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awxcoffeexno · 27 days

Text

unholy

mean!loganhowlett x mutant!reader one shot

fic masterlist

summary: you work at a shady dance club that offers other services. logan is a regular but this time he decides to implement his claws.

content warnings: very very VERY 18+. MDNI. claw worship and knife play!! mentions of blood and cutting. logan is very very mean and he likes hurting reader because he knows she can take it. reader is a mutant and a sex worker. please proceed only at your own risk, this is pure degeneracy and very very nsfw. also, sex, piv, mild slapping, lots of sucking and mention of bruises (only from the sex). vaguely set in the 70's after stryker's experiment (mostly only in my head because origins logan lives in my head rent free). also cameo from blue from sucker punch as a shout-out to baby me.

word count: 4k. longest from me.

a/n: since my utterly disgusting thoughts rubbed off on a lot of other people and the last claw worship fic was quite well received, i went ahead and wrote an nsfw version. this is pure filth and his fckin claws will never not make me feel some typa way. i will not apologise.

it's sweltering in the club, the music pounding, and the air filled with rising smoke from the hand-rolled cigarettes in the patrons' ashtrays. your mind is buzzing from the overstimulation and your muscles ache from the dancing, begging for a rest.

you love every last bit of it.

a man reaches up to where you're standing and tucks ten dollars into the string of your thong. you smile at him flirtatiously and sway down onto your haunches so you can lean in and thank him properly.

you've been in the trade long enough to know that the better you thank them, the more they keep coming back for. you're in the business of sales, really; conversions are everything. this business is fast business—there's the wall street boys and the dance girls, the two most proficient sales people in the world.

the man grins at your sultry voice, rewarding you with another ten dollars and a hot kiss to your neck. this isn't a no-touch club and that might be your favourite thing about working here. men are more likely to behave when they're allowed to touch rather than when they think they're rebelling by touching.

your hair, damp from sweat, sticks to your forehead and it almost makes you sad thinking about how nicely you'd done it earlier in the night. real big and fluffy, just like blue likes it.

and just as you think about him, he appears at your pole. he runs a hand up your sticky calf to catch your attention and you slide down, knowing from his expression instantly that there's more work to do.

tina quickly takes your place on the pole and you thank her with a kiss to the cheek and five dollars from your string. it's simple courtesy, and an unwritten club rule. if you're leaving your post for higher paying activities, you thank the other girl who is covering for you with money.

"hey, babydoll," blue says in your ear over the music, sliding a hand around your bare waist. "big ol' guy's here for you. the one with the…" blue rubs his cheeks, "fluff."

"logan," you say, more to yourself than blue, and he tips your chin to him.

"ask for 200, and only let him bring you down to 180. you gotta make up the difference for last week, sugar."

200 is asking for a lot for the hour. your going rate is a hundred and that's only because you're one of blue's favourite girls and he brings you his best clients. but logan's been a regular for the better part of six months now and blue knows he can hustle him for at least 180. besides, you were sick all week last week and blue warned you he'd make you pay.

so you lean in and give him a kiss, promising him the money.

"attagirl," he smirks, tugging your mouth open with a thumb and slipping a pill in.

you smile at him gratefully and start up the stairs, the roar of the music fading into a hum. quickly spitting the pill out into your hand, you tuck it into your bra. you'll flush it down the toilet when you get to your room. blue says the pills make it easier but you hate how groggy they make you feel. in any case, you like your sessions with logan.

he's good for you, keeps you from floating off into the sky. you're fairly certain there's an old roman story about flying a little too high. or was it greek?

slipping into your little red room, you quickly wash up and change into a silk robe that you know will not last the night. not around logan. but blue keeps a steady supply of them coming so long as you bring him good money which you do.

once you've refreshed your make up and puffed on a cigarette, you press the buzzer, letting the boys downstairs know to send logan up.

his broad shoulders fill your doorframe under a minute, the warmth of his presence sending a shiver down your sweaty body. he's clad in all black formal wear that rather reminds you of a funeral.

"whiskey?" you offer, watching him sit down on the plush leather chair that most others don't even bother to notice.

logan likes it slow, taking his time to unwind and ease up before he takes his stress out on you. it's rather nice, your usual routine.

however, when he grunts a yes and you start pouring his whiskey, you notice that something's off about him today. his eyes are a little droopy when they're usually so alert. his skin paler than the usual golden tan he sports.

something's wrong and you don't like the feeling that settles in your gut at that.

you take the whiskey over to him and climb into his lap, offering him the glass.

"what happened?" you ask, your voice betraying the concern you should probably never feel for any client.

he looks at you and snarls quietly, "poison arrow."

fuck.

logan's not particularly well beloved by the kind of gentry that a place like this attracts or the people he crosses paths with regularly. this much he's told you before and he's nothing if not honest.

but a poison arrow?

fuck.

your recent knack for eloquence aside, you ask quietly, "and… are you okay?"

"m'fine. fucked my healing though," he grumbles, pulling the collar of his flannel to the side, showing you the ugly gash that stretches from his shoulder, disappearing into his shirt.

you and logan share that power, a gift really. accelerated healing. it's come in handy plenty to you and you're only a dance girl. you cannot begin to imagine how a man like him will survive without it.

he sees your cringing expression and barks out a single-syllable laugh. the sound breaks you out of your thoughts and you look at him, startled.

"look at your face, pretty girl. told'ya m'fine. it's getting better already," he says and his voice, though tinted with his usual casual condescension, is gentler than you've ever heard him. he's… reassuring… you? you think??

"now, c'mere," he downs the whiskey and uses both hands to pull you closer by the thighs.

and then his mouth is at your neck, and there's the logan you know. rough and uncaring, cruel because he knows your body can take it. knows you can take what he can never do to anyone else.

he savours the salt on your skin, running his large paws down your arms tucking your wrists behind your back. he likes you detained, pliant and ripe for the taking. his throaty groan on your skin in the dip of your now exposed collar bone makes the need curl in your core.

real need, not the kind that you summon with other clients. need that is amplified when he squeezes your wrists tighter together to make you quit squirming.

"lo–"

"shut up." he commands, licking and sucking down your neck and shoulder, and that's that. you snap your mouth shut immediately.

logan slips your robe off both your shoulders with his free hand and his teeth sink into the flesh in the nape of your neck hard enough to draw blood, making you cry out his name. he's exhausted and healing too slowly and he needs to use you as his stress ball and fuck you until he feels better.

you want to cry out, you want to beg him until he gives you what you need but you know better than to do that with him. your hips however rut into him, making him yank you back and glare at you.

"and who let you do that, princess?" he says so calmly, voice oceans deep and velvety smooth, that you don't realise for a second that it was a question. a rhetorical one.

you blush and it makes his lip curl in a patronising smile.

"oh, i'll give you what you need alright. all you gotta do is ask, sugar."

you want to remind him that he was the one that told you to shut up but that won't end well, so you oblige.

"logan, please…" you whisper, hands trying to readjust in his grip, grasping for a more comfortable position. "please let me have you."

"that just won't do. need me to help you put together full sentences too?" he grumbles, readjusting because he's clearly in pain. "say it like you want it. say you want my fat cock to fill your needy little pussy. say you want her to feel good."

logan's mouth is disgusting. the words aren't too different from what the other men that come to your room spout but on his tongue they sound particularly dirty. and apparently you like dirty because god fucking dammit… his words and his voice and his scent and his everything make your need for him desperately worse.

"please, please, just need your fat cock to fill my pussy, to stretch her out, logan." you grovel. "need my pussy to feel good, please."

"jesus fuck, princess. got quite the mouth on you." he smirks as if he wasn't the one to draw those words from your lips. "let's put it to good use."

he isn't going to let you have his cock in you to quench that need that easy. he always, always makes you work for it.

he juts his chin out, gesturing to you to get on the floor and you slip between his legs, looking up at him reverently.

you like him in your mouth anyway. you like the way he uses you just hard enough to make you cry but never hard enough to make you feel like you're drowning–unlike some people who come here, the ones that make you bury your face in blue's chest later as he lectures you about needing to toughen up.

but when he reaches our for you, his hand comes into your focus and it makes you gasp softly. the space between his knuckles, home to his claws, is bared open, dirty and covered in blood. the claws cut him open every time but heals immediately so it's never mattered before. you take his giant hand with both of yours to examine the wounds but he yanks it away. the back of his hand comes down on your right cheek in a sharp, firm slap.

"focus," he growls and you rub your cheek, eyebrows setting into a frown.

your tone is firmer than it is around him when you speak. "show it to me, logan."

he shifts in his seat, gauging you. he isn't used to hearing any form of authority in your voice. nor is he used to being taken care of. he cracks his neck, shaking it off and then leans forward.

"you wanna see?" he says, voice so low it makes your toes curl.

you swallow thickly and nod, chewing on the inside of your lip.

"then you're going to have to pay, princess."

your tummy jumps as he puts his fist in front of you. you're about to reach over to grab his hand again, leaning in close to take a better look, but out come his claws making you shuffle back in alarm. they stop at your lips, drawing a hitched breath from you.

"open your mouth, angel. it'll hurt too much if i push them in myself."

the old man has lost it.

"lo–" you start to protest but he's retracted all but his middle claw with a loud snikt, and is pushing the flat of the remaining one into your mouth.

the cold adamantium of logan’s claw presses against your tongue, the sharp edge demanding obedience. you part your lips further slowly, letting the flat of the blade slide deeper inside, grazing your tongue. the metallic taste is sharp, a reminder of the danger you’re playing with.

logan’s gaze never leaves yours, dark and unyielding. there’s no softness in his eyes, no hint of gentleness. this isn’t about comfort or care—this is about control, about reminding you who’s in charge. his other hand grips your jaw, fingers digging into your skin just hard enough to bruise, forcing you to keep your mouth open.

“good girl,” he mutters, the praise laced with a mocking edge that makes your stomach twist. his tone is condescending, amused by how easily you submit to him.

he begins to draw the claw out, then slides it back in, a slow and deliberate rhythm that forces you to focus on the sensation—the cool metal, the danger of the sharp blade so close to your skin. your breath hitches, a mix of fear and something darker curling in your gut.

“look at ya, angel,” logan sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “so eager to worship something that could slice you open without a second thought.”

it’s as if he knows exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you crave his approval despite the cruelty in his touch.

his grip on your jaw tightens as he tilts your head back further, forcing you to take the claw deeper into your mouth. “don’t bite down,” he warns, the threat clear in his tone and you realise… he can feel it. he can feel your mouth on his claw and it's stoking the fire in him.

you nod as best as you can in response to his words, your eyes locked on his, wide and pleading. the pain from his grip mingles with the strange pleasure of submission, and it’s almost unbearable. you feel like you're on fire. logan watches you struggle, a twisted smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your discomfort.

“you like this, don't cha?” he taunts, pulling the claw out just enough to let you breathe. “you like being reminded of what i could do to you if i wanted. y'like knowing that i’m the one who decides how far this goes.”

he’s right, of course. you hate how much you like it, how the power he holds over you only intensifies the burning need in your belly. it’s humiliating and exhilarating all at once, and logan's reading you like an open book.

“now, let’s see if you’re really worth the trouble,” he growls, sliding the claw out entirely, leaving your mouth empty and aching. he leans back in his chair, holding his hand out in front of you, the metal gleaming under the dim light as the other claws come out too. “kiss them. show me how much you want it.”

your heart pounds as you lean in, pressing your lips to the cool metal with reverence. the taste of them lingers on your tongue, and the weight of his gaze is almost suffocating. but you do as you’re told, kissing the blades as if they're something sacred, something you’re desperate to prove your devotion to.

logan’s smirk widens as he watches you. “that’s it, princess. make it worth my while. maybe then i’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

the claw lingers against your lips and you tilt your head slightly, pressing a softer, more deliberate kiss to the adamantium, tasting the faint tang of blood and iron bloom on your lips. the edge is sharp against your skin and you aren't surprised you've managed to cut yourself. but your body takes care of you and the wound is gone before you even lick the blood away.

your tongue flicks out, tentative at first, tracing the length of the blade. you can’t stop yourself, your need to please him overpowering every other instinct. logan’s eyes narrow as he watches you, the barest hint of approval hidden beneath the hardness of his gaze.

“that’s more like it,” he murmurs, his voice quiet… tired. “show me how much you love it. show me how much you’re willing to do to keep me happy.”

you press your tongue flat against the claw, dragging it slowly along the length, tasting the cold metal. you wrap your lips around his claw and carefully start sucking the way you would his cock, making him groan your name. you cut yourself over and over as you suck but it bothers neither of you, the pain translating directly into the wetness between your legs.

“attagirl,” logan growls.

“thank you, logan,” you whisper against the claw, your voice trembling with need. “thank you for this.”

a dark chuckle rumbles from deep in his chest. “thank me when you’ve earned it,” he replies, pulling the claw away just slightly, taunting you with its absence. your lips chase after it, a whimper escaping as you realize how much you're genuinely, truly enjoying this.

“please,” you murmur, your voice shaking. “please, logan, let me have you. let me take care of you.”

he raises an eyebrow, the cold amusement in his eyes never wavering. “take care'a me? is that what you think this is?” he presses the claw back against your lips, harder this time, making sure you feel the point against your skin. “you’re here to serve me, princess. and you’ll do it how i want, not how you think i need.”

a shudder runs through you at his words, the sharp edge digging just enough to leave a thin line of red along your lower lip. your eyes sting with tears, but you don’t dare pull away. instead, you lean into it, pressing your lips against the claw in a silent plea for mercy, for something more.

logan’s smirk deepens, his other hand coming to rest on the back of your head, pushing you forward just enough that the point of his claw cuts into your lip again. you gasp at the sting, but the sound is muffled as he presses down harder, forcing your mouth to open.

logan watches you, his expression unreadable, but his grip on the back of your head tightens, holding you in place as you continue to worship the deadly weapon in your mouth. “want to take care'a me?” he mocks, his voice rough and dark. “you think that's what i need?”

you nod as best you can with the claw in your mouth, your eyes pleading with him.

but logan isn’t done with you yet. he pulls the claw from your mouth, leaving your lips wet with a mix of blood and saliva. you gasp, trying to catch your breath, but before you can say anything, he shoves the claw against your chest, just above your heart, the point pressing into your skin.

“thank me,” he growls, his voice a low snarl. “and mean it.”

“thank you, logan,” you whisper, your voice cracking with desperation. “thank you for your claws.”

the cruel twist of his smile is all the reward you get, but it’s enough. he drags the claw down, slicing through the thin fabric of your robe, leaving a trail of red in its wake. you flinch, but you don’t pull away, your body trembling as you try to keep still under his touch.

"been good, babygirl." he relents finally, watching as your wound heals. "c'mere."

he hauls you into his lap with ease, despite his injuries. you make quick work of his buttons and throw his black shirt open. your eyes snap up to his and then back to his body.

he's covered in bullet holes. five that you can count anyway. your hands reach for them but he grabs your wrist.

"m'fine. they'll heal. two already have."

oh.

so you plant your mouth on his, kissing him deep, savouring the tobacco and musk of his breath. he tugs you closer, hooking a finger into your panties and dragging them down your smooth legs. it makes your toes curl.

the sticky mess between your legs leaves a dark patch on his trousers as he goes back to sucking soft bruises into your neck.

and then you hear his claws before you feel them, the cold metal cutting through what's left of your robe like butter, pressing into the soft skin over your scapula. you brace yourself, nails sinking into his broad shoulders and he cuts the claws in, slicing you open.

"logan, please!" you cry out but the pain is only momentary, delicious and burning hot, before your skin stitches itself back up like clockwork.

"fuck… me," he gasps and you've never heard him so affected.

he undoes his belt with a practiced hand and slides it off, tossing it off to the side and tugging his pants down. quickly, you position yourself over him, sitting down with your head rolled back, sheathing him with your warm, wet walls. he's splitting you open, stretching you the way you begged earlier.

and then he resumes cutting, slicing your back open as you move up and down on his cock. you bury your face in his neck, hiding your tears of pain and pleasure in his neck as he undoes you.

he grabs your jaw when he notices you start to lose yourself.

"no, you pay attention, bub." he snarls in your ear, kissing you roughly. pulling away when your eyes are wide open again, he slips a finger into your mouth.

the salt and blood on his skin makes your mouth water and this is beyond fucked up but you regret nothing. you suck diligently and he reaches down and wraps his mouth around your nipple, making you suck a sharp breath in. you feel his teeth sink in and it sends a shiver down your spine.

your hands in his hair, you tug sharply, making him growl and switch to your other nipple.

"logan…" you whine around his finger, thighs aching from the effort of riding him through it all.

he grunts and takes his hand away from your mouth. both hands on your waist, he starts to fuck you like a fucking fleshlight, moving you up and down on him like you weigh nothing.

you hear a snikt and a claw comes up to your face, running down the side of your cheek and making you mewl in pleasure.

you only just realise how much logan's wound you up in the hour that he's been in your room. you're hurtling towards the edge and he's barely been in you for a few minutes.

but you've wound him up too, the nerves in his body alight with pleasure.

"fuck, doll," he groans in your ear, retracting his claws and steading you with his hands again. "not going to last long tonight."

fuck. blue is going to kill you for letting Logan go so quickly.

yet you cannot seem to care.

you mewl his name and pick up speed at that, panting and gasping, and aching to please. he feels the telltale sign of your edge in the quivering of your walls and yanks you down on himself, pushing you over the cliff.

it's like fireworks and butterflies and pure fucking ecstasy.

"been a good fucking filthy girl," he whispers in your ear, knowing it'll make you react around his cock. "lettin' me cut'ya open like that."

you press your damp brow against his shoulder, riding your high weakly but your pussy does enough to bring him to his climax as well. he grunts and wraps his arms around you, holding you tight down in his lap, filling you warm and deep.

he pants softly in your ear and you look at him with a giddy smile. you reach for his hand to press a kiss to his knuckles and…

his hand is healed.

and… so is his other one.

you pull back to check the rest of him and… they're all gone. all of the bullet holes.

a sly smile spreads across your lips and you look at him with satisfaction dancing in your eyes.

"took care of you after all."

he lets out a surprised laugh, eyes softening with something you haven't seen in him before. he pulls you back into his embrace, and this softness is new. nice, but new.

"yes you did, princess."

i need to be committed and lobotomised with logan's claws. blue would love that.

love, d <3

taglist: @techwrecker, @saltwaterburns, @lilaccmilk, @clevah-girlboss

divider: @rookthornesartistry

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine angst #logan howlett angst #logan howlett xmen #xmen #xmen fanfiction #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #sucker punch #blue from sucker punch literally did not need to be here but this is my multiverse of madness :)

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tomorrowusa · 24 days

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The increasing weirdness of Donald Trump 🤤 👿 ☢️

While news media in the US often get blamed for "normalizing" Weird Donald, the Washington Post looked at the recent craziness in plain sight exhibited by the GOP presidential nominee.

Some excerpts...

As that saga first unfolded publicly Tuesday night, Trump’s interview with TV’s Dr. Phil aired. The friendly conversation Trump filmed last week turned into another venue for him to air inflammatory claims about his opponents without presenting evidence. “I think to a certain extent it’s Biden’s fault and Harris’s fault,” he said of the attempted assassination against him last month, adding, “They weren’t too interested in my health and safety.” There is no public evidence that Biden or Harris were personally involved in decisions about Trump’s security protections. With pressure mounting to drive a sharper message against Harris, the Republican presidential nominee is delving into distractions and delivering a mix of incendiary and false statements. While such tactics have been on regular display in his third run for the White House, he is now pushing them further, running the risk of alienating key voters. [ ... ] Trump spent Wednesday morning venting on Truth Social, his social media site. He let loose a flurry of reposts just after 8 a.m. There was an image of Biden, Harris,Hillary Clinton, former House speaker Nancy Pelosi, former White House medical adviser Anthony S. Fauci and others in prison uniforms. There was a call to jail members of the congressional committee that investigated Trump’s supporters over the Jan. 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol after Trump’s election loss. Another repost used a QAnon slogan: “WWG1WGA! RETRUTH IF YOU AGREE.” Just after noon, Trump began to claim — without evidence — that Harris was exaggerating her online footprint. “IT’S ALL FAKE,” he wrote. Soon he turned to resharing a video of himself promoting digital trading cards for $99 a piece: Buy enough, he said, and you could get a physical card with bits of Trump’s outfit from the June debate that helped push Biden out of the race.

He's desperately trying to reignite QAnon. We haven't heard from QAnon (except for one probable fake) since Trump left office. Trump is like an aging rock star reminding fans of his greatest hits.

Trump's demented rantings are not difficult to provoke. He will toss aside prepared comments on policy to respond to something unrelated with an unhinged fact-free tirade.

With Trump trying to put QAnon back in the spotlight, maybe he could get some fashion tips from the QAnon Shaman.

#donald trump #weird donald #trump is weird #qanon #qanon shaman #trump dementia #election 2024 #vote blue no matter who

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 5 days

Note

what wasnt being said in the poly poolverine storyline??? youve got me so hooked on this one

Enjoy a smut

"So, Angel baby," Wade demanded when you settled on the couch, "make with the details. What'd they say?"

You take a drink and a deep breath and Logan trades looks with Wade behind your head as they take seats on either side of you. "Well. My brain is still there, so that's good news."

"But," Logan prompted, feeling his stomach sink unpleasantly.

"But," you sigh, "they're going to try some new meds and if that doesn't work surgery IF I'm even a candidate for it. But IF they do that the recovery time is a beast and so is the therapy and-"

"We'll figure it out," Wade said.

You shake your head, "I don't expect you to-"

"Shut up," Logan said without any real heat, dropping an arm around your shoulders.

"And," you sigh, "there's still the risk that it could leave me worse off than I am now."

"We'll figure it all out," Wade said, kissing the side of your head.

"I still understand if-"

"Shut up," they tell you in unison.

Wade grabbed your chin and licked into your mouth, cutting off anything else you could say as he kissed you. His usual gentleness replaced with something like desperation. Days of pent up anxieties that had been gnawing at him bubbling up. And on your other side, Logan isn't about to be left out. Taking advantage of the exposed, tender skin on your neck to make his own feelings about it known. Scraping the flesh with his teeth. Making you whimper

"Aw hell no," Althea muttered, "Not this shit again."

You try to pull away from Wade to stammer an apology but Wade keeps hold of your hair and nips at your lip possessively, grinning when you close your eyes and shiver. "Poor neglected angel baby," he cooed, "Look at her, Peanut-"

The Apartment door slammed with Althea's exit and Logan's only response was to carefully shred your shirt. Leaving you in a bralette and your jeans on the couch. Exposing left over bits of adhesive and the bruises on your arms from blood draws and IVs. And he growls possessively. Burrying his face in your breasts and nuzzling briefly before he knelt in front of you and pushed your knees apart. Kissing the bruises on your arms.

"Good girl," Wade said, pulling off his shirt, "Just relax. Think you can take us today, huh?"

"Want to," you whine, letting your head loll back. "Missed my boys."

"You can do it, Princess," Logan growled, unbuttoning your jeans and trailing soft kisses down your stomach.

"He's so soft for you, baby," Wade purred. "Got us both so owned we're stupid. Not goin' anywhere, 'kay?"

"I just don't want you to have to take care of me," you protest, going tense.

Logan grumbled and pulled your jeans and panties down, leaving you exposed you him, and sank his teeth into your thigh. Sharply enough that you cried out, and he licked tenderly at the bite to soothe it. "Ours," he grunted.

"God that's fuckin' hot-"

"Wade," you whine. It's hard to focus. It's hard to think. It's hard to do anything except WANT when they're touching you like this. And when Logan smirks up at you, teasing your folds with just the pad of his index finger, almost lazily- you can only whimper.

"Angel baby," Wade crooned, "what's the matter, huh? You wanna play too?" He shimmied out of his pants and let his cock spring free, "Come to papa. Let's give you something to do, huh?"

And you do, licking at his tip to tease him. Satisfied when you feel his hands in your hair to stroke it. "That's it, Sweetie. Feels better, hu- Fuuuck. Yes. You know what I- Shit."

"Good girl," Logan growled. Giving you a little more now that you're starting to relax some. Losing yourself like you need to- to not think so much. To not worry so much. And your answering muffled mewl is like music to his ears. "That's it, kid. Gonna put two inside you, kay?" Better Music to his ears s that Wade is helpless in your capable hands. All he can do is sing your praises and try not to fuck your face.

Logan could sympathize- You had some super fucking human blowjob skills and he was willing to bet if Wade so much as twitched he was gonna lose it. But- there were rules. And when you were with them, they'd both agreed "Ladies First" was the first rule. It wasn't going to be fair if you hurt yourself and had to tap out before you got to come. They learned that the hard way.

He kept working you and kept at it, slow and steady. Enjoying the steady cresendo of your release. And when you did come, moaning incoherently around Wade's cock, his breathless little scream made Logan grin as he watched his other lover spatter come down your chest- careful not to get it on your face or in your hair.

"Christ," he panted, "What is this Prom night?"

Logan smirked and kissed you before he kissed Wade, "What's the matter, bub, she get the best of ya?"

"It's the fucking tongue thing. Every time- succubus." He pouted and leaned down to kiss you, wiping come off you with his discarded shirt, "Did you have a gay boyfriend or something? Fuck."

You snort, "If you learn to suck dick, suddenly boys don't care as much if you don't really want to fuck."

"Only because they don't know how to fuck," Logan growled, rubbing your hips.

"Such a DILF thing to say," Wade said, leaning over to kiss Logan, "as soon as I can feel my legs again-"

"As soon as you can feel your fucking legs, you pussy," he said, smirking, "you're sucking my dick while she sits on my face."

"So bossy," Wade pouted, "Guess I gotta get my kisses in now huh? Since Logi-bear decided he wants to be Daddy today."

#ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #wolverine x deadpool x reader #disabled!reader

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i-eat-worlds · 1 month

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Starcross Chapter 9

In which tense conversations ensue.

Content: Angst, past systemic violence, space imperialism

Free Space, AFS Starcross, 5/5/4763

Veya jabbed the button on the dining table’s holodisplay, bringing up a rotating trade lane alert. The rest of her crew was gathered around, in varying stages of awakeness. Jesse was chomping on a VidaFruit energy bar, while Mari and Ziar were both nursing cups of tea. Elzar looked like they could’ve fallen asleep right then and there. Nothing like a surprise Yeran ship to screw up everyone’s sleep schedules.

“I’ll keep this short, since I know about half of you want to get to bed,” she started, bringing up the details of the alert. “As you’re all aware, Starcross picked up another stray last night. A few minutes ago, Yera put out an alert for who I’m assuming is them.” They gestured to the rotating hologram.

The holo made them look better, with more fat on their cheeks and less bruises on their face. A high Yeran collar rose around their neck, the metal tipped collar points a dead giveaway. Below it, a thickly bolded angular font declared that their name was “Arta Lacos,” a civil service worker who had apparently abandoned their post in several different languages.

Ziar bristled at the image, eyes narrowing. “Civil service worker my ass,” she mumbled under her breath.

“This crew is a family, and I’d never want to put any of you at risk,” Veya continued, tone serious. “Yera will come and try to get them back. Us helping them is not without signicant risk. If that’s a problem for you, speak up now.”

Mari’s eyes flickered up, nervously darting around. “Doesn’t “civil service worker” on a Yeran report normally mean “soldier who deserted?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but Ziar got there first. “There's no way that they’re a soldier. Not from what I saw, Mari.”

“I don’t want to even chance a fucking Yeran soldier on Starcross,” he said, voice forceful.

Oka placed a hand on their partner's forearm. “Azei, I’ve seen them. They’re not like that,” they spoke in Sanatesse.

“Mari, they begged me to hurt them.” Ziar put a foot forward. “You and I both know that Yera’s bastards don’t beg.” Mari dropped his head, but still didn’t say anything, not quite convinced. “They have god knows how many needles stuck into their spine. They aren’t even Yerani,” she swiped a hand through the hologram for emphasis, making it icker. “They’re human. Yera would rather implode than let a human serve.”

Yera would rather implode than let a human live. Before it had been Adaxia, before it had been Veya’s planet and home and family, it had been Earth, and all the other lonely planets on the far reaches of the galaxy that Yera had invaded.

Mari nodded at Ziar’s argument, posture relaxing a little. “Still, Yera will come for them. We’ve worked too hard to build this to let it fall apart now.”

“So we're just going to do what? Push them out of the airlock?” Ziar snapped, stepping closer.

Mari was just about to open his mouth to continue when Veya cut in. “Take a breath, you two.” They both scooted back. “We could try and find a safer place for them to go, maybe in the midri?” She suggested.

“I could see if I know anyone or anyone who knows anyone who’d be willing to help,” Oka said, looking unsure. “But I don’t know how well they’d fare with that.”

Ziar nodded. “I think they should stay with us.”

“Almost every single one of us has been, or is currently, wanted by Yera.” Oka was projectling like they were talking to everyone, but they were turned towards Mari. “Starcross, and Veya, have kept us safe. She’ll keep doing that.”

Finally, Mari sighed. “Okay. But we should still keep an eye on them until we know that we can trust them.”

“Of course.” Veya looked to Elzar and Jesse. “Do you two have any input?”

Elzar shrugged. “I haven’t really met them yet. But I trust Oka’s judgment. They can stay.”

“Same here,” Jesse crumpled up the VidaFruit bar’s wrapper. “I don’t have a problem with it.”

After a final look around the room to make sure everyone seemed comfortable, Veya cleared her throat. “It’s settled then. Kim stays.” A round of nods followed. “I want everyone to rest up. We’re going to land on Zarian in just about six hours. Ziar’s got a doctor coming to visit, so maybe clean it up a little. See you soon.”

Jesse grumbled a little at the cleaning as they all split off in their separate directions, heading towards either their stations or their berths. Before they walked away, Ziar sighed a respectful thank you in Nor’daxi.

Whatever feelings they had about Kim, Veya hoped they were right.

*** Jesse brought Starcross into Zarian’s atmosphere, feeling the hypergravity fluid pull back on her seat belt as the planet’s gravity grew stronger, pulling them closer. Starcross was an older ship, but Jesse had come to love the way her controls felt during reentry. The subtle tug as she evened out the fluid, seamlessly guiding them downward.

While Zarian was probably most famous for the warm volcanic islands that sprouted up in the tropical seas around its equator, that was not their final destination today. Starcross was headed for its icy northern polar tundra instead, far away from any vacation spots, to deliver several loads of fishing equipment related cargo. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, and she didn’t really care.

Despite the knowledge that the weather was sure to be less than ideal, Jesse was still excited to get planetside. They’d be able to stock up on real, non-mining ration food, something with a decent amount of protein and a flavor that wasn't just salt.

She switched to a local frequency, asking for permission to enter its airspace. Zarian’s controllers were used to high traffic volumes, were all multilingual, and were all relatively competent, unlike certain asteroids she could mention. They were quick to return her an authorization code and a landing area.

As she dropped lower, her view became covered by thick clouds. Nothing like descending from space into that fine polar weather. She watched the scanner, locators pinging in her ears as she moved them lower.

Finally, Zarian’s landscape opened up below her, snow capped mountains giving away barren, red grass covered landscape. The city of Iegal spread out along a coast, hugging an ice filled sea. Small boats bobbed up and down, traps sparkling in the water. It was, believe it or not, summer.

Jesse set down on a platform by one of the industrial districts, flipping the switch to power down the main engines.

Starcross had landed.

Taglist: @whumpscholar @seth-whumps @itsoundslikeafury @blackberry-bloody @snakebites-and-ink

@whumpacabra @cepheusgalaxy @softvampirewhump @my-little-versaille @pigeonwhumps

@whumped-by-glitter @snaillamp @rainydaywhump @platysaurus @whumpy-daydreams

@whiskygoldwings @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @rainbowsandwhumperflies @risk606 @starfields08000

@loonybun @paingoes @yassifiedinformation

#worlds babbles #whump #angst #fictional politics #whump writing

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fx-signals · 3 months

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

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Spring is here! What would you want to do this season?

A Picnic/Hike with Lloyd

Or Strawberry Picking with Loki?

I wanted to choose Loki but I ended up with Lloyd:

Let's Have a Picnic

Warning: implied kidnap and isolation.

Note: Short one. Comments always appreciated and as always, thank you.

The sun beams down brightly, warming the thin sheersucker of your dress and the skin of your shoulder and chest exposed around the thin straps. You land softly on the blanket as he sets you down, the smell of his sweat clinging to you.

Lloyd stands straight and pulls down his round sunglasses to wink at you, a crooked smirk beneath his bristly mustache. You remember the first time you saw that smile, how you knew he was bad news.

You stare, biting down on the fabric as the sunglasses hide the fear in your eyes. Even so, you know he sees it. He must sense it. But like everything beyond himself, he doesn’t care.

You curl your fingers around your palm, chafing as the twisted leather bites into your tender skin. He sighs as he slips the thick strap off his shoulder and sets down the wicker basket. You bend your tied ankles before you, skirt riding up your thighs.

He pulls the button-up tee away from his chest, dampness stained into the sunflower cotton. You watch him from behind the rose-tinted lenses as he moves the basket closer on the plaid blanket. He flips the lid up and unpacks the contents carefully, taking his time.

He sets out the stemmed plastic cups and the glass bottle of wine, along with the thin plates and several tupperware containers.

He settles in next to you, putting a dish together; soft cheeses, crackers, grapes, and half the turkey sandwich. He puts it in front of you and works on another, humming out of tune as he goes about his task. Your teeth dig into the linen, tongue dry as it absorbs every ounce of spit.

“Nice out today, honey pie,” he says as he works at piercing the cork with the screw, “and you look even nicer, don’t you?”

You keep your head straight, staring across the lush green grass. Beyond the curve of the hill, several more round along the horizon. You don’t know where you are. You suspect that even if you could run, you won’t get far.

He pops the cork free and pours it into the blue cups. He trades the bottle for a glass and takes a whiff, wiggling his nose as he lets out a breathy purr.

“You’ll like this stuff, jellybean,” he smiles and reaches to pull the gag from around your mouth, “fruity with a tangy aftertaste… kinda like you.”

He tugs the fabric down and lets it hang around your neck. You push your tongue against the roof of your mouth and rub your chapped lips together. You flinch as he presses the bring against your bottom lip.

“Go on, you earned it, sweetie pie,” he tips it slowly and you open your mouth before it can spill over the corners. He pours until you’re forced to swallow and takes it away as you struggle not to cough, “you like it, huh?”

You lick your lips as he peeks over at the other cup. He thinks better of it and sips from yours instead. You nod and clear your throat, “yes, sir.”

He lets out a satisfied ‘ahhh’ as he puts aside the cup and smiles at you. You try not to react, to show you discomfort or doubt. He likes to pretend, he doesn’t like it when you don’t play along. You won’t risk it. You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve seen the sky but you can’t go back to that basement just yet.

“Here,” he grabs the arms of your sunglasses and slides them off as you struggle to withhold and squeak, “you can’t see behind those.”

You blink as tears prick from the cast of sunlight. You’re overwhelmed by it. As if you’ve forgotten how bright the world can really be.

“You should eat,” he says as he takes a cracker off your plate, “don’t want the ants to get to it, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer again. Just say what he wants, agree with him.

He scrapes some cheese onto the whole wheat and presents it to you. You bite into it, the cheese smearing between your lips and his fingertips. You chew as he watches you, his cheek dimpling as he pulls back his hand to lick clean his fingers.

“This is nice, isn’t it? A picnic. Just you and me. When’s the last time we had a proper date, honey pie?”

You gulp down your mouthful, stomach empty and clenching at the saltiness. You sniff and try to smile but your face won’t cooperate. It must be more of a grimace, at least it feels like that.

“Yes, it’s very nice, sir,” you say, “thank you.”

“Good girl,” he praises as he picks up a grape, “you look so pretty in the sunlight.”

“Do I?” You don’t know how else to respond as you twist your wrists against the leather, the tightness makes your fingers throb.

“Immaculate,” he prods your lips with the grape and you let him pop it into your mouth, “I can’t wait for dessert, what about you?”

You gnash your teeth down on the grape, the juice sickly sweet as it leaks down your throat. You swallow again and let out a shaky breath. You look at the basket. You don’t remember a dessert.

“What’s dessert?” You ask as he squishes a grape between his fingers.

His head tilts up and he flips up his sunglasses, “you, honey pie, the sweetest treat I’ve ever had.”

#lloyd hansen #drabble #dark drabble #ask drabble #dark!drabble #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man

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sincerelyy-youres · 1 year

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Trade Secrets (Yandere Sampo x Reader)

TW: Obssesive Behaviour, Manipulation. Read at your own risk.

You can't really tell if Sampo Koski is a good person.

Or a bad person, because you could never really say if his actions are for his clients or for himself, but realistically speaking, all businesses are like that. All deals, all transactions and for whatever purpose, the merchant and the employer must reap the benefit of their agreements. On the merchant's part, the benefit is the pay; the money or whatever possesion their employer had that they can have once they finish the job, and on the client's part, the benefit is the job that is done by the person they hired. Business are for yourself, and for your clients.

This is what you believed Sampo always had kept in mind. At the end of the day, all of us just wanted to have a good pay and treat for ourselves, and of course, a job well done! It doesn't really matter If theres a few loose ends on the way-- these things are part of the job. If you have to use other people to your advantage to get the job done easier for yourself, or even if you have to manipulate, or in a simple much more convincing word-- to persuade other people into giving in and to avail your offered good services and commodities, all of this are the basic, fundamental meaning of business. Without manipula--err, persuasion, there's no business to be made!

That is what Sampo's mentality is. He is not a bad person, because he's only doing what's expected to him as a businessman. But he's not a good person either, because he's willing to do everything to make his life easier and for a good extra tip-- even if that means persuading other people. And since he neither had the basic quality of a human being in this standard of society, he had one quality that you can call him. Again, he's not good, but he's not bad, either.

He's manipulative.

And which is why you avoid making transactions with him as best as you can. You know there's something wrong with his discounts, there's ulterior motives behind his free commissions and his 'deal all you can' and 'loan with zero interest' offers is as suspicous as him. You'd seen him make deals with other people in the underworld but he's never as desperate as when he tries to persuade you into his doubtful offers. He's always there, waiting, staring, following, just for you to give in. You knew better, anyway, than to fall for his trap, even if his offers hits too tempting to let go because its involved with any recent problem you have, and its just a coincidence that he knows whatever is bothering you at recent anyway.

Until, well, you got yourself into a big, mess of a business transaction.

Its something that no matter how hard you try to get yourself out to, you can't. It felt like you threw yourself at a rabbit hole, and you desperately are in need of a helping hand. It felt like you are thrown in a maze, trapped, helpless, scared. Every day you feel like you were being watched, and at night the doorknob to your room rattles and rotates likes someone is trying to get in. Walking in the streets of the underworld became a horror to you as you feel like you are being followed, but there also, Sampo appeared.

Out of nowhere, with a smile that is not his usual convincing, persuasive and businessman smile, but the kind of smile that felt like he knows what he's doing will benefit him in the long run. He held your right cheek, and leaned into your left ear, and there he spoke of the various solutions that he offers to solve your problem. A quick fix, a solution and he doesn't even require you to pay. All you have to do is say yes. All you have to do is nod your little head and everything will be okay.

Sampo... is a manipulative businessman. He had all the tricks up in his sleeve, all that means to get an extra to every deal. When things doesn't go his way, he makes way for it with a smile on his face, and a radiating positivity, all his actions justified, because there's no way that nothing goes according to his plans. If there is actually something that doesn't go according to what he planned, for example, you, he adds a little pressure on your side. It is not equal if the pressure is always on him, after all! Business are always equal to both parties, is it not? It only takes a little cracking on the wall you had created between the two of you, one that if he destroyed, youre surely falling right into his arms, just as he first planned when he approached you.

Now that you witnessed first-hand how he works, don't go telling it to others now! Not that you can talk to others now anyway. But just in case!

Its a trade secret, after all~

#yandere #yancore #yandere x reader #honkai star rail #yanderecore #sampo x you #sampo koski #sincerelyy youres #sampo honkai #wrote this on a whim #HES SO INSANE FOR THIS

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ghoul-bonez · 1 year

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~You Bare Your Soul to Me, so I Show You Mine~

Chapter 1: Something About Them Excites You

(Lo’ak x Fem! Na’vi! Reader)

Summary: When the Sully family land they are met with backlash, but in the end they are allowed to stay, and you can’t help but want to learn more about them.

Word count: 2.0k

Author’s note: Throughout the story Seykxel will be called “Mother” and Leioae will be “Mom”, that’s how you can tell which parent is being talked about although they are both technically her mother!

Last - Next

~Series Masterlist~

~Main Masterlist~

Something About Them Excites You

Excitement was not something you could say you experienced a lot, it came from time to time, like when you would perfect something new in Tsahík training, or when you would get to fly with your mom to a nearby clan to trade. However, those moments were fleeting as your mother sheltered you heavily, keeping you close to her at all times.

With how little excitement you got, it had become something you craved. You wanted adventure, and to feel the rush of doing something you had been forbade from doing. You wanted that, but you were afraid to get it. You were Tsakarem, and you had to be a role model. You had to be the best, you couldn’t let your mother, or the clan, down.

You had been excited today however because you had the day off, no Tsakarem matters to attend to. You were free, and you had planned to go exploring with your mom, but that plan had quickly been squashed by Sitxí who rushed into your kelku with a threat to the village on the tip of her tongue.

Your mother and your mom had been rushing around all day, preparing to deal with whatever was coming, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on. You didn’t have to wonder much longer as you saw Sitxí rushing towards the village center. You decided to follow her and once you arrived your eyes landed on a few ikran that had landed there.

You figured it was a group of scouters coming back from looking for whatever threat was coming, but when their riders dismounted you didn’t recognize them. They looked similar to you, like they belong in your clan, but you didn’t recognize any of them.

This must be the threat. They must be the threat.

The woman went to grab her bow from its spot on her ikran’s saddle, but the man placed his hand on hers, whispering so you could barely hear it, “Hey, leave it.”

He then raised his hands out next to him as he walked forwards, a sign of peace, they meant no harm, but most of the people in your clan would not be as convinced about that. You were not convinced of that.

Five new people, no six, you recounted as the littlest one revealed herself from behind her father. Your brain quickly began spinning, pondering what in the world was going on. Who were these people? Where did they come from? Why were they here?

You didn’t care much to actually know the answers to those questions, you would rather they just leave. They were new, so they were scary, and you didn’t like them. What if they brought trouble? What if they brought danger? You knew you wouldn’t risk the clan’s safety, and you knew your mother was the same. All you could do is hope she would turn them away.

You quickly approached them, a pep in your step as you passed easily through the crowd of people who were gathering around the new people, and Sitxí, who was looking as antagonistic as usual when she asked, “Who are you? What is your business here?”

Most of the clan was unwelcoming to outsiders, borderline hostile even when not provoked, but Sitxí takes it to a whole new level, raised by warriors, and protectors, who had come down the line from far back when your clan even refused to trade with outsiders.

The man went to answer Sitxí, but hesitated as you stepped forwards.

You circled them once, watching them, observing. They looked similar to you, or close enough that if you didn’t know they were outsiders you would think they belonged. Their blue skin and green or amber eyes matched the appearance of many around you, including yourself.

“Be nice.” Was whispered by the man, a quiet warning that you weren’t quite sure you wanted to see the outcome of if they disobeyed.

There were two boys, and a girl around your age. The one boy seemed more civil, smiling politely at people, trying to make peace. The other rolled his eyes at the first boy, and watched you as you watched them, his eyes glued to you. You could tell the girl was more uncomfortable wrapping herself in her shawl and staying close to her mother.

You could feel them becoming more uncomfortable under your gaze, shifting and smiles faltering, their father saying, “Easy, just be cool.” to try to defuse the situation.

Then there was the other half of the family, the younger girl, and their parents. The girl looked scared as she was cradled in her father’s arms, and you felt a little bad for her because she was so young, she was probably having a hard time processing this.

Their mother was on high alert, ears forward, glaring at anyone who dared to get too close, her gaze even piercing you, but you didn’t flinch, you didn’t care. Her mate seemed more peaceful, more willing to work with the situation. He smiled politely at you and Sitxí, a peacemaker like his one son.

“Be nice.” The woman warned this time, she didn’t seem to be happy to be here, but for some reason she wasn’t raising hell.

You were about to make another round to study them more, but Sitxí noticed you getting closer and pulled you behind her, “Do not get close to them.” She hissed out, a fierce look on her face.

You didn’t have time to protest before your mother arrived. She had a snarl on her face, a hiss ready to roll off the tongue at any second. She was not pleased, more upset than usual, which was hard to do with her typical anger.

“Oel ngati kameie,” The man greeted, touching his fingers to his forehead then extending his hand down, “Seykxel, Tsahík of the Txinua people.”

“Oel ngati kameie.” The rest of the family followed after him.

“Who are you?” Seykxel asked.

He sighed, taking a deep breath, “I’m Jake Sully, and this is my mate Neytiri, and our children.”

Your mother hummed, “I have heard of you JakeSully, and all you seem to bring is war and violence, so why are you here? What do you come to our clan looking for?”

He cringed, like he didn’t want to answer the question, but he knew he had to, “We came seeking Uturu.”

Seykxel looked shocked, a scoff falling from her lips, “Uturu?”

“Yes, sanctuary for my family…” Jake rushed to say.

Your mother was growing angry now, disbelief turning to hostility, “How dare you! How dare you come here and ask for Uturu. You are already in trouble, and you want to bring that here?”

Sitxí was quick to butt in, “The tawtute will find you, and when they do they will come for our clan too.”

“You may not stay! Leave!” Seykxel shouted.

You felt another presence behind you, and when you looked, you saw the crowd parting, your mom and sister coming to join.

You grabbed your sister and pulled her into your side before she could follow your mom any further, “Tse'wey, mother is going to kill them.” You whispered.

“I think mom will convince her to let them stay though. You know how she is.” Tse'wey whispered back.

You just nodded as a response, looking back towards the drama that was about to ensure.

“Leioae, Olo’eyktan of the Txinua people, Oel ngati kameie.” Jake greeted her too. Nobody else spoke this time, instead just motioning with their hand.

She just smiles at him, motioning with her hand before turning to her mate, “Seykxel, yawne, can we not think over this a little bit more?”

“No we can not.” Seykxel responded, coldly, a final decision, but Leioae wasn’t done with her.

“I think we should let them stay. We are hidden far enough into the mountains that they will not be able to find us, and we have the ikrans to protect us.” She reasoned.

Your parents continue to talk it over, quieter so that people can not hear them, but you can see your mother relaxing, looking more calm and level headed than before as your mom reasons with her.

You quickly slip away from behind Sitxí and walk towards them as you noticed something different, something off, something dangerous. How you hadn’t noticed before was a mystery, but you gasped as you grabbed one of the son’s hands, inspecting it, an extra finger. Demon blood.

You turn to your mother, holding up his hand, “Mother, they are demons.” You warn, hissing out. The boy cringes, a frown on his face as you glare at him.

Seykxel turned to you, quickly pacing forwards and grabbing his hand, checking it out for herself, and when she drops it back to his side she hisses under her breath before scurrying back to your mom, a frown etched onto her face, “You may not stay.” She says once again.

Neytiri paces forwards a few steps now, in front of Jake, but leaving space between her and Seykxel “My husband was Toruk Makto-”

Seykxel was quick to cut her off, “We do not care what he was. Where is Toruk now?”

“That does not matter, he saved our clan from the sky people!” Neytiri protested.

Seykxel laughed right in her face, “He saved you from the demons? How is that possible when he is one himself.”

“It does not matter what he was, he is Na’vi now, and he led us to victory.” Neytiri scowled deeply at Seykxel.

Seykxel sneered at her, “This you call victory? Hiding among strangers. It seems Eywa has turned her back on you, chosen one.”

Neytiri hissed, ears pinned back, eyes full of anger, and Seykxel followed right after with her own snarl. It was a standoff, neither daring to do anything until the other did first.

Finally Neytiri broke, and was about to say something else, but Jake cut in, “I apologize for my mate. She’s-”

Neytiri gaped at him, how dare he, “Do not apologize for me.”

Jake just continued in his apology, “Flown a long way, and she’s exhausted.” She gritted her teeth, snarling quietly at him.

Leioae stepped in once more, as she felt the energy in the air get more hostile, “Darling, I think we should let them stay.”

Seykxel turned to her, shocked, and scoffed, “Why? Why should we?”

Leioae hummed, “Tell me this, what type of leader, protector, would I be if I turned away people in need?”

Seykxel sighed, “You have always been more emotional than me…” She said, a loving tone in her voice, hinting at the appreciation she had for their differences, “They can stay.” She turned to the Sullys, “You may stay.”

Leioae smiled at her, appreciation in her eyes, before she turned her attention to the Sullys, “I will show you to your kelku now.”

You did not have to know much to decide you didn’t like these new people, part demon, yet part Na’vi like you, but you decided you wanted to know more, to learn if they were truly dangerous like you were sure your mother and Sitxí thought they were. Like you thought.

“I can come and help.” You offered.

Your mother turned to you, “No, (Y/n), go with your sister and help prepare the meal for tonight.”

You sighed, “But Mother, I want to help…” Now that you had been denied it was less about actually wanting to help, and more about not being allowed to.

This time your mother spoke more sternly, “No. Your mom may say yes, but I am not her, and I am saying no.”

You just sighed, walking off towards where the evening meal was being prepared with your tail between your legs. You should have known your mother would say no, you should have predicted it, but it still left you bored, and curious, wanting to know more about the strange people.

Excitement was not something you could say you experienced a lot, but it was something you craved. It was something you wanted more than anything else, and you could tell you would be getting more with these new people here.

You did not like them, unsure about them because of theri demon blood, but your mom had allowed them to stay, she had deemed them safe and somewhat trustworthy, so you felt more at ease. However through your haze of unsureness something about them excites you. You couldn’t wait to learn more about them.

Word Bank:

Tsahík (Spiritual leader)

Tsakarem (Tsahík in training)

Kelku (Forest Na’vi homes)

Ikran (Mountain Banshee)

Oel ngati kameie (I see you, greeting)

Uturu (Sanctuary)

Tawtute (Sky people, humans)

Olo’eyktan (Clan leader)

Yawne (Beloved)

Toruk Makto (Rider of Last Shadow)

Toruk (Great Leonopteryx)

Eywa (Na’vi Goddess)

@ok-boke - @heart-an0n

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hetalia-club · 4 months

Note

How do I keep people alive in that Oregon Trail game? People keep getting sick and dying a couple days later.

Couple tips from an old OT pro.

1. Never waste your money on food at the start of the game when buying supplies. You can buy a little just to get going but instead buy like 800 bullets and instead of wasting your money on food and then go hunting. Hunting is really easy and you can farm it. 1 bullet is like $.2 and you can get 100 lbs of food each time you go out hunting so that is a crazy trade off. And like I said you can farm the hunting animals will just keep spawning.

2. If someone is sick or hurt pull over and rest a couple days. The length of the rest depends on how sick they are like a fever take a 3 day rest. If they broke a limb take a week. Hunt in between days so you don’t run out of supplies because when you sit around and are sick they eat more. They also have to have adequate food to heal. So seriously don’t adjust the supplies rate consumption nothing good comes from it. However don’t hang around too long because it can quickly go to shit. Resting at land marks is a good idea if possible. Those are relatively safe and your people heal better at places with people rather than the wilderness.

3. Don’t change their supplies consuming rate unless you are completely out of food and bullets for some reason. The less they eat the more apt they are to get sick. Pay attention to the “bad water” prompts. If the water is bad don’t hang around that area crank up your speed and try and get out of there as quick as possible because they will be drinking the water and can get sick from it. It will tire the oxen and might break your wagon but it’s worth the risk.

4. Don’t trade with people unless you have to their trades are usually Bull shit. Like they want 2 oxen in exchange for 1 pair of fresh clothes. Like yeah I’ll get right on that deal…

5. Don’t skip on the clothes. They may seem pointless and you might not use them your whole game but if you happen to need them you can’t do anything about it and it’s like an insta death unless you are near a shop which isn’t likely. 4 pair is usually good. You can also use them to trade for wagon parts to desperate people which is handy if you are also desperate. If your people fall in the river in the winter and don’t have fresh clothes they will freeze to death.

6. Don’t blow all your money at the start in wagon parts. 2 wheels, and one of everything else is normally okay. You have a chance to repair the part if your wagon breaks. And you will need money for safer ways across the deeper rivers and wagon parts late game. Buy at least 4 oxen. Sometimes they die for no reason. Other times you’ll get lucky and never have to trade them out. But if they all die you’re stranded. And no one EVER wants to trade you their oxen. And if they do they want something absolutely insane for them like 600 lbs of food and all your bullets.

7. You can stop and hunt whenever you want. You don't even have to take rest days to do it. And like I said you can just farm it and get your food supplies up to insane amounts and only do it in one run if you want or you can space it out. But don’t buy food. And don’t trade your bullets. Bullets get stolen a lot by bandits so you might have a lot and then all of a sudden you lose 200 in the night from bandits. So trading them for wagon parts isn’t that good of an idea because they are both your protection and source for gaining free food if you get below 300 and have the chance to buy more then do it!

8. Also don't forge the river if it's over 5ft deep. That means you are walking in the water and leading your wagon through. if its deeper than that most of you will drown more than likely. This is where you need money. Sometimes there will be natives near by who are willing to help you cross and will want a trade of clothes, bullets or food. Or you can pay a ferry. If you don't have the option to either then caulk the wagon and float it across. This is the safest bet but sill risky if teh river is too wide across.

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anony-man · 9 months

Text

Captive Audience

Word Count: 1,824

Pairing: Swindle/Lockdown

Rating and warnings: M; masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dubious consent

There was something so addictive about pushing the limits when it came to self-pleasure, and if there was one thing Swindle had learned about himself, it was that some of his best experiences came from doing just that. Sure, the intimacy of interfacing was nice in some instances, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the way he was left feeling after a good, rough frag that scrambled his circuitry to the point of damage, but the way his frame responded to his own touch was better than any one night stand—even the ones from his very own fantasies.

Swindle hadn’t quite figured out why, but pushing the limits of what was morally acceptable when he found himself in need of a good overload got him off faster than any skilled bot’s servos ever could. Even now, as he sat stretched across the chair in front of his stolen ship’s console, fingers of one servo shoved deeper into his valve than any spike could’ve ever reached while his free servo rubbed up and down his spike from tip to base was heavenly.

Swindle wouldn’t have traded the experience for the world, and it wasn’t just because it was his own servos reaching places and triggering mods only he knew how to activate, but because of his captive—and oblivious—audience.

The arms dealer bit down hard on his inner cheek with a soft, shuddering sigh as his frame trembled involuntarily against his fingers, which were tracing slow circles over the slick anterior node at the top of his valve. Swindle risked opening his mouth to let out another inaudible moan as he dipped a finger back into the sopping folds, the inside itching with a desperate heat that begged to be relieved. Primus, he couldn’t remember ever feeling so good, and he only had one of his most frequent customers to thank.

Speaking of customers, Swindle realized Lockdown had grown silent on his end of the frequency. He’d chosen to carry the call without the use of their camera, and while the other mech hadn’t been too fond of the idea (as if Swindle couldn’t be trusted—he was on the other side of the galaxy, for Primus’ sake!), there had been little protest.

“You’ve lowered the prices since we last spoke,” Lockdown eventually said. “What’s the catch?”

Swindle could hear the soft creaking of metal from the other end, and his mind almost immediately produced a very flattering image of the bounty hunter crouched over the computer screen, a servo scratching his chin as he studied the products he’d been suggested. His frame jerked up into trembling servos as the image sent a fresh wave of heat through him, and it took every ounce of self-control for Swindle to keep his cooling fans from whirring to life. He was trying to be discreet, after all.

“Mmmyes,” he said, the word catching in the back of his throat as he swallowed down a mouthful of excess saliva. His valve was still burning with need, but Swindle ignored it for the moment. “New inventory. Out with the old and in with the new, right? So, what’ll it be?”

“Easy does it, Swindle,” Lockdown snapped. “I hardly got a chance seen everything you’ve sent me. What’s the hurry?”

Swindle’s fingers stilled, and he let his helm fall back against the headrest of his chair as he panted quietly. The throbbing in his valve slowly began to fade, but he waited a few extra seconds before he began stroking the length of his spike again, just to be safe.

“Sorry,” he managed to say once he’d gotten his breathing back under control. “Please, continue browsing.”

There was a grunt, then the sound of metal squeaking against the floor. Swindle waited as Lockdown fell silent on his end of the connection, his servo still gently wrapped around the base of his spike. From the thick, slimy sensation beneath his thumb, he could tell without looking that he’d come way too close to overloading, and he knew he would have to be much more careful if he were to pull such a trick without Lockdown catching on.

Still, that didn’t mean he had to stop altogether. Swindle started up a slow, steady pace, his servo stroking up and down the length of his spike before occasional stopping to rub smooth circles into the tip. The squelch of transfluids between his fingers was certainly distinct, and the soft hums of satisfaction that escaped him when he wasn’t focused on listening for Lockdown to begin speaking definitely could have become audible if he wasn’t careful, but Swindle felt confident enough in his experience with self-servicing to be able to avoid getting caught.

Besides, it wasn’t like Lockdown would have cared if he knew… right?

“You’ve got quite the selection of engine parts in here,” Lockdown said, the sound of fingers typing against a console audible as he pulled up some of the options. “Cheap, too… especially for someone like you.”

“Oh, I knew you couldn’t pass up cashing in such a good opportunity,” Swindle moaned—er, said, or… maybe praised. Whoops. “Good deals like this don’t come without drawbacks, however. I found most of those parts used, and while I can’t promise they’ll be salvageable, I’m sure a mech like you could find quite a bit of use from them.”

“Is that so?” Lockdown asked, sounding… well, Swindle wanted to say he sounded hesitant, but that didn’t seem quite right. “Well, what would you suggest I do with them?”

“We haven’t even discussed payment plans,” Swindle scolded. His attention had drifted back down to his valve now, and while one servo still steadily stroked his spike, he’d gone ahead and slipped two fingers past soaked lips. “Getting a bit ahead of ourselves, don’t you think?”

There was silence on the other end of the line, and for a brief moment, Swindle feared that he’d pushed the limits a little too far this time. To his relief, Lockdown merely cleared his throat and mumbled an awkward agreement before bringing up the first few sale items.

“Gears this size are hard to come by nowadays,” the bounty hunter said, and Primus, Swindle couldn’t help but slip another finger inside and stroke his spike a little faster. “I won’t bother asking how you managed to do it, but I do want to know the conditions behind such a cheap order.”

Your attention would be appreciated, Swindle wanted to say, but he knew he would regret such a thing once the post-coital haze wore off. He sucked in a sharp breath as his frame jerked again, harder this time, into slick, trembling servos. He was getting close again, he could feel it. He knew he should stop, maybe back off a bit, but it was so hard to avoid giving into the way his spike throbbed, desperate for the warm cup of his palm, and it was nearly impossible to quit grinding against his other servo, his fingers pressed so far in he was practically sticking his entire servo inside, and—

“Nnngh—“ Swindle panted, optics half-closed and mouth hanging open as he panted for breath. “Just—just a moment. I’m—I’m experiencing some technical difficulties on my end.”

“Oh, is that so?” Lockdown asked, his voice low and grating against Swindle’s audials. It was a little embarrassing to realize, but Swindle knew for a fact that if he hadn’t been so worked up, he probably would have found the tone condescending. After all, it was the same one Lockdown used whenever he was trying to get Swindle under his authority. “What a shame. And here I was just about to ask you to turn your camera on.”

“You—you what?” Swindle gasped, his manual controls overridden with the familiar and distinct click of cooling fans. There was little left to cover up, but the poor salesmech did his best to play innocent. “Why would you—“

“Don’t play dumb, Swindle,” Lockdown cut in. “I’ve worked with you plenty of times to learn when you’re distracted and with what. Now, if you would please turn on your camera.”

It wasn’t a request, and Swindle knew it. Still, his frame burned with shame alongside arousal as he pulled his servos free of his soaked valve and reached up to enable his camera settings. The screen flashed for a moment, and Swindle was lucky enough to get a good, long look at himself in his compromising position before Lockdown turned on his own camera.

“There you are,” the bounty hunter cooed, his mouth stretched in an enormous grin. “Why, would you look at that. You’ve really been enjoying yourself, haven’t you, Swindle?”

Despite the way his entire interface array perked up at the sight and sound of Lockdown, Swindle still couldn’t suppress the guilt he felt for having been caught. He nervously folded his servos in his lap, wide optics looking anywhere at the screen but Lockdown’s gaze as he searched for a reasonable explanation. As if to add insult to injury, every attempt he made at speaking resulted in a series of squeaking stutters that hardly even formed intelligible words.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?” Lockdown asked. “You’re already halfway there, Swindle. Why not finish what you’ve started? When we’re done, maybe I’ll consider giving you an extra bonus for some of the products you’re offering… that is, if you behave for the rest of our conversation.”

It was certainly tempting to come up with some outlandish excuse and end the phone call there, but if Swindle did that, he knew he’d never gather the courage to pick up and contact Lockdown again, and he couldn’t risk losing such a valuable customer… etcetera. His entire face burned with shame, but Swindle slowly reached back down between his thighs and began stroking his spike very, very slowly. The act earned him a satisfied sound from Lockdown, who urged him to continue.

“I’ve never seen your valve so wet before,” the bounty hunter said, his expression smug has he held his helm up against his servo. “Give it the attention it needs, Swindle. Oh, but keep rubbing your spike. It makes a good show, you and your busy servos.”

Too flustered to speak, Swindle simply obeyed. He kept a servo firmly wrapped around the base of his spike while he worked away at getting his fingers back in between the folds of his valve, a panting, guttural moan escaping him once he’d managed to succeed. It wasn’t exactly the direction he’d seen this call heading, but Swindle certainly wasn’t going to complain. Maybe if he were lucky, he could con Lockdown into paying him a little extra for the grand display. For the moment, though, his attention—as well as Lockdown’s—remained focused on giving his interface array the attention it needed, and Swindle was more than happy to indulge himself.

#swindle #lockdown #swinlock #tfa #valveplug

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is-the-snake-video-cute · 2 years

Note

Hi! I've been doing a ton of research on snakes and really want to get one. But today I read an article from PETA basically saying do not get a pet snake under any circumstances for a bunch of different reasons (https://www.peta.org/living/animal-companions/snakes-never-pets/). Thoughts?

Link for everyone to the artcile - be warned that this is PETA, though, so definitely read with caution and your critical thinking glasses. Article contains many images of animal suffering.

So, like with many other things that PETA put out, most of this list is absolute malarkey. I totally get that it sounds really compelling if you're still new to the reptile-keeping scene, though! So I'm going to go through this list point by point, and hopefully that'll help. :)

"The pet trade is abysmal."

Yeah, it is. Fortunately, you can (and should!) avoid contributing to reptile breeding mills by buying a snake from an ethical breeder. I never recommend buying your pet reptile from a chain pet store. Buying from a reputable breeder, though, means you'll be getting a healthy, well-started pet, and supporting a small business to boot! Check out my "buying a snake" tag for tips!

2. "No captive environment can compare to snakes' natural habitats."

This argument really hinges on the assumption that snake owners are tossing their pets into a barren glass box. That is not what good snake owners do. The point of a good snake enclosure is allow room and opportunity for natural behaviors, like climbing, burrowing, and exploring.

3. "Snakes aren't 'starter pets.'"

No, they're not. That's why I always advocate for a great deal of research before buying any reptile.

PETA also brings up a study that "75% of pet reptiles die within one year in captivity" - this study is heavily skewed by counting wild-caught lizards, which are notoriously fragile. If you buy a reptile from a reputable breeder and your husbandry is good, the chances of your pet dying within the first year are very small.

4. "Snakes have specific needs that are nearly impossible to meet in captivity."

Frankly, if you don't know that your snake will have highly specific temperature, humidity, and enrichment needs, you shouldn't be buying a snake. We know that it's possible to meet the needs of snakes because their captive lifespans average literal lifetimes over wild lifespans, and minimalist keeping isn't okay.

5. "Buying small animals to feed a snake supports the cruel pet trade, even if you adopt a snake."

I never recommend feeding your snake live rodents. Instead, feed your snake frozen/thawed rodents - they're bred for the purpose from non-pet lines, and are humanely euthanized before being sold.

6. "Having a snake doesn’t make you look edgy—just foolish."

This one kinda baffles me, to be honest. The people who buy a pet snake just to look "edgy" should not be buying snakes.

7. " Not only can snakes make you sick, you can also make them sick."

This point hinges on the risk of reptiles transmitting salmonella to humans, which you can easily avoid by taking common sense precautions. The snake health issues mentioned, like respiratory illness, are all associated with poor husbandry and are not an innate risk to captive snakes.

8. "Snakes have feelings."

We can't be sure how snakes experience the world. That said, though, when PETA argues here that minimalist keeping causes snakes pain, they're right. No snake should ever be kept in a barren enclosure - and, once again, people who keep them that way shouldn't have snakes.

9. " Snakes have rights."

I'm a strong believer in animal welfare, and that means animals should always be free from poor treatment. I don't believe that captive-bred pet snakes are suffering, though. There is just no evidence to support that.

Like a lot of PETA's stuff, this article heavily relies on misinformation and presenting bad situations from the chain store pet trade as the norm.

There can be many good reasons not to get a pet snake - maybe you aren't in a situation where you can find or afford necessities like a large enclosure, f/t food, or veterinary care. Maybe a snake just isn't the right pet for you! But snakes in captivity are most often perfectly ethical pets, and if you do your research before buying, you can ensure a pet snake will live a long, happy life.

#not a rating #animal cruelty #animal suffering #PETA #buying a snake #buying reptiles

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baubeautyandthegeek · 1 year

Text

I think of two young lovers a-running wild and free//I close my eyes, and sometimes see//You in the shadows of this smoke-filled room – Kyle/Nica Pierce, Nica Pierce/Tiffany Valentine, Kyle/Nica Pierce/Tiffany Valentine, past Andy Barclay/Nica Pierce.

A/N: Day 10 for @yeehawgust . Another western AU for Child's Play/Chucky.

“You look lonesome…” Kyle’s voice breaks into Nica’s thoughts, her sigh soft as she looks at the other woman. Blondes. She had to go and love them. She’s quiet for a time, watching Tiffany amongst the regulars. Nica knows she shouldn’t care, this is just Tiffany’s job after all, flirting and carousing with the locals, but it still hurts. She can remember when she was Tiffany’s one and only. “I could always ask her to come bartend?” The offer, kind as it is, has Nica shaking her head, her laugh low, rusty, almost sad. “She’d drive you insane and we both know it.” Kyle’s smirk is soft then, warm, almost caring. “Not if it means you stop lookin’ like someone shot your dog.” “Someone did, remember?” Nica teases, glancing at Kyle. She’d never really meant to end up between Tiffany, a hard, headstrong, woman who knew what it was to use her sexuality as a weapon, and Kyle, who seemed to not even know how strong and beautiful she was, even now. Still, she had to admit, running into the woman who shot the damn coyote she’d kept around for no real reason, had been a blessing in disguise… she may sit under a neon moon, drinking her sorrows, but at least she’s not alone in her lonely home anymore. “Coyotes ain’t dogs.” Kyle retorts, pouring her a new drink as she drains the first. “ ‘Sides… at least you know your Tiff ain’t gonna get pawed at too much with us here.” Nica’s sigh is soft then, her voice low and warm. “Our… Tiff. She’s fine anyhow.” She murmurs, drinking a little more scotch and risking a sideways glance at Kyle. “You really haven’t figured it out yet, huh?” “What?” “It’s not just me and her no more… we both care ‘bout you too.” Kyle shrugs, moves to leave her to her drink and Nica’s hand closes over both wrists, quick as a shot. “I mean it, Kyle. You belong with us.” “Maybe I do… still gotta serve these drunks.” Kyle teases, pulling away and hiding her truth under a laugh that’s rough and husky as she serves the other barflies, leaving Nica to drink and think. There’d been a time, Nica knew, that they ran free. Tiffany making her money where she could, how she could, Nica knocking over a bank or two on their way through town. They hadn’t ever meant to settle, not here, not like this and certainly not with a barkeep so downtrodden she almost faded into the walls of her own bar… but they were here now and she had a choice to make. Settle, let Tiff ply her trade and keep Kyle company on the bar, or turn tail and flee like she used to. Andy and Chuck, she thought, they’d have known what to do. Chuck had died rescuing Tiffany from an overzealous preacher and Andy… she could still hear his voice sometimes. She knew if she closed her eyes and just listened she’d see him in the crowded, smoke-filled bar. She does, for a second, indulge in it, then sighs as she opens her eyes. There’s no point mourning someone dead and less mourning missing men. She had work to do. She drains her glass, slipping the money to Kyle along with a ridiculously large tip and slinks from the saloon bar, catching Tiffany on her way out. “Stay with Kyle tonight, I’ll be back…” She needs, for her own sake, to figure where Andy went, at least Kyle’d keep Tiffany safe as she looked. Well, she hoped so anyway. She finds her answer late, near dawn, the man’s body hanging from a noose. He’s got a message pinned to his chest, aimed to the thieves who’d been robbing banks. ‘Hung for thieving.’ She’d laugh if she could, instead she retches, moving to the side of the worn tracks, gulping air like it means something before wiping her eyes with worn shirt cuffs and heading back into town alone, she’ll slip wearily between Tiffany and Kyle on getting home, sleep off her hangover and work on forgiving herself… somehow. Andy had been her person for long as she could remember, before Chuck, before Tiffany and long, long before Kyle. Now she was here, held safe between two blondes who thought her safe, a good person… she only hoped she could be.

#long fic #day 10 #neon moon #tiffany valentine #nica pierce #kyle #chucky #child's play #kyle/nica/tiffany #kyle/nica #nica/kyle #nica/tiffany #tiffany/nica #tiffanica #yeehawgust2023 #yeehawgust 2023 #yeehawgust #western au

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unpluggedfinancial · 4 months

Text

Bitcoin: Reaching the Tipping Point of Mass Adoption

In the ever-evolving landscape of finance and technology, Bitcoin stands out as a revolutionary force. Over the past decade, we've witnessed its transformation from a niche interest among tech enthusiasts to a widely recognized and increasingly adopted financial asset. Today, Bitcoin is not just a speculative investment; it's a movement toward financial freedom and an alternative to the traditional monetary system. We are hitting a critical juncture—mass adoption is within reach.

The Journey So Far

Bitcoin's journey began in 2009 when the mysterious Satoshi Nakamoto introduced the world to a new form of decentralized digital currency. Initially, it was a concept explored by a small group of cryptographers and developers. However, the idea of a decentralized currency free from government control quickly gained traction. As early adopters started to mine and trade Bitcoin, its value and potential became evident.

Over the years, Bitcoin has overcome significant challenges, including regulatory scrutiny, market volatility, and public skepticism. Despite these hurdles, it has continued to grow, attracting attention from institutional investors, major corporations, and even governments.

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Several key indicators suggest that Bitcoin is on the cusp of mass adoption:

Institutional Investment: Major financial institutions and corporations are increasingly investing in Bitcoin. Companies like Tesla, MicroStrategy, and Square have added Bitcoin to their balance sheets, signaling confidence in its long-term value. Additionally, investment firms are offering Bitcoin-related financial products, making it accessible to a broader audience.

Regulatory Clarity: Governments around the world are beginning to provide clearer regulatory frameworks for cryptocurrencies. This clarity is crucial for mainstream adoption, as it reduces the uncertainty and risk associated with investing in and using Bitcoin.

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Technological Advancements: The Bitcoin network continues to evolve, with developments such as the Lightning Network improving transaction speeds and reducing costs. These advancements address some of the scalability issues that have previously hindered Bitcoin's usability.

Global Economic Conditions: In an era of unprecedented money printing and inflation, people are seeking alternatives to traditional fiat currencies. Bitcoin's finite supply and decentralized nature make it an attractive option for those looking to hedge against economic instability.

The Implications of Mass Adoption

As Bitcoin approaches mass adoption, its impact on the global financial system could be profound:

Financial Inclusion: Bitcoin can provide financial services to the unbanked and underbanked populations around the world, offering a secure and accessible way to store and transfer value.

Monetary Sovereignty: Individuals can regain control over their wealth, free from the risk of currency devaluation and government interference.

Economic Empowerment: By enabling peer-to-peer transactions without intermediaries, Bitcoin can reduce transaction costs and increase economic efficiency.

Innovation and Growth: The rise of Bitcoin and other cryptocurrencies is fostering innovation in the fintech sector, leading to new financial products and services that could reshape the economic landscape.

The Road Ahead

While the path to mass adoption is not without its challenges, the momentum behind Bitcoin is undeniable. Education and awareness are crucial as we move forward. It's essential for individuals to understand the principles of Bitcoin and the potential it holds.

As advocates for financial revolution, we must continue to spread knowledge and dispel myths surrounding Bitcoin. By doing so, we can help pave the way for a more inclusive, transparent, and equitable financial system.

Take Action Towards Financial Independence

If this article has sparked your interest in the transformative potential of Bitcoin, there's so much more to explore! Dive deeper into the world of financial independence and revolutionize your understanding of money by following my blog and subscribing to my YouTube channel.

🌐 Blog: Unplugged Financial Blog Stay updated with insightful articles, detailed analyses, and practical advice on navigating the evolving financial landscape. Learn about the history of money, the flaws in our current financial systems, and how Bitcoin can offer a path to a more secure and independent financial future.

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