#but like. going strictly by humanization standards

[multiversal-pudding]

…Hey. Hey.

If the Roblox “noob” skin technically represents like. The concept of a “straight up out of the box new player pre getting accessories and stuff” new Roblox Player (despite the current starting outfit technically being something else-whatever-)

…Would a technically-The-Most-Accurate Poob Humanization look like a guy who’s just Uncannily Average save for the fact they’re a little goofy? Like. “Emmet from Lego Movie”, but also “Guy who’s so average looking they’re basically an SCP in that even if you tried describing them while staring straight at them you couldn’t do it, couldn’t remember their face after looking away, somehow fits everyone’s independent perception of what ‘average guy’ would look like perfectly even when those same people have wildly differing ideas of what a Perfectly Average Guy would look like, despite having the same face for both of them. Actually, is it the same face? Can you say that for sure? We have the photos right here- Why is it so hard to double check? There’s hundreds of photos from hundreds of different parties over the years- Why do the drawings keep coming out so different when they work off the same photos, then? Why does the face never seem to change? Why is the only thing anyone can remember, aside from a fun-loving party animal with a big smile, a lack of defining characteristics?

…Oh also they’ve got a party hat. That’s pretty consistent actually”

[muntitled]

Force-Fed

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: You didn't need a job. Not when you only needed him.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Language, Coercion, Standards Relationship, Abuse, Isolation, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Jealousy, Codependency, Stalking, Yandere!Salesman, Smut (+18) mdni, DDLG, Taboo Sex (she literally calls him dad), Freudian Slip, Daddy Kink, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Subspace, Slight!Age Regression, Choking, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Dacryphillia, Breeding Kink

A/n: If this isn't your vibe, leave the fic alone. Read something else. Like always I'm not responsible for the media you consume.

Installing a mobile tracker on your phone might not have been the most morally good thing to do, that he could admit. Perhaps even more incriminating is that the idea struck him while you were passed out on the floor, your body thoroughly spent from all his ravaging. He was nothing if not an inquisitive man and he needed to see what you got up to during the week, when you were without him. (Note: this started out as a precaution. For your own good. You ought to be thankful to have someone like him in your life).

Who knew that the tracker would bring him here?

His jaw is screwed shut as he leans down under the awning of a building, spotting you through the window of a tired coffee shop, donning a uniform he hadn't even known you owned- it set him alight with a certain level of possessiveness that was foreign to him.

He admits that before you, he'd never had much use for any pointless emotions like love or care. They were, at their very core function, just hormones injected into the brain in order to trick humans into reproduction. That's what he saw you as for the longest time: A means of reproduction. A conduit through which he could fulfill all his most absurd fantasies- fantasies that scared even himself.

When he hit you, fondled you, groped you or stretched your body beyond its tantalizing capabilities, he truly believed he was making you useful, and in return for your services you got to coast through university without having to worry about bills.

That's what it was supposed to be. Nothing less and certainly nothing more.

So what the hell is this?

Today is a Tuesday and your 'sessions' together are scheduled on Wednesday. He ought to just keep on walking and go about the rest of his day forgetting having ever seen you.

As far as your agreement was concerned, you were strictly expected to leave him to his devices throughout the week- it never occurred to him that he would also be expected to leave you to yours.

It makes him tsk, seeing you scrub the counters of a cafe... as if you didn't have him to provide for you.

Had he not provided you with enough?

Had you not gotten everything you wanted?

You were like a dog without a leash.

And his hand was itching to pull you right back to him.

He walks into the coffee shop before his brain is finished processing his movements.

"Good afternoon-" greeted the young man behind the counter. The place smelt like roasted coffee beans and debt. It's obvious in the very few patrons milling about that this business was doomed to fail. Your Salesman had a knack for spotting abject poverty and the owner- your boss, one Lee Junmin was teetering on the edge of financial ruin. It's a very good thing that your Salesman is here to save you from this sinking ship.

"Good afternoon," your salesman says stiffly, almost amicably.

He finds you mid-conversation with your coworker. There's a smile on your face as you crane your neck back, holding a cup under the burning faucet of a coffee machine. You're speaking amicably and you're still smiling. Genuinely. Not at all the robotic smile you reserved for the Salesman during your 'sessions'.

He realises now, watching you with a real smile plastered on your face, that you had been lying to him. You don't seem as broken as you claim to be. Seeing you here, assimilated into society. Sporting a part time job?

His knuckles clench around the handle of his briefcase. He was brimming with the need to punish you for it.

It's absurd.

To punish someone for being a fully functional human being. Not even his own psychological issues could adequately reason that.

The younger boy behind the counter rests a hand on your shoulder, finally letting your eyes settle on the tall Salesman behind the counter.

He can see the moment your breath catches in your throat.

How he wishes he had his heavy hands wrapped tight around that throat. He'd choke you for trying to get rid of him. For trying to... not need him.

"Could you take care of this customer? I need to go out for a break-" Your co-worker mumbles quietly and your heart drops like a bag of dipped in molten lava at the sight of him standing there on the opposite end of the counter. There's a smug sort of smirk playing across his features. I've caught the traitor, now it's off with your head.

You begrudgingly steel your nerves before turning to face your co-worker again, trying to even your breathing as you assimilate back into your easy banter, "And how many times have I told you smoking is bad for you-"

Your co-worker raises his tattooed hands, sporting a boyish grin. It's oddly refreshing to interact with a boy your age- someone normal who wasn't drowning in psychopathic tendencies or bullying homeless people for fun.

"Who said I'm going for a smoke break?" He asks, as you slide up to the counter. You situated yourself behind the barrier as if it was going to keep you safe. You knew nothing could keep you safe from the tense shadow hovering over your benefactor's eyes. The Salesman is livid as your co-worker finally makes himself scarce and after a few tense seconds, he finally speaks.

"I didn't know you did this." He says, staring you down the bridge of his nose.

Play it calm. Play it cheeky. Play it coy.

"You didn't know I make coffee?" That snooty remark doesn't earn you a single gratifying chuckle. It doesn't even earn you a soft, meaningless smile. In contrast, all it gets you is monotony. He's pissed.

"Worked." He spits out, "I didn't know you worked."

You only manage to stare up at him, silently before turning your attention to the screen in front of you.

There were a great many things he had already stolen from you- full autonomy over your body being the greatest loss. You'd raise up hell itself before you truly let him strip you of your independence.

"What can I get you for today?" Swift. Curt. Professional. As if you hadn't felt this man inside you. As if he hadn't choked you out until your vision was sparkling with stars. As if you didn't have his cock down your throat. No one here knew about your arrangement. In this coffee shop, you were safe from your history with the Salesman.

"Americano," You sigh softly, thinking he'll respect you enough to keep things professional. Poor, naive you.

“Tell them you quit." He says, forcing you to look up at his cold, dead orbs. "Do it now."

Your finger pause over the screen and your breathing picks up.

He couldn't do this. Not here. Not when you've finally found refuge away from him, his sadism, his demands and his reminders that he held the keys to you obtaining your degree. This coffee shop was the one place he couldn't reach you...

So why were you already on the cusp of giving in?

Your eyes flit over to the few patrons milling about before staring up at the man on the other side of the counter. Daylight was dwindling and beyond the windows, the city was drenched in an orange, almost pink late afternoon glow.

"Your order's coming right up."

"This place is going bankrupt soon. They'll fire you. It's better you quit now before they do." Your hands falter as you struggle to swallow that deeply authoritative veneer in his voice. That fatherly sort of guidance. Be careful, it said.

"Oh, this is you protecting me?" You hated that this was taking place at work, but business is indeed slow and the only other worker here is in the back of the building, smoking away his problems.

"Not protecting you." He says with a shake of his head, as a slow smile curls the ends of his lips, "Warning you."

You rolled your eyes then. It made his hand twitch with the need to correct you. To force you to submit to him. If there's one thing he couldn't stand, it's a rabid little girl.

"You can have a seat while you wait for your Americano-"

"Fuck the Americano." It comes out louder than he intended. It's a surprise, just like the vein popping out of his forehead. His mask was slipping.

"Tell them you wanna quit." He says in a much softer, more in-control tone of voice. He leans against the counter so that the words exchanged are heard only by the two of you.

There is deep anger and menace in his eyes. You can see the warning in them. Its blood-red and calling for you to just submit.

But you're feeling particularly brave. And so you immediately respond.

"Or what?"

"Or I’ll fucking kill you. You or that co-worker." His gaze fits to the door through which the boy disappeared as he sighed and said, "Remember the roommate's boyfriend?"

How could you ever forget?

There was blood.

So much blood.

Who knew humans were walking around with that much blood inside them?

"You want to threaten me out of having a job?" You were losing this battle and quickly. Desperation is the only thing you cling to as your eyes peer up at him.

"Want to?" He shakes, “Little Girl, I am threatening you. Quit now. Your co-worker would greatly appreciate it.”

He taps that counter once before taking a seat. "I'll get that Americano to go."

𓂃

Devastation.

A hyperbole of sadness and a pure manifestation of self pity that overwhelmed you in the taxi ride back to your apartment. Your mind replayed the confusion that graced your co-workers friendly face when you told him you 'just couldn't work here anymore'. The genuine sadness in his eyes had stopped you dead in your tracks. It triggered tears that you didn't even know you had because he actually made you feel loved.

Real love, not the fake stuff given to you by this hulking man seated silently in the taxi beside you.

The interior is flooded with neon lights and myriad little stars are plastered in the black sky.

"Fix your face," he grumbles without looking at you, "You're ruining everyone's mood."

You went the rest of taxi ride, sulking up a storm, until you arrived at your apartment building where you didn't look at him once, as you rode the elevator up, up, and up.

While you were contemplating genuine suicide, he, on the other hand, was one of the happiest- if not the happiest man on the planet.

He told you to correct your mood but the truth is he loved it. He loved seeing you so juvenile, as if you were teetering on the edge of a tantrum he so badly wanted to correct. He loved seeing you sulk like a child. It set his bones alight with a deep, uncomparable need.

He thought pain was the only thing that got his dick hard.

Perhaps he stands corrected.

"Take off your shoes," he hollers in that same tone of authority once you've entered your apartment building. You're like a ghost as you turn to kick your shoes off at the door before lugging your body deeper into the house. He watches you drop your handbag right there on the floor, before you're throwing yourself on the couch, face first like a sack of potatoes.

He attempts to hide his smile as he walks in along after you. He undoes the buttons of his blazer as he stands above you, eyeing you under a quirked brow as your shoulders begin to wrack with your tears.

He shrugs off the blazer before folding it on the nearest armchair.

You flinch when you feel his hand on your foot, lifting it up to make space for his large frame lowering onto the couch.

That infuriatingly warm voice is back as he quietly asks "Why are you crying?"

He extends his hands to the small of your back, rubbing dizzying circles while you cry and cry. He's comforting you after being the very reason you need comfort in the first place. Everything about this man is one big contradiction.

"I thought you'd be happy about this." Your voice is muffled by the cushion. You don't look up at him.

"What on earth would give you the impression that I want you to work?" He asks.

"W-Well," you attempt to rain in your sniffles and he attempts to not visibly grow a boner as your bloodshot eyes finally come into view. You're a beautiful mess for him. Your lashes are wet and your nose is runny and he wants to do so many vile things to you, its eating away at his soul.

He wants to play this game for as long as he can though, this sulking game that he didn't know hed enjoy so much. He settles for setting his hand at the back of your head as you talk.

"If I have a job that means there's less stuff you have to buy for me and-" You answer, sniffling cutely as you sit beside him. You're staring down at your hands fidgeting in your lap while his eyes can't leave the pathetic tears running down your face.

He doesn't think when he says it. He's not thinking about anything other than your body. How little you become for him. How sombre and sullen and sulky you are.

"And what if I prefer it?" He asks softly, "Taking care of you?"

You shake your head, trying to remove his hand ghosting behind you but he only weaves his fingers into your braids, keeping a wonderful grip on your scalp.

"You had no right to do that- you had no right to make me quit."

He leans over, sufficiently done with all these terrible games you've played and forced him to play. He was so dangerously close to combustion, his hands were trembling as he reached over to undo the buttons of your work polo shirt. You let him.

Of course you let him.

"Who was that then? You kissed him before?" His eyes find you before moving back down to the t-shirt. His fingers hook under the ends of the shirt as he lifts it up.

"Who was who? My co-worker?" You sound tired and dejected and you immediately hug yourself when nothing but cool air drifts over your naked torso. He moves a large hand over your breasts, marveling at the sheer size of it, comparing it in his hands. Your body truly was magnificent, he realizes. And all he has done this whole time is try to kill it.

"That... child," he breathes before dropping his hands down to your work pants. He undoes the buttons and you watch him with an intense look in your eye.

"You have a knack for calling every boy my age a child," you say shortly.

"That's because you're young," he admits before tapping your thigh slightly. You lift your hip and let him maneuver you out of the khaki pants, never to be worn again. The smell of coffee still hangs heavily over your skin but it's significantly less intense. Right now all he smells is you.

"And yet," you showcase to him the latest bruise along your collarbone. It's big and angry and hid very easily under the polo shirt. However, here under the overhead lights of your apartment, he could see them, "Look at everything you've ever done to me-"

He groans then. He actually groans.

His eyes flutter shut as his legs spread a little wider and he sinks a little lower into the couch. "Fuck," he whispers, head swinging towards you as he flutters his eyes back open.

"Come sit on my lap?"

His request only catches you remarkably off-guard. “Excuse me?”

"I said come sit on my lap," he replies so defiantly it nearly has your brain short circuiting. You narrow your eyes, not trusting it.

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? Because I'm hard and I'd like you to sit on my lap."

"Is this another game?" You ask, still remarkably on the fence about the man who had been the pinnacle of sadism, suddenly force-feeding you his affections.

"If you don't sit on my lap I will bring out the cane again, don't tempt me-" before your able to make a decision, he makes one for you- attacking you with his large hands before you're able to protest any further. He wrestles you onto him, forcing you to take what he gave.

You're made to straddle his left thigh as he pulls you in close until your tits are pressed up against his shirt. He buries his head in-between the crook of your neck and you croak out a moan as he inhales you sharply. He hugs you towards him, bouncing you slightly on his knees. The feeling shoots straight to your cunt and you immediately begin to groan on top of him.

With his head over your shoulder, you can feel his fingers grace over the marks he'd left before. The marks from the cane. It scarred your back. Moulding the flesh in his image. Branding you as his

"You're young but you can handle it." He whispers, swiping his thumb over your scars before drifting his hands down to your hip. He slowly begins to drag your hips forward and you gasp, immediately searching for something to grab onto. You settle for his shirt. Your fingers curl around the fabric and he lets you ruin it as he pushes you back slowly on his thigh. He continues these torturous movements until your cunt gets the message and starts acting accordingly.

He watches with a slow nod as you begin to ride his thigh like he's conditioned you to.

"Jeez-" It was the sheer intimacy of the actual act that had your arousal dripping out of you and onto his thigh. You'd never had sex with him- purely for sex. It had always been an act of torture or punishment that had always led to sex. But never something so sexual being done so blatantly .

"Fuck yourself on my thigh-" he whispers hoarsely, almost pained as he urges you along. "You can do it, can't you? You can be a good slut for me?"

An equally pained whimper seeps out of your closed lips as you begin to ride his thigh like your life depends on it- spurred on by darkness in his glare and the bulge tenting his pants.

When you notice him undoing the buttons of those pants you realize you are utterly done for.

"Good little slut," he mumbles as he mindlessly reaches inside his boxers to uncover his cock already dripping precum.

"Open your mouth-" he's already shoving his fingers inside, flattening your tongue in order to collect as much saliva as possible before spreading it all over his cock. You watch in complete wonder as he begins to fuck his fist to the same rhythm you ride his thigh- it's so mesmerizing.

"D-Does this count as a session or-"

"Shh-" he says, squeezing his eyes shut as his hand squeezes the base of his cock.

He fluffers his eyes open again, only to state deeply into your lust-filled gaze.

"I don't think I've ever cum inside you with the actual objective of getting you pregnant." His words completely knock you off-kilter and he needs to bring his hand up to your side to stop you from slipping off his thigh.

He continues to stroke his cock, picking up speed.

"I've only ever just... did it.”

“Pl-Please stop talking-” you mumble, “I’ll cum,”

He doesn't listen.

“I cum inside you 'cus it's what I feel like doing in the moment," you try to stitch every piece of this moment to memory. The wrinkles lining his manic eyes, smile wiped clean from his face, leaving only a serious, aroused look of an incredibly grown, strong man.

"F-Fuck," your hips stutter on top of him as you softly whimper. "D-Dad-"

It cracks out of you.

And almost immediately you wish you could take it back but you're already cumming. And your words have his eyes widened as he lifts his hips from the couch fucking his fist deeper.

"F-Fuck I'm cumming-" he admits oh so gravely as his eyes squeeze shut.

"Me too-" you whimper as your own orgasm splits through you, soaking his thigh and ruining the fabric further.

Beyond a few shallow words, guaranteeing you that you won't be annihilated, he almost never initiates affection. In fact, you weren't even really sure if he was capable of it yet here he was, confessing the only way he knew how.

You're cumming on top of him as spurts of his cum land on his chest, making a mess on his shirt. You're both breathing heavily in the afterglow. The fog has yet to clear.

You sit up slowly, body wracking with aftershocks.

"This was nice but um- I need you to be rougher-" the words barely leave your mouth before he's clamping your throat shut with his fist. He's breathing heavily with his eyes still squeezed shut.

"You don't need anything-" he reminds you quietly, "You don't make demands, you take what I give you."

He squeezes and squeezes your throat like he did his cock.

"You're like a baby being forced fed.” He says, “My baby. My thing to take care of.”

[wombywoo]

Ok! I've finally decided to put together a (somewhat) comprehensive tutorial on my latest art~

Please enjoy this little step-by-step 💁‍♀️

First things first--references!

Now I'm not saying you have to go overboard, but I always find that this is a crucial starting point in any art piece I intend on making. Especially if you're a detail freak like me and want to make it as realistic as possible 🙃

As such, your web browser should look like this at any given point:

Since this is a historical piece, it means hours upon hours of meaningless research just to see what color the socks are, but...again. that isn't, strictly, necessary 😅

Once I've compiled all my lovely ref pics, I usually dump them into a big-ass collage ⬇️

(I will end up not using half of these, alas :'D)

Another reference search for background material, and getting to showcase our models of choice for this occasion~

When picking a reference for an actor or model, the main thing I keep in mind (besides prettiness 🤭) is lighting and orientation. Because I already kinda know what pose I'm gonna go with for this piece, I can look for specific angles that might fit the criteria. I should mention that I am a reference hound, and my current COD actor ref folder looks like this:

Also keep in mind, if you're using a ref that you need to flip, make sure you adjust accordingly. This especially applies to clothing, as certain things like pants zippers and belt buckles can be quite specific ☝️

Now that we've spent countless hours googling, it's time to start with a rough sketch:

It doesn't have to be pretty, folks, just a basic guideline of where you want the figures to be.

The next step is to define it more, and I know this looks like that 'how to draw an owl' meme, but I promise--getting from the loose sketch above to below is not that difficult.

Things to keep in mind are--don't go too in-depth with the details, because things are still subject to change at this point. In terms of making a suitable anatomically-correct sketch, I would suggest lots of studying. This doesn't even have to be things like figure drawing, I genuinely look at people around me for inspiration all the time. Familiarize yourself with the human form, and things like weight, proportions, posing will seem a little more feasible.

It's also important at this stage to consider your composition. Remember to flip the canvas frequently to make sure you're not leaning to one side too often. I'm sure something can be said for the spiral fibonacci stuff, which I don't really try to do on purpose, but I think keeping things like symmetry and balance in mind is a good start ✌️

Next step is just blocking in the figures. Standard. No fuss 👍

Now onto the background!

It's frankly hilarious how many people thought I was *hand-drawing* these maps and stuff 😂😂 I cannot even begin to comprehend how insanely difficult that would be. So yeah, we're just taking the lazy copy and paste way out 🤙

I almost always prepare my backgrounds first, and this is mostly to get a general color scheme off the bat. For collage work, it's really just a matter of trial and error, sticking this here, slapping this there, etc. I like to futz around with different overlay options until I've found a nice arrangement. Advice for this is just--go nuts 🤷‍♀️

Next, I add a few color adjustments. I tend to make at least 2 colors pop in an art piece, and low and behold, they usually tend to be red and blue ❤️💙There's something about warm/cool vibes, idk man..

Now we move on to coloring the figures. This is just a basic block and fill, not really defining any of the details yet.

Next, we add some cursory values. Sloppy airbrush works fine, it'll look better soon I promise 🙏

And now--rendering!

I know a lot of beginner artists are intimidated by rendering, and I can totally understand why. It's just one of those things you have to commit to 💪

I've decided to show a brief process of rendering our dear Johnny's face here:

Starting off, I usually rely on the trusty airbrush just to get some color values going. Note--I've kept my sketch layer on top, but feel free to turn it on and off as you work, so as to not be too bound to the sketch. For now, it's just a guideline.

This next stage may look like a huge jump, but it's really just adding more to the foundation. I try to think of it like putting on make-up in a way~ Adding contours, accentuating highlights. This is also where I start adding in more saturation, especially around areas such as ears, nose and lips. Still a bit fuzzy at this point, but that's why we keep adding to it 💪

A boy has appeared! See--now I've removed most of the line layer, and it holds up on its own. I'll admit that in order to achieve this realistic style, you'll need lots and lots of practice and skill, which shouldn't be discouraging! Just motivate yourself with the prospect of getting to look at pretty men for countless hours 🙆‍♀️

I'll probably do a more in-depth explanation about rendering at some point, but let's keep this rolling~

Moving forward is just a process of adding to the figures bit by bit. I do lean towards filling in each section from top to bottom, but you can feel free to pop around to certain parts that appeal to you more. I almost always do the faces first though, because if they end up sucking, I feel less guilty about scrapping it 😂 But no--I think he's pretty enough to proceed 😚

They're coming together now 🙆‍♀️ Another helpful tip--make sure you reuse color. By that, I mean--try to incorporate various colors throughout your piece, using the eyedropper tool to keep a consistent palette. I try to put in bits of red and blue where I can

Here they are fully rendered! Notice I've made a few subtle changes from the sketch, like adjusting the belt buckles because I made a mistake 😬 Hence why you shouldn't put too much stock in your initial sketch~

The next step is more of a stylistic choice, but I usually go over everything with an outline, typically in a bright color like green. Occasionally, I can just use my initial line layer, but for this, I've made a brand new, cleaner line 👍

And the final step is adjusting the color and adding some text:

Tada!! It's done!

All in all, this took me the better part of a week, but I have a lot of free time, so yeah ✌️

I hope you appreciated that little walkthrough~ I know people have been asking me how I do my art, but the truth is--I usually have no clue how to explain myself 😅 So have this half-assed tutorial~

As a bonus, here is a cute (cursed) image of Johnny without his mustache:

A baby, a literal infant child !!! who put this wee bairn on the front lines ??! 😭

Anyway! peace out ✌️

[conkreetmonkey]

Splatoon community is great, it's just looking at all these rail-thin, jutting-pelvis-edges J-pop idols and saying "ok but what if they had body fat/muscle aside from that strictly needed to function at a basic level."

And it makes sense too, because most of them are canonically athletes, and a few are canonically huge foodies. Like I get the beauty standards of being an idol and all that, but they should have at least some Mass. Something something repeating the mistakes and flaws of humanity alongside the beautiful and true things.

Anyway, I just love how the community has largely decided this game takes place in a wholly body-positive society. It makes sense, really, in a world with dozens to hundreds of intelligent species. When your neighbors are a 3 inch tall non-anthro shrimp, a 6-armed crab man the size, weight and strength of a Ford F150, and a 10 foot tall, borderline emaciated, neon orange man with rail spikes for hair who eats live basketball-sized snails, you're not going to stare at your own species's fat dudes.

Cross-dressing is seemingly wholly normalized in canon, there's at least basic Non-Standard Pronouns, and Pearlina is so razor-edgedly close to being canon, so interspecies gay celebrities are also all but canon. Why WOULDN'T this society be body positive? There are 5 femboys on every street and graffiti is seemingly legal. This should be a no-brainer. This society has a doctorate in acceptiveness, and we're out here having to add in comparatively high school level stuff.

Honestly, it's an interesting case of the society a piece of media was produced in "holding back" the fictional society within it. Nintendo designs these characters for mass appeal; fittingly, since they're idols. And in Japan, idols are skinny, end of story. But we, the queerest, most hot-chip-eating fandom currently alive, say nay. My version of this character is buff. This one is fat. This one has a cane. This one is visibly trans. If you won't do it, mainstream Japanese AAA studio, then we will do it in your stead. Gimme the reins, Nogami, and say goodbye to Kyoto. We're going to headcanonland.

(christ, this post went off the rails)

[changbunnies]

Moonstruck (18+)

♡ Pairing: Changbin x Ghost Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: very loosely inspired by corpse bride, horror in a goofy + silly + fluffy sort of way, ghost / human relationship, love at first sight vibes, smut, takes place vaguely during a time where ppl still use landlines more predominantly than cellphones

♡ Word Count: 6.5k

♡ Summary: Changbin is a scaredy cat– and despite that, he likes to read to the deceased in the cemetery, likes to help the souls that may linger there feel less lonely, likes to let them know they aren’t forgotten. His poems of choice are sweet things, full of love and joy– and his utterances of true love stir you; a soul who died before knowing love, and who craves it even in death. And Changbin decides, then and there, that he wants to give you what you couldn’t have in life.

♡ Warnings: discussions about death ofc (reader is quite literally dead and a ghost lol), i thought making reader the ghost instead of bin would be a fun lil twist as that usually isn't the case in fics like these? just wanted to try somethin a lil different :')

♡ Smut Warnings: sweet + tender smut because i'm a yearner for bin first and foremost!, no intended dom/sub dynamics but i did write a lot of bin begging so :), pet names (baby, honey), exhibitionism, voyeurism, some nipple play, mutual masturbation while cuddling

♡ Notes: my kinktober opened up dark but we are returning to standard form with my precious sweet binnie!! i did originally have something dark planned for bin too but i scrapped it pretty early on cause it didn't feel right lol i couldn't do it!! also the poem binnie is reading at the beginning of the fic is "since feeling is first" by e.e. cummings!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Changbin curses the autumn sun for setting so early– why on earth is it already so dark at 6 o’clock?!

The full moon hangs over him, and gosh, he wishes he could've gotten here earlier in the day– maybe then he wouldn’t still be here, in the local cemetery at night, with nothing but his poem book in hand.

He wishes even more that he at least had a flashlight– but the batteries were drained in the one he has sitting in his car's glove box, and it's not like he can leave spares in there; that's dangerous! So all he can do now is keep turning in the moonlight, trying to get it to hit the page of his book just right so he can keep reading. 

Perhaps the reason he's here is silly, but Changbin fully believes in ghosts. Well, to be more precise, he thinks that there are many souls in the world, and that not every soul is here physically. 

Most souls, he thinks, depart for a better place when their flesh dies, but he also thinks there are many that don’t– many that stick around because there is something they still wish to do, or because they have someone they still wish to see. 

That’s what always brings him here when he can spare a moment from his busy life. Because he believes that if spirits do still linger in this world like he thinks they do, if they haven’t yet found peace and moved on, they must be lonely. 

It must be sad– to exist in the world you once knew, but be unable to interact with it the way you used to. For others to no longer be able to see you, touch you, or hear you.. He doesn’t want anyone, alive or otherwise, to feel forgotten or ignored. And if he can make a difference somehow, in whatever small and silly way it is, he’ll do it; because he’d want someone to do it for him. 

Naturally, he didn’t intend to still be here at night; he just got caught up at work, and arrived here later than he typically would. But still, he didn’t want to just turn around and go home– he promised last week that he’d come back today to read! 

And maybe ghosts, or spirits, or whatever you want to call them aren’t real; maybe he spends his time here reading to nothing and no one. But if there’s even a chance that someone can hear him, and who looks forward to the days he returns to keep them company, then he has to keep his promises. 

Still, he’d be lying if he said he isn’t more than a little freaked out right now. He’s been here during the day plenty of times, and you’d think that’d mean he wouldn’t be scared of the place at night, but oh, you’d be so sorely mistaken. 

He jumps every time the crisp, freshly fallen autumn leaves rustle from the wind, and from every shadow cast from the newly bare tree branches. He constantly glances over his shoulder, alerted from every small noise, whether it be an owl hooting or a cricket chirping.

And when a black cat appeared out of nowhere to bump against his leg, he let out the shrillest shriek before erupting into a fit of sneezes. He even jumped out of his skin from accidentally kicking a can while walking– and why is there litter in a cemetery anyways? Whoever left their trash here is so disrespectful! 

Suffice it to say, Changbin really wants to get out of here– but there’s only one more batch of graves he hasn’t read over yet, and he doesn’t want to skip them over. It wouldn’t feel fair to them, especially not if they're waiting for him– the last thing he wants to do is disappoint someone.

“H-Hi everyone! Changbinnie’s back to read again, uhm– s-sorry I came so late, I’ll still read to you like I promised! J-Just give me a sec,” he says, trying to temper the fear in his voice as he continues to adjust the position of his book in the moonlight. Finally, he finds the perfect position for the moon to make the words in his book clear, and for the shadow he himself casts to not obscure them.

He takes one more tentative glance around, takes a breath to settle his nerves before he clears his throat to start. And thankfully, the fear does naturally start to dissipate a bit as he reads– serves as a good enough distraction from his eerie surroundings. "Since feeling is first, who pays any attention to the syntax of things, will never wholly kiss you. Wholly to be a fool while–"

Changbin pauses when he hears an unfamiliar sound, goosebumps erupting all along his skin as he looks up from his book. It was a soft, light and airy sound– almost like a voice, though he’s certain it couldn’t have been; because when he looks around, he doesn't see anyone. He’s as alone as he’s been from the start; so he assumes he's just psyching himself out, mistaking the steadily blowing wind for something it isn’t. 

"Aish, it's nothing! Stop scaring yourself!" he whispers to himself before he continues to recite the words on the page. But he pauses yet again when he hears fallen leaves crinkle and a brittle tree branch snap just feet away from him. It spooks him good, it does– and he lets out an awkward laugh at himself when he realizes it was the black cat he saw earlier that made the sound; hopefully it keeps enough distance that he doesn't get the sneezes again.

Looking away from the cat that is currently working overtime to fray his nerves, he turns his attention back to his book. There's only a tiny bit of the poem left to go, and Changbin is confident he can get through it! No more being a scaredy cat over the little things, no more trembling breaths and anxious stutters– he can do this!

"The best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter, which says we are for each other; then laugh, leaning back in my arms. For life's not a paragraph, and death, I think, is no parenthesis."

With a sigh of relief to be finished, he closes his book and prepares to bid the inhabitants of the cemetery, that may or may not actually exist, a pleasant goodbye; and a swear that he's never staying past sundown again. He’ll stay longer next time, he promises, but he has to go home before he loses his mind. 

He really hopes they do exist– he doesn't want to think he stuck around while scared out of his wits for no reason; he hopes someone heard him, and was comforted by his presence. And honestly, he thinks he deserves a pat on the back after all the trials he's gone through in the last 30 minutes!

And as he finishes tucking his poem book in his arm and looks up, he sees someone. Translucent, hazy, floating, just a few feet in front of him– he can see straight through them, can see all the dark trees and short, stone headstones that live in the ground that the figure should obscure were they physically here.

Changbin blinks, almost wanting to cartoonishly rub his eyes and slap his cheeks to make sure he's seeing properly and not losing his mind like he fears. What he does instead is shriek, positively jumps out of his skin once again as he drops his book and falls back on his behind from the fright.

He scrambles backwards, ducks behind a nearby headstone and brings a hand over his racing heart. He takes a few breaths, does his best to calm down before he slowly peeks out from behind the headstone to see if the figure is still there. 

He doesn't see anyone anymore– was he just seeing things? He has been really scared, so he doesn't think it impossible that his mind would start tricking him. But what if he really saw a ghost? The thought makes goosebumps rise on his skin again– God, he needs to go home already. 

"Hello? Can you hear me?" he hears a voice, airy and otherworldly, just behind him. His breath hitches, and hesitantly, slowly, he starts to turn toward the source of the voice. You float there, brows furrowed as you call to him, glowing ever so slightly in the palest shade of blue. 

A chill runs down his spine, and it's not just from how frightened he is– it's because cold air is quite literally radiating off of you. "Y-You– You're– You're a–" You're a ghost, he's trying to say, but the word catches in his throat. It doesn't help that his teeth are chattering now– he can even see his breath with every word he manages to choke out.

And yes, he already thought ghosts were real– the whole reason he comes here to comfort spirits is because he believes in them! But he’s never actually seen one before, nor heard their disembodied voices calling to him. And now that it’s actually happening, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

“You can hear me! I knew it! You can see me too, can’t you?” you exclaim joyously, clapping your hands together in utter delight. You’re less transparent than before, your form less blurry– but you don’t look solid either. If he stuck his hand out to touch you, he’s sure it’d pass right through you. 

He swallows as he watches you dart side to side in your glee, the motions so smooth it’s unnatural. You look around his age, he thinks, though it’s impossible for him to tell exactly how old you are– or rather, were. Your hair is wispy, floats around you in a way reminiscent of being underwater; your long dress does too, light and delicate in appearance. 

“I’m sorry for scaring you, Changbin,” you tell him earnestly as you float down to his eye level, “I didn’t mean to, I just got so excited you could finally hear me– I'm so happy!” 

“You– you know my name?” Changbin questions, bewildered– honestly, he feels like he’s going to pass out. “Of course I do! You come here every week to read to me,” you reply with a giggle, as if the idea that you wouldn’t know his name is a silly one.

“O-Oh, right, yeah, of course, that makes sense,” he mutters. He’s still shocked, but he’s not as scared as before, and he manages to relax just a little. “You, uhm– you listen to me read often then..?” he follows up hesitantly; and it’s probably such a silly question, but you’ll have to forgive him because he’s never had a conversation with a ghost before. 

“Yes! I love when you come to visit and read your poems, it always makes me happy,” you tell him, adjusting your position so you’re sitting down with him– though you aren’t actually sitting on the dirt like he is, but levitating off the ground.

You introduce yourself after that, smile happily when he repeats it, because it’s been oh so long since someone said your name. “If you’re always here, why couldn’t I see you before?” Changbin can’t help but ask after, because now that the fear is dissipating he’s full of questions he wants to ask you.

“Well, the conditions have to be right! You can’t see me when it’s bright out, and you never stay 'til dark. And now I know why, scaredy cat,” you tease him, giggling when he pouts and huffs. You honestly find it endearing that someone as seemingly strong as Changbin is so easily frightened by little things.

“Hey, you’d be scared too!” he complains, though he can’t help but smile as you keep giggling at him. He never expected to befriend a ghost, but you’re obviously a kind spirit, and your delight to be talking to him is evident. And now that he’s over the shock and the fear, and really looks at you, he thinks you’re pretty too– beautiful, even. 

Is that strange? Maybe; but you are still a person at the end of the day. You float, you’re a little transparent, you glow pale blue and cold air surrounds you, but you’re still a person.

And at the same time, he can’t help but feel sad too– death comes for everyone, he knows, but it feels unfair that someone like you is already gone from this world. Someone as young, kind, and beautiful as you should’ve lived a long, full life.

“You need to have strong emotions to manifest, y’know? And the moon helps– when it's full like this, it gives me more energy than I usually have,” you continue to explain when your giggling subsides, and Changbin hums contemplatively, thinking for a moment before he responds.

“You have strong emotions then? Something that keeps you here?” It makes sense that you would– as far as he knows, strong emotions are the only things tethering spirits to the physical world; so if you’re not at rest, it has to be because there’s something within you that feels unresolved, something you needed or wanted but never obtained. 

Tentatively you nod, fiddling with your fingers and averting your gaze slightly. “I do, but.. It’s– it’s silly,” you mumble, and Changbin’s previous lighthearted, curious expression shifts, suddenly turning serious as he gazes at you with a slight frown.

“If it mattered to you– if it still matters to you, it’s not silly,” he says, and the sincerity in which he says it would make your heart race if you were still alive. If you’re being entirely honest, you’re in love with Changbin– and that’s part of the problem.

When you were alive, all you’d ever wanted was love– to meet someone that knocked you off your feet with just a glance, someone sweet, sincere, and tender. Someone that you could marry someday, maybe start a family with while living together in a quaint little idyllic house. 

But that never happened– and the sense of despair and unfulfillment you felt from having your dreams taken away from you are what kept you here. You didn’t know what to do when you realized what happened to you– spent your days wailing in frustration and sadness to the few other spirits inhabiting the cemetery with you over the unfair circumstances. 

What were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to find peace and move on? Maybe the only way would be to learn to accept it– accept that your dreams would never come true, and just let them go. You didn’t want to, but if you kept holding onto them, who knows when you’d finally move on from this world? 

And around the same time you were grappling with such thoughts and feelings is when you first saw Changbin, who came to the cemetery for no reason other than to give you and the other inhabitants some company. And he wasn’t talking only to you, but it always felt like he was– like every word that left his lips was entirely for you alone. 

“I’m here for you, you’re not alone as long as Changbin is here,” “This poem is my favorite, I hope you like it too,” “Did you have a good day today? It’s okay if you didn’t– Binnie’ll hopefully make it better!” 

That’s all it took, really– and suddenly, you weren’t bound to this world because you never knew love; you were bound to this world because you felt it too much. You love him; not just because of his sweet personality, but every little detail about him– from the swoop and curl of his hair, to his chubby cheeks, to his cute, pretty and pouty lips. 

And you long to kiss him, but Changbin is alive, and you very much aren’t anymore– and there’s no way he’ll fall in love with a ghost. Still, you believe him when he says that what binds you here isn’t silly– or that he won’t think so, at least. 

“It’s just.. Well, I can’t have what I want, I know I can’t, but I still want it anyways; like, even though I should just let it go, I can’t bring myself to. I think that’s why I’m still here,” you tell him, deciding it’s best to keep your desires down to their vaguest parts.

Changbin is sweet, and he looks at you with so much care that you’re certain he’d be understanding and sympathetic, but it’s probably for the best that you don’t pour your heart out beyond that. 

“Is there really no way for you to have what you want? If there’s anything I can do to help, you can tell me! I’d do my best,” he expresses sincerely, and though you can’t physically cry anymore, it almost makes you feel like you will. He’s just too sweet, you can’t take it.

“M-Maybe, but I wouldn’t ask for it,” you reply, and his brows furrow a little. “Why not? You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to, but I hope you know that I mean it when I say I'd be happy to help you," Changbin says, smile so patient, gentle and sweet that it if you were still alive, your cheeks would definitely be heating up right now. 

Should you give it a shot? What's the worst that could happen? You're already dead, so it's not like you can die from embarrassment if he shuts you down. The worst he can say is no– and that would be okay too, because maybe with his rejection you'd finally be able to let go of what keeps you here.

“You could.. kiss me?” you say after a moment of hesitation, and Changbin almost squeaks from how surprised he is, blinks at you with the cutest flustered expression you’ve ever seen.

“Th-That’s– that’s what you want?” he stutters out, and even in the low light of the moon, you can tell he’s blushing, the soft pink spreading over his cheeks and crawling up to the tips of his ears.

“It’s– it’s what I wanted when I was alive. To kiss someone I love, I mean,” you answer, and it gets Changbin’s heart racing. Not just that someone as pretty as you, ghost or not, wants to kiss him, but the implication that you love him that definitely wasn’t missed by him. 

“It was the poems, wasn’t it?” he says with a bashful little downturned smile a moment later, and you laugh, in your delightfully light and airy way as you nod. “They helped. But really, I just think you’re very cute– and very sweet.”

It’s a little strange, being complimented like this by a ghost, and learning that said ghost has very deep rooted feelings for him– but he likes it. And maybe it’s a little unorthodox, but he’d be happy to give you what you want; especially if it will help you find peace.

“I’ll kiss you,” he tells you, and it’s not because he feels obligated, or like he should– it’s because, believe it or not, he sincerely wants to. He thinks you're pretty, you're sweet and earnest, and you love him– so who cares if you're a ghost; why shouldn't he kiss you?

“A-Are you sure? You really don’t have to,” you assure him, and Changbin smiles at you as he nods, entirely certain. “I know I don’t have to. I want to kiss you.” Your spiritual heart soars and burns with joy– and slowly, timidly, you return his smile before you float your way closer to him, and reach your hand out to touch his cheek.

He doesn’t feel your touch, not really– just the cold that pours from you. Regardless, he closes his eyes for you, purses his lips and slightly tilts his head the way he would if he were kissing anyone else. And again, he doesn’t feel your lips, but the cold– that is, until the feeling suddenly starts to become fuller. 

Slowly, he can begin to feel the way your hand rests on his cheek, can feel your lips slotted against his. He can feel your other hand resting on his chest, right over his heart, can feel the weight of your body on his lap, and he shivers– not because of the cold, but because he can actually feel you now.

Instinctively, he moves his hands to try and touch you– and is pleasantly surprised to find he can. His hands don’t phase through you like he thought they would earlier– he can feel you under his fingertips, as if you’re just as corporeal as he himself is. And so he holds you close, kisses you slow and sweet, over and over until he’s out of breath. 

“You’re still here,” he can’t help but whisper when he pulls away; he half expected you to dissipate the moment you got what you wanted, though he’s not sure if that’s actually how it's supposed to work. And he’s left with a strange feeling– on one hand, he’s sad for you because he really did want to help you move on. On the other hand, he likes that you’re still here, that he can still see you and feel you. 

In reality, you feel like his kiss tethered you even more to the physical world. You’re the happiest you’ve ever been, and instead of it giving you the peace you needed to move on, it bound you here stronger. You're filled with a strong desire to remain here, to be with Changbin, and you feel that it has made you manifest more than you’d ever been able to before. 

You’ve tried many times before, but have never been able to manifest yourself this much; to the point that not only could you be seen and heard, but felt– and whether it’s because the full moon is helping, or because Changbin’s kiss gave you more energy and purpose, or a mix of both, you’re happy.

“I think I like you too much to move on.” you tell him, and he giggles as he squeezes you closer, his nose scrunching cutely whilst he hugs you. 

“I’m sorry– I feel like I shouldn’t be, but I’m happy you’re still here,” he says, and you shake your head, returning his smile as you share the sentiment. “I’m happy I’m still here too.” 

It’s a bit strange, having a ghost for a partner. Sharing a kiss attached you to him; and no longer bound to your grave, but to Changbin himself, now you go wherever he goes. You don’t need to always be right on him, of course– but you do have to be close; and every time one of you steps too far out of that radius, you always end up snapping back to him. 

It’s a generous radius, really– you can go several miles before the invisible tether connecting you snaps you back to his side. It’s more than enough for you to exist in his house while he goes to work– and really, he’s happy to share his home with you; he’s sure it beats staying in the cemetery all day, every day. 

And even when he can’t see you, whether because the sun is too bright in the sky or because you don’t have enough energy to manifest that day, he can feel you– and you make yourself known in little ways. His house is always cold now, but it’s especially cold when you’re nearby. You flicker his lights and turn his tv screen to static to get his attention, or leave a message in the steam from his hot showers on the mirror. 

He’ll get a phantom phone call to his landline, where all that exists on the other line is static– but even if he can’t hear it, he’s sure at that moment you’re saying something sweet. And while he's mostly used to these occurrences now, he'll still jump when he hears a sudden noise before he remembers it’s you; a tapping on the wood of his bed frame, usually– 8 knocks meant to signify “I love you.”

Nights of the full moon are always when you can manifest yourself the fullest and easiest, and you both take full advantage of the time you have before you eventually start to become hazy and transparent again. Tonight is one of those nights; the moon hanging high, bright and beautiful, illuminating his dark room in the same pretty, pale blue that glows off you. 

“Baby, please–! You’re so cold, warn me first!” Changbin cries when you first touch him. He already knows you’re not going to waste any time in getting to touch him when you first manifest, but the chill that radiates off you still jolts him every time.

“You’re just so warm,” you muse happily as you snake your limbs around him, sap him for all the warmth he’s worth under his fluffy comforter, “my big teddy bear.” He huffs, but smiles as he does– he can’t actually be upset with you, after all. 

“You should let me take your warmth anyways– you were so mean, ignoring me all day,” you pout as you snuggle into him, burying your head in the warm crook of his neck.

“Hey, hey! Don’t say that, that’s not fair! You know I couldn’t see you!” he wails dramatically, and you have to make an effort not to giggle, bury your face further into him so he can’t see you smiling.

Of course, you know it’s not his fault in the slightest that he couldn’t see your or hear you earlier today, but you still like to tease him over it just a little– his reactions to it are always so cute. “So mean,” you repeat, your voice muffled by his sweater.

He knows that you’re doing it to get a rise out of him, and you know that he knows. But he likes doing this with you– it’s silly fun, and he loves the precious smile that spreads on your face when he plays along and inevitably dotes on you while begging for your forgiveness.

“Aigoo, my baby is really upset. Guess Binnie just has to make it up to you, huh?” he says, and you lift your head just enough to peek an eye at him. “Tell Changbinnie what you want, he’ll give it to you. He’s really sorry,” he entices you further, and the cute smile he was expecting and loves so much makes its full appearance.

“Want a kiss,” you say, pursing your lips at him in that cute duck shape as you wait for him to comply. He tries to coo at you, but it comes out more like a giggle before he’s lifting his head from the pillow to kiss you, tender and sweet.

“Do you forgive me now?” he asks when he pulls away, and you hum as you pretend to think about it. “Mm, I don’t know. I think I might need another one to decide.”

Changbin fully laughs then, shakes his head and mutters something about you being cute before he kisses you again. He shifts onto his side as he kisses you, making it easier for you to tangle your legs with his. He hisses when your cold toes touch the backs of warm calves, and you giggle an apology, though he knows you’re not actually sorry about it at all.

You always tell him how much you love his warmth, and how it radiates from every inch of him. And he’ll pout and shout, half-heartedly complain when you surprise him by touching him with your cold digits, simply because he knows it makes you laugh; you both know that in reality, he’s happy to be your personal heater.

He shivers when you snake your hands under his sweater; your hands aren’t as cold as they were when you first touched him anymore, but it’s still enough for goosebumps to follow the path of your fingers– or maybe he just has goosebumps because he likes you touching him.

Changbin gasps when you brush over his peaking, puffy nipples, and you take that moment to slip your tongue into this mouth. He moans when you pinch them between your fingers, tweak and twist just enough to have him squirming.

“Honey,” he breathes in a near whine when you pull away from him to kiss over his jaw, and the scar that sits on his chin, while your fingers continue to play with his body. 

“I missed you,” you speak against his skin as you press kisses along his neck, “I heard you earlier– saw you touching yourself in the shower. I wanted you so bad, but I couldn’t do anything about it.” He whimpers at that, squeezes you where his hand rests on your waist. 

Naturally, the fact that you can hear him and see him even when he can’t see or hear you always exists in the back of his mind. Every time he starts to touch himself, it’s something he considers– and he even likes it; likes knowing you’re there, watching and listening.

“I’m sorry, couldn’t help it,” he whines an apology, though he knows he doesn’t have to. You’ve both talked about it, of course– how you like watching him, and how he likes being watched in turn. There’s something naughty about it, and it always leaves him feeling extra desired and sexy when you later tell him what you saw, how much you want him because of it. 

And when he feels a sudden chill run along his body and down the length of his spine, is hit with the inexplicable sensation of being watched, he knows it’s you. It always fuels him, makes him fist his cock faster and run his mouth, hoping you like everything he’s spilling. 

Really, it’s no wonder that you always jump his bones the minute you can. Changbin thinks he’d go insane if the situation were the opposite; if he could see you touching yourself, could hear every little noise of pleasure you release, and not be able to join no matter how bad he wanted to. He’s already desperate for more intimacy with you as is– he doesn’t think he’d be able to take it. 

“Can you do it again? Touch yourself with me right here?” you ask him, and he can’t help the way his face flushes as you continue, “I want you to see me watching you this time.” You can feel the way his heart thumps in response to your request, how it picks up speed ever so slightly before he answers. “Y-Yeah, I can– I can do that for you, honey.”

You meant it when you said you like watching Changbin get off. You like watching his honeyed skin slowly take on more and more pink as he strokes his cock. You like watching his broad chest puff out, his stomach clench, his toned arms flex with every motion he makes.

You like watching the sweat build on his brow, and like to listen to his moans become more breathy and whiny as he gets closer and closer to release. And though Changbin isn’t naked now, you’ll still enjoy watching all the same; because he's beautiful, and handsome, and so utterly perfect when he's feeling good.

He reaches between your bodies, manages to get his pajama pants and underwear down just enough to release his still hardening cock from their confines. He bites his lip as he takes the short length in his hand, looks down at himself as he strokes it slowly before looking back at you.

There’s still enough lingering sensitivity from before that he squirms more than usual, but that’s not all there is to it– it's your attentive stare, the way you gaze into his eyes as he moans before you trail them away to watch him stroke himself, and back again. And you’re so close, body so tangled with his, that his fist keeps bumping into your thigh with each pump of his cock. 

Changbin keens when you kiss him, so affectionate and tender that it makes his head spin. You can feel his thighs twitch as he starts to stroke himself faster, and you pull away to watch for a few moments before you tilt your head back up to kiss him again. He's fully hard now, dripping pre-cum so steadily that the glide of his hand becomes slick and effortless.

He whimpers when you pinch his nipples again, parts his lips so you can slip your tongue back into his mouth. His breathing becomes steadily harsher and uneven, his every moan and whimper muffled by your lips against his. He brings his other hand to your ass, squeezes it as he pulls you even closer to his body, as if the fact that you're not already mere inches apart with your limbs tangled together is enough for him.

And truly, he can't get enough of having you close like this. The way you kiss him, touch him, look at him, all while he’s stroking his cock for you– it really does something to him; makes him feel so good and so desired that he swears he could cum purely from the intimacy of it alone.

“You too, please?” Changbin pleads in a breathy exhale the next time you pull back from kissing him, “Please, want to watch you too.”

“Yeah? You want to watch me?” you smile, almost giggle from the eager nod and the whiny, desperate “please, want it so bad,” he gives in response. You’re sweet to your Binnie, oblige him in an instant, and he watches with eager eyes and bated breath as you dip your hand between your bodies.

Even with your dress already hiked all the way up your thighs, you’re so closely pressed to him that he can’t get a clear sight of your pussy; but watching your hand will be enough of a view for him. He'll be able to tell what you're doing, and that's all he really needs.  

All you can reach while this close and tangled together with Changbin is your clit, and he watches you shudder at the first bit of stimulation to it from your fingers. He mimics what you’d done– alternates between watching your face and your hand, and God, every time your eyes meet again it takes his breath away. 

It’s not the same as if you had a physical body like his– your face doesn’t flush, you don't sweat from exertion, and you don’t grow breathless the way he does, but you feel the pleasure all the same. He can tell from the furrow of your brow, the tremble of your body, and the bite of your lip as you gaze at him.

And you're so pretty, face so close to his that your foreheads touch, that his every breath tickles you. "Oh my god, baby–" he whimpers when you start to moan with him, picking up the pace of your hand when he does, matching his speed.

It makes him dizzy– because when he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s inside you; pretend that the sloppy, squelching sounds his fist creates are from your pussy instead. He can pretend that when you moan and whimper, it’s because he's stretching you out perfectly and hitting your spot just right. 

He holds your gaze when he opens his eyes again, completely stops watching the motion of your fingers between your legs so he can strictly observe you, take in your pretty face and how you look when you're feeling good with him. It’s intimate, staring at you like this; it makes him squeeze his cock tighter, the motion of his fist quickly becoming erratic as he drives himself closer to release. 

“Does it– do you feel good?” Changbin asks, because even though he knows, he still wants to hear you say it. “Do you like this? Tell me– please tell me.” 

“Feels so good, Binnie, love this, love you so much– you can’t see it, but I always touch myself with you like this, always make myself cum watching you,” you tell him, and he whimpers from your admission, high-pitched and squeaky. 

“Oh, ‘m so close– will you cum with me? Please, need you to cum with me,” Changbin whines and pleads, every inch of his body trembling as he tries to hold his orgasm back long enough to hear your answer. 

“I will, ‘m gonna cum for you, Binnie, just for you,” you promise, reaching your free hand out to cup his face, keeping your eyes locked with his as you watch each other unravel. Your paces are frantic now, bodies bucking together with every combined motion of your hands between your tangled legs. 

You lean forward to kiss him just as your high takes you, and it sends him right over the edge with you, eyes rolling back before they flutter closed. Noises of pleasure muffled by each other’s lips, his hips jolt as his cum spills over his fist, onto your thighs and the hand you have nestled between them. 

He’s sure some of it got on his comforter too, but he doesn’t care– he just keeps kissing you as he comes down from his high, because despite how breathless he is, it's all he wants to do. “I love you so much,” he tells you after another sweet kiss, and you smile at him, tell him you love him too as you wipe the sweat sticking his curly hair to his forehead away. 

You stay like that the rest of the night; tangled together, hugging each other close and kissing tenderly until Changbin’s fatigue prevents him from doing so any longer. He falls asleep like that, holding you to his body as much as he can; and even when your physical form starts to dissipate with the rising of the sun, you stay right against him.

When he wakes in the morning, he can’t see you anymore, but he knows you’re there. He tells you he loves you, and he smiles when you reply with your 8 little knocks to his bed frame. He talks to you throughout his morning, as he always does, because even if he can’t see you, he knows you’re listening. 

And when he decides to go back to the cemetery to read to the other spirits that still linger there, as he promised them he would, you go with him. He saves your grave for last, and you watch as he puts flowers on your headstone before he settles in to read to you; and even when he can’t see you because the sun is just too bright, he can feel you there, sitting next to him and listening to his poems. 

When he’s finished reading, he’ll feel a sudden touch of cold on his cheek, and he’ll know it’s from you kissing him. He’ll smile, place his hand over the spot and tell you again that he loves you. And when Changbin returns home, and the light of the moon helps you manifest again, he’ll kiss you all over and squeeze you tight, with a million promises of forever on his lips.

[hellenicrisis]

A Collection of Greek Keywords for Hellenic Pagans (kharis, miasma, etc.)

Kharis:

Kharis means 'grace' or 'favour' and it is in reference to the reciprocal nature of our relationships with the gods.

Liddell and Scott describe it as, "A grace or favour felt on the part of the doer but more frequently on the part of the receiver in the form or thankfulness and gratitude."

It essentially means a favour done in delight. This can be both the offering we give to the gods, and the favours and blessings the gods bestow upon us.

Kharis is both the action of offering and worshipping and also what is built between a worshipper and a god through the actions of offering and reverence. It can be used like this:

'Giving an offering to the gods is an example of kharis.'

Or:

'I have built up kharis with Apollo over the years.'

Khaire/khairete:

Khaire or khairete are words that mean 'hail', 'farewell', or 'blessings'.

It can be used to greet someone, either as hello or farewell (I use it at the end of some of my posts). It can also be used at the end of a prayer.

Khaire is used to address one person or god, and khairete is used to address a group.

Miasma:

Miasma means 'stain', 'pollution', 'defilement', or 'stain of guilt'.

It is a type of spiritual pollution that a person or a place can collect through either happenstance or deliberate action. It makes us spiritually unclean but there is no damnation involved in miasma and thus is not similar to sin. Sin is more comparable to agos, which is mentioned later.

We tend to collect miasma while going about day-to-day life, almost like getting our hands dirty while working. The stain it refers to is always one of a spiritual nature; miasma is a strictly spiritual concept.

It makes a person or place ritually impure, hence it is inappropriate to interact with the divine while in a miasmic state. The gods are said to reject the offerings of a miasmic person or to vacate a miasmic place until it is cleansed.

Human blood is also considered to be miasmic when spilled outside of battle, though this is not the case for menstrual blood (although I tend to avoid praying and doing rituals during that week anyway as I consider it to not be my cleanest state possible. I use this time to tend to my altar physically instead, cleaning it and reorganizing it).

Miasma is very common, everyone gets it, mostly due to plain daily life, though sometimes due to deliberate actions. Miasma can always be cleansed.

Sources of miasma include:

Death in the home - Pollutes the grieving and the home. People and home need to be cleansed before interacting with the gods or going to temple.

Birth - Because of the blood involved. Mother and baby are considered by traditional standards to be miasmic for three days postpartum and both are generally cleansed at five days postpartum.

Intercourse - Both parties are polluted by the act and must be cleansed before interacting with the gods or going to temple.

M*rder/m*nsl*ughter - This collects both miasma and agos. The m*rderer becomes miasmic, and a place can become miasmic if a m*rderer is free and unpunished there. This does not apply to blood spilled in battle.

There is a line in Hesiod's Works and Days that refers to the action of cleansing oneself of miasma before interacting with the gods. It reads, "Never pour a libation of sparkling wine to Zeus after dawn with unwashen hands, nor to others of the deathless gods."

Khernips:

Khernips means 'handwash', or 'lustral water'.

It is basically Hellenic holy water. It is used to purify ourselves of miasma before interacting with the gods.

It can be made by dropping burnt herbs or laurel leaves (bay leaves) in clean water, or by dropping a lit match in clean water. Simply washing our hands in plain water can work symbolically as well if done with the specific intention of purifying oneself.

Agos:

Agos means 'curse', 'pollution', or 'abomination'.

It can be considered as a step up to miasma and, while not quite the same, it could also be considered comparable to sin. It is brought about through deliberate actions and it is very difficult, if not impossible, to cleanse. Agos can also invoke the divine wrath of the gods, so it does involve a form of damnation

Some things that cause/invoke agos include:

Having intercourse inside a temple

Temple robbing

M*rder

Bloodshed inside a temple or on sacred grounds

Broken xenia

The refusal to properly bury a family member or a soldier (even an enemy soldier)

K*lling someone who is under the gods' protection

Offering human blood to the gods (due to its miasmic nature)

Agos is hardly as common as miasma, so it is not something the general practitioner should worry about.

[eldritch-spouse]

https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/741884957599973376/httpswwwtumblrcomeldritch-spouse741700018004?source=share

I need to know in explicit detail the first time breg allowed this human to collect samples. Also need to know the embarrassing situations they are put in that their coworkers judge them

I honestly love this so much I'm kicking my feet and giggling ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[Fem reader. I kind of rushed this. Doodle at the end.]

TW: Heavy themes of abuse (including mentions of noncon, death and captivity); Dubious consent moments.

" Listen, we just need you to get in there. "

You blink. " ... This can't be serious. Is this a joke? "

The half-fiend woman, superior to you in professional rank, drags a hand across her blonde locks and grimaces. " Look, I know it sounds bad- "

" Of course it does! This was nowhere in the job description- "

Not that the job description was very uh, descriptive, anyway. But any straw will do, anything to cling to a modicum of your dignity as you get told what your next task will be.

She seems to switch through a few different corporate tactics to ease the blow. " Listen, please. We are short-staffed at the moment, and this has been affecting production a lot more than you can imagine. Specimen 197 is a big bread-winner here and we all know he's uncooperative with machinery, going as far as to ruin it constantly, which leads to more expenses- "

She's explaining this to you like you're a particularly slow toddler and you're not amused.

" We have also noted that M197 is clearly attached to you and a bond has been formed, which is why your presence is requested in certain situations, to reduce his stress levels during tasks. This... Is another one of those tasks. We just need you to get a few samples- " She points at the two canisters next to her. " And you can think of it as a way to improve your bond with the specimen even. "

" Ma'am, he's entering a rut. " You pause. " You want me to walk into a male breeder's cell while he's rutting and engage sexually with him? "

She gulps. " For- For strictly professional purposes- "

" I'm not doing this. "

...

" There's a significant monetary bonus if you manage to do it. "

A long, shameful, disgustingly filthy moment of silence unfolds where you internally debate how far you're willing to go for some much needed money.

Too far, apparently.

" ... I'll do it. "

" Great, that's wonderful, we- "

" No cameras in the room. "

She flinches. " But then how are we supposed to know if you're in danger? "

" No cameras, please. "

If you die you die. You don't want footage of you being possibly mauled by a breeder out there...

A begrudging glance is cast towards the canisters sitting innocently on the table.

Grabbing them, you prepare for the shitshow you signed yourself into.

We have him tied up, the techs had informed you, it'll make things easier.

Just hearing them gives you headaches.

Yes, of course, because forcibly restraining the already volatile lifeform will make it cease being hostile. Logical.

A long-suffering sigh exits your lips when you input the code to open 197's cell. It's a code you know by heart now. If not from the regular standard visits, then from the hurried string of numbers your coworkers would scream at you over the radio before getting launched around by a monster several times their size and weight.

It's hard to forget something like that. There are just some faces you never see again.

As soon as the heavily reinforced door hisses open, you're greeted by an immediate build-up of a snarl. As scary as the sound was when you first heart it, and continues to be on an instinctual level, you understand now that it's mostly born out of fear.

Nothing good ever happens when 197 is cuffed and he's right to be frightened.

The moment you step into view and the door slams shut behind you however, he visibly seems to shift gear instantly.

Sitting on the rather uncomfortable tiled ground, specimen 197 has his ankles spread and cuffed to the ground, his wrists joined behind him and his neck nearly choked to the wall. A muzzle prevents the breeder's jaw from elongating as it tends to do when he's threatened. His tail is likewise restrained in two areas. Those cuffs are the best things modern technology can offer, you haven't heard of a single solid monster type that can shatter them. They're likely also tampered with by some more magically-inclined individuals, but you've never been one to dabble in that.

He exhibits the signs you'd expect from any male entering a rut. Excessive sweating, goosebumps, a faster breathing rate, tension, restlessness and a dilated, humid slit. His skin flickers from time to time, signals somewhere between aggression and courtship displays. You would never have associated heat cycles with torture before starting your work here, but seeing the way these monsters are chemically forced into hypersexual, unhealthily exacerbated heats has shown you just how cruelly this biological process can be exploited.

Sometimes they die. A hormonal, frenzied, artificially accelerated metabolism like this is powerful, but it's also very fragile, in a way. Either they're able to maintain their required ridiculous nutrient intake, find a way to preserve as much energy as possible, or simply panic and end up dying from a mixture of stress and lack of sustenance.

Another sigh escapes your lips, you try to clear your head by placing the canisters on the ground.

The breeder in question, who was once nearly pitch black in his effort to intimidate the perceived threat, is now snow white, having registered you as his favorite, the "nice one". 197 shrinks in himself, then begins a litany of keening whines interspersed with specific chirps.

It might be a plea for attention from an already hormone-fried brain, it might also just be a desperate request to be released from his binds.

You're no paragon of morality, but unlike your coworkers, you understand that building a bond with anyone requires depositing some trust in them. And, even if 197 is rutting, you can only continue to build a connection with him if he has a modicum of comfort in this situation. Which is why you steel yourself before moving closer to the specimen in question and inputting the specific combination to unlock all of his cuffs.

The process is timed, giving workers about five or so minutes to leave the cell before the cuffs drop and the monster is freed. It prevents casualties, naturally.

197 tries to thump his tail in appreciation when he realizes what you're doing, quietly rumbling and trying to lean into the small brushes of your fingers as you work.

" There big guy, just give it a second... " You take a few steps back while you wait.

It feels like a small eternity before the restraints begin falling off one by one. First the tail ones, then the muzzle, the neck, the wrists... And the ankles. On that last click, the breeder shrugs everything away and stretches as he stands.

You've studied these monsters and their mannerisms, he's not stretching just to soothe his joints, he's displaying. The exaggerated curve of that spine says it all, you know exactly what reaction he's after. Though, already riled up as he is, you don't think it's a good idea to respond.

In a second, he's closed the distance between the two of you, this near suffocating hovering over your front, hands and arms twitching with the urge to touch you. 197 is not good with boundaries, which was very surprising to you, considering he absolutely detests it when 99% of people touch him.

The 1% being you.

He waits, visibly pained, for the signal.

" You can touch me now. "

And like a sudden wave, 197 nearly crashes onto you, his comparatively massive pale body blanketing over yours as his arms cage your upper body, lifting it along with him. You squealed the first few times, now you know to stay mostly still and lean to the right so he can shove his face in the crook of your neck without bonking his head against yours. Painful.

He takes a couple deep, shameless inhales of your scent. And, if you had to guess, you're probably a bit sweaty from anxiety. Not that he seems to care, 197 actually appears to slow down a little, enjoying the closeness and now familiar odor you possess. His tail coils around your legs and you pat his back when the telltale chirps and trills of elation make it past his throat.

" Yeah, I missed you too buddy. Take a breather. "

This close to the male, you have absolutely no choice but to drown in his musk. 197 can't help it, he's ruttting after all, those pheromones have to come out. Fortunately, as a human, you're not affected by them, though some of your monster coworkers have to wear specific masks when they enter rutting breeder cells. To you, it's just vaguely unpleasant and heavy.

197 would usually give you a bit of room by now, but he doesn't seem interested in that, instead shifting you around so he can smell other parts of your figure, particularly your hair. Your face warms from his excessive body heat and the sensation of being corralled, your protests silenced when a long blue muscle dips to trail from the base of your neck to your jaw and up the side of your face. The movement is quick, and your attempt to reflexively lean away is met with a tighter grasp as he repeats it.

197 has a habit of dulling his teeth to look more humanoid for your comfort, but not today, in the state he is, he likely forgot that detail altogether. This unfortunately means that you feel the scrape of those pointed daggers every time he amorously samples your skin.

" Alright okay, that's enough- "

You butt in when it feels like he's getting a bit too riled up too fast. It's not exactly counter-productive to your task, but letting him get more and more control over the situation will make it difficult to get the samples later. You can't wrangle a breeder in the throes of their rut, you have to do things before that critical stage.

However, the specimen isn't interested in listening to anything you have to say, responding instead to your tone with his own whine and starting to tug at your uniform. That does it. Thoroughly soaked in his drool, you grab onto the breeder's forearms hard.

" 197! " It's not a tone you like to use with any of the breeders here.

He eventually snaps out of his little trance, gulping, steadying himself before frowning and giving you the space you want.

In this barely minute-long episode, 197 has already kicked into high-gear. Breathing accelerated again, open-mouth panting, excessive drool production, somewhat puffed figure and the tips of his twin cocks already poking out of a pelvic pouch that can barely hold them back. He seems to shiver in his own overwhelming arousal, and though this species is known for having its eyes shielded behind a layer of skin on the face, you know he's fixed on you like a famished animal.

Although your cheeks are moments from setting aflame, this isn't exactly a new sight for you. 197 has gotten aroused in your vicinity several times, you've actually lost count. It'd be nonsensical of you to get irritated over such, given that these males are forced into hypersexuality by the concoctions introduced in their organisms. That paired with his fondness for you probably makes it hard for 197 to not get erections constantly. A hug can set him off, even simple closure paired with your scent is enough to do it.

Well. No time to waste.

While he's mildly disoriented, you grab one of the canisters and move towards a corner of the room with a seemingly randomly arranged pile of fabrics. This, as confusing as it may be to some, is a breeder's nest. And in this species of monsters, the males tend to be the ones who arrange spaces for coupling. 197 has expressed clear discontentment with the fabrics given to him during times of rut to fulfill his instinctual needs, but no one here is ever acting with the specimen's best interests in mind. Besides, he piped down when one of the techs had the bright idea of giving him a jacket you forgot in the workplace. It's right there in fact, the gray hue contrating with a mostly white and pale color scheme.

The nest itself is big, if it fits 197 then it definitely fits you too. And, knowing exactly what you're doing, you let him observe you take a step into it and sit down on the middle, empty canister beside you.

Oh boy.

You can practically hear the popcorn crackles in his brain.

The monster trills loudly, proudly, your supposed acceptance of what have amounted to months of unsubtle courtship from his part being finally rewarded. It's a dangerous moment, you're perfectly aware of such, but it's also necessary to get this over with.

197 drops to a creepily nimble crawl across the floor, rapidly posing over your seated form with blue-tinted cheeks and rabid need. Before you can get so much as a word in, he's dropping some of his weight on you, showering you in hasty licks and clumsy kisses again, this time unable to help himself from nipping at your clothes. The coverings visibly bother him, and the male growls quietly before his instincts tug at him again and he's trying to slot himself between your clothed legs. It takes some yelping, and fussy movement from his part, but you eventually rationalize that stressing him out can lead to a violent response right now.

Might as well let him get away with some embarrassing acts.

Hormone-muddled as he is, 197 has only enough of a mind to hold onto you and press two hot lengths against the front of your body. He's already full-mast, the heat and weight of those things dragging across you when he automatically moves his hips is utterly filthy. He groans, probably the first kind of decent friction he's been getting since he entered this phase of his cycle, the softness and smell of his favorite human getting the monster to leak already, lost in his desperate search for a modicum of relief. As gross and ridiculous as it is, at least he's not tugging at your clothes yet.

You can sense his frustration, the frantic way 197 mechanically bucks against you, the pressure he puts in every thrust, the way his claws puncture into your lab coat and he whines low, this noise that turns into a pleased sort of snarl. Overwhelmed, you shiver beneath his figure, glad there are no cameras to see you fluster and shamefully let a rutting monster grind at you.

You dare say you can get into this.

There's something so appealing about having a monster yearn for you so madly that he's driven to this senseless and primitive display, that even so much as humping you could have them blissed out. Your legs quake around his and you feel your pussy throb in response to the muted friction from his lightly barbed cocks. It's not the first time you've wondered about how it would feel... You've always been a monsterfucker at heart, and 197 is a brutally gorgeous specimen. He's always imploring for even a single touch from you, if you spread yourself out you have absolutely no doubt he would ram those alarming inches into you like a wild beast.

Yeah, maybe your coworkers would call you a sickfuck, but it's not like anyone who works here is moderately normal...

It's a secret. One that you're vaguely paranoid might not be so secret anymore, now that you've been entrusted with this.

In your horny little stupor, you make the critical mistake of forgetting that breeders quickly detect arousal in others. And you are probably making a wet spot in your pants as of now.

With a sudden snort of an inhale, he rises like a man possessed to start ripping at the sides of your lab coat, forcefully trying to rip it off even as he's unable to stop rocking his hips. He knows how to unbutton things just fine, but you bet he can't be fucked to think much in this state.

" Hey- Hey, easy, slow down. " You grab onto his wrists, being ignored.

Okay. Time to think this out while you still can. He's going to rip through your clothes if you let him, and that's not just needless damage, it'll put him in control. But being aggressive about getting him to stop isn't ideal with this type of monster, you need something that distracts him too much to realize he's not exactly holding the leash here. Eventually, an idea graces your mind, though it makes you grimace a little.

Already blazing with shame, you carefully edge a hand between you and, with some hesitation, grab one of the twin members pushed against you.

Instant reaction.

The monster halts, as desired, and looks at you almost oddly, but hopefully. The trick is not giving him enough time to think, so you quickly get a feel for what you're working with, and start stroking him generously.

It's not the frenzied, rushed jerking he inflicts on himself when his own libido becomes bothersome, the fisting of a large hand with little focus and care. You handle him as pleasurably as you can manage, using both hands on him and attentively reading his face. 197 pants openly again, glancing vapidly at your small hands while they work him and he fucks into the motions, strings of thick drool falling from his teeth.

" Good...? Yeah? " You ask, gulping.

He falters and gasps, trying to articulate something. " Please. " Gets dragged out, his dick pulsing in your grasp.

You don't quite know what he's begging for, but you assume he's enjoying himself. Watching the neglected length bob uselessly, you take the opportunity to remove your own lab coat, switching hands quickly when necessary. The shirt comes off too, leaving you in your bra and pants.

By the time you glance back at him, the breeder's skin has shifted entirely to black, and he's hypnotized by the new parts of your body revealed to him, the mounds on your chest breeder females don't have but that he somehow finds pleasing to the eye regardless.

You make a lifting motion, trying to get his attention. " Knees. Come on, knees. Let me show you something. "

It takes a hot second, but he computes the request and does as told out of genuine curiosity. You're about to show an already decidedly horny monster the wonders of oral sex, which is likely not the brightest of ideas, but no one's here to judge your poor decisions.

197's girths hover far too close to your face while he waits a tad impatiently. Studying the things you'll be pleasing soon, you nearly pale a couple shades, knowing it'll take some prayer not to end up hurting your jaw. The male has lived in captivity since the day he hatched, you've enjoyed showing him some of the nicer things in life from time to time, this is just another one of them.

Carefully grabbing onto the left one, you glance at 197 as you deliberately slip your tongue out, so he doesn't just assume you're going to try biting his genitals. He tenses, because of course he would, but you take your time, stopping the moment only his tip is inside your mouth. The breeder is a tad confused and quaking slightly with ambiguous anticipation.

Then you suck.

And it clicks instantly.

God, just this little of his length is already forcing you to open wider than you've ever had to with previous partners, still, you strain to take a few more inches down and focus on that part.

The male exhales tremulously, experiencing the feeling for the first time ever, you're certain. 197 has to straighten slightly as the first intense waves of pleasure course through him, and bless the big dorky monster, he has no idea what to do with himself or his arms. As your jaw adjusts, a tad uncomfortably, you start truly gouging how much of him you can handle. Not that much honestly, but it's to be expected. It's already more than enough to please him, if the increasingly louder growled trills are any indication.

Oh, you bet this is the closest thing to heaven for him. His favorite human, with a mouth warmer than he could have ever expected, lips much softer than any of his species', no apex predator teeth to get in the way, and a tongue that although flat and short, can still chase after those wonderfully sensitive spots.

He has exactly zero idea how to react beyond making bestial noises and drooling on his own chest like a vapid animal. The way his cock pulses in your mouth is a tad bothersome to the rhythm you're trying to keep, but you figure you don't have to show-off to someone who's never had oral before, he's already blown away.

Humorously, 197's hands land on your shoulders, and that's the only way he can apparently steady himself while he's sucked off. His spare cock oozes precum that smears onto your bare chest and you half-heartedly pump it when you pop off his other dick.

" Is this okay, hm? " Needless question, really.

The breeder doesn't even make an effort to reply, whining at the loss of friction and edging forward until both his members nudge against your cheek and lips, begging without words to have that bliss again.

Feeling vaguely in control, enough to be playful, you lean away from the one closest to you and take the right one into your mouth, sucking it as far in as you physically can before switching to the other one, all just so you can hear 197 gasp and grunt out moans. His desperation causes him to buck, and as you gag, a little lightbulb fizzles above his head.

Oh.

Oh no.

The next time you try to pull away, his hands rise from your shoulders to the sides of your head. Each dark finger nearly curves over the perimeter of your skull, and you freeze instantly, not wanting him to tighten his grasp by any means. Everything is fine so long as he only holds onto your head this way, gently.

He's the one moving this time, apparently marveling at the sight of his length disappearing past your somewhat swollen, drooled lips. Except, as expected, he's going faster and deeper than you'd like, getting into it enough to trigger harsh flutters in the back of your throat. Your gagging and subsequent reflexive jerks are met with warning rumbles and one of his hands caging you in place by the back of head.

He learns fast, needless to say.

The more he drives into you, the less you can control your saliva, creating gross pops and slurps as you have little choice but to huff through your nose. Merciless, not even the odd cough around his dick will stop him now that he's nearing orgasm, or so you're willing to guess by his franticness.

Eventually, he makes the mistake of shoving his cock far enough that your jaw strains and your stomach flips, a grossly loud hurl being his response. The horrid noise finally jolts him to a still, giving you enough space to pull away and catch some much needed breath, controlling your belly before anything unfortunate happens.

" Fucking Hell! " You groan hoarsely, irritated. " You're hung like a horse, be careful... "

The rutting male's fried brain only understands that you sound wounded, a concerned chirp followed by soothing sloppy laps to your jaw being his response.

Not an ideal development at all, and yet, progress.

197 is usually very violent with the breeders they tired to pair him for mating. Which is to be expected, being the golden goose of the facility comes at a cost- The rush of hormones in his machine of a metabolism doesn't just contribute to more virility than his male peers, it also causes bursts of hyper aggression not easily controlled. And the only socialization this one usually gets is fights with other males who feel threatened by his presence, understand that they are being hurt by techs because they fail to live up to the standard 197 created, that they might be killed for such.

The females, likewise, fear him.

197 is bigger, louder, scarier. He has a reputation amongst the other breeders, and some of them were more likely to try fighting him off during their heats than accept getting sexual with him. This has led to 197 rejecting all breeders regardless of the context, which resulted in many of the paired females being immediately fatally attacked whenever a scheduled session was arranged. Sometimes he would simply slaughter them, other times he would actually instinctually attempt to mate, and end up ignoring cries of distress, nothing but rage and hormones in that brain causing him to end up killing them mid-coitus.

Shitshows, complete shitshows you've had the displeasure of partially witnessing in the past.

Which is why you're so incredibly shocked he stopped when he heard you nearly throw up. Then again, you're no breeder, and you like to think you've created as decent a connection with him as possible. It could be that.

When the monster thinks you've recovered enough, he attempts to get you to sit in the same position from before so things can resume, and if the way he's insistent on keeping a hold of your head is any indication, then he's learned he prefers to take control of this. And you won't be the fool that argues with him in this state.

After licking your lips a few times, hearing his impatient little huffs, you take one of those slicked cocks into your mouth again, letting him build the pace back up. On the one hand, you're glad you don't have to pretend to keep any composure, letting yourself drool as much as possible for the sake of making the process easier, and uncaring of the filthy noises that only seem to make his thighs quake. On the other, you need a solution so he doesn't just peirce past the back of your throat.

So, experimentally, the next time 197 pushes far enough to have your eyes rolling, you get a firm grasp of the base of his tail and tug.

The appendage lifts and his spine curves back in sudden shock. You doubt it's pain that has him straightening like a plank, after all, you know these beings can oftentimes carry their young by the tail, so if it can handle their body weight, then it can handle a yank from a human's hand. It's more so a sort of "freeze reaction", effective in getting the male to pull back even if he grunts in mild agitation.

It's only fair, in your eyes.

The moment you let go, 197 continues to fuck your face as he pleases, moaning and curving over you once more to find his own pleasure, until he drives in too much again and you repeat the gesture. Over and over, so he understands there are limits.

It seems to succeed in getting the message across. If he wants to keep getting sucked off by your hot little mouth, then he needs to be minimally considerate.

This goes on for a while, you're almost proud to feel him eventually actively hold back from going too far. Because that would halt the friction, and judging by the way his tongue lolls out in pleasure, 197 wants to come really bad.

He seems to have enjoyed your antics from before, because the male actively pulls out of your mouth with another lurid pop and positions his spare length against your lips, fucking into you a couple times before switching to the other one, doing this enough times that you honestly struggle to contain some laughter.

His throbbing increases and you know his peak approaches, quickly reaching beside you for the container as fingers race to open it. Your spare hand makes an extra effort to stroke the length 197 can't fit inside you and with as much vigor as possible, you complement his every motion.

The second you back away to breathe, strings of saliva still clinging from your lips to his dicks, offers the monster enough of a nasty view to trigger exactly what you need. 197 snarls at the top of his lungs, rapidly fisting both cocks before you. It's a decidedly disgustingly arousing display that has you staring heatedly, until the first rope of thick pearly cum lands on your cheek.

It jolts you into flustered movement, holding the canister up to the closest of his girths, you try to get as much as possible inside, unable to shield yourself from the rest of his load as it lands on your neck and tits, warm globs marking you in the throes of the specimen's ecstasy.

It's immensely relieving for him, the sighed, low and needy moans that rip out his throat evidence enough that 197 had been pent up for more than a while. And you... You're soaked in warm seed, observing his maddened jerking slow down.

This is your job now.

Personally collecting from the golden goose of the facility. All for a bonus.

Whatever, just don't think about it too much.

Giving into the guilty sense of pride you feel over making 197 stare at the ceiling in total bliss, you lean down to catch the trails dripping down those teal blue lengths, cleaning him. You don't have to, by any means, but you've already sunk so low today, what difference does it make if you let yourself go a little?

The specimen's legs tremble and he glances down at you with this utterly cum-drunk, infatuated smile. Dark, stained digits rise to comb through your hair in some kind of comforting gesture until you eventually pull away and allow the male to recover.

Now, two things.

You need to clean up somehow, you don't want his cum to dry on your skin.

There's also the matter of the second canister, you think while you grab one of the cloths in the breeder's nest to wipe your face and chest on. You probably won't be allowed to leave his cell until they're both full.

Reaching for the one already warm with 197's sample, you seal it tight, the small device in it emitting a faint green light and beeping quietly. The signal that one container has been filled is then sent to whichever tech is keeping track of this particularly... Unique task.

A pang of shame courses through you at the thought of one of your coworkers now knowing that you've made 197 orgasm.

Time to get the other one and hurry this up.

Unfortunately, as soon as you're about to set a foot outside of the nest, a huge black hand captures your leg, and you're possessively tugged back by a disgruntled breeder who barely gives you enough time to scream before he starts shredding the rest of your clothes...

Hours have passed. You're sure of it.

As far as anyone's concerned, your work has been accomplished. Both canisters are practically overflowing with untainted samples, sitting in the corner of the room so that nothing happens to them.

You're naked, sticky and likely to bruise in some areas from 197's lack of strength mediation, but you did it.

At any moment now, coworkers of yours will enter 197's cell, and you know it's going to be a total wreck. Between his likely immediate aggression, the damage they'll cause him and your less than sightly state, it'll be unpleasant.

But you can't bring yourself to care.

Not when a tireless tongue continues to groom your already exhausted form and 197's meaty cock lazily fucks globs of his hot cum back into your puffed pussy while he trills soothingly. His breathing has steadied and his heartbeat slows.

Any moment now, he might fall asleep inside you, enjoying a sweet moment of bliss before you're taken away again.

It's almost cruel.

[ladydelena]

Tamlin Relationship Headcanons (SFW Pt. 1)

I think this is going to be a series because I have too many ideas about this furbaby. I'll update my masterlist as I post more headcanons. Tumblr! This is what you were invented for baby!

—--

Tamlin loves nuzzling you. It really doesn't matter when or where. Leaning against one of the spring forest trees? His arms are braced on either side of you and he’s just gently, intently running his nose along your shoulder, suckling on your exposed throat with his warm, soft lips and edged teeth. Laid down after a picnic where you both indulged on too many of the fermented berries you foraged? He’s gently nipping and nuzzling your chest, burying his face in the warmth of it and almost purring contentedly.

He likes being domestic with you. He craves it so deeply, and if you're even away for a day or two he gets angsty at the hollow feeling that creeps into your shared chambers. He’s definitely away for days at a time as well, attending to Springs borders while you attend to your duties in your territory, but he is a domesticated beastie boy who just wants to hold you and breathe in your scent. He wants to share his life with you and he’s definitely become a bit co-dependant, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You guys have a system for when his nights start getting too late and he's backed up on paperwork. You’ve found that the two of you work well in silence, and you often read and summarize what comes across his desk, and then he goes over the bulletpoints, often going with the suggestions you leave.  Every once in a while he’ll ask about a suggestion because you guys think so differently, and he genuinely listens- it's led to a lot of positive changes in the court that you’ve implemented together as a pair. The teamwork cuts through the work in no time and the two of you can retire for the night and be together in peace. You even have a shared desk for this exact task, that- well, everyone needs a break from paperwork right? You guys have shared the space in other ways, breaks help the mind work better!

He likes to bite. He has a bit of a possessive streak but he doesn't let insecurity drive him crazy with it. He trusts you and you trust him, but you also like when he’s a bit possessive. You like feeling how much he wants you and needs you near him. Nobody said fae had to adhere to strictly human standards right?

He eats like a warrior but indulges during picnics. His usual meals of lean meats and varied vegetables, the deep red wines, it all keeps his body in shape (cauldron is he always in shape) but during picnics, he loves tasting the little pastries and sweets you bake yourself. He loves feeding them to you even more.

He loves shared baths. He really, really likes when you wash his hair-like, eyes closed and his purring creating ripples on the water. He also knows you love the different fizzing crystals and scented oils and will gather a variety of them from the different territories merchants for you. He also likes plucking whichever rose color he thinks matches the scent and scatters them on the water. The little artsy furbaby- he likes making the evening special like that for the two of you.

He's unabashedly proud of your hobbies. The goofball. He loves the life you bring to the estate and the chaos as well. When you picked up crocheting and made him the lumpiest blanket your first go round? He still uses it to cover the two of you when you lay out in the gardens and read before retiring for the night. The slightly brassy, mismatched cufflinks you made when picking up jewelry making and metalworking? He wears them every day on his uniform. 

You make music together. He plays the fiddle and you both write lyrics and you sing softly and happily, as if in time with the spring breeze itself.

[tgcg]

part 2 of something specific

CG: I’M GOING TO NEED TO WATCH THROUGH IT AGAIN TO REALLY HONE DOWN WHAT I THINK OF IT, BUT FUCK IT, I MIGHT AS WELL SHARE MY THOUGHTS NOW SINCE WE’RE FRESH OFF OF WATCHING IT.

CG: SO, THEY’RE ACTUALLY A REALLY FASCINATING EXAMPLE OF RED ROMANCE. I’D GO SO FAR AS TO SAY VERY SUBVERSIVE OF ALTERNIAN UNDERSTANDINGS OF THE SORT, COMPARED TO WHAT YOU’D USUALLY SEE IN FICTIONAL MEDIA. IT’S LEVELS ABOVE THE TYPE OF DYNAMICS I WOULD TYPICALLY SEE IN MY NOVELS, DISREGARDING THE QUALITY OF VACILLATIONS AND YOUR QUOTE-ENQUOTE “POLYAMORY” PRESENT. BECAUSE SAKURA’S POSITION IN THIS IS PRACTICALLY POINTLESS, BUT I DIGRESS.

CG: ACTUALLY — THAT WAS KIND OF FUCKED UP, BY THE WAY. WHY IS SHE WRITTEN SO POORLY?

TG: remember when i told you about misogyny

CG: I WILL NEVER FUCKING GET THAT. OUR MOST POWERFUL FIGURES WERE GENERALLY GIRLS. HOW THAT TRANSLATED SO FUCKING TERRIBLY IS BEYOND ME!

CG: AND HOW THE SHIT DID THE UNIVERSE *I* HAD A DIRECT HAND IN CREATING END UP BEING SO MIND-BOGGLINGLY BACKWARDS ABOUT ROMANCE?

CG: DID NOT EVEN AN ERRANT TRICKLE OF MY INFLUENTIAL THINKPAN OOZE MAKE IT THROUGH THERE? AT ALL?

TG: not even a droplet my man we decided to be equally anal about other stupid shit i guess

CG: NO KIDDING!

CG: ANYWAYS.

TG: if yall managed to get through that door and reign supreme over the human race for lip smackin eternity you know mens and womens would be macking on each other in various gender arrangements with gleeful wild abandon 

TG: itd be a goddamn utopia

CG: FUCKING EXACTLY! BUT INSTEAD I’M HERE. DOING THIS. WITH A GOD, UNIVERSE PENDING. INSTEAD OF BEING A GOD REIGNING OVER A UNIVERSE MYSELF.

CG: *ANYWAYS*!

CG: THEY START OUT WITH A RIVALRY, SURE, BUT THERE’S ACTUALLY NOTHING BLACK ABOUT IT. THEIR FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER ARE STRICTLY POSITIVE, IF HIDDEN BEHIND A MORE AGGRESSIVE FACADE. THE VIOLENCE OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP BOTH COMES FROM THE SOCIETY THEY WERE RAISED INTO, AND SOME OF THEIR MAJOR CHARACTER FLAWS AND INSECURITIES. NARUTO IS FIERCELY DEFENSIVE OF ANYONE WHO JOINS HIS CIRCLE BECAUSE HE’S DESPERATE FOR CONNECTIONS, AND REFUSES TO LOSE THEM AT ANY COST EVEN IF THEY LEAVE SUPPOSEDLY OF THEIR OWN ACCORD. SASUKE SEPARATES HIMSELF FROM THE PEOPLE HE LOVES OUT OF FEAR – AND DESIRE FOR REVENGE AGAINST HIS BROTHER CONVINCING HIM THIS IS NECESSARY.

CG: LIKE, EVEN WITHIN THE FIRST MAJOR ARC IN THE LAND OF WAVES YOU CAN SEE THAT THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER SO DEEPLY THAT SASUKE WOULD DIRECTLY SACRIFICE HIMSELF AND HIS POTENTIAL FOR NARUTO’S. AND BELIEVING SASUKE TO BE DEAD IS THE FIRST CATALYST TO NARUTO’S POWERS BEING RELEASED. THAT IS *REALLY* EXTREME. ESPECIALLY BY TROLL STANDARDS, BUT I UNDERSTAND KILLING PEOPLE IS A MUCH FUCKING LARGER DEAL PSYCHOLOGICALLY FOR HUMANS. THAT KIND OF REACTION TO DEATH WOULD ONLY BE RESERVED FOR A CURRENT OR POTENTIAL QUADRANTMATE… AND IS OTHERWISE ONLY EXPRESSED BY TROLLS WITH DISEASES.

TG: oh yeah like the friendship disease right

CG: UGH.

[crapeaucrapeau]

Mass Effect geopolitics

Hey Mass Effect nerds, a question : is there any indication as to what are the mutual obligations of Council species in times of war ?

On the one hand, all Citadel species are bound by the Citadel Conventions, which dictate, among other things, what weapons they can use, or whether mercenaries are allowed on the battlefield, so there are at least some Rules of War ; but that's clearly only to a degree, since we know of at least two Council polities - the Systems Alliance and the Salarian Union - who each retain their own discrete way of conducting legitimate wars : humans declare wars before prosecuting them, whereas salarians consider that naive and never do.

On the other hand, each Council species is clearly required to handle matters that concern only them without any help (see also : the reason the Council does not consider helping the Alliance during the Collector crisis something they have to do). But there isn't a strict cujus regio, ejus religio ("you don't tell me how I deal with my problems, and I won't tell you how you should deal with yours") situation either : after all, the reason the Alliance doesn't get curb-stomped by the turians in 2157 is because the asari and salarians step in and negotiate a stop first to hostilities - "forcing a truce" - then to the war itself. In other words, there are some standards - whether formal or informal - to which all three Council species are held which can decide whether a war is allowed or not.

I'm asking because I'm considering whether the conflict between the Alliance and the Hegemony - kickstarted by Shepard's shenanigans in the Bahak system and which was about to start when the Reapers arrived from left-field and killed everyone - would have involved other species. I'm guessing that is not the case : the potential conflict in ME3 is described as strictly a matter opposing the humans to the batarians. At the same time, the reason I'm asking at all is that the Turian Hierarchy seems perfectly willing to signal that it stands ready to assist the Alliance against the Hegemony in at least some circumstances.

The batarians themselves go to great length to always attack the Alliance while maintaining at least a measure of plausible deniability (the Skyllian Blitz and the Asteroid X57 attack nominally being done by independent actors) ; the Alliance isn't fooled, but is the reason the Alliance doesn't go to war against the Hegemony that they don't want to go to war, that they are afraid they might lose the war (Joker in ME3 names the batarian navy as one of the heavy hitters of the galaxy, though that's obviously been widely overstated), or that they do want to go to war and think they can win it but need a casus belli to justify their position to their Citadel allies ? If the Batarian Hegemony had openly invaded the Systems Alliance in a war of aggression, could we have expected the turians to intervene immediately to defend the Alliance ? In which case, the destruction of the Bahak system by an Alliance officer would provide a casus belli to the Hegemony, making the intervention of the Hierarchy or any other Council power on the side of the Alliance scandalous at best ?

In other words, is it a matter of individual alliances between interstellar nations or - even likelier - ad hoc decisions dictated by the circumstances and public opinion ? Like, does it all depend on what your allies think is a "legitimate" war ?

What do you think ?

[serpentface]

What’s the behaviour of salutachin dogs like, and how analogous to irl small breed(?presuming) pet dogs? Do they have a particular cultural position beyond just a utilitarian one as livestock?

Here's what a salutachin looks like

(This one is a neutered male fattened for eating, one on a more natural diet would have a distinctly sloping chest).

They have by far the most standardized look of any dog type in this region due to strict prevention of breeding with other dogs, and the meat dog type altogether being saved from the extinction from a relatively small gene pool. Almost all have a fawn coloration with a melanistic mask, pointed ears, a long curving tail, and a fairly compact build. Typically, only the males are eaten, any that will not be used as studs are neutered at a young age for better meat quality.

There's no outright companion breed here (this might be a retcon), dogs kept strictly as companions tend to be hunting dog types (or sometimes adopted from friendly street/village dogs). Contemporary hunting dog types developed primarily through breeding the greyhound-esque Burri hunting dog with the a Somewhat basenji-esque native ancestor. The latter type has been almost completely driven extinct via breeding (some more intact descendants exist in isolation, but not enough that a breeding population can be formed), and the salutachin is actually its closest relative and physically resembles it.

So like they're very different. The average pet/hunting dog today can look like pretty much anything on a spectrum between Hippiti and a chin-tsimouna (though is usually going to be smaller than the latter, which is a grouping of big LGD types. A hunting dog's weight is going to be anywhere between 40-70 lbs on average).

These hunting/companion dogs generally have experienced selective breeding for traits useful in hunting (and have high prey drives), responsiveness to human commands, and human sociability, but their personalities can vary as much as any other dog.

Whereas the salutachin is fairly small (a fattened animal can hit 40 lbs, one with a natural diet would be in the 20-30 lb range). They need to be Comfortable around humans, but have experienced little selective pressure for human sociability or responsiveness to commands. They're kept in enclosed pastures (often among other livestock) and have low prey drives, and tend to be friendly and mesh well with other dogs.

If you adopted a salutachin as a pet, it Could be an okay companion animal if you socialize and train it well, but it will be a very difficult dog to train to begin with. Most are not going to be particularly cuddly or playful with humans. It will also be likelier to develop fear-aggression behavioral issues in general, particularly if it's kept without other dogs. It would be more dangerous than average around children without careful socialization and introductions.

The salutachin is the only remnant of a much wider span of meat dog types. Several developed partly or wholly independently. The people who first settled here brought dogs with them, which probably would have been eaten opportunistically but not as a standard practice. The animals had utility as assistants in hunting and herding, and guarding livestock/villages/homes/children.

The practice of very intentional rearing of dogs for meat probably started with eating unneeded offspring of your working dogs around weaning age, then keeping them longer for a larger carcass. Taboos surrounding consumption of meat eaters appear to be Very ancient and nearly ubiquitous (though varied in their nuances) to all proto-Wardi groups, and dogs destined for consumption post-weaning were probably fed on vegetarian diets from very early on (both rendering them clean for consumption, and also improving the flavor). Outright FATTENING a dog on plant matter requires use of the higher calorie plants vital for human survival, so this practice took hold most strongly in groups that adopted settled agriculture that could generate enough excess to warrant this.

These groups would have developed more in-depth cultural practices surrounding this. No other livestock is fed this way, these dogs are special in warranting the sacrifice of food needed for the human community. These dogs would start to become distinct, no longer just excess animals that you might as well eat, but a wholly separate stock. 'Dog used for meat' becomes a distinct Type of dog rather than merely a Use for a dog. This is the beginning of a genetically distinct and semi-isolated line of livestock dogs (though this can only go so far in a world without spaying). And putting all this investment into an animal purely destined for slaughter (offering no milk or wool) contributed to them sometimes having special statuses where they occurred. (Though this was not ubiquitous, in some cases they would have just been a source of tasty meat and ascribed the baseline cultural value of any livestock).

Historically, this special status appears to have mostly surrounded funerary practices. Some older proto-Wardi cremain graves (mostly those in the west) would have the skeletons of dogs with clear evidence of butchery, they would have been killed at funerals so that their spirits can guide the dead, and then eaten (rather than cremated themselves, as is the practice for contemporary funerary guide dogs). Old effigies of neutered male dogs (heavily suggesting them to be livestock) appear to have been used as spiritual guardians for children, and the dogs themselves may have done this work as well prior to being harvested.

The historical record for dog eating is most complete for the Wardinae tribe, who did not use them for funerals but rather as sacrificial offerings at weddings in hopes of securing the newlywed's fortune and fertility. The Wardinae developed their meat dogs semi-independently, and they started out as individuals selected from the hunting dog landrace stock to be reared exclusively for this purpose. This tribe's early history (post-separation from the Cholemdinae) was tumultuous and a struggle for survival- they were a small group of semi-nomadic but seasonally settled agriculturalists, constantly under threat by more established and populous settled agriculturalists and almost wiped out more than once. The high investment of good grain into these dogs for the relatively small reward of One 35ish lb carcass made them one of the best offerings there was in this context, it was a pure giving-back of a bounty they struggled to maintain. Offering it in sacrifice suggested hope for the future, that all this investment was not in vain. In this spirit, it was perfect for a wedding. Unlike most sacrifices in the contemporary religion, these were eaten (though the flesh was exclusively reserved for the newlyweds, and much of the usable parts of the carcass would have been wholly given up in offering).

The importance of this dog diminished with the Wardinae eventually becoming quite powerful and established themselves. These dogs gradually became livestock rather than special individual offerings, and began to be bred separately from the hunting dogs from which they derived. They still retained utility as sacrificial offerings and as a fixture of wedding feasts, but their significance diminished in league with the diminishing gravity of this investment of nutrients.

The concept of at least some (if not all) dogs being spiritually unclean animals, or at the very least unsuitable for eating, is fairly old. Not all proto-Wardi groups or other native peoples here had this practice to begin with. Imperial Burri occupation (specifically the Second period of occupation) is what ultimately killed the practice throughout most of its range. Dog meat (and those of some other specific animals) was regarded as inherently unclean and its consumption and sale was outright banned. The fact that most proto-Wardi societies already considered at least Some dogmeat unclean (and the fact that dog was never a staple by any means) made this more easily accepted than other imposed dietary bans (horsemeat and milk was also considered unclean in the Imperial Burri sphere, the attempted bans of which were significantly more devastating and fought more intensely).

In this process, a lot of meat dog lineages went extinct (or rather reintegrated into the dog gene pool at large). Those who used these dogs as funerary guides could still sacrifice A dog without eating it. Some people of course continued this practice in secret, but it became more difficult, and the stock became more diluted (and thus inappropriate to eat even under purely native food taboos). The practice gradually died out throughout most of the region.

It survived in South Wardin largely due to the Wardinae tribe's special favoring of the dog as food for weddings. The practice was carried on in secret at very large scales, enough that a small and (mostly) undiluted breeding population could be maintained throughout this time, and could rebound once this prohibition was lifted. The salutachin is derived from these dogs.

It's still a mainstay for South Wardi weddings in the present day. It is no longer used as an animal sacrifice (the best blessing of a wedding is offering a yearling cow who has never been bred or yoked to Ganmache), but still carries connotations of celebrating life and expressing a hope for the couple's future. It's just that it's largely lost the reason Why these connotations exist to begin with, it's kind of just a Thing You Eat At Weddings To Celebrate The Future.

All this aside, it's also considered a delicacy and very tasty to most palates. It's tender and very fatty dark meat, kept from being all that gamey due to the animal's vegetarian diet and the male dog being neutered. It's mostly consumed roasted fresh or aged, and can also be cured and smoked like a ham.

The only provinces in which it is eaten (at a more than incidental scale) is Wardin and Erubinnos, and it's somewhat of a source of Imperial Wardi intracultural tension and sniping. The western provincial subculture has significantly stronger taboos against All dog meat, and a lot of people there consider salutachin eating to be an unfavorable relic from heathen times, with some decrying it as an outright ''barbaric'' practice that should be eliminated. Having the latter opinion very strongly is a bit of an outlier (most will concede that a dog of pure stock fed EXCLUSIVELY on plants is not technically an unclean meat, but like, GrossYucky) but this divide has been known to make some weddings reallllll awkward.

[would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend]

Would Gallade be a good pet?

A gallade is one of the most loyal and protective pokémon you’ll ever meet, but that doesn’t make them well-suited for being a house pet.

At five feet tall, gallades certainly push the limits of size for a standard house pet. Not so much to the point of being completely prohibitive, but it is certainly impractical and awkward. It wouldn’t be easy to carry a gallade or get them into a carrier if needed, which would make transportation a bit of a problem. At home, however, you probably wouldn’t have too many issues: the pokédex doesn’t give any indication that gallades have specific habitat needs to take into account.

Gallades are also known to be extremely loyal and protective, as I said, so they would likely get along with you pretty well. They are said to be masters of courtesy (Diamond/Pearl), mind-readers who are keenly attuned to those who need help (HeartGold/SoulSilver, Shield). Gallades hold themselves strictly to a “honorable-warrior” image, choosing only to fight if it is “in defense of something or someone” (Sword). This is a bit of a double-edged sword. On one hand, it would seem that there isn’t a safety risk with a gallade, right? After all, they’ll only attack someone if they believe they are protecting someone. Here’s the thing though: what if your gallade misinterprets someone else’s behavior or thoughts as a threat? Would an angry dog in a yard you pass on your walk with your gallade be perceived as a threat? What about that neighbor who doesn’t like you, and perhaps thinks some pretty nasty things about you but would never actually act violently towards you? If your gallade interprets a threat and takes action against it, you could be in serious legal trouble.

Gallades are, to put it bluntly, killing machines. Using the swords on their elbows, gallades are skilled, savage combatants (Diamond/Pearl, Platinum). Their attacks are almost always “first, fast, and fierce” (HeartGold/SoulSilver). These arm blades were event historically said to be “sharper than the finest swords” (Legends: Arceus). Their available moves are robust, combining slashing attacks like Sacred Sword and Leaf Blade with psychic attacks like Future Sight and Psycho Cut to pose quite the threat to any human or pokémon. If your gallade misinterprets someone’s thoughts incorrectly and they chop their arm off, you’re going to be in heaps of legal trouble.

When it comes down to it, gallades are far more suited to be bodyguards than house pets. While they can make great friends, their lethal potential and propensity for fighting when threats are perceived disqualify them from being a good house pets. We’re not talking about a violent, protective dog here: dogs aren’t as tall as a person with swords on their arms that can read your mind.

[smoft-demons]

About pacts

The game is kinda ABOUT the pacts, but somehow I feel like the concept is not fleshed out enough in canon. So I’m fixing that! I am making them so fluffy, I am developing them into the magic QPR bond of my dreams lol

(Brief mentions of blood and sex under the cut, be warned)

Ok so. In the game, the pacts have four key functions: 1, allows the human to give the demon binding orders. 2, gives the human a way to amplify the demon’s abilities and strengths. 3, implied, gives the demon a way to do the same thing for the human, to lend them their own strength. 4, allows the human to summon the demon basically for free. Have him on speed dial, I suppose. Summon with no ritual, no spell components, no nothing except an incantation.

That’s cool, I like that. But like,, iirc the game says nothing of the mechanics of this, or how the pacts feel!

I think pacts should be a mildly psychic connection. Nothing like what Beel and Belphie have going on, and no actual ability to put words telepathically in your demon’s head (and vice versa), but like… an Awareness of each other, muted and vague when you’re not actively reaching out through the pact, but just enough that like,, you can feel them vaguely in the back of your mind. You know they’re alive, and you can mentally reach for them if you want to.

When you ARE using the pact, it doesn’t HAVE to be for one of the aforementioned four functions. It can also be… just a mild mental ping, like tugging on a string or tapping them lightly to get their attention. When they reach back, the bond opens up a little bit more, to allow the passage of emotions, flashes of memories, even awareness of about how far you are from each other and what direction you’re in. All entirely voluntary, no invasive mind-reading, but you can mentally share what you want with each other.

I feel like the pacts don’t have to imply romance. But, they DO imply partnership—not necessarily exclusive partnership, in fact probably it isn’t an exclusive sort of thing by default. Plenty of demons have multiple humans, and plenty of humans have multiple demons. The sort of partnership that doesn’t really have a standard box to fit into by average human reckoning. Queerplatonic partnership. Close, emotionally intimate, committed, devoted. But not necessarily having anything to do with attraction, romance, any of that.

These pacts can be purposely strengthened, to make communicating with each other like this easier. Strengthening the signal, if you will.

The key to that is two things: emotional intimacy/trust, and sharing vitality (or however you wanna phrase it. Vitality, life, essence, soul, etc. I mean this to encompass a few different things, and none of those words is a perfect fit for all of them. Let’s say there’s an untranslatable word in infernal that fits perfectly). Specifically, the human and the demon make mental contact through the pact with the intent to strengthen the bond, then do whichever of the sharing vitality/essence/life/soul things that they feel like doing.

For example:

Kissing. An emotionally intimate thing to do that involves sharing fluid. DNA counts as essence, and this is a way of combining it. A textbook, effective way to reinforce a close bond. Doesn’t even strictly have to be romantic! It CAN be for sure, and usually is, but like… you can also kiss the homies out of platonic affection if you want to. Especially if the homies in question are demons in a pact with you. This is normal and chill to them.

Also, simply sharing the same air! Pressing foreheads together (think keldabe kiss minus the helmets), noses touching (i think this is called kunik). Sharing breath. This absolutely counts as sharing vitality. Also, afaik this is a thing people would only have the instinct to do with someone they really love. It’s such a soft, peaceful thing that doesn’t make sense in any other context but trust and devotion and emotional intimacy. Super good way of reinforcing a close bond!

Obviously sex works for this too. Obviously. It ticks all the boxes: reinforces a close bond, combining vitality/essence, can be very emotionally intimate. Probably the most textbook option.

In the other direction, possibly not quite as expected but totally works if you think about it: bloodshed. I’m sure it’s common enough in the ritually combining blood sort of way, but also… think about fighting at your pacted demon’s side, or getting wounded and then being rescued (seems more likely, especially in part 1), and both of you bleeding. Physically supporting each other, spilling your vitality onto each other, each wiping blood off of the other and patching each other up in the aftermath of an altercation. Really, you can’t get more devoted and trusting than that.

Food, as well. Taking a bite of something, then feeding a bite to your pact partner. Your food is the source of your vitality, in a similar way to breath. It’s your life. Sharing food with this intent absolutely works. It works even better if it’s food you made, and/or familiar food that you love in such a way that it’s part of your identity. That way, it works twofold. The physical effect of metabolizing the food is your vitality, and the identity aspect—feeding a loved one something that resonates with who you are—is sharing your essence/soul.

This one’s a bit of a reach, but I think it still works—tears. Experiencing something that makes both pact partners cry, be it a sad story, an emotional conversation, painful events, etc. Supporting each other through that, feeling compassion for each other, comforting each other. There’s no shortage of intimacy, devotion, and trust in this. On both an emotional and physical level, this counts as sharing soul/essence/life.

Sharing soul/vitality/essence/life (whatever the fitting word for this in infernal would be) on purpose like this would absolutely bring pacted partners closer together. Strengthens the bond between them, helps them understand each other, reinforces the love. Strengthen a pact enough and eventually you won’t even need the incantation to summon that demon.

_______

(I am planning to put this in my rewrite of obey me season 1 with my own MC, of course. Once I progress enough to start posting it, that is lol)

(but also, maybe, if I find the inspiration, I might write gn reader!MC oneshots with these concepts. Pls let me know if you think I should try! Also, anyone is more than welcome to use this for your own writing if you want)

EDIT: I wrote a oneshot! The time when my MC found out that strengthening pacts is a thing, with Beel and Mammon. Here it is!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

So this is another "my vagina's/vulva's orgasm behaviour is confusing to me" question, but I did not find this explicitly in the faqs. So I have a vagina that js probably pretty standard. I get an orgasm pretty easily when I use a vibrator/massager or similar sex toy. I cannot, however, get myself off using my hands. Neither can my partner. We do fingering, oral or penetrative sex, all of which I enjoy a lot, even though I never (literally never) orgasm if no toy is involved. My partner and I are a bit curious as to why getting an orgasm with a toy is so easy for me, but so far, literally no other technique we tried that doesn't involve a vibrator has worked. I'm always having fun when we're having sex, I don't feel pressured about getting off, and my partner is very attentive and has tried many different things during sex. So my question is: Can you sort of "numb" your clitoris if you use toys too often? I've started masturbating pretty early, but I always used mechanical helpers, for example an electrical toothbrush. And I've been entertaining this weird theory that this has maybe led my nerves to only react to quite strong and strictly repetitive stimulation. But maybe this is ridiculous? Do you know anything about this? Coming due to my partner fingering me or going down on me or maybe even during penetrative sex would be something I'd like very much (and also being able to masturbate without toys would be a practical skill to have) so I'm wondering why this is not working so well. I love your blog btw and I've learned so much reading through your asks! Thank you for taking the time to answer so many questions!

hi anon,

you've actually pretty much nailed it! while you can't numb your clitoris, you can teach your body to respond only to particular types of stimuli - some people find themselves only able to get off in certain positions, for instance, or, as in your case, with a very specific intensity and repetition. vibrators are great for a lot of people who have difficulty with orgasm strictly because they deliver such powerful, consistent stimulation! and that's awesome, but it can also make it difficult for the comparatively weak and unpredictable human body to compare lmao.

I'm super glad that you and your partner are already in a place where you feel secure in the way sex works for you, rather than taking the need for a vibrator as a kind of shortcoming (... no pun intended). I think that puts you in a really good place to start experimenting and trying new things together and have fun doing it!

if you want to learn how to get off minus a vibe, there's really on foolproof solution: get that vibrator out of there. not for solo or partnered sex; from now on it's body parts only. that may mean no orgasm for a while, but it sounds like you already have a really good attitude about that, so I hope that won't be too much of a bummer during the adjustment period!

it may take a while, but what I'm hoping for it giving your body a nice long break deprived of stimulation that intense to help it grow more sensitive to touch from a hand, mouth, or other body parts. don't put too much pressure on yourself to be orgasmic right away; just try out different things, pursue new sensations, and try to be playful and pressure-free. even if it doesn't result in orgasm, I hope it can be a fulfilling and fun experience that lets you learn new things about how you like to be touched and experience sensation.

also, pro tip: if you go long enough without using a vibe there's a very good chance you will, in scientific terms, nut yourself senseless pretty immediately when you reintroduce it, so that's something to look forward to.

[rwrbficrecs]

First monthly faves for 2024 !! ❤️

Leave a message by @sherryvalli (book-verse)

@dot524: In the mood for some cute, heart-melting fluff? This is a one-shot that recounts Alex’s voicemail messages over the years from those who care about him - including Henry.

would you be my love, my love? (would you be mine) by ohprongs (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: a strictly come dancing AU with a lot of feelings that I've been thinking about ever since i read it!!!

even though we know it isn't true by @matherines (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: for everyone struggling with academic pressure, or anyone, really. it's pretty sad but of course there's comfort personified in Henry!!

beyond infatuation, how obsessively i adore you by @waterloolovers (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: a new fandom classic if you ask me. Henry works at the daycare Alex's daughter goes to and their relationship progresses really naturally. the kid content in this fic is some of the cutest i have ever read and this is the perfect fic to go on your reread list for comfort.

And They Were Roommates by @14carrotghoul (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Alex and Henry get to know themselves and each other after they move in together. This story is not sugarcoated at all, very realistic - just how life is, and so so sweet. Also, unfortunately, rather short, but still worth the read - as are many other stories by this author, such as the 'Las flores' series.

Spirit of the Season by @pridepages (book-verse)

@heybuddy-drabbles: A little late to the game but I finally read E.J's Christmas story. Her way of story telling doesn't disappoint in this shorter tale (by her standards). It's not lighthearted and it touches some difficult topics (mostly canon) but it's all worth it because of the way they fall in love through Christmas Eve/night. Can't recommend it enough!

Where There Are Octobers by @iboatedhere (book-verse)

@na-dineee: 31 short chapters that are just really fun to read! Some are post-canon or canon-compliant, others are AUs - but in all of them the characters are so beautifully drawn, true to how we know and love them! A vet AU, a hospital AU, major fluff, even an X-Files AU - and who knows, maybe one or two dribbles will turn into more?! Fingers crossed!

The Art of Losing by bigfishbigpond (book-verse)

@dot524: If you think the mid-story breakup should have been longer and more angsty, here’s the story for you. An interesting and heartfelt story of what Henry and Alex are like apart, and what pulls them back together.

I know that you hate me (Do you though?) by @arand0mdutchgirl (book-verse)

@magnificentandcoolfez: A bit of good ADHD angst (with some comfort ofc). I like the focus on how hard adhd can be and it's a short and good read for those who like comfort that comes in the shape of your crush holding you until you feel grounded again.

blushing ears and beating hearts by @kill8a (book-verse)

@na-dineee: This story is not just slow burn, it is glacial burn. It's an college AU, set in New York, and so slow, so tender, so fluffy - after reading it I was floating on cloud 9 for quite a while. I don't know if you feel the same way, but it's funny how changing one given variable somehow changes the whole dynamic between the two of them. Or is it just me?! Either way, it's so wholesome to tag along as their love blossoms, I still feel so hugged and cared for.

all so human with our guards down by @maxbegone (book-verse)

@myheartalivewrites: a post-apocalyptic story that is unlike any other. There are no zombies or gore, but instead it focuses on rebuilding and the softest love growing between Alex and Henry, surrounded by family and friends. I kinda wanted to live there by the end of it.

The Snow Prince by @orchidscript (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: several fairy tale tropes meet to create this absolutely amazing story. It has dreaminess of a fable, best kind of yearning of your favourite slow burn fics and a little bit of adventure of a fantasy novel.

but to say that I'm a rainbow, to tell me that I'm bright (when I'm so used to feeling wrong, well, it helps me feel alright.) by What_Is_A_Mild_Opinion (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: Fandom is really sleeping on this one! This story is a canon rewrite with characters reimagined as creatures with animal characteristics. The wordbuilding is so fantastic that even if you are not a fan of long fics following canon step by step, it's absolutely worth to check this even for a chapter or two and get to know these wonderful versions of Alex and Henry. (Alex is literally rainbow.)

safe with me / more than I ever (in a thousand years)by @indomitable-love (book-verse)

@na-dineee: I think the author is very well known among all rwrb fanfic readers. I really, really liked these two stories, like a lot: Two 5+1 fics, one from Pez's point of view, the other from Bea's - unfortunately both characters are given too little attention in the book imho. As expected, both narrators are sharply observing, protective of Henry, loving, honest, tender - and you end up loving Henry (and Alex) even more.

check out our past Monthly Faves here ❤️

[katerinaaqu]

Do tell me if you have addressed this before... Does Circe eat the pigs that used to be humans? Does she keep them to be eaten specifically, she eats them only sometimes, are they just trophies?

Would it count as cannibalism if they aren't human anymore?

Are there other animals on the island that used to be pigs?

Oh it has been quite a while since the last time I engaged to a conversation related to the matter! It doesn't matter if I had or hadn't addressed this before given how intriguing and fascinating subject it is! And to be fair I doubt there is one clear answer either but it is definitely a subject on the table (yeah pun intended! Sorry!) So here goes;

It does seem that Circe has many different animals in her court, like lions and wolves who appear to be her escorts. It is of course unclear whether those are indeed transformed humans (as Plutarch suggests for example to his work "Bruta Animalia Ratione uti" or Apollodorous with his Epitome who claims that some of Odysseus comrades were turned to other animals too) or actual creatures (Homer implies that she "bewitched them" but that could also mean simply that she controls their will). It is in fact Eurylochus who also expressed that the wolves and lions that guard her could be human when he tries to persuade the companions not to follow Odysseus to the house of Circe:

If we go to Circe's palace she will turn us all to swine or wolves or lions to guard her great house perforce!

(Translation by me)

Although it is some fear that Eurylochus has, it is hard to determine if that was a wink of Homer's as to what these creatures actually were. But either way they do seem like they do her bidding so it does seem possible that the animals she creates are also of practical purpose so to speak. So that also makes me wonder indeed that the pigs were there for purposes of that kind too. Now would they have other purposes other than food? Absolutely such as tracking or even, mind you, disposal of leftovers from cooking or food but I am almost certain that the pigs would have been used for food. Thus increasing the urgency in Odysseus's soul to save them. He wasn't just giving them back their humanity, he was potentially saving them from doom. Odysseus seems to imply that with these words:

But you have hostages my men in your halls and you have evil wiles in mind by keeping them there

(Translation by me)

Bear in mind how the word "wily of mind" is given with the word δολοφρονέουσα but the word φρονέω (to think/to plan) sounds incredibly close to the word φονεύω (to kill/to assassinate) could it be a correlation here? Perhaps. Now of course it needs to be said that contrary to homeric writing ancient people didn't eat meat THAT often anyway much less pork which was used through and through when cooked even bones and fat so it is hard to say when or how often Circe would demand a meal of pork or whether she would knowing that they are humans or not. It is kinda left there. It is not strictly said that the pigs were there for food in general so it is kinda left on interpretation at least as far as Homer is concerned. There seems to be a debate among some people on whether for example his companions even retained their reason throughout the process which is even more tragic to think of! That their memories of their homeland were gone so they had no idea what was happening but they knew they had to be human but they had no human speech to express themselves either which seems like being trapped in your own body which is another interesting notion of their transformation.

But I believe the essence of hurry and the feeling of urgency and sadness in Odysseus when his comrades were concerned that means he feared their actual life was in danger not just their dignity as human beings which already was bad enough for the ancient Greek standards. It seems that Odysseus at least feared that Circe would possibly kill them in their pig form or that the feeling wouldn't leave him alone even when he did extract the promise from Circe that she had nothing in store for them. By n large Odysseus's instinct was correct so I would say the danger of them being potentially killed or even devoured was strong there. Now whether Circe herself would devour the pigs or offer them as food to her wolves or lions is also another story but as I said I think the threat against their life was serious there.

Now as to whether someone were to slaughter one of them as they are a pig and whether that would be cannibalism I mean it definitely is an intriguing question. It seems that when myths are speaking on the transformation of a person to an animal, they still keep being referred to as people (see for example Aktaion when he is transformed into a deer by Artemis and devoured by his dogs, he is still mentioned by name) That and also the fact that as I said there even was a thought that his men maintained their reason even if trapped to the voice body and possibly behavior of an animal. Now there is also the question of what was considered "cannibalism" and such given how mostly we see it to human-shaped creatures but if human reason is enough as well as the birth as human (and birth and blood played a huge part in Greek literature as well) I think in one way it would be considered really problematic and yeah borderline cannibalistic if not straight out cannibalism if one were to devour one of the transformed pigs. And I find it also interesting how pigs were chosen of all animals especially with later years' talk about eating pork or how ironically close to dna of humans is the dna of pigs! So in one way I am just amazed at the connotations that are almost 3000 years old!

I hope this helps a bit! ^_^