#thinking now that most of them do have a sort of fur coat? but it's dense and slicked back

[tenspontaneite]

Still figuring out how I want to draw slugcats, but I'm definitely going for Weird Mustelid vibes now. Have some Survivor 🙏

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 12: Harbingers x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7456

Warnings: Afab!reader, Traveler!reader, noncon, orgy, bondage, sensory deprivation, vaginal fingering, piv, squirting, brief pelvic exam, whatever is going on between Childe and the reader

A/N: I decided to keep this one to just the Harbingers I was familiar enough with so Scaramouche, Childe, Arlecchino, Dottore, Pantalone and Capitano are featured. Six people definitely make for an orgy, right? Right. But a fair warning for the Capitano fans , after taking what I currently know of him into account he ended up largely being a bystander for most of this until the end so I just wanted to be clear on that expectation going into this. I still haven't gotten around to the 5.1 Archon Quest yet ����

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The Balladeer is not gentle about the way he steers you down the chilly hall, his grip on your upper arm pinching and tight even through the heavy coat he’d thrown over you to ensure you didn’t succumb to frostbite. You were grateful for that small act of kindness from him since it was the only thing you’d been left with other than your boots, but you were still freezing underneath all that excess of fabric and fur. Hardly any surprise there. Snezhnaya was even more frigid and inhospitable than you’d expected it to be. 

As to why he’d stripped you bare, you had no idea. After capturing you inside the old, decrepit Inazuman mansion where the Fatui were operating their Delusion factory out of, he’d kept such a close eye on you that you never would have had the chance to retaliate or escape even if you’d wanted to try. And you did. More than anything else, you wanted to flee from him and return back to the island nation so you could search for Paimon. She was the second person you’d been forcibly separated from in Teyvat and that knowledge stings more than you would have expected it to. You just hoped she was alright, wherever she was. 

But as soon as you’d reached the Snezhnayan border, Scaramouche had taken the time to relieve you of all your clothes before replacing them with the heavy cloak you were currently bundled in. Initially you’d assumed he was going to do something truly heinous and disgusting to you but, to your ever growing uncertainty, he’d left you alone after that. You were inclined to think it was just some sort of foul humiliation tactic meant to further solidify your position as a captive and discourage any thoughts you might still harbor about escaping. It was clear that the coat wouldn’t save you indefinitely out in this harsh environment. 

Now you’re not so sure though. He’d relentlessly dragged you all the way here from Inazuma, hardly even stopping long enough to let you rest or eat along the way, and had barely spoken more than five words to you over the long journey. And he was clearly proud of himself for capturing you. That was easy enough to see at just a glance, yet he hadn’t gloated about it or dangled it over your head. It seemed more likely that he had an objective in bringing you here like this, in such a vulnerable state of helpless undress, and you were understandably nervous of what awaited you in this magnificent yet eerily cold and silent palace. 

“Relax.” He snaps at you when you start to drag your feet, roughly yanking on your arm to keep you in line. “We’re almost there.” 

Stumbling alongside him, you have no choice but to comply. You were regretfully powerless to do anything about it when your wrists were tied behind your back with a thick knot of unbudging rope and you can’t even complain about it either. Effectively gagged to silence with the uncomfortable bit of bamboo he’d wedged in your mouth, all you can do is impotently hiss around it as he pulls you along. 

Finally you reach the end of the corridor where he leads you straight up to the imposing set of massive, intricately carved double doors that loom up out of the dreary darkness at you. They almost look like something a giant would have used rather than any mortal person and you anxiously wrench back on his hold in an attempt to stop him from taking you any further. Somehow you got the sense you weren’t going to like what awaited you on the other side. 

It doesn’t work though, of course, and Scaramouche easily keeps his bruising grip on your arm as he reaches for the smaller, more human looking door built into the impressive structure. The hinges give a vaguely ominous creak when it swings open to grant the two of you entry but he doesn’t even give you a chance to fight it before you’re tripping through the entryway under his guidance. 

You immediately understand that your intuition was correct and you were right to fear what was inside as soon as your eyes land on the long, ceremonious table situated within, and Childe promptly shoots up out of his seat at your sudden appearance. 

“Traveler?” 

Noising a wordless exclamation at him, you swing your attention around at the rest of the room's occupants. You didn’t know any of the other Harbingers by their looks alone but you could probably guess at some of their identities based on the brief descriptions the Eleventh had given you back in Liyue. 

The one with the beaked mask was probably The Doctor and based on the chilly, disinterested look she sends you you’d wager the woman was probably The Knave. You’re not sure about the bespectacled man with dark hair or the toweringly large one with his face covered, but it was probably safe to say that they were just as dangerous as Childe had said they all were. 

Your skin nervously prickles as you break out in an ice cold sweat, jerking your attention back and forth over the assembled faces. Where was Signora? 

“You really did it,” The beak masked one marvels, sounding really quite pleased by this development. “And the gnosis?” 

“Our Fair Lady is taking care of it.” Scaramouche says, making you snap your head around to look at him in surprise. Glancing over at you at the sudden movement, he studies your face for a short beat before he allows his mouth to curl in a mean, haughty little smirk. “Oh, did you not realize she was in Inazuma too? After already running into her twice before you really should have expected as much, right?” 

You squawk at him through the gag but there’s too much happening in the room all at once as people start to stand up from their seats for him to pay it any mind. 

Swinging his attention back around, Scaramouche looks down the length of his nose at his fellow Harbinger’s like a powerful king might regard his lesser peons. That manages to impress you somewhat, given his ranking as only the Sixth. “Where are the Tsaritsa and the others? I’ve brought back a souvenir for us all to share.” 

“Her Majesty is not in the mood to see anyone today.” The imposingly tall man in the mask says, unfolding himself from his chair to rise. Your eyes widen slightly when you realize how much bigger he actually is than the rest of them, but then you register that Childe is coming towards you and he manages to successfully distract your attention from the others. 

“What happened to you?” He murmurs as both of his gloved hands reach out to cradle your cheeks between the gloved palms. You’re almost floored by how tenderly he tips your face up at him, looking you over with those depthless blue eyes, but all you can respond with is a weak little mewl through the gag. 

It was making your jaw hurt something fierce, unseemly drool threatening to escape from the corners of your stuffed lips. You prayed he at least would be kind enough to take it out of your mouth for you but he doesn’t get the chance. 

Aggressively yanking on your arm, Scaramouche pulls you away from Childe so hard you nearly stumble right into him but you manage to catch your balance just in time to watch the taller ginger round on him with a snarl. Surely they weren’t going to come to blows fighting over you … right? 

“What do you think you’re doing? Explain yourself, Balladeer. Now.” 

“Please. Spare me your weak sentimentality, Tartaglia. It’s enough to make me wretch. The Traveler is my prisoner and I get to decide what happens to her, at least until the Tsaritsa issues her final verdict for her crimes. But until then, I call the shots. Not you.” 

“Bastard - -“ 

“Boys.” The only other woman in the room calls over, drawing your gaze to find she’s also stood up and come around the table to lean against it with her arms crossed. Lifting a somewhat sardonic brow at you, she condescendingly tips her head to one side. “I believe The Balladeer is correct. He captured our little guest which makes her his prisoner. It is not our place to question how any in our ranks accomplishes their goals.” 

“That’s hardly the point, Arlecchino!” Childe insists, confirming that you had indeed guessed her identity correctly. “Prisoner or not, she’s - -“ 

“In safe hands, I’m sure.” The Doctor throws in with a smug, simpering smirk under his mask. “Her Majesty the Tsaritsa only said not to kill her. She never said anything about not being permitted to … play with her a little bit. Don’t you think this is an ample opportunity for us to properly introduce ourselves, Regrator?” 

You follow the direction he glances in to see that he’s talking to the one with glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. So that was Pantalone, then. 

Huffing and puffing his frustration with all of them, Childe disbelievingly glances around at the assembled Harbingers as if he couldn’t quite believe what they were suggesting. It’s not hard to see he’s the closest thing you have to an ally here, but he was only one in a group of six and the youngest among them at that. There was no way he’d be able to save you from your ultimate fate unless he wanted to take everyone on by himself. 

And given the way his hands clench into tight, angry fists at his sides, you’re not so sure he won’t do it. 

“And what exactly are you proposing we do with her?” Arlecchino finally hedges, ignoring the murmurs of rising discourse from her colleagues in favor of getting straight to the point of the matter. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Scaramouche clicks his tongue in annoyance as he jostles you forward to stand just in front of him. “We’ve got a point to make now that we have her so why pretend otherwise? None of you are good people so don’t kid yourselves into believing otherwise. Yes, that includes you, Tartaglia.” 

Your wide, panicked eyes flicker in his direction to find Childe opening his mouth to snap at the puppet, his body so stiff and tightly braced that you think he might really launch himself in attack. He never gets a chance to follow through on it though as Scaramouche’s unoccupied hand comes up to grab a fistful of your cloak and yank it open with a violent jerk. 

All at once your bare body is assaulted with a sudden, merciless rush of cold air, and you squeak a horrified sound around the gag as you jerk in alarm. Your nipples were already stiff and achingly pointed coils, and they just tighten even more against the wafting air to make you tremble a sensitive shudder. Whatever Childe had been about to say dies in his throat, choking on it when his mouth drops open in genuine shock. It’s like he truly couldn’t believe what he was seeing and you whimper a flustered sound at him, pleading for him to help you. 

“Don’t even think about it.” Scaramouche viciously hisses behind you, though you can’t quite tell if he’d aimed that at you or his colleague. But it doesn’t really matter either way, because he just shoves you forward to steer you towards the table without giving anyone a chance to say anything more about it. 

Openly blinking at the fleshy bounce of your naked tits, Arlecchino slowly unfolds her arms and steps aside to allow The Balladeer room to shove you up against the side of the table. You wildly kick and flail, struggling against the rope keeping your arms bound behind you with every ounce of strength you have left, but it’s no use. After a perfunctory fight for leverage, he manages to get you hauled up on the table and flipped over where he roughly pins you down by the shoulders. 

Raggedly panting through your nose now, you peer up into Scaramouche’s leering face. The distant prickle of frightened tears registers somewhere far in the back of your mind but you valiantly force them back, knowing good and well that such display of weakness wouldn’t do you any good here. Not in this particular crowd. Not with these people, and you merely hiss like an incensed cat as you try to squirm free of his hold. 

“Mmffh!”

“That’s it, Traveler. Keep struggling. I’m sure that’ll just excite some of us even more.” The Sixth croons at you, laughing a silken, throaty sound under his breath as he crawls all the way up to fully straddle you. 

For a split second you can make out a commotion rising up behind him but it’s quickly subdued, and Arlecchino’s soft spoken voice filters through the oppressive atmosphere immediately after. She must be talking to Childe, you think. No doubt trying to talk some reason into him even though he was the only other reasonable person here besides you right now. 

Unfortunately you don’t get to linger on that thought for very long because a gloved hand reaching into your space catches your attention, and you squeak a terrified sound as you tip your head back to follow that arm up to its owner. Somehow you’re not particularly surprised to find it’s The Doctor curling his fingers around the meat of your tit to give it a consideringly tight squeeze, making you whimper at the sharp discomfort. He just chuckles a low laugh though, clearly amused by the flash of pain that crosses your face, and he quickly does it again. 

“Fret not, little Traveler. If Tartaglia wants you so bad then we’ll be happy to give you to him. After we’ve finished playing with you first, of course.” 

“I didn’t take you for the sort, Dottore. Your interests always seemed to lean more towards that of machine than the comfort of human women.” The exceptionally tall one comments in a rather offhand manner considering what was happening right in front of him. 

“Oh, but you wound me, Captain. I’m always a scientist first and foremost before anything else, and I’m quite curious to find out how human this one really is.” 

You noise an equally confused and startled sound at that, brows furrowing up at his awful beaked mask. If Scaramouche hadn’t been pinning you down with the full brunt of his weight, you would have happily flung your foot through the air to kick him right in his smug face and you would have taken a great deal of satisfaction in doing so. Something told you he probably deserved it more than anyone else here. 

But then the sensation of another hand slipping over the opposite side of your chest startles you back into the present, and you glance over to find Pantalone gently groping at the weight of your breast. At your helpless wail through the gag, he just smiles a deceptively saccharine look at you, head tipping to one side almost inquisitively. 

“It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you, you know. I’ve heard so many good things about you but I wasn’t expecting such a formidable swordswoman to be quite this pretty. You’re a lovely little thing, aren’t you?” 

Working his fingers a bit higher, Pantalone rather unceremoniously grabs hold of your pebbled nipple to give it a thoughtful tug. The immediate burst of sharp, hyper sensitive sensation makes you twist on top of the table but it’s no use. They’ve got you so thoroughly pinned down and trapped between them that no amount of effort on your part was going to get you out of this. Your only hope was Childe and he’d gone mysteriously quiet wherever he was in the room, if he was even still here at all. 

The thought that he might have left you to the wolves scares you more than it has any right to, and you try to call out to him through the bamboo gag. This, too, is an effort in futility though. Even you’re not quite sure what you’re attempting to say. 

Humming a thoughtful sound, Dottore gives your aching tit one last, lingering squeeze before dragging his hand further down your body. Your stomach wildly flexes under his palm, fast pumping fear making you inch dangerously close to full on panic, but he just keeps going. Lower and lower. 

Scaramouche is quick to take his empty spot and, leaving his hands pressed into your shoulders to keep you down, he bends his head over your chest to take that abandoned nipple in his mouth. You outright jolt at the sensation and suck in a startled breath but there’s too much happening all at once for you to focus on any one thing. It’s hard to say if you should be more concerned about the Sixth Harbinger enthusiastically suckling at your sore teat or the way Pantalone is insistently tugging on the other to stretch the pliant skin. 

Even worse is the vague sense you get of Dottore stepping into the space at the bottom of the table where he rather forcefully shoves your legs apart in a wide spread. Your cunt is the only part of your chilled body that feels in any way warm at this point, but that natural heat seems to quickly leave you without the press of your thighs there to keep it in. The end result makes the fleshy seam feel indescribably bare and exposed in a way you’d never known before, like you were overly aware of every tiny little sensation that courses through it, and you wildly buck underneath Scaramouche in an attempt to dislodge him. 

“Keep her still, won’t you?” The Doctor coos as one of his gloved hands slides inward to lightly tease over your pussy. “I’d like to find out what sort of state her reproductive organs are in.” 

You squawk a startled sound at that but Pantalone just tweaks your poor nipple harder for it. 

“Now, now,” He murmurs in that liltingly soft voice. “If you don’t behave yourself, we’ll have to resort to doing something that will make you feel a bit more inclined to cooperate. Surely you don’t want it to come to that, do you?” 

The pointed, deliberate way he pinches down on the teat between his fingers makes your stomach twist itself into knots for reasons you can’t quite explain. Despite his arguably polite and handsome facade, you suspected he was just as dangerous as Dottore probably was. It wouldn’t be smart to test your luck with either of them. 

So you simply lie there and take it, wincing as The Doctor sedately works your cunt lips open and slips two long digits in to apply pressure just at your entrance. You let out a smothered cry when your body tries to reject him, not even close to being excited enough to make the penetration smooth and easy. But he simply keeps pushing in on that vulnerable spot until he can slowly inch his way into you down to the knuckle. It’s uncomfortable and borderline painful, especially with the material of his glove adding another layer of friction that didn’t need to be there, but he doesn’t care. None of them do, except maybe Childe, and all you can do is noise a shrill sound around the bamboo when Scaramouche suddenly bites down on your nipple none too gently. 

And to think he’d had you completely at his mercy this entire time but decided to hold off until he could really humiliate you and drive the point home with the other Harbingers. It was astoundingly petty of him. 

“There, that’s a good girl.” Dottore croons at you as if you were nothing more than a dog for him to bring to heel in his eyes. It’s an impression he only further solidifies when he gives your tender inner thigh a series of companionable pats before taking that hand and sliding it up to brace along your lower stomach. “You might feel some pressure but it’s nothing to worry about. Take a deep breath now …” 

He starts to push down then, surprising an undignified squawk out of you as he presses right in on your uterus. At the same time he angles the fingers in you upward to feel along your inner sleeve and gently massage against you, alarming you even more when you feel your cunt reluctantly respond to the clinical stimulation. It feels like your heart is going to jackhammer right out of your chest as you stiffly writhe against the top of the table, struggling just to keep drawing oxygen into your lungs while he rudely violates you like that. 

“Hmm. Everything certainly seems to be in order. I suppose you really are just a girl after all. Lucky you.” 

“Isn’t that good news?” Pantalone teases you, tauntingly walking his fingers down the length of your shuddering body to crowd in next to Dottore’s between your thighs. “The Doctor has given you a clean bill of health, which means we can play as much as you’d like.” 

You give your head a terse shake, trying to tell him you didn’t want to play at all. But of course he doesn’t listen, slyly curling his fingers inward to lightly rub over your clit and help Dottore in his effort of turning your own body against you. The two of them work in shockingly perfect tandem with one another, almost like they’ve done this before. While one thrusts in and out of your cunt to encourage the production of sticky slick, the other caresses over that sensitive pleasure button to ensure you were feeling just good enough to help the process along. It was insidious and cruel. 

Not nearly as cruel as the way Scaramouche can’t seem to detach himself from your aching breasts though, and now that Pantalone has vacated his spot he quickly redirects his mouth to slurp on the opposite nipple instead. Except it’s already so raw and sensitized from the bespectacled man’s merciless tugging and pinching that the puppets mouth shocks a ragged gasp out of you. 

Your head spins wildly from the total onslaught of stimulation as you blindly kick your legs in a desperate bid to at least push Dottore away enough to give your pussy a short reprieve. But he’s situated too firmly in the space between your legs for you to budge him from this angle, and the heel of your boot just harmlessly slides right off his hip. 

Clearly realizing what you’re trying to do, Pantalone reaches down to hook his free hand in the bend of one knee and tug it out the side so you wouldn’t be able to find enough leverage or try to close your thighs from The Doctor’s concentrated attack. The sound of your cunt wetly clicking under the vigorous force of his hand seems to echo endlessly in the space between your ears and you valiantly try to fight it when the internal pressure steadily builds under his ministrations. 

There’s nothing you could do to stop it though when Dottore seemed to know exactly where to jab his fingers at inside your body, making your pussy scream in agony at the rough treatment. But against all odds you suddenly feel the dam break and your cunt let’s down under the insistent  pressure, spraying slick all over his wrist and along your shuddering inner thighs. Outright wailing in horror, you mindlessly renew your effort to thrash yourself free but, still, it’s no use. 

You were completely, utterly trapped. 

“That’s a good girl, Traveler. Such a sweet, obedient little cunt you have.” Dottore croons at you, his voice laced with sharp edged malice. “I haven’t had need of a woman in at least two-hundred years now, but for you I think I’ll make an exception.” 

“Wait.” 

You startle at the sound of Arlecchino’s voice coming from right beside you, blearily glancing up to find her standing just next to your head. Somehow you’d almost forgotten she was there at all. 

“Wait for what?” The Doctor impatiently snaps at her. 

“Let Childe have her first. He’s the youngest so it doesn’t seem very polite to make him wait until after you’ve already used her up, and … he’s still not particularly happy about what’s happening anyway. It should make him feel better if he understands what we’re doing to her.” 

A faint growl rises from Scaramouche when he finally brings his head up from your aching chest, leaving the nipples feeling flushed and raw in the wake of his mouth. “Watch it, Knave. I thought we already agreed she’s my prisoner.” 

“No one is disputing that, Balladeer. I’m only suggesting what I think will benefit us the most. Besides,” Cooly dragging her gaze over to regard you, she studies your frazzled, wide eyed expression for a short moment. “I suspect she will appreciate that consideration as well. After all, their rapport with one another is a fascinating development that I don’t think any of us saw coming. It only makes sense to capitalize on it, no?” 

Scaramouche draws a quick breath to snap back with something no doubt sharp and biting, but Dottore cuts him off with an abrupt laugh. 

“She's right, puppet. This should at the very least be an interesting show to watch.” Abruptly slipping his fingers out of you with a tiny wet slurp to leave your pussy weakly contracting around nothing, The Doctor steps to the side to presumably make room for the Eleventh Harbinger. “Go on then, Tartaglia. I’ve already got her warmed up for you. Surely at your age you don’t need any instruction on how to fuck a woman, do you?” 

You can’t quite make out what’s happening behind Scaramouche aside from a briefly heated exchange that makes you foolishly hope he won’t go through with it. Childe could still put a stop to this if he just didn’t give in to Dottore’s jeering peer pressure and instead used his brain to think of a way to get you out of here. 

But when The Balladeer pushes up to sit on top of you, throwing a vaguely disgusted scoff over his shoulder before he grudgingly moves to climb down, you implicitly understand that this is not going to work out as you’d hoped it would. He would have no reason to dismount otherwise when he’d seemed perfectly content nuzzling into your breasts like little more than a newborn. 

Sure enough, once everyone has moved aside enough for you to lift your head and glance down at the foot of the table, you find Childe standing there with a truly tortured look marring his youthful face. He’s visibly torn and conflicted about the situation, whatever feelings he had for you clashing with his duty as a Fatui Harbinger. You had no idea what Arlecchino had said to him but it must have been sufficiently convincing if he was even considering this. 

“Mmffhh! Mmm mmnngghh!” 

Slowly lifting his head at your wordless cries, Childe looks down at you with a truly regretful frown tugging at his expression. And for a drawn out moment he just stares at you, spread out on the table completely naked save the tall boots on your feet and the heavy cloak spread out underneath you. It was something you probably would have been happy to show him under better circumstances, but better circumstances would not have found five of his peers standing around you in a loose circle watching on in rapt, fascinated silence. 

It was enough to make anyone cry, and you sniffle rather sadly when he at last gives his head a solemn shake. 

“I’m sorry, Traveler. If you hadn’t been caught … if you hadn’t let Scaramouche defeat you and take you prisoner we wouldn’t have to do this. But you’re a threat to our plans only as long as you can back it up, so we have to show you just how powerless you really are.” 

As if you really needed to have that demonstrated to you like this! 

Indignantly squawking, you try to push yourself upright to sit but Arlecchino is quick to grab your shoulder with a clawed hand and shove you back down. Even realizing for the upteenth time that you were thoroughly at their mercy like this, you still weakly kick your legs in the air in an attempt to dissuade anyone from slipping between them again. 

But Childe just shuffles forward to grab your ankles easily enough despite the flailing, forcing them to bend towards your chest as he steps right up against you. The front of his pants presses into  your bare cunt like this and you immediately squeal at the weight of him pushing in on your body. For a split second you almost don’t believe it. That he would really get this achingly stiff from watching you be defiled by other men, but he was young and hot blooded enough that it made a certain amount of sense. Of course the fight to subdue and dominate would get him worked up. 

“Mmffhhh!” 

“Shh, shh. Just relax, Traveler. I promise I won’t hurt you, okay?” 

That hardly makes you feel any better as you screw your eyes shut and turn your head away so you don’t have to watch Childe reach down to free himself from his slacks. In truth, you would have otherwise been happy to sleep with him but not like this. Just not like this! 

“Oh, isn’t that cute.” Pantalone purrs from somewhere just to your left, chuckling a soft laugh under his breath. “I think our little guest is getting emotional now.” 

“As expected.” Dottore agrees with him, also laughing at your expense. 

“Here.” Arlecchino suddenly says, prompting you to blink through the rising sting of tears at her. You’re more than slightly taken aback to find her holding a long, dark strip of cloth in front of your face and you whimper up at her in question. “This should help. Deep breaths now, sweet dove. That’s it. Just relax.” 

You realize she’s going to blindfold you as she starts to bring it closer but there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it, mewling a helpless sound while she works to tie it off at the back of your head. With the loss of your eyesight comes an even greater perception of your hearing and you listen to Childe fumble between your legs as your neck lolls back against the table. There was certainly comfort to be found in the impenetrable darkness but it doesn’t do much to ease the nausea inducing anxiety in your gut. In fact, it actually seems to make it worse. 

But you don’t even have the ability to tell her you don’t want it when your mouth is still thoroughly gagged, and you pitifully jump when Childe finally reaches down to take hold of your hips. Dragging you closer to the edge of the table, he takes a moment to press his cock into the seam of your body again, this time without anything standing in the way, and he just basks in the sticky heat coming off you for a drawn out beat. 

You understand in a far off, dreamy sort of way that this was really going to happen and your powerlessness to stop it soon has the tears breaking free to soak into the cloth around your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Traveler.” He says again, one last time before the fleshy drag of his cock head angles down to your entrance where he slowly starts to push in. 

You plaintively squawk at the pressure on your already sore and abused cunt, fiercely shuddering underneath him as he leans his weight into you to help ease himself inside. The worst part is that he’s far from small and he stretches you out even more than Dottore’s fingers had, but at least he’s gentle about it where The Doctor certainly had not been. It’s a small consolation in this nightmarish scenario, and even for as much as you appreciate it you can’t quite seem to stop your chest from frantically heaving with the labored gasps you suck in through your nose. 

And he sensitively groans over you, clearly trying to stifle the sound but your enhanced hearing picks up on it anyway. You didn’t doubt his feelings on the matter were not dissimilar to yours, yet he doesn’t stop. He just keeps reaching deeper and deeper into your body until he at last settles his pelvis against yours with a rattling breath and you positively squirm where he’s got you impaled on him. Your arms were already long numb from laying on top of them for so long with the circulation to your hands impeded by the too tight rope, but they still scream in protest at your restless fidgeting. 

“Burn everything, that’s a tight fit.” Childe murmurs, breathless and stretched thin. 

He stiffly hovers you for another moment, no doubt trying to find his bearings, which you were admittedly glad for the chance it gives your pussy to adjust to his size. But then, he’s moving against you, experimentally rolling his hips at first and that quickly turns into a halting, unevenly cantered thrusting motion that makes your tits start to bounce with the force. The sensation of your painfully stiff nipples cutting through the air is a stark one, prompting you to dramatically arch your back in a vain bid to stop them from moving so much. 

It fails, of course, and you hear Scaramouche suck in a faint breath that he doesn’t actually need from the right side of the softly creaking table. You weren’t entirely sure what his fascination with your tits was about, but you weren’t convinced it was anything good. 

“She likes it.” The Captain announces rather abruptly, reminding you that he was standing off to the back of the gathered assembly to disinterestedly watch the proceedings. You can’t help thinking that was probably for the best, as you really did not want to find out how big someone of his size was firsthand. 

Worst of all, you were ashamed to admit that he was right. Despite all the rough treatment and the less than ideal circumstances, your pussy was indeed warming up to the stretch of Childe’s cock inside you, and tingly little sparks of pleasurable friction were beginning to light up all of the nerve endings in a potent rush. Oh, this could not be happening right now. 

“I think she’d like it more if you put your back into it.” Dottore drawls, adding his two mora even though no one had asked him. Of everyone here, you found him to be perhaps the most insufferable of all. 

Grunting a masculine sound, Childe distractedly shifts against you to presumably glance over at The Doctor. “Hey, this isn’t supposed to be a spectator sport, you know. If I’d wanted your — ooughn, your commentary, I would have said so.” 

“Well, I for one think you’re doing a spectacular job.” Pantalone chimes in, the condescending note in his otherwise pleasant voice making a self conscious shudder work down your spine. 

“Damn. Just be quiet! All of you.” Hunching further over your prone frame, Childe wraps his fingers around your ribcage so he can nudge you down to meet the rhythmic push of his narrow hips. It hadn’t taken him long to fall into a natural, even paced tempo that makes the meaty smack of his skin colliding with yours ring loud in the room. 

You can also pick up the sticky clicks coming from your cunt each time he drives into you, carving out a space for himself and forcing your squeezing cunt to take him, again and again. It’s humiliating to realize just how wet you were getting, all the more so when you knew at least half of it was because of that damned Doctor. 

For better or worse Childe doesn’t seem to take any offense, or at least his body doesn’t, and he quickly begins to lose himself in the tight clutch between your legs. The initially tentative thrusts turn quick and desperate, his hips taking over for his higher functioning mind to instinctively guide him towards the finish line. You can tell, just as the others likely can, that he’s not very experienced when it comes to this particular activity, and you almost find yourself feeling thankful for that when his hushed grunts soon take on a dire tinge. This part of your humiliation at least would be over sooner rather than later. 

“How cute.” The Balladeer snips, clearly unimpressed with the effort of his colleague but Childe deliberately ignores him. 

He’s much too caught up in chasing his release now to pay them any mind, your breath hitching in your throat when his fingers start to subconsciously dig deeper into your sides. He was getting close and, you were beyond mortified to realize, your own arousal was steadily ratcheting up as well to nearly keep pace with his. The tension in your guts was tortuous but you don’t quite make it to the breaking point before he heaves a sensitive sound and yanks himself back, once again leaving your pussy to impotently squeeze around nothing. 

You can tell by the sharp, seething hiss he lets out that he’s cumming — probably straight into his waiting hand, if you had to guess — and a dizzying rush of numb relief immediately crashes over you. At least you probably didn’t have to worry about him getting you pregnant. Aside from Pantalone you weren’t so sure about the others, if they even had seed that could take in your womb, but you were glad for Childe’s foresight on the matter all the same. It seemed he still cared about you on some level. 

“Bah!” Dottore suddenly exclaims, making you jolt in surprise. “Get out of the way, Tartaglia. I should have known better than to leave this to you. What’s the point in it if you don’t even leave your mark on her?” 

A brief shuffle of bodies starts up by your feet, the two of them no doubt trading places again, but you’re distracted by a pair of hands carefully touching your head. You give a fearful little start only to realize it must be Arlecchino, given the sharp claws, and you whimper a soft sound when she nudges your neck up to get at the tie keeping your gag in place. It takes you a prolonged moment to understand that she’s going to remove it from your mouth, your heart galloping out of control as you suck in a harried breath. 

Thank the stars! Your jaw felt like it would never work right again after being wedged open for so long. 

“Watch and learn, boy.” The Doctor says ruefully from somewhere down by the foot of the table but you hardly have the presence of mind to focus on him right now. 

The strip of bamboo finally loosens and you weakly work to spit it out as Arlecchino reaches around to pluck it from between your swollen lips. You suck in your first real, full breath of air in a very long time when she pulls it away, feeling dizzy and more than a little nauseous from the head rush. 

You’re still gingerly working your jaw to try and restore some of the feeling to the numb joints when she carefully angles your head back against the solid wood, holding you in place as if to make sure you can’t escape. 

“Wha -“ 

She’s suddenly kissing you, smothering your mouth with hers to swallow the squawk of surprise you let out. There was some part of you that has assumed she wouldn’t touch you, either by virtue of not being attracted to another woman or because she would have no need for the boys’ leftovers once they were through, but she’s managed to successfully catch you off guard. 

Perhaps even more concerning is the fact you slowly start to kiss her back, coaxed into it by the steady, demanding push and pull of her painted lips. There’s something in the way she works her mouth over yours that begets compliance and you’re hardly in any position to fight it. 

Until, that is, you feel Dottore line himself up with your entrance, the fleshy brush of his glans against slick creases and folds causing you to startle. Rattling a vicious sound, you yank your mouth away from Arlecchino’s to turn your face up at The Doctor even though you couldn’t see him through the blindfold. You know he’s there though and that frightens you perhaps more than anything else at the moment, but The Knave merely slides one of her elegant hands forward to wrap it around your neck. 

“Little Traveler,” She softly hums at you, giving your throat a brief squeeze. “Are you so frightened of my colleague here that you think you can forget about me?” 

You give your head a mute shake, struggling just to keep your lungs expanding as Dottore roughly enters you with a quick snap of his hips that seems to sink him about halfway inside. The only indication you have that he’s not quite finished yet is the rumbling sound he issues before leaning further into you, feeding even more of his cock into your pussy, and you choke at the sensation of being stretched open in a completely different way than before. You didn’t think he was necessarily bigger than Childe, but the shape of him … 

“Uwa - aaaah!” 

“Hush, girl. This is no way for a warrior to face their enemy in defeat.” 

The sound of The Captain’s voice suddenly right beside you alarms you a great deal, and you blindly push back on Arlecchino’s hold with a frantic little sound. Anything but him. Anyone but him! 

The Knave firmly keeps you in place though no matter how wildly you try to thrash yourself free, keeping your head slightly elevated while Dottore begins to fuck into you with quick, demanding thrusts that seem to knock something loose within you. Your pussy positively gushes around him, loudly sucking at his length each time he angles his hips back now, but you’re a bit too distracted by the sensation of something massive leaning over you to give him your attention right now. 

It must be The Captain getting right up in your face, of that you were almost certain. Oh, how you wished you could see what was going on. But when you try to work your mouth to ask Arlecchino to remove the blindfold, all that comes out are tiny, breathless little moans that Dottore forces up your throat each time he sinks himself in you straight down to the hilt. You couldn’t even get your tongue to formulate a single word now that you were actually capable of speaking. Dammit. 

“I expected better from you.” Capitano rumbles, making you uncontrollably shake when you realize he seemed to be hovering mere inches from your nose. What was he — “I usually have no interest or need for such activities, but I can see now that you haven’t been taught this particular lesson yet. You need to learn from a more accomplished warrior before you are set loose again.” 

You’re not entirely sure what he’s talking about but then you feel something slimy, long and snake-like reach out to flick over your cheek and you practically wretch in disgust. Was that a tongue? 

“Do you understand why I brought you here now, Traveler?” Scaramouche purrs almost directly into your ear, so close you can feel his lips just barely brushing against your skin. You can’t help the gasp you suck in at his unexpectedly close proximity only to immediately choke on it, teeth gnashing when his hand comes up to idly pull at one of your nipples again. He was a relentless thing!  “If she doesn’t already, she will soon enough.” Pantalone softly adds to further make your head spin. It seemed like there were too many voices and sounds coming from all around you, your overwhelm only exacerbated by the constant drilling of Dottore’s cock into you. It was too much and you felt like you were going to be sick. “After all, we have to wait for Her Majesty to decide her final verdict so we’ve got plenty of time to ensure she understands. Don’t worry though, Traveler. We’ll make sure to take good care of you while you’re here.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[elbiotipo]

Question: he would the hair in cat ears work for catgirls? do they get the same hair covering the ears as the rest of the head or would it be shorter for the ears only? if a catgirl has long curly hair, is the hair covering the ears also long and curly?

I would have to research that, but given I have a research subject next to me (my cat) cats do seem to have shorter hair in their ears by default, which makes sense because ears are well, ears, and they need to be mobile and clear of obstructions.

You can see here that this cat (not mine, he went away as I was writing this) has medium-length fur but the hairs covering the ears are rather short. It makes sense it would be the same for catgirls.

Now, does this mean that cat-people hair would be the same as their fur? Do notice that cat fur has a very different length and texture from human hair in that human hair doesn't have that layered thing that makes most mammal fur, individual hairs are also much longer. Furthermore, humans are WEIRD, just plain WEIRD in our hair distribution. No other mammals are like us, there are certainly hairless mammals, for sure, but the human distribution of hair is very much unlike other primates, with our hairy heads, stomach/pubic areas, beard and armpits, while those are usually bald in other primates. There is still considerable debate on the evolution of hairlesness in humans, from endothermic regulation (better sweating) to sexual selection (which might explain the persistance of, well, hair and body hair instead of complete hairlessness). What's interesting is that genes for a full fur (hair, I guess) coat in humans are still there, just disabled into vellus hairs which are a lot less prominent. If you want more on the subject, I warn you, it's a deep dive, but you can start in Wikipedia.

BACK TO CATS THOUGH, something that people often forget is that whiskers are indeed another kind of fur, but not only that, they are active sensory organs that take a big part of brains in many mammals. One we also lack. Humans are strange. But while cats can live without whiskers, it's still something very important to them. So I think that is something we forget about felines and feline characters.

It would also be a real interesting thing if cat-people had different hair, as in the thing in top of our heads (which seems to have evolved to protect our stupid big brains from the sun) similar to cat fur. Perhaps a catgirl would look pretty much human, but from touching the hair, seeing her eyes, perhaps even whiskers, you would see different stuff (assuming a fantasy or such setting). Given our genetics, it's not exactly implausible to have people whose fur just sticks to their hair and tail. It's just, well, I really need to make a post on this sort of stuff one day.

For a VERY fun deep dive into cat coat and eye genetics, I found this site full of deep explanations and charts about cat genetics. Including HYPOTHETICAL cat coats:

Honestly, don't miss it if you're doing cat-like characters. This is way more fun that just sticking ears and a tail and be done with it. Put the cat in catgirls again, that's what I say.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

I love the idea that creed likes pets from people he considers to be pack, but i would love to hear what kinds of affection you think he likes?

do you think he likes gifts? touch? how does he return those sorts of affections?

Okay, platonic yandere affection for Sabretooth headcanon time!

• This guy loves physical affection. Pets, hugs, cuddling, sleeping in a nest or bed or sprawled in the same room together, nuzzling, grooming hair and combing it and braiding it, fist bumps, large pats on the back like getting hit by a bear, bear hugs, he craves touch, he only wants it from his obsessions/pack, though (so definitely Logan, possibly Remy, Laura, and Reader, and maybe some of the adults or teens he views as pack or pack-adjacent)

• Appreciates gifts. You took time out of your day or night to get him something or make it or cook it or prepare it, so he appreciates it, if not loves it or cherishes it or stores it safely in his room (den) where no one but him is allowed to see it or touch it. You got him some gloves or a fur/fluff-limed coat? He's wearing it proudly, warmly, and gets mad if anyone tries to tear it or get blood on it. You found some bones on your walk and wanted to give them to him? If he can, he's collecting them in a special container, or even wears them as a necklace. You made him a cake for his birthday? With frosting and buttercream and handmade decorations? He will savor each bite, he is making sure you eat a piece too, and will not share unless it's with someone else he trusts or views as pack (family). You made a painting of him? He's putting it up in his room (den), or in his own safe house, it's being kept pristine and dust-free and protected from aging, and he will show you different forms of art He's learned over his near two hundred years of existence...

• If you spend time with him, he looks forward to it. You are on the same team, and have been teamed up for a mission? Ha, looks like you two get to bond a little! You went on a hunting trip with him, instead of staying out of the rain and staying warm? Well, he's making sure you both get something, and will lrudky display whatever you catch, while cooking the meat (will also collect pecans and walnuts with you or even some wild berries when those are in season). You ask him if you two can go to a museum? He's taking you, he's keeping away anyone who stares too long at you two, and might even steal a piece later if you seemed to really like it...

• Call him "pretty good", "a friend", or "dad", amd you're not getting rid of him, EVER. He loves hearing praise, especially ehen it comes from you. You call his claws "awesome" and "so sharp, that's wicked!" and "shiny", he's purring, and possibly helping you maintain your nails/claws/talons just as well as his. You say he's "a master of the hunt", "a clever hunter", "strong as a bear", or anything that compliments his wits or strength or hunting abilities, he's preening at it, chest puffed out and a fanged smile on his lips. You say something such as "You're coat is so cool, and soft!" or "your hair is well-kept", or "huh, those are sturdy boots", he's prideful about it, because he takes great pride in his appearance and taste in looks. (Does he care what others think? No, not most; but you or the rest of his pack/pride? Yes, he cares what y'all think, and he'd only take criticism from y'all)...

• Would he return any of these affections? Yes. 11/10. You feel down or upset or scared? He's tryi g to comfort you by reminding you how strong you are, how ferocious in battle, that their words don't matter; and if they hurt you or abused you, they won't be around to do it again... You feel nervous about your appearance? He will tell you deadpan that yes, you appear fine, you look nice, your piercing isn't weird, now let's go annoy Logan. You seem to be sick or out of sorts or worried? From everything he's remembered and memorized about you and what you like, he's getting you a gift. Something good for dinner, check. Something shiny, check. Maybe some new movie to watch, check. A bit of a torture session done to an enemy of yours, check. He doesn't mention that last part unless he's certain you won't freak out... initially, at least... You need hugs or you're too cold and in the snow or you aren't able to walk back and are wounded? He's embracing you close and tight and possessively; he's bundling you under his coat with him and wrapping it tight around the both of you; you're being picked up and held close and not let down until you're somewhere safe and being checked over...

(This was fun! Thank you, @hermesserpent-stuff !)

[whotfletamothhyperfx]

During the winter does Tails get a winter coat? I think he does and most of his friends give him extra long hugs.

I THINK ABOUT THIS SO MUCH PREPARE CAUSE YOU’RE ABOUT TO GET SUCH A LENGTHY RANT BECAUSE IVE WANTED TO TALK ABOUT THIS SO MUCH, So have a few of my favourite scenarios I came up with a while ago cause I adore the idea of Tails getting his winter coat

To answer the questions about cuddles yes he does get lots everyone absolutely adores when he’s getting his winter coat because it means he’s much more amazing to hug. There as times where tails will be doing work and people will just drop by to hug because he’s so warm and it’s cold outside sonic gets to use tails winter coat to his advantage though because he lives with tails so he can use tails fur to heat himself up whenever he likes

Anyway back to the angst I’ve always have this idea of my head of in the middle of winter they have to go to some sunny and hot place to find a chaos emeralds and of course since tails is the only one who really gets their winter coat they forget to take that into account when going to humid places in the middle of winter.

So yeah I just like to picture these lot hiking through some roasting forest and they’re starting to notice that ‘huh tails is getting weirdly tired and he’s drenched in sweat and is needed more water than usual that’s weird usually he handles the heat so much better’

But they keep going because of tails insistence and tails at this point is just having heatstroke but is trying to hide it so he isn’t some sort of inconvenience (which he isn’t if they knew then they would have had someone stay behind with him so he could rest up until they left, it wouldn’t have been problem) they also don’t notice the way he getting more irritable and confused and is clutching his head. And if they do notice then they just think it’s a bad day

after a while they notice that tails is starting to fall behind until they hear a massive thump on the ground and they all turn around to see at this point the kid has passed out from the heat. So of course they run over to him because in their heads the kids passed out for no reason.

And the second tails comes too he starts to throw up and clutch his head and can barely tell what’s happening because of the confusion. Everytime he tries to speak as well he’s slurring his words and stuttering.

So the groups starting to come to the horrifying realisation that the kid is going through intense heatstroke and they need to get him away from this heat now. They’re also poring their cold water on him while forcing him to drink some of it. Usually tails would protest all of this but at this point he’s too delirious to fight back against them.

At that point by the entire could agreement sonic just gently picks tails up and starts to rush him to the nearest village so he can he someone more cool.

Anyway after that all gets sorted he gets a very lengthy lecture about telling them when he gets too hot

[bunnygirlwhore]

The doctor and her experiment

The following piece of smut has puppygirls, somewhat dubious consent, heat, musk, and knotting. If you are not interested in that, do not read it and have a good day.

it can also be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61384990

Dr.Iveila looked over the files for experiment GMD-... Oh fuck it these experiment designations keep changing anyways, updating based on what sort of things they’d done to them, how much it cost, how many days it would take to reproduce them quickly. The doctor looked over Sunshine’s file. The experiment hadn’t been named Sunshine when she signed up for all this, but Dr.Iveila had given her this nickname later on due to just how friendly she was. The other doctors believed the nickname to be ironic, but they all treated her far too clinically, just a bit of socializing with the sweet thing and she’d be the nicest person in the facility.... Dr.Iveila blushed as she realized she wasn’t sure the last time she got to cuddle with someone other than Sunshine. She swiped her ID card to get into the containment chamber, the damn thing was well out of date, the picture having been taken when she first was assigned to this damn facility. Her natural waves had now once again appeared in her hair, the dye had mostly faded, only hints of blue in her now otherwise black hair, and it went down to her chest instead of just to her shoulders. Her brown eyes now also had very dark circles under them, and her glasses had that damn scratch across the left lens. 

Today she was just checking in and doing routine data gathering on Sunshine, it would be another month or so before the recent changes they had made would be deemed stable and Sunshine would be subjected to some other injection of who knows what. Dr.Iveila wasn’t privy to the end goal of the experiments happening in this place, sometimes she wondered if there even was any one person who knew the objective of ALL of them, there were so damn many. All she knew was information on the experiments she’d been tasked with gathering data on every now and then, mostly just what the intended effect of certain treatments were, what data they were gathering on those subjects to measure those effects, and some of the past treatments they had been given and what those had done. Sunshine was the experiment she knew the most about of course, it was rare anyone else was tasked with doing anything with her. In a way, the doctor liked to think that made Sunshine hers. 

She walked into the containment room and was surprised to see Sunshine wasn’t waiting for her in her usual spot. Cautiously, she called out, “Sunshine? You there, sweet pup?” For a moment there was no response, and then Sunshine peeked her head from behind one of the rocks in the enclosure, the poor pup was panting and had a bit of a dazed look in her eyes. The doctor rushed over to tend to her and once rounding the corner the cause became apparent. Sunshine was in heat. The doctor was ashamed to admit she’d had wet dreams about Sunshine, but how could she not? She’d seen some documentation of what she’d looked like before all this, a cute enough girl and all that but.... Now she was, in a sense, on constant display. The smoothness of the white fur coat covering her body seemed to highlight her every curve, her only visible skin on the insides of her cute triangular ears and her nipples... Every now and then the doctor had been tasked with making sure Sunshine wasn’t developing breast cancer as her boobs grew, and as her second and then third set of teats came in. Each time she could swear she felt a tension between herself and Sunshine, as if maybe there was some remnant of her once human mind buried deep down that only came out to taunt the doctor for wanting so badly to grope and knead the boobs in her hands for reasons other than the purely medical. And once, after a very long day, she ended up dozing off with Sunshine in her lap and... That warmth. The comforting warmth of her presence was so intoxicating that she almost didn’t get up and go to her quarters once she had awoken. Normally, the doctor found herself unable to decide which feature she found more erotic between Sunshine’s sheath and her sharp pearly canine teeth... But right now, between Sunshine’s legs, was a proud, stiff, 9-inch red rocket. 

Before the doctor could fully process what she was seeing, Sunshine was nuzzling into her crotch, clearly sniffing at the growing scent of her arousal “W-we can’t....” The doctor didn’t put much effort into pushing Sunshine away, yet still the experiment relented, even if she did so with a soft whine. The doctor noted the heat state Sunshine was in, and then went to record her normal data, how much had the experiment been eating? Drinking? Both more than normal, and the room had.... A scent to it, something about that scent was almost pheromonal, something about that rich smell caused the doctor almost to feel as though this space truly belonged to Sunshine... And since she was in Sunshine's space well... Perhaps she belonged to Sunshine too? N-no, that’s just her lusts talking, surely. She watched back the video of last night to see how Sunshine had slept and found that Sunshine had clearly struggled to sleep, if having slept at all, due this heat starting shortly before the time the poor pup settled down.... At some point in the night Sunshine gave up on the endeavor and... O-oh my... Started scent marking the room with her massive throbbing... B-breeding instrument. Why did she have such a hard time being professional around this experiment? Why in this specific way? Why couldn’t she help but wonder how much more intense the smell would be if- The doctor moaned as she felt a body press against her back. It was very rare anymore Sunshine stood on her hind legs; with the way her brain had been altered it shouldn’t feel natural to the pup. She really only did it when it was absolutely necessary. The doctor was about to speak up when Sunshine growled softly and placed her paws on the tits of the mate she’d chosen to claim. With another moan the doctor went slack in the possessive embrace of her Sunshine.  

The doctor’s glasses fell off as she was hoisted into a princess carry. There was a moment of hesitation, where Sunshine was waiting to see if her mate would choose her, and the doctor was trying to muster the will to do what she knew she should do instead of what she wanted. Andrea knew that she would be kicked out of the facility for this, that she would regret it, but she couldn’t stop herself from clinging to her Sunshine and softly kissing at her neck “I need you...” That was all Sunshine needed. Soon, Andrea found herself in the small cave Sunshine considered her den, laid down on a pile of blankets that were heady with the scent of the heat addled pup. Spread legs, torn cloth, a throbbing leaking tip pressed against a tight wet hole. A final moment of hesitation. Andrea wraps her legs around Sunshine’s hips and leans in, moaning softly as what had just been burning desire melts into gentle intimacy. Sunshine can smell that her mate is a virgin, and wouldn’t dare to hurt her. Andrea’s tongue slips into Sunshine’s mouth as Sunshine’s red rocket slips into her cunt. Andrea surprises herself by letting out a small “W-wuff~”  Sunshine responds “Aroo?” her hips stop. Andrea whines and looks up at her with pleading eyes. Sated, Sunshine resumes and gives her mates face an affectionate lick. Andrea moans and starts to pant, finding herself only wishing she had done this sooner. She can feel how good this is, how right this is, her mind feels numb and at ease, she feels a soft tingling sensation all over, she feels the aches leaving her bones, there’s a... Strange tingling in her ears? That’s... Probably not right? A-and why do her hands feel so funny? She’s about to protest when Sunshine slams in the last inch before the knot all at once, causing her to let out a whorish moan as her cuntlips are kissed by the true centerpiece of Sunshine’s bitchbreaker. 

Andrea’s legs lock around Sunshine’s hips, fueled by a breeding instinct she wasn’t aware that she had. Sunshine’s thrusts are rapid, rough, and shallow, but despite appearances suggesting she was using her mate as a breed hole just to get herself off, she was making sure to keep a very consistent angle. An angle that allowed her to give the most pleasure to her mate that she could. An angle that was perfect for occasionally pausing and rubbing the bulb of her knot against the sensitive clit of her mate whenever her mate needed to be reminded of just how good submission felt.  Needed to be reminded of the way her body seemed to know what it needed so badly. Sunshine’s tail wagged faster and faster as she watched it happen between desperate sloppy kisses. That gorgeous coat of black fur, her ears becoming cute wolf-like ears to match those of the mate that was claiming her, the hands clutching to Sunshine’s back becoming just a little more like paws. All these things made Sunshine so happy, so desperate, that she’d start thrusting harder and faster. She needed to knot her mate. To finalize her claim. To make sure that she wouldn’t be so lonely anymore. That neither of them would. 

Sunshine howls in triumph as her knot forces its way into her mate, quickly inflating as her cock throbs and starts to pump rope after rope of her virile seed into the womb she had laid claim to. Her mate howls soon after, hers much less clear as her body shudders with the strength of her orgasm, it ripping through her body as her cunt milks the cock of her mate for every drop that it can. After a few minutes, the two pups are collapsed into bed and cozied up together. Each of them protectively holding their mate in their paws. Each of them feeling safe and happy in the embrace of their beloved mate. 

Doctor Sivarrah carefully read over the file of subjects GMDB-787M-2Y-A and GMDB-787M-2Y-B. Or, as they had been named by the other doctors, Sunshine and Moonlinght. There was a rumor going around the facility that one of the two pups had once been an employee here, but she considered this to be a truly ridiculous rumor. She gave each of them lots of pets when she first came in, as much as the two were bonded to each other, they were still very affectionate with anyone who came by! Today all she needed to do was a few routine check-ins to see if the litter of pups that Moonlight was carrying were coming along as expected. Although, she certainly wasn’t going to pass up some snuggle time that the pups always seemed to demand, after all, time with them really was a beam of light in this dreadful facility. 

[wyrm-clangen]

I am connecting the dots to make Shineivy’s death so angsty

This was on a patrol with Fierchasm who had just become a warrior at 15 moons which is later than most apprentices. She was also mentored by Riftstar

Shineivy likely had just recovered from birth that moon or maybe a moon before as her kits were 4-5 moons when she died.

Fiercechasm has the adventurous trait.

So here’s my idea- as likely one of her very first patrols post becoming a warrior Fiercechasm is sent on a patrol with Shineivy.

Likely Riftstar has to send out some patrols with Fogtail still heavily mourning rainstripe. Maybe he’s even hesitant to send Shineivy because she’s his mate and she just recovered from having kits but they don’t have the warriors to spare as likely pointed out by even Shineivy herself. So, for safety he has her sent with a warrior he knows he can trust to keep her safe- Fiercechasm.

It’s a simple patrol but precautions should be made especially in Leafbare. Still, Fierchasm is excited for her first patrol as a warrior. She’s not just an apprentice she’s equal to all the other warriors and can go any which way she desires.

When the weather starts picking up Shineivy points it out first but Fiercechasm, far too elated to be on this patrol as a warrior and feeling the urge to see explore more,insists they keep going.

Yet the storm picks up and the two are forced to hide in a cave for cover. The cave is then buried with snow leaving them trapped.

As they huddle together for warmth Shineivy may tell Fiercechasm to not fall asleep because she may not wake again if she does. And they both promise to keep the other awake. Yet, just for a moment Fiercechasm allows herself to close her eyes and she falls asleep

Eventually Fiercechasm would awaken shivering with snow coated on her fur but alive. Some snow had toppled down revealing a way out of the cave. When she notices Shineivy’s limp body she doesn’t worry at first and may even find it humorous, both promised not to fall asleep but both did. Something they can both laugh about when Shineivy wakes up

Yet Shineivy is not moving, and not breathing, Fierchasm tries to feel for a heart but finds nothing. Though she’s not a medicine cat so who knows. (She does. She does. But she’ll deny it as long as possible) she instead starts trying to drag Shineivy’s body out of the cave to get help. (If she doesn’t do it now will she get a chance to bury the body later…)

Likely Fiercechasm is intercepted by a patrol who is searching for her. With how harsh the storm was ,even Riftstar knew sending out warriors to search for his mate would be a death sentence but as soon as the storm clears warriors are sent out to find any signs of where they are..

And of course they find Fiercechasm struggling to drag Shineivy’s body with her and even without a medicine cat it is easy to tell that Shineivy is gone.

(This went on for longer then I thought lol. Hopefully my ramblings made some sort of sense)

OHHHHHHH MY GOD OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD- SOBBING SCREAMING THROWING UP

Fiercechasm's voice shaking from the cold while she tries to reassure Shine that they're almost home. Shineivy not responding, but that's- that's fine.

The idea of her thinking this would be such a funny story to tell when they got home- the two of them falling asleep in the cave despite their promise not to. Shineivy- bright eyed and snarky as always, would make some silly joke about how she'd earned a nap for putting up with a pebble-brained young warrior like her, and Fiercechasm would laugh because somehow the older molly's jokes always managed to make her feel warm inside- I'M PUNCHING WALLS.

WHO WAS ON THE SEARCH PATROL??? Like, I can't imagine Riftstar NOT going, but also Plum DEFINITELY volunteers-

NOW I'M IMAGINING RIFTSTAR'S FACE WHEN THE PATROL FOUND THEM, IM GONNA EAT DRYWALL AND SOB

[box-of-chaooos]

Dcfdtl headcannons, I love them very much

Bruce

Bruce loves comics, those super hero action comics that all the boys read he loves them.

He loves getting messy, playing in mud, finding bugs rolling down hills and baking.

He likes baking, cookies, cupcakes he loves it and has fun doing so he feels in control of himself when he’s baking and independent which they all like to feel.

He does not like water on his head he can’t stand it which makes washing his hair very hard for him.

Stims by shaking his fists and shaking his head a lot.

His favourite texture is silk and he likes to run his hands over it for sensory times.

Alessandra

The big sister of the group

She likes martial arts but father doesn’t let her do it.

The bow she wears is from her baby toy that father threw away, saying it was to childish for her so she now wears the ribbon.

She takes alot of pride in her hair it’s a big part of her self esteem so she takes forever brushing it and washing it.

She loves the smell of mallow and vanilla

She likes to stim by humming and playing with her hair spinning it through her fingers.

Constance

She’s nonverbal when not with her siblings, she won’t speak unless with them and so when ever apart she mostly signs instead!

She loves to knit her favourite texture is soft cotton so she loves making things from cotton wool she makes blankets and scarfs for them all.

She stims by clapping her hands and fist shaking.

She had to sleep with the door closed she has a sort of fear that someone will watch her sleep otherwise.

When she sleeps she likes to be smushed in the middle and all snug and cozy.

She loves loves loves Christmas because the cozy feeling and lights she loves them.

She’s very neat and tidy and likes things to be organised.

Lenny

His helmet is a sensory thing, not only does it hide scars from father but it blocks out noise and light and he likes the gentle pressure on his head.

His favourite texture is minky he adores it and has a blanket made of it that he often curls in when having a meltdown.

He’s the most prone to meltdowns out of them all, the next is Bruce.

He loves to play in the mud and find bugs with Bruce.

He’s closest with David often seeking him out when he’s upset or in the middle of a meltdown.

He stims by hand flapping and giggling, you’ll often find him giggling happily over nothing but feeling pleased.

He also repeats phrases he’s heard mumbling them to himself repeatedly.

He loves to sing and finds music soothing.

Has a fascination with newts and salamanders, he thinks their funny lil things that are awesome in so many ways.

He sucks his thumb when he sleeps hence his need for braces and headgear.

David

Davids bangs cover his eyes so he doesn’t have to make eye contact, father says it’s rude not to when you talk but he can’t do it so he grew his hair out so no one can tell.

He loves faux fur like faux fur coats and such finding the weight and feeling amazing.

He has a weighted blanket.

He stims by fiddling with his hands and repeating words someone’s said, like if someone says Tuesday, he’ll repeat it to himself quietly. Tuesday Tuesday Tuesday.

He loves to play piano and often plays for Lenny.

He doesn’t like bright lights in his eyes which his bangs also help out with but bright flashy lights give him sensory overload.

He’s prone to going nonverbal when meltdowns occur.

He likes to do Alexandra’s hair for her and Constance too.

He loves rainy days and gloomy weather finding it most peaceful that way.

All

They all love to draw and doodle, coming up with drawings of weapons and them destroying the knd.

They all like the smell of lavender and use a mist on their pillow at night.

All of them are on the spectrum and help one another with all their meltdowns and listen to each others rambles.

[kingmaxstatic]

Wishing Star

A 996 word fanfiction with Starvoltz lore stuff. Takes place during IDW sonic issue #36. Wrote this late at night so it might be a tad disjointed.

Toyhouse Version Link.

"Voltz has silly thoughts about someone he barely knows."

“Everyone remain calm! The chateau was built to withstand this sort of event!”

Was the only thing Voltz could pick up on before he was dragged back to his thoughts again. He couldn’t help it, his world was just shattered. His name wasn’t known to him but his features were etched in the two instances of him. Cream fur, magenta eyes, he glowed? How did he even do that? Platypus, he was a platypus, any good mobian doctor could deduce that. He leaned against the railing as he watched a familiar blue hedgehog along with an unfamiliar black hedgehog pop out from the snow. To the cheers of the small group around them. Some faces are familiar, some unfamiliar. A pit formed in Voltz’ gut for a moment.

Did Sonic even know who he was? The years he spent helping Eggman attempting to kill him? Those hours he spent in meetings within those cold walls discussing that "blasted hegdehog". He never met the famous blue blur formally but… He shook his head, he couldn’t think about that. Not now.

The platypus, right, the platypus. 

Pressing his back against the railing, Voltz forced out an exhale. Emerald eyes scanned the crowd, hoping those magenta ones would stare at him back. That they’d share a glance. His heart fluttered at the thought. Gaia, did that platypus even know what they shared? He rubbed his coat, his thumb gliding across the cheap fabric at the thought of seeing him.

From murmurs around the chateau, he gained that he was an Eggman assistant (or “eggistant” as Eggman insisted they be called). The most important word was… well was. He WAS apart of the empire. He WAS his assistant. He WASN’T anymore. Yet there he was, about to bury an entire chateau’s worth of people, including him. On his own.

He rubbed the railing as he thought about this. Back when he was an eggi- assistant he didn’t have that sort of agency. An accessory, an extension, that’s all he was. But this guy? This platypus? He was his own villain after this. Voltz felt his chest well with some unknown feeling. Brought back to those enclosed metal walls of the prison egg, he didn’t get a choice. He was so small, so tiny. Another name on the wall, another Eggnet file to be updated. Another whisper to be spread amongst future coworkers.

But this platypus changed that. He didn’t have to be that.

His heart fluttered again as his thoughts were brought back to the figure. The hues that shined from his body as he darted and dashed. A collection of colors that made his eyes seek out the same hope in the stars.

One star shined brightly to him, it sparkled and glimmered in the sky. As guests around him spoke about refunds and avalanches, he reached up to the sky. A webbed hand clasped the distant shine, as if he could grab it. As if he could touch a star. As if he deserved to, Voltz was stuck on the ground, after all. Things on the ground could never reach things so otherworldly. Not things like him.

Fear welled up in his chest as he slouched against the railing, needing to steady himself once more. Oh Gaia what if the empire found him before he could? It was a fear Voltz had about himself for so long he had never considered he would feel that for someone else. He had to do something about this. He had to make sure he wouldn’t suffer alone.

He heard all the happy commotion but glanced around at all the guests, all of their chatter was enough of a distraction to allow him to slip back into the building. Voltz felt his breath quicken as he walked through the hallways, adjusting the raggedy coat that covered the Eggman Empire logo on his jumpsuit. Would he reveal it to him once he met the figure? His beacon of hope in this sea of… well currently snow at the moment. There was so much snow in the lobby. Pushing some to the side, he looked around, he didn’t want any of the staff to be weary of him.

Swallowing down the tense air in his throat, he finally pushed out some words “H-Hello? Are you there?” the words struggled. Voltz was not good at first impressions. Moving more snow to the side, he desperately looked for any signs of a bill or webbed hand. Alas there was none in the snow, though through the shattered window he glanced and saw the figure. That coat draped over his shoulders. The moon envied the light of his beacon. Voltz was so caught up in the moment, much like his words in his throat.

If he had just called out…

Then just as he saw the coat, the hues of warm against the cold vanished into the trees. Words found his throat too late. “W-WAIT!” He called out to deaf ears, his hand reaching out, as if he could touch a star. As if he deserved to. Falling onto the pile of snow, his chest felt as damp as his heart. His beacon disappeared into the mountains. Chances of those familiar glows now scattered across the ground.

Voltz curled up, almost by instinct. He could chase him, he could go on a wild goose chase for someone he didn’t even know. Well, he did know him, he knew his story all too well. Another one of Eggman’s assistants, a kindred spirit. Hopelessness covered him like the lazy coat on his back, though it was far heavier. If he could wear it, he'd probably feel hot in this weather.

No, he had to find him, he KNEW he had to. Legs shakily straightened themselves out as he stood. A determination flowed throughout his body, but first… he had to find out where to start.

[szczekaczz]

them... you can read about who they are here. design notes for the future below

Gwizdak. my beloved tortured Gwizdak.

body-wise they're inspired by lurchers - meaning similar to a greyhound, but the anatomy is not so extreme haha. lean and sleek shapes. long back, tail, legs and snout (to correct in the future drawings - it should be more narrow).

the fur is very long but thin, making them feel cold most of the time, though it hides their protruding ribs quite good. most of the dogs in this universe are underweight due to the conditions they live in so yeah. the fur is longest on the torso, tail and ears. short on the legs and face. medium length on the cheeks and neck.

funny ears. idk how to describe them. the fur on them is very long and soft, good for scratching. you can also see a few hairs "standing" (?) too if the weather allows them. they just grow at the funny angle lol.

the tail is very shaggy and the only important thing is that it takes a quite sudden turn down on the tip. someone brush that damn thing oh god.

they also have a blue neckerchief... very important item story-wise. who knows how they manage not to tear or dirty it.

the colors are quite simple - all of the fur is light gray. they also have two patches on the left side of their body, one bigger and one smaller, and one patch around their right eye. all of these patches are darker gray. eyes are amber.

height. in my ancient notes they are around 55 cm at the withers. maybe a little smaller. i want them to be just a regular sized dog, not too big and not too small.

in terms of body language... due to their role in the universe they want to look trustworthy and non-threatening. they try to be Normal. too bad it looks almost comical sometimes lol. "i want to help you and i know how to do it so Please don't think i'm a threat". their movements are soft and careful, you can plainly see they are a quite anxious and unsure animal. lots of non-confrontational poses towards other dogs. could grow some spine tbh.

Nobody aka the dog wisdom embodiment <3

some sort of a livestock guardian dog. strong, robust build, but not overly muscular. strong and big paws. you look at them and just know not to start anything funny because they might harm you even unintentionally (not true personality-wise but you know. it's the first impression).

their fur is very very thick, hiding the general lack of fat and muscle (especially in the beginning of the story), but they lack the "mane" of tibetan mastiffs and similar breeds haha. warm doggie. good for cuddling during cold nights and such. fur on the muzzle is sparser, but soft and smooth. good, good dog...

big jaws. pronounced head stop. tiny v-shaped ears <3 quite big brows and calm, dark-brown eyes. they don't drool like most of these huge dog breeds thank god. their teeth are weak... poor thing.

i still don't know what to do with their tail after five years. first it was curled and very fluffy. now i think it's an otter tail maybe? thick-furred but not in excess. they wear it low and don't move it much.

another thing that's giving me trouble is their coat pattern. i know it's muted yellow/cream in color, but otherwise? no idea. i think they might have a slightly darker saddle on their back and a mask on the jaws. the ears are definitely very dark too. i just of them as a yellow dog that's it...

they are huge. like Huge™. around 90 cm at the withers in my notes. it's the whole deal etc. Gwizdak doesn't even reach their head in their height comparison i made a few years ago.... you can imagine they make other dogs uneasy just by existing.

their body language is interesting and changes as the story develops. first they are very stiff, don't move unless necessary etc. stare blankly in the distance. it drives other dogs insane because there's no way to tell what their motives are, what do they think and what they may do next. but nobody's just in a terrible headspace in the beginning and they are still figuring out the whole "existing like a dog beyond the tiny kennel" thing and they just. tag along with gwizdak wherever they go. leave them alone omg. but as the story develops and nobody finds more of themself they grow into a very stable, secure and calm being. they still don't move in excess, but it's not the corpse-like stillness. they're just thoughtful and mindful and they like to chill, but they also know how to stand their ground and can just. communicate a lot with their gaze lol. also very gentle and careful with the puppies, nobody #1 best nanny in the world <33

[tee-hee-heidi]

Nymphs and Satyrs - Introduction

Aaaaaah we’re here guys! Apparently I can’t help developing Lore Trademark for everything I do, no matter how small. Anyway, I had planned a very long post about the lore of Mythical Lovers, but that would have been way too much in one single sitting, so I decided to split it into smaller posts. Let’s hope I don’t get too carried away lol.

Satyr and nymphs are a type of mythical creature I started calling Lesser Deities of the Woods, which is probably not super accurate to Greek mythology but I needed a single name for the both of them and I could only come up with this. So if you see me writing about Lesser Deities in this post (and future ones too), assume I’m talking about nymphs and satyrs as a whole.

Anyway, these Lesser Deities usually live in forests, woods, near lakes or swamps. They’re very elusive, but this doesn’t mean they hate humans, quite the contrary! While some communities are more secluded than others, most Lesser Deities don’t mind intermingling with humans, and even take human spouses. Still, they don’t really engage with humans on the regular, preferring to live far from civilisation. As Deities, both satyrs and nymphs are immortal, though they can still die from violent means or illness (something that can’t happen to Major Deities and full Gods) and while they do not die from old age, they can age! Sort of. While their body doesn’t change the way a human’s does, the older a satyr gets the whiter his fur becomes (a fully white coat is considered a great achievement for a satyr!) while older nymphs are almost completely covered in flowers. This usually takes centuries.

Moreover, both satyrs and nymphs have powers! It comes with being deities. They’re not as strong ad Godly powers, but Lesser Deities are still greatly respected and feared by humans. I’ll eventually make a completely separate post about nymph and satyr’s powers but for now the very short version

Nymph powers: related to plants. Both growing plants, reviving them, and using their natural properties to aid in various illnesses etc. A good example of their powers would be reviving a dead piece of wood, or making natural fibres bloom, or even increasing the potency of a plant, so that its natural effect is even stronger.

Satyr powers: this is still up in the air and probably subjected to change but, satyrs are really great at enticing humans and even hypnotising them with their songs and dances. Usually they use their powers either to protect their communities from humans, driving them away from their place of living, or to attract humans so they can take advantage of them. It depends. If their goal is to attract humans, their traces (hoofprints etc.) can glow, so that humans can follow them better.

Both their powers can be influenced by mood, and especially nymphs need to stay in contact with nature to be able to tap into their powers. Droughts, pollution etc. can seriously impact their magic.

And now, last but not least… children! But wait, how can satyrs and nymphs have children if they’re all male/all female?

When approaching this story I’ve kept in mind that female satyrs didn’t exist in Ancient Greek mythology. That’s a later invention (I think Roman, but don’t quote me on that), I’ve decided to build up on that when conceptualising my world, and since the female counterpart of the satyr is the nymph… I’ve technically made them the same “species” which means that unions between satyrs and nymphs are fertile and will produce offspring. Unions with humans will also result in children, but they will always be either nymphs (if female) or satyrs (if male). A Lesser Deity’s children are always Deities themselves, even if the other parent is a mortal human. The only exception would be if the other parent is a full God (like in Bia’s case)

Children are never considered bastards, even if the father is unknown. The family name (is there is one) is passed by the mother to her children.

I’m still undecided if Crino has a family name or not lol, we’ll see.

[milimeters-morales]

part two of that autistic miles oneshot under the readmore! All warnings and pairings still apply ^_^

Word Count: 6k+

Miles loves animals. That’s a known fact. Spider-Man also loves animals. This is a slightly less known fact, but still known by a good amount of people. 

“Thank you so much, Spider-Man,” a parent tells him as he cradles two kittens he rescued from getting ran over by traffic, “I don’t even know how they escaped-”

The kittens meow, finally giving Miles a good reason to look down. The people’s gazes are very heartwarming in a sense, but it was too much emotion for Miles. The parent keeps talking, the child reaching out for the kittens that Miles refuses to hand over until he has to.

Miles smiles warmly, lenses squinting in delight as one kitten tries to paw at his chin. How cute! 

If these kittens were his, he’d name them Coffee and Cocoa. They’re very pretty as well, with spiky brown coats, one of them with faint tabby markings on the legs, and with the most vibrant green eyes he’s ever seen on an animal. They would fit in the palm of his hands if they were curled up, and their pink little bell collars only add to the cuteness. 

“-and we’ll put up a baby gate for them, I promise. Now, what do you say, honey?” Miles catches the last part of the parent’s sentence as they place a hand on the kid’s shoulder.

“Thank you Mr. Spider-Man,” the kid tells him with all the intensity and sincerity only toddlers could manage while covered in syrup and dressed in pajamas, and goes to reach for the kittens again.

The kittens meow loudly as the parent swoops in before the sticky hands can touch their delicate fur, and Miles… 

Okay, don’t tell anybody this. Not even Ganke. Actually, especially not Ganke. It’s a bit embarrassing, and he really doesn’t want this to be a running joke the other boy brings up when they’re supposed to be focusing in class, and end up getting them in trouble again. Also, he doesn’t want Ganke to think he’s uncool. Okay? Okay.

So.

Miles meows at the two. Not the two kittens, no, because that's the normal and socially acceptable response in public when you see two kittens meowing and calling out to you. No, Miles Gonzalo Morales, someone who’s literally saved his world (twice!), meowed at the two people in front of him.

“Oh my god,” he immediately tries to start apologizing, but the parent bursts out into laughter when the kid starts meowing back at him. 

This is supposed to be a fun, happy moment. Silly and lighthearted. Spider-Man meowing and a kid meowing back after saving their kittens from death. Miles knows this, and that somehow makes the feeling of shame and…disgust, he realizes, at himself even worse.

But he laughs with the parent, and then the kid, because he knows he’s supposed to. He’s seen enough shows and been around enough people throughout his life to know something that obvious. But in all honesty, he just wants to curl up somewhere, and bite down, slam his head on something, throw himself into a few walls-

And he knows that’s not a normal reaction either, so he just feels more embarrassed as he laughs with the two and waves goodbye. Thank god for the mask, right?

___

Pavitr isn’t a surface hard enough to slam his head on, or throw himself onto to feel something else other than the embarrassment, but at least he can give Miles the pressure he needs.

“I’m just saying, that’s not a normal reaction. Have you ever thought of getting some chew toys?”

He’s not a dog, Pavitr.

“Not like that! I meant one of those chew necklaces, or a fidget toy, just to keep yourself uh… stable. Because you jumping to solutions like that? That is not very stable!”

Miles says nothing. He knew it wasn’t normal, and hearing someone else say it wasn’t stable was something he was always prepared for. Well, sort of prepared for. It stung only a little hearing it, and he knows Pavitr didn’t mean to imply anything too bad, but he was right anyway.

“I tend to be,” Pavitr says, rubbing comforting circles on his back. 

Their legs are intertwined, both in their suits and laying in a web-hammock high above the noise of the city. The stars are much more visible the higher you go, and Pavitr’s been taking the time to point out constellations that Miles doesn’t know the meaning of. He keeps getting off track when the legend he’s telling Miles reminds him of something he did back in his universe, and Miles finds it a bit endearing. Ganke does the same thing, though he manages to circle back to his original point fairly easily.

“I’ll buy you one. Any of us could, really! It’s no big thing. Anyway, it sounds like you just need to meow more, because I can sense you have something to say. And you keep mouthing it on my chest.”

Miles groans quietly and tries not to dig his fingernails into Pavitr as he’s reminded of the events from earlier that day.

Miles goes to groan a bit more dramatically so Pavitr doesn’t think he worsened the mood, because out of everyone he’s met, Pavitr is the most socially awkward. Not even in a nervous wreck way, he’s just so earnest and eager to share what he thinks, that he doesn’t always read the room correctly. But they balance each other out, because Miles always over-reads a room (is that even a thing? Someone let him know) and ends up really anxious about saying the right thing. It’s been happening less and less with each passing day, but the fact that it’s an issue at all…

Anyway, the groan doesn’t come out right. Like, at all. In fact, it’s more like a trilling noise that cats make. 

Patches of himself dance in and out of visibility for the most tense five seconds of Miles’s life, until Pavitr’s lenses squint happily. “You can do that too?! Lucky, I’m so jealous!” he gushes.

Huh?

“Yeah, Gwen and Hobie sometimes do that! You don’t know how badly I want to be able to- to just make a noise that people know means I’m happy without having to constantly smile or actually find the words for,” Pavitr rushes out, fully removing his arms from around Miles to hold his hands between their chest, bringing their foreheads together for a quick second. “That’s the most I can really do, that and hugs, to get my point across when I’m too tired for words.”

Miles wants to ask a lot of questions, mainly “why are you happy about this”, “why aren’t you pushing me away in disgust”, and “can you go back to hugging me”, but he settles for, “what do you mean you can’t do that?”

Too bad his brain loves not listening to him. 

He meows, and this time his camouflage kicks in completely. 

“You’re asking why I can’t make those noises?”

Well, he did say he was good at reading people, Miles thinks.

“I can’t believe I never told you! I didn’t get bitten, my powers are magic,” Pavitr exclaims happily, “yeah, this yogi blessed me, so I don’t actually have spider DNA or other stuff.”

Miles meows again, a questioning tone seeping in. (God, he won’t hear the end of this.)

“Yeah, the DNA! Y’know, how Hobie has glowing organic webs because his spider was SUPER messed up but he can’t use them because he’s not entirely healthy? So he uses the webshooters?”

No, he didn’t know that. God, he’s barely asked about Pavitr’s and Hobie’s pasts… he figured they didn’t bring it up for a reason, and he never felt the need to pry.

“Well, I don’t know if you wanna talk about the other guy,” Pavitr says, voice now a mumble as he makes a clawing motion to reference Miguel, “but it’s kinda like that. Except, uh, the opposite? Sorry if it doesn’t really make sense, I’m getting tired.”

Miles meows again, quieter to match Pavitr’s volume. 

“The purring too. I know the meowing itself isn’t a spider-thing, but I’m 99% sure the purring is, so if you ever start doing that around me, don’t be afraid.”

Right. Okay, yeah. Pavitr’s a sweet guy, he wouldn’t make fun of him about something that he was really insecure (that word felt too weak to describe how he felt) about.

“I mean, maybe you won’t make those- oh okay, well uh-“

A quiet rumbling comes from his chest. Pavitr goes silent and rubs more comforting circles into his back until Miles slowly reappears.

Pavitr wasn’t making fun of him, or secretly thinking of him as some sort of freak who can’t speak like a normal human, Miles knew that. He knew Pavitr better than that, and it was almost insulting to think of the other boy like that. He knows this already.

“I can’t keep talking, okay, so… just… keep purring? It’s super calming,” Pavitr mumbles as he buries his face into the crook of the other’s neck, “I can’t talk anymore. Sorry.”

Miles feels a very brief rush of emotion at the request and the admission, none of which he can name (as per usual), and the purring gets stronger.

___

Hobie chats up the smoking line cook in the back of the hole-in-the-wall Miles likes to frequent on particularly rough days as he orders his food. He can hear their conversation through the walls, and is annoyed by Hobie when he isn’t even involved in the conversation. 

“Who would win, a thousand rats, or five bears on cocaine?”

Miles tries to tune out Hobie’s questions as he orders their food.

It doesn’t really work, and he’s pretty sure the lady taking his order at the counter wonders why he looks so pissed off.

Walking outside and going around the back to drag Hobie away from the poor line cook he’s tormenting with stupid questions. “But you can’t even mix benadryl with-” Miles hears Hobie arguing now, and just grabs him by the collar and tugs him out of the alley.

“I got our food, let’s eat,” he tells the taller boy, who’s busy slapping his hand away and lightly punching his shoulder.

They decide to eat on the steps of a random apartment building near his own. He feels the steam condensing and dripping water into his palms and grimaces.

“What’s that frown for? Food ain’t good?” Hobie asks him around a mouth full of rice and honey chicken.

“Nah, just don’t like the feeling,” Miles says, taking the broccoli and meat out of the rice and putting them in small piles. He scowls at the juice from the meat mixing with the broccoli, and the juices from both soaking the rice with an unbalanced ratio of vegetable flavoring to meat flavoring… it’s silly. It’ll still get eaten, if the look in Hobie’s eyes means anything.

“Are you gonna eat that?” Hobie asks him, getting closer and pointing at the broccoli pile with his fork (which was missing a tine, for some reason).

“Probably not. I don’t think I’m hungry,” Miles tells him, still focused on trying to separate the carrots from the rice. Man, why didn’t he just stick with his usual order?

“I need a yes or no, mate,” Hobie tells him, pulling his fork back.

“But I don’t know, I don’t really get hungry.”

“What?” Hobie looks properly confused, and not in his usual dry “I know you’re lying to me but the lie was so bad it’s intriguing” way, but genuinely. 

“Yeah,” Miles says, feeling more and more embarrassed even though he knows the last person he should feel embarrassed around is Hobie. But he’s just so… cool, in so many ways that Miles isn’t. He doesn’t want him to think he’s weird and just avoid him. Or worse, convince other people to avoid him.

Stop it, he’d never do that to me, Miles pleads. The memory of him meowing last week tries to wash over him, but he beats it back with a stick, forcing his happiest moments to replay in his mind and keeping his hands still so he doesn’t try to bite them. Pavitr wouldn’t judge him, Hobie wouldn’t judge him. Not now, not now, not now , he begs his brain. Behave. Be normal. You’re fine.

“I just… I guess I don’t ever really feel hungry. Like, I get hungry after too long, but I only really know when it’s been that long when the headaches and cramps start. Or the dizziness and all that,” Miles explains, voice getting meeker with each word. Be cool, Morales. For your own sake, just be cool.

“How often are you eating?” Hovie immediately asks him, a hard look in his eye. 

Oh. He’s worried about- “No, look- I’m fine. I eat at the right times y'know, I’m supposed to. Breakfast in the morning, lunch in the afternoon, dinner in the evenings, maybe a midnight snack. So I’m good, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Hobie lets out a (relieved?) sigh, “And what about the times you forget to?“

“Oh, I just don’t get the signal until it gets bad, I guess.”

Hobie stares at him until Miles feels like he’s ready to crawl into the sewers and hide there forever, so he uses the passing of someone exiting the building as an excuse to look away and focus back on his food. 

“So how long has it been since you last ate?” Hobie asks him.

Miles has to count on his fingers, and apparently that action alone is enough for Hobie, because he just huffs and waves his hand for him to stop. “Just eat.”

Miles decides to stop separating the food and shovels a forkful in his mouth, still ending up feeling a little embarrassed.

___

“Ms. Spider-Man, why are you standing like Barbie?” a young girl asks him after he catches her from falling off the balcony. He’s standing on the wall making sure she goes back inside, and looks down. Right.

He’s on his tiptoes again. Clearing his throat, he flattens his feet against the brick, suppressing the strange shudder the sudden shift caused.

“Sometimes I just walk like that,” he tells her.

“Oh. Okay. Bye,” she says nonchalantly as she goes back into the building. 

Miles wishes all conversations were that easy. Children are way easier to talk to than other people, and that’s a prime example. They have a question, they ask that question, that question gets answered, and they’re (usually) fine and go about their business. 

Is that so bad? 

___

Miles is shirtless, sprawled on the couch and staring blankly at the ceiling, occasionally having to move his limbs when Ganke feels like checking the couch for the billionth time might reveal the missing lego piece he’s looking for. It’s a rare day where he and his parents are both home, so he invited Ganke over to make sure he doesn’t lose his mind in this heat paired with his parents being sappy and grossly in love in the kitchen. Why Ganke decided it was the perfect temperature and moment to start moving shit around and rearrange Miles’s limp body to check between couch cushions in search of missing lego pieces, Miles will never know.

He tries to listen to music loud enough to drown out the sound of his parents talking, and the feeling of his shorts scratching his skin. It was maddening, but it’s not like he could walk around in his underwear. He could in his room of course, but there isn’t an AC in there to keep him cool, and opening the window would be useless in the heat.

Seeing Ganke say something, Miles pauses his music. “What?”

“I was just saying how you’re fine with super loud music only when you’re the one listening to it with your headphones. Otherwise it’s like you’re being- what did you say? Stabbed in the head?” Ganke gives him a quizzical once-over before returning to check under the couch. “Would your parents be mad if I moved this?”

“Oh,” Miles says, “yeah, I don’t really know how that works either. And it wasn’t stabbed, it was hit repeatedly with a blunt object.”

“Same thing.”

“So not the same thing, and don’t move the couch, you’ll probably unearth a government secret and put us all on a list because you thought it was a good idea to show your Glitch chat,” Miles scoffs playfully, making unpausing his music obvious with loud taps so Ganke can tell in case he has anything else to say. 

“That was one time, how was I supposed to…” Ganke’s voice trails off as the song increases in volume again.

But seriously, why did he do that? Loud, sudden, and repetitive noises were the bane of his existence on one of his bad days, and extremely annoying to the point of anger and watery eyes on his bests. He usually wanted to break something if someone else was clicking their pen, or tear out his hair and bite into something if they were talking too loud to him, but when he was making the noises, he felt perfectly fine. Better, in fact. 

There was a time, he thinks, when he was around eight or nine. He couldn’t have been older than that because he lost a tooth to a car door when he was ten, and he doesn’t remember that feeling then. There were guests over, maybe his mom or dad’s friends from work and some family members coming to congratulate him on graduating some grade at the top of his class? Anyway, Miles wasn’t enjoying it. He hid in his room and under his covers with his hands practically glued to his ears and his eyes squeezed shut. They were all talking so loud, and when he was out in the kitchen fixing his plate of food, he could hear everyone chewing, smell their colognes and perfumes, and don’t get him started on the one lady with the high-pitched laugh. He hated, absolutely hated , how shrill it sounded, it made his arms feel like they were made of jelly as a cold chill ran through him each time. He didn’t say anything though, because his parents raised him better than that, and it was mean. Even eight-or-nine year old Miles could understand that, though it took a while getting there.

When he sat down and began to eat, his fork scraped his teeth in the first bite. He gagged quietly and ran to his room, scratching at his arms and biting down on nothing repeatedly. He wanted to scream, but he wasn’t going to draw attention and make everyone worried. He wanted to tear at his face and hair until it all came off, he wanted to bash his head in the wall until he couldn’t feel anything, he wanted to just crawl out of his body. He didn’t want to feel what it felt, that awful, repulsive, spine-chilling feeling of silverware against his two front teeth. He couldn’t breathe, and curling into a ball against his bedroom door once he escaped the front area didn’t help. He rapidly tapped his nails on the floor as he tried to search for any solution.

Which led to him curled up tightly in his covers with his hands over his ears and his nails digging into his skin. He tensed his entire body up the second he wrapped the covers around him, constricting not too unlike a snake that has caught prey but with all the care of his father’s hugs after he made him proud, and curled his toes as if it would change anything. He found that biting his lip helped, but his mother wasn’t too pleased with that when she found him a few minutes later, wondering where her little boy had gone.

Her singing a calming tune that she usually sang to get him to sleep as a baby didn’t help at all now.

She sighed, and Miles expected her to tell everyone to leave and that the party was over because Miles was too upset over nothing, but she came back a few moments later and put some headphones over his head in place of his hands.

“They were a gift me and your father were going to give you tonight,” she whispered with a small smile, pressing a button on a silver ipod nano, and music filled Miles’s ears. He felt his eyelids start drooping immediately, his shoulders slacked, and could feel all his senses slowly going back down to 5, instead of the 11 they were dialed up to. The song drowned out everything in the world, erasing all the reminders of the loud people, disgusting feelings, and violent thoughts.

“Come get us when you’re feeling better, okay?” 

Miles nodded, incapable of doing much else, and his mother kissed his forehead before quietly leaving the room.

Of course, he can’t afford to be like that as Spider-Man, so he mostly suppressed those negative feelings when he could. He hears all that stuff all the time now anyway with his enhanced senses, so he’s just going to have to deal with it. It’s not even as bad as it was when he was a kid, it’s way easier for him to grit his teeth and keep pushing compared to all those years ago.

But the control that comes with his music sort of… cancels out, he guesses, the negative effects that the noises give him. He’s in charge of what plays, when it plays, at what volume, and at what speed. If he’s in control of the noise then it’s not bad. If he isn’t, then it’s bad. Simple as that.

“Yeah, I see it that way too,” his father’s voice is muffled but still close enough to make Miles jump.

The man laughs and thumps him on the shoulder. Miles cringes at the feeling of the cold sweat making contact and lightly shoves the man’s hand off with a smile.

___

Miles stayed up late in his bunk, staring wide eyed at the screen. He had finally decided to look up all of his symptoms, something his mother and friends always told him not to do very often unless he wanted to discover he had a rare type of brain cancer, and was surprised by what he saw.

10 Signs Your Child Has Autism (And How To Cope)

Is My Son Autistic? Twenty Ways To Deal With Food Avoidance In Autistic Toddlers

Sensory Overload and Sensory Processing Disorder

Autism in Girls V.S. Boys 

Am I Autistic Quiz (Real Answers)

Signs Of Autism & When To Call Your Doctor

Why Are Autistic Girls Less Diagnosed Than Autistic Boys?

He turns off his phone and goes to bed.

___

Crawling back into the dorm after a long night, Miles pulls off his mask and lays down next to Ganke, who’s still playing his game. “Hobie, can I ask you something?”

“I’m asleep,” Hobie says from his sprawl on Miles’s bunk. The older boy must have snuck in while he was out and Ganke didn’t try to chase him out this time.

“Are you autistic?“

“Do it look like I’d care mate?” A boot falls off and hits Ganke’s leg, making him grumble in annoyance. Miles leans into him and rubs his arm until Ganke gets the hint and wraps it around the boy, not once taking his eye off the screen. 

Miles rolls his eyes. “And you, Ganke?”

“Probably. Mom said it’s ADHD but I don’t really care,” the boy mumbles in response, subconsciously leaning back into Miles, “not like it’d change anything.”

Miles smiles. That’s true, Ganke probably doesn’t care about anything like that. He’s always pretty chill when it comes to people- actually, that might not be the right word. He can be pretty harsh or wired, but everything he says is in a tired and chill way. “Remember that time you told me you hoped I died because I accidentally spilled sriracha all over your new pants?” Miles asks him, smiling at the memory.

Ganke laughs fondly, “Oh yeah, man I looked like I bled through and just never noticed. You were so lucky we were in here, I would have killed you if I had to walk across the cafeteria with sauce all on me.”

“Aw, you wouldn’t’ve done that. You love me too much to kill me.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“You do.”

Another boot drops on Ganke’s leg, and a pocket knife falls out of it when it hits the ground. Hobie grumbles from above, “Shut it, you two. I got a long day at the office tomorrow. Gotta bring home the bacon for the missus and youngins.”

“Hobie said shut up.”

“Really? I didn’t hear him,” Miles says, feeling himself slipping as he watched Peter (who looked very young in this game for some reason) fight some black-and-white guy in a suit. Huh. Would people make a game about him when he died? With the made-up villains? Would they put Ganke in the game?

Ganke slightly turns his head so his lips brush against Miles’s forehead for the briefest of seconds, bringing him back to reality before he fully zoned out, and tells him, “If they do, I’ll make sure they know to include your Strawberry Shortcake pajama sets.”

Miles brings his knees up to his chest, a quiet purr starting up as Peter proceeds to get his ass handed to him in a train car. Yikes.

___

“Are you autistic?” Miles asks Gwen.

“No, she’s just blonde,” answers Pavitr. 

“Shut up,” Gwen lightly punches Pavitr, still enough to send him flying across the roof, “No, I don’t have anything going on. Why?”

Miles wipes some blood from his lip. “I was just wondering. Let’s keep going,” he says, a bit breathless.

Gwen places a hand on her hip and asks him, “You sure? You look kind of tired. I get that we just started trying this out and all, but you don’t have to force yourself to join.”

The sparring meetups let him get rid of his energy, and the feeling of the punches that almost hurt remind him of where he is.The chokeholds that are tight against his throat make his lungs burn and that burn makes him feel all the more real. The body-slamming forces his mind to stop its aimless floating away from him and to keep track of what damage is being done. The rare moments of skin-to-skin contact are like moments of pure clarity, and he can’t lose that.

In the end, when he’s sweaty and exhausted, he feels human again. Normal. Right.

“I’m sure.”

___

During lunch, Ganke places a necklace on his lap. It had a dark red guitar pick-shaped object on what looked like a pretty long piece of dental floss.

“Pavitr wanted me to give this to you since he couldn’t find you,” Ganke tells him, “and he said to wash it before and after each time you use it.”

“Is this what I think it is?” he asks around a mouth of rice. 

“Chew necklace. We wanted to give you something else to bite instead of yourself,” Ganke gestures to the bandages on his arms that were barely visible. Miles pulls down his sleeve with a frown. Those were from last night, when his brain wouldn’t give him a break and kept making him think about all the sensations he hates, and his friend patched him up. Again.

Are Ganke’s eyebags getting worse?

Miles looked a bit skeptical. He saw a picture of one a few days ago, when he was at Gwen’s and researching more autistic traits. He'll definitely be looked at funny if he ever used it though, he just knows it. Sure, people chew on their pens and pencils, even he sometimes did that, but using basically a teething toy felt slightly insulting. The very sight of it makes it look right out of a children’s book, and it’s an uncomfortable weight on his thigh, reminding him of how different, in the bad way, he was compared to everybody else. He rolls his eyes at the unnecessary reminder.

“I’m not using that,” he tells him, taking another bite of his (actually Ganke’s, who was already full from the totally allowed and not-against-the-rules outing for breakfast they took) lunch. It was a good thing Ganke naturally liked to separate his foods a lot too.

“Too bad. You can’t keep self-cannibalizing yourself-” 

“Okay wow, that’s a little much-“

“-and expecting to be fine. Isn’t your mom a nurse? What about long lasting nerve-damage, or if you bite into an artery? Or if you start biting random people because your own self isn’t enough? You ever thought of that?” Ganke asks him, not looking up from his… whatever he’s doing on his laptop.

I don’t have to think about it if I already did that, thank you very much , Miles thinks. He keeps chewing, his frown growing more and more prominent by the second. “I’m not gonna bite people. I’m not like…” he tries to save some face with the lie, but trails off. He doesn’t wanna think about Miguel.

Ganke side eyes him. “Like what?”

Miles shakes his head. “Nothing. Nobody. Just go back to threatening random people in a children’s game or something,” he says, finishing up the last of the lunch. He’s probably going to have to eat really soon again with the stupidly enhanced metabolism.

“Dude, just take the necklace and try it, because if you start biting me, I don’t care how cute you are, I’m kicking your ass,” Ganke tells him with no real heat in his voice.

Miles cracks a smile against his will, and puts the necklace in his pocket. 

___

Dear Diary,

I’ve been looking online for some stories people have about their autism and how they figured it out, and apparently my organizing and oversensitivity is like a number one sign??? I thought it was just a little habit i picked up from mami and dad? And the spider senses is probably causing those other issues. And I don’t think i’m autistic but I could probably use the things they do to calm myself down or make life a bit more bearable. 

-organizing things

-a lot of stimming

-speech issues 

-hearing issues

-pressure ← try and finally ask for weighted blanket or save money

It’s a start i guess, and then I can bring it up to my dad as Spider-Man THEN mami THEN dad (important order don’t mess this up Morales). Anyway good note to end the entry on: Ganke kissed my forehead and he does that a lot but this time he said he was proud of me out of nowhere and said he’s getting a gift for us????? Hello???? I think it might have to do with Spider-Man stuff but he usually doesn’t care so its gotta be something else but WHAT!!!!

___

“Dad, I’m just saying,” Miles begins, holding his hands up in a surrendering way, as his father washes the dishes. He’s sitting down on the counter, lightly swinging his legs. “Give Maria’s a chance, you’ve never even tried their sandwiches! How do you know it’s bad?”

“I know what I like, and I don’t see a reason to suddenly chan-”

“Oh, wait, someone’s calling,” Miles interrupts him as he pulls his phone out, seeing Ganke’s name on the screen. What could he want? Ganke usually didn’t call him, opting to text, and definitely not before 12pm on a weekend.

“How can you even see? Your brightness is set to negative levels,” his dad said, trying his best to scrub some dried food off a plate. Miles never liked doing that, or even thinking about it, because it always made him feel like his fingers were some dangerous foreign object that he needed to rip off or felt the urge to dig his nails into his skin and tear his hair out. 

“You know the light hurts my eyes,” and makes me mad, he doesn’t say.

“Ganke? You need something?”

“No, was just checking on you,” the boy sleepily mumbles into the phone.

“Before 9am?” Miles loudly gasps, placing a hand on his chest.

“Shut up. I also got a package today and you’re gonna wanna check it out.”

“Mmmm I don’t know,” Miles says, fiddling with the string of his hoodie. “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise,” Ganke tells him, and Miles can imagine him rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and blindly patting the bed in search of his glasses. His hair is definitely sticking out wildly, a few strands stuck to his freckled cheeks. 

“You know I don’t like your surprises,” Miles grumbled into the phone. His dad gives him a slightly alarmed look, neither of them liked them. Ganke’s surprises usually involved someone being scared out of their mind, a wild animal (though he tends to blame Miles’s influence on that), and some piece of tech that might take over the world should he set it loose. In fact, the last time was all of that, and Miles had to call his dad, Hobie, and then Peter to solve the raccoon-with-an-atom-vaporizer-gun issue. And Miles was the one that got grounded longer, for some reason.

Anyway, he doesn’t like really Ganke’s surprises.

“No no no, you’ll like this one. I had to buy it,” Ganke tells him. “It’s kind of for us to share since I know I won’t use it as much.”

Miles can hear his soft footfalls on the wooden flooring as he left his carpeted room. 

“I’m asking you to come over,” Ganke clarifies, “it’s so safe that you can bring your dad. Trust me.”

“Man…”

“Dude, c’monnnn. If you come over I’ll…”

“You’ll what? Do my homework for me?” Miles jokes, ignoring the way his dad lets out a questioning hum.

“Nah man, I do that enough. I’ll let you take me to those weird abandoned places you like to paint at,” Ganke comes up with. Miles can hear water running and a toothpaste cap opening, and takes this as a sign to hang up.

“Deal, man. Love you, bye. We’ll be there in like twenty,” he says rather quickly so he doesn’t have to hear gross mouth noises and spitting. 

“We?” His dad lightly pushes at his shoulder on his way to dry his hands and get his glasses from the table.

Miles nods and gums in confirmation, “Stop acting like you don’t love Ganke, we’re just going see something real quick.”

His dad crosses his arms and looks down at him with an unimpressed stare, tilting his head to the dirty floors.

“And I’ll clean immediately when I get back.”

More staring. Miles looks down, unable to handle it.

“No messing around.”

Jeff nods and walks them both out the door.

An hour later, Jefferson sits on the Lees’ floor next to Miles, who’s fully covered in a fluffy white weighted blanket with only a small hole for his face, which reveals unfocused half-lidded eyes. It’s the calmest Jeff has ever seen his boy in a long time, maybe nearly two years, and it saddens him slightly to realize this, but he’s glad the blanket is helping.

Ganke sits next to Miles with his legs crossed and his elbows on his knees, gazing at the timer he set on his phone forlornly. 

“Dad,” Miles’s voice is barely audible.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m autistic.”

Jeff blinks once. Twice. Three times. Takes his glasses off and cleans them before putting them back on again. He opens his mouth, closes it, and furrows his brow a few times. As he processes and tries to come up with a response.

On Miles’s end, he wonders, in the back of his mind, if he made some mistake and should have just stuck with the plan he wrote, but he’s too content right now to care. He hears Ganke exhale a bit forcefully through his nose, something he’s come to recognize as another laugh he has.

“Right. Uh, right. We’ll talk about this. At home. With your mother,” Jeff decides to say in an extremely halted and forced-confident tone.

Oh well. Probably won’t change anything.

A/N: The end!!! I still have things that weren't important to say in the fic or Miles just wouldn't know them; Gwen has ADHD and is in denial, Pavitr has Autism & ADHD but hasn't told anyone, Hobie has autism but wouldn't know and doesn't call it that, Jeff is also autistic and doesn't know (the fic is originally called Autism BLAST for a reason), and that "Ms. Spider-Man" is entirely on purpose bc of the spores <3 All ooc thoughts is when the autism beast broke through. get the tranq darts

<<< Part 1

[pinkflipphonez]

NEED 2 hear more abt indigenous!amerus….

[AAHHHH oh my goodness, I love this QUESSSTIOONN!! I think--]

to begin, Russia and America have more than 300+ indigenous cultures and languages within their regions. I do not aim to represent them as a monolith nor do my hcs aim to define a solitary native culture as their respective identities. seeing as they are a personification of their countries, I see them as an amalgamation of each culture's traditions.

working off the last post where I reference them speaking Diné and Koryak:

they began speaking these languages to each other in the early 1800s because of how close they were growing as friends. seriously, Fort Ross (aka Metini as named by the Pomo indigenous people of the region) was a Russian settlement established in California that existed to trade only with Americans. Alfred and Ivan used this settlement to get to know each other better and truly appreciate their indigenous identity over the revered status of their caucasian colonial overseers (Fort Ross was actually funded by an imperialist company so pls assume cultural diffusion is the only good thing they did; I only ref it as a point in history that connects their indigeneity as Siberian, Alaskan, and American natives all passed through this fort). It started off as a means to better interact with each other's people but then they began communicating exclusively with each other,,, and then it became more intimate,, y'know.

they would often hunt together (and al absolutely knocked it outta the park) but ivan would help him with preparing fur pelts (as koryaki or aleut/inuk culture exceeded at making coats and it was the largest trade in FR).

Native American and Siberian and Inuit/Inuk peoples in early history were IN LOVE with astronomy (and i'd say the pioneers of astronomy as a science)! this is where both Ame and Rus acquired their appreciation for space, and of course, the number one thing they geek tf out about together. space is not simply their hyper-fixation, but a part of everything they do. they plan ceremonies in kamchatka by the arrangement of the stars (specifically the Pleiades, or aka sakiattiak (Inuit) or coyote's daughters (Paiute)) because it is the origin of indigenous life. they camp out in chaco canyon at every equinox to stargaze.

they don't stay 'I love you' to each other. however, they do cook each other the most elaborate and appreciative meals: venison with cowberry sauce, smoked omul, cajun salmon, frybread (NAVAJO TACOS 4EVER) w all sorts of toppings, and BEEF JERKY! they prepare the best beef jerky in the whole darn tootin world!!!

Ivan is the singer in this boy band and Alfred is the dancer (and drummer tbh). Ivan is downright gifted in throat singing and could perform the dance of the seagulls with one stoli bottle and half a bar of alenka chocolate in his system. alfred can belt out while drumming, there's no doubt-- but I can tell you right now that he is DEADLY with his men's traditional dance. tbh, he wins 1000+ seduction points with Ivan when he dances lol

THEY CREATE FOR EACH OTHER. when they hunt, they use every bone in that sacred creature's body to make each other charms, knives, bracelets, rings, little beads for beaded jewelry--

AND BOY DO THEY BEAD!! ivan's regalia is comprised of reindeer skin and beads, and al will go 40 hrs straight sewing them on for him as well as making his headbands and jingle bells (he's a pattern whizz). al is more of a boujee native, so Ivan freaking obliges him so much that he will bead the most beautiful earrings, chains and medallions you have ever seen (he is a design whizz-- also alfred begged him for one with the vegas knights to brag to his bro about cause STANLEY CUP RAAAAH!!)

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-Four

Life after Cyprus really isn’t all that interesting. In fact, I spend most of my time thinking about Cyprus, remembering Cyprus, reliving moments from Cyprus and pretending I’m still there, especially on those drizzly spring days when I look out the little Mezzotint studio window over the slick grey Dublin streets. I wonder just how much more interesting would my life be if I was in Cyprus right now? 

“Oi,” Simon snaps his fingers in front of my face, “Earth to Evie, you’ve been daydreaming all morning. Don’t you have… something to do?” He seems unsure about what exactly it is that I’ve been working on, which is understandable. Sometimes it’s cards, sometimes it’s windows, murals, signs, really, it could be anything. It just happens to be a poster for an art exhibition this time. Dull. 

“I’m working as hard as I can,” I tell him, which is true, because the most work I can manage is none. I wonder what Jude is doing. When we texted forty minutes ago he was in his studio working on his project, which is a collection of masks inspired by his travels in Asia, and before that he got a coffee in a little cafe near his university. I’m riveted by the idea of what he might be doing now. I text him again. 

Not you again…

He texts back, and I smile, no, beam to myself. 

Joking, I’m eating a pretzel. 

Oh, cool. 

I’m thrilled to know about the pretzel, and even more thrilled to receive a photo of said pretzel seconds later. It’s a salt and pepper one half wrapped in a serviette on his lap, and he’s wearing blue jeans and those green and white runners I’ve always liked. 

Miss you

I text him. 

Miss you too, Evie. Loads. Can’t wait to call you later.

I respond with a barrage of emojis, heart eyed, sparkling hearts, kisses, winky faces, flowers, moons and suns and stars. I should be completely embarrassed of myself , but I mean it all in a partially ironic way. Sort of, and really, I don’t care so much about the horrifying ordeal of sincerity anymore. It feels good to be mushy and emotional, earnest and obsessed with this gorgeous person who puts up with me, and it’s not like anybody is going to read our texts…

“You done talking to your boyfriend?” Simon is right behind me now, and I can tell that he’s trying to sound as annoyed as he can but he’s not really managing it. He’s smirking. Smirking because he saw my stupid emojis, and now I am humiliated. 

I stuff my phone back into my pocket, “I’m sorry, I’m so distracted. I’ll get back to work now, I know with this deadline and all…”

“End of day, Evie, I mean it. The client wants that poster by Wednesday, and if you have me panicking at the last minute trying to get it to the printers on time I’m not going to be happy about it.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll stay late if I have to.”

Gabriel makes a huffing sound when Simon goes back to his seat, “He’s no fun, girl. Text your sexy boyfriend all you like.”

“Can hear you from over here,” Simon comments. 

“He thinks he’s so scary and serious,” Izzy chimes in at volume, “But he’s absolutely not. Don’t let him intimidate you into staying late.”

“If the three of you don’t shut up I’m going to implement a no phones and no speaking rule, and it’ll be all Evie’s fault.”

I catch Izzy’s eyes and she rolls them, but indeed, we say nothing else, and for the rest of the day I do my level best to ignore my buzzing phone, and work on the boring, unsexy poster until it’s time to go home. 

“Do you think I’ll need a jacket at all when I’m in Sydney?” Claire takes an army green coat with a fur collar from the discount rail at a clothing shop and holds it up to herself in the mirror. 

“How cold does it get there in the winter?”

“I’ve no clue,” she sighs, “I’m unprepared, I don’t even actually know what goes on in Australia. Do they like Irish people?”

“Probably.”

“What do you think of this coat?”

“Everyone has that same coat, Claire, it’s too trendy, and I bet they have, like, other kinds of coats in Australia. Maybe you should just wait and see when you go.”

She strokes the faux fur collar lovingly, “It’s fluffy…”

“Look, you’re going in the early autumn, which for them is…” I tilt my head and imagine I’m upside down, “…early spring, so you’ll be going into the summer, and you definitely won’t need a coat, in fact, doesn’t it get so hot there that it bursts into actual flames every few years?”

“A coat is like a safety item though, I can’t imagine being in a place where I won’t need one. Is this the end of cosy winters for me? It feels like I didn’t appreciate the one that just passed, and actually, I complained about how cold and rainy it was the whole time, and I didn’t think about the fact that it might be my last real, cold winter for years and years and…” She’s clinging very tightly to the sleeve of this coat, chest heaving, tears springing to her big, blue eyes, and I immediately reach for her as though I can somehow prevent the imminent breakdown. 

“Claire,” I say in my best soothing voice, “You’ll have cold winters. You’ll come home for Christmas when you can, right?” 

She relaxes a millimetre, “Yes, yeah I will, you’re right, my parents would be devastated if I didn’t, it just wouldn’t be right, and God forbid Shane Healy isn’t home with Eamonn and Caroline on Christmas Day, God, no they wouldn’t hear of it…”

“Right, and I know what this coat symbolises,” I try to gently pry it from her clutches, “But you’ll take up too much space in your suitcase if you pack something like this, and look,” I put it gingerly back onto the rail, “You can always get your mam to send a package over at some point, you know, if you find that the winters are actually cold and you need something heavier, you have loads and loads of nice coats, don’t you?”

She nods. She’s got that thousand yard stare in her eyes. 

“Try to think of this as an exciting adventure.”

“I do think about it like that, I just… I’m an Irish girl, Evie,” She says with conviction as though she absolutely needs me to understand it, “I always, always thought that I’d just live here forever and I’d be glad about it, I had no interest in living abroad, I was just never bothered with any of that, J1 visas and all of that craic, I just can’t believe that I said yes to Australia,” She grabs my arm tightly. “You can’t go further than that without coming back around again.”

“You’ll like it, and if you don’t you can come home.” The truth is that I don’t want her to go at all, I don’t want Shane to go at all, actually, and I’m ashamed of the fact which is why I won’t say it. Having to be the one that holds it together during this conversation is hard for me when all I want to do is cling to her and cry and beg her not to leave me. Doesn’t she know that I have trauma about that kind of thing? Why would she do this to me? “I’m sure you’ll like it there, it’ll be amazing,” I reassure her, “think about Bondi Beach and stuff, and, I don’t know, whatever else they have there. Kangaroos.”

“I don’t care about the kangaroos really,” She frowns, “That’d be something Shane would like, probably.”

“I was kind of joking about the kangaroos.”

“Oh right, well, yeah, so you think I should think more about summer wear?” She pivots to the new season rail, “More bikinis, I suppose, I’ll be having two summers in a row, that’s exciting.”

“That’s the spirit,” I say, “Who wouldn’t want nine straight months of summer?” And I help her to rummage through the rails. 

When we come home from town later that evening she’s in a much brighter mood. She’s in the mood for a full on girls night, and is going on and on about getting dressed up and doing each others hair (Which translates to her doing my hair, because I’m relatively clueless about it, while not allowing me to lay a hand on hers, understandably) and then finding a bar that serves fancy cocktails and staying out until town shuts down. 

I don’t tell her that I was excited to call Jude, actually, because that’s what I do every night now that he’s away, and I know that he’s in an especially amorous mood because for the whole walk home with Claire he’s texting me the kinds of things that make me have to angle my screen away from her.

I’ve discovered that I like this kind of thing, even if my Catholic Shame is scratching at the door when I get up to the things I get up to when Jude is on the phone. He mostly talks about what he wishes we could do with parts of his body and parts of my body, and I don’t really know how to reply or to say any acceptably sexy things back to him, but I’m more than happy to lie there and listen with shocked delight as he speaks absolute filth over the line to me. Tonight is not shaping up to be one of those nights, though, so I regretfully text him while Claire chatters about this bar and that bar and who does what drinks and for what prices. 

Sorry, I think I’m having a girls night out.

Aw, damn.

I think this is when you’re supposed to tell me that you’re happy for me and that I should absolutely spend as much time as possible with my best friend before she moves 15’000kms away from me. 

You should do that, that’s what I meant. Going out with Claire sounds a lot better than listening to me. 

Hmm… I’m not so sure. 

Have fun, Evie. I’ll call you tomorrow. 

I’ll probably drunk text you in the meantime. 

Please! I love it when you do that. 

Claire and I spend two hours getting ready once we’re home, and I love every minute of it, because she has this incredible way of making me look like the best, hottest, most spectacular version of myself. Sometimes when she does my makeup I think back in horror to what I used to let Kelly do to my face. She was dangerous with an eyeshadow brush, and as Claire carefully applies layers of exquisitely blended shimmery gold to my lids I suppress a shudder at the thoughts of what I looked like on my dinner date with Liam all those years ago. I recently uncovered an old photo from a digital camera SD card of myself, awkwardly standing by the flimsy door of Kelly’s mobile home bedroom with eyes rimmed in black kohl liner and a circle of orange foundation around the collar of my top. I don’t know how I wasn’t mocked relentlessly.

“I didn’t notice those things,” Jude said to me when I sent the photo to him, “Maybe it was just too dark out that night, I don’t know, but I remember thinking you were really pretty when we were on the quay.”

“Yeah right, I was a ghoul,” I told him. 

“A pretty cute ghoul, and by the way, didn’t you see my haircut? I definitely looked worse than you.”

Of course he didn’t, he always looked cute, but I never bother to tell him things like this, because he always denies them for the sake of being humble, or at least the pretence of being humble. I’m never quite sure which.  

Before I go out I make sure to send a photo of myself to him so that he can remember that I can look good if I try, with help from Claire and about sixty euros worth of beauty products slapped onto my face, just in case I’m stricken down by a bus tonight and that awful teenage picture is the last image he has of me.

Bring a stick with you so you can beat the guys away from you

He says, which is total projection. It’s him that probably gets swarmed by the opposite sex in bars so he probably thinks that’s what happens to everyone. But not me, never me, except for the odd time, usually in dark corners of bars when I’m a little bit too drunk, and usually by the calibre of men that Claire would deem absolutely unacceptable to make eye contact with. 

“Come on, Evie,” she’s saying now, and I realise that I’ve been staring at my reflection in the black window while she’s been zipping herself into her lightweight jacket. “Jaz and Serena are already there.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[sketchfanda]

Kirishima’s Mystique:The Lioness sleeps tonight…NOT!!

To sleep, per a chance to dream? Aye there’s the run, for in that sleep what dreams may come? For our sturdy chivalrous hero of course as he slept in his bedroom at Heights Alliance dorm, it was a near sleepless night for him. One of those few nights he didn’t have the company of Mina or Maya to keep him cozy and comfy and of course it was one of those hot humid sort of nights. The kind where his sheets were in disarray and he was currently stripped down to his boxers, his sculpted form sweating like hell as he struggled to try and get some proper slumber. Oh how he'd tried just about most any and every trick possible from counting sheep to having some cold turkey and warm milk but still nothing!! The sturdy hero fidgeting and fussing as he tried to think of something, anything at all to sleep. If need be, he worried he'd have to take Mineta's crude advice about rubbing one out to tire himself down. But damnit this late night heatwave hardly seemed the time to jerk off, but knowing his bubble gum duet? They'd think it better he wear himself down with a couple of rounds of tapping and rutting their cotton candy pink and blue asses like he wanted to put his babies into them. Their sort of words not his, but damn if it wasn’t a turn on when they talked dirty like that. It just really set off Something primal and animalistic in his brain as he struggled to hold back the dirty thoughts daring to flow forth. It was the last thing he swore he needed, hell he felt like he must’ve started hallucinating as he seemed to imagine there was a woman in his room right now. A furry woman at that. Waaaaiit a second…

??:*the figure blurry in his hazy vision as it began to clear a bit. Didn’t help it was so damn dark and late at night. What a time for a wet dream as this mystery woman spoke.* “Mortal, do not be alarmed. I’m Guenn and you’ve been chosen to be blessed with my company. In recognition of your dedication To fitness and your physique’s gains, I seek to bed You and be bred with yiur child. So tell me Eijiro Kirishima, do You accept this offer?”

Kirishima:*thensturdy bero squinted snd blinked a bit as his vision cleared a little more. Adjusting the darkness as as he fidgeted around, finding and flicking his lamplight on. Seeing properly that this sudden intruder intruder in his dorm room was some sort of lioness woman. Who was SWOLE as all fuck!! She had to be somewhere around All Might’s height of 7 foot 3 if not taller!! Her elegant silky fur not his g but proudly displaying just how absolutely jacked and sculpted she was. Every inch of muscle connected in a way that declares her the pinnacle of physique. Her modesty preserved by the rather divine, elegant accessories and jewellery she wore with a swimsuit like ensemble. Thinking her over over for a few seconds, a coating of his libido and his sleep deprived, exhausted brain working in tandem.*”bring it on……”

The divine goddess of LIFT personified grinned catlike as she snapped her fingers. Her outfit and accessories disappearing in the blink of an eye as she stood before the shark teethed redhead in all her nude glory. Proceeding to entice and arouse him as a reward for his straight forward bluntness. Seeming to rather enjoy that he wasted no time in accepting her proposal as she began to court his attention in what had to be the most lucid dream he’d ever had. Striking poses like she was a contestant for one of those female bodybuilder shows. Showing off her naked amazonian furry form with pride and a sensual passion that Ms.Misnightnwould no doubt applauds and admire. Flexing her luscious, gorgeous muscles, her biceps and triceps swelling as they rippled with power and sex appeal. Truly she was the sort of babe that would make a man want to sculpt a statue in her honour, as she clapped and clench her bubbly booty cheeks before making her pecs bounce her titties. All,the while Kirishima looked on in awe as if this naked lioness’ muscles were a siren song. Enticing him, arousing him to pay attention as he got up from bed. Standing up as he pulled down his boxers, as Guenn grinned and licked her lips at the sight of his now exposed, rigid cock. His length and girth stiff as a flagpole as she stood ready for him. Purring as he came forth and hugged around her waist, nuzzling those furry washboard abs and motorboated those mighty tits of hers. Feeling her silky tail wrap around his waist as she sandwiched her thighs between his shaft. Pumping it as she found him give off a satisfied groan. Seems his pleasure was overriding the humidity in his room and with good reason.

Guenn:”Yes very good Kirishima, don’t hold yourself back when it comes to your desires. As the man who will provide me with his child, it’s only right this experience be enjoyed by both of us. Show me you’re a man of resolve. After all,doesn’t a real man do best when in the presence of a woman?”*The mysterious Lioness playfully praised and coaxed, cupping Kirishima’s face to make heir look at her. Crimson eyes looked on golden feline ones as she pumped hismcock with her thighs. Her arousal flowing down her thighs to soak and lube his manhood,feeling it twitch and pulse.*

Kirishima:*his brain clicking as her words rang through, fo whatever the hell kind of dream this was,he had this walking woman maintain of fur and muscle wanting his A game and by fox, A Real Man never left a woman waiting and wanting!!*”Ms.Guenn, ma’am? Yiu want my best You’re gonna get it!!” *the delinquent looking himbo proudly declared,much to the lioness’ delight as he pressed his lips to hers. The pair letting their passion guide and drive them as he grasped and squeezed her bubbly buns of steel. Tongues dancing together as they shard air and spit. Guenn purring as she felt the curious, eager and skilled hands of the red riot explore her body. Caressing silky fur and mighty muscles with absolute desire.*

it wasn’t long before the lioness and the young studly hero in training were soon riling around on his bed, making out with a growing passion that’s out pornstars to shame. The Lioness moaning and o purring as Kirishima kissed and suckled on her tits. One hand caressing a bicep s the other did the same to her abs before it soon went to teasing and prodding her slit. Fingers probing away as the muscular fleshy inner walls took him 3 fingers knuckle deep, a tingle running along her spine as his thumb rubbed her clit for good measure. All the while she grasped and stroked his cock, his length and girth twitching as pre flowed forth from the tip. Staining her finger and palm as her other hand gave admiring caresses and massages to Kirishima’s own sculpted form. Truly a masculine work of art brought about by a drive for only the sickest of gains. He didn’t simply LIFT, he worked!! To say nothing of how well he knew his way around a woman’s body,as her womb pulsed with a hidden glow. Burning with the heat that yearned to have buns in the oven.

Guenn:”Yes Yes yes! Jsut like that!! Don’t let up! Rut me with all the drive and passion of wanting to out your babies in me!! Think of this belly of mine, swelling and filled with your young!!” *The lioness yowled and moaned as she was in all fours on the bed. Knees firm and hands clutching the sweat soaked sheets as Kirishima fucked her doggy or rather cat style. The young Adonis redhead grunted and growled as he jackhammered away, hips nearly blurring as he obliged the Lioness’ desires. Pelvis smacking that sloppy, soaking wet pussy as he ass jiggled, tits swaying as he pumped and worked his own muscles to give this feline bombshell all he got and she wanted.*

Kirishima:”If this is a dream don’t wake me up…”*the sturdy hero in training quipped as he held and massaged Guenn’s hips. The powerful lioness riding him cowgirl style as she purred, flexing and showing off her muscles. Crunching her abs as she displayed how deep his length and girth reached inside of her while her tits bounced as she gave him tickets to the gun show. Front row and centre with an exotic,erotic VIP treatment. The punk looking hero and this Amazon feline switching between top and bottom any and every time he’s cum, with the lioness naturally ensuring he’d do it inside of her as much as possible. There was no doubt she was serious and intent on ending this dream pregnant with his child.*

On and on it went, the night seeming to never end as Kirishima and Guennn continued to make sweet, hot and heavy FUCK!! Missionary, spread eagle, to say nothing offheir playful competition battling between the Amazon and mating press. But ooh did she get freaky and wild when h gave her anal, to say nothing of how amazing her mouth and tongue felt as she deepthroated his cock. Her powerful sensual physique capable of handling his most intense facefucking. He blowjob skills were as divine as her muscles as the lair finished off their mating marathon with a prone bone position. The lioness biting the bedsheets as her booty jiggled with every impact of that t powerful cock of his. His balls slapping her slit as he kissed along her neck and nibbled her ear. Before they moaned and foamed together as thy simultaneously climaxed, Kirishima feeling vibrations of Guenn’s purring as they held one another in embrace, basking in the afterglow a sleep finally took the redhead……

Kirishima:*groaned as he twitched, blooming snd rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he felt the morning sunlight pouring in. Finding himself all soaked with seat and looking to see he wasn’t alone. But instead of some seven foot plus Amazon lioness, it was the familiar cotton candy bubblegum pink and blue forms of his bombshell girlfriends giving him a tandem blowjob. Lips and tongues working their erotic magic on his morning wood as he mumbled.*”Uugh hey girls…..”

Mina:*giggles as she idly caressed his abs,stroking him as Maya sucked and blew on his rod.*”Morning Eiji. Poor thing all alone, hot and sweaty. Not to mention horny. You have a good dream last night?”

Maya:*popped her mouth off as she added her own hand,the lair stroking his shaft as they crawled up along his bed to snuggle him and take turns kissing him.*”Cut our man some slack Pinky. Whatever or whoever he dreamt about must’ve been good to get his junk all sticky like that…but hey, we’re here now babe…”

Kirishima welcomed the affectionate make out and threesome that followed this early morning. Now that they mentioned it last night with Guenn must’ve been a wet dream his heatwave hazed mind cooked up. Looking back he’d had recently been looking up a lot of magazines and videos about muscle women. Even before last night he’d been checking out some fanarts on the topic and with how pent uo and lonely he’d been, the math made itself plenty clear hiw last night played out. Guess he did rub one out last night, did he? All the same Guenn had seemed and felt so real, far too real to be a foment of his imagination that had a name. Meanwhile in a museum around the world elsewhere, many were curious as to why the sculpture of the Guennol Lioness was suddenly joined by what seemed like twin daughters, who seemed to have wild spikey manes….

[soulsxng]

Jump ship from that emperor while you still can, Cilatyve. Listen to your parents.

Mentions @arcxnumvitae & @godforsakcn

"...My parents? I'm not sure who you're talking about." He's used to this act, by now. Acting as though his parents were both gone. Most of the time, people brought them up to see if they could get some sort of telling reaction from him, but in this case...the way it was said made him think that this person actually knew who they were talking about.

Cilatyve didn't like that one bit.

He also didn't like the timing with which this had come up; right after a fairly major falling out with Huaxiu. By this point, it was the worst they'd had.

How this person seemed to have picked up on that fact, Cil wasn't sure. But he couldn't spend time dwelling on it without it looking suspicious. Instead, a pleasant expression fixes itself on his features, and he pulls his new furred coat a little tighter around him.

"There have been a few people to say that to me since my engagement, you know. But Huaxiu...the Emperor has been kind to me. He's been patient, and considerate. And he cares deeply for his family and friends, as well as his people. I won't be leaving him, and I don't appreciate the insinuations that I should do so. He and I are partners-- he's my betrothed-- and before long, he'll be my husband. That's not going to change."

"Really, I think the topic of discussion here should be what you seem to think you know about him. What he's supposedly done that's so bad that-- not only do you believe I should run from him-- but that you're so confident in this information, that you would say so in the middle of a gathering of this size. Let alone to the face of his fiancé! Because I find that unbelievably rash; bordering on the idiotic, even. To slander the emperor-- whether he be your emperor or not."

"Leave me, before I decide to be less benevolent over your offense."