#oxygenated pool system

[nanobubblepool]

Dive into the clarity of an oxygenated pool system; enjoy a pure, revitalizing swim without the harsh effects of chlorine. For more information, go to our official website.

[iguanodont]

The Monoculi (informally dubbed ‘peebs’) are not exactly a new species from me, but they’ve gone through a pretty drastic redesign since I last posted anything about them. These are a spacefaring species from the same universe as birgworld! Details under the cut.

The Monoculi are so-called for the large compound eye that comprises the “head”. The densely packed ommatidia allow for crisp image resolution, and a variation in the depth of the lenses give the eye a range of acuity from only a few feet along the lower half to hundreds of meters along the top. Monoculi are nocturnal creatures which evolved to navigate complex cave systems by day and tangled branches by night; they have good depth perception and low-light vision but are nearly blind in regular daylight, and cannot perceive color.

The Mono homeworld is peculiar for the presence of a ring, the remnants of two moons which collided early in the planet’s history and bombarded the surface with chunks of space rock long after the planet’s crust had cooled. The result is an unusual abundance of heavy metals in the environment. Iridium, a prohibitively rare mineral on earth, comprises orange-yellow compound which carries oxygen through a Monoculus’s veins. The ring itself also has drastic effects on seasonal surface temperatures, though as on birgworld, life there has adapted accordingly.

Monoculi molt to grow like earth arthropods, but they only do so one segment at a time. A newborn larvae, one of 2 - 5 siblings, will remain soft and aquatic for about 8 months, until it loses its gills and hardens for the first time. They do not begin growing the first proper body segment until the thorax is as large as an adult’s. Molting and mating are both intimately tied to mineral pools found deep in their ancestral cave system. Without them, a molt will invariably fail and lead to severe health complications. Monoculi are hermaphrodites, and mate by pressing the gonopores (small openings under the first pair of arms) against the soft carapace of a first - third instar body segment, fresh after molting. The spawn will bore directly into the segment and trigger its transformation into a reproductive segment, which falls off after young are produced.

These sophonts are relatively large and long lived, with 200+ year old individuals sporting nearly 20 body segments not unheard of. They are also well into their space age, with a once-thriving space tourism industry buckled by a massive recession in recent decades. Rumour has it that several of the abandoned exoplanetary retreats still harbor stranded staff… but the company that built them dissolved and nobody has scraped up to funds for a rescue mission. They avoid contact with other sophonts, with the exception of the swimslugs, with whom they maintain a friendly cultural and technological exchange.

————

Btw, I do still post almost weekly sketches and worldbuilding notes on my patreon

[subskz]

Hey, I’m glad you’re back!! I’m the anon who asked about the making skz squirt, if you could elaborate more on it I’d really appreciate that!! I’m sorry if the sound wierdly formal lol I don’t really know how to do asks hah😅

thank u babe it’s great to be back!! and no worries at all ur perfectly fine <3 i ended up writing lil drabbles abt chan, lix, n lino based on this ask!

chan (fingering, handjob, multiple orgasms)

Chan was panting. Mouth hanging open, spilling out drool with each labored breath. Chest heaving, glazed with a mix of his sweat and his seed. Each gulp of oxygen was barely enough to satiate him when all the blood in his system was rushing to his hypersensitive length. It left his brain foggy, filled with nothing but you. Your observant gaze setting his skin on fire, your sweet voice lulling him into orgasm after orgasm, your fingers curling methodically inside him, your hand working his cock with a careful grip and a merciless pace.

“Hah, f-fuck!” he choked out. “Oh, God…close, ‘m close.”

You tightened your grip around his cock just as you slid down to its hilt, squeezing it with a force that made his hips surge up. His stomach, splattered with load after load of his cum, clenched wildly as his high drew near once again. He’d lost track of how many times he’d finished already, he’d lost track of anything but the sound of your gentle whispers, promising that you just wanted one more from him. Just one more.

“Please—ah—gonna cum again. Can I? P-please, can I?”

You cooed out loud. Even now, he found a way to make your heart swell in your chest. You’d pushed him well past his usual limit by now—to the point where every muscle in his body was pulsing with exhaustion, to the point where you were surprised he still had anything left in his system each time his seed spurted out of him—and yet, here he was, still remembering to ask you for permission. If both your hands hadn’t been occupied, you would’ve reached out to cup his face affectionately, to run your thumbs over his flushed cheeks and steady the thrashing of his head.

“Got even more for me, Channie?” you murmured. “Such a little giver, aren’t you? You can cum, baby, let it all out.”

Chan keened, his dulcet voice now deliciously hoarse from how much he’d strained it, crying out louder and louder with every new climax he reached. He was far too dizzy to even think about holding it back anymore. You watched with gleaming eyes as he emptied onto his stomach yet again, cock twitching in your palm and walls fluttering around your fingers. There was noticeably less to his release this time, just a few, short ropes spilling from his swollen tip to form a pearly pool at his belly button.

“That’s it, good boy,” you encouraged him. “Look at all that. You’re working so hard for me, huh, angel?”

Your praises anchored him and sent him further into a daze all at once, amplifying each ripple of pleasure that passed through his body. Carefully, you unwrapped your hand from around his aching length to give him a chance to catch his breath, to find his way down from his high and back to you. It took nearly a minute of sharp gasps and shuddering exhales for him to finally find the strength to respond, nodding weakly up at you.

“Doing okay?” he rasped. “Good for you?”

“So good, Channie.” You reached out with your free hand to pet his head, brushing his sweat-soaked curls from his face, soothing the near-delirium creeping up on his consciousness. “My baby's so strong. Taking it all so well, pushing his pretty body to the limit for me.”

A sweet, shy hum built up in the back of Chan’s throat, the laziest of smiles tugging at his lips as he leaned into your hand. You stayed that way for a moment, letting him bask in a touch that—unlike everything else he’d felt for well over an hour—wasn’t designed to set his nerve-endings ablaze. Just as he let his guard down, nuzzling fully into your palm, he felt your other pair of fingers shift suddenly inside of him. Not to pull out completely, rather, to readjust, pressing back against his sweet spot with a fresh lather of lube. It made his breath hitch, and he blinked his eyes open in confusion when the comfort of your hand on his cheek was suddenly lost, pulling away to trail over his tummy instead.

You flattened your palm against it without warning, pressing down on his toned muscles, smearing around the blend of sweat and cum to create a sinful coating over his skin. A full-body shudder ran through him, stomach tightening and hips twisting under your touch. You watched him writhe around in the sheets, relishing in the contracting of his muscles, the stickiness of the fluids, how they painted his body like he was your own personal canvas. Dragging your fingers down the ridges of his abs, you scooped up a portion of his cum and brought your hand back to his length.

Chan hiccuped, shrinking away reflexively, still far too fragile to handle any kind of stimulation. You curled your fingers around him, unfazed as you spread his own seed along his cock.

"Wait—mmph—I thought," he squeaked. "I-I thought...you said—"

“I know, baby. But look how excited you still are.” You gave him a quick, single pump, and he jolted. "I think you’ve got a little more for me, yeah? Just one more, can you do that, Channie?"

A whine met your ears, so rife with desperation that it pooled fresh heat within you. "I..." he sucked in a sharp breath as you began to stroke him again, delicately running all the way down from the swollen head of his cock to its base, already feeling it begin to harden again in your palm. "O-oh, please."

"You’ll do it for me, right? Channie's such a good boy, I know you can take it.”

“M-mm. Good boy,” Chan repeated quietly, eyes going half-lidded, like the words were enough to pull him into a trance. “Yeah, ‘m a good boy. I can do it for you—ah—I’ll do anything.”

You pushed your fingers deeper inside of him and curled up into the tender flesh, purring in approval. “My good boy. My strong boy, always taking whatever I give him.” Your words of adoration paired with the drag of your hands washed his head clear of any concerns, each gentle praise giving him the energy he needed to keep going. “Gonna treat you so good for this, angel.”

He squeezed his eyes shut with a whimper, so overwhelmed by all the different sensations at play that he couldn’t find it in him to absorb his surroundings anymore, to process anything other than the relentless pleasure creeping back up on him. The warm friction of your fist engulfing his cock, the embarrassing squelching sounds that came with every pump—from the lube, from his own cum smearing all over his length—the fullness of your fingers burrowing inside of him. He was already so sensitive under normal circumstances, but now, after being drained over and over to his very last drop, his reactions were more heightened than ever. Every little touch was enough to make him feel like he might burst, sending him closer to the edge at an alarming rate.

Chan’s thighs tensed, teeth sinking into his lower lip to muffle a high-pitched moan as you rolled your palm along his dripping head at the very same instant the pads of your fingers teased his sweet spot.

“Oh, my gosh. Oh, God th-that’s—”

“Good?” you giggled. “You’re so easy, baby. Just a few touches and you’re ready to be used again. Bet I could play with you for the rest of the night if I wanted.”

He could only respond with a broken whine, not trusting himself to speak when his voice was sure to come out as a garbled mess. He clenched tightly around you as you repeated the action, sucking your slick fingers further inside of him, wordlessly begging for what he was too shy to say.

You gave an appreciative hum, admiring the way his spent body was still reacting so eagerly, so willing to endure it as many times as it might take to satisfy you. “Just like that, Channie. Keep it up, okay? Gonna milk my pretty boy dry.”

His mouth fell open again, face scrunching up as you curled over his prostate with more vigor, setting off another jolt of electricity through his veins. You swirled your thumb rhythmically around his slit for good measure, delighted by the way his hands flew out, releasing his death grip on the sheets in search of you.

“Ah, ah!” he gasped. “Gonna…‘m close, gettin’ close again!”

Chan’s features twisted into a look of pure desperation, eyes still sealed tight as he mindlessly grasped around for you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, s’ good. Feels…f-feels…”

“Feels?” you echoed sweetly.

“Good, ngh…'s weird. Think s-something’s gonna—ah! Too much!”

His warning yelp caught you off guard, softening you with concern the moment you were able to properly make out what he was trying to say. But just as you prepared to pause and check on him, Chan’s hips surged up fiercely, lifting his back off the mattress in a movement that only pressed your fingers harder into the roof of his walls. His whole body stiffened, frozen in a mesmerizing arch.

A near-sob escaped him as his orgasm hit—somehow, harder and more all-consuming than any of his previous ones combined. It sent a shiver down your spine to hear the sound ring out shamelessly through the room. Somewhere in the back of Chan’s mind, he faintly registered that the filthy cry echoing in his ears was coming from him, but in that moment, he was far too preoccupied with the intensity of what he was experiencing to care. How the muscles in his abdomen spasmed completely out of his control, how the pleasure that seared through him was so euphoric that it was almost unbearable.

And he was wet. Not just from his perspiration, not just from all the cum you’d smeared on his skin; something thinner, warmer, wetter—and it was everywhere.

You watched in awe as his release shot out of him with a force you’d never seen before, clear fluid spraying all over his stomach, his chest, even reaching as far as his shoulders and neck. It dripped down his rosy cheeks, droplets falling from his tilted jaw and dribbling along the curve of his pecs. Chan seemed to realize midway through that there was definitely something abnormal about the sheer extremity of his climax, because his muscular thighs squeezed around you, trying frantically to close in on each other and put a stop to whatever was happening. His arms flew up to cross over his drenched chest, a weak attempt to hide away what was sure to be a humiliating sight.

When your eyes fell to his heaving stomach, catching sight of the streams traveling along his toned muscles, you felt your own core tighten with arousal. His walls pulsed around your fingers with each spurt, still clenching erratically even as the last few waves of his orgasm had passed through his weary body, like the strength of it was too much to be contained.

As tentatively as you could, you unwrapped your hand from around his cock, allowing it to fall limp against the puddle of fluids on his tummy. Chan’s labored breaths gradually began to even out, only interrupted by a soft, shaky whimper when you removed your fingers from the slippery heat of his hole.

“You made a mess,” you whispered.

Despite the exhaustion creeping up on his senses, Chan’s reaction was immediate. His hazy eyes snapped open, a fresh wave of humiliation washing over him as he processed the scene in front of him—the soiled bed, your dripping hand, the juices covering his stomach. He hadn’t thought it was possible for his body to feel any hotter, but the filthy sight instantly proved him wrong, engulfing him with shame.

“Oh my gosh,” he wailed, hands trembling as they came to cover his soaked face. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, ‘m so sorry.”

You ran your fingers along his thigh with a feather-light touch, careful not to overstimulate him any further. “Shh, don’t apologize, Channie. Look how well you did for me,” you soothed him. “You let it all out, just like a good boy should.”

He whimpered into his palms, unconvinced, completely and utterly mortified by the display he’d just put on for you. His body had never reacted like that before—he hadn’t even known it was possible for it to react like that.

“Th-this is so embarrassing. ‘M sorry,” he mumbled. Disoriented, he scrambled around in the wet sheets, trying to force himself upright. “I’ve n-never…oh my God. 'M so sorry, I’ll clean it up—”

“Easy, baby.” You reached out to rest your hand over his chest, feeling his heart pounding under your palm as you gently nudged him back against the mattress. “You’re exhausted. Lie down, let me take care of you.”

Despite Chan’s soft whine of protest, he didn't resist much before complying, falling back against the pillows with a heavy thump. With how fast his head was spinning, coupled with the way his limbs felt like they’d been reduced to jelly, he wasn’t even sure how he’d expected himself to stand, anyway.

Your weight lifted from the bed, leaving him weary in his own mess, still trying to get his breathing under control. His embarrassment didn't die down the entire time you were gone, nor did the adrenaline coursing through his veins. But when you returned with the gentle press of a washcloth against his skin, his muscles finally began to relax, replacing the hot shame in his skin with a comforting warmth.

"You really gave me everything, huh?" you marveled, dabbing tenderly at the fluids drying on his skin. "I'm so proud of you, baby."

Chan murmured something weakly in response, eyelids beginning to droop again as his fatigue from the past hour finally caught up to him. Even if you couldn't make out his slurred reply, you knew one thing for sure. When Chan said that he would do anything for you, he meant anything.

felix (mirror sex, handjob, overstimulation)

You could tell Felix was nervous. Stuck in his head, not entirely there with you.

His sounds came more restrained than usual—breathless moans cut short in his throat, like he couldn't allow himself to indulge for too long. His eyes were wide open and alert, a pair of dark, gleaming full moons, not daring to flutter shut and lean fully into the pleasure you were drawing out of him with each stroke. They flickered around between his reflection and the view of you curled around his body from behind. Legs draped over his thighs to hold them apart with your own, head peeking out from behind him to observe his every twitch and shiver, arms wrapped around his waist as you toyed with his cock.

He looked lost, like a bunny in the woods. Trapped, but still unsure whether he was in any danger or not. All he really knew was that he didn't want to escape.

He cursed under his breath as you picked up the pace of your pumps, a low, rumbling vocalization that added to the flutter of excitement in both your stomach and his. "How is it, Lixie?" You brought your lips close to his ear, brushing against its shell just enough to make goosebumps rise on the back of his neck.

"Ah, good." He furrowed his brows together, adorably concentrated. "Feels really good, th-thank you."

You let out another light puff of air, warm breath fanning over his skin, tickling his hair. "You're holding out on me,” you pouted. “Want me to stop?"

Felix clenched his jaw, stiffening against you. "N-no, please. I really want it. Don't stop touching me, please."

He panicked slightly as your hand slowed its steady pace, an unconvinced hum spilling directly from your lips into his ear, thickening the cloud of lust his mind. "What's got you so tense, angel? You're like a deer in headlights."

His gaze landed back on the sight of himself in the mirror; freckled skin dusted pink, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, lean frame encased snugly with your limbs, but still so rigid. You rested your chin on his shoulder, following his wandering stare, and he nearly squeezed his thighs together when you both caught the sight of his cock, flushed red and throbbing in the cage of your fingers. You didn’t doubt that he would’ve closed his legs completely if yours weren’t prying them apart. Instead, he turned his head to the side; suddenly embarrassed.

“It’s cute,” you giggled, giving his length a playful squeeze. As if to prove your point, it jerked in your grasp, pulsing with another burst of arousal. “That’s not what you’re stressing about, is it, baby?”

Felix swallowed, your simple compliment adding to the coil tightening in his core more than it probably should’ve. “No,” he rasped quietly. “Just…ah. Just wanna make sure I can do this for you. What if I can’t?”

You dragged your fingers along the underside of his dick, taking satisfaction in the ripple you felt pass through his back muscles where they were pressed firmly against your chest. “If it doesn’t work, I still get to see my pretty boy cum,” you reasoned. “Worth it either way, right?”

It was his turn to giggle, quiet and sheepish. Still not fully relaxed, but he at least found the confidence to lift his timid gaze and meet yours in the mirror. His eyes were already so big, so keen, under normal circumstances, but now, blown wide with desire, they captivated you more than ever. Deceptively innocent. They’d shone the exact same way when he’d first asked if you could make this happen, like a curious kitten itching to explore uncharted territory.

He trusted you wholeheartedly to satisfy that curiosity, to work the ins and outs of his body better than he ever could and take him to heights that he could only dream of. He’d practically beamed when you’d agreed to it. So eager, so grateful. The desire was still there burning within him—stronger than ever, actually, when he could feel his high inch closer and closer each time your hand sank down on his cock. He just hadn’t anticipated the apprehension that his thoughts would create along with it. He didn’t want to disappoint you.

“Don’t think so hard about it, Lixie.” You pressed a soothing kiss to his temple. “Empty your cute little head and just focus on feeling good."

Felix let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding, shoulders slumping slightly, fingers uncurling from their nervous grip on the sheets. With an obedient nod, he allowed himself to loosen up, spurred on by your other hand coming to drift gently down his abdomen, stroking his stomach muscles up and down in a hypnotic rhythm.

"I’ll take care of it all, make sure to make my baby cum just right.”

You pressed another kiss to his cheek as he tilted his head back to rest it on your shoulder, melting into you, toned back relaxing fully against the softness of your chest. Little by little, you peppered his face with calming pecks, relishing in the warmth of his skin, the race of his pulse under your lips. Each soft, wet pucker made his head spin a little more, and he cocked it obediently to the side when you trailed along his jawline down to his neck. Combined with the friction building up on his cock and the playful dancing of your fingers along his abs, it quickly became difficult for him to focus on anything else. Just as you’d coaxed him to do, he stopped thinking for himself.

His mouth fell open to spill out a breathy groan when you paused your pumping to focus on the tip of his cock instead. It was noticeably louder—sweeter without his teeth clamping down to suppress it this time. You curled your fingers around his swollen head, using the precum that had leaked out to add an intoxicating slickness to your movements.

Your eyes gleamed in the mirror, a purr of approval vibrating against Felix’s neck when his thighs jumped under yours, hips bucking into your hand in a plea for more.

“That’s my boy. See how nice it is to let go?” your tongue flicked out to glide carefully up his neck, making his length throb in your palm, harder this time. “I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby. You don't need to think for that."

The last of your words came out muffled as you sank your teeth hungrily into his skin, but Felix still absorbed each one, filling up the blank space in his mind. Your lips closed around his flesh to create a hot, delicious suction, and you had to push back a smile when you felt another shudder run through his body.

"Ah, please. ‘S good, g-gonna—”

He cut himself off with a sharp inhale as you rolled your palm around his leaking tip, stimulating every last nerve-ending with your sticky touch.

“Gonna cum for me?”

He gave a frantic nod, hips jerking up again to the best of their ability, chasing the warmth of your fist on pure instinct. But you kept it firmly wrapped around his head, concentrating solely on his most sensitive spot with expert rolls of your wrist to draw out his orgasm much faster and much more vigorously than he was used to. You swirled your tongue over the deep red ring you’d left on his neck, practically tasting the rapid beat of his his heart. That, coupled with the way you pressed down on his abdomen to keep him steady, sent him over the edge in a matter of seconds.

“Close, ‘m close,” he warned. “Fuck, p-please!”

He emptied into your palm with a choked moan, his low voice reverberating all around you and making your own heartrate spike. You dragged your teeth along his skin, amplifying his pleasure as his release shot out of him, coating your hand and dripping down his length.

“I’m not gonna stop,” you mumbled into his skin. “You want it, right? Want me to keep touching you ‘til you spray all over yourself?”

“Fuck, yes, please,” he gasped out. “Don’t stop, please. Ruin me—ngh—mess me up.”

You dragged your hand back down his cock’s base before the last wave of his climax had even passed, spreading the stickiness of his cum wherever your trailed and making him see stars. His voice cracked into a helpless squeak, having no chance to brace himself as you went right back to toying with his sore head. His hips writhed in a frenzy of overstimulation when you pressed your thumb against his slit, making his legs shoot up, thigh muscles contracting so fiercely that you couldn’t hold him down with your own this time.

Another chill ran up your spine as he threw his head back against your shoulder, bunny teeth digging into his bottom lip in weak attempt to hold in his string of curses.

“Gonna get you looking as filthy as your mind is, baby.” You pressed another sloppy kiss to his neck, dragging your lips over his throat as it bobbed with each heavy breath. “C’mon, I know you can do it. Spill it all out for me like a good boy.”

“M-mmph, please,” he whined. It was high-pitched and broken, so different from his usual rich baritone, you had trouble believing the words had come from him for a moment. The initial relief of his climax soon morphed into something more overwhelming, something much less bearable. A painful pang began to accompany each stroke of your hand, but the way it contrasted the nonstop flow of pleasure only pushed him further into bliss. “H-hurts. Hah, hurts s’ good. Please, more.”

You strengthened your grip with a playful click of your tongue as Felix began to squirm around more uncontrollably, his body crying out in protest of what his mind ordered him to do. It was too much and not enough all at once. Every cell in his body said that he couldn’t take any more, but at the same time, he needed it. He needed to feel more than he could bear.

The pleasure of his orgasm never fully ebbed, it only intensified, stretching out into a constant, throbbing ache the more you tortured his cock. There was no gradual build into it this time, no tension tightening little by little in his gut. Just a few more circles drawn into his wet tip, and something ignited deep within him, snapping the final thread.

He couldn’t even think to warn you before it happened, not when he himself wasn’t prepared for the surge of pleasure that burst in his abdomen. It rippled all throughout his stomach and inner thighs, spreading a dizzying heat and making his body thrash under your touch. A sound unlike any you’d ever heard him make before rang out around you. It was a near-shout, oddly cute and shaking pitifully each time he spasmed against you. Your eyes locked on his reflection just in time to see the fluid squirting from his cock, so powerful that it shot past where your thumb was pressed over his slit and spurted into the air.

The moment Felix felt his release splatter against his bare skin, his eyes snapped open, dark and wide, shining with wonder as he took in the sight of himself spraying all over his chest and stomach. The liquid covered your hand completely, dribbling down his pecs and clenching abdomen, splashing on his thighs and soaking into the bed underneath you.

You pressed kisses into his neck without taking your eyes off the mesmerizing display in the mirror, drinking in the roll of his eyes and the hot, red flush that crept up on his skin. He stiffened one last time, emptying the final wave of his release, then collapsed heavily against your chest.

His taut muscles went limp as he tried to catch his breath, a lazy, lopsided smile forming on his face and spilling a trickle of drool from his parted lips.

“Look at you, baby,” you crooned. “You did it.”

You let go of his softening length at last, dragging your soaked hands delicately over his tummy in an effort to wipe them clean. But practically every inch of his skin was dripping with something, and smearing your palms over his skin only added to the sticky mess coating them. Felix stayed panting without a word, eyes hazy and unfocused in the mirror, still smiling like he was lost in a dream.

He nestled into your hand the moment you reached up to run your fingers through his hair, wiping away the beads of sweat that had accumulated. “Are you with me, Lixie?”

“Mmm.” He shifted under your legs with a soft grunt, trying to twist his exhausted body to face you properly. Instead, he slumped uselessly back against you, with so much force that you nearly toppled into the mattress together.

“How are you feeling?” You gave the crown of his head an affectionate tap, and you might’ve sworn it echoed around in his empty mind.

“Nn…” he slurred something incoherent, ending it with ditzy giggle. “You…s’good.”

Fondness made you break out into a smile. You unwrapped your limbs from around him just long enough to help adjust his position, nudging him around so he could fall fully into you, chest to chest. You suppressed a shiver as you felt the fluid that coated his skin begin to seep through your shirt. But neither of you had it in you to care about the mess, not when Felix was still barely floating on the edge of awareness and you were too preoccupied with bringing him back down to earth. He nuzzled into your neck with another fit of giggles, wrapping his arms and legs around you in a grip that was surprisingly tight given how far-gone he was.

“Did it. I did it,” he mumbled through his laughter, airy and uncontrollable, shaking his shoulders with delight. “You touch me so good. Make me feel s’ good.”

You hummed, half-amused, half-endeared as you rested your hand on the back of his head to draw him closer to you. “Cause you deserve it, baby. A good boy like you deserves to feel so good.”

His puffs of laughter faded into a sweet sigh when you pressed a kiss to his hair. It eased your mind a bit that he was at least grounded enough to mirror the action, puckering his lips against the skin of your neck, warm and wet with drool that he tried feebly to suck back into his mouth.

“S’good,” he repeated. His voice was drowsy, sounding mere seconds away from drifting off completely. But even the exhaustion creeping up on his senses couldn’t block out the words that always came.

“Love you.”

lino (pegging, edging, slight feminization)

Minho’s cry was like music to your ears, honey voice tinged with a frustrated rasp as you halted your movements yet again, just seconds away from finally sending him over the edge. His body barely processed the sudden loss of stimulation, cock twitching eagerly against his stomach, like it was expecting to be granted release any moment now.

But it never came. Just another few pitiful drops of precum dripping from his swollen head, forming a sticky puddle on his skin. It delighted you just as much as it drove him crazy.

“A-ah, again?” he whimpered. His hands grasped at the bedsheets in a fit of distress, clawing for purchase to try and press his body further down against your strap. “No, no, no. Why?”

You cooed, watching with an amused smile as he began to grind his hips in an unsteady rhythm, thick thighs squeezing around you, desperate to cling to the remnants of pleasure that were quickly escaping him.

“Putting in work, Lino? Maybe I should keep this up.”

“Not fair, ‘s not fair.” He gave a shaky roll of his body with the hopes of gaining some kind of friction, but it only resulted in another helpless grunt when he couldn’t hit his sweet spot properly. “I didn’t do anything. Why are you being so mean?”

“Quit whining.” You gripped his rocking hips, digging your fingers into his soft flesh to pin him to the mattress. “I just can’t get enough of you, right? So obsessed with my baby that I wanna fuck him for as long as I can.”

The excuse was sickeningly sweet, and even with Minho’s head in a haze, he could hear your taunt in it; throwing his own words back at him. He’d only been teasing you when he’d said them. It wasn’t fair.

“Then don’ stop anymore,” he slurred. “Make me cum over ‘n over, just…j-just lemme…”

He trailed off with another miserable whine, shutting himself up just in time to suppress the plea was building on his tongue. The corners of his lips curled into an irresistible pout as he squirmed restlessly under your hands, aching for even the slightest bit of movement on your part to keep him from losing his last shred of sanity.

“Oh, baby. We both know you couldn’t handle that,” you frowned down at him, a perfect mockery of the pout he was shooting you. Bit by bit, agonizingly slow, you began to pull out, feeling his stomach expand under your palms as he sucked in a sharp breath. “You haven’t even cum once and you can barely speak.”

He hated how the glide of your hips immediately proved your point, fizzling out any response that he scrambled to muster up. Even more than that, he hated how ready he was to accept it. He didn’t want to talk back anymore. It was too hard, too much work. All he wanted was to feel that delicious stretch again, over and over, to be filled to the brim with you. All he wanted was you.

Once you’d eased out so he was left twitching around nothing but the tip of your strap, you surged forward, burrowing back into him all at once. Minho’s whole body jolted, back arching and a gasp tearing from his lips. He was grateful you couldn’t feel just how desperately he was clenching around you, walls tightening around your strap to bask in every inch of it pressed against him.

“It’ll feel even better this way, okay? Promise. All you have to do is lie there and look pretty for me.”

You repeated the action, dragging your hips back leisurely, just enough to earn an impatient whine, then pushing in all the way to the hilt with even more force than before. His eyes shot open as you pressed against his weakest spot, locking on you with a stare so deep, so hungry, that you nearly faltered. He raised his trembling thighs little by little, hooking them properly around your waist to pull you in deeper.

“You—ah—you think ‘m pretty?” he managed a grin. It was lazy, lopsided, the look of someone who knew the answer full well, but still needed to hear it. You’d be lying if you said the sight didn’t make your heart skip a beat.

“Mm.” You brought a hand to his face, brushing his damp bangs out of his eyes, giving you a full view of just how glazed with desire they’d become. “Pretty enough to put up with.” You moved down his cheeks, trailing over the flushed skin with a care that contrasted your quickening thrusts. “Pretty enough to fuck you so good, even when you don’t deserve it.”

Your fingers rubbed over his glossy lips, tracing their shape, swiping up the saliva that had dribbled out when he spoke. You were surprised he even had any words left in him. By now, he’d usually know nothing but the one he dreaded most, spilling out of him after all the stubbornness had effectively been fucked out of his system. Denying him just a few times was all it took to get him babbling it over and over, apologizing for what he’d done and demanding in the sweetest voice for you to stop being so mean and just give it to him already. Please, please, please.

But Minho was right. Today, he hadn’t done anything wrong, certainly nothing to warrant being edged more times than his foggy mind could count. It was just fun for you to watch him fall apart. His patience had crumbled long ago, and his pride was following suit.

“Gimme, then. Wanna—hah—wanna feel good already,” he demanded weakly. “You think ‘m prettiest like that, right? I know you wanna see me c-cum.”

You gave an especially hard rock of your hips, making Minho’s mouth fall wide open, head tilting back to sink into the pillows. His eyes fluttered shut again when you pushed two of your fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. He sighed softly, a sound of pure relief, plush lips wrapping around the digits instantly and coating them with hot saliva.

“I think you’re prettiest like this,” you murmured. “With your fussy mouth full, taking whatever I give you like a good boy.”

Good boy. It made him shiver. Something he so rarely heard you call him; he couldn't deny how much he craved it, even when he did everything in his power to convince you otherwise. He didn't want to act like a good boy, but he wanted to be treated like one.

Matching the pace of your rocking hips, you began to pump your fingers in and out of his mouth. They glided along his slick tongue and grazed against his bunny teeth, earning a cute, muffled mewl each time you pushed all the way in, right down to your knuckles. The look on Minho’s face was one of pure bliss as he drooled around them, the kind of look you only saw his delicate features form when he was completely full of you, both in body and mind.

“There we go. So much cuter when you’ve got nothing to say,” you purred. “Keep sucking like that, and maybe I’ll give you what you want so bad.”

You adjusted the angle of your hips to snap forward deliberately sharper, brushing the tip of your strap against his prostate and making his stomach twist with pleasure. All at once, that familiar ache made its presence known again. If the way Minho all but sank his teeth into your flesh wasn’t enough to warn you that he was getting close, his choked moan surely was. It rumbled against your fingers, coating them with a fresh layer of spit that sent a chill up your spine.

His hands grasped at the bedsheets in a death grip, veins protruding up his forearms, ankles locking behind you to keep his shaky legs in place. Instead of continuing to pull all the way out of him, you alternated to more shallow thrusts, repeatedly grinding against his sweet spot with barely a moment for him to recover between each jolt of electricity it sent through his senses. You teased his tongue rhythmically with the pads of your fingers, admiring the sinful sight to your heart’s content when his eyes were too busy squeezing shut to glare up at you.

Minho clamped down around you suddenly, so tight that it took extra effort for you to pull out even a little bit. A garbled noise rose in his throat, and it took you a moment to realize that he was trying to say something. You dragged your fingers out of his mouth, much to his discontent, thick strings of drool connecting them to his lips.

“What is it, baby?”

He sucked in a deep breath, swallowing down all the saliva that had pooled in his mouth. “S-say it. Say it again.”

You pulled out inch by inch. “Hm?”

“Call me g’boy,” he whined. “Wan—mmph. Wanna hear you say it again.”

A mischievous smile tugged at your lips just as Minho’s eyes blinked open. You hesitated before indulging him, and that, coupled with your strap remaining motionless halfway inside him, had him writhing around frantically in no time.

“You gotta be a good boy for me to call you one, right? Say please, Lino.”

It was his turn to hesitate, eyebrows furrowing into a desperate scowl. He held back for a split-second too long, gasping pathetically as you rammed back against his prostate.

“Quick baby, before you get too dumb to speak anymore.”

“Ah, please,” he didn’t waste a moment this time before begging. The word was pure honey on his tongue, growing more desperate as you drew your hips back again. “Please, please. Call me g-good boy. Wan’ cum.”

With a hum of approval, you brought your hand, still slick with his spit, down to his cock. You surged back inside him just as you began rubbing your thumb around his head in rapid circles, smearing his precum around and making his brain go haywire.

“Cum for me like a good girl.”

Minho’s entire body went hot. He tensed up beneath you, legs stiffening around your waist, hands bunching the sheets with so much force that his nails dug into the mattress. White, searing pleasure overtook him, rippling through his nerve-endings straight to his cock. It pulsed in your hand, shooting out a stream of fluid that was far more powerful than either of you were used to. Your noise of surprise was completely drowned out by the broken cry he released, sweet voice shaking with every shock of pleasure that passed through him, spraying more fluid all over your skin and his.

You admired each spurt that spilled past your fingers, tilting his length so that his release splashed against his heaving stomach. Minho seemed to notice, vaguely, that something was very much off about the extremity of his climax and the way it was thoroughly drenching his body with some unfamiliar substance. But his jaw had gone slack, unable to get out anything but moan after pitiful moan. He couldn’t even find it in him to open his eyes and process what was going on.

Finally, the last few drops of liquid dribbled from his slit, trickling down his length as it fell limp against his tummy. He was left trembling in the aftershocks, mouth still hanging open, like he’d forgotten how to close it.

You waited until his panting died down into more peaceful breaths, and then you spoke.

“Minho,” you whispered, running your hands gently up his drenched sides. He shuddered under your touch as you pulled out of him, still hypersensitive from the orgasm that had just rocked him to his very core. “Are you okay?”

He could only grunt in response, a reluctant, flustered sound in the back of his throat. Tentatively, you unlatched his spent thighs from around you and rested them against the mattress to allow him to relax his muscles. The cool, wet sensation spreading in the sheets beneath him made his skin burn impossibly hotter, and he turned his head to the side, giving you a clear view of his red ears.

“Talk to me, baby, can you do that?”

Minho softened a bit as your hand came to brush over his flushed cheek, just below where his long lashes rested. Still, the shame consuming his mind was nowhere near ebbing—shame from his embarrassing lack of control over his own body, and on top of that, shame that he’d loved every bit of it. He kept his eyes stubbornly sealed shut and his head turned away, not trusting himself to look at you without crumbling instantly.

“M fine,” he mumbled. Quiet, demure, nothing like the filthy sounds that had been spilling from his mouth minutes ago. “Just…”

“Shy?”

He hesitated, then nodded into the pillow, slick thighs rubbing together over the mere memory of what had just happened.

“You're simpler than I thought,” you teased. “Is that all it takes for you to listen? Just gotta tell you to do it like a good girl?”

A low groan escaped him, and you might’ve thought it was purely out of annoyance if it weren’t for the way his cock twitched at the words all over again. “Seriously,” his voice rose into a dramatic whine. “What are you doing to me? 'M all messed up.”

You shushed his fussing with a drag of your index finger along his lower lip. Before he could take it between his teeth like you knew he would, you used it to take hold of his chin instead, tilting his face carefully back into view.

"What's the problem?" you murmured. “You're prettiest like this.”

[diejager]

just hear me out for one second.... what if hunter was a titan?... yk like aot (attack on titan)

reader looks totally normal, nothing indicating that they were something other than human. Even laswell wasnt 100% sure on what reader was. A stirring mystery within 141 that they all collectively decide to ignore.

then one day, they were out on a mission that was going horribly, horribly wrong.. incorrect information, sabotage, dangerous illegal weapons, low ammunition, scarce supplies, severe injuries, etc.. you name it.

141 was backed into a corner. definitely not the first time something like this has happened in their career...but they always manage to find a way out. Always making it back home, injured sure- but safe..alive.

this time it wasn't the case. there was no way out, none. death was knocking on the door and soon they had to answer.....

and unfortunately reader was the first to greet death.. a clean shot to the head by a sniper

one minute reader was laying in a pool of their own blood and the next they turn into this gigantic humanoid beast.

in a fit of rage, reader starts to completely destroy the battlefield. not a damn soul alive besides 141.

bodies scattered from the sea to the forest and heavens above ..nothing but pure gore and blood.

reader standing over the battlefield bloodied from head to toe, watching the devastation below.

(This is really long im sorry)

Cw: implied death, blood and gore, Canon-typical violence, titan!reader, gun violence?, tell me if I missed any.

The last thing Horangi remembered hearing through the angered hisses and growls, Price screaming at Laswell and her informants through the coms to find a way out their thick predicament was the shuddering shot that boomed through the air. The hair of his arms raised when he watched you turn towards the sound, your wide eyes and choked breath. You flinched back and lurched forward, hands grasping at your bleeding throat, choking and gurgling on the blood that rose from your wound. He rushed to pull you into cover, biting his lip at your pained expression, you were choking on your blood, dying by the thing that substained you, that cycled life and oxygen through your body. 

Your words were sputtered, splattered crimson on Horangi’s mask as he fussed over you, your pinched brows and scrunched nose, the angered gleam in your dulling eyes and your bloody and sneering lips. You pushed him away, stumbling forward with one step at a time, risking being shot a second and third time, but you kept marching away from them, ignoring their attempt to stop you and reach for you. 

“B- bast- ard-!” He heard you screech.

He didn’t know if some God or Gods favoured you or if you were extremely lucky for still being alive, a second bullet landing by your feet and a third scratching your arm. You raised a bloody hand, palm facing you, the crease and groves of every fold a dark red, then you bit down on it. Hard. He admired the strength behind your bite, the crunch of your skin breaking under your teeth and red exploding, he could only imagine how painful it was, but you were already in so much agony, your body’s probably numb. 

And suddenly, lighting sparked around you, bright yellow and loud, scarily close to you before one thick and dangerous one struck where you stood. Within seconds, he gaped at the mass of muscles, red fibres interlocking and sticking to ligaments and fat that kept it together, tying themselves to bone and tendons, wrapping away the red and white with a wide array of red and blue, building a system of veins that were finally covered by skin. In your place was a giant —a titan, one that he’d heard through the grapevines of black markets and hushed whispered and rumours from the underworld when he gambled his life away. 

The titan - you - let out a loud scream, head thrown back and arms reeling back, fingers clenched in anger, deep sated vitriol that carried you around them. He could only stare on in amazement as you trampled over the surrounding enemies, bending down to grip a man, your thick fingers clenching around him and squeezing the life out of him, leaving his entrails spilling out of his broken abdomen. You moved around stepping and squeezing them to death, a trail of carnage behind you, bodies strewed about, spines broken and heads rolling. 

He let you go on without a word, his breath stolen away by you when you slumped over, your nape breaking open with a loud hiss, steam billowing up the air from how hot your body ran, you arched out, body curled backward with a loud sigh. Horangi stared at you, unmoving and unbreathing, and only moved when Price rushed to you, climbing your titan body to pull the rest of you out, your arms and lower body still attached to it by thick, red muscle. Your feet stuttered, eyes blinking tiredly while you leaned on Price, groaning and rubbing the tension out of your temples. 

He realised the blood that was supposed to stain your skin and clothes were gone, evaporated in the heat of it. Your wound healed and energy spent, you were tired and grumbling about wanting to sleep, face pinched in irritation or annoyance, something he could feel. And without any complaints from them, Price had called for evac and waited at the LZ, everyone huddled around you, sharing the same amount of awe and surprise in their expression. You were a wonder to him, a beast of legends that Horangi had only heard of, but he had many, many questions and curiosities that he wanted fulfilled.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[fishenjoyer1]

Fish of the Day

The fish of the day today is the devils hole pupfish!

The devils hole pupfish, scientific name Cyprinodon diabolis, is an endangered fish known to live in exactly one spot, Devils hole. Devils hole is a limestone cavern with a geothermal pool found in Nye county of Nevada, and a disconnected section of Death Valley National Park. The geothermal pool keeps the water at a consistent 33 degrees Celsius all seasons, and has low dissolved oxygen amounts. The surface of water at the cave is only 72ft by 12ft, but below that the cave descends deep into the earth. Below the surface pool there is a larger cavern descending to 150 meters at its deepest before branching into a smaller tube at the bottom, the depth of which is currently unknown.1965 two teenagers went diving in the hole with scuba gear, and were never seen again,  rescue divers sent after them found a dropped flashlight, and other scuba gear but the bodies were never found. One rescue diver dropped a weighted plate that fell a full 932ft without contacting a bottom to the chamber, describing the water below him as an "infinity chamber". Later scans of the cave revealed it is at least as deep as 1,247ft, although to this day the depth is still unknown. Another well known aspect of the cave is that it can be used to determine when there are earthquakes all over the world. The water surges and has displayed unique patterns during the 2022 Mexico 7.6 magnitude earthquake, along with other strong earthquakes further from the hole. Such as: the 2012 6.2 magnitude earthquake in Papua New Guinea, or the 2018 7.4 magnitude earthquake in Indonesia. Devils hole pupfish are known to live only in the first 80ft of the cave.

Devils hole pupfish are unique in appearance, getting only as large as an inch, and being one of few species that have no pelvic fins, however when raised in colder conditions these pupfish will regrow these appendages. As juveniles these fish are an off white color, and females retain some of this coloring in adulthood. This species has only ever been recorded with as many as 500 wild fish at its highest, hitting an all time low point of 42 fish in 2007. The more recent numbers are looking up however, and there were 263 pupfish observed in spring of 2022. The survival from egg to adulthood is small, but the likelihood with human effort that this fish will survive the test of time is high. Described as possibly the most isolated wild vertebrate species in the world. These fish live only 10-14 months, reaching sexual maturity at 8-10 weeks old and spawn year round with peaks in mid February-May, and a smaller peak in July-September. Due to the unique oxygen levels of devils hole, these fish have adapted to enter a state of tupor, similar to hibernation, where they can live anaerobically. This allows them to go without breathing for up to 2 hours, however they produce ethanol as a byproduct.

Most of the devils hole pupfish life is on the rocky outcrops of the surface waters of the cave system. Breeding, egg laying, diet, resting, and schedules surrounding the placement of the sun all depend on these rocky outcroppings of stone near the surface of the water. The diet of these fish is dependent on the rock outcroppings of the cave, as they eat anything they can find in the cave system. This includes: small freshwater crustaceans, beetles, flatworms, freshwater snails, inorganic matter made of small sections of the caves limestone, along with spirogyra and diatom algae, which grows on the rocks themselves and makes up most of the pupfish's diet. Due to their diet being mostly algae types, pupfish are incredibly susceptible to the seismic activity in the devils' hole, as it creates small tsunamis along surface water and washes away algae on the rocks, leaving them without a majority of their food source until it regrows. When these earthquakes happen the pupfish are known to flee into the deer waters of the cave until the water has stilled, and are thought to perhaps feel earthquakes before they happen, although not much research has been done on this yet.

Have a good Wednesday, everyone!

[bu-blegh-ost]

I was having a weird thought about how shocking it must have been for Gillion or Finn to come to the surface for the first time in their lives and just...start breathing through a respiratory system they literally NEVER used before in their life. Think abt it. Gill was 22 yrs old, and in these 22 yrs of his life he probably didn't even spare a thought that he has lungs. Which is wild. Triton lungs must be in some sort of dormant state until the point of them breaching the surface of the water, kinda like the infant in the womb. Cause when a baby is being born, their lungs are filled with fluid and are partially collapsed since they are not needed, oxygen being supplied through the connection to the mother. And Tritons kinda have the same, with the gills doing the lungs' work. So what happens next to the newborn, is that the organism has to make major adjustments to their entire ass body, including changing parts of the cardiovascular system, getting rid of the fluid in the lungs immediately and expanding them within seconds to encourage that first dramatic breath. And dare I say that it all seems pretty stressful. I imagine similar thing happening to Tritons too. Maybe not the same way as the baby, but there has to be excess water for example that would fill their unused lungs, so I imagine their first breach involving coughing it all out and making efforts to stimulate breathing from an entirely new apparatus. Oh, and another thing is that newborn humans are very poorly asjusted to the change in temperature of the enviornment compared to the womb, with very few ways to combat that, and I kinda visualize the same for Tritons. Did you ever have this thing that when you swim in a pool or the sea for too long, you get used to the water's temperature so much that it feels like the surface air is much colder than the water around? Tritons might experience a similar feeling. Finn probably came prepared, if not with the means to help the process, than at least the knowledge of what's happening, but Gill? I imagine him spending the first few hours in the oversea chocking on air and struggling to wheeze out first breaths in panic, just laying there on the water's surface trying to adjust. The conclusions to this I guess, would be that changing your enviornment in such a drastic way takes a lot of bravery and I applaud Finn for it, and wish that Gillion had the chance to make the same choice on better terms, instead of being forced into the unknown like that, in hopes that it would kill him, or whatever the Elders' thought process might have been. Truthfully there was not much more point to this post than my genuine curiosity about how could that whole thing work, and my attempt to imagine it.

[chaotic-orphan]

Hey!! I'm a die hard fan of your intoxicating fear series! Will you be continuing it? (Also great work on the febwhump series :))

Intoxicating Fear (Xii)

Part one here || masterpost || continued from here

Hello!! Yes!! Thank you for the ask! Intoxicating fear is always being worked on in the background, it is one of my on-going series!!

*~*~*~*~*

Kit sat at his kitchen table. His apartment was quiet. Distantly he checked his phone to see two hours had passed, and he was still sitting at his table, staring at his door.

This had to be a joke.

A dream.

Kit clicked his fingers and felt electricity running through his index finger and thumb. He stared at the lightning, so familiar, so achingly his.

No compulsion muting it in his brain. No Ambrose, just Kit. Something wet hit his cheek and Kit flinched, eyes darting back to the door, around the room. Searching for Him.

Kit didn’t— he never cried before him. Never. He wasn’t weak, he was… he was…

He was…

Kit stood so suddenly the chair fell backwards, his chest tightening around his ribs. He whirled at the crash, stumbling back against the table and flinching again. He couldn’t breathe. His entire arm cackled into a glove of electricity sparking off of it, spitting tiny bolts at him but he still couldn’t— breathe!

Breathe! Just breathe!

Kit stuttered out laboured breaths, gasping and gasping and not getting any oxygen and he clutched his chest, just above his heart, his ears rushing as if he were beside a waterfall but he wasn’t.

The air was getting thinner. It seemed like every exhale had diminished returns on inhales and his lungs couldn’t function properly enough for him to catch up and bring them to balance.

He felt something bubbling under the surface and he gasped, curling in on himself as it built and built and gathered and grew and Kit couldn’t breathe he needed to— Kit felt a rush of pain arch from his brain to his chest and a bolt of electricity erupted from Kit’s chest and sent him flying backwards. His back thumped against the wood, stealing the air from his lungs and then he was sliding down the door until his arse hit the floor.

He stayed there for a minute, blinking, finally able to take a breath. Then he dragged his knees up to his chest, resting his crossed arms on them and dipped his head and he started to cry. The sobs wracked through his entire body, from his toes to his head. His muscles seemed to tighten and release with every wheeze of breath stuttered out through trembling lips. Streams of snot and tears pooled on the floor beneath him but he couldn’t find it in him to notice or care.

After a while he raised his head and bit his arm to stop himself from screaming out every little injustice Ambrose had inflicted upon him. To him. At him.

Even now, even this… pathetic wallowing was only happening because Ambrose allowed it. He needed to stop crying and get up and do something!

He could run away. As soon as the thought entered his brain it started to melt away until the urge was gone and he was back on the floor fighting with himself.

He had to tell Superhero, warn the Heroes about Ambrose, about what he could do and they could— the thought dissolved in his mind, like sugar in water, and Kit was left sitting on the floor.

He could alter the rhythms of his nervous system and—

Kit stood suddenly, furious. His mind recalling the last conversation he had with Ambrose vividly.

Kit stared as Ambrose retracted his hand and walked towards the table. He tilted his head at the Villain. “What brought all this about?”

“Hmm?” He asked, even though Kit knew he heard him just fine.

“Why the change of heart?”

Ambrose let out a soft sigh as he plucked Kit’s phone from the table and turned back to face him. “I believe I already made my intentions clear, Kit.”

“Clearly you didn’t if I’m asking for clarification.”

Ambrose’s left eye twitched. Imperceptible, and yet Kit noticed. He’s noticed a lot of hidden things about the Villain despite his best efforts of ignoring him.

“Do you want a long winded explanation followed by a beating or can I just leave you here with a couple of commands and be on my way?” Ambrose asked with a polite smile. Kit’s eyes widened. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward unconsciously at the thought that Ambrose was going to give him his freedom — today?!

Ambrose chuckled, nodding his head at the chair that Ambrose previously sat in. Kit was walking forwards before he even thought anything more about it, eager. Too eager, but Ambrose knew he was eager so what would he really be hiding?

“Good lad,” said Ambrose with a happy hum undercutting his words. Kit stared up at Ambrose, waiting for him to turn and face him even though Kit knew that Ambrose didn’t have to look at Kit to use his powers (or did he?) but he waited patiently anyways. Then his patience abandoned him and Kit found himself reaching out to tug at Ambrose’s shirt like a child who was lost and trying to find their parents.

Kit retracted his hand and sat back in the chair, folding his arms across his chest with a soft tch. “Do you wanna get out of here, or what?”

Ambrose finally turned to face Kit with an amused smile on his face. “I do, so be good for me.”

Ambrose stared down into Kit’s eyes, his lips that unnatural shade of red as he spoke his commands without stuttering or second-guessing once. Kit kind of hated him for it.

You can’t run away. You can’t disappear. You can’t kill yourself. You can’t move apartment. You can’t warn your Hero friends about me.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed at the last one, but Ambrose just smiled knowingly. “Oh come on. We both know you would try and worm your way out of this if you had other Heroes support. Besides, you don’t want anyone else to get hurt do you?”

Kit didn’t answer him.

“Good. Now,” Ambrose hummed, grabbing the side of Kit’s head resting his thumb just under Kit’s cheek and angling his head up. Kit’s hand shot to Ambrose’s wrist on instinct, not knowing what Ambrose was about to do. “Relax, Mallory. This is just to ensure you comply with the terms of our deal.”

Kit wanted to properly fight against him now. Kit was hoping he would be able to find a loophole in the agreement given time. That he would somehow be able to leverage it against Ambrose and turn it on its head but he can’t do that if Ambrose forces him to obey.

“Isn’t the whole arrangement supposed to be about obedience?” Kit tried. Ambrose’s dark eyes stared down at him impassively.

“What?”

“Our deal,” said Kit again, licking his lips trying to get some moisture back into them. “We shook on it. Don’t you trust that I’ll obey because I don’t want someone else to get hurt?”

Oh Kit, Kit flinched when he heard Ambrose’s voice in his head. It felt unnatural. Wrong. The fucker’s eyes practically sparkling down at him. That really is a valiant effort on your part, but we both know why you’re really hesitant.

Kit didn’t even have time to pull away before Ambrose was speaking.

“You will obey the terms of our—” Kit only managed to register the words before he was turning his head away and pushing Ambrose’s hand off him. Ambrose just tightened his grip and tilted Kit’s head back to look into Ambrose’s black hole like eyes. “Agreement. Our deal. No take backs, no work arounds, no loopholes.”

Kit froze as he felt the commands pierce his brain like ice shards, sending a shiver down his spine and working through every muscle in his body, binding Kit to their deal.

Ambrose let go of Kit then and smiled down at him. Kit sat in the chair, not wanting to even look at the villain beside him. It all felt too real. Too final. He felt disgusted with himself for even allowing this to be his only recourse to a semi-normal life.

Ambrose set Kit’s phone down on the table. Kit stared at it numbly. “Well, that’s that then, Mallory. I’ll be off. I put my number in your phone, so I can contact you if I need to but otherwise enjoy your freedom.”

Kit stared at the table and didn’t glance up or react in anyway. Ambrose grabbed his overcoat and put it on, then walked to Kit’s front door and opened it.

Kit’s heart ached as he remembered the time he had tried to escape. How perfect it would have been if he had just been fast enough.

Ambrose stepped outside the door and Kit jumped to his feet. “Wait!”

Ambrose glanced over his shoulder at Kit, a smile on his too red lips. “Don’t tell me you miss me already,” he said, voice coy because he knew, didn’t he? He fucking knew the compulsion was still there for Kit and didn’t think of lifting it.

Kit didn’t dignify his teasing with a response and instead walked towards the door, towards Ambrose who stepped back out of his way and leaned against the railing opposite the door.

Kit had two feet out the door before a searing pain brought him to his knees gasping out in a silent scream. Above him he could barely make out Ambrose’s too bright eyes and knowing smile. Then the pain vanished as suddenly as it had begun. Kit threw himself forward onto his hands and knees and sucked in lungfuls of air.

“You fucking… dick,” Kit wheezed.

Ambrose shrugged above him. “I couldn’t help myself, how funny would it have been if for the first time I give you your freedom you can’t leave the house.”

Kit glared up at him, pressing a hand against the door frame to support him as he got to his feet. “That’s not our deal,” Kit hissed.

Ambrose rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, Kit. It wasn’t like I was going to leave it on you. I just thought if you forgot maybe I did too.”

“I don’t want this compulsion in my head to obey a deal that you yourself won’t stand by!” Kit spat, before he could think he had his hands curled into Ambrose’s overcoat pressing him against the railing further. “I want a failsafe.”

Ambrose tilted his head, smile gone from his face as he thought it over.

“A fail safe?”

“Yeah,” Kit pressed. “If you break the deal, then the compulsion fades.”

Ambrose didn’t say anything for a minute. Then he pursed his lips and nodded putting his hands up. “Okay. Fair is fair. Kit, if I break our deal then you can too.”

Kit felt the command run through his body only this time he didn’t shiver. Kit stepped back and let Ambrose go.

“Satisfied?”

Kit didn’t reply. Instead he walked back into his apartment and slammed the door in the telepath’s face.

“Dick.”

Kit's mind reeled as the memory hit him harder than an anvil dropping on his head. To be fair that was most of his experiences with Ambrose anyways, but he had to do something! There had to be a way to somehow tiptoe 'round the terms of their agreement.

No, Kit thought mutinously. He couldn’t do anything about it until Ambrose broke the deal first. He could however leave his house and enjoy some fresh air for the first time in— weeks?! Months?! He didn’t know. He couldn’t remember the last time he was free of Ambrose. He needed to put runners on and get out and just go out. Just run.

He could sort everything out after he was finished. Everything else could wait. He had to talk to Superhero, and catch up on all the life that he missed while Ambrose was puppeting him in his head.

He just wanted a few hours that were Ambrose free and just— just Kit’s.

He grabbed his keys after yanking on his runners and for the first time, in a long time, Kit left his apartment. He took in a breath of fresh air, feeling the slight static in the air and the rumbling of power lines below the surface.

He felt good.

He didn’t realise his eyes were their electric blue, but even if you told him he wouldn’t have cared.

Ambrose stood across the way, watching as Kit took off running down the street, sparks kicking off his heels every time they connected with the path. They weren’t all Kit’s blue either, some, a very little amount were the same untamed red that Ambrose had only witnessed once before.

Kit turned the corner out of sight and Ambrose left him to it. He had work to do.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper r @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland

[mamayan]

don’t think i didn’t see this yannie

you know what you have to do now

shiggy step on us with his big feet

This is my third time writing this because Tumblr has eaten my work twice. I will actually slaughter the entity that is tumblr, pull it’s intestines out and use them as a fucking jump rope, if I lose it for a third time. This time I didn’t delete my work on Google doc once I “saved” it to Tumblr. Enjoy some Shiggy nastiness babe♥️ 

Shigaraki Tomura x Fem! Reader

tw: All of them NONCON • DUBCON • Rough Sex • Anal Fingering • Degradation • Humiliation • Breath Play (noncon)

You knew better.

In all the time you’ve known him, you knew better than always show your true feelings.

For the most part it hardly mattered, it was second nature not to flinch at the death and destruction he left behind him.

It was the little things which got you. The mundane and unimportant. It was the times he’d let you completely relax, to feel utterly safe and content, that you’d slip up.

He’d been playing video games for the last few hours while you’d been reading. Mindlessly flipping pages and switching between dreams and wakefulness. Wearing his shirt and only a plain pair of underwear, you were content to laze about the day as he was.

You didn’t notice a set of dull garnet eyes soaking you up. The sight of you made his skin itch and teeth ache. On his bed. In his clothes. Reading a graphic novel he recommended.

You were a pretty picture, even to his delusional standards.

This was Tomura though, so his show of love could never be conventional. At best, mildly annoying and at worst, horrendously violent.

You weren’t prepared for a socked foot to nudge your cheek, the scent of sour sweat and mildew entering your nose and causing your face to scrunch up as your stomach recoiled. You nearly threw up, the thought of feet and the smell enough to have you panicking and losing yourself for just a moment as you flinched away.

“That’s fucking gross Tomu—,” it was too late to redact that statement dripping with revulsion.

Too late to stop the dawning of this new information from his calculating mind. Too late when his face showed surprise, only to be followed by a grotesque smile that had your insides curling for a different reason. It was too late to run when his hand gripped your wrist just as you’d moved to throw yourself off the bed.

“Fucking gross?” You winced at his grating tone, his lip splitting grin speaking only of evil intentions as his eyes crinkled unnaturally around the edges. “You think I’m gross?”

“N-no that’s not what I meant—,” he cut you off with a laugh, the sound reverberating around the room. It was rolling and filled with dark amusement.

“Then what did you mean princess? Hm?” You were shaking. It was obvious nothing good was coming, his saccharine tone as he called you princess telling of the nightmare sure to follow. You couldn’t pull out of his grip, the strength he’d placed initially only growing as the seconds tickled by, becoming painful as you jerked. “Got nothing to say?” He chuckles, his gleeful face not matching the cruel intensity of his actions.

He’s doesn’t hesitate to nearly dislocate your shoulder as he throws you to the floor, blue strands of hair falling into his vision as he stomps down on your chest when you attempt to get up.

It didn’t matter you were crying now.

If anything it seemed to spur him on, as he palmed his hardening cock through his sweatpants.

“Common princess, you didn’t really think I’d let this go, did you? I asked you a fucking question.” You gasp in pain as he increases the pressure on your sternum, air becoming difficult when you couldn’t expand your lungs to drag any oxygen in. Crystalline tears pooled in your eyes, dotting your lashes as you pathetically struggled beneath his foot, trying to grip his ankle and remove the pressure.

“N-no—,” you could hardly breathe and the panic seeping into your system made answering or even thinking difficult.

He let up, lifting his foot as you rolled to your side and gasped for air like a fish out of water. The burning in your lungs ebbing but a dull ache remaining as you coughed and sputtered.

He was hardly done with you.

Easily slipping from his socks, he snickered in amusement as he kicked you over to your stomach, foot digging into your shoulder blades as you whine in protest.

“What? Not going to call my feet gross again? They’re all over you now slut.” He rolls his eyes as you whimper out a stuttered apology.

It’s too late for that now.

Dropping to his knees, he easily grips your hips and lifts your ass into the air.

He was going to show a little mercy, but when you tried to push your chest up too, he easily lifted his left foot and smashed your pretty face into the carpet with it.

“Ngh!” Your cry of surprise and pain only making him giggle as he yanks your underwear down to the middle of your thighs. Enjoying the way his shirt on you slides up to your chest and gives him a nice view of the underside of your breasts and soft stomach.

Tomura doesn’t hesitate to land a sharp slap to your now exposed cunt, licking his chapped lips as the wetness clinging to his fingers when he pulls away. Your cry and jolt of shock only furthering his rough treatment with you, as he meanly shoves two dry and bony fingers inside you.

“Tomu—!” you can only dig your fingers into the carpet and try to breathe, because the foot on your head hurts. His toes already tangled in your hair and tearing strands out as he shifts to work you open.

He’s not looking to get you off. When his fingers are sufficiently wet enough for his standards, he happily drags them out of your tight warm walls and up to your puckered asshole.

“Please—,” you can hardly see through the tears, but when the pressure on your head increases you’re forced to relax as he shoves both into your ass.

“Shut up!” He all but snarls, furious at having his fun interrupted by your stupid whining.

“You act like you don’t like my fucking feet, but you’re really just a dirty whore who fucking loves this, aren’t you?” He spreads his fingers, lighting up all your pain censors as he leans over to spit in the small gap he made, before fucking it into you quick and fast.

“Hurts!” Your hiss of pain through gritted teeth is ignored as he lifts his foot off your face, letting your turn your head enough for fresh air and a sigh of relief as he removes his fingers too.

You don’t see him stand, but when your back is forced to arch further with a hand in the middle of it, you cringe as you hear the sound of rustling clothes.

Tomura drops his pants enough to free his cock, rutting into his palm and roughly jerking himself before lining up with your cunt.

“You say it hurts but this cunt is dripping isn’t it slut?” He sneers, keeping you pinned and laughing at your scrunched up features. Your pretty cheeks wet and puffy, snot and tears covering you along with your sweat making strands of hair stick to your forehead.

He hunches over you again, moving one hand back to your hip and swinging his leg around to smash his foot against your face now, snorting in laughter at your cry of outrage. Your cheek burns, your tears and the carpet rubbing your skin raw as you feel his thick tip begin to push into your pussy.

You weren’t actually wet enough despite his words, the stretch and sting bringing a fresh wave of tears as you sob out loud now.

“M’sorry Tomu’ please, hurts, please—,” your begging does nothing but make him shove deeper faster, trying to jam his cock into your tight hole despite the resistance of your clenching walls.

“Fucking relax, or I’ll fuck your ass,” his threat only served to further frighten you, bearing down almost painfully on him.

His moan of pleasure is your only comfort. “So fucking tight,” his hips jerk, rocking unevenly inside of you, before finally having mercy and letting his spit slick you up a little more. The rough skin of his foot slips a little on your tears, moving his toes closer to your mouth and nose as he loses himself to his own pleasure.

You’re left helpless and weighed down as he essentially uses your face and hips as leverage to fuck harder down into you.

As it gets harder to keep himself up, he drops to one knee and bears down more weight on you. You struggle to breathe or even think as his cock works to open you, balls slapping against your clit in a steady rhythm.

“That’s it slut, you like this don’t you princess? You gonna cum with my gross fucking feet in your mouth? Haha!” He’s delirious in pleasure as he fucks you, hips slamming

His disgusting untrimmed toenails digging into the soft skin of your lips as your tongue hangs out in pleasure, his face giddy looking at your fucked out expression with his foot on it.

“That’s it bitch, I knew you’d like this,” his gaze dark as he watches you, letting his toes wiggle into your mouth and grunting as your core tightens. “This cunt likes it at least,” he grunts, feeling his balls draw tight as he gasps and works his hips faster.

“Go ahead and cum princess, with my filthy fucking feet in your mouth like the slut you are, hah, fuck yes, that’s it,” you couldn’t stop your orgasm even if you wanted to, crying out around his dirty toes as your body convulses beneath him.

He fills your pussy moments later, moaning loudly as his cock twitches and spills inside. Panting heavily as he catches his breath, Tomura’s eyes crack open to stare down at you.

He removes his foot to reveal your messy appearance, too exhausted at this point to do much else but lay pliant below him. Your lip is split, eyes blurry and unfocused, with cheeks stained in drying salty tears.

Tomura chuckles as he pulls out, watching your pussy twitch and push all his warm cum out and down your shaking thighs.

He stuffs his half hard cock back into his sweats he pulls up, standing and stretching his sore side.

“Look who’s fucking gross now bitch,” he grins, digging his phone out of his pocket and snapping a couple pictures, the flash blinding you for a moment.

He intended to set it as his new screensaver.

[ja3hwa]

Jongho | Blue Lagoon

「Synopsis」 : You head out to sea in hopes the storm hadn't hurt your lovers. But what you are met with was more than expected.

「Word count」 : 2.0k

-> Genre: Smut. Fluff. Fantasy. Adventure.

Paring: Vampire!Pirate!Jongho x Siren!Reader

[Warnings] : Swearing. Pet name. Blood. Bodily fluids. Blood drinking. Sir kink. Blowjob. Throat fucking. Dirty talk. Nudity (Sexual & Non-Sexual). Let me know If I missed anything.

<- Previous Part | M.list | Next Part ->

The cave was warm compared to the freezing storm out at sea. Yunho gave the all-clear when he jumped from the deck to the sand bank. He made sure the anchor was set so they wouldn’t float away, also giving the grounds around them a once over just in case something else decided to pick the same cave as a place of refuge from the hell-bent storm. Wooyoung shouted about getting dinner started making everyone head for the lower deck, sensing their stomachs empty and in need of Wooyoung’s cooking.

Jongho however stayed on the stern deck, looking out to the waterfall that had an opening in the cave roof, making some rain pour in with a loud trickle. He noticed little lagoon pockets, most of them looked shallow but he knew all too well that they were indefinitely deep, making a cave system right beneath their feet. Some blue glowworms gathered on the wet roof, lighting up the cave, making him suddenly see a shadow out of the corner of his eye. He turns and stood up from his slouched position on the railing, trying to get a better look at the figure in one of the small lagoon pools. Maybe it was something to fear or something that could harm the ship, but he suddenly saw a light mixer of colour painted on a long and elegant tail. He knew exactly what he was looking at and it made his heart skip a beat.

The sea was calming around your body. It’s quiet and peaceful compared to the world above. You took a large inhale, letting the gills on the side of your neck filter the water inside your system. It was comfortable, familiar. You missed being underwater, but you loved the surface world as well. You missed your tail every day, but not as much as you liked your legs. It was lonely in the sea. Being an outcast from your home because of your special ability. Being a shifter. A rare form of Siren, a mermaid crossbreed. In other words, an abomination. Something that shouldn’t exist, but I guess your parents didn’t get the memo about that.

You navigate the ocean with ease following the scent of the destiny―the ship Yeosang was aboard―. The smell of wet dark spruce, a hint of honey and chard coal, the scent you loved whenever you stood on the deck of the beautiful vessel. You look up to the break where the water meets the opened air, seeing rain dancing on the face of the big blue. It’s getting heavier, you thought, worried the boys might be in trouble, but when you spot teal blue light bubbles, you knew there is a cave system nearby. Maybe they took their ship into a cave?

Swimming through the small crevasse you try your best not to get your large tail suck. But luckily you were just able to wiggle yourself through. You see thousands of lights from glowworms in your blurred view. The surface. Your hands are the first to exit the water feeling the warm air on your cold fingertips. You close your eyes cutting through the water's face before taking a sharp breath of oxygen in, feeling your lung fill with air as your gills close and seal up against your skin from the loss of water around them.

You open your eyes, looking around the large structure, rubbing your eyes in order to clear your vision. A skip in your heart makes your worried nerves finally calm down, seeing the ship sitting out of the storm. Safe. Placing your arms on either side of the lagoon pocket trying to pull yourself up and after a small attempt you got up, twisting your body so your butt could sit on the ledge. You look around the large hollowed rock structure, suddenly grazing on a figure heading in your direction.

“Shit.” You flopped your tail out of the water, placing a hand on your chest before whispering an enchantment allowing you to shift from your tail to your human legs. You prepared to try and explain to whoever was heading your way why you were naked in a cave but before any excuses come to mind a sigh left your lungs as you spot who it was. “Jongho…”

“Hey there Honey. I thought it was you.” His soft voice and kind smile made your heart flutter. He knelled down to your sitting form not dropping his graze from your face. Such a gentleman. He opens a satchel that rests on the side of his hip, pulling out some clothes for you to dress in. He spoke of keeping clothing for you in the past once you told him about you being a shifter. You found it sweet that he and Yeosang were wanting to care for you so much. You always felt love with their protection.

You take the long shirt from the kind male, smiling with a small thank you leaving your lips. Pulling the cloth over your head to take notice that he finally dropped his view, looking at all of you now that you are covered. He let out a gulp as if he wanted to say something. But he couldn’t seem to find the right words.

“You okay Jong?” You tried to get up so you could stand with him but your legs wobbled and your knees buckled making you fall forward. Luckily Jongho caught you.

“Careful honey. Don’t want ya hurtin’ yourself.” He chuckled wrapping his arms around your soft waist, his fingers diving into your plump skin with care. His face was suddenly inches from yours, feeling his heart rate spike from the distance. Time froze as his red eyes glowed while they gaze into your teal ones. You lent in closer, hoping he would seal his lips against yours but he pulls away instead.

“Why are you here Sweetheart?” he whispers, making you let out a huff while rolling your eyes slightly.

“The storm… I wanted to….” You felt a lump in your throat overthinking basically setting you up for failure but yet here you are. Wanting to make sure he was safe. That they were all safe. Jongho gave a small kiss on your forehead, closing his eyes for a moment, taking in your scent that has lingering hints of sea salt.

“I get it…” His lips trail down from your forehead, the crease of your eye, cheeks, jaw and neck. You took a sharp inhale, letting your fingers slip into his belt loops to pull him closer to you. He placed open mouth kisses down your neck until he finds the right spot making you groan softly. A hunger was brewing in his gut, letting his fangs graze your jugular.

“Are you going to bite me, sir?” You teased suddenly feeling your head starting to spin. He just chuckled in response, licking a long strip up your neck before letting his fangs pierce your flesh. You let out a gasp, hands flying to his chest, scrunching the fabric of his blouse. Your blood trickles into his mouth letting him taste the sweet iron twang on his tongue. You felt lightheaded, trying your hardest to keep your body upright. He finally breaks his fangs from your skin. He watched the blood spill out of your neck, dripping down to your collarbone. Fuck, you are so beautiful when covered in blood.

“Baby…” He went to speak but you wasted no time in pushing him against the large flat rocks that lay beside the lagoon pools, making him lean back with a widen stance of his legs. You grinned while you watched him wipe your blood off his chin. You drop to your knees stalking over to your lover. He watched you with a sly smirk, feeling his cock twitch at your excitement. You really got horny from him drinking from you? Yes… You pull down his briefs and took his cock out quickly. Wasting no time in giving him a lick from his base to tip, flicking your tongue on his slit. Jongho let out a soft moan from your action. You lick him like that for a moment, getting him wet and sloppy. You wrap your hands around him and started jacking him off at full-speed. The filthy sounds of him getting wet and you pumping him echoes in the one side of the cave. The feeling made him close his eyes for a moment to just get lost in the pleasure before they popped open when you swallowed him.

“Honey─” He gasps, his hands flying to your head instinctively. His fingers curl as he felt your head move up and down at a quickened pace. He hums deep in his chest making you dig your nails into his thick thighs before pulling off him with a pop.

“Jongho please,” you moaned. “Can you please..use me.” You pressed kisses all over his cock, occasionally licking it from base to tip. Jongho cursed under his breath and took a hold of your head with both hands. You hum excitedly while he sighed deeply, looking at you as you open your mouth as your permission.

“Damn,” he whispers and with one more low curse, he slid himself in your mouth. Your throat muscles immediately hugged his hard cock tightly, and he felt them moving as you swallowed. He groans, hips moving back and forth slowly at first, giving you some time to adjust, but after a small tap on his thigh that he could translate as a go-ahead he picked up his pace. Soon, he was fucking your throat at a pace that could count as fast,

“You want me to use you, huh?” He rasped. His breath was coming out in pants. You swallowed and hummed around him. “Alright, baby, here it comes.” He tightened his hold on your head and thrusts in. He could feel you struggle a little, throat muscles spazaming and after a couple more seconds of having you there, he pulls your head off, and you gasps wetly and loudly. Your face was a mess, but holy shit did it turn on Jongho more than he ever got before…

“You look so ruined, Fuuck,” he curses. You moan and bent your head to take him in your mouth again, making him thrust in and out of you a couple more times before keeping himself buried there for a moment. He felt you gag softly, nails digging into his thighs, but he didn’t pull out, didn’t move, he just kept your head on his cock. The gagging intensified a bit, the spasms of your muscles following. Just when you dug your nails painfully deep, he pulls out. The gasp you let out was louder than the first one.

“Sir, shit,” you whispered. Your voice, horses and your face was painted with tears. Jongho clenched his jaw and buried himself deep in your throat making you moan when he did. Immediately, you start to swallow around him as you snake a hand to grasp his balls. He gasps when he felt the tight grip you had on them, doubling over, but not pulling out this time for a breather. You fondle his balls, holding them tightly, pulling on them and swallowed around his cock. You heard a strong thud before Jongho let out a punch sound and a choked moan, and he came down your throat. When he finally pulled out, he watches a string of saliva follow, connecting your mouth and his dick together.

“Holy shit,” he pants, breathless. You just smile making his heart flutter. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” he laid down on his back, letting the cold rock cool his body temperature.

“You love me.” You giggle using the lagoon water to wash your face and neck, letting the salty water tend to your wound.

“Of course I do.” He replies.

-

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[chantsdemarins]

🏰Breath of the Æsir {Loki X Fem.Reader} Chapter 3: Stories Cannot Burn or Disappear

I am so sorry these chapters are taking me so long. I haven't been the same since Covid! I hope the quality is still good...Thank you for joining my crazy medieval AU Loki fever dream era.

There is a bit of Easter and eclipse magic wound up in this chapter!

Summary: Loki isn't the only one who thinks you are more than a human woman, which buys you time while you figure out how to keep your manor and tenants safe. However, the challenge of nursing a debilitated, power-stripped god adds a layer of complexity to your already daunting task, clouding your judgment when clarity is most needed.

Note to Reader: Yes, Hozier is now a character, your eyes aren't playing tricks on you 😭 But which character will he be? Guess and comment!

Passion and Romance Meter: Nothing explicit yet but hopefully you feel it boiling.

I hope these people don't mind being tagged! I thought you might want to be tagged! Please let me know if you don't want the tag or if you want to be tagged. Also comments and reblogs are healing and joyous for me!

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@dangertoozmanykids101 @jennyggggrrr

The clay soil in your husband’s land hadn’t fully absorbed the blood of the Christian god. Not yet at least. The claustrophobic land was hemmed by bogs and marshes, lowlands with the familiar wooden gods made from branches poking out of the muddy banks. The tides to the east would fill the saturated earth till she could take no more before becoming a lake. This system of pooling respiration created a natural barrier for the people. The stillness of the water meant you didn’t stop for long, just enough time to plant your wooden god or light a beeswax candle, burn some leaves as an offering, and then find fast footing across the rickety log bridges built by people no one could remember.

In spring, a carpet of blue wood betony would appear. The town's folk's talk led you to forage it, keeping the blossoms and stems in dark Roman glass, tucked on the kitchen shelf next to the salt. Your husband never noticed your collection, or if he did, he never mentioned it as anything particular or strange. It was a relief to find plants that grew elsewhere, unlike the state of the manor land — high on a hill, flanked by rocky, sandy soil. Collecting plants often made you wonder if Christ might rise from the bogs. You'd just have to wait and see, you supposed, imagining Christ emerging naked from the thick peaty waters, stray herbs clinging to his torso.

Perhaps when Loki showed up, bleeding from his stomach, you'd envisioned something like that before. That desert man had a different name, Jesus of Nazareth. You blushed at the thought of any man, holy or common.

Yet, you didn't blush much while sewing Loki back up. Stitches plunged down his torso into places you'd only seen hinted at on the marble body of Jupiter in Eboracum. Your confident needlework proved itself. If your cheeks reddened, it wasn't from embarrassment but from lack of oxygen, struggling to breathe. Saving a life required haste, much different from the crafts of passing time.

The day the Northmen came you had been already struggling to breathe, you’d lost your air completely and found Loki’s form in front of you when your eyes finally opened again. His hair like ash from the hearth, his eyes the most peculiar color of blue, much like the betony in your waiting Roman jars. Just where had you gone when you’d lost your air? Loki had refused to confront the Danes, refused to fight them. He had handed you back his weapon, leaving you to confront the invaders yourself.

After all, you became a manor wife because your origins had burned in your village's fire, but not in the stories that followed. Stories cannot burn or disappear, especially when people fleeing tell them to the right people in the countryside. Your husband's family had heard your father's tales and believed him. Your hand in marriage was worth more than any dowry. It was all the more disappointing when you couldn't produce an heir or embroidery, and the manor lands remained sandy, rocky, and haunted. You hadn't known a husband should stay close or lie with his wife until Elinor finally told you. Your confidence to heal a stranger, to meet the Northmen at their boat, came from your father. He told you who you were, and like the manor people, you believed him — even if you didn't understand what you were.

The sky had darkened as you came to the mahogany longship anchored next to the wind-ravaged cliffs. You knew to avert your eyes from the mast, the Northern dragon guardian was designed to kill folk such as you. A provocation to your ancestors. There was confusion at their camp, what seemed like hundreds of men were pointing above and shaking their heads. A seer had cast the runes, and the chieftain seemed to not like what the seer had spoken. The rugged man looked up at the sky once more and sent what looked like an envoy to you. He blamed the Norns and you in yet another language you didn’t understand. He could not kill you because it would only curse them more.

Stunned, your trembling hands clutched Loki's blade in disbelief. You ran beneath the still darkening sky, which seemed poised for rain, though no clouds were visible. Looking up, you saw something unimaginable. A planet had fully eclipsed the sun. Your people knew of these events, but you had not witnessed one yourself. As you ran you wondered if the land's spirits had cast a powerful enough curse to scare the Northmen.

Returning home, you found only Loki in the makeshift courtyard, fever-ridden, slumped over the fence. Your heart sank, fearing he was actually dead this time. But the breath of the Æsir still moved through him, you could see his chest moving as you approached.

The village was silent, its people hiding. The only sound was the wind stirring the grain fields and the oak leaves in a dry, papery rhythm. Loki beckoned you inside but he was barely able to move to the porch, he was already worried you’d absorbed too much of the darkness. You fell into his arms, wincing from the feel of his fevered skin through your shift. Significantly taller, Loki's limbs resembled a freshly felled hawthorn. You dragged him closer to the front door, you both were exhausted in the strange day of night.

Your efforts paused for a moment, you readjusted your grip on the stranger. "Saturn is passing over the sun, an eclipse," Loki murmured, breaths faint and labored. How did he know this? Such knowledge was native only to your people. Still reeling from scaring off the Danes, you now faced an eclipse. Loki speculated on the Northmen's possible interpretation of the event. Since much of their knowledge came from his world, he felt he knew exactly what they must have felt seeing the sky darken as you approached.

"They saw the eclipse as a sign of your power. They recognize planetary transits. As you approached them, Saturn crossed the sun's path, a coincidence perhaps in your favor," Loki continued. "But they'll return, and we need to be ready," he cautioned, aware of your mutual defenselessness. He felt responsible for the deaths across these isles, seeking balance, an unfamiliar concept.

You had wanted him to stay long enough to know who he was but now it appeared like he wasn't well enough to be able to leave, even if that is what you both wanted. The truth was, part of you didn't want him to go at all. There was something about him. He knew some of the old ways and where ever he had come from, you suspected again, he had once held a high status.

Loki also continued to contemplate your shared fates. Did the Norns truly allow for this meeting between you as part of the path of the raven’s wingspan, his destiny as a god with no power. He dared to speak to you some of his true thoughts. He felt he owed you some kind of explanation for his resistance to fighting on your behalf.

“Lady, I wish I could help you but as you see I am unwell from my wounds. When I heal, I would like to help you defend your home as part of my thanks, I will find a way to do that does not involve fighting. We have the cosmos on our side it seems, so perhaps there is more luck for our coming together. This is of course if you will continue to have me.”

His pale face seemed even more ghastly, and he laid his body on the porch in a heap, looking very similar to how you first found him. You felt a tenderness stir. You’d felt it for him when you were saving him but now it was tinged with worry for both of your lives and everyone who depended on you.

“Loki I don't want to heal you twice, but it seems this is my fate. Let’s see what you have within you still and if your Gods are listening. I expect you will tell me why you refuse to fight or why you cannot. You owe me the truth. There is much you are not saying.”

He knew he would not be able to hide himself from you as you seemed unable to hide yourself from him. The circumstances unfolding seemed like the actions of reverse spells, instead of concealing they were revealing who you both were. This was vexing to you both.

Despite his sincere words to you, Loki was not sure this troubled land was his final destination. He wondered if he should try and leave as soon as he was able. He was speaking with two tongues. Perhaps he should venture south, go to the Midgard places where panther Gods and pyramids covered in gold existed. Those people were said to do the bidding of the gods with even more ferocity than the Northmen.

Instead, he was sick with fever and stuck with a mysterious, beautiful, and angry woman, whose husband could return at any moment and kill him for what it looked like was happening, even in the middle of a possible invasion. Suddenly his reverie broke as you lifted his shirt to inspect his wound. Your worry for his fever could wait no longer.

"Lady," he said as he batted your hand away.

You protested back, “I have seen you already, why would you be shy now stranger? I need to check your wound, you are feverish,” you continued to pull up his shirt. His gash had indeed become weeping and likely the source of his fever. Whether you liked it or not, you were healing him once again it seemed.

“Wood betony, that is what you need, you are lucky I have some. I’ll see to it Elinor makes you a poultice, and then I am putting you in one of the downstairs bedrooms.” Your eyes were worried even if your words were not. Loki placed his weakened hand on your shoulder, and spoke solemnly, “You know, we need to find your husband.”

You turned your face from him, you didn’t want Loki to notice even the smallest bit of feeling.

“Of course, that is a good idea, this is his manor and his people after all,” you replied. “We can leave when the fever breaks and you can walk without me carrying half your weight,” there was the slightest tinge of playfulness in your words to your surprise. You hoped he did not notice.

As the day was moving into evening, the villagers whispered their suspicions about the stranger you aided. The darkened sky had unsettled them as much as the Northmen. Loki was right, without your husband the manor would devolve into chaos and this would leave the village even more vulnerable.

You watched Loki slowly drag his body to the downstairs bedroom and close the thick doors behind him before you had the chance to redirect him or wish him a good night. You thought better to tell him that he had gone into your husband’s bedroom not the servant’s quarters you had intended for him to rest.

You felt your stomach twist in knots. If your husband came home tonight the wrong impression you worried you would make, would surely be inevitable. You would have to go and move Loki once you were done with your chores. A prospect that left you even more anxious.

Finally, when everyone had gone to sleep and Elinor had gone to her quarters, you stood alone in the empty house contemplating what you should do next. Sleep seemed an impossibility. The eclipse had only been five minutes, but it disturbed the entire day. Now it was nearly midnight and it felt like morning. All time had shifted somehow. Loki sleeping in your husband's bedroom loomed in your head.

To quiet your thoughts you found yourself in the kitchen, sometimes cooking felt relaxing even if you were not good at it. Instead tonight you eyed the row of bottles on your shelf. There was something else calling to you. You grabbed a jar of mistletoe berries, and held them in your hands. Their color was startling.

Suddenly you busying yourself muddling them with the mortar and pestle. If there was a recipe to follow you did not know it, you pulled a few more bottles off the shelf and added the ingredients. Mullein leaves and blackberry.

Pausing for a moment you felt that Loki’s knife was still around your body, you had placed it in a leather holder diagonally across your chest, and forgotten it was there. The knife passed over your breasts and you couldn’t help but touch the length of it.

You hadn't the time to have paid much attention to it before. You noticed the unusual, rich craftsmanship. The inlay was extraordinary. Garnets and chrysoprase. You then gently pulled it out of the holder and carefully pricked your finger with the impossibly sharp tip. This action surprised you.

You inhaled deeply. Crimson blood rolled down your finger and into the stone mixing bowl. You placed your still bleeding fingertip into your mouth hoping to quickly stem the bleeding, but the knife had been too sharp, or you cut yourself too deep.

Quickly, you sucked the wound, blood filling your mouth. You spat the excess into the bowl and placed it on the windowsill, intuitively sensing it needed the moonlight. Just then you heard a deep voice behind you. You were frozen in place, unable to turn around. It was Loki.

"I had no idea you were a seer, you could have told me that sooner and it would have cleared things up," his words rich with sleep and something else.

When you finally turned around you saw he was only wearing his leather trousers and the poultice. Your heart produced a wild, unfamiliar beat, and you steadied yourself against the kitchen table. You weren't a seer, but you could not explain what you were just doing or what you were now feeling.

Before you could stop him, Loki took your mixture from the sill and drank it. "My gods what have you done?" the startled words fell out of your mouth as he placed the now empty bowl back into your hands.

[nanobubblepool]

Discover a healthier swimming experience with Nanobubble Pool's innovative solutions. Enjoy salt-free, chlorine-free, and chemical-free water for a cleaner, safer pool. Dive into purity today!

[user211201]

Gym Goggles

--- Originally posted by ZacharyEverlust before 2018-08-22 ---

--- Note: Pokémon Leader TF ---

POOOOT!

"ALRIGHT! NEXT ONE!"

The Coach blew his whistle, and off goes another successful victim--applicant! Gomennasai for that error. But yes, we are all applicants here aren't we?

The next one of us is a delightful little chap who was personally invited to join us in Dorm Desire Academy. Average build, you can tell since he's stripped naked aside from the privates which are covered by swimming trunks. He should be getting rid of them soon anyway.

By the way, you could tell that he's one of those anime-obsessed teenagers if you pay a visit to his room, devoted to reading tons of manga and playing many kinds of anime-based games. Well, you could tell that too if you knew the man personally. I mean, that's why I invited him after all.

Boy, don't you know how these types just absolutely love to imagine being fit, more muscular versions of themselves. Charismatic, shouting and boasting about in their teenage-slang. Cheerful and popular, basically total jocks. I mean! Just look at how great they turned out back in the Academy!

No dumbing down in case you guys are wondering, just pushing aside and reorganizing their talents in academics and pushing it all into sports and leadersip. Though its really case by case scenario if you are going into detail.

But yes, time to start narrating properly again. Let's call the chap "Baikoha" for now.

"WHERE are your GOGGLES?!" The coach shouted."Don't you know that all new students are required to wear their FULL-SET of equipment before the lesson?"

Baikoha winced, his hands fumbling about in his trunks. Attempting to find the branded pair of swim-gear that's tucked in. "Why did I sign up for swimming lessons again?" He thought. Noting that this week is "Sports Week" at campus, a tri-monthly Dorm Desire event in which its a mandatory for new students to take part in one sporting event each time in the year.

He took out the swimming goggles, light blue lens with rubberized ocean colored sides. It was quite similar to the rest of the goggles of the other participants in line. Although, like what the mini-swimmer's package that was sent to me has said. It's of a completely different branding.

"Congratulations, you've obtained one of the two limited edition "Marlon & Brawly" branded goggles." It said, and judging by the rest of the swimmers' mass produced "Dorm Desire branded" goggles. It looks like him and one other guy are the lucky ones for this semester.

Well, you would be if the coach wasn't pissed off at you.

He quickly wore the eye-wear, a loud "Click" sound signifying the goggles being attached to my face. The surroundings gained a dark-blueish tone, as the chap stared at the deep blue open-aired swimming pool, which seems to be remodeled and designed like the ocean itself.

Stepping forward...little by little. Nervous to mention to the coach that he's "not particularly sure how to swim"..., especially considering that this side of the pool only seem to be really deep. And that's only what it seems! Imagine how deep it actually is!

"So you're one of those newbies huh? The coach spoke,uh ohWell once this week is over, I'll have you diving like a professional!" He gave a really fierce-looking grin, as he raised his right arm and--

"SURFS UP!" SLAP! SPLASH!

The helpless chap is slammed into the pool, water flows and culminates around the branded goggles. Bubbles bubbling about.

"WhaBLURRBBBLEGHHHH!"

Bubbles beam towards the corners of the student's lips.Streaming past the edges of his tongue, the uvula, and into the numerous systems in his body. Body completely paralyzed, limp and light. But alive as ever, with red hot blood pumping to overcome the oxygen deficit in the lung.

Triggering the whole body, as the bubbles work inward. Down the legs, through the arms, chest, and most importantly the head. All of it beginning to realign themselves into a proper swimmer's form. New info being slowly bubbled into his thoughts.

The first were the arms. Starting strongly as they slowly align into position, arms bulking and tanning themselves deeply with the illumination of the sun. Mixed with the cool richness of the minerals in the pool, forming a light chocolate collagen-rich tan showing confidently on his swimmer-ised, nimble and exposed biceps.

Next were the chest. Pecs pumping out like a heart, chest firm, proudly synchronized with the darkening skin tone from each arm. Blood bubbling into the veins, lungs being completely filled with air bubbles, muscles aching for some action. His body stings up!

Arms moving further and wider, involuntary to the new brain sensors as they spread wide! Performing a powerful backstroke underwater, solidifying those strong back muscles that complement the skill and strength of the swimmer. Broad shoulders, with abs glistening with a healthy Tan like the rest of his upper torso.

Legs giving a mighty dolphin kick, popping out those glutes as they form a proud bubble butt, shining out underneath the new trunks growing beneath. Tan line forming just around the waist. Bottom as clear and white as the gentle milky river.

Bubbles leave his pores via the lower portion, releasing the laziness, unenthusiasm, and stress. Legs marloning and Shoot!ing past the unathletic height. The Negative energy being destroyed and bursting all over his feet as two pair of plain-sticky dark blue sandals form over his well-developed feet.

His mouth forms a steady grin, unattractive thoughts seeping out of his new darkened coat, trunks expanding and wet-suiting down his tall legs, brightening into a positive light blue with three thick paler strips down each thigh. Pairs of fins youthfully pop by at the ends of each leg. Completing his favourite wet-suit.

The light brownish hue covers his entire neck and face. His eyebrows and hair dye themselves a sharpedo blue, angular jaw and prominent cheekbones showing off the cheeriness of the man. The man who enjoys being in the water.

"Study-nerd's essays, homework, and watching anime are total bummer dude!" His vocal cords cooled, laced with Surfer lingo. * "Radical thoughts like surfing, swimming and marine biology are totally in."* Hair styling itself into a fin of a sharpedo, with some white dotted sparkles spotted near the front.

"Yo, what's an anime? ...Man, for some reason. I feel like I was in one!"

The man thought, furrowing his well-shaped eyebrows before shrugging off almost instantly. The last bits of the negative bubbles leaving through his mouth, steady and high capacity lungs lay deep in his body. As the soothing wave carries him up the depth of the pool, shooting up as it transforms into a tidal wave and--

"SPLASHHHHHHHHHH!"

The new man rose to the surface.

Flipping up his special goggles and allowing the light blue aura of the pool's surface to diminish any doubt he once ever had. Eyes revealing to be a calm, and a refreshing blue, with the confidence and fierceness of an all time swim-goer.

Embracing and relaxing in his new identity, as Marlon, Former Gym Leader of Humilau City's Gym and now the Captain of The University's Water Sports Group. A Carefree Surfer Jock who loves nothing more than being in the water.

"Yo! Brawly! Sup!" Marlon raised his hand. HI-FIVE "Hey Man! Totally drenched me over here! Haha!" He laughed.

The two of them were inseparable, fierce competitors and the greatest of friends back when they met in orientation. Recognizing the other Gym Leader back when they were roomies. And having being given their own special goggles together by the higher-ups as a reward for being one of the best pairs in their category. The Ocean.

With their knowledge of the ocean, surfing as well as a healthy match of Pokemon battles and tons of working out. With Marlon and Brawly taking the lead in The school's Swimming/Water Polo and Dynamic Surfers Teams respectively, The Captains of the University's Water Sports Group were unstoppable together.

"Dude! Race you to the top of the diving board." Marlon swam. "Oh yeah? Well I'm gonna wipe you down man!" Brawly jumped in and swam right after him.

The two of them made their way to the diving board.

"Hey Man! Watch this--I'm gonna make--!"

"A Bigger Splash Than The Sea!"

SPLASH!

[frownyalfred]

You brought this upon yourself, Res.

it's late evening and bruce has taken the rare chance to relax in the gigantic pool that/jacuzzi that he's got bc he's rich enough to buy the entire solar system

clark and diana are with him too, enjoying themselves and splashing around in the water. they try to get bruce to join them but he refuses so after a bit they gang up against him and push him into the shallow end.

they hold him down under the water but it's fine bc he's batman and he can hold his breath for longer than a normal person can

but eventually the lack of oxygen gets to him and he starts to struggle a bit, but diana and clark don't let him bc they forget he's, well, y'know, human

bruce is getting light-headed and is about to pass out when the two realize he's actually drowning and pull him out. he's breathing heavily and the two are apologizing profusely but he's got the biggest blush on his face and they realize he's hard

joke's on you. I gave him a strength kink. after all, how many people has he met that are stronger than him? (that are not villains or his children)

diana takes advantage of this. starts dirty-talking him. tells him about how good he was and praises him for staying under the water for so long. "that's my bat-boy." she says. he whimpers 🥺

clark runs his hands down his sides, pressing his face into bruce's shoulders, nibbling a bit at his collarbone. bruce melts into his arms, shivering at the treatment.

diana kisses him, making him every more light-headed than he already was. he kisses back against her desperately, eager for more.

bruce moans, bucking up against her. she grins menacingly, reaching down to grab his election through his swimming trunks, teasing him.

bruce begs for her to touch him before she shushes him, telling him she calls the shots here. clark kisses him next, reaching down to grab his ass, a vague promise of what will happen next.

diana reaches into his shorts, grabbing his dick and pulling it out. she strokes it with feather-light touches, calmly listening to his whimpers and whines as she pleasures him.

"clark, take over?" she asks attaching herself to bruce's nipples. clark's firm grip is wider and stronger than her's, stroking bruce faster than diana did.

bruce is very loud at this point.

"shhh." clark croons. "don't want anyone hearing, do you? aren't the kids still around?" he shuts bruce up with his mouth.

bruce is holding on buy a thread now. diana reaches down and prods at his hole, gently pushing in shallowly, aware of the lack of lube.

bruce cums, seeing stars. he's laying limp against clark, who chuckles, holding him close.

"we're not done yet, bruce." He says.

Do I continue???

Okay anon 👀 I see you. I don’t think I’ve ever run into a drowning kink before but I can see where you’re going.

If you want to write it, you should! There’s a dearth of superwonderbat fics out there.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

what do the shabogans look like? how are they different from other gallifreyans? what other native gallifreyan species are there, sapient or not?

(sorry if I'm asking too many questions! powerhouse of knowledge about my special interest, y'know, i can't resist)

What do Shobogans look like, and how are they different from modern Gallifreyans?

The Shobogans were the ancient predecessors of modern Gallifreyans. Here’s a detailed look at their biology and how they differ from all the Gallifreyans we know today.

🏋️ Height and Build

Shobogans: Stronger, more athletic, and significantly taller than the average human. Shobogan women tended to be much taller and more muscular than Shobogan males.

Modern Gallifreyans: Retain a humanoid appearance but have a more uniform height and build.

💓 Heart/s

Shobogans: Had only one heart.

Modern Gallifreyans: Possess two hearts, providing greater strength, endurance, and resilience.

🌬️ Respiratory System

Shobogans: Had a respiratory bypass system allowing them to survive in harsh conditions, but likely lacked the extensive pulmonary tubes of modern Gallifreyans.

Modern Gallifreyans: Also have a respiratory bypass, and advanced lungs with pulmonary tubes, requiring less oxygen than humans.

🕰️ Life Span

Shobogans: Originally immortal, but after the Kotturuh arrived, their lifespan was reduced to about 300 years.

Modern Gallifreyans: Can live for thousands of years.

🧠 Telepathy

Shobogans: Had very powerful telepathic abilities, engaging in complex networks and collective consciousness known as the Thought-Pool.

Modern Gallifreyans: Possess psionic abilities, although less potent than Shobogans, with telepathic intuition and courtesy mind-touches.

🧬 DNA

Shobogans: Had slightly different DNA compared to modern Gallifreyans (probably double helix).

Modern Gallifreyans: Have triple-helix DNA with symbiotic nuclei and a hidden fourth helix in Time Lords, enhancing their abilities and linking them to their TARDISes.

🍽️ Nutritional Needs

Shobogans: Ate about the same amount as humans. Young Shobogans required more food than human children.

Modern Gallifreyans: Eat similarly to humans but are better at extracting nutrients, leading to fewer meals in the day. Young Gallifreyans also need more food than human children.

😴 Sleep

Shobogans: After reaching maturity, required very little sleep.

Modern Gallifreyans: Similar to Shobogans, needing only 1-2 hours of sleep per day post-First Maturation.

🦰 Hair

Shobogans: Ginger hair was a common indicator of an "Individual," a rare Shobogan with extraordinary psionic powers.

Modern Gallifreyans: Ginger hair is more of a desirable hair colour.

❄️ Cold Resistance

Shobogans: Had a similar resistance to being frozen as modern Gallifreyans, with teenagers being less resistant to cold.

Modern Gallifreyans: Share the same cold resistance, with younger individuals being less resistant.

🏫 So ...

In summary, while Shobogans and modern Gallifreyans share many foundational traits, advancements by Rassilon and genetic engineering have significantly enhanced the capabilities of modern Gallifreyans. Despite this, the legacy of the Shobogans most definitely continues to influence Gallifreyan physiology and culture.

Due to its sheer length, I'm going to put the second section of the ask into a new post. I'll post it right after this one.

Related:

What are the differences between Time Lord and Gallifreyans?: The biological differences between Time Lords and Gallifreyans, general overview.

Are Gallifreyans mammals?: Exploring the classification of Gallifreyans as mammals.

What is looming and how does it exist alongside natural reproduction?: Overview of looming and its place alongside natural reproduction in Gallifreyan society.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any purple text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired😴

[rin-and-jade]

A Layer, or just a Subsystem Area?

I think the 4 types of subsystems post had garnered some attention, and people might now think, how similar is the second type (or, Tersynd) to a layer? How to differentiate it? And what contrasting feature/purpose it has?

For the anon who requested this, here is a compact post on it!

Layer:

A layer, by its general definition, means:

"one thickness, course, or fold laid or lying over or under another" (from merriam webster)

Basically for this context, it means there is a specific line that separates two things, making it easily distinguishable that it is not one with the part, or is the same one. Take a strawberry cake for an example, it has sponge as its base, then cream, more base, whisked in icing, and topped with a strawberry on top; we can easily tell the separation between the filling and the sponge.

How this example can be applied to system layers is as simple as different areas that have their own 'vibe' or a route first in order to reach there, lets take that like a lobby of a hotel, and the lounge floor with pool and bar, and the rooms are different areas, because they are placed differently and have an access point, in total there are 3 layers.

Though, layers doesn't always have to be qualified by being separated in a stacking manner, horizontally or vertically only. Layers like needing to enter 'portals' or any type of transitional hallways also work! Supposedly, even a front room counts as a layer, because you cannot really talk to the person unless you're in that same area too, and that means you need to go there when being in another area of the innerworld. It's also to separate different kinds of alters, though more broad or vague, it depends on innerworkings of the system. (aka based on hierarchy or species or timeline)

Subsystem area:

A subsystem, by its general definition, means:

"a system (structure) that forms parts of a larger system" (from cambridge dictionary)

For this context, subsystems can also mean having an inner, or smaller group in a system, sub- which can mean a branch or a group of a specific kind from the general/main one. The most used definition of a subsystem is when there are alters inside an alter, but even that it also reinforces the idea of having another group inside, somewhere.

Subsystem in general meanings can be explained by mentioning parts that works interconnectedly in human biology, e.g. the nervous system, respiratory system, etc. and these subworking parts together is the whole biology in the big picture.

Using this same example, we then can have an intuitive sense that subsystems have areas that only certain parts can access into, for its own related purpose of area/group,, as how some blood may only go to certain parts of the organ to bring oxygen and can return to the main point (the heart) and do not traverse anywhere else except its designated path-to-organ. So while this does separate parts too, they're usually more specific than to layers.

Comparison:

So, we now know that a layer is:

visibly separated area

more public-accessible

can be bigger in size (up to a whole ecosystem/biome)

While a subsystem area is:

a more exclusive area, separated for specific people (non-public)

sometimes not as big as layers

made from a specific purpose/reason

They only have one similar quality, which is areas that has to accessed via en route as its not part of the usual main area.

Differentiating it:

Which means, the only way to tell if it is a layer or a subsystem area is from how many people can get in, and wether they have a specific purpose/qualification, and wether the area is more expansive or more limited. Because sometimes some cannot even traverse between layers, though it depends on how a system works, some can travel to all layers with no problem,, which makes this criteria even trickier.

Conclusion is, by looking on those three main points! (bolded ones)

And with that, you can have a better guess wether it is a layer or a subsystem area instead.

--

Last notes here, i hope that explains everything,, let me know if this needs fixing or anything else to add, which i can edit. Do you guys think this is helpful enough? Feel free to comment about it!

- j

[butmakeitgayblog]

Did CoA Lexa always know how to swim or did she have to learn? I feel like our golden retriever angel would cannonball into a pool then suddenly realize mid jump that she doesn't know how to swim

You're on the right path, but for slightly the wrong reasons 👀

It wouldn't be the physical act of swimming that would be the issue. That she can do just fine - tread water, freestyle stroke, make herself float. She's got all that and it just comes naturally.

What would fuck her up the first time around—

Breathing.

Angels have a set system where they "breathe" just to mimic life. It makes them appear more normal. The feel and sound of their breathing, their unnecessary heartbeat that pumps no actual blood through their nonexistent veins. It's just a mechanism that helps them connect to humanity in moments when their touch and comfort is necessary.

And while she had become aware of the reality that she actually, truly, very much needed to treat oxygen as a priority to staying alive now... sometimes ehhhh the logic of it would kind of... slip away from her. The application of knowing it, and then applying it to every scenario without thinking didn't always compute. Sometimes she will get a momentary 404 error message and then realize haha oopsie daisies, I almost killed myself just now.

And swimming would be one of those instances. Because yes she would fully go into it thinking I got this 🥴 I have swam before. Granted, it was in full angel clothing, but if anything, this will be easier. It's fine. I know what I'm doing.

And then she'd hit that water in a running cannonball or a gracefully arched downward dive, and would be sunk about 3 feet underwater, and realize... she did not take a breath before diving in.

And she cannot breathe under here.

Also, she has water flooding her nose. And it stings. And she has no idea what to do about that. Halp 🙃