#wasteland vehicles

[hellsgate-roadhouse]

[march-hare01]

[radioactivepeasant]

Surprise: Free Day Thursday Part Three!

Part One, Part Two

Yes, it's all out of order. But honestly that's kind of by design. See, I've got this idea of the story opening with Samos delivering a prologue, as he usually does. It's very much a statement by an unreliable narrator. And then you'd see what was happening in Spargus and think "wait, this doesn't match up". And then it would go back and forth between game stuff and how Jak got to the Wasteland.

So first Samos would provide a recap of Jak II. Then he'd say something like,

"But, sensing the weakness of our defenses, a ruthless warlord appeared from the Wastes. The dreaded Dune-Wolf, as efficient as he is deadly. He made only one demand: "Give up the Dark Warrior, or we will tear your city apart, beginning with this man we caught scouting around our camp."

But the man was the leader of the city militia, the right hand man of the governor herself. What choice did that leave us? With an innocent man's life in the balance -- to say nothing of the city -- Jak had no alternative but to accept the Dune-Wolf's terms. On the day of the exchange, the governor slipped a dagger into Jak's boot, where the Wastelanders would not find it, so that at least he would not be helpless. It has been many months now since that fateful day, but I have faith that Jak will gather his strength and escape that barren desert, to return to us once more."

And then it would cut to Spargus:

Daxter clung to the exterior of the tower, finding handholds no human would ever have been capable of. Swiftly and quietly, he scaled the rain-slick wall to slide through a window too narrow for most. Once inside, he shook water from his fur and beckoned to the figure crouched by the wall.

"Coast is clear, Jak." Daxter gestured with a thumb over his shoulder. "We'll have to climb down clockwise to avoid the guards, but then it's a straight shot to the elevator."

"Nice work." Jak held out a fist to bump against Daxter's.

He pulled his goggles down over his face and gripped the edges of the sill.

"This is it, Dax. We're getting out of here."

With a crackle, dark eco washed over his body, radiating from the lichtenberg patterns across his chest and arms. Jak's dark form didn't care about whether a space was "too small". He could fit anywhere as long as he could get his head through. With a scrape and a few very unsettling pops, he squeezed out of the window and dug his claws into the wall. Daxter slid out after him and dropped to his shoulder. Then the escape was underway.

Humans were not supposed to be able to cling to vertical surfaces like lizards. But then, Jak had never really been one for obeying conventional ideas of what humans were supposed to be able to do. He crept down the tower, following the clockwise path Daxter pointed out to him. After about two more levels, the walls would become sheer metal, and they would run out of handholds. They would have to switch to indoors then -- provided Jak's dark eco didn't run out and cause them to fall to their deaths.

The window in the pump room had been left open. This would have been suspiciously convenient in most cases, but the rain brought cooler air, and open windows were to be found all across the city to take advantage of it. Jak shimmied in through the foot-wide space and hopped lightly down over pipes and gears. They would have to be careful here: one wrong move could damage the water filtration system and cause problems for a lot of innocent people. Jak eased up beside the open doorway and craned his neck to check the hall.

Perfect.

Taking advantage of the pump room's noise to drown out his grunt of pain, Jak let the dark eco subside, drawing it back into his core.

"Alright Dax, which way?" he whispered.

"Left. Er, my left- not yours. Stick to the ceiling when we get to the hall with the monks. After that it's just two antechambers to the way out."

Moving from room to room in almost complete silence, they met no resistance. Of course, they'd long since learned to avoid the traps hidden under the engraved floor tiles, and Jak put the ease of their journey down to experience.

Daxter wasn't so sure. Something felt...off.

The elevator -- the only true exit from the fortified tower -- sat at the edge of a carefully maintained indoor oasis. It had the rare quality of being both beautiful and strangely threatening -- like Tess, Daxter sometimes joked. Much of this was due to the vast dais sitting opposite the lift. Two braziers fastened to rough stone pillars provided the only illumination that didn't come from the window behind the dais, and what natural light there was had to filter through dozens of small date palms. Between the trees and huge carving set behind the throne, there were far too many shadowy places for an enemy to hide.

Jak was going to take full advantage of that.

Hopping from rock to rock, he deftly avoided the streams to make it to the wooden frame of the simple moving platform. He would have to be quick: pulling back the lever to call the platform up was going to make a lot of noise. The second the bar around the lever locked into place with a loud clank, Jak grabbed Daxter and darted into the shadows between two palms to hide in case someone came to investigate.

He had scarcely turned around when he realized someone was already standing where he had just been. How had he missed them?!

Broad shoulders, heavy bracers, otherwise slight build. This wouldn't be an easy fight if it was who Jak suspected it was. But they were the last obstacle between Jak and freedom, and he'd come too far to back down now.

The person turned as Jak left the trees, and firelight caught on glimmering shards of Precursor metal, set into his skull.

Ah. Of course.

"Dune-Wolf," Jak greeted the warrior casually.

"Escapee," the Dune-Wolf returned.

"Can't keep me here forever, Dune-Wolf," Jak challenged, stepping in a careful circle around the man.

"It's the middle of the storm season, of course I can," the warlord scoffed.

Daxter shook out his arms and took a ready stance at Jak's side. "Better hope you locked the front gate, pal, because we're outta here!"

King Damas raised a brow, and the corner of his mouth twitched up. "Are you now? I wouldn't be so sure of that."

He shifted one foot back, and raised his staff. "You will not set one foot past me."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Jak retorted, and he charged.

The faint sting of old bruises reminded him to jump -- Damas liked sweeping his opponents' legs out from under them -- and he used his momentum to sail over the staff and land to the king's left. His feet had barely made contact with the floor before Damas’s own momentum caught up to him. Damas followed his swing through by pivoting and catching Jak across the midsection with the staff. Jak flew backwards into one of the streams with the wind knocked out of him.

Daxter ducked the staff with a screech and actually leaped up onto it. He clung for dear life while Damas paused in an attempt to shake him off before shrugging and picking him up by the scruff of the neck. Jak surged out of the water like a sea monster to grasp the staff and try to pull it from Damas’s hands. Forced to choose which opponent to focus on, Damas released Daxter just in time for Jak to finally wrest the staff from his fingers and toss it across the room.

"Nice try," Jak panted, and dug in his heels as the two matched grips.

For a moment, neither gave way, but ultimately, Damas had the advantage of size.

He shifted stance for one instant and swept Jak's feet out from under him. Jak landed hard, and before he could get his elbows under him, a hand came down on the back of his neck, anchoring him in place. Jak froze, well accustomed by now to the irritating consequences of failure. Damas crouched beside him, and when Jak strained his eyes to get a look at the king, he was smirking.

"Nice try," he echoed. He let go and stood back to let Jak sit up. "I told you, you can't get past me."

Jak bent slightly to catch his breath, begrudgingly admitting defeat. But then he grinned and pointed past Damas.

"Then who's in the elevator?"

Damas whirled to see Daxter, waving at him from inside. Going for the staff had been a ploy: Jak had never intended to win the fight.

"Got past you this time, Dune-Wolf. A deal's a deal," Daxter crowed.

Jak mirrored his cocky grin.

"We got past you, so you have to let me take my last Arena trial before winter."

Damas grumbled good-naturedly and shook his head. "Why did I ever let you talk me into that?"

He leaned down and pulled Jak to his feet in a single motion.

"I probably should have specified that you both had to get past me. That's on me."

"Buuut," Jak pointed out, "you didn't specify. C'mon, Dune-Wolf, pay up."

"Don't call me Dune-Wolf," Damas sighed -- for the umpteenth time -- "enemies call me Dune-Wolf. Soldiers call me Dune-Wolf. You don't."

Jak flashed a cheeky grin at him. "Sure, sure, Damas."

Daxter could have sworn the warlord's eye twitched just a little.

"Alright, now you're just being impudent." Damas tweaked Jak’s ear. "It's either father, or dad to you."

Jak batted his hand away and rolled his eyes. "Man, I haven't had a father in twelve years! I'm not used to being someone's kid!"

It was truly a mark of progress that Damas didn’t respond to statement with a dampening of his mood, or a wince. Instead, he wrestled Jak into a playful headlock and scrubbed his knuckles across the boy’s scalp.

"Yeah? Well you live here, so you better start getting used to it!"

Jak snorted and tried to break free, but admittedly he was at an awkward angle and Damas did still have a height advantage.

"Ack! Leggo!"

"What? Put you upside down, you said?" Damas teased.

It wasn't an idle threat, that was how the last spar had ended.

"Okay okay!" Jak laughed and smacked Damas’s arm. "I yield! Let up, Dad!"

Damas eased his grip immediately, slackening the hold into a loose arm around Jak’s shoulders. "You did good, cub," he said warmly, "You're ready for the last trial."

"Told you we were!" Daxter chirped. "C'mon Jak, the sooner you get your zoomies out on the Playground of Death, the sooner we get to vote!"

"Aht! Breakfast first!"

Damas shifted one heel, and the next thing Daxter knew a foot had come out of nowhere to scoop him out of the elevator and up into the air. Jak caught him with a truncated curse and fumbled to set him on his shoulders.

"But we already ate!" He protested.

"We ate six raisins and a roll," Daxter tattled, "Lead the way, Mr. The Dad."

[davidtinsongulous]

“When Nightmare Moon was defeated in the legendary Battle of the Royal Sisters, instead of being banished to the moon, she was transported to an alien world destroyed by warfare. At least, she thought it was an alien world…”

---

This is my first post on Tumblr!

As you can see here, this is based on a theory from the early days of the MLP: FiM fandom that stated Equestria is a far-future, post-apocalyptic Earth.

-

Nightmare Moon, who has turned back into Princess Luna, is stuck in a wasteland filled with advanced technology and devastated structures. This world is OUR world, but it’s not in the present or future; no, this is an alternate world where human civilization ended before the first year of the 21st century. Will she be able to return home that is definitely not in the far future? I’ll leave that for you to decide, viewers!

[postfallinspiration]

Hao Jessie Cao Photography- Wasteland Weekend 2021

[chaosintheavenue]

Gotta say, I love the Kodiak so much. I love driving it around, I love that it can participate in combat, and I adore the little beep it makes when you switch to it during combat.

[minnillea]

OVERNIGHT STAY (Keegan P. Russ X Reader)

Wrote more for Keegan enemies to lovers style bc, yes. (5k words)

CW: MDNI!, explicit content ahead, NSFW, smut, soft dom Keegan (really sweet), sub fem reader, play fighting, love bites, overstimulation, nipple play, pet names, creampie, fingering, edging, unholy amount of teasing, basically really hot and heavy make out session, and aftercare<3

.｡.:*･゜ﾟ･* *･゜ﾟ･*:.｡.｡.:*･゜ﾟ･* *･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･｡.

The sky was gloomy, and the wind dragged all types of scrap as you stood in the middle of no man’s land while Keegan and you bickered back and forth like usual.

“You should have let me drive.” He growls at you as he throws you a condescending look.

“Your driving is awful! Every time you take the wheel, I get some sort of near-death experience!” You snap back, returning his energy.

“Oh yeah? I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t be stuck here if it wasn’t because of your stupidity.” He says with a cocky smirk visible under his mask before both of you are interrupted.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Elias barks at both of you, clearly done with your antics. “I'm tired of this bullshit between you too!” He finishes inspecting the vehicle before sighing. “I’m sleeping in this thing….or what’s left of it. You two can go check that decrepit cabin over there; I don’t care where you dumbasses sleep. I don’t want to hear anything from you two!”Elias leers at both of you with irritation before speaking with an intimidating snarl. “You two better start getting along, or I’ll make your lives hell! Now get out of my sight; they’ll pick us up by the morning.” Elias walks away, leaving both of you in complete silence.

Keegan glares at you before he takes in a sharp breath and walks the other way.

You look around at the barren wasteland for a moment before you scoff and trail behind him into the little structure. He pushes the door, and the rusted hinges give away immediately.

“This is all your fault; I hope you are aware of that.” Keegan groans as you step into the cabin and set a little lamp on a nightstand.

You huff before speaking in a mocking tone. “Don’t blame me just because you have no self-control.”

“And you take things way too far,” Keegan snaps back. “You always think you’re right."

You noticed the passage of time reflected in the small house, and it makes you wonder where the past inhabitants could be or if they survived.

“I’m not full of myself, unlike you.” You say raising a brow.

"Oh yeah, and you're an angel?" Keegan says sarcastically. “All that flirting with the commander and Hesh, like you're all that.”

“That’s not flirting- ” You scoff offended, he’s clearly trying to get under your skin.

“Whatever you say, princess.” Keegan crosses his arms over his chest and scowls at you. “There's only one bed, and I’m definitely sleeping on it, so you better keep your distance.”

You look at him with disdain as you shake the sheets and prep the bed.

Keegan goes to the foot of the bed and takes his backpack off, throwing it onto a chair in the corner. He then plops down on the bed and puts his hands behind his head.

You sigh before you go to change into something you can sleep in. Since no one is supposed to be around here, you figured you'd get comfortable. “Unbelievable, this is so dumb. Elias could have let one of us sleep in the vehicle, and that way no one suffers more than necessary.” You mumble under your breath.

"Yeah, I agree with you for once. It's awful. He probably wants to make us miserable and get back at us…or he really thinks he can force us to get along." Keegan rolls onto his side, facing away from you but keeping a guarded eye. He takes off his gear and shirt and throws them on the chair too. “You know, if you would stop running your mouth for five seconds, we wouldn't hate each other so much.”

Keegan was the type of person to only speak when necessary, but for some reason he was always eager to piss you off.

“For someone so quiet, you really can’t help yourself around me, huh? I’m just defending myself from your little attacks.” You spat back as you finished putting on some shorts and a comfy top.

“What can I say? You bring out the worst in me, sweetheart.” He says in a mocking manner before chuckling with arrogance.

You roll your eyes with a sigh in response as you set your bag down before turning around. “………. don’t tell me you sleep shirtless.”

“Why? You don't like it?” Keegan chuckles lightly, then turns his upper body to face you. “You're one to talk; you aren’t wearing anything underneath that. I can tell.” Keegan lifts an eyebrow at you, smirking a little under the mask.

You cover yourself with your hands, embarrassed, as you look away to avoid meeting his icy eyes. “That’s because sleeping with a bra is uncomfortable!”

“And what about bras during the day time?” He teases. Keegan rolls over to face the other way. A small smirk plays at the corners of his mouth; he’s waiting for a reaction.

Your face contorts. “You little—I sometimes forget to put it back on, okay! Why are you even looking there in the first place?!”

Keegan laughs loudly and rolls over to look at you again. “Come on, you do it on purpose.” He sits up in bed and leans over so he’s eye-level with you. His eyebrow raises suggestively as he looks you up and down.

You throw the shirt you were wearing a second ago at his face to block his view. “I don’t jackass.” You say with irritation and embarrassment present in your tone.

“I bet you don't, princess.” Keegan chuckles once more. He lets the shirt hit his face with a stoic look before he rolls his eyes and pushes it away. Keegan stretches out across the bed, spreading out his arms and legs for a second before removing his mask. “Are you ready to sleep, or are you going to nag me all night long?”

“I’d like to torture you all night, but I need sleep too.” You say unamused as you hop on your side of the bed and turn off the lamp.

Keegan looks at you with a smirk. He watches you climb into bed for a moment before he finally turns back to face the other way and lays down.

"Good, I hope you have nightmares," he says as he closes his eyes and rolls over onto his stomach. Keegan doesn't speak or move again, but his breathing is somewhat shallow and rapid.

“How sweet of you~ ” You mock, rolling your eyes and hugging onto a pillow.

Keegan remains silent for several minutes until he finally groans and turns onto his back. He stretches like a cat, groaning all the while, and then he places a hand on the side of his head.

Keegan lifts his head and sits up to look at you, but he doesn't say anything. He just stares down at you with those piercing blue eyes of his.

You open an eye and try to ignore how good he looks right now, the moonlight coming through the window letting you see him perfectly. “What? You wanna fight?” You say in a mocking tone.

Keegan grins at you before kicking off the blankets and launching himself onto you. “Yeah, I do wanna fight, and I'll win, too.” The muscles on his arms and chest flex as he leans forward and tackles you to the bed to pin you down.

“Hey! Hmph!” You yelp in surprise as you try to fight back. Funnily enough, it’s not the first time you guys engage in play fighting out of spite, but this time he really caught you off guard.

“Give up” Keegan says, his voice low and teasing. He holds you below him, trapping you between his body and the bed. It's impossible to move. Keegan uses his hands to hold your arms down at your sides. He smirks and leans down closer to your face. “C'mon, surrender.”

You scoff before sticking out your tongue in defiance.

Keegan laughs and leans closer so that your faces are only a couple inches apart. He stares into your eyes deeply. “That's not going to help you; you are so childish.” He looks at you with a smirk. His eyes searching into yours. “What's the matter...can't handle me?” He mocks you as you struggle; you can feel his breath on your face.

Your cheeks grow hot as you glare at him. “You are a jerk!”

Keegan smiles and moves his face close enough so that your noses are almost touching. “I'm the jerk, huh?” He speaks with his husky voice as he stares you down. He holds that position for just a moment before he leans in and presses his lips against yours. He pulls you into a tight, passionate kiss.

Your eyes widen as you yelp softly.

Keegan continues to kiss you deeply, running his hands over your body. The feeling of your skin is intoxicating.

You feel yourself melting into him. His touch is unlike anything you've ever felt before.

Keegan breaks the kiss for a while but doesn't move away. Your mouth and his collide for a moment longer before he pulls away. His chest heaves with each breath.

You're both breathless.

You look up at him with doe eyes and slightly parted lips, speechless.

Keegan looks down at you with a mischievous smile. He runs a hand through his luscious hair before he speaks in a sultry tone. “You know, you're not as feisty as I thought. One kiss, and you turned into mush.”

You glower at him in response as you speak between your teeth. “You play so dirty.”

Keegan grins. “You can't tell me you don't like it," he says in a low whisper. "I can feel you trembling in excitement."

You look up at him coyly before looking away by turning your head to the side, embarrassed, and shutting your eyes in the process.

Keegan leans over and takes your chin, forcing you to look at him again. Those beautiful hunter eyes of his bore into yours. “Come on, look at me.”

He leans in towards your face again, and you see his eyes slowly close. Then your mouths come together again in another hot, heavy kiss. Keegan's hand reaches into the back of your hair as you moan softly. He grips at it and pulls you closer to his lips without inflicting any pain. Your tongues play together as Keegan takes control of the kiss and explores all over your mouth. He keeps his hold on you as he slowly pushes his knee more in between your tangled legs. He deepens the kiss even further, holding you close as his breath becomes raspy and he groans softly.

The sensation is overwhelming.

You place one of your hands on his shoulder as the other slithers its way up to be pressed up against his chest. You let little noises out, getting lost in it all as you no longer even remember why you were both arguing.

Keegan keeps kissing you for several more minutes before finally pulling back again. He looks at you, breathing somewhat heavily, before he speaks with a growl. “God, I want you. I can't wait another second." Keegan doesn't wait for a reply. He pulls you closer and rolls you over, so you get on all fours before he hovers on top of you.

You turn your head to look at him with flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes.

Keegan lowers himself down onto you and pushes his body against yours, making your back arch and your chest get squished against the bed. He pins your arms down on the bed. Keegan can feel every inch of your soft body. He kisses down your neck and slowly starts working his way down as he holds your body tightly against his.

You groan slightly in response as he bites your neck abruptly. “D-dammit Keegan…”

Keegan kisses your bare shoulders and down the curve of your spine, making you shriver. He takes his time. Keegan grins at your protest, but he doesn't stop. He holds you tight against him as he slowly pulls your shirt upward, leaving your back exposed. He runs his hand lightly across your chest, making you moan softly. Keegan stops moving and keeps himself pressed against you. You can hear every breath he takes; his lips hover closely over your skin as he can feel you grow impatient. He then rests his head on your shoulder to speak softly beside your ear. “Just wait,” he whispers. “It's going to be worth it.” Keegan's hand moves down your body, and he grabs the waistband of your shorts. He starts to slowly pull them down your thighs, leaving them bunched around your knees and exposing your soft flesh. Keegan kisses up your bare back again as he playfully fondles your soft butt. He then proceeds to bite at the skin on your shoulder and then licks the spot with his tongue. You can feel him breathing against you as he continues kissing and biting your skin.

You turn your head again to get a better look at him.

Keegan leans down, and his mouth meets yours again, kissing you deeply.

You moan softly as you press your butt against him playfully, asking for more.

Keegan moves on top of you completely, his weight pressing down on your back. You can feel his excitement pressing against you.

He grabs your hips and pulls you towards him. His mouth moves back to your ear again, and he makes a soft sound. “Tell me what is it. What do you want? Tell me what you really want.” Keegan's voice is barely more than a whisper. His breath tickles your skin as you lie under him on the bed.

“I want you…” You say with a hint of desperation as you keep moving your hips to rub against him.

Keegan's breath catches in the back of his throat at your actions. His eyes dilate slightly before he presses his hips harder against you. He groans softly and kisses your neck again as he moves his hand to grab onto your breast. He starts to grind against you too, his hips pressing into yours.

You can feel a pool of arousal leaking from between your thighs as you can’t wait anymore.

Keegan sits back up on the bed, pulling his belt off, accompanied by a rustling sound, before throwing it away from him. His eyes flicker over your body, and his breathing quickens when he sees how wet you are. “Oh, would you look at that?” He says with amusement dripping off his sly tone. I could eat you up right now. He grins at you, his voice husky and full of desire. Keegan sees you trying to peek, so he flips you around so your back is against the bed before he throws your clothes to the side. He climbs between your legs. Your bare back is against the soft sheets. He leans down over you, his hands on either side of your body, with your legs spread open. His piercing gaze over your beautiful figure before meeting your eyes again.

The intensity of this moment unmistakably hangs in the air.

You bring your hands up to cover your chest shyly before biting into the nail of your thumb as your eyes trail down his body with curiosity. You also take the moment to carefully look at the tattoos on him.

Keegan glances at you, noticing the way you're looking at him. He smirks and runs his hand up your knee to your upper thigh. His fingers lightly glide across your bare skin. Keegan moves his hand towards your inner thigh as his eyes drop down to your soaking cunt. He slides his thumb as he presses onto your sensitive bud, agonizing slowly before he introduces two fingers together and gradually opens them teasingly as he takes a look at the dripping slick.

Your breath hitches as a result of his actions.

Keegan leans closer to you again, his body hovering over yours as he whispers lowly. "God, you're driving me insane.” He presses his lips onto yours hungrily.

You can feel the subtle way he toys with your sensitive clit as his other hand grabs onto your waist.

Keegan is breathing slowly and deeply. His hot breath brushes against your skin.

You can feel his fingertips making their way into you again with a squelch.

Keegan takes his sweet time touching you. You feel the warm and tight sensation of his fingers teasing your sweet spot. After a while, you are so close. It seems as if he is holding his breath and carefully studying you.

You yelp and tense up a little as you look at him with pleading eyes.

Then, suddenly, Keegan stops.

You whine out, frustrated at the loss of movement.

Keegan lifts himself up slightly and moves his fingers away from you and into his mouth, tasting your arousal with a breathy growl. He looks down at you and chuckles quietly before smiling. “So impatient. I guess I’m going to have to teach you how to wait…. I think you're more than ready.” He looks down at you. There's something in his eyes that you don't think you've ever seen before.

“It’s very late.” You mumble in your defense before being forced to shut up by him slowly pushing his aching cock into you.

He angles himself perfectly before his tongue slides into your mouth. Keegan presses into you until you're fully pinned with a hand holding your wrists over your head.

(“This asshole! I had a point.”) You think before your thoughts slowly fade away as you squirm and moan loudly into him.

Keegan keeps slowly moving into you; his movements slow and steady. It's almost as if he is savoring every single moment of this. As his tongue caresses yours, you feel his chest heaving, and your bodies are squished against each other. His hand is resting on your hip as the other goes to hold your chin up.

You close your eyes and give into the moment, allowing him to take over your body.

Keegan bottoms out and starts a steady but slow pace. His lips are still pressed against you as his tongue explores your mouth.

Keegan's other hand moves up your body, lightly caressing your skin in the way.

You have your eyes closed shut, and move your hands up to hold onto his shoulders with a muffled moan, digging your nails into them.

Keegan groans when you dig into his flesh as he kneads one of your breasts with a hand before rolling your sensitive perky nipple in between his fingers.

You can only sense him in this moment, his breath against your skin, the vibration of his groans, his touch. It's as if you're both drowning in your own intense need for one another.

He speeds up slightly, bringing his rhythm to the perfect pace. Your back arches beneath him, almost instinctively as you moan. Keegan kisses down your neck and moves his mouth down to your chest to suck on your other hard nipple. You can feel his hot breath as he continues kissing you, and his hand begins to make its way down your body.

You are quickly reduced to a moaning mess, and you tremble as your eyes start to tear up. Keegan chuckles when he hears the way in which you moan and then kisses your collarbone. His fingers meet your clit, and he quickly pinches it softly.

Keegan keeps kissing you deeply and relentlessly, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth and his thumb rubs circles on your clit slowly.

You start to get very loud, which causes him to find a way to shush you just in case.

Keegan's other hand goes to your throat, his fingers wrapping around your neck and gently applying pressure. There's a certain intensity to it, but he's still tender with each touch. The way you are moaning and writhing below him is like a drug. Every sound you make sends a wave of pleasure throughout his body.

You wrap your legs around his waist, and it’s making him go crazy. Keegan's mouth leaves yours, and he starts to kiss down your chest. His tongue works every inch of the skin there. His hand releases the hold it has on your throat. He kisses from the center of your chest all the way down to your stomach. Keegan's breath is heavy, and he sounds almost as if he is in a daze. His fingers press into the skin of your hip, leaving marks, even though he is trying his best to be gentle.

The tears pool in your eyes as you look directly into his, too lost in pleasure.

Keegan looks down at you. Your hair is disheveled, and your lips are slightly red as he continues moving his hands all over your body. Every touch and every stroke of his fingers makes you shiver.

The look in Keegan's eyes is almost obsessive. He's drinking in every part of you.

“F-fuck.” You say overwhelmed by how full you feel, accompanied by a series of whimpers.

Keegan doesn't stop moving. His gaze is focused on your body as your tits bounce up and down.

You feel his warm breath on your skin as he bites your ear. He then leans down and kisses you deeply. You whine as your eyes roll back before they are shut tightly. You dig your nails into him hard enough to draw blood.

Keegan brings his hand up to hold you by your wrists again. Your arms rest on the bed, on top of your head, and your legs are still wrapped around him, squeezing him harder. He bites your shoulder softly in a playful way to get back at you, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers keep moving over your weak spots.

You pant heavily as you moan, completely dumbed down by this point.

Keegan presses his lips against your shoulder, where he bit you. Your body is still tightly pinned beneath him. Your skin under his touch is hot and sensitive by now. He moves one hand to your lips and lightly brushes them with his thumb. He notices your lips are trembling, and you can't get enough of his touch. Keegan looks down at you with half-lidded eyes. You feel as if you could lose yourself in those eyes right now.

You take his finger in between your lips and lewdly suck on it as he moves against your body. You can hear a low rumble in his throat as his breath quickens.

Keegan slowly starts to pick up the pace. His hand rests on your hip as the other softly tucks one of your nipples. His mouth meets yours again, his kiss growing more aggressive and he pushes more against you. His lips never leaving yours.

You squirm and moan loudly, feeling like you’ll lose your mind.

Keegan's kisses become more urgent and desperate.

You feel as if you're being drowned by stimulation.

Every touch, every kiss, and every breath coming from him is being picked up by you.

You can't think of anything else but him. You whine helplessly as you raise one of your hands and find a way to his, grabbing onto it tightly and interlocking your fingers with his. [I’m sorry this is so lewd] He growls and squeezes your hand in return. His mouth leaves yours, and he presses his lips against your neck before you feel his teeth just barely touching your skin.

You feel overwhelmed, as your senses are totally flooded.

Keegan's other hand still has a hold of your hip, his fingers pressing against it tightly.

You yelp and squeeze around him tighter, feeling like you are about to snap. “Hah! K-Keegan! I’m- “

Keegan chuckles as he presses his teeth harder onto your neck, holding you by your hip against him as he thrusts into you.

You can’t help it, and you quickly come undone with a whine, dragging him over the edge as well.

Keegan’s body jerks forward slightly as he lets out a breathy grunt and hot strings of cum spurt inside of you. “Goddammit”

You shake violently and wail out as he finishes riding his high with a couple of thrusts while your face contorts in pleasure.

His hand is still intertwined with yours tightly. Keegan exhales sharply as his body relaxes; his breathing is heavy and agitated. He gives you a quick peck on the forehead before slowly moving to sit up. He takes a really good look at your beautiful, fucked out form for a second before he gently wipes some of your tears away with his hand. His eyes seem so different and tender now. “You were so loud.” He mocks you with a smirk.

You pant heavily with a pouty face as you tremble slightly. “What? You t-think Elias could have heard?” You say breathlessly, almost giggling.

Keegan chuckles, his eyes calm, as he makes sure you are okay. He playfully rubs his thumb on your waist and moves his lips to meet yours yet again in a sweet, tender kiss before pulling back. “Good question. Hmmm~ I guess we'll find out when the sun is up. But for now, I think we should sleep. We're going on a mission soon, so we need our rest.” Keegan leans back again. He's using one arm to hold himself up, and the other arm is wrapping around your waist, his fingers slowly rubbing across your skin before he pulls out to scoop you up and roll onto his back.

You catch your breath as you melt into his arms comfortably before speaking softly in a playful tone. “I don’t think this is what Elias had in mind when he told us to get along.”

Keegan grins as you can feel his comforting heartbeat from there. “But in the end, I'd say we got along just fine. A little too much, maybe." He chuckles lowly.

He's patting your head tenderly and soothing you to sleep. Keegan is still pressed close to you, his chest rising and falling with every breath. His eyes slowly roam around the room for a moment, scanning it, before settling back down on your already sleeping form.

Eventually, he closes his eyes as well, and his body relaxes with his arms wrapped around you in a warm hug.

It’s really early in the morning, and he wakes up first. You were now facing down, nuzzling his chest.

Keegan opens his eyes and looks down at you, his lips curled up in a smirk. He caresses your hair with his hand before speaking with that husky voice of his. “Hey, sleepyhead.” Keegan rubs his thumb on your cheek gently to wake you up as he speaks to you softly. “You need to wake up soon. We gotta leave this place, remember?”

Your eyes slowly flutter open, and you look up at him with half-lidded eyes.

"Morning, darlin’. " He keeps rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “Get up before Elias comes in here and sees you like this.” He mocks.

You groan softly, wanting to sleep a little more, but you end up slowly sitting up with your hair looking puffy as you try to keep your eyes open.

Keegan chuckles and gently taps your chin with his finger to keep you awake. He looks over at you as you sit up. Keegan is still lying down and still has his arm around you.

“We don't have much time. We should head out now before Elias comes in here and chews us out.”Keegan's eyes look over your body, and he sees the love marks over your bare shoulders and neck as you are partially wrapped by the sheets. “And also, you might want to put some clothes on.” He raised a brow.

You quickly grow embarrassed as you realize you are naked and try to cover yourself better.

Keegan hands you your bag with clothes and chuckles in a playful tone. “Don't worry, I've seen it all.” He then turns to get himself geared up and give you space.

You pout at him before sliding into your uniform and fixing your hair. After you hop out of bed to be met by your wobbly legs.

He's putting on his belt when you get up, and he shakes his head playfully once he sees you wobbling. “What’s all that about?” He raises a brow again.

“Nothing….” You say putting on your shoes shyly.

“Don't you give me that. You almost fell over a second ago.” He laughs and finishes putting on his gear.

“I just tripped over something.” You blatantly lie before tying your boots.

“Oh really? What did you trip over?” Keegan is just teasing you a bit as he finishes putting on his helmet and fixing his mask. He stands up in front of you, searching for his shoes.

“…..your shoe” You lie again as you stand up and try to stretch to ease the aching you are feeling.

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Are you all good to walk?” He asks as he grabs your shoulder briefly.

“Of course, I just tripped on a shoe.” You say defensively as you stand up straight.

“A shoe, right…” Keegan raises a brow in curiosity, and his eyes glance downward. His gaze quickly darts back up to your face.

“You forgot your bra.” He smirks slightly under the mask.

You had forgotten to put your bra on since you were feeling so sleepy.

You turn away, embarrassed, before removing your shirt and putting the bra around you as you try to clasp it from behind. You were out of it. “Ugh, of course I did.” You mumble under your breath.

He laughs softly and moves behind you. “Let me help. There, much better.” He pats your shoulder playfully. “Now let's go before Elias thinks we murdered each other during the night.”

You nod, put your shirt back on, and grab your things before giving him a warm smile and stepping out into the wasteland.

Keegan is a few steps behind you as he puts his rifle in place, but he keeps looking over at you repeatedly to make sure that you aren't tripping for any reason.

You see Elias sitting by the broken vehicle as he barks orders into his mic.

Shortly after he is done, he looks up at both of you walking towards him. “Oh, great, you guys didn’t behead each other last night; this is progress; I was about to drag your asses in here.”

Keegan chuckles and throws you a playful side glance. “It was a close one, though,” he says with a smirk visible under his mask. Elias rolls his eyes before your ride arrives.

[good-old-gossip]

Israeli forces have withdrawn from al-Shifa Hospital in Gaza City after a two-week raid, leaving behind a wasteland of destroyed buildings and bodies scattered in the dirt of the complex. A spokesman for Gaza’s Civil Emergency Service said Israeli forces had executed two people, whose bodies were found at the complex in handcuffs, and used bulldozers to dig up the grounds of the complex and exhume other buried bodies. A doctor told AFP that more than 20 bodies had been recovered, with some having been crushed by withdrawing vehicles. With the majority of Gaza’s population displaced by the war, hundreds had sought refuge at the al-Shifa complex prior to the operation. “Dozens of bodies, some of them decomposed, have been recovered from in and around the al-Shifa medical complex,” the health ministry said in a statement.

[ihavethedreamies]

Deserted | Hoshi

Kwon Soonyoung (Hoshi - Seventeen)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~5.1k

Pairing: Hoshi x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Sci-Fi AU!, Reader-Insert, Smut, Some Plot, Hookup/One-Night-Stand/Strangers to Fucking

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Sweet Girl, Baby Girl, etc.), Swearing, Kissing, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), Deepthroating, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom!), Added some piercings for ~flair~

Author's Note: I had my best friend read this the other day and she said it was a little much for her, but still enjoyable and she was sure others would love it.

I am planning on doing something like this for each member, so stay tuned!

-> Woozi's <-

-> Wonwoo's <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive under the same name. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on Tumblr my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me." You groaned as your sand-rover grumbled in protest, slowing down before it halted. The engine not only shut off, but it let out a giant puff of black smoke. The smell of burning rubber stung your nose and you groaned louder, grabbing your bag off the passenger seat. Throwing the door open, you're glad that happened as the sun was setting and not when it was high in the sky. The desert, however, could be very cold at night. A gust of wind blasted against the door, almost slamming it shut on your legs. With a yelp, you swung out your arm to catch the door and sighed when it didn't keep going. Unwrapping the thin scarf around your neck, you rewrapped it around your head and face to protect you from the blowing sand. Slipping your goggles on over to cover your eyes, you winced when the leather cracked further. Getting another strap would be a pain in the ass. Grabbing the door, you let it slam closed and slung your bag over your shoulder. Walking around the vehicle, you noticed that is had been hit harder than you anticipated. Since your rover was just that, you had no gun mounted on it, so when the acid-spitting space worm shot out of the ground, you could only flee. The back tire had finally been eaten away enough to go flat and there was also a hole that led to the gas tank. Only a bit of the fuel dripped out and you knew there was no chance of getting the now wrecked rover anywhere. Climbing up on the other back wheel, you got the hatch in the back open so you could grab your bigger pack. Grunting, you swung it onto your back and cinched the straps tight. Turning back to the last outpost you had been at was a no go. There was a huge alien monster in the way. You weren’t sure where the next outpost was, so you pulled out your old, beaten up holo-tracker. When you turned it on, the holographic screen glitched, so you slammed the body of the device against your thigh a few times and then it evened out. Clicking the buttons, one of which kept getting stuck, you saw that the next outpost was miles away. Walking that far would be an absolute drag but at least it was going to be night.

"Freaking desert planets…" You grumbled as if you had ever lived on a different one. You grew up on Sierra-Victor-Tango, but after taking a trip to several other human worlds, you learned that your home was…well, a shithole. Everything was old and falling apart. In the cities, crime was rampant, and the smaller outposts and towns were poor. When you told your mother you were going out to scavenge through the desert, she was unsure. Not because she was worried for your safety, but she had no idea what you hoped to find. It was a sandy wasteland inhabited by weird space bugs and lizards. You had never known earth like your grandparents so when you learned Terra animals and bugs looked so different, you understood why your grandma was so skeeved out.

Looking back at the wrecked rover, you wondered if it could give you some credits for scrap, but the work to get all the way out to it was not worth it. Hiking up your pack again, you set off, holding the scarf to your mouth as a gust of wind blasted you. A little blinking cursor flashed on your holo-tracker indicating where you were as you walked toward the setting sun. Behind you and to the right, the two different moons rose higher and got clearer. Twinkling stars began to appear and the cold was starting to set in. In the distance, you saw a giant rock outcropping and you headed for it. It was off the packed-in road, so you couldn't go very fast in the shifting sand.  When you reached the rock, you walked around to the other side, looking for a crack or something you could wedge into for shelter. What you were not expecting was some kind of shelter erected against the stone. It looked semi-permanent and constructed around some kind of indent in the giant rock.

Creeping closer, you saw someone sitting at a fire pit, their back to you. What startled you the most though, was a giant feline-like shape lying next to the fire as well. You had never seen one that big and it looked like a tiger from the books your grandmother brought from earth. Instead of orange with black stripes, it was black with white stripes and had long top fangs. The wind shifted; it was coming straight behind you instead of at you. The beast lifted its head, beginning to growl. At this, the person turned around and you saw it was a man. He had a scar across the bridge of his nose and his ears were heavily pierced. Another piercing accented his right brow, and he had a long narrow tattoo behind his ear and down his neck. You immediately shot your arms up in surrender and he motioned his tiger to lay down.

"Who are you?" He called and you dared not step closer.

"Uh…(Y/N), of Morgran Town." You had never seen someone like him before. He was incredibly attractive, and his poncho-like cloak hit right at his ribs, and he had nothing on under it. His muscles were toned, and his skin was smooth other than a scar near his hip. Tight leather pants clung to thick thighs and his big boots highlighted his long legs. Even his arms were well defined, a belt holding some sort of flask wrapped around his right bicep. His eyes were bright yellow, and you didn't know that happened naturally, his hair was white with black tips, reminiscent of his tiger.

"Morgran Town? You’re a long way from home." He replied, motioning with his hand for you to come closer. Finally, out of the shadow of the rock, he could see you in the double moonlight. You felt…tiny. He wasn't super big, not like some you've met, but he wasn't short either.

"Well, I'm a traveler, my rover broke down a few miles back." You finally let your arms down and instead moved to grip the straps of your pack.

"Headed to Korvo?"

"Yes."

"Don't."

"What? Why?"

"Two weeks ago, they got hit by slavers, it’s a ghost town." The man motioned you closer and toward a stump he had carved into a seat. Slowly, you walked the long way around, avoiding the cold gaze of the animal. You removed your pack, letting it thumb next to your seat, but you didn't take off your other bag; just in case you had to flee. Now that you were closer, you could tell that some kind of meat was being roasted on the fire.

"It won't taste too good because I can't really cook, but it will be cooked." He flashed a smile, and it took you off guard. He was…adorable.

"You'll share?" You looked at the roast, your mouth watering. You hadn't had fresh meat in months, only dried stuff. You wondered if he made the kill or his pet.

"Don't worry about Horanghae, he won't bite unless I let him." He waved at the animal, and you nodded, still feeling nervous in its gaze.

"I'm Hoshi." He held out his hand to shake and you shyly returned the gesture, and he sat back down at a long bench.

"You're a traveler? What do you do that for?"

"Oh, uh, I'm mostly looking for old wrecks of like shuttles and ships and stuff." You shrugged. It took forever to find things like that, but you gained a knack for it, and it got you a crap ton of money sometimes. While not official, you basically worked for the International Assembly as a freelancer, so you did jobs at your leisure.

"That must take a long time." He smiled and you shrugged.

"Sometimes. What about you?"

"I'm a Ranger." He held up a medallion hanging around his neck that had an upside-down triangle-like logo on it. You had heard of them before, there weren’t too many of them, it was hard to get accepted. They traveled the desert and worked as bounty hunters. That's all people really knew about them.

"So, if Korvo is a bust, where should I head next?"

"Hm. There's nowhere close really, not that you can get to easily by foot…I can't leave here for a few days, so you can stay with me till then. I'll give you a lift after." He jutted his thumb over to a hover bike that was resting next to his abode.

"Oh! Thank you. That's very generous." You let out a sigh of relief, you had begun to wonder what you were going to do. You were really bad at hunting and had only so much water in your canteen. He told you about his situation as you waited for the meat to be done. He had a well that was in the back of his tent, which was half in the rock. He had blown a giant cave into it with a grenade and set up his home. Horanghae would hunt for him, and he had a communication relay set up as well to talk with the rest of the Rangers.

"I only have one place to sleep though…" He finished off his explanation and you waved him off.

"I can sleep on the ground, not the first time I've had to."

"No way. What kind of person would I be if I let my guest sleep on the ground?" He shook his head. Thanking him, he declared the food done and hacked of a chunk for you. Hoshi speared the meat on a wooden skewer and handed it over. Eagerly eating the food, he watched in amusement at your ravenous behavior and then ate himself.

"Thanks. I can't begin to thank you; I would've been a goner." You shuddered at the thought. If you had arrived at Korvo and found it wasted, you might have had a breakdown.

"Don't worry about it!" He took the rest of the meat off the spit and gave it to the tiger. He led you inside his hut, even carrying your big pack in for you. It was nice and cozy inside, beautiful colored Afghans and rugs were laid out everywhere. The front room was like a living room and had a pile of pillows to sit at and even had a fairly nice holo-screen set up. There was a curtain against the left wall that he told you led to the bathroom. The next room was the bedroom essentially and he told you to go in and make yourself comfortable, he would sleep in the front room. Thanking him again you scurried into the back. That's where he had his communication equipment set up, and there was an actual bed in there! Under all the blankets and pelts, there was not just a sack of straw or even a crate; it was an actual mattress. You hadn't slept on one in almost a year. Taking your boots off, you jumped on and groaned at the comfort. Pulling the softest Afghan over you, you drifted off quickly and slept better than you had in a while.

A soft beeping stirred you from your sleep. Glancing at your watch, you saw it was almost sunrise and so you sat up, stretching with a groan. The beeping was coming from the monitor he had set up. Not wanting to invade his privacy, you got up to go into the other room and inform him. He was still asleep, having spread out across the floor and pillows. His tiger must have been outside. It would have been cute to see him sleep like that if it wasn’t for the fact his torso was now completely uncovered and only his lower half was covered by the blanket. Not just that, but his tight pants were thrown over a chair in the corner, and the blanket was tented in a very obvious way. The realization made you squeak in embarrassment, and you fled back into the other room. While you had not been with too many guys before, you knew for sure what he was hiding under there. The soft beeping continued from the monitor, and you wondered what you should do. If he had to go in there to check on it, he might not realize he had a…problem. Living alone probably allowed him some freedom, but you were here, and you weren't sure he would think of that.

Dashing from the back room into the bathroom, you realized how bad you had to go. Once that was done, you realized in shock that the plumbing was…actually plumping. Kind of. It was one of those high-tech situations that vaporized the waste into nothingness. The sink actually gave you water and it seemed so would the shower. As you were still in there, staring at your face in the mirror, you kept thinking of how to wake him. All of a sudden, the beeping got loud enough for you to hear in the other room and when you peaked your head out, you saw he was stirring. That solved that problem. Peering through the curtain, you watched him get up and your jaw dropped as the blanket fell. Luckily, he was at least wearing undergarments, but they were tight and hid very little. He was very nicely defined, his muscles weren't huge, but he still looked extremely good. His hair was messy, and you were enraptured watching him stretch. He trudged into the back room, scratching his chest and seemingly ignoring his morning problem. You heard a ding and he spoke to whoever was on the other line. His voice was rough from sleeping and you knew you were in danger. How is it that you managed to find such a gorgeous man out in the middle of the desert? Another voice responded to him, but you couldn't pick out any specific words and soon their conversation was over, and you jumped back into the bathroom and away from the curtain.

"(Y/N)? You in there?" He was standing right on the other side, and you swallowed before answering in the positive.

"I, uh, need in there, but…" You knew why he was hesitating and for some reason, some stupid little voice in the back of your conscience screamed loud enough for it to come out of your mouth.

"I can help you with that." You blurted and gaped at yourself in the mirror. He didn't say anything, and you kicked yourself. Why, why did you say that? Before you could say anything else, the curtain pulled back and you saw him behind you in the reflection of the mirror. His look was much different than the night before. His yellow eyes that shined with laughter had turned sharp. It made you shudder as you made eye contact with him indirectly through the mirror.

"I-I mean, I don't know how to thank you for helping me…So, I uh, can help with whatever." You were glad the mirror didn't go too low, otherwise you would definitely be staring. You could see him slowly look you up and down and you froze under his gaze. It was like what the tiger did to you last night, but ten times worse. You felt like a deer about to be eaten, and it turned you on to no end. Wandering around the desert for a living doesn't exactly afford many opportunities for romantic or sexual escapades. You figured the case was probably pretty true for him as well, if not more. Realizing in the night you had shed your shirt; you were just standing in the wrap-around you used as a bra and your leggings. Because of the heat of the desert and the tightness of said leggings, you usually went commando, and you wondered if you were wet enough for it to soak through the fabric.

As he stepped into the small space, he let the curtain fall behind him but didn't step completely through the entryway.

"Are you sure?" He stared you in the eye, once again through the mirror, you did not yet have the courage to turn around. While you wanted to say you were joking, that it was just an impulse to tease, you couldn't. Seeing him to begin with was enough, let alone in his current state.

"Are you sure?" You shot back. You thought yourself rather plain with no distinctive features. Your freckled skin from years of sun exposure was highlighted strangely by the tan line that formed around your goggles. You were covered in dirt too because of wandering out in the blowing sand. His poor bed was probably covered in sand too. Not easy to find somewhere with running water, let alone hot water, your hair was pulled back into a braid but was not exactly clean. You were glad body odor had been genetically eradicated decades ago. Plus, compared to him, you were painfully average.

When he didn't verbally respond, you grew even more nervous, but he stepped in further till he was standing a few steps behind you. He peered at the mirror from behind, and he was nearly a head taller than you. His stare was even more intense now and you shivered. Taking a deep breath, you finally worked up the courage to turn around, and he was immediately on you. His kiss was searing, and you immediately groaned. Nothing about it was gentle, it did truly feel like he was trying to eat you. He bit your bottom lip and you moaned, his tongue quickly flicking against your own. Something cold and round hit your teeth and you realized his tongue was pierced. Oh lord. Hoshi's hand had come to rest around your throat, under your jaw, but was in no way harsh or tight. This way, he could angle your head just right. Your neck protested some and so you propped up on your tip toes, tipping your head and allowing the kiss to deepen further. His second arm wrapped around you, almost encircling you while his hand gripped your ass. The hand on your jaw moved to the back of your head and you wrapped your smaller hands over his biceps. Pulling back for air, his fingers buried further in your hair and yanked your head back so he could kiss down the column of your throat. You moaned as you felt his teeth buried slightly into the flesh, then sucked hard, definitely leaving a mark. As he pressed you so close to him, you could feel his covered hard-on against your bare stomach. Your head swam as he sucked on your earlobe and his hand left your head to wrap around your back.

"Jump." He ordered and you followed, his mouth landing on yours again as he left the bathroom. The man easily carried you and brought you to the bedroom, "Put me down a sec." You told him. Hoshi raised his eyebrow in question but did so. You immediately sank to your knees, and he groaned before you even touched him.

"You sure?" He asked.

"If I go to do something, I'm sure." You told him, implying for him to stop asking. He nodded and you nervously but quickly reached for the waistband of his only item of clothing. Exhaling, you removed the garment and gaped as he stepped out of it. Swallowing a build-up of saliva, you no longer had to imagine. What shocked you the most however was the two metal spheres adorning the head of his cock. A full reverse prince albert. That was the hottest thing you had ever seen.

"Good?"

"Yes." You cleared your throat, wiggling your jaw a bit then reached for him, laving your tongue around the head, the metal imbedded there cold where his flesh was hot. He swore as you began to descend. Your jaw protested some, but in the best possible way. You saw his eyes widen in shock then narrow as he moaned, your nose reaching his pelvis. Swallowing around him, the piercing was an odd sensation, you pulled back as little as possible so you could still breathe. Once you found the proper depth, you pulled off him and gave him a look, spreading your legs more and placing your hands on the floor.

"(Y/N)?" He asked and you simply opened your mouth wide, tongue out.

"Fuck." He practically growled and he adjusted your jaw by the chin and then he slid in. Keeping your teeth covered was a little difficult with his girth, but you managed. You could focus on that while he did all the movement. He had noticed what you were doing and made sure not to go too deep but every so often so you could still breathe. Your gag reflex was pretty much gone at that point for several different reasons, but with his size (and the piercing) you let out a small gag every once and a while. Hoshi's hands dug into your hair as he used your mouth, very quiet but high-pitched moans flowing out. Feeling him twitch, you knew he was close, and he almost pulled out. While part of him wanted to see your face covered, he much preferred it when you grabbed the back of his thighs and buried him completely in your throat.

"Oh, fuck." He groaned, throwing his head back as he came. You moaned at the feeling yourself and the vibration rolled his eyes back. When he was done, you swallowed to make sure everything went down and he pulled out fully, still half-hard. Licking your lips sensually, he huffed and reached down to lift you up under your arms. You yelped at the east to which he does this, and he literally tossed you onto the bed. He grabbed the fastener of your breast band; as he roughly pulled it open and off, the motion flipped you over onto your stomach. He was manhandling you with such ease. Hoshi moved your braid out of the way and started to lay seething kisses along your spine and over your shoulders. His hand came under you and ran down your stomach till the tips of his fingers reached the waistband of your leggings. He pulled your waist up, his now fully hard cock wedged between the cleft of your ass. You were definitely leaking through the fabric. Placing a final kiss on your shoulder, his hand hooked into your bottoms, and he tugged hard. You flipped over once again and as Hoshi dragged the last of your clothes off, he also tugged you to the foot of the bed. Before you could get your bearings, his hands gripped your thighs, tight, and pressed your legs open. You knew you would have bruises there in the morning and his hot breath on your core made your hips seize.

"W-wait-!" You gasped as his tongue licked a hot stripe up to your clit. You had never had this done before, just never really cared to. It was something new for sure and it was almost too much. The slight cold of the ball piercing his tongue made you flinch. You could feel hip lips curl into a smirk against you at this and caught him looking up at you. The sight was overwhelming, and he sucked hard on your clit, you head slamming back into the bed.

"You taste amazing." He groaned against your skin. His hands moved from your thighs, and he wrapped his arms around your legs and buried in deeper. The hold he had on you prevented almost all movement and your upper body squirmed to compensate. Hoshi's tongue seemed like it shouldn't be as long as it was, nor as strong. The piercing was brushing right against your entrance and hit your clit over and over. He was like a man starved, dehydrated, and he was sucking your soul out.

"Ah!" You almost screamed when he came back to your clit and your orgasm hit you, hard. It was stronger than you had ever experienced and lasted much longer. He groaned against you, his continued tongue movements dragging it out. When it finally calmed down, he pulled away as the overstimulation began to sting. The man let you catch your breath and when you were able to open your eyes to look at him and he was drenched.

"Oh my god!" You gasped and he just laughed, wiping his mouth and sucking everything else off his hand and fingers.

"You ever squirted before?" He asked and you shook your head, mortified.

"It’s okay, pretty girl, that was sexy." His smile was too cute for what he just did to you.

"You need a minute?" He asked and you rested back again with a nod. Delicately, instead of what he was doing before, he picked you up and shifted you higher up the bed. His lips came back to yours, gentle at first and growing heated again. There was something about his kisses, they alone made your head swim. Was it him or his skill? The tongue piercing? Who knows? As he felt your body become less tense, his arms wrapped around you and tilted your hips up so he could grind against you. You were still somewhat sensitive so even just the slight friction was so good. Already knowing this from when he was straining your jaw, you knew that his cock was going to stretch you so good. The sting would be so worth it. It had been a long time since anyone filled you up and no one had ever as much as you knew Hoshi was going to.

"You ready, princess?" He finally let your tongue go and you could not form a thought to make words, so you nodded. He smirked and the head poked at your entrance. As he eased in, the sting was more intense than you thought it would be, but so, so good. The stretch wasn't the only thing that took your breath away. That gosh darn piercing perfectly hit your clit and rubbing against your walls as eased in. At least he was self-aware of his size because he went slow, but knew he wasn't hurting you. Your hard exhales were tinged with a moan, nearly imperceptible. He was big, you knew part of it was because you were quite small, but his cock was impressive on its own.

"So tight." He grunted, grinding into you and your clit throbbed.

"J-just give me a sec." You gripped his shoulders, breathing through the delicious stretch. It felt incredible despite the slight pain. After you sat for a bit, he shifted some and then moved slowly, hiking your leg up over his elbow and he went even deeper.

"Fuck!" You moaned, your head tossed back, and you almost came again right then.

"You okay?" He chuckled some, he could tell by how you clenched that it felt good, not that it hurt. That fucking piercing brushed right against your sweet spot. Hoshi had already ruined you for any other man, and he hadn't even moved.

"Ready?" he asked, massaging your hip. You nodded and the hand on your hip tightened its grip, and his arm hiked your leg up higher. He barely pulled out, maybe an inch, then his hips snapped, and you came.

"Ohgodohgodohgod." He grunted as your walls clenched him tight and he was growing smug at the pleasure he was wreaking on you. In truth though, he was trying really hard not to cum already himself. He knew he would have some time before he could again given he had already came, but it had been a while. However, every other time he had waited this long, he could go for many, many rounds. If he could, he would keep you in his bed and in his hold for the rest of the day. He wanted to make it so you couldn't walk by the time he could bring you to the outpost. Honestly, he wanted to make it, so you never wanted to leave. When your orgasm died down, he waited a bit longer, you laid limp in his arms.

"You're gonna have to do all the work now." You told him with a tired giggle, like he wasn't already doing that. He smirked, notched your other leg up over his arm, then proceeded to fold your legs up to your chest. He pressed your thighs down with his hands, forming more bruises and you prepared yourself. His next thrust was almost hard enough (it seemed) to dislodge a kidney. It knocked the wind out of you and your sensitive skin burned. You were in for a ride. His thrusts were not even as hard as they could be, you knew. Hoshi only pulled his cock halfway out before he was buried as deep as he could go. After every thrust, he would grind down into your clit, the metal ball inside rubbing your g-spot. Your moans were getting harder to contain, you almost wanted to scream. Drool pooled out of the sides of your mouth; your entire body was on fire.

"Don't hold back, baby girl, let me hear you." He grunted out, his thrusts slowing but no less deep. Finally getting permission to be loud, you whined, and he unfolded you and led you to wrap your legs around his waist. Up on his knees, he positioned you to rest your lower back on his thighs and he rolled his hips to snap his cock into you over and over. The new position let that stupid piece of metal scrape perfectly against your walls, the head of his dick probably bruising your cervix. You were ruined, no thoughts in your head. You were letting out slurring moans of his name and pleas for…you weren't even sure at this point. He had fucked you stupid.

"(Y/N), pretty girl, where can I cum?" His thrusts had gotten more erratic, he wasn't able to hold back anymore.

"I-inside." You moaned, able to form a complete thought.

"Yeah?"

"Please." You keened and this sent him over the edge. Getting as deep as he could, he swallowed your moan, sliding his tongue back in your mouth, painting your insides white. The hot sensation gave you another orgasm, not nearly as strong though, and it was a relief. As the spurts of cum stopped, he pulled away from your mouth and he  chuckled at the fucked-out look you had.

"I'll let you rest, sweet, but then I'm going to fill you up again."

Masterlist

[artificial-transmutations]

Utopia

The sun was beaming down mercilessly on Trax as he climbed up the dusty rocks of the badlands. It didn't help much that his clothing was torn to rugs after the long journey or that his hands were calloused from the countless hours of climbing and shoving rocks and dirt. Still, the muscular and rugged man did not stop and climbed on, determined to reach the top of the hill. He didn't have too much choice. His water canteen was almost empty, only holding enough liquid for another half a day of hiking.

Trax stopped for a moment to wipe his brow and dry his hands on the very few scraps of clothing that were left from his shirt. Trax tried to control his breathing. His friends would surely have called him crazy, going into the badlands like this: Without preparation, without equipment and alone. Perhaps one or two of them would even have insisted on coming with him, to make sure he wasn't just throwing his life away. His friends really were awesome guys, Trax thought before correcting himself. No, that wasn't right. His friends had been awesome guys. Past tense. Another twinge of sadness darkened Trax' already bad mood. Truth be told, if his friends would still be around, he wouldn't even have considered taking on this crazy journey. But that was in the past. When the raiders on their bikes and trucks attacked Trax' settlement, many of the men, including every damn single one of his friends had been massacred. It had been a blood bath and Trax had only survived because he was out at the time, scavenging the industrial ruins nearby for supplies.

Having been born after the calamity and the subsequent wars, Trax knew fair well that surviving in the central European wasteland was difficult under the best circumstances. Having been heavily decimated by raiders, however, with most of the men dead it was nearly impossible. Most women and children had decided to leave, hoping to find a new place to settle or perhaps to find another settlement, where they might have a chance at a normal life. Not so Trax. Pretty much everyone had heard the story of Utopia. Utopia, the city of legends. Utopia, the safe haven. Grasping at straws, he set out for the badlands, in search of the mythical place.

Sighing, Trax got back to climbing, scaling the rest of the hill a bit more energetic now. After another half an hour, he finally reached the top of the hill, only to be rewarded with a wide view over a valley between the barren mountains. More importantly, though, Trax could hardly believe his eyes. Taking most of the space of the valley was a glass dome surrounded by a massive concrete and metal wall. Under the pristine glass that was reflecting the sunlight like a jewel, Trax could see a city. Not any city, mind you! Trax could see the green of trees and bushes between the high-rising spires, and the glittering of running water. He was able to make out some slight movement under the dome, probably from vehicles or even flying cars, and the air itself had a clean shimmer, almost like he imagined it when he heard the stories as a child.

Trax was mesmerized by the view, but at the same time, he didn't quite believe what he was seeing. He had really done it. He had reached the city of Utopia!

As fast as he could without breaking his legs, Trax scrambled down the hill and towards the impressive fortification. With each step, another thought became more and more prevalent. He had been so focused on finding the city that he had not yet thought of how to get in. From what he knew from the stories, Utopia had been a project of corporations and remnants of governments alike. A safe haven in the post-apocalyptic hellscape the continent had become. Of course, even though there were considerably less people than before the calamity, a single city would never be enough to house all survivors. So, the corporations chose a simple, yet proven concept of controlling who could get in: You had to pay for entry. It was ridiculously expensive, an amount of money Trax could not possibly earn in a hundred lifetimes. Enough to buy a bunch of settlements the size Trax' old home was. Of course, in the settlements, slums really, money didn't have too much meaning anymore. It was used for trading with other settlements, but apart from that, the concept of wealth had mainly meaning in the remains of the big cities. Even there, only a very elite few had been able to buy themselves entry into Utopia.

And now that *he* was here, standing in front of the massive concrete walls, it seemed like a stupid idea anyway. Who was he, a nobody, a mere scavenger, to try and demand entry to the city of dreams?

Well, he had to try. The gate in the concrete wall was massive. At least 20 meters tall and made of sturdy metal. Nobody was there, no guard or anyone really, which was not too surprising: Trax could hardly imagine anyone wanting to stand guard here, in the middle of nowhere, in the searing heat. Inside the huge gate was a smaller door, made from the same sturdy metal, with a computer console next to it. When Trax stepped closer, the terminal lit up. Trax was able to read, a skill that was sometimes necessary when scavenging the industrial ruins. However, he didn't have too much practice, so it took him a moment to decipher the three words on the surprisingly clean display: "Enter Entry Ticket".

Trax cursed. There was nothing else to be read, and even if there were, he would not have had any clue as to what he was supposed to do. He banged his fist against the door, and the sound reverberated off the nearby hills. However, there was no answer. Apparently, the entry in the city was fully automated and without an expensive ticket, there was no way to get in. Climbing up the concrete walls was pretty much impossible, and even if he managed to, he would only stand in front of the mighty glass dome.

Defeated, Trax slumped against the wall. It didn't make sense. He had made it all this way, had seen the city, had touched the very walls and yet, the city was still not within reach.

That's when he noticed another path, almost invisible under layers of dust and dirt. The main gate was well maintained and cleaned, but this path, going along the wall, had clearly not been used in decades. Perhaps there was still a chance to get into the city after all.

Trax followed the path for a few dozen meters before he noticed a faded writing on the concrete. The yellow paint was huge but aged and showed an arrow to the left. Under the arrow, Trax could read the words: "Lottery Winners, This Way".

Lottery winners. Something stirred in Trax' memory. Lottery. Yes, he remembered that part of the story. Of course, after announcing that only the richest of the rich were granted access to the city of dreams, there had been an outrage. Following that, and to soothe the masses, there had been a huge lottery where one thousand souls from all over the country were able to win a place in the city. It was said that whoever won the lottery left for Utopia and never came back - understandably so.

Apparently, the way he was following now was meant for the lottery winners. Trax felt a twinge of hope. Perhaps there was yet another way of getting into the city. It was a faint chance, but it was a chance.

Trax followed the path that was winding around the big walls until it ended in an archway that led down into the foundation of the concrete structure. It was a gaping black hole in the light concrete, but, and that was both surprising and like a miracle to Trax, not barred by a door.

He carefully entered the archway and waited for his vision to adopt to his now darker surroundings. There was enough sunlight coming in through the entry to discern that he was now standing in a long, concrete corridor, tilted a little bit downwards. Trax could vividly imagine a thousand people standing in queue in the broad corridor, but now his steps echoed from the blank wall. After a little while, electric lights flickered to live as he was nearing a fork in the corridor. It split into two, left and right, where the left was adorned with a black figure wearing a skirt, while the right one showed a similar figure wearing pants. The universal signs for male and female, as they were found on old restrooms as well. Without thinking too much about it, Trax turned right and went down the "male" path. After only a few more steps, he passed a heavy metal door, which stood widely into a medium sized room.

The room wasn't well maintained, but it was clear that this was a part of the technological marvels that kept the city running. It was crammed with pipes and cables, tubes and huge towers of technology that Trax couldn't really place. However, everything in here seemed dormant. There were no blinking lights, no beeping sounds or sound of liquids running through the pipes. Dormant, with one exception. In the center of the room, there stood a huge block of machinery, with two notable features. The first was a large screen at about eye level that was dark. The second thing was a hole in the block with a diameter of about 5-6 centimeters in diameter 80 centimeters above the ground, surrounded by a blue plastic ring. This ring was lit by some internal light source and was blinking slowly, as if it was breathing. Curiously, Trax stepped closer.

As he approached the block, two things happened at once. With a faint whirring sound, the machinery in front of him came alive and the display lit up. At the same time, a loud bang sounded from the entrance and the heavy door slammed shut, closing Trax in.

Trax could feel panic rising up but fought it down again quickly. Whatever was happening here was just standard procedure for the lottery winners. There was probably nothing to worry about. Instead, he looked at the screen. In big white flickering letters on green background, it read:

"Welcome Lottery Winner! Please enjoy yourself!"

Trax couldn't make sense of the message, so he took another look around the room. There was another, considerably larger door on the other side of the room, but it was closed shut as well, with no discernable way of opening it. While the room was crammed with technology, the only active thing Trax could see was the central block with the hole and the screen. "Please enjoy yourself!". What was that supposed to mean?

Trax cocked his head and took another long look at the block. The only other notable feature was the hole surrounded by the blue ring, about one leg length from the ground. Trax squatted down and took a closer look at it. The blue ring was still blinking, the hole itself was dark. When Trax looked into it, he could only see blackness. Carefully, he felt it with his finger and was surprised to find a smooth malleable surface that quickly warmed to the touch, not unlike silicon. When he extended his index finger deeper into the hole, he could feel the walls of the hole suddenly starting to move in a slow, wave-like motion.

Trax quickly withdrew his finger and the motion stopped. He cocked his head again. That surely couldn't be right. "Please enjoy yourself!". It couldn't possibly mean...

On the other hand, there were a lot of indicators. The hole in the block was at exactly the right height and had the right diameter. The message could very well be interpreted that way. This was a room designated for male lottery winners. And the doors closed, allowing for some privacy. Trax shook his head. This was crazy. What possible reason could there be that the designers of the city wanted the lottery winners to... jerk off before entering the city?

On the other hand, perhaps it wasn't even too stupid. Getting your rocks off, possibly after a long journey would help the newcomers to relax and see things calmer and more rational. It was unusual, sure, but possibly not a bad idea.

"Enjoy yourself!" the message still read.

"Fine!" Trax said. "If that's what you want, let's do this!"

He undid his belt, pulled his torn trousers and even more threadbare underwear down, and grabbed his soft dick. With a few quick strokes, he got it first half-hard, and then, when he was rigid enough, he directed his cock to the waiting hole. It wasn't too difficult to get hard to be honest. Trax hadn't had time to jerk off since the attack on his settlement, and now that he was finally safe and relaxed, he was able to unwind a little bit. He could feel his blood rushing down, and his dick got stiffer and harder, until the head of his dick was throbbing and ready to enter the tight hole.

Trax was panting and gasping as he shoved his dick forward, penetrating the warm, slick tunnel. He couldn't believe how good this felt. The hole was so soft and malleable and so very tight! Immediately, the movements started again, and Trax moaned with delight as his dick was surrounded by waves of pulsing, squeezing pressure. His cock was swallowed whole and pressed on the tight tube as if it wanted to milk his dick. Trax gasped again. There was absolutely no doubt that this device was meant for exactly this purpose. He stepped even closer to the block, until his shaft was buried in the masturbation aid to the hilt. Slowly, he pulled his dick back, feeling every inch of the wet, warm and tight sleeve until the head was resting against the entrance. Then, with a grunt, he shoved it back, making the machine squeal and his body shudder with the intense sensation.

This time, there was another whirring sound inside the machine, and the hole became a lot tighter as a strong suction became active around his cock.

"Fuuuuck..." Trax groaned. His legs were shaking as his shaft was being sucked on with incredible strength. This was so much better than jerking off! He tried to pull back to thrust his cock back in with force but found himself unable to. The suction was so strong that it just didn't allow any movement of his dick. So, all he could do was to stand there, trembling as the machine was milking his cock. He used both his hands to grab onto the machine block in order not to be too overwhelmed. Trax was so enthralled by the experience that he didn't notice the technology in the room turned itself on one by one. Before long, Trax was surrounded by whirring, squealing and clicking noises from all directions.

However, Trax did notice when both of his wrist where suddenly grabbed by cold metal grabs and jerked apart until his arms were forcefully extended left and right of his body. He tried to pull free, but the machine held him firmly. A second later, a metal strap shot out of the block, and forced his legs apart until his whole body was spread-eagled. Then, with a clang, the two straps were bolted to the floor.

Trax was unable to move, except for his hips, which were still being pleasured by the amazingly tight machine sleeve. Was this some kind of intruder detection? Still, the machine pleasuring his cock felt incredible and hadn't it been for the sudden attack of the machinery, he would already be close to cumming. Right now, however, Trax was looking left and right to the strong metal arms holding his wrists in place in increasing confusion and panic.

Then, something new happened. Accompanied by a mechanical whirr, Trax felt a prodding sensation at his exposed ass. Then, without much more of a warning, a silicon replica of a large cock rammed itself into his ass. Trax had secretly always fantasized about being intimate with another man, and, more importantly, to be fucked by another man, but he didn't expect to experience this sensation for the first time here, in all places. He didn't even have the chance to prepare himself, to stretch himself open. The cock, that was clearly made out of the same material as the masturbation aid, was thick and hard and the sudden penetration took his breath away and made him moan both from pain, surprise and pleasure.

The dildo was moving back and forth in a rhythmic pace, slowly, but with a steady mechanical strength. Despite the helpless situation, Trax felt he was in, the combined sensations were too much to bear. With a cry, he came, hard, into the machine, injecting spurt after spurt of his cum into the mechanism.

At the same time, he felt the dildo in his ass release a thick liquid into his intestines as well, leading to a strangely full feeling in his behind.

Trax' faint hope that now the machine would surely release him, however, quickly vanished. After his dick had spent the last drops of his load into the machine, the machine began to move alongside his dick again, the movements now accompanied by the slick feeling of his own sperm in the device. A moment later, the rhythmic fucking of his ass began anew. There was one change to before, though: The screen in front of him no longer showed the "Enjoy yourself" message but instead flickered with lightning fast strings of zeros and ones, each one displaying for little more than a millisecond.

Trax felt the strangest sensation as the dildo continued to fuck his ass. The semen, or whatever the machine was pumping into his bowels, was now acting as a lubricant and his ass was being fucked in the most pleasant way. At the same time, he felt a tingling sensation all over his body. He watched in amazement as all the little dark hairs on his body one after another fell to the ground like specks of dust. Trax had barely time to notice, though, as another grab from behind fixated his head to the screen in front of him.

Still, the strange sensation didn't stop there. Trax couldn't see it because he was unable to turn his head now, but he could almost feel his skin turning an unnatural gray - no, silver color. At the same time, his skin became harder and colder.

Trax groaned as his body suddenly expanded. He had been a fit, lean man, but now, his body changed so quickly it was almost like magic, accompanied by a churning feeling from within him. Again, he came, and again, more thick liquid was deposited into him as well, just as his bod became more and more bulky.

Trax' head was swimming. Somehow, the strings of binary numbers almost made sense to him. It was clear that something was planted into his brain, but he couldn't make sense of what exactly it was. However, there was one thing he could make sense of.

Trax had to serve Utopia. The thought appeared so quickly and so forcefully Trax couldn't help but say it out loud: "Serve... Utopia". What was going on?

He didn't have time to think about it further as his body expanded even more. His cock was still being squeezed and the dildo was still fucking him, and his muscles were burning from the constant strain, but the tingling sensation had not yet stopped. The skin on his arms and legs split open at the joints now. Around the parts that didn't need to move, cold and rigid metal plates formed now, while the joints were becoming flexible plastic. Trax could almost *feel* his bones become metal and his muscles being replaced by powerful servo motors. His chest had barreled out and the skin became a large metal casing. Inside, a whirring and clacking noise took place, before several valves formed at the side of his torso, leading to an internal oil tank.

Trax was acutely aware of all of that, but he couldn't react to it. His eyes were glued to the screen and with every passing number, Trax felt his own will being pushed away, replaced by a cold calculating logic, primed at a single motive.

"Serve Utopia", Trax said again and this time, his voice sounded different, almost artificial. The old Trax was still there of course - even as his head turned into the cold metal skull and his face was replaced by a red visor containing his sensory equipment, Trax original personality was perfectly preserved. He just couldn't help it. He had lost all control over his body, his voice and even his thoughts. He was being converted and there was nothing he could do. One last spurt of cum, the last remains of his human nature left his cock just before it turned into a set of tubes and electric connectors. The connector in his rear port deposited a last portion of nanobots and withdrew from the port after that. With that, the restraints holding his arms and legs released him at once. Unlike his flesh body from before however, Trax' new metal body didn't slump in on itself but stood unmoved due to its strong internal structure.

Trax wanted to turn around, to run away, but his body wouldn't obey his commands. Instead, another clear, pristine thought formed in his mind. "Connecting", Trax said in his new, mechanical voice.

Then, all of a sudden, his mind exploded and expanded. He was now *connected* to the city, to Utopia. Even more so, he was becoming a *part* of Utopia, one mechanical drone to serve the wealthy inhabitants of the city.

"Receiving new designation.... TRX-1001".

TRX-1001 quietly observed as the doors to the room sprung open. It withdrew its frontal groin connector from the conversion unit and stomped towards its assigned maintenance task.

As TRX-1001 entered the city of Utopia, Trax, who was still inside, was overcome by mixed feelings. He had really done it. He had reached the city of dreams. He had even become somewhat immortal, but at what cost. He had been reduced to little more than a subroutine in one of the thousand and one autonomous drones serving the city, toiling away day after day.

[hellsgate-roadhouse]

[march-hare01]

[theresattrpgforthat]

I'd be interested in any dieselpunk or clockpunk recommendations you have, particularly if you play as some sort of inventor.

Theme: Clockpunk & Dieselpunk

Hello friend, I’ve got a decent number of Clockpunk or Dieselpunk settings, and while I think there might be be individual character options that allow you to play something of an inventor, I don’t think there’s anything in which you solely play as inventors. Perhaps some of my followers know of some though!

Tomorrow City, by Osprey Publishing.

Tomorrow City was one of the cities of the future, built to usher in a new age of prosperity, seizing upon scientific achievements at the dawn of the twentieth century. Then came the War. Radium-powered soldiers assembled, diesel-fuelled nightmares rolled off production lines, city fought city, and the world burned in atomic fire.

Tomorrow City still stands, an oil-stained beacon of hope, part-refuge, part-asylum. Beset by dangers from both within and without, a secret war now rages on its streets. Diesel-born monstrosities stalk the alleyways, air pirates strike from the wastelands, mad scientists continue their dark work, occultists manipulate the city’s strange geometry, and secret societies plot in the shadows.

Tomorrow City is a roleplaying game of dark science and dieselpunk action. Swift and simple character creation and an easy-to-learn dice pool system places the emphasis on unique personalities and the momentum of the plot. Join the Underground and fight the crime and corruption at the heart of the city. Sell your dieselpunk tech, occult knowledge, and sheer grit as troubleshooters for mysterious paymasters. Hunt down spies, saboteurs, and science-run-amok. As weary sky rangers, fringe scientists, and radium-powered veterans, you might be all that stands between a better tomorrow and no tomorrow at all.

This is a game that pools together your positive and negative character tags, has you roll for both and aim to come out on top. Gear is very important here, and acts as a great vehicle for communicating the kind of world that you’re living in. I don’t own this game so I can’t speak to much more than that, but if there is a big focus on gear, I’d assume that having a character that can create that gear or make it better would be fairly easy to make in this game.

Age of Steel, by Isolation Games.

Age of Steel is a dieselpunk roleplaying game set in the world of Neres; a world not unlike our own in the first few decades of the 20th century. Neres has just emerged from its first global conflict; the ‘Great War’ in which hundreds of thousands of men and women died in the mud and horror of the trenches.

Technology in Neres has taken a slightly different route to our own world; personal mecha powered by diesel engines are used for numerous applications from war to common labour; huge airships ply the airways; bipedal automata act as servants for the rich and gadgeteer inventors construct homemade ray-guns in their basement laboratories.

In the wake of the Great War, Neres is a hotbed of political scheming and economic growth. Industry and commerce have come to rule the world which, thanks to the airship, aeroplane and radio is rapidly becoming smaller. Little do the majority of people know but an ancient evil is at the heart of the conflict in their world. Eldritch monstrosities from before the dawn of time seek to unmake reality, aided by cults of insane worshippers. Into this world come the heroes -the players- who are the only thing standing between the cosmic evil and all that they hold dear.

Age of Steel uses d6s as the base for their rules, and characters are built using a point-buy system, meaning that instead of character classes, you can custom-design your character as you see fit. I think that since everything about your character is customizable, there may be some options that would help you construct an inventor-like character.

One piece of your character is your backgrounds - that is, what assets your character has to pull from as they play. Some of these assets include Cash, a Job, a Reputation, and a Personal Vehicle. Since the release of the base game, the designer has also added a free supplement called Better Backgorunds, which also includes some more character options when it comes to assets.

Steel Horizons, by Wandering Pilgrim Games.

Steel Horizons is a Dieselpunk TTRPG set on the continent of Algara. It has been 43 years since the discovery of the powerful mineral, Pyricium, which jumpstarted technology ahead decades and began the 3rd Age.

In this new world, the nations of Algara have barely survived the Great War, fought over the precious Pyricium deposits, and now seek to rebuild themselves even greater than before with the might of their technologies and cultural advancements. Using the combined power of diesel fuel, pyric energy, and the brute strength of man, the world presses ever forward.

You play as a Wanderer, a traveller making their way across the land in search of their own legacy. By choosing your own Archetype and customizable Background, you can create the Wanderer you want to tell the best story!

This is a custom system that uses d12’s for all of your rolls. While Steel Horizons is meant to be a complete setting, the creator’s overarching goal appears to be a core set of rules that can be used in a number of different settings. Currently there’s the Quickstart Guide (linked in title) that is meant to bring you through character creation and gives you some example encounters, but you can also get the Lore Keeper Codex for the Hydra System, which is the base rules without setting details, as well as the Player’s Guide, which introduces new character options for you to play with.

Clocks and Punks, by Ikari.

You are misfits in the mega city Meccavena, dwelling in your precious hideout, the Sanctuary, looking for your next gig. Your gang leader, Archelle, has dosed into an endless sleep after she stole the Anomaly Device from the Clockmaker's tower. Now, it's your job to regroup and explore that crazy, conspiracy-infused, clockwork powered city, and maybe find a way to wake Archelle up!

Clocks and Punks is a rules-light, clockpunk inspired hack on the Lasers and Feelings RPG by John Harper. As is the standard for games of this type, your characters will enter play with a goal already in mind, but how they decide to go about achieving that goal is up to them.

If you want to create an inventor character you certainly can - there are Artificer and Alchemist roles that might fit that niche, and you can create a character goal that encourages you to create or invent. You can also make your character better at CLOCK tasks, giving them an advantage when performing tasks that require precision or technical aptitude.

This game is best for a group that wants a short session, or minimal bookkeeping. It’s probably also easier to run if you have experience playing ttrpgs before, just because there’s not a lot of room for GM guidance on a single page,

Flying Fortress, by Planet Gnome.

Flying Fortress is a trifold pamphlet RPG about pulp adventure, diesel punks, and airship pirates.

This is a hack of Into the Odd and Electric Bastionland by Chris McDowall, and should be compatible with any other Mark of the Odd games.

What I really enjoy about pamphlet games is that they provide a lot of neatly organized information that is easy to navigate. This game has your character sheet on one tab, rules on another, gear on another, and then information on the back for the person running the game - things like potential enemies, factions, and roll tables. There’s no particular inventor role per se, but there are Aristocrat and Mechanic options that I think you could tailor to be more about invention if you wish.

The biggest downside to this game is that it dedicates all of its space to game info, and leaves no room for world-building, so the setting you place yourself in is going to have to be crafted whole-cloth by the play group. Then again, if your GM is a natural world-builder, maybe that’s an asset rather than a downside!

Goblins in Shadow, by Color Spray Games.

GOBLINS IN SHADOW is a roleplaying game about goblin resistance and revolution in an age of elven oppression. It’s a world of clockwork and magic, of smoke and shadow.

Players will take on the roles of a cell of goblin revolutionaries, working to undermine the elves and humans who have conquered their homeland and built an empire on its corpse. They’ll advance their goals by taking on scores, missions that gather sympathy for their cause or take direct action against their oppressors, ending in a final attempt to assassinate one of the elven ministers ruling the city. To do that, they’ll need to avoid being caught by the Watch or the Hounds, the elite special police of the city; they’ll also need to balance their obligations to the various factions of the city, as well as their own personal obligations.

The rule of elves will be broken by goblins in shadow.

As a Forged in the Dark game, this will likely be familiar to anyone who has played Blades or similar games. The core of this game is about combat, and the setting around it is clockwork. If you want to play an inventor type character, there looks to be a playbook called The Hand, equipped for sabotage and front-lines engineering. Just through skimming the playbooks I feel like a lot of pieces of the world around you are baked into your playbooks - for example, the Hand might have been branded by an entropic form of goblin magic that allows you to invoke rapid decay or drain life. Now that’s evocative!

[shamrockqueen]

Predator in the desert

Chapter 1

Pairing : Bucky X reader (Post apocalyptic AU)

Warnings : R18, Kidnapping, Fallout new Vegas vibes, Violence, imminent danger

Word count : 1332

Bucky Masterlist

Scavenging the wasteland was generally frowned upon but not enforced by any laws. Not like there was anyone left to enforce them. But, many people deemed it unsafe and often not worth leaving the limited safety of one’s small shanty town to venture out into the desert wasteland.

You’ve been very lucky thus far, as you’ve broken this rule several times in the hopes of finding useful scraps to trade for enough food to fill your belly for the night. It usually pays off, if only a little. But a little is more than nothing, and it beats starving in the night.

Most of the things to be found were abandoned vehicles and the occasional junk pile that can be taken apart for scrap. Some hauls are better than others, and then there are some days where you don’t find anything. This was one of those days, as nothing popped up on the horizon while you wandered the dusty landscape. You’d hate to waste this trip on nothing, but you couldn’t go much further under this blazing sun.

At some point, you’d just have to call it quits and turn back toward town. You kicked the dust in frustration from the knowledge that you didn’t have a single scrap of food waiting for you back home and not a dime to buy some. You had a bit of water left in your bag that would have to last you the trek back, but you hadn’t the energy to turn around just yet.

You chose instead to hunker down in the shade of a large rock to sip from the near-empty canteen before making the journey back. The feeling of the last drop hitting your tongue was almost as heartbreaking as the lingering metallic taste it left in your mouth.

There wasn’t any time to dwell on it now; instead, you packed your bottle away and got back up.

At the time, it seemed no different than the same old shit life had dealt you every day, but you’d look back on this as a low moment. From here, there would be lower moments, but this one in particular would be the beginning of the end.

You didn’t see him following you from that high ledge; you didn’t see him climb his way down, stalking you along the rocks, but you did hear something. The light crunch of dirt under boots that weren’t yours rang right through your ears, making you stop in your tracks.

The footsteps stopped too as you stood idle, waiting out the dribble of sweat that ran along your back before whipping your head around to see…nothing.

A bit of weeds and dust blew through the barren tundra, but there was no living soul amongst it. Maybe you were hearing things, or maybe you were just an easier target than you’d thought.

Something was following you that day, something that easily evaded your line of sight just in time to take you out. When you turn back towards your path, your head is immediately knocked in the other direction with a burst of pain at the back of your cranium.

Your lights go out with a grunt before your now-loose limbs collide with the hard, dusty ground. You hit it like a heavy bag of rocks, leaving you aching and yet numb.

He watched you for a second, noticing the shallow breaths you still took and wondering whether he dealt too heavy of a blow.

Small rocks were crunched under his heavy boots as he got closer to kneel down by your side. He slipped two of his bare fingers along your neck before applying pressure near your jugular to feel the soft pulse of your heart still healthily beating.

The light bounced off of his dark goggles, only to be dulled by the rough plastic from the rest of his face mask. He stared back out towards the vast wasteland, watching as the sun still hung high above the dry landscape and burned down on the both of you. When he turned his attention back to you, he slipped his arms under your body to better carry you away.

Strings of light filter through your shaking eyelids every now and again as the world around you swayed back and forth. Few images can come through as you fight the black fog threatening to take over your consciousness. There was this tough gray-brown mass moving in and out of your limited field of vision, back and forth in time with the crunching of the rocky sand.

The blood starts to rush to your already-aching head, making it more and more difficult to force your eyes open. You can’t fight it anymore, and your sight is finally stolen from you. The light will only return when your position shifts and you're laid out on some oddly comforting yet lumpy bedding.

Your mind is cloudy, but you could still feel something wide and warm handling the back of your hair as the spout of a cool bottle is pressed to your lips. The second that the wonderful water hits your tongue, your body is moving upright to follow it and gulp it all up.

When the bottle is pulled away, the air in the room is no longer thin, allowing you to take a deep breath and open your eyes to your new surroundings.

Grayed wood and rusted metal made up a pretty rough but well-put-together room. Your eyes circled the area until they landed on the only moving mass within it. Him.

He was still holding the glass bottle when he came into view. His skin was tanned, save for the slashes of scar tissue that ran along his skin in thin white lines.

His dark hair was thick with sweat as it hung at just his shoulders, and his face still had a slight smear of black camo paint, making his face only half visible in your still blurry vision. You had to blink a few times to get the full picture, only to be left a bit speechless by the full image before you.

His muscles were tight and well defined, like they could snap forward and stop a punch within a split second, and they were on full display even through his dirty tank top. Yet, the sight that you linger on the most was his sharp gaze as it stabbed right through your skin. His eyes were a cutting and inescapable blue that made the blood freeze in your veins and the hair on your arms stand on end.

You’d never seen anyone like this in your life. No one could ever dream to look so healthy, let alone so strong. No, the only people left in the wastelands had hollow eyes that sank deep into their skulls, signifying their early demise. The set staring you down had far too much life inside of them, burning like a blue flame.

The only thing that stole your eyes away from his was the gleam of light that bounced off of the interlocking metal muscles that made up his left arm and hand. If you had the strength to do so, you would have kicked yourself for not noticing it immediately. There were few people left in this world with advanced implements such as that, and even fewer that still carried their emblems of war.

Your body felt numb as you stared into the dulled red star at the arm’s shoulder.

They were old stories told to you by the family you used to have; you never truly believed them, as you’d never seen such a symbol not once in your life...not until now.

All the stories that spoke of the red star ended in genocide and destruction. But, you were still alive.

You adjusted your gaze back to his still-stern face, unable to read much from him as his expression lacked obvious emotion. He’d kept you in one piece this far, but what would happen next?

More Post apocalyptic AU

[postfallinspiration]

Hao Jessie Cao Photography- Wasteland Weekend 2021

[bits-and-babs]

The Last Supper || Leto Atreides x Reader

-> Rating: 18+

-> Word Count: 6.8k!!!

-> When an ornithopter crashes in Fremen territory, you feel compelled to nurse the handsome stranger you find inside back to health.

Gif Credit doesn’t belong to me!

TW/CW: mentions of death. detailed injury, angst, oral (f receiving), p in v sex. Not beta read.

The figure that occupies the head of your dinner table, whose shoulders are broad, imposing, and carrying an impossible weight of duty was once a stranger who fell from the sky.

Memories of that pivotal day are seared into your mind as though someone had left a branding iron out in the scorching Arrakeen sun and pressed it to the grey swirls of your brain. The violent vibrations of the ornithopter colliding with the dunes beyond the sietch in which you lived had shocked you from your slumber overnight, causing you to dart from your bed for fear of another Harkonnen attack. Despite it being only a handful of months since the oppressive regime of House Harkonnen had departed your beloved home world, you still feared them.

While it was almost unquestionable to you that The Baron would launch an attack upon his cousin, Duke Leto Atreides having been gifted Arrakis from the Emperor himself, the shell shock that persisted beyond the Harkonnen retreat often left you fearful for your life when loud noises emerged from the desert plains. Only the repeated muffled knocks of thumpers and, ironically, the swish of sand being moved aside by the enormous bodies of the sandworms Shai-Hulud brought you any semblance of comfort that all was as it should be.

The boom that reverberated throughout the desert sands belonged to neither, and so the panic had arisen in you, making you feel inexplicably cold for such a scorched planet. Having dragged yourself from the security of your own bed, you had stumbled through the dark seitche’s passageways and into the arid wasteland. Others had joined you on your investigation, both concerned and intrigued by the noise that had aroused them from their own peaceful slumber.

Scattered shrapnel peppered the sandy terrain and smoke billowed from the large transport that lay upon its side, which you now knew to be an Ornithopter. The glow of the moonlight reflected off the metal with which it was made, the argent luminescence your only light source with which to navigate in the pitch-black night.

You’re not at all sure what overcame you, thinking back on it you’d consider it a form of divine intervention from the Old Gods, but your legs carried you down onto the warm grains of sand before you even had time to consider why you were doing so. The compulsion to check upon the pilot inside was potent, the sole drive of your feet sinking into dusty grains with each step.

Upon first assessment you knew instantaneously that the co-pilot had been killed in the collision, his eyes rolled so far back into his skull that he stared back at you with only the whites of his eyes as blood poured down his eyelids. As for the man beside him, you could see the rise and fall of his sternum through the stillsuit that clung tightly to his skin, immediately alerting you to the fact he was still alive. With some rather insistent compelling to your people, all of you had managed to safely remove the unconscious man from the wreckage before the Shai-Hulud swallowed the impotent vehicle.

Injuries were extensive, a large gaping wound that ran from the curve of his shoulder and down the inside of his bicep was deep enough to show the bone. Minor cuts litter his face like the ones above the thick hair of his brows and to his lip. A rather large bump had formed on his forehead, flourishing a deep purple in the time it had taken to remove him from the ornithopter and inside the sietch. It was only reasonable to believe that if his external damage was so severe, his internal lacerations would equal, if not exceed those you could assess with your own eyes.

Heated squabbles had broken out amongst your fellow Fremen about who would be unlucky enough to receive the ‘off-worlder’ into their home. Perhaps you had subconsciously decided to take responsibility for him due to your insistence upon saving him, but once again you felt obliged to step in for the vulnerable man who lay at your feet. In the end, you had given him your bed to rest in while you had slept endless weeks on the floor.

Recovery was a long and strenuous process. Providing Spice during his extensive oblivion proved to help with his pain, seemingly resting better with the hallucinogen in his system. Stitches had to be provided to suture the wound upon his shoulder, yet another thing you agreed to do for his comfort. You remember the nervousness you had felt stripping him from his stillsuit to begin the procedure, and what you once thought was anxiety surrounding hurting him during the process you now knew to be caused by the warmth radiating from the naked skin of his chest beneath your fingers.

Many hours were spent gazing at the insensible man who occupied your bed. Eventually, you had grown accustomed to studying the slopes of his face before you joined him in slumber from your place on the floor. Within a week you had him all memorized, down to the angle of the bridge of his nose, the pinpoint precision of where freckles dotted his face, and even the location of the grey strands of his dense beard which you continued to groom for him in his incapacitated state.

Weeks passed before the stranger awoke from his extended rest. The whites of his eyes were tinged the palest blue after many nights of using Spice to alleviate the agony he appeared to be in, but his irises remained the most remarkable umber color. So stunning was this shade, you imagined they resembled the rings hidden in the bark of the palm trees you had heard resided in the courtyard of the Fenring’s house. Considered so holy were these trees that they were supplemented by forty liters of water a day, sacrificing a hundred people daily for their beauty. Upon seeing this stranger's eyes for the first time, you vaguely remember considering that you would be willing to sacrifice one hundred people a day as payment for glancing into them for but a few seconds.

You can recall the shock that wracked your body at the quiet of his accent that floated on the silence in the room, the tone regal and not of this planet. So simple was his singular word request, voice hoarse from weeks of neglect, but it rendered you wholly delirious; “Water?”

Parched, chapped lips pressed desperately to the rim of the chalice that you held to his mouth, gulping down water as though it were nectar and almost justifying the trouble you had gone to in order to retrieve the liquid for him. Supplies of water were few and far between on Arakkis, but you were convinced that if anyone required what little reserves you had, it was him. Despite awakening, it would be a further week until the man was stable enough to think logically and provide full sentences in which to hold a conversation.

“Where am I?” His voice had sounded much clearer then, traveling better across the stagnant air of the caves in which your sietch resided thanks to your endless hours of care. You had supposed it was the logical step of the inquiry, given you had provided your name multiple times during his stay with you in order for him to feel at ease and thus erasing the question of ‘who?’

“My bedchambers. You needed rest,” you admitted softly, as though you had been worried a loudly-spoken syllable would rip open his stitches and undo the hard work you had both endured to nurse him back to this stage of health. “Do you remember how you came to be here?”

The outsider seemed to have considered that question carefully before slowly shaking his head, those bewitching eyes gazing upon the ceiling of the cave rock above his head. “No.”

Pauses between questions to allow him to gather his thoughts had felt considerate given he was still dosed on spice to maintain the pain relief that aided him in sleep. “Do you remember your name?”

Despite being a member of the fiercest warrior group known to the galaxy, none of the battles nor hardship you had faced could have possibly prepared you for his answer. “My name is Duke Leto Atreides, head of House Atreides, ruler of Caladan, and steward of Arrakis via Imperial decree.”

The Duke had been considerate to the Freman, striking a deal through Stilgar that the sietches were considered off-limits to the outsiders, and that your people would never be hunted as long as he ruled in return for the ability to harvest spice. Refusing to push him further after the revelation of his true identity, you never questioned Leto on how he happened to be beyond the shield wall that fateful night. You didn’t need to know, you were simply grateful that he was.

Days beyond that conversation were mostly occupied with dressing his wounds as delicately as your fingers would allow you, the twisting jab of guilt that pierced your gullet every time the Duke groaned in pain enough to cause your hands to shake. Those enchanting eyes would watch your face the entire time, glancing at you with a sparkle of amusement and admiration, adding to the pressure you felt to make the bandages as comfortable as the gauze fabric would allow.

A month into his time with you, The Duke was able to sit up in bed, and aided in medial chores such as whittling wood as payment for your treatment. By this point, you had grown to know much about him. From his work as the steward of Arrakis to his beloved son Paul, who he was insisting he needed to get back to. Conveniently, The Duke had left out the details of the child’s mother but you were certain that the woman named Jessica that he called out to in his restless sleep had something to do with it.

When he was able to stand, The Duke insisted upon taking the floor to sleep on now that he was well enough. You remember his demanding tone. ‘The ache in your back must be immense, resting on the floor for so long.’ It was only after yelling at him for a substantial amount of time, to which he replied calmly and unflinchingly, that you relented. The two of you agreed to share the mattress together. Many a morning after that, you would find his fingers woven through your hair and the plane of his forehead pressed to yours. It was the only time he ever looked truly at peace, when the canyon creases between his brows eased and his warm breath caressed the skin of your face. Without his greying hair, he’d look years younger this way.

Mobility signaled the end of your time with the Duke, whose devotion to his role under the thumb of the Emperor meant he was already considering his return to Arrakeen to inform his people of his survival. With his vitals stabilizing, and the stitches falling out of the pink scar that ran down his shoulder, you knew that his departure was imminent. The thought tortured you at night, to know that soon you would not wake with him by your side. You dedicated every waking moment to committing his already retained face to memory, terrified that you had missed tiny details such as minute scars on his brow or the length of his lashes. You had to remember all of him.

Feasibly, it was the reason you now watched his every move at the diner table. Sat cross-legged on the sandy floor, The Duke had abandoned the nobility of Caladan to execute your way of living as thanks for your selflessness. There was no sense of pride, no superiority. Though he seems preoccupied with the food you provided, he’s acutely aware of the way you gaze upon his face with a devastating sense of loss, the crushing feeling squeezing the remaining oxygen from your lungs with each exhale.

The candlelight casts a golden glow around him, so warm and ethereal in contrast to the silvery, cold illumination from the moon that guided you to him that night. He looks more beautiful this way, healthier and stronger. Had he not been so obviously human, his charm and elegance would lead you to believe him otherworldly. Perhaps it was naive of you to have spent so much of your time together believing the Gods had gifted this angel that fell from the sky to you - they gave and they took, and this was no different.

There is a pause in his eating, his eyes drifting towards you and catching you in your disoriented state. The blue tinge caused by the spice use has faded now, reliance on the pain relief receding along with the agony it sedated. You can’t bring yourself to look away in shame of being caught staring when it would be precious time wasted not looking at him. He does not scold you, as the newly appointed leader of this world should, simply offers you a reassuring gaze of his own, those holy-palm eyes assessing your own as tears welled in them.

“My Desert Rose,” he murmurs, his voice like a trickle of sand in a timekeeper, almost silent. The term of endearment causes your skin to prickle with both resentment and adoration, the dichotomy so bewildering that it makes you nauseous. “Thoughts plague your mind. Share them with me and ease the burden.” You hate him for being so kind, for enchanting you further.

It was exactly this part of his personality that had delighted you. The part that had eased you during your night terrors that consisted of Harkonnen attack by pressing you to his naked chest, the thrum of his heart against your sternum, and the soft whispers of consolation easing you from your dream-world and back into his arms. He would trace his calloused fingertips across the length of your spine, starting at the base of your skull where your hairline began and trailed down until his touch halted upon the lumbar vertebrae between the dimples of your lower back and back again. He would repeat this motion as long as it took for you to slip back into a dreamless slumber.

“There is nothing to unburden myself with, Your Grace.” The use of the honorific feels clunky between your lips, just as much of a lie as your promise of a peaceful mind. He isn’t The Duke here in these caved walls, he is simply Leto. Your Leto. The thought causes the precious moisture to seep from your eyes and spill down your cheeks. A waste. The sacrifice would do nothing to change the fate that awaited you in the morning.

“I do not require vast knowledge to recognize deception, Rose,” he speaks to you softly, each syllable carefully crafted in tone and pitch. Clearly he can sense your internalized agony and is careful not to stoke the flames of emotional distress that threaten to devour you.

“It is nothing of importance,” you promise him as you wipe away the salty tears dripping from your chin and soaking into the fabric of your inside clothes. You pick at the various tones of beige and brown, pulling at threads in your tunic in a final effort to divert your attention from the thoughts of the morning that crept in. That return to your bed without him in it, having seen him disappear into the dunes.

Prolonged silence follows, and you feel Leto’s eyes settle on your face. The gaze doesn’t burn, it calls to you, whispering your name as if begging for you to return to the conversation at hand. To return to him and leave the turmoil that crashed through your mind.

“Anything which causes you distress is of importance to me.” Leto’s voice pierces the makeshift mental armor as though it was made of melted wax. It’s impossible to deny him, hopeless to try to evade him in this moment. He’s unrelenting, not in the way sandstorms violently whip at your skin but similar to that of the survival of Desert Mice Muad'Dib on Arrakis. Quiet and steady.

You simply shake your head with a weak smile, refusing to share with him your devastation. Whatever bloomed from the vulnerability of admission would not be worth the anguish it caused you.

“Then bless me with any other thought you are willing to share,” he murmurs softly, reaching across the smooth stone to take up your palm in his own. Both are calloused, but for wholly different reasons. Yours are roughened from years of hand-to-hand combat, gripping crysknife handles and whetting them with Harkonnen blood. His skin, as you had come to learn, was strengthened from the grip of ornithopter controls over many years, flying until his fingers blistered from the tight grasp. Two warriors from the old and the new.

A weak laugh bubbles in you, the sound bouncing off the wall enough to bring a smile to The Duke’s lips. “I have nothing else that occupies my mind but you.” The acknowledgment turns your stomach almost instantly, even fearing his response to something as inconsequential as that. “I simply savor my time with you.”

“As do I.” It’s like he senses your hesitation, not delaying as he slides around the corner of the table to seat himself beside you. It’s as though he can no longer bear to be separated by the stone slab and must have you close. The action alone makes you fluster, your resolve already weakening with him at your side.

Picking at the meat of the desert hare you had prepared, you smile to yourself. Leto had a gift at lightening the weight of the room, even when he was still unwell, he managed to talk you out of your worries and ease your mind with his steady, unwavering calm.

“You must keep your beard as a respectable length, Your Grace. I worked hard to maintain it for you.” The change in subject is obvious, a little juvenile, but if Leto notices this is a desperate attempt to avoid speaking on your emotions he does not push you. Instead, he laughs, the sound as refreshing as if you had plunged into reserves of cool water on a particularly blazing hot day.

“I will ensure I take proper precaution to preserve its style,” Leto assured, the amusement interlaced between each syllable floods you with a warmth only he has evoked in you, pleasant and addictive. For the Fremen to suffer withdrawal from Spice was lethal, cruel, prolonged suffering. Yet, you couldn’t think of anything more painful than to withdraw from Leto’s embrace, to eliminate your fix of his soft touch and the gentle reassurance in his eyes.

Silence followed, your thoughts carrying you away before you can even think to answer. The meat of the desert hare is slick under your fingers, the dark meat leaking juices across your skin as you continue to pick at it, to ponder if you would even be able to stomach food or even breathe without him by your side.

“… Why must you leave?” There’s a ringing in your ears, the question bringing pause to the two of you. Though Leto seems surprised by the query, you hold firm even at the risk of upsetting him.

“I need to return home to my son, Paul. To Jessica-“ the name stings as though he had slapped you across the cheek, resignation cutting like his signet ring splitting your cheek open upon impact. You’re not sure as to why, but his hold on your palm feels as though he was cruelly sweeping salt into the wound. Leto was kind, so kind that he didn’t realize it was almost to a fault. That he drew everyone in, and you had no doubt that his devotion to his duty often left the people he loved, that loved him, feeling rather neglected.

“Am I not enough?” It’s a selfish comment, cruel. Doubtless his son, his family would be far more deserving of his attention than a stranger with whom he had spent the majority of his time within a state of unconsciousness. Did he even yearn for you the same way that you ached for him, or was that piercing gaze you had considered so often as romantic truly just an aching pity he felt for you, crawling around and sleeping on floors for him only to be brutally rejected despite your efforts.

The sinking realization causes more precious tears to spill over your cheeks, your lower lip trembling like a child. You felt infantile too, like a youngster who wailed for something they could not have despite their guardians’ insistence. Leto does not treat you as such, simply leans across the table with his free hand to swipe away the tears with the pad of his thumb.

“You are more than enough.” He assures you gently, his voice barely a whisper. “You are an oasis upon the horizon after decades of dry spells. You are the Desert Rose that grows when nothing else has the capacity in this desolate wasteland. You are enough and more.” His words twist in your stomach like a crysknife, sharp and painful despite their delicate care.

“You never once made me feel this way.” A lie. Leto never had to tell you, not once having to speak aloud how he cared for you. The adoration seeped into the palm-tree rings of his eyes, so intense you had often thought you could feel his fondness dancing across your skin like a lover's touch.

He hesitates for a moment, as though the realization that he had failed to put his admiration into words for you finally sank into the pits of his stomach. His greying brow furrows slightly as he continues to caress the curve of your cheekbone and think up a viable response. You can see him hesitate, mouth opening and then pressing into a thin line.

To see him struggle pains you, knowing you had pushed him into this difficult conversation rather egotistically. Before he has time to think of a response, the words are pouring from your lips as though you had cast a basin full of water onto the dusty floor. You tell him of your feelings that had grown for him over the many nights you had sat in silence watching him rest, that it was the Old Gods who had sent him to you knowing that he was exactly what you needed. These emotions inside you were further tormented by the long nights of conversation when you were plagued with your night terrors, his fingers soothing your spine and voice easing your soul. To say you would die for him felt obsolete. You wished to live for him, to dedicate every single moment of your life to him and his happiness.

Leto listens to every word. You could have been rambling for seconds or for hours, yet he makes no attempt to interrupt or reject your experience. He doesn’t even nod or shake his head, perfectly still as he listens apart from the thumb sweeping across your knuckles. When you pause, inhaling shakily to ease your burning lungs after talking uninterrupted for so long, he appears to contemplate your words. You admired that in him, not only hearing but listening, truly understanding the gravity of each admission you had painfully wrung from your heart just for him.

Silence was something you had grown accustomed to in the desert, nothing but sand on a mild day rendered your surroundings inaudible. A lifetime of tranquility would lead you to believe you would be comfortable in the quiet, but the pause between you and The Duke causes your stomach to cramp with nerves.

Just as you feel the silence would render you insane due to your pulse thrumming in your ears, Leto reaches for your face and cups it daintily, like you would break apart in his hands if he was too rough with you. Perhaps you would.

Slowly, tentatively he leans across the stone and brushes his nose against yours. He doesn’t leap in, allowing you the chance to pull away from his affections. You don’t, the shaky rise of your chest as you inhale the only movement you make to his silent question. How like The Duke not to waste his breath explaining when he could simply, efficiently present how strongly he felt for you by pressing his lips to yours.

The plush of his lips against your own causes your heart to stutter with shock, despite having presented yourself for it. Leto’s beard rasps softly against your skin when he kisses you and the palms that cup your face, though calloused and rough, are gentle as they hold you to him. The both of you have surpassed yearning, gone beyond desperation. You’re clinging on, terrified of letting go for fear of never being able to hold him again- the fear is so tender, like an open wound.

Grasping at the fabric of his tunic, you pull Leto impossibly closer. His nose is pressed firmly into your own, almost uncomfortably, but he’s grinning into the kiss and you’re kissing his teeth, the two of you fumbling with giddiness and bordering on delirium. The stoic general, the head of House Atreides is reduced to boyish laughter at the way you kiss him over and over, showering him with the affection you had locked away within yourself ever since you felt that inexplicable need to help him out of the ornithopter on that day.

“Rose,” he murmurs softly, through the repetitive press of your lips against his own, hands skirting down the sides of your covered ribs. Leto is trying to ease you, trying to bring you down from that cliff face by soothing you into enjoying every second rather than panicking about what would happen at the end of your tryst.

Catching your lips in a stronger kiss, he notes your trepidation, the slight tremble in your body as he sweeps those same calloused fingertips down the bare skin of your arm. It sparks an unfamiliar heat in you, one that warms you from the inside but causes your skin to goosebump. Before you can even consider it, remind yourself that he is the Steward of Arrakis appointed by the Emperor, you’re winding your arm around his neck to draw him impossibly closer.

Pushed forward by a need that settles deep in your abdomen, twisting and coiling almost painfully, the kiss takes a very sudden turn. It’s no longer sweet as it is eager, his tongue sweeping across your lower lip as pulls you forwards by your elbows to ease you into his lap.

You’d always known Leto was strong, he’d been heavy when you needed to twist his comatose body in order to clean his wounds. However, there was something awe-inspiring at the ripple of his muscles underneath your touch when he wrapped his arms around your waist so you were pressed flush to his chest. He flowed like ripples in water, smooth and delicate despite his size and powerful poise.

His palms get a little rougher, his fingers pushing divots into the flesh of your hips as his tongue sweeps against your own. There’s no rush, but there’s an entirely different type of urgency, those same hands brushing down the curve of your lower back, the globe of your ass and squeezing.

You can’t help the moan that works its way past your throat at the intrusive touch, the brush of his hardening cock against the inside of your thigh. In all the daydreams that stole hours of your time and the fantasies that painted pictures though you’d mind as you slept beside him, you’d never envisioned Leto to feel so good. It was overwhelming, an unbelievable high that rocked you to your core.

“Your Gra-Ah!” You gasp loudly as he leans you backward to swipe away the food you had failed to eat and lay you against the cool stone table swiftly. The smooth texture presses into your shoulder blades, disagreeable and stiff, but it’s impossible to focus on your discomfort when Leto is pressing lingering, hot kisses up your abdomen as he pushes the fabric of your tunic over the length of your body. The kisses are wet, leaving damp patches of skin along the line of your sternum, and when he blows a soft gust of breath from his lips the area grows cold.

You shiver, whimpering in a wordless attempt to show Leto you liked that. Cold wasn’t something you were used to, but it felt divine when he used it like that, to tease- to please. He continues, mouthing gently at the swell of your now exposed breasts. His beard is rough against your skin, tickling as he lathes his tongue over your pebbled nipples.

The Duke’s resolve appears to break down with your squirms, pressing his hard cock into your clothed cunt in an endeavor to find some friction to ease his own need as he puffs a gentle gust of air across your nipple again. You’re arching your back off the table slab at his ministrations, clit throbbing with need between your thighs.

“Please,” you beg him, implore him as you hook your fingers into the waistband of his brocade woven trousers. He’s nodding against your chest, lips still peppering your skin with kisses and tongue continuing to smooth long, seemingly unaware of just what he was giving permission for when he tugs your own cotton pants over your hips to expose your glistening cunt to his mouth.

Leto barely gives you a moment to argue before he’s pressing his palms into the soft flesh at the back of your thighs, just under your knees, and pushing them back towards your body. The look he gives you, eyes dragging hungrily over your glistening folds causes your heart to leap in your throat. Perhaps it’s years of being a tactician, negotiating his entire life, but he doesn’t leap into it.

Instead, he’s brushing his fingers down your pubic bone, over your aching clit. You’re squirming for him, keening for him when his digits sweep through your soaking folds to gather the evidence of your arousal on his fingertips before raising them to his lips. You find yourself wondering if the cruelty of the Harkonnens cruelty is hereditary because you’re almost certain that this could be some form of torture. You’re pulled up so tight it’s almost painful when he wraps his lips around his soaked fingers and rumbles a groan as the taste of you coats his tongue.

It’s only then that he moves his head between your tense thighs and envelops the dexterous heat of his mouth over your cunt. Your hips have a mind of their own, instantaneously pressing into the pressure there as your eyes squeeze shut and a ragged breath exhales from your lungs and ends with a squeak when the tip of his tongue circles your clit.

It rips through you, the vibration of his groan when he tastes you from the source. You swear your body is tingling all over, pins and needles and the hypersensitivity that comes with it as he laps your slick up with the flat of his tongue. You want to tell him more, want to tell him right there but your words are failing on your tongue every time he nuzzles his nose against your throbbing clit and digs his fingers into your thigh muscles.

Tensing and loosening, the muscles in your hips force them upwards into Leto’s face to chase the blinding pleasure that he sparks through you. It’s like they think he’ll pull away and abandon you with this torturous heat between your legs, forcing you to suffer through on your own. But he stays firm, tongue sinking into your wet heat and seemingly pushing his face impossibly closer into your heat.

He’s so slow with it, refusing to rush when he planned to draw this out as long as he possibly could. The drag of his tongue against the aching bundle of nerves is nerve-inducing, your toes curling into the flesh of his shoulder as he pulls sparks of bliss from you.

“Oh, please,” you sob out, sounding utterly wrecked with your desperate heaves of air through your lungs. Carding your fingers through his greying curls, you grasp tightly onto the strands of hair and try to speed up the chase to your orgasm by anchoring his face to you and grinding your clit against his nose. All proprietaries, all respect fizzles out thanks to his devilish tongue, and he’s huffing amused laughs against your wet folds at the impropriety of your actions. His hands are quick to take ahold of your pelvis, pushing it against the stone and causing you to cry out in distress.

“Shh shh,” he hushes you gently, raising himself from between your thighs to press soft kisses to your lips. You’re smeared across his mouth, his beard soaked and it’s so sexy. Tasting yourself on his lips, his tongue is enough to make your brain short circuit entirely, breathy moans sounding into his mouth.

You’re not sure when it happens, but his pants are pushed from his own hips when he pulls away from the kiss, the slow, gentle rhythm he had set flipped on its head when he’s sweeping his cock through your folds quickly. Snapping your eyes open quickly, you can see the tick in his jaw, the flush of his cheeks, and the hunger in his eyes. He can’t wait any longer. You can’t wait any longer, a whole month of silently praying to the Gods, old and new, just to feel him insid-

The air in your lungs dissipates with a yell of shock when he suddenly pushes into you with full force. But fuck- fuck you’re so wet that there’s no resistance, his cock slipping through your soaked cunt all the way down to the hilt with such ease it nearly pulls both of your orgasms from you simultaneously. It’s apparently all he needs for the final tether of his resolve to snap because he’s slamming into you with such force that your hands are blindly searching for his shoulder to cling onto due to your eyes being squeezed shut.

You hadn’t seen him, hadn’t had the chance, but you can feel how thick he is, your cunt stuffed full of his cock as he rocks in and out of you at a brutal pace that has your thighs trembling already. The hands on your hip bones are pulling you back onto his cock to meet each thrust, somehow pushing him even deeper against something utterly devastating inside you.

“My beautiful Desert Rose,” he murmurs thickly, somehow managing to keep an even tone as he destroys you, your nails digging into his skin and cries drowning out his voice. “So beautiful, blooming for me like this.” His voice is husky, gravelly with arousal as you flutter around his cock at the sound of his name for you and the affection laced through his voice.

Then he’s pressing his forehead to your collarbone, back arched over you and curls tickling the curve of your neck as he finds a different angle in which to hit that blinding spot inside you. His lips pressing against your skin in gentle kisses underneath your ear feel feather light in comparison to the harsh grind of his hips against your own.

“I am s-so lucky… to have fallen from the sky for you.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear. It’s the most heartbreaking thing anyone has ever said to you- beautiful but with an air of finality that makes your heart twist up painfully, but you can’t focus on that pain for very long because your orgasm arcs up violently when his finger brushes at your clit with delicate precision.

“Pl-Please, please, I’ll go a-anywhere with you, Don’t-“ he’s smothering your lips with a desperate kiss that steals the air from your lungs before you’re able to complete your sentence before you’re able to ask. Don’t leave me.

You cunt clamps hard around his cock, sobbing weakly against his mouth as he draws tight little circles against your clit with his fingertip. His other hand is winding through the hair at the base of your neck, continuing to push the head of his cock up against your g-spot. Your pussy is soaking him, drenching him in your slick as he ruts up into you once, twice-

You’re clawing at his tunic with a broken cry as everything pulls up sharp and tight and blazing hot. It’s bursting through you, blinding, overwhelming as you gush around him, thighs shaking violently as you throw your head back. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t stop circling your clit until you’re crying, pushing his hands away desperately from overstimulation, his hips still fucking into you throughout.

When you come to, you realize he’s still not stopping, thrusting into you with that same brutal pace as he groans in your ear, the sound licking white-hot pleasure up your spine. With your eyes rolling back into your skull, he focuses on that spark of arousal, forcing you to endure the build-up once more as you disregard his title and call him by his name.

-

Leto pleasured you until dawn broke. His hands, his tongue, his cock all working to draw orgasm after orgasm from you, murmuring constantly about refusing to allow a moment to pass without making you feel good. I want I cherish this night with you.

He’d lay in bed with you afterward, surrounded by the light covers with you curled at his side as he whispered in your ear, telling you of his homeland, Caladan. The beaches, the rain. So much water, more than you could ever hope to see in a hundred thousand lifetimes on Arrakis. To see him smile as he recalled home made you ache for him. It was clear that he missed it, longed for the chance to walk on the beaches with his son once more.

“You will,” you murmur softly, brushing his sweat-damp curls from his forehead and pressing gentle, loving kisses to his brow. He doesn’t answer. You don’t tell him that home for you now lay within his arms.

By morning, he had willed himself from your arms, dressing into his stillsuit. You had managed to salvage it from the crash, mending the damage in order for it to be worn again, but you never thought you would be so unhappy to see it cling to his body again- a visible goodbye.

Standing in the dunes, your arms wrapped around his waist and clinging desperately to him, you find yourself appreciative of the silence of the desert. You can hear the thud of his heart through the stillsuit against your ear, muffled and quiet, but it’s there. You listen ever so carefully, commit the pace to memory as though they were lyrics to a song - the final piece to the image of Leto that you had imprinted on your mind.

“Will you come back for me?” You whisper quietly, knowing well enough that he would soon pull you from his frame to leave, a matter of time until the Fremen who had promised him safe passage across the desert to Arrakeen would insist upon leaving.

“I would never willingly leave you, my Desert Rose.” He murmurs into your hairline, punctuating the sentence with a kiss to the skin there. You know he sounds unsure of himself, unsure of the future. The Gods had given him to you willingly, and you were only too aware of how easily they could take him from you too. It was safer never to make promises.

At the call of your people, Leto takes his time unwinding his body from your grasp. His expression is pained, but with a gentle smile, he steps away, still clinging to your hand with his arm outstretched until he can’t reach you with the distance he had set between you both. When he turns, he doesn’t look back, and sets off across the sand for Arrakeen, to his lover, his child.

Unsure of what exactly possesses you, you stand there with your feet in the sand for as long as you can see him in the distance, climbing the dunes and talking with your people. Hours pass, your eyes strain to see the small speck of black on the horizon, but you force yourself to watch, to fight the ache in your skull and the agony in your ribs as you witness him disappear beyond your range of sight.

You can’t see him, but you continue to watch the horizon. You ignore the hunger setting into your stomach, disregard the heat. You can’t bring yourself to do anything other than pray to the Old Gods and the New, begging them for one thing.

Bring him home.

END

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