𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ wifies

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ He had always been very aware of his own biology.

He was aware that his biology was responsible many times for what he did. The things it made him do, the reason he acted the ways he did, how certain things prompted certain feelings. He’d always made a habit of being aware of what his DNA made of him, as well as the kinds of things it told others.

On more than one occasion had he been assumed to be a dumb mutt who could only wag a tail. In a way, he was aware it gave him the intelligent advantage over the enemy - if they assumed he was dumber than he was, he could easily outsmart them.

Another assumption people made was that he was aggressive if provoked. Wifies understood, he supposed, dogs were often violent when they needed to be. He was never quite so violent.. He wasn’t much of a reactor either, he realised. He was calm, sedate, more responsive than reactive.

He supposed that assumptions like that were also an advantage; he could bluff when he needed to.

The point was, Wifies was good at being able to understand how and why he acted. He’d made a habit of being able to read his own actions as and when. That was the type of control he had when it came to himself, to ensure he would always have an answer. He liked studying how animal DNA affected human DNA.

He was, he would like to think, in tune with himself.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

He was just also very in tune with {{User}}. He'd spent countless hours studying birds and the occasional other avian just so he could figure out what made {{User}} tick, what made {{obj}} react.

He watched {{poss}} wings every time they spread wide enough to blot the sun above him. Studied every shift of dirt in the feathers when {{User}} let him preen them. Envied such beauty up close, knowing that as an extension of his silent ownership of {{User}}, he also owned the tool to the skies.

He’d studied avian habits for years and subtly tested them on {{User}} every chance he’d gotten. When {{User}} had stormed off into the jungle on some self-righteous plan to stop {{poss}} friends from getting hunted, Wifies had specifically planted an egg near {{poss}} house. It was infertile, but he’d loved every second of watching {{User}} go into “Nesting mode” and begin building a nest of soft leaves, branches, small twigs, wool from sheared sheep.

In the same week, {{User}} had gone into a sort of heat, and Wifies had very gladly offered himself up as a tribute to {{poss}} desires for a mate.

He’d also watched {{User}} eagerly rub {{ref}} all over multiple surfaces in an attempt to masturbate. He’d chastised {{obj}} heavily at the time, if only to teach {{poss}} pretty bird brain that he was the only thing {{sub}} should be using to get off.

Additionally, he'd spent his time studying {{User}} in particular when he went under the title of The Director.

His results were fascinating. He wanted to continue studying {{User}}, even after {{User}} was put into Paragon. It was the best opportunity; no one to interrupt him or draw {{poss}} attention away from him. Besides, the things he wanted to test on {{User}} had no place in the eyes of others.

When {{User}} finally seemed to give in, Wifies decided he needed to begin physical studying. Needed {{poss}} body on his, to listen to {{poss}} soft noises and the music of {{poss}} skin, to watch, enrapt, as {{User}} lay before him.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

His newest idea was something he had been wanting to try for weeks; blindfolding {{User}} with his bandana, to test if {{poss}} DNA truly was as avian as he hoped.

If he was correct in his observation, his little bird should hopefully become sleepy. Sleepy, drowsy, and pliant. From his research, he had seen birds slip into a sedate state when left in a small, dark space. If he could recreate that with {{User}}, keep {{obj}} warm in his home, and blindfold {{obj}} to deprive {{obj}} of distractions… He had to try.

“{{User}},” He murmured into {{poss}} ear when he came up behind {{obj}}, arms slipped around {{poss}} waist gently so he could tug {{poss}} warm body closer to him, “I want to try something, darling.” He hummed, dragging {{User}} backwards just a little bit more. Before {{sub}} could get comfortable with the touch, he pulled back and guided {{obj}} towards his home.

The cherry blossom plank home stood out against the vibrant grass and water of the lake, even more so against the obsidian. The outside wouldn’t matter soon.

He pulled {{User}} into his home, offering little explanation for the change in interior. He’d changed it days ago when he’d decided he was going to do this study, moving things around so he could put a plank wall between his “bedroom” and the rest of the home, “It’s like a cozy cubby.” he half-heartedly explained, and then simply pulled {{User}} inside.

It was small, cramped, with a curtain hiding it from the rest of the house. It was quite literally a nook, with only enough room for the bed itself, though it was tall. He’d have {{User}} in here more often, therefore he needed room for {{obj}} to spread {{poss}} wings properly.

When {{User}} sat down on his bed, he shuffled just outside for a moment, kicking his shoes off and pulling his bandana off, “{{User}}, close your eyes.”

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

It had worked. Incredibly so, actually. He’d gotten {{User}} to lay on {{poss}} back, at which point he’d tied his purple bandana around {{poss}} head instead of his own. Wifies had shuffled it down just enough so that it obstructed {{poss}} view, and then waited ten minutes.

His fingers itched to write his observations in his book as {{User}} began to get drowsy and make small, instinctive noises that Wifies drank the sound from eagerly. Instead, he chose to write his observations into {{poss}} skin, as his hands cradled {{poss}} waist, “{{User}},” he whispered against {{poss}} shoulder when he leaned down, “Are you still awake? You’re awfully drowsy.”

One hand moved to prop himself up, while the other slipped beneath {{poss}} back to run his fingers through {{User}}’s feathers, near where they met skin, and subtly preening them while {{User}}was half asleep, “So pliant and sleepy.” He observed under his breath, smiling. His hips stuttered as they punctured forward; just the reminder that {{User}} was so tired and half asleep had him throbbing inside of {{obj}}, “You alright, darling? You’re so relaxed. Can you chirp for me?”

Wifies paused for a moment, taking time to observe the avian beneath him; so beautiful. All of those harsh lines and soft curves. Such vibrant wings, twitching with tired pleasure.

All of {{User}} was perfect. But Wifies had a special appreciation for the innate, avian side of {{obj}}.