#I need this site something fierce

[ramp-it-up]

Cassandra’s Muse

Summary: Your job is to distract and read all who dare to go against Cassandra. And you take pride in your work

Word count: 2.5 K

Pairing: Deadpool x Reader; Wolverine x Reader; Johnny Storm x Reader; Deadpool x Wolverine x Johnny Storm x Empath Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. S MUT Not Beta’d. DEADPOOL X WOLVERINE SPOILERS AHEAD of this line!Read at your own risk. S MUT! Morally Grey reader, sex worker reader, reader is an empath, lots of dark emotions, group sex, oral (m & f receiving) pansexual touch and intentions (it's Deadpool, folks) explicit sex acts, raw p in v (wrap it up), anal sex (f receiving) rough sex, dvp, squirting, copius amounts of cum, bukakke, after care. Reader has pet names from each hero: Sweets, Sweetie, Sweetheart.

A/N: Ok. I had to do it. If you inspired this, you know who you are, you menace. 😘 This occurs within an imagined scene between the scene where Pyro captures Johnny, Wade and Logan and when they were delivered to Cassandra Nova. This is pure filth. Let me know you like it by liking, commenting and reblogging!

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I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

————

“Let me put your hair up for you. So pretty.”

Wade Wilson cooed down at you to the music of his shackles clinking as he gently pulled your cloud of hair up and out of the way. 

“Need to have a clear view of you hoovering that anaconda.”

Your lips were stretched around Johnny Storm’s thick, tan cock as his blue eyes stared down at you and a steam of eloquent pornography flowed from his lips.

“Mm. That throat is so gatdamn tight Sweetheart. Can’t wait to fuck that tight little wet gash of yours. Holy shit, that’s good. I know you can take it deeper. I know you can. Such a sweet little innocent slut for us.”

He had no idea. You were in service to Cassandra. She called you her muse, a tool to service her future victims so that when she felt their minds up, she had something more to get off on. You were her little slut, her psychic empath who fed off of other’s joy and you loved your job.

Giving others joy got you off something fierce. The fact that Cassandra loved it and that kept you alive was an added bonus.

Johnny’s hand snaked around the back of your neck to encourage you to take more of him. You looked up at him, eyes wide with tears streaming down your cheeks, while saliva escaped from your stretched-out lips.

“So pretty for us like this, Sweetie.”

Wade’s mask almost seemed to be emotive as he looked down on you, his long fingers fisting his cock with increasing speed as he watched you take Johnny down. It was disconcerting that he was completely naked except for his mask, but that was none of your business. He was sincere, despite the sarcastic monologue.

“I’ve always wanted to say that in real life and not just in my 1D/Destial crossover fanfics on Tumblr. Username is MrsLarryDestiel (no spaces) if you want to follow.”

Wade was leaning over to Johnny, who had steam rising from his head as he gazed down at you with devotion. You felt his amusement at this entire scenario. You tried to smile back around him, even though you knew his affection was only due to your skill.

After all, you’d just met him less than an hour earlier. 

“Get your hand off my ass before I burn it off, Wade.”

“Was just trying to help you push it in her tiny little mouth. Wasn’t trying to cop a feel of what looks a lot like America’s Ass, not really,” quipped Wade who was stroking and looking down at Johnny’s derriere.

Before anyone got injured, you pulled off of the hot one’s dick and licked Wade’s thick plum shaped tip.

“Sssss. Ahhhh, yes!”

 Wade groaned and threw his head back.

 “Suck that dick like your life depends on it, Sweetie. It may be our very last night on earth. I mean, in the void.”

You sensed no fear in Wade, only irreverence.

You followed his direction and opened wide as he slid his long, thick, Deadpool dick along your outstretched tongue. Wade was still talking, of course, even as he made eyes at Logan, who was lurking on the edges of the light, pulling on his dick with two hands and making low, almost indiscernible grunts. 

Now there were about a thousand different emotions coming off him, irritation, rage, despair, grief, a deep sadness, and foremost right now, need and frustration. You tried to watch him through your tear-filled eyes.

Wade and Johnny took turns with your mouth as Logan just moved nearer, his large, impressive cock raging against those impossible abs. His stare, and his body, made you drip even more in the dirt floor of the cave they were captive in for the night.

You needed him inside you, to at least extinguish his need. But yours was growing too.

“Why don’t you relax over there while we get her ready, Mr. Grumpy Pants. Little Miss Triple Threat looks like she’s almost ready to take three cocks at once in all of her holes.”

The Wolverine grunted, but went to a spot just a few feet away and reclined against a cave wall as he continued to handle himself.

Wade looked down at you and stroked your hair again, stage whispering to you as you deep throated Johnny’s cock down your throat.

“I know he seems like a party pooper and not down for this at all, but the fact that his beautiful meat is hard and leaking precum, which is delicious, bee tee dubs, oh, AND HE'S NAKED, means he definitely is.”

You smiled around the dick in your mouth and nodded as you pulled off Johnny, a string of saliva connecting you three as Wade grabbed you by the hair and plunged down your throat, barely giving you time to take a breath.

As you choked, you could see Logan jacking off faster from the corner of your eye as you swallowed Wade whole. Even with the mask, you could tell when his eyes rolled back into his head as you took every single inch.

“Get over here and sit on my dick.”

You were surprised at Logan’s voice, not having heard much of it during his ride in the cage, except to tell Wade and Johnny to shut up. Currently, his tone was more intense and raspy with desire.

You did as you were told and the action moved from the fireside to where Logan was reclining. 

“Move the fuck around, asshole.”

Wade stomped his foot.

“That’s what I’m trying to give you, Wolvie, baby.”

But he moved from in front of you so that you could take your throne.

“C’mere.” 

Logan reached up for you, the tender gesture a contrast for the crude situation you are in: fucking these men because it was the last night of their lives, which it almost surely was. You knew when Pyro let you into the cave halfway to her lair where they stopped for the night that no one escaped Cassandra.

You almost felt sorry for them. But when you read their emotions, you sensed no fear in these heroes. Only a myriad of other things including pent up tension, stress and desire for you. And for freedom. Or at least the sensation of being free.

Fucking all three of them would free your own soul, if only for the short time you would spend with them. They were all fine, and they looked like they would be a good time. If they only knew that your purpose was distraction, to keep them busy and not trying to escape.

If you searched their emotions hard enough you might find that they knew what you were about, and that they didn't care.

You accepted the offer of Logan’s hands and settled on his muscular thighs, glancing at the other men stroking themselves by firelight to the sight of you stretching yourself around the thick head of Logan Howlett, the Wolverine’s, cock.

Their attention only made you wetter and you slid further down Logan’s thick staff than you thought you could. When Johnny and Wade each grabbed a nipple as you whined and got even slicker the sensations allowed you to encase that extra inch at the base of him.

You were so full, not having been stretched like this in a while with a human, visually pleasing partner in a long time. You moaned in pleasure and closed your eyes, biting your lip at the delicious sting of taking him.

Logan looked up into your eyes and then commanded you with that deep, sexy voice.

“Open your eyes, look at us, and bounce on this cock Sweets.”

The smack on your ass spurred you on as Johnny leaned against the wall, watching your tits bounce as he jacked himself, and Wade got behind you, straddling Logan's thighs and rubbing them. You thought you knew what was coming next as you felt Wade’s hot breath on your shoulder as his hard length slid through your slick folds. But you were surprised as he entered you, although not in the hole you expected.

Within a few seconds, Wade was nestled deep within your cunt, cock alongside Logan’s in your snug sleeve, making you mad with pleasure. An obscene groan from you accompanied Logan’s warning to Deadpool.

“Watch it fuck face.”

Loan’s voice was husky, and there was a glimmer of a smirk as he grasped your breasts, roughly pulling on your nipples. Fear of his claws coming out and injuring you caused the contractions of pleasure in your belly to quicken, even as Wade sassed him back.

“You can fuck my face later buddy. Right now, let’s both concentrate on fucking this beautiful, nice, accommodating lady’s beautiful, nice accommodating cunt..”

The two men fell into an oddly synchronistic, sinful rhythm, both of them filling you to the brim in the best way possible, sexy groans finally replacing the smart words coming from Wade and literal grunts and groans coming from Logan.

Johnny moved, filling your mouth and causing your moans to vibrate around his shaft as Logan and Wade fucked you stupid.

“Holy fuck!”

Johnny rasped as you started sucking his balls, your legs shaking as Logan and Wade pounded you into oblivion. You feel a tremendous pressure and you tried to run from what was coming, but Wade’s fingers were circling your clit and Logan’s hands are around your waist, his mouth latched onto your left nipple. That and the feeling of Johnny’s fingers massaging your scalp collided to make your impending doom come much more quickly.

You pulled off of Johnny's unit to scream.

“Oh shit, oh shit, ohhhhhh shitttttt, I- I- I- I’m cummingggg!”

“Holy shit, she's gushing like Old Faithful all around us!”

You soaked Logan as you squirted, seemingly never endingly, all over. everywhere. Wade slipped out of you and so did Logan, but instead of giving someone else a turn with your pussy, Logan growled in your hair and pitched you forward onto his chest with his hands underneath your thighs. 

“Want that ass.”

You clenched around nothing as Logan lifted you up and squeezed your ass cheek in order to give his hard, thick cock access to your puckered hole. You were so wet that he kept slipping around until you felt Wade reach in and grab Logan’s dick, pumping it a couple of times before guiding it home inside your tight ass.

You saw the sneer, and you heard the ‘schnick’ of Logan’s claws coming out and Wade’s giggle as he explained. 

“Just trying to help with the mission, Boss.”

You didn’t care about any of it as your head lolled back on your shoulders because Logan was filling you up deliciously.

Wade retreated and pulled his mask up to lick his fingers. He and Johnny resumed stroking as they watched Logan pounding you mercilessly from below, your cum making it embarrassingly easy. You locked eyes with him, and grabbed the tufts on top of his hair for purchase as you screamed and came again, just from his cock in your ass.

"Ahhhhh! Shittttt!"

“Mmmmnhhh! Incoming, Sweets”

Logan’s cum spurted inside you and began to leak out around his cock, making you even messier than before.

“Ugh. Fuck. So good.” 

He kissed your forehead as he softened inside you, then lifted your thigh to slide out from underneath you. You braced yourself on the wall as you tried to catch your breath and savored the feeling of him dripping down your legs and the peace, if only momentary, emanating from his soul. You didn’t realize that your eyes were closed until you felt  a new desperation accompanied by a hand on your arm and two hands on your ass. 

“Don’t usually go for sloppy seconds, but I’ll take it tonight.”

Johnny’s sparkling blue eyes and sincerity held you captive. His tender kiss on your lips distracted you as you felt Wade’s hands on your ass and you lowered yourself down around Johnny’s long cock.

Johnny slipped easily inside you because Wade and Logan had stretched you out, but he was so hot, literally, that you quickly clenched down on him. Your hands caressed his shoulders and trailed down his sternum and his happy trail to where you were connected. 

The way he looked at you from under his long eyelashes made you want to give him a show. You bit your lip and circled your clit, earning a groan and an appreciative stare from him as you started to ride. 

You sensed a sudden a wave of mischievousness from Wade and felt his tongue in our ass. He moaned, sending vibrations up your spine as he caused you to clench around his wet muscle and Johnny’s cock. He slurped you up, and pulled away momentarily to come up and whisper in your ear.

“Mmmm. You and Logan taste so good. You’re doing amazing, Sweetie.

He was down again and licking you clean, causing irritation to emanate from Johnny.

“I’m tryna cum, here, Wilson. Stop licking my balls, you jerkoff.”

Wade came up and wiped his mouth.

“So sorry, that was a total mistake. Didn’t mean to touch your huge, full, sexy balls with my velvet tongue. Not at all, Johnny.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to concentrate on this Sweetheart right. Here.”

Johnny kicked Wade away, stroked upward to make you moan, and then grabbed you by the neck as he flipped you over onto your back, grasping your thighs and folded you in half like a pretzel. 

“You ready to take this hot cock?”

You nodded enthusiastically as Johnny Storm began to fuck you relentlessly, his long cock reaching that magic spot inside you as you tightened around him, much to your chagrin.

It was going to be over too soon. You wanted him to use you longer.

“Mmmmph, Darlin’ I feel you, still so tight around me even after these two knuckle heads fucked your cunt silly. Should be loose, but damn, girl. C’mon. Cum for me like you did for Wolverine and Wade. Gimme that shit.”

Johnny reached down and strummed your clit, as Wade came and held your legs in place, his oddly beautiful cock hard against his abdomen. You stretched your neck and teabagged him, earning a choked, garbled moan, and no words from him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Logan standing over you and stroking his hard-for-you-again dick.

“Shit, shit, sheeeeiiittttttttt this pussy is so good. Fuck!”

Johnny pulled out and stood over your body as you scrambled up on your knees to open your mouth for your reward. The men gathered around you as first Johnny spurted white, hot cum all over your face, then Logan jerked on your tits, rubbing his bulbous tip all over your nipples, and Wade just sprayed everywhere as he watched the show.

You collapsed on your knees, wiping your face as strong arms lifted you up and took you to the other side of the cave and started washing you off with a bucket of water that had been warming by the fire. You looked up into Logan’s eyes and he avoided your gaze, concentrating on getting the cum out of your hair.

“You can rest now. We’ll cook up this bird that Pyro threw in here for food and you can sleep for a while.”

You sensed genuine tenderness, and another spark of a future need within him. You knew that they would wake you up for more than food later.

And you were more than okay with that. 

So you just smiled at him as his hand trailed the water down your body, this moment a respite for all of you, in the chaos of Cassandra’s world.

——

If you liked it, hit Reblog!

[kifu]

Yo. What if I went back to my forum Artist's Block, yeah?

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Shirt On.

Pairing/Au: Sub!Joel X soft dom f!reader, no outbreak

Words count: 4645

Rating: + 18, MDNI, NSFW. I’m not joking with this one, if you’re a minor please stay away from it.

Summary: Joel getting pegged by you while you wear his flannel shirt. That’s it, that’s the fic. LOL

I know it's not everyone's cup of tea but if you decided to stay, the rest is under the cut.

Warnings: pov second person, no use of y/n, smut with feelings, established relationship, established dom/sub dynamic, sub!Joel, soft dom f!reader, reader wears jeans and a top (and of course Joel’s flannel), has breasts and vagina but apart from that no other specific description of her is given, pegging, use of a double strap-on, mention of plugs, lube, edging (m receiving) , orgasm control, oral (f receiving with the strap-on), mention of anal play, squirting, a little bit of nipples play (m receiving), ass slapping, swearing, dirty language, mention of threesome, mention of nipple clamps, mention of Joel conservative environment as a child (? I don’t know, i imagined that), a whole lot of fantasies made explicit, pet names (mostly good boy, honey, baby), use of “mommy” once, Joel is so soft and needy in this one, reader is cheeky, brief Tommy appearance, mention of alcohol consumption, I think that’s all but if I realize I forgot something I'll add it right away.

I love sub!Joel so much and and I've been thinking about writing it for a long time so here we go!

It’s my first sub!Joel fic and pegging fic, I’m so nervous about it, I really hope it’s good and you will enjoy it.

One inspiration for this fic was this work by @milla-frenchy : Her, if you haven't read it yet and you love sub!Joel RUN to do it because it's amazing and she’s so talented.

The other one was the sex toy described lol

As usual, English is not my first language, no beta and no proofreading so it’s all my fault, I apologize for any mistake.

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated, I would love to have some feedback on this (please, be kind) !

Thank you so much for reading❤️

Joel is unloading materials at a construction site when he feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket.

He puts the brick pack down and rubs his hands on his jeans, takes out his phone and unlocks it. There is an unread message from you. 

“Baby, I’ll wait for you at home at 6. Don’t be late” 

He quickly types a reply and sends it to you. “Yes, ma’am.” 

He smiles. 

He had never done anything like this before, but with you everything was different right away. 

——————-

When he first met you, at Tommy’s birthday party, he thought you were a wonderful creature. 

You were talking to someone he doesn’t even remember unlike your bright smile, your contagious laugh, your breathtaking body and your impossible-to-miss charm. 

The pair of jeans you were wearing hugged your hips and waist perfectly and your tight top highlighted the curve of your tits so deliciously that his mouth started watering instantly at the sight. 

You turned to him probably sensing his eyes on you and your eyes weren’t even close to be intimidated or embarrassed. 

You held his gaze fiercely and he knew in that moment that you were going to be troubles in the best possible way. 

He had always been quite successful with women but he suddenly felt like someone destined to remain on the bench who has to compete with the team's star player.

The challenge excited him anyway, he decided he had to find out something about you.

He entered the house and found Tommy busy opening a bottle of wine. He asked him who you were and he replied with a smirk, "Maria's coworker. Why do you ask? Do you fancy her?” 

“I don’t even know her!” he retorted. 

“Yeah but you think she's hot” he stated raising one of his thick eyebrows and looking at him with a sardonic grin.

Joel snorted “I knew I shouldn't have told you anything”

Tommy bursted into laughter and said nothing else.

And he didn't do anything, there was no need. 

Joel couldn't imagine it but you know exactly what you want and you know how to take it.

He was at the buffet table taking a beer when you approached tantalizing him “You think you’re going to ask me for my phone number or not?” 

“Why?” He tried to play it cool and nonchalantly.

“Well you've been staring at my ass all night, so… either you want to know where I bought these jeans or you like my ass, cowboy, what do you say?” you waited, delighted by the state of confusion you had caused in him.

He hadn’t expected it in the slightest, no one had ever been so cheeky with him.

And then you added “The thing is… I like yours too, so we could do something about it”.

Of course you sneaked off the party and you immediately jumped at each other in Joel’s truck after finding a fairly isolated spot along the road, sloppy kissing and hands everywhere like you were both starving. You haven't even made it to his house.

Of course you ended up sharing contacts because you just had had the most incredible sex and wanted more. 

Many dates and many months later you moved in together.

The harmony between you two was strong from day one and never changed.

You know how much he needs to have his coffee in the morning, he knows how you love your eggs, you know he always fail to put his dirty laundry into the basket in the laundry room, he knows he’s the one that has to take care of the garden because you have absolutely zero skills and you kill the cacti too. 

The domesticity between the two of you always feels like the most precious gift.

You talked many times about what you like in bed and you have confessed to Joel that you love to be the dominant part in the relationship. 

Joel had no difficulty accepting and embracing it, he is happy that you are the one taking the reins. 

He is always in charge at work, his construction company is doing really good and has several employees, he is used to being the boss and making decisions all day long. His mind is sometimes so tired of that that coming home to you and let you decide for him allows him to shake off all the stress that is weighing him down.

“This is actually good for my own peace of mind” he told you “I feel free” 

You have set rules and boundaries and you talked throughly about what you want and don’t want from this dynamic. 

You both respect and understand each other. You love each other like there’s no tomorrow, Joel told you he has never been this happy before.

And experimenting with him is the most exciting things in the world. He’s prone to it, even more than you thought at the beginning. 

So when you brought up to him that you would love to try some anal play he accepted straight away. 

He told you that he had done it before, he had never been on the receiving end but he was more than happy to do it with you.

You’ve proceeded by step, experimenting with your fingers, while he fucked you senselessly like you wanted to, then it was Joel himself who suggested trying a plug. 

“You sure about that, babe?” you asked “I'm happy that you want to indulge with me in this but I wouldn't want you to do it just for me”

“No,” he assured you, with the sweetest smile “I’m not doing this just for you, even though you know how much I like it when you’re satisfied. I love what you do to me with your fingers and I think I’d like to… um… try something more.”

“okay then, let’s dig into it” you replied with a little smirk. 

He grabbed your laptop and you searched online together, sitting on your couch with your head resting on his shoulder as you explored site after site giggling together in total complicity.

You can’t forget the thrilled look on his face as you decided to order a trio of plugs in different sizes.

And you can’t forget the moans he made the first time you tried it. 

The trust you’ve built has made it truly special. Joel knows he can abandon himself to you, you’ll never do anything he doesn’t want and you’ll always take care of him as much as he does with you.

Joel’s protective side makes him sensitive and attentive to your needs. For everyone else he’s just a somewhat grumpy, reserved man and a tireless worker, but for you Joel is the most thoughtful man you’ve ever known.

He is amazed by the patience and delicacy you put into getting him where you want him to be, and you’re completely fulfilled by how much of a good sub he can be. 

Sometimes he gets denied for days and it’s all about you coming repeatedly on his tongue or he’s only allowed to watch as you masturbate, other times you ask to be fucked several times a day or you demand to see your tall, broad, strong and gorgeous man bent over on your bed while you play with his ass.

Every session was pure bliss, he was a little bit flustered to try the biggest plug but he ended up getting an orgasm that was out of this world. 

And now he's ready to try the strap on, which makes you incredibly wet just thinking about it.

As with the plugs, you chose together which one to buy and once you decided you were both so excited that you allowed him to fuck you and come inside you after a whole week of chastity, edging and ruined orgasms.

___________

Joel leaves work at 5:30, gets in his car and curses all the way home against the traffic that threatens to make him late. 

He parks in the driveway and opens the door “I’m here, my love” he quickly says as he puts his keys on the cabinet in the hall. 

“I'm in the kitchen, babe, come here”

Joel rushes to your command and the sight of you leaves him speechless. 

You're standing in the middle of the kitchen wearing only his flannel shirt left open and the strap-on you both chose. The leather straps wrap around your hips and a large dildo stands out between your legs.

“It came in the mail today,” you smile at him, extremely pleased by the rapt expression painted all over his face.

“Oh fuck, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen” he breathe, his eyes feasting on your body. 

He loves it when you wear his clothes, he loves seeing you walk around the house in his shirts and wearing his boxers and he loves it even more when you let him watch you masturbate in just those.

He tries to get closer to you and you raise one of your arm stopping him “no, wait, not yet. Look at me a little longer” and saying that you take the big cock in your hand and begin to stroke it slowly “talk to me darling, tell me more about how it seems to you”

“It's big,” he gulps “and it looks great on you.”

You have chosen a type that stimulates both of you, so you have a dildo inside you. With each stroke you feel it penetrate a little deeper, widening your walls.

“What else?” you coo “What would you like to do now? Would you like to suck it?”

“Yes, my love, I would like that, please.” 

He’s fixed on your hand moving on the fake cock. 

“Eyes on me, baby, what else?” you gently scold him

His look shifts immediately on yours as he answers you huskily “I wish you would fuck me with that. Please”

You move closer to him, without stopping touching the dildo, you raise your hand to gently stroke his raven curls lightly streaked with silver “Oh, I’m going to fuck you so hard, baby, I’m going to split you open and you’re going to be the best boy, right?” 

He closes his eyes, abandoning himself to your caresses and he whispers “yes” 

You tug his hair “louder, babe” 

“Yes, my love” 

“Perfect. Kneel down for me, now” 

He immediately goes down, in front of you, on the kitchen floor.

“Take this cock, babe, make it all nice and wet” you purr

You put your hand back in his hair and bring him closer to it.

You can see a sparkle in his gaze as he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue to lick the tip.

You feel a shiver of pleasure run through your body seeing him like this, malleable like clay in your hands, on his knees, hungry, totally involved in what you were doing, so endearing and beautiful. 

“More, baby, show me how good you are” 

He opens his mouth wide and bends over the cock starting to make it disappear into his mouth, his lower lip trembling slightly. 

He raise a hand to grip the base but you slap it and say firmly “take it fully in your mouth first” 

He frowns and he gag a little when the tip bumps on the back of his throat but immediately gather his control back. 

“good boy, now suck. You can use your hand on mommy’s cock” 

He looks up at you in gratitude as he circles the base with his fingers and begins to suck greedily.

The entire length is now coated in his saliva as he moves up and down on it continuing to suck and every time he goes down, the dildo inside you hits a deeper spot making you moan just as much as he does. His big hand is all wrapped around the silicone cock, the other sunk into your hip above the leather straps and his grunts are like the cherry on top. 

You continue to praise him and he’s enraptured by your gaze and you can clearly spot his cock hardening in his pants, it strains against the hem of his work jeans. 

“You like that huh? So good for me” 

He swirls his tongue around the tip and goes down flat on the underline and swirls around again taking the mushroom between his luscious lips and sucking on it.

He’s still fully dressed and yet you could swear you could come just by seeing him all engrossed in sucking your big fat dildo.

His nose hits the end of the cock bumping into your clit as he tries to put it all back in his mouth, gagging around it, trails of saliva slide down his chin, your thumb smear it all over his jawline “Just like that, baby, keep going for me”

Your fingers are tangle in his curls and you push him down the length arching your back, making him gasp for hair, his eyes start watering a little but he keeps sucking. Pressure is building on your clit at every brush of the base on it and the other end sink deep into you all slick and soaking wet with your juices. He’s basically masturbating you sucking the dildo.

You’re about to give in and you convulsively yelp “don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, Joel”

He sucks at an even faster pace, stroking the base and lingering on the tip every time he comes up.

You toss your back and shut your eyes closed, overwhelmed by your first orgasm washing over you, panting hard and feeling you knees buckle.

Joel continue to suck quietly until you regain the ability to speak.

“You’ve been very good, darling” you coo “get up for me now”

He let the dildo slide out of his mouth with a lewd pop and stands up and you order: “turn your back and put your hands on the table for me.” 

He does so and you lean back and wrap your arms around his waist. You close your eyes and enjoy his warmth as you try to calm down.

“Well, we have discovered a new talent in you” 

“I- yes” he mutters

“Don’t be shy baby, there’s nothing wrong with sucking a dick” and you leave a trail of kisses on his back 

“You’re right” His voice is uncertain, as if he had just realized how much he liked it.

You move to look him in the eyes “it’s all good, honey? do you want us to stop here?”

He shakes his head.

“Words, baby”

“No. No, my love” 

“Good. You know you can always use the safe word, right?”

“Yes. Yes, I know… I was just thinking…” 

“What, honey? Talk to me” you stroke his arm trying to reassure him, peering into his big brown puppy eyes.

Joel grew up in a conservative environment and you know that he distanced himself from it as soon as he could and he is certainly sure he can tell you what he would like, you decide but you always allow him to express himself. 

Every now and then a kind of reticence resurfaces in him, and it melts your heart the way he tries to fight against the beliefs that were put in his head as a child.

“Do you think we could try a threesome sometime?” 

You giggle lightly caressing his cheek “Sure, we could do that. Why were you so afraid to ask me?” 

“I didn't want you to think that you're not longer enough for me. I mean you’re perfect, absolutely perfect and I love you and-” 

“Babe” you interrupt him “it’s okay. It’s your fantasy and I find it hot too. Would you like to do it with another guy?” 

“Yes…uhm..I would”

“Mmmm God, that would be so hot, you trying a big meaty cock…deep in your throat”

He blushes instantly at your words and the corners of his mouth curl into a smile “I- yeah, I think I would love to try”

“I would masturbate while you do it and then I would let you fuck my cunt while the other guy’s cock would go deep in my mouth. How does it sounds?” You lewdly whisper to him.

“Oh fuck- yes” he reply, eyes wide and pupils dilated.

“You’re such a dirty boy, I love that. How do you get so good at sucking anyway?” you ask him mischievously

“Well, I learned something by watching you, you’re the best at it.” he states with a proud tone. 

“Mmm you’re such a flatterer. Now shut up and let me play” you tenderly scold him kissing his lips “unbutton your pants” 

His hands fiddle with the button and the zipper and as soon as he’s done you order “put your hands back on the table”

You leisurely slide one hand into his pants and make room in his boxer to reach his already hard cock.

You flick the tip with your fingertips gathering his precum and you slide over his length wetting it, you can feel his breathing thickening and a sigh of relief leaves his mouth.

You pump him until he reach the edge, throbbing in your fingers, then you stop, a muffled sound of impatience run through his lips. 

You smile, your gaze chained to his “keep calm, love”

You take a small remote control out of the flannel shirt pocket and show it to him. “Look what I have”

He mumble “oh my fucking God”, his voice cracks a little and your lips curl, even more pleased “I forgot about it” he admits. 

“Yeah, it’s going to be fun” you giggle “let’s go to our bedroom now”

He immediately follows you and once in the room you lean on the piece of furniture in front of the bed and you demand “take off your clothes” 

He does it slowly as he knows you like it, first boots and socks that he throws in a corner, then his jeans that he leaves lying on the floor and finally the shirt, that also ends up on the floor at the foot of the bed. With every part of his body revealed to your eyes you lick your lips thinking that you will never get used to seeing such beauty. His broad shoulders, his wide chest, tiny freckles scattered on his skin, his narrow waist, his slightly soft tummy, the thin line of hair that ends up hidden by his boxers, his meaty thighs… you can never get enough of him.

He remains in a pair of boxers, standing in front of you. “Good boy, take them off and lie down on the bed,”

There is sweetness in his gaze, trust and a desire to abandon himself, at this point you can read him like an open book.

You're taking off the flannel you’re wearing when he looks at you pleadingly “Can you please keep it on, honey?”

“You like seeing me like that?” You smirk

“I do. You’re so damn sexy” 

“Okay, baby, I can do that” you grant and he smiles gratefully.

Once he's lying down you take the lube from the nightstand and then you climb on the bed right next to him, your fake cock still shiny with his saliva.

His naked body is still and waiting for you, and you take his cock back in your hand “you did so well for me” 

“I’m glad, my love, thank you” he whispers

You pinch his nipples with your other hand, pulling and twisting them between your fingertip, teasing them while you keep stroking his lenght slowly. 

“God, I love your nipples, baby, they drive me wild, so pink and turgid and delicious.” 

 You run your tongue over his chest sucking them into your mouth. 

“I think we should try nipple clamps sometime, would you like that?” you say before taking back one of his buds between your lips. 

“Oh - God, yes. Yes, please, my love” 

His moans go straight to your cock-covered clit, you feel it hardening against the soft and smooth silicone.

You know perfectly well that he is much stronger than you and could easily tip you over onto the bed and trap you with his weight, but he won't.

This awareness makes you feel powerful and the mere thought of how far you can go with him and still be safe makes you dripping wet.

You take him back to the edge again and then you stop, his cock is throbbing and the tip is angry red and leaking profusely. 

His hips slightly twitch a couple of times and you can tell how desperate he is for a release but he knows that he can’t come until you say so. 

You start pumping him again after a couple of minutes and you can hear the stifled moans crowded in his throat as you take him on the edge again. 

He’s such a mess of sweat and cries and glassy eyes but he’s managing to remain still like you ordered to.

“I can’t believe I have such a good boy all for me” you purr “You want my big cock in you? You want that?” 

“Yes, please, my love. Please” he whines. 

“Turn around for me like the good boy you are” 

He turns around and you take the lube squeezing a good amount into your hand, spreading it all over his hole, caressing it gently and penetrating it with two of your fingers.

He cries “please” 

“Don't be impatient” you say firmly slapping his ass cheek, leaving a red mark. 

“I’m sorry” his voice is hoarse and deep and you can hear his struggle in every single word which is such a turn on, he wants you so bad. 

He’s so excited and needy that he basically cries and the sound of his voice reverberate into your ears like a music.

“So sweet, my big boy crying for cock” 

“I want- please. I want it so much, pl- please” he’s bucking his hips against the duvet and you slap his ass again.

“Behave, baby” you order “stay still for me” 

You linger a little longer in his hole, moving your fingers slowly. 

“You have the sexiest ass I’ve ever seen, you know that? Is it ready for me?”

“Yes. It’s all yours, love, please take it” he begs. 

When you finally place your body behind him spreading his ass cheeks with your hands and poking at his entrance with the tip, he leaves out the loudest groan you’ve ever heard from him. 

The inside dildo is still hitting you the right way and in this position you can feel it even deeper than before. 

“You okay?” 

“Yes - oh - yes, love it”

“Good” you whisper caressing his hips “we’re almost there, baby. You look so gorgeous like that, Joel. So fucking gorgeous”

You keep pushing the cock inside him, until you’re balls deep inside and you start moving, thrusting into him while the other end thrust into you.

“You’re doing so good, Joel, so good for me”

He whimpers while you brush against his prostate, lifting his butt to feel you even more, you could swear you’ve never seen anything more intoxicating.

You take the small remote that you placed on the bed and turn on the vibration at the lower setting, just enough to add that little buzz into the already overwhelming sensations you’re both experimenting.

Joel lets out a “fuck” so deep and hoarse, you feel him clenching around the cock and the vibration hits your clit and your inside too and you almost lose it.

You take a deep breath and focus on him.

“Just like that, you love taking this cock, don’t you?” 

“Yes OH GOD YES - I think - I think I’m almost c-” 

“Sssh not yet, baby, don’t be to greedy, hold it until I say it” 

You pump harder and his body tenses, you can see every muscle in his back flex while he tightens his hands on the sheets underneath trying with all his might to hold back, his face leaning in profile sinking into the mattress, little drops of sweat beading on his skin, his plumped lips open in search of air letting out moan after moan.

He’s almost incoherent by now, just babbling please and fuck and begging you to let him come and you can feel yourself getting right on the edge.

You get out of him to change positions as you fear of losing control because of the vibrating dildo inside you slapping at your walls “Turn over on your back for me,” 

He turns around immediately, you make him lift his legs and rest them on your shoulders and then you go back inside him with a single thrust “OH FUCK” he wails “fuckfuckfuck” 

“Yeah, baby, do you like watching me fuck you with your shirt on? You like that, huh?” his look is ecstatic as he reply “Yes - GOD- fuck - you’re so beautiful” 

You start to pound again against his prostate, deeper into him with each movement, your tits bouncing and obscene slapping filling the air mixed with the buzzing of the dildo, until you can’t fight your orgasm anymore.

It’s too much, all too much, the vibrations, the dildo crushing on your cervix, and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen all worked up and sweaty between your legs, just losing his mind for you.

“Come baby” you order in a breath “come for me” and he throw his head back on the mattress rolling his eyes and lets himself be invaded by a devastating orgasm right after your command, long spurts of his cum painted all over your tummy and his shirt.

You can feel his whole body shaking and you hold on to his ankle as you hastily pull out with the other one and squirt all over the dildo, drenching the duvet underneath you.

You’re completely shattered and exhausted but totally appeased, no thought left in your brain but a complete state of serenity that mostly comes from the fact that you can be completely you with Joel, no disguise, no mask, no filter is needed when it comes to him.

You turn off the the dildo and let it out him, you throw it on the empty side of the bed and lie down in his arms, it’s all you want and it’s all you need now.

He welcomes you and holds you tightly as you both try to get your breathing back to normal, you abandon your head on his chest and you feel his heart beating fast behind his ribcage. 

After a few minutes of silence he is the first to speak “that was…fuck…I don’t have words. Thank you, love”

You tilt your head to look at him and he’s smiling with his entire face, his eyes sparkling and his cheek flushed and his adorable dimple showing off. 

“I love you, Joel” you murmur and your mouth reach the bald patch in his beard to place a kiss there. 

“I love you too, honey, so much you have no idea” and he gently takes your lips. 

“I’m sorry, your shirt got wet” the final part is practically stuck to your skin, soaked in sweat, cum and squirt.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind at all. We’re both sticky and sweaty but we can think about that later”

You laugh and kiss him again, nibbling on his lower lip.

When you break the kiss there is a question you feel curious to ask him “Joel?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

“I have a question” 

“Shoot”

“Why do you like it so much when I wear your clothes?”

He gives you a sweet and slightly shy look as he replies “For starters, they look sexier on you and then…it makes me feel like you’re mine in some sort of primal sense, you smell like me and I love that you have something of me on you”

You giggle.

“Did I explain myself?”

“Yes, yes you perfectly did, honey” you reply hiding your head in the crook of his neck and inhaling his woody citrusy scent. 

He smells like home, the only one you truly feels to belong to.

[cyanocoraxx]

i know millipedes have become the more "socially acceptable" myriapod but the pitting of millipedes against centipedes i see all the time is SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. ueughhgh. i adore millipedes, i think they're neat little guys, but millipedes are hardly comparable to centipedes and it's unfair to lump them together as the "good animal" vs the "evil animal." i see countless comments online saying how ugly, disgusting, creepy, and evil centipedes are.

so, centipede propaganda:

anecdotal evidence suggests they have good memory capacity, able to remember escape routes and the location of prey. cool

they can learn to tolerate handling by humans and some appear to enjoy being petted by humans. obviously we can't ask them if they like it but if a lightning-fast worm made of knives doesn't like something it's going to tell you. a centipede just won't allow itself to be in a situation it doesn't want to be in. but obvs disclaimer: don't handle a centipede without experience and handle at your own risk. research bite reports. etc. be sensible, bites can be serious

each pede has its own temperament. some are comparatively chill and lazy, earning them the nicknames "lazipedes" while others are reactive and defensive.

they feel safest under rocks and leaves (in their banky…) if mine are stressed sometimes i just plop a leaf over their head and they settle down instantly

not all of them JUST eat other animals. some dabble in fruits too! the fruit enjoyers .

they spend a lot of time grooming their antennae. you think that sleek aesthetic maintains itself? their relaxed side esp when grooming is fascinating to see. the creature you likely only see darting away from you at 1000mph is also capable of Chilling the fuck out.

they have terrible eyesight. imagine a centipede with tiny little glasses. don't you feel better now? anyway the fact that they don't see well is part of why they sometimes react so viscerally to things. you probably would too if you were small and preyed on by big things.

centipede mothers fiercely protect, groom, and nurture their babies. they do so for longer than they "need" to in some cases. in a study a variety of pede species were found sharing nest sites in forest canopies, demonstrating a lack of negative spatial associations. this was unusual because we typically expect these guys to not be keen on sharing.

not all bites are due to "aggression" but more from using their fangs in an exploratory nature. think of them as kids but instead of hands they have fangs. it's slippery on you so i'll grab on gently with my venomous fangs. i don't know what you are yet so i'm gonna reach out and test the Texture. you smell salty, i'm gonna lick you. etc.

they are ouppies.

even if you think they're ugly they come in so many colours so there's gonna be one that suits ur taste. there's baja blast blue. ridiculously bright red. piss yellow. candy corn black & orange. if you can think of a colour combo there's probably one out there.

anyway. our empathy for animals shouldn't only extend to those we find socially acceptable or easy enough to anthropomorphize

[pinknipszz]

(a/n: more pre-king of curses!sukuna x f!reader idk I think abt them a lot)

sukuna doesn’t spend much time with your baby. you think that all of this traveling would bring your little family closer together, but your husband is just too stubborn. he simply shrugs whenever you confront him about it, saying that he should stick to the heavy work while you tend to the infant’s needs. it’s odd considering that sukuna has never been a stickler for tradition, but ever since you gave birth to your little bundle of joy, he has put little to no effort into forming a bond with his own child. 

it irks you a little. and one day, nearly a week into the journey, you just about had enough of his pissy attitude. “sukuna,” you cross your arms, glaring down at your lounging husband. “don’t just lay on the grass. get up and stay close to the baby while i’m gone.” sukuna’s left eye cracks open to look up and give you a once-over, before closing again. “what the hell am i supposed to do? sit next to him the entire time?” he says sarcastically with a dismissive wave. you swear to god you nearly rip your hair out. “as the father, yes.”

you count the seconds before finally, after what felt like a lifetime, sukuna pushes himself off the ground with a heavy sigh and pats down his ruffled trousers. you open your mouth with something sarcastic, but it’s stolen from you when sukuna lunges forward and sweeps you off the ground. ignoring your unladylike shriek, he peppers fierce kisses all over your nose, brows, and lids, encouraged by your stubborn whining. when you try to wriggle out of his grip, he catches your lips with a silent promise: you win, i’ll take over from here. 

sukuna watches you leave the site to catch dinner. when you’re nothing more than a small speck in the distance, he scratches the back of his neck and looks down at the baby beside him, suddenly unsure of what to do. “you better be on your best behavior around me boy,” he orders, grimacing when he gurgles in response.

(masterlist)

[neoyi]

Today I found out the official Japanese Nintendo site has digital magazines that comes with English translations. I had no idea! How long has this been going? Were they always translated to English as well?

Look at Luigi! Look at my cute husband being cute. Look at his adorable blooper shirt! Oh, Luigi, we can't all be perfect as you.

Ohhhh, I love these character relation charts.

Man, this is making me miss Nintendo Power something fierce. I have gotten rid of a lot of old magazines I no longer needed ages back, but kept all my NP issues. I will never, EVER give them up.

[amansabastris]

avatar headcannons:

how many kids does he want?

neteyam x reader, lo'ak x reader, ao'nung x reader (gn!)

neteyam:

the most out of any other on this list, coming in with wanting five.

in the words of quaritch- "a whole litter."

just like his sa'nu and sempu, neteyam wants a big family, full of little ones.

lo'ak:

loves every single second of fatherhood.

whittles toys for his little ones, especially ones he remembers he or his siblings playing with growing up.

little wooden ikran, toruk, 'angtsìk- and ilu and tulkun, too.

can hold at least four of his kids at a time. one on each hip, baby in the sling on his front, and a toddler in the wrap on his back. worried he'll drop one if he tries all five.

five kids can be overwhelming, of course, but he'll never raise his voice at them- if he really needs to yell, he leaves the kelku for a minute to let out his frustration.

insists on braiding their hair himself. he loves to do it.

makes him feel more connected to his little one, twisting and braiding their hair as gently and carefully as he can.

most parents hate their kids crawling into bed with them. with all the limbs kicking and pressing into you all night, who can blame them?

but neteyam can barely sleep without an uncomfortable leg pressing into his back, anymore. it's how he knows all his little ones are here, all safe.

contrary to the some of the other headcannons i've seen on this site, i believe lo'ak would only like two children.

ao'nung:

he just wants a small, loving little family.

he decided on two for a reason, too.

lo'ak would have been perfectly fine with just one, but then he thought about it more.

lo'ak grew up with four others- his siblings, his best friends.

he wanted that for his little, too.

becomes so calm, so easy-going and soft around his children.

lo'ak can obviously be reckless- but when he's with his babies, he's calm. his focus is only on them.

his favorite part of fatherhood is play time. any game his kids want to play, he wants to play with them.

they want to pretend they're riding an ikran? climb on! they want to play in the water? look out, daddy's splashing!

always makes sure both of them are included in the game, too.

no one will be outcast in this family.

he honestly doesn't think about things like that. he would take a moment to think about it, deciding on three at the most.

it seems like a good number to him.

it's the number of kids his parents had, too, so that might be why he's so comfortable with it.

he definitely thinks four would be too many, but three? it just sounds perfect.

he's one of those dads that pretends to be all tough around others, but behind closed doors- he's absolutely melted.

bonus!

this man spoils them. and i mean that.

ao'nung is a fierce leader- strong and proud.

but if his little one were to tug on his clothes and ask for something? it's over. he's crumbled, gone, off to spoil his baby and give them anything they want.

i'm talking dessert before dinner, letting them stay up late playing, anything their little hearts desire.

also... he'd have all girls. he never specifically wanted a boy or girl, and obviously its not something you choose, but something about his genes, man. i'm telling you: three little daddy's girls.

spider:

one.

spider doesn't think he'd be a good father.

but there's still this want pushed to the back of his head- to one day have a baby of his own.

spider thinks he'd be a horrible father.

in reality, if spider ever ended up with a little one...

they'd be the most loved baby on that moon.

probably wouldn't put them down their whole infancy, preferring to have them curled up against his chest at all times.

he wouldn't spoil them- he's raise his little one to be independent, strong, their own person.

but he would also show them that they were loved unconditionally.

that no matter what- their father would always love them. always.

©️ copyright yourlavenderlover, 2023

all rights reserved

do not copy/paste, claim as your own, post on different sites, or translate without prior consent from me

[ink-flavored]

Urban Fantasy Culture World-Building

There are a lot of different creatures in my anthologies, each with a unique culture. I thought I would take the time to outline them all here, both as a reference for myself, but also as a fun guide to how I might be able to make my characters defy their culture in the anthology stories I write. You can also find this and more on my Neocities site! Unnamed Urban Fantasy Anthology Taglist (Check out my Google Form to get added): @foxys-fantasy-tales @auroblaze @thelaughingstag @auntdarth @damageinkorporated

Human

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

We’re those! Nice! 👍

Culturally, most humans value variety in life and social groups, making the most of their adaptive qualities. They’re some of the most likely to mingle in other creatures’ cultures, whether it’s to learn, or just to try the food.

Elf

Always born with the ability to use magic

Pointy-eared, long-lived humanoids with strong connections to magic

Culturally, most elves encourage an interest in study, invention, and creation to make the most of their long lives. Education is highly prized and encouraged, in anything from science to art to history. Their birth rates are some of the lowest among all creatures, so the rare biological family unit tends to be close-knit and cultural expectations are high for the few children that are born.

Dwarf

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Short, bearded, subterranean humanoids

Culturally, most dwarves enjoy showing off their prowess in working metals, stone, and gems, or otherwise focus on perfecting a specific craft. Making a trade into a career is highly prioritized, and competition in various dwarf markets is fierce. Still, some prefer to keep their crafts as private hobbies, not feeling a need to prove themselves in business—their skill is self-evident, after all.

Orc

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Large, tusked humanoids

Culturally, most orcs foster strong social bonds, value strength of character, and individual deeds. They put a large emphasis on community and family, and many orc social groups have regular family reunions with “talent shows” that allow each orc to show off something they’ve mastered since the last reunion.

Dragonfolk

Always born with the ability to use magic

Large humanoids with draconic features and fire breath

Culturally, most dragonfolk enjoy building collections of personally valuable objects and boast of their exploits as a form of social bonding. Those collections can range from the traditional gold and jewelry to a hoard of tourist trap knick-knacks, and the larger collection the better. Similarly, social boasting can range from personal achievement to the achievements of those close to you. Some dragonfolk like to boast that they hoard things to boast about. This usually gets an eyeroll.

Gnome

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Short, subterranean humanoids with a close relationship to nature

Culturally, most gnomes carefully craft gardens of fungi or flowers, and tend to live their lives slow and unbothered. They’re another creature commonly found scattered among the cultures of others, glad to share and eager to befriend any who cross their path.

Halfling

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Short, ground-dwelling humanoids

Culturally, most halflings value food and entertainment in extravagant fashion. Social propriety is also highly valued in many halfling spaces, and declining invitations to social events is gossip-worthy news. Each of those social events aims to be bigger and more bombastic than the last, taking any excuse to celebrate something.

Satyr

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Humanoid creatures with goat legs, ears, horns, and other features

Culturally, most satyrs value a “fast life” full of partying and constant recreation. From the outside, it seems as though many satyrs simply don’t care about taking life seriously, but those who party argue an emphasis on amusement is taking it seriously. Life is tough, so satyrs make joy whenever and however they can. Even comparatively more buttoned-up satyrs have at least one area they can completely let loose in.

Centaur

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Horse from the waist down and human from the waist up

Culturally, most centaurs emphasize close herd ties, community leadership, and helping your own. Commonly, centaur herds move nomadically around a few central locations, where trust and mutual aid is vital. Leadership roles are taken extremely seriously, and knowing when to step down into a follower’s role is applauded, not shamed.

Shapeshifter

Always born with the ability to use magic

Can be literally any of these things and more

Shapeshifters tend to assimilate with whichever culture they grow up nearest to, but in shapeshifter-only communities, they tend to value spontaneity and philosophy—they exist in both a solid and fluid state of self. Many shapeshifters find themselves unable to relate to the solidity of other creatures, or have been shamed for their abilities and refusal to just “pick something.” Cultures that value transience, like naiads, gnomes, and satyrs, tend to be more welcoming to shapeshifters than others.

Naga

Always born with the ability to use magic

Giant snake-people with arms and other humanoid features

Culturally, most naga are solitary with carefully curated routines. Their families can be very large, but naga children are encouraged to seek independence at a very early age, depending on their upbringing. Because many nagas enter brumation in the winter, the dedication to routine includes making space for rest and recuperation. Many consider it a necessary isolation, to recoup the energy to go on.

Minotaur

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Bull from the chest up, human from the chest down, and a bull’s tail

Culturally, most minotaur value privacy and not speaking unless they have something “valuable” to add to a conversation. This “value” is dependent on the individual, and can extend to career paths and decisions in life as well. Some minotaurs will (very subtly) bicker over which values in life are most important, both to strengthen their own arguments and to challenge others’.

Vampire

Nobody is born a vampire, they’re created from bites or curses

An undead creature that subsists off the blood of living creatures

Magic ability is based on which creature they were born as

Most vampires continue to practice the cultural values they had in their lives, but vampire-only communities tend to organize around supporting each other in undeath, and how blood-sucking might be a downside of a second chance at life, but a “living” life has consequences too. In a way, an undeath is a second chance, and many vampires aim to make the most of it, despite their circumstances.

Werewolf

Nobody is born a werewolf, they’re created from bites or curses

Look exactly like themselves until the full moon, upon which they mutate into a large wolf creature that is compelled to rampage until the next day

Magic ability is based on which creature they were born as

Most werewolves continue to practice the cultural values they had before they were turned, but werewolf-only communities tend to emphasize “necessary rage” and never holding back emotion. To some, becoming a werewolf is freeing, giving them an excuse to express “unsightly” emotions their cultures might encourage them to suppress.

Catfolk

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Humanoid cat creatures; can share the patterns and qualities of domestic or wild cats

Culturally, most catfolk encourage pride and self-indulgence. Walking away from situations you find unpleasant, or even unstimulating, is encouraged. Taking entire days for yourself to do something you enjoy or simply lounge around is a common pastime. There’s less pressure among catfolk to “give back” their communities, and more communal cultures can clash with catfolk because of this.

Dryad

Always have the ability to use magic

Humanoid tree creatures; can share qualities from any one type of tree

They aren’t “born,” they’re grown from other dryad seeds

Culturally, most dryads emphasize a slow, cautious life and meditation on any big decision. Impulsivity and recklessness is frowned upon, but as some of the longest-lived creatures in the world, doing something “impulsive” can vary wildly from other cultures’ expectations. Many dryads who spend time with other cultures are often shocked when creatures spend hours—not weeks or months—contemplating their choices. Others are unsurprised—other creatures simply don’t have the time to be as contemplative as a tree. Whether this is sympathy or pity can vary.

Naiad

Always have the ability to use magic

Humanoid water creatures

They aren’t “born,” they’re created through rituals with enchanted water

Culturally, most naiads value transience in relationships and transparency in emotions—never sticking too closely to one thing, but never lying about their intentions. Because they’re inherently magical, naiads use magic for everything from practicality to play. Magic puzzles and illusions are common forms of entertainment, and even as forms of education. And, of course, many naiads find it amusing to toy with other creatures who try to find their communities, distracting them with said puzzles until they prove themselves or give up.

Fairy

Always born with the ability to use magic

Humanoid creatures with thin, butterfly-adjacent wings and colorful hair and eyes

Culturally, most fairies value politeness and gift-giving, especially if the gift is handmade or somehow personal. Their communities are very close-knit, but have often near-inscrutable social constraints to outsiders. Even between different communities of fairies, the social code is practically a different language and impacts everything from terms of address to which spells may be cast in public vs private spaces.

Harpy

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Humanoids with wings for arms and a bird’s legs; can share patterns and qualities of any bird

Culturally, most harpies encourage freedom and independence from a young age and throughout life. The ability to fly allows them to travel much farther and with greater ease than most other creatures, so travel is a very big “rite of passage” in lots of harpy societies. Social dances are also given great importance, most often for romance, but there are plenty of dances for friendship, formal events, apologies, celebration, and even sympathy for another’s grief.

Merfolk

Always born with the ability to use magic

Human from the waist up and a sea creature from the waist down; can share qualities with any one sea creature

Culturally, most merfolk value community connections, mutual aid, and teamwork. Merfolk that share traits with fish tend to live in schools, traveling around the sea nomadically. Others that share traits with sharks or octopi tend to be solitary, staying in one area of the sea, with close ties to other merfolk that live near them, or schools that pass by. Their vocal hypnosis is used to hunt, and schools that hunt often use simultaneous hypnosis to disorient their prey before going in for the kill. In schools, the young and the elderly always eat first, followed by the rest.

Aetheridum (pl) / Aetherid (s)

Regular people (of any creature type) can have Aetheridum children if they’re blessed by whatever gods exist in this world, or if the kid is a gift they prayed for, or as a reward for devotion. No matter what their parents are, the magic kids have metallic skin, will eventually grow wings (even if they already have them), and have an intense penchant for magic

They aren’t literally “angels come to earth” but people speculate that they’re earthly incarnations of aether-creatures, or even fragments of gods themselves

The intensity of that magic gift varies between individuals, but they are the only creature that doesn’t experience the magical “atrophy” that every other creature does. They have an intense magical capacity from birth, to the point where they may warp the magic energies around them without realizing, and cause it to fire off without actually casting any spells

This can be both positive and negative. One the one hand, having a high magical capacity means a much easier time learning spells, casting them, and managing the energy output. On the other, choosing not to pursue any magical training means that any Aetherid can potentially be setting off magic flashbangs, wherever they go, by complete accident, for the rest of their lives. Most parents put their Aetheridum kids in magical training as early as possible due to this outcome, but not all of them do, and not all of the children stay in training.

Despite being a literal godly blessing, the magical capability can be somewhat of a curse too. Recruitment for their magical gifts is extremely high in scientific and medical fields, and many are pushed into high-skill, high-stress jobs for the sake of “not wasting their gifts.” There has been plenty of literature and study on the subject of just how much more beneficial an Aetherid is to any particular work environment, if at all—a high magical capacity doesn’t mean anything about how well you use it. Most find that the same jobs can be easily done with non-Aetheridum workers with standard or even low magical capacities, just not to the same degree of power. Unfortunately, these unfavorable results are often swept under the rug for the sake of maintaining the “usefulness” of this blessed class of creature.

D’infernyssh (pl) / D’infern (s)

In the same way some children can be blessed, some can be cursed. If the parents make a foul pact, corrupt themselves with forbidden magic, or anger a vengeful deity, they can give birth to a D’infern. These children are almost a direct inverse of Aetheridum, born with metallic skin, eventually growing batlike wings, and always have a curse to bear

Similar to the speculation about Aetheridum, the D’infernyssh aren’t literally demons, but could possibly be incarnations of godly rage or corrupted godlike creatures

The curses placed on the D’infernyssh are always related to the siphoning of emotions or sensations from those around them to survive. “Real” food doesn’t nourish them in the slightest, though they do experience hunger. They describe cravings for feelings the same way any other might describe a craving for soup or fancy steak.

The types of curses known to the world are: pleasure, rest, anger, sadness, joy, envy, pain, affection, fear, pride, disgust, and curiosity.

For any non-D’infernyssh, simply being in the presence of a hungry D’infern who eats the emotion or sensation you’re feeling is all it takes for it to be slowly drained away. For example, if you feel curious about something around a D’infern that eats curiosity, you’ll slowly become less interested in it until you find it altogether uninteresting. Once the D’infern isn’t hungry, the draining stops, and your emotions become your own again. However, eating feelings doesn’t work like gaining nutrients from food, and unless the D’infern gets a big “meal” from either an intense emotional state or multiple people experiencing the same emotion at once, they often need to “eat” more than 3 times a day.

Most parents with D’infernyssh children can’t tell if they have a D’infern or an Aetherid at the beginning of the child’s life. Because they both have metallic skin and their wings don’t sprout until puberty, it’s very easy to confuse one for the other unless you know why your child was born with platinum skin. Due to this confusion, many D’infernyssh are malnourished until they can communicate what they need to survive.

There are tests that can be given to potential Aetheridum or D’infernyssh children to pick out which one is which, but it does require the parents to acknowledge the potential that their child may be cursed. Unless they know already, many are reluctant to do this, and a few are even insulted by the insinuation.

Doctors that specialize in curses are working on ways to determine from birth, and even from an ultrasound, what kind of metallic child they’re working with, but it’s a work-in-progress, and nowhere near as reliable as many D’infernyssh, their parents, and potential parents would like it to be.

Having a very obvious curse that drains the emotions of those around them, whether they like it or not, makes D’infernyssh obvious targets of ostracization from many cultures, save for those that hold overcoming personal strengths in high reverence, like orcs, dragonfolk, and dwarves. Still, there’s a lot that needs to be done for acceptance of the D’infernyssh, and places like Athendrolyn are breeding grounds for social movements.

Obviously this ostracization is more intense for some D’infernyssh and not others. For example, a D’infern that eats pain might have wildly different experiences from a D’infern that eats joy.

Goblin

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Small, cave-dwelling, mischievous humanoids

Culturally, most goblins encourage community sharing, barter, and near-constant play. In many goblin societies, there is no concept of “private property.” Everything in the community belongs to everybody in it, with shared resources considered the default with individual items belonging to individuals a very distant concept. Trading extra resources or favors is more common than money when it comes to trade, and even a good joke can count as “payment” in some goblin societies. Entertainment is important for the good of the community, after all, and coming up with new and exciting games is taken very seriously.

Sphinx

Always born with the ability to use magic

Large creature with a human’s face, a lion’s body, and an eagle’s wings that tells riddles

Culturally, most sphinxes value intelligence, creativity, and interrogating rules. In many sphinx communities, their riddles are less important than why the riddles are asked. Knowing when and why to test someone with a riddle is one of the first lessons taught to the rare young sphinx, though the precise reason varies. Tradition, respect for the asker, earning the asker’s attention or friendship, testing another’s creativity, gaining wisdom from their answer, all of these and more are considered valid reasons for a sphinx to ask a riddle. Good luck ever getting them to reveal which one they were thinking of when they asked you, though.

Selkie

Always born with the ability to use magic

A seal creature that transforms into a human on land, keeping its seal skin as a coat

Culturally, most selkies value boundaries, slow-moving relationships, and taking time to put down firm roots. Second only to dryads in their community emphasis on deliberation, selkies never put their coats down in places they wouldn’t be willing to risk their lives in. As slow-moving as selkie friendships and relationships can be, when a selkie is comfortable enough to leave their coats at the door, it’s a sign they’ve become a loyal companion for life. In the same vein, trying to rush a relationship can cause a selkie to snap it like a twig, never to flourish.

Gorgon

Always born with the ability to use magic

A humanoid with snakes for hair that can turn others to stone with a single glance

The snakes are most often non-venomous, but there are exceptions

Culturally, most gorgons value self-defense, privacy, and “not judging books by the cover.” As frightening as gorgons can seem, and as truly dangerous as their powers can be, the vanishingly rare cases of intentional petrification prove that many fears are unfounded. Many gorgons that value privacy also value the privacy of others, and won’t pry about topics if they aren’t brought up first. By this same principle, many gorgons have very short tolerances for others prying, especially if it involves invasive questions about “how far the snakes go” or their “statue count.”

[fuzziemutt]

On the views of Rio in relation to Miguel within fandom

There's something I'm commonly seeing that has been worrying me which is the depictions of Rio "latina mom-ing" Miguel.

This includes Rio:

- slapping him

- coming at him with "the chancla"

- "dressing him down" verbally or yelling

- humiliating him

- straight up just... Beating him up

And I'm bringing this up because guys... This shit be low-key racist. I know racism towards latines has already been a problem (Yes. I am gesturing to the everything that is how Miguel is treated within the fandom), but I personally wanted to bring up this issue as well as I'm unsure if others have talked about it- and we all know how suck ass searching anything on this site is.

Anyways, I won't lie. I don't know how many latines are making these jokes, but it being so prevalent being her "main" interactions makes me feel even if it started as a latine joke, it sure as hell didn't stay that way.

But the depiction of Latina women as fierce, aggressive and (yes it is) straight up physically abusive (in general words) is a major fucking Problem. Latinas are often depicted in media as these "feisty exotic women" who takes no shit. Perpetuating that with Rio does not feel as #girl power as you guys might think. It feels like a step back in treating latinas not as these power houses but as... Y'know... People who aren't depicted as aggressors 24/7....

But also I really hate this cutesy look at what is a serious issue within latine communities. It's always "ha ha funny" seeing a Latina mom beating someone's ass but guys. That is still physical abuse. That is a serious issue and discussion that is held within the latine community. And seeing it so casually assigned to Rio kind of makes me feel sick.

And this isn't even tacking on that you're having a Latina beating/acting aggressive towards a canonical child abuse survivor (yes. Miguel is a child abuse survivor.) Which adds a whole new layer of how shitty this actually is.

Because I hate how people are boiling Rio down to just being an aggressor towards Miguel to "put him in his place". That's discrediting her character so badly.

Yes, latinas can be strong. Yes, latinas can be angry. Yes, latinas can get aggressive.

These are things people are and do because people are complex.

But I really need the fandom to stop for a second and really think about how they saw Rio, witnessed her give her heart on the screen, - a mom who's trying so hard to break these cycles of yelling and humiliation with kindness and understanding (even being a foil to Jeff's strong headed approach on purpose) -

took her and said "she would perpetuate a real cycle of abuse towards a fellow latino because he's the 'bad one'" and laughed.

I know you guys are depicting her like this as a means to defend Miles, but maybe not like this. Her character doesn't deserve being so bastardized like this for your stolen joke.

(which this whole "need" to defend him in the first place points right back to the racism towards Miguel if we're honest. I have complex thoughts on Miguel's interactions with Miles especially involving the end train scene but boiling a traumatized Latino man down to just being an "aggressive threat" that needs to be "put in place" as I've mentioned above is racist as hell too.)

You guys can reblog this, but don't fucking guilt trip people into reblogging this okay? I'm not giving you brownie points for that shit.

[hold-him-down]

Belleview Chapter Two: Triage

Notes: Don't believe anything I say about medicine, politics, or the workings of government agencies.

Belleview: Chapter 1

TW: Institutionalized slavery, a little tiny bit heavy on the exposition

✥ ✥ ✥

As far as ‘day one’s go, Lincoln thinks, it could have been worse. That is the best he can offer himself now. He looks down at his hands, which feel, no matter how many times he scrubs them, as if they are still covered in the blood, both metaphorical and physical, of the residents. They did not ask for his help, and by most metrics do not seem to want his help, and yet still, he is here. Helping? It weighs heavily on him. His hands shake, a product of adrenaline and exhaustion and, maybe, partly of desperation for some kind of emotional release.

Organizing the volunteers had gone smoothly enough. He had four doctors, eight nurses, and fifteen good samaritans (and a list of hundreds of others who were ready to step in if more help was needed), all eager to find their place in this beautiful hellscape.

After the former handler, Jared, was escorted to a waiting police car, Lincoln took a deep breath and rounded up the crew. The de facto Commissioner for the splintered Department of Labor Services in Florida, once responsible for the privatization and trafficking of low-level criminals and now responsible for sorting out the undoing of that system itself, estimated that there would be additional guidance available within two weeks and, between him and Lincoln, suspected that ultimately the residents would be placed in a sort of ‘foster’ situation, where they would be pseudo-adopted into the homes of long time opposers of the system while they accessed medical care and were slowly reintegrated. It was all a lot to stomach, and for his part, Lincoln tried not to look too closely. It was clear that the residents here all, at minimum, required some degree of inpatient medical treatment, and he was qualified to provide that, if nothing else. 

Lincoln had been contracted for four weeks, with the soft warning that it would likely extend beyond that, and the sincere gratitude of the Commissioner as well as a slew of other high ranking officials. His work is important, he was told countless times. It’ll be a hard job, but they can think of no better hands than his to leave the care of these men in. 

After accepting the position, Lincoln began forming something of a plan. He was given a budget and a list of items already at the site. He was sent lists of hundreds and hundreds of doctors, nurses, cooks, mechanics, police officers, former handlers, teachers… anything he could think of, he had available to him. People from across the country offered their support in any way they could. He selected his team, his backup team, and held a list of other local residents that he could rely on for support.

The initial team was small but mighty, fierce in their dedication to help. Four doctors. Five, including him. Twenty-one residents (with only twenty files, but that was for another day). Eight nurses. Fifteen volunteers. Enough for every resident to receive medical attention, with extra volunteers to sort out groceries and clothing and removal of the evidence of what had happened here, with extras to help keep everything flowing.

It was experimental, and no one knew exactly what it would look like. But this team was ready to throw themselves wholly into early recompense and that was all he needed. They would work the rest out as they went.

✥ ✥ ✥

The volunteers look to him for guidance as he enters the conference room and, given that he has run through his plan a hundred times in his head by now, he wastes no time in laying out the loose threads of what he is calling the ‘plan.’ There are people working throughout the building, sealing off some unused wings, repurposing others. They are irrelevant to what Lincoln is doing and have no impact on the residents he now oversees. They will not enter this unit, and his group will not be asked to leave. It does not matter what happens beyond the walls of C-wing anymore. 

There are two empty rooms at the end of the longest, main corridor, that were previously used for something adjacent to medical exams. This is not exactly the highest priority, but the easiest to get started. 

“Yang, Richmond, Jacoby, and Gilman,” Lincoln says, scanning the volunteers as people identify themselves. He hands them each a sheet of paper with a list of items that each room should have. “A truck should be arriving within the next thirty minutes,” he continues. “Start clearing out the exam rooms of anything not on this list, sanitize the hell out of them, and then work with the delivery people to get them set up. Use the south entrance so no one is wandering the halls. They’ll need to be fully functional by tomorrow at the latest.” The volunteers take to task quickly, and Lincoln moves to the next on his list.

“DeLuca and Dhar,” he says next. “Groceries were delivered earlier, let’s get everything put away. There was a large break room for the handlers here,” he says, as he points to the map on the tablet, “but no cafeteria. To the extent possible, clear it out. There are bins for anything that you find that looks remotely criminal. We’ve been asked to refrain from discarding the personal effects of the handlers or anything that might need to be reviewed down the line. Everything can go into storage, someone will come pick it up at some point this evening.”

They exit, and Lincoln is left standing with the medical staff and a small handful of remaining volunteers. He assigns four to scrubbing the common areas of all traces of abuse, the hope being that the residents can eventually comfortably navigate the wing without fear of encountering excessive reminders of their own suffering.  

“We’re going to start triaging,” he says to the medical team. “We have more volunteers ready if we need them, but I am concerned about overwhelming the residents with too much…” He gestures, and is met with nods and muted agreements. “Just, with too much.”

The residents are all, as of this moment, still locked in their rooms. Every doctor has already been assigned a caseload, the files sent out the day before, with each resident grouped first based on the severity of their need for medical attention, and second on their proximity to one another. The most severe cases get seen by the doctors first, with the nurses doing preliminary exams on the less severe cases and making modifications to the plan as needed. 

Lincoln expects four residents to require the most substantial medical support. The local hospital is prepared to provide aid in diagnostic testing, scans, or large scale inpatient procedures in the event that those needed, but all units are overwhelmed by the sudden influx of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of people who require care and are in the first wave of full release.

Triage first, he reminds himself. Each of them has four or five men total to see, and he watches as they make their own plans with the nurses on their team. 

Lincoln has one file and two patients. River London, a twenty-four year old man who has been in the system for three years and in Belleview for two of those, and “Felix,” whose file is uniquely absent. The handler told him that Felix had come to Belleview a year prior, and that he wasn’t sure if the handlers were ever told his real name, but if they were, no one remembered it. They estimated his age to be around twenty-two, and the information available was all from the past year. The DOH was working to trace his origins but, to Lincoln’s understanding, his file had been sealed when he was assigned to Belleview, and unsealing it was low in the list of priorities.

“I’m Philip,” the nurse who stands next to him says, holding out his hand. “Reed. I came down from Maryland, I’ve been working with the DoLS there to help organize and staff pop-up clinics in underdeveloped cities with heavy influxes of former workers for the last couple years.”

Lincoln nods and shakes his hand. “Lincoln Prescott,” he says. He doesn’t offer any details beyond that, although Philip’s expectant gaze lingers for a moment too long.

“Did you pick the short straw or volunteer for this?” he asks as Lincoln grabs the lone file from the table.

“A little of both, I guess,” Lincoln responds, flipping open River’s file.

The good news, he thinks, is that there are ample state of the art medical supplies littered throughout the unit already. All of the volunteers brought their own supplies as well, but there is a fully stocked pharmacy and most basic supplies already in house. The bad news is that he is not one hundred percent sure where the volunteers are at with sorting through everything, and if he has to wade through sixty years worth of whips, chains, shock collars, restraints, or whatever other torture devices live within these walls, he might have a nervous breakdown before he even gets started.

The volunteers disperse, the remaining extras assigned out to sorting deliveries and, hopefully, removing any obvious remnants of what this building used to stand for.

Lincoln closes his eyes and talks himself through what the next hour will look like. Minimally, he reassures himself, he has an amazing team and the residents are in good hands. They will be given food, blankets, phones or tablets, books. They will be treated with kindness. They did not ask for their help and he will likely be met with resistance, but it is a consequence of years or abuse, and his intent here is to help. There is a voice, soft but persistent in the back of his mind, that keeps him grounded in the reality that, at least on some level, he will be acting as a captor in a new kind of prison for these men.

If he is met with resistance, he reminds himself now, he will modify his course. He will act as a stepping stone toward freedom and that is all he can do right now. His job today, within the walls of the workers’ rooms, is straightforward. When he’s done talking himself down, he stands straighter, shoves the file into his bag, and makes way to 19-C.

✥ ✥ ✥ 

Belleview Taglist:

@pigeonwhumps @peachy-panic @whump-cravings @pirefyrelight @i-eat-worlds

@taterswhump @squishablesunbeam @inpainandsuffering @distinctlywhumpthing @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

[seblaineworld]

Hey, Seblainers! Hellooooo, everyone else!

10 Days Of Seblaine 2024

26 days to go, so without further ado, here's what you need to know:

The Rules

When?

The event runs from Monday, 26th August until 23:59 (of your own timezone) on Wednesday, 4th September 2024.

Who can take part?

Anyone and everyone who shares our love of Seblaine!

What can we submit?

Anything, as long as it is Seblaine-related! Fics, Graphics, Gifs, Gifsets, Videos, Manips, Playlists, Lyrics - anything you like as long as it fits the themes! I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone comes up with.

Please remember to use #seblaineworld and #10daysofseblaine2024 within the first five tags, and also put @seblaineworld in your posts, since we all know just how flaky Tumblr can be about tags!

Be sensible and considerate. We are all well aware that not everyone shares our love of Seblaine, and even within our own tiny (but always fierce!) Seblainer Fandom, there are those who don't enjoy mature content, so please ensure you tag everything you submit, appropriately.

Can I cross-post/combine themes?

Yes! You can combine any of the themes that you want. And if your contribution does combine multiple themes, you can post on whichever day you prefer. Just remember, if your contribution covers one or more themes, then properly tag all days, regardless of which day you actually post on.

Do I need to submit something for every day?

Absolutely not. If you want to contribute something for every day, then of course you can, but it's not a requirement at all. I know everyone has busy lives, so just do what you can when you can.

Can I post a WIP or work if it fits the themes, even if I started it weeks/months/years before the Seblaine Week 2024 announcement?

Absolutely! Your Admin has done this before and feels it's a great way to refresh creativity and blow the cobwebs off that piece you just KNOW you'll finish one day, but never quite seem to have the time. So feel free to post anything you've already started - providing it fits one of the themes!

On that note, do remember that the free day is exactly that. A day on which you can write about/create for, any theme you like! Did your favourite theme just narrowly miss out on being in the top 10? If so, here's your chance to do something about it and make a submission using that theme!

When do we start posting?

As soon as it becomes Monday 26th August in your own timezone, post your work to your Tumblr blog, and as mentioned above, please tag it #seblaineworld and #10daysofseblaine2024 then make sure those two are in your first five tags. Please also put @seblaineworld somewhere in your post.

If you're going to be posting your work to another site like AO3 or ff.net, post a properly tagged link on your Tumblr.

A 10 Days Of Seblaine 2024 collection will be added to AO3.

Can I post early?

Sorry, no. 🙃 Tumblr, however, does let you schedule posts so you can schedule the post for the right day, even if you're not going to be around that day. Of course this gets a little harder to navigate if you’re also posting to another site like AO3/ff.net, so if this is going to be a problem, let me know and I'll figure it out.

Can I post late?

Yes! I know how time can occasionally run away from us all, so as long as everything is tagged properly you can post (for example) your day 3 piece on day 7 and that won't be a problem. Everything posted will be reblogged until Friday, September 27th.

You haven't reblogged my work yet!

No problem! Again, because Tumblr can be (very!) erratic, just send me an Ask or message if I haven't reblogged your work within 24 hours of you posting it, and I will get onto it right away.

So, that's it for now! I'm excited to see all your work, and I hope you'll join me for our second bumper celebration of Seblaine. Just drop me an Ask or message if you have a question that's not addressed here, and I'll see you all on the 26th!

Ail 💜

[alpha-team-rat]

From the Pinnacle..

Minors fuck off. 18+ ahead only. Pairing: Albert Wesker & Afab!reader Word count: 1.0k Warnings: Mild gun play, mild sadism, typical Wesker manipulation, dumbification, mentions of killing reader. Summary: Training with your Captain doesn't go entirely according to plan. But of course, he planned for that. A/N: My first writing on this wretched site. @sable-elk You owe me.

A heavy boot pressed against the thoracic column of your spine, pinning you heavily to the ground. You knew in the back of your head that training with Captain Wesker would lead to nothing worthwhile or remotely enlightening. He took pleasure in seeing you squirm like a bug under his boot pressed heavily against your spine. "Are you quite done? You are wasting my time by squirming." Wesker's voice vibrated over your nerves, causing you to freeze in your movements. You let out a heavy sigh, feeling the air evacuate your lungs. "Yes, Captain, I'm done." You mumble in bated breaths as his boot removed from your spine before returning to step between your legs, kicking them open with little care of your comfort. The act caused an immediate shudder throughout your entire body.

"What a good little pawn, giving in to your king so easily." Wesker purred as he gently kicked his boot against your crotch, sending a yelp leaving your lips. You couldn't ignore the way he let out a breathless chuckle at your pain. He was always a sadist, but the extent always took you by surprise. You needed to focus and try to ignore the way he was torturing you.

"Good mutt." He continued before raising his foot above your pelvis, pressing it down to compress your already sensitive clit painfully, the resulting grunt was anything but dignified. As you lay there, trying to block out the pain and humiliation, a surge of determination washed over you. You refused to be just another pawn in Wesker’s game. You would rise above his cruelty and prove yourself to be more than just a “mutt.”

With a burst of strength, you pushed against Wesker’s boot, throwing him off balance and sending him stumbling backwards. As he regained his footing, a look of surprise flashed across his face. But before he could react, you lunged at him, using every ounce of training and skill you had acquired under his harsh tutelage.

The tables had turned, and now it was Wesker who found himself pinned to the ground, gasping for breath. You stood over him, a fierce determination burning in your eyes.

“I am not your pawn, and I am certainly not your mutt,” you declared, your voice steady and unwavering. “I am a soldier, and I will not be broken by you or anyone else.” Wesker hummed as he looked up at you from behind his tinted sunglasses. Wesker stood up, grabbing you by your neck and pinning you against the wall, his hand sliding closer to your belt, toying with the buckle,"You parade yourself as something higher than the dog you are. It's truly inspiring." He scoffs in a mocking tone. "Unfortunately, your body betrays every word slipping past your brainless lips." He skillfully undid your belt with one hand, sliding his hand into your pants and feeling the wet underwear underneath his fingertips, pressing into your engorged clit from over the fabric. You choked out a moan as he lazily circled your clit, gently pinching and flicking it from time to time, feeling the way your clit twitched and throbbed against his fingers. Wesker yanked your pants down in a swift motion before ripping your underwear in half. The action had you reeling, trying to recover from the ferocity, but to no avail. Wesker dropped to his knees to take your clit in his mouth, licking fat stripes up to the pearly head and sucking on your puffy lips, drinking up every drop of slick threatening to drop. You whimpered and gripped onto his vest, pulling him further onto your pussy in desperation. Wesker rumbled a laugh against your clit before continuing to suck on your sensitive tip. Your head lolled to the side as your hips bucked against his face, soft gasps leaving your lungs as his fingers suddenly pressed into your walls alongside his tongue, stretching you wide. His fingers were big, bigger than yours and oh so much longer. They pressed and rubbed your g-spot tortuously, bringing you closer to the edge. "Captain…" You gasp out, hand gripping his hair like a lifeline. Wesker purred, pulling his tongue out of your stretched hole. "You truly are nothing but a pathetic mutt. Whimpering for me so soon?" He teases. His words simply vibrated over your nerves. You couldn't process anything as your brain slipped away, making you brainless for nothing but his fingers, his mouth. You snapped back to reality when you felt something hard against your jaw. Wesker had his fingers buried deep in you, but his free hand held his gun to your jaw, finger resting on the side. "Finally paying attention? I truly thought I had lost you. Dumb mutt, I doubt you even heard anything I just said." "C-Captain.. You shouldn't be pointing a gun at me, you taught me not to point a gun at anything that isn't my target." You tried to remind him in a shaky voice. "You are my target, dear. Isn't that obvious?" Wesker smirks dangerously before he begins rubbing and pounding his fingers into your g-spot, causing your vision to white-out as you writhed on his fingers. "You are so easy. To think I can snuff you out and kill you right here, and you'd be happily fucking yourself on my fingers the entire way to those pearly gates. They wouldn't want you, you're too filthy for them, dear. You belong with a God who truly wants you." Wesker growls against your ear, knowing you can hardly think, let alone listen. Your body fucks itself onto his fingers, getting closer to that razors edge. "Cap.. Cap.." You babble uselessly as he continues to pummel your poor g-spot, watching as your eyes roll back when you orgasm, your walls squeezing and clenching around his fingers, a wanton moan escaping your throat. Wesker brushes his lips against your neck, almost as if to kiss it. "You hold my secret, mutt, and yet you don't even know it. Soon you'll be reborn, something better than this small town cop. You'll be perfect." 

[nanomooselet]

Little but Fierce VIII

Knives is totally dismissive of Meryl. He acknowledges she exists all of three times.

Once in Vash's memories, to delete her from them; once as he's piercing the Core, to call her a parasite and dismiss her attempts to get Vash to wake up; and once to try and violently kill her because... she succeeded in waking Vash up.

Whoops.

I listed all those statements that Knives claimed to be the truth; now here's everything that I believe proves them false.

Vash is pretty, but he's useless without his brother.

Vash does not need his brother. He loves him - of course he does. He wants to save him. But he's never needed him. Rem was the one he relied on for support, and after her death, Vash was too afraid of Nai to give him that kind of trust. He's spent decades surviving away from him, something Knives simply will not acknowledge. He tries to remove Vash's autonomy because as long as he has it, Vash is at risk of abandoning him again, just as Rem did.

Remember that once Knives initiated the memory retrieval process, Dr. Conrad warned Meryl that breaking that connection would kill Vash? Knives made Vash need him, made him dependent. That's his idea of making Vash perfect.

He's a powerless, weak, pathetically naïve, blubberingly sentimental little baby who doesn't care about the Plants, too busy enabling humanity's abuse via performing his cringing, grasping abasement before them to notice how his brethren suffer.

Knives developed his powers first. But Vash's powers are greater. He can do everything a normal Plant can do; he can also do much more, and he's such a wonderful, kind and compassionate man, with amazing reserves of emotional strength. Knives wouldn't have had to try and subjugate him otherwise.

Vash personally talks to the Plants, cares for them, soothes their pain. And he's been doing that not just to help them, but to help the humans panicking because if the Plants died, so too would they. He spent years travelling between crash sites helping Plants and teaching humans to take care of them, assuming an authoritative role even as a little boy, and if he hadn't figured out he could do that, he would almost certainly have killed himself. Remember he finally made the choice to live in order to save a dying Plant, not a human - dying because the environment was incompatible. You know, because they'd all been crashed on a desert planet. Certainly many Plants are still suffering. Because Vash is the only one doing this. He can't rest or delegate. It has to be him alone; it all depends upon him.

And Knives has been too busy playing his stupid piano to take any notice. And having other people do things for him. Oh, and making it damn near impossible for Vash to do what he does, partly because Vash has been convinced he bears all the responsibility and accepts the punishment himself. It's incredible he's held up even as well as he has.

If Knives is even aware Vash can heal Plants, he likely wouldn't care, because he views Plants in dependent form as imperfect, the same way he has contempt for Vash's fondness for eating. When Vash tried to talk to him about the needs of the other Plants based on his own direct experience, Knives didn't just shut him down by calling what Rem said a lie, he started mocking Vash's grief over her death, complaining that she inconvenienced him. He isn't interested in an alternative. His is the only way. It always has to be his way; that's been reflected in all his abuse.

Knives himself is the more powerful (and much less human-like) of the twins; the strongest and most righteous activist for necessary change now that, sadly despite all good faith attempts at communication, non-violent solutions have failed.

Remember Zazie, Elendira and Vash himself all have said don't judge by appearances. Yeah, Knives's colouration makes him look a bit more like the dependents than Vash does. That doesn't mean he's less human.

When he first started using his chosen name, Knives was doing nothing to help his brethren in the wake of the Fall. All he did was retaliate against humans and obsess over Vash. He bet everything on being able to carry out his plans using his brother's power. He didn't bother to communicate with any human other than Dr. Conrad. Seriously, count how many humans he addresses directly in the series. The total shrinks to one if you leave out those he doesn't immediately try to kill.

As for the "less human-like" part...

Dr. Conrad and Knives believe a soul is what gives a Plant free will, makes an Independent. Knives is referred to as an angel, and as perfect.

But angels don't have souls, so much as they are souls - they're beings of spirit, not matter. Humans are the ones who have both souls and material bodies. The dependents are in their tanks because their bodies can't survive outside of them. What makes Vash and Knives what they are isn't a soul. It's their humanity.

Thus I simply can't take the idea that Knives is "perfect" at face value. I stand by the assertion that Knives, in defining all humanity as selfish and greedy parasites, inadvertently exposes how human he is himself.

He truly has only the best and most altruistic intentions: the freedom of his people, and the happiness of his brother.

Look at what he did to Vash. The only other member of his kind he knows to be a person, and he chained and silenced him. Look at how often Knives is around dying Plants, dying because of the situation he forced them into. Do you believe it?

I don't. I find no truth in his words. I can count on one hand the moments I think he's being honest about anything. And I'd like this to be kept in mind as I continue.

I said before that the series seems mostly to take on Knives's point of view, and it's worth also keeping that in mind - especially when you remember the Punisher was Knives's chosen, custom-tailored agent. A gift. He was the one Knives obviously expected would become Vash's chief emotional support; all the better to kick it out from under him. After all, his brother is the one Vash truly loves; the brother who is a weapon, a punisher of human sin, who's done all he's done for his family. Who better to bring Vash home than an imperfect replacement, reminding him of what it was in his life that's been absent for so long? His human inadequacy would add strength to Knives's argument. And so focus goes to Wolfwood, showing how being forced to take on this role has made him suffer. He is, literally, pivotal; his backstory and conflict is revealed and resolved in 6/7, the midpoint of the series.

Naturally, it just demonstrates all the ways Wolfwood isn't like Knives, and that Vash never needed his help. Wolfwood is the one saved by Vash, not the other way round.

So… because Knives was so focused on Wolfwood and what he would mean to Vash, he never once thought Meryl mattered, not to Vash and not to the Plants and not to the world at large. She's a parasite, nothing more. There's no way some silly officious little womanchild with no weapons or powers could mean anything.

Right up until the moment she did, and he promotes her instantly, all the way from insignificant to tango primary.

Meryl in his mind goes from insect he can't be bothered to swat to an ideological threat on the level of Rem Saverem, and he starts shrieking denials that she's beaten him. And remember that I said you should believe the opposite of whatever he says?

She has.

Because she loves Vash. (Platonic or romantic as usual doesn't matter.) She's chosen to follow him even to the edge of reality. Though she found Vash frustrating, she didn't try to change him, nor does she need or want anything from him. She saw how much strength he had, what he could do if someone just had faith. When Vash declares I won't stop until they believe in me, he can draw hope from the assurance that Meryl already does. And unlike Rem, Luida, Rosa - Knives can't do jack-shit about it.

And Vash, in turn, has deep appreciation for her support. She tied him up all the way back in ep 1 - which I called "laying a claim" - and here Vash reciprocates, binding them together. She's lent him her agency, her independence, and she didn't have to resort to anything like the grotesque extremes Knives did. It required no more or less from her than unyielding love - an ordinary human's love. Just like Rem. Thank you, Meryl. I heard her voice through you.

Her love is rooted in seeking and embracing the hard truth rather than shoring up a comforting lie. When Vash starts to break free of Knives's illusion, it's by holding to the truth - it was Rem who promised to protect him, not Nai. Nai isn't an innocent little boy anymore but monster of metal chains and blades, something Vash has every reason to run from. Rem loves Vash no matter what's been done to him, and Knives cannot kill her as long as she remains alive in him. Knives is too frightened to face the truth, regards it with so much terror he tries to flee back into the ignorance of the childhood before he learned it. In contrast, Meryl's courage and conviction, her dedication to seeking and spreading truth, is so strong in her they steel that which is within those surrounding her; Roberto, Wolfwood, even in Vash. She may be small, but her power is sufficient.

Never ever overlook Meryl motherfucking Stryfe. That's a mistake so great it can see a man go from the threshold of victory to on fire.

And I'm still not done talking about her. One more instalment.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part IX

[valdiis]

FFXIV Site Write #3: Tempest

After seven years of living with it, Onaerion figured he should be used to the frustration of not being able to dress himself entirely. The few times he grew too fiercely independent and tried anyway, he tended to end up flopping onto his bed with his pants around his thighs, unable to balance on one hand, lift his hips up, and pull his pants up with the other. Someone might've taught him the skill of it, were they not so dependent on his dependence for a job. One of those someones was helping him dress and it was ramping up his fury word for word as he let himself be manhandled into a pair of woolen slacks.

"I hear that Master Daephrin returned," chattered his valet, Ivrant. "Never did like him much. Like Lucarian always said, he's a bit of a wastrel and rebellious to boot. I can't imagine he had much useful to say. Why would he dare show his face around here aft-"

"Shut up, Ivrant," Rion grunted.

The valet completely ignored him and continued talking about what a terrible person his older brother was. Rion figured he should be used to that too. His condition made him all but invisible, even to his caretakers. His desires were infantilized, his opinions dismissed. He ran the House's fortunes because no one could deny his sharp mind for numbers, but when it came to day-to-day existence, he might as well be a silent lump of flesh for all his talking did for him.

"Ivrant," he said, his tone a warning. But the valet turned away and went to the armoire to pick out a shirt. Rion grumbled, "Get me one of the pull-over ones."

"But sir, those are for casual nightwear. When you dress for the day-"

"No one is visiting today. No one cares what I'm wearing. I want to be comfortable." The dark-haired Elezen glowered as his valet pulled out a button-up shirt anyway.

"I swear to Halone, Ivrant, get me a comfortable shirt or you're fired."

It wasn't the first time the valet had been threatened so. Or the housemaid. Or the cook. Everyone knew he needed them too much to actually get rid of them.

Rion growled as Ivrant returned to his side and reached for his wrist. "I can still lift my arms, thank you very much!" Rion barked as he jerked his hand away. To Ivrant's credit (maybe), the valet held the shirt out for Onaerion to put his own arm in the sleeve. He hated wearing button-up shirts. They had to be tucked in to look nice and that meant more lying around while someone he didn't like fished around in his pants.

The drone of Ivrant's complaints continued until Rion was quite sure he was about to snap. "Enough," he gritted through his teeth. "You're making a tempest in a teapot. Dae was here to apologize. And his boyfriend had some useful suggestions for me."

Ivrant sniffed disdainfully at the mention of a boyfriend. "Probably yet another aether-addled quack like that woman from Gridania. You shouldn-"

"Halone's frosty hell, if you don't shut up, Ivrant, I'm going to start throwing things at your head." As threats went, it wasn't the greatest, as he wasn't yet in his chair and able to wheel himself towards anything throwable. A pillow wasn't going to do nearly the damage he hoped.

While the valet helped him roll onto his side so he could tuck the back of the shirt in, Rion couldn't help but think about Jaxon Tavard - his brother's boyfriend - and the suggestions he'd made. Riding a chocobo? Absolute nonsense. There was no way he was going to sit chocobo-back when he couldn't use his thighs to steady himself. Another doctor? It would be kinder to send him another conjurer, just so he knew to toss them out on their ear right away. It hurt to think of the little flutter of hope he'd felt when his brother so earnestly promised to do everything he could to help. Hope was something he'd long since squashed.

Rion was greatly relieved when Ivrant pushed his chair close to the bed and held it steady for him. Of all the things he demanded from his staff, this one was inviolate - he would put himself in his own damn chair. He used his arms to scoot right to the edge of the bed, then reached back for the arms of the chair. One good heave of his arms and flex of his spine and he slid into the seat, his legs slithering down the side of the bed to follow. He could feel his own weight settle, some small bit of feeling left in his hips and arse (which really just meant he could feel pained when he'd been sitting in the chair too long). Seven years of frustration settled down with him and he let his shoulders round with weariness.

"You're dismissed, Ivrant."

"Don't you want me to wheel you int-"

"No. My arms work just fine. Go away."

In the first wise thing the valet had done all morning, Ivrant bowed to Onaerion and left the room. Leaning his head back in his chair, Rion let out the sigh he'd been hanging onto for the last bell. If anything, he wanted his brother and Jaxon back because they treated him like he was still a person. Visible. Audible. Someone to listen to when they spoke. Being the lord of the House was supposed to be a position of power, wasn't it? So why did he feel so damned helpless?

[yournameoneverypage]

Snuggle Bug

Shawn Mendes x Reader. Established relationship.

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: My first sick fic...!! 🤒 Soft and fluffy, as per the request. I hope I did it justice and that y’all like it. ☺️

~*❤️*~

You threw yourself into your fiancé’s arms the moment you saw him step through the arrivals gate early Friday evening at Toronto’s Pearson airport. Shawn had been commuting between Los Angeles and New York for the past month and you had missed him something fierce.

He caught you like he usually did, but he almost lost his balance and, laughing softly, he set you back on your feet.

“Hi baby,” he sighed, enveloping you in his arms and burying his lips in the crook of your neck. “God, I missed you.”

“I missed you more,” you hummed back, breathing in the scent of him. It was off in the slightest of ways, but you pushed your concern aside. It was probably just the smell of the flight still clinging to him.

You hadn’t ever been one of those couples who sucked face in public, so it didn’t wholly surprise you that he didn’t add a kiss to your greeting. There’d be plenty of time for that once you were, at the very least, behind the tinted windows of your vehicle.

He transferred his guitar case to the same side where he had his carry-on hooked over his shoulder so that he could have a hand free to link with yours. He leaned into you slightly.

“Tired, my love?” you murmured.

“A little,” he exhaled, unconvincingly.

You knew him well enough to tell when he wasn’t being entirely truthful with you. He had been working himself to exhaustion in meetings with his team, writing and producing with musician friends, recording new music of his own, doing press for his movie, and house hunting. You could see it in his eyes with every FaceTime call.

He needed at least two full days’ rest wrapped in your arms, and that’s exactly what you were going to give him.

///

Shawn was dragging his feet as you made your way to where his Tesla was parked. He was definitely more tired than he let on. He never wanted you to worry about him, but of course, you did anyway, even when, - especially when, - he tried to assure you that he was fine.

You popped the trunk and reached for his guitar case and carry-on. “Get in the car, baby,” you smiled softly, touching his cheek. “I’ll take care of this.” He usually fought you on things like that, but this time he didn’t. He nodded thankfully and entered on the passenger side.

The moment you slid behind the wheel and closed the door after you, Shawn reached for your hand. “I’m so happy to be home,” he breathed, leaning over the console of the car and dropping small kisses along your jawline from your temple to your chin.

You knew when he said ‘home’ he didn’t necessarily mean Toronto. You were, after all, in the midst of relocating to LA. When he said ‘home’, he meant you. You were his home. You traveled with him as often as you could, - most of your work could be done remotely, - but the past month had been especially busy and you’d needed to be on site.

You were essentially doing the work of two as management strived to fill a couple of positions before your transition to full remote. Things had finally settled enough for you to take a few days off into the next week and you were going to spend every minute with Shawn, reconnecting and loving all over each other.

You tipped your head and his lips descended to your neck and you giggled. You took his face in your hands and finally claimed the kiss you’d been aching for for weeks.

He hummed contentedly as he eased away. “Missed your kisses, too.” He then brought your hand to his lips.

You tried to withdraw it but he tightened his grip as his head fell against the seat and his loving gaze met yours. He was so soft and clingy, which made sense as you hadn’t had any physical contact for way too long. You hated to ruin the moment, but you snickered, “I need both hands to get outta here, bub.”

“Get outta here then so I can have it back,” he murmured with a small smirk.

///

You and Shawn dropped his things inside your condo door. Unpacking and gifts, for he always brought you something from his travels, could wait a while longer.

“Dinner?” you asked, pulling him further inside, toward the kitchen, since he’d once again glued his hand to yours, and also his chin to your shoulder and his front to your back.

“Not hungry. Maybe later. Unless, of course, you’re hungry, my love.”

“I’m alright.” You turned around in his embrace and melted into his warmth. “How about a nap?”

It was music to his ears. He’d missed your bed almost as much as he’d missed you, and he particularly missed you in your bed. “Yes, please.” 

‘Nap’ was usually synonymous with sex in your home, and the first thing you normally did when Shawn had been away, even if only for a few days, was make love. After a month, you were craving him, acutely.

But when he crawled into bed after you and curled himself around you, resting his head on your stomach, instead of pulling your and his clothes off, you knew he genuinely wasn’t feeling well.

You tangled one hand in his curls and scratched the fingernails of the other across his upper back beneath his tank top.

Shawn was always warm, but he seemed especially so that evening. “Are you okay, baby? You’re really warm.”

“’m fine,” he mumbled, already half-asleep.

You brought your hand from his hair to his forehead. “I don’t think you are,” you frowned. “I think you have a fever.”

“Don’t want you to worry ’bout me.”

“Too bad. It’s part of the job description as your devoted fiancée. As is taking care of you when you’re sick.”

“Don’t wan’be sick,” he pouted.

“Unfortunately, you can’t just wish it away, bub. I’m gonna get you some soup, because you really should eat something, and then see if we have some meds.” You began to extricate yourself from your clingy fiancé, but he further tightened himself around you.

“Stay. Please,” he whispered. “Just need you here. Just need some sleep. Be fine in th’mornin’.”

And with that, he was out like a light.

///

Surprisingly, you fell asleep almost as quickly. Now that Shawn was home again and in your arms where he belonged, and your body and mind truly realized you had a few days without deadlines or expectations ahead of you, you fell into your own sort of exhaustion.

You woke a few hours later, having barely moved, to a rumbling in your stomach. You contemplated whether or not to try to ignore it and go back to sleep.

Ultimately, you untangled yourself from Shawn, successfully this time, and padded into the kitchen to warm up some soup for you both. You would try to rouse him to eat and drink and take some medication before falling back to sleep for, hopefully, the entirety of the night. You wanted to try to get ahead of whatever was ailing him.

You felt his presence in the kitchen before you felt him wrap his arms around you from behind. “I woke up and you weren’t there,” he whined, voice a little raspy.

You rubbed his forearms, now covered with the fleece of his favorite bear-stamped sweater. He must’ve gotten cold, even if you could still feel his body radiating heat. You looked over your shoulder to see heavy eyes, mussed hair, and pink-stained cheeks. It wasn’t fair; even when he was sick he was stupidly attractive.

“Sit,” you instructed, urging him toward the stools at the kitchen island. He did. “I want you to eat, drink, and take your meds,” you gently, yet firmly, demanded, placing a bowl of soup, a glass of water, and two Tylenol Cold and Flu capsules before him.

“I’m not sick,” he tried to argue.

You hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek. “Humor me, bub.” You then sat beside him with your own bowl of soup and glass of water. He pulled you as close as possible without you ending up in his lap.

You weren’t satisfied till he’d slurped the last spoonful of chicken and vegetables, drained his glass of water, and swallowed his pills.

The short stop-off in the kitchen had exhausted him all over again.

“Go back to bed, baby, I’ll be there as soon as I clean up.”

Still, he offered, “I’ll help.”

“You will not. Go.”

“Can’t we clean up in the morning?” he frowned.

He looked so downtrodden, you didn’t want to deny him anything. You glanced around the kitchen, - it would take all of three minutes, - but before you could contest, Shawn’s hand was in yours and he was leading you back to your room.

After using the bathroom, and completing an abridged bedtime routine, you were back in bed and curled around one another, yet with less clothing. Shawn had again grown too warm and had divested himself of his sweater and tank top and you only wore your little boyshort underwear and one of Shawn’s old t-shirts.

“Do you wanna...?” he whispered, his hand slipping beneath the tee and up your back.

He would put forth his best effort, even as tired and unwell as he was feeling, because he’d missed making love with you as much as you had, and he was selfless like that. But so were you. The intimacy of just being able to hold one another close enough to share breath was everything you needed right then.

There was no way you could get any closer than you were, but that didn’t stop him from trying to crawl into your skin. 

“You can ravish me in the morning,” you promised with a smirk he could feel against the juncture between his jaw and ear.

He tenderly wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and sighed an ‘I love you’ before his eyes fluttered closed.

///

Shawn’s tossing and turning began around 2am. He was alternately too cold, buried under the comforter and flush against you, or too hot, blankets thrown off and balancing his giant, sweat-sheened body on the edge of the mattress. Regardless, he still needed some sort of skin to skin contact at all times, reaching for you, even in sleep, if only to touch his fingertips to yours.

His fever hadn’t broken yet; in fact, he seemed a little warmer as he was currently facing you, with only his forehead touching yours, again in that ‘too hot’ state. You did your best to attune yourself to his hot and cold fluctuations and adjusted the blankets accordingly whenever you were conscious enough to do so.

He finally, thankfully, fell into a deep, restful sleep around four-thirty.

A rattling cough startled you awake just after eight.

“Sorry,” Shawn croaked.

“Come here, Love,” you murmured, drawing him toward you. You lovingly traced the contours of his face with your fingertips. “How are you feeling?”

“’m sick,” he rasped, finally admitting what you already knew. “Shouldn’t’ve kissed you. Now you’re gonna get sick, too. ’m sorry.” His eyes were emotion filled and limned with unshed tears.

You shrugged. “We’ll be sick together then. No sorries, baby. Kissing you was, and is, worth the risk.” You moved to kiss him again.

He pulled his head away. “No. There’s still a chance to save yourself.”

You giggled. “I assume all responsibility. You can even say ‘I told you so’.”

“Oh, I will,” he smirked, but he could no longer deny you what you both wanted so badly. He brought his mouth to yours for a few moments of languorous kissing. He hummed against your lips.

When you eased away, you dipped your thumb in the divot of his chin. Your voice softened and cracked when you whispered, “It was too long without you this time.”

“I know,” he exhaled, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “Things will settle after the move.”

“You’re still too warm,” you said, kissing his forehead and frowning. “What hurts?”

“Everything,” he sniffled. “Throat’s sore. My chest is a little tight. My head hurts. My body hurts. ’m cold. You’re warm,” he sighed, cuddling even closer.

“I’m going to make you something to eat, and hot tea for your throat. And let’s get another dose of meds into you too, okay?”

He wasn’t hungry, and the thought of swallowing anything was currently a little overwhelming, but he was well aware that his immune system needed the boost. He also knew it would make you feel better if he at least tried to eat and hydrate. That alone was enough.

He reluctantly loosened his hold on you to allow you out of bed. You rounded to his side and organized a mound of pillows at his back. You turned on the television and asked, “What do you want to watch?”

He looked at you like you’d grown a second head. “It’s Saturday morning.”

“Of course,” you chuckled and flipped to Cartoon Network. “How silly of me.” Saturdays were always no gym, breakfast in bed, cartoon mornings.

You peppered kisses along his jaw and into his neck. “Love you. I’ll be right back, ’k?”

His eyes, filled with adoration, found yours. “Thank you,” he breathed. “I love you.”

With an affectionate smile, you ran a hand gently through his curls before leaving him in the company of ‘6teen’ to go make breakfast.

Shawn stumbled into the kitchen with the duvet wrapped tightly around him just as you had finished organizing the breakfast tray. You laughed. “You’re supposed to be in bed!”

He opened the blanket and drew you into his cocoon. “I missed you.”

You wrapped your arms around his torso, hugged him to you, and tipped your head up to kiss his chin. “I’ve been gone less than ten minutes, bub,” you snickered. 

“Less than ten minutes is too long,” he affirmed. “And I needed more Kleenex.”

“Go on now. I’ll be right behind you with the tray and a box of tissues.”

You had balanced two bowls of honey-sweetened oatmeal with blueberries and strawberries, two cups of citrus-honey green tea, another dose of Tylenol, and now a new box of tissues on the tray. You set it in the middle of your bed after Shawn had once again gotten as comfortable as possible and before you climbed back in beside him.

All throughout breakfast, Shawn craved your warmth. You were too hot encased in the duvet with him, but you endured it because he was sick and snuggly and needed you. And even with that, and a belly full of oatmeal and tea, he wasn’t warm enough.

You cupped his face and he leaned into your touch. “How about I run you a hot bath?”

He nodded tiredly.

He sat on the closed toilet seat with the blanket still wrapped around him while you began to prepare his bath in your heated soaking tub big enough for two. His insistence on being wherever you were was endearing.

You were often invading each other’s bubble on any given day, but being apart for weeks, coupled with him feeling unwell, made for an especially clingy boy.

You added a few drops of essential oils to water just shy of too hot and soon the bathroom was steamy and aromatic. Shawn could already feel the soothing effects of eucalyptus and peppermint as he filled his loosening lungs with deep breaths.

“I’m afraid you have to peel yourself out of the blanket and your clothes to get in, bub. Quick as you can. A few moments of cold and then you’ll be as warm as can be.”

You pushed the duvet off his shoulders and pulled his sweatshirt and tank top up and over his head. He shivered and quickly removed his joggers and boxer briefs himself before stepping into the tub.

He sunk in, up to his chin, sighing deeply, eyes closing. You began to gather the dirties to deposit into the hamper, and then the comforter to return to your bedroom.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded, reaching out to encircle his hand around the back of your knee.

You crouched down beside the tub to bring yourself eye level with him. You tangled a hand in his hair and gave his scalp a gentle scratch. “How about you let me clean up after breakfast and change the sheets, and then I’ll get in with you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be away for ten minutes, maybe fifteen. Think you can handle that?” you teased.

“Meanie,” he scowled.

You laughed softly and leaned in to kiss him. He fell back against the bath pillow and again closed his eyes.

///

You turned the heat up a few degrees on your way to the kitchen with the tray of dirty breakfast dishes.

After the kitchen was clean, you returned to your bedroom to strip the bed of the sheets Shawn had sweated through earlier that morning and tossed them in the washer. You then remade the bed before pulling clean boxer briefs, joggers, a tank top, sweatshirt, and socks from Shawn’s dresser drawers.

Less than fifteen minutes later and you were back in the humid, fragrant bathroom. Shawn smiled contentedly at your return. You removed your engagement ring, placing it safely on the ring holder, - you never wore it in the bath or shower, - twisted your hair up into a messy bun, pulled your shirt off, and slipped out of your boy shorts. He scooted forward enough for you to climb into the bathtub behind him.

Your new home in LA had to have a heated soaking tub as well; it was one of your mutual must-haves for intimate moments just like this. If it didn’t, Shawn had promised to have one installed.

He relaxed into you, his hands stroking the backs of your thighs which had found their way around his hips. You draped your arms over his shoulders and began to run your fingertips through the hair on his chest.

You didn’t talk much, even though his throat was already feeling better, speaking instead with soft touches and caresses, entwined hands and palm and wrist kisses. You absorbed each other’s very essence, letting your body rhythms continue to re-attune to one another’s, as you soaked in the hot water.

Everyone outside of your relationship found it truly amazing that you and Shawn were almost always in harmony. You easily finished each other’s sentences, and often knew what the other wanted or needed without having to say anything at all.

Once you were both thoroughly waterlogged, and Shawn was finally warm deep into his bones, you lovingly washed his hair. 

///

Shawn sighed blissfully as he pulled on the clean boxers and joggers you’d laid out for him, - he was warm enough now not to need anything else, - and slid into bed between clean sheets.

“Try to sleep, hm?” you murmured. What he needed more than anything was sleep. You placed your hand to his forehead and, much to your relief, his fever had finally broken.

You suspected it wouldn’t take long for him to doze off now that he was warm and his body aches had eased. The Tylenol had dulled his headache and the lozenge you had given him, which he was currently sucking on, was soothing his sore throat.

You assured him you were coming back to bed as soon as you put the sheets in the dryer and retrieved some fresh water for your bedside.

He was barely holding onto consciousness by the time you returned. You made him sit up and drink as much of the cold coconut water as he was willing and able to. You then crawled back into bed beside him.

He whispered another ‘thank you’ and yet another ‘I love you’ before he succumbed.

Before you allowed yourself to fall asleep as well, you turned off the television and reached for Shawn’s phone next to yours on the nightstand. You had placed it in ‘do not disturb mode’ as soon as you’d known he was sick.

You entered his passcode to check his texts and voicemails for anything which might be pressing, and returned the necessary calls and messages.

From your own phone you called Shawn’s mom to let her know you weren’t going to make it to dinner that night because her son was sick with what you suspected was the flu.

You promised Karen she didn’t need to come over; that you would be home with him for as long as he needed you to be, and that you were taking the very best care of him. And yes, you would have him call her himself when he was up again and hopefully feeling better.

Despite your and, later that afternoon, Shawn’s assurances, Karen and Manny still drove into the city from Pickering to bring dinner to you. Baked Parmesan zucchini, homemade spaghetti and meat sauce, and a small plate of brownies, all gluten-free, of course.

They didn’t stay long. Shawn was still fatigued and achy as his immune system fought against his illness, but they were happy to see him eating, even if his portions were smaller than usual, and otherwise being well taken care of. Karen adored you, and trusted you wholeheartedly, but she was still his mother and he was her baby boy.

Karen insisted on cleaning up after dinner. She wouldn’t even accept your help.

She and Manny risked close contact, - after all, they also hadn’t seen Shawn for a month, - by giving him (and you) huge hugs before they left.

You fell into bed that evening, again wrapped up in one another, and slept, deep and restful, straight through till morning.

///

You woke up alone. Shawn’s side of the bed was empty. You listened for sounds of him from the bathroom. Instead you heard the strumming of his guitar from outside your bedroom, interspersed with some slight coughing.

He looked up from his playing to find you leaning against the archway with one of your small smiles only for him on your face. “Good morning, baby,” he returned your smile.

You crossed over to him, curling up on the couch beside him. You reached out to give a playful scritch to the stubble along his jawline. “Whatcha doin’ out here?”

“I woke up early and couldn’t fall back to sleep. I feel like I’ve done nothing but sleep for thirty-six hours,” he chuckled.

“You needed it...”

He simply nodded his agreement. He brushed a lock of hair from your eyes and tucked it behind your ear. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

You shook your head and then asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he smiled, just before a small fit of coughing began again.

Your brow furrowed.

“It sounds worse than it feels,” he laughed. “It’s good, it’s loose. I can breathe deep.” And he drew a deep breath to reassure you.

For the flu, it was certainly a mild case if he was already feeling better. It made you hopeful that if you did end up also getting sick, you’d get through it just as quickly.

Now that you were up, Shawn voiced his desire to get out of the house for some fresh air.

It was a cold morning, with a slight coating of snow across the grass from the night before, so you dressed warm. You tucked scarves into your coats and made the short walk over to your favorite café for coffee and pastries.

You spent the rest of the morning gaming. You made lunch together. You fell asleep while watching movies and cuddling on the living room sofa. You ate Karen’s leftovers for dinner, all of them. (Spaghetti was always better the next day.) Shawn’s appetite was much improved.

His color and his strength were also a lot better.

Back in bed after dinner, you sat shoulder to shoulder in front of Shawn’s laptop as he showed you the latest of the LA homes he’d bookmarked, one which had just come on the market. He hoped it wasn’t gone before you returned to LA with him the week after the one upcoming.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me,” he sighed, out of nowhere, as if it was an afterthought. “You always do.”

You dropped a kiss to his bare shoulder and murmured, “Always will.”

“You’re gonna be the best mommy.”

His comment wasn’t exactly surprising; you’d just looked at photos of the aforementioned property, one of which was a nursery.

Still, you teased, chuckling, “Do you know something I don’t?”

He laughed. “Just manifesting. For the future.”

“Let’s get through the move and our wedding first, hm? Then we’ll talk babies.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Shawn closed his laptop and set it on the nightstand before turning to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I seem to remember another promise made.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. Something about ravishing you...?”

You grinned, giggled, “You’re sure you’re feeling well enough for ‘ravishing’?”

“I feel well enough to sure as hell try,” he smirked, swiftly maneuvering you beneath him and tugging the duvet over your heads.

~*~

@mendesblurb @monikamendes @mendesficsxbombay @silverswallow @chocochipcookie305 @misti-ka @fallinallinshawn @hiding-behind-a-flower @benito-mi-vida

(Is there anyone who wishes to be added or removed from my meager taglist? There are at least three of the above who I don't think read my writing anymore, or are even on tumblr these days.)

[zoomzooml]

[Worldbuilding] Regulators and recyclers aka the fauna of Cybertron

Like Transformers, mechanimals are created as protoforms and hatch from cocoons. Types of mechanimals can be divided by their function, or diet.

There I will try to vaguely explain these groups, along with examples of representatives.

Regulators can be compared to Earth's herbivores; they are representatives of the fauna, foraging vigilantly listening for threats. They feed primarily on parasitic lichens and regulate their numbers. In addition they can snack on flora, usually built on synthetic substances and fuels. Different models of regulators may and will have different energon preferences.

There are Transformers that toil to keep and maintain certain regulator models so that they can then be used to regulate parasites in a particular area in a slightly more natural, yet controlled way.

They are social mechanimals usually living in groups of 10-30 individuals. They are strong and fierce in battle, especially when defending young companions. They feed precociously on parasites that feed on the planet's substrate, such as Needler, so they have quite an appetite. Unfortunately, they are also quite clumsy, which results in injuries.

These are extremely rare loners, and if they are in a group it is a small one, numbering no more than 3 individuals. It is so difficult to encounter them that they have long been considered legends or myths. They are neutral to the point of seeming mindless. But rest assured that they are aware, and if you try to attack one, be prepared for a powerful kick or stab with a horn.

All indications are that they were one of the first models created by Vector Sigma.

Regulators also include pollinators by some, as they have a role in regulating plant populations. Pollinators primarily feed on nectar - energon made available by the flora - but are seen feeding on the "blood" of dead or injured organisms.

In situations where there was a need to "revitalize" an area, one option was to plant a dozen flowers, often preparing nesting sites for pollinators and artificially introducing a certain number of individuals. There was a good chance that they would quickly contribute to the spread of flora. Well, as quickly as possible.

They live in groups, but do not appear to be social with other individuals that are not their partner. They mainly inhabit table sunflowers, which are often accompanied by crested sunflowers - the needlebeaks' main energon source. They can also often be found in areas ruled by other flowers.

Bumblebuzzes live in numerous colonies, in nests usually built underground, but nests in trees do occur. Interestingly, they apparently establish colonies near the ground, where there is an increased occurrence of their cocoons. They have a rich, hierarchical social life. They can be found near flowered areas and are passive as long as they do not feel threatened.

Recyclers act as Cybertron's scavengers, but often play the role of hunters. Metal does not decompose, so every time something on Cybertron dies, it would simply be stuck outside the planet's resource cycle. To prevent this from happening, recyclers exist. They find and eat the remains of dead organisms, tearing them apart with their strong jaws and teeth, pecking out every screw they can. From the metal they consume, their tankards extract all the remaining energon. Unnecessary leftovers would be dislodged usually in liquid form so that the remaining components could be transported, usually by root sytem, to Vector Sigma and used to build the next units.

Their job is also to hunt down damaged individuals. This made them a huge threat during the war. Some soldiers used them like hound dogs, searching for a hidden or fleeing enemy.

Strong predators with equally strong jaws and a sensitive sense of smell. When hunting, they will assiduously stalk suitable prey to bite in at the right moment and not let go. They live in groups of several individuals and actively seek out and adopt newly hatched individuals.

The big avianoid is definitely a terror of the sky, armed with a beak like a sword or spear. They live in small groups or alone. It is worth mentioning that on the ground they are only slightly less agile than in the sky. Toward unknown individuals of the same model they seem to be territorial and even aggressive.

You can also find models that fall into more than one group, although even then they have a preference to one diet.

Adorned with two horns and strong legs, they were made to charge at danger. They are usually non-confrontational, but when provoked they have no problem breaking a few parts. Not their own, obviously. They usually live in small groups.

Smaller than the similar Bladebeak, they live in numerous herds with a rich social life. They inhabit cliffs and rock walls, on which they are in the habit of hovering.

Of course, there are many other mechanimals, on the ground, in the sky or in the water.

What makes mechanimals different from Transformers? First and foremost, the t-cog parameters. Almost every Cybertron creature has some sort of t-cog system, but not every one is as elaborate as the Transformers. The Transformers have this system so advanced that they are able to and have a whole alternative mode that can have different forms.

However, the mechanimals' t-cogs don't allow them to transform so far. They can relocate their parts to maximize some trait or skill, like speed, but they won't have an entire alt-mode.

The range of the t-cog is also tied to the computational power of the processor, so you could say that intelligence in some sense of the word has some relevance here, too. However, this is a loose connection. As mechanimals are less intelligent than Transformers, everything points to the fault of design and programming, not t-cog parameters.

But this is worth keeping in mind, given that the root-mode of some transformers can remarkably resemble mechanimals.

The above informations are old files, mostly from before the disappearance of the All-Spark. Propably, there are still some units functioning on Cybertron, but without active circulation of resources, mechanimals most likely only have a chance of survival in captivity.