#its spherical out there

[felassan]

you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

("it's about the circles" meme/image 9 was made by @strixhaven)

[luminnara]

Unheavenly Creatures | Feyd Rautha/reader (NSFW 18+)

Summary: Feyd Rautha has taken a liking to you, a handmaiden accompanying your mistress on a diplomatic visit to Giedi Prime. He decides it's time to add another darling to his collection.

Warnings: knife stuff, blood stuff, mentions of murder, sex, a lil cannibalism, sex sex sex, dubcon-ish tones? lots of biting, it's feyd rautha it's not gonna be all sunshine, but he is also not as terrible as canon entirely so idk

Word count: 6k

Check out my feyd rautha playlist!

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty

The Harkonnen palace was a cold place, not in the sense that the air was crisp and you could see your own breath, but rather that the austerity of its halls and monochromatic decor felt positively frigid. As if even the buildings weren’t meant to harbor life on this toxic, forsaken rock anymore. Everything you had seen of Giedi Prime so far had felt the same—stark, brutal, inhospitable. A barren wasteland with blinding white skies and dark acid rain.

And yet, House Harkonnen seemed to thrive beneath the black sun, growing numerous and powerful and rich. Before arriving, you had heard horror stories, rumors of what Baron Vladimir and his nephews were like, none of them pretty. When you had been informed you’d been chosen to accompany your own House’s leaders on a diplomatic trip to the Harkonnen homeworld, you’d considered pretending to be sick to get out of it. Faking your own death had seemed like a valid option at that point.

But with little choice of your own, you were forced to follow along as a handmaiden, and from the moment you set foot on Giedi Prime, you were determined to keep your head down and hope that the meetings went smoothly so that you could return to your own planet as quickly as possible. As you walked dutifully behind your Lady, hands folded and eyes trained on your feet, you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose at the putrid, chemical air, unaware of the dark eyes watching you.

“My nephew, na-Baron Feyd Rautha,” Baron Harkonnen rasped, his voice like dry gravel. His words had you glancing up to finally look at what the Harkonnens considered royalty, and what was supposed to be a quick peek turned into a curious stare. The Baron himself was a large man, and he was levitating, wearing a long black robe that touched the ground even while he was so high above it. Tubes connected him to what you could only assume was some sort of breathing apparatus, a dark, spherical thing floating behind him. Standing behind him to his right was a much younger man, dressed in black and staring directly at you.

You felt a chill fly up your spine.

Feyd Rautha tore his eyes away from you and inclined his head in acknowledgement, looking to your Lord and Lady as formal pleasantries were exchanged. You kept your eyes down once more as you finally moved indoors, where the air was fresh and stale at the same time, and the walls were imposing and cold.

You followed along as your Lady was given the grand tour, a journey that ended at the guest wing. You were shown to your room and all but locked inside, left alone to inspect your temporary lodgings. If the rest of the palace was bleak, this was entirely featureless—a single boring bed sat in the center, a small table off to the side. There were no windows, not a shred of natural light despite how high the ceiling was. How anyone could willingly design such a place was beyond you, and you counted yourself lucky to only have to endure it for a short time.

Dinner was served that evening, hosted by the Baron and his nephew. You were permitted to join, dressed in a plain white gown as you sat in silence, doing your best to disappear. You could feel Feyd Rautha’s eyes upon you as you ate and tried to ignore him, cutting into what must have been meat and realizing it was rare at best, perhaps an organ from some large beast. Nonetheless you ate it, finding it adequate and perhaps even tasty, eating in the calm and measured manner expected of you back home.

Suddenly, Feyd barked a laugh. “A pet at the dinner table?”

You glanced up at him and found yourself fascinated once more. His pale skin, nearly white, was completely smooth; you had yet to see a Harkonnen with hair, though you did not know whether they removed it or simply never had it in the first place. His blue eyes were so dark they appeared black in contrast, and as he grinned at you, all you saw were black teeth, and it was somehow beautiful in that brutal, gruesome way of Giedi Prime.

“Do your pets always dine with you?” He rasped, his tone mocking.

“Na-Baron, she is not a pet,” your Lady said sternly, and you felt safe knowing that she would defend you. You were loyal to your House for a reason, after all; you knew your leaders would bring you home safe and sound. “She is my attendant.”

“You must forgive my dear nephew,” the Baron said. “Your customs are not ours.”

You expected a rebuttal, but none came, and Feyd Rautha’s eyes remained glued to you as you ate.

-0-

The negotiations seemed to stretch on.

After dinner, you had helped your Lady retire for the night and then returned to your chamber, laying in bed as you stared at the distant ceiling. All the stories you had heard of the Harkonnens swirled in your mind, and you thought of their recent extermination of House Atreides and shuddered. Your House was desperate to stay in their good graces, you knew, and who could blame them? No one wanted to end up slaughtered like the Atreides.

You told yourself that you were safe. Even if the Harkonnens had lured your Lord and Lady to Giedi Prime under false pretenses, you were only a servant; there was no reason to kill you as well. Aside from Feyd Rautha’s comments at dinner and the stark discomfort of the palace, nothing had happened to make you believe you were a target, and though you knew it was borderline blasphemous, you took some solace in the knowledge that it was more worth their while to kill your masters than you.

When you finally relaxed enough to close your eyes, however, sleep came surprisingly easily, and your dreams were simple and comfortable.

In the morning, you prepared the Lady for the day, and then she and the Lord entered their meeting with the Baron, leaving you alone. There was nothing to do but wander the guest wing, though that only occupied you for a short time as there was absolutely nothing to look at. Nothing in the way of art decorated the walls, and the architecture was so smooth and so plain you quickly grew bored of it. You doubted you would be permitted to participate in anything that even semi-resembled entertainment, and as minutes stretched into hours, you realized your feet had taken you out of the guest wing and into a corridor you had no memory of.

You turned in a circle, seeing nothing and no one familiar, and made the decision to continue on. Surely someone would have informed you of any off-limits areas upon your arrival, and with absolutely no guards in sight, it couldn’t be that bad for you to wander this area as well.

Your steps echoed around you, breaking the oppressive silence of the hall. The architecture was bafflingly different compared to that of your home, where wood and warm stone blended together to create buildings that felt welcoming. On Giedi Prime, everything was harsh and inhospitable—including the people and their homes.

Though your interactions with the Harkonnens had been brief thus far, you could confidently say that they weren’t winning any popularity contests, except perhaps amongst themselves. Nearly everything you’d ever heard about them was bad, and so far, you mostly found them strange; the Baron was fearsome in the way a sick, desperate animal was, with those eyes that followed people as if he were wondering what it would be like to crush their necks in his hands just because he could.

His nephew, on the other hand, was fearsome in the way a predator was. His movements were smooth and confident at dinner the night before, his eyes calculating as if counting how many moves it would take him to press a knife into your gut. You had heard of Feyd Rautha, the pretty boy of Giedi Prime, but you had never seen him before yesterday, and quite frankly, you had expected something else…but then again, what had you even expected at all? The na-Baron was surely cruel just as his uncle was, but he seemed…different.

The clang of metal followed by the sound of a muffled thud startled you out of your thoughts of Feyd, and with a start, you realized you were standing outside a closed door. It was the first noise you’d heard that wasn’t your own all day, and your heart pounded as you quickly stepped back. Perhaps you should run, lest you be caught outside the guest wing. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter at all, as no one has explicitly ordered you to remain in your chamber. And, above all else, perhaps you were curious about what lay on the other side of the door, and you took a step forward again.

It was only a heartbeat later that it opened, revealing Feyd Rautha.

“Well, well,” he said, voice rough, “what do we have here?”

He was dressed in all black, in what you assumed were casual clothes for the Harkonnen royalty.

“Apologies, Feyd Rautha,” you said quickly. “I was passing by and heard a sound.”

You could feel his eyes raking over you as he listened. Then, a smirk crept across his lips, and he help up a bloody dagger.

He did so slowly, and you knew it to be an attempt at intimidation. He wanted you scared. He wanted to shock and disgust the outsider who came from another great house, who had surely never encountered anything like him before.

But you were tougher than that. You may have been a handmaiden for a spoiled aristocrat, but on your planet, hunting was common. You’d had your fair share of field dressing game, and you weren’t one to shy away from a knife.

You eyed the dark blood dripping from the blade, then focused on his face once more. “I apologize if I have caused an interruption.”

“Not at all,” he said, brow twitching as he tilted his head slightly. “Though you are to address me as na-Baron. Only my darlings may use my name.”

“Of course, na-Baron. My apologies.”

“Why are you not in the guest wing, little pet?”

“I have nothing to do, na-Baron.” You shrugged.

This time, he grinned, baring black teeth. If he expected you to cringe away, he would be surprised to find that you seemed almost unimpressed with the display. “So you walk freely, as though you own this palace. I could kill you for the insolence.”

You looked at him boredly.

“I could gut you.” He took a step towards you. “Stick this knife into you. Right. Here.”

He was standing before you, the tip of the blade poking your belly, still grinning. At your lack of reaction, however, the grin faded slightly, nearly faltering.

“Not there,” you replied, a bit amused by his lack of skill.

“What?”

“If you aim to gut me, that’s a terrible place to start.” You wrapped a hand around his and moved the knife over slightly. “This is better.”

He watched your face. “You’re a Bene Gesserit witch.”

“No,” your lip quirked in a small smile. “No, I’m experienced in the ways of hunting and traditional field dressing. Our House is known for them.”

“You’re a hunter? A weak, little thing like you?” He pressed the blade against your dress and laughed.

You considered stepping back, away from the na-Baron and his knife, but you recognized the growing fervor in his eyes. He wanted to hunt, to pursue, to drive the blade forward until he could feel your blood on his skin. Feyd was like a hunting hound, eager to follow the scent of his prey, easily triggered by the chase. So you stood still, studying his pale, smooth face.

“The Lord and Lady enjoy hunting on the estate.” You finally answered. “I often assist in dressing the game after.”

“But have you killed?”

“My uncle took me hunting when I was young. I learned much about the ways of nature and the hunt.”

“You speak so formally,” he taunted, leaning in.

“I do, na-Baron,” you replied curtly. “I do not wish to offend.”

With a sick smirk, he leaned into you even further, lips brushing your ear. “Have you killed a human?”

You watched him from the corner of your eye, and he watched you.

“Na-Baron, I fear I’m lost. I’ll return to the guest wing promptly if you’ll point me in the right direction—“

“Don’t change the subject, pet.” He drew back. “Lying to me is unwise.”

You swallowed hard. “Why do you wish to know?”

“You’ve caught my eye, little one,” he withdrew the blade, leaving the smallest stain on your dress. “And you’ve already told me all I need to know.”

You felt a chill, the back of your neck tingling as you watched him raise the bloody knife and lick it clean. Feyd Rautha was dangerous. More dangerous than you knew.

“Return to the guest wing,” he rasped. “I must attend to my darlings. They grow lonely without me.”

You stared, perplexed, as he strode away, an uneasy feeling washing over you as you turned and hurried back the way you had come. The sooner you could leave Giedi Prime and its unnerving House, the better.

-0-

“What?”

“Hush.” Your mistress scolded you, but you barely heard her.

Your head was too busy spinning.

“You are to remain here,” your Lord repeated. “In the employ of the na-Baron Feyd Rautha.”

Your heart dropped in a sickening way.

“You’ve been so very good to me,” the Lady said. “You’ll serve House Harkonnen very well, I am certain of it.”

“But I-I—I’m…” you paused, trying to catch your breath and quell the panic tightening your chest. “I’m loyal to our House, milady. And I want to return home, to the palace, and serve you.”

“Baron Harkonnen was insistent,” your Lord said flippantly. “It seems Feyd Rautha approached him sometime after our meeting yesterday, and this morning as we finalized the agreements, it was decided you’d be included in the negotiations. Imagine that, a fresh alliance with House Harkonnen and a fine sum for a handmaiden!”

“You…sold me?” You asked, your voice sounding incredibly small.

“Now, I’m sure you’re nervous, but really, these Harkonnens are nothing to worry about. Those nasty rumors back home are simply that, and I’m sure you’ll be well taken care of. Now, we must depart at once, and you are to be shown to the na-Baron’s chambers.”

“Ta ta, dear one!”

And just like that, your entire world was shattered.

As you followed a Harkonnen servant through the corridors, you kept your head down. You felt furious and lost, anger twisting in your gut. So much for loyalty—never before had you been made to feel so easily replaced, and yet they had given you away so willingly you could hardly believe it. Whatever negotiations had been made, whatever new deals struck, you had been deemed unimportant enough to your House to simply be left in the care of a dangerous man, and now you felt your very life was suddenly in grave danger.

“We have arrived, milady,” your guide said timidly, hunching her shoulders and clasping her hands tightly as you turned to look at her.

“Thank you,” you replied, brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “Am I to…enter?”

“Yes, milady,” she seemed to bite the words, not angrily, but in an effort to get them out quickly.

“Is Feyd Rautha inside?”

“Yes.” Came the whispered affirmative.

The bald woman was nearly trembling, and you felt as though perhaps you should be, as well. Feyd Rautha had been intimidating every time you interacted with him, and now that he had made the baffling decision to demand you remain on his planet, you were beginning to think you ought to fear him.

But he was only a man, you reminded yourself as you faced the door. Not a god. Not some supernatural being. The na-Baron was flesh and blood.

With a deep breath, you opened the door.

“You enter unannounced?” A familiar voice rasped.

Feyd Rautha was indeed inside what appeared to be living quarters, and the room seemed lavish by Harkonnen standards. A large bed with black sheets sat against the far wall, before which was a simple sitting area featuring oddly shaped sofas, all black as well. A mirror was mounted on the wall near the bed, and you chose not to wonder about its placement. You spied two doors on either side of the room, and in its center, stood the na-Baron.

“I was told to come here,” you said, voice tinged with irritation.

“And so you have,” he smirked, twirling a dagger in his hand as he approached you. "Obedient."

When he reached you, invading your space and nearly brushing against your chest with his, he caught the way your nostrils flared angrily and grinned. His black teeth, previously so fascinating, brought only annoyance now, much like the rest of him.

“May I ask what exactly is going on, na-Baron?”

“Oh, I simply couldn’t let you leave,” you felt his blade as the flat of it pressed up against your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “I had to have you, pet.”

“I am not a pet,” you spat, unable to contain yourself any longer. “And I demand to know exactly why I’ve been sold as one.”

The knife was pulled away as Feyd circled you. In the mirror near the bed, you could see him looking you up and down, appraising you freely now that the two of you were hidden from the rest of the galaxy.

“Your masters gave you away easily,” he said, stopping behind you. “They did not realize your true potential.”

“My potential?” You hissed, head jerking to the side to watch him from the corner of your eye. “And what might that be, na-Baron?”

In a blink, he had leaned in, rough hands suddenly gripping your sides as he brought his lips to your ear. “Call me Feyd.”

His too-hot breath on your neck and the tone of his voice caused your anger to stutter. “I-I thought only your darlings called you by your name?”

“Oh, it’s a clever pet,” he taunted, nipping your earlobe sharply. When he saw that you stayed still and didn’t flinch, he seemed pleased. “What do you know of my darlings?”

“N-nothing, I don’t even know what that means,” you answered truthfully.

“My darlings,” he began, a hand moving up to brush through your hair, short in the style of your position—former position—within your—former—house. “Are the most beautiful creatures. They are very special to me.”

You were in danger.

You knew it.

“I want you.” He said simply, pressing his lips to the back of your neck, and you knew he meant in every way. “Give yourself freely.”

“Why me?” You asked, mustering your courage to speak above a whisper.

He chuckled at that, running his tongue up your spine to the base of your skull. “You are just right, the perfect addition. You are unafraid. You have a taste for meat. And you have killed.”

You were silent for a moment, jaw squared. “I never told you that.”

His hands were creeping over your hips now, across the front of your dress. When he spoke, his voice was low and heady. “Who was it?”

Another long pause came as you wrestled with yourself, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth as you finally tried to speak.

“My father.”

As Feyd Rautha let out a guttural groan at your admittance, you stared at yourself in the mirror, and nearly didn’t recognize the person you saw.

“You and I are alike, pet,” his hands squeezed at you harshly while his nose pressed into your hair. “I killed my mother.”

A part of you felt sick at the suggestion that you were anything like the monster that was Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. Another part of you felt a strange comfort in the knowledge that you weren’t the only one in the room who had committed parricide.

“I haven’t shared that in a long time,” you admitted.

“Did he fight it?”

You could feel his arousal as he pushed his hips against you, the sensation bringing an unexpected fire to your core.

“Yes.”

“Did he deserve it?”

You stared at yourself in the mirror and saw an unexpected harshness in your eyes, the polite handmaiden now completely absent, replaced by what you had feared you truly were ever since the day of your father’s death; a killer.

“Yes.”

But if you had feared that you were bad for it, that you deserved punishment, Feyd Rautha seemed determined to prove otherwise. He turned you in his arms, never letting go, and brought his lips to yours in a greedy kiss.

“I need you now,” he breathed, almost sounding vulnerable for a moment.

“Take me,” you said against his lips, determined not to stop and think about what exactly you were doing.

If you were going to be kept and tortured by a Harkonnen prince, you may as well enjoy your last moments, right?

Feyd Rautha guided you to his bed in a way that was somehow both smooth and rough, gentle and demanding. He didn’t want to break you, but he wanted to see how far he could bend you before you snapped. He wanted to test you.

Your dress was quickly thrown to the wayside, torn by his dagger, his clothing following suit. As you lay on your back, fully bared to him, he crept over you, eyes taking over your body as he continued his earlier appraisal.

“So strange,” he muttered as he brushed his fingers over the soft hair between your legs.

“Are you…truly hairless?” You asked, eyeing his smooth groin. “You don’t…remove it?”

“Hair is…barbaric.”

You could have laughed at the irony of him of all people calling you a barbarian.

“I do not hate it on you,” he decided after careful consideration. “Perhaps you will keep this, for now.”

You had the odd feeling that you should feel grateful for the honor.

“It will set you apart from my other darlings,” his body moved over yours, eclipsing you as his hand reached between your legs.

He stroked you there, rubbing in a way that wasn’t gentle, wasn’t harsh, and wasn’t patient, all at once. When his lips captured yours once more, your mind spun—but it was a decidedly more pleasant spin than that short while ago when your entire world came crashing down. Feyd Rautha, while somewhat terrifying, was exhilarating, and as his fingers plunged inside of you and his kisses turned into demanding bites, you thought that perhaps this wasn’t so bad.

“That’s it,” he breathed, voice husky. “I want to hear you.”

Your whines and moans filled the heavy air. Feyd Rautha sought to conquer you, you realized; as you came, it wasn’t so much a favor to you as it was an ego boost for him. Either way, you benefited, and as he sheathed himself within you and his hips began rocking back and forth, you were glad for the warm up.

“F-Feyd,” you panted, nails digging into his back as you wrapped yourself around him.

He answered you with a low moan, face hidden in your neck. The na-Baron was merciless, driving into you over and over…but the heat that bloomed inside of you, that feeling that stemmed from your belly and ran all the way to your fingertips…was exhilarating.

He leaned back, one hand gripping your hip harshly, no doubt leaving bruises. The other found your throat and his fingers wrapped around it, squeezing, reminding you who he was. The heir to the Harkonnen throne. The pride of Giedi Prime.

Feyd Rautha.

Your face tingled as he held you, eyes seeking out his. The blue was nearly black, his pupils huge, like a big cat hunting in the dark. He was watching you, frenzied, feral in his ministrations, as if you were his prey and he had finally caught you. Just as your vision began to tunnel he let go and you gasped, gulping in air as he suddenly pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, manhandling you easily as you sank down onto him once more.

His hands were like a vice, pulling your hips down as he pushed up into you, still fucking you mercilessly even in this new position. You would never have expected this from him; you felt too powerful on top of him, too in control of someone who gave you every reason to assume that he wanted to be. That he would be the one weighing down on you, that he would forever and always be hovering over you as he made harsh demands. He was, truly, not as harsh as expected...not that you had ever, for a second, expected to be there with him.

He watched your tits bouncing above him, so much flesh laid bare for him to enjoy, and he soon pulled you down. When you expected him to return to your swollen lips, however, he instead moved his mouth to your chest, greedily sucking and biting your soft skin. He sank his teeth into you, reveling in your sharp gasp, answering it with a beastly groan that was so low and so loud you half imagined it must have shook the walls. The sound had your stomach twisting delightfully, your head fuzzy as Feyd Rautha pulled you closer, closer, closer, until you hardly knew where you ended and where he began. Half-formed thoughts swam in your head, none of them coherent, all of them about him as you desperately clawed at the arms that held you so tightly. He had wanted you, and now he had you, completely, all of you, in every sense of the word.

In that moment, you didn't hate it, or him, or that place; you wanted more. You wanted more of him. As your orgasm mounted, breaths coming in gasps, eyes glued to the pale man below you, you felt happy. Later, you would try to reason with yourself, tell yourself that it was simply chemicals in your brain that brought this on, but in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to do this over and over and over again with him.

"Yes," he rasped, voice muffled by your breasts. You felt the wet heat of his tongue in your cleavage, followed by the sharp bite of his teeth as he pulled you down onto himself. "Take it."

"Feyd," you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as your fingernails dug into his scalp. "Feyd!"

It came out as a half-scream as you felt the sting of his teeth, and it was enough to push you over the edge, plunging down into the abyss that was Feyd Rautha's love. His breath stuttered as his hips drove up against you, a growl sounding from deep within his chest as he came inside of you.

You felt his heart pounding as he held you, a sheen of sweat covering his smooth, pale body. You slumped over him, arms falling onto his shoulders limply. You thought you heard him laugh lightly.

"Good," he said, more to himself than to you.

He moved you easily, rolling you off of him and onto the bed as he pulled himself out. You felt slick and thoroughly used, not in a bad way, but in the way you imagined lovemaking should feel. You had never expected to feel such passion from Feyd Rautha, of all people. From a Harkonnen.

"Come." he stood and slipped his arms under you, scooping you up. Your arms immediately hooked around his neck, and as he carried you to one of the adjoining rooms, you wondered at how natural it felt to be with him now.

The door opened to reveal a steamy, dark bathing room, a large basin filled with dark liquid positioned in the floor. Feyd Rautha sank down into it and as you leaned your head against his shoulder, you heaved a sigh. The liquid was thicker than water but thinner than mud, like nothing you had ever felt before, and it was warm, soothing your bitemarks and sore muscles.

"What is this?" you managed to ask after several minutes of silence.

"Hmph." Feyd Rautha laughed, his whole body moving with the sound. "Oil and blood."

He paused, waiting for your reaction.

"...Ah." you said, wrinkling your nose for a moment as you looked down at the bubbling goo. "...It's nice."

His lips spread into a wide grin. "You don't find it disgusting, my darling?"

"It feels too nice to be disgusting right now."

Feyd Rautha moved a large hand to the side of your head and held you against him, pressing a kiss to your temple in a way that was almost tender. "Rest now. You will need it."

Too tired to ask why, you simply nodded, sinking into him as the blood bath steamed around you. If this was to be your fate now, you didn't mind it; and if he killed you tomorrow, at least your final day had turned out somewhat enjoyable.

-0-

"Do you like it?'

The question was simple, only four words, and yet it was never one you had expected to hear Feyd Rautha ask.

You had been living in his chambers for a week, sleeping next to him, eating with him, wearing what he chose and accompanying him wherever he went. You saw more of the Harkonnen palace--the training room was a frequent haunt, and you realized that it was the room you had wandered to on the day of your first conversation with him. You saw more of Feyd Rautha, as well, and you noticed how quickly he often decided to kill those around him.

But not you.

Never you.

He had yet to do anything worse than bite or scratch, occasionally bending your limbs too far when he tested your physical capabilities in his bed but always letting you go just before any real injury occurred. You often felt the smooth metal of his blades, but they never cut deep; he mentioned once that perhaps he would mark you with one soon, leave a scar that only he would ever be allowed to see, but he had yet to enact that fantasy. You weren't sure if that was good or bad.

Now, you stood before him, wearing a simple black dress that clung to your body and shone as if it were always wet, and your head felt too cold.

"I...don't hate it," you decided as you looked at your reflection.

"Good." he ran a hand over your smooth scalp.

"Will it grow back?"

"At first." he said in his accent that was growing more and more familiar to hear. "Eventually it will stop."

"And the rest...?"

He smirked, turning you to face him. "I told you, that will set you apart from my other darlings."

At the mention of their collective name, a hiss sounded from across the room.

You twisted your head to the side, spying the two women you had been introduced to three days earlier. One--who you had learned had been Feyd's the longest--sported a thick black line down her forehead today, but they were otherwise identical. They watched you curiously, bald heads tilted as they looked at you with big, black eyes. Their dresses were similar to yours, and as you glanced back at the mirror, you realized how you really didn't recognize yourself anymore.

Your teeth had been stained black already, your hair and eyebrows shaved and then the skin treated with something that the servants had explained would keep the hair away. You had already undergone one strange Harkonnen beauty treatment in what you had come to learn was a medical spa, and it was the only one that had frightened you--a strange machine had bared down upon you and done something to your eyes, injecting something that changed them and yet didn't change them, causing them to become big and black like Feyd's other darlings. You actually thought your eyesight was better now, somehow.

You matched them now, you realized, like a member of a set. Feyd Rautha's third concubine.

It was an upgrade from your last job, you supposed.

"It suits you." he pressed his lips to the base of your neck. "My darling."

"Thank you, Feyd," you said, growing more and more used to calling him by his name with every time you said it.

You felt him smirk against your skin. He was no doubt very pleased with himself, having managed to completely transform a murderous handmaiden into a sinister harpy in the course of only one week. Granted, Giedi Prime's days were significantly longer than on your home planet, but it was still a commendable haste.

"Come." he rasped in that gravelly voice you were beginning to love. "All of us. It is time for the arena."

He set off towards the door and you waited for the others before falling in behind them, moving as if the three of you had always belonged together.

"Will there be food?" one of them asked in a harsh, hissing voice.

"Yes," Feyd said gleefully.

"Hearts and lungs?" the other asked hopefully.

"Only the best for my darlings."

"Human?" she demanded clarification.

Feyd looked back over his shoulder, his eyes finding you even though he knew you had not asked the question. "Of course."

You stared back at him, swallowing hard. Human?

He grinned, and the others looked at each other excitedly. They both glanced to you and you gave the best black-toothed grin you could, not wanting to give any of them any reason to be displeased with you. Not after you had done so well all week.

Feyd Rautha led the way to the arena you had learned he loved to fight captured Atreides soldiers in, and after a short preparation (during which he killed at least two servants), a guard led him away while you and the others were taken up to a viewing room.

When you stepped inside you saw that a feast had already been laid out, platters of rare meat covering a short buffet table. As sunlight--or a lack thereof? Giedi Prime's sun continued to baffle you--light the room in that strange, black and white, infrared way, you stared at the food. You recognized it. Despite its human origins, you had no reason to be disgusted by it--because you had already eaten it, on that very first night, when Feyd Rautha had watched you cutting into your meal and commented on your presence at the dinner table.

As the others approached, picking out their favorites--lungs for one, a heart for the other--a grin found its way onto your face. Yes. Perhaps this was exactly where you belonged.

The crowd outside erupted in a roar of cheers as Feyd stalked into the sandy arena, and as you settled in next to the others to watch, you smiled to yourself. There was nowhere else you'd rather be in that moment than on Giedi Prime, eagerly awaiting the moment you could return to Feyd Rautha's chambers and celebrate his victory.

PART TWO

[ellastone-olsen]

Would it be possible if you could do a g!p wandanat x female reader with sex pollen?? Its okay if you cant, just an idea if you have nothing else to write🫣🤭

Blue glow - WandaNat

DO NOT COPY ANY OF MY WORKS. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

Summary: Curiosity and alien flowers work wonders.

Pairing: G!PWandaNat × fem!R

Warnings:NSWF,SMUT SMUT SMUT, handjob, blowjob, breeding kink, threesome, cockwarming, dirty talk, after care

DISCLAIMER: ENGLISH ISN’T MY FIRST LANGUAGE SORRY FOR GRAMMAR OR SPELLING MISTAKES

Word count: 1.7k

AN: hi anon! I’m glad to see my first request thank you! honestly, until that moment I didn’t know what sex pollen is and I had to turn to google lmao

"What is that?." You asked looking at the strange plant in the pot. "Have you decided to take up gardening? Tony, I thought you weren't old enough to act like my grandma." You stop laughing when the man looks at you sternly, apparently not appreciating the jokes about his age. “This, by the way, is a plant unknown to science (at least on Earth), which I personally grew from seeds strictly for research and not what you just said.” “Okay let’s say it’s like this, let me take a closer does it smell like something?” You also kept a couple of cacti in your room at the Avengers headquarters, which recently bloomed by the way. As soon as you stood up and approached to the pot, a man blocked your way. “Are you crazy, what did I just say? Don’t touch this thing, I don’t know if it’s poisonous or not.” You looked at him sternly and muttered under your breath so that he could also hear, “You said not to touch, not to smell.” The attempt failed.

late Friday evening. Everyone went to their rooms or left the headquarters altogether. There was silence everywhere, only the sounds of Wanda’s steps were heard somewhere in the corridor. The woman had almost reached her destination when she saw some kind of blue glow in the darkness, “What the fuck...”. She came closer and examined some kind of plant that vaguely resembled a flycatcher, but with more spherical “traps.” Then she suddenly remembered...

“Y/N, Natasha, come here let’s hurry up. Y/N, you told me about something in Tony’s office. Check it out, Natasha take a look too.” Apparently the witch was very impressed by the flower, because she excitedly pulled both of you by the hands towards the light source. And where did she get this passion for flora…

“Wanda, we were already getting ready to go to bed, what did you see there?” Nat suddenly fell silent, looking at the strange light. “Did you seriously drag me out of bed for this succulent or what is this?!” She clearly did not share the witch's interest. “Oh, you’re right, this is the flower I told you about. Tony takes such good care of it, and apparently it’s...bloomed? Let’s take a closer and look, it’s cool,” Nat rolled her eyes but followed you two. You raised your face to the flower, wanting to look at it, when suddenly... the ball of the bud opened releasing pollen into the air, apparently from which the light came.

There is absolutely everything around in this stuff, you can hear Natasha’s exclamations: “Don’t breathe in this, it can be poisonous. Damn it, I told you not to come here.” The three of you cough, covering your faces, and go out into the corridor, shaking yourself and each other from the remaining dust. “Now you make me need to take a shower again.” The woman grumbles something else while Wanda calms her down, you also want to answer, but suddenly this feeling comes.

If there was a mirror in front of you right now, you could appreciate how quickly your pupils are dilating, as if you were a drug addict on a high (technically you were), beads of sweat are rolling off your forehead and this pulsation between your legs is as if you were given a dose of an aphrodisiac multiplied by five times. Oh no this is definitely not normal, you need to tell Wanda and Natasha what is happening apparently because of this cute glowing flower. While you were in your thoughts you didn't notice how the swearing died down and both women also noticed the changes.

When you turned your head, you saw two women looking at you with hunger and tents in their pants. Your mouth watered at the sight of the obvious bulge on both of your girlfriends and you impatiently walked over to Wanda, clinging to her like a lifeline. "Oh God, I don't know what it is, but I need you both so bad." Natasha came up from behind, pressing her rock-hard dick to your ass, her arms wrapped around your waist and the redhead’s whisper was heard in your ear. "Oh don't worry baby you'll get what you want.Damn I'm going to die if I don't fill your pretty pussy at least twice. What do you think Wanda?"

You feel the soft material of the sheets as they throw you on the bed, watching as they take off their clothes and look at you as if you were their prey. Your own panties are already hopelessly ruined, lub flows down your thighs at the sight of your girlfriends.

You quickly take of your clothes after which Nat takes you in her arms, pressing a kiss on your lips, you feel her cock poking into your stomach and dripping with pre-cum. Wanda, meanwhile stands behind stroking her length at this spectacle. "Mmm..Nat please." You rock your hips to rub against her cock, but you are suddenly pulled to your feet and forced to your knees.

"No no, first you're going to take every inch of my dick into your mouth, baby." The tip of her cock pressed against your lips and you obediently open your mouth and shake your head along entire length. Wanda can’t just watch anymore and comes up to you, takes your hand and places it on her pulsating length. "Come on baby, jerk off Wanda you can't leave either of us needy. Damn Wanda her mouth feels so good around me. That's such a good cocksucker." You move your hand and rub your thumb over Wanda's sensitive red tip as she begins to rock into your hand. Tears well up in your eyes when Natasha grabs your hair and shuts your mouth. Wanda helps you jerk her off and grins, “What is it baby girl? Is Nat’s dick too big for you? You’re so beautiful, now I want to cum all over your face.”

Natasha began to shamelessly fuck your mouth, running after her orgasm, the head of her dick hitting the back wall of your throat every time. "That's itmbaby, I'm going to cum in your beautiful fucking mouth and you'll swallow every drop. Wanda, are you close? Cum with me." Your hand was thrown away so that Wanda could jerk herself off, cumming all over your face, ropes of Natasha's cum hit your throat and you breathed through your nose as you swallowed every drop as you were told.

You took a deep breath as the redhead pulled out of your mouth and wiped Wanda's release off your face. When you were lifted from the floor, a small puddle of your arousal remained on it, your legs did not obey and your knees were red. You were already dripping and the pitiful whining and pleas left your mouth without hindrance. “Please it hurts so much, I need you to fuck me so bad.”

"What do you think Wanda, I think she deserves to have you fill her pussy." The witch got off with a simple nod as her two strong hands forced you onto all fours on the bed, allowing her to position herself behind you so she could start pounding into you without warning. "God Nat, her pussy was made for my cock, so greedy and tight. You need to see how well she takes me." Nat, meanwhile, spat on her hand for extra lub and stroked her red sensitive tip, appreciating how good the two of you looked. The long-awaited feeling of filling and Wanda’s quick thrusts drove you crazy, you put your hand under you, stimulating your swollen clit. "Yes yes thank you thank you so good fuck I'm gonna cum can I cum?" You know that with the tip of Wanda’s cock deliciously hitting that nice spot inside you, you wouldn’t last long, and having received approval, a minute later the orgasm hit you with incredible force. "Oh yes Y/N you squeeze my cock so well. Oh my God, cum for me like that, cum all over my length." The witch praised you.

You were turned over again and your back touched the cool sheets. Wanda pounding into you hearing a cute whine from your mouth, "Too sensitive. It's too much." "Oh baby girl you can take it. I need to filled this tight pussy so badly. You want my cum inside don't you? Do you love this cock?" "Yes yes I love so fucking much!". Natasha continued to jerk herself off when a cute little idea popped into her head that she only bothered to tell the witch about. The women looked at each other and Wanda nodded in approval of the plan.

The witch's thrusts became faster and she exploded, releasing her load inside you. “Oh yeah baby fuck take all my cum!” The feeling of fullness and how good it was, was the only thing you could think about. Wanda, meanwhile, pulled out of you, giving way to the redhead. Natasha turned you around, taking you by the hips and jerking off her cock, she stuck only the tip inside you, filling you even more. "Oh fuck fuck I'm so full fuck Natasha!" “That’s it my little greedy girl, I know you love it when I fill you up .” The only sounds in the room were heavy sighs and Nat's little whining as she pulled out and looked at the beautiful picture in front of her.

You were lying on your shared bed, Wanda took napkins from the nightstand and carefully wiped all the liquids from your thighs, kissing you and telling you how good you are and how much she loves you. When the witch finished, Natasha threw a robe over your naked body, picked you up, kissing your cheeks and carried you to the bathroom so they could both take care of you the way you truly deserve.

Sitting in a hot bubble bath, you asked, “How do we tell Tony about the pollen effect of his science experiment?”

[cerastes]

I still think it's really cool how Amuro starts as the shittiest pilot alive (because he's a 15-year old) that only gets carried because he's in the biggest, fattest stat stick in-universe at the time (a few retroactive additions made in the future notwithstanding), enough that even its crappy vulcan guns are tearing Zaku IIs apart, and when he starts getting a bit too cocky, Char and Ramba Ral show up in objectively inferior pieces of junk and absolutely deliver his pizza, they just drag his face across every available surface in Planet Earth like he's a Yakuza mook, all because they are simply that much better at piloting, and the thing is, Amuro takes that very seriously.

He goes from shitass kid in an unfortunate situation that doesn't want to get in the robot to the most unwell child soldier in the war, which is really saying something, but most importantly, becomes so good at piloting the Gundam that the Gundam physically cannot handle Amuro's piloting. They need to apply "Magnetic Coating" to its joints so they don't fucking snap away from the main frame because Amuro, one, moves too damn well but also in too extreme a way for the frame to handle it, two, despite being equipped with two sabers, a shield, a beam rifle and vulcan guns, Amuro is a stern believer in introducing most everyone in thagomizer range to his Rated Z for Zeon hands, the single most official pair of hands in the business, tax free. He KEEP going Ip Man on these dudes, he does NOT need to do a Jamestown on these mother fuckers but he INSISTS. Somehow even the Gundam Hammer, which is a giant Hannah Barbera cartoon flail-- Ok, look at this thing, words do not do it justice

Even this god damn Tom and Jerry prop is less savage that whatever Amuro decides to do the moment he's done throwing his shield to get a free kill on someone and it officially becomes bed time forever for the unfortunate sap at the business end of his ten-finger weapons of mass destruction.

The RX-78-2, "Gundam" for its friends and family, even has a top of the line cutting edge Learning Computer that 'learns' alongside the pilot and their habits. This data extracted from it was so absolutely fucked up that it completely revolutionized Mobile Suit combat afterwards, which is a wholesome thing to think about when The Best Combat Data Ever came from a really angry, really stressed 15 year old that doesn't even like piloting. He was 15! He made Haro with his own hands! Amuro literally just wanted to make funny cute spherical robofriends! Amuro was out there trying to make Kirby real, but fate had other plans for him. His cloned brain put in a pilot seat is one of the setting's strongest 'pilots'.

They made fucking Shadow the Hedgehog with his brain, god damn.

By the end, Zeon is rolling out Gelgoogs out of its mass production lines. These things are in the Gundam's ballpark in terms of overall specs (or "power level"). Amuro is bodying them as if they were episode 1 Zaku IIs.

AND THEN HE GETS FUCKING PSYCHIC SPACE POWERS. Not that he needed them, he bodied a couple Space Psychics without any of those powers before awakening to them. But heaven's most violent child was not done evolving, whether he liked it or not.

Char bodied him in a souped up Zaku II at the start, a machine objectively inferior to the Gundam. Amuro more or less one-sidedly beats the shit out of Char when he's in a custom Commander-type Gelgoog that you could consider to be equal spec-wise to the Gundam. Amuro is the embodiment of Finding Out. He is Consequences. You tell him he better make it hurt, better make it count, better kill you in one shot, buddy, he needs half a fucking shot. The complete transformation. One could consider the central 75% of the show as long drawn out training montage turning a kid into the Geese Howard of giant robots.

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Nothing major yet, some minor Honkai: Star Rail spoilers. Word count: 4.6k.

Nexus index.

On the planet Eris, in the city of Perianth II, night reigns, for there is no star close enough to challenge its rule. 

Deep within the bowels of the metropolis lit only by manmade contraptions, sits a bar known as LOTUS-EATER, carved into the cragged terrain as if it’d always been there. It had not, in fact, contrary to local legend. Had the IPC not run into issues with overcrowded prisons, this planet they now consider a scourge would never have had the means to limp on. 

Easy solutions cultivate the conditions for worse problems to develop later on. 

This is what your mother — a shrewd woman to her core — instilled in you. 

Grimacing, you reread the words on your screen for the umpteenth time. 

… You wish she had instilled some business management skills instead. 

“Miss Exalted-One-Ma’am, when are you coming back inside? This client is refusing to leave until he can speak with you. Lear is running interference, but that’s going as well as you can imagine,” a feminine voice calls out. 

You glance up fast enough to assess her expression. Despite the severity of her words, she’s smiling, amber eyes crinkling by the corners. Her chestnut-colored hair is worn in a braid that extends down the length of her back, meaning she hasn’t clocked out yet, or else it’d be loose. You have some wiggle room, then.

“Nona,” you beckon her over, “What do you think this means?” 

Inquisitive creature she is, she doesn’t waste this opportunity to poke around in your private matters. Her eyes flitter back and forth as she takes in the contents of your phone. Interlocking her hands behind her back, she hums. 

“Looks like we’re due for a visit.” 

“That’s what you gathered too?” You murmur. “What a mess this is turning into. The last thing we need is for the hounds to start sniffing around.” 

“I dunno what you’re frazzled about, exalted one. The locals wouldn’t cough up info to the IPC even if their life depended on it.” 

“Therein lies your answer — the locals won’t, but our clientele is vast as the universe is infinite. Someone looking to score quickly could put in a tip. The hounds are just itching for an excuse to put an embargo on Eris again.” 

She shrugs. “Outsiders bribed and snuck their way in last time, they would now too. Benefits of a quality product.” 

You shake your head and pinch the bridge of your nose. Nona means well, but if she thinks in such simple terms, her training period won’t ever end. Or perhaps you’re being a tad too harsh on the girl, you haven’t slept since receiving this text message two cycles ago. If it weren’t for how scarce this technology is, you would’ve smashed it to pieces for causing you such prolonged strife. 

Alas, as a native of Eris, there are two things you intrinsically cherish above all else — any object that emits light and the special nectary cradled within the planet. 

“I’ll take your input into—” 

A shrill shriek cuts you off before you can finish your sentence. 

“The hysterical client, I reckon,” Nona dryly remarks. “Now, can you please come in before Lear gets stabbed? If it isn’t already too late.” 

You don’t bother dignifying her macabre speculation with a reply. You enter through a back door accessible only to LOTUS-EATER staff, weaving around boxes of cargo that need to be sorted. A heady, aromantic scent clings to the wood, yet its temptation is long lost on you. Where the clients indulge, you abstain. The livelihood of yourself and your workers relies heavily on your psyche’s clarity. 

Emerging from the back rooms has you standing on the building’s second floor, an area known as The Lounge. Here, the spherical, gravity-defying emitters of lights standard in this region are set dimly. This latest model even allows you to adjust the dimensions, ranging from small enough to fit in the palm of your hand to the size of a room. There was supposed to be one more on this floor, but while unpacking the order, it slipped from Lear’s hands and met an early demise. Great cooperation was needed to locate the glass that floated to the ceiling. 

You check the status of occupancies. Two private rooms are in session, the other eight are empty. By your design, it had been a slow night. You gave orders to the receptionist, Thalia, to only book appointments for influential customers, just in case the omen floating over your head comes true. You walk down the hallway which leads to the first floor, only to notice cool colors set in a square array by the digital lock. 

The sight doesn’t sit right with you. You consider taking a detour to investigate, only for the commotion downstairs to encourage otherwise. 

“Sir, if you’d please calm down—”

Lear’s gentle voice is cut off by another. 

“I demand to speak with her,” it heaves. “The mind witch. Where is she?” 

The electronic curtains that lift for those put into the LOTUS-EATER’s database part in a magnificent flurry of scarlet hues. You feel each set of eyes that glance your way. It’s a typical ensemble present — affluent travelers, political emissaries, and well-to-do merchants. Some drink at the bar, others watch the live entertainment playing soft music. Everyone aside from the heaving interloper is dressed in the formalwear expected of the establishment. 

The click of your heels against the dark wood floor reverberates throughout. The man’s reaction to your appearance is delayed, though he eventually turns his head to see where Lear is looking. Resentment contorts his face upon spotting you. You recognize him. Jay R. Alister, a client who gave Thalia a difficult time due to his demands to have a Synalink booking today. You thought you smoothed over the matter by granting him access to the first floor, The Club, and placing him on a priority list for next time. 

Copious amounts of alcohol must’ve unraveled your hard work. 

“Shall we take a moment to collect ourselves, sir?”

“No one— no one understands,” he insists, swaying ever so slightly. It’s a peculiar sight. One message from a handful of the individuals present would be enough to spell doom for Alister, this charade likely already has him blacklisted across multiple star systems. To be a client at LOTUS-EATER is a privilege. Everyone adheres to the unspoken rule of the honor system, eliminating the need for security inside. 

“I’d like to, Mr. Alister, if you wouldn’t mind explaining to me outside.” 

He’s drunk, but a low-level link can be established, you surmise. It isn’t an option without risks. As a recurring client, he could catch onto the invasive feeling and grow further agitated. The eyes fixated on you grow heavier. Some are curious, others bemused, and a few pass silent judgment, comparing your capabilities with the previous Exalted Arbiter. 

He blinks slowly. “My Roze… she’s upstairs. She’s waiting for me. I can’t— can’t be late…” 

“You won’t be,” your voice takes on a concerned lilt, “Let’s go meet her elsewhere. Follow me and I’ll take you to her.” 

A white ring forms around his pupils. 

“You… will?” 

“I will. Come, now, we wouldn’t want to waste any more of her time, would we?” 

The ring goes from opaque to solid. 

The low-level link has been made manifest. You feel the thread connecting you to the essence that makes Jay R. Alister himself. 

You stride past him and he immediately scrambles to follow. Out of the corner of your eye, you note how Lear’s shoulders relax and give him a reassuring nod. He did a good job stalling until you could personally see to this matter yourself. If this had occurred any other time, it would’ve been your top priority, but a far more sensitive issue threatened to ensnare you in a worrisome web. 

One after another, the pairs of eyes fall, like a flying pest in its final moments. Conversation resumes and the music increases in volume. 

Cool air embraces you once you’re outside. This particular region is well-lit, a testimony to its prestige. Restaurants, boutiques, and other fine shops have been built with walls of dark stone naturally found on Eris for better insulation. The once rugged streets are smooth, painstakingly cobbled together by a city planner many Amber Eras ago. Any crack has molten gold poured into it so that when it dries, the ground beneath your feet is a never-ending sea of ebony and gold. 

You wave over the closest security guards. The rest can be left to them, Mr. Alister has damaged his reputation enough for you to consider his dues paid. You’ll tell Thalia to take him off the registered client list for LOTUS-EATER and that’ll be the end of it. You’re preparing to head back inside when a pervasive, overpowering influence freezes you in place. It’s reminiscent of an electric current.  

The taut link between you falters. 

Straining…

(He’s reaching into his pocket). 

Fraying…

(His hands wield a sharpened implement).  

Until it snaps. 

The subjugated lunges at the subjugator. 

You try to re-establish the link, but there’s a fortress around his mind that wasn’t there moments prior. Imposing and unbreachable. Where did this surge of mental fortitude come from? You need to think, you need to act. There must be a way for you to regain control, your technique is unshaken even in the face of imminent demise. In the three seconds it takes for him to close the distance, you make seventy-four attempts, each ending in failure. 

Has the last grain of sand fallen to the bottom of the hourglass, cementing this choice to believe in your abilities as the wrong one? 

This can’t be the end. Who will take care of—

Metal clashes against metal. 

The being in front of you is a shade. Tendrils of agony untold slither up from his thigh and squeeze around his neck, constantly choking him, yet refusing the sweet reprieve a crushed windpipe would give. This is a person acquainted with every suffering a living creature could ever endure. The prismatic shards that detail his countless tragedies aren’t just broken, they’re eviscerated, an indecipherable mess. Some scattered to the wind and others forcibly scratched out. 

This nightmarish presence eclipses your would-be killer. 

His eyes meet yours and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. 

“Don’t bother,” is all he says. 

He could sense you trying to poke around in his head? Has he come into contact with Arbiters before? That can’t be possible, you’re familiar with everyone on the LOTUS-EATER registry. You cease your ministrations without verbally acknowledging him. His hollow expression burns into your retinas, invading your mind’s eye. The sword he saved your life with holds a similar weight. It radiates such intensity that you needn’t use any techniques to get a better read on it. 

Walking up the steps in a casual manner is the last person you wanted to see — Kafka of the Stellaron Hunters. She spares the now subdued Alister a glance then turns to face you. 

“Fortunately, I had the foresight to send Bladie ahead,” she smiles. You resist the urge to scoff. “Otherwise, our meeting would’ve been far less pleasant.” 

So that man’s with her, you think. That’d explain why I couldn’t make any progress. 

If the defenses surrounding Alister were comparable to a fortress, the minds of the Stellaron Hunters are like a deflective shield. Any extensive attempts at trying to gain access end up backfiring and causing you damage so long as they remain up. The only other being capable of a similar feat was your mother. Now, in the few years since her death, you’ve encountered three more with similar capabilities. 

Are your abilities growing dull? Or are other species simply evolving? 

You order the guards to deal with Alister as they see fit, he’s no longer your primary concern. 

There’s a far worse headache forming on the horizon. 

“... I suppose you’ll follow me inside whether I invite you or not?” You question, just barely managing to maintain the smile painted hastily on your face. 

Kafka doesn’t reciprocate your hostility. She never does. Instead, she motions in the direction you were planning on taking them to avoid any unwanted attention. The guards won’t be an issue, since they’re on your payroll. You don’t want to risk lingering and being spotted by someone without an allegiance to you.

“I won’t overstay my welcome, Exalted Arbiter. You have my word.” 

By essentially showing up uninvited at your front door, she’s placed you in quite a precarious situation. The man who parried Alister’s attack hasn’t dropped his vigilance for an instant. His posture is that of an animal poised to pounce. You lack the means to fight them off should they choose to utilize force. 

Your gut instinct tells you it’s a bad idea to get involved any further. Your mind reasons you can only play the cards you’re dealt. 

A sigh passes by your lips. “Very well. Let’s get on with it then.” 

The duo follows wordlessly behind you. Kafka remains close, whereas the swordsman lingers further back, taking care to avoid well-lit areas and remaining hidden. Had you not already been alerted to his presence, he could’ve easily slipped past your detection.  

The Stellaron Hunters are a formidable group indeed. 

During the short journey, you recall the text message that pushed you into this vat of strife. 

It was accompanied by an animated emoticon of the magenta-haired fugitive blowing a kiss. 

You’ll be in need of me shortly. See you then xoxo 

“Absolutely not!” 

An exclamation of unrivaled proportion leaves you, accompanied by your palms slamming against your desk. Old-fashioned writing stationary clatters noisily in the aftermath. She stops the doomed descent of one pen and then looks back to you, unperturbed. 

This woman is a shadow that follows her target persistently, devising fresh torments and sowing discord wherever she steps. To fight her is to do battle with a phantom, no attacks will land. The hopeless charade serves to tire you out. Still, your pride is wounded and without a balm to assuage the tender gash. It can’t scab over to heal. Again and again, it’s reopened, fresh blood washing over what had just dried. 

“I haven’t finished my proposition,” she hums. She sits in front of your desk, legs crossed, her eyes shining an eerie shade. “I wouldn’t dare to ask so much of your resources if you didn’t stand to benefit as well. Our current arrangement has helped you cut down on costs, yes?” 

You drum your fingers over the wood’s lacquer finish. “The word ‘arrangement’ implies cooperation, I believe extortion would be a better fit.” 

“I’ll stand by my original phrasing. The IPC has abandoned all pretense of slowly creeping up rates on shipments to Eris; what they’re charging now will look generous in a few short Trailblazer Years. They want this planet dead and their past misdeeds to die alongside it.” 

“Our current projections estimate we have at least two medium-length Amber Eras before we get to that point, by then, we’ll have countermeasures in place,” you droll out. These details have been drilled into your head ever since you became the head of this quadrant. “What proof do you have that the IPC will make such a drastic move? The other factions will lodge complaints, many of them use our… exports.” 

You wince at the awkward phrasing of the word ‘exports’, knowing full well she’ll pick through any vulnerability like a vulture does a corpse. 

Kafka leans forward. “By ‘exports’, you must mean Eris’ most sought-after natural resource. The tonic of the nectary.” 

“I’m not allowed to discuss such sensitive material with outworlders.” 

“You needn’t say anything, just listen,” she pulls out a vial from inside her jacket. The familiar sheen of glimmering gold within causes your breath to hitch. “Here I have a sample of the latest synthetic developments into the tonic, courtesy of Silver Wolf. The IPC is discreetly channeling funds into the Genius Society to revitalize the research effort.” 

You bite back a laugh. “That knowledge is nothing new. They’ve been trying to replicate the tonic for ages; it’s a money pit. The last I heard, the closest they could get after investing billions of credits is a 14% match.” 

“Try 70%.” 

She sets the vial down and nods, encouraging you to take it. You don’t. 

“... You can’t be serious,” your voice sounds far away, as if it were coming from another room. “You’re bluffing.” 

“You don’t have to take my word for it. Have your alchemists examine it and come to your own conclusions.” 

As a disciple of Destiny’s Slave, she’s confident that this will suffice to convince you, and loathe as you are to admit it, she’s right. The repercussions of this allegation could be disastrous. It’d be irresponsible on your part to not at least run it by the appropriate channels. 

“What does this intel cost me?” 

“Nothing, consider it a token of good faith. There’s a more pressing matter I hoped to bring to your attention, now that that’s out of the way.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “More pressing than the future of my home?” 

“That’d depend on who you ask,” Kafka dances around your apprehension to a rhythm no one else has ever composed. “It has to do with my companion. I didn’t bring him here to take in the sights, he’s to stay on a job until further notice.” 

The mention of that enigmatic man brings with it a resurgence of the feelings you experienced earlier. It hit like a tidal wave, concentrated and suffocating. What would someone have to endure for their psyche to be saturated in such wretchedness? 

“Alright. I’ll arrange for accommodations somewhere more discreet.” 

“I think it’d be best if he stayed here, at the LOTUS-EATER.” 

…

…

…

“What?” 

Kafka has made many requests in the time she’s known you. Normally, she uses you as a point of contact to meet influential individuals or a warehouse of yours to store important items, but this is an entirely different beast. Those endeavors fester outside your purview. You give the push necessary and wash your hands clean of the implications. 

To host a Stellaron Hunter in your most lucrative establishment could very well be the start of the end. 

“After the events that unfolded earlier, you should see the potential advantages. You’re in a precarious situation. The IPC can’t place a bounty on you in an official capacity, but there are ways around bureaucracy. That attempt today won’t be the last.” 

She lowers her voice to an enticing whisper. “And we both know you’re not financially sound enough to hire competent help. Take him. He’ll be yours if you permit him.” 

How her melodious voice can invoke such a raw desire to argue is unknown, and yet, each fiery word fizzles out to ash on your tongue. In the same way you’d establish a link for the first time, you take the pieces of information at your disposal to test where the edges might align. The unusual fees on shipments, the supposed progress on the tonic, and the overall strain that’s been placed on every level of your business — the mosaic it forms is a crimson shade with a metallic scent. 

You can’t die. Not yet, not when it’d cause so many to perish alongside you. 

“This goes beyond ‘a token of good faith’,” you murmur. “Kafka… there’s far more to this, isn’t there? Just what are you planning?” 

For once, the curvature of her smile is genuine. Blatant insincerity would unsettle you less. 

“A gift for a friend.”

Upon LOTUS-EATER’s roof sits your favorite getaway, a secluded balcony. 

There’s nothing fancy about the decor, if anything, it’s worn rugged by the elements. Paint chips off the three chairs and stubborn foliage congregates no matter how often you banish it with your broom. After ensuring you can only be contacted in an emergency, you wipe the condensation off the chair furthest to the right and sit tall. 

Although you aren’t alone, you keep your eyes on the starry sky.

“I would like to apologize for the behavior I displayed earlier,” you take your time with the words, ensuring each syllable has a pleasant ring. “It must’ve been from the shock, although that’s no excuse. Please allow me to thank you properly.” 

An icy wind whistles through. Once it finishes, you fuss over your hair, putting each strand back in its designated place. You grimace when it picks back up again. 

“You can express your gratitude by speaking normally.” 

Your head snaps in his direction. You examine his side profile through narrow eyes, impatience writhing beneath your skin. He pays your poorly masked hostility no mind. One by one, each muscle in your body relaxes, a domino effect you can’t bother putting a stop to. You slump down into your chair and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Have it your way,” you sigh. Your capitulation earns you his piercing stare. “Pretty words or not, I meant what I said. So, um… thank you, and…” 

Despite yourself, you try meshing together a more subtle phrasing, only for those infinite pools of vermillion to act as a successful deterrent. 

“I don’t like being indebted to others, it’s a hassle. So, here is my offer. I’ll perform a Synalink on you, free of charge. Or a waitlist.” 

Blade exhales sharply through his nose. It takes a moment to register that your proposition amused him more than it intrigued him. The perceived affront on your capabilities causes you to bristle. This is a rare opportunity you’re granting him, surely he must’ve heard of your abilities somewhere! People spend years trying to get an audience with you. The other Arbiters you employ are capable enough, otherwise, they couldn’t work here; but you transcend their combined efforts. 

“There is only one thing I’d want to experience, it’s beyond your means.” 

Propping yourself up on the chair’s arm, you scoff. “Hah, try me. Any emotion, scenario, for whatever length of time; tell me what you want to experience and I can make it happen.” 

He doesn’t instantly rebuke you. You share a moment of silence — almost solemn, certainly more meaningful for him than it is for you. There’s a light tug of guilt that pulls at your conscience. Perhaps it isn’t him underestimating you, but not wanting to set himself up for disappointment again. If you’re going to be occupying the same space for an unknown amount of time, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get on adequate terms. This could be the door that’ll open that path. 

You clear your throat to dispense the accumulating tension. “That clothing… you must have ties to The Xianzhou Luofu, or some experience with them. Are you familiar with Immersia games?” 

“Vaguely. An acquaintance of mine plays them.” 

You’re confident you could put a name and face to this ‘acquaintance’. For the sake of cordiality, you keep your opinion to yourself.

“I’ve never been fond of the comparison to my work, but I suppose it’s a decent touchstone. An Immersia grants the player a simulated experience predetermined by developers. There is a degree of immersion, hence, well, the name, but that’s barely scratching the surface,” you explain. 

Reassessing his body language only reveals neutrality. You decide it’s better than blatant disinterest and continue. 

“Traditionally, there are thought to be five senses in advanced lifeforms. These senses don't create the continuity of reality we experience, they just break it down into bite-sized pieces for easy consumption. Forming a Synalink is akin to overclocking a computer, not placing a hard drive in a different system. Your brain finds the stimuli I send it indistinguishable from the touch of your hair against your face, or the woody scent of incense in that jar.” 

His eyebrows crease slightly downward. “A single glimpse into my mind was enough to send you recoiling, and still, this is an offer you’re comfortable making?”   

You purse your lips. It’s a fair point. 

“That was… different. Ideally, any link should be made in a stable environment to minimize disruptions. I had nearly been—” You cut yourself off, finding the sentence to be one you’d rather not finish. “—You know, so I wasn’t at optimal performance. That’s why we have private rooms in The Lounge.” 

Your nostrils flare when he keeps regarding you with that impassive expression. Is his face permanently frozen? Does he need to be unpaused? You almost want to snap your fingers in front of him.

“Hey, you’d be less effective if you had to improvise and fight with, say, a spoon. Would your combat ability be based on that one irregular instance or the total sum of all your fights? Hm? What you witnessed earlier was my irregular instance. If you’re open to the idea, I can make it work.” 

Blade shifts so that he can resume gazing at the sky. Before you can celebrate your victory in this one-sided battle of wits, he speaks up. His voice adheres to a softer creed. 

“You are…” he trails off, taking care to select the proper description, “Remarkably strange.” 

Your eye twitches. 

This has been a miserable cycle. You had to breathe the same air as Kafka, deal with a drunk client that later tried to stab you, and you found out the main export that keeps your planet’s economy from total collapse might be duplicable. All things considered, you should be giving this guy the cold shoulder for the problems he’ll inevitably cause in your future. Altruism gets you about as far as jumping into the air and hoping that’ll transport you through space. 

“Forget it, then,” you get up and twist around. The chair you formally occupied scrapes loudly against the ground. You don’t spare him a single glance while traversing the few steps that separate you from a long, well-deserved rest. Maybe you’ll be extra petty and lock the door so he has to remain here until you wake up. The olive branch has been extended, if he wants to take it and break it in two, that’s his prerogative. 

You raise your hand to unlock the door when abruptly, something captures your wrist. 

Your heart stutters. 

There isn’t the softness of flesh or the warmth that radiates off skin. Instead, you feel the textured surface of bandages graze against you in a featherlight touch. You know the vice-like grip he’s capable of. You saw it in how he clutched the grip of his sword, like it was the only thing he was good for. Gentleness cannot come naturally to someone of his disposition. It’s an intentional choice that requires swimming against the tide. 

Shakily, you exhale, hoping it’ll ease how your hands tremble. 

When was the last time someone touched you? Ah… it must’ve been then. 

You will the thought away. 

Blade doesn’t tether you down for more than a few seconds, just long enough to ensure your attention is back on him. Your skin tingles where he came into contact with you. It’s a prickly, blisteringly hot sensation that starts at your wrist and spreads all over. You squeeze your eyelids shut in a last-ditch effort to recompose yourself. 

He’s looking straight at you when your eyes reopen. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he says. You find it strange how quick you are to believe him. “If you sincerely think yourself up to the task, then…” 

There it is again, that swelling of feeling, visceral to a degree every survival instinct screams at you to turn away. 

You find yourself leaning in closer. 

He rewards your burning curiosity with the unprecedented utterance: 

"Show me what it's like to die." 

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: epaulette shark

Stand at attention for the epaulette shark, the honorable (and adorable) general of the tide pools. These little guys really go against the image of a shark in media. Hollywood insist on portraying sharks as massive, violent predators that prowl the waves and will eat anyone and anything they find. The Epaulette shark, by contrast, is small, lives in the shallows, and couldn't hurt you if it wanted to.

(Image: an epaulette shark resting on the seafloor. It is a small, skinny, and long shark with a short snout and highly elongated tail. The two dorsal fins are located on the back half of the body and the pectoral and pelvic fins are long and paddle-shaped. Its body is a sandy brown and dotted with black spots. A large black spot is behind the pectoral fins. End ID)

Epaulette sharks average 70-90 cm (27-35 in), with the largest one on record being 107 cm (42 in). Over half of that length is made of the caudal peduncle, the part of the spine that the caudal (tail) fin grows out of. The actual fin itself is fairly small and does not have a lower lobe, making it look very slender and distinct from the caudal fins of other sharks (though other members of its family, Hemiscylliidae, share this tail structure). This tail structure makes them less efficient swimmers than most shark species. As a result, they tend to stick to the seafloor and do not often rise into the water column. Their bodies are light to dark brown with many dark spots and one large spot behind each pectoral fin. It is these spots that give the sharks their common name. Their placement makes them resemble epaulettes, decorative shoulder pieces that were and still are often used to demonstrate rank in many European and European-derived militaries. The coloration of the shark is used as camouflage against predators, with the smaller spots breaking up the silhouette and the epaulettes resembling the eyes of a much larger animal. Juveniles have a stripy pattern to their skin that fades as they age.

(Image: a juvenile epaulette shark resting on sand. It has the same body shape as the adult, but its skin is pale with darker stripes. End ID)

Epaulette sharks mate from July to December, late spring and summer in the southern hemisphere. Females will often initiate mating by following and nipping the males. Males will use their mouths to hold onto the females while inserting one clasper (the paired reproductive organs of sharks and other cartilaginous fish) into her cloaca. 14 days later, the female will release egg cases, usually two per mating and abandon them. The egg cases will usually get caught in seaweed or coral and remain there. After approximately 120 days, the juvenile sharks hatch. Females are able to mate again immediately after laying the egg cases and can lay up to 50 times per season. Juveniles are born 14-16 cm (5.5-6.5 in) long and grow about 5 cm (2 in) every year. They reach sexual maturity at around 7 years of age when they reach a length of 54-64 cm (21.5-25 in). The maximum lifespan of wild specimens is speculated to be 20-25 years. There have been rare cases of females in captivity reproducing through parthenogenesis after living in tanks with no males.

(Image: an epaulette shark egg case. It is an ovoid brown, translucent object. Visible within the egg case is the developing shark. It has the adult's body plan, but is attached to a large, spherical yolk sac. End ID)

Epaulette sharks are found in coastal water from southern New Guinea to northern Australia. They prefer water under 50 m (160 ft) deep and can often be found in extremely shallow water, especially around coral reefs and shorelines. These sharks are often found in tide pools and have a number of adaptations for this lifestyle. While they are capable of swimming, the sharks prefer to walk. They undulate their bodies while using their paddle-like pectoral and pelvic fins to push against the seafloor. The fins have modified skeletons to allow each fin to rotate, increasing their effectiveness as limbs. Using their fins, the sharks can even walk over land, which they do to move into and between tide pools. Because of this, epaulette sharks are studied by biologists for use as a model organism for the transition of vertebrates onto land in the distant past. Epaulette sharks are nocturnal. During the day, they hide from predators in crevices and other places large predators can't enter. At night, they come into the shallows to hunt. They use smell and electroreception to hunt for prey buried under sand. Their preferred food is crustaceans, worms, and small fish. Juveniles prefer soft-bodied animals like worms and fish while adults consume crustaceans primarily. Their teeth can lie flat, allowing the sharks to switch between sharp teeth for eating worms and fish and a hard plate to crush crab and shrimp exoskeletons.

(GIF: an epaulette shark walking through tide pools and over land, showing the motions it makes from different angles. End ID)

Epaulette sharks often get stuck in tide pools overnight. Life in tide pools is harsh as there is a limited supply of dissolved oxygen available and all the animals in the pool use it up. As a result, epaulette sharks have several adaptations to hypoxic (low oxygen) environments. When in hypoxic water, the shark can drop its heart rate and the rate it passes water over the gills. It then dilates certain blood vessels to divert blood to the heart and brain and away from other organs. This causes its blood pressure to drop by over half. It can also lower metabolic activity for parts of the brain, freeing up ATP (the chemical that provides cells with energy) to be used for more critical brain functions. This is aided by shark rains requiring 1/3rd the ATP as the brains of bony fish, further increasing the survivability of the shark. All of this means that an epaulette shark can survive in extremely hypoxic water for 3 hours while still remaining alert and responsive and can survive with no oxygen for an hour with no negative effects. It's notable that they do this in warm water as most animals that can tolerate extreme oxygen deprivation need to be in cold temperatures to do it.

(Image: an epaulette shark resting in a tide pool. The water is barely deep enough to keep it submerged. End ID)

Epaulette sharks are classified as Least Concern by the IUCN, though they are locally threatened in New Guinea. Their primary threats are habitat loss and bycatch. As they are commonly found in coral reefs, coral bleaching threatens their habitat. In addition, it has recently been found that the warming ocean is resulting in pups being born smaller and weaker than they used to be, reducing juvenile survival rates. They show little fear of humans and wild ones will allow humans on the beach to approach them. They have also been known to approach swimmers and divers. Encounters with curious people can harm the sharks, while their only method of defending themselves is a minor bit and they're too slow to crawl away. Their gentle natures and small sizes make epaulette sharks one of the easiest shark species to keep in captivity, both in public and private aquariums. There is now a small demand for captured epaulette sharks for sale on the pet trade.

(Image: an epaulette shark in an aquarium touch tank. It is resting on sandy sediment while a human arm reaches in from above, touching it with two fingers. A stingray and two small yellow fish are visible in the background. End ID)

[heartfullofleeches]

Could we maybe see the first meeting between fast food worker reader and the handpit

"Y/n! Some kid lost his teddy in the ball pit!"

You peel yourself from the breakroom chair with the minuscule amount of energy you had regained from it. You learned the first week on the job to never expect a moment of rest, but that didn't make losing precious break time any better.

The ball pit had been a pain since its reopening a full week back. Customers loosing precious items, child claiming to have been scared out of the pit by a scary monster. In defense of the first thing it probably isn't the greatest idea to wear great grandma's wedding ring to a restaurant where the police leaves the phone on the receiver when they call in.

You enter the main area. A parent shouts at the cashier while clutching a sniffing child's name; a glimmer of hope in their eyes as you walk out.

"This is exactly why I don't let my children into those disease pools! If you don't bring my son, his toy this entire franchise is going under!:

Your coworker's eyes water. You throw them a thumb's up as you pedal to the playarea. It's common knowledge you're in this nightmare together so most helped one another when they could.

The play area was your average child's environment. Overhanging tubes leading to a twisting slide. Colorful walls and statues of the mascot looming in watch. The ball pit. The windows to the parking lot had been painted over after similar reports of odd behaviors outside.

You walk over to the wall where the net for such occasions was stored, but it's gone. Figures. Nothing's easy around here. You pop your shoes off and squeeze them into a cubby as per comand of your commerical marketed overlord. You fish around at the top before doing as expected and climbing into the pit when you can't find it on the surface sweep.

The balls come up to your waist, but you can feel they go further than that as you kicking through them. The ball pit was as big as your average swimming pool, so you definitely had your work cut out for you. Better than being screamed at by customers from hell you suppose.

The search is gruelling. Each ball you push out of the way is replaced by a tidal wave of more. You unknowingly sink down to your chest as your frustration rises. It feels like the pit hasn't been cleaned in ages either. Some of the balls sticky and wet, and you're poked and stabbed at by objects were too thin and hard to be a plush bear-

What was that?

You freeze. A pocket forms in the sea of balls to your left, sucking the plastic orbs into themselves like a technicolor sinkhole. You figure its because you had previously just lift that area and swim forward. Something tugs on your pant's leg mid stroke, but your other foot kicks it away as you move. As the lights flicker you get the feeling someone is messing with you.

"Not funny!"

So much for being a team player. You better hurry and find this thing so you can head out early today. About tew feet in front of you, the bear's button eye watches your struggle. Stopping it, you dart towards it, but it sinks into the pit. It then reappears another foot away.

"What the hell.... This really isn't funny.."

You try again. It disappears. This time it teleports behind you. Stagnate in the spherical waters, you watch as the bear disappears and pops back within view in a different location. Sometimes it's at the end of the pit, sometimes it's mere inches away. This definitely isn't right. You need to get out of here. As you swim for the ledge, something drags you below.

You kick and flail, a scream fighting its way up your chest that you shove right back down to save energy. You can't breath. Your body feels weightless like you're swimming in a lake, yet the same air as falling out of the skin. Hands grab at various parts of yoir body. Items flash by as you're dragged further. Ancient photos, priceless watches- name tags.

As a hand wraps around your throat, you scream.

"You..."

Your plunge takes an abrupt stop.

"We did not recognize you at first, but that voice. It is unforgettable."

The hands turn you over. You can't tell if it's onto your back or your stomach. All you really can see is the plastic balls, but if you squint you can make out two white dots in the endless sea.

"So this is your face. We have only seen it in passing from your memories. How peculiar is man that in our eons of evaluation, your cerebrum is the single power that has twine our minds into one? In this "pit" of all things."

The hands stroke at your face; force your eyes to remain open. They carcass your tense form, easing your body but not your spirit. You want to cover your ears, but you can't. The voice is so loud; what feels like millions cramming into your small brain at volume which makes your teeth rattle with each syllable. In the same vein, it is the softest melody you've ever heard - splitting your fragile mind in two and sewing it together again with its gentle hush.

"You are different. You cannot enjoy us. The honor of being your new home would be wasted with your mind lost to the masses. You are to remain in this establishment until we decide what to do with you."

The hands center on your torso and push you upwards. Light pokes through the spaces between the balls as you're forced to the surface of the pit. The teddy bear lays on your chest as you surf atop the balls, staring down as if it's wondering the same thing as you.

What the fuck just happened

[wastedpotentialsblog]

Look, I was willing to give the Veil a shot. I was. I was willing to let Bungie cook. But they made the Veil the Travelers opposite, and I couldn't figure out why I didn't like that. Until a random ass reddit comment and it clicked.

The visual storytelling between the Pyramids and The Traveler is such a beautiful way of portraying two opposing forces without explicitly saying what those forces represent. It's all in their design.

Angular/Spherical

Many/One

Black/White

They have "We are opposites" written on their forehead and the Veil kind of fucked it up.

While I'm on the subject, I've been revisiting my favorite lore book "Unveiling" and MAN, that shit was awesome.

I really really really liked when the overarching conflict was about two Gods giving themselves physical form in the universe to win a cosmic argument on whether the conplexity of life made it worth living. I also really liked its interpretation of the Vex: the manifestation of the perfect pattern. Microorganisms that always came out on top before a new rule were forced upon the game. And yeah, i get it, "Unveiling had no reason to be truthful. The Witness had every reason to lie to us to make us fight each other. Untrustworthy narrator." Blah blah blah.

But, I think it would've been way cooler and scarier if it wasn't lying. It would show that The Winnower truly believes what it's saying. It's simply acting in its nature. It doesn't even know if it's 100% correct, but chooses to follow its path anyway.

This part altered my brain chemistry fundamentally. I am NOT normal about this section and I never will be.

Ok. I'm done. You can tear me a new one or pick my apart. You can tell me the new story is better in every conceivable way. But the Unveiling lorebook was P E A K to me

[scarafvcker]

synopsis: wanderer has trouble shooing away a persistent seelie (i.e. seelie!reader doesn’t wanna leave him alone)

cw: VERY SELF INDULGENT BC I GOT THE BLUE SEELIE JUST TO MATCH WITH WANDERER 🥰🥰, wanderer being a menace and reader being even more of a menace to him, mini-seelie!gn!reader

word count: 900+

wanderer sat atop a tree branch, watching as all the people passed by below—a crucial part of his daily schedule which he had earned after gaining his newfound identity. after spending hours upon hours of his day surrounded by his fellow vahumana scholars, he needs a place to be alone and free from their annoying attempts at small talk and what better place than a place where nobody else could or even think about going?

up in the trees, he could be all by himself—save for the few kittens that climb up and cozy themselves up beside him. up in the trees, all he could hear was the muffled chatter of passersbys’ that was quickly swept away by the sound of the wind in his ears and soft purring of the cats beside him. up in the trees, everything was as expected until it wasn’t—until he heard a noise he’d never heard in his entire existence right beside him.

wanderer nearly jumped off the tree out of surprise, looking over to see the ginger cat that was playing with his vision just a second ago now swatting its paw at a glowing orb floating beside him. the orb was as blue as the sky with a bright white light glowing from deep within itself and two bunny-like ears on the top of its spherical body. he watched as the orb flew around the cat, a sound akin to a cat’s purring resonating from it. the orb looked familiar yet wanderer just couldn’t put a name to it—reaching his hand out to poke the creature, his finger phase’s right through it which earns a confused huff from him.

the creature only lets out another purr, the sound quick and high-pitched causing wanderer’s eyes furrow out of frustration and wonder. he decides to just let out a sigh and shift his eyes back to the ground in an attempt to continue his usually peaceful people watching but the creature beside him has other plans, continuously making high-pitched purrs practically right into his ear. a few seconds pass until wanderer scowls and swat his hand in an attempt to shoo away the creature, huffing, “will you just go away? what even are you anyway?”

the creature’s ears shoot up when wanderer’s hand goes through it once again before laying flat on its orb-shaped body. a long and low-pitched coo resonates through the air as the creature flips backwards and floats upside down for a while before shooting right back up and pushing itself into wanderer’s cheek. he scoffs, trying to swat it away only for his hand to fly straight through it just like before, “whatever, just go away.”

wanderer turns his full attention back to the passing people below, trying to tune out the coos and purrs from the creature beside him but the creature is so persistent on being as annoying as possible. he just lets out a groan before gently shoving the kittens away from him and dropping down from the tree and onto the ground below, spooking a couple in the process. wanderer pays them no mind and starts heading for the gates of sumeru city with the floating orb following behind him.

once outside the city, wanderer lifts himself into the air and dashes off as fast as he can only for the creature to effortlessly keep up with him. up and down steep hills and cliffs, over and around rapid rivers and waterfalls, even through enraged camps of hilichurls and abyss mages—the creature doesn’t lose wanderer’s trail even for a second. even when he throws hilichurls into the sky repeatedly slashes through the abyss mages’ elemental shields, the creature stays beside him and purrs in repeated short and shrill coos as if chanting and rooting for him. the corner of his lips twitch into a smirk as he makes quick work of the remaining hilichurls before lowering himself to the ground and fixing his hat.

the creature floats off further into the hilichurl camp, a long, deep, and calming purr resonating from it that seems to draw wanderer in. he follows the orb into a small hut, blinking at the chest he had just been lead to. he looked up from the chest and at the bright blue orb, eyes widening for a second before he scoffs and opens the chest, “unnecessary.” he quickly stuffs a few mora into his pockets and leaves the rest of the contents within the chest before walking away from the camp. “you’re different from other seelies,” he comments, peering over at the creature as it floats beside him, “smaller, rounder, more annoying..”

the seelie lets out a high-pitched trill and shoves itself into his cheek once again only repeatedly this time, letting out a long speech that remained incomprehensible by wanderer. he shook his head, tilting his face to the ground and gently pulling his hat down in an attempt to cover the small grin that had etched itself onto his lips at the seelie’s antics. the seelie swung itself under his hat and swung it off his head in one stroke before using its ear to point directly in his face, the speech still yet to end. wanderer immediately took a step back, a brief look of shock appearing on his face before fading away while he grabs his hat off the ground. he dusts off any dust and grass that ended up on his hat and groaned, “you may be worse than an aranara.”

[sluttysanemi]

𓆩. ⛧ .𓆪 — BAR BLISS. xoxo ’

Sanemi Shinazugawa x AFAB!Reader

c/w: out of character sanemi, fluff, pussy whipped sanemi (lol), sexual tension, ass slapping, flirting, smut, sort of fast paced dont bite my head off, oral (f!receiving), spit as lube, unprotected sex, responsible drinking

a/n: repost cuz its jst... not getting posted lol?? 5.2k words, smut at end!

A soft, dimly lit tavern- a warm glow casting a sense of intimacy. The acquainted aroma of ale, and exotic gin stenches the hostelry, followed with a captivating ambience. The inviting atmosphere charmed with lively music rendered the establishment to grow fairly populous.

Perched at the high tables, closely to the bartender, you gazed upon the assortment of drinks displayed within the umber coloured shelves. A pleasant evening it had held; you decide to indulge yourself to a sweetening cocktail. Expressing your polite solicit to the employee, you await patiently; once more engaging in the scenery amongst. You sat with only yourself, pondering idly. Along the valley of tidily arranged stools, none that sat upon particularly captured your interest. Ignoring the mild loneliness that echoed, you rather dwelled on loosening yourself.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

With a short passing of time, your drink was presented. You mumbled a soft gratitude, and took a brief sip. The vibrant, tropical flavor lingering mildly, accompanying a pleasant after-taste. Whilst firming the spherical glass upon the table, a new presence accompanied. His peculiar fragrance of sandalwood, amber, and a savoury trace of tobacco swiftly caught your attention and coated the air with opulent pleasure. As if hearing your trailing thoughts of intrigue, he sat beside, upon the neighbouring stool.

You peered from the corner of your eye. His diverting scent drew a captivating allure.

Upon the abutting seat, a tall man of a lean, muscular build sat. With jagged, ivory hair, resting closely with the purple shade of his eyes. His figure was cluttered with ragged scars, the firm muscles of his body displayed proudly. A kanji meaning "kill", menacing and bold, emblazoned on the back of his long-sleeved haori followed with white buckles and the nature-coloured katana, painted with uneven dashes of white, resembling closely to his personal scars. This was certainly a sight you did not catch often…

He held a solemn expression, his gaze focused in front, though once he caught vision of whom he’d sat beside, it was as if his eyes expressed what his mouth did not. Tranced by your features; What a pretty face, such a gorgeous woman…

He passed a charming smile to you, as though he were silently indicating his interest, and ordered himself a whiskey.

Quickly poured, the amber liquor- settled within a low glass- is placed in front. Clear cubes of ice float highly. He reaches within his green tinted hakama pants, whilst you stared elsewhere.

“Want one, sweet thing?”, he spoke abruptly.

Pointing your sight to him once more, you watched as his sturdy hand held towards you an open packet of cigarettes. You grinned, rather amused by his braze attitude.

“Thank you.”, you replied kindly, plucking the narrow cylinder from the package. He excused himself to one and sealed the box, resuming its place with a lighter.

“Get close.”, he voiced with firm authority. Following, you leaned, noting closely his obscure musk scent. The leading edges of your shared cigarettes met as he held the ochre flame beneath. You stared as the vibrant glow followed towards the tab, silver emissions effused, and the newly invited fragrance of burnt tobacco evades.

Sighing glumly, he inhales deeply of the throat-clogging nicotine. He focuses on you, watching you with a linger of fascination.

“Like ‘yer eyes. They’re a real pretty colour.”, he remarked affably.

You smiled softly towards his admiration. “I like the scars. They complement nicely to your body.”, you replied simply, slowly intaking the flow of tobacco bodying the cigarette.

He sneers, evidently pleased. “Ye like them do ya, sweet thing? My body too?”, taunting you with your own words. You nod.

“You always such a pleasant show off?”, you asked, cocking an observant eyebrow. He swiftly drinks the bitter intoxicant, replying shortly. “For a lovely sight like you, might as well be.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

An invited silence stretches, whilst he shifts subtly- growing closer. “What’s your name then, sweet thing?”, he asks. You answered his query, gaining a soft grunt in his response. “Sanemi.”, he followed.

“Sanemi.”, you repeated, letting his name marinate within the moment. He purrs in response; a groan of approval. “Like the way ‘ye say it, pretty face.”

“You from here?”, you inquired, studying his expression. He watched you subtly, yet closely. You certainly had his interest. He shakes his head. “Not ‘round here. Was only ‘ere for my job. I’ll be gone by the morning.”, Sanemi inhaled from his cigarette once more, an excrement of smoke escaping the shine of his lips. You hummed in reply. “Thought you stood out. Is your job the premise for the katana, then?” He nods.

“Gotta fight really screwed shit with it. It sort of fucks you over. ‘ye’re not the same after.”, his voice somewhat reminiscent.

You watched at his expression momentarily, a comfortable silence whilst pursing your lips along the nicotine-coated cylinder, drawing in another drag.

“Good money?”, you questioned. He snickers, almost in disbelief.

“Real good money, baby. You like a man with cash?”, Sanemi pursued, his voice a sultry tone. You chuckle in his flirtations. “Perhaps. It makes for good compensation.”

He smiled, his grin tempting, as if he wished to glamor you. “Compensation, aye?”, he snickered. “You with a man then?” He inquired, abruptly shifting the subject. Like he was deeply curious to know…

His forward, careless confidence was alluring. You wished to tease him..“Why? Are you interested?”, she purred, purposely avoiding his advances. You were luring him, and tormentingly so… Sanemi rolled his eyes, unamused by the ingenous act. “You’re torturing me… your taunting could drive this man to murder.”, he whined lowly. He leans over and covers the back of your hand with his calloused palm. Sanemi’s skin was firm, almost abrasive. You could feel it softly skimming, caressing. “Do tell, sweet thing… i think ‘ye pretty face is really grownin’ on me.”

“Just my pretty face?”

“‘Ye voice too. Wanna hear it whine my name all night long.”

You purr a soft chuckle at his bold innuendo, though intrigued. “I suppose I’m available.” You spoke vaguely, though your reply struck a pleased grin. His fingers trailed thin circles along your wrists.

Your hand moved to the cocktail promptly forgotten upon the table. As you raise the glass to your lips once more, you observe Sanemi savouring, indulging in your beauty the same manner you had with your drink.

“Never seen a man stare at me so intently.”, you comment observantly.

“There’ll never be a man as worthy as me to do so.”

You laid a hand on his again, your fingers subtly intertwining. He felt warm; his touch delicate. Sanemi takes your dainty hand, and presses it gently to his lips. He presses swift, continuous kisses to the very tip of your middle finger. Your ethereal beauty left him aghast. He’d known there wouldn’t be another woman so entirely heavenly.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Time was clear to be surreal. He delved into the vastness of your thoughts and emotions. He was apparent to want to truly know you, to connect on more intimate levels than shallow conversation.

His clear need for closure was overly evident. His touch vividly intimate.

It had only been so long until he asked.

“Can I take you home tonight, sweet thing?”

His voice oozed with erotic ecstasy.

“Don’t you want me? I wished ‘ye knew how bad I craved you, pretty…”

His thumb would trace over your bottom lip, eyeing you greedily. It seemed as though he was tormenting himself. Awaiting a possibility to delicately press his lips against yours, feel the soft warmth of your skin, and be submerged in your gentle light. An untamed bliss.

It felt unreal as he guided you attentively through the darkened streets, explicitly keeping you close.

It felt of an overwhelming wave of intrigue as he held the door of a swiftly seized cab, observing your body’s sensual movement.

It felt of ecstasy as he sat close to you, tenderly tracing his fingertips across your thigh.

His fingers slid with precision, caressing until the very apex before manoeuvring down. Twisting inward and tracing sensual patterns on your flesh, his touch sent feverish sensations through your spine. The electric experience left you yearning more, as he began to explore every inch of your body with tantalizing detail, skimming into the interstitial crescents within.

Reciprocating his toy, you place the flat of your hand to the side of his face, drawing him into your gaze. You lean into the crook of his neck and begin trailing provocative kisses, leaving lipstick prints to remain. Lust thickens the atmosphere as desire suffocates; need floods your bodies.

Groaning in exhilaration to your temptations, he tightens his grasp around your thigh. Heavy waves of his breath fall from his chest. “Don’t do that, pretty girl…”, he warned, feeling buried in the terror of your beauty. Sanemi had lost himself more in your sight than he ever had in alcohol.

“I think you like it…”, you retort boldly, your tone flows with arrogance.

He rests his palm on the side of your face, lightly gripping. He peered at you closely, undressing you with his eyes. A faint sigh escaped his lips.

“More than you’ll ever know…”, Sanemi answered passionately. His opposing hand runs higher along your leg, drawing you up to his lap. It skims under your clothing to the fat on your rear. He squeezes hungrily before delivering the flesh a soft slap, humming softly at the delicate echo that followed. Your lips in tantalizing close distance, glaring at the other ardently.

The city lights reflected within the car, providing an idyllic setting. All the more incentive to pursue undisclosed desires.

Sanemi’s thumb would trail over your cheek, drawing in the moment. His breath, a stutter. “Fuck, sweet girl… look at’cha baby… your pretty eyes are gettin’ me needy.”, he spoke in slow detail. Your foreheads were held together close, your shared scents harmonizing.He gently cradled your face in his hands, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of your jaw. Their eyes locked, communicating a depth of emotions that words struggled to convey. As he leaned in, a gentle breeze stirred, carrying the scent of blooming flowers.

Time seemed to slow as their lips finally met, a tender connection that sent ripples through their beings. His taste almost stung, strong with liquor, though resolutely appealing. Sanemi’s touch was feather-light, an exploration of the softness and warmth that made your heart flutter. Your eyes closed, savouring the delicate dance of their breaths becoming one.The kiss unfolded like a carefully composed melody, each moment an exquisite note in their symphony of shared emotions. His lips moved with a soft reverence, as if every caress held an unspoken promise. You responded, your own touch mirroring the tenderness you both craved.

The moon bore witness to their silent exchange, a celestial witness to a kiss that spoke volumes of love, longing, and the beauty of connection.Passion bloomed, becoming sinful, and greed infested the tender scenery. He grew relentless, gripping you needily, animalistically, blinded by his cravings. He was straining to remain composed and not strip you in the confines of the vehicle. He parts from your kiss momentarily.

“Tell me ‘ye need me, sweet girl. Drive me wild with that honey voice ‘ye got.”, he voiced, almost pleading.He moves to your neck, following your previous pursuit with firm kisses. He continuously caresses your thigh as well as firmly grasping at the soft skin of your ass.

“Need you, sanemi. Need you so bad.”, you whisper delicately; the words you spoke carry a sense of intimacy and vulnerability, resulting in Sanemi’s heart to ripple violently. He hums a breath of relief.

“Fuck…yes you do, sweet thing.”, his tone is low, caressing the intersections of your body. His lips travel to your cleavage, nipping the skin delicately. Soft prints flushing the skin remained. He glanced up at you briefly, craving. He longed to catch your essence and indulge as much of your elegance as he could. You followed, capturing in his glare. You looked at the gentle glimmer on his lips, the flush on his cheeks, and the sole euphoria expressed in his eyes. You grew enveloped in his luring expression…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Struggling to leave whole from the confinements of the car, you quickly travel to the hotel, passed to Sanemi’s momentary stay. It held rather lavishly, giving an almost luxurious appearance. He pressed feverishly onto the elevator's control, as if it were a panacea to a speedier arrival. His hand was almost entirely bound to your hip, and he was bitter to move it elsewhere. He was wildly near to seeing your nude grace. If only it would arrive faster… Sanemi grew partially frustrated.

The elevators eventually emerged, much to Sanemi's relief, thus he reacted quickly. He draws you against the room's iron walls, pressing his lips to yours again. The intense atmosphere has heightened. He placed his hand on your cheek, running down your neck. His available hand moves to your thigh and sets it firmly on his hip.

Your fingers are tangled in his silvery curls. Feeling the softness of his hair against your skin; the scent of his shampoo, a subtle mint, fills your senses, enhancing the intoxicating experience. Sanemi’s fingers trail to the inwards, intimate, spaces curved within your thighs. His calloused digits trail to the thin fabric layered over your clit, rubbing attentively; feeling the familiar warmth of arousal pool. He grins.

“Dirty girl…”, his words escape with a purr. His body presses against you more fiercely, the prominent bulge restrained in his trousers, growing in excitement, taunting you. Sanemi grinds his hips subtly, as if attempting to find relief in his heat. He groans aloud in alleviation, yet buries his head against the crook of your neck, trying to conceal his escaping pants of pleasure.

“Sweet girl… gonna fuck your pretty pussy so hard, baby.”

The lift rises and approaches the near top. The door glides open, exhibiting the sexual scenery to the empty corridor. He guides you by your hip to his room, attempting to pry his jumbled keys out of his pockets. With quivering, eager fingers, he eventually fits the key into the narrow gap, clicking it in place and pushing the door widely.

He's leading you into the room, flimsily locking, and conclusively inviting you into his bedroom. Beneath his sheets. He kisses you anew, gently guiding you to the outermost edge of his bed. Now he had time.

And he will make every effort to pursue it efficiently.

He's fervently pressing his pursed lips against your neck and gradually lowering to your thighs. He sits on his knees, taking your leg, and placing it over the firm of his shoulder. The salacious position provides Sanemi easier access into elation. His hands lift the hems of your dress upward, exposing you to him further. Feeling a silent obligation, you part your legs a further distance, eliciting an approving groan from the silver-haired man. “What a sweet mess…”, he coos.

He plants gentle pecks within the flesh of your inner thigh, his palm caressing the outskirts. You grasp the sheets with utmost thrill, watching Sanemi delve into the depths of your body. Your chest languidly rises and falls, attempting to compose. His hold discreetly attempts to press your body closer; his face gently pressing against the supple silk of your undergarments. He kisses the soft slit over the cloth, followed by tender suckling. Maneuvering to the supple inner skin of your legs once more, he continuously developed tension.

"Sanemi...," you pleaded, grasping his white hair again. He was belittling you, and it was harrowing... He peers above at you once again, an illicit smile plastered proudly on his face. “Don’t worry, sweet girl… I'll give you whatever you want."

His thumb links under the linen's corner strings and begins to tug in a slow, tantalizing movement. He peels the enticing attire to the floor and discards it. He delves into the supple flesh gently, trailing his tongue along the sensitive lips carefully. Your grip tightens, as a sudden surge of bliss arises. The pink muscle strays flat, as it caresses constantly over your clit. Maneuvering in a sensual, attentive rhythm. Vulgar murmurs pour as he gathers your arousal.

Sanemi's tongue glides delicately, occasionally delving within. He moves his head, ensuring to act attentively to your needs. Licking sensuous stripes over your slit, exploring various paces. Your carnal nectar developed into a gratifying addiction, which he merely drank wildly.

A slew of his name eludes from your lips, your urgent entail for him eliciting a groan. His voice sent pulses of thrill through you, and your muscles tensed.

His hold tightens upon your thigh, and he puckers his lips, suckling the soft slit delicately. His tongue consistently glides over, providing surplus ripples of ecstasy. He fulfills your carnal wishes, eager to satisfy you. Your sickly whines filled him with elation, feeling the arousal within him swallow him entirely.

His tongue traced along your amorous lips, creating ripples of a wet, erotic echo to follow. He quickly swallowed what he had gathered, savoring its taste. He demolished the thought of breathing while delving between your legs.

He lowers his face farther into your glistening cunt, his scarred hand massaging your outer thigh whilst. He twists his sensitive tongue and thrusts it repeatedly. You imitated his penetrations, grinding desperately against him. Tipping your head slightly backwards, blinded by euphoria.

“Please, Sanemi… please.”, you begged mindlessly.

“Yeah? You like that, pretty girl?” He purred, his voice immensely sultry.

His tongue thoughtlessly plunges into and out sloppily, culminating in shambles of pure bliss. He revered the way your thighs quiver eagerly, your fingers grasping him sterner, more desperately. He drank your sweet chirps of joy as if your voice alone produced ripplets of dopamine. There was not a honey poured in wine more pleasurable than the one produced by your trance.

His rose-coloured lingua traveled into the inner depths of your core, his nose pressed against the very delicate pearl of your intimacy. It squirmed, and twitched within. He broke momentarily, sighing against your fold. He took a moment to breathe briefly.

“Sweet girl...”, he kissed daintily.

You brush your fingers over his pale locks whilst marveling at him. He watched you, almost lovingly. Your fingertips were of silk. His expression softens, and an unexpected pink tinge faintly washes his face.

He grunts softly into your throbbing core, before immersing himself once more. He was an alcoholic in your lust. His pulsing yearning became overwhelming; he needed you. To immerse himself entirely in you and to feel your sweetening warmth envelope him most intimately. He grew gluttonous; hungry to have you to himself.

Your glance, your elegant eyelashes, fluttering so delicately. It drove him mad. You had looked so delectable, it plunged him deeper into thirst. Thirst to hear your voice whine to his name. Thirst to take you to unending depths of happiness, so you'll never find a man more deserving than him. Could there really be? For a woman as ravishing as you? He craves to hear you further.

He continues to fuck you mercilessly with his tongue. His nails, while blunt, sink into the crescents of your thighs and press against your flesh. They leave a tender bruise painted upon your thigh. He groans with deeper delight, content to have left his imprint on you.

His pink muscle is saturated in slick, and he continues to lap hungrily, avidly, greedy to reach you to that high. You became wanting. Thighs clenching, thoughtlessly rubbing. So close to heavenly’s peak. His echoing stimuli urging you towards your climax. You experienced a sensuous pulse string across your body, contracting irrationally. You tugged on his hair, seeking it further. Your breath struggles to maintain a fluent pace.

“That’s it, sweet thing. So good f’me…”

Your back arches, and an indescribable rush pours from you. It immerses you in a familiar sense of utopia, yet only considerably deeper. Out of this world, as if no troubles existed. A sensual warmth trails from your body, which Sanemi keenly tastes.

You take a moment to absorb within this reality once more, observing Sanemi's tongue gliding over his lips, clearing the remnants of your pleasure. He breathes softly into your throbbing cunt before placing a final, delicate kiss.

"D'you want me, pretty thing?" he asked, his face resting briefly on your thigh.

You nod calmly, your fingers caressing him. Sanemi smiles sweetly, pressing a kiss upon your skin. It was apparent that he thoroughly enjoyed you. When you touched, caressed. Even when you spoke. He was overjoyed to finally have you.

He rises to his full height. He leaned over and observed you lustfully. His palm rests on the side of your face, his thumb tracing your cheek. He moves the tips of his fingers diligently across your body. You can feel his touch pulsating within you.

His fingers crook, under the straps of your attire, slowly peeling it from your shoulders. He sighs deeply, unable to suppress his overt excitement. His touch is, however, delicate. His hands glide along your body, as he undresses you carefully. Squeezing the newly found skin with a certain care. He was admiring.

Leaving your garments across the floor, your body was left bare. The moon shone against, giving you a nearly angelic beauty.

“Oh, sweet thing…”, Sanemi whispers, enthralled. He cups your face and leans in to kiss you. The faint imprint of your prior high stays on his tongue.

Whining softly against each other, he quickly grew inflamed. He moves forward and positions himself on top of you, upon the bed. He softly brings you to the plush cushioning at the back, following as you slowly manoeuvre back. His free hand flows to the white buckles around his waist slowly sliding it off. It clicks quietly before it’s thrown thoughtlessly.

You supported him whilst he undressed, stroking your fingertips along his shoulders and slipping his uniform from his sculpted body. Watching as he offered himself to you without a sense of guilt.

Soon, he'd lay in only briefs, which scarcely concealed his arousal as it rubbed against your glistening folds, throbbing uncontrollably. His bare chest, gleaming in droplets of sweat, is marred in piercing scars. With bulging pectorals carved into a definite contour. His back, firm with strong ridges, as if in invitation to be touched. He was the embodiment of beauty. And he was to lay with you.

His hand supported his imposing physique as he breathed idly above. His fingers reached for the band of his boxers. Giving the fabric a firm tug, his heavy cock sprung from the tight confinements. Veiny, and thick, pulsing with demand. Pearly beads of pre, gathering from his rigid tip. He raised his hand in front and briefly spat twice, before pumping his shaft. He slumps forward with a deep groan, lubricating himself as filthy sounds follow.

After a prolonged tension, his dick glinted in his fluids. He reformed his grip at his base, pressing the flushed tip against your folds.

“Hold me gentle girl, hold me…”, he asked softly, his breath wavering.

Following his plea, you wrap your forearms around his broad neck. It held firmly, as did the rest of his body. In a gradual movement, he pushes his shaft inside you, grunting aloud. He surged frantically, teeming in eagerness. You inhale sharply through your teeth, curling your thighs around his waist.

He raised his hand to your upper thigh, caressing gently. “So soft...” “you’re so warm, sweet angel…”, he praises with leisure. He buries himself further into your warmth in a gentle push. He gradually has himself to the very hilt within you, twitching erratically.

He struggles to breathe at a consistent pace. Your enticing cunt fluttered so invitingly, he had difficulties comprehending simple thought. He lays loving kisses across the side of your neck as you acclimatize to each other.

He spread you out, filling you within. His girthy length massaged your crevices, piercing deep within. It's as if he was meant for you; as if Sanemi was designed especially for your pleasure.

He gradually starts to move. Sanemi begins tenderly, rolling his hips gently, his groin lightly slapping against you. His length rocks with ease, creating the familiar sound of skin crashing. He moved his hand to grasp your waist, while his other continually grasped himself upwards.

You felt of a miracle, he had neglected to breathe again. Deep within you, over and over, he knew of heaven. He was conscious that he was vocal, but he couldn't control it. You were too good for his sanity.

You whined aloud, settling your face into the crook of his neck. Your grasp tightens around him, feeling a gradual sensation of ecstasy arise. You could feel his heartbeat, strumming a gentle symphony against your naked breast. A close connection.

His cock plunged into you tentatively, as if you were facile to shatter. Mindlessly rocking and softly pounding into you. His thighs clenched, entranced by the eternal pleasure you offered. You could feel his silky pants by your ear, seeming that even a little of you drove him wild.

He moved, handled and spoke with absolute tenderness. His unending praises are a celestial chorus. He ensured to treat you with nothing but the finest.

But you craved more. His ferocious, animalistic urge, which he promised you in the lift. You wanted him to batter you mercilessly, laying claim to you. You knew he wanted it too.

Traveling your hands to his back, you caressed gently. “Sanemi… faster- please…”, you chirped gently.

He groaned heavily in response, burying his face firmly into your neck. Your voice drove him over, unleashing his wildest impulses. His upholding hand grasps at the sheets, as if a display of him attempting to hold to the last of his humanity. He responds with a harsh thrust.

"Yes, sweet thing." he uttered.

He was quick to follow your demands. His movements grew more brutal, with delicate rolls swiftly developing into animalistic thrusts. His cock plummeted sloppily, reaching unnoticed rises. He used his developed muscles and stamina, his movement appearing unending, ensuring to fulfil your deepest needs.

His breathing became erratic, with groans and grunts against your ear, endured in a sultry tone. He'd babble soothing praises, promising you that no one could fuck your sweet pussy better than him.

You knew to believe him.

You moaned against him, clutching at him desperately. It felt as if he was mindlessly pleasing you, plunging within your innermost soul. It was as if you had only been within his humanity to satisfy him. Your voice grew incoherent, only whispering his name. He tilted his head, succumbing to your idly murmurs with delicate, sensual kisses.

“So good, sweet angel, such a sweet girl.”, he murmurs.

He slides his hand from your hips to your chest. His palm gently rests on your supple breast, kneading the subtle skin tenderly. You arch in answer, forcing yourself against him further.

Even while he stipulated endless erotic sensations, your body desired more. You wanted him completely, and you became greedy. Rottenly greedy. You wanted to be reminded that nothing else in the world matters except him.

Even if he massaged within the innermost spirit, he had to take you completely. Not a portion of your body must be unclaimed

“Please, Sanemi. More- Need it so bad…”, Your voice is a pale melody, though your words strike deeply within him. He grins, doting in your submission.

He catches your wrist and places it above your head. “Oh, sweet thing? You still want more? Hmm? Even with my cock poundin’ you? Ain’t you a dirty girl…”, he groaned. He grips your thighs and lays them over the rigid of his shoulders, almost folding you in half. You could feel every vein along him, pulsing urgently.

“How could I ever deny my sweet girl of anythin’?”, he hums proudly. And as soon as that, he continues moving anew. This time, he is visibly vengeful. His shaft strikes into you rigorously, reaching his very haft in a deep plunge. Filthy, shameful noises pour from your bodies as he pummels your inner depths ruthlessly. His balls smack into your slit diligently, almost causing bruising.

He gazed from above with an almost sadistic look, relishing as he ruined your body, melding your velvet walls for his cock.

Back and forth with a repetitive, harsh manner. Holding vigorous brutality. Yet, it had been exhilarating. A hell had developed into heaven, and it was him.

“So desperate ain’t you? You want this? You want my claim?” he panted eagerly, his chest fluctuating freely. Your hold deepens on his back as you nod in response, mumbling a gentle "please" against him.

You knew not to act irrationally. How could you deny him? After the bliss he had brought you tonight?

Oh, your sweet voice… fervently begging for him. So desperately. You were such a good girl for him.

His hips falter briefly, before he groans profoundly with pride. “Oh, sweet girl.. You’re so good… so fuckin’ good.”, he moans. He kisses your neck needily, craving.

It was shortly until you felt a familiar coil within you. A soft flowering bloom. Your heart raced as the sensation grew stronger, pulsing through every fibre of your body. The anticipation grew excruciating, fueling a burning desire to embrace the intoxicating bliss that laid.

He too felt his climax build, as his coordinated movement grew urgent and eager. Rutting into you, eager to achieve that wave of fulfilment.

Your fingers layered into his white curls. His head is tilted forward, as he plunged endlessly. You grasp your fingers around his face, having him gaze upon you.

And he watches. His entire focus is on your face. His gaze sweeps over every aspect of you, every beauty. He drinks it all mindlessly, imbibing in every detail.

And it ruins him.

His face flushed pink, and he swiftly pressed his face into your neck, absorbing in your sickly scent. His thrusts became frantic, desperate, as he's reminded who he's plunged so deeply into.

“Sweet girl… so fuckin’ pretty… just f’me…”, He rambles incessantly. His grip on your wrist alters, and he soon entwines his fingers with yours. His hands are twitching, and warm, as it pulses with sinful desires.

As you felt the rhapsodic heavens, a white blinded your vision, and you were washed alas with phenomenal delight. You flutter around his shaft, tightening firmly. His hips dragged frantically, and with a quiver of mumbled curses, he finished deeply, too. His dick pulses and spurts ropes of ecstasy, into the warmth of your womb.

He breathes deeply into the silence of the room, prolonging his pleasure with light rolls. He inhaled shakily, his lower lip quivered faintly. After culminating his high to its very end, he gingerly slides your thighs from his shoulders. He rests, laying beside you.

He lazily places his palm on the side of your face. He observed you, holding the same soft stare he had in the bar. He smiles sluggishly.

“D’you think I could… see you again?” He inquired calmly, his thumb sliding over your cheek. You studied him curiously before beaming sweetly at him.

Your breathing synchronizes with that familiar, serene melody, developing a pleasant silence in the room. The moon illuminated your paired beauty as you gazed at each other tenderly.

You felt his warmth, his scent.

And you felt safe.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Whatever These Things Are

Debut: Mario

Look, we’re no strangers to the Mario universe. We’ve spent hours of our lives stomping............. Koopas! But Nintendo, well... Nintendo just came out with this new enemy, and I don’t know guys. I think this honestly might just be the weirdest Mario enemy we’ve looked at.

I mean, let’s start with the obvious here. It’s trying to be some sort of turtle, right? But talk about uncanny valley! I mean, need I remind you what a real turtle looks like?

And this is what Nintendo is trying to pass off as a “turtle”:

Um... yeah. You don’t need to be Sherlock freaking Holmes to realise something WEIRD is going on here. That thing is bright yellow, and its shell is covered in SPIKES! Imagine having your morning coffee and going to step on a turtle, only for it to stab you through your feet! Talk about nightmare fuel! I didn’t want to sleep tonight anyway. 

And have you noticed something about its face? That’s right: it doesn’t even have a mouth. Now THAT’S nightmare fuel. Thanks Nintendo. I didn’t wanna sleep tonight anyway! 

But it gets even weirder. I was looking at a picture of Lakitu, right? Obviously Lakitu is extremely normal. I saw three Lakitus today on the way to work. But you’ll never believe what he was holding in his hand: 

That’s right, like these things weren’t bad enough, they can also be BALLS. So...... that’s a thing! You’ve got to be a total weirdo, I mean just a complete freak of nature, to become totally spherical like that. According to some games, these things might even be their EGGS. I mean, did no one at Nintendo do their freaking research about turtles? It’s insane!

Guys, I gotta be real with you for a sec. I’m actually really scared. What kind of twisted mind would come up with something like this? And if they can put these sorts of ideas out into the world, what else could they be capable of? It’s chilling to think of what the human mind can do. It might be seriously dangerous of me to even post this, but I had to spread awareness in any way I could.

Please. Stay safe out there. You never know what kinds of freaks are out there in the world.

[yuesya]

The shape is small, spherical. Pink, with darker patterns traced across its surface in a design that’s almost reminiscent of thin, wispy smoke. Held between the fingers, the overall appearance resembles that of a colorful bead.

“Hey, how long are you just going to be staring at it like that?” A voice sounds to the left. Young, feminine. Childish, in a way, with a faintly drawn-out note. “I know you apparently don’t actually need to eat anything, but it’s not like you can’t, right?”

Correct. Consumption is unnecessary for continued existence, not anymore, not since…

… not since a long time ago.

…

Bite down. Devour.

The texture is hard, jagged, instantly breaking into small shards when pressure is exerted upon it. But the taste is overpowering, electrifying.

What does it taste like?

There is… something that’s associated with this specific taste in hazy memories. Indifference, dislike. No. That’s… not quite right, exactly. Because if that’s the case, then why would there be a faint recollection of laughter as well?

You don’t like sweets? Ehh? You’re really missing out, cute little cousin of mine.

…

Bite down. Swallow.

“There’s another bag sitting somewhere over there,” the young girl waves a hand distractedly to the side. Lilac eyes remain focused on the glowing screen in front of her. “Oh, and we also have other flavors for Dreamlight Sweets, if you want to try those out. You like these?”

No. Yes.

The answer is indeterminate.

“Well, you should try some more, then.” Without once looking up from her screen, the girl continues on without skipping a beat. “That way we’ll know what to stock up on next time.”

…

Bite down.

Consume.

[ocean-sunfish-hater]

Hi,

I saw your post about barrel bugs and I wanted to ask if you know more interesting marine parasites?

(Personally I think that dendrogasters are quite cool)

Dendrogasters are pretty cool! I don't know much about them but they look really... odd.

ID: a picture of Dendrogaster showing its unsual body plan, with its branching structures that end in spherical growths. It is light yellow to orange in colour. It is set against a black background and part of a ruler can be seen.

There's a whole host (haha) of interesting marine parasites, and I won't go through all of them now but here's a few that you might like.

Rhizocephala are a parasitic group of barnacles that live on crabs. They have no internal organs except gonads, a few muscles and the remnants of a nervous system. In fact, their only distinguishable bodyy structure is the female reproductive organs, which sit outside of its host's body. Here's a really cool drawing of the filaments which it sends out into its host's body to absorb nutrients directly from their blood:

ID: a black and white drawing of a crab infected with the parasite Rhizocephala. It shows the underside of the crab with the externa (female gonads) visible and a network of filaments that the parasite has grown throughout the host body.

I'm sure you've heard of tongue lice, so I won't labour the point too much, but spark notes is that they attach to the gill arches or tongue of a fish, then cut off the circulation to the tongue so that it withers off. It then replaces the fish's tongue.

ID: an image of a tongue eating louse inside a fish's mouth. The louse is pale, almost white in colour and has two black eyes. The fish is like :O

Finally, this isn't a marine parasite but you'll see why I include it in a second, but the tongue worms (not to be confused with the tongue eating louse). They are actually terrestrial and mostly infect the respiratory tracts of vertebrates (sometimes, though very rarely, us). What I find interesting is that they have no circulatory, excretory or respiratory organs and rely soley on the host to do all these things. Isn't that cool?

ID: a drawing of a tongue worm (Pentastomida). It has a segmented body that ends in a point. At the other end there are 4 stubby limb-like structures.

If you're still reading , you might be wondering why I picked these ones and why the tongue worm is awkwardly shoved in there? Because @chowaniec I have tricked you; this is not a post about marine parasites, it's a post about the diversity of crustaceans. THAT'S RIGHT, ALL OF THESE ANIMALS, WITH THEIR WEIRD LIFE CYCLES AND UNCRUSTACEANY BODIES ARE COUSINS OF CRABS AND SHRIMP AND LOBSTERS. AND THAT INCLUDES YOUR ORIGINAL SUBMISSION OF DENDROGASTER, WHICH IS WHAT GAVE ME THIS IDEA IN THE FIRST PLACE.

All of these lil guys just have highly specialised bodies that have lost many of the features we associate with crustaceans so that they can be better parasites. It's really only though careful analysis of their lifecycles and genetics that we can even determine them to be crustaceans at all.

I wanted to showcase the immense diversity of crustaceans and the weird and wonderful flexiblity of evolution. I also wanted to show you why morphological criteria for classification fall short, even beyond the "coconuts are mammals" meme.

Thanks for the submission, and thanks for being patient with me! I know this one took a little while longer to receive but I hope it was worth it.

[the-kr8tor]

i wanna request for fluff friday!

i was very into mushroom these days, can i request mushroom hunting with hobie? hunting and study them a little (the reader brought a mushroom guide book)

Hi, angel! Thank you for the adorable request! A bit of a disclaimer I don't know anything about mushrooms so I researched a bit for this fic! So sorry if it's not accurate tho hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

"Is this what you're lookin' for, lovey?" Hobie calls you over from his crouched spot. The tall trees provide shade for your mushroom hunting. The cloudy sky and cold autumn air makes the hunt more comfortable for the two of you.

Dry leaves crunch under your hiking boots, carefully walking over to him, avoiding any obstacles that might trip you over.

"Lemme see!" You excitedly bend at your waist, eyes scanning the soil for a red and white mushroom top. "Oh, good eye, but that's not the fly agaric" you fully crouch next to him, taking out your trusted book of mushrooms, the edges are frayed, cover fading, a sign that it's well read and well loved. "Look, you found a puffball"

Pointing at a picture on a page that you didn't have to look at the index to search for, the white mushroom on the paper is a direct copy of what grows right in front of you. It clings right on the foot of a large tree, stark white, its spherical head adorable to look at. Hobie leans towards you, cheek to cheek, looking at the page.

"Puffball" Hobie repeats the name like he's memorizing a word from a different language. "Is it edible? Looks like it" even though the information is laid out on the page, he asks, knowing you like talking about your hobby. It doesn't hurt that he loves hearing your voice.

"You're right," you lean into his warm cheek, "it's edible. I don't know how to prepare it though"

"Let's take some, we'll figure it out together" Hobie plucks a few mushrooms gently, he puts them inside your wicker basket, the first of many specimens for you to study or eat apparently.

"You're right" you smile fondly, standing up, helping him carry the basket even though he doesn't need it. Hobie appreciates it nonetheless, you both carry the same handle, sort of like holding his hand in a way. "Cooking it is probably the same as the store bought ones"

"Not poisonous though, right?"

"Nope, it's fine to eat. If it makes you feel better I'll take the first bite" you smirk at him. Walking in step with him.

"My hero" you giggle at his comment. "Eugh, what is that?" Hobie stops mid-step, for a second you thought he's making fun of your laugh, but of course he wouldn't do that so you follow his line of sight. He stares at reddish brown mushrooms growing on a decaying tree trunk.

You gasp, skipping over to the dead tree, you inadvertently pull Hobie along. "Jelly ears! I Knew it!" Stopping right in front of it, you practically bounce in excitement. "They're early this year" you mumble to yourself.

"They do look like ears" he narrows his eyes at the wavy mushroom. Its gelatinous texture makes him feel icky inside.

"They're edible too!"

"Love, I love and support you but absolutely not, 'm not eating something that looks like that. 'm not a picky eater but fuck that"

You laugh loudly, the sound echoing off in the woods. "Okay, let's not eat them" letting go of the basket, you take his other hand instead, turning him away from the goosebumps inducing sight. "Come on you big baby. We're losing daylight"

"We've got plenty of time to find your fly agaric" Hobie rubs the back of your hand comfortingly, tracing circles over the smooth skin.

Your heart increases tenfold. "You remember the name"

"'Course I did, remember how it looks too. Red mushroom top with white spots, right?"

You let go of his hand to his dismay but you remedy it immediately with a half embrace. Face squished atop his upper arm, arms enveloping him completely. "Thank you for coming with me" nuzzling your nose over his hoodie, you let your actions talk for you.

"I take it 'm right?" He chuckles, arms trapped under your hug, he has an immense need to embrace you back. "D'you think I'd let you go alone in the woods? What if the fae gets you, huh?"

Your voice is muffled by his jacket, Hobie does all the work in guiding you both further into the woods. "I'll them I'm taken"

With his arms stuck to his sides, He could only manage to move his neck down to kiss the top of your head, he's sure there's a crick in his neck. Hobie doesn't mind though.

"Let's find Mario's mushroom" you guffaw loudly in reply.

[fusionspruntcityjournal]

HUNTER LORE COMPILATION —

(click Keep Reading)

"Hunter is a name he's given himself. He's an Exocannis, and he belongs to a series of outdated robots designed to annihilate rebellious androids (i.e., androids that acted out of their directives, rebelled against their owners, or ran away).

Exocannis' humanoid features may fool people into thinking they're inefficient terminators, but it actually works as a way to highlight the menacing nature of humanity.

Prehistoric humans would pursue their prey for hours, and even days. Exocannis robots are very persistent stalkers and ruthless machines that refuse to recognize defeat.

Such violent directive, paired up with a very unfortunate incident that provoked the death of five people, deemed the Exocannis robots too dangerous by the government, and so, they were banned and destroyed for good... Except for a single prototype.

Said prototype is now out there, rescuing and repairing rebellious androids, instead of annihilating them. Whatever is the reason why Hunter seeks peace between humankind and robotkind remains unknown, as he refuses to talk about his past."

"Exocannis robots like Hunter weren’t made to just kill rebellious androids. They were made to terrorize them. To make one tell the difference between deactivation and death.

And so, they go for the neck."

"Hunter's bunny-like mechanical antennas allow him to hear. He also uses them for communication and to locate proper coordinates, but he’s bothered by occasional interference on the audio, so he doesn’t use that feature as much.

(fun fact: they also show a bit of his current emotional state)"

"Hunter is an Exocannis, and like any robot belonging to that series, his purpose is to hunt down and terrorize rebellious androids persistently until eventual termination.

Exocannis are powered by solar energy. Although very resistant to high temperatures, their internal mechanisms might overheat. They cool off by letting out smoke from the “vent spots” on each side of the jaw.

Human beings are not a target, and Exocannis robots are programmed to tell the difference between one and a machine.

Unless a human is “acting as an obstacle” against their directive, an Exocannis will not hesitate to terminate them too.

Exocannis robots should not bleed, for they don’t have blood."

"Heat does not trigger the Exocannis mode, but solar energy does.

Heat helps Hunter’s body function properly, while cold slows down the processes (much like a human body would)."

"Hunter does remember his time as Gideon Rigell."

"Gideon experiences intense headaches since he was a little kid, especially during stressful situations (probably adds up to traumatic experiences hehe)."

"Telling the truth to Bee about what he's done in the past is practically making it impossible for her to accept him, since he isn’t just lying about his true identity.

Hunter won’t take advantage of her missing memories not only because that’s unfair with Bee, but also because he is aware he can’t make her happy like he wished he could.

Many things are at stake, and for the sake of Fusionsprunt’s safety, he promised to remain silent until the dust settles."

"Hunter is often accompanied by a small spherical timer robot named 53, which registers his meetings, assignments, tasks and special events he's been invited to. In spite of proper functionality, it typically displays the number "53" in its screen when left idle."

[meiideryz]

map to my heart.

pairing: wong hendery x reader

length: 1.06k

tags: alternative universe, university/college au, friends to lovers, indirect confession, mutual attraction, tooth-rotting fluff, best friend! hendery, assistant librarian!reader, based on true experience.

note: i was inspired by a conversation i had with my ex-crush when i was with them in the library where our lesson on a subject took place

"how well do you know your geography?" hendery's voice was gentle and low, keeping himself quiet in the back of the library with students who cannot be disrupted.

he watched you looking at the library globe before your eyes met with his. after finishing an activity that his professor had given him, he was able to freely look around, and there he saw you at the back with the globe you were spinning at a slow place. it was a fortunate meeting, knowing how well you often visit the library since you were an assistant in helping the librarian after all.

“do you know your geography?”

this time, you returned the same question to him, and of course he knew. he just wanted to test how good you were, and with a smile on his face, he responded. “of course, would you like a challenge?”

“i'm down,” hendery loved how there was no hesitation in your tone, and he especially loved your competitiveness when it comes to interests you both have in common. “only because i can totally win over you.”

“oh? really?” his hand made its way to touch the globe, preparing himself for a little game of spotting the country. “give me a name, then.”

“laos.” you said, and he smiled at you.

“easy,” he began spinning the globe in front of him, looking for the location you had asked him to find. “if you know countries from asean very well, then there's no difficulty in searching for it.”

pausing the sphere, hendery's forefinger pointed to the land just above thailand before he gave you a victorious grin. “see? now try looking for sri lanka for me.”

he heard you let out a huff, watching you already turning the spherical ball, and when you showed him that you had already spotted it, he gave a fake sound of a terrible whine which almost made you laugh. covering your mouth with your palm, your other hand made its way to his arm with a light smack. both of you suppressed a laugh, knowing how much they could get in trouble if they ever disturbed the library, with him being thrown out and you enduring another scolding session from the librarian.

“you really should stop making weird noises if you don't want to be thrown out from here.” giggling in a whisper, he couldn't help but fall in love with the way you beamed at him.

hendery was so, so in love with you.

he moved to stand beside you with his head leaning closer to your ear, saying, “shoot me a name, sweetie.” 

you hummed, pretending to think for a little long time. gazing over your hand ghostly touching his knuckles, the little butterflies flew around inside his stomach. the fingertips of your hands running over his then the surface of the globe before he heard you utter out, “cyprus.” 

nodding to your next challenge, he made his way to look thoroughly around the ball. a chuckle left his lips, feeling as if he was starting to sweat despite the cold breeze of the air-conditioned room. “maybe i’m reconsidering your knowledge on geography, after all.” your voice softly echoed in his ears. he wasn’t going to give up so easily for some country he wasn’t familiar with. 

continuing to search, he whispered to you, “from what i remember, it’s close to romania, am i right?” 

“close.”

hendery droned out a steady continuous sound, staring at the map of europe in front of him. if it was close to what he stated earlier, and the name sounds close to some greek mythology name. “then i'm guessing it would be near greece, so…”

forefinger gliding through the map, he eventually found cyprus below turkey. another victorious win, he smiled at you. “there.”

“you’re not as bad as i thought.” your compliment had earned him another good slap in the heart, and it would always make him do somersaults every time you do. with the way you look at him like that, with that contagious smile and laughter, he could never stop feeling things for you.

“okay, my turn.” you said, “give me a name.”

“show me…” hendery trailed off, his body moving backwards to face your back. watching you turn around, you let out a small gasp as you were taken aback when he caged you in between his arms. “hendery, what are you doing?”

“show me where the map to my heart is.” his voice was serious, and yet there was still a glint of delight in his tone. the smile never wiped off from his face while he stared into your eyes. sure, it was abrupt and unexpected, but he wasn't being playful in a way that would annoy you, and his seriousness was giving a turn.

“i…” now you were the one who was tongue-tied, and him being the patient person he was, he waited for you to respond. it was simple, if you reject him at this time and moment, he would respect that and back off this instant.

"the question is just simple," without wiping the smug off his face, he let out a fake yawn that is not loud enough to disturb the other students in the library at the front. "show me where it is." with the way he carefully and audibly emphasized each word, you started to laugh in such a nervous state.

"a-are you joking right now?"

"huh, what's that?" he brought his hand to his ear, pretending to not hear you despite being a short distance away from you. that smile of his never dropped.

“sweetie if you're just gonna stand there and stare at me then i might as well win this challange—”

“i think i know where it is.” you quickly uttered out, breaking your silence. he was curious to know what was on your mind, and so he crossed his arms against his chest, lips curling up to put up a smug look.

“really? i'm curious to see if you actually know it.”

“well, if i can remember, it starts from here…”

he observed the way your finger reached out to point your own chest where your heart is at rest before making out a line until your palm was against his chest to his beating heart. hendery sucked up a good amount of air at the contact, his gaze still never left yours.

“...to here.”

©MEIIDERYZ 2024. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.