#mark beaks mentioned

[xxkilla-krisxx]

that fucking bird that i hate 😭

i was listening to ke$ha’s ‘blah blah blah’ while drawing this so thats what vibe i tried to give this :P

[queeniesretrozone]

(idk if I've made a post about this already lol)

I have finally decided what to do with Eleanor!

DuckTales '17 OC! (might design a version of her for either '87 DT or Quack Pack idk)

Elenor Crackshell Cabrera is Fenton's 16 year old younger sister!

facts about Ellie:

she's VERY interested in cryptozoology (the study of cryptids) and mythical creatures

very outgoing (although not as much as Webby is)

keeps the secret of Fenton's life as Gizmoduck even though she doesn't have to (when she found out she was very excited)

her and Fenton have several nicknames for each other

loves hanging out with the triplets, Webby and Lena (I'd add Violet too but I haven't gotten a chance to watch her episodes yet so idk what she's like personality-wise)

similar to Dewey she wants to find out what happened to her and Fenton's dad

has misophonia (like me! I think I have it? idk lol)

enjoyer of vintage and older music (especially the possible calisota/duckberg-verse equivalent of The Beatles)

dislikes Mark as much as Scrooge and Glomgold do

kinda sassy but mostly only around The Mcduck residents, Fenton & Gyro

(ill make a sequel post soon with more facts and her design!)

[dilvei]

Can you make yandere male dark prince who notices that his male fiance tries to run away from him?

𝐰𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 ( y! dark prince x m! fiancée reader )

yandere! prince x male! fiancée reader

warnings:

attempted murder

slight animal cruelty

choking

biting/marking

mention of blood

thank you for requesting <3 this went to a much darker route than intended tbh, because this guy kept getting worse in each draft I wrote lmfao. hopefully, you enjoy this since you did specify that the prince had a dark personality mwah mwah 💐💐 ( also imagine the face claim above has a big scar on the left side of the face heh ) 😈

big thanks to @kierahn for beta reading this for me <3 would not have noticed that much mistakes oof. 🌈🌈 kier writes yummy male reader stuff too so check out their blog guys! 💗💗💗💗

✾ | an arranged marriage comes with all sorts of expectations, especially when one is betrothed to a prince from a far larger, wealthier kingdom; his realm abound with riches and harvests, while yours struggle even to survive the winter.

✾ | the arrangement was made when you were both children. in exchange for this future union, your kingdom receives substantial aid from the neighboring realm, including its wealth and crops to sustain your people.

✾ | naturally, everyone was overjoyed by this news. a sad thing it is then, that the prince you are to marry falls short of your expectations.

✾ | not that he wasn't a handsome boy—the second prince is actually a bit more handsome than his elder brother—but the fact that he tried to kill you the first time you met him overshadowed any charm he might have possessed.

✾ | your memory blurs as to how it all went so, so wrong, but it's safe to say that it started when the prince, Lucien, held a small bird between his palms.

✾ | it was a cute little thing, as small as a teacup, with baby blue wings and a stout beak that chirped so sweetly as it looked up at the two of you.

✾ | you recall expressing a desire to keep it, to have its sweet chirping greet you each morning as a reminder of this meeting you share with him—you did not realize what a mistake it was to say such a thing.

✾ | with a fond smile directed at you, Lucien snapped the bird’s wing bone, ignoring its agonized cries as droplets of blood seeped through his small, boyish fingers.

✾ | you saw red. you pounced, lunging at Lucien. your nails scratched at his arms as he finally lets go of the bird, letting it fall to the ground.

✾ | he blinked, confused. “why?” he asked, dodging a blow. he didn’t understand why you were so angry, but you didn’t care to explain.

✾ | the two of you brawled, rolling on the ground as dirt and blood mixed together. but then, lucien grabbed a rock. he hesitated, if only for a moment.

✾ | you dodged, but not fast enough. a sharp pain tore through the corner of your lip, leaving a dark red gash blooming on the right side of your face.

✾ | the pain was sharp, but the sight of Lucien’s detached expression hurt more.

✾ | as anger welled up inside you, you reached for a rock of your own, gripping it tightly as you quickly decided to return the favor back to your future husband.

✾ | the stone connected with Lucien’s left cheek, and he screamed, staggering back. blood gushed down his face, a jagged cut marring his skin, the tip of it almost reaching his left eye.

✾ | the bird’s pained cries was the only sound that dared to break the uneasy silence that followed.

✾ | when your parents, and his, finally discovered the state the two of you were in, it was a truly a miracle in itself that the agreement continued, much to your overwhelming surprise.

✾ | you had no idea that it was Lucien himself who insisted on keeping the arrangement intact. you did not see the dark, almost hungry stare the boy directed at you as you gently picked up the silent bird.

✾ | years passed, seven to be exact, and the time has finally come for you to marry Lucien in a week’s time.

✾ | throughout the years, you’ve kept a close watch on him through your network of spies. and well, the reports have not been favorable, to say the least.

✾ | they say many things about him, but you grasp the essence of it quickly enough. how violence is etched into his very soul, how hatred always lingered on the tip of his tongue, how cruelty danced gleefully at the center of his heart.

✾ | the ugly scar on his face matched his equally ugly personality quite well, they say. and if you were a better man, you would have, perhaps, disagreed at such slander. but in the end, you only let a mirthful laugh escape your lips.

✾ | to be forever bound to such a person… you can’t even bear to imagine something so repulsive. there is no way you'll allow yourself to be married off to such a cruel, unpredictable man.

✾ | you seek to escape from this sham of an arrangement, but your parents refused to listen, and you don't think his will either. so in the end, running away seems like the best option available, and with what remains of your time, you plan.

✾ | there is much fanfare the day you and your family arrive in the neighboring kingdom, a day before the wedding. and while your family appears joyous at this, you feel the exact opposite.

✾ | when you finally set foot inside the palace, you find it amusing that his parents, with tired expressions, immediately inform you that the second prince cannot be found and that you will meet him at dinner instead.

✾ | you have an inkling of his whereabouts, thanks to the rumors you’ve heard countless times. at this hour, Lucien would most likely be in the brothels, sating his boredom to everyone's utter exhaustion and dismay.

✾ | but what you don’t understand are the strange rumors that he would always choose those who look most… like you. unsure of how to process this information, you’ve always chosen to ignore it.

✾ | as dinner time approaches, the table is set with dishes as lavish as you imagined, smoky meat, delicious gravy, and an array of mouthwatering sides.

✾ | a shame that you lost your appetite the moment you set eyes on the man that will become your future husband—a fate you’re determined to change, no matter what it takes.

✾ | although rumors depict your future husband as a scarred man, the scar you inflicted only accentuates his handsome features. it is infuriating, to say the least.

✾ | and though his appearance may have changed significantly, you have no doubt that he still harbors the same cruelty as the boy you met seven years ago.

✾ | and you stand corrected, as that night, he visits you in your chambers, shrouded in darkness, just as you were preparing to escape.

The first thing he says to you is your name.

"[Name]."

His voice is low, like the soft rumble of distant thunder, and you frown as your hands tighten around the bag full of your belongings—the very bag you were preparing to carry with you on your escape.

"Leaving so soon?" he continues when you make no sound to reply, taking a slow, deliberate step closer, and then another, until he stands right in front of you. "Without... me?"

He towers over you, easily.

You purse your lip, defiantly raising your chin as your mind scrambles for a way to escape him, to escape Lucien. "And why would you even care? We're practically strangers at best." And enemies at worst. For you have scarred each other, permanently marked the other with a wound that will never fade.

"Of course I care. We are to wed tomorrow. I will be yours, and you will be mine,” he says, the words settling between you like a promise, like a binding chain.

You scoff in disgust. "Wedding? Oh, please, this arrangement means nothing to us!" You stare into his eyes, blue as the deepest part of the midnight ocean. "You don't love me, Lucien, and I certainly don't love you."

Suddenly, his hand shoots out to grip onto yours, forcing you to release your bag. The strength of his grip hurts.

“You— Let go!” you shout, struggling against the pressure of his hold.

Lucien leans in, his breath eerily mingling with yours. This close, you can see the scar more clearly—an ugly, jagged line marring his otherwise unblemished, smooth skin.

“Do not put false words on my lips, [Name].” His tone carries the soft amusement of a gentle lover, yet there’s an unmistakable undertone—a dark compulsion, an obsession that lies right beneath the surface. “When have I ever said that I do not love you?”

Those words chill you to the core more than the coldest night winds ever could, settling into your bones with a penetrating dread that refuses to dissipate.

You can't believe what you're hearing. You can't believe his words. And so you say the only thing that comes to mind even though you know that it isn't true.

"You lie, Lucien."

He grips you tighter.

"You are a liar," you snarl, "and you are a fool if you think I would ever believe such a thing. Did you really think… those words would sway me? You think I haven't heard of your constant visits to those brothels?!"

Unexpectedly, his other hand moves to thread through your hair, soothing, but also unmistakably mocking, highlighted by the faux smile adorned on his face.

You allow it to happen, even though his every touch feels like a dangerous gamble. Because you know the man in front of you has grown to become the worst version of himself.

"I missed you. I could not have you, not yet anyway, so I sought what was available to me. I would not tarnish you, not until our wedding night," he says.

"Lies. Lies. Lies. Are you mocking me, Lucien? Are you? Just how naive do you think I am? Just how foolish? Such words do not soothe me. It is the exact opposite!"

You move, whispering into his ear. "Your very presence disgust me."

Suddenly, his fingers tighten in your hair, pulling your faces closer as pain shoots through your scalp, causing your breath to hitch. "Making me angry will not change my mind, [Name]."

"I don't care how you fucking feel. I'm leaving!" you say as you push against him with your hand, demanding him to release you.

He does, but both his hands swiftly shift to your neck, tightening around it and choking you as you now struggle to breathe.

"You can't leave. Don't be stupid. There's no boat waiting for you outside these walls. No one out there will help you escape," he whispers slowly. "Not when they're all dead, that is."

Shit. How did he know that? You've always been careful with your plans, and this one has been the most careful yet. Has he been keeping tabs on you without you knowing?

"It’s not fair, [Name]. I’ve waited a long time for you. I’ve been patient, have I not? I haven’t taken you away from your kingdom because of this patience. I’ve endured your cruel jeers because of this patience.”

He slams you onto the bed, his hand still painfully stealing your breath away. You claw at his grip, panic consuming your mind, but Lucien remains indifferent to your struggle, his expression cold and unyielding as he watches your desperate attempts to break free.

“I’ve been patient, because when we finally wed—and oh we will—you will be entirely mine.”

You don’t understand his persistence. Why is he so fixated on this? He can’t possibly want to marry you—he just can’t.

With all the strength you can muster, you punch him squarely in the face, hitting the scar you left him with years ago. He groans and releases you.

You sit up, clutching your throat as you struggle to speak. “Are you insane? You tried to kill me years ago! Why would I want to marry you, you lunatic?”

He lunges at you.

All of it is a blur of pain and punches, but the outcome is clear in the end—you’ve lost. Now, he looms over you on the bed, his fingers jammed painfully down your throat, silencing any further protests.

When you move to bite his fingers, he thrusts them deeper, choking you and cutting off your airflow once again.

"Don’t say such mean things to me, [Name]. I don’t like hearing them. And I’m certain you wouldn’t like it either if you were in my position.”

Tears well up in the corners of your eyes as you kick and punch desperately, struggling against his unyielding grip.

Lucien suddenly shifts his position, his expression darkening with a predatory focus.

Then— he sinks his teeth into your throat with a savage intensity. Blood wells up and spills over, warm and sticky against your skin. You scream at the sensation.

He licks the crimson liquid with a slow, deliberate motion, savoring the taste of you.

"This is where you belong, [Name]. Beneath me, and all, all mine—only mine. You were promised to me and I will not let anything get in the way of that."

The pleasure in his eyes is twisted, and then his teeth press deeper, the pain more insistent, sending shivers through your body.

He pulls back momentarily, his tongue tracing the bloody trail he has left.

As he licks the wound clean, a shocking realization flickers across his face. A laugh escapes him, first soft and incredulous, then growing louder and louder, mocking you.

Lucien grins.

“Well, would you look at that? You’re hard too,” he says, his tone fond. "I knew it. I always knew you were the one."

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your bloodied skin. You try to reply, but only a groan escapes as his finger still presses deeply into your throat.

"It’s a shame, but we should save that for tomorrow, beloved. Our true kiss should also be for then." He licks your neck again, and you shiver. "I’ve been patient for long. I can wait another day.”

And finally— he lets go.

You cough, stifling the urge to vomit as he slowly backs away from you in unhinged glee. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, oh future husband of mine.”

( It’s fine that you do not love him; he has made peace with that. Lucien knows that he can love enough for the both of you. )

As he finally leaves your room, an eerie silence fills your mind. Your body is wracked with chills, and sweat runs down your back as you close your eyes.

One thing is certain: You need a new plan, and fast.

[flawseer]

Jade Mountain Academy students

#6 - Skywing chapter

I like Skywings a lot actually. I think they were underutilized in the story. And then there is Flame. Poor, lovable Flame. One day I would like to write a more in-depth think piece on him, his character, and his role in the story. But not today, so here are some Skywings:

Carnelian

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - Jade

Color - Tomato red

Relatives - none on site

Clawmate(s) - Moonwatcher (Nightwing), Kinkajou (Rainwing)

Favorite subject - Exercise

Least fav. subject - Science

Physical characteristics - tan horns, bendy; banded markings running down upper neck; light to medium scarring across face, neck, and limbs; medium to large stature, well-defined musculature

Other characteristics - selectively uncooperative, refuses to do assignments that annoy her (monitor for now); abrasive, three reported threats of violence against students (monitored, suggest expanding physical extracurricular options to burn off excess energy); appears to respond well to praise

Flame

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - Gold

Color - Crimson red

Relatives - none on site

Clawmate(s) - Bigtail (Nightwing), Pike (Seawing)

Favorite subject - did not disclose

Least fav. subject - "All of them"

Physical characteristics - double-bent horns; black dorsal plates and accents; large, jagged scar running across left side of the face, intersecting the eye; blind in left eye; medium size with thin, wiry frame

Other characteristics - very uncooperative, refuses to do assignments and has poor attendance record (monitored, suggest counseling, consider withdrawing from student body if behavior does not improve); emotionally volatile, does not like eye contact, will react with hostility if stared at or if facial scar is mentioned (suggest counseling); shows signs of post traumatic stress and severe self image issues (suggest counseling); has turned down counseling offer (give space for now, ask again later)

Thrush

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - Silver

Color - Apricot yellow

Relatives - Peregrine (cousin)

Clawmate(s) - Changbai (Icewing), Boto (Rainwing)

Favorite subject - History

Least fav. subject - Anatomy

Physical characteristics - straight horns; row of dark scales running down ventral side of neck; beak-like mouth; smallish stature, small-boned

Other characteristics - decent work ethic; very energetic, difficulty to sit still; eager to prove personal competence; frequently interrupts people while they're speaking (suggest guidance and monitoring)

Peregrine

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - Copper

Color - Brick red

Relatives - Thrush (cousin)

Clawmate(s) - Pronghorn (Sandwing)

Favorite subject - Anatomy

Least fav. subject - Art

Physical characteristics - dark-colored stripe patterns running down the side of the neck; long limbs; medium to large stature with slender features; deaf in left ear

Other characteristics - practically-inclined; morbid sense of humor; tends to play with food before eating; owns a collection of small, sharpened animal bones (has been instructed not to bring them to class); expressed interest in a class/seminar about medicinal herbs

Garnet

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - Quartz

Color - Amaranth red

Relatives - none on site

Clawmate(s) - Siamang (Rainwing), Arid (Sandwing)

Favorite subject - History

Least fav. subject - Cultural Exchange

Physical characteristics - sharply bent horns curving inward; ridge of thorn-like spines running from nose down to tip of tail; light scarring across ventral side; large frame with well-defined musclulature

Other characteristics - morose; does not like loud noises or crowds; prefers to eat alone; longest fire-breathing distance; notable age-gap to rest of winglet (no issues so far, but continue to monitor social integration)

Peril

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - not assigned

Color - Tiger orange

Relatives - none on site

Clawmate(s) - none

Favorite subject - class attendance suspended

Least fav. subject - class attendance suspended

Physical characteristics - afflicted with firescales, body emits dangerous levels of heat at all times; scales show faint fiery glow like embers; bright yellow vein-like pattern spread through wing membranes; bright blue eyes; tall stature, very thin

Other characteristics - CAUTION! Do not come in physical contact with her, severe burn hazard; instruct student body to keep minimum distance; be mindful of surfaces she was in prolonged contact with, as they could carry residual heat; keep away from flammable areas; we don't know what to do with her yet, for now just give her a place to sleep and eat

[acciotaitlynn]

⤷ xavierxrafayelxzaynexsylusxreader

⤷ sexual content, 18+, oral; ꒰f&m receiving꒱ angst, too much alpha-energy for 1 room, booby zayne & booty zayne, unprotected sex, cum literally everywhere, spoilers to myths if u kno, sub reader, vagsex, marking/claiming, fingering, rimming, anal, alotta sobbing, so dumb. so wordy it looks like i think im smart. so long but plot flew away in mephistos beak. sorry for the semi abrupt ending but it had to stop. xavier leads the hierarchy

⤷ 15k words ꒰pretty sure i was possessed꒱

this went so far in a direction—dont @ me—ill say I didn't write it (¬_¬")

⟡₊ ⊹

You were nestled against Xavier, his thighs and arms enveloping you, a serene sigh escaping your lips as his tongue danced lazily with yours, Your fingers tangled in his hair, while the soft candlelight and sparkling string lights surrounding you created a seductive ambiance that left you feeling delightfully light-headed.Lost in the moment, you could barely register Rafayel’s presence as he traced playful shapes along your sensitive thighs, delighting in the goosebumps rising under his touch. Zayne’s presence was equally faint, as he watched from a reserved distance, still contemplating his participation in the scene unfolding before him. 

Xavier wanted nothing more to kick the other two men out of his apartment—your apartment—the one you shared with him. Despite being tied to the others by fate too, you had still chosen Xavier above anyone else, even over Sylus, with his cocky attitude and possessive grip on you. Honestly—the only thing working in Xavier’s favor tonight was Sylus’s absence. Xavier didn’t have to constantly remind the man, through every interaction with you, that he was your favorite—a truth the notorious leader of Onychinus would never accept without a fight.

Xavier knew that if Sylus had been here, there was no way he could endure the sight of the man’s hands on you. Sure, Rafayel’s lingering touches on your skin made him uneasy—you responded to Rafayel with a passion far too close to what you shared with Xavier—but there was something about the man with the glowing red irises that grated on Xavier like nothing else. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder if you had purposely not invited Sylus tonight because you knew how much Xavier despised the man.

Despite the discomfort simmering inside him though, Xavier couldn’t suppress the growing arousal as he watched you respond so eagerly to Rafayel’s playful touches. With Rafayel’s teasing fingers gliding across your inner thighs, you couldn’t help but silently thank the gods for this long-awaited night, one you had once resigned to being nothing more than a dream. You could practically feel Xavier’s unease thickening the air though, and you silently prayed to those same gods that he’d find a way to relax soon. You knew Xavier was doing this for you alone—you’d lost track of how many times you had casually mentioned how much you wanted this. When he’d finally agreed, you had nearly told him you’d changed your mind—the last thing you ever wanted was to hurt him. But the thought of having Rafayel, Xavier, and Zayne all showing you their love at once was a temptation too powerful to ignore.

You gazed at Rafayel, nearly losing yourself in his sunset-colored eyes. “So, cutie, ready to get started?" Rafayel’s voice dripped with eagerness, and he silently congratulated himself on his performance. Truthfully, Rafayel was almost as uneasy about the situation as Xavier, and likely Zayne too, who’s watchful eyes bore into Rafayel as he spoke to you. But Rafayel believed he was set apart from the other two men—he was wholeheartedly devoted to making this night fulfill your every dream. Plus, he couldn’t ignore how the sight of you blushing from their collective attention, your quick, shallow breaths escaping your parted lips, and the lust shimmering in your wide eyes made his cock harden almost instantly. So, Rafayel cleared his mind, dismissing all his lingering worries as he centered his attention entirely on you. “I’m going to enjoy you first, and I want you to show these two just how incredible I make you feel, yeah?” Rafayel despised the way your gaze darted to Zayne, how your body momentarily tensed against Xavier before you finally nodded softly at his words. You weren’t ready for the guilt that washed over you at Rafayel’s blunt demand— you knew what he had mentioned was inevitable, but it still made you feel a little sorry for how it might affect them. "Stop this," you silently chided yourself—what you wanted more than anything was unfolding right before your eyes, and here you were, ruining your mood with thoughts you’d already prepared for.

In that moment, you mirrored Rafayel's actions, clearing your mind and concentrating entirely on the man in front of you. You sat up and reached for Rafayel, cradling his face in your hands as you kissed him softly. “I can still taste myself on you, princess.” The way his eyes sparkled made you relax instantly, your heart racing in response to his heated gaze. His lips returned to yours, and you tangled your fingers in his hair as he kissed you again, this time with more passion. His tongue twirled with yours as you lifted his shirt, tossing it aside carelessly. “Couldn’t resist stripping me down again, huh?” Rafayel teased with a playful smirk, and you couldn’t help but nod shyly, a grin spreading across your face. “That’s okay, I couldn’t wait to get you out of yours, either.” That had been obvious—Rafayel had nearly torn your dress and panties off the moment he stepped into the apartment. He showered your skin with open-mouthed kisses, his mouth a mix of tongue and teeth, leaving tiny bruises to subtly convey to the others that you were his more than theirs. Rafayel deliberately positioned one beside your exquisite cunt, a smirk spreading across his face as he admired his masterpiece—Rafayel wanted it to drive the others wild, taunting them from the corner of their eye as they watched their cocks sliding in and out of you. After taking one final satisfied glance at what he deemed his finest creation, he hummed softly and drew a flat line up your cunt, groaning at the taste of you.

Xavier struggled to keep still, his erection nearing discomfort at the sight of Rafayel’s tongue moving in and out of you, your breasts arching up so beautifully in Xavier’s face. Unable to resist, he took your peaked nipple between his fingers, pinching it gently to earn a sweet little whimper from you. Suddenly, his breath was brushing against your ear, his tongue gliding along its curve as he drew you tighter against him. 

Well, there it was, Zayne thought—your hunter had finally given in.

Zayne had secretly wagered on this moment, betting that Xavier would storm Zayne and Rafayel out the door the instant one of them touched you. When it became evident that wouldn’t happen, Zayne figured at the very least Xavier would stay uncomfortable and distant throughout the entire situation. As Xavier’s hands finally found your breasts, his eyes filled with lust, Zayne felt a heaviness settle in his chest—he truly didn’t want to be the only one feeling uneasy about all of this, and he was certain the ice in his heart at the scene before him wouldn’t thaw. He honestly had no idea what had possessed him to say yes to this. You had consulted him and Rafayel about the idea before approaching Xavier—the man you had picked over the both of them, a reality that the annoying Lemurian before you adamantly denied. Yes, Zayne had come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t the most important man in your life—at least, he couldn’t shake that feeling—but what truly irritated him was that Rafayel appeared to be a close second in the hierarchy of affection among your four lovers. As he observed how you responded to the other two showering you with their love, Zayne couldn’t help but notice that the passion you gave the two of them was nearly equal.

Zayne's emotionless gaze met yours as you looked up at him from the bed, your face glowing with bliss. You reached out toward him, longing in your gesture. Your voice was soft as you called his name, your big eyes filled with a silent question. Zayne closed his eyes and sighed deeply. The moment had arrived—Zayne knew he inevitably might have to take part in this charade, yet the dread that surged within him at the sound of your voice, a voice that usually soothed him like nothing else, was unbearable. He slowly pulled himself upright, each motion strained with a heaviness that made your heart clench painfully. Suddenly, nothing else mattered except the overwhelming desire to ease Zayne's worries, no matter the cost. You loved him just as fiercely as you did Xavier, Sylus, and Rafayel—something Zayne never seemed to fully believe, despite your countless efforts to show him. A deep intuition whispered to you that the others held the same belief about their bond with you. All of your lovers seemed incapable of confronting the truth that lived deep within your heart. Part of the reason you’d wanted to share your love with them at the same time was the quiet hope that your unwavering passion, equally spread between them, would finally help them see the truth and ease their fears.

Rafayel's voice broke through your thoughts. "No faaair," he grumbled, his pout firmly in place as he glared at you. "You promised I'd get to make you come first! How am I supposed to do that if you pull away?" You  flashed him a playful smile. "Sorry, Raf. I just really need Zayne right now." Rafayel’s pout deepened as he muttered something under his breath, turning away but staying close—his resolve to not stray more than a body's length from you for the night was clear.

You were pleasantly surprised to find Xavier still leaning back against the headboard, his hooded eyes filled with both lust and a deep adoration as they followed your every move. Your smile widened, warmth blooming in your heart. It made you happy to see Xavier so relaxed, even more so to realize he was truly enjoying the moment. He didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by your shift toward Zayne or by the intensity of your desire for the man—jealousy stirred faintly in Xavier, but it was quickly overrun by desire as he waited to see what you would do next.

Zayne stood in front of you. You couldn’t help but notice that your confession of needing his touch above the others had brought a little light back into his eyes. And Zayne couldn’t help but notice that perhaps your eyes truly did gaze at him with the same heat they had bestowed upon Rafayel and Xavier. Perhaps it was this growing connection that made him allow you to unbuckle his belt, sliding his pants down to reveal his slowly hardening cock.

Your fingers trailed gently along Zayne's length, your face painted with pure desire as you leaned in, taking him into the warmth of your mouth. Zayne couldn’t suppress the groan that rumbled from deep within him. As your tongue and lips worked their magic, his erection grew hard and throbbing, his body finally surrendering to the pleasure. Sensing Zayne's shift, you became more eager, your movements more deliberate. Settling onto the bed, you prepared to fully focus on Zayne, but no sooner had you gotten comfortable than your ass was lifted into the air, followed by a playful smack. When you turned, you found Xavier behind you, a slow smile playing on his lips. At some point, he had shed his clothes, sitting back behind you as his hand slowly pumped his erection. A bead of precum slid down the side of his cock, the sight sending a rush of heat through you. Instinctively, your back arched, offering yourself to him without hesitation. In an instant, Xavier's length was gliding smoothly through your folds, instinctively seeking out and nestling inside your warmth. He let out a quiet huff as he bottomed out, his gaze shifting from your glistening cunt to your eyes. “Don’t let me stop you,” he murmured, his hips starting a slow, tantalizing rhythm.

Zayne hated that a small smile crept across his lips at Xavier’s comment, but the second your mouth wrapped around Zayne again, that irritation vanished. He had to admit, this was better than he’d expected. The way you were so intent on him, the muffled moans as you struggled to take all of him, stirred something deep in Zayne. Before long, he found himself leaning into your enthusiasm, enjoying the sight of you grinding against Xavier while still keeping your focus on him. Though he’d never say it openly, Zayne felt a certain satisfaction at the thought of Xavier being the one to bring you to climax first tonight— if Zayne himself wouldn’t have that pleasure, then Xavier was the most suitable choice—Zayne found solace in the certainty that the Lemurians ever-present smirk would fade, no matter the outcome. Such a silly, juvenile motion was unlike him, Zayne mused, questioning once again if his affection for you was gradually leading him to madness.

Zayne concentrated on you—enchanted by the gentle waves of ripples across your skin as Xavier’s languid, purposeful thrusts led the rhythm. The captivating sway of your breasts beneath you was practically a siren’s call for Zayne—his fingers aching to tease the hardened buds with firm, loving caresses. “I’m going to come now,” he said, his voice a low, smooth timbre that sent shivers down your spine. Gathering your hair at the top of your head, Zayne’s other hand gently tilted your face to grant his cock the perfect angle. “Will you take it all for me?” he murmured, his words making your body hum as you nodded fervently around him. “Good girl.” and with that, Zayne took control, his grip on your hair keeping you steady as he tenderly claimed your mouth.

From his spot at the end of the bed, Rafayel watched with keen eyes, immediately picking up on the signs of your approaching climax. Feeling no guilt whatsoever, he took his cock in hand and began to stroke himself slowly, savoring the sight of your building pleasure.

Xavier could feel himself unraveling, teetering closer and closer to the edge. He wondered if something was wrong with him—how your eagerness at the doctor’s words had sent him spiraling toward release so quickly. The moment Zayne’s hips stuttered, his cum spurting in thick ropes down your throat as he buried himself deep, Xavier couldn’t hold back any longer—his cock pulsed violently as he came, his breath catching at the sensation of your pussy tightening around him, almost painfully, as you found your own release.

The sensation of both Zayne and Xavier coming inside you at once had you tumbling over the edge. Your orgasm hit hard, pussy spasming uncontrollably as your body writhed against Xavier, while you greedily swallowed every last drop of Zayne’s cum.

Zayne was engulfed in the aftershocks of his orgasm, a wave of ecstasy so intense that he wondered how his heart could still be beating. Yet, a deep, insatiable hunger lingered within him, one that a single climax couldn’t satisfy. Zayne instinctively nudged Xavier aside, flipping you onto your back and pulling your legs to your chest as he aligned the tip of his cock with your entrance. He marveled at the sight of your and Xavier's combined release spilling from your still-quivering walls. Shock coursed through Zayne as he slid inside—you had never been this wet before. Perhaps that was one perk of this absurd situation, he thought. His thrusts were wild and messy now, dripping with lust, as he created the most scandalous sounds, each pump drowning in the copious amounts of cum slicking around inside you.

Xavier's eyes drifted to Rafayel. Xavier thought he noticed a bit of pain lurking in Rafayel's gaze —betraying an emotion Rafayel was trying to suppress. Without fully understanding why, Xavier found himself rising to his feet and crossing the room. The narrowing of Rafayel’s eyes betrayed his suspicion of Xavier's intentions, but Xavier merely nodded toward you. “There’s an open spot,” Xavier said before taking a place on the couch.

From the moment he woke up with his cock snuggled warmly inside you, to the ambush in the shower as you deftly slipped through the curtain to take him between your lips—you had been steadily depleting Xavier’s energy reserves all day. So for now, he was content to sit back and watch, indulging in his own pleasure. He couldn’t believe how much this was thrilling him—Xavier was completely captivated by the sight of you, more euphoric than he’d ever seen. You practically trembled with bliss, giving your all to bring them pleasure, and succeeding far beyond your own understanding.

You writhed beneath Zayne, his chest pressing your legs tightly against you as he thrust into you relentlessly, but you caught the silent exchange between Rafayel and Xavier—a moment that made your heart soar. You recognized the significance of Xavier’s subtle gesture toward you; you knew the sacrifice he made for Rafayel was not easy, yet your heart overflowed with love for Xavier for doing it all for you. Rafayel approached the edge of the bed almost hesitantly, his eyes locking with Zayne’s. “Mind if I move her closer?” he asked, his tone light but betraying the effort it took to even ask. It grated on Rafayel—the idea of seeking permission from another man when it came to you was something he despised. Zayne’s lips thinned in clear disapproval, but with a curt nod, he pulled back for just a moment, allowing Rafayel to gently guide you toward the edge. Your eyes were shining with love as Rafayel bent to kiss you softly, his lips barely brushing yours before his hands cradled your face. “You are, without question, the most breathtaking creation I’ve ever seen, cutie.” his voice was soft and sincere, and tears pooled in your eyes from the emotion in his words. He continued, “I’ll be honored to enhance this work of art,” his hands moved down to trace the curves of your lips, a promise of what was to come. “When I’m done with this flawless face, it’ll be nothing short of a masterpiece.” Your head tilted back as Rafayel pressed the tip of his cock to your lips, the silent demand impossible to ignore. You responded instantly, craving the sensation of him driving himself down your throat. Rafayel tore his gaze from you, turning to Zayne with a smirk. “Since you snatched away my opportunity to be the first to have my face wrecked by our princess’s exquisite release, how about a little competition?” Zayne sighed deeply, directing a lethal stare at Rafayel. Unfazed, Rafayel continued, “Of course, she’ll be running the show.” his words were punctuated by a sharp flick to your nipple. “Simple—first one to come loses.” Zayne glared at him, eyes emotionless. “You are easily the most immature individual I have ever encountered.” Zayne had frozen inside you the moment Rafayel voiced his playful challenge, but now he resumed his movements, a surprising, silent acceptance of Rafayel's absurd proposal.

Rafayel's attention was back on you, his hand moving to massage small, deliberate circles on your clit. “Bet you won’t be able to hold it together when she comes hard around your cock,” he taunted Zayne, his voice dripping with amusement. your core clenched painfully under Rafayel's touch, and though part of you wanted to be strong for Zayne, you knew Rafayel was right—Zayne always lost control when you came while wrapped tight around him, and you could already feel your release inching closer. Zayne brushed Rafayel's hand aside, while his hand replaced Rafayel’s on your slick heat. “While that may be true, I’d wager you won’t last either when her throat tightens around you. We both know how good it feels when she chokes on your cock.” Rafayel seethed in silence—Zayne wasn’t wrong. Even now, Rafayel could feel his own release nearing, barely able to restrain himself as he watched you whimper with each of Zayne’s thrusts, your mouth working Rafayel eagerly—spit and his own arousal trailing down your face as you struggled to take him deeper.

In that instant, Rafayel realized he didn’t care who won the challenge. Zayne’s annoyance alone was reward enough. He lazily traced his fingers over one of the marks he’d left on your skin. “What do you say, cutie? Ready to make us feel incredible?” Your eager nod around Rafayel's cock made him smile. “Then go ahead—come for us. Show us how beautiful you look when you come undone.” His words were like fuel to the fire. You could barely recognize the needy whimpers and groans spilling from you—louder and more desperate than usual, saturating the room. Flattening your tongue against Rafayel's cock, you tightened your throat as much as you could, feeling him throb inside you. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, and your body trembled as you instinctively tightened around Zayne. Your second climax of the night was approaching quickly, even faster than you had expected—you could hardly handle the sensations of their hands on your body, of them moving inside you—the pleasure they were giving you was so intense it felt all-consuming. Your hands grasped Rafayel’s thighs, squeezing tightly as you pulled him closer, driving him impossibly deeper into your throat, his balls slapping you gently on the nose with each of his thrusts. Before Rafayel could process it, hot ropes of cum erupted from his cock, as his eyes greedily took in the sight of your pussy tightly gripping Zayne. It was a sight Rafayel never imagined would send him spiraling into an orgasm so intense it felt like it fractured his whole world.

The atmosphere shifted the instant Sylus stepped into the room; the air fell thick and heavy with the simmering anger emanating from the other three men. Unfazed, Rafayel continued to thrust, intent on forcing the infuriating man’s attention as you eagerly swallowed Rafayel’s cum. Sylus observed with a sense of detachment as Rafayel attempted to provoke him, an endeavor that amused Sylus greatly. He had no interest in the purple-haired man moving in your mouth or the one lost in your cunt, not even the one glaring at him from the couch.

your cunt that, no matter what anyone claimed, was rightfully Sylus’s. He felt this was clear in the way you instinctively pulled away from Zayne and Rafayel as soon as you sensed Sylus's presence. 

A smile stretched across your lips as your eyes met Sylus's, savoring the sight of him as if you hadn’t imagined that very face a dozen times tonight already. His broad, commanding hands had occupied your mind, even as your other lovers guided you to dizzying heights. Now that all four were here, it felt like the night had finally fallen into place. A chill shot through you, though, as you caught sight of Xavier. His eyes, full of fury, were locked on Sylus, whose possessive gaze on you stirred something dark in him.

Zayne and Rafayel were no better off than Xavier at the sight of the infamous leader of Onychinus standing at the door. they remained to the side, their arms folded and eyes narrowed—Zayne silently debating whether to demand Sylus leave. The only thing holding him back was the look on your face—you looked more content than he’d seen all night. Rafayel had noticed this too, so the two decided to stay back for now, allowing the situation to unfold. They watched as Xavier tracked Sylus’s every step toward you, knowing all too well the depth of Xavier’s hatred for the man—a loathing far more intense than their own. Zayne and Rafayel could only imagine how much harder this must be for him.

As Sylus reached you, he brushed his fingers through your hair with a soft, knowing smile. "Tell me, sweetie. How often did I cross your mind as they filled you?" His words made heat rise in your cheeks, but before you could stop yourself, your eyes lowered, and the truth slipped out in a whisper. "More times than I can count." Shame tinged your confession, but the weight lifted when Sylus gently tilted your chin, his thumb tracing your lower lip. You had braced yourself for Sylus to gloat, maybe even rub your confession in the others' faces. But instead, he only looked satisfied. His touch was gentle as he joined you on the bed, reclining against the headboard and pulling you close. His fingers playfully tickled your waist, coaxing a burst of laughter from you. You hadn’t expected this—you had feared Sylus might act differently in front of the others. But instead, he was treating you exactly as he always did, showing you the side of him that was usually just for you. Your heart overflowed with love, moved by the realization that all of your lovers were showing, in their own ways, your joy meant more to them than their rivalries or tension with one another.

You leaned back into Sylus’s chest, eyes dark with desire as you gazed up at him. Grabbing his hand, you guided it down your body, gliding  his long fingers through your slick heat and easing two of them inside you.  Sylus chuckled, brushing a searing kiss against your lips as his palm ground against you. “Well, well. Such a needy little kitten—seems like these gentlemen didn’t quite satisfy you.” You pulled back, fixing him with a pointed glare. “Wrong. Now quit talking and do what you’re here for. Like you so rudely mentioned, I’ve wanted this all night.” Sylus's deep laugh was a warm ripple over your skin, making your eyes flutter shut and your legs part even wider. Sylus obeyed, but his gaze flicked to your blue-eyed hunter. Beneath Sylus's confident exterior, he shared the same unspoken worry as the others—that no matter what, it was Xavier you loved most. Sylus had come to terms with that long ago, but he couldn’t deny the opportunity now before him—to show Xavier that, even if you loved him most, it was Sylus who could make your body tremble like no one else, unraveling you in ways only he could. The thought of teaching that same lesson to the other two men pleased Sylus—tonight, he had the rare privilege of schooling them all. Sylus had no hesitation about this encounter, nor did he care that he hadn’t been invited. He had strolled through the door with his usual confidence, fully aware that the reason for his exclusion was currently seated on the couch, wearing a look that warned Sylus not to push his luck. Sylus didn't even try to contain the slow grin that spread across his face as he looked at Xavier, fixing him with a stare that oozed superiority.

“Seems there’s an opening, dear hunter. Think you can keep your composure with your cock buried in her cunt, as my fingers trace her skin?” Xavier locked eyes with Sylus, his expression unreadable, as Xavier considered his next step. Xavier had to admit, your body was calling to him, the sight of you—so beautifully blissed out—glancing at him and giving a soft nod at Sylus’s suggestion had him faltering. Whatever Sylus's intentions, it didn’t matter; Xavier was caving fast. And, as every man in the room would agree; the irresistible lure of making the others watch as you came undone beneath their hands was too tempting to resist. He moved toward your perfect cunt, stroking himself as he prepared to enter your warmth. He had just begun to slip inside when Sylus’s voice shattered his thoughts of filling you completely. “I’ve got a special lesson for you, hunter,” Sylus drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “Pay close attention—you’re going to be a good student and memorize the way she falls apart in my arms, screaming my name, even while it’s your cock inside of her. And then, I want you to engrave it into that thick skull of yours—no one else can make her feel as good as I do.” Sylus shot a pointed glance at the other two men, earning an exaggerated eye roll from Rafayel and a cold, icy stare from Zayne. With a quiet curse, Xavier buried himself deep inside your heat, hips starting a steady rhythm; determined not to let Sylus steal even a second of this moment. Xavier's voice carried a low, dark murmur. “Picture this: she cries out my name as she shatters, my cock claiming every inch of her, and there you are—watching her squirm and whimper beneath me, her thoughts consumed solely by me; your presence all but forgotten.” Sylus chuckled, letting out a low whistle. “Would you look at that,” he drawled mockingly, “the hunter’s got claws too, almost as sharp as yours, kitten.” He poked your side playfully, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before returning his attention to Xavier. “Well, let’s see who wins this little wager, boy.” Sylus’s demeanor shifted instantly, teeth sinking into your neck, sucking and biting as if to erase any trace of the others, determined to claim every mark on your skin as his own.

Your eyes drank in the sight of Xavier, mesmerized by the delicate light that had appeared beneath his skin with his emotions, giving him an otherworldly glow. The subtle shadow in his eyes didn’t escape your notice. Slipping from Sylus’s arms, you reached out, drawing Xavier close. Your whispered words caressed his skin like the softest breeze. “You will always be my guiding starlight—the one I search for in the darkness.” The words surprised you as they left your lips. You’d truly had always believed you cherished all your lovers equally, yet this felt dangerously close to proving otherwise. You brushed the thought aside, determined not to let it linger, focusing instead on Xavier—the way his cerulean eyes widened in surprise at your words, their stunning depths the last thing you saw before his lips crashed against yours with sudden, overwhelming intensity.

Xavier recognized the unspoken confession in your words, even if you weren’t ready to acknowledge it yourself. He lifted you in his arms, pulling you close as you wrapped your legs around him, hands tangling in his hair. The sound that escaped you when Xavier thrust into your cunt was nothing short of sinful—a cry of pure need. He was so deep, filling you so completely, pressing all the right places until you were seeing stars, chanting his name like a prayer. He carried you to the wall, lips never parting from yours, your heart pounding as he leaned back, steadying himself so he could fully enjoy you. He had taken you to the farthest corner of the bedroom, putting as much space between you and the others as possible. The impulse to take you to another room altogether was strong, yet Xavier resisted, making a silent promise that he would have you all to himself before long. For now, he stayed where he was, grinding slowly into you, savoring the feel of your slick heat gripping him as your combined arousal trickled down his thighs. Xavier was certain you’d never felt better—so insanely wet; with Zayne's release and your own mixing with the precum Xavier steadily leaked. His cock slid in the slick mess, the obscene sounds making him dizzy with need.

Every one of Xavier’s senses was locked on you—your scent, the sound of your soft sobs, the sight of your tear-filled eyes brimming with love for him. The feel of your sweet cunt gripping him as you bounced in his arms, your body clinging to him with everything you had. Xavier barely had to do the work anymore; his hands simply held the curve of your ass as you rode him, a love-drunk expression spreading across your face, your eyes spilling over with tears. Xavier couldn’t help but think it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

The men glaring from across the room were distant memories, completely forgotten as you lost yourselves in each other. Nothing mattered except the way you moved around Xavier, the way he filled you so perfectly. Yes, you had completely lost yourselves in each other, so it was a shock to your system when Sylus appeared beside you, casually draping his arm on the wall above Xavier’s head. Sylus leaned down, his voice a low whisper in Xavier’s ear. “Did you really think you could take her from me that easily?” he clicked his tongue, ruffling Xavier’s hair, earning an impressively sharp glare in return. Sylus just chuckled under his breath, but something about the way Xavier looked at him now made Sylus pause. Sylus had long written Xavier off as a relic, a man past his prime—tired, weak, and no longer a threat. But there was nothing weak in Xavier’s eyes now. Sylus realized, perhaps for the first time, that if it came down to a fight for you, Xavier would be a formidable opponent. Sylus traced a finger along your jawline, pausing to take in the sight of you—your parted lips, the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, the way your body trembled as it eagerly welcomed Xavier’s cock. The sight of another man gripping your body, moving inside you, didn’t bother Sylus. No—Sylus’s attention was solely on you, on the sheer pleasure radiating from your every movement. The intensity of it had him undoing his pants, freeing his throbbing cock. He gripped it tightly, stroking slowly as his gaze remained locked on you. He propped himself back over Xavier, watching you with a steady, unreadable gaze—except for one unmistakable emotion: tenderness, that softness he showed only to you.

Sylus's voice was deep and taunting as he spoke to Xavier—"How do you expect me to hear her say your name from all the way over here—assuming it’s yours she’s calling out?  I doubt you’ll make her whine it loudly enough for me to notice from across the room." Xavier bristled at Sylus's proximity, at the infuriating comment, and the quiet, assertive dominance Sylus exuded as he stood tall over the both of you. But you refused to let the awkwardness weigh you down—instead, you rode Xavier with purpose, almost sighing in relief when he gave in, greedily taking your nipple into his warm mouth. You were moving together now, Xavier's deep thrusts matching your wild bounces on his length. Sylus exhaled a low, appreciative whistle, “Well, kitten, just how much cream did you indulge in today? You’re drenching your precious hunters cock with an impressive overflow.” His tone was a rich, seductive purr. “Perhaps you should pause and compose yourself. After all, the rest of us are quite parched, too.” His words sparked a smile on your lips and a mischievous glint in your eye, you shifted slightly, directing your playful banter towards Zayne and Rafayel across the room. “Could you two join us? I want you all close this time. I want all eyes on Xavier as he breaks.” Zayne sighed heavily at your words, trailing slowly behind Rafayel, who couldn’t resist obeying you, the pull of your bond tugging at his heart.

You locked eyes with Xavier, your tone playful.  “Please,” you teased, “let them see how gorgeous you look when I make you come undone.” Your words were a sly dig at the ones that had echoed around you all night. A deep blush colored Xavier’s cheeks as you continued softly. “Let’s come together, okay?” His only response was a soft smile and a gentle nod before his lips claimed yours, pulling you tightly against him. The moment Xavier’s lips touched yours, he was lost in you again, his hands gripping your ass with such force that you could already imagine the bruises they would leave. Your name was a whispered prayer on his lips as they traveled across your skin, spurring you to move faster, harder, desperate to make Xavier feel the same pleasure he was giving you.

Lust coated your voice as you called out the names of each of your lovers, each one rolling off your tongue with as much reverence as the last. Xavier’s mouth found your breast when you whispered Zayne’s name, your head tipping back in bliss. “Rafayel.” His name came out soft, full of passion and need. Sylus growled when you cried out for him, the lust in your voice unmistakable as your hands fisted tightly in Xavier’s hair.

You locked eyes with Xavier, holding his gaze as the tightness in your core built. “So close, Xav,” you whispered breathlessly, the sound of your voice pushing him even closer to the edge. You continued riding him, kissing him with abandon as your muscles began to contract, a wave of heat shooting up your spine. "Come for me, angel," Xavier murmured, his gentle words a sharp contrast to the intensity of his movements. Xavier's use of your favorite pet name, spoken so lovingly, had you tumbling over the edge. His name escaped your lips in a sob as you were taken over by an orgasm so intense it felt you might break from the sheer pleasure, a flood of bliss drenching Xavier’s cock.

A soft, disbelieving laugh escaped his lips—Xavier was certain you had never squirted before, and the realization that he had been the first filled him with pride. His voice was a teasing melody as he spoke. “Looks like I’m the only one getting a first tonight.” His cock slid messily inside you before he pulled out, grinding himself lazily against your folds, marveling at the slickness coating him. As you clung tightly to Xavier, sobbing softly as you came down from the high, you were surprised to find no trace of embarrassment—a feeling you had expected in a moment like this. What had just unfolded was nothing short of sacred, maybe the most powerful thing you had ever felt, and you regretted none of it. And you loved the feeling of coming down with Xavier’s cock still sliding through your deliciously slick folds—edging you into a state of overstimulation. 

You sighed softly as strong hands wrapped around your waist, gently lifting you away from Xavier and pulling you into their embrace. Your eyes fluttered shut, still lost in the waves of pleasure you had just experienced, barely registering Sylus’s dark, demanding words. “I’m going to need you to do that for me now, kitten.” The tone left no room for negotiation. Sylus’s thick cock pushed fully into you with a harsh thrust, one hand roughly circling your clit while the other held you effortlessly, bouncing you on his cock. You were dragged into the depths of overstimulation then, heavy sobs escaping you as Sylus greedily soaked in the sight of the tears cascading down your cheeks. Sylus took great pleasure in seeing you cry while his cock stretched you perfectly, your tear-filled eyes gazing at him with such adoration as his name left your lips in soft, broken hiccups. He was certain there was nothing in any world that could compare to it.

While Sylus was more than happy to let you take control whenever you wanted, he preferred being the one in charge. He relished the power of wringing out your pleasure with his hands; watching you unravel beneath his skilled touch. That’s exactly what was happening now, and Sylus was practically bursting with pride.  You caught him off guard, leaning in to softly press your lips to his, tugging his top lip between your teeth before soothing it with your tongue—a secret desire you’d harbored all night. You couldn’t help it; that lip was just so maddeningly irresistible. You kissed Sylus with wild abandon, your hands yanking his hair just hard enough to coax out a cute little whimper, one that made you grin against his lips. He pulled back, shooting you a glare. “Something funny, sweetie?” You giggled, flashing him a dopey grin.  “You like me. Like, really like me.” The words were matter-of-fact, a truth you had only just come to fully realize. You’d held off getting too excited until you were sure, and tonight had proven it—there was no way Sylus could dote on you the way he did if he wasn’t truly committed. Sylus was never one to fake his feelings. A soft chuckle rumbled through Sylus's chest as his pace quickened, bouncing you harder with each thrust. His gaze softened at the sight of your ecstatic smile, a grin tugging at his lips. “You're just now realizing this? I expected more from a hunter of your caliber—aren’t you supposed to be good at reading people?” You stuck your tongue out at him, teasing, “I can think of at least a million ideas of how that beautiful mouth of yours could be put to better use,” you quipped with a sultry lilt, “and none of them involve talking.” You kissed him briefly, just enough to make your point, then pulled away with a sly smile playing at the edge of your lips. Power coursed through Sylus’s eye, casting a vibrant crimson glow—a subtle warning shimmering in its depths. "Careful, kitten. You know what happens when you scratch at me with those pretty claws—What’s that saying again? Don’t bite the hand that feeds you?" Sylus's voice was a low, dangerous whisper, sending chills through your body. Your grin only widened as you leaned in closer, matching his tone. "Oh, I know. But they don’t realize what I do," you murmured with a mischievous edge. "This hand likes it when I bite." And with that, you playfully sank your teeth into Sylus's cheek.

Sylus froze, his eyes widening in disbelief, a low growl rumbling from deep in his chest. His gaze seared into you, barely containing his irritation. You knew all too well—Sylus despised being toyed with, especially in front of those he didn’t fully trust. “You’re going to regret that,” he snarled. You bounced eagerly on his cock, clapping your hands in excitement. “Perfect! That’s exactly the kind of reaction I was hoping for,” you chimed. Sylus was nothing if not true to his word—his mouth on your chest was far from tender, drawing tears to your eyes that overflowed quicker than they had all night. Sylus was the harshest of them all, unleashing his passion on you without restraint, never hesitating to show you what it meant to mix passion with pain. You felt the guilty pleasure of your body’s eager response, every smack on your skin only making you want more.

"Harder, Sylus," you giggled through the haze, pouting up at him, knowing exactly how much control you had over him. "I’m your naughty girl, remember? I need to be punished."

The others looked on in silence as you fervently rode Sylus, their eyes giving away nothing as they took in the scene before them. Rafayel and Xavier could barely breathe through their jealousy, but their minds were already scheming ways to ignite the same passionate reactions in you that Sylus was provoking. The way you responded to Sylus’s harsh touch sparked a desire in them—they needed to see you like this in their own arms. Zayne, however, was fuming. His desire to tear you from Sylus’s arms and shield you was barely contained—the thought of being rough with you was unthinkable to Zayne. Yet, even he couldn’t look away from the utterly captivating way you fell apart beneath Sylus's relentless touch.

Sylus’s hand came down hard on your ass, the sharp crack echoing through the room like a gunshot. Your hoarse cry of "Yes! Just like that, S-sy," was muffled as your head fell onto his chest, your weak sobs trembling against him. Sylus's slaps rained down relentlessly, each one stinging your skin, while his thrusts became wild and erratic. Without warning, his hand moved from your ass to wrap tightly around your throat, forcing your gaze to meet his. In moments, you were choking beneath his grip, struggling to draw breath, gasping as you fought for air. Sylus's thrusts only grew harder, hitting every perfect spot inside you as you choked out his name between ragged breaths. His hand squeezed even tighter. "Is this good enough for you, sweetie?" he asked, though he already knew the answer. It was obvious to everyone in the room that Sylus’s brutal rhythm was exceeding your wildest expectations. The way you clung to Sylus—your eyes begging for more even as he squeezed the light from them, told the other men everything they needed to know.

"It’s time for you to break for me, kitten. I want to watch every fragment of you shatter around me." his next words were a dark, possessive murmur. "And I want to feel that stunning cunt flood my cock until I'm drowning in you. Understood?” You hiccupped, nodding softly, silently praying your body would respond the way he wanted—because you knew Sylus wouldn’t let you leave this room until you squirted for him, a truth that was evident in the way his eyes had darkened as he watched you gush all over Xavier. Your body grew heavy, that all-too-familiar sensation flooding your limbs, leaving you limp in Sylus's arms. He chuckled darkly as your head lolled to the side, your tongue slipping from your mouth, eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy. "Ah, would you look at that—it seems I’ve finally broken my naughty little pet." You didn’t respond, and Sylus doubted you even heard him, lost as you were in the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing. He bounced you easily on his cock, each deep thrust sending shockwaves through his body, bringing him closer to the edge. His hand released your throat, savoring the sound of your desperate gasps for air. Without missing a beat, Sylus's fingers found your clit, pinching it harshly as your body trembled. You let out a soft whimper, your tear-filled eyes searching for him as quiet sobs escaped your lips—“S’too much, S-sy.” Sylus's laughter rang out, warm and genuine. “That’s unfortunate, kitten. Because you know what’s next? You’re going to handle it all like a good little girl, and afterward, you’ll thank me for my generosity and clean me up.” You sniffled and nodded, eager to please him, yearning to make him proud. “Would it be okay if I cleaned these up first?” Your voice was soft and trembling as you reached for his hand, glistening with your arousal, sucking his fingers clean one by one. Your sultry gaze locked onto his, eyes momentarily fluttering shut as you savored the intoxicating blend of his skin with your taste. Every time your eyes flickered open again, Sylus could see the lust in them grow, darkening your irises to a near black. When your body clenched and a rush of warmth flowed over him, Sylus nearly cried out from the sheer ecstasy.

Sylus had found himself captivated by the sounds Xavier drew from your weeping cunt—the wetness and intimacy of the act driving Sylus absolutely insane. Now, engulfed in your shared passion, each sound was Sylus’s own creation.

The raw, primal cry you released at the height of your climax left Sylus dizzy and consumed by sheer lust. The sound emerged from so deep within you that it took even you by surprise, leaving your voice ragged and your body trembling from its intensity. The moment Sylus heard his name fall from your lips on that cry, he lost control—he erupted inside you with powerful, hot waves, his own primal groans mingling with yours as he filled you completely, his cock sliding easily through the intoxicating slickness of your desire. As you gradually returned to a serene state, your heart's rapid drumming eased into a more soothing rhythm, and the residual tremors in your limbs slowly came to rest. When the world around you finally settled back into focus, you became acutely aware of Sylus’s languid movements, his softened manhood still intimately cradled within you.

Despite being wholly sated by the sheer force of your release coursing over him, Sylus seemed resolute in his desire to continue, determined to ensure that his essence remained woven into your very being. The idea of it lingering within you through the night was Sylus’s unvoiced declaration—a subtle mark of possession that would quietly assert your connection to everyone present. You cradled his face in your hands. “Sy, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but your body’s saying its time for a breather.” you whispered playfully, his softening cock giving him away. Sylus kept his eyes shut, savoring your warmth as he drew a slow, deep breath. His reply was a slow, sultry murmur, like velvet over steel. “Hush, kitten, you’re spoiling the moment. Besides, you know my fervor is limitless—perhaps you need a reminder of just how untamed I can be tonight?” At that, his gaze met yours, and the intensity in those eyes was like a magnetic pull to your very being. A shiver of anticipation ran through you as you boldly met his stare. “Will you promise to deliver a lesson I won’t soon forget, teacher?” you murmured, your voice dripping with a playful wickedness that instantly reignited Sylus’s desire.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted as a brazen figure intruded upon your intimate world, hands reaching to claim you from Sylus’s grasp. In that instant a tension rippled through the air, Sylus’s muscles tensing as if poised to protect his claim.

Zayne payed Sylus no mind, scooping you up effortlessly, carrying you to the bed as delighted giggles escaped your lips, arms weaved tightly around Zayne's neck. “It seems our meticulous surgeon is running short on patience today. Should I be concerned about how this might affect your skills, doctor?” Zayne’s gaze sharpened, as he regarded you with an amused intensity.

To Zayne, you appeared almost ethereal in your gentleness, innocence, and purity—an enigma, given how you had fervently begged Sylus for acts that defied your serene nature. Zayne was genuinely taken aback by the flood of anger now rushing through him, sparked the instant Sylus’s hand had first connected with your ass, and by the unfamiliar look in your eyes that almost floored Zayne with its power. To his surprise, Zayne experienced no remorse as he let the anger guide him—unceremoniously tossing you onto the bed, flipping you over and raising your hips high in the air. Z hand came down sharply on your ass, landing on the fading mark left by Sylus. Your heart seemed to pause for a brief, breathless moment, before picking up with renewed urgency. It was almost beyond belief—your Zayne, eyes glinting with resentment and something darker—gazing down at you with a possessiveness that made your breath catch. The white robe Zayne wore, hastily donned while Sylus was still within you, parted slightly to reveal the chiseled contours of his chest— you reached out, unable to stop yourself from trailing your fingers along his bare skin. They gently traced the defined ridges of his abs, following the faint trail of hair that led lower.

In your heart, you had long held the belief that Zayne was the most captivating of all the men in your life. With his sleek, dark hair, and those enchanting green eyes, and the raw power lying in wait under his skin—Zayne embodied an ethereal presence that matched how he viewed you—his steadfast compassion and innate selflessness, consistently putting others needs above his own, alongside his tranquil aura and extraordinary beauty—Zayne seemed to embody the essence of a god walking among mortals. The reflection of awe and unyielding certainty in your eyes spoke volumes to Zayne. Briefly, his eyes softened, only to have the unfamiliar dark shimmer quietly slip back in as he returned your gaze. “It’s rare I find myself on the same page as him,” Zayne remarked with a cold nod toward Sylus. “But you do possess a unique knack for ruining a moment.” You cast Zayne a sharp glare, feeling your heart race as the others settled onto the tousled sheets beside you. Xavier offered a gentle grin, while Rafayel’s laughter rang out freely. “I have to side with them on this one, princess. I’m not even sorry.” Sylus’s lips curled—he was fully aware that every man present shared the same thoughts about your nearly constant cheeky attitude.

Rafayel leaned in closer, his thumb tracing delicately over a taut nipple while his other hand explored your slick folds. He captured your lips in a tender kiss, skillfully keeping your entrance tantalizingly accessible for Zayne’s impending claim. Settling into a comfortable position, Rafayel seemed to prepare himself for the next unfolding of your pleasure—it was more than passing observation, he had long ago begun to immerse himself in your delight, captivated by the symphony of sensations you experienced. Whether it was the unique bond you and he shared, or simply his intense fascination with you—Rafayel felt almost as if he could inhale your emotions, each wave of pleasure you experienced echoing through him.

Suddenly, a hand smacked your backside again, eliciting a sharp cry from your lips.

“All attention on me now, little one,” Zayne's voice a deep, soft timbre that held an enticing edge of command. Only in your wildest dreams—fantasies a lot less probable than the one you had of this night—could you envision your sweet, treasured physician standing behind you, exuding such soft dominance and possessiveness that it set your skin on fire. As your back arched higher instinctively, offering yourself wholly to Zayne, you felt like the luckiest girl alive—experiencing so many of your deepest fantasies in rapid succession. It crossed your mind whether you were using up all your luck—each blissful sigh, every drop of ecstasy, every tear of joy, seemingly tallying against the fortune you were allotted in a year—perhaps even a lifetime. But you didn’t care in the slightest, you would gladly use up every precious ounce of luck for this night to stretch into eternity. The thought of sharing your apartment with only Xavier seemed suddenly small. Your mind wandered to an impossible vision—all your lovers under one roof—a notion so delightfully ridiculous that it sent you into a fit of joyous giggles.

Zayne’s hands, which had been boldly kneading handfuls of your backside while you drifted in thought, suddenly stilled. He shifted his weight to one hand, carefully avoiding Rafayel as his other hand slid down your neck to grasp one of his favorite things in the world. Your breast was firm but yielding in his grasp, the softness inviting his touch as he kneaded it. His fingers played skillfully with your nipple until it stood achingly hard beneath his hand. Zayne fought the urge to flip you over and spread you wide, revealing the feast of your form before him. Still, he was certain those beautiful breasts would never escape his lips throughout his time with you—he savored the way you were currently arranged—your ass arched high in a wordless plea for more. Aligning the tip of his cock with your entrance, Zayne took his time, pushing past your tight walls slowly. He admired your body—the way your soft, inviting cunt welcomed him eagerly, lovingly, despite being thoroughly ravished. There was no hesitation in your body's response to him, as if it wanted nothing more than to continue your pleasure.

In that moment, a realization struck Zayne—your body hadn’t experienced every form of pleasure imaginable tonight, not yet at least, and that thought filled him with unbridled excitement. Maybe Zayne was going to get to experience a first with you tonight, too.

Xavier, initially oblivious to what flickered in Zayne’s eyes, quickly grasped the situation—Zayne had gripped your cheeks possessively, eyes feasting on the sight of your puckered pink entrance. Xavier’s voice carried a dangerous calm as he directed it at Zayne, as if daring him to act. Xavier’s eyes sought his sword, ensuring it was within reach, confident in his ability to retrieve it faster than Zayne’s ice could halt him. You tensed against Zayne, confused, wide eyes first locking with Rafayel’s before darting to a visibly intense Xavier. Xavier’s gaze briefly softened on you, before fixating back on Zayne. “Why don’t you share the little scheme I just watched form in that head of yours.” Xavier taunted, his head tilting with a mocking, piercing stare. “Or were you planning to proceed without saying  a word?” Xavier’s comment left you puzzled, prompting you to sit up and loop your arms around Zayne’s neck. “Zaynie, what’s the fuss about?” you asked, giving him your best pout while pressing your body suggestively against his. Zayne exhaled sharply, muttering a soft curse. Blocking out the others, Zayne directed his attention solely to you, lifting you so you could wrap your legs around his waist. His hand traced gentle circles on your back as he began to explain. “Do you remember that idea I mentioned some time ago? When we were hiding on the hospital rooftop to watch the sunset?” Your brows furrowed in concentration as Zayne watched, almost imagining a whimsical little thought bubble forming above your head as you struggled to recall his words from long ago. You leaned back in his arms, eyes locking onto his with a look of incredulity, as if questioning his sanity. Your voice carried a mix of disbelief and playful accusation. “That thing from a while back? More like just last week.” A deep blush spread across Zayne’s cheeks at your reminder—he had nearly forgotten how recently he’d broached the subject.

That night, flushed and slightly dazed, Zayne had lifted his head from your chest, lips swollen and slick, breath coming in quick pants as he admired his handiwork—your breasts beautifully marked by this attention. Despite his inebriation—his medical instincts advising rest and rehydration—Zayne couldn’t suppress the needy request that escaped his lips. Zayne had promised with fervent intensity—of which you had no doubt—that he would ensure that every moment was as painless and pleasurable as possible. that you would relish in every sensation he would provide, if you allowed him this intimate privilege. You couldn’t ignore the warmth that blossomed within you at his suggestion now, how it made your core clench with longing as it had so many times before. Though you weren’t about to share it with the entire room, Zayne had subtly woven the idea of exploring anal intimacy into your conversations more times than you could count. In truth, you were entirely ready and willing. There was just one issue—the pale-haired man beside you, who was practically vibrating with a fierce, protective energy as he shot daggers at Zayne.

Xavier’s reaction wasn't  driven solely by a sense of safeguarding your honor—it was fueled by his personal claim to your promised first experience.  The drunken echo of the promise lingered, a reminder of how you had assured Xavier he would be the first when you were ready. You genuinely intended to keep that vow, often finding yourself lost in daydreams of being pressed against Xavier, his strong arms enveloping you as you both navigated this uncharted territory. That promise seemed unwavering—until you realized how much it meant to Zayne. And you absolutely loathed yourself at the hurt in Zayne’s eyes when you would refuse him. Time and again , after Zayne averted his gaze to mask his disappointment, you’d find yourself harshly pinching a spot on your skin hard enough to leave a bruise, hoping it would escape Zayne’s notice. The physical pain served as a temporary balm for your emotions, dulling the heartache at knowing you were hurting him. But inflicting that same pain on Xavier? Just the idea made you freeze, your mind racing for new, gentle ways to let them down. When you realized the moment for truth had arrived, your stomach sank.

Sylus noticed the shift in your demeanor—the resolve settling in your shoulders, and the firm look in your eyes as you faced the two men. He let out a soft chuckle from his spot on the couch, lounging with a glass of wine in hand. “Oh no, sweetie. The moment has arrived. What’s your plan?” Sylus smirked, tapping his temple—a mockingly confident gesture true to Sylus’s nature. “After tonight, I’m sure you see the wisdom in the age-old saying—two is better than one.” Sylus paused, feigning a sudden revelation as mockingly as his usual head tap. Despite the simplicity of his comment—the gleam in Sylus's eyes suggested he saw it as a crowning moment of wit. Sylus’s amused demeanor was starting to grate on your nerves, and your glare spoke volumes about your patience nearing its limit. Yet, you held your tongue, seething silently as his monologue dragged on. “The logic extends to confessions too, especially when it’s the same issue affecting both people. So, kitten, if you want my humble advice, I’d suggest biting the bullet.” And there it was—the irritation simmering to the surface as Sylus droned on. Truth be told, it flared the moment the word “humble” escaped his annoyingly charming lips. Applying such a word to Sylus was a stretch, unless you were talking about how he managed not to boast about his immense wealth. But for the rest of him? Not so much. You shot him a sharp glare. “I'm sorry, did you seriously just use the word “humble” to describe yourself? In context with you, it’s leagues funnier than that terrible joke you just tried.” With a roll of your eyes you turned away. “Go find a corner to occupy, you’re officially unnecessary here.” Sylus smirked, gesturing towards Rafayel. “And what about our aquatic friend? He’s not mixed up in your drama is he? If you push me out, I’m taking him with me.”

Tendrils of crimson and shadow wove through the air like living smoke, Sylus’s energy magic reaching out with an elegant grace. It glided across the floor, coiling around Rafayel’s ankle with a deliberate tug. The unexpected pull caused Rafayel to stumble briefly, but with a graceful fluidity, he righted himself. With a deliberate flick of his wrist, Rafayel conjured a brilliant flame in his palm, the fire dancing with a life of its own. His eyes burned with a blend of purple, magenta, and blue—a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of colors that defied nature—each hue shimmering like sunlit ocean waves. The teasing, joyous spirit you knew had vanished, replaced by a figure of such commanding presence that he towered over all. As he stood, radiating power like the majestic crash of ocean waves, you could almost see Rafayel as he once was—the God of the Sea. Though he no longer bore the title, Rafayel still embodied the presence and boundless power of a true deity. His voice echoed with authority, wrapping the room in its potent embrace. “Watch yourself.” His eyes locked onto Sylus with an intensity that spoke volumes, a simmering threat lurking in their depths. “I’ve been itching for the opportunity to wipe that smug smile off your face. So go on—tempt me.” With a light tap to his temple, Sylus’s smile spread gradually, looking as though Rafayel’s fiery eruption was the most delightful present anyone had ever bestowed upon him. “Alright fish, that’s enough for now. Let’s put your bravado aside, shall we?” The authority in Sylus’s voice stood toe-to-toe with Rafayel’s, yet it was tempered by an undercurrent of dark mockery that simmered beneath. “Flaunting power doesn’t entice me, so let’s call this little performance to a close.”

You felt it the moment Rafayel’s composure shattered—his eyes darkened like a brewing storm, and his skin began to shimmer as his power surged to the surface. In that split second, almost reflectively, you did what you had vowed to never do.

“Rafayel.”

Your voice carried a startling authority of its own—resonating with a force that seemed to lunge forward, embedding itself within Rafayel. The bond you shared with the Lemurian came alive as you spoke his name, like a sacred invocation—the mark over his heart blazing fiercely as the connection thrummed between you. Rafayel’s eyes locked onto yours, profound as the ocean, responding to the leash of his name. “Raf, please stop—you’re making me nervous,” you implored softly, though you knew he couldn’t resist your request. “Also, I just updated the decor—I’d prefer to leave it intact." This power over Rafayel brought you no satisfaction, in truth it pained you. The notion of controlling a person was an enigma that unsettled you deeply.

...

Unless you were asserting dominance over the men who hungrily surrounded you—that was a scenario where power felt inherently right. That notion alone unleashed a cascade of enticing ideas swirling in your head. As you surveyed your assembled men, a plan began to take shape—next time, the gathering would embrace a theme of you holding the reins—a  prospect destined to occupy your thoughts until it became a reality.

You shook your head softly, grounding yourself; swiftly concluding that what the room needed most right now was a diversion. Reluctant as you were to embrace it, you couldn’t deny that this promised a truly spectacular distraction. With a decisive clap of your hands, you captured everyone's attention. “Listen up boys—I plan on reliving this escapade as many times as I wish, and you will do your best to get along and fulfill your roles.” The teasing lilt in your voice was carefully crafted to reassure them that everything was okay. You pivoted toward Xavier and Rafayel, a sudden realization dawning as your eyes locked with Xavier’s. His eyes met yours with a calm, unreadable expression that sent your stomach into free-fall. You walked toward him but stopped before reaching out, respecting his clear, silent boundary—marked by crossed arms and a distant stance. “Bun, what’s going on?” Xavier's voice was so soft—infused with the pain and confusion he felt. The unspoken secret weighed heavily—Xavier struggled with the knowledge that there was something you hadn’t entrusted to him. He longed to take you aside, away from prying eyes, to unravel this mystery in private. Despite his trust in you, the context was unsettling amidst the crowd. As he looked at you—his anchor in the universe—he hated the pang of mistrust that went through him. You breached his space, whispering, “I’m so sorry, Xav, I didn’t mean to worry you.” before retreating to face Zayne, whose stoic gaze was softened with implicit trust. His faith in you radiated in a subtle lift of his lips and a nod—encouraging you to proceed.

Despite the commotion, Zayne felt a serene detachment. His faith in you was ironclad, be it amidst confessions or mysteries. More than anything, Zayne was just ready to delve into this issue. What had always gnawed at Zayne was the wait—the endless anticipation of sharing that intimate moment he knew you both desired. It was rare for Zayne to indulge in selfish thoughts, but he couldn't help but hope that this resolution would come to an end with him buried deep in your ass. You flashed Zayne a gentle smile, before standing up on the couch, positioning yourself just within Sylus’s reach should you tumble. Sylus, all flirtatious energy and soft touches, gave your ass a light, teasing slap. You playfully batted his hand away, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on his lips, fingers threading through his hair. “Haven’t you been a naughty enough boy tonight?” you teased with a sultry pout, earning a low growl and a sharper smack in response. “I guess i’ll be needing some discipline, won't i, sweetie?” he murmured, his deep voice and tantalizing words sent a thrill up your spine. You kissed the tip of his nose, savoring the playful intimacy before straightening up again. “First, I want to apologize. I’m largely to blame for this whole fiasco.” Your eyes narrowed in Sylus’s direction. “Not the sole reason,” you continued, turning back “but certainly the main one. So—sorry about that. Still; this entire situation is absurd. This secret doesn’t deserve the spectacle it’s become.”

Exhaling deeply, your gaze met Zayne’s. “You covet the honor of being the first to take my asshole’s virginity so intensely, I worry about the toll it would take on your well-being if that fantasy wasn't fulfilled.” Zayne just folded his arms, chuckling softly as he shook his head. “In truth, those fears are mutual,” he jested.  “Problem is, I already promised that particular honor to Xavier.” Suspicion flared momentarily in Zayne's eyes. “Was this before or after you made that promise to me?” His tone was cautious, yet curious. You quickly reassured him, “before, I promise,” and his suspicion dissipated. Xavier’s soft voice cut through the silence. “So I guess that makes me the one who got screwed over.” Despite his upset he looked at you with gentle eyes. “Can we talk somewhere private?” You nodded, the prospect of a private conversation bringing you immediate relief. Together, you slipped to the kitchen, a comfortable silence enveloping you both. The gentle click of the door lock piqued your curiosity as Xavier approached, his fingers weaving into your hair as he rested his forehead against yours with a sigh. “I know you have your reasons; but it still stings a bit that you kept something from me,” he murmured. “You’re right to feel that way,” you acknowledged softly. He squeezed you even tighter and asked, “So, what happened?” You leaned back to meet his gaze. “I promised you long before Zayne brought it up. and I meant every word I said when I made it. But Zayne’s enthusiasm is overwhelming—it’s like a dream for him.” Xavier whined softly, his hands playing over your hips. “Why can’t he be second? I just want to go first.”

Xavier's puppy dog eyes nearly undid you, drawing out a giggle as you leaned into his touch, rising on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck. “In the end, you claimed the V-card that really counts,” you whispered, Xavier’s soft sigh mingling with your words as his lips met yours in a deep kiss. He pressed gentle kisses to your eyelids and cheeks before lifting you into his arms and placing you softly on the kitchen table, his lips finding yours again with a passion much more intense than before. Xavier's eyes met yours, lips glistening and eyes filled with a dazed desire. “I believe,” he said, placing kisses along your collarbone, “you fell for me first.” A teasing bite on your shoulder followed. “And that means I’ve won the right to lead you through all of your firsts… Particularly that that involve your irresistible body." His voice was low as his teeth bit the mound of your breast, his tongue soothing gently over the sting.  “You don’t seem too troubled by the idea of me trying it with Zayne first though. And ever since you first mentioned it, it’s been radio silent.” You tugged Xavier closer. “What eased my nerves in telling you was your lack of urgency about it,” you added. Xavier pulled back slightly, his eyes dancing with gentle amusement. “I, unlike some, value patience and deeply respect your boundaries.” He combed his fingers gently through your hair, tangling them to tilt your head back. “However, it seems that was a mistake—rather than coming to me, you sought someone else to take my place.” You knew Xavier’s words should have sparked at least a hint of remorse, but there was none to be found—not with the way he touched you, his blue eyes sparkling with a teasing warmth. He slid you back on the table as he expertly positioned your legs, bending your knees until they framed your flushed face. Xavier’s eyes danced lazily before fixing on his goal, his hands slipping beneath your hips to pull you closer.

Xavier's words came with a mischievous lilt, “I realized we’re out of lube, Bun,” he murmured, placing a kiss near your sensitive skin, prompting a surprise inhale from you. “We can’t let that happen to your doctor right? Let me help.” Your body momentarily froze. Sensing the pause, Xavier’s words flowed like a gentle stream. “You know you don’t have to if you’re not comfortable,” he whispered. You replied softly, “It’s not that—it’s just, would it be good for you?” His answering look was so honest. “How could it not be?” you nodded slowly. The remnants of your shared encounters lingered, and Xavier spread it, careful not to rush. The delicate contrast of your skin drew his gaze, stirring a soft wonder about how it might feel under the gentle sweep of his tongue. While Xavier quietly nursed his resentment for Zanye, he found comfort in the plan he had devised the moment the truth slipped from your lips. Xavier’s lips moved softly over your inner thighs and the curve of your ass, his tongue tracing light paths and his lips capturing your skin briefly, offering a hint of the pleasures ahead. His warm breath lingered over your sensitive skin, deliberate and comforting like a small breeze. Xavier hoped you’d enjoy the sensation—and he was right, as your quiet gasp and the subtle arch of your hips toward him revealed your growing need. This gentle urgency ignited a rush within Xavier, spurring him on as his mouth explored further. His tender kisses continued to dot your skin, the feel of his lips mingling with your slick warmth making you dizzy with pleasure. When your breathless giggles rang out, Xavier began to weave in soft flicks of his tongue, deepening each stroke as he moved toward your most sensitive spot. That first languid sweep of his tongue over your soft skin nearly undid him, a helpless whimper escaping him as your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer.

Xavier responded instantly, his next pass with his tongue applying a deeper pressure. The sensations overwhelmed you—entire galaxies danced behind your closed eyes, each touch from Xavier bringing forth a wave of pleasure beyond description. It was a tender kind of ecstasy—the sensations were softer, wrapping around you with a warm blanket. This experience felt more intimate than anything you and Xavier had shared before somehow. His tongue moved with such tenderness and skill, sparking ripples of electricity at the point of each touch. Your voice softly spoke his name like a sacred chant, your hand traveling down to circle your clit in the slickness. The sight of your fingers dancing over your slick folds, chanting his name like a mantra, was nearly Xavier’s undoing— barely aware as his hand found its way to his own arousal, spreading the precum in a hasty eager motion. His lips joined the fray, placing tender, wet suctions between skillful flicks and sweeps of his tongue. Occasionally Xavier teased you with breathy exhalations again, savoring the sweet giggles you gifted him in return. As his tongue gently explored your puckered entrance, the overwhelming pleasure had you gasping a soft curse, your hand on your clit moving more urgently.

Xavier was utterly absorbed in you, the sensation of your body lightly gripping his tongue, a promise for the time he’d finally claim all of you. He softly delved with his tongue, pausing for tender laps and licks at the smooth skin around it, mixing in gentle kisses and the softest teases of his teeth. The room was filled with the urgent sounds of Xavier's hand working his own arousal, intermingled with your breathless cries, creating an intoxicating symphony. Xavier sensed the approach of your release from the way your body tightened around his tongue, eliciting a soft sob from you. Your warmth trickled down, becoming one with the sensations Xavier’s tongue was creating. The way your body gripped his tongue, your warmth and your taste, had Xavier utterly ruined. Certain of your satisfaction, Xavier shifted, raising your hips to the perfect angle to receive his release. It was an overwhelming rush—stealing his breath and setting his heart racing as dizziness danced through his limbs. He spilled over your skin, ensuring no part was left bare, before gently scooping you up to maintain the placement of his release.

Zayne, Rafayel, and Sylus had gathered in the main room, lingering as they anticipated the conclusion of your and Xavier's activities in the kitchen. Rafayel and Sylus exchanged amused looks as Xavier walked in, holding you with your ass in the air, his release trailing down. Ignoring their knowing smiles, Xavier nodded towards the bedroom door, signaling for Zayne to follow. Xavier wanted to ensure that this intimate moment was only shared between you and Zayne.  Xavier recognized its deep significance for both of you, and despite his own mixed feelings, he was determined to make the experience as comfortable and joyful  for you as it could be. Silently, Zayne obliged, his gaze softening as he noticed your blissful grin, nestled in Xavier’s arms. “Zayniee, I missed you" you whispered with delight, looking up at him with pure adoration. You embodied satisfaction—covered in cum, eyes shining, a rosy flush adorning your cheeks. Zayne simply shook his head with a soft smile. Xavier gently laid you on the bed, keeping your body perfectly displayed for Zayne as Xavier motioned toward your inviting form. Speaking in a subdued tone, Xavier’s words carried an edge, a silent testament to his restrained fury aimed at Zayne. Always prioritizing your happiness, Xavier suppressed his irritation and offered a statement that provided him with some relief. “You want to lead? Go ahead. But you’ll do so wrapped in my essence—in a way, I'm still there.” His gaze bore into Zayne, a mosaic of emotions—a possessive protectiveness over you, frustration with Zayne, and surprisingly, a gentle trust as he entrusted you to Zayne’s care. With that, Xavier turned, leaving the room as the door closed quietly.

“Zayne?” Your voice was gentle, yet carried a new undertone of seriousness. When Zayne met your gaze, he was nearly overwhelmed at the depth of love he saw reflected there. With a playful wiggle of your hips, you suggested, “There’s a towel in the bathroom. Want to clean me up?” Your tender smile reassured him, and Zayne silently appreciated your request. He realized you would have welcomed the symbolism of Xavier’s essence being present, but he found himself relieved to forgo that connection. And truthfully, while you did enjoy the idea of intertwining their experiences, you recognized Zayne needed this moment to be exclusively his. You suspected that Xavier was aware of this too, as he had quietly demonstrated by leading you and Zayne to this room alone. Your gaze lingered on Zayne as he tended to you with the most gentle of care—his eyes reflected a subtle tenderness, and every pass of the warm cloth on your skin infused you with comfort and a re-kindling of desire. Zayne took his time, ensuring that the soft rag caressed every part of your skin. The soothing warmth of the rag, followed by the coolness of Zayne’s touch provided a soothing contrast. Your eyelids soon grew heavy, and you were just on the verge of drifting off when Zayne wrapped you carefully in his arms, cradling you against him as he spooned you softly. His fingers brushed your hair aside, exposing your neck as he placed a soft kiss on your collarbone. “Are you alright?” he asked, his tone was tinted with seriousness. Zayne wasn’t referring to any disagreement with you and Xavier—seeing you arrive in Xavier's arms, covered by his essence—Zayne knew you two were on solid ground. Zayne's concern was solely for your wellbeing; he had no intention of proceeding unless he knew this was truly what you wanted. You shifted, threading your fingers through his hair, meeting his gaze with a clear certainty. Seeing the honest assurance in your eyes, Zayne felt his worries melt away. You drew his face to your yours, arching into him with a passionate intensity.

You craved Zayne—needed with every fiber of your being right now. You had dreamed of this moment, wanting nothing more than for him to be the one to share it with you. Now that it was unfolding—you were determined to seize every single second. This yearning drove you to cling to him tightly, your body aligning with his as if magnetically drawn. Feeling a light warmth trickle down your thigh, you reached between yourself and Zayne, wrapping your hand around his length, surprised by the abundance of precum coating it. You hummed in approval, spreading it over his shaft as you playfully remarked, “Looks like Xavier’s concerns about the lube weren’t necessary,” Zayne’s look was direct. “Is that the excuse he gave you for that display?” You just giggled, cozying back against him and parting yourself to welcome him.

"There it is, Zayne, right within your reach—The Promised Land.” A quiet burst of laughter escaped Zayne as his smile grew. “Silly girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing softly against your hair. When you spoke again, your eyes were earnest, “Touch me Zayne. Please.” In that moment, Zayne’s resolve crumbled, your words dissolving his composure. With you already spreading yourself invitingly for him, it was effortless for Zayne to slide his cock along your sensitive skin, his movements slow and deliberate. Though this was an act familiar to Zayne, it felt different this time, as though his very being sensed a deeper bond forming between you. Zayne dedicated himself fully, transferring every bit of his essence to you, reclaiming what had once been covered by Xavier’s touch. Pulling you closer, he let his warm breath linger over your ear. “And how exactly do you want me to touch you, little one?” Zayne's words were probing, suffused with a quiet heat, they wrapped around you, and your breath hitched as you guided his hand. You arched your back, offering better access to your smooth puckered skin. You exhaled softly as his fingertips traced the lightest path over you. “Don’t you already know what to do, doctor? You’ve had plenty of time to study.” You purred, your voice a teasing lure for Zayne as his finger lightly caressed your entrance, enjoying its instinctive clench. You softly pleaded, “You've been there before Zayne—I need more.” Zayne aligned his thumb with your entrance, stirring the slickness as he eased just the tip inside. “Even Xavier’s tongue delved deeper, Zayne.” That remark earned a low growl and a heated murmur of “brat” from Zayne as he thrust his thumb in without warning.

Once his thumb was buried deeply inside you, Zayne’s other hand entwined tightly in your hair, positioning you so he could observe your every reaction. Zayne’s irritation was a particular pleasure for you—his method of administering consequences always made your actions worthwhile—especially now that his reactions carried a newfound intensity. This was clear from the way you felt no remorse, even though Zayne had just abruptly thrust his finger into your ass—eliciting a sharp pain that momentarily clouded your lust. “Better?” His voice, heavy with seductive authority, sent shivers down your spine. It was obvious too when the first words to fall from your lips came as a deep sigh of, “Yes, Zayne—just like that.” Those words ignited something within Zayne—he had planned to approach this moment with the utmost care, showing his love in his every delicate touch. Yet, the tone of your voice and the longing in your eyes implored him for more, and it surprised him how willing he was to meet that request. Once your body settled into relaxation after its initial response, you almost went limp in Zayne's arms, completely entrusting yourself to him. He maintained a consistent rhythm—sensing your craving for intensity yet choosing to gently prepare you first. His thumb moved in and out of your entrance, slow and deep—Zayne would pull back just to the tip, savoring the tight suction before drawing in more of his essence and plunging deeply once more. Zayne became enveloped in this sensation, his eyes closing as he focused on the feeling of your grip around his thumb, how each movement made you even wetter. He sighed as he ran his hand through your folds, mixing your essence with his. You were utterly tantalizing—the very picture of a man's deepest fantasies. You felt Zayne slowly introduce a second finger, offering your body time to accommodate the new sensation this time.

Once you began to relax around the dual intrusion, Zayne’s lips and teeth etched a persistent path across your skin. You wondered how your lovers could still find you alluring, marred as you were by the marks of their passion. But, as Zayne eagerly added his own signature to the canvas of your skin, you realized this wasn’t something to be concerned about. The challenge of concealing these marks in the upcoming weeks, however, was a much more realistic concern.

Zayne was nearing his breaking point, his lips flushed and slick, breath escaping him even faster than yours. He was more of a mess than you, and Zayne nearly rejoiced when your quiet whisper cut through his desire-laden trance. The request for “more” was so faint that Zayne might have missed it had he not been attuned to every nuance of your expression. Zayne positioned his shaft at your entrance, gently tracing soothing circles on your hips and your ass. Your entire being cried out for Zayne to finally take you,and he could see that desperation, yet he had to confirm. “Are you completely certain about this?” Eyes remaining closed, you were nearly beyond words as you sighed deeply, sinking further into the softness of the comforter beneath you, “Need you so bad, Zayne. Please—i'll do anything,” The last word was a pure plea from the depths of your being. As Zayne’s cock slowly opened you up, your body stayed perfectly at ease. After the meticulous attention from both Xavier and Zayne, you didn’t feel the slightest nervousness about what was to come.

Your mind and body were at ease, and soft giggles, whimpers, and whispered iterations of Zayne’s name escaped your lips as he pushed deeper into you. A strangled sob of “yes” echoed as he pushed in completely—Zayne rendered motionless by the overwhelming sensation of your warmth and tight embrace. Honestly, Zayne was surprised he hadn’t simply ceased to exist in that moment—reforming as a being set to traverse the universe to find your spirit once again. The pressure of being embedded in your ass was far more intense than the snug fit of your cunt, almost overpoweringly so at first. Drawing you as tight as he could against him, Zayne’s face nestled into your neck, his warm breath escaping in a huff as he pulled away to the tip before pushing in again. Quickly captivated by the intensity, Zayne seemed to drift—his senses absorbed by the slow, deliberate rhythm of his movements. Resting his head on your shoulder, he watched in admiration as your breasts bounced gently with each pull of his hips. You embodied pure sinfulness—your slick skin exuding lust as your hand wandered across it. Zayne's teeth found your neck as your fingers explored your depths.

It was surprising how deeply connected you were to Zayne in that moment; perhaps this was the reason behind his insistence and eagerness to explore anal together. It dawned on you why he wanted to be your first, and quietly, you sensed he shared these same revelations. Zayne, having anticipated this intensity, knew from his research there was something special about it, yet nothing truly prepared him for this. Your body seemed intent on holding him as if he were becoming an inseparable part of you, and Zayne felt that profound bond as well. He was a beautiful mess—his skin glistening with sweat as he whispered your name and sweet murmurs fervently, his cock gliding slickly in an abundance of precum, a filthy testament to his arousal. You were equally overwhelmed, desperately rubbing your clit, your head gently bobbing with his motions, tears of bliss tracing your cheeks. A quiet, “love you, Zayne” slipped out, carrying straight to Zayne’s heart.

It was your declaration of love that tipped Zayne over the edge, building to a power climax that surpassed anything he’d ever felt before. Zayne succumbed to wave after wave of ecstasy, each pulse of his release felt keenly against your tightly enveloping warmth. The sensation of his throbbing veins and the filling warmth of his seed sent you spiraling into your own breathtaking orgasm, waves of pleasure coursing from where you were joined to every part of your being. Even after his movements slowed, Zayne remained nestled within you, savoring the lingering connection. Once more, your latest release soaked the bedding—a new trait of yours that Zayne found himself utterly obsessed with.

As the pleasure ebbed, you floated in its serene wake, a dreamy, weightless sensation setting comfortably within you. With movements that were slow and almost worshipful, Zayne delicately cleaned you with a warm cloth again. His touch was as meticulous and caring as it had been the first time; the warmth of the rag tracing soothing paths across your skin. His gentle hands and the soft kisses he left on your skin’s marks eased you softly to sleep. After attending to himself, Zayne took a brief moment to look in on you again before checking in on the rest of the group. During the time you and Zayne had been lost in each other, Rafayel and Sylus had quietly slipped away, leaving only Xavier dozing on the couch. Zayne sighed with relief, grateful for the chance to spend the rest of the night holding you close.

When Xavier awoke, sleep still lingering, he wandered to the bedroom to find you and Zayne softly entwined, your breaths synchronized in a peaceful rhythm. Gently, Xavier settled behind you, a soft, sleepy sigh escaping him the moment his body relaxed against yours. Your satisfaction seemed to emanate from you, enveloping Xavier as he breathed in your scent. A selfish desire stirred within him to wake you, fueled by the fantasy of taking Zayne’s place. But, exhaustion triumphed as he snuggled closer, melting into your warmth.

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A redraw of the official icons of the ten named slugcats from Rain World, arranged in two rows: Survivor, Monk, Hunter, Nightcat, and Gourmand in the first, Artificer, Rivulet, Spearmaster, Saint and Enot/Inv in the second. Each is drawn in roughly the same pose as in the original art and fitted with speculative interpretations of their biology, and the second image is a “dead” version of this. For example, all ten have slug-like rhinophores in place of ears, cuttlefish-like colorful eyes with strangely-shaped pupils, cephalopod-like beak "teeth", expressive barbels or oral tentacles at the corners of mouths, spiny radulas, and the frilly mantle fringes of sea slugs, though otherwise their faces are squishy, simple and mammalian-shaped.

Cream-colored Survivor and yellow Monk both share triangular, bicolored spots matching their eyes (which are tan and brown, and two shades of blue, respectively), small, bumpy fringes, and relatively neutral looks on their faces. Defensive-looking Hunter is mostly a dull orange-pink, though their blobby fringe is a more violent red and their back is purple and marred with lumps. Nightcat is navy blue and flecked with dots of yellow and teal, their rolled rhinophores are a lighter blue, and their shading fractures into stars in some places. Gourmand is almost uniformly tan, their wide, very ruffly white mantle fringe bordered by a spray of white spots, and their beak sticks out from either corner of their smile. Primarily red Artificer, snarling, has yellow markings of multiple sorts, a prominent yellow dewlap and their characteristic dark scar taking out a chunk of its face. Rivulet is a darker blue than usual, with long barbels, red gills and rings, countershading, and a cheerful expression, sticking out their radula. Spearmaster is purple with orange accents, eyes and spots, a large fringe and spines down their back. Saint’s green caryophyllidia are marked by small, yellow diamonds, and their long, thin radula extends far below them. Enot is decorated with mottled red stripes, blue patches, yellow stars, and an uneven and almost cartoonish imitation of blush, though generally the same deep blue as Nightcat, a passive or almost slightly smug look on their face and their rolled rhinophores out to either side.

In the second image, nine of the slugcats’ eyes are crossed out, indicating that these are death icons. They look fairly the same, with mostly expression differences. Survivor is caught in the beginning of a threat display, a karma flower sprouts from Monk’s side, Hunter is burdened with overgrowing, purple and blue rot, Nightcat’s rhinophores are pinned back, and Gourmand looks mildly disheartened. For the final row, Artificer bites its radula between small plumes of smoke, Rivulet drops their expression, Spearmaster looks very startled, Saint looks almost entirely the same besides half-open eyes and their markings greater in number, and Enot grins confusedly. End ID]

If you'll excuse the unusually lengthy ID: the arena meme introduced by @pansear-doodles at long last after a nearly year-long wip status (or, rather, finished a month ago today to honor my own first time playing it!)

Design notes and shout-outs under cut! :]

The following people are some of those who’ve inspired my designs most since I started this eight months ago (or just inspired me to get a little weirder with slugcat biology), among many others for sure, and I thank them for it–but this is simply to bring attention to artists I find cool, and in no way an obligation to interact or anything :]

> @saturncoyote , @carpsoup , @charseraph , @gallusgalluss , @bitsbug , @dopscratch , and @0hmanit (and a special mention to dddeerbo and hunterlonglegs, who’ve since deactivated)!

Survivor: Surprisingly the hardest to pin down the colors for, since nothing with its sibling's palette seemed to match up right (I did have to add in a little blue somewhere for Monk, the beginning of making it clear how much I’m simply going based off of vibes for the colors of scug innards). I consider them, Monk and Gourmand to be part of the same gene pool of slugcats, and even possibly the same colony even if the latter isn't really related, so took a bit of Gourmand's coloring and fit them in with their inspiration: Goniobranchus verrieri. They serve as a bit of an introduction to my ideas of scug traits (i find it really fun how many people have thought to add so many silly sluglike fixtures of biology completely independent of me, buuut here I’m mostly talking about species variation), and like in-game they’re pretty average! They, Monk and Hunter have a couple scars sourced from a piece of Joar's concept art that I'm failing to find, those across the bridge of the nose, under the eyes, and across the rhinophores, respectively, and my Survivor interpretation features many on the back of the neck, as a result of survived lizard bites.

Monk: Their coloring is primarily based off the fact that I associate them with blue fruits, honestly, a bit because I was compelled to establish a familiarity with Rivulet, and lastly inspired by the spots of Goniobranchus kuniei (and geminus, less important to me as one of my characters is a kuniei instead, but more fitting). Between the yellow + blue and the circular marking in the center of their face, they’re meant to bear a little resemblance to an iterator that shares similarities with the characterization I’ve given them, and similar coding of her sibling can be seen on Survivor’s markings around the eyes. As both a “default” slugcat and one whose campaign I haven’t played, though, I can’t say I have much more to point out about em.

Hunter: The whole rot thing made for a really fun time drawing them, and while the color change on their back is a result of this, it’s also an excuse to relate them to Babakina festiva, arguably my favorite sea slug (mostly for sentimental purposes). And to Spearmaster, a fellow messenger slugcat, and it serves as a gradient between Hunter’s pink and the “traditional” color of Rot seen in the DLLs. Aside from their affliction, they’d actually be the plainest in terms of design, as they don’t have any patterns or quirks of body type, just the red + purple and strange lumps + possible malnutrition. I can’t remember if NSH had created them in particular or just...caught + released or something, but it probably wouldn’t be strange for a lab-grown slugcat to be simple like that.

Gourmand: Like the two above, they’re rather plain in terms of coloring and adaptation, and like the two above, I find that fun. I decided it would be nice to avert the “all slugcats being of the same body type, and Gourmand’s out of place as the exception” thing by just...adding more fat to all of them, really. I did want to emphasize their sheer bulk even so, both fat and muscular (not like I couldn’t have still gone further with it, of course, but slugcat anatomy can be a little obfuscating sometimes, and they were intended to look rather plush considering personal size headcanons and therefore the lack of proper gravity), and the thick and flounced mantle looked like a good addition, as per their sea slug Glossodoris hikuerensis. Unlike Survivor and Monk, I didn’t attempt to hold their resemblance to any particular other character (which means a little less to balance out the “default gene pool” thing), so those are all the design notes I have for em.

Artificer: The second slugcat I’ve ever played, or finished the campaign of, my favorite for at least a long time, and the first thing I did was give them yellow accents, the shape of which have troubled me slightly (not quite like the spots or stripes of the others). They’re both a little more appealing and more explosive-looking to me, and considering how early on I played Arti, actually present in some of my older art. It does give them a little resemblance to Saint (completely intentional, two slugcats with strange relations to karma), as well as the fact that its radula is green for familiarity with one of its children (at some point it was going to have all-green markings, even!). I’m generous with their scars, partly because it was fun to overemphasize the one on their face and partly because it does seem like a reckless slugcat, on top of the dangers of its explosive abilities–I’ll probably just keep adding more forever. Mostly-red sea slugs aren’t too common, but Hexabranchus sanguineus works for sure. The ridged, yellow dewlap can expand for combustion purposes, or something along those lines. Arti’s where I began experimenting with a lot of the mildly-offkilter features seen in my interpretation of slugcats, as they’ve once again been a favorite from the start.

Rivulet: I've obviously given other slugcats spots, deeply enjoy the bubbly-soda markings of other peoples' slugcats, and thought seal riv would be cute. Despite not too closely resembling it, they've been government-assigned Hypselodoris bennetti, for color reasons and for a couple sentimental ones. Originally, the colors of every scug were meant to match up with the custom colors I gave them at the beginning of their campaigns, (though Arti, Gourm and Spearmy are the only three who actually apply here, since I've only played through half the slugcats: I gave arti the yellow as mentioned above, gourm brown eyes and spearmy light pink spears, furthered by the outskirts pearl accompanying me and that palette all the way to moon. Tolerance training for eternity in hell cause I already knew about the maroon pearl quest). I initially gave them the colors of the bi flag for fun... but with the limited palette of this image, I was left without pink for a while and decided to see how they'd look in red. I then realized how they now wonderfully matched Moon, and besides, red's a sort of camouflage in deep water! As a side-note, the difference between their eyes and those of others always bothered me a little for anatomical purposes, and the cephalopod eyes were probably influenced by this!

Spearmaster: Inspired as much as possible by @notyourfunnyman ’s wonderful spearmy: designed in a way that helps it fit in with scavengers, at least between the long sensory tentacles, big ruff, back spines and slightly thin/distended anatomy, a form of defensive mimicry. I always had annulate rhinophores in mind, for a little diversity sure, but mostly because the shape reminds me of radio antennae and communication towers (seems fitting for the comms array and being a messenger slugcat)! I started searching for a real-life slug to give them just by looking up their rhinophore shape...and was met immediately and coincidentally with annulate-topped nudibranchs that fit them more perfectly than I could've imagined: Flabellina and surrounding clades, I think Paraflabellina ischitana works very nicely. The orange was completely unplanned, but there wasn’t a place for light pink among the other slugcats’ palettes, and importantly it likens them to both Hunter and Seven Red Suns a little more.

Saint: I am very much a non-furred slugcat enjoyer, with respect to those who aren’t, so figuring out the only visibly furred slugcat was an interesting challenge. I’ve decided that they likely have other, milder adaptations for help in the cold, mainly just more efficient fat storage, and what looks vaguely like fur is instead a bunch of tubercles (called caryophillia, for the second reminder out of three). Their inspiration doesn’t have these, however, Miamira sinuata’s numerous yellow and blue spots (not to mention...whatever’s going on with that shape) and general effect of being the only really green nudibranch I could find were probably perfect for a strange green echo. Not pictured, but their beak-teeth are tiny and flat to make a surface for grinding soft food against with the lack of a functioning radula, which is tipped with a specialized spiny “grapple-hook” for better traction/grip (not to mention the numerous little teeth running down the whole thing).

(Best part of hiding this under a readmore means edits will be seen by all reblogs, I'm mostly sure, because I completely forgot to mention! The spots on their forehead are simple eyes. Their camera eyes appear closed in-game, I like to believe their complex eyesight is rather poor anyways or otherwise reason that they aren't seeing out of those, and while this was far from her REASON for attunement with the world, it does help compensate for mainly viewing it through a canvas of simple light and dark. This, and the fact that their swapped-out "fur" is not only to commit to a lack of hairs but contributes to sensory input!)

Nightcat/Enot: I guess you could say I found the “these two are technically the same person” compelling. (E.g. similar colors, both very strange and enigmatic, and Enot/Inv/Sofanthiel’s remark during the dating sim about getting removed from Arena Mode.) I doubt they’re the only two slugcats in their body, considering humans with DID tend to have more than a few (and I find it very funny that a slugcat bearing resemblance to Nightcat appears in Gourmand’s ending. They’re allowed in the colony and Enot isn’t </3), and I have to credit @faelingdraws ’s art for being what convinced me on it! Their design inspirations come down to trying to balance a few different ideas: making the patterns and palettes of both look oddly similar (special mention to the stars, since those are fun to draw), basing them off of Felimare sechurana and juliae respectively, using blocks of color with the same placement as in Enot’s official art, and specifically making Enot look...biologically reasonable and imperfect, whilst also clearly trying to imitate human displays of emotion (what with...the eyes and blush on that one piece of official art).

Lastly, here’s just a lineup with notes on body shape and size. Most of the nicknames (existing to give a little more space, that’s all) are obvious, and while I can’t remember why I shortened Nightcat to Nox, it is in honor of my friend by the same nickname :]

[violentkisses999]

preys and predators

summary: the story of preys and predators unfolds as you exchange numbers with wanda maximoff: a predator of nature your wedding planner.

pairing: fem!reader x wanda maximoff

cw: death of animal, light depiction of blood, (i'm an asshole when it comes to poetic metaphors, pls stick w me)

there was once a swampy bayou. humid breezes raked over soggy lumps of leaves. it was midday when a white swan gracefully flapped near the edges of peaceful waters. its webbed feet squelched into clay like mud as it ventured closer.

the bird's long neck bucked as it peered its head around: checking if the coast was clear. all that could be heard were screaming heaps of cicadas and the occasional yelp of a cricket. once the swan decided that it was safe to do so, it dipped its bumpy beak into the murky water.

the resting waters of the bayou rippled as the waterfowl sipped. its tired eyelids drooped as it drank. it hadn't seen the bubbles of air that emerged from the water.

as the bird's body grew heavier with relaxation, it was submerged further into the thick mud. so far to the point where it could feel its stomach rest against the soft land. unbeknownst to the pure creature, the ripples in the body of water redirected. instead of moving away from the bird's beak, they were flowing right towards it.

once the greedy swan had finally quenched its thirst, it lifted its dripping beak. its eyelids never opened as it ruffled its feathers. its body was graced with a warm gust of wind.

its eyelids fluttered as they peeled apart. though instead of the peaceful swamps it expected to see, the bird's eye view was met with gaping jaws ready to feast. the snout of the slick predator dripped as it lurked further open.

before the swan could retrieve its feet from the mud-

chomp

drops of blood flew to paint the sharp blades of grass. like water colors, the brownish water blended with the crimson substance.

the scene was terrifying, but so is nature. the tailed beast drew back into the murky swamp. the cicadas still screamed, and the crickets still yelped.

after so long, another greedy creature would naively sip from the forbidden bayou. that sneaky gator will be there too. patiently watching its prey fatten before striking. just another day in the wild.

the circle of l- "hey?" wanda repeated, "you okay?"

suddenly, the sounds of civilians chattering, and cars honking infiltrated your senses. busy gusts of wind fanned her fragrance right towards you. miniature bumps rose on your skin.

the tender rasp of her voice had your hands fumbling with your phone. your voice shook, "yeah- no, i'm all good, " you explained pathetically.

a moment of silence passed. though subtle, you managed to notice it. her green eyes sharply peered into yours. the space between her auburn brows creased as her head tilted in the slightest.

before you could further reassure her that you were present, her hands firmly clapped together. her matte lips pursing in disregard.

chomp

"anyways, now that you have my number, we can discuss cake tasting plans over the phone." her stating of the obvious was met with your dumb nodding. you'd be lying if you said that you'd been listening.

"text me later?" her eyebrows raised as she slightly raised her shoulders: physically begging for words. you cheeks warmed as if you had only just noticed your limited responses.

"absolutely!" you blurted out before your lips could stop. your eyelids squeezed shut, and your cheeks heated. your grip on your phone only slipped as sweat drew from your palms. "i mean, yes. i will text you, and i will give mark your number as well."

wanda's shoulders seemed to relax at the mention of your fiance. you wouldn't have noticed, you were too busy staring down other random pedestrians. anything to make this interaction feel more casual.

"well, you do that." with that, she zipped up her coat and drew back into the busy crowd.

and just like that, the chattering civilians and honking cars became real noise again. the autumn breeze still graced your skin. no more goosebumps. huh... weird..

anywho, you should really call mark. planning you guy's wedding has been driving you crazy.

about me main masterlist

[khonshus-stardust]

HEAR ME OUT

It’s just you in your room and Khonshu shows up and pent up and wants to do something now. But is also upset (for whatever reason) so he makes you finger your self on your bed and just watches you while rubbing himself through his lines and talks you through it, then after your first 0rgasm he’s just suddenly right in front of you and begins too overstimulate you by fingering you and degrading you for listening to him so easily and calling you his dirty little bug🫶🤭

Take It

Pairing: Khonshu x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, dirty talking, fingering, overstimulating, name calling (dirty little bug, slut, etc.)

Word Count: 2735

Summary: In a fit of rage, the god appears in your room while you're in the middle of reading. Used to this behavior, you don't act different until he orders you to strip. He's tense and needs release.

Author Note: I sent a screenshot of this to my bestie. The two of us were freaking out because this is fucking gold! Thank you for being my first ask on this blog! I'm glad to see you return as well

Masterlist

Ao3

Air swirled harshly around your lax form reading on the bed. After the countless times the god has appeared in your room time and time again, you’ve grown accustomed to this. Your eyes don’t leave the entertaining pages before you.

A cold hand encases your bare ankle and yanked you closer to the foot of your bed. The yelp that left your lips couldn’t be helped. Your eyes snapped to the imposing ancient Egyptian god that stood your room. A glare was easily set on his tattered form. “What is wrong with you?” you snarked before shaking your head. “Don’t answer that. I know: it’s a lot.”

His grasp let go of your ankle. Khonshu, known for being the god of the moon, towered in over your form. Despite having no muscles and only cloth to make up his frame, he held himself tensely. His hands were balled into fists at his sides; shoulders slightly bunched up; and he just stood there, looking at you. As if one more wrong thing could send him into a frenzy.

It was a sight you were familiar with. Dealing with Khonshu was a full-time job that was unpaid.

Despite having a hate-love relationship with the dead bird god, that didn’t stop you from being concerned about him. The book in hand was marked then set to the side, on the nearby nightstand. You go to sit up on your knees when the god finally spoke up.

“Don’t move,” Khonshu barked, body growing even tenser. You turned your head to the side and looked at him suspiciously. The god took a step back and rested a hand on the end board of your bed. The walls of your room not tall enough to allow him full freedom to stand tall.

The metal creaked precariously under his massive, lithe hands. “Strip.” Your head jolted yet your thighs clenched together.

“Excuse me?” you sputtered with your lips parting afterwards. His hand tightened again. Khonshu took a step forward to further crowd into your space. His long beak surging passed any boundaries. The soulless, empty sockets of the skull of his head bore holes into your head.

“I said strip,” he growled, voice ringing in your head. The lump in your throat was hard to swallow. Your tongue darted out and coated your dry lips. “Don’t make me say it again.” Your whole body shuttered.

Timidly, you reached for the hem of your shirt before finding somewhere else to look at. The fabric was pulled over your head and tossed to the side.

Khonshu hummed. “Don’t stop.” Like the good follower of the moon god you are, you listened to his demands. The rest of your clothing is pulled off and thrown off to the side of the bed. He observed the entire time, enjoying the exposed skin you relented to him.

This wasn’t the first time you’ve been naked before the god. Like mentioned before, you had a love-hate relationship with him. Both sides of the coin included letting him use you for his own pleasure. A life you enjoyed with little complaint.

“Scoot back, up against the headboard, little bug,” he ordered and stepped back, hand leaving the end board. Timidly, you followed the instructions and used the pillows as a comfortable rest and barrier from the cool material. Throughout the times you’ve done this with him, you kept your legs closed with anxiety driving you. His never-ending gaze caused your heart to flutter like the wings of a bird.

The god himself sat himself down in the only chair in your bedroom, legs spread wide. His imposing frame purposefully taking in all the space it could.

One of his legs was jutting out while the other was bent at the knee. An elbow was perched on the armrest at an acute angle, wrist hanging loosely. His other arm hung loosely off the other armrest, palm touching his thigh. A relaxed form for the god who looked ready to tear into something less than two minutes ago.

His long beak tilted up and slightly to the side to show off his nonexistent throat. “Look at you,” he mused. If his face wasn’t stagnant, you believed a carefree smirk would be etched into his features. With his arm jutting into the air, he lazily wiggled his pointer finger side to side at you. “Open those legs for me.”

You bite at your bottom lip then let your legs spread open. “A sight for sore eyes,” Khonshu groaned and shifted his hips. You sucked in a quick breath at the sight and had to stop yourself from mewling at the move.

But the god noticed the way your empty pussy clenched and chuckled lowly. His voice continuously swirling inside of your head. “Touch your clit, little one.” This side of Khonshu wasn’t what you were used to but fuck, you felt your body heat up at it.

One of your hands drifted between your spread legs and pressed against your clit. It throbbed against your fingertips. You leaned your head back and started to softly rub circles.

“Did I say move?” Khonshu growled and leaned forward in his seat. You whined and gave the god a frown, hand stilling. “Pout all you want, slut. Only I get to tell you what to do.” The god scoffed and returned his relaxed posture from before.

With that same finger pointing in your general direction, he used two to show a spreading movement. “Spread more. I want to see every little flutter, every little throb.” You huffed but listened to him, letting your legs open further for his gaze.

A cool breeze drifted over your exposed moist labia. You shuttered, thighs tensing. “Poor thing, already getting wet all because of my words. Isn’t that right, little bug?” All you could do was nod softly. He dipped his massive skull. “Now, you may play with your clit. Go slowly, light pressure.”

Now with permission, you started an even pace. Your walls constructed for a moment at the new source of pleasure. You groaned and rested your head back against the headboard. It offered relief to the building lust in the pit of your stomach.

You knew what to do. The movements familiar and memory this long into your life. The way you flicked your wrist into perfect motion, albeit slower than you would like.

More of your arousal began shine in the low light of the room at the beginning of your entrance. “Stop.” In the haze of your pleasure, you didn’t realize he had even said anything to you the first time. “I said stop!” You jolted and removed your hand unwillingly with a mewl. Your clit flutter, demanding for you return to your former movements.

Slightly dazed, you eyed the god still in his chair, position barely even changed. The hand on his thigh had slide up further to rest close to where his thighs meets his waist. “With one finger, push into that tight little cunt,” he instructed.

Happily, you followed through with just your middle finger entering you. The simply yet obscene noise had you whining, but you knew it wouldn’t be enough. The god had ruined you since the first time he drove into you. You looked at him with sweet doe-eyes and silently pleaded for more.

“Hm, look how good you take it,” he groaned. His hand slid up only a couple more inches and cupped a lump under the wrappings that covered his form. It took you longer than you would have admitted to realize he was palming himself. Your walls pulsed around the finger buried into your soaked cunt. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

All you could offer was a mewl. The god tsked. “Use your thumb to rub at your clit and curl your middle finger. Find your g-spot.”

Instantly, you listened, desperate for whatever he allowed. Your finger curled deep inside of you and easily found that spongy spot. A shock of pleasure was sent up your spine to dwell in the pit of stomach. “Oh, fuck,” you moaned and used your thumb to draw tight circles around your engorged clit. It pulsed against your thumbpad.

Your jaw dropped with airily, breathless pants and whines. Clear, stick arousal freely drips from your slightly filled entrance and rolls down the swell of your ass cheeks before soaking into the bedsheets. Your other hand trembled on the mattress, gripping the blankets tightly.

Involuntarily, you couldn’t control your hips squirming, trying to add fuel to the growing embers. “Stay still, don’t move your hips,” Khonshu growled, voice huskier than before. You reopened your eyes and find the god rubbing at his clothed cock. It strained for release. You could imagine the feel of it. The head popping past your labia and stretching your walls to accommodate him all over again. The way the tip slammed against your cervix at each hard thrust, trying to fight every inch inside your smaller body.

The hand on the bed slapped against your mouth, sealing the whimpers beginning to spill freely from your loose lips. You locked your teeth down on a knuckle as the pleasure began to build further in the pits of stomach.

“Let me hear you. Don’t you dare hide anything from me, little bug!” the god snarled and was on the verge of leaping from his seat to tear your hand from your mouth. His free palm slammed against the armrest, balled into a fist. He continued to rub himself harder, using the heel of his hand.

Your unfocused eyes found the empty, dark sockets of his. The knuckle fell away to rest on your thigh. Khonshu growled and grabbed the end of the armrest righter. “Don’t stop. Keep going. Just like that. Look at all that mess. So messy,” he rambled and stayed leaning forward, ready to leap to action.

A strewn of whines and mewl filled the rooms vacant air as you grew closer, velvet walls tightening around your single finger. “Feels-“ he groans “-good doesn’t it?” Your toes begin to curl, legs growing taunt. “I want to see you, watch you come just at the sound of my voice, little one.” You do your best to keep your eyes on the tense god before you. Anything to please him.

“You going to come, sweet little mortal?” his voice echoes inside of your head, bouncing off of the walls. You rapidly nodded your head and couldn’t help but fasten your fingers, needing quicker movements. He doesn’t stop you, watching as your head pitched back with a cry of his name.

The soft, ribbed walls of your pussy constricted around your finger, locking down on the intrusion. They begin to flutter, like bird wings.  You rubbed fiercely at that spongy spot just shy of your entrance, inside of you.

As the crescendo helped drag your mind back to the depths of your body, you felt large, lithe hands wrapped around your wrist. Your digit was pulled free, only connected with a clear strong of your slick for a moment before it was laid to rest at your side. A whine pulled free from your throat, eyes flickering open. You gasped at the imposing form of Khonshu kneeling on the bed, between your spread legs. “Khonshu?” you whispered his name after moments ago screaming it to his fellow gods.

He didn’t answer and cupped your sex, easily dwarfing it in his palm. Still in the downfall of your orgasm, you yelped but jerked your hips up to gain friction. His other hand entered your vision and took hold of your hip, now pinned to the mattress.

Two fingers prodded at your dripping folds before pushing in. Your head smacked against the headboard but the pain was brushed to the side. The digits press against your cervix before they were pulled out enough to touch at your G-spot only an inch or two passed your labia.

Pleasure filled your veins, turning your mind slowly into slush at the sudden stimulation. You were still trying to reel yourself in from the last orgasm. “You’re so wet, little bug. All just from me telling you to fuck yourself with your fingers. Such a dirty little bug listening to their god,” he purred inside of your mind. His voice velvet in the depths of your brain.

The hand that had brought you to your first orgasm shakily wrapped around his thin wrist for support. Khonshu continued to fuck you with two of his fingers, stretching you more than what any of your own digits could. “You take my fingers so well. I’ve ruined you for any mortal. You’re all mine, little mortal. All mine to ruin and dirty.” Your cunt fluttered again. “Such a dirty little bug liking me destroying you.”

You panted and tried to thrust your hips up for more, anything to drag his fingers deeper into you. “Please, Khon. More, more,” you pleaded the god of the moon, eyes hazing over, pupils blown wide. None of the iris able to peek through in the low light.

Khonshu chuckled, vibrating your mind. “Such a slut, begging for more.” This own thumb covered the entirety of your engorged clit and pressed against the sensitive nub. You gasped and shuttered at the tingling feeling overestimating your nerves. Your hand tightened. Khonshu scoffed. “You asked for it. Now, you’re going to take what I give.”

Once more, you clenched down on him. He gave a particular hard thrust of his digits into you g-spot that had trying to lift off of the bed. He just laughed then started to rub circles on clit.

The texture of the cloth that encased his body dragged across the sensitive flesh of your nub. You whined and attempted to pull at his wrist. But the god was situated where he wanted to be.

He continued onward and picked up a pace that had you squirming wildly underneath him. It was to the point he used his own legs to pin down yours to control your lower half. “You’re going to take what I give,” he reiterated.

The overstimulation created arcs of electricity across your skin, making your entire body not only feel alive but on fire. One of your hands clawed and fisted the bedsheets, desperate for purchase the closer you got to exploding.

Your nerves had been burned, filled with too much energy than they could handle. Like the pleasure, you consumed the pain all the same, wanting more. “Dirty little bug, letting a god ruin them, fucking them with his fingers.”

White blinded you as you screamed out a pathetic cry and arched your back. Khonshu did not stop. He used his fingers to draw your orgasm out as long as possible. Your nerves were lit on fire, burning fiercely just under your skin. They were being rubbed raw, bare for him to play with as he pleases. Your screams began to turn into whimpers and mewls. You fell flat back to the bed in heap of mush and ecstasy.

Khonshu finally relented when your body gave its last shuttered. His thin digits were pulled free from the depths of you used cunt. You twitched one more time. He held up his hand and spread his two fingers apart. They were connected at the tips by a clear, sticky string of your slick. “One of these days, I’ll take a mortal form so I can taste your sweet essence,” he muttered more to himself than the room.

Tiredly, you huffed through your nose and looked at him, eyes still dazed over. Khonshu leaned over and cupped your cheek in his clean hand. “You did so well for me, my little dirty bug,” he whispered and pressed the tip of his beak to your forehead. You smiled weakly at him.

“Are you going to tell me what had you in a tissy when you arrived?” you asked him in a soft voice and nuzzled into his palm. The god shook his head.

“Nothing you need to worry that pretty little head over. God issues,” he stated then reached over, pulling a towel hanging from end board of the bed. The god carefully used it to clean off the inside of your thighs and his fingers. He pecked your forehead again. “Till we meet again, my dear mortal.” Then, in rush of wind, the god was gone from sight.

[inferno-0]

Rodan x human reader /one shot/

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Just ordinary days with a cute "bird" (very hot bird)

Sorry for the English

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"When I mentioned that I wanted something to eat, I didn't mean it." Your gaze slowly landed on the shark, which was floundering desperately in the sand. Her appearance could no longer be considered one of the best. The claw marks on Kaiju's side stood out, indicating the force with which he was carrying this gift to you. Looks like Rodan really took care of your so-called requirement. Even though you didn't ask... You just said, calmly and without any hint, but the Titan decided otherwise. Not listening to you, Kaiju just silently got up and flew away. He didn't even shout a warning.

And now, this Tomboy is waiting for you to react to this miracle that he has been catching for twenty minutes or more. His claws clenched and unclenched as you took another breath and looked at him. Looks like you were... Not very happy, as it seemed to Rodan. His beak snapped in exasperation and descended toward you. He tilted his head questioningly and growled something at your imperturbable face, which he didn't like.

Just because you're used to his behavior is an understatement. Rodan can't scare you or do anything about it now, as you know this Titan's true intentions. He's never hurt you and he never will, because he's attached. The downside was that he couldn't influence you with his powerful body and the size of his wings, which were really impressive. One swipe and you're off to the flight. But that's not happening.

Rodan narrowed his eyes and thought for a moment before standing up again. The heat that enveloped you from the bird's side immediately disappeared, leaving behind a gentle breeze that ruffled your hair on the top of your head. The shark underneath his feet was no longer so active. Her body was breathing heavily, needing oxygen in the form of the ocean. Touching it wasn't an option, as it might not have given up before dying on this land, but it wouldn't survive long at sea either, given the red streaks that covered the predator's past.

You sighed sadly as you watched Rodan turn away. He was silent and stared off into the distance, trying not to give you casual glances. His wings fluttered before folding on his chest in a very familiar pose.

Human posture.

With your eyebrows drawn to the bridge of your nose in disagreement, you approached the Titan, who didn't seem particularly willing to make contact with you. His head would constantly turn away when you wanted to look him in the eye. The sharp claws only pressed harder against his chest, and the wings literally wrapped around his belly.

"Are you offended?" You were amused by his new habits, which he picked up from you in just a couple of weeks of communication. His rumbling in response to your question sounded like the typical mumbling of a grumpy old man. Maybe it is, though. It's certainly not thousands or a few hundred years old. But he wasn't flabby. Rodan was in full swing, given his hyperactivity, which is to be envied. But at the moment, he wasn't really trying to move.

"Rodan, listen. I didn't mean that seriously. It's a custom for people to jokingly talk about their hunger." You looked hopefully at the silent Titan. I don't think your words alone will be enough for him to even look at you. Rodan was irritably proud. Sometimes it was appropriate, and sometimes it was terribly stupid. Especially now.

"Rodan" you said the Titan's name again, knowing what you would get in return.

Silence, then hiss.

You rolled your eyes and pouted in judgment. The shark, which has already said goodbye to its miserable life, will now be useful. Since you still decide to use it for your own purposes. Rodan, hearing your retreating footsteps, turned and looked. His wings relaxed and sank when he saw your direction. His gaze immediately took on an interested look, but he did not dare to follow you yet. He is only intrigued by what you do with his gift.

Too proud.

And proud individuals like to be right.

You squinted slyly, knowing that the Titan was watching you right now. You knew he wasn't going to do anything but be an observer in this situation. Looking at the shark, you smiled before calmly praising the Demon behind you.

Pretty big, isn't it? And in a short fifteen minutes" You covered your mouth with your hand when you heard a low growl, which clearly indicates what emotion the Titan is standing with right now. Barely suppressing your laughter, you continued. "A really good catch. Such a rare find, plus delicious" . You paused abruptly, choosing a phrase in your head that should have a strong effect on the red-haired Kaiju.

"Are you sure you caught her? Maybe you'll show me the true catcher after all?" You bit your lip as you squeezed your eyes shut as you heard a not-so-cheerful screech behind you. Even aggressive to some extent.

"I think this guy deserves a warm hug from me" You folded your hands behind your back, stomping your foot quickly on the ground.

A menacing gaze immediately went to your surprised face, which only a few seconds ago was bursting into quiet laughter. The Kaiju's body warmed up with anger, paws spread out at the sides of your small figure and blocked the way back. The sun, which had been shining brightly in your face, became imperceptible over the creature's shoulder. A rhythmic growl came out of Rodan's beak with irritation. You pursed your lips as you looked at his small eyes. A shiver ran through his body before laughing in Titan's face again.

"I'm sorry" You hunched over, reaching out to Rodan's warm beak. Surprisingly, the Pteranodon did not move away from your touch, but instead joined in stroking.

But he still didn't look pleased. The Titan's yellow eyes closed for a moment, as if falling asleep, as you moved your hand along his beak, making his way to the lower one.

"I don't think you should be offended now, Rodan."

Kaiju opened his eyes and looked at you. The silence that passes between you was quieter than water and lower than grass. It would seem that the world has frozen in the realm of your views on each other. You looked at him with a guilty look, and he looked at him with a glint of hope.

And here it is.

A long-awaited moment.

"I Won't Eat a Shark"

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[oleander-nin]

Horrortober Day 7- Night(Yandere 2012 Raph x Reader)

A/N, not important: Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Mentioned abuse, bruises, fantasized death, bugs(roaches), kidnapped, restraints, yandere themes, dark themes

Words: 860

Summary: You're stuck in bed with your thoughts, the monster behind you not helping a bit.

The lair was silent, kindly letting you breathe after another rough night. Not a sound could be heard, your ears more sensitive to the nonexistent sound than ever before. Your body still shook with the fear caused by your own horrid imagination, your hands held close to your chest and knees tucked tightly together. You do not dare move, lest you signal your presence to the beast in the room.

The beast breathes out a long breath, his snores mixing together with your own quick breaths to make a sad song of despair and captivity. Even his breathing held you down, silencing your own exhales with each rise of his chest. You could still feel the remnants of your dream burned into your skin, his hands on your legs, your arms, your neck. The bruises given were still there, remnants of punishments received earlier this morning. Or, yesterday morning you supposed. Time was so hard to tell now that he had taken away everything from the room. Your own little time capsule, where nothing changed except the placements of the bruises with each mistake you make.

The monster beside you shifts in his sleep, your mind freezing while panic overtakes your veins. His hold around your waist tightens, his beak buried in the back of your neck. It feels like hours before you can get your heart to stop pounding, to convince it to stop beating its loud, harsh drum. If there was light, you were sure your skin would seem deathly pale to the usual tone it was, both from fear and from the sickness that had nestled in your skin and settled into your bones. You commonly heard Leo chiding your captor outside his room, reminding him of the importance of sun and exercise for humans like you.

Your stomach rolls at the thought, knowing you were nothing more than a trophy for the mutant clinging to you like a child to its teddies. You wished deeply he would take his older brother's advice, your desire to see the sun greater than anything you’ve felt in your life. To feel the warmth on your skin, to see the rays shining down and the shadows from the natural light, you were certain it would heal every bruise and mark he has given you, curing any disease that had wormed its way under your skin.

You shift your legs under the blankets, the chain around your left ankle causing a sharp pain to shoot up your leg. You grimace, trying to let the limb calm down again and get used to the jabbing once more. You wouldn’t risk shifting to the other side, not wanting to wake the beast. He was already awful when he was awake and happy. Sleepy and angry would be a death sentence.

The ache in your leg soon quiets to a dull throb, your eyes scanning the dark wall in front of your face. The vague shape of his drum set could be made out to your left, the cymbals tilted and sticks placed neatly on the seat. A thought flashes through your mind, the image of you smashing it while he leaves for patrol. Him coming back to his instrument ruined and cracked, each piece twisted and shattered beyond repair. You imagined his anger, his rage and the pain that always followed. But you also imagined the satisfaction that would mend the hole in your chest just slightly by knowing you had destroyed something he loved. Something irreplaceable.

The thought finally fades and you close your eyes for a second more, breathing deeply while you try to let your mind drift somewhere else. Somewhere that wasn’t the sewers, or the dingy concrete room of an old subway station. The small skitter of miniscule legs catches your attention, and you smile knowingly. Despite the mutant’s insisted cleanliness, the bugs always came through, only caring for a place to sleep and something to eat. They too had scared you at first, and your shrieks rivaled your captors when a bug got in. Unlike the monster in the bed, you had quickly gotten used to the inhabitants of the sewers, just as you had gotten used to the chain around your ankle. He had not.

Watching your captor shriek like a child at the bugs was entertaining now, a small victory that you treasured dearly. His fear was a reminder of his own weaknesses, of his own possible defeat. A fleeting wish was to die in this very bed, and let him come back to your roach infested body, the screams he would emit being music to your ears.

Sleep tugs at your brain once more, chasing away the dark thoughts and begging you to return to sleep. The night was still young, and he always did have the courtesy to let you sleep in. Even he knew it would be too much to make you adjust to his own schedule. You let your eyes close and your limbs tingle, sleep spreading through your nerves and reaching every last bit of you. You join the monster in rest, the two of you becoming one in the night.

[littlest-w01f]

Chapter Ten

Series Masterlist

Cw: Necromancy, torture, slight mention of sa

The dinner had a rather abrupt ending to it after Rhysand mentioned visiting the Bone Carver with Feyre, the Death God was nothing new to Rheana, having read all his tales, but she'd never met him, visited The Prison all but twice to lock up traitors.

She had seen him in passing though, when the curiosity got better of her and she made her way down the prison, in the form of a young female with bright firey hair, light bronze skin, violet eyes, and large Illyrian wings, sitting in the cell, playing with bones. The female looked eerily similar to her, at the same time, she carried a stranger's face.

Rheana took a step closer to the cell, her heart pounding in her chest as she calmed herself down. She could feel the energy radiating off the girl, making her feel both uneasy and strangely drawn towards her at the same time.

But she knew better than to converse with the Carver, so she had left, even still, the thoughts of why he had shown up as that female haunted her, all because it was a question she didn't know the answer to.

The new morning she saw outside on her balcony in the townhouse, a piece of parchment in front of her, an ink pot and the fancy quill she preferred beside her, with some chamomile tea in her hands.

As Rheana sipped her chamomile tea, her mind wandered back to the Bone Carver, and the peculiar sight of him appearing as a young female, it had been years since then, centuries even. She picked up her quill and dipped it into the inkwell, changing her thoughts from the Bone Carver to Tarquin, the High Lord of Summer her brother had asked her to write to.

Rheana, despite the view people had for her Court, was very nicely received among the royal families of other Courts, she spoke in the language people wanted to hear, and read people so well that she knew what they expected without breaking into their minds.

So, the words flew freely, asking Tarquin for a visit to Summer, for herself, Rhysand, Feyre and Amren, spinning a tale of wanting to mend Court relations, after Amarantha had destroyed Prythian, she did feel a visit to other Courts would be important, especially after she had killed Tarquin's mother, an old friend of hers, along with his father for the Summer Court trying to rebel against her.

Rheana knowing full well how persuasive she could be when writing letters, hoped that this one would have the desired effect. Kallos took the chance to jump in her lap in the form of a little kitten she kept them as, purring like one too, but their skin was as scale-like as it had been when she met them. She finished writing her letter, dipping the quill again to sign her name elegantly before placing everything neatly aside, she hovered her hand over the parchment, using her magic to dry the ink.

She held the paper, and folded it thrice before summoning an envelope, setting the letter inside, and sealing it with hot wax and her court's emblem, using the quill she made three stars on the bottom of the envelope with Night Blooms under the stars, her own personal mark for Tarquin to know who it came from.

With the letter sealed and marked, Rheana stood up and walked over to the balcony, gazing out at the city below. She felt a sense of anticipation building within her, wondering what response she might receive from Tarquin. She closed her eyes, letting the warm breeze caress her face, and whispered a silent prayer to the stars, hoping that her efforts would not be in vain.

Kallos appeared on the windowsill and with a wave of Rheana's hand, they turned into a raven, a deep black coat that still had its scaley texture, bigger than most birds, Take this for me. She said in their mind.

Kallos mindlessly picked the letter with their beak and nodded, for you, They then took flight, and Rheana cast a glamour on them to keep them invisible to anyone who looked to the sky.

Rheana watched intently as Kallos took flight, carrying her letter towards its destination. A pang of worry briefly crossed her heart but she quickly banished it, trusting in the strength of her words and her bond with Kallos, they would get the message to Tarquin. She returned to her seat, pouring herself another cup of chamomile tea, she pulled a book from her shelf, settling back comfortably with the intention to pass the time by losing herself in someone else's fantastical world until news arrived.

Rhysand and Feyre returned earlier than Rheana had expected, sensing how upset Feyre was, and told her enough of the fact that they hadn't visited The Prison.

Feyre had said nothing but locked herself in her room, and Rhysand had simply asked Rheana not to try to make her come out, giving her space.

Rheana nodded understandingly, sympathizing with Feyre’s pain. "Of course," she murmured softly, casting a glance towards the door of Feyre’s room. "Give her time." She advised gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Rhysand’s arm. "And you should give yourself some time too. It must be difficult to see your mate hurt."

Rheana could tell from the set of Rhysand's shoulders and the distant look in his eyes that he was indeed struggling too. His emotions were so closely tied to Feyre's, that it was hard for him to remain unaffected when she suffered. Rheana moved away from him slightly, stepping over to the fireplace to stir the embers and add more wood, the crackling flames providing a comforting sound.

Rheana left Rhysand with himself and some of the calming tea she had been drinking, and made her way up the House of Winds, if she had been in a hurry, she would've flown, but for now, she had the time to walk up the spiral staircase to the top.

10,000 stairs may seem daunting to many, but for Rheana, it was a familiar trek, one she often undertook when seeking solitude or clarity. As she climbed, the air grew cooler, the scent of saltwater and seafoam wafting in through the open windows that lined the staircase. By the time she reached the top, her legs were pleasantly tired, and her mind felt refreshed.

She had the House of Winds to herself, Cassian had gone to Illyria to see how the training for the males was going, she herself would be leaving soon to train her females, as she did every morning and afternoon, but she also had business to care for before that with Azriel, who waited for her.

Her thoughts went to the library in the House of Winds, on the new Priestess that had joined them almost a few days ago, when her temple was infiltrated by Hybern soldiers, the soldiers that Azriel had ripped apart with his Siphons and the general that he had beaten till his death.

After a few moments of peace, she took flight into the caves of the mountain the House of Winds was built on, as she stepped past a spell of glamour, the dungeons formed in front of her, muffled cries coming from deep inside, the place was dark, Rheana was sure many bats lived in the cracks and crevices in the caves, which might also be why Azriel always came with a new batch of captured insets every time he visited.

"Azriel?" Rheana called out when she felt a few shadows shifting around her, she knew every knock and cranny of this place, having worked alongside Azriel to contain her power and rage before she found much more suitable ways to manage herself.

She felt the shadows move behind her and she sensed Azriel, who simply moved past her when he knew she felt him, "How nice of you to join me, Rhea, this will be like old times."

Azriel led her to a cell, where a dead body lay, the body of the Hybern general, the only physical thing left of the people who attacked Sangravah, Rhysand had been quite pissed that Azriel had left no one standing to interrogate but after what he had told the siblings, Rhysand hadn't been that mad, and besides, Rheana could make it work.

"Ah, so this is him?" Rheana tutted, her clothes transforming, leather replacing cotton, armour, and Siphons on display, the look of death in her eyes, the male's face was bruised and battered, frozen in a look of terror from when Azriel had unleashed himself upon him, "Doesn't seem too intimidating."

"He looks like someone who picks fights with people who can't fight back." Azriel growled and Rheana rested a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

"Hey, why don't I do this alone? You take care of anything else..." Rheana sighed softly, "Perhaps see over the Illyrian females, while I'm busy."

Azriel left with a huff, he'd clearly wanted to see the male suffer, but they needed information more than sadistic pleasure. The second Azriel winnowed away, Rheana exhaled, the room filled with darkness, she looked at the male, tied up to a chair with chains, body slagging in it, covered in cuts and bruises, some received way after he was dead.

Rheana weaved her hand through the dead general's hair, with a sharp inhale, her eyes turned completely black, her skin going paler than the moon as she let go of her darkness and daemati powers, weaving them both together to take control of the dead mind of the general, bringing his body back to life with a gasp of harsh breath the body took, it's eyes dark just like Rheana's were.

The general blinked open his eyes, groaning in pain, staring blankly ahead as though trying to focus on something just beyond reach. Rheana stood before him, her form barely visible amidst the darkness, that swirled around her. She wasn't the dainty princess her father had wanted his daughters to be, clad in warrior leathers, muscles tense from power, biceps flexing from her grip in his hair, nails digging right into his skull, wings flared wide, dark purple Siphons gleaming in the darkness, in front of the general stood The Lady of Darkness, the witch of the dark the Illyrians feared, and the dead general had the right mind to look frightened. She leaned down closer to the male, her voice a low whisper against the silence of the dungeon.

"Speak," She commanded firmly, her eyes burning with an otherworldly intensity. "What were you doing in the Sangravah temple? What did you take?"

The general's lips parted, but no words came out at first. He tried to struggle against the restraints holding him in place, but they held firm. Fear shone brightly in his eyes, a stark contrast to the darkness of Rheana's own gaze. But still, he remained silent. Rheana frowned, her grip tightening even more. A curl of her hand sent another surge of energy coursing through the general, forcing him to obey.

"I… I was following orders!" He finally managed to stammer out, voice almost hypnotized, fear making his voice tremble. "We were tasked with finding and retrieving something specific."

"The feet of the Cauldron, that's what missing, there would be no need for it if you didn't have the Cauldron hidden with you." Rheana's eyes shone dark like a starless cold night sky, "Does your king have it?"

The general nodded, his mind in her hands, quite literally, fear etched across his face as he struggled to keep his composure. "Yes… Yes, he does! It's hidden somewhere safe. No one knows its location except for the king and those closest to him!"

"Like you," Rheana smirked like darkness and death herself, her hold on his mind tightening, "So, where?"

The general grimaced, pain shooting through his head as he fought against the compulsion Rheana exerted upon him. His eyes darted around wildly, searching for some kind of escape, but there was none, because he was dead, nothing about him quite alive. "I… I don't know exactly! Only that it is far from here, somewhere secluded and well-guarded," He confessed, desperation creeping into his tone.

"Fine, guard it in your mind, you only can for so long." Rheana hummed, her voice dangerously sweet, "And the young female you assaulted? Was that an order too? Or do you just liked having power over a defenseless female?"

The general paled further, his mind recoiling at the mention of the assault. "It wasn't an order! We… I acted on my own, without permission. I just couldn't resist her, she was so beautiful and helpless… And that bitch hid the children! It was an easy way to punish her..." He trailed off. "Please, forgive me, I swear it won't happen again!"

"Oh no it won't. Because you suffered and died, and I brought your mind back to torture you again," Rheana smiled, "But her? She suffered, and she will heal."

The general shuddered, his entire being trembling under the weight of Rheana's command. His eyes closed tight as tears began to stream down his cheeks, Rheana was sure the male had wet himself too, there was always that downside of bringing a mind back with magic, it jolted up some other functions too. "Please… Please don't hurt me anymore," he begged, voice cracking.

"Well, if you're lying to be general, you'll wish your body was obliterated like the rest of your soldiers," Rheana cooed as if talking to an infant, "Because I will be back, and that would hurt so much more."

Rheana withdrew her hand from his head, her fingers and palm soiled in blood as the male went limp again, looking more dead than he was before.

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

{Flames and Darkness Taglist- @anuttellaa @tuggboatfishin @inloveallthetime}

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: Slagzogg

This is, interestingly, our third consecutive Beaſt that's actually a common everyday animal pretty much all over Europe, including the area where this manuscript was produced. This is interesting to me because the three are handled very differently. First we had the salamander, which I'm pretty sure got mentally separated from the actual animal somewhere, probably because people use different terms for the real-life amphibian in different regions and languages, and not everybody is going to recognize that it's just the Greek word for the same animal. Second we had the deer, which it seemed like the manuscript producers did recognize, because the illustration is clearly a deer... but elements of the entry are just nuts (As @sweetlyfez said, "How do you make up this many wild myths about a guy you live with"). And now we have the [redacted until end of post], which is just given a completely mundane, if engaging, description with the only weird part being the symbolism attached to it.

I think it might also be our first domestic animal -- the entry even talks about the difference between wild and domestic varieties -- which seems like it's worth noting.

Anyway, as usual people who don't know what I'm talking about should check https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting. The entry this week's artists are working from can be found here:

This is another one where I almost didn't put it in because it seemed super obvious what it was, but the artists have done a superb job not drawing that. Excellent work on everyone's part, and it can be found below the cut:

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) shows us both a domestic and a wild Slagzogg; the design of the domestic one makes me think of fancy pigeons, which I think is a pretty good direction to take here. The vulture-like faces really improve the design also. Very good birds, and you should go check out the linked post to hear about the design decisions and real-life inspirations behind this one; I think it's pretty interesting.

@pomrania (link to post here) observed that, though the entry mentions beaks and flight, it doesn't actually say "bird", so they can draw a pet dragon and have it fit the description. Fair call, and I think it turned out well. I like the contrast between the fairly dignified-looking creature on the left -- this is a Slagzogg who is on its way to win Best in Show -- and the sketch on the right of someone forcibly preventing it from getting into a fight. If you check out the linked post, you can see Pomrania's progress thread for this design.

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) has made the eminently-understandable decision that if they're going to draw a bird with no specific anatomical details given, it's going to be a potoo. On the left we have three domestic Slagzoggs socializing, and on the right we have a wild one perching alone. I like how this incorporates the symbolism of the entry: we're told that the wild type is meant to signify people who choose a religious life ("those who keep apart from this world wear the modest garb of penitence"), and this wild Slagzogg does look a bit more serious and... monastic? Like, that bird is a nun. (Also, thank you for including alt text.)

@cheapsweets (link to post here) also went with the direction of "well, it doesn't say 'bird'," and so we have this really charming image of a medieval person feeding their domestic... pterosaurs. Love it. Honestly, these alternate visions of the Middle Ages where people have entirely different domestic animals than our timeline are really appealing to me. Too much Dinotopia as a child, perhaps. Anyway, check out the linked post for substantially more detail, it's worth it. In fact, everyone reading this should just go ahead and follow all of the bestiaryposting participants. (Also, thank you for the alt text.)

@strixcattus (link to post here) is clearly thinking of the modern day's feral pigeons, formerly the result of selective breeding by pigeon fanciers. We can see the "fancy" domestic version on the left contrasted with the wild version on the right. (I think it's interesting that everyone who's drawn both has put the domestic Slagzogg on the left and the wild Slagzogg on the right.) Anyway, as is usually the case with Strixcattus, the writing included in the post is absolutely worth your time and you should read it. And again, follow them, as well as everyone who has ever contributed to bestiaryposting. Go do it; you won't regret it.

Now, to the Aberdeen Bestiary.

Beak shape aside, these are clearly geese.

I think the degree to which people guessed that varies somewhat; Strixcattus made a post suggesting they were leaning "pigeon", but Pomrania probably clocked it, because they described two Slagzoggs fighting as a "hissing match" despite hissing not being mentioned in the entry. I have no idea where everyone else landed.

Honestly, what I find interesting about this entry is that it's pulling symbolism while remaining pretty much entirely grounded in reality. Check this out:

The goose marks the watches of the night by its constant cry.

Okay, I don't know to what degree it's useful in marking time, but I don't doubt that geese make noise at night.

No other creature picks up the scent of man as it does.

That one I'm not sure about.

This next bit I cut because if anyone knows Roman history they'd nail it right out of the gate:

It was because of its noise, that the Gauls were detected when they ascended the Capitol. Rabanus says in this context: 'The goose can signify men who are prudent and look out for their own safety.'

Okay, that might be less history and more legend, but still, people know it, I think.

There are two kinds of geese, domestic and wild. Wild geese fly high, in a an orderly fashion, signifying those who, far away from earthly things, preserve a rule of virtuous conduct.

I can absolutely see medieval people looking up at geese flying in that V formation and going, "look how orderly these birds are; clearly they are virtuous creatures."

Domestic geese live together in villages, they cackle together all the time and rend each other with their beaks...

Yeah, that sounds like what geese would do in a village.

All wild geese are grey in colour; I have not seen any that were of mixed colour or white. But among domestic geese, there are not only grey but variegated and white ones. Wild geese are the colour of ashes, that is to say, those who keep apart from this world wear the modest garb of penitence.

This bit falls into the category of "I believe it, but it does not accord with my personal experience." Because if you told me that in Europe they had a variety of different aesthetically-pleasing domestic goose breeds, I'd have no problem believing that. And I'm sure some wild geese are gray. But I live in North America, so to me wild geese look like this:

And domestic geese look like this:

But again, I have no difficulty believing that the experience of the medieval Europeans was different from mine.

What really sticks out to me here is the fact that the characteristic behavior of domestic geese is to make noise and get in fights -- I think the Untitled Goose Game would have made perfect sense to a medieval audience.

(After the Smithfield Decretals)

[adobe-outdesign]

Pteri or grarrl review when you have the time? Whichever out of the two you most feel like doing

(I can do both in two parts, but for right now I'll do the Pteri.)

The Pteri is one of several bird Neopets, but surprisingly all of the other birds are specific, distinct species (penguin, owl, etc.), making the Pteri surprisingly unique for just being a normal songbird. Another thing that's unique is that the Pteri has a long non-feathered tail, almost like a Zafara; a very unique addition for a bird and one that gives it a lot more flavor than it would have otherwise.

In terms of design, the Pteri uses a simple three-color palette; base color on top, creamy accents on the underbelly and inside wing, and a complimentary shade of yellow for the beak and feet. The eyes also have these unique fire-y markings to them that accent the underbelly. My only real issue with the design is that the two head feathers don't share the same shape as any of the other feathers, and look both too long and too thin to be read as just fluff. Otherwise, it's a solid design.

The Pteri hasn't changed much through conversion, outside of gaining more distinct chest fluff and slightly longer, fuller wings. I like the overall rounded shape of the original a bit more, but I also really like the 3/4s few the converted is in; having it be front-facing in the older artwork makes the details of the design harder to see. (Also, a moment of appreciation that they just subtly cupped the converted Pteri's wing instead of trying to give it hands or something. Hissi, take notes.)

Favorite Colours:

Faerie: The Faerie Pteri is simply beautiful, and everyone knows it. Instead of having butterfly wings tacked onto it, it instead runs with the bird idea by adding extra feathers to the tail, kind of like a mini peacock, and also adding more to the head and wings. It uses a gorgeous yellow as its primary color and accents it with white, orange, red, and purple, with the colors radiating outward in layers. The design also compliments the natural eye markings with additional markings around the entire eye as well as on the head and tail, and adds some lovely eye spots on the tail as well.

The converted version technically follows the same design as the original, minus the additional eye markings, but honestly the UC/styled pose shows off the markings better and has more flow to boot, making it far superior by default.

Darigan: Unlike Faerie, the converted Darigan Pteri doesn't look that great. The design is technically accurate to the original, but trying to make those features work on the default body shape just isn't happening, and a lot of detail got lost in the shading and highlights in the process.

However, the UC/styled version is really cool. It's one of the few tan Darigan pets that I don't wish were purple, with black accents for the finest feathers and red eyes for contrast. The long feathers and more raptor-like body shape really work well, and the talons on the hind feet are accented by the beak and various spikes. I also appreciate the subtle spotting.

Valentine: Not as fancy as the other two, but the Valentine's Pteri is quite nice; a mostly pink body with a subtle white gradient that transitions into heart markings. Like most good Valentine pets, it subtly integrates hearts into areas like the chest feathers, head feathers, and eye markings, and doesn't feel overly cluttered. I do think that the tail should've also been a heart, and something about the face reads as faintly sunburned to me, but it's still a nice color overall.

BONUS: The mutant Pteri is one of those mutants that's just a little too busy to be one of my all-time favs, but I do like it a lot. The cockatrice-esq body shape is super distinct and looks appropriately mutant-ish, and the teal, yellow, and red palette works great; not to mention the actual art quality is really good as well, with some lovely shading and linework. I do feel like the details should've been trimmed back—lose the long arm fingers, lose the red things on the tail (maybe just keep the final cream segment red instead), drop the patterning, maybe even make the wing feathers cream to break up the design a bit. Still, pretty good overall.

[sh4tt3rg1rl]

THE BEST-WORST SALMON RUN TEAM!

Hey, Scarlet Sparks from the Squid Research Lab here! I'm here to tell all you inkfish about "The Best-Worst Salmon Run Team"- also known as the Bar Team! These frantic fish are here to save the day from... drunk fish? Bar customers? Whatever it may be- they're here and they're going to make their names clear!

Mix is a nervous, overworked mixologist from back in Inkopolis Square... though he never seems to be able to get back home! On the clock and in uniform 24/7, this clammy, unconfident Octoling is always ready to fight! He might look unintimidating, but he packs a punch (if you're a salmon, that is), and works so much he might as well be C-Egg-O more than Mr. Grizz himself! Don't be fooled, though- this bartender might be a Salmon Run enthusiast, but he couldn't win a round of Anarchy to save his beak, and is still in C-. His favorite weapon: the Snipewriter, to make up for his shaky hands.

Drunkie is a drink enthusiast, and always has a Tacticooler on hand. Being Mix's best customer back home, he's picked up a few things about being an Eggsecutive. Currently swimming at a solid A- in Anarchy and a Profreshional +1 in Salmon Run, this silly cephalopod is a jack of all trades, master of none. His favorite weapon: the Tri-Slosher Nouveau, for its fizzy bombs and fizzy drinks!

Kopi is a spunky, spiky cephalopod ready to fight and win! Frenemies with Mix and Drunkie, she's the one most often starting the fabled bar fights Mix has to stop. Not to mention, she's a mechanical scientist, and was able to find out a way to place two of her tentacles on her back... and somehow get past Turf-War security every time. A quick, mobile fighter, she stands at an X +1300 in Anarchy and an Overachiever in Salmon Run. Her favorite weapon: The good old, classic Hydra Splatling, to whir up and splat a whole team in the blink of an eye!

Kumo is a friendly fellow with a spring in his step and a welcoming air! Good friends with all three of the other team members, this defender is always ready to do anything for his team with his trusty roller, no matter the cost! He'll always take time to have a drink or two with the rest of them, and somehow hold the arguing group together with it. He's pretty good in Splat Zones and Turf War, and is a force to be reckoned with in Salmon Run! He swims at an A in Anarchy and a Profreshional +3 in Salmon Run. His favorite weapon: his perfect Splat Roller, for an easy change of playstyle no matter the way the game goes.

That's all for now! I'll be back soon with some more information on some further teams and idols spotted in these lands! Thanks for listening!

---

OHHH this took a long timeeee,, reblogs VERY appreciated!! /nf

These characters are owned by @mixology-expert (me), @drunk-an0n, @kopi-taocc, and @kumo-taoc and are originally from the fandom TAOCC. This marks the beginning of a new series of me putting the TAOCC cast in Splatoon! Fun, right?? :D

#splataocc is the tag for this!

And the splashtags were made using the splashtag generator!

YAY more is SOON to come!! For now, it's almost time for side order EEEEEE :D Cya!

[astraldragoness]

Draco Tower: Brushtails

If ya don't want to read it all. These are dragons with a paint brush for a tail. Like the Pokemon, Smeargle...

And Phil has tiny wings.

Alright, I was going to go into detail about some lore on Brushtails. Here's what I got. Things may be subjected to change depending on how I feel in the future. Because my gosh darn brain can't make up its mind.

Brushtails are a nimble species that were well built for their forest dwelling ancestry. Their height can vary, with the smallest being 4'8 and the tallest being 7'5! Though, the average height tends to be between 5'5-6'0. Brushtails have smooth scales that are typically warm colours, with red and orange being the most common colours. Brown and yellow are uncommon colours. Cold coloured Brushtails are rare and one may hatch for every 50 eggs.

Brushtails have beak shaped snouts. They're one of several species that can have two sets of horns.

The Brushtail's most prominent feature is their long tails with black or brown bristles at the tip shaped like a brush.

I know I mentioned in Phil's original reference sheet that his tail is not meant for painting. I sort of lied. Underneath the bristles is a gland that secretes a paint-like substance. Naturally the paint is white, and will change colour depending on what kind of fruit a Brushtail eats. Lemons are the only exception as they make a Brushtail secrete a very acidic substance similar to paint thinner.

The purpose behind the Brushtail's unique quality isn't exactly clear. It is believed that Brushtail tribes in the past would paint themselves with unique markings to distinguish each tribe from one another. In modern times, it is considered unsanitary to use one's tail to paint. Even more so to use one's own paint as materials rather than using store bough paint. Thus, Phil is an outcast.

Being an outcast is not something Phil isn't already used to.

Brushtails usually have massive wings that was used to fly between trees with ease. But Phil was born with small wings that never grew as he matured. A rare, yet not unheard of, condition. He has come to terms with his disability. Though he'll occasionally have moments where he wished he could fly.

That's the main stuff out of the way. If I think of anything more for these guys, or Phil, I'll post an update!

[rubbersoles19]

The Unmasked Mallard, Part 2

... is finally here!

… Well, this is it. St. Canard is in the middle of a battle for her freedom between the newly-exposed science cult, The Knights Paddling, Team Mallard, and the Knight’s real version of the fictional Fearsome Four. Latest Knights recruit Mark Beaks has used his new WaddleMaker to transform DWCon attendees and St. Canard residents into deceased Knights, handing themselves a resurrected army. Team Mallard, on the other hand, has been scattered: Chickpea and Honker have been led to Duckburg by Quackerjack, the old actor brought back to revise his role, and are trying desperately to uncover the truth. Darkwing has been caught by Mark and separated from his family, Diver has been locked up in the St. Canard Prison like a bone thrown to hungry wolves, Steelbeak has gotten his hands on Bushroot and whom he believes to be Professor Moliarty, Megavolt and Liquidator have vanished off the grid, and Launchpad and Henri have watched helplessly as Gosalyn suffered a transformation of her own… Oh, and a magical barrier has totally separated the island from the outside world. How could things possibly get worse?

Chapter 1: The Chapter Where Someone Mentions A Dentist

Chapter 2: The Chapter Where Literally No One Has A Good Time (Except For The Bad Guys)