking away from the kiss and averting his gaze from yours. Experimentally, you ground your hips down once more. Watching his face contort in pleasure as your clothed core rubbed along his semi-hard cock.

"Babe… I won't last long if you keep doing that."

Yato huffed, tightening his hands around your hips before flipping you both over. Now you were the one underneath him, safely surrounded by his embrace.

"Let me make you feel good, baby. I'm a quick learner, promise."

Yato smirked playfully, offering you a wink. You felt your nerves ease up at his gentleness with you. It was just him, the love of your life. You had no reason to be insecure around Yato.

Slowly, he lifted your shirt over your head. You watched as he trailed his gaze lower, letting his hands dance along the waistband of your pants. You raised your hips, allowing him to tug your pants and panties down.

"So beautiful…"

He muttered, bringing his hands to his frame. Yato quickly rid himself of his tracksuit and his boxers. Knowing you would feel more at ease if you were both naked.

"Yato… you're so handsome."

You smiled up at him, beckoning him closer. Your arms wrapped around his neck once more pulling him down so you could feel his skin collide with yours.

"Look who's talkin'! Wait, not saying you're handsome— but even if I did, that would be okay. I meant to say, you're stunning— breathtaking… you're perfect, baby."

You couldn't help but giggle at his nervous ramblings. You soothed your hands through his hair, pulling him in for a chaste kiss, attempting to calm his anxieties.

"Yato, sweetheart, relax. It's okay, you're doing so well."

He took in a breath, nodding his head in agreement. Before he could embarrass himself further, he let his hands roam up your body. You let out a soft whine as his hands cupped your breasts and tightened the grasp you had on his dark locks.

"S-Shit… so good."

You mewled, arching your back as his thumbs swiped over your nipples. His touch sent pleasurable shockwaves up your spine, and the moment his lips came down to your tits, you cried out. His azure eyes were locked onto yours the whole time, gauging your reaction as he took one of your nipples in his mouth.

"Y-Yato!"

You whined. You could feel your slick dripping down your thighs as he switched to your other breast, repeating the same actions. You clenched around nothing as you felt Yato humming against your nipple, noticing his hips were moving from below. He was rutting against the bed, trying to alleviate himself.

"Yato- please… more!"

You begged. Tugging his head off your chest from the grasp you had in his hair. His gaze was dark, eyes half-lidded as he smoothed his hands down your sides. Yato crept lower down your shared bed, resting his head atop one of your thighs before he asked,

"You ever touch yourself down here, baby?"

He pushed the thigh he was not resting on aside. Allowing himself to take in the sight of your slick pussy. Yato felt his cock throb at the view, as he brought his thumb up to spread your folds apart. He smiled to himself as you gasped before you stuttered out,

"Y-Yes! All the time… especially when I-I think of you." You confessed, watching your hypnotized boyfriend explore your most private parts.

"Oh, is that so, huh? Tell me how you like it, baby. Let me make you feel good." Yato kissed your inner thigh as his lithe digits gathered up your slick, experimentally prodding at your entrance.

"Does it feel good when I press inside… here?" You gasped as one of his fingers slipped inside your sopping heat. Yato watched your pussy with much fascination as he clumsily found a rhythm.

"Feels so good! Your fingers are much l-longer than mine— hah, add one more— please!" His ring finger slipped in with ease slotting next to his middle finger, which was nestled deep inside you.

Your mind was reeling as he finger fucked you tenderly. You could tell he was trying his best to please you, azure gaze flickering between your face and your greedy pussy.

"Curl them a little when you push up— mhm, just like that… yes, yes, yes!" Watching your face contort in pleasure and feeling your pussy clamp around his slender fingers was enthralling. Yato was entranced by you.

"Yato— ah, I'm… I-I'm cumming!" Your back arched as your thighs shook underneath you. Yato watched in awe as your cunt clenched around his fingers like a vise while you gushed all over his palm. He thought you looked so beautiful like this, and pride swirled in his chest at the prospect that he was the one making you feel bliss.

Yato's fingers stalled inside you before he slowly pulled them out of your slick hole. You sat up as you caught your breath, reaching out to pull Yato in for a kiss. He craned his neck as you shared a passionate embrace, shifting up from his position on the bed.

Your hands came down to glide over his sides carefully, not wanting to bring him any more pain. You avoided the blights the best you could as your hands danced along his hips before grazing over his leaky cock. Yato gasped against your lips as you experimentally made a fist around his dick.

You glided your hand up and down his length as Yato continued to cry out against your lips. This went on for a few beats more before Yato pulled away from you, wrapping his hand around yours. Stilling your movements against his cock.

"Wait… if you keep doing that— I'm not gonna last…" Yato whispered, a deep blush decorating his cheeks once more as he averted his gaze from yours.

You nodded at his words, retracting your hand around his cock before Yato blurted out, "Baby… are you sure you wanna do this— with me? We could stop now if you—"

You brought a finger up to his lips once more tonight, silencing him. Yato knit his brows together in confusion before your words pulled him out of his thoughts.

"I want this more than anything. I love you, Yato. From now until forever… so please—" It was his turn to silence you, stealing one more kiss from you as he slowly guided you back against the bed. Yato caged you in, letting his one hand caress your hip as his other hand slipped in between your bodies.

Yato grasped his cock, breath hitching against your lips as he lined himself up to your entrance. Your hands found comfort enveloping his neck, carding your hands through his dark locks as the tip of his cock pushed past the tight ring of your pussy.

Yato whined as he broke away from the kiss. He scored his bottom lip with his teeth as his gaze flickered lower. Watching as he sunk into you, inch by inch, until he filled you to the hilt.

"Oh, baby… y-you feel so— hah, don't think I…" You tilted his chin up, capturing his gaze once more before you whispered, "It's okay… me too."

He gave you a short nod before he reeled his hips back, letting out a string of curses as he slammed himself back inside your wet cunt. Your legs came up to wrap around his waist as Yato repeated his actions. Pulling out, tip catching the tight ring of your pussy before thrusting himself back into you.

"Feels so good… Y-Yato! Down here," You paused— bringing one of his palms to your lower tummy. You positioned his thumb against your clit before you continued, "Feels good when I rub this spot right— hah, h-here."

Yato took the hint, fervently rubbing messy circles into your clit as his rhythm became sloppy. You could tell he was nearing his end, and with the newly added pressure to your puffy bud, you weren't too far behind.

Before you could warn your boyfriend that you were close, he let out a pitchy whine as his hips stilled. "Baby t-too tight— ah!" He came with a cry of your name, and the feeling of his seed filling you up proved to be too much to handle. His thumb continued to rub your clit as you came around his cock.

You pulled him to your lips, sharing a messy embrace as you convulsed around him. Your eyes rolled back into your head at the sound of Yato whimpering against your lips and the feeling of his cock still twitching inside you as the last ropes of his cum dribbled out.

You pulled away from his lips when the rubbing against your clit made you shake. You pushed his hand away from your pussy as you attempted to catch your breath, staring up at him lovingly. "You did so well, baby. Felt so damn good, you're perfect in every way!"

Yato exclaimed, smiling down at you brightly as he pulled out of you slowly. His eyes flickered down, watching as your combined arousal flowed out of your spent pussy, causing a blush to wash over his face; once more tonight.

"Ah.. I'll go get you a towel! Hang on, babe!" Yato stammered, quickly darting up from the bed. He pulled his boxers over his hips as he stormed out of the room before you could say another word.

You could not help the giggle that slipped past your lips. Yato kept saying you were perfect, but in your eyes? He was the perfect one. You loved him through and through, and becoming one with him made your adoration for him grow fonder.

"Yato! When you come back, let's take care of those blights!"

#noragami smut #noragami x reader #noragami x you #noragami imagines #yato x reader #yato x you #yato smut #yato imagines #noragami #noragami yato #yato noragami

[scriberye]

Distance

    ➥  Megatron x GN!Reader     |     1133     |     Ao3

⚠️ Emotional Distress, Physical Injury, Hurt/Comfort Your human heart is soft and delicate, nothing like Megatron's.

It’s here in the vast empty coldness of space, aboard a ship filled with mechanical beings, that you find something you hadn’t realized you’d been searching for — love. Cupid chose the oddest of places to work his magic and picked the worst bot to be the object of your affection. Things are difficult at first, and love is seldom easy. And Megatron, the very bot who caused the fluttering swarm of butterflies to come alive in your stomach, seemed to hate your guts.

He refused to be in the same room as you in the beginning, excusing himself whenever you entered. With time and a lot of patience, Megatron allowed himself to be within a tolerable distance of you, despite the heavy tension that lingered in the air. He tolerated your presence. It’s small, but it gives you hope.

When the plan to keep you at arms length failed, he used his words.

His words are sharper than any blade, and he wields them with finesse. Each word cuts through you and claws at your heart, but your feelings never waver under their harshness. It’s unfair. A small and terrible liability, he called you.

You are human — and weak.

You face Megatron’s relentless efforts to put distance between you with unwavering determination. The more he pushed, the more you dug your heels in and pulled. Until you couldn’t do it anymore — not physically, at least.

The strain of these feelings you carry for him has become a burden on your poor heart. In a moment of vulnerability and frustration, you corner Megatron one evening and unleash a torrent. Angry tears burn your eyes as you unburden yourself — from the hurtful words that cut too deep, and how much you still cared about him. You’re tired of nursing this flame that Megatron seems so determined to snuff out. It’s ugly and gross. And he says nothing — does nothing but stare at you.

You lash out.

With all your strength, you kick him in some futile hope of breaking whatever barrier separates you two, yet you only succeed in breaking yourself. It wasn’t the smartest choice, but in the heat of the moment, it felt like your only option. The sharp, searing pain surges through your foot and rips a scream from your throat. Megatron’s spark seizes, and for all his reluctance, he never wants to hear that sound again.

Ratchet confines you to the medbay while your broken foot mends.

It’s safer for your mental and physical well-being, he says, instead of letting you hobble around the ship, risking possible further injury. You hate it, but you wisely don’t fight him about it. The days drag on. Each moment feels more monotonous than the last, and it’s lonely with nothing but your thoughts. Some bots come to visit you with news of the latest drama.

But he never visits you, and you resign yourself to the fact that your outburst may have pushed Megatron even further away. So, it surprises you when it turns out you’re wrong. Late one night, well past visiting hours, and after all the other bots have settled in for recharge, Megatron appears in the medbay. A dark, imposing shadow among the dim lights, with his helm hung low, heavy under the weight of his worries.

“Megatron?”

“I wanted to apologize for how I treated you. There was — no, there is no excuse for my behavior,” he says, his words heavy with remorse. He hesitantly extends his hand, resting it on the edge of the berth. “I understand if you wish to return to Earth.”

“Do you hate being around me that much?” you ask, and Megatron falls silent. The only sound is the rhythmic hum of medical equipment and your pounding heart.

“No,” he finally responded. “It’s the opposite. I wish to be around you more than I should. I don’t —”

“—think you deserve to, right?”

He visibly deflates, and the walls he had built around himself crumble, leaving him weak and vulnerable. Megatron shutters his optics as if he were shielding himself from his feelings — from you.

“I don’t understand why you would care,” he admits, sadness tinging his voice. “Everything I’ve done… The pain I’ve caused to them, to you.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Megs,” you sigh. “Everyone deserves a second chance, especially if they want to change.”

Megatron lifts his head, and for the first time, his optics soften, a flicker of hopeful understanding crossing his features. “Rung told me the same thing.”

“You’ve talked to Rung?” you ask, surprised.

“I did, but I don’t want to hurt you…”

Warmth blossoms across your cheeks as the tendrils of hope weave through your heart. These feelings are raw and fragile, but you believe in this. You two can build a bridge. You want to touch him, to reach out and close the distance. Encouraged, you place a small hand on one of his much larger digits.

“You won’t. I believe in you, Megatron.”

He smiles. The hurt gives way, replaced by a gentle, hopeful warmth, like the first rays of dawn.

Megatron remains by your side through the night. No longer held back by shadows of self-doubt, he speaks with you in hushed tones. Whispered conversations and confessions that bring your hearts closer together. He admits openly to his flaws and the unease that surrounds them. It wouldn’t be perfect, but if a relationship with him was what you wanted, he commits himself to trying. And you vow to be understanding.

From that moment forward, things changed. Everyone, having tread on eggshells, exhaled in relief. Megatron’s once harsh and hurtful words took on a gentler tone of support and encouragement. He held fast to his commitment, carving out time to spend with you. The gradual pace of your relationship allowed you to explore and discover each other’s boundaries.

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

Megatron settles in for recharge, and you take your usual place next to his head. You caress the expanse of his cheek, feeling the coolness of metal beneath your fingers. It’s a ritual, one you take great pleasure in, content to admire and adore him. A gentle servo presses you closer, and you nuzzle closer, pressing your cheek to his.

“I feel I don’t have the right to be thankful,” he whispers. “But if there is one thing I can be thankful for, it is to have you.”

Megatron had given you his spark, something no one had ever touched before, and in return, you’d give him all the love you could muster. Your life is short compared to his, but at this moment, surrounded by love, you feel a bittersweet ache. You hope that every moment and touch will be a cherished memory to comfort him in his grief when, inevitably, the distance will be too great.

#transformers #maccadam #megatron x reader #megatron x you #reader insert

[redheadspark]

Heeeeey! Hope u r having a wonderful day

From your prompt list, can I have Azriel from ACOTAR with prompt #12? Cuz I can totally see Azriel keeping his partner from getting up no matter if the other playfully struggles and I'm melting rn bc of that thought HAJSBDK

Do as you please I love ur writing, sorry for any disturbance I could cause w this, tysm take care🙏

A/N - I think this is beyond cute for Azriel! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Stay In

Summary - Azriel will make sure you two enjoy your morning together

Warnings - Just some fuff :)

“Az..Az I need to get up today,”

“Says who?”

“Says our High Lord since I have a meeting with him in 30 minutes, as do you,” 

The body next to you grumbled a bit, sheets shifting under and over you while the softer breeze from the early morning seeped into the master bedroom.  Even the softer sounds of the leaves rustling in the tree right outside along the cobblestone street.  You could breathe in the softness of the leaves and the cool air, along with the scent that your mate had along his skin and against the pillow that you were sharing together.  If it was up to him, he would only have one pillow for your entire king-sized bed since he knew you would end up in his arms anyway with your head on his chest and arms around him.

The ever-brooding Spymaster of Night Court was nothing but mush when it came to you.

“No, come on. Let’s get up—“ You were starting to say as you were attempting to get up from the bed, but Azriel’s arms around your waist were keeping you in bed still.  Of course, he would barely use any of your own strength when It came to you, you’ve seen him in heated battles and at the helm of wars.  Yet he treated you like a dainty flower, never gentle with his scarred fingers and the lingering touches of his lips along your skin.  You never had to be afraid of him, not when you knew deep down he would rather hurt himself than you.  

“Rhysand doesn’t need us this morning, it’s only a formality meeting,” Azriel said along your backside as he drew you back into the bed once again, you chuckling as his lips were kissing the back of your neck over and over, “It’ll probably be no more than an hour long before they rattle on about something unimportant,”

“Yet you thrive at these meetings,” You retorted as you turned around and stared at him.  His hair was disheveled and against the satin pillow, wings sprawled out behind him with a small lick of his shadows against his backside, the sheet pooled along his lower waist to show his tan skin and muscular chest.  He merely grinned, making his eyes that were already bright even brighter from the small amount of sun pouring into the room now.

“I do, but I think today we should have a day off from meetings,” he commented, moving his arms from around your waist to rub your hip with his fingers, “I’m sure both the High Lord and High Lady would understand two less people at the House of Wind,”

You had to smirk at him, seeing him being all pliant was something that seemed more common in later days.  There was no real threat in Night Court, the Battle against King Hybern was now the stuff of legend, nothing that was fresh and new.  The people were safe again, only remembering that gruesome time as a mere story and cautionary tale.  The rest of the Courts felt the same, and peace came over like a rolling fog.  With peace came new chapters in our lives. 

Especially for you and Azriel, who finally got married under the falling stars of Winter Solstice. 

“Come on, we need a day to stay in bed,” He urged you as his fingers were still tracing your hips with a singular finger, “The weather is perfect for sleeping in, don’t you think?”

You paused, looking over to the window and seeing the rolling clouds that came from the direction of the mountains.  Azriel watched you with his usual smirk, seeing that you were thinking it over before sighing in defeat.

“Victory!” He hummed as you laid back down in bed with him.  You chuckled and slapped his chest, hearing him laugh as he tucked you in his arms again, “Honestly, this meeting is not going to be important anyway.  Just some formalities on budgeting and the upcoming trip to Summer Court to talk negotiations.”

Glaring at him, you spoke, “How do you know?”

“High Lady Feyre,” He replied in a shrug, you looking at him in shock as he grinned widely, “I may or may not have asked her what was going to be discussed, and I may or may not have asked you and me to skip the meeting since we’re not involved,”

You had to give him credit for this, without you knowing anything about it.  He would surprise you every once in a while, and it was not like him being the Spymaster of Night Court and someone who was always on his toes and ready to fight and defend.  But these rare flickers of surprise and love that came from him, made you love him ten times more.  

Leaning back to halfway lay on top of him, seeing his gaze stay on yours as you kissed his nose playfully, “Thank you, Az,”

“Anything for you,” He replied in a murmur, leaning in to kiss you softly over and over as another chill came into the room.  You shivered, feeling Azriel move some of the sheets up to cover you both as you were still kissing one another and letting the morning roll on.  With no meeting to go to, nothing to worry about or rush to, it all seemed too good to be true.  

There was nothing better than doing nothing, with the love of your life. 

The End. 

September Prompt Session

#fanfiction #writing #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x female!reader #azriel x oc #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #acomaf #acowar

[dragon-kazansky]

Symphony of dreams

Morpheus x Female Reader

You are his lover. When Morpheus was captured, you fell into the deep sleep. He has no idea until he returns to his realm where Lucienne tells him what happened. Unable to help you until he gets his tools back, he is more determined than ever to get his full power back.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: This chapter just includes a lot of information from about 3 episodes worth. I apologise for that. My plot will pick up again soon.

Chapter Two - Old friends

☆☆☆

Morpheus stayed by your side for a couple of hours. He just sat silently beside the bed with your hand in his, his eyes never leaving your face.

Guilt.

He was riddled with it. Of course, being captured as a complete accident, out of his control, but still felt guilty for not being able to come back to you.

Here, you lay in a dreamless sleep. It was his fault you had been unable to wake. Simply returning to his realm wasn't enough to wake you. Perhaps if he began to rebuild The Dreaming, his power would wake you. He had to at least try.

Morpheus presses a kiss to your forehead and rises up from where he sat. He was reluctant to leave, but he had to do something. Anything. He needed you to wake up.

Lucienne met Morpheus in the throne room. There was debris everywhere. It looked nothing like how it used to. Morpheus was pained to even look at the steps. The last time he was here, he was on his way to bring back a rogue nightmare. That was a century ago. He almost wished he never left to begin with.

He stood among the rubble and opened his hands. Morpheus summoned as much power as he could. The rubble began to lift into the air, but it wasn't enough. He was weak. The rubble and glass fell to the ground, and so did he.

Lucienne moved to help him. "You need rest, and food, and perhaps a bit more rest, and then you'll be back at full strength."

"No. Not without my tools." Morpheus slowly gets up from the ground.

"Your tools?"

"My sand, my helm, my ruby."

"Why, what happened to them?" Lucienne asks.

"They were taken from me." He subconsciously rubs his ring finger. "Among other things too. By my captors. And then taken from them. I know not where. Nor what I am without them."

Morpheus' breaths become uneven. He is not strong enough to build his home to its former glory. Therefore, he is not strong enough to wake you.

He must wake you.

There are some who could help him find his tools. The fates. But they require a price. One that will be hard enough to pay if he can not travel through dreams to get what he needs.

He needs something with an essence of his power to help fulfil his travels. Otherwise it cannot be done.

Lucienne knows who can help, but they won't like it.

Cain and Abel.

☆☆☆

Morpheus stands beside your bed and gazes down at you as you sleep. You're always so beautiful. Not even your current state can take away the beauty you hold.

For the last century, all Morpheus could think about was getting back to you. He needed to be by your side again. You were the one thing that kept him going all this time. He never gave in. Never gave up.

Jessamy. She had been shot down in that basement long ago. He knows you will be heartbroken to hear the news. His beloved raven was a dear friend to you. There was so much he needed to tell you.

"I promise, my love. When I get my tools back, I shall wake you and never let you go again. I am sorry for being away so long. I am sorry for causing this to happen." His voice is soft as he caresses your face gently.

He presses another gentle kiss to your forehead and rises from the bed.

His heart aches at the sight of you.

He will wake you even if it's the last thing he ever does.

☆☆☆

Gregory, the gargoyle. He was a gift to Cain and Abel from Morpheus himself. He had been a loyal friend and companion to them.

Morpheus never wanted to ask this, but he had to. Cain and Abel didn't want to let go of their friend, but Gregory made his choice. For the good of The Dreaming. For the good of you too.

Cain and Abel were saddned to hear of your condition. They had heard about what happened from Lucienne, but to hear you did not wake upon the king of dreams return, that was devastating news.

So, when Gregory said goodbye, they understood.

Morpheus absorbed the power from Gregory. It wasn't easy, nor fun, not wanted. Yet, it had to be done.

Morpheus was sorry. He really was.

☆☆☆

The Fates speak in riddles.

Three questions. Three answers. One from each. Those are the rules. Morpheus would take what he could from them.

"My first question. I had a leather pouch filled with sand. Where is it?" He asks.

"It was sold. In London. Last purchased by a magic user called Joanna Constantine."

"Constatine. I knew a Constantine, but that was 300 years ago. Does she still have the sand?"

"Dream. You know better than that. You get one question and one answer."

"My apologies. My second question. My helm. What happened to it?"

"It was traded away to a demon. For the amulet of protection."

"To which demon was it traded?"

"One question. One answer, love."

"Last question. My ruby. Who holds it now?"

"Your gem was passed from a mother to a son."

"Where are they now?"

"You have asked your questions!" The Fates disappear. Morpheus is left standing alone.

Well, it's a start.

☆☆☆

While fetching the snake The Fates requested, he had picked up an egg. An egg he did not give to them. It was a gift for someone else.

Morpheus returned to Cain and Abel and left them the egg. It was his apology for what he did to Gregory.

Morpheus has his answers, and Cain and Abel had a new friend. He managed to fix something, at least.

☆☆☆

First stop, London.

Morpheus needed to get his sand back. It was important he had it. Constantine was a name he knew. He had met a Constantine before, a long time ago.

Finding her didn't take him long. However, she was not in the mood to stand around and chat. It seemed she had an exorcism to perform. He had to wait.

Unfortunately, he lost sight of her when a raven appeared. A raven he told Lucienne he didn't need. Not after what happened to Jessamy.

Matthew, his new raven, wasn't about to let him get out of this. Lucienne had told Matthew their king was stubborn, and that was starting to seem like an understatement.

Though Morpheus knew you would be disappointed in him for turning away a raven.

Morpheus helped Constantine with an old friend of hers. An ex. She had the sand. She had been holding onto it tightly. Her dreams were happy ones. The sand was keeping her alive, but Morpheus needed his pouch back.

She died happily.

Constantine accepted this and told Matthew to keep an eye on Morpheus. He could do with the company.

For a moment, Morpheus was reminded of you. That sounded like something you would say to him.

Morpheus clutched the sand in his hand.

"I will save you." He whispered.

Matthew looked up at him. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

Matthew had been made aware of you and your condition. Lucienne had told the raven their lord's mood will certainly be affected because of it.

Matthew didn't ask any more about you.

☆☆☆

While Morpheus travelled to Hell of all places, Lucienne came to sit by your bedside. She did this sometimes. She hated the thought that you were alone, even if you couldn't tell she was there or not.

"He's gone to get his tools back. I sent him a raven. I will make sure he keeps in touch this time, my lady."

Lucienne looks at your face. You looked so peaceful, but she knew this was deeper than that. She wanted you to wake up so could be with Lord Morpheus again.

"When you wake, the realm will be complete. My lord will be complete. Heartbroken doesn't even cover how he felt when he saw you, my lady... I wish there was more I could do."

Deep down, she knew there was nothing else she could do.

"I shall be here watching over you until he returns. I promise, my lady."

☆☆☆

Walking through Hell is about what you would expect, really.

Lucifer. The ruler of this realm.

Getting his helm back would not be easy, but he would do what he had to do to get it back. No matter what he was up against, Morpheus would do this. He was doing this for you and the realm you both shared.

Seeing Nadar was hard. He had told you be had loved before. He spoke very little about what happened, though. His luck in love was very little.

He reminded himself why he was here. For his helm. For you.

To get his helm back, he must play The Oldest Game. If he loses, he will become a slave to Hell. If he wins, he gets his helm back.

Morpheus tries to get Matthew to return to The Dreaming, so he may send word of Morpheus' fate if he does not win. Losing will not just leave him in Hell with his helm, but it would mean leaving you behind forever.

You would be safe with Lucienne. He needs you to be safe.

Matthew refuses to go.

The Oldest Game begins.

"I am a dire wolf. Prey stalking, lethal prowler." Lucifer begins.

"I am a hunter. Horse mounted, wolf stabbing." Morpheus replies.

Lucier takes a hit. Blood pouring from their torso.

"I am a serpent. Horse biting, poisoned toothed."

Morpheus feels the poison in his veins.

"I am a bird of prey. Snake devouring, talons ripping."

Lucifer receives some scratches to the face. More blood is shed.

"I am a butcher bacterium. Warm life destroying."

Morpheus curls over into a heap. His flesh appears to be rotting away.

"I am a world. Space floating, life nuturing."

They stand in a field. Calm. Peaceful.

"I am a nova." Lucifer opens their wings. "All exploding, planet cremating."

Morpheus lays on the ground. Scorched, in pain. He tries to get up, but he can not.

"I am a universe." He whispers. "All things encompassing. All life embracing."

"I am anti-life. The beast of judgement. The dark at the end of everything."

Morpheus is still. His breathing is laboured.

"What will you be then, Dream Lord?"

"I... I..." He is struggling. Matthew comes over.

"Boss? Hey boss!"

"Still with is Dream?" Lucifer asks, leaning over him slightly.

"He is, and it's his move." Matthew argues. "Your majesty."

"There are no more moves. What can survive the anti-life?"

"Hey boss, listen to me, you know what can survive the anti-life? You. Dreams don't fucking die. Not if you believe in them, and I believe Dream of the Endless would never leave his raven here alone in Hell with Lucifer. And he certainly wouldn't leave his love again in The Dreaming alone without him."

"I... am..." Morpheus sits up. "Hope."

The room brightens up.

"Hope?"

"Well, light bringer? It's your move. What is it that kills hope?"

"Give him his helm," Lucifer orders.

He did it. Morpheus won.

The helm is returned to Morpheus. He reminds Lucifer that dreams do have power in Hell.

He leaves, Matthew right behind him.

Morpheus puts his helm on. He knows where the ruby is. He uses his sand to take him there.

One more item, and then he can return to you. He can wake you and hold you again.

"Wait for me, my love."

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless - @mischievousvillainy - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy - @emarich7 -

#symphony of dreams #morpheus x reader #the sandman #female reader #dragon writes

[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Pairing: Alpha Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha Sam

Word Count: 1417

*Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter

Warnings: A/B/O, non/con elements, dub/con elements, enslavement, pandemic, non/con drug use, collaring/leashing, forced mating, forced breeding, branding, BDSM elements, show-level violence

*Additional warnings to be added

Square filled: @spnabobingo non traditional alpha traits @spnkinkevents free space @j3bingo jewelry/piercing

A/N: * UPDATED 3/24 first three pasts of series

A/N II: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

A/N III: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

PART IV

John read through the contract and had to admit that the Dealer was a stickler for details, continuing to the addendum that the original purchaser sold the O as-is to him for one dollar. 

Ignoring the still-fuming Dealer, John signed all three copies before handing them and the payment to an on-site notary who stamped the copies before handing one back to John, one to the suit with their monetary compensation, then disappeared with the last to finish registering the sale.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Winchester,” the suit says as they untether the twin and lead her out of the room. John placed his copy in his canvas jacket pocket and said, “I need the O cleaned up and dressed.” One of the Alphas reached into the cage, attached a cheap dog chain to the D ring on her collar, and used it to drag the O across the floor, dropping it at John's feet as Helms smirked. “Sorry, we would normally comply with your request if it were our merchandise you purchased. You have a nice day, Winchester.” 

They left John alone with his newly acquired property. He scooped up the unconscious O and was surprised at how light she felt, made his way through the open dock door of the building and spotted the Impala. When his sons climbed out, John issued orders.

 “Dean, get your ass over here and take your property. Sam, front seat with me.”

“There’s a clinic two blocks on the left, sir,” Sam says, climbing back into the Impala, cracking a disposable ice pack, and handing it over the seat to Dean, who places it over the O’s swollen eye. John's thankful it’s a short drive cause the mouth-breathing sounds filling the car were disturbingly similar to that Shtriga he’d hunted. 

Sam bolts out the door before John has the car in park, taking several deep breaths before opening the back door and helping Dean maneuver out with the unconscious O. 

The quartet enters the clinic, and a bored-looking receptionist slides a clipboard over without looking up, telling them to fill out both sides. They cross to the waiting area where John and Dean sit, automatically leaving the chair between them unoccupied. Sam mentally sighs and pulls his hoodie lower to keep his painfully hard cock hidden, sits, and starts mouth breathing again, making John growl and scribble faster before marching back to the receptionist.

Dean shifts the unresponsive girl, and Sam says in a strained voice, “Dude, she’s flashing everyone!” Dean sees his darting eyes peer down, noting the old army blanket gaped open, exposing the O’s breasts. He can’t help himself. “Look at you, Sammy, blushing like a virgin on her wedding night. So adorable.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Boys,” John interrupted, “Let's go.” Dean closed the blanket, followed him down the hall to an exam room, and placed the O on the table. “Wait outside the door, Dean. You too, Sam.”  A while later, smallish, fifty-something Beta with their nose in a file came towards them and finally noticed the two tall Alphas slouching by the doorway. Smelling his unsureness, Dean reassured them, “We don’t bite..usually.”

Clearing their throat, the Beta walked between them when Dean slapped his hand against the wall, creating a loud thwack that made them hurry into the room. “Not funny, man,” Sam chastised but couldn’t help grinning.

John insisted on remaining in the room during the examination, knew how these clinics worked, and wanted to be sure the O had no severe injuries or undisclosed maladies. 

“I don’t see your DNA ID on the intake paperwork.”

“DNA? What are you talking about?”

“There have been many fraudulent ownership claims in this state,” the doctor said as he did the exam. “For new registrations, all Alphas in the purchaser's immediate pack must submit their DNA ID number and to STD testing. I assume you were in service?” John affirmed he was. “Good, and your offspring? No? Okay, what state did your Omega whelp them in?” John frowned. “My mate was an Alpha.” 

“It’s almost unheard of for a female Alpha to have more than one pregnancy.” The doctor resumed the physical, noting a mild concussion, but her swollen eye was undamaged, and considering the extensive skin trauma, mainly on her back, she likely had bruised ribs, too. “As a precaution, I will administer fluids and a broad-spectrum antibiotic. I need your help with this part. Please move the O to the scale so I can see if its stats match the paperwork.”

The doctor and John, who’d guesstimated her height earlier, were shocked. Most O’s rarely hit five-four, and she was nearly six feet tall but was thirty pounds underweight. John laid the O back on the table, covered her with a warming blanket as the doctor hooked her to the IV, then collected the other samples from Winchesters except for the STD on Sam, who had to admit he was still a virgin. A tech arrived for the samples and handed the doctor some paperwork. “I see you purchased the O for your elder son, who’s not of age yet. Do you require any additional stipulations for registration?” 

“I want Sam to have proprietary rights in the event of my untimely death.” 

Dean peeks through the register office's doorway and sees a slightly chubby Beta in her late twenties sitting at the desk. She looks up, giving him an apprentice once-over, and chirpily inquires, “You with the O just brought in?" He responds snarkily. “You got a bunch of other O’s that just arrived?"  Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. “I'm sorry, that was uncalled for.” 

She hummed sympathetically and clicked the mouse, searching for something on the computer. "It’s alright. Things like this can be stressful, so I’ll try to get you through quickly. Help yourself to the coffee. It’s hot." Pouring a cup, Dean sipped it and grimaced. "Okay, here we are. Name?"

"Uh, Dean." He sat down, positioning himself to see out into the hallway, and heard the Betas' long nails tacketing-tacketing over the keys. "And will you be changing the name?" "Huh? Why the hell would I want to do that?” The Beta flinches at his tone. "It's a routine question. Some people don’t like the name of the O they’ve purchased, so they shorten or change it entirely.” It took him a second to catch up. “Oh, sorry. I'm Dean, and ahh, I don’t know what her name is." The tacketa-tacketa resumes. “Hmm, the O only has numerical identification. You could pick something neutral or a favorite nickname. How about leaving it for now? If or when you decide to change it, you can do it through any state registration center."

"Uhh, okay, let’s do that." 

"No problem. Now, has the O been branded yet?" Dean's hand firmly gripped the edge of the desktop. "What the fuck? That's a regular thing you do here!” Dean's loudness makes the Beta frown; she leans over, opens a side drawer, rifles around, and pulls out a pamphlet, pushing it toward him. Dean frowned at the title: Your New Omega and You: An Alpha's Guide to Handling and Training.

 "O branding is the traditional form of marking to deter theft and help with identification. North Dakota is one of a few states that mandate it but all others accept it. A sanctioned clinic, such as ours, uses a local anesthetic, so it’s quick and relatively painless. The unique symbol chosen for the individual owner will be on the lower back to not spoil their aesthetics.”  More tacketa-tack-tacketa. ‘We do piercing for free. Are you interested in having the O’s nipples, clitoral hood, or labia done?” Dean shakes his head negatively. “For low-income families, public assistance will generally cover breast augmentation or genital modification since it doesn't interfere with fertility.”

“Now, state law requires that if testing confirms that the O's are a non-viable carrier, we spay them. I am obligated to inform you this procedure can lead to malaise, but it reduces the chances of other diseases as they age. Since you’re not a resident, if you choose not to, we can provide a doctor's exemption certificate.”

“What kind of fucked-up Deliverance-style place is this? I am not authorizing any fucking modifications of any kind, you hear me!” The courteous attitude disappears. "I don’t appreciate your tone, sir,” as she resumed tacketa-tack-tacks on the keyboard. Dean wasn’t sure how much more he could take before he hit something.

Part V

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva   @lassie-bird   @nancymcl   @spnbaby-67   @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies  @stoneyggirl2  @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

WF: @slamminmine @ladysparkles78  @deans-spinster-witch  @ilovetaquitosmmmm   @strawblueberrys

#winchester's folly #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #dystopia #dean x reader x sam #dean x reader #sam x reader #spn au #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #supernatural #alpha dean winchester #alpha sam winchester

[whiteladyofithilien]

Legolas' Cave Trauma

So it occurred to me that it seemed a bit weird that Legolas, who arguably has spent hundreds of years in a freaking cave palace, would be as anti-cave as he is in the books when Gimli goes off about the wonder of the Glittering Caves in Helm's Deep. So I had to reconcile these two facts. I consulted with the council of Elrond (aka my Tolkien friends) and one of them was like "just cause he lived in the caves doesn't mean he liked it. Thranduil had made the cave palace as a stronghold against the evils of the world outside his realm" while my thoughts was just "Legolas has cave trauma after Moria".

Because as we all know Legolas absolutely loses his shit when he sees the Balrog, like full on screaming Elvish meltdown.

So I combined the two theories to run along this line... Legolas was never a fan of caves, growing up on stories of the evil things that dwelt under the mountains he probably was not a huge fan when that's where his dad decided to repair to as the world grew more perilous. I picture little Leggy being especially scared of the Balrogs in stories told to him as a child. We gotta remember Balrogs are an extremely ancient and distant myth for even a lot of the elves, especially the "less wise" elves of Thranduil's folk. Most peoples are convinced that the last of the Balrogs perished in the War of Wrath, heck even people like Elrond may think this. So for Legolas this is his childhood monster under the bed, the Elvish Boogeyman. Balrogs shouldn't exist. They're just a scary story you tell kids to make them behave or to exemplify the valor of the elves of old who slew them. Some legends may say that some survived in deep places of the world but no one believes them any more, except maybe for little elven princelings but they grow up and grow out of it and after hundreds of years living in their dad's cave palace they're just an embarrassing memory of childhood fears.

But then Moria happens and it's his nightmares coming and standing before him more terrifying than he even imagined as a child and then striking down the most powerful being he's ever known. And it's just terrorizing and traumatizing and while the time in Lorien helps to settle his nerves he's none too eager to ever step foot underground again.

Especially to unknown caves.

Especially to a place underground that Gimli is a excited about.

The last time this happened he saw the terror of tales of long ago come to living reality in front of his eyes.

This may even be part of the reason why Legolas won't repeat the laments for Gandalf. "The grief is too near" and so is the terror. He doesn't wanna think about his living nightmare again, especially so soon. Of course he heals somewhat from his Cave Trauma and his friendship with Gimli helps I'm sure, after all they probably talked about it while they were hanging in Lorien becoming besties. And in turn seeing Legolas willingly go underground to take the Paths of the Dead encourages him to follow. He's just seen his bestie face his fears and now he must do the same.

#the glittering caves #spelunking #cave trauma #lord of the rings #tolkien #jrr tolkien #lotr #thranduil #legolas #legolas of the woodland realm #glittering caves #helms deep #legolas and gimli #lotr gimli #gimli son of gloin #gimli #balrog #balrog of morgoth #morgoth #moria #khazad dûm #bridge of khazad dum #i do not desire the speech of living men

[qackiess]

babymaking with predaking woooo‼️‼️

nsfw!!

Yall another part to this is locked n loaded so just let me know if i should continue it lmao

Predaking had been acting very odd as of late. It wasnt exactly unpleasant, just strange. He was much more possessive, way more touchy with you, especially your stomach, and he was in the nest more often than not. His loud snoring echoed throughout your shared cave, it was charming in a way, when you weren’t the one sleeping beside him every night.

You carefully stepped into the soft nest he had created just for the two of you. After abandoning the Nemesis, Predaking wasted no time finding a home for the two of you to take refuge in.

Once you were fully in the nest you would lie down beside him, spooning him, or atleast attempting to; the size difference being humorous.

Carefully, you wrapped your servos and pedes around his large, surprisingly tense frame. His intakes hitching almost instantly at this, almost flinching. You were surprised at this, as he was usually a very deep sleeper.

“Apologies, my king, did I wake you?” You questioned with a sympathetic tone.

“..indeed.” He gruffly replied.

“Sorry.”

He pushes himself up from the comfy warmth of the nest, turning to face you, his optics practically glowed in the dark depths of he cave. “It’s forgiven, my Conjunx. Do not fret.” He grumbled, resting his servos on your waist, and pulling you in closer; he was very…warm. In return you would nod with a soft smile. His chassis deeply rumbled against you.

“I take it you slept well, yeah?” You questioned, lightly tracing his sharp, spiky frame.

He again would flinch at your affectionate touches, this of course being concerning for you. You hesitated before eventually speaking up on his strange behavior.

“Predaking, are you…well?” You questioned.

His glowing orange optics widened at this, staring deep into yours. He only continued to shake.

“Predaking..?”

You asked for the second time, this time reaching to rest a servo on his faceplate, softly caressing, you gasped and instinctively yanked your hand away…he was burning hot.

You quickly regained your composure before exclaiming, “Predaking, you are on fire..! Are you ill?”

His dilated optics were trained on you, watching your every movement, he seemed almost in a trance. Once he snapped out of it, he quickly responded. “No, no! I am, healthy…i am..just…”

He took a deep, shaky intake before continuing, yet he sounded almost…in pain. “I am…am simply-“ He deeply gasped, his frame going ridged. “Frag, frag frag..!”

A heavy, hot pang of need traveled through him, it was irresistible, he couldn’t keep his composure.

He whimpered out, his grip on your waist tightening. “I need you. I..I must. It has been much too long-!” Your optics widen at his words. “Predaking, what are you talking about?” He suddenly mounted you, sitting between your thighs; making you gasp.

“A heir.” He growled. You felt energon rush to your faceplates. “Wh-what?! King, what has gotten into you?” He leans down, a predatory gaze locked onto you as he positions his mandibles right beside your audial.

“Who am i, Predaking, to deny my programming, my instincts, and us; of a heir?” He questions.

“Oh…” You would understandingly reply. It makes sense now, his unusual behavior, it was his heat, his natural instinct to reproduce. He deeply sighs.

“Though, i would never go against my mate’s wishes. I beg, will you please, allow me the honor of sparking you?”

Lust fogged his processor, he continued, though barely audible.

“My mate…such a beautiful family we could have, cant you imagine..?”

He propped your helm up with a sharp digit, making you look into his gorgeous, glowing orange optics; love-filled, yet desperate.

“Please.” He begged

You gasped as soft thrusts could be felt against your modesty panel, causing your pedes to be pushed farther apart, and Predakings labored pants clouding your mind. Your spark was pounding, it was all so sudden…

“Of..of course, Predaking. I would be honored to.” You whispered.

He purred in delight, lightly rubbing his helm against yours; “Yes, yes…thank you, my mate.” He lightly smiles, his half lidded optics staring deep into yours.

“I can assure you, you will not be disappointed, my dearest.”

He presses his helm against yours, grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer, positioning him perfectly against your sensitive plating. He was drooling at this point, completely drunk on the euphoric idea of filling you completely, until he is all you can think of. Resting a heavy, caring servo against your tanks he continues to stare down at your sprawled out figure.

“I’m so eager, so very eager to fill you so impossibly deep, to knot you, my queen/king, until you can barely speak, we are going to make such lovely sparklings together..I cannot wait to see you carry my brood…”

#valveplug #transformers x reader #tfp predaking #predaking x reader #this is so cringe omg #Part 2? #IM SO SORRY #transformers #HEELP #HELP MEE

[lex-the-flex]

Oblivion 

Morpheus x reader 

Summary: In the wake of the Corinthian’s demise, an unsuspecting visitor to his realm captures the King of Dream’s eye, so the Endless does everything he can to fulfill this craving. 

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning(s): MEGA FLUFF, slight angst and sadness, descriptions of injuries, brief nudity, love at first sight + first kiss, and Dream being the most loving and faithful husband material EVER. 

A/N: I just finished The Sandman and it was so good! So I thought I’d combine two requests for this fic, which are; ‘where Morpheus makes you his queen’ and ‘the reader temporarily lives in the Dreamworld due to being in a coma and shares a relationship with Dream + first kiss.’ 

Remnants of strong salt filled the dark sand beaches of the Dreamworld and dragged through the hilly landscapes beyond. In the dull blue sky, the afternoon spilled amongst the clouds as a single raven flew in the air, surveying the land. Flapping his wings to keep up with the wind’s current, something or rather –someone caught his eye on the pebbly sand below. 

Descending to the beaches, the loyal raven glided above the cold waves, and speckles of mist covered the tips of his smooth feathers. Landing on the ground, a deep croak escaped Matthew’s beak as he slowly approached the unconscious figure on the beach. 

“Poor girl.” Matthew muttered at the sight of you.  

Observing your nude form as you were on your side, with your arms covering your chest, as if you were trying to keep warm. Your hair blew against your pale face and your once pink lips had slightly turned blue from the weather. 

Discreetly nudging your goosebump-ridden skin, a crinkle forms between your neat brows as if you were in pain. 

“I wonder how long you’ve been out here.” The raven says. 

With the sound of the crashing waves, your cracked lips begin to violently shake, and you begin to mumble gibberish. 

“Now don’t you worry. I’ll be back with help.” Matthew advises, stepping away to ascend back into the sky once more.

Upon returning to the Palace, Matthew informed the man of the mighty Palace. Intrigued by the news, the King of Dreams follows his raven’s lead to the beaches down below.

*****

Returning to the same spot where Matthew left you, the weather transformed from the dull blue sky to a light grey atmosphere with the tide rising on its command. Looming over your shaking form, Morpheus softly pushes a few wet strands of hair away from your face.

“She’s beautiful.” He utters, basking in your presence before him.

“Tell Lucienne to prepare some broth and fire. This mortal shall have a place in my Palace.” Morpheus orders, removing his coat from his shoulders.

Covering you with his coat, Morpheus carefully scoops you in his arms, preparing for the long walk back to his home. 

Within a few weeks, you were resting comfortably in the infinite Palace, and your recovery went far better than expected. The only thing that seemed odd was when Matthew managed to pull Morpheus away from your company after he was practically glued to your hip. 

“What is it, Matthew?” Morpheus asked, drawing his attention from a book that you had taken an interest in. 

“Boss, I’ve been watching Y/N for a while. Haven’t you noticed anything strange about her?” Matthew says, peeking an interest in the Endless.

“How so?” Morpheus asks, closing the book.

“Well, she’s never really …woken up yet. Y/N’s been staying away for almost four weeks straight. She couldn’t have been a victim of the Sleeping Sickness could she?” Matthew explains.

“No, I don’t think so. I think something might be wrong in the Waking World. I’ll find her first, then we’ll sort this out.” Morpheus advises, standing from his throne.

Squawking in agreement, Matthew flutters his wings, and flys back out into the Dreamworld to continue his duties. Deep in the darkness of his private chambers, Morpheus picks up his Helm with cautious hands, mentally preparing for what he might find. 

Donning the beautifully crafted Helm, his palms opened, causing sand to pour from his hands, and he was off. Finding himself in the Waking World once more, Morpheus’s heart started to pound wildly in his chest just as he removed the Helm from his head. His bright blue eyes scanned the bustling streets of London as the multiple pedestrians seemingly went about their days, as if they didn’t see the Endless before them. 

Trekking closely behind the crowd, something spawned in the cavernous pit of Morpheus’s chest, a feeling like no other. It was like he was yearning for your company in the Waking World. But he needed to see you in person, regardless of where you were. And he knew where to find you. 

St. Thomas’ Hospital. 

Morpheus’ brows furrowed at where he ended up. The last place he expected you to be was in a hospital. Surely you weren’t a patient? 

Were you?

The question emerged in the depths of his mind, but disappeared with a quick shake as he walked inside, determined to find you. And he did. 

There you were in room 512. Hooked up to two different machines for survival, your pulse remained constant, without skipping a beat. Feeling his knees buckle underneath him, Morpheus carefully made his way into the room, hoping to get a better look at you. 

Standing at the foot of the bed, the King of Dreams lowered his head, and tears began to form behind his tightly shut lids. He refused to believe this is where you were, that this was your state. Cursed to live your days in a coma without any connection to the outside world. 

“No. I refuse to lose anyone else. I refuse to lose you, Y/N.” Morpheus declared in a whisper, moving to your side. 

Leaning down, Morpheus took your hand and pressed his pink lips onto your pale ones. He would not let this newfound love die with the snap of a set of fingers. You were the one for him, and he was going to see this through. Letting go, he returned to the Dreaming, vowing to love you all the same. 

When he returned however, he couldn’t find you for a full month. Morpheus searched high and low and there was no sign of you anywhere. Then one afternoon, Matthew flew into the throne room with some news. 

“Boss! Boss! She’s alive, I’ve found her!!” Matthew shouted with glee. 

“Where? Where is she?” Morpheus asked, leaving his previous task behind. 

*****

The shop’s bells jingled in delight as the front door opened, bringing in a new wave of sunlight. 

“Sorry, we’re not open yet.” You said with your back to the door. 

“That’s quite alright. I don’t mind waiting.” Morpheus replied, with a sly smile on his face. 

Turning to greet the individual at your door, you immediately dropped the small clay pot. 

“Careful now. It would be a shame to waste good tea.” Morpheus said, catching the pot with one hand. 

Leaping into his arms, Morpheus held you tightly, and sighed into your embrace. 

“How- How did you find you?” You ask through a series of tears. 

“Matthew is quite a good raven, I’ll give him that. He misses you, Y/N. The Dreaming misses its queen.” Morpheus says, opening his palm, revealing a silver and sapphire ring. 

Accepting his proposal, Morpheus led you to his home beyond the Waking World, and back down to the Dreaming once more. 

the sandman taglist ~ 

@dreamliners

@nebulosa-reina

@smolfrogz

@vanessalenrie

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#the sandman #the sandman netflix #the sandman comics #morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus x y/n #dream #dream x reader #dream x you #tom sturridge #neil gaiman

[aziraphales-library]

Hello, lovely admins! I've gotten the itch for fics where Aziraphale becomes a fallen angel, I don't know why, but I do. Any recommendations? Pls and thank you 💙💙

We have a #fallen angel aziraphale tag you can check out. Here are some post-series two fics in which Aziraphale falls to add to the collection...

Aziraphale Come Down by TheNapoleonOfCrime (T)

Crowley stared at the television with wide eyes, dropping the drink he held right on the floor and causing it to shatter. He watched the video that had been captured of the angel, his angel, Aziraphale, walk through the busy roads like nothing. Aziraphale, his friend who he always knew to be cautious, to be perfect, walking around as if he was drunk. And his wings, what had happened to them? What had they done to him? Without another thought, Crowley ran out of the bar he had been so comfortably situated in. “Angel-!”

If You Don't Recognize Yourself (That Means You Did It Right) by Lem00nOak (T)

Aziraphale is Supreme Archangel, he's where he is meant to be, where he can make a difference, a change. Or is he? A story about betrayal, falling, self-hatred and acceptance with a sprinkle of love +*+*+* Or my prediction for Season 3

when my time comes around (lay me gently in the cold, dark earth) by fluffy_miracle (E)

After a millennium of service to Heaven as the Supreme Archangel, in the midst of a troubled time for Heaven, the most unexpected occurrence happens to Aziraphale. He Falls. And Hell is somehow there to pick up the pieces with a lot of familiar faces and an unusually kind Ruler of Darkness at the helm. Hell is transformed from the terrible place Aziraphale had known it to be-- and so it becomes the place where he gets one more chance to start over and finally let himself be just Aziraphale-- nobody with no allegiance to anything-- except maybe Crowley. But Crowley isn't available, not like he used to be, and the new fallen angel has to learn to deal with himself, and heal, before they can meet again properly. Even if he has missed him desperately after all this time. Especially since he no longer has to be God's strongest soldier anymore...

Bad Omen by lavender_mo0n (T)

There is a common misconception that owls are a bad omen, a warning sign for death and destruction that is to come. On the contrary, a better way to describe it is to say that they are a symbol of change. That change may come in the form of death, but perhaps that is more in reference to the death of life as we know it.

No Light, No Light by PolarisVega (T)

Aziraphale left his life on Earth behind to take the job as the new Supreme Archangel of Heaven. Delighted to be welcomed back and to have finally earned the respect of Heaven, Aziraphale is doing as much Good as he can from the inside. But when Heaven's plans for the second coming of the Apocalypse are revealed. The consequences of his choices, past and present, are greater than he ever imagined.

Grip Me Tight and Raise Me From Perdition by LyricalKris (M)

It was a trap. Of course, it was a trap. The Metatron had been counting Aziraphale’s sins since that first lie in Eden. If ever an angel deserved to be a demon, it was this one. Trouble was, the only one who knew how to turn an angel into a demon was God, and She hadn’t been around lately. But that wouldn’t stop Hell from trying, now would it? Not every day they got their hands on a powerless, fallen angel. And bonus, nobody knew where he was, so there would be no interruptions from filthy, red-haired and yet overprotective traitors. Trapped in a pitch-black, super-heated room in a deep pit of Hell, a tormented, abandoned angel prayed to a demon who was too angry and heartbroken to listen.

- Mod D

#good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #fallen angel aziraphale #hurt/comfort #mod d