#no fucking way will i survive doing the field work i want to do

[eatsless]

the hole in my heart and my other medical stuff has absolutely fucked my career goals and im totally 100% okay with it not crashing out at all not having to reconsider the future i've been working towards for 3+ years and now have less than a year to figure it all out noooo im totally good on this babes not freaking out at all not careening towards a break down with the velocity of a squirrel launched from a wobbly tree branch at all

[asgardian--angels]

Planet's Fucked: What Can You Do To Help? (Long Post)

Since nobody is talking about the existential threat to the climate and the environment a second Trump term/Republican government control will cause, which to me supersedes literally every other issue, I wanted to just say my two cents, and some things you can do to help. I am a conservation biologist, whose field was hit substantially by the first Trump presidency. I study wild bees, birds, and plants.

In case anyone forgot what he did last time, he gagged scientists' ability to talk about climate change, he tried zeroing budgets for agencies like the NOAA, he attempted to gut protections in the Endangered Species Act (mainly by redefining 'take' in a way that would allow corporations to destroy habitat of imperiled species with no ramifications), he tried to do the same for the Migratory Bird Treaty Act (the law that offers official protection for native non-game birds), he sought to expand oil and coal extraction from federal protected lands, he shrunk the size of multiple national preserves, HE PULLED US OUT OF THE PARIS CLIMATE AGREEMENT, and more.

We are at a crucial tipping point in being able to slow the pace of climate change, where we decide what emissions scenario we will operate at, with existential consequences for both the environment and people. We are also in the middle of the Sixth Mass Extinction, with the rate of species extinctions far surpassing background rates due completely to human actions. What we do now will determine the fate of the environment for hundreds or thousands of years - from our ability to grow key food crops (goodbye corn belt! I hated you anyway but), to the pressure on coastal communities that will face the brunt of sea level rise and intensifying extreme weather events, to desertification, ocean acidification, wildfires, melting permafrost (yay, outbreaks of deadly frozen viruses!), and a breaking down of ecosystems and ecosystem services due to continued habitat loss and species declines, especially insect declines. The fact that the environment is clearly a low priority issue despite the very real existential threat to so many people, is beyond my ability to understand. I do partly blame the public education system for offering no mandatory environmental science curriculum or any at all in most places. What it means is that it will take the support of everyone who does care to make any amount of difference in this steeply uphill battle.

There are not enough environmental scientists to solve these issues, not if public support is not on our side and the majority of the general public is either uninformed or actively hostile towards climate science (or any conservation science).

So what can you, my fellow Americans, do to help mitigate and minimize the inevitable damage that lay ahead?

I'm not going to tell you to recycle more or take shorter showers. I'll be honest, that stuff is a drop in the bucket. What does matter on the individual level is restoring and protecting habitat, reducing threats to at-risk species, reducing pesticide use, improving agricultural practices, and pushing for policy changes. Restoring CONNECTIVITY to our landscape - corridors of contiguous habitat - will make all the difference for wildlife to be able to survive a changing climate and continued human population expansion.

**Caveat that I work in the northeast with pollinators and birds so I cannot provide specific organizations for some topics, including climate change focused NGOs. Scientists on tumblr who specialize in other fields, please add your own recommended resources. **

We need two things: FUNDING and MANPOWER.

You may surprised to find that an insane amount of conservation work is carried out by volunteers. We don't ever have the funds to pay most of the people who want to help. If you really really care, consider going into a conservation-related field as a career. It's rewarding, passionate work.

At the national level, please support:

The Nature Conservancy

Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation

Cornell Lab of Ornithology (including eBird)

National Audubon Society

Federal Duck Stamps (you don't need to be a hunter to buy one!)

These first four work to acquire and restore critical habitat, change environmental policy, and educate the public. There is almost certainly a Nature Conservancy-owned property within driving distance of you. Xerces plays a very large role in pollinator conservation, including sustainable agriculture, native bee monitoring programs, and the Bee City/Bee Campus USA programs. The Lab of O is one of the world's leaders in bird research and conservation. Audubon focuses on bird conservation. You can get annual memberships to these organizations and receive cool swag and/or a subscription to their publications which are well worth it. You can also volunteer your time; we need thousands of volunteers to do everything from conducting wildlife surveys, invasive species removal, providing outreach programming, managing habitat/clearing trails, planting trees, you name it. Federal Duck Stamps are the major revenue for wetland conservation; hunters need to buy them to hunt waterfowl but anyone can get them to collect!

THERE ARE DEFINITELY MORE, but these are a start.

Additionally, any federal or local organizations that seek to provide support and relief to those affected by hurricanes, sea level rise, any form of coastal climate change...

At the regional level:

These are a list of topics that affect major regions of the United States. Since I do not work in most of these areas I don't feel confident recommending specific organizations, but please seek resources relating to these as they are likely major conservation issues near you.

PRAIRIE CONSERVATION & PRAIRIE POTHOLE WETLANDS

DRYING OF THE COLORADO RIVER (good overview video linked)

PROTECTION OF ESTUARIES AND SALTMARSH, ESPECIALLY IN THE DELAWARE BAY AND LONG ISLAND (and mangroves further south, everglades etc; this includes restoring LIVING SHORELINES instead of concrete storm walls; also check out the likely-soon extinction of saltmarsh sparrows)

UNDAMMING MAJOR RIVERS (not just the Colorado; restoring salmon runs, restoring historic floodplains)

NATIVE POLLINATOR DECLINES (NOT honeybees. for fuck's sake. honeybees are non-native domesticated animals. don't you DARE get honeybee hives to 'save the bees')

WILDLIFE ALONG THE SOUTHERN BORDER (support the Mission Butterfly Center!)

INVASIVE PLANT AND ANIMAL SPECIES (this is everywhere but the specifics will differ regionally, dear lord please help Hawaii)

LOSS OF WETLANDS NATIONWIDE (some states have lost over 90% of their wetlands, I'm looking at you California, Ohio, Illinois)

INDUSTRIAL AGRICULTURE, esp in the CORN BELT and CALIFORNIA - this is an issue much bigger than each of us, but we can work incrementally to promote sustainable practices and create habitat in farmland-dominated areas. Support small, local farms, especially those that use soil regenerative practices, no-till agriculture, no pesticides/Integrated Pest Management/no neonicotinoids/at least non-persistent pesticides. We need more farmers enrolling in NRCS programs to put farmland in temporary or permanent wetland easements, or to rent the land for a 30-year solar farm cycle. We've lost over 99% of our prairies to corn and soybeans. Let's not make it 100%.

INDIGENOUS LAND-BACK EFFORTS/INDIGENOUS LAND MANAGEMENT/TEK (adding this because there have been increasing efforts not just for reparations but to also allow indigenous communities to steward and manage lands either fully independently or alongside western science, and it would have great benefits for both people and the land; I know others on here could speak much more on this. Please platform indigenous voices)

HARMFUL ALGAL BLOOMS (get your neighbors to stop dumping fertilizers on their lawn next to lakes, reduce agricultural runoff)

OCEAN PLASTIC (it's not straws, it's mostly commercial fishing line/trawling equipment and microplastics)

A lot of these are interconnected. And of course not a complete list.

At the state and local level:

You probably have the most power to make change at the local level!

Support or volunteer at your local nature centers, local/state land conservancy non-profits (find out who owns&manages the preserves you like to hike at!), state fish & game dept/non-game program, local Audubon chapters (they do a LOT). Participate in a Christmas Bird Count!

Join local garden clubs, which install and maintain town plantings - encourage them to use NATIVE plants. Join a community garden!

Get your college campus or city/town certified in the Bee Campus USA/Bee City USA programs from the Xerces Society

Check out your state's official plant nursery, forest society, natural heritage program, anything that you could become a member of, get plants from, or volunteer at.

Volunteer to be part of your town's conservation commission, which makes decisions about land management and funding

Attend classes or volunteer with your land grant university's cooperative extension (including master gardener programs)

Literally any volunteer effort aimed at improving the local environment, whether that's picking up litter, pulling invasive plants, installing a local garden, planting trees in a city park, ANYTHING. make a positive change in your own sphere. learn the local issues affecting your nearby ecosystems. I guarantee some lake or river nearby is polluted

MAKE HABITAT IN YOUR COMMUNITY. Biggest thing you can do. Use plants native to your area in your yard or garden. Ditch your lawn. Don't use pesticides (including mosquito spraying, tick spraying, Roundup, etc). Don't use fertilizers that will run off into drinking water. Leave the leaves in your yard. Get your school/college to plant native gardens. Plant native trees (most trees planted in yards are not native). Remove invasive plants in your yard.

On this last point, HERE ARE EASY ONLINE RESOURCES TO FIND NATIVE PLANTS and LEARN ABOUT NATIVE GARDENING:

Xerces Society Pollinator Conservation Resource Center

Pollinator Pathway

Audubon Native Plant Finder

Homegrown National Park (and Doug Tallamy's other books)

National Wildlife Federation Native Plant Finder (clunky but somewhat helpful)

Heather Holm (for prairie/midwest/northeast)

MonarchGard w/ Benjamin Vogt (for prairie/midwest)

Native Plant Trust (northeast & mid-atlantic)

Grow Native Massachusetts (northeast)

Habitat Gardening in Central New York (northeast)

There are many more - I'm not familiar with resources for western states. Print books are your biggest friend. Happy to provide a list of those.

Lastly, you can help scientists monitor species using citizen science. Contribute to iNaturalist, eBird, Bumblebee Watch, or any number of more geographically or taxonomically targeted programs (for instance, our state has a butterfly census carried out by citizen volunteers).

In short? Get curious, get educated, get involved. Notice your local nature, find out how it's threatened, and find out who's working to protect it that you can help with. The health of the planet, including our resilience to climate change, is determined by small local efforts to maintain and restore habitat. That is how we survive this. When government funding won't come, when we're beat back at every turn trying to get policy changed, it comes down to each individual person creating a safe refuge for nature.

Thanks for reading this far. Please feel free to add your own credible resources and organizations.

[phantom-dc]

Bruce sighed.

He never thought he would die like this. When he started out as Batman he was certain he would meet his end fighting the criminal underworld of Gotham. When he got older and life got stranger, he believed he would die fighting off a threat like Joker or Deathstroke, maybe even Darkseid. Being used as a human sacrifice to the King of the Infinite Realms was not on that list, let alone being a willing sacrifice.

Unfortunately, it had been necessary. An asteroid was on collision course with Earth. The asteroid had a colony of sapient alien life on it, so destroying it was not an option. As the League grew desperate, Constantine revealed a similar incident had happened a few years ago. The King of the Infinite Realms had, along with his subjects, turned the Earth intangible and both the Earth and the Asteroid had survived. Constantine isn’t sure why or how, but there are signs an extremely powerful ghost had merged realities and in the process erased the memories of this event from the entire population of Earth! The only reason Constantine knows about it is because a Demon with time-based powers told him during one of their poker games. Summoning this King was risky, as they had no idea what the King would want in return, but this entity seemed like their best bet. Now Bruce thinks they had been wrong.

Superman pulled Bruce out of his thoughts:

“Bruce, are you sure you want to go through with this? If we work together, we might be able to-”

Bruce cut him off:

“No, Clark. You heard Constantine. If we do not hold up our end of the deal, the Ghost King could simply make his ally, this “Clockwork”, reverse time to before the planet was saved. The Earth and the asteroid will still be destroyed, killing everyone on both. This is the only way.”

Clark looked dejected. He knew his friend was right. The King had turned the entire Earth intangible with one hand! He knew the League couldn’t defeat this foe, not without help. Any being that could help them would demand even more bloodshed in exchange, though. One human life in exchange of saving the entire planet had been a steal, according to the Justice League Dark. Clark looked at Bruce:

“Are you going to put on your cowl? This will be the only chance you have to tell the other Leaguers who you are.”

Bruce looked at his cowl. He had taken of his suit, so that his family had something to bury. But to reveal his identity to anyone other than Clark....

“I will keep it on. Even if I die here, I cannot risk anyone finding out my identity and using it to get to my family. I hope the League understands.”

Bruce is pulled into a hug. As Clark holds him as close as he can without breaking bones Bruce cannot help being filled with regret. He wanted more time with his family and, dare he say, friends. This was not how things were supposed to go. Clark pulls away and seems to want to say something:

“Bruce, I just want you to know, I-”

“WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON, B?”

Suddenly Nightwing enters the room, along with the entire Bat-family. Even Alfred and Oracle, donning masks, are there. They looked confused and scared, which made sense. They had all been summoned to the Watchtower, and when they had seen non-field members there as well they knew something was very wrong. Robin stepped forward, demanding an explanation:

“Father, what is happening? Why did you ask for us here? Explain yourself this instant!”

Red Robin looked ready to fight, staff in hand and in a low stance:

Where is the danger? Who is the enemy? Do you have intel for us? ARE YOU BEING MIND CONTROLLED?

Spoiler yanked at Red Robin’s cowl, pulling him out of his paranoid spiral:

“Easy, Captain Paranoid! Let him speak!”

Red Hood was clearly agitated. It was never a good sign if he was asked to the Watchtower:

“The fuck is going on, old man? Are you dying or something? That’s my stick, not yours!”

Bruce steeled his nerves. This was not going to be an easy conversation. How does one tell their family they are going to die and there is nothing to be done about it? Things had been going well for them, too. Dick and he hadn’t fought as often anymore, Jason had not called him names when he patrolled Crime ally last week, Tim hadn’t done anything that could be considered villainous (that he knew of) and Damian had not stabbed any goons for a month. Truly things had been good. Bruce knew this would mess it all up. He feared Jason would start killing again, or Damian would take out his grief on the criminals or Tim would… Well he had no idea. Last time Bruce disappeared Tim blew up so many LoA bases (he still wasn’t sure whether there had been people inside or not), so it was anyone’s gue-

“Sir, could you please elaborate on why we are here? I’m assuming it has something to do with the reason for this dreadful cold, and perhaps your lack of a shirt?”

Bruce sighed. Alfred always knew how to get through to him. With a heavy heart he told them everything. He would sacrifice himself for the survival of both planets. There was nothing to be done about that, and he asked them to please accept his decision. Naturally everyone was outraged. Amidst the chaos, Orphan asked a question:

“Why you?”

Bruce explained that, according to Constantine, the King had asked for a single sacrifice in return: “To feast on a non-magic, non-meta mortal human that will not resist being consumed.” It had pointed specifically at Batman, making sure they all knew which one it wanted. There had been no time to negotiate the prize, so he had accepted. After that it had left immediately for Earth, turning it intangible so the asteroid flew through harmlessly and fulfilling its end of the deal. Orphan seemed to think for a bit, before speaking up again:

“We’ll miss you.”

She hugged Batman. The others, realizing there was nothing they could do, at least not before facing the King, joined in as well. Bruce told them how proud he was of everyone. That they were strong and brilliant, and to please protect each other and Gotham in his stead. He thanked Alfred and Oracle for their help over the years and to please continue to support the others with the same strength they used to help him. After a moment they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Wonder Woman had entered the room. With a saddened expression, and a dented doorhandle that showed her tension, she had come to collect her friend.:

“Batman. It’s time.”

Bruce nodded at her. Thanking her, he tried to leave with her, but was stopped by Alfred. After a quick hug, Alfed offered Bruce a cookie from the plate he had brought along:

“Every man deserves a final meal. I’m sorry this was all I have to offer.”

Taking a grateful bite, Bruce allowed himself to indulge in the taste of home.

“Thank you, Alfred. This means more to me then you realize.”

Steeling himself once more, Batman and the others followed Wonder Woman to the main room. It was the largest room in the Watchtower, several stories high with observation platforms, security screens showing cities all over the planet and a teleportation platform. As they approached the room, Batman was surprised by the cold that radiated form the entrance. Opening the door the source of all the cold and grief became visible to the group. Signal had to shield his eyes:

“What the hell!?!”

There it was, the High Ghost King of the Infinite Realms. A giant being, which had been so large they had to move to the observation platform to speak with it. Even then it towered over the heroes. It’s skin impossibly dark, with constellations spotting its tail & torso. The stars converging on its lower arms, making it look like it was wearing glowing white gloves, the same as a strange symbol on his chest that seemed important. The stars on its neck blending seamlessly with its hair, yet leaving its head completely dark aside from a few little spots on its face. The only facial feature they could make out where 2 Lazarus green eyes, focused on the new arrivals. On its hand, a ring with a skull on it that had freaked out the Lanterns. On its head a dark crown covered in patches of frost, and its own Aurora Borealis spreading from it. The room had already been partially covered in frost simply from the King’s aura. Power emanated from it, which had caused several members that had been dead and revived before to kneel on reflex, which was frightening even if they managed to get up on their own again.

Martian Manhunter had tried to peek in the Kings mind, hoping to find a way to convince the King to spare Batman, but he had been unsuccessful. As soon as he tried his knees buckled, and he had been pushed out. Ever since the Ghost King had radiated frustration. Now, as Batman entered wearing only his cowl and some spare pants, that frustration seemed to spike dangerously. Was the King upset he had been left to wait for his offer?

"What the fuck is this? I didn’t ask for a striptease, especially from some old Frootloop!”

“Constantine, what’s wrong? What is it saying?”

Batman was worried. He had not expected more anger from the being when presented with the offering. Looking at Constantine, he saw the magician frantically looking through the pages of his books, desperately looking for a translation.

“Hang on, mate. I’m doing my best here! Ehrm… no, that’s not right… Something about mating? Maybe he likes you, Bats. He also said something about “the absence of clothing” so…

Suddenly he is cut off by a strange sound coming from the Ghost King. It makes a strange motion with its body and its giant maw opens, as more of those sounds escape. It reminds Robin of Alfred the Cat when he has a hairball. However, there is more sound in the Watchtower now. The Red Hood is clutching his stomach as he is doubling down in laughter.

“HAHAHAHA!!! WHAT? HOW THE FUCK DID YOU TRANSLATE THAT BADLY? HOLY SHIT!”

The Ghost King stops making the noises, and it’s eyes snap to Red Hood. It moves it’s head closer to him, casually passing it through the barrier Constantine had put up. Constantine’s swears in surprise, but the King seems not to care as it “speaks” to Red Hood:

"Oh, thank the Acients! Someone who understands Ghost Speak! Can you PLEASE help me and translate for us? This trench coat guy is terrible, and somehow twists everything I say in the worst way!"

Red Hood relaxed, looking up at the Ghost King’s giant head.:

“Sure man, no problem. I’m pretty sure he is using like 3 different dictionaries to get this far. I saw him first translate Ghost to Pixie, Pixie to Gnome and Gnome to Demon before telling us in English! So, what’s up?”

Batman was stunned. The Ghost King actually face palmed. What the heck was going on?

"Of course he is. That explains why it sounds like he is putting this through Google Translate 4 times! These guys summoned me to save the Earth, which, totally cool. Happy to help! But a summons makes it official, which means I need to get an offering. I can’t leave without it or I face a mountain of paperwork from some stupid bureaucratic eyeballs for not following proper procedure. But I can always ask something simple and get it over with. No biggie, right? WRONG.”

Red Hood actually grabs a chair to sit on. Not even in a somewhat respectful way, he is sitting on it backwards, casually leaning on it.

“Oh, boy. How badly did they fuck up? Gotta be big since Batman over there is ready to be eaten?”

The King glares at Constantine, who puts up his bravest “time to out-bollock a Eldritch Demon” face. The King is not impressed:

"Man, I asked, and I quote: “I’d like to eat a regular human meal that doesn’t fight back, like that guy would eat!” I wanted it to be clear I didn’t want blood, or corpses or virgins or any of the other horrible things stupid cults try to give me! I just wanted a burger or something! But then Mr. triple dictionary over there somehow turns that into: ‘’I wish to feast on a non-magic, non-meta mortal human that will not resist being consumed, and it must be that one.” I’ll admit I was pointing at one of the non-supers, but that didn’t mean I wanted to eat him! I just wanted to make sure it was normal food, something that doesn’t fight back!”

Red Hood looked confused, asking if the King’s food usually fights back. The King rolls it’s eyes:

"In life, I lived with mad scientist parents who treated lab safety as a suggestion at best and a chore for teens at worst. Put enough samples in the fridge and you get a whole new type of Thanksgiving trauma. Dang, I’m getting even more hungry. I’d love some turkey right now. Could you get them to bring me some food? That way I can have my sacrifice and leave…”

Red Hood stands up. He asks if the King can wait a few more minutes, claiming that after all that frustration he deserved something better. Getting a nod from the Ghost King, the Red Hood suddenly shouted over the platform railing towards the waiting Leaguers:

“FLASH! Get your squad up here, and bring pen & paper! I got a job for y’all!”

Zooming up every member of the Flash family gets a list of things to get and a warning not to tell the Bats what’s on it, or Red Hood will shoot them in the knees. Looking at the lists, they quickly caught on what was going on and promised they wouldn’t tell. This was way too funny! Red Hood does a fake bow to the King, clearly amusing himself.

“Don’t worry, your Hungry-ness! Your sacrifice is being prepared! Anything else we can assist you with?”

The Ghost King seems to tilt its head in amusement. Whatever Hood was doing, it was working, which honestly was the only reason nobody had tackled him to the floor.

"Actually, if you could get that Frootloop to put on a shirt that would be great. He is shivering and honestly, I’m worried he’s going to poke someone’s eye out with a nipple. Why is he shirtless anyway? Please tell me he wasn’t actually trying to seduce me or something, he’s old enough to be my dad! Gross!”

This caused Red Hood to again double over in laughter. Everyone was confused, what could possibly be so funny in this situation? Constantine had frantically tried translating during their conversation, but it had gone too fast for him. He gave up when the King mentioned eyeballs and seduction, accepting he wouldn’t get anywhere like this. Batman however couldn’t resist his need to know everything anymore.

“Hood, report! How are you communicating with the entity?”

Red Hood turns to Batman, walks past him and towards Alfred, grabbing one of the cookies he had brought with him. As he walks back and hands it to the Ghost King, he starts to explain:

“Honestly, not sure. It feels instinctive, like a second mother-tongue. Pretty sure it’s some sort of “dead-guy-language” you learn when you die. Speaking off: Turns out Constantine is a VERY unreliable translator. Spooky here is actually pretty chill! He used you as an example to make sure we knew what he wanted, not to demand you as a sacrifice. He is in fact pretty ticked that you guys tried to feed B to him. Speaking of: Batman? Put a shirt on, for fucks sake. You look like you’re going to freeze your tits off.”

This earned a round of giggles from Green Lantern & Green Arrow. Now that the tension had left the room, other Leaguers also smiled in relief. Besides, it’s always fun to see Batman being the butt of a joke. Sure enough, Batman let out a frustrated sound, that got the rest of the Bats to join in on the fun. They understood that their dad in fact felt rather silly right now, which meant that they had more to gossip about soon. Constantine now was wondering what Hood was up to:

“Mate, I did my best! Sorry for not being fluent in every language in existence. What the hell did you send the Flash to get? The bloke is a scientist and denies magic when it’s right in front of ‘im! What could they possibly get that I couldn’t-”

At that moment, the Flashes zoom out of the Zeta tubes and zoom across the observation deck. After a few moments of red and yellow blurs, the deck is covered with tables filled front to back with food! Picking up a receipt that fell to the floor, Batman realizes this is take-out from all over the world. Seeing a puddle of Lazarus water grow on the floor, he looks up. The Ghost King is actually drooling! Red Hood steps aside and gestures to the feast:

“Welp! There is your sacrifice! One. And I also quote: “regular human meal that doesn’t fight back, like “that guy” would eat!” Well, more of a feast then a meal, but I’m sure a big guy like you can finish it, and you can always take home the rest I guess. Bon Appetit!”

Opening his giant maw, the Ghost King digs in. Well, as much as he can. He actually looks kind of silly eating everything with a tiny fork. Still, judging from the purring sound emanating through the Watchtower it’s to the Kings liking.

"DUDE, THIS IS SO GOOD? I need to know these restaurants! You want a bite for helping me out? You saved me SOOO much annoying paperwork, I was about to bail!”

Picking up a plate of karaage, Red Hood took of his helmet revealing a second mask underneath and dug in as well:

“Don’t mind if I do, this smells fantastic! Oh shit, you should try this stuff, it’s great!”

Red Hood being allowed to partake in the offering so casually caused Constantine to do a double take. He realizes he seriously misjudged this entity. Still, that didn’t explain the horrific stories about him. He would need to do some digging into that, maybe with Hood as a translator. For now he takes a swig of his drink. The world was saved, no one died or lost their Soul and he didn’t make any new enemies he thinks. Plus, Batman felt like an idiot, and that always made the Brit smile.

All in all a good day!

[fairyroses]

#can't stop thinking about this #i hate to say it but in general i'm leaning towards the luthor point of view here? i'm all for eyes being wide open #that said i feel neither pov is wrong #the kents have their reasons to believe the way they do and so do the luthors #it's just interesting when the differences between the families are brought into the spotlight #i feel that's when the show was at its strongest #it lost a lot when it became all about love triangles instead of this (via @raelis1)

100% agree and also this is why I claim 'eyes open' by taylor swift as a lex song:

[livelaughlovesubs]

Incubus fyodor 1

Dom!priest!reader x sub!incubus!fyodor

Warning: pegging, CNC, against a wall, in a church lol, also taking virginity??

Sometimes I use strap, most of the time dick or whatever. Then anyone can feel included? Idk?

This was requested by 🍮 anon, like a loooong time ago. Gonna repost it now :> (was too lazy to do so but now that you are back-)

Fyodor was just wandering around, looking for his next victim. It was boring to keep staying at one place, he always craved something grandiose and better. One day he ended up at a church after going around town, he detested those places due to his nature. But then he saw you through the windows, a diligent priest working for god. Proud, hard working and kind. What a sight, you must have never known the pleasures of the flesh. Oh how he pitied you, guess he will just ‘enlighten’ you then~

The incubus was wandering inside the building, looking everywhere for you. Until he found you in the chancel, the sacred place. Perfect, let's see how sacred it will be after he defies god’s little helper. Protecting one’s innocence? How laughable.

Fyodor walked inside, wrapping his hands around you and holding you from behind. Hands running all over your torso, grinning in delight as he said, “come on, let's have a little fun~ I can fulfil all your fantasies...” before he could even react to it, you took hold of his hands, turning around and twisting them in the process. “aAHH-”he yelped, falling backwards and taking a few steps back, his body hitting the wall. Your hand pinning his wrists over his head, knee pressed against the wall in between his legs. He felt you apply pressure to his crotch.

The boy gritted his teeth, showing his fangs. "Are you a demon?" You asked nonchalantly, while he struggled against your strength. Fuck, why were you so strong? “Yea and? What, gonna exorcise me? Haha.” “An incubi probably, by the way you were touching me.” You came to that conclusion, not an ounce of emotion present in your voice.

Continuing on as if you didn't hear him, thinking for a second. “I suppose you wanted to feast on me?” He stared at you with a skeptical look, why did you seem so interested? Before he got the chance to ask you, you commented, “I'm sorry that you were born this way, having to rely on such sinful acts to survive.. what a pitiful being.” “What, oh no you are the pitiful thing here, I bet you don't know what pleasure is, all because of some prideful faith. Want me to teach you?” Fyodor said cheekily, grinning as he looked up at you, his knees bend slightly due to the position.

“Don't get me wrong, I don't detest your kind. God has taught us to accept anyone. In fact, i’d be willing to help you, so that you don't need to bother other innocent souls. It's the duty of a priest.” He didn't understand what you were hinting at, for him you were talking garbage. “You aren’t going to seal me or anything?” The demon was genuinely confused, you want to help him? Why? “No need to fear anything, I'm sure you have experience in this field after all.” Next thing he knew you turned him around, his back arching like a crescent moon. “What are you…” suddenly you pulled his pants down, exposing his plum butt. “Huh?! wha-" poor him, that incubus was super confused now, this can't be what he thinks it is right?

Seems like his worries came true, it was what he feared, he knew when he felt your tip press against him. “Hu-huh? Wait a second..! I-I thought you were...” “I've learned many ways to deal with succubus or incubus, don't worry I'm quite experienced too.” Then you entered him, yearning a surprised moan from the male. “Ahh..!” Fingers desperately gripping the wall, looking for anything he can clench onto, eyes looking back and trying to understand the situation. He was getting… topped? By a priest nonetheless??

Him? Up until now he has only ever been on top. What experience, this is his first! Fyodor felt another push from you, the strap slowly driving into him. “You are so tight... ah, what's your name?” “Why do you care, pull it out!” “I'm sorry, I can't do that.” “Why?!” “Because I have to subdue you first, to make you submit.” Your voice was serious as you said that, pushing more of your dick inside him. “UgHh! Slo-slow down...gentle, gentle! Ah, hu-hurts..” the boy whined now, crying softly as his dick twitched in excitement. “Oh? It is your first? Maybe you aren’t as dirty as I thought.” Still using the same emotionless voice as before, you kept unintentionally leave snarky remarks behind. All while your free hand collected the slick around his rim, covering the toy with it.

“So wet already, more than many others of your kind.” Were you mocking him? He wanted to insult you, if only the dick wasn't making his mind go blank. “Ahh...you, I won't-mhm! Fo-forgive you.” “I don't need your forgiveness, only gods.” You said, before starting to move and trust into him. Then you explained, “in order to excuse this sin I had to commit due to your existence, we will have to work hard to beg for forgiveness.” “AhHh! Ah-aHh.ah. Oh-uhh..uhm! Nghh..!” Each trust was paired with whimpers or a moan. Cute squeaking sounds escaped him, face and shoulders flushed red and figure covered in sweat now. His filthy fluids were running down those slim and shaky legs, eyes rolling into the back of his head. What was he doing, didn't he plan on fucking you at first? So how was he getting dicked down now. It was still too hard to comprehend. Yet it felt so good.. it was melting his brain, he has never felt anything this amazing before.

“Such inappropriate noises you are letting out, i guess you are enjoying yourself?” The hand which you used to collect his slick was now on his hips, holding him in place since he kept trying to wriggle his way out, trying to escape those blissful sensations. “Ah..wait..ah-Uhm! This is..no-no good..stop aHh!” He whispered, shortly after tears started rolling down his blushing face. You only picked up your pace, going faster and rutting into him roughly, sometimes you'd brush against his prostate which made him cry out even more. “Ah-aAhhH! OOHh! I'm c-close.. m’gonna cu-cum.” Fyodor breathed out, his entire being quivering in pleasure. This was heaven. Don’t get him wrong, he knew nothing of heaven but this is how he'd imagine paradise to be like. He was filled with pure ecstasy, it was damn addicting and he doesn't think he will ever get over it.

“You have to beg for forgiveness, and to excuse your pathetic self.” You whispered into his ear. Like a spell he couldn’t disobey, he immediately began pleading with.. whom? God? You? Ugh.. to think he had come this low. “AhhHhAA!! ohHh! For-forgive meHHnghh~..!!” His release came in torrents, coursing through his veins and making his legs go weak. He felt so helpless, so exposed and vulnerable with you. And it was the best feeling he has ever experienced, never in his life did he knew something like this was possible. Those noises were filled with desire and longing, loud and clear as he painted the wall white, “aAhHahhhH~!” A shudder ran down his spine, hole clenching down onto you.

The slick was all the way down to his knees now, and he was still lost in subspace. Guess the climax was pretty intense, rendering him to such a whiny mess. You weren't sure if he could understand you, but you tried it anyway. “So, may I inquire the name of you pitiful thing?” There were no answers, only breathy whines and pants. Eventually he gasped out his name meekly, mumbling, “fyo-fyodor…” After blinking a few times, you leaned down to his ear and uttered in a seductive, as well as sadistic voice. This was the first time he heard your tone change. “I'm going to keep you here, so that you wont cause troubles for others. You don’t mind being my pet fyodor, isn’t that right?” And you let go of him after finishing your sentence. Hands leaving his body. Ahh..another shiver travelled down to his core, how could he ever refuse such an enticing offer? Without your help, his legs finally betrayed his body as he crashed down onto the ground. Sitting there looking all ravaged while a sticky white puddle formed beneath him. Fyodor looked at you over his shoulder while panting heavily, tongue hanging out from his blushing face like a dumb little pet.

Part two

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Villain's Protector (Part 1) - Don't Blame Me

Summary: The reader wants out from working for the CIA so they propose a deal. She acts as the captured Soldier Boy's caretaker and she's free to go in six months. Their idea of stealing Soldier Boy's supe altering powers aren't exactly for what the reader thinks though and she needs Solider Boy to escape for her own plans. But those plans go awry when the CIA unleashes a dangerous life-changing weapon and the only way for her and Soldier Boy to survive is to stick together...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy x reader

Word Count: 5,400ish

Warnings: language, violence, torture, bombing,

A/N: This series takes place post Season 3. Please enjoy this first part and let me know what you think!

________

“Y/L/N.” You lifted an eyebrow, finding an unfamiliar older woman at the entrance to your office. Your supervisor nodded beside her and you pulled your headphones off, letting them rest around your neck. “You’re off desk duty.”

“The chatter from these guys-”

“Yeah, I know. Somebody else will handle it. As of five minutes ago, you report to her now,” said your supervisor, rattling a knuckle on the door. You were ready to argue about how you were promised desk duty to finish out these last six months but she was gone before you could blink. You grumbled as the older woman stepped inside, closing the heavy door behind her.

“I heard you want out,” she said. You leaned back in your chair, cocking your head. “Nobody ever really leaves the CIA you know.”

“What’s my handle ID?” you asked, the woman raising her chin. “I ain’t telling you jack shit until I know you’re legit.”

“Black Midnight Angel. You want to get to work now? Or you going to waste more of my time?” You narrowed your eyes, the woman giving it right back. “Work this job for six months until you leave and the agency will pay for your schooling. And I know you’re skeptical so we already wired the funds to your bank account.”

“Black ops?” you asked quietly. She shook her head, taking a seat in the chair across your desk.

“Mallory Fischer,” she said, your lips pressing into a thin line. “You know what I do then.”

“Yes, I do. Question is why do you want me on your team? There are far more qualified people.” She looked you up and down, a small smirk crossing her lips.

“You’re right. Your agent assessment scores are average aside from your intel work. Last time you were in the field you were shot-”

“Why. Me.” You knew it was coming. You knew exactly what was coming.

“You have a year of medical school under your belt.” That…was not what you were expecting. Did she not…know? Maybe not. Fine. You weren’t bringing that up if you could help it.

“I do. You should know that the reason I couldn’t finish was because the CIA recruited me, despite my desire to not join,” you said, letting it hang in the air. Mallory rolled her eyes and crossed her legs. “You people fucked up my life plan you know. I’m thirty two. I’m going to be a good 5 years minimum behind my peers by the time I graduate.”

“Did I give you the impression that I give a shit?” You grumbled but kept your mouth shut. “You agreed to work here.”

“You threatened to deport my friend if I didn’t,” you growled. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have had an ex-boyfriend with ties to-”

“Just stop. What the fuck do you want with me?”

“I have Soldier Boy.” You laughed, Mallory dead eyed. “I’m quite serious.”

“He fucking blew up last week.” Mallory cocked her head. You sighed, running a hand over your mouth. “He fell from, what, the seventieth floor? He’s really that strong?”

“He’s damn near indestructible. If it makes you feel better, Maeve survived too. But seeing as how she hates Vought more than most, we let her slide. Pretty sure she and her girlfriend went up to-” 

“So she’s free and you don’t give a fuck about what she does. Fine. But what the fuck does ‘I have Soldier Boy’ mean exactly?” you asked. Mallory eyed you up and down. 

“He’s Homelanders father.” You rolled your eyes and she frowned. “Why exactly is that not surprising to you?”

“Come on,” you laughed. “The most powerful supe to exist suddenly disappears right around the time Homelander was born? They’re both the poster child for all american wonder boy. I figured he was the dad doing a book report in middle school. It’s not that complicated.”

“Then you can understand why having Homelander’s father provides us an opportunity. His power is the only weapon we have that comes close to taking Homelander out. You watch the news. Homelander is losing his shit. We need to find a way to deal-”

“You don’t need Soldier Boy’s powers to fucking catch Homelander. If you caught pops, you can catch the kid and for the record, I am not one of your fucking super agents so you want me for research, fine. But save the shooting and catching Homelander for your own people.” You scooted your chair in closer to your computer, Mallory grabbing your hand roughly when you placed it on your mouse.

“Soldier Boy didn’t have the power to knock out other supes powers until after the Russian’s tortured him. We need to understand that ability of his and what made it change.” You sighed, pulling your hand away. “Work the job and in six months you’re gone.”

“And what exactly does this job entail?”

“We need a doctor, or the next best thing, for the night shift. Twelve hour shifts. You feed him, clean him, tend to him. Most of the time he’s going to be out cold. It’s maybe an hour of real work a night. You can do whatever the fuck you want in your office when you’re taking care of him, I really don’t care. We just need him in working order, got it?”

You pushed away from your computer, lifting your chin. “And that hour where he’s not out cold? How the fuck do I go near him without dying?”

“You better not be claustrophobic.”

Two Days Later

Mallory had ditched you not five minutes after seven pm after showing you to an office in the very plain looking warehouse in upstate New York. She’d naturally failed to mention that Soldier Boy was being held at a facility outside of the city. But you weren’t about to complain, not when the commute was shorter than your original one. So there you stood, a frozen TV dinner in your backpack, a guard dressed head to toe in black combat gear with an assault rifle almost as big as you, still wondering what the hell you were meant to do.

“You guys got a break room?” you sighed, dumping the bag on the desk and pulling out your dinner.

“Two doors down on the left. Unisex bathroom is around the corner,” he said, still not revealing his face from behind his dark mask. That was fine. He was an overqualified security guard in your mind. “Mallory left a schedule and map of the building on your desk. Burn them when you’ve memorized it.”

“Yup,” you said, walking past him and heading down the hall. “So how many guards are there right now?”

“The only staff on the night shift is yourself, a dozen interior guards, and four patrolling external officers.”

“No custodial staff?” you asked, entering the bare bones room with a microwave, old fridge and a wobbly table. Wonderful.

“No. They clean during the day. The facility isn’t large enough to warrant external help.” You hummed, popping the tray out of the box and into the microwave. “Do you have any further questions?”

“Is the Novichok gas always on in the room he’s held in?” you asked. He shook his head.

“He’s kept in a cryo tube during the night. Before entering the room, we will fill the room with gas for five minutes that will allow him to waken slightly but remain harmless. You will then enter in your hazmat suit and remove him from the chamber where you will perform your duties. When you indicate you are finished, we will increase the gas until he passes out and you can place him back in the tube. When you leave the room, we will stop the gas.” 

“Does he eat during the day? What about the bathroom?” He was still and you frowned. “Dude. I get that everything is need to know but I need to know basic shit about my patient.”

“You feed him according to the schedule. He has a catheter.”

“And going number two?” 

“He doesn’t get solids.”

“I don’t care what kind of liquid diet he’s on, he’s still going to shit.”

“I have my job, you have yours.” 

You grumbled when he left, hitting the power on for your dinner. Just what you wanted for a career. Wipe the ass of the world’s most powerful supe.

You tried to forget about that portion of your “duties” as you ate your meal. It was still going to be easier than your first rotation in med school, that was for sure. He’d just…lay there drugged out of his mind. With the small threat in the air of if your hazmat suit tore for any reason, like say an angry supe being held prisoner grabbed it and ripped the plastic which he very likely was capable of even in that state. 

Easy peasy.

You were able to distract yourself for an hour by walking the halls to figure out the layout of the building. The guard had been right. It wasn’t a large building. There were a few offices and typical building facilities in the front of the building. Security was stationed in the middle and Soldier Boy’s holding cell along with a viewing room was in the back corner. What appeared to be an operating room was further down the hall but that wasn’t entirely uncalled for in a black ops prison like this. You couldn’t exactly take your wounded agents or prisoners to a normal hospital. 

You ended your self-guided tour in the viewing room staring down at the dark room below. Save for the soft blue light emitting from the cryo tube. You couldn’t see much at the angle. The top of the tube was see through but all you spotted were a pair of bare feet.

“He’s not strapped down?” you asked as the door to your right opened, a guard stepping through, this one slightly shorter than the one you’d spoken to originally.

“No. You’ll need to move him around. He’s wearing a face mask providing a direct stream of Novichok gas to him. You only need to remove it when you shove a tube down his throat for feeding. I’d suggest saving that for last.”

You quirked an eyebrow up. He was a supe, sure. This was a CIA secret holding prison, sure. The treatment of prisoners didn’t exactly have to adhere to the Geneva Convention in this kind of environment.

But it felt gross treating him like a meat puppet, keeping him alive only to figure out his powers. Which made you consider something else.

“Why go through the trouble of keeping him alive? Wouldn’t it be easier to just drown him? Or just take his DNA and recreate the power aspect?” you asked. Unsurprisingly, the guard didn’t answer. You crossed your arms, glancing at the clock on the wall. It wasn’t much past eight and there were still a few hours until his scheduled “wake” time. “New plan.”

“New…plan?” he asked. You just knew he was rolling his eyes at you behind those thick black goggles.

“Well he’s my patient, isn’t he? I’m making a new schedule, one that’s more appropriate for the patient.”

“You can’t do that,” he said quickly, your chin raising. “He’s a prisoner.”

“I know I’m just the glorified ass wiper for this guy but the more he feels like he has someone in his corner, the more apt he is to let a secret loose. Maybe he says jack shit but maybe he tells me what the russians did so you can figure out whatever power crap you’re looking for. Got it?” 

“That’s the Y/N I’d expect.” You turned around, Mallory appearing in a doorway behind you. “Dismissed, Greg.”

“Don’t play games with me,” you said when the guard left. Mallory took a few steps forward to join you at your side, peering down into the room below. 

“We had to know you’d be a team player. You’re not dumb. I think you can understand why I want you to do this job, even if you don’t have your medical degree.” You narrowed your eyes. 

“Am I supposed to be his doctor or his fake friend? Which is it?” you asked.

“Both. It probably won’t work, the cocky bastard’s too smart for it, but it doesn’t hurt to try every option. I’d like to think you in particular would be willing to do whatever it takes to figure out that supe destroying beam of his. Am I wrong?” You ignored her, staring through the glass to the dark room. 

“You hired me to be his doctor so that’s what I’ll be. Anything more will be my choice, am I clear?” 

“Fine. Now let’s get you acquainted with your patient.”

“Fine.” You turned and left the room, heading down a set of stairs. You were in a changing room that had hazmat suits and respirators, different outfits for you to choose from. Along the back was a fridge that held his food, a thick mixture that looked completely unappealing. Beside the fridge was a cart for you to bring in and out, a medical bag on top but otherwise it was bare.

You stared at the options and sighed as you picked up the gas mask on its own. For one, if he wanted to kill you, he really could, suit or no suit. But mostly you had a bad feeling in your gut, like he needed some actual human interaction. If they were barely letting him be conscious during the day, he was going to start having problems. Namely, the angry supe was only going to get angrier which meant more violent which meant way more likely he killed you.

A gentle hand might be the only way to get through these six months in one piece. 

After securing your mask, you made a note of the log by the fridge, surprised to find he’d been fed roughly an hour before your shift started. Huh. Maybe they were treating him better than you’d though. With your bag in hand, you hit the button on the wall, thick metal doors opening and allowing you to step into an air lock. You hit the button behind you, sealing it off and then a large black one with a hazard symbol over it. A small light appeared red over the button for a moment before turning green. You hit the button on the far wall and another thick door opened to the dim room. A fine mist clung to the air, deadly novichok swirling all around you. You raised your arm, checking for any reaction but you weren’t expecting one. Novichok was an aerosol. You had to breathe it in to suffer any consequences which hopefully you’d never find out how that felt.

The door shut quietly behind you, leaving you alone save for Mallory observing from behind the thick glass panel above.

You set the bag down, approaching the side of the far end of the chamber and hitting a large black button. A locking mechanism released, the door swinging open and allowing you to grab the end of the pull out tray. The first thing you noticed was Soldier Boy was naked, followed by a slight warmth to the air. The tray helped but he was heavy, a solid wall of muscle you noticed as your eyes darted over his body. Every inch of him oozed strength.

Ever so gently, you moved to his side, knuckles grazing over up his leg, over his strong thigh, soldi chest. You rested your palm over his chest, a slow, steady beat thrumming away.

You didn’t falter, didn’t do anything strange as you started to check his pulse, mind wandering while you went through the motions.

Sure, you’d be his fucking doctor. Until you figured out how to get him out of there that was. 

Ten minutes later you returned to the viewing room where Mallory had remained, her focus on Soldier Boy below.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. I know you’re thinking about how to break him out. Why do you think I hired you?” You smirked, cocking your head. 

“So you don’t want me for my medical knowledge. Shocking.”

“Fuck no, just like I know you have no desire to finish med school. Use that money for whatever the fuck you want. You do what I ask and we’ll give you ten times that and maybe we end up dealing with your little…problem along the way.”

You glanced at Soldier Boy, pursing your lips. “Why the ruse? Why not just tell me you want me to act like I’m the only one on his side?”

“Because I had to see how good an actor you are. The second I told you he can take away another supes powers…you should have seen your face. You were already in. You’ll have to be on all the time with him though. No mistakes. He’ll snap your neck if he finds out.”

Your gaze shot back to Mallory, her mouth forming a small smile. “I’m good at pretending everything is just fine. So what exactly is the plan to get him to trust me?”

“Be his friend. A few weeks from now you’ll miraculously break him out after learning about the torture he goes through during the day in our attempts to understand his powers. He’ll be leery of course but weak with the massive dose of novichok will get in him. By the time it wears off, he’ll trust that you’re a caretaker for him, likely even fall for you. And then? You prove your loyalty, shower him with that love he so desperately wants but won’t admit to. By then, he’ll blow the powers out of whoever you tell him to. He’ll be our loaded gun without even realizing.”

“That’s what you wanted all along,” you said, Mallory nodding for the two of you to leave the room, heading down a hallway. “Because if it doesn’t work, you can blame it all on me.”

“There’s a reason I wanted you on this job kid and it’s not just because that man will take one look at you and want to screw you. You will need to adapt on the fly. Use that head of yours and we’ll relay the list of supes we want him to take out and then he’ll go back in his box.”

“We’ll worry about that later. Let’s just hope he doesn’t kill me first.”

You were tired when you got home from work the next day around seven thirty in the morning. Mallory and security had given you an in-depth briefing of their plans. It was all very simple. Manipulate him. Make him see you as his only friend. Break him out and make him reliant on you to the point where he was doing exactly what they wanted without lifting a finger.

Except that wasn’t your plan. You’d break him out, play along to get him there but the second you had him alone, you’d tell him the truth.

And if he killed you in a fit of rage, so be it.

If he even could.

Three Weeks Later

You were grateful Mallory no longer came into work during your shifts. She wasn’t suspicious of you. Shit, she thought she had you read like an open book and you were perfectly happy to let everyone keep on thinking that. The guards left you alone unless you asked for something from them which meant you spent a lot of time either in Ben’s room, you’d taken to calling him Ben when you went in with him, or sitting in the observation room with a book.

It wasn’t hard to feign boredom when there wasn’t much to do. You desperately wanted to spend more time with Ben but it was dangerous to leave him off the gas for more than thirty minutes at a time. He wasn’t exactly what you’d call cognitively aware when you’d pull open the drawer and assess him. His eyes would flutter open weakly, a glimpse of an angry glare behind them before he’d call you a bitch and they’d shut again, his chest rising and falling deeper than when he slept. 

Which meant you were in for a fun time in about forty five minutes when you were supposed to “break him free” according to the plan. You were meant to go about your usual routine with him before they’d take him away to the operating room they called it. More like commit war crimes against a prisoner.

You didn’t know exactly what they were doing to him during the day but it was bad enough that Ben was starting to show injuries. Injuries. On an all powerful supe. Nothing major. A few bruises and scratches but it meant something was up and you wanted to be done with this charade and now.

You just needed Soldier Boy to take care of Reaper, that god awful supe, and then he could do whatever the fuck he wanted for all you cared.

A faint scream in the distance made your head snap up. You heard it again and closed your book. Who the hell would be screaming in a place like this? You got up and headed down the hall, dipping your head in the observation room.

A louder scream rang out as you saw the empty cryo chamber. You ran out to the hall, bumping into a guard.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, Lance from the sounds of it. 

“Where is he?” you asked, more screams heard now.

“Oh. Yeah, they kept him in the operating room longer today so he can do his ‘breakout’ with you soon. Sorry for the noise, he can get loud sometimes.”

“What?” you asked, furrowing your brow. 

“The breakout. You’re supposed to grab him from the operating-“

“I know which room I’m supposed to fake the breakout from. Why is he screaming?” you asked. The guard blinked, raising an eyebrow.

“He always screams. I would too if they shoved nuclear waste through a needle into my eyeball.” You scrunched up one eye, the guard giving you a look like you were the weird one. “It’s the only way they get the red matter out of him…”

“If you have your fucking red matter then what the fuck are you faking a break out for,” you growled. The guard held up his hands. “I asked a question.”

“Listen. I’m only telling you this cause I like you. They needed to fake a breakout that way they can drop their red matter bomb they’ve been brewing up and wipe out Soldier Boy and let the fallout spread down to the city and kill all the supes there, including Homelander. You were…the fall guy,” he said quietly. Your eye twitched as you grabbed his assault rifle, jamming the end under his jaw. “Y/N-”

“The only reason I’ll let you live is because you warned me. Now put on your gas mask.” He hesitantly did as told, securing it before you clocked him in the back of the head. 

Soldier Boy let out another pained scream and you’d had enough. You grabbed your gas mask from your office and ducked into the security office, grateful to find it empty. A large red button behind glass sat on the far end of the console.

NOVICHOK - EMERGENCY USE ONLY

“Fuckers,” you said before smashing it, jamming it with the butt of your weapon. You watched on screen as people started to panic and then came the screams in the hallways as the nerve gas tore through their nervous systems, quickly but oh so painfully killing them. You knew there’d be a few people that would see the flashing amber lights in the halls and get their masks on before they keeled over. Whatever.

You’d deal with those people easily enough.

The monitors showed most people had gone down, convulsing violently as they foamed at the mouth. The south hallway was clear and after checking your gun, you ducked back outside, slipping the sidearm from the guard you’d knocked out into the back of your jeans. Soldier Boy had stopped screaming, the halls eerily quiet. Still, you stepped carefully, amber flashes bouncing off the dull gray walls.

Past the bodies, you went down the far passage, taking a breath before opening the double doors. Blood stained the walls. Dried blood. Old, rusty, oxidized blood. 

“What the fuck…” you trailed off, eyes settling on where a barely conscious Soldier Boy lay restrained on the metal table in the center of the room. 

“Y/N,” he mumbled, your eyes widening briefly. He rarely spent time awake with you and the rare occasion he did he’d only ever called you curses. 

“Can you fight?” you asked, unbuckling the thick leather restraint wrapped around his right wrist. He was strong, powerful. But even he couldn’t escape when they kept him gasing him all the time. He grunted, closing his eyes. “Most of them are dead but there’s stragglers to deal with.”

“Why?” You raised an eyebrow under your mask, removing the leather restraints over his torso and left wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you out of here. I need to get you up North,” you said, strapping the gun over your body. You helped him sit up, Soldier Boy’s body lax, littered with dark bruises. “Can you walk?”

He only stared as he slumped against your chest, face jammed against your body before mumbling, “You got great tits.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” you muttered. You grasped his shoulders, forcing him upright, Soldier Boy scowling as you barely kept his heavy body steady. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he tried to growl, coming out like a petulant child instead. You rolled your eyes, scanning the room quickly. Trays of syringes littered the room, bottles of something red inside some, a cream white liquid in another. “Fuck off.”

You dropped his shoulder, grasping his jaw hard, Soldier Boy flinching slightly at the touch. You’d deal with whatever the fuck that reaction was later. 

“I will leave you here to die you insolent little man-child. Cut. The. Shit. Now.” The hardness in his gaze stopped, an almost panicked expression replacing it. “Work with me here. What’d they do to you? Why are you the equivalent of a sack of potatoes?”

“They keep me gassed and stick the white stuff in my eyes. I think it’s novichok,” he said. He closed his eyes, slumping forward ever so slightly before flying them open. “It’s the only way they get the drugs in. Or out.”

“Out?” You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head. “Later. Can you move on your own or no?”

“I’m fucked for at least a few hours. Does that answer your fucking question?” He spit out the words, his glare indicating you’d be thrown against a wall if he were capable at the moment.

“Little bastard,” you grumbled to yourself, slinging the automatic rifle across your chest. He raised an eyebrow as you sighed. “Here’s how this works. You do as I say or you can die here. Your choice.”

“Get me the hell out of this shithole,” he growled, reluctantly holding out a hand. You turned, squatting down and pulling him into a fireman’s carry. He was warm against you, two hundred plus pounds of solid muscle. “At least you ain’t a weakling.”

“Shut up. Take that handgun in my waistband and shoot anything that moves and I mean anything.” He grunted which you took as an answer. You shifted you itself. Fuck, he was heavy. Dead weight too. 

He might be able to run his mouth but that was all he had going for him. He nearly dropped the gun the second he took it out of the back of your jeans. Without another word, you exited the room, fine mist filling the corridors. Quickly, you moved down the hall, Soldier Boy grunting more than once.

“Shut up,” you whispered.

“Fuck off,” he snapped back, albeit more quietly. With gritted teeth, you continued forward, eyes flaring wide when you saw movement ahead. Gunfire rang out as you spun around, Soldier Boy hissing as loud shots fired off behind you. It went quiet, Ben dropping huffing against your back. “Thanks for using me as a fucking meat shield. That’s the only reason you busted me out, isn’t it?”

You dropped him straight on the ground, straddling his hips, not even a flicker of amusement on his face. You held up the gun, Soldier Boy scoffing. “What part of listening to what the fuck I say don’t you understand?”

“Leave me to die then, bitch.” You grabbed his jaw, pressing your thumb right under his eyes socket, his eyes narrowing. You pointed the gun at the inner corner, his eyes focused on the barrel.

“I need you to kill a supe for me. Reaper.”

“Reaper? That dumb fuck kid? Why the-” You pressed the hot barrel against his cheek, Ben growling.

“It doesn’t matter why I want him dead but I do. You will die if we stay here, Ben,” you said, tucking the gun back away. You sighed, checking the silent hallways once before re-focusing on him. “Lots of people hurt you. People here hurt you. But I am the only one that’s ever tried to protect you from something. So be quiet or I will leave.”

A grin crawled onto his face, a frown forming on yours. “You need me, don’t you sweetheart? Cut the tough guy act-”

You grabbed his throat, Soldier Boy’s eyes narrowing. “A bomb is going to drop killing all supes on the eastern seaboard. That’s us and you know what? Fuck it. Maybe I get lucky and this thing kills Reaper somehow and I don’t need you.”

“Dramatic are we?” he said as you stood upright. You got three steps down the hall when he slammed his fist against the cement floor. “Fine! I’ll shut up and kill Reaper for you. Now get me out.”

You smirked, wiping it off your face and hoisting him up once more. He stuck to his word, keeping his lips sealed as you made your way out, shooting one more guard at the front lobby area before you were in the parking lot. 

After a quick check for trackers and bombs, you picked him up off the cold pavement, sitting him in the passenger seat of your SUV.

“My suit,” he mumbled. “Need my suit.”

“Already in my trunk. I was supposed to take break you out,” you said, closing the door.

“What the hell does that mean?” he asked when you got behind the wheel, leaning over to buckle him up so he didn’t slump over.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, pulling off your mask and tossing it in the back seat. “We need to-“

You both tensed when the night sky lit up red in the distance, a towering inferno blazing up into the atmosphere from the direction of the city.

He grabbed your hand as a shockwave barreled toward you, both of you flinching as a strange feeling washed through your bones.

But you also felt a sharp familiar zap kick in and course through your arm, straight into his hand. He pulled his hand away, staring at you. 

“What the fuck was that? Why the fuck aren’t we dead?” he asked, flexing his hand as best he could.

“I sort of…can’t die. I guess that bomb can’t kill me…or Reaper,” you mumbled, turning the car on and driving out of the compound. All the while you felt his drugged up stare. “I can’t control it. But good news for you, apparently you can’t die either when you’re touching me.”

You didn’t want to acknowledge that you felt all of his fear and pain when you’d somehow protected him. How afraid he was. How fucking alone he felt way, way deep down in a place even he didn’t touch until the moment of immediate death.

You slowed down, reaching over to hold his hand, ignoring the way he relaxed at the touch. Soldier Boy was out cold fast as the adrenaline wore off, his grasp on you too tight to slip out of.

You didn’t get far though, barely a few miles up the road when you saw people arguing outside a house, strange red streaks across their skin.

What the fuck did that bomb do?

Unfortunately for the two of you, you didn’t have to wait long to find out.

____________

A/N: Part 2 coming soon!

[thedisablednaturalist]

Wah wah people don't wanna work anymore wah wah

I'm fucking chronically ill asshole i shouldn't be working anyway

Yea I admit it, I am extremely jealous of rich people, especially those who were born rich. Who are able to follow their passions and not worry about money because their parents bought them a car and a penthouse apartment in LA and they can stream on twitch and get thousands of followers cause they have top of the line equipment and studio set up and the TIME that is essential to creating and keeping a community engaged. It's very rare that a person who makes enough money to support themselves on twitch started out poor. I'm not saying it doesn't happen, but being able to stay home and stream all day and afford expensive equipment (including a gaming pc or laptop that can handle streaming video, let alone streaming both video and a graphics heavy game) will always have a HUGE advantage over someone who has to work all day for a living. And don't get me started on vtubers who drop 5k+ on a model and branding kit and instantly get hundreds of thousands of followers.

I wish I could stream more and do more streams oriented towards environmental science and conservation but my pc keeps breaking and most of my spoons go towards my job. I don't even really want to be a huge streamer? I just want enough people to hang out with so I'm not lonely while playing farming games

[mcntsee]

— ★fic recs 'twenty four

Hi! This is a masterlist for all my fic recs. This list will continue to update as I read and find more things to add. Credits go to the respective authors!

↳ Please make sure to check out the warning on each fic. Some of them contain stuff that might be triggering for some readers!

keys;

🫐 — angst

☁️ — fluff

🎧 — nsfw

spencer reid recs;

— ★ series;

↳ trouble almost all my life by @januaryembrs [ongoing] ☁️🫐

summary: the one time the bau needs you + the four times you need them.

↳ twisted by @dreamwritesimagines [completed] 🫐☁️

summary: no one can outrun their past.

↳ pierced by @rynbutt [completed] ☁️🎧

summary: moving into a new apartment in a new city is stressful, what's even more stressful is when there's a fucking murder in the apartment across from yours... at least the fbi agent is cute.

↳ american teenager by @lanascinnamongirls [ongoing] ☁️🫐

summary: all it took was one case. one case and you were back in your small town in your home state of missouri.

↳ say that you love me by @none-of-your-bullshit [completed] 🫐☁️🎧

summary: what happens when an ex cia operative survives an attempted murder and is plucked straight out of georgetown by david rossi?

↳ do you believe me now by @nereidprinc3ss 🎧

— ★ stand alone:

↳ forgiven by @reiding-writing 🫐☁️

summary: you lied to him with good intentions, but when he finds out the truth he says something detrimental in the heat of the moment. After weeks of radio silence any chance of reconciliation is almost lost after you get critically injured in the field.

kaz brekker recs;

— ★ series;

nothing here yet…

— ★ stand alone:

↳ three taps by @happyyyandcrazyyy 🫐☁️

summary: kaz taps three times. it’s his way to say i love you, i care.

↳ dive into the waves below by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

summary: pekka rollins's reign is over and it's time for the new king to take his place (or kaz settles into his new office and his beaten face needs some tending to)

↳ alright by @liberty-barnes 🫐☁️

summary: you’ve been flirting with kaz ever since you started working as his bartender. systematic rejection gets tiring after a while, but sometimes all you need is a good chat and a large bottle of vodka.

↳ bloody hands by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

summary: kaz never feels the need to explain his entire plan. he knows that, whatever happens, it will inevitably go according to plan. but when his plan goes wrong and y/n is injured, kaz is suddenly forced to comprehend with the skeletally hand of death once again.

↳ initials by @triptuckers ☁️

summary: for as long as the crows can remember, you’ve worn a ring with initials on it, and they’ve been trying to figure out what they stand for ever since

↳ love story by @luna-writes-stuff ☁️

summary: kaz hasn’t known life without you at his side. he doesn’t see reason for you to abandon him any time soon and he isn’t planning on letting you go either.

↳ what do you want from me? by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

↳ this is what happens by @fishley 🫐

summary: a look into the journey of kaz losing another person he loves and how it not only affects himslef, but everyone around him.

↳ dark days by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

summary: mr and mrs rietveld. a locked vault and approximately ten minutes of air left. what could possibly go wrong.

↳ his star by @alpurrtwhizkersss 🫐☁️

summary: kaz saves reader from drowning

↳ dust and rubble by @writing-havoc 🫐☁️

summary: a plan goes wrong. you get injured. kaz tries to help-

↳ pocket watch by @writing-havoc ☁️

summary: after years of patient progression on his phobia, kaz finds the opportunity to reciprocate

↳ call me what you like by @sophierequests ☁️

summary: kaz and the reader have been married for quite some years now, unbeknownst to their friends. but what if a slip up causes this shared secret to come to the surface?

↳ sweetheart by @bloodwrittenballad ☁️

summary: kaz's reaction to you calling him sweetheart

↳ the way of the water by @bubbles-for-all-of-us 🫐☁️

summary: reader is a tidemaker and during a heist kaz falls into the water and she uses her powers to pull him out and helps him through a panic attack

simon "ghost" riley recs;

— ★ series;

nothing here yet…

— ★ stand alone:

↳ alive by @criminalamnesia 🫐

summary: simon loses you

↳ phantom touch by @ghostheartfelt 🫐☁️

summary: you and the 141 are deployed to austria with the intel of a drug boss known as rolmuth who is harboring romanian soldiers to the east coast to smuggle illegal mercenary personnel into america. what happens when a rapid snowstorm picks up and you are separated from the others then further captured and interrogated alongside your lieutenant?

alastor;

— ★ series;

↳ a doe in fall by @hazelfoureyes [ongoing] 🎧

summary: a burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. the chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

↳ painted smile by @worldofkuro [ongoing]🫐☁️

summary: you couldn't wait to meet new friends. what you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

↳ deer dolly by @ohproserpine ☁️🫐

summary: “wife?!” angel dust cut her off, jaw dropping. “freaky face is married?”

↳ a misconduct of love by @hurthermore [ongoing] 🫐(☁️)

summary: control was something you always severely lacked in. so when a radio host enters your life, and seems to yearn to not only posses you, but for you to posses him in turn, you indulge in a love affair with the man your husband introduced you to.

— ★ stand alone:

nothing here yet…

hobbie brown;

— ★ series;

nothing here yet…

— ★ stand alone:

↳ where's my love by @autumn-hiraeth 🫐

summary: hobie's cannon event

[landoscaring]

my thoughts on monza '24

let me preface this post with a big fucking heave of a sigh

[siiiiiigh]

i gotta admit that i was nervous for this one. the tension has been building up, the pace has gotten stronger, and the media have had a field day commenting on mclaren's strategy. it's been stressful.

on the one hand i gotta say as a mclaren purist that yeah, this blows, but also the fact that this is what we're worrying over? two wdc-potential drivers in our team??? the pace being too good??? like. yeah. give me this over the DNFs and the shit car.

but then.

ugh.

i support lando and oscar equally. always. until the day their contract's up. that being said:

McLaren need to make up their minds

Oscar didn't do anything wrong today

Lando wasn't going to win the race even if he'd kept P1 from the beginning because the tye strat was off anyway

the media NEED TO STOP THE NARRATIVE AROUND OSCAR HELPING LANDO SCORE A WDC BECAUSE THAT'S NOT WHAT LANDO WANTS. do you think he wants to win a wdc because his teammate, who he knows is competitive enough, rolled over and let him through? fuck no, that's not the lando we know

i completely understand the frustration some fans have, but it's misdirected. IF mclaren stepped the fuck up and gave clear orders to both their drivers, this wouldn't be such a shit show

i don't fully agree that team orders are the way to go, but also, i would appreciate if they just made up their minds about it already? time's running out

some fans' takes about this whole thing are just...bad

insert taylor swift quote about "you wouldn't have survived in the asylum they raised me" or whatever because hah, this is nothing, you guys. a few people would've fainted with the way things happened with lewis and nico, mark and seb, prost and senna... and countless more. this sport is RUTHLESS. and CUTTHROAT. it's not tiktok edits with taylor swift songs in the background. oscar did what he knew he could do under the orders given to them both (papaya rules)

in a way i think this needed to happen -and has been building up for a while- for a few reasons, a) for mclaren to wake the fuck up and make up their minds already, b) for fans to realize that oscar is not lando's lapdog and he fully intends to fight for race wins, and c) that just because we like to imagine they're bffs or boyfriends in our fan spaces it doesn't mean they got to be okay with each other all the time. let them be upset. let them be angry. it is what it is.

it was a great race. probably one of the best we've seen all season. as a retired ferrari fan (but really, everyone is a ferrari fan in this sport) i thoroughly enjoyed watching charles win today. he deserved it on grit alone. and their strategy worked, which is something that mclaren needs to learn from.

i will continue to support these two idiots in their highs and lows. neither of them are perfect, and there's so much room for improvement. they're young. allow them some grace when you comment about how this or that should've happened. lando is wdc material, yes, but he wants and needs to earn it.

that's all, folks

[reveluving]

Hii!

I was just thinking Price with a wife who is insecure about her body because of things like stretch marks or chub finally working up the courage to do something like lingerie or naughty photos as a surprise for him ;D

Hi!! OMG. SWEATING. As someone who has stretch marks and a little 'cushion' here and there, plus is also a big fan of this trope(?), this thot is CALLING me! 😩🤌🏻

Includes: soft dom!price, unprotected sex (p in v), finger-sucking, size difference, petnames ('pretty girl', 'sweetheart'), mentions of lap dance/strip tease

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

No matter which lingerie suits your fancy, just know it will give your husband a heart attack. 

Why wouldn’t it? He already loves you for who you are—you can do the most mundane things and he’ll stare. A lot. You could be wearing anything, even if you think it doesn’t suit you, and he’d have to fight the urge to just have you for himself, be it at home or in public.

So, you want to thank your husband for being the hunky sweetheart that he is. 

He wouldn’t be home until a few hours, giving you enough time to execute your plan.

Hiding the lingerie you bought days prior is one thing, posing for the camera is another. The thought of having your ass up, face down or the strap of your bra or babydoll fall off your shoulders in front of the lens just causes your body to heat up immensely, even if it's just you. Possibly because it’s your first time taking photos of yourself in such a deliciously scandalous manner, but it also could’ve been due to the fact that you know exactly how John is going to react to them.

Especially since you’re planning to gift these polaroids for when he needs to leave for work—with no way to have you with him except for these priceless photos, specifically made for his eyes and use only.

But three polaroids aren’t enough for him to survive the field without you. 

Because as soon as he comes home to find these photos on the table, placed under his hat for his next deployment in the near future, expect to hear heavy footsteps approaching the bedroom, where you’re likely waiting for him—being struck dumb to find you sitting prettily on the bed in your new piece. 

His eyes are blown out, and you can’t help but gulp when he closes the door behind him too calmly before walking over to you. The way he stalks over to you ever so slowly prompts you to crawl back. Not because you’re scared, but you had to admit, your heart’s beating wildly, even more so when he begins taking off his clothes without uttering a word.

Your nails dig into the sheets when you have nowhere to go, feeling the headboard against your back as he traps you from the front—resembling a predator hunting its prey. 

“John…” You mutter, letting out a shaky sigh as he slides his hand up your leg, biting his lip at the sight; the stockings/garter belt squeezing the plush of your thighs just enough to drive him wild. He doesn’t even give you a second to utter his name once again when he yanks you forward, with John on his knees as he holds you to sit on his thighs, forcing you to look down at him.

“S’a really nice piece, sweetheart,” He purrs, his voice telling you that he’s holding himself back from just fucking you. He licks on the deep cleavage, the small, thin material leaving little to his imagination as it barely covers your tits, all while maintaining eye contact as a guttural groan leaves his lips. One of his hands moves to your front, playing with the hem of your stocking/garter belt, pulling it back before releasing it. His lips part in delight, almost mirroring the way you gasp as the tight material slaps against you with a light smack, “Is this all f’me?”

You nodded with the tiniest whine, holding onto him like he was your lifeline. 

Ignoring the dampness of your panties was useless since you knew he could feel it against his thigh. His stare becomes too much for you, and you can’t do anything else other than rest your forehead against his, feeling his warm breath against you just as he feels yours and begging him to have you. 

And how can he say no to you?

Especially since you’ve been a good girl at posing for him as he takes countless photos of you on the polaroids—from the more ‘innocent ones’ like having you drool on his fingers (“Suck on them real good. That’s it, my pretty girl”) to the lewder displays, where he has you on your side, taking you from behind before taking a picture or two your pussy tightly gripping and leaking around the base of his cock.

Now he knows he won’t be alone in his next deployment.

Bonus: Him asking you for a lap dance or a strip tease for him as he sits all smug at the edge of the bed or the bedroom chair. He does this thing where he throws his head back and bucks his hips when you rub yourself against him. Yes.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

[revehae]

mirage

pairing ↠ siren!ningning × (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, scientist! reader, siren!ningning, fucking machine, kidnapping

summary ↠ after deceiving a naive siren, you decide to use her as a lab rat to prove your theories that other fellow scientists had ridiculed - and maybe use her for other, less than ethical experiments.

wc ↠ 2.4k

a/n ↠ part 2/5 of the legend has it series!

don't like it, don't read.

there was a moment, within the first couple of blinks, where the room reeled like the staggering motions of a ship on violent waters, and there was no way for ningning to tell what was up and what was down. then the haze started to dwindle, the fog started to lift, and everything became clear.

the first thing she noticed was the constant of unfamiliar noises resounding through the open room she’d roused to, shifting in the constricted space of the laboratory apparatus she was strapped to. your back was turned. you were facing a panel, closely monitoring her vitals.

“you’re awake,” you declared joyously, without the need to turn. “everything went smoothly. it couldn’t have been more perfect.”

ningning recognized you, though barely. it was all coming back to her. she was not like most others sirens, much less reputable for her generosity and impressionability. when she saw you, flailing around in the ocean where humans like you didn’t belong, she knew in her heart that she had to help you back to land.

that was what she endeavored to do at least, but beyond the memory of clutching your soaked arm, everything went black.

ningning’s eyes fluttered. she was shockingly lethargic. “what do you mean?”

“the experiment. it worked,” you explained vaguely, as if she was supposed to know what experiment you were referencing. you seemed so thrilled, off-puttingly so. “they said that my claims were pseudoscience. and then they said that even if sirens were real, the idea that there was a process where they could be transformed into man was a mirage.”

your rants sounded ludicrous, until ningning glanced down and saw that the glimmering scaled appendage, the one her whole identity was compromised of, was no longer attached. in its place, she had a pair of slender legs and an equal set of feet with little toes she couldn’t help but wriggle.

panic immediately settled in after the shock and she exclaimed, “what did you do?”

ignoring her, you continued, “i would’ve said it’s unbelievable, but that’s not true. i’ve always believed it. even when nobody else had faith.”

to say you were overjoyed would still be an understatement. for years your peers in the field had ridiculed and critiqued your theories. nobody believed in supernatural entities and given your lack of evidence, you had nothing to support yourself. other than your dedication to not only proving them wrong in the existence of the supernatural, but proving that mermaid-like creatures could be made human.

ningning started to squirm, frantic. she refused to accept the bitter reality; that everybody that warned her about the dangers of her supposed naïveté had been right. unlike her fellow sirens, she had always wanted to see the good in the other world. where her friends took pleasure in baiting humans to their untimely deaths, ningning was contented with being a hindrance.

“undo it. undo it, please,” ningning whimpered, delicate water trinkling in an unusual stream down her cheeks. “i need to go home.”

“you are home, honey. i’m afraid that unless i work out a formula to redevelop your tail, you won’t survive in the ocean,” you explained. “even then, i would have to replace you to continue my experiments. and you wouldn’t want too many subjects, would you?”

of course, it would only make your experiments more credible, but ningning was appalled at the thought of her friends being submitted to the same forceful stripping of their identities.

ningning shook her head, whispering, “no.”

“i thought so,” you said, though your tone was sweet nonetheless. “besides, i can’t cut you loose now. i have more tests to run.”

“tests?” ningning echoed weakly.

spookily enough, you said nothing, only giggling to yourself while you faced your panel again. there was something so ominous about you, about the whole atmosphere, and all ningning could do was close her eyes and sing quietly to self-regulate.

the true nature of a siren, you thought, but didn’t say. her voice was lovely, as alluring as you thought it would be. you couldn’t wait to milk those beautiful sounds of her in a more lewd, indecent way.

somehow, ningning didn’t even realize that she was completely naked until she felt your cool hands at her skin and her eyes snapped open. you were adjusting a machine between the pair of thighs she wasn’t supposed to have, and she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be comfortable with it or not.

wide-eyed, ningning asked, “what are you doing?”

“i told you, honey. i’m experimenting on you,” was all you said. 

for half a minute, you just stood there, lips tutted in contemplation and a befuddled expression on your face. then, in the next minute, you had her flipped over onto her hands and knees, readjusting the restraints around her limbs into taut knots. ningning cried out in shock all the while, more than confused about what you were up to, though she was silently praying to the sea gods for mercy.

“please,” ningning whispered, eyes glistening. 

setting the dildo part of the machine back in place, you gave a half-assed attempt at consoling, “don’t worry. if my hypothesis is correct, this will be quick.”

ningning hardly knew what you meant. she was no stranger to basic scientific terms, knowledge and science was not strictly a human concept, but you were so vague in your elaborations that she couldn’t help but wonder what all was at stake here. she couldn’t fathom why you were hunting merpeople or understand how you were aware of their existence.

without allowing her longer than a couple of seconds to think, the machine came to life, and ningning gasped loudly when it started to plunge where you’d set it between her thighs. it wasn’t a comfortable feeling. it felt foreign and strange and unexpected.

“hurts,” ningning whimpered.

“it won’t for long,” you replied offhandedly, a clipboard in your hands for charting data you were collecting. this bit of the trial was more personal. it wasn’t to prove yourself to other scientists, but self-indulgent research. 

never in ningning’s life had she ever felt anything close to this, and that made the feeling all the more inexplicable. there was an unorthodox fullness now, a warmth beginning to brew, developing in the pit of her exposed stomach and stretching out.

and then the feeling inside of her was so peculiar that it became pleasant. ningning couldn’t even be troubled with attempting to understand the logic behind it, because all she cared about now was this weirdly good sensation making her thighs shudder like nothing. her sounds were obviously like that of a siren, as bewitching and sweet-sounding as they could be, and it was making you dangerously wet.

ningning thought of it like singing, except she struggled to control the way her jaw slacked and those airy noises escaped her. it was almost like her mouth had a mind of its own, lips parting and her tongue birthing the gentlest of cries.

to say the least, you were amused. the machine was on its lowest potential setting and already she was a hot mess, unraveling like she never had before. granted, you had manufactured it all by yourself, deliberately choosing to make it sizeable and installing more than enough functions to keep it warm and vibrating, but it was entertaining nonetheless and you had a hidden camera recording every second of this experiment. for research purposes.

you needed to go back and review the content of the video, just to jot down any important details you might not have noticed. it didn’t really matter if you planned on getting off to the tape a couple of times, too, because this bit of the experiment was just for you. it was worth savoring every second.

you had a real motivation for this whole situation, no matter how laughable it might’ve seemed. it went beyond your fascination with the supernatural. not only did you want to know if it was possible to turn merpeople into humans, but if they could be human, or at least resemble humankind, you had long wondered if they could get off the way humans did. and at the same degree.

some people would call it a gross, taboo fetish. others would tell you to roleplay and get it out of your system, because there was no way in hell that mermaids roamed the same earth as humanity. but none of it discouraged you. you always knew you were right. and the beautiful girl in front of you, reacting astoundingly well to having her cunt fucked by a mere gadget, was living proof.

though you wouldn’t admit it to her face, you had been so tempted to touch her while she was unconscious, hardly able to resist the titillating allure of a siren. she had been out for a couple of days, which was more than enough time for you to transform her into a human. the only reason you resisted was because you wanted her awake, conscious reactions. it was important that she was alive and awake until the very end.

ningning’s face was tensed with pleasure, a kind you had learned to recognize in spite of the fact you’d never seen anything quite like it before. “oh my… fuck.”

you asked curiously, “how does it feel?”

“i… i don’t know. it feels weird. but i like it,” ningning stammered, breathy moans penetrating the air between her sentences.

that much you could tell, just from observing her. at one point, you forgot that you were supposed to be taking notes, too absorbed in the shine on her skin from the fresh layer of sweat on her back and the shape of her ass. the resounding wet squelch accompanying the repetitive noise from the machine’s activity as it slammed inside her pussy. you found yourself upping the setting, watching in real time how ningning’s head tilted with a light moan.

“it’s so big, oh my god, it’s so big,” ningning exclaimed, a tremor to her voice. “make it go faster - please.”

you cocked a brow. “you sure?”

all ningning could do was idiotically bob her head, sweet noises blocking all of her words. you were surprised to see her want so much so soon, but you weren’t going to deny her desperate request, and quickly pressed a button on the hovering panel beside you.

if you had to describe it, ningning was like an animal. you could see the wild, untamed need glistening in her eyes, pouring in the form of liquid. the tears dripping from eyes and the arousal seeping from her cunt. she didn’t even know why she wanted it so badly - she just knew that she did. 

hearing her talk about the size of the toy made you giggle. it was intended to stretch her open, maybe a little more than she was prepared for, but ningning seemed to be taking it like a champ. almost like it was made especially for her. she was borderline drooling all over the place, mouth hanging open and her eyes rolling back. the throbbing between your legs was becoming unignorable, though this wasn’t about you right now. proving a point was your priority.

ningning was gushing, tight walls kneading the hyper realistic dildo as if it were an actual cock. she couldn’t help but pulse around it, addicted to the quickening vibrations and the warmth shooting through her like sparks of electricity. if anything, she was lucky that it wasn’t real. had someone genuinely been fucking her, they would lack the self-restraint to treat her like the human you’d worked diligently for her to become.

realizing that you hadn’t touched her at all throughout the entire session, you set down the pen and clipboard that had fallen useless between your fingers and paraded right over to her, instead occupying your hands with her tits. you couldn’t help but pinch her nipples, twisting them here and there, much to ningning’s unmistakable delight.

she was just so responsive. every touch was met with the most euphoric of honey-like moans that made you want to rail her into the next century. not only did her body twitch and spasm with sensitivity, but her face was as expressive as it was beautiful. every feeling she felt was plain on her features and she lacked the ability to conceal her true emotions. ningning couldn’t lie and tell you that this wasn’t the most ecstatic moment of her life even if she wanted to.

“my stomach,” ningning trailed, words essentially becoming useless.

not that needed to speak, or even think at all. not when she was just your lab rat. you knew what she meant regardless, and it didn’t take your observation skills to know that she was just shy of climax, standing right at the brink. you wanted to see her let loose. for your own sake, you needed to know what it was like.

you kept touching her, careful to stand clear of the camera so that you wouldn’t obscure your own view later on, but just close enough to fondle with her body in a way that had her on the verge of melting into your palms. 

it wasn’t very long before you got exactly what you wanted. the device made short work of her, hitting her in all of the right spots, and you stepped back to gape in awe at how intense her orgasm was. it was more than the tears falling down from her eyes and the shrill scream that parted her lips, though that was a major part of it. it was more than her body convulsing involuntarily. it was a solid minute worth of undeniable bliss and pleasure so raw that she could hardly even feel for a good moment.

it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. 

ningning wanted to slump after orgasming, because as pleasurable as it was, it was also exhausting and clearly knocked the wind out of her. but the toy didn’t stop, and she didn’t notice the strange fluid dripping out of her until minutes later. because like hell you wouldn’t program an ejaculation feature into the machine.

“fantastic,” you chirped, more than proud of what you’d done. you were beaming with accomplishment. “we need a couple more runs and i’ll give you a break.”

ningning’s eyes, wide as they already were, largened as she pleased, “no more. i can’t take it. it’s too much.”

“shh,” you crooned, eyes glued to the device that had yet to stop thrusting in and out of her. or maybe the fake semen that was oozing out of her. “experiments don’t end with one trial, dear. welcome to my world.”

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - A Survivor's Story - Forward But Never Forget/XOXO

Sevika spittin' facts...

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

"I hear you thinking," Sevika warns, without opening her eyes.

"Thinking?"

"About how to get Jinx away from him."

Despite reflex, Vi doesn't ball her hands into fists. She's getting better at concealment. Not a pro like Sevika. Not a savant like Silco. But she's learning. These past five months, she's learnt enough to last a lifetime. Yet she has so much left to know.

"He's not a monster," Vi says. "I thought he was. Now I understand he's just a fucked-up asshole. But that doesn't mean he's not dangerous."

"He's got his reasons."

"I'm tired of you defending him, Sevika."

"I'm defending—"

"—Zaun?" Vi's jaw grates. "Yeah. That's your big religion. The cause you've given everything to. And he's the messiah. You worship him. The rest of us have to believe too, or be cast out." Her eyes seize Sevika's, daring her to contradict. "It's easy to believe in him, too. I'd like to say otherwise. But I've seen him work in real-time. He's got a mojo. A pull, and he pulls who he wants. But that's not faith, Sevika. That's smokescreen to hide the rot inside. And someone like that, they learn all sorts of strategies to hide it. All that smooth talk, all that drive and charisma—they aren't Silco. They're the bracing that hides the sickness." 

"Look—"

"I have looked," Vi snaps, then takes a stabilizing breath. "I get it, okay? If he hadn't fought for Zaun, we'd still be under Piltover. If he hadn't done awful things, the Fissurefolk would be suffering worse. I understand that. He—Jinx—changed the city in ways no one else could've done. You can't scare monsters unless you're the scarier monster." She shakes her head. "Maybe he's the leader the Undercity—Zaun—needs right now. But what about ten years down the line? Twenty? What kind of shape will our home be if it's just a game of whack-a-villain every minute of every day? How do we take care of each other, if we're at each other's throats? How will Jinx take care of herself as she gets older? She doesn't need more monsters in her life, Sevika. She's got enough. She needs to feel safe. To know that her own city won't chew her up and spit her out if she slips up. To know her own home is behind her and not just a snakepit."

Sevika's features hold a deliberate smoothness. She says nothing.

"What people do isn't always who they are," Vi goes on. "Vander always told me that. I think it's true. For you. For a lot of folks who fought for Silco's cause. It's not true for Silco. Living means changing. Someone who can't change isn't really alive. Silco isn't." She swallows. "Not since Vander drowned him." 

Sevika takes a swallow of her beer. When she's finished, there's a half-smile on her face. Too old a smile, too knowing.

"You're right," she says. "He isn't alive."

Vi stares.

House odds were that Sevika would argue. That she'd shrug off Vi's outburst. Not that she'd pay it off with plainspoken fact.

"He's not alive," she repeats, "because he's forgotten how to be."

"Forgotten?"

"He's not you, Vi." Sevika's tone holds a weird stoicism. "If he was, he'd have had a different story. Not everyone's so lucky."

"Lucky?" Resentment creeps under Vi's skin. "I grew up in the Lanes. Same as you and Silco. I lost my family. My sister was stolen. I spent six years in Stillwater."

"A hard-knock life."

"What's that mean?"

Sevika shrugs. No sarcasm. Just blunt fact. "People in the Lanes—hell, people all over—go through all kinds of shit. They survive wars and famines. They get sold to slavers. They wake up one morning and a crazy Mage burns their village down. Or Noxus rolls in and salts all their fields. It's disaster after disaster. A life of hardship. Some learn early on how to cope. How to deal with pain. Others... it's like they just stop. Stop in time. Stop living completely." Her eyes go heavy-lidded. "Nobody has a perfect childhood. But some kids learn how to be happy, or at least float on when things aren't happy. A lot of it's down to nature. The rest? That's how you grow up. Who teaches you to be strong, and smart, and resilient. For you, it was Vander and your folks. Whoever gave you hope and kept you sane. For me..."

Belatedly, Vi understands.

"It was your sister."

Sevika doesn't flinch. Withdrawing a cigarillo from her pocket, she lights up perfunctorily. Brightleaf drifts in Vi's airspace.

"Don't recall mentioning Nandi to you," Sevika says.

"Silco did." Vi's eyelids droop. She feels tired all of a sudden. Torpid with the humidity; the slanting sunrays. With the surreal passage of time and the inexorable weight of history. "So did Vander, when I was a kid. She was the Priestess at Janna's Temple. Mom liked her." She looks away. "Mom was a believer in the old gods. Said they were a part of us, same as blood. She'd always visit the Temple for the Priestess' prayers. She'd stay for her stories. I remember those stories. I didn't understand 'em much, but I liked listening to her voice. I just never connected..."

That you two were family.

That you lost someone, same as me.

Vi's eyes are dry. But she feels the emotion lodged inside: half-processed.

"I didn't connect the dots," she repeats. "I'm sorry."

A plume of smoke rises pensively from Sevika's lips.

"She was a good woman," she says at length "Better one than me. I've made a career out of breaking bones. Nandi made a calling out of binding them back together.  But it was just a different kind of faith, y'know? She had faith in the divine. I had faith in me and mine. So I took care of her. She took care of me. We were family."

"Like me and Powder."

Sevika says nothing. She tips her chin back, staring at the sun-spangled sky.

"After she passed," Vi says, more tentatively, "you took up with Silco?"

The orientation of Sevika's body shifts.  "Don't recall mentioning that either."

"I—I saw you two."

"Saw us?" 

"Last night." Vi’s tongue burns as the confession slips past. " At the penthouse."

The cigarillo smolders in Sevika's prosthetic fingers: spark and flint. Smoke drifts over her face. Her hair's tied in a high tail today. There's nothing to conceal her expression. Not that there's an expression to conceal. Her eyes, meeting Vi's, reflect nothing in the metalhazy glints.

She is a monolith, and monoliths don't flinch.

Neither does Vi. This isn't a place for shame. They've known each other too long and too bitterly for that.

"I know," Vi mutters. "I know it wasn't my business."

"Then why make it your business?"

"Because—" It's an effort to match Sevika's stare "Because you and him... it's like you're stuck. Stuck on him. Stuck to him. He's bad news, Sevika. Not just for you, but everyone." She takes a shuddery breath, trying to keep the kneejerk anger out. "Whatever you're getting out of it, you can get better elsewhere."

"You offering, Vi?"

The near-flinch becomes a flush. "That's not what I—"

Except Sevika's not challenging her. Her demeanor's the same as when she and Vi used to spar: calm, level, blunt.

The bond between them doesn't go deep. Can't—given their convoluted history. Yet territorial as Sevika is, she takes care of her turf. Looks out for her own. Since Vi's return to the Lanes, she's treated her... not as an ally, but as a fellow Trencher.

They've both known hardship and come out stronger. They both understand that when disaster hits, it can make enemies out of friends—and friends out of enemies. 

Vi and Sevika are neither. They inhabit a shadowy zone in between. But that zone has its own language, and it's a clean one. No deadweight. No dredged-up debts.

Just the give-and-take of hard-hitting truth.

"It's funny," Sevika says. "The way folks throw that word around. Better. They're always thinking of what-ifs. What could be, instead of what is. Me, I like the facts. What's real, not what may come to pass."

"What's real is he's using you," Vi snaps. "Same as he uses everybody. He doesn't love you, Sevika."

"Love." Sevika's lip curls up at one corner. "What’s love got to do with it, little girl?"

"I—what?"

"You say Zaun's my big religion? Well, let me tell you. Love's yours. And it's got you—you, Jinx, Silco—so twisted up in knots, you're a fucking mess."

"I'm not a—"

"A fucking mess," Sevika repeats, and the tone brooks no argument. "All of you. That's the problem. You've got no perspective. No sense of self. No clue what's what. Everything's love, and you tote that word around like junkies with a fix. As if it's the answer to everything. The cure-all. Well, let me break it to you: it's not. Not even close."

"But—" Vi is stunned. "Then what's it for? What's the point?"

"There is no point," Sevika snaps. "Love's not a solution. It's not even a problem. It's just an emotion. And it's not the only one. There's rage. There's grief. There's hate. And they're just as real. Just another part of living." Her jaw hardens. "I loved my sister, Vi. Loved her enough that I'd strangle anybody who'd put a hand on her. Not because she was the best woman in the world—and she was—but because she was the best part of me. She was my family, same way Jinx is yours. When I lost her, I went to war. Didn't care if it was Enforcers, or Topside, or the whole goddamn world. I was ready to tear the planet down. Because I'd already been torn apart. I didn't have anything left."

"Sevika," Vi says, but doesn't finish.

She's been where Sevika has. She understands.

"I was broken," Sevika goes on. "I thought, without love, I'd stay broken. I was wrong. There's a whole lot more to life than that. And Silco..."

Her cadence doesn't waver. But there's a different undercurrent. Something raw, and blisteringly real.

"We had a thing, once," she says. "A shortlived thing. But that's the least of our history, Vi. It's not why I follow him. And it's not why I was with him last night."

"Why, then?" Vi's throat is tight. "Why stay with him?"

"Because… when I was broken, he knew what to do with the brokenness. He didn't ask me to be someone else. Didn't try to put me back together. He took me as I was. Because he understood that grief doesn't just end. It can't. There's no escaping it. But you can't let it end you, either. People have it worse; they have less. Me? I had more. When I had Nandi, I had everything. When I lost her, I lost it all. And what's left was an empty space, and filling it with something. Something that'd last the distance." She lets off a breath. A single strand of smoke uncurls. "Silco gave me that. He put his life in my hands. He laid his cause at my feet. He had faith in me. And that faith meant something."

"A way to go on," Vi says.

"That's the best anyone can ask for." Sevika smiles, and her hard face fills with soft lines. "Love's a fine thing, Vi. But it can't protect your family. It can't keep them safe. You gotta fight for that. And when you've fought as long as I have—taken more lives than you've seen years—it's not about the love. It's about what's left. About doing your part to keep it standing."

"Even if it means dying?"

Sevika doesn't miss a beat. "It's never about dying, Vi. It's about the life you choose before that."

"Silco can't give you a life."

"I know." Sevika's smile dwindles. The softness and hardness don't. "But he's given me everything else. The rest? I'll make do. My sister taught me how."

Vi says nothing. She's run out of arguments. Run, too, out of anger.

They sit in silence, watching the afternoon unfold.

[spookwyrdie]

Sweet Spot {part 3}

{part 1}{part 2}{part 3}{part 4}{part 5}{part 6}

Baker Felix x Florist reader

summary: Before the ceremony, you unfortunately have to face your ex. Though with Felix there to back you up when Johnny starts being rude, there's a tension you haven't felt before. How will you survive watching your ex get married? // genre: fluff, angst, eventual smut // word count: 3.6k // warnings: adult dialogue, sexual themes //a/n: if you're not on the taglist and would like to be, please reply to this post or send me an ask!🥰

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

I have only posted this here and on AO3 - user: spookwyrdie

Before doing anything else, you need to go take a very cold shower. For one, you need to scrub off all the plant matter currently staining your hands. Secondly, you need to douse this awful combination of anxiety and lust that’s been building up throughout the week. The idea of Johnny walking down the aisle has been simmering away in the back of your mind and the confusing fresh wave of desire for Felix has not been helping. When you try to untangle the thoughts from one another, it feels like trying to diffuse a bomb, not knowing which wire to cut. 

There’s a part of you that feels bitter about Johnny, you two were together for so long, and he’s climbing that ladder of life faster than you. All the bragging that he’s done has seeped into you. In your more insecure moments, you think yourself jealous of him. It drives you mad, knowing how dead your relationship was by the time you pruned it, but all that time and effort lost on some mediocre shithead from your college years makes you feel like you’ve wasted your prime years. Johnny has an uncanny ability to suss out the parts of yourself that you’re least confident about and boast about his success in those areas. 

When your floral business was just starting out, he made sure you knew how well he was doing with money. When he met Jenny, he paraded her around online and at social functions, telling anyone within earshot how he’s never loved anyone the way he loves her. He liked to go on and on about how he knew the very first time meeting her, he was going to marry her. They were just so compatible - mentally, emotionally, and physically. Every time you are hanging out at some brewery with your old friends and Johnny starts up, it takes all your effort not to scoff into your beer and roll your eyes. It’s not jealousy that you feel though, you just wish he would shut the fuck up about it sometimes. 

When he had approached you to do the flowers for the wedding, he seemed surprised when you accepted.

“I promise, I’d love to do the florals for you and Jenny,” you said.

“Are you sure?” Johnny said, eyes full of pity. “Is the business doing okay? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to take on a project this big.”

“Business is booming, Johnny,” you gritted out. “I’ll even give you a nice discount, since we’re friends and all.”

“Okay, great!” he said. “Be prepared for Jenny though. She’s terrible at making decisions without my help.”

“I’ve worked with a lot of brides before, I know I can handle any changes she needs to make,” you reply coolly.

“Good to know,” he said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You remember this exchange like it was yesterday. The way you had little half moons embedded in your palms from clenching your fists so hard comes to the forefront of the memory. There was something about how Johnny knew exactly what to say to get under your skin still made you angry.

Thinking back about this exchange while you soap up your body under the cold water of the shower, a little seed of conspiracy plants itself in your mind. Did Johnny encourage the massive switch up of aesthetics at the last minute? Jenny seemed so eager about the previous plan of  classic, timeless flowers that the switch to bohemian felt really out of left field, especially so close to the wedding date. It was also a little rash and stupid of you to offer him such a huge discount. Minho and Chan were right, you had to make sure all your extra work was paid for properly. 

The Felix problem was an entirely different can of worms. This crush you’ve been nursing for years now had fuel added to the fire, all because of a silly dream you had. Granted, it was an incredibly hot dream, you feel goosebumps raise on your skin, and not just from the frigid temperature of your shower. If anything, the icy water was keeping you grounded, not getting swept away by your desire again. 

Were you ovulating or something? Why was this hitting you so hard, especially now? Nothing had changed between you and Felix, you just seemed to notice more. He’s been extraordinarily kind, really going out of his way to take care of you. It helps, since both of you work within the wedding industry, to have someone to confide in so closely. The last few months, you’ve seen him more often than not, like an extremely reliable dinner buddy. You realize Felix is a huge reason you haven’t felt as lonely in the past year. 

His offer to be your plus one had you reeling. As you step out of the shower, you remember how he urged you to call him your boyfriend while you were here. 

“It feels real when you can attach a label to it like that,” he had said. He was right. You knew, beyond a doubt, that your ex would take what you said more seriously if you had “evidence” that you were doing well. It was petty, immature, and not something you should entertain. . .  but you wanted to feel an ounce of victory against your ex. You were going to that wedding to show up and show off. It didn’t hurt that you also secretly craved to indulge the fantasy of being with Felix like that, even if just for a night.

Toweling off your body, the dream-hazed feeling of his hands on your hips rocket through you again. It’s not that Felix wasn’t touchy, he was one of your more physically affectionate friends. But that was just the way he acted with everyone, always hugging, touching, soothing, you internally scolded yourself for getting swept away by his antics. There was something about Dream Felix’s hands that felt burned into your skin. Rubbing your face, you try and shake the image - you have shit to do, there’s a wedding you need to get ready for.

You pull your dress out of the garment bag, a pastel pink, slinky number, ruched in just the right way to accentuate the curve of your hips. The length is just modest enough to pass for a wedding, but stops right above your knee. You have your favorite pair of strappy, white fuck-me heels to go along with it. You make sure your lips look plumped, your eyes look sharp and bedroom-y, and your hair looks fashionably mussed and loosely pinned back. The goal is to look like you didn’t put in too much effort while still standing out from the crowd. 

You’re futzing with an earring clasp when you hear a knock at the door. Felix stands in the doorway when you answer, whatever greeting he was about to say dying on his lips when he sees you. His jaw slackens as he stares, drinking you in. You’re in a similar position, enthralled by his appearance. His hair is half swept back, tendrils of his cool toned blonde trailing resting against his shoulders. His suit jacket is a pale blue offset by his light beige dress pants. His attention to detail is insane with his white shirt with small detailed flowers embroidered into it and a silver blue embroidered tie to match. The undertones of the suit complement his honey tanned skin so well. His freckles nearly glitter on his face. He looks good, as if he just walked off the runway. You’re not sure how much time passes as the two of you gawk at the other, before you shake yourself out of it.

“Lix! Come on in!” you nearly shout, unable to control the volume of your voice.

“Wow, Y/n…” he murmurs as he steps inside the hotel room. “You look…”

“It’s a bit much, I know,” you interrupt him. You don’t think you can handle whatever he was about to say, good or bad. “But I wanted to show off a little at the wedding.”

“That won’t be an issue at all, I promise,” he says as his gaze traces your form again. His eyes darken for a moment, lost in some sort of intense thought, before he snaps out of it. Looking up at you with a bright smile on his face, he does a little spin to show off his outfit. “Told you I clean up real good, didn’t I?”

“Understatement of the century,” you mutter, your skin flushing. You can’t help but trail your eyes up from his shoes to his face. “Oh! I have something for you!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” you walk over to the small fridge in your shared room. Inside is a plastic takeout container, slight condensation covering the inside. “Well, technically I have something for both of us.”

You pop open the container to reveal a corsage and a boutonniere, a combination of lilac, lavender and mint. Picking up the boutonniere, you beckon Felix over. “This goes on your suit and I have one that matches.”

“Ooh, matchy matchy!” he lilts.

You playfully smack his shoulder and laugh. “Yes, matchy matchy.” 

He stands close to you, the toes of your shoes nearly touching, as you pin the flowers on to his lapel. You smooth your hand over the fabric of his jacket before looking up at him. He’s got that same adoring look in his eyes as he looks down at you. You feel yourself flush again, that cold shower’s calming effect has fully worn off now that you’re back in the warm glowing spotlight Felix seems to put on you. Bashfully, you look away and your eyes catch the clock on the bedside table.

“Oh! I need to get down to the dressing rooms with the wedding party’s flowers!”

You’re already power walking out of your room when you hear Felix trail behind you, “I’ll come help.”

You sneak into the bridal dressing room with a few boxes while the girls are still in pre-wedding prep. There’s a lot of movement all orbiting Jenny. When she sees you, she smiles and beckons you over. Felix hangs back, hovering by the entrance, not wanting to disturb the tittering over the bouquets. 

The bridesmaids love the flowers, each getting their own mini version of Jenny’s big bouquet, slightly unique in arrangement and color. You also reveal the corsages that they’ll be able to wear at the reception, also matching the bohemian theme. The din of chatter rises again in the room. Jenny sees Felix at the door and waves, smiling at him like they were old friends. She catches your eye and winks.

The bridal drop off was simple. The groomsmen drop off fills you with dread. While walking the boxes of boutonnieres over to the men’s dressing room, you feel your stomach do a few flips. Felix gives you a reassuring smile and waits in the doorway yet again. As you enter, you hear the cheerful, familiar voices of Peter and Bobby calling you over.

“Y/n! We wondered where you were,” Bobby says.

“Yeah, holy shit,” Peter says. “It’s been ages. I’ve never seen you grace our presence in anything but sneakers!”

“Hey guys,” you grin at the boys. These two chucklefucks have been your friends since the first week of college when you found yourself in an ice breaker circle during orientation. They were the two who introduced you to Johnny incidentally during a chaotic game of Edward 40-hands. Johnny had helped you drag them back to their dorm when they were three sheets to the wind. “Lovely to see you two looking like you’ve showered for once.”

“Hey now, don’t go complimenting us too hard,” Peter smiles with a big wide gummy smile. “Whatcha got there?”

At that moment, Johnny appears, giving you a flat mouthed smile. He looks slicked back and shiny, his cheeks a little too pink to seem suave. He looks a little wary seeing you all dressed up. With your heels on, you are at eye level with him and you know that he isn’t a fan of that.

“I came to pin on your flowers so you all match for the ceremony.”

You start pinning on the little bundles of flowers one by one. Johnny is last in the rotation, his boutonniere a little more complex than the groomsmen. You both stand in awkward silence for a moment, safety pin stuck between your teeth, as you maneuver the wrapping of his flowers.

“So…who’s the blonde?”

“Hmm?”

“Who’s the blonde dude hovering at the door?”

You turn your head, and make direct eye contact with Felix. He’s got a cool smile plastered on his face that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. The way the afternoon sun is hitting him makes him radiate though. Somehow he seems to bring his own sparkle with him everywhere he goes, like he can’t help but capture the attention of everyone surrounding him. You watch as he presses his tongue against the side of cheek as he looks at the two of you across the room.

“That’s Felix. He’s my…boyfriend,” the word feels strange in your mouth.

You see the muscle in Johnny’s jaw twitch as he mulls that over. “I thought you were bringing your sister.”

“Nope, you just assumed I was bringing her,” you say, your voice clipped. “Remember? You thought I was having trouble in the ‘dating department’?”

“How long have you been seeing each other?”

“A few months now.”

“Hmm,” he grunts out, eyes still on Felix. “Isn’t he kind of… too pretty for you?”

“Excuse me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“I mean, isn’t he a little…” Johnny raises his hand to make a limp wrist gesture.

“I don’t like what you’re implying, Johnny.”

“Oh, don’t get all offended on me. You know what I mean! He looks like a fairy,” Johnny whispers, too loudly. Everyone in the room goes quiet.

“Why are you being so fucking rude?” you feel the heat of anger roll through you, color rising in your cheeks.

“I’m not, I’m just surprised you’re into guys like that,” he sniffs, looking away. “Are you sure he’s into you?”

“Fuck you,” your voice bites out, adrenaline pumping through you.

Bobby comes up and claps Johnny a little too hard on the shoulder, forcing out a laugh. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying! He’s probably just hungover from the stag last night. You know how alcohol turns him into a little bitch.” 

“Yeah,” Johnny mumbles. “Sorry.”

“Whatever,” you say, turning on your heel. “See you out there.”

You stomp over to the door where Felix is standing. As you approach, he holds out his hand for you to take. Unshed tears burn in your eyes, but you’re too mad to cry. Felix walks one step ahead of you, pulling you gently to a secluded corner near the lobby. 

“Y/n, you okay?” he leans down, concern painting his features. You’re breathing hard, trying to calm yourself down but it feels like there’s a swarm of bees under your ribs.

“Breathe.” Felix says as he pulls you into his arms. He hugs you tight and takes some deep breaths in a slow, soothing pattern. You don’t realize you’re shaking with anger until you’re pressed up against his chest, but you begin to relax in his embrace. He pulls back a bit when he feels your forehead slump onto his shoulder, giving you a reassuring pat on the back. 

“What he said doesn’t matter, I promise,” Felix says, his deep voice rumbling through you, close to your ear. “It’s hard to insult someone when you’re calling them pretty.”

You chuckle, looking up at him. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“Ehh, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before. I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he says. “He was insane to think that I wouldn’t be into you.”

“Yeah, my fake boyfriend has to be into me,” you chuckle. You feel much calmer now. “It’s like, the main reason you’re here.”

Felix gives you an inquisitive look, like the combination of a frown and smile, before shaking his head. “Yeah sure, fake boyfriend.”

You take one last deep breath to ground yourself. 

“Alright, let’s go find our seats.”

~

You’re no stranger to weddings. The families and friends shuffle in, light piano music playing in the background while everyone decides whether they want to sit on the bride or groom’s side. You hear a few hushed conversations about how lovely the florals are and secretly beam with pride. 

Felix drags you to a pair of seats on the bride’s side in the back row. He’s sitting close to the aisle side, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close to his side. The small circles he’s rubbing into your shoulder are meant to be soothing, but you feel some of that ache blooming in your chest again. This is what it would feel like to really be with him. 

Johnny files in, taking his places in front of the round floral arch you put together. You avoid Johnny’s eyes at all costs, not wanting to scowl the entire ceremony. Jenny doesn’t deserve that. Felix, on the other hand, can’t seem to keep his eyes off Johnny. If looks could kill, Jenny would be a widow before she even got married. 

The swell of the wedding music starts up as the bridesmaids line up. Everyone stands, Felix taking your hand in his once again. You watch as a few of the bridesmaids do a double take at him, raking over his outfit briefly. One of them fully gawks at him for a moment before she remembers where she is. Your eyes are focused on the flowers, watching how they compliment the outfits and how they blend with the rest of the styling. 

The piano switches to a slower version of “Here Comes the Bride,” which feels strangely traditional with all the bohemian decor. Nonetheless, Jenny, arm in arm with her father, slowly marches down the aisle. Her gown is soft and flowy, her hair long, her veil made in the style of macrame. It matches perfectly with the bouquet you created for her, you beam with pride. You find yourself smiling and leaning into Felix’s shoulder. He turns to you, fully looking away from the bride, looking at you with a soft expression. Your focus is on the bouquet as Jenny steps up to the front. The ceremony begins when the officiant gestures for everyone to be seated.

Felix grasps your hand, lacing your fingers together, as you sit. He runs his thumb over your knuckles tenderly as he watches. Your other hand finds his bicep as you lean into him. He grins and subtly flexes for you. While Felix is focused on the couple at the front, his hand slips out of yours gently. For a moment, you’re filled with disappointment, until he shifts to grab your leg, fingers dancing along your knee. The room fades into the background, now all you care about is the way his fingers feel against your skin.

The voice of the officiant drones on. Felix’s eyes still firmly face forward as he caresses down your thigh, the hem of your dress riding up an inch or two under his grasp. You look down, watching in awe at the light ministrations, the pads of his fingers tracing little heart patterns on the inside of your knee. The sensation makes your heart flutter and the sensitive skin under Felix’s hand buzzes in anticipation. 

You glance up at him to find his eyes still trained on the exchanging of vows. He looks stoic, almost as if the way he’s touching you is a mindless activity. Maybe it is, maybe you’re getting carried away, awash in the building arousal. You try to remind yourself that this is fake, he’s doing this to help you put on a show for others, to rub it in Johnny’s face a little. Felix is a master at the act if he’s able to get you to believe, even if just for a second, that he returns your feelings. Your heart sinks as you think of your own little delusion that he could feel the same about you. 

He looks down at you then, head leaned into his shoulder, both hands grasping at his arm. Whatever look you give him must spur him on, this time he lightly drags his nails up your inner thigh. You gasp at the sensation, arousal pooling in your belly. Your knees lurch closed, trapping his hand between your thighs. He smiles at you again, this time flashing his teeth, the tip of his tongue tapping at the point of one of his canines. Your legs shudder slightly and you whine, so low only he can hear it. He delicately slides his hand out from between your thighs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders again. 

The noise of the room kicks up again, everyone clapping while “The Wedding March” plays on the piano. You stand on shaky legs next to Felix. As Johnny and Jenny come down the aisle, Felix pulls you to him and presses a kiss to your temple, making direct eye contact with your ex. Your eyes flutter at the possessive kiss, realizing that you hadn’t imagined Felix’s lips in the same spot the other night as you drifted off. As your mind spins, you miss the way Johnny sneers at Felix, disdain dripping in his gaze.

As the rest of the wedding guests file out of the room behind the couple, Felix grabs your hand and drags you out, trailing behind everyone. Heading towards the reception, he brings your hand to his mouth, giving it a quick peck. He looks at you, his eyes glinting with mirth, as he says, “Come on, let’s go try the cake.”

~

taglist: @binniesbabe @jeonginsleftcheek @ivydoesit23 @stayatinykatsy @mong---mong @palindrome969 @dottydarling @chiaki-nanami-aesthetic

[miguel-owhora]

little drabble at 4 am. woke up to finish this.

cw — blow jobs , consensual drug usage , not beta read

fems n minors dnf, you will be blocked.

Whatever weed you had given Micah, it was working. He felt light and fuzzy, like sinking into a field of cotton, or swimming in a pool of silk — it didn't make sense, it shouldn't make sense, but it felt nice all the same. There's an emptiness to his head that's nice, but it does make him feel a little... weird. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to keep him alert — if a little sluggishly.

Nevermind, though. You had promised him no one came out to this cliff side, neither animals nor man. And for once, Micah had trusted you — and wasn't that so crazy? Micah Bell, trusting you of all people? Perhaps it shouldn't have been so surprising, he had unknowingly found himself gravitating towards you since your first nightly encounter. It still unsettled Micah whenever he thought about it, when you stumbled upon him, without any undergarments to cover himself, how you had — 'foolishly, stupidly, charmingly,' he thought — offered to help him out with his problem.

And then what became of that. Sneaking away from the rest of the gang to more private areas, like school couples running from their peers. How many nights were spent together, drinking alcohol or blackening their lungs or drugging themselves, exploring each other's bodies in a way that would get you both hanged. In a way that was forbidden by society, outlawed.

But since when did Micah care about expectations and about following the law? He was an outlaw for crying out loud! Micah Bell didn't care about that — it was survival of the fittest, a dog eat dog world — a world where he could partake in any pleasure he wanted and not care about the consequences.

Which is how it circles back to you and Micah being fuck buddies. Just the thought alone makes him shudder, and he's sure it's not because of you licking the tip of his cock, letting the white bead of pre drop on your tongue, before it vanishes into your pink mouth.

Silver plumes of smoke slip from Micah's lips as he exhales, a low groan tumbling from his lips as he feels you throat his cock. Your throat is warm and slick, a perfect cavern. His cock twitches when he feels your tongue lick along a protruding vein, circle around his cockhead — feels you drool down his length.

Micah watches with dilated pupils, leaning back against the log, inhaling the unique scent of the burning weed. Your laying on your sides, legs curled up in a way that has your ass pressing against your pants, in a way that definitely caught his attention. Your head slowly bobs, one arm laying against his lap, whilst the other fondles with what you cannot fit into your mouth.

"You've quite the mouth on you, cowpoke," He drawls, speech more slurred from the combination of your perverse affection and from the weed. A low moan slips from his chapped lips when you hold your head down for a moment, nursing his cock before slowly lifting back up.

Your hand cupped around his dick moves, slowly and methodically, jerking him off and keeping him hard, even when the leftover spit on his dick cools without your mouth to keep it warm.

"I've had the experience," You dryly say, glancing back at him. Your eyes are dark in the night, the moonlight shyly peering down at you. But even then, Micah doesn't need to actually see your eyes to know how they stare at him; all doe eyes and pretty, making him weak, making him feel like he's going to do something even more irrational.

Micah swallows.

"Yeah, I bet you have," He snarks, resorting back to his usual defense whenever he feels out of place. "Bet you've done the same to other men, huh? To the other fellers in the gang - probably let them use that pretty mouth the same way you let me use it."

You pinch his inner thighs, and snort when he jerks.

"Micahhhhh," You drawl out, tilting your head back onto his belly. He stares down at you, shadows slithering over his face, cracks of moonlight painting his blonde hair silver. He stares at you with his usual grimace, but it's not so harsh.

"What?" He says, lips twitching as if he's fighting not to sneer down at you. You hum, plucking the joint from his fingers and place it between your lips, taking a drag. The smoke slips down to your lungs, and it burns in a nice way.

You tilt your head, having the basic decency to not blow it in his face. Not like Micah, who you've grown so accustomed to blowing the smoke in your face that you've built an immunity to a reaction. Still, Micah plucks the joint straight out of your fingers and you roll your eyes.

"Shut up." You say, to his previous question. You roll your head forward again, hand still slowly jerking him off, and lean down to lick a flat stripe over his head. You snort when he gives an involuntary jerk of his hips, and you follow his cock and slip the head inside your mouth.

You're all too pleased by the low groan that tumbles from his mouth, and you can just imagine the scruffy man placing a hand over his mouth to muffle himself. Of course the most obnoxious and arrogant and vile man you've ever had the dishonor of meeting is flustered about making noises. You roll your eyes at the thought and slowly bob your head, the routine familiar, as it the taste of Micah's cock in your mouth.

Micah's not the biggest you've taken, somewhere around average, but it feels absolutely perfect in your mouth.

It sits heavy on your tongue, the taste of it salty and musky, in a way that you try to ignore how he probably hasn't bathed in God knows how long. Not because it necessarily grosses you out, but how it turns you on. You sink his cock deeper into your throat, tongue tracing a protruding vein that snakes on his length, a testament to how much you enjoy the taste and feel of him.

Of course, you'd never admit that. Micah was arrogant enough, he didn't need to know just how much his filthy nature made you hard.

The outlaw doesn't seem to notice, head tilting back as he groaned low in his throat, the blunt in his hands wafting with smoke. His cock throbbed in your throat, and you slurped around his length, before slowly bobbing your head.

He groans out your name, low and gravelly with arousal.

"Christ," He swears, eyebrows pinching together. There's a pretty red stripe blooming across his face. His breathing is heavier than usual, one of his hand slithering into your hair and gripping it — surprisingly, it's not harsh, and he doesn't tug on it He just grips it, following your motion as you bob your head.

It doesn't take long til' you feel his cock throb, twitching. You increase your tongue movements, your bobbing, and Micah let's out a few sounds of pleasure, gasping and immediately biting his lip to silence himself as he finally, finally, grips your hair and pushes you down to the base of his cock.

Your nose buries into the golden nest of pubes, his scent stronger and heavier there. His cock throbs in your mouth, jolting as spurts of cum spill in your mouth, well, down your throat. It's just like Micah to not give you a choice in swallowing, and you find that you don't care, really.

After a few minutes, Micah relaxes his grip on your hair. You pull off his softening cock and immediately grip his face. It catches him off guard, and even moreso when you kiss him.

It's nasty, messy, teeth clinking together and your tongue forcibly slipping inside his mouth, if only to deposit the leftover cum. Micah groans, accidentally dropping the blunt, his hands coming to grip your shoulders and hold onto you. He's filthy, diabolical, and very into the kiss, tongues meeting each other and trading saliva, licking over teeth and gums, spit dribbling down both your chins as you make out like the filthy, rancid animals you both were.

You smile against his lips.

[restinslices]

Having Percy As A Brother

Don’t know why I was thinking about this. You’re a non demigod in this post btw. I haven’t read HOO yet so this is just PJO and general stuff

I love Percy as much as the next person but oh my damn

This kid is giving you a headache

I can imagine that all those monster fights end up affecting you

“Next time you fight a huge monster, don’t fight around my car!” “Oh yeah, I’ll be sure to ask them if we can fight in a field next time” “Don’t be sarcastic with me shitass. My car has a big dent in it!”

Obviously you’re worried about him, but with all the shit he gets into and survives, you’re not shaking in your boots

Sometimes Sally has to work in the morning which means you’re in charge of getting Percy up and ready for school

A terrible terrible fate

“Perseus! I’ve woken you up three times!” “I’m just resting my eyes”

Be fr-

Gotta check on that boy every five minutes. He just keeps falling asleep

Do I have any canon material to back this up? No. I just get a vibe

“If I come back in this room and you’re not up, it’s gonna be me and you. You think just because you survived a battle with Kronos, you can survive a battle with me? WRONG!”

Now realistically fighting you wouldn’t be a problem, but let’s ignore that-

I can see him accidentally putting his shirt for camp on, which obviously he can’t wear to school. Kinda gets a lil attitude when you tell him this because he’s so sleepy

“You got an attitude? I would hate for us both to have an attitude, now everybody’s day fucked up”

Yeah, you fuss at him a lot

But it’s not in a mean way

Siblings fuss. It happens. Percy knows you love him

“Here, I made you lunch” “Why?” “Because you’ll probably blow the school up and have to leave, so you won’t make it to lunch” “oh”

You help him when it comes to reading stuff in English

And you chill out with him after he has a nightmare - which is often

Ya’ll watch tv and talk about whatever. He probably doesn’t wanna talk much about his nightmares.

Percy has a whole cabin to himself and does NOT keep that shit clean, so I think that sometimes leaks into his home life

“Why does your room smell like a raccoon’s ass?” “Well it started once you walked in here” “Ha! You think you’re funny, you fish? Clean this room! This is not a camp!”

Oh yeah, the smart ass remarks are constant. He’s a little sarcastic asshole in the books and show (I forgot how he was in the movies)

It drives Sally insane because sometimes she can’t tell if you two are actually angry with each other or not

I feel like I can’t end this without mentioning Annabeth

Before they start dating, you liked to be an asshole and invite her over for dinner

You look over at Percy from time to time with the most devious look on your face

“Hey Percy, you were gonna pay for that dent in my car, right?” “No?” “Hm… Ann-” “I meant not right now! I need to save more money first” “Lovely”

He’s a victim of blackmailing

It’s a real shame when they get together finally. Now you have no leverage over him

Rip

Yeah idk why I wanted to write this, but here we are!

[demonsword586]

Horn grinding headcanons! Niflheim

(I'm gonna be honest,this took way too long to write and I feel like I kinda missed the theme of this series with this work...I also feel like my writing was a bit off....I don't know how to feel about this one!)

Gusion

-bro paint those horns,it's impossible to find them

-he's already tired af and done with everything,so when you ask to grind on his horns....he just sighs

-he suddenly grabs you and puts you on his lap.He then puts his hand in your pants and starts using his long fingers on you while grabbing a pen with his free hand and going back to his math problems.

-He then tells you ''If you can survive a few hours of this maybe I'll let you use my horns''

-but a few hours for Gusion means a whole damn afternoon!

-That fucking tease is rubbing,pinching and fingering you with one hand while doing math with the other,looking absolutelly unfazed. Heck he's not even checking on you,even tho you're trembling in his lap after your 8 th orgasm.

-when the sun goes down so does his pen and he finally looks down at you. He gently cradles your body before throwing you on his bed

-you're still recovering from his previous torture,he's already pulling his tie off and tying your hands together with it.He lies his head on your lower stomach and looking up at you seducevlly

-you're in for a long night

Bathin

-Hmm....now he has an intresting horn.On one hand it looks pretty sharp but maybe it's just the angle...I bet the tips are actually smooth....the swirl also reminds me of a knife but I hope it's not like one....so this could either be painful or really enjoyable!

-Let's set the scene! You two are sitting on a comfy blanket on a field,moonlight shining on the two of you. As his head lays on your lap while he rambles on about a book he's reading,you stare at his very asteticlly shaped horn before getting a sudden horny idea.

-While he's talking,you sneak your hand from his hair to his horn,gently caressing it which get's a quick reaction out of him. He slowly stops talking mid sentence,his cheeks slowly turning a light shade of pink while he covers his mouth and looks away from you. ''My little star...you shoudn't touch someone's horn like this..it's very sensitive for us devils..'' he says with a meek voice,stopping a few times to cathch his breath.

-''Oh? You seem to like it tho. Maybe we could even use it for something more...intresting~'' You say in return,your voice lower then normal.

-With you touching one of his erogenous zones and suggesting something so perverted,outside even!.....let's just say he's not one to refuse you.

-The act in it's own is very sweet and fluffy. He does most of the work while also being carefull not to accidentally hurt you. He caresses your legs throughout it all. Just make sure to praise him and tell him how good you feel. He's pretty quiet,only making a few grunts and a slight whimper

-now imagine all of this but he's wearing a sailor moon costume

Andrealphus

-now I like this. Beautiful shape,rigged,long! That's what I want in a devil! Plus there's so much surfice and ways to grind on....

-Okay imagine that he finally comes home after being gone for days. When he returns he's all covered in blood,probably coming back from another massacre. As a good partner,you offer to help him bathe.

-Now you are running your hands through his long hair while he's soaking in the tub.As you are washing his hair,you notice his pretty horns and get an idea.

-You slide your hands down to his shoulders and softly whisper into his ear ''Andrealhus~ Can I borrow your horns please? I promise you'll enjoy it too.~''

-his breath hitches at your hot breath against his ear,he closes his eyes with a frown ''No...you'll get dirty with blood'' Now obviouslly he's just trying to make excuses! Why? Simply...he doesn't wish to hurt you. He knows how strong he is and since he spends most of his time hunting and torturing angels,he's afraid he might lose control and cause you pain.

-But you are not satisfied with that! You then slide one of your hands down his chest,softly caressing it and with the other one,you gently trace his horns ''But Andrealphus! You been gone for a week...you can't expect me to not be needy when you come back. Plus..I missed you so much! Please don't make me wait any longer~'' you whine sensually in his ear.

-Now you are really testing his limits. Screw all his morals! If you want it,you'll get it. Doesn't mean he'll be rough tho.

-As soon as he hears you pleading,he releases a long groan.He grabs your hips and gently places you in the water,right between his legs.

-Andreaplhus then starts gliding his fingers along your body. From your collarbone to your chest,down along your stomach and lower until he reaches your privates.

-When he touches your most sensitive area,which is now even more sensitive than normal cuz of your horniness,you get startled and yelp before jumping back on your feet.

-Your reaction suprises him a bit but then he smiles innocently and pulls you back near him.He grabs your leg and lifts it over his head. With his horn now between your thighs,pressed against you. With a husky voice he says ''Looks like you really did miss me. You're so sensitive today...let me guess,you been touching yourself a lot while I was out.''

-You whimper softly and nod before placing your hands on his other hrn and humping the one between your legs.

-he groans and gently holds on the flesh of your thighs,holding them firmlly enough to stop your movement. He then slowly bobs his head while making sure you stay in place

-Now you have this gigantic killing machine of a devil,melting under you,doing his best to be sweet and gentle with you while also melting uder your touch. His horns already slick with pre-milk.

-After a few minutes of soft passion,his movements start getting faster and sloppier,warning that he's close to climax.Seeing his blushing face,his quick breaths makes you feel your own orgasm approaching. You press yourself even closer to him which makes you cum first. Feeling your juices hit his horns and your knees tremble,he arrives as well,moaning your name with his soft voice

-imagine if he looked at you with that bloodthirsty smile in between the act