#without breaking the membrane

[theskella]

With the back of a spoon if I happen to have one in use and I am only cracking one.

can u guys rb this n add how you crack your eggs in the tags? i thought cracking them in the sinks’s edge is universal until i saw my friend cracking an egg on the counter instead and it was so pervese and diabolical

[cecils-dragons]

:] yay got my halloween egg for this year! Gonna keep scavenging in plague so maybe I can get two!

[short-and-ugly]

dib is so. gosh.

doesnt even care!!! that this is his one night out to see his dad!!!!! and eat dinner!!!!!! and be a family!!!!!! too busy chasing his dream of being a paranormal investigator! too invested in hunting the alien!!!!!

i think he should die and not come back maybe. (unapologetic florpus dib enthusiast)

[whispering-about-the-tmnt]

Some headcanons regarding TMNT physiology

Over the years, I have come up with some headcanons regarding how I believe the Ninja Turtles' bodies work. I thought that perhaps it might be nice to finally share them with all of you.

These don't apply to all the iterations, of course, but they are pretty well universal in my mind, and I tend to incorporate most of them into my fanfics.

The Turtles (like leatherback sea turtles, echidnas, and some dinosaurs) are mesotherms, meaning they are neither warm nor cold blooded. They are, instead, in a middle-ground: they internally generate heat, but not to a constant temperature. In the Turtles' case, they will shiver when cold, and their bodies will not shut down right away when the temperature dips too low, though they may lose some energy and find it hard to concentrate.

Unlike many other modern reptiles and amphibians, who have a three-chambered heart, the Turtles have four-chambered hearts (like mammals and dinosaurs) that are larger and stronger than average human hearts and located at the center of their chests.

While the average human blood capacity is around five liters, the Turtles have about seven. Much of the blood flows under the shell -- a remnant of their lives as ordinary turtles, whose own blood does so in order to warm them when they bask. This means that the Turtles could lose close to three liters of blood before dying, while a human would only be able to lose two.

Their blood is also highly efficient at clotting, but that also means that storing blood for transfusions is difficult, and so must be directly transfused from one turtle to another in emergency situations.

Owing to their extensive circulatory system, they also have a larger lung capacity than humans and more oxygen-rich blood, and so are able to hold their breath for extended periods of time without adverse effects. Other than this, the Turtles' respiratory system is very much like humans', utilizing a diaphragm to inflate and deflate their lungs.

Like regular turtles, they do not have ribs, but rather their carapaces and plastrons serve that purpose, and they have muscles under their shells that keep their internal organs right where they belong.

Also like regular turtles, their spines curve along the insides of their shells. A direct hit on the center of their shells, then, could cause damage to their spinal column and nervous system, but fortunately their vertebral shields offer a fair amount of protection, so it would take quite an impact.

The Turtles are highly resistant to most infections and diseases, which increases their immunological responses. They do not get sick easily, and they recover quickly.

While their scales are not apparent, they are integrated into their skin, making it tougher than human skin. It takes a very hard hit to raise a bruise, and it is difficult to cut through without a very sharp or pointed blade.

Their bones are similar to humans, but are more resistant to breaking. They also heal quicker and stronger if they are broken.

Their muscles are also very close to human-like, but they are stronger than an average human due to compensating for the extra weight they carry in their shells. Because of this, their ligaments and tendons are also tougher, and it is difficult for them to have a joint dislocated.

Their sense of smell is more acute than humans, but not to an extreme degree. They are also not as bothered by foul smells (though this has more to do with living in a sewer than their physiology).

Their eyes are a bit tougher and more resistant to damage than human eyes due to a protective membrane that covers them. They see a bit better than humans in dark places and underwater.

Their hearing is somewhat more attuned to lower frequencies than human hearing, and is not dependent on external ears but rather an internal auditory system (making direct damage to their hearing unlikely).

They are capable of being knocked unconscious, but it takes a significant impact. Permanent or lingering damage to their brains is unlikely due to their structure, and so they also do not tend to suffer the same side-effects that humans would in the same circumstances (nausea, memory loss, etc.).

Although their nutritional needs are similar to humans, they do not need to eat every day, and in fact can get by quite well without food for a week if necessary (though they won't enjoy it). When food is readily available, however, they will eat as much as possible to store up energy. Their metabolism does not slow down when they do not eat, so overexerting themselves when they haven't had any food for a while can burn them out suddenly.

Their sleep schedules are much like most diurnal animals, though they are able to stay awake for extended periods of time and can get by on little sleep, if necessary. There have been times when they have been awake for days on end, getting by on short one hour naps here and there. In general, though, they like to have a regular sleep/wake cycle.

Like other reptiles, the Turtles never stop growing throughout their lifetimes; however their growth is slow, topping off at about 1-2 inches every five years.

Does anyone have anything they would like to add to the list? I actually had fun compiling it!

[lacylovergirl]

rick sanchez x fem!sub!reader cw; no explicit smut but still rlly suggestive, alien bondage, dumbification, slight sex pollen, sexist undertones, belittling/mocking, praise, unspecified age gap, they are not related but he does call himself grandpa once, unspecified relationship between rick and reader reader is dumb and subby and chubby coded <3

“St-stay still.” His words were a mere grumble as he walked to your left, rummaging through a nearby bush. You didn’t have the capacity to move regardless of his command. Your back had hit the ground rather roughly, and in your current state of mind, decision making wasn’t something you could be responsible for. 

Rick was always good at dumbing you down. You didn’t know if he kept you around because he enjoyed the process of reducing you; or if you kept showing up because of how much you liked it. He’d been the first to introduce you to the true depth of your own obedience. He seemed tuned into you - easily coaxing you into a headspace of pure syrup, bypassing your defenses and emptying your head. He’d chastise you for thinking when you tried, reminding you that wasn’t your job - it was his. You were there to look pretty for him. 

He returned to your side with a large oval egg in his hand, cracked and bruised like it was about to burst in his hands. He didn’t seem worried about whatever was hatching in his grasp, simply laying it down close to your thigh and brushing his thumb over the larger breaks in the shell as they expanded. Looking at the action made the blood in your veins thrum, beating heavily at the walls they were running within and making your head pound for just a moment. The excitement clashed hard with the steady nerves that were growing in your stomach as the egg exhibited more and more life. You hadn’t the slightest what this was, and it was dangerously close to you, close to the most vulnerable part of you. His eyes were practically shimmering, completely focused on watching this entity spring to life. The purple skies of whatever planet he’d brought you to fought the pigment of his irises, making his eyes look practically black. Having Rick’s full attention was rare, something to be terrified of. His full attention usually meant inevitable death or pain. He was a sentimentalist at heart, but he was a sadist at the surface, and he could be mean when he wanted to be. It’s what made this situation so horrifying - he engineered himself to be unpredictable. He hated being bested, refused to be one upped. You couldn’t read him if you tried, so you never did. Maybe he’d grown sick of you and this thing would kill you, maybe he wanted to witness a live action hentai and this thing was going to violate you. You couldn’t fight back, not against whatever was breaching the thin membrane of it’s home and certainly not against him. Even without his inventions and implants, his old frame held immense strength beneath the wrinkled skin. 

You looked at the thing once more, seeing small, narrow tips of what had to be dozens of tendrils taking their first look at the world. They were pink and wriggling, growing wider in circumference as they creeped out of the shattered remnants of the egg. They seemed to move quicker when they met the ground, still slow but gaining consistency in their movements as they started the dizzying entanglement of the thigh that was closest to them. They were coarse, like vines, with blunt bumps protruding from the otherwise smooth surface of them. You’d expected it to be dry, to burn as it circled you, but it wasn’t. There was a trail of slime wherever they reached, oozing from the underbelly like a snail trail. You made the smallest noise, fear and inexplicable want forcing it’s way out of your throat as you reached down to pry it off. It was the only action that managed to break the haze of your clouded mind. A futile one, at that, because Rick’s hands grabbed at your wrists before they could make contact with them. You were squirming on the ground as they climbed higher, coiling around your legs, up your hips, circling your waist. The soft edges of your body were emphasized, slightly bulging through the vacant spaces as the constriction tightened. You did something familiar, you questioned him. Normally, you questioned him out of curiosity, wanting to know how his brain worked. Now, it was out of desperation, wanting to know what was about to happen to you. Your hands were held manually, and the rest of you was pulled taught in living alien bondage. 

“Calco vines.” He’d said it like everyone knew what he meant. He often spoke like that. “They excrete a resin that- when they use it on creatures here, it kills them.” Your eyes flicked to his. “But on humans i-it’s like Viagra on steroids.” He smeared some of the sticky fluid over the exposed part of your leg. Your dress was riding up to the point of near exposure, the things wrapped around you keeping it plastered to your body, immovable. “Gets to the bloodstream through the skin. Makes people stupid, sweetie. Real nice and malleable.” 

Your eyes were watering, your ability to think going from the normally pleasant blur to a completely indecipherable puddle. Your mind couldn’t remember how to move your limbs, for a second you worried that you’d forget how to keep your heart beating. Your chest was heaving slightly as Rick touched you. He was all gentle caresses and caring shushes as your watery eyes birthed pearly tears that ran down your cheeks. The innate comfort of his hands calmed the storming fear inside you. It was a nauseating dichotomy, confusing your already soft brain and making your instincts go haywire. You were soaking in between your legs, pudgy thighs wanting to close, but not having the will nor the strength. You couldn’t do anything but lay tied up, wrists bound to the ground now instead of locked within Rick’s death grip. His hands were everywhere they could reach. Even over your dress, it set you alight. Choked whimpers flooded out of you, unrestrained. You’d never felt so defenseless in your life. 

“Fuck - y’look perfect like this.” He drank you in, doe eyed and squirmy on the floor, that little glint of fear on your face that he loved so much. “M-my pretty little girl, hm?” Your eyes slipped shut at the ownership, a hum of agreement coming from your throat even as you tried to swallow it down.  He shoved your chin lightly, just to watch your head tip to the side and back, enjoying the boneless sensation you were displaying. You felt your underwear being separated from the sodden place between your legs, the cotton gusset soaked completely, a large wet patch being evident. He chuckled, a knowing and mocking huff at the results. It was always the same with you. 

“You scared?” The air on this planet was ice cold against you, a shiver running up your immobile spine. “S-scared I’ll leave you all helpless?” He was keeling between your legs, you looked at him and nodded as best you could. You were scared of that, scared of being eaten alive by some creature on a planet you’re sure hadn’t even been detected by the feeble scientists back on Earth. More tears streamed down your face. Cooing at the pretty quiver of your lips, he smeared the salty droplets across the trembling extremities, making your face shine with the gloss of your own desperation. 

“Don’t - don’t worry. G-grandpa would never dream of it, baby.” He bent your leg at the knee, holding the folded limb steady so your legs were more spread. “Just relax.”

sorry I wrote this in one night i'm kind of rusty but I love rick sm <3

[lethesbeastie]

I showed a few parts of this larger ref while responding to asks yesterday, so might as well post the whole thing akfhskfhskf

Version without texture overlay + character design thoughts and lore under the cut!

I'm gonna start this off by saying that I am not a biologist and that my attempts at speculative biology are operating by "rule of cool" in some parts of this design.

Wraith's design is largely based on cephalopods, with mimic octopus, bobtail squid, and cuttlefish playing a key role as design inspirations. My goal for their design in this form was to keep their anatomy and physiology as close to the typical structure of cephalopods as possible without sacrificing the necessary physical features that would allow them to adapt to life outside of the water. I wanted them to look alien, but still endearing, and to emphasize the fact that they are very much still a child despite their size and strangeness.

A quick note on some terms from the flavor text on the image:

Buccal mass: mouthparts of a cephalopod, including the beak and the musculature that allows it to open and close

Mantle: the main body of a cephalopod that protects and contains all of its major organs

Flavor text:

Arms Vs. Tentacles: on cephalopods, Arms refer to appendages which have suckers along the entire length of the limbs underside, while Tentalces only have suckers at the club-like end

1. Blue of blood shows through in membranes/thinner areas of flesh

2. Primary mouth/buccal mass

3. External gills

4. Siphon

5. Ridges flare when threatened

6. Tentacles and rear arm merge, acts as counterweight to aid in bipedal locomotion

7. Lower anterior arms merge to form legs; lack of proper bones means bipedal locomotion is unsteady

8. Upper arms adapted hands to better manipulate objects

9. The two rear-most appendages are proper tentacles, and are capable of manipulating objects almost as effectively as main hands

10. Two mouths, one form consumption, one for speech*

- 10A. Secondary mouth hidden by barbles, chitin** structure within resembles a fused set of teeth. This mouth can be used to eat, but there's a high risk of choking

- 10B. Resting position of beak in primary mouth, retracted into buccal mass

- 10C. Extended position of beak in primary mouth; capable of breaking down mollusk shells and biting through bone

11. Natural posture when unfurled

12. Defensive stance

13. The skin covering the mantel forms a cavity into which the head can partially withdraw

14. Capable of spitting ink from secondary mouth when in distress

15. Eyes are large with highly reflective pupils; excellent dark vision

16. Nictitating membrane rises to protect the eye when biting, may also rise when distressed

17. Retractable claws inside suckers

Extra design lore and speculative biology:

18. Blood is a deep blue, appears black under water, and turns clear as it dries. Texture is thick and viscous

** in the image I wrote keratin, but research has shown me that a squids beak is actually made of chitin rather than keratin! Keratin may still be present, but it's not the main polymer in the makeup of the beak structure. I know this is a silly fun character design, but I try to remain somewhat accurate with how I engage the biological aspects, so I wanted to correct my mistake

At the current moment of this design, Wraith is 11 years old, and stands at 5 ft 4 in [168 cm] when using their legs. They measure 6 ft [183 cm] long from head to tail when unfurled/in the water. Their height and size relative to their age is above average compared to humans, but is more or less in line with the normal growth rate for deep sea tritons, which are the largest of the triton variants. Their height out of the water is limited by their physiology; Wraith lacks proper bones, so maintaining an upright form requires a lot more effort and energy. They rely heavily on mobility aids (rollator, cane, wheelchair) if they'll be walking or standing for long periods of time in their true form.

The changeling magic that enables their shape-shifting provides a level of structural stability to their body when in disguise that makes life outside of the water easier, but they still require more rest and breaks from standing than other able-bodied children of their own age. The form that provides the most stability is their "default" triton disguise, which they've carefully tailored to be as comfortable as possible so they can have a more active lifestyle. Smaller disguise forms are easier to manage, as the compression of their body makes those forms more stable to hold. Their triton disguise form measures out to only 3 ft 5 in [103 cm] tall which is much easier for them to maintain out of the water.

[pushingboi]

We sit together in our bed, just the two of us in the quiet of the early morning. You trace circles over my skin, your fingers connecting with the muffled, constricted movements of your baby in my belly.

I'm swollen and round, my big belly sitting low. Though my womb is warm and safe, it's growing much too cramped, and it's about time for our baby to come into the world.

The contractions hit fast and hard, and with each blinding ache I bury myself in your warm chest for comfort. You kiss my hair, hold my hand and reassure me the whole way through.

"Oh, god.." I moan. I can feel every stretched muscle constricting down, and I can feel just how low the head is sitting already, the way it settles above the bowl of my pelvis. The sensation is more intense than ever, and I toss and turn in distress.

"I know, I know. It's alright, you're doing so good." You attempt to reassure me. "It won't be long now and then the hard part will be over."

The contraction channels downwards and i suddenly feel a sense of urgency accompanying the pressure. "Ahhhnnggh, fuck, I feel like I have to push!"

"Okay, wait wait wait!" You jump up to reposition yourself between my legs, never letting go of my hand. "Let me check-"

"It's too late, I'm fucking puushhhingg!!"

It hits like a freight train, and by the time you've reached inside to check my dilation, I'm already bearing down. You don't find my cervix, anyway; the slick, bulging forebag of my unbroken waters dams the way through.

"It's coming. Ngggh.. It's fucking coming, I can feel the head entering my birth canal. Oh god, help!"

"It's ok, it's ok! You got this! Just take a deep breath and push!"

I push silently, my eyes shut tight and brow furrowing. I gasp and let got, and then push again.

You move down between my legs to watch, stroking my big belly comfortingly.

"Thats it, good boy. Keep going, while you have a contraction!"

I take a deep breath and the next contraction starts. I tremble and brace through it.

"Good boy.. here, open your legs up for the baby to come."

You gently spread my thighs wider and even without pushing, I feel my hips being opened up from the inside by the pressure of the contraction. I whimper and shake, crying out in pain.

"I feel something.." I reach down and touch the veil of membranes beginning to protrude from my slit. "Oh my god, is that him?"

You slip your fingers in underneath to see how far back the head is. "No, that's just your waters, but that means he's moving!"

I sigh and take a deep breath. As the next contraction comes I start pushing slowly. I pause and breathe, and with each push, the sac emerges from my opening lips.

"Alright, I need you to give me a big one here, alright? Okay, on three. 1.. 2.. 3.. PUSH! Yeah! Big push!!"

I brace and bear down hard with your instruction. "Push push push!"

You watch as the sac becomes more and more taut as it reaches its limit, the membrane stretching thin around the milky fluid within. Just as you think it ought to break any moment, it bursts from just below my clit. I moan at the sudden release of pressure as the water gushes out of my birth canal, surging out through my slit and pooling onto the towels beneath my hips with a splash.

Now you reach inside again and finally feel the head for the first time.

"Good job, there he is! I can feel him!"

I on the other hand am very, very aware of the position of the head inside me. The release of pressure doesn't last, and the tide lurches the head forward to sit firmly inside the narrow of my pelvis. The pain and intensity is immense, I can't even speak through it.

"Hey. Hey." You take my hand. "You need to breathe, long and slow okay? Take a good slow breath for the baby."

I nod and oblige, but it's not long before the contraction returns in force, and with it, the unbearable urge to push. "Nnnghh.. I need him out of my belly.."

"Alright, here we go again." You say, gently running a hand over the bottom of my belly. I'm already pushing, but you continue to reinforce me. "Come on, push push push!"

"Holy fuck! Unfhhhhh- Aaaaghh! Fuck, I have to give birth!"

"You're doing great, i can see hair! I can see the head!"

I grip at my belly as I push. The baby feels so fucking big, stretching me to the bone, unfolding me so agonizingly in its inescapable fate to be born.

"Push! Push!"

My muscles strain, I shake with the effort. Deep in the throes of labour I push, push, bearing down through the pain. The head comes into view but momentarily, and then retreats back inside the moment I stop pushing.

"Keep those legs spread, babe. You can do it. He's coming!"

It's so constant I can't stop. There's nothing but pressure and pushing, through the feeling of that excruciating stretch. I make progress with every push, my pussy opening slowly but surely.

"Nhhhh.. nnnggghhhh.. gaaaaaaahhhh...!" I moan through the pain.

The head begins to crown bit by bit between my legs with each desperate push.

"Keep pushing! Keep pushing! He's almost here!"

The head slowly approaches the crown, having been pushed all the way through my hips and now bulging out my slick, swollen entrance.

"There you go, you're pushing so good! Your baby's crowning, and you're stretching so well.

There's no stopping it now. I gasp and pant, eyes gaping as I'm blinded by the pain. My pussy stretches to its limit around the huge head, and with one more big push, the nose and chin slip out as the head is born into your waiting hands. You promptly check for the cord, which thankfully isn't around the baby's neck.

My whole birth canal is stretched from the inside out around the rest of the body and I feel the shoulders rotate inside me.

I pant and pant for a moment, and it isn't long before the next desperate contraction. Now is the final stretch.

I push and push, the head wobbles between my legs but doesn't budge. The pain and pressure are immense. The stretching feeling is different, deeper, but what I feel is fullness - so much fullness as the baby's entire body transits my body through my pussy.

"Aghhh, fuck, I can't! It's too much! Get him out of me!"

"No, you have to do it. You can do it! You're doing great!"

"I- can't.."

"Take a deep breath. Deep breaths. Now PUSH. PUSH! You have to push your baby out!

"AAAARRRRRGGGHHHHHHH!!"

You push back my thighs with each hand as I bear down, trying to open my pelvis and free the shoulders. Again the head wobbles from the strain but makes no progress towards being born.

"It's stuck, it's stuck!! I can't get him out! Help me, help me I need to birth him!"

You feel around the head and slip your fingers in under my clit and deeper inside. I moan as you finger my poor, swollen, birthing pussy. You don't find the shoulders, like you expected, but manage to hook your finger around an arm.

"Okay, I've got it! Push! Push for me!"

"Nnnnnghh- AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" I scream in pain as my hole opens wider as I push. This gives you the perfect opportunity to pull the arm free, sweeping it down over the baby's face.

"That's it! He's coming! Come on, big push! One more big push! PUSH!"

I throw back my head and roar, pushing as hard as I can. You pull and pull, and the rest of the baby begins to slide free of my pussy. With a sudden gush the other arm pops free, born up to the waist. I feel the relief wash over me.

I stop for a moment and breathe, the baby halfway out between my legs beginning to sputter and cry. "You did it!" you cheer. "There's our baby, he's finally here!"

I roll my hips and give one more little shove, and the baby comes slithering the rest of the way out. I collapse with exhaustion for the moment, and you gather your crying baby in your arms for the first time.

[bookwormjust]

Imagine: Wrapped in Azriel’s Wings

The evening air was cool, and the twilight sky was painted in hues of pink and purple as the Night Court settled into a tranquil hush. The estate was bustling with activity as the celebrations for a recent victory continued, a lively affair filled with laughter and music. But amidst the festivities, you found yourself feeling a bit overwhelmed, the noise and crowds pressing in on you.

Azriel, ever perceptive to your moods, had noticed your discomfort. His keen instincts and deep connection to you made him acutely aware of when you needed solace. As the evening wore on, he gently guided you away from the crowded hall, leading you toward a quieter, more secluded corner of the estate.

The space was adorned with soft, glowing lanterns and the gentle rustle of leaves, creating an almost magical ambiance. Azriel’s protective nature was evident as he swept you into his arms, his wings unfurling behind him like a dark, comforting shield. His gaze was intense, but there was a softness in his eyes that spoke of his deep affection for you.

“I thought you might need a break,” he said quietly, his voice low and soothing. “It’s a lot to take in, and I don’t want you feeling overwhelmed.”

You looked up at him, gratitude and love shining in your violet eyes. “Thank you, Azriel. It’s just… sometimes it’s hard to process everything.”

He nodded, understanding fully. “I know. And I’m here to make sure you’re safe and comfortable.”

Without another word, Azriel enveloped you in his wings. The motion was smooth and deliberate, his wings folding around you with a tender, almost primal protectiveness. It was as if he was creating a cocoon, a private sanctuary where you could escape the world’s demands and simply be with him.

The warmth and softness of his membranes cocooned you, creating a snug, secure space. You could feel the gentle hum of his power, the steady beat of his heart as he held you close. The world outside seemed to fade away, the muffled sounds of the celebration becoming distant echoes.

“Better?” Azriel asked softly, his voice coming from the depths of the comforting darkness created by his wings.

You snuggled closer to him, feeling an overwhelming sense of safety and affection. “Much better,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the fabric of his shirt where it met your cheek. “Thank you for this.”

Azriel’s breath hitched slightly at the touch, his protective instincts flaring even more. “I’d do anything for you,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that resonated with the sincerity of his words. “I don’t want you to ever feel alone or exposed.”

The bond between you pulsed with warmth and connection, a silent affirmation of the love and trust that you shared. Azriel’s wings tightened slightly around you, a gesture of reassurance and devotion. He rested his chin on top of your head, the soft whisper of his breath brushing against your hair.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice filled with heartfelt emotion. “You make me feel so safe.”

Azriel’s grip on you tightened, his wings forming a snug embrace that made you feel utterly cherished. “I love you too,” he said, his voice tender. “You’re my everything. And I’ll always protect you, no matter what.”

The minutes passed in peaceful silence, the warmth of his wings and the rhythmic sound of his breathing creating a serene cocoon around you. You felt the tension and anxiety melt away, replaced by a profound sense of calm and contentment.

As the evening continued outside, you remained wrapped in the safety of Azriel’s wings. His primal instincts as an Illyrian male were evident in the way he held you, his protective nature a testament to the deep bond you shared. In that intimate space, you felt truly at home, surrounded by love and security.

When you finally emerged from the cocoon, the world seemed a little less daunting, the night’s festivities a backdrop to the profound connection you and Azriel shared. You looked up at him, your eyes shining with appreciation and affection.

“Ready to head back?” he asked, his gaze warm and inviting.

You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of strength and tranquility. “Yes. Thank you for this.”

Azriel’s smile was both gentle and fierce, his pride in you evident. “Anytime,” he said, taking your hand and leading you back toward the celebration. “I’m always here for you.”

As you rejoined the festivities, you felt a renewed sense of belonging and confidence, knowing that with Azriel by your side, you were never alone. His wings had been a shield, a sanctuary, and a symbol of his unwavering devotion, and you carried that warmth and protection with you into the night.

[azsazz]

Little Sneak

Daddy!Azriel x Mommy!Reader [Zuzu Centric]

Summary: Anon Req: What about a part 2 to Sticking Together where all the children are older and Zuzu is upset about not being able to go to the camps like her brothers and cousins. Maybe she ends up sneaking off and gets hurt or something. Some lovely angst would be appreciated. Only if you want to of course, pls and thank you.

Warnings: Angst, suggestions of a child going to be harmed (child is not actually harmed)

Word Count: 2,357

_________________________________________

“Why must all my children defy me?” Azriel questions, pacing the length of the room. You’re almost dizzy with it, how long his strides are and how short the path he’s making is. He’s nearly turning in circles now, wings flared with agitation, growing larger and larger the more he works himself up. When he nearly knocks a lamp burning low with a single faelight over, you slip from the bed.

You halt your mate with a soft hand to his shoulder. His wings tuck in tight, not because you’re going to touch them, because his body automatically moves to give you room. You take it, curling yourself against his chest, hands snaking around his waist and thumbing soothing patterns across the dip of his back.

You can feel his muscles contract as he shifts his wings to cocoon the both of you. Darkness shrouds you, but the light casts red through the membranous skin.

It’s a safe place for the both of you, tucked away from the rest of the world without actually removing yourselves from situations where you’re needed. You and Azriel had found yourselves in this position many times—when you first found out you were pregnant with Wren and Azriel was worried you’d have trouble delivering a babe with wings, when Baz nearly burned his hand on an unattended fire. When you had found out that Knox wasn’t going to be able to speak, and when your eldest sons wanted to be allowed to train in the Illyrian camps.

It’s funny that you find yourself here for the exact same reason. Your daughter, Zuzu, Mother bless her, yearns to join her brothers. Both Wren and Baz have completed a year, along with Nyx and Gideon. The four have formed a group just as their fathers had, not taking anyone’s shit no matter how much larger in size they may be. With the High Lord on their side, the young boys got away with much more than they should, though Rhysand does his best not to stick his nose into matters that should be left to camp leaders.

They’ve found their places as young warriors, and though they often get into trouble, you and Azriel are able to spend more time in Velaris, working on a schedule with both Cassian and Rhys, so that one of them is always staying in the family cabins when the boys are in training.

The beat of Azriel’s steady heart is strong, comforting, even though you know he feels as helpless as you do. Each and every one of your children are as stubborn as their father, even the more stoic of the six, like Jax and the twins. Malos could hold a grudge for ages, even against her own siblings. And poor Azriel refuses to admit that it’s a trait he’s bestowed upon the shadowsinger clan. 

You squeeze your mate tighter, breathing in his comforting scent. Night-chilled mist from the long fly he’d had to take when Zuzu had told him the news. He hadn’t wanted to hear any part of it; his firstborn daughter wanted to train with males in the camps that will do nothing to look after her well-being. They won’t care if she’s beaten into the snow until she’s unable to move, if she can train as hard as the males, if she can do aerial maneuvers better than them. All they’ll see is a little girl who should be put in her place by the only means they know how.

The females won’t take kindly to her either. They’ll likely be jealous of the girl who’s wings are in perfect shape, who has the ability to fly and train and doesn’t have to spend back-breaking hours washing or cooking. No one but her brothers and cousins will be nice to her.

But she’s determined and headstrong. She’d confided in you first, and while you’d tried to talk her into joining Valkyrie training, she insisted that if there were young girls here willing to fight and join such a cause, why wouldn’t they extend the opportunity to those in the mountains? Your heart aches for your little girl, who wants to see the best in people, give them the chances they’ve long since needed. If she can encourage a single girl in the camps to join them as warriors, she will be proud.

“She means well,” you sigh against Azriel’s chest, hugging him tighter. 

“Does she have to mean this well?” he asks, exasperation lining the frown on his face. He rubs your back in a soothing motion, and you know it’s helping him as much as it helps you. His chin rests on top of your head and a moment of silence stretches on as his shadows crawl from the walls, whispering in his ears, reporting back to him on how all of his children are under one roof, sleeping peacefully in their beds. “In a few years, Asteria will want to follow, and I think Rhys will actually kill me.”

“I won’t let him,” you grumble stubbornly, but it doesn’t carve a smile on Azriel’s face like it normally would. “And neither will Zuz.”

All your mate can do is sigh and hold you closer. “I hate that they’re growing up.”

“Me too,” you answer sadly, rocking in place with Az. He caresses the nape of your neck, tilting your face to meet his sad, hazel gaze. “Why didn’t anyone prepare us for the part where our children start growing up?”

Azriel shakes his head, dipping down to kiss you softly, tenderly. You are always his rock in the storms of his life. Always will be.

“I don’t know,” he pecks you on the mouth again, and there’s a glint in his eyes that has your body growing warm. “I do know that we can have another. Then we’ll have a little babe. It will make me feel like I’m not so old, that our youngest aren’t five-years-old.” He says it with a grimace. 

The time is flying by, watching your children grow. Wren is a teenager now. A teenager, Mother help you all. And Baz is only growing rowdier with age. Zuzu wants to join her brothers and cousins in the camps, and Jax is still the stoic little boy you’ve ever seen, focused on working through his powers daily. He still struggles sometimes, needs to cuddle up with his father or you for a moment's peace, and he hasn’t shown any interest in being a warrior like his elder siblings, though if Azriel allows Zuzu to join, you’re sure he won’t be far along after. The twins are as inseparable as ever, stirring up mischief with their pesky little shadows. It’s nice to have them all still so close, but you know it won’t be that way soon.

“Can you imagine another one?” You ask, amused at the thought. More chaos, and you’re not entirely sure how your six children would react. You already have so many, what would they think? 

“Yes,” Azriel answers, tone heated. He presses his hips more firmly against your own and you can feel the hardness of his cock in his pants. It makes your thighs go molten, especially when he’s looking at you like that. Like he’s going to both devour and worship you all night long. “Let’s put this conversation on hold.” 

You can’t disagree with that. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

His shadows wake him up. 

Azriel has gotten used to their presence, but his body is accustomed to them, awakening at the slightest sort of unease from them. Like right now.

He bolts from the bed, awakening you in the process. He almost feels bad at the hammering of your heart he can feel echoing in his chest, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been alerted that one of his children is currently missing from his home, and she hasn’t been located in the darkness of the camp yet.

“What’s going on?” You’re alert now. There’s something seriously wrong, by the look on Azriel’s face. The way that it’s set in stone yet his brows are furrowed with worry. Not the kind of worry where something is amiss in Velaris, but it looks like he had when Knox had been taken from you, the horror riddling his hazel gaze makes your stomach plummet.

“Zuzu isn’t in her bed,” Azriel answers, and he’s already dressed and heading out into the cold. You don’t expect him to wait for you, the both of you have a way of attacking these things as a team now, and you’re safer here with the rest of the children, anyway, and he curses himself once again for allowing his children to train at the Illyrian camps.

He doesn’t know how she’s managed to evade his shadows this time. His children are sneaky, quickly learning and testing how to keep from his radar, but Azriel is 500 years old and prides himself on his alertness.

Up until now.

He doesn’t even know where to begin. His mind is a mess with ‘what if’s’ and he can’t allow himself to begin pulling at that thread or he might very well decimate this entire camp. 

He very well might, anyway.

Azriel’s already reaching out to Rhysand, waking him from his deep slumber and alerting the Inner Circle. He knows the High Lord will be here within minutes on a plume of black that no one wants to see. Zuzu has been Rhysand’s favorite from the moment she decided to toddle behind him into the longest meeting he’s ever had the displeasure of attending. But Zuzu had made it bearable, sitting in his lap and cuddling up in his arms like he wasn’t discussing convicts in the Prison nor how his armies might be able to help Springs.

A soft yelp is carried on a wisp of darkness from his shadows, his head whipping to where they’re alerting him. It’s Zuzu, and she’s whimpering a little as sharp nails dig into her coat, despite the thick jacket she’s pulled haphazardly around her shoulders. Her boots are untied, and the powdery snow is downtrodden with her footprints.

Azriel moves as quick as the night. He’s known for being undetectable, a whisper of a chilled breeze chasing through the trees. Tonight, though, he doesn’t mask the crunch of his boots in the snow, doesn’t smother the bright blue beaming from the seven stones adorning his armor. His knives are unsheathed at his side, steel singing for the promise of blood.

There’s a soft sound, like his daughter's cry has been muffled, and it fuels his anger, letting his body fill with black ink. It spills off of Azriel in waves, a death god come to seek his vengeance.

The clearing is a circlet of trees and fresh snow. The moon drips down into the open field, where Zuzu scratches at her captor. The female trying to pin his little girl to the ground hisses as her skin breaks beneath Zuzu’s nails. Azriel’s heart swells with pride as his daughter fights back, but this moment alone has made him realize that she does need proper training, and if she wants to join the ranks with her brothers and show all of these Illyrian swill what she’s made of, she will get that.

Azriel doesn’t recognize the female as he rips her away from his daughter by a fistful of hair. The female yelps in surprise, then screams in fear as she topples backwards, the avenging shadowsinger towering over her.

As if she thought she could get away with attempting to harm one of his children.

He feels the night air shifting behind him as he makes sure that his daughter is okay. Rhysand and Cassian appear before the female can gain her footing and take off, Cassian planting a foot in the middle of her back to keep her pinned to the frozen ground while Azriel consoles his daughter. Zuzu’s sniveling, fat tears rolling down her red cheeks as they escape. She doesn’t want to cry, she doesn’t want to show her father that she’s scared, but they fall without her permission anyway.

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

Azriel’s heart cracks a little, molten lava of anger filling the cracks. This female won’t last the fucking night. And if she does, it’s because he’s going to make her death last as long as possible for even thinking of touching his daughter. For making her cry.

He hushes her, a soft noise that makes her clutch onto his shoulders tighter. Azriel’s not wearing a coat, but he’s used to the temperatures, and the adrenaline rushing through his veins helps quell the bitter chill. He sends a reassuring feeling down the bond to you and your relief flushes his body tenfold, his shoulders dropping slightly.

“Are you okay, my love?” Azriel asks her, wiping the tears from Zuzu’s eyes. He swings her up into his arms, pressing gentle kisses to her forehead as he pins the female to her spot in the snow with furious golden eyes. “Are you hurt?”

Zuzu shakes her head and his knees nearly give out with relief. He sways them back and forth, whispering reassurances into Zuzu’s ears until she’s calmed down, before passing her off to Rhys who holds her just as tightly. 

“Uncle Rhys is going to take you back to mommy, okay, Zuz? I’ll be back in a little bit.”

She agrees, blinking up at him with her big eyes. Azriel watches her try to look over her uncle's shoulder to see the female spitting vitriol at Cassian. Rhys doesn’t allow her gaze to see what’s going on over there, instead drawing her attention to him, shifting her so she can’t see, and disappearing into the night to bring Zuzu home. 

Cassian crouches down to the female, grinding her face into the snow to stop the comments spewing from her lips. He whispers something so low that makes her entire body freeze, then thrash as if she actually has a chance of escaping.

Azriel steps up to her, a murderous look in his eyes, and he lets his blades do the talking.

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

read this post by @bitethedevil and ended up writing this idk don't take it too serious

Read on AO3

-

Tav's fingers skittered over the red skin of Raphael’s naked back. It was always hot to the touch and smooth, its texture almost like leather. Patches of tiny scales grouped together in different spots, especially around the big joints connecting his wings to his body. Raphael fascinated Tav - not quite in the same way she fascinated him, but they were birds of a feather, so to speak. In fact...

"I've been wondering about something," she said, breaking the sleepy silence that had settled between them some time ago.

"Mm?" Raphael was utterly relaxed, the laziest Tav had ever seen him. On his belly in his (their!) bed, shirtless and shoeless - the scandal! He'd been enjoying her aimless touches. His Majesty, indeed.

"Can you fly?" She ran her palm across the thin membrane of wing she could reach, then the sturdy bone. "You've got these huge wings, but I've never seen you use them." She'd witnessed them fully stretched out once or twice, but otherwise he always kept them folded close to his body. A shame. They were magnificent. Heavy as anything, though - especially when he was dead asleep. Tav had almost been suffocated a few times trying to spoon him, and he refused to sleep in his human glamour just to let her be the big spoon. Waste of magic, he said. Spoilsport.

"What an inane question." Raphael didn't even open his eyes. "Of course I can. My wings are not for show, little mouse. No more so than a bird's are."

"Well..." Tav chose her next words carefully. She'd learned through trial and error how much she could prod her devil and when. Most of the time he was amenable to light teasing, but sometimes, when he was in a good mood like this, she could have some fun. "There are some birds out there who have wings but can't fly, you know. Peacocks, for example. They're kind of like big chickens, if you think about it."

Raphael slowly lifted his head, turned it so he could look at her over his shoulder. Tav bit her tongue in a futile attempt to squash her impish grin. His orange iris burned in the inky depths of his black sclera. A few locks of his hair were free from his usual coiff.

"Big chickens," he repeated flatly.

"Yes," said Tav, her voice strangled by the giggle she was trying to suppress. "How do I know you aren't an infernal peacock?"

"I can fly, you insipid little gibbon," he snapped, but he wasn't angry. She could tell by the twitching at the corners of his lovely mouth. Tav coughed, choked on a laugh.

"I think you should show me."

"Do you."

"For posterity's sake, of course."

"Of course."

Tav waited, watched, moved to make space for Raphael as he sat up, languidly stretching like a big cat. Accidentally whacking her with those wings she was so obsessed with.

"Apologies, dear," he drawled, about as sorry as a horny kobold in a bathhouse. He smiled when she scowled. He stood to his full height, preening as she ogled him. In nothing but a pair of trousers, he truly was a sight. Without warning he beat his mighty wings and took off, soaring across the room to land on the other side, where he nonchalantly poured himself a glass of wine. Tav spluttered in the wake of that massive gust of air. Raphael sipped his wine, staring at her as if to say, "well?"

"Good distance! You looked a little wobbly with your execution, though," Tav said. It wasn't true. He was majestic in flight, but he didn't need to know that. His ego was big enough. She combed her fingers through her rustled hair, grinning when Raphael’s eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps you're right." He put his glass down and sauntered towards her. Tav's heart leapt into her throat, fear and excitement together. "I need a counterweight."

"A what? Hey!" She didn't struggle when he picked her up, shifting her in his arms until he was holding her bridal style. It was a thrill to be held by her devil, and yet. She giggled nervously, her cheeks warm. "What are you doing?"

"Why, showing you that I can fly, of course!" He declared, making a scene of looking around. "But we simply cannot do it here. There's hardly enough space. Hm...ah, perfect."

He walked them to the balcony overlooking the endless landscape of Avernus. Tav sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly aware of what he was about to do. Now she began to try and wriggle free, but his grip was iron.

"Okay, you've proven your point! There's no need for a second flight, your technique was perfect!"

Raphael had no mercy. He smirked down at his little mouse, showing teeth. His eyes alight with dark mischief. "Big chickens, Tav," he said, and leapt off the edge. She shrieked, clung to him like a limpet, feeling and hearing his chuckles as he effortlessly flew them around.

After the intial spike of shock, Tav relaxed, just a little. This wasn't so bad. Raphael was an adept flier, and if she ignored the monumental height she was suspended at, it could almost pass as romantic. Soaring about the hot skies of Hell in the arms of her underworld Prince. Feeling every powerful flap of his wings. His strength. Avernus, from a distance, was beautiful in a devastating way. Unfortunately for Tav, she'd forgotten quite how fiends liked to play.

"Oh dear," Raphael said, stoic. He'd been waiting for her guard to lower. Tav's stomach lurched when she sensed his grasp on her slacken. "I seem to have lost my balance."

"RAPHAEL NO DON'T- AAAAAAHHHH!"

He dropped her. Tav screamed as she plummeted to the ground, terrified and betrayed. Raphael was rapidly becoming a shrinking red blur as she fell. He was probably watching her with sick satisfaction. She cursed him. She cursed herself. Mostly she cursed him. Bastardbastardbastard -

"Fret not, little mouse," he purred, hideously amused. She was in his arms again. "I've got you."

Tav couldn't speak; could only tremble, dig her fingers into him. He laughed the entire flight back to the house, deep and rich and raw. Tav planted herself on stable ground the first moment possible, glaring at him.

"You're horrid," she hissed. Raphael cackled.

"Oh, come now. You didn't truly believe I would allow you to fall to your death, did you? Such little faith. Ah, but how sweet your screams were...I shall be hearing them in my dreams for weeks."

"Horrid," Tav muttered again. She wriggled between the bedsheets and buried herself under the covers. It didn't take long for him to join her, surrounding her with his cloying heat.

"You'll forgive me, won't you?" He murmured sweetly into her ear, raising goosebumps all over her skin. One big clawed hand slipped beneath her shirt to gently rub her stomach just the way she liked. Wordlessly she pressed into his touch.

He played her like a fiddle, always.

[bits-and-babs]

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐌 — 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 ‘𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓’ 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

↳ summary: prompt: “That’s so fucking hot.” — Paired with Ghost on a 'drill' mission, you get to witness his sniping prowess first hand.

↳ pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader (Delta)

↳ [1k] content: 18+ MDNI. Utterly self-indulgent. Shy reader (because I fancied something different), firing guns, very vague power play, very light degradation (barely there but it’s there), fingering, cum eating (don’t know if this counts but I’ll put it anyway), Ghost is very skilled with a gun.

ghost masterlist I| main masterlist |I join taglist

Easterly winds trace the curve of your cheek and gently waft your hair across your forehead. The pitch blackness that hangs in the nighttime desert air swallows you whole, your defensive spot illuminated only by the waning crescent moon. It's fucking freezing, you're tired, and you'd been staring down a sniper's scope for over six hours.

You’d already decided that whoever thought a sniper drill was a good idea was going to face your wrath in the morning.

Settled into the sand grains beside you is Ghost's hulking frame. His patience is remarkable, settled on his front with his finger fixed on the hairpin trigger of the HDR. He's not moved once since getting into position, the vaguest sign he was even alive being the blink of his eyelids. He doesn’t even need to practise, and you’re convinced he’s been paired with you simply because he pities you being a shit shot. 

"Do you not have pins and needles?" You grumble, the crosshair in your field of vision blurring into a shapeless mush after gazing at it for so long, "I swear I've got a dead leg."

"No." Simon's answer is definitive. You're unsure if you believe him at first, but he squeezes the trigger without warning. The gun cracks, firing its round, and you almost jump out of your skin at the sudden break of silence. "What the fuck, Simo-"

Disbelief stalls your loud complaint, the image of a body-shaped target with a bullet hole dead centre of the cross in the inner circle's fixed point making your jaw drop. 

Simon settles back, shedding the shell casing from the HDR and effortlessly loading a second round. It's like breathing for him, the sniper rifle like a body part that worked as seamlessly as his arms or legs. 

It slips out, your inner dialogue somehow managing to worm its way out of your lips before you can swallow down the mortifying comment. 

"That's so fucking hot..."

Simon doesn't seem to respond at first, but your cheeks are already heating up in embarrassment as you try to backpedal. "I mean- I mean, I'm sure most girls at home would find that really hot! You must have so many girls asking you out when you go home- Half of Manchester, I bet!" 

You laugh awkwardly, holding your own sniper weapon in a death grip. You wish the sand would sink beneath you, dropping you into the depths below. 

"Not really," Simon's rumbling voice cuts through the desert silence. It makes your humiliation even worse, and you squeeze your eyes shut and plan to request a transfer with Captain Price the moment you return to base. Or even hand in your resignation letter. You'd never have to fear running into Simon on another team that way—

"Delta," Ghost's gruff voice cuts through your downward spiral. You open your eyes and glance over at him apprehensively. He's still staring down the scope of his rifle, mask concealing his expression from you. Undoubtedly he was enjoying making you feel stupid.

A heavy hand settles on the back of your thigh, and you suddenly exhale the oxygen in your lungs as though someone has popped the membrane with a pin. Ghost doesn't look up from the scope; his attention is focused on the target over seven-hundred meters away. 

"G-Ghost-" Your voice tremors, and you wish you could blame it on the chill in the desert air. Instead, it's Simon's palm slowly tracing up your thigh, palm squeezing gently at the globe of your ass. 

"Quiet," he orders, and you nod quickly, falling in line at the sound of his authoritative 'lieutenant voice'. He continues his advance, pushing his fingertips under the waistband of your khaki cargos at the small of your back. 

Simon hesitates. He offers you a chance to wave him off, but you can't think of anything worse— he's touching you, sparking your skin hot beneath his slow, deliberate touches. 

Breaching the waistband of your pants, he ensures that he inches his hand below your panties, too, fingertips tracing the naked curve of your ass as they continue their descent. You whimper softly, impatient, but the sound dies in your throat when you see Ghost's irises flick to you in a warning. 

Quiet, I said. 

Swallowing back any more noises of complaint, you spread your legs ever so slightly for him. A rumble of content sound from his chest, and Simon aims his sight down the scope of his rifle again. 

Simon's fingers sink into your fluttering cunt from behind. The stretch alone has you biting down on your knuckles in an attempt to smother the yelp that threatens to breach your mouth. 

What makes it worse is Simon's blatant nonchalance. He adjusts the positioning of his Sniper to mitigate the desert breeze with one hand. Meanwhile, his fingers sink deeper into you, easing in and out until you hear the slick sounds of your cunt swallowing his digits. 

It's pathetic. Ghost'll probably taunt you relentlessly for it, but you rock back onto his hand as his fingers tease your spasming walls. 

"O-Oh, fuck-" you choke out, breathless, as you lower your head and brace against the rising bliss in your abdomen. Again, Ghost's eyes flick over, cautioning you. 

"I'm tryin'a focus," he scolds you flatly, pushing his thumb into your clit harshly. You yelp at the sudden pressure, the arc of pleasure that whips up your spine. 

"W-What can you possibly be fo-ohh-" you moan out, losing your sentence as he slowly begins to circle your clit with his battle-calloused thumb. 

"On this," Simon hums, and again the crack of his sniper rifle jolts your body in shock. Fuck- but he keeps rubbing at your clit, sinking his fingers deeper into you as he searches for your g-spot. 

Your head whips up as your cunt flutters around his digits, looking down the scope. Again, Ghost has hit the target perfectly— slap bang in the middle of its forehead. 

Honestly, you could have cum from that alone, but Ghost's fingers are retreating just as your orgasm surges. You whine loudly, looking over your shoulder to see him remove his hands from your pants despite your protests and use his thumb to push the bottom of his ski mask over his mouth. 

Sinking his fingers into his mouth, he groans as he tastes you. It's the most sordid sound you've ever heard, the noise settling deep into your abdomen as you watch him lick his fingers clean. 

Simon knows what he's doing, knows he has you on the edge of a mind-shattering orgasm, but ignores your heavy breathing and desperate gaze to nod his head at the target. 

"Your turn. Best stop your hands from shaking, love. Get him between the eyes, and I might let you cum."

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[transgenderer]

All cells with mitochondria have a nucleus, all cells with a nucleus have mitochondria (or denegerated former mitochondria). It's not obvious that this should be so. In general, you should get branching after every trait (ofc this isn't always the case). If organisms with trait A are successful then there should be enough of them to branch. If they require trait B to be successful, trait A shouldn't have reached fixation in the first place, unless they were both caused by the same genetic modification.

Nick lanes theory, in the vital question, is that the mitochondria *directly* caused the development of the nucleus. If you're an archeon with bacteria living inside you, and one of them dies, it's membrane will dissolve and release its genetic material. You're an archeon, so you're used to doing lateral gene transfer, and will copy it's code into yours. This code has a poison and it's antidote

Bacterial genetic code has self-replicating parasitic genes. these genes are adapted to their bacterial host and splice themselves out before transcription. bacteria face strong selection to pare down their genome, so they dont have very many of these. but if you suddenly acquire a huge amount of bacterial genetic code, the parasites therein, not adapted to you, will put themselves in all sorts of bad places. then, because you dont face very strong selection, if these codes mutate in a way that breaks their ability to copy themselves, and splice themselves out before transcription, youll have a bunch of faulty genes. these dead regions are called introns. this is a huge problem! you can develop a protein to splice them out "manually", called the spliceosome, but it works slowly, too slowly to get them all fixed before they reach the ribosome to be made into proteins

HOWEVER, this bacterial code will also have a bunch of genetic code for bacterial membranes. the archeon will start producing a bunch of extra membrane enzymes, which will go around producing extra membranes. without adaptations to handle these, theyll just build up. around where theyre produced. lipids naturally form into closed surfaces in solution, so you'd end up with a bunch of lipid "bags" around your genome. but those bags are the solution to your intron problem! they impede the diffusion of the rna from the genome to the ribosome, giving the spliceosome time to work.

eventually (its theorized) these lipid bags evolved into an enclosed double membrane with pore membranes, but during mitosis they split into discrete lipid bags again!

[imaginesmai]

Something new - Azriel

Another kinktober fic! I've seen this trope SO MUCH lately, I couldn't help myself.

Plot: Azriel proposes something new, and even if you have doubts, you're all in.

Warnings: just porn , facesitting, shadowplay.

Azriel is looking at you with a raised brow, a smug smile on his face. He’s silently daring you to bring up another argument, only so he can dismantle it as easily as the rest of them.

It’s hard enough to deny his petition. Not only it’s unusual for him to ask anything, to be comfortable enough around you to talk about sexual fantasies and desires. It is hard because he is completely naked. You can spend hours staring at his sculped chest, muscles hard and wide, covered in tattoos.

And you don’t even want to drag your eyes lower, where his cock is standing tall, demanding your attention.

Usually, you would be more than happy to give it all the attention you have. But Azriel has stopped you moments ago and proposed something different. Something you have never tried, although it has crossed your mind sometimes. Multiple times, actually.

“I will be fine” he assures you for the sixth time that evening. “I promise, darling. I’m a trained warrior, I push my body each day to the limit in the ring with Cassian. If I can take down Illyrian warriors, I can hold your weight”

“Or not” you rebate. “You can’t compare sparing to Cassian to me sitting on your face”

“Certainly not, I’m sure it will be far more pleasant”

Sex with Azriel is never monotonous, he makes sure of it. Even if the shadowsinger is an introvert and quiet on the outside, inside the bedroom he shows you a different part of him. You are used to playing games, some of them involving his shadows, ropes, and even wax.

You have enjoyed each and every of them, and you know you will enjoy what he is proposing even more. But still, you are doubtful about it.

“I could hurt you without meaning to. And what if you can’t breathe? How am I supposed to notice?” you repeat the questions, and he just blinks unamused. “We don’t know if it’s safe. Maybe someone has died and no one has reported it. Death by asphyxiation, under mysterious circumstances. Maybe their partner was shoving their – “

“What better way to die than between your legs?” Azriel cuts you off with a deep, loud chuckle. Tired of the banter, he grabs your hand and pushes you forward. “My shadows will make sure I live to do this again, don’t worry. Now let me have my dessert”

Any other time, you hope, you would have been more hesitant. But you have been both naked for a long time now, lazily making out and grinding against each other in bed. There are purple spots all over your neck and chest, where Azriel has been buried minutes ago. And your nails are printed all over his back and ass.

Before you can act on your newest fantasy, Azriel brings you close. He presses his lips against yours, as he has done already a thousand times that night.

They are swollen and soft, his hand holding the back of your head to keep you close. It brushes gently your hair, easing your worries away. His tongue traces the edge of yours, as if he hasn’t almost shoved it down your throat an hour ago.

Azriel eases the both of you until you are laying on his chest, wings sprawled under him. All it takes is for your sneaky fingers tracing the membrane of his left one for him to break the kiss.

His left hand gives you a playful smack on your ass and pushes you forward.

“Come on, Y/N” he growls, his shadows pushing you forward too.

“Let me know if it becomes too much” you remind him as you get to your knees.

“Sure”

“And if I’m too heavy, please don’t die” you place your hands on the headboard.

“I won’t die, I promise”

“If you feel like you can’t breathe, you touch my – “

“Get here”

You are still hesitant, hovering over his face with your knees at either side of his head. But Azriel, who has quite patient, doesn’t let you finish. He grips the top of your thighs and pulls down, his shadows fixing your hands on the headboard so you can’t pull yourself up.

And damn.

Any coherent thought leaves your head as he licks a long strip through your soaked folds, parting them without any care. You suck a breath when he reaches your opening and doesn’t stop for a second before digging in.

His shadows are the only thing cold on your body as you almost melt against his face, not caring anymore about asphyxiation or crushing him. Azriel is griping you so hard that there will be purple fingerprints on your legs the next day. And if the shadows holding you in place and his mouth devouring you isn’t enough, one of his hands gropes a handful of your ass and pulls you closer to him.

“You’re so sweet” Azriel mumbles from under you, his teeth grazing your clip and taking a deep moan out of you. “Coul be here all day”

“Az”

“My sweet pussy”

He isn’t possessive, at least not when you are public. Behind closed doors, he owns your body and soul. Your grip on the headboard almost flatters when he sucks hard on your clit, taking the small button between his lips, brushing his tongue underneath.

All you can smell is him, his arousal, and all you can hear is him lapping your juices. You don’t have to look back to know there’s a hand wrapped around his cock, a hand that isn’t his entirely. His shadows must have touched a sensitive spot, because his body is bucking up and you almost fall to the side, if it wasn’t for his hands holding you in place.

You try to get one hand free. Maybe to pull at his hair, to cover your mouth. Azriel doesn’t let you.

“Let me – I need a hand” you moan again when he starts leaving kisses from your clit to your opening, covering any reachable spot. “Azriel, let me go”

“No”

His voice resonates in your cunt and that is almost enough to bring you close to the edge. Only his presence would be enough, the presence of an Illyrian male that falls on his knees in front of you, that is completely yours.

Azriel knows your body and knows you’re close, so instead of letting go of any of your hands, he speeds up. All you feel are his teeth, his lips and his tongue on your pussy, on your folds, on your clit. He rounds the sensitive spot as the shadows rip a moan out of him, and the next second he has his tongue in you, his nose brushing your clit.

Like a madman who hasn’t eaten in days, he devours you whole. You are almost sure he has stopped breathing a while ago, but before you can make sure he’s fine, you’re cumming.

Without your hand to cover your mouth, anyone within hearing range hears you breaking down screaming his name as you cum on his face. He rides through your orgasm without even changing the pace, and black dots appear on your line of sight.

“Az, I can’t – Azriel, stop –“

He doesn’t, and before you know it, your tights are trapping his head between your legs and you’re having the best orgasm of your life. He continues licking any juice that leaves your body, alternating between eating you out and assaulting your clit.

The shadows let go when there’s nothing left in you to give, and Azriel has barely time to catch you as you fall to the side, completely spent.

He manages to pull you back to him, and when you open your eyes again, you’re met with his hazel ones looking down at you with only love and adoration. His lips and chin are shinning with your juices, and without breaking eye contact, he licks them clean.

It’s certainly enough to make you notice the shadows around his shaft.

“I’m alive” Azriel smirked. “Are you?”

“That was the best orgasm of my life”

Your confession drags an ego boost out of him, that you feel through the bond. You smile when his hand finds your cheek and caress it loving. If you asked, you are sure he would turn around and try to sleep with a painful boner. And if you asked, he would totally use his shadows to keep you up and go for a second round.

Before he can propose any of them, you prop up on your elbow and drag your nails down his chest.

They follow the pattern of his tattoos, and he watches you with a raised eyebrow. His expression quickly changes when your fingers find his nipple, your thumb flickering it gently.

“Return the favor?” you propose, with a knowing smile.

The next thing you know, Azriel’s lips are once more on you and his cock pressed against your stomach.

You’re in for a long night.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[sttudnobright]

Planet of the Apes: Singing and Speaking (Updated: 08/02/2025)

Before Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes came out, I was hooked by the trailer and in response I binged watched the Caesar trilogy and read all the novelisations including the ones that covered the time after Rise and Dawn.

My favourite excerpt out of all of the books was a small excerpt from War for the Planet of the Apes: Revelations where an orang-utan named Ray hears humans singing for the first time.

I really loved how Ray was trying to find things he had heard so far in his life to try and compare it to. It was a tiny part of the story and wasn't part of the plot but it was a sweet little interlude.

Now after seeing Kingdom and learning how important song is to Eagle Clan in order to bond with their eagles, I can't help but be anxious and hope that they hear humans sing too.

Singing and music has been integral to humans regardless of culture throughout our history in order to express joy, hope and excitement to anger and grief.

I don't think apes in the reboot are capable of singing in the same way as humans yet, as the actor of Proximus Caesar, Kevin Durand mentioned in response to a question at the London premiere that his character might keep some humans around to sing him songs. Seen below:

1:00 onwards, Kevin describes making Proximus' voice and from 1:51 is when he mentions Proximus keeping humans to sing.

Considering Proximus has a love/hate relationship with humans, I don't think he'd keep one around to sing if apes were capable of singing in the same way.

Either way I hope there is an opportunity in future films for this to happen. (Not a musical of course :D lol )

Speaking: Apes vs Humans

There can be a scientific reason the franchise could use as to why apes are slowly getting better at speaking and perhaps one day singing. It turns out there's slightly different morphological differences in the larynx (voice box) between apes and humans.

According to this article:

The main difference is that apes have 'small ribbon-like extensions of the vocal cords... called a vocal membrane' and 'ballon-like laryngeal structures called air sacs' . According to the article these structures help some apes and monkeys produce those loud and resonant calls and also helped prevent hyperventilation, while vocal membranes '"...allow other primates to make louder, higher pitched calls than humans - but they make voice breaks and noisy vocal irregularity more common," said evolutionary biologist... W Tecumseh Fitch of the University of Vienna.'

This could explain in part how most of the apes in the Caesar trilogy relied heavily on sign language because despite ALZ-113 affecting their intelligence, it didn't appear to do much for their vocal structures. The exception of course being Caesar, Koba and Bad Ape.

The argument can be made that Koba and Bad Ape learned to speak through sheer effort and strain albeit for different reasons. Despite their efforts however they still had to use shorter words either because they didn't have/know them or they couldn't continue the sound long enough to say them. As a result where a human could speak in longer sentences without pausing, they had to break their sentences up as they couldn't vocalise the longer words and sustain the sentence.

Caesar could be a slight exception. It was shown in War that he can speak in longer sentences with fewer pauses and could probably handle longer words. This may be because he was exposed to ALZ-112 while in utero and any slight physiological changes could have happened to his development before his birth.

Fast forward 300 years to Kingdom's timeline and most apes are speaking similar to how Caesar was in War. Though there are slight differences depending on characters. For Eagle Clan, the apes there do speak clearly and to the point. Only using the words they need to make themselves understood, however there are still pauses in the sentence and there's no noticeably long words. They don't seem to use any words longer than two syllables and if they do use words longer than that, it was uncommon.

While with Proximus, he's trying to walk a line between ape and human, so he's training himself to speak for longer and learning more complicated words though there are rare instances where he still needs to pause now and then while speaking them. For example, while he had no audible problem saying words like 'advancement', 'familiar', 'dangerous' or 'wonderful'. He did sound out the word 'evolution', breaking it down into syllables (this might have been because it was a new one he had recently learned), and when he accused Mae of being 'duplicitous' he had to pause before speaking it out loud (though he was getting quite agitated when he said this and it could have just been emotion).

This could signal that with every generation of apes (at least in this part of the world), their vocal membranes and air sacs (if they have them) are being used less and less and will run the risk of them becoming redundant and likely phased out of their physiology altogether.

The researchers stated in the article above that the loss of these tissues and our larynx evolving to be situated lower in the windpipe than in other primates. were vital to the ability of speech in humans. their loss enabled us to have 'excellent pitch control with long and stable speech sounds,' giving us '... the ability to express thoughts and feelings using articulate sounds.'

In summary it appears that our simplified voice box has allowed us to have more range to not just speak but sing as well.

In the Planet of the Apes franchise it appears with every new film that the apes may be slowly gaining this simplified structure too or at least their version of it. So who knows, maybe if there's another trilogy after Noa and Mae's story arc, apes may have evolved enough where they have the same vocal range as humans do/had.

[tanadrin]

Lane's thesis around the emergence of eukaryotes (and why it was necessary for complex life) seems to be this:

Bacteria (both kinds, archaea and eubacteria) have pretty strict energy limits in terms of growth. One big constraint here is genome size: the more genes you have, the more energy that gets spent on protein synthesis. But the smaller your genome, the faster you replicate, which is important given how quickly bacterial generations turn over; replicating fast is a big advantage. You can pick up any new genes you need from the environment, thanks to lateral gene transfer. This is why bacteria don't have a lot of junk DNA.

You could try to scale up the size of the cell to increase the size of the membrane, which would allow you to produce more energy. But the volume of the cell scales with the cube of its size and the surface area with the square; and, for obscure reasons, it seems like there is a strong evolutionary pressure to keep the genome near the energy-producing membrane. So what you effectively get is a big dead area inside the cell (a vacuole, in some species of huge bacteria), lots of extra copies of the genome, and no extra energy for your trouble (each copy of the genome is a copy of every gene, which requires more energy to support).

Compare chloroplasts, which often have complicated, folded up membranes to facilitate photosynthesis--and also lots of copies of their genome floating around.

You could imagine breaking the genome up into plasmids, rather than copying every gene, and only putting extra copies of the genes needed for respiration near the cell membrane. But then you need complex transport systems (which require energy), and there's no evolutionary pressure for size for its own sake that would encourage you to develop such a complex transport system to support a large bacterial cell, in aid of maybe in the future developing an ATP surplus.

Eukaryotes didn't evolve to produce extra ATP, they evolved to get a consistent source of hydrogen, for cell growth. The endosymbiont provides the host cell with all the hydrogen it needs, and in return the host cell provides a stable environment for the endosymbiont.

In this safe environment, the endosymbiont's genome is free to shrink without limit, down to the absolute minimum number of genes needed to support respiration. Many genes will move to the nucleus of the host cell; others will simply be lost. But this produces an ATP surplus! All of this ATP needs to be used--if the whole pool of ADP gets converted to ATP, respiration stops (bad!), and free radicals accumulate which fuck up proteins and DNA and can kill the cell. So this excess of ATP encourages the host cell to find uses for it--like a cytoskeleton and internal transport mechanisms and new organelles.

Unlike the plasmid scenario, every step of this evolutionary process confers some benefit on both the host cell and the endosymbiont.

You might wonder, given the benefits, why this only happened once with mitochondria! This is sort of related to the fact that all apparent intermediate cells, like the archaezoa, are actually subsequent, reduced forms of the true eukaryote rather than being offshoots of the process of eukaryote development: the early eukaryote would have been genetically unstable, and small in population size. There was strong selection pressure to quickly converge on a single form (the eukaryote LUCA), and intermediate forms would have been quickly outcompeted and driven to extinction. Likewise, this was a feat not soon to be repeated: eukaryotes got lucky.

Endosymbiosis dumped a ton of introns--self-replicating genetic parasites--into the host cell. Some of these could have been from endosymbionts that failed to thrive in the host cell, and when they died dumped their genetic material into the host. We still sometimes see mitochondrial DNA segments invading and disrupting nuclear DNA.

The eukaryotic genome was able to tolerate the invasion of bacterial introns because of the benefit the endosymbionts provided; but initially, the result was a genetically unstable cell. The nucleus evolved to separate the nuclear DNA from ribosomes, giving time and space for spliceosomes to remove introns from transcribed RNA. Excess lipid synthesis from having both bacterial and archaeal enzymes for membrane formation helped promote the creation of the nucleus (and other membrane-bound organelles).

Because of the intron situation and overall genetic instability, the mutation rate of early eukaryotes was high, selection pressure was immense, and there was a lot of variation in the population--just the circumstances which, in mathematical models, favors the emergence of sexual reproduction.

Lateral gene transfer is of limited use as genomes get bigger, and sexual reproduction, with the genetic recombination that occurs during meiosis, makes individual genes much more salient to evolution, as opposed to just whole genomes.

The individual steps for the evolution of sexual reproduction are not so clear, but the mechanical precursors of both the segregation of genetic material and the fusion of cells are attested in prokaryotes. Various effects arising from natural selection also tend to favor two sexes, anisogamy, and the inheritance of mitochondria from only one parent. Handling mutations and the specialization of tissue, and the separation of cells into somatic cells and germ line cells, also led to the evolution of senescence.

the evolution of sex, incidentally, also favors moving as many mitochondrial genes to the nucleus as possible, so more beneficial versions can be selected for. there's no way to repair the mutational load of genes which remain in the mitochondria, and do not recombine.

[jsmelodies]

The Next Chapter

Ending @sjmromanceweek with some pure fluff :) This is my interpretation of what comes next. I think Nesta deserves to watch Cassian chop logs in half with his axe (That’s it. That’s the plot.)

Summary: Cassian builds Nesta a house.

Read here on ao3

---

Nesta should have figured that their mating ceremony was going to end with Cassian acting like a half-feral beast. She couldn’t blame him entirely, though, when it was her smile that triggered it, causing his wings to spread wide behind him before snatching her off.

He’d offered a simple ‘sorry’ when his mind cleared while they flew. But she’d had enough of the ceremony as well, ready to spend the night with her mate, her husband, who held her close to his chest, even long after they’d landed. 

He held her like that all the way to their shared room, while the final song from the party lingered in her mind. She hummed it softly, the sound resonating against his chest, continuing when Cassian placed her on the plush bed.

She stopped when he kissed her. Took his time worshiping her with his fingers. His tongue. He guided her free hand to the membranes of his wings, showing her the right place to touch. 

Then, he settled himself between her thighs, moving inside of her until both of them fell into a mindless bliss. For a while, they could do nothing but cling to each other, a thin layer of sweat coating their bodies as they rested together.

Afterwards, Cassian reluctantly untied the ribbon around their hands. He threw on a pair of cotton pants, while Nesta pulled one of her nightgowns from his drawer.

She felt his presence behind her. His palms skimmed up her sides, drawing her back into his muscular body.

“I have something for you,” he said, before pressing a kiss to her neck. Her cheek.

“Do you?” she asked, turning around in his arms. Looked up, and saw his gorgeous curls framing his face as his throat bobbed.

Nervous. He was nervous.

He held a piece of parchment. A nice one, that he probably had to go into one of those fancy shops along the Sidra to get, folded in neat lines that had a wax seal holding it together. 

“What’s this?” she murmured.

He turned the parchment over in his hand, hesitantly offering it to her. “It’s…a mating gift, I guess.”

“Oh,” she said, her brows furrowing as she looked at it. No one had told her about this. It was another part of this fae existence that simply didn’t know about. Like suddenly having an extra limb that she’d gone most of her life without, then being expected to run a race on it. “Was I supposed to–”

“No!” he said, shaking his head. “No. Just—open it, Nes.”

He held it out to her with his battle-callused hand. She took the paper, running her fingers over the red wax seal. A small flame, centered in the middle, surrounded by a thin circle.

“This must be important,” she noted.

“Everything involving you is important to me.” Said so freely, so resolute that her mind was incapable of doubting it.

She lifted her eyes to Cassian, only for a second, before breaking the seal with her finger and unfolding it so she could read what was inside.

She’d seen Cassian’s handwriting before. A scrawl that he tried to force into being something else, more refined. On his rough days, she would watch him trace each letter carefully until it came out practiced. Perfect. Without a flaw.

In something as simple as his handwriting, she could see the years, the centuries, of insecurity that had wormed its way into his head.

So she knew when she wasn’t looking at Cassian’s handwriting. “Did you hire somebody to do this?” she asked, looking the letter over.

He shifted on his feet. “I wanted it to be perfect.”

She didn’t want to unpack that. As if something coming from him could be anything but perfect. He had a knack for it, getting her things that were so thoughtful that they were hard for her to accept. 

Indulging him, she read the contents of the letter. Scanned over them quickly at first, before almost doing a double take and reading the words much more carefully.

“Wait.”

“I know it’s not much, but–”

“You’re building me a house.” The words escaped her in a breath. And she couldn’t believe it, that he would…

“Well, you can’t really leave here, can you? I thought you might like your own place. Close to everyone, if you want. Or not. Whatever you want.”

It was everything. All those years of never having something that was truly hers, that no one could take away. Years of never having a proper home. That made this everything.

“You’re building me a house?” 

She lowered the letter, looking at her mate once more, and saw the apprehension creeping in.

“I can get you something else, if you want–”

She shushed him, her heart flooding with such a rush of emotions that she could barely contain it. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer so that their chests were flush together. Close enough that she could see the short stubble on his cheeks, that she could lean in and kiss him again.

“You’re building us a house.”

The corners of his lips raised at the changed wording, and it was quite possibly one of the prettiest things she’d ever seen. Cassian didn’t cry very often, but tears were gathered along his lower eyelid, getting ready to fall.

He hugged her close, letting his chin rest on the top of her head. “Yeah, Nes. I’m building us a house.”

***

She chose a spot on the banks of the Sidra, well on the outskirts of the city. When she first saw it, the waters lapping along the shore, she knew.

Trees covered the area, creating a canopy overhead that extended all the way out into the water. It was close enough that she could walk into the city if she wanted, while she could also be woken up in the morning by chirping birds and Cassian’s gentle snores as he held her.

Peace. After everything, the two of them could live in peace.

And so it began.

Nesta thought it would be a far-off fantasy. Something Cassian would get around to eventually, not on the top of his list of priorities. Not that she would blame him—he worked way more than he needed to already, much to her disagreement. But here he was in the hours between training, between camp inspections, hauling wide tree trunks across the clearing. And quickly, more quickly than she could have imagined, a simple, two-story house arose from its foundation. Plenty of room for the two of them, and possibly more than the two of them, if they decided they were ready (many, many years in the future.)

One week ago, she moved. Into the bedroom with soft light coming through the windows. Into the living room with the stone fireplace, each of the rocks hand selected by her mate. Into the porch in the front, so she could see the water as it streamed by, sometimes with fish jumping into the air.

It was home. And this morning, only pure contentment poured over her as she woke in her and Cassian’s bed.

Nesta made a cup of tea in the kitchen, savoring the warmth in her palms before opening the wooden door. Cassian had put stained glass on the top, a mosaic of colors that he’d purchased from a local artisan.

She sat on the steps of the porch, a fuzzy blanket wrapped around her shoulders to ward off Velaris’ chill as it began its descent into winter once more. Cassian had covered her with it last night, after he made love to her until she was sated on their bed.

Cassian was a tough male to keep up with. Because he’d fallen asleep with her, becoming her companion in that dreamless rest until his body forced him awake at ungodly hours of the morning. It was the soldier in him, she knew, that had him waking up before dawn broke on the horizon. 

Cassian’s axe thudded through the wood and onto the platform. She’d been able to hear it earlier, the noise distant and muddled through the walls of the house. It had lulled her further into sleep with its steady rhythm, even when the warmth of his body had long faded.

He was hard at work, and she settled herself in place, content to watch.

Even in the chill, he’d forsaken wearing a shirt. A shimmer of sweat covered him, glistening over his tanned skin, covered with tattoos. His hair was tied back, and his wings stood at attention. She couldn’t help noticing the way they moved with each blow. Involuntarily, reflexively, as if they were creating some kind of counterbalance to the force he was exerting downwards. It was a rocking chair today. So she didn’t have to sit on the steps anymore, he’d said. Once he got all the pieces cut, he was going to sand them down, before bending them into shape.

She’d seen the meticulous motions of his hands. For him, it wasn’t just a skill. It was fully an art, one that he took great pride in.

He’d explained it once, telling her that five hundred years of existence lent itself well to having hidden skills. One of Cassian’s was working with his hands—crafting things where there hadn’t been anything before.

This was his first house. On his own, at least. He’d helped with the building before in Illyria, and knew how to ensure it was structurally sound. There had always been others, though, to help. But he’d been insistent on doing this all by himself, refusing any offers of assistance from Rhys and Azriel. And what a shame it was, that she was left to watch the rippling muscles of Cassian’s back as he brought that axe down, again and again.

“See something you like?” he teased, not yet turning to face her.

“Oh, just some wood that I’d like to get my hands on,” she muttered under her breath.

Cassian brought the axe down once more, effectively splitting the large log in half. Then he turned, his mouth forming a wide grin as he wiped the sweat off of his forehead. Every defined line of muscle was on full display as he took step after step towards her, amusement playing in his eyes.

“I didn’t know you had such an interest in carpentry, sweetheart.”

“I have an interest in a wide variety of things. Didn’t you know?” she said, letting coyness slip into her voice. “Especially when there’s a certain hulking Illyrian involved.”

He chuckled, wings flaring slightly behind him. Damn peacock.

When he reached her, he leaned down, lifting her chin so he could press a kiss to her lips. “Then maybe,” he murmured, “I’ll have to give you a private demonstration.”

Her heart fluttered swiftly in her chest. Still, she couldn’t get enough of him, and by the look in his eyes whenever they landed on her, he couldn’t either.

“You’ll show me what to do with my hands, right?” she asked innocently. With her pointer finger, she trailed a line all the way down his bare chest to the waistband of his pants. “And how tightly I need to…grip?”

He caught that stray hand by grabbing her wrist, bringing it up to his lips to put a kiss on her knuckles.

“Don’t be a tease, Nes. Not if you aren’t going to follow through,” he said in warning.

“And what are you going to do about it?” She knew she could only give him so much attitude before he eventually took things into his own hands. He was getting there, but not quite.

His eyebrows rose, still amused. “I could have sworn I fucked all the brattiness out of you last night. Seems I was mistaken. But by all means, keep doing what you’re doing—I’ll just be taking notes for later.”

She hummed, looking upwards and exposing her neck to him. “That was last night. I’m awake now.” She assessed him, pretending she’d come to some sort of conclusion before saying, “But, if you don’t think you’re up for it…”

She shrugged, closing the blanket around herself with her free hand.

He snarled slightly, nipping at her fingers before tugging her forward just an inch. “What did I say about not being a tease?”

She scoffed. “It’s not my fault you can’t handle me properly.”

That seemed to do it. The hazel vanished from his eyes almost entirely, leaving in its wake a black that looked near ready to devour her.

“Handle you properly,” he muttered to himself. 

He pulled her up in a swift movement, the blanket falling from her shoulders and exposing her to the cold air. “You remember that bed I built you? The one in our bedroom. I’m sure you know the one,” he said, his casual voice laced with something just a touch menacing. He leaned in to say into her ear, “You have one minute to get into it.”

---

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