#a rare conundrum | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bunny584 · 10 months ago

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OBSESSED: SHOKO (feat. The Boys)

A/N: This took an entirely different route than I expected when I first started dribbling it. This was a fun one 🤭

C/W: Cuckholding, Mature, 18+

Fact: You are the hottest woman alive.

Fact: Shoko is no better than a man.

Shoko is no better than a man because she has used you — your pictures, your smile, your tight hugs — as her personal spank bank.

Truthfully, she can’t really pinpoint the moment you broke her brain.

All she remembers is that there was an inflection point in time. Before meeting you. And after meeting you.

And the funniest part of it all is that you two have nothing in common.

Shoko is a sorcerer at Jujutsu Tech. You are a normie at University of Tokyo.

Shoko can count on one hand how many people she can tolerate. People flock to you in droves. And you like it.

Shoko is red wine and cigarettes. You are champagne and birthday cake.

So how the hell did a bubble gum, pretty pink, girly girl, princess work her way into Shoko’s life? And take permanent residence in a little (extremely large) part of her brain?

Not to mention the havoc you are wreaking in her heart. Whatever is left of the cold, shriveled plumbing system keeping her alive.

When was it exactly?

Shoko lights another cigarette on her short 2 mile walk home. You have a habit of making her burn through her vices.

Was it the night you went out dancing?

When the dress you wore made Shoko see God?

You grinded every part of your mind-altering curves on her, and Shoko left sopping wet. At home she immediately reached for her vibrator. Unable to look herself in the eye for a full day after that.

Or maybe it was the time you fell asleep curled up in her lap. Wearing one of her old ratty softball shirts, smelling like her shampoo. Small, rhythmic breaths flowing from your lips.

You looked like the missing puzzle piece in Shoko’s life.

No, no.

It’s definitely was the time you came barreling into her apartment with balloons and flowers and cupcakes that were too sweet. All because Shoko had finally mastered her reversed curse technique before the prodigal sons.

You can barely even grasp the concept of curses. And why would you?

A soft, gentle soul like you couldn’t muster enough negativity to form a curse.

You live in the clouds. Among the angels. You can’t see curses and yet — somehow —you’re the most supernatural person in any room.

She’s completely, fully, idiotically smitten with you.

And so is everybody else.

You pretty, unaware little thing. You have the two strongest sorcerers at Jujutsu Tech and their personal medic wrapped around your dainty fingers and you have no idea.

Suguru? He stares. Vision sharper than a hawk. He watches you talk, eat, walk, text, think. Suguru anticipates your next breath and would kiss oxygen into your mouth if he could. Even still, despite how taken he is, Suguru is the best at concealing his puppy love.

Satoru is the absolute worst.

Limitless goes off the second you step into a room. And Satoru rarely clicks off his technique otherwise. Even when it’s just Shoko or Suguru around.

He all but chains you to his body. He’s always lifting you, hugging you, carrying you, holding your hand, holding your hair. Satoru would crawl inside of your body and live there, if he could.

Then there’s Shoko.

Who seethes when anyone looks your way. But also masturbates to the thought of other people touching you.

A fucking mess of a conundrum, right?

The first time it happened was about 8 months ago. Definitely one too many glasses of Cabernet were poured. You two were gabbing on the phone. Exchanging the best and worst sex you’ve had to date.

And you. In that melodic, breathy, gossamer thin voice of yours that belongs in Heaven’s choir started saying the dirtiest things. About how cock-drunk you were. How you begged and pleaded for more. Swallowed cum like it was your only sustenance. And squirted all over your lover, only to kiss it off his face after.

Shoko touched herself until she came right then and there. On the phone. You unknowingly talking her through her one of the most satisfying orgasms of her life.

Since then it’s been a horrible habit she’s given into time and time again.

And who’s to say? Maybe it’s from constantly being in the shadows of Suguru’s Sun and Satoru’s Moon that there’s comfort in watching from the side lines?

Maybe she’s found the sweet pleasure in that pain and it’s manifested as her lust for others having their way with you? And her blind infatuation with you?

No, wait.

Not blind.

With you it’s like she has the Six Eyes. And with you, so does everyone else.

Shoko drags in a long, exasperated breath. Pausing just outside her apartment entrance, stomping out the last of her menthol.

If the time she spent mulling over you in her mind could be converted caloric energy - she’d be a supermodel by now.

Whatever.

Today’s the best day of the week. Friday.

Which means when Shoko opens her door, you’re going to be fussing about the kitchen. Cooking some kind of dessert for Movie Night.

The Boys usually trip over themselves getting to Shoko’s apartment after classes. But there’s always an idyllic 15 minutes where Shoko has you all to herself.

15 minutes in Heaven. Like she’s a damn middle school girl.

Shoko opens her door and nearly flatlines.

You’re evil.

An evil, mean, cruel tease.

You KNOW anyone with eyes would have a stroke at the site of you.

Fully bent over at the waist, rummaging through pots and pans. Not a single blemish on your silky smooth skin. Your lilac boy shorts could not BE any tighter. And of course, they’re just short enough to not cover the plump shelf of your lower ass cheeks.

Shoko’s hands start twitching. Like she’s going through withdrawal.

You pop back up with a triumphant “there it is!” An empty small pot in your hands. And Shoko thinks she’ll have to add a heart attack to her growing list of ailments.

Your matching lilac tank top is egregiously and deliciously small. The sliver of tummy between the hem of the top and waist of your shorts could bring civilizations to collapse.

Not to mention that the apartment is cold. And your nipples are so painfully responsive.

Sin.

You are sin.

Wrapped in the most beautiful frame of a woman.

“Babe!! You’re already home. I let myself in because the icing for these cupcakes takes forever to get right.”

You flash your Colgate smile, ensnaring Shoko in your trap.

“You’re going to give Satoru and Suguru a heart attack.” Her, you’re going to give her a heart attack.

“Hmm? Why do you say that?” So non-chalant. So oblivious.

Shoko gestures to your outfit. Attempting to mirror your nonchalance. But, ironically, she can feel her face tumbling down the descending shades of red.

Genuine confusion weaves though your features and she almost screams.

“Shoko please. You know they don’t see me that way!”

Everyone, gorgeous. EVERYONE. Sees you that way.

Before she could edge another word out, the familiar hum of Limitless buzzing inward splits Shoko’s thoughts in half.

Dammit, they’re early.

“Daddy’s Home!”

Satoru charges straight at you because of course he would.

“Satoru!!!” You’re a plaything in his arms. Legs tightening around his waist.

Shoko would pay an inordinate amount of money to trade places with him.

She watches through an envy-green screen. How easily Satoru spins you and tosses you on the kitchen counter. Situating himself between your soft thighs.

How would your body bounce against his hips thrusting into you?

“You have to taste this, pretty boy.”

Tsk. He’s not THAT pretty.

Both Shoko and Suguru watch through parted lips as you shove half a cupcake into Satoru’s mouth. Neither of you miss how his tongue flicks between your fingers. Or how his hips lean closer to your barely clothed flower.

He lets out an exaggerated groan. “Fucking, perfect. I could eat your cupcake..all night.”

“You perv.”

You laugh and shove Satoru back from between your legs. Then turn in Shoko’s direction.

Silently curving your index finger forward, you beckon. Both Shoko and Suguru start toward you like well-trained, love-struck pets.

“No pouting Suguru, you’re pretty too. And up next.”

And Shoko’s shoulders sink like the child who is picked last for dodge ball teams.

Her eyes trail Suguru’s back - wishing to every God she was born with a technique allowing her to take over a host’s body.

“Me next.” He settles between your legs.

Suguru, the master of subtlety. Everyone but you can pick up on the strain in his baritone.

There’s something so painfully sensual about the way he grips both of your thighs. Your skin is so smooth, so pliant under his large hands. Waiting on your fingers to invade his mouth.

How pretty would your lips look like wrapped around his fingers? Do your cheeks hollow out when you suck on something larger?

Shoko crosses her right foot over the left. As if jamming her thighs together would stop the growing pool of lust between her legs.

“Alright babe, best for last. I have something for you too.”

Suguru takes his time pulling away from the warmth of your core. And Shoko has to strap her mind to her body to keep from sprinting at you.

Eventually, she nestles between your legs and is at eye level with your pert nipples. Immediately caught in a trance. So close to her mouth.

“Blushing so much!” Your thumb pulls Shoko’s focus back to earth.

Blushing so much because she wants to watch her best friends fuck you. Then lick your cunt clean after they’re done.

“I’m not, what’s my surprise?”

“So demanding.” You giggle. Your palm takes away Shoko’s view of your perky, hard nipples.

“Open.”

Shoko’s jaw hangs at your command. Cold glass hits her lips before the full bodied, decadent Cabernet does.

Red wine. Because she hates sweets.

You’re as thoughtful as you are beautiful and everything you do is a turn on.

“Mmmm,” Shoko hums and you gift her vision back.

“Amazing, right?” You take your own sip, maintaining eye contact.

Shoko’s eyes fall to your lips. And how you roll the wine over your tongue. Savoring each drop.

How would your tongue feel rolling around her mouth? Her neck? Her nipple? What kind of sounds would you make if her tongue rolled around your petals? Your clit? What do you taste—

“Movie time?” You break Satoru, Suguru and Shoko’s daze.

All three of them scramble around you. Grabbing your cupcakes, snacks and wine to settle in on Shoko’s huge sectional couch.

You drape your body over Satoru and Suguru’s lap. A little loose limbed kitten. Shoko situates herself on the long arm of her chair.

Far enough to drown into her own spiral. Close enough to register everything you do in the the most permanent part of her mind.

You nuzzle your cheek into Suguru’s thigh. His forearm immediately drops in front of his crotch. Undoubtedly to avoid spearing you with his manhood.

“Play with my hair, Suguru?”

“Yes. Of course.”

His free hand weaves into your hair. The soft, decadent moan you exhale sent visible shudders down their spines.

Shoko’s eyes laser to Satoru’s hands. His eyes haven’t touched the screen since the movie began. His grasp encompasses your entire back thighs. Slowly gliding them up to the delicate mounds of your ass.

“God that feels amazing.”

Satoru’s Adams Apple drags along the column of his throat. “Yeah?”

“So good.”

You deepen the arch in your back and the physical restraint Satoru imposes on himself is visible.

The only person watching the movie is you.

And the room tilts on its axis the moment you melt deeper into the boys’ hands. Their names, quiet praise, seep from your lips.

Satoru and Suguru exchange hooded gazes.

As if to commiserate about how fucking hot you are. And how it’s taking active awareness of every single muscle to not do vulgar things to you.

Not even a backward glance Shoko’s way.

Again.

Leaving Shoko out of the conversation. Again.

She angrily tosses a blanket over her lap. Frustration bubbling up her throat. Her fingers clumsily fumble with her zipper. She’s pissed. Angry. Fucking jealous.

And so turned on she might crawl out of her skin if she doesn’t touch herself this goddamn second.

Shoko’s fingers are ice cold against her warm, wet clit. It’s agonizing. How incredible the pressure feels.

You look delicious. So small between their laps. Far too tiny to handle them both.

But God it would be so hot.

It would be so fucking hot. To watch you choke all over Suguru’s cock. Slobber into his lap. All while Satoru bullies his length into your soft, dewy pussy. Helpless. Overstimulated.

Getting used like the pretty Barbie doll you are.

And the way they touch you, so brazenly, in front of her.

Like Shoko’s presence isn’t even remotely threatening. She isn’t any competition for their big hands and broad shoulders. Masculine frames. That’s why she’s just sitting there. Pathetic. Rubbing herself dumb just watching.

She would be so happy, so fucking eager to lap you clean. Pet your swollen, abused folds when they’re done with you. Hump a pillow while she sucks your nipples. You’d moan and whine and squirm under her touch.

Would you beg? Or laugh at how pitiful she is? Getting off to remnants of you when the Boys have had their way?

Shoko accidentally choking on her own drool draws almost everyone’s attention to her. The hand that was molesting her sensitive bud freezes.

Suguru’s eyes flicker back down to you, sleeping beauty.

Their coordinated touch lulled you to bed. Satoru’s eyes linger on Shoko long enough to make her simmer under his gaze. She blinks back to the movie, credits now scrolling up the screen.

How long was Shoko day dreaming?

“Let’s get her to bed.” Suguru gently pulls you onto his chest. You sleepily drape your arms around his neck.

Satoru follows close behind him into Shoko’s room. Because putting the smallest little kitten to bed is a two person job.

Shoko scrambles to zip up her pants and swipe the last of her arousal on the blanket. She gets to the doorway and watches the Boys dote over you in a way that makes them slightly more endearing.

You wake up long enough to murmur goodnight. Floating your arms in the air so the boys can bring their hugs to you. Both of them place quick pecks on your forehead. Leaving you with the cutest, most content smile on your sleepy face.

At least Suguru can hold it together. He weaves out of Shoko’s room quickly.

Satoru, however, keeps stopping along the 10 foot pace to the doorway to just stare. As if a monster from your nightmares will pop up the second he leaves you alone.

Shoko snorts, arms crossing her chest. “Put it back in your pants, yes?”

“Look who is talking.” Sly grin pulls across Satoru’s perfect, blinding teeth. Shoko could punch him right now.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Ieiri. I have the fucking six eyes. What do you think I’m talking about.”

Satoru wires around Shoko’s stunned body.

He and Suguru are out of her apartment before she can bat her eyelashes 5 times.

Shoko all but sprints to the kitchen. She gulps the rest of her red wine. Something. Anything to burn Satoru’s comment out of her mind. And to put out the desperate flame between her legs.

You’re in her bed.

She’s just been masturbating watching her two best friends touch you.

One of her best friends is FULLY aware of this all.

Her hands shakenly pour another, head sized glass of Cabernet. Which is doing absolutely nothing for how lusty she feels right now. And everything to destroy her self control.

Why does she have to sit on the sidelines?

Why do they get access to you that she doesn’t?

She downs the last few drops of red wine. Storming back to her room. She’s going to confront this once and for all.

You’re strewn over her bed like a silk scarf. Rolling, tender hills of flesh. Valleys of feminine curves. Shoko grips both of your dainty wrists. Tossing you onto your back.

Sleepy groans bubble out of you. Your eyes lazily slide open. Not an ounce of concern on your face. Full of trust. Even though Shoko is glaring down at you like she wants to crawl in your skin.

“Bad dream?”

“No.” Shoko is kurt. Angry. Jealous.

“What is it?”

“I just…” Moonlight is kissing your face in the way Shoko wants to.

“T-The boys,” Your eyes flutter expectantly. Nose crinkling in fuzzy confusion.

“The-the boys always get to touch you. And pick you up. And tuck you in. And kiss you. And-and I-im just…”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Shoko hears her heart stop beating.

What did you just ask? So casually. As if you didn’t just catapult her into another dimension.

“H-huh? What?” Shoko didn’t hear you right.

There’s no way.

“I asked if you want to kiss me.” Something other than innocence lines your voice. And it pets Shoko’s flame

“I—I uh. M-. Yes.”

“So kiss me.”

Only one second of shocked hesitation passes before Shoko crashes her lips into yours.

Of course your lips taste like this. Marshmallow soft. Cotton candy sweet. Mini explosions of pleasure surge in all directions of her body.

“God,” Shoko groans, bringing the back of your head impossibly closer to her.

Melting into the soft hills and rolls of your sweet tongue. Shoko whines into your mouth like the desperate puppy she is. She’s drunk. Intoxicated. And it has nothing to do with the wine.

Do you know that?

Have you always known?

How does anyone ever make it out of their embrace with you with their wits about them?

“Baby,” you sigh into Shoko’s swollen lips.

Her hands tremble against your waist. Twitching to explore. Dying to map every inch of your body.

She lets out little, staccato moans of protest when you pull away.

“Feel better?”

Your starry eyes sparkle between Shoko’s. Sleepy, pretty smile playing on your puffy lips.

Shoko nods wordlessly. You’ve already stolen her logic and her heart. Might as well add her voice to the list.

You place a chaste kiss on Shoko’s lips before cocooning underneath the sheets.

Like you didn’t just make her fall in love.

“Goodnight, baby.”

PART. II

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lovehotelreservation · 1 month ago

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Nectar

Summary: As your royal bodyguard, Laios was to ensure that not a hand was to fall onto you, the princess.

But what was he to do when exposure to some potent pollen has him desperate to have his hands all over you?

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: F!Reader/Laios

WHO'S READY TO GET EATEN (OUT) 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️

This piece has been a long time coming ever since I hosted a special poll on my Tumblr where I had my readers vote on my next lewd piece--from character to kink to trope/AU, all were determined by my dear hotel guests !!! Thank you all so much for your patience and for joining the fun !!! 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️ I've been meaning to dive into DunMeshi (and Laios's pantalones) so this was the perfect opportunity to finally do just that !!!

I appreciate you all as always and I hope you enjoy !!!

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There was a fruit that Laios wanted to eat.

Not to be found atop a bushel on the streets of a bustling market, nor to be served as an appetizer at an upscale restaurant.

This particular fruit was one of a kind–locked away in a garden, access reserved exclusively to only a select and chosen few, hidden within the brush of a storied grove.

Given his notorious taste for the most bizarre ingredients literally cut fresh from a dungeon’s depths for the simplest of meals, such a specific and normal craving was rather astonishing.

But Laios didn’t want to simply partake in this specific fruit.

Rather, there was this cavernous base urge to hunt down this fruit, scaling whatever length of tree as needed to seize–to lunge if needed–the delectable treat with his very own hands, dragging his tongue along its surface for an indulgent lick before sinking his teeth in for a juicy mouthful.

He didn’t even care to wash or wipe the fruit down before feasting away. Any speck of grime and dirt would only add to the flavor–if anything, imperfections on the purity of this snack served to stir his appetite all the more, a deep-seeded hunger that had gnawed at him damn near endlessly at this point.

However, attaining this singular delicacy was not going to be easy in the slightest.

While his monthly pay of coin for his services as an appointed guard to the care of the kingdom’s princess was nothing to scoff at, he wouldn’t be able to even attempt offering to buy this rare fruit.

For it was less about accumulating enough wealth and more about how he was forever shackled to the circumstances of his poor, humble upbringing.

Fated to be barred from this fruit’s taste, he was instead made to linger around the perimeter of the garden that housed this delectable treasure, to always be within reach but bound to have his hand chopped right off if he ever thought of plucking this sweet for his own famished desires.

It was a conundrum surely, one that he–reluctantly–had made his peace with for some time.

Up until a sudden shriek from afar suddenly shook Laios free from the serenity of his continued contemplating.

On a day like any other, he was to escort the princess to the outskirts of the kingdom to oversee the crops of the imminent harvest. His upbringing as the son to proud farmhands made this visit feel akin to a homecoming. He was always happy for the chance to see his parents along with–if lucky–his sister Falin should she be home from her continued studies of the arcane arts. Though, he was most thrilled at the prospect of offering facts of the natural bestiary and the gaminess of their meat to the intrigued ear of the princess.

Your ear.

And while you, the queen to be, were usually so happy to take in well of knowledge that Laios had to offer, he couldn’t help but notice on this particular day that there was this anxious energy that seemed to shadow over you like that of a bride veil, one that simmered beneath your usual graceful demeanor.

Having been under his guard and protection as his charge for years at this point, you trusted him deeply. He knew this to be undoubtedly true.

Yet there was something about your behavior throughout the day that demanded solitude–any opportunity to be alone, you were quick to take. And while unlike the stuffy and pushy advisors that often fussed over every breath you took within the castle, he respected your independence as an individual, seeing you for who you were rather than the shine of the crown on top of your head.

Still, as your bodyguard, he couldn’t allow you to stray too far away from him.

And yet for every step he took to close the gap, you only seemed intent on maintaining distance.

It was puzzling certainly, and while he wanted nothing more than to gain further insight as to what brought about this odd change in your attitude, he was far more worried with your current wellbeing.

His feet carried him as far as he could, past the vast fields of crops all the way further out past the farmlands. He cursed at himself for letting you out of his sight, all while wondering how you managed to give him the slip in the first place.

However, he would address that matter later. For now, he was set on finding you.

While his familiarity with the immediate area served as a reassuring foundation for his search, there was now the facet of determining just where you would have wandered off towards. While he took into account where you–adorned in frills and jewels–realistically could have made it out to within the time span since he last saw you, he thought back to any places of interest where you most likely would have gone.

His amber eyes quickly scanned across the horizon–either a pond that wasn’t too far out into the distance, a road that one could follow to a neighboring farm, or a somewhat maintained path that led to a field of white flowers.

The faint, distant sight of ivory petals immediately caught his attention and reignited his memory.

“–and besides supplying various cheeses for the wintertime fondue, this region’s other key offering is none other than the lovelily!”

Laios was all broad smiles and pride as he concluded his explanation.

You were all twinkling eyes and curious as you repeated his last word.

“‘Lovelily’?”

Happy for the chance to elaborate further, he proceeded to mime out the shape of the flower (horribly) with his hands. “Yes! The very same flower once used in ancient rituals for fertility–now it’s more commonly used for love potions! Potent ones at that! You know, as I think about it, I think the stems tend to not grow that tall…”

As his focus shifted more to the accuracy of the height of the flower that his hands were representing, he didn’t notice the way that the curiosity in your eyes soon changed to something far more calculating.

But of course!

His destination determined, Laios jetted himself forward towards the field of lovelilies–a sea of white blossoms that stretched far and beyond. Gaze darting around for any sight of you, he continued to shout out your name as he rushed through the vast spread of flowers.

Lovelilies were used for love potions for a reason. Their signature pink pollen is potent with aphrodisiac effects, making them the ideal candidates for their prior use with fertility rituals in times long since past.

By this point in the season, the flowers were harvested of their pollen by local apothecaries, so he at least had one less thing to worry about.

Still, just an immediate scan around the field yielded no sight of you, which only deepened his already heightened anxiousness.

Up until, at long last, he heard the muffled response of his name as he approached the center of the field.

Immediately he gazed down, and like an apple that had fallen from the tree, his eyes came across a rather deep ditch in the ground.

Deep enough to house you right within its depths.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Laios immediately dove in for your rescue. As he landed on his feet, he looked forward. Given the time of day, he still had a decent amount of light shining down within the darkness of the ditch, blessing him with the sight of you sprawled upon a bed of lovelilies. Joyed relief quickly across his features as he called out your name once again while he knelt before you.

“Are you alright–?!”

“Sir Laios!” You gasped in relief, even as your voice quivered so. “Please forgive me for leaving your sight and causing worry! I–!”

Laughing jovially, he held up his hand and waved it from side to side. “Worry not, princess. A little curiosity never hurt–”

It was at the second push in the air by his hand that he caught sight of a familiar shade of pink that floated by his face.

He immediately froze, soon realizing just where you had landed in: a ditch of unharvested, fully pollinated lovelilies.

Tension gripped him as fiercely as he held onto you upon scooping your body into his arms.

“Princess! Hang onto me and hold your breath!”

You did as told, scrambling to wrap your arms around his neck while he worked to haul the both of you out of the ditch, all while doing his best to avoid inhaling the pollinated air as well. While it took a bit of maneuvering, a few slips while clawing at loosened soil, he was able to securely bring the two of you back onto solid ground.

However, with one issue handled, he was immediately checking over you in a flurried panic, his hands cradling your face while his mind raced back to what usually consisted of typical symptoms of lovelily exposure.

“How do you feel? Any pain? Discomfort?”

His palm pressed against your flushed cheek, a notable warmth permeating off of your skin. Before he could examine further, you meekly spoke up in response,

“I think…I may have hurt myself when I fell…”

You shifted your leg forward, wincing as your voice trailed off, your breathing becoming shallow.

And it was that expression of pain that had him quickly springing to action once again.

Formality, order, manners–all were immediately consumed by ferocious protective instinct as Laios seized the hem of your dress skirt and yanked it high up and over his head.

He sought out for any sliver of blood or purpling bruise, his gaze darting along your leg for possible injuries sustained.

Higher and higher, his eyes continued to trail upwards.

All the way until his focus shifted towards right between your thighs.

Hues of soft pink caught his gaze, a notably sweet scent drifting by his nose.

There, spread all across the fabric of your panties with a few dustings along your inner thighs was a thick layer of lovelily pollen.

Though he was relieved to see that overall you didn’t seem to be significantly injured by your descent into the ditch, he once again found himself stuck in place.

With your dress skirt still enveloped over him, he was entrapped within close proximity to the infamous aphrodisiac ingredient. Instinct and knowledge of the flower’s effects roared at him to move, to at the very least hold his breath, yet he could not.

He refused to.

He was much too captivated, too entranced to do so.

The sight and scent of the pollen was one matter.

However, what truly beckoned for him to push his head closer up in-between your thighs was one particular scent.

Not that of the sweet lovelily pollen.

It was something headier, a unique musk that enticed his senses, drawing his mouth to water.

And the source of that delectable scent was currently being obscured by flimsy fabric.

He just had to get a better smell of it.

His hands reached for your legs, large and calloused hands gripping them by the sides all while he immediately planted his face right in-between your thighs, his nose pressed right against your clothed core. He inhaled deeply, groaning out in delight upon exhaling at your natural scent.

He suddenly felt hungry–no, famished was much more appropriate.

His thoughts were becoming muddled, his initial intention of remembering the exact effects of lovelily pollen exposure quickly becoming lost amidst the dire need to satisfy his own cravings. Before he could act further however, it was the sound of your voice that suddenly had him snap out of his reverie.

“S-Sir Laios…”

The shudder in your voice quickly had him shoving himself out from under your dress. Immediately, his darkened eyes sought out yours, his face hot and red, his breath ragged.

What he saw was a near identical expression from your end: cheeks burning with scarlet, breath also struggling to steady itself.

With his attention captured by you, he watched as you brought your hand to the front of your gown, seizing at the material while you gasped out, also seemingly at odds between coherent thought and bodily desire, “It would seem both of us are sweltering in our respective attire.” With your other hand, you reached down to cup his chin, smiling sweetly at him, flustered and all.

“Shall we do something about this heat together?”

Laios grabbed at your hand, bringing your palm to his lips before pressing another kiss to your wrist as he breathlessly affirmed,

“As you wish, princess.”

It was one last expression of proper decorum between the two of you–him, your trusted bodyguard, and you, his precious charge–before you both descended into an animalistic frenzy right amidst the sea of lovelilies.

A mess of frills and jewels laid to the side while Laios was far from fully stripped of his armor, his chest piece and undershirt tossed some ways away. Though his erect cock throbbed painfully within the confines of his breeches, he had undoing the strings to his trousers last in his mind, his priority first and foremost being to run his tongue all along the sopping stickiness of your core.

He couldn’t get enough. Every slurp, every suckle, every wet smack of his lips–even nudging his nose along the wet length of your slit for a better indulging of your scent, his insatiable greed knew no limits, encouraged further by the quiver of your thighs and the whines of his name from your lips.

It was hard to pry himself away from your inner thighs, especially with each orgasm he drew you towards. Even when he finally yielded to your pleas for him to finally strip off his pants, he still was adamant with feasting away at your core, fondling your ass as he kept you close to his face, all while you were positioned right on top of him, your mouth and hands clumsily handling the thick girth of his cock with earnest kisses and strokes.

How could he possibly think about stopping when the fruit he craved to eat was finally presented to him?

Or so he thought.

The taste of your core was most certainly going to impose an insatiable addiction moving forward.

However.

It was as the two of you were tangled together, his large stocky build weighing down onto yours while his big cock pumped in and out of your core’s velvety depths that he finally had a sample of what he truly sought out most.

“Sir Laios…!”

The euphoric call of his name had his focus shifting right to your face.

Right as your hands rested on his cheeks, guiding his head downwards so–for the first time–your lips could press against his for a kiss.

A simple sweet display of affection.

Yet one that scorched through him so much more significantly than any other touch exchanged between you both.

The taste of your lips had him shudder and gasp out your name, all while he was all the more compelled to slam his cock into you with furthered exuberance, the desire to flood your core with the hot and heavy load of his seed all consuming.

It would be some time until the two of you would finally work your way through the effects of the pollen.

It would be a far, far later problem for you both to explain just where exactly the two of you had disappeared to all day and why your clothes were in such disarray.

But for now, and what would remain to be true well after–pollen’s influence aside–was one blessed reassurance: You were just as hungry for him as he was for you.

#laios x reader #laios touden x reader #laios touden x you #dungeon meshi reader insert #delicious in dungeon reader insert

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magicalbats · 2 months ago

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Kinktober Day 8: Dottore & Pantalone x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 4652

Warnings: Afab!reader, cat girl reader, body horror elements, mentions of genetic modification & surgery, pet play, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, fucking machine

A/N: As always anything I write for the Harbinger's tends to skew towards the dark so be mindful of the tags, everyone! Also this is why I need them to hurry up and release more content that features Pantalone, I could not find a pic where these two were photoshopped together lmao

⭐

Sometimes Dottore finds himself wondering why he even bothered creating you in the first place.

It’s certainly not so he can watch you shamelessly rub up against Pantalone’s legs in a supplicating gesture for attention — the exact same attention you regularly eschewed when it was coming from him — nor was it so he could continuously find tufts of your fur caught on all of his clothes. Even the ones he’d never worn around you were mysteriously inundated with the clinging hairs, which was particularly remarkable given how little fur you actually had on your body.

Pondering this conundrum, he doesn’t immediately notice that Pantalone is speaking again until something he says jolts the doctor out of his thoughts.

“What did you just say?”

The bespectacled man sitting across from him on the spacious sofa in Dottore’s office tips his head in a curious manner, although the arguably polite smile on his face never so much as falters. “Hm? I was just commenting on how friendly your pet has recently become. I seem to recall her being quite skittish not all that long ago.”

Humming a curt sound of acknowledgment, Dottore shoots you a quick look.

You peer right back at him from your spot curled up on the floor at Pantalone’s feet, your cheek pressed into the carefully ironed line of his dark pant leg. Something about the way you meet his gaze despite the barrier of his hook beaked mask standing in the way speaks of an audacity that almost manages to irritate him. It was the sort of gall only a cat could embody, either by nature or through an inflated sense of superiority that was rarely ever warranted.

But if he’d wanted a pet that would cower and look at him with blind obedience rather than silent, judgmental contempt then he should have used a dog to genetically modify you into existence instead.

What’s done was already done though, so there wasn’t any point in lingering on it unnecessarily. Lifting his attention, Dottore looks over at his fellow Harbinger again. “I can see that. But what did you say afterward? I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch it, or perhaps my ears are simply playing tricks on me.”

“Ah, that.” Relenting with a soft chuckle, Pantalone reaches down to idly pet over your head. The faint vibration of a purr rises up as you tip into the indulgent motion, ears twitching eagerly in demand of more scritches. “I just made a joke that perhaps it was getting to be that time of year for her. I’m never quite sure what any of your miraculous experiments are capable of though, so perhaps that doesn’t apply here?”

Lifting a thoughtful hand to his chin, Dottore turns that over for all of half a second. “No, there's every possibility that she’ll still be susceptible to the same biological cues as her feline counterparts. I didn’t omit any of the genetic hard coding for that when I spliced her together but I also didn’t go out of my way to include it either. It’s hard to say for sure right this moment but …”

He sends you another considering glance but this time you’re much too distracted by Pantalone’s hand and the way it’s rubbing at the spot just behind your conically pointed ears to notice him looking you over. By his estimate you were very close to being evenly split between the two halves, which was just as he’d wanted it. Neither a simple girl who could bore him to death with an endless stream of prattling nor a true cat that would easily expire under his care. In truth he’d initially wanted to use you as a personal assistant after spending a few dozen decades with only his own clones for company.

Unfortunately you’d proven to be just a bit too simple for him to trust with sharp pointy objects and he’d had to give up on the idea quickly enough. He still recognized that you weren’t completely without worth though, medical marvel that you were, and looking at you now … he’d take a guess that there was about a fifty-fifty chance you’d inherited a cat's natural mating drive and all that came with it.

The thought intrigues him a great deal more than he would have expected it to. Certainly this was a rather foolish endeavor to undertake when he compared it to all of the other projects and experiments he wanted to dabble in, but for an afternoon dalliance this didn’t sound too terribly lackluster.

Allowing his mouth to curl into a brief smile, Dottore lifts his attention to fix back on Pantalone again. “What a fascinating idea, Regrator. Are you quite certain you have no interest in science?”

Pantalone tips his head again, but in a rather quizzical manner this time. “Ah? I’m afraid I can’t claim to have the same aptitude for such pursuits as you do, Doctor. I’m sure I’d be nothing but a hindrance in your search for answers.”

“Oh, that’s just not true at all. Almost anyone can fill the role of assistant, at least, and I see a wealth of untapped potential in you on top of that. You’re of a sharp mind to match that sharp tongue of yours.”

“You flatter me greatly, Doctor.”

Eager and grinning, Dottore shifts to the edge of his high backed chair and leans forward to brace his forearms across his knees, bringing the hands together in a loose clasp.

“You.” He intones, earning a languid glance from you, though it’s obvious you were still far more interested in his colleague than in him. No matter though. He would correct that soon enough. “Come over here kitten, and I suggest you do not dawdle.”

For a moment it looks like you’re simply going to ignore him in the proficient way cats do where they give no sign at all of having heard their masters bidding and simply go about their business as usual. Luckily for you, however, the human part of your brain has enough reasoning and cognitive abilities to understand the imperative nature of an order, and you reluctantly push away from Pantalone to get on your hands and knees.

Deliberately slow, you crawl closer to him across the floor with a wary look on your face and your long tail flickering stiffly behind you to indicate your displeasure at having been summoned away from the banker. Such an obvious display of clear disrespect would have been enough for just about anyone else to win themselves a rather unfortunate end at his hands, but Dottore was well acquainted with the physiological behaviors of felines. The fact you were coming to him at all was a small testament to his unmatched abilities as a scientist.

Of course he would’ve liked you to be a bit more intelligent but, he supposed, that was his own fault for choosing a cat rather than something more inclined towards cleverness. A raven, perhaps, would have been the better choice. As long as he issued orders that were short and to the point you understood him well enough though, and he feels a sharp smile pulling at his mouth now as you come to kneel before him.

Reaching out, Dottore places a gloved palm on top of your head, flattening your ears before dragging it down across your neck and back. The way you shirk and dramatically hunch your spine inward under the pressure assures him you don’t like the rough handling very much — but then he reaches the base of your tail and you promptly tip forward to jut your ass up in the air, nudging against his hand. From his elevated position over you he can see your claws coming out to prick into the rug and pull at the woven fibers but he allows it for the time being. It was a promising sign, at least.

“Does that feel good, my little experiment? You look like you’re enjoying being rubbed here.”

You issue a low, vibrating sound that human vocal cords probably shouldn’t be able to make, tail arching up and over in plain invitation. He hadn’t ever thought to toy with you in this manner before, but after seeing how receptive you were to this sort of touch he was very tempted to make it a regular part of your role here. You weren’t doing much of anything else except getting fur on all of his clothes, after all.

“That is quite interesting, isn’t it?” Pantalone murmurs, leaning forward as well to get a better look at the scene playing out before him. “Aside from the paws she looks so human. I wouldn’t have expected to see this kind of reaction from her.”

“I don’t think it’s too surprising. The base of the tail has a veritable smorgasbord of receptive nerve endings which naturally feeds into the nervous system of the surrounding areas. The lower half of her spine is likely a sensitive hotspot as well, and of course that includes the genitals too by proxy. By the way, did you know,” Keeping his tone light and conversational, Dottore drags his hand lower past your twitching tail to idly rub his fingers along the center seam of the bloomers he was nice enough to let you wear. “Even humans had a tail at one time and we still carry the vestigial leftover to this day in the form of a dormant tailbone, so the anatomy was already there. I just filled in the blanks on her genetic genome to … encourage the development of this specific appendage a little bit.”

And it had been a resounding success.

Sadly the same could not be said for your feet. The human leg simply was not built the same way as a cats, and the backwards curve of your hind paws did not lend itself well to upright locomotion. You preferred to crawl as a result, occasionally going up on all fours to move quickly, but this too seemed to give you some amount of discomfort when the joint mobility simply wasn’t there. If he’d deemed you to be well equipped for working as his assistant he would have gone through the trouble of performing surgery to try and fix the mistake in your physical deformity but it hadn’t seemed necessary after he’d realized how dull you actually were.

Besides that, it also made it that much easier to keep track of where you were at any given time when you could neither flee nor navigate anything more arduous than a flat surface without causing a great commotion. You couldn’t even successfully manage any of the doorknobs in his wing of the palace when the paws where human hands should have been were completely bereft of opposable thumbs. This meant you were effectively trapped without him having to do much of anything to ensure you couldn’t escape, and sometimes he found himself half convinced that this was the only reason he hadn’t disposed of you much earlier.

Dottore was rather glad for his own generosity on the matter though while he pets over your cunt through the thin layer of cotton to make you enthusiastically squirm at his feet. There isn’t an ounce of shame in the way you arch your back to better present yourself to him and neither did you seem all that concerned about the audience you had watching the flagrant animal display. And Pantalone, for his part in this as little more than a bystander, seemed rather fascinated with observing the curious scene.

That was why the two of them got on so well with one another. Even if he didn’t have any particular talents for scientific pursuit, the banker still recognized ingenuity and progress when he saw it.

And as he peers down at you, observing the hopeful shake of your hips when you rear back on his hand, Dottore comes to the conclusion that now was as good a time as any to test the hypothesis forming in the back of his mind. He could guess at how the genetic marriage between human and cat would affect you on a physical level, but testing it first hand was always his preferred method.

Of course he doesn’t give you any warning before he does it, simply removing his gloved fingers from between your legs, and you immediately noise a displeased sound into the room. Your claws come out in earnest now to tug fitfully at the rug even as you crane your head around to glance up at him. The expression on your face seemed to suggest you were very offended that he would take away your source of pleasure, and he grins at the sharp flick of your agitated tail.

“Oooh, don’t be upset. I’ll give you more of what you want as soon as you properly ask me for it.”

Rumbling a brief sound of annoyance, you insistently nudge your ass at him but Dottore momentarily stays his hand, deciding to merely watch what you’ll do instead.

And you don’t disappoint, your impatience showing in the way your ears twitch back against your skull as you push your upper body up from the floor. Just sitting there for a moment, you seem to think it over before the temptation proves too great and you lean heavily into his leg to rub your body against him in a coaxing manner. Now it was Dottore who you were all but plastering yourself to, and he can’t help the laugh that rises in his chest.

“I’d almost say my feelings were hurt.” Pantalone murmurs, though the ever present note of vague amusement in his voice remains.

“Yes, she’s certainly easy to win over, isn’t she?”

Not even trying to hide his satisfaction, Dottore allows his mouth to pull into a sharp toothed smile as he reaches back down again. You give a placating little mewl when you realize his hand is coming near but he just nudges your hip off him with an indelicate push so he can grab at the band of your bloomers. With one good tug, he has them rolled down over your ass to pool in the bends of your knees, exposing your bare cunt to the cool air.

A faint shudder works down your spine, tail flickering somehow more aggressively than before, but even now there isn’t so much as a hint of reticence in your body language. Had you been nothing more than a frail, stupid girl, he was sure you would have been wailing at him to stop while you tried to cover yourself. And if you were just a regular cat, well … he wouldn’t have had any such interest in your biological behaviors to begin with were that the case.

But you were a unique specimen and a highly interesting one at that, even if the end result of your creation hadn’t quite met his expectations. So he finds himself almost bordering on giddy eagerness when he directs his hand between your legs again where he softly pets over the fleshy crease of your body. The purring immediately starts up again, verbalizing your pleasure for him as you slowly start to press your chest down to the floor in another supplicating arch.

“I’d wager that must feel rather nice, doesn’t it? And to think you usually want nothing to do with me. Such a pity.”

Gradually, Dottore increases the pressure of his gloved fingers until he can feel the meaty seam starting to squish and spread under his ministrations. The direct contact against your clit makes you shudder fiercely in response, mewling a heated sound into the carpet when you press your face into it. And your tail just keeps flicking back and forth in its upright position while he caresses over you, clearly pleased with his cooperation but still impatient for the building tension in your body to reach its tipping point.

But he doesn’t want to give you that satisfaction just yet so he pulls his hand away when your breathing starts to deepen, indicating that you were getting close. Once again you mewl an unhappy sound and shake your ass demandingly at him to no avail. He merely brings his hands together between his knees and watches you fitfully squirm on the floor, enjoying the shameless display far more than he expected to.

“I’m certain you can do a better job of asking for it than that. How about you try again?” Dottore coos at you, earning himself a brief chuckle from his colleague.

“You’re a cruel one, Doctor. It’s not nice to tease her like that, is it?”

“I’m sure she’ll get over it.”

Chittering a poor little sound, you stiffly push up onto your hands and knees again and try rubbing against his leg much like the first time. When that doesn’t work though you become all the more antsy, twisting your bloomers up around your legs when you start to pace back and forth, yet you don’t stop long enough to kick them off. Evidently you were much too focused on the current state of your cunt to give it much thought, and Dottore intently watches when you finally shift towards Pantalone as if suddenly remembering he was there at all.

It’s obvious that you’re thinking about it, toying with the notion of seeking out his assistance instead and weighing the odds. He would have easily guessed you’d try your luck with the banker since you seemed to like him more anyway. To his mild pang of surprise though you decide to beseech your master once more, turning to point your cunt at him before jutting your ass up in a clear offering.

The tender plush of your body inspires a slow twitch of his cock, his lower stomach curling in anticipation of sinking himself into that tight little clutch between your thighs. That was, perhaps, an activity for later, if he found you to be worth the effort that it would entail, and preferably not when Pantalone was watching with that eternally placid smile on his face.

“Well, that’s better I suppose.”

Reaching out for you again, Dottore takes just a moment to savoringly nudge at your clit with his thumb to make you purr in appreciation. Then he moves his hand higher, easily locating your entrance at the epicenter of all the sticky slick coming out of you where he somewhat rudely bullies a long finger into your pussy. You noise a startled sound of pleasure in response but rather than trying to escape from the sudden penetration you stiffly push back on it.

Mewling rather excitedly now, you swivel your hips to grind yourself on the intrusion. Even through his glove he can feel your walls enthusiastically squeezing him, trying to suck him in deeper despite his knuckle pressing flush to your labia with nowhere else to go.

“Insatiable thing.”

“Do you suppose she’s really gone into heat then?” Pantalone queries across from him, prompting Dottore to hum in thought.

“I’ll have to examine her hormone levels later to know for certain, but given how very hot she’s internally running I wouldn’t be surprised.” He can feel that through the barrier of leather as well, your body temperature so high it seems to him that you’re burning up.

The stretch to your inner sleeve clearly comes as a great relief even for as slight as it is though, so he kindly squeezes a second finger in with the first to put more pressure on your puffed up, gummy walls. You outright keen at the addition as you fuck yourself back on his hand, pussy softly clicking in time with the restless motion.

But it’s not near enough to fully ease the ache deep within you and whatever reprieve his fingers had provided quickly appears to wear off. You get antsy and fidgety again, impatiently trying to take Dottore’s fingers harder, faster to no avail. Whining a low sound of growing distress, you finally dig your back paws into the rug and push up to brace in a true mounting position that begged for him to oblige and fuck you sensless.

“Goodness,” Pantalone murmurs, his usual brand of faux, crooning concern heavy in his voice. “I almost find myself pitying the poor thing. Isn’t there something you can do for her, Doctor?”

He turns that over for a brief moment while he idly thrusts his fingers in and out of your sloppy cunt, twisting his wrist to ensure he would hit the sensitive nerve cluster on the other side of your upper wall. You clearly appreciate it, given how loudly you keen in obvious pleasure, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Hm. I think I might have something for her but I’ll have to go fetch it. Keep an eye on her for a moment, won’t you?”

Pantalone’s head comes up at the same time yours does, but for two completely different reasons. While it was clear his fellow Harbinger was just surprised at what he’d said, you were dismayed by the sudden loss of his fingers when he withdraws them with a sticky wet slurp. And you don’t even make an attempt to hide it as you pathetically whine and meow at him as he moves to stand up, completely ignoring you now in favor of wiping his glove off on a handkerchief procured from his coat pocket.

“It will only take me but a moment. Entertain her however you see fit.” He intones before turning on his heel to step out of the office without giving either of you a chance to question or otherwise pester him any further about it.

A quick stroll down the corridor to his lab plus a few minutes spent locating the specific machine he wanted is all it takes for him to have what he needs. He’s rather pleased at his own genius to have thought of something like this and on such short notice too, and he was eager to get back to test it. In fact, he almost catches himself humming a light tune along the way.

And he’s not at all surprised to find you curled up in Pantalone’s lap when he returns with the adjustable piston tucked in the bend of his arm. He had a few guesses at how you’d managed to weasel your way into that position, particularly when you peer over at him like a disparaged orphan who’s had to seek out the comfort of strangers on the streets. How very typical of a cat, he decides as the banker glances up from where he’d been softly petting over your cunt in his stead.

“And what is this curious device?” He ventures with an accompanying quirk of his brow.

“This is nothing more than a simple piston. Not very exciting on its own, I’m afraid, and if I had the time right now I’m sure I could make a much better attachment for it. But something tells me our little kitty here won’t be too picky about what ultimately gives her what she wants.”

Practically leering under his mask, Dottore moves to set up the machine on the floor between his chair and the sofa. The long metal base is sufficiently heavy to act as a counterweight for the moving rod so he doesn’t need to worry about it unbalancing while he makes quick work of simply adjusting the angle. From his peripheral he can see you warily watching him the whole time from the safety of Pantalone’s lap but when he calls for you to come over you slide down to the floor without a fuss.

It was remarkable how quickly you’d warmed up to him after just having your pussy fingered a little bit and he makes a mental note of that as you shuffle over to inspect the device.

“Turn around.” He commands, gesturing what he wants you to do with his hand.

Giving an agitated flick of your tail, you comply with this too, further solidifying his suspicions that you were indeed quite easy to manipulate when needed. It was hard to say if you truly understood what was about to happen but the wet cunt you bare at him assures Dottore you wouldn’t have any complaints about it. And he can’t help but notice that Pantalone must have removed your bloomers for you while he was gone as they were now nowhere in sight. Good.

Bending at the waist, he takes hold of your hips to pull you back and position the center of your body directly in front of the waiting, smooth ended bar. He would have liked to use something that was better suited for you but it was the best he could do on such short notice. And you rumble a low sound of warning at his manhandling, flicking a sharp look at him over your shoulder which he mollifies with a saccharine, condescending coo.

“There, there. This should have you sorted out in no time. You’ll probably be pestering me to bring it out for you again if my hunch is correct.”

Keeping you in place with one hand, he reaches down with the other to guide the bar to your entrance. You give a startled jolt at the touch of cool metal, a new tension running through your shuddering frame, but it quickly shifts towards deep felt relief when he nudges you back to take it inside. Watching your pussy slowly stretch and open up around the foreign object fills him with a particular sort of satisfaction that makes his cock eagerly stir again. It had been a very long time since he last felt so compelled by the human body.

Well, in this case it was human-cat, wasn’t it?

“Oh my.” Pantalone softly breathes out, intently watching the same thing with a great deal of plain faced interest.

Dottore chuckles a heady sound under his breath while he reaches down to hit the button on the side of the machine that makes it whir to life. With a faintly groaning chug, the piston slowly starts to move in a sluggish thrust but it immediately seems to have your attention for as slight as it is.

Your impatient wriggling promptly stops, tail curiously flicking up while you simply kneel there through the first full motion of the pump action. Gradually the bar slides deeper into you until it reaches the end of its allotted length before withdrawing with a viscous sheen of arousal coating it now. Evidently pleased with the sensation, you shift slightly on the floor to better accept the next push of the machine and Dottore outright laughs at the appreciative purr that quickly starts up.

“Looks like I was right. You don’t care what it is as long as it’s stuffing you full, eh? Such a shameless beast I have on my hands.”

“It’s not entirely without its charm.” Pantalone chimes in.

“No,” He agrees, reaching back down to turn the knob that controls the speed. “It’s not.”

All but preening in self satisfaction, Dottore straightens up and walks over to his chair where he sits down to watch the show. The machine groans a little louder with the speed increase, rumbling softly on the floor as it works your pussy over on an endless, tireless effort that has you hungrily mewling into the air.

It may not have been what he’d created you for but it was certainly entertaining in its own right. And although he was sure to grow bored with it eventually, because he always did, for the time being at least he was quite content to listen to your messy cunt greedily suck at the piston with each and every steady thrust it takes into your body.

Perhaps when the time came and he no longer had any use for you, he’d give you to Pantalone as a gift.

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #dottore x reader #il dottore #pantalone x reader #pantalone #self insert bullshit

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rebeccathenaturalist · 1 year ago

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This ties into one of the big conundrums of restoration ecology. When trying to decide what plants to add to a restoration site, should we add those that are there now, even if some of those species are increasingly stressed by the effects of climate change? Or do we start importing native species in adjacent ecoregions that are more tolerant of heat?

Animals can migrate relatively quickly, but plants take longer to expand their range, and the animals that they have mutual relationships with may be moving to cooler areas faster than the plants can follow. Whether the animals will be able to survive in their new range without their plant partners is another question, and that is an argument in favor of trying to help the plants keep up with them. We're not just having to think about what effects climate change will have next summer, but also predict what it's going to look like here in fifty years, a hundred, or beyond. It's an especially important question in regards to slow-growing trees which may not reproduce until they are several years old, and which can take decades to really be a significant support of their local ecosystem.

For example, here in the Pacific Northwest west of the Cascades, western red cedar (Thuja plicata) is experiencing increased die-off due to longer, hotter summer droughts. Do we continue to plant western red cedar, in the hopes that some of them may display greater tolerance to drought and heat? Or do we instead plant Port Orford cedar (Chamaecyparis lawsoniana), which is found in red cedar's southern range, and which may be more drought-tolerant, even though it's not found this far north yet?

Planting something from an adjacent ecoregion isn't the same as grabbing a plant from halfway around the world and establishing it as an invasive species. But there is the question as to whether the established native would have been able to survive if we hadn't introduced a competing "neighbor" species. Would the Port Orford cedars and western red cedars be able to coexist as they do in northern California and southern Oregon, or would the introduced Port Orfords be enough to push the already stressed red cedars over the edge to extirpation?

There's no simple answer. But I am glad to see the government at least allowing some leeway for those ecologists who are desperately trying any tactic they can to save rare species from extinction.

#restoration ecology #ecology #habitat restoration #climate change #global warming #anthropogenic climate change #nature #wildlife #plants #botany #trees #endangered species #extinction #environment #conservation #environmentalism #science #scicomm #science communication

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eldritch-spouse · 9 months ago

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Sometimes greedy gambits do work out.

Your typical greedy fiend may wax about their insatiable desire for the material, how satisfaction is the death of their nature and never shall they cease stretching their fingers towards the next shining trophy-

But they know limits.

They have that little bit of normalcy that tells them when it's time to drop something, even if it leaves a taste like curdled milk in their mouths.

Not Xiko.

Xiko grabbed onto something and he did not let go.

Not even when death came knocking at his door.

This celebrity of the Greed Ring was known for being the biggest, most successful human/monster trafficker of Hell itself. Xiko, a mere mid-ranker, yet clever and crafty enough to dethrone nearly everyone in his field of vile work.

Wanted humans and monsters worth owning? In mint condition? With some really rare traits? Leave it to him and his boys, you won't be disappointed.

With great skill and talent comes great danger, but Xiko didn't cower when he started to gain many an enemy, when he could no longer count them, when he spent most of his time hunting them down rather than hunting the poor souls he's supposed to sell. With each visit, he'd return home with a few trophies to remember his victory.

Things were going well.

His empire of fifth kept growing, enough so that it garnered the attention of the very Lord Rinx, a client Xiko both reveres and dreads, due to his extravagant tastes. Why, he ever earned himself a juicy deal with this strange, extremely popular establishment on the surface that constantly bulk-orders humans. The Clergy's Eye or something of the sort, he knows the Icons had been there before.

How impressive is that? Enough for prideful folk to eye him wantonly.

Xiko had the opportunity to grow in rank, to sit at Rinx's table and negotiate starting a little jewelry store in the heart of Greed to keep up appearances and branch out. What luxuries.

Unfortunately, all highs lead to lows.

His health starts deteriorating inexplicably. Xiko begins being unable to move properly without chronic bursts of pain debilitating him from doing much of anything other than lie and wait for the wave of torment to pass. He has no idea where it's coming from. The pain is so great he gets blinded and passes out in some episodes.

The best doctors he can find tell Xiko he developed something terminal. Not quite a cancer, similar, something only demonoids can exhibit.

But what did the name of it matter? His own monumental riches wouldn't save him from certain doom.

One might think Xiko would do some soul searching with the time he had left, as laughable as that sounds for a being as rotten as him.

Not even close.

You don't get this far without being stubborn.

Things can't end as they are. Xiko can't die, he has so much to do and so much to oversee, it's simply not an option. He can't.

In the midst of despair and hopeless solution-seeking, Xiko finds a possible answer to his impossible conundrum inscripted in his most favored trophy, a timeless chalice.

Between its jewels and lovely finishes, the instructions for a ritual sat written in one of the oldest tongues in Hell. Having a historian for a friend sure comes in handy, doesn't it?

Said acquaintance is there to witness it when Xiko grows mad enough to try it, at the hands of demons who perpetuate these ancient practices.

A mummification-like ritual.

Except, to avoid death, Xiko must remove the two organs which the soul is most connected to, the brain and heart.

He knew what he was getting into when he laid on that altar.

He knew that he would suffer physical trauma beyond anything he could ever have experienced in life. He knew he would come out of it looking like a completely different being. That he would no longer be a demon.

And he was ready.

He was ready when they started chanting.

He was ready when his jaw was stretched to absurd proportions.

He was ready when his chest was torn open.

When he danced in that barrier between life and death, looking down at himself while his figure withered and contorted.

Those memories are... Scratchy, to say the least.

Xiko recalls screaming at the top of his exposed lungs and feeling his skin rip from several sides all at once, as if rejecting him. He remembers when his skull was crushed and how he could hear it for a moment. He knows he twisted and shriveled like a bug on that marble.

And that he woke up.

Wrapped like a present.

Dead yet amongst the living.

To continue his work. To remain forever at the top.

So what if he was emaciated now? If he'd never get rid of the massive scar where his figure was torn open, if his eyes now reside inside his bizarre gaping maw and his arms are elongated? Xiko had made it.

And while death was unavoidable, it was not the end.

In fact, it was the beginning of something a lot more amusing for Xiko.

He found his new appearance frightened his competition. Rumors of him being an undead diety spread. No longer featuring a core name or even something as simple as a sigil, Xiko was freed of even more weaknesses.

He made no effort to hide what he had become the next time he was present at Greed's Conqueror's Spoils festival. His mangled, infernal undead form on the spotlight.

Some of them were smart enough to understand what he had turned into, knew to stop pursuing him. For when you take something from a mummy, it cannot rest until it retrieves its possession.

Others came to find that out eventually.

Perhaps the person Xiko feels most sorry for is, not one of his enemies, but you.

You poor thing, still trying to escape him, still trying to lockpick your cages and manipulate his men, trying to make it out at all costs.

You never think twice when you set foot outside his territory.

Unaware that he'll always instinctively know where to find his "stolen" possession.

#Xiko oc #demon oc #monster oc #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster x reader #yandere demon #monster boyfriend #monsterfucker #minors dni #pinnie's art

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comicaurora · 9 months ago

Note

In the latest trope talk you used Odo as part of your examples. I think You've talked about Star Trek: The Next Generation before but not Deep Space Nine and I just had some questions about what you thought about the show.

What did you most/least enjoy about the series?

What did you think of DS9's syndicated episodes compared to contemporary trek's (TNG, VOY) episodic nature?

How do you feel about the Dominion storyline as a whole? Did you feel like it went against Star Trek's utopian future?

Which characters stood out to you the most/had the most engaging development?

What do you think gagh tastes like?

Any other thoughts about the series?

Oh man, DS9.

I have this very consistent pattern of thinking that the star trek I have most recently watched is the best star trek. When I watched TNG it was the best because of its standout episodes that let Patrick Stewart and Brent Spiner show off. Then when I watched Voyager it was the best because Janeway was incredible and 7 of 9's arc was a beautiful iteration on the "inhuman character explores humanity" star trek trope. Then when I got to DS9 I was like "Oh, so this is what actually good Star Trek looks like." I do think I'm actually right this time, though.

I think they really took advantage of how different the core premise of the show was from previous Star Treks. Because the setting was very consistent, the episodic variations on the formula weren't dedicated to seeking out Weird New Shit, but to focusing on the characters and their dynamics with one another. Correspondingly I think the best thing in the show is the character writing and how everyone's arcs are built up. This was something I think they were building towards with the previous series; TNG would occasionally have character-focused episodes, but for the most part everybody on the ship operated like a well-oiled machine, inputting the Weird Thing Of The Week and outputting a solution. Voyager destabilized the formula by yeeting the heroes halfway across the galaxy and well outside the safe confines of federation space, so you got a lot more opportunities for drama caused by limited supplies or existential despair, and a lot more character-driven conundrums without clean or flawless solutions. DS9 is kind of the apotheosis of this shift away from "seek out new life and new civilizations, boldly go etc etc" because instead of our heroes briefly interacting with Bajor and then fucking off into the end credits, they're sitting right on top of a planet undergoing tumultuous social restructuring after the end of a long and horrible military occupation, and they're there for 7 seasons. Because they aren't following an adventure-of-the-week formula, absolutely everything they do has consequences they have to deal with later down the line, and that lends itself very well to longform character arcs.

I liked the Dominion storyline well enough, and I think the existence of an evil space empire to fight doesn't preclude the Federation being a utopia. Utopias are internally perfect systems, not worlds that have absolutely no conflict. I think the part of DS9 that does undercut the utopia is the whole thing with Section 31, but I think that's part of a very intentional move on the writers' part to highlight that Section 31 is not as necessary as they think they are, and that doing all this stuff unethically is a moral concession and a shortcut that demeans the principles of the Federation. That's part of why I like that they serve as a nemesis to Doctor Bashir, who has very personal reasons to despise the idea of taking the easy way out.

Character-wise, I have very predictable favs. Jadzia Dax is fascinating to me, and I love the way they play with her past lives and centuries of experience to create this very layered character packed with plothooks. Also I have very simple tastes, and "woman fills narrative Man Role trope and nobody is weird about it" is an itch I so rarely get scratched despite how not complicated it is. Jadzia gets to be a swashbuckling romantic hero with a tragic starcrossed lover; she gets to be a wise yet cheerful mentor to Captain Sisko; she gets to be a noble warrior honoring debts from a lifetime ago. And I adore how her dynamic with Sisko plays out over the seasons - another completely uncomplicated trope I so rarely get to enjoy, male and female leads who are profoundly ride-or-die for one another and have absolutely no interest in making out. I am still so mad about how Jadzia gets iced, but that doesn't mean I don't like Ezri, and there is something very beautiful about how when she gets Dax'd and her existence becomes an absolute mess of confusion and conflicting memories and she doesn't even know who she is anymore, her single point of stability is Sisko.

That said, Garak is probably my overall fav. The man is an absolute drama hound and since he's not technically main cast it's a rare treat to get him focused on. He is so much fun on a rewatch when you can see exactly when and how he's lying and when he's telling the truth in a way that everyone thinks is lying, and what I think is most interesting about him is how absolutely everybody else on the station has him figured out. There's this "I know he knows I know they know" loop underlying almost every interaction. Everyone knows he's a spy, he knows everyone knows, and they're all just vibing anyway. It's like his entire character is built on telling the truth in a way that sounds like a lie, to the point where it always manages to surprise people when he does something absolutely ruthless. He's been saying he's a bad guy the whole time! People seem to keep forgetting!

Also, fun fact, the very first chunk of DS9 I caught was the back half of the episode "The Wire", and when I was mentioning this to my dad, I was like "yeah I don't remember their names but these two guys seemed extremely married-" and he immediately went "oh, Garak and the doctor?" so that's very telling I think

#asks #not aurora #media recs

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