Blinding Narcissm - Ultra Necrozma

It has been 18 days since Groudon and Kyogre's petty squabbles over territorial disputes. Not only did they manage to be inches away from simultaneously incinerating and drowning Pacifidlog Town, but had changed the region's geography yet again. New islands had resurfaced, existing desert islets were submerged, and all because Groudon felt a few bits of rain pelt his head.

A few days of forced reconciliation and the creation of yet another temporary truce, the two finally headed along their opposite ways; Groudon descending back into the earth, while Kyogre back into the ocean. Fortunately, the damage wasn't too severe, just a few years of higher sea level and uncharted lands, nothing humans can't handle. Nevertheless, it was time for relaxation, to the Hall of Origin.

The soaring skies slowly faded away, giving birth to the newfound sense of tranquility. Endless waves of the water transitioned into dotted canyons and towns, all surrounding the colossal Mount Coronet. But those dainty little landscapes weren't the destination, but instead the unearthly visage of Hall of Origin atop the mountain peak.

A realm far from civilization's reach, beyond mortal comprehension, this is where the Legendary Pokemon congregate. The open space surrounded by crumbling marble spires and stardust-paved platforms, was crowded with a lively group of Pokemon mingling casually underneath the twinkling constellations.

Koraidon and Miraidon lay on the wayside, too engrossed in chewing on their sandwiches with gusto. Kyogre was present, in a small perfectly sized pool where he could grumble and snort while Groudon cast daggers back at him. And finally, Giratina was present, somewhat, being granted the very tiny privilege of having a video-call of sorts with everyone while still in his prison of the Distortion World.

Arceus simply watched with an inquisitive gaze, so small in contrast with the others yet so unfazed by their might. But his eyes wavered the moment the sunlight brightened. A look of mild displeasure, it seemed, and as the light intensified, his worries were confirmed upon gazing at the strange ethereal wormhole forming in the sky.

Necrozma was coming.

The hole burst open in an array of light, a gash tearing through the laws of space. His blinding presence bled through the cracks as a screech like refracted glass rang out before the dragon's golden energy seeped forth.

"Well, well, if it isn't tiny llama stuck in a fence."

Necrozma smugly commented, receiving a snort of annoyance from the creator. His immense size was apparent in his bulk alone, further compounded by the deliberate flaring of his golden-bright wings to lightly smack the braindead Kyurem wondering how it even got here.

Here he was, descending like a solar god on steroids, radiant wings unfurling with a flourish so violently flamboyant they nearly atomized the spires they passed. The Hall of Origin was immediately drenched in blinding gold, shadows retreating in terror as if divinity itself had just crash-landed in the middle of a casual mixer.

The blazing colossus planted his feet on the stardust floor, cracks splintering beneath him like the ground was honored to break for his arrival. His absurd musculature flexed without prompt, pecs gleaming like gilded mountains, abs so defined they looked chiseled from the concept of perfection itself. He lazily rolled one shoulder and the resulting shockwave knocked Zapdos off a nearby pillar with a squawk.

"Sorry~"

He mockingly jeered without even looking.

Necrozma’s wings fanned out again, this time flaring just enough to slap Lugia’s drink out of its hand. The poor sea guardian looked up only to be greeted with a slow, luxurious pose from the Light Lord: one leg cocked forward, arms folded under the glowing canyon of his pecs, and a blinding smirk that could sterilize farmland.

"And I see you still haven’t evolved past that sad origami goat form, Arceus,"

He purred, leaning in just a little too close to the Alpha Pokémon.

“How many Plates do you need before you get a fucking personality? Fifty? Sixty?”

Arceus huffed but remained silent, one eye twitching. Giratina’s call camera awkwardly pivoted in the Distortion World, trying to minimize its own exposure to the lightstorm that was Necrozma.

Then, that light shifted, like a spotlight drawn by smug intent, toward the horizon.

You. The Rayquaza. His chum, at least in his words. A beaming smile of excitement and mockery widening on Necrozma's face as he took an obscenely slow step forward, striding with his pecs flared out, his triceps tensed, and his smug aura intensifying.

"RAY-RAY! My favourite mint-flavored dildo! How long has it been since I first rammed you in my chest?!"

Necrozma surged forward like a gravitational slap from heaven, grabbing you by the torso and smashing you against his blazing, god-tier chest. An intense surge of flight flared out from his body, slightly simmering to a searing yet partially acceptable level as his pecs' mild temperature of 5,540 degrees Celsius dropped slightly.

Necrozma flexed his pecs deliberately around you, smirking down as his muscles literally glowed brighter from the contact.

“Miss me, Twinkzilla?”

He whispered with all the subtlety of a star collapse.

“Did the mortals keep you warm, or do I have to cradle your scaly ass again to remind you what real body heat feels like?”