#Balanced Canine Meals

[allfortheloveofdogs]

Cooking Canine Cuisine: Essential Tips for Homemade Dog Food Success

We all want to do what’s best for our families, dogs and other animal family members included.  Lately, there has been a lot of controversy on social media about manufactured foods, illnesses and recalls.  While this article won’t get into those details, what I have noticed is a major influx of dog guardians turning to homecooked and raw foods for their furry family members. Affiliate…

[petpetisy]

Can You Change Dog Food Flavors but Same Brand? Find the Interesting Answer in 2024!

As a caring pet owner, you might wonder: Can I change my dog’s food flavors but keep the same brand? This question is important for your dog’s health. It’s about knowing the good and bad of changing your dog’s diet within a brand you trust. Table of ContentsKey TakeawaysThe Benefits of Providing Variety in Your Dog’s DietAvoiding Food Intolerances and AllergiesIntroducing New Protein Sources…

[bamm05]

25 Quick and Easy Dog Recipes That Your Furry Friend Will Adore

​Are you looking for quick and easy dog meals that will not only satisfy your furry friend’s taste buds but also provide them with essential nutrients? Look no further! We have gathered 25 delicious dog recipes that will leave your pup begging for more. Whether you’re a busy pet parent or simply want to spoil your four-legged companion with homemade treats, these easy dog meals are the perfect…

[pawspetfood]

Nutrient-Rich Delight: Crafting the Perfect Turkey Brown Rice and Vegetable Dog Food

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. all sukuna needs is someone to take care of his needs after a stressful day—that someone being you, his favorite concubine.

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine! female reader. smut, angst towards the end. objectification kinda, size kínk, p in v -> unprotected, choking (nearly goes wrong), breeding kink, standing doggy, sukuna has two cawks, reader gets called ‘(little) slut, doll’. uhh sukuna has cannibal-ish desires.. idk how to explain it.

“you,” sukuna barges into the dining hall, not batting an eye to all the other women sitting around. his sharp gaze immediately finds yours in-between the crowd. that’s when you realise that he’s clearly pissed off at someone or something.

everyone freezes and stops eating—scurrying to politely greet and bow at the king of curses. you do the same after a second of processing his unexpected presence.

sukuna barks a command before you can part your lips to ask a question, “into my chambers. now.”

the servants and concubines all look on with wide eyes. they know what that means. some are blushing from embarrassment at sukuna’s bold choice of words—others are silently seething with envy because you’re the centre of his attention again.

all eyes are on you as you get up to follow sukuna. you’re nervous yet also somewhat excited. you were unable to walk straight for a few days the last time sukuna looked and sounded that angry.

but, the embarrassment is certainly also present. especially because everyone knows what the mighty sorcerer and his concubine are going to be up to for the upcoming hours.

“strip,” sukuna firmly says the second you enter his room. you’re used to his distant, rushed behaviour at this point, so you comply. you undo all robes—leaving you completely bare in front of him.

sukuna’s canine teeth show as he grins at the welcoming sight. he steps towards you, his rough hands coming up to fondle your body. he squeezes and fondles your soft flesh with surprising care, “mhmm. this ‘s all i needed.”

it isn’t long before your small body is caged against the nearest wall. your breasts are squished by the cold concrete, your hands the only thing keeping your balance. your fingernails hurt because of you repeatedly scratching the wall.

“i know y��� can get louder than that,” sukuna hisses and sinks his sharp canines into your shoulder. he’s splitting you open, his thick cock dragging along your velvety walls with a purpose. the king of curses unapologetically draws a bit of blood from your flesh, “tsk—moan like the fuckin’ slut you are.”

and you do as told. your voice gets so loud to the point that it’s embarrassing, but you can’t care less. your insides are begging sukuna to continue—to not stop until they’ve turned into mush. until they’re painted white with loads and loads of thick and slippery cum.

“tha’s it, doll,” sukuna huffs as his tongue licks over the bite mark he left on your shoulder. his eyes flash a dangerous red at the sight. he’s doing all he can to suppress the urge to eat you up.

literally.

he’s got this aching carnal desire to devour you. to consume you like it’s his last meal on earth. sukuna can’t stand it, though he tries his best. you’re an interesting human; the reactions you elicit from him are strong. like no one has been able to do so before.

“need more, my lord,” you beg between interrupted moans. you’re drunk on pleasure, oblivious to the fact that sukuna is fighting off his inner demons. you’re obsessed with the way his hips roughly slam against your ass. your body is on fire, “more—more, fnghhh, more!”

all four of sukuna’s hands tighten around your hips and waist. he squeezes you until you feel his nails painfully dig into your skin. you’re making it so hard for him; acting this needy, begging him to ravage you and claim your cunt, mind and soul.

“lost y’r fuckin’ manners, hm?” sukuna grumbles and slaps your ass as punishment, “beg properly.” he spreads your asscheeks after that, squishing the plump fat in attempt to withstand his own sick thoughts.

you look delicious. your dripping pussy that’s wetting both his cocks looks delicious. your body that is much smaller compared to his looks powerless and. . . delicious.

“‘m sorry—please, pleaseee!” you mewl, eyes rolling back into your skull. you’ll never get tired of being pounded until you’re unable to think or talk properly. it’s even better with sukuna, his two cocks are enough to keep you stuffed and satisfied for nth amount of time.

your breath hitches as you feel your feet being lifted from the floor. your legs dangle in the air as sukuna readjusts his grasp on your body so he could support you up against the wall. the new angle he’s fucking you in only increases all the pleasure.

you’re not sure if you can even keep up with him at this point. you’re brainlessly allowing him to position your body however he sees fit.

“shittt, yeah,” sukuna nearly salivates at the sight of your small body accepting its fate. you’re either super easy to please, or he’s just good at what he’s doing. no matter which one it is—sukuna’s making sure that you’re not going to be able to walk after he’s done.

he plunges his upper cock in and out of your wet cunt. each thrust is different than the one before, the pace quickening before slowing down again. he’s clearly teasing you and that’s exactly what drives you crazy.

“my lord—mmh! so deep,” you hiccup, nearly crying because of how many times sukuna hits that sweet spot deep inside your leaking pussy. your brain has shut down and all you can focus on is his thick cock that’s making you moan uncontrollably.

sukuna curses under his breath. you’re so desperate and it makes him want to do unspeakable things. he wants to have you all to himself. he doesn’t know what that overbearing emotion is and it’s frustrating him to no end.

the king of curses only increases his pace after that. he attempts to decrease the flow of thought inside of his mind by pounding you harder. your entire body is trembling and jolting back and forth in place, every thrust of his is met with a loud moan of yours.

“quit whining ‘n just take it,” sukuna pants, not paying mind to your jumbled up sentences. there’s no need for words, his current and only goal is to make your cunt overflow with his cum. if he can’t claim you in an inhuman way, he’ll resort to mark your insides, so no man even thinks of speaking or touching what’s his.

you can feel the passion behind sukuna’s thrusts. you’re still not over the fact that he’s using you like a ragdoll to get himself off. but, it also feels insanely good at the same time. you nod and nod, wanting to satisfy each of sukuna’s desires.

“i’ll let ‘em know,” the king of curses groans once he feels you involuntarily squeeze his upper cock. his lower cock slides between your thighs, back and forth, getting its own stimulation. sukuna finishes his sentence with a guttural grunt, “i’ll let everyone know y’r mine ‘nd mine only.”

he’s serious about this. his hands squeeze your form and you moan at the act of ownership. by the increase of his harsh thrusts, you can tell that he’s close. close to dumping his hot load into your cunt and breed your womb full of him.

sukuna can’t get the image out of his head. you, fully bred, by no one else but him. how you’d walk around the estate with his cum pooling between your legs. the other concubines are going to seethe the second they smell his scent on you— something they can only dream of.

“take it — fucking take it,” sukuna gets more aggressive with the second. he yearns for a release, one that will destress him. though the closer he gets to his climax, the more those carnal desires threaten to take over.

you squeal as you feel one of sukuna’s hands wrap around your neck. he squeezes your throat until you’re gasping for air. you don’t know what’s suddenly got into him, but you’re too far gone to care.

you can hear him growling in your ear from behind—his hips not stopping even as you reach your own orgasm. you curl your fingers around sukuna’s wrist, trying to loosen his grip around your throat before you lose consciousness, “m-mmhhh, can’t breathe.”

your sobs echo throughout the chambers. your climax leaves you spasming in sukuna’s grasp, your cunt feels like it’s on fire as it continues being overstimulated.

sukuna’s too far gone as well. you can feel drops of his drool fall on your bare back. his red eyes are wide, looking down at you like you’re his meal for the day. figuratively, you are. though the king of curses has a desire that urges him to take it literally.

“r-ryo, please!”

it’s only then that sukuna snaps back to his usual self. hearing you call him by that nickname you created both calms him down and turns him on. he loosens the grip on your throat and instead presses you harshly against the wall with one final thrust.

he spills all his heavy balls have stored into your cunt. your pussy floods with his potent seed, the sticky fluid easily finding its way into your womb. you whimper at the warm feeling—sukuna always cums so much. literal buckets.

you can feel the same sticky feeling on your thighs, as well as on the wall after his lower cock spurts out ropes of cum too. you feel yourself being lowered to the floor and you lean against the hard surface to catch your breath.

you take a look over your shoulder and see how sukuna’s eyes are partially hidden behind his sweaty bangs. there’s a dark aura surrounding him, though it slowly disappears the more he calms down.

his hands are still holding your body in place, not ready to let go of you. his upper cock softens up inside of you and you’re unsure of what to do. the silence - except for the heavy breathing - makes you question if you did something wrong.

“something the matter, my lord?” you ask between faint gasps. sukuna doesn’t answer you and instead lets go of your body, pulling himself out of you right after.

if he keeps himself inside of you, he’ll lose it. he’ll do something he feels like he’ll eventually regret.

“get dressed,” sukuna commands harshly. he doesn’t even look at you anymore. he simply pulls the robes over his body again and covers himself. you’re confused, but you do as told either way.

you’re shaking as you fix your undergarments before pulling your kimono over your body again. you’ll fix your make up and disheveled hair later. first, you need to figure out why sukuna’s acting so cold.

sure - he’s always been like that, aftercare and affection was never really his forte - but it’s somehow worse today. once you’re done dressing up, you obediently stand in front of sukuna, looking up at him like you’re expecting another command.

this is usually the moment where you can just relax in his chambers until you fall asleep or until you’ve calmed down. though, today felt off. you’re uneasy by the tension in the air.

the oblivious look in your eyes nearly makes the king of curses pounce on you. you’re so oblivious to what’s going on in his mind. the images that flash through his mind—of you underneath him as he claims your flesh and bones.

your soul. your heart.

“get out,” sukuna hisses. he does not need to spend another second with you in his personal space. no good will come out of it anyway. he can smell himself on you and it’s triggering those same urges that he was fighting off just moments ago.

he longs to sink his teeth in every part of your flesh. to eat you whole like it’s his right.

he clenches his fists and moves to sit on the edge of his bed. to you, sukuna looks mad. perhaps a bit confused with how he’s feeling. he still doesn’t understand why he’s having such strong feelings towards you.

he yearns to claim ownership over you in more ways than one.

you gulp and know that sukuna is not to be messed with when he’s like this. even if you don’t realise why, you simply nod and bow at him before walking out of his chambers. not a word has to be spoken.

you close his doors behind you and yet can’t seem to move away. you’re unsure of what that last interaction between you two meant.

the look in sukuna’s eyes contained something so primal. no, feral.

you remember how he choked you until you were on the verge of passing out. how he held you like he wanted to possess your every being. how he squeezed your body between his and the wall, leaving you no space to breathe.

you run your fingers over the mark on your shoulder. you hiss; the bite mark stung. it didn’t during the moment because of the adrenaline, but now that the effects of the hormone have worn off, you realise just how deep it was. sukuna normally gives you light and small bites, but this one was different.

everything about that passionate session was unusual, overwhelming and… primal.

just what in the world was that?

[sugarphoenixlovesfanfic]

× . bite . ×

synopsis: Dan Heng is befallen with a temporary illness that turns him into a vampire for a week. The only way to temporarily alleviate him of his bloodlust is to let him drink off of you, but as his wife can you convince him to do so? tags: f!reader, vampire Dan Heng, reader is a bit of a masochist, no smut, 1.5k words a/n: tagging @coupsworth because you suggested I write about dan heng being a vampire in this post, thank you!

ao3 link here!

[Sanguinary bats:

[A type of mammal that loves to feast on the blood of living mammals. It transmits a disease via its bites, Vampyroa, which is extremely effective on humanoid species. The disease usually takes place a week after the bite is made, and the affected grows sharp fangs and an unnatural bloodlust. There is no immediate cure for Vampyroa, however, Vampyroa often goes away after about a week within experiencing symptoms. Those who have caught the disease are advised to stay in rooms of their own, and to only consume water and red meat. Giving in to their bloodlust is ill-advised, yet drinking blood from another humanoid species does not transmit the disease or have any consequences apart from those that come with general exposure to foreign blood/blood loss on the victim’s side. In fact, the imbibing of another’s blood will sate the “vampyr” for up to a day.]

You gently push open the door to Dan Heng’s room.

It has been a week since the bat attack, and although the Astral Express crew had been prepared not to let any of the bats come into close contact with them, Dan Heng unfortunately suffered a single bite. The rest of the week from then on was spent in anxious anticipation of the “turning,” as March 7th referred to it. Dan Heng, upset by her constant use of that word, shut himself into his room entirely, only allowing you, his wife, in.

Last night, the symptoms had started to appear, as Dan Heng woke you up in a cold sweat. When you flicked the lamp on, you saw that his eyes glowed a soft red, and his canine teeth were longer than usual. He told you to sleep in another room, not wanting to put you in danger of himself. You refused, but he insisted upon it, so you let yourself be moved into another room.

Now you turn up at his door with a steak, prepared rare, and a glass of water.

“Dan Heng,” you say. “It’s me.”

“Don’t come in,” you hear him command, his voice husky.

“Too late,” you say, pushing the door open further with your foot.

You thought you had prepared yourself for seeing him, but your eyes widen at the scene laid before you.

In the dark room, you can make out Dan Heng curling on his mattress, in Vidyadhara form. It’s clear that his turning is affecting his internal balance, causing him to shift into his dragon self. His clothes are shrugging off of him, as though he was trying to shed them, exposing his skin. His long dark hair curls around him in strands and ribbons, framing his face, as he gazes blankly towards the ceiling, panting.

His eyes meet yours, and you see something else within them.

“Here’s your breakfast, Dan,” you say, setting the meat and water on his desk.

“Thank you.” Dan Heng speaks as though he’s holding back. “Now leave.”

“…Okay.”

You leave his room before he has a chance to pounce on you.

After that, Dan Heng insists on having anyone else but you deliver his next meals, so you reluctantly let Welt and Himeko deliver his lunch and dinner. At night, you peek into his room.

“Don’t come in,” he says, sensing your presence. He’s sitting in bed with a book, a single dimly lit lamp giving him only enough light to read. The rest of the room is shrouded in darkness.

“I miss you,” you say. He pauses, putting his book down and looking up at you.

“I miss you too,” he says, his tone gentle and soft.

“Why won’t you let me come to you?” you ask.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I’d never forgive myself if I did.”

You linger in the doorway for a few moments more, then make up your mind.

“There’s nothing that can keep me from you,” you say, walking into the room towards him.

Immediately he grows tense, and you can see his fangs peeking through his lips.

“Don’t come any closer,” he says, but you get on the bed next to him and wrap your arms around his chest.

“I don’t care. I wanna be here.” You shove your face into his side, savoring his warmth.

He growls, a rumble deep in his chest you haven’t heard before. When you look up at him, his eyes and horns are glowing, his eyes red.

“If you stay at my side like this, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to hold myself back, darling.”

“What will happen if you don’t?” you ask.

“To put it simply… your blood looks tantalizing.” Dan Heng licks his lips. You gulp, feeling blood rush to your cheeks. “It’s hard enough for me to hold myself back from everyone else, but you…you entice me like no other.”

Dan Heng breathes softly, his gaze on you heated. “You know…it might be better if you let me drink from you.” Immediately, he puts a hand on his mouth and turns away, as though horrified at what he said. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, intrigued.

“If I drink blood from someone,” Dan Heng says, his horns gently illuminating the walls a soft blue, “my hunger would be sated for about a day.”

There’s a pause as you consider this information.

“So, you’re saying that I would be helping you by letting you drink my blood.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t—”

“I’ll do it.”

Dan Heng widens his eyes at you, and you can see a dark hunger gleaming within them.

“You would?”

“Yes. It’s not like you need to drink all my blood, right…?”

“No, no, I don’t require that much.” Dan Heng reaches for you, then stops himself. “I can’t.”

“You can. I give you permission.” You take his hand in yours and he grips onto it almost painfully. “Besides, I’m a little curious.”

“Curious?”

“As to how it would feel.” You grin at him. “I mean. It would probably feel similar to all the other times you sank your teeth into my neck.”

Dan Heng is too focused on your neck to notice the innuendo you made. He runs his tongue against his fangs as he drills holes into you with his eyes, looking a bit dazed.

“So, you’ll let me?” he asks after a pause. “You’re sure about this?”

“Yes.” You bare your neck to him with a smile.

Dan Heng’s reaction is instant, one arm wrapping around your chest to pull you closer, while his other hand comes up to grip your neck, steadying it. He brings his face close to your neck, pauses for a moment, then begins licking it. You shudder at the sensation, preparing yourself for what comes next.

Then, delicately, ever so gently, he buries his face into your neck and sinks his teeth in, the twin points sharp enough that you only felt a twinge of pain. You could feel as blood pooled out of you and onto his waiting tongue, constantly lapping and picking up any wayward droplets.

The act feels intimate in a way you had yet to encounter, and your eyelids flutter at the sensation of teeth and muscle working together. You wrap your arms around his body, one hand cradling the back of his head as he drinks from you like a man starved. And then, almost as soon as he had started, he pulls away, giving your neck a few last licks before the puncture holes are sealed. You notice the look in his eyes are clearer now, and he looks a little healthier than when you found him.

“Do you feel better now?” you ask.

“Much, much better.” Dan Heng sighs, a sound of relief and contentment.

“I hope this doesn’t give you a taste for blood after your sickness wears off,” you say, and giggle at the look of horror on his face. “Don’t worry, that’s not a side effect you have to worry about. Welt told me about it.”

Dan Heng looks at you, narrowing his eyes.

“You…knew. About the blood drinking.” he says, realization dawning in his eyes.

“Well…I can’t say it wasn’t my intention tonight to get you to quench your thirst off me.” You grin, having been caught.

“Wh-why—” Dan Heng starts, then stops himself. “Nevermind, I know why. You’re a masochist.”

“I just wanted to make you feel better!” you protest.

Dan Heng gazes into your eyes, his stern expression melting into a gentle smile.

“I know.”

“The masochism might have played a teensy weensy little part in my decision as well.”

“I know.”

“I love you.” You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest.

“I love you too,” he says, stroking your head gently. “Always.”

“We will be doing this until you’re cured, by the way,” you say.

“Not if I have any say about it,” Dan Heng huffs.

“You don’t,” you say, smiling.

Your dragon husband lets out a resigned breath, but you can tell he’s relieved by how far you’re willing to go for him.

dividers by @cafekitsune

comments and reblogs appreciated!

[driftingdryad]

Just because I love him so much lol. Kakashi being dirty 🫣 You can’t tell me he hasn’t has some animalistic traits hehe. How would he be in a relationship with those traits? 😏

Omg yes, I gotchu babes!

Canine-Traits!Kakashi is one of my favorite Naruto headcanons/AUs. Thank you for the request bestie, I had so much fun with this! I might even need to do a part 2 sometime hehe. I hope you enjoy 💚

𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞-𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬!𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

Word count: ~1.3k

18+, afab/fem reader, mentions of consensual biting, mentions of consensual choking, mentions of menstruation

♡ When Kakashi falls for you, he falls hard and fast. He's always been one to wholeheartedly trust his canine instincts — he wouldn't still be around if he didn't — so when your third date leaves his instincts screaming that you're the perfect mate for him he doesn't fight it.

The intensity with which he moves forward after that is a bit frightening at first, after all he seemed so aloof and laid-back when you first started casually dating. You honestly hadn't thought anything serious would come from it either. He was Kakashi of the Sharingan, one of Kohona's most elite ninjas and you were just a civilian who happened to hire his genin team to help you move. It's hard to wrap your head around, but you can't deny that you feel the spark too, so you push away your fear and let yourself fall into the whirlwind that is Kakashi Hatake on a mission to make you his.

♡ Resource provisioning. Once Kakashi decides you're the one his Alpha makes sure you'll never have to worry about not having the things you need again. Say goodbye to your shitty little apartment on the bad side of the civilian district, and welcome to the newly reinhabited Hatake compound where Kakashi will make sure you're provided for and your every need is met. With top-notch security, a constantly stocked kitchen, and all the comforts you could dream of, the Hatake compound soon becomes your safe haven.

Like a good mate and Alpha, Kakashi is extremely attentive to your needs and makes sure that he is always on top of providing for you. The pantry is always stocked with all the food you could need for a delicious and well-balanced diet, as well as some of your favorite treats and snacks, of course. Kakashi's attentiveness extends to anticipating your needs as well. You can't remember the last time you had to purchase new bath products. Whenever you reach the end of a bottle, a replacement seems to appear by the next time you enter the bathroom. If you make an off hand comment at breakfast about needing to get a new toothbrush next time you go to the market, you can bet a new one will be waiting on the counter by the time you go to brush your teeth after your meal.

As part of his need to provide for you, Kakashi is also extremely soft and doting. Small gifts for you appear around the house and compound very frequently. A vase of fresh wildflowers waiting for you on the kitchen table; a new downy soft blanket he found while away on a mission added to one of your favorite cozy spaces; the next book in the series you're reading when he notices you're close to finishing your current one; a pretty speckled river stone he found in the Land of Waves; the hair clip your eyes lingered on a moment too long while at the market. Kakashi's thoughtfulness knows no bounds.

You're not used to being doted on so heavily, and you remind him frequently that while you love and appreciate his gifts, he doesn't need to spoil you. He's firm in his response that he knows he doesn't need to, he wants to, and it brings him great satisfaction to do so.

♡ Kakashi can't bring himself to call you his girlfriend. It feels so juvenile, and you're so much more than that. You're his mate, his perfect match. He doesn't want to embarrass you though, so he does his best to call you his partner instead.

One night, while the two of you are out drinking with your friends, Kakashi slips up and refers to you as his mate. He's thankful at first that no one seems to notice, but in the following days when everyone— including yourself — starts referring to you as his mate it's clear that his slipup didn’t go as unnoticed as he thought. He's absolutely over the moon about it, too!

♡ Kakashi is absolutely obsessed and fixated on your throat. Whether it's his nose buried against your pulse point, lips, teeth and tongue trailing across your delicate skin, a discreet hand on the back of your neck or a firm hold around your throat Kakashi is there. In part because of it being a major scent point, but more importantly because it shows your trust and submission.

♡ Kakashi's keen nose can tell when you're ovulating or on your period, and uses it to his advantage when taking care of you. He can usually pick up on your cycles starting a few days in advance and is always sure to give you a heads up — who needs a calendar when you've got a Kakashi?

Kakashi knows your favourite menstrual products and your most common cravings, so he'll make sure to stock up on things before your period starts. When the cramps start hitting hard he’s there with a hot water bottle and those magical hands of his ready to massage your lower back. And when the cramps get unbearable, but at the same time you're insatiably horny? Never fear, Kakashi isn't afraid to get his sword bloody!

♡ Scenting you. Just because you can't smell him on you doesn't mean that others can't. Most ninjas have a keenly trained sense of smell, and those from certain clans and bloodlines especially can pick up on scents and their meanings. Kakashi makes sure they know who you belong to and who they'll be dealing with if they so much as think about bringing harm to you.

You often wake to him nuzzling into your neck or wrists, lathing his tongue across your sensitive skin, sending a delighted shiver down your spine. When it comes to sex he never fails to scoop up his come as it drips out of your poor little swollen pussy and spread it across your pretty skin, embedding his most intimate scent into your flesh.

♡ When Kakashi is away from the village for long stretches, his scent eventually fades into a background note on you. Upon his return, he tends to be uncharacteristically tense and irritable until he's able to get his hands on you. It's not uncommon for you to find out about his return via him appearing seemingly out of thin air and whisking you away to a private location where he can strip you bare, pin you down, and cover you in his scent again.

Usually re-scenting you involves some intense nuzzling and licking across your body as well as lots of skin to skin contact. If he isn't injured and has enough energy be prepared for a good hard fuck, most likely with a hand around your throat and his sharp canines buried in your shoulder, the pain heightening your pleasure. As much as he loves filling you to the brim with his seed, on these occasions Kakashi always pulls out with a deep growl just in time to paint your chest and throat with thick ropes of his pent up come. If you want to drive him even more wild, treat him to the sight of you massaging his essence into those beautiful tits of yours. Then prepare for round two!

♡ Kakashi's prey drive is so fucking strong when it comes to you. This man derives so much joy and thrill from hunting you down and catching you. Of course you never stand a chance against him, but he lets you evade him long enough for you to enjoy the thrill of being hunted as well.

It can be scary knowing that such a dangerous man is lurking in the shadows behind you, but knowing it's your dangerous man gets you soaked. Which definitely doesn't help you evade Kakashi. He's got the smell of your arousal ingrained in his hindbrain, and the smell of your slick permeating the air is enough to make him snap. No more playing games, you better run because when Kakashi inevitably catches you you're going to be face down with his hand wrapped around the back of your neck as he mercilessly fucks you into the dirt ₊˚⊹♡

[rippersz]

𝙲𝚊𝚝!𝙻𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚊 𝚆𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜:

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These are my opinions! If you don’t agree, then add your own headcanons! The idea is taken from the mind of @masscared-star and their thoughts on feline Larissa Weems.

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Kitty Cat Larissa Weems is a white Turkish Angora feline. One of the fluffy ones with the thicker neck fur and ear tufts. Her tail widens toward the end and is very soft of course. Every part of her is soft.

Her teeth are very sharp. They’re still in human alignment, but the incisors and canines are obviously more cat-like. The premolars and molars, toward the back of her jaw, have more sharp edges. So she doesn’t hurt herself, her tongue rests in her mouth differently and has a very weird texture. It’s in between human, soft, and the feline, rougher and tougher.

Her pupils CAN turn into slits. Her ears CAN twitch and swivel and flatten. Her tail CAN swish swish swish. She also has a habit of stalking without realizing - walking with swinging hips and one foot in front of the other like that of a model.

She has PERFECT balance. Despite her height and stature, she will not fall. And if she does, she shall be graceful about it.

Heightened senses of course. She has an excellent sense of smell. Her eyes, however, function like a human’s. She can see all colors and has an innate sense of where things are so there’s no ‘bumping into things’ unless she’s somehow dizzy. BUT she CAN see in the dark. Built-in night vision. No hiding from her at night.

Ear scritches. Yes, ma’am. Scratch her behind the ears, be careful of her hair, and she will push into your hand without even thinking. It’s very comforting for her and sends lovely little shivers down her spine. Same with the base of her tail. She won’t respond in the same… interesting manner as a cat’s, but she will let her tail curl around your wrist or your waist. She has a lot of control over it.

PURRING. PURRRRINGGG SOMETHING IS PURRINNNGGG AND IT’S LARISSA WEEMS LMAO. She will purr whenever she is content. Head on your lap while reading. Eating a lovely little meal with you in deep candlelight. She keeps it low and soft when she’s in public, happy and proud of her staff and students, but otherwise lets herself purr as loudly as she wants when with you. - Larissa also has the ability to let out little ‘mrrow!’ chirping kitty sounds when she’s excited. If you show up with lunch for her one day and she’s not expecting you, she’ll perk up and the sound will leave her chest without any restraint. She will be embarrassed about it. You will laugh and she will be embarrassed and then when you give her a little kiss, she will purposefully nick your lip and you will go ow!! and she will go 'Gotcha.'

Showering…. hissss….. She loves showers so much, she does, because they are warm and she likes warmth, but they are also annoying. The pitter patter on her ears can irritate her, so she indulges in baths more. It gives her control over the touches on her ears and she actually enjoys grooming the parts of her that are feline. Although, if you headcanon that she has a proper cat form, she will not like water as much.

Her nails are sharp. She can’t help it. They’re painted red, yes, and they can be sheathed and unsheathed (like Enid’s, yes), but she tries to be gentle with them. When she’s angry or frightened, they shoot out - so just be careful.

Her precious soft ears are pierced, near the base by her head on the outsides, but those areas are sensitive. Not sensitive like ooooo but sensitive like ow please don’t squeeze there. She mainly wears pearls in those spots, because she likes the sparkle, but little golden hoops make the occasional appearance as well. - She does not like bows or things being placed around her ears though. Chances are she will not like extra accessories there. And she DOES NOT APPRECIATE YOU TRYING TO TURN THEM INSIDE OUT BECAUSE IT LOOKS FUNNY. You did it once and you have the nicks on your hands to show it. Worth the laugh though.

She hisses beneath her breath when irritated. A popping sort of hiss that rumbles from her throat and is often heard in the quiet of her office.

She’s quick. Crazy quick. It seems impossible but it isn’t.

LOUNGING. BASKING IN THE SUN. LOUNGING AND BASKING. MMMM SUNLIGHT. She will lay across her chaise and she will soak in the rays through the windows and she will turn around in her desk chair and just sit there until she nearly falls asleep. No, it’s not very productive, but if she doesn’t get her daily sunlight, she will be a little bit down. If you find her taking a midday rest on the weekend, full body facing the sun that filters through onto the bed, no you don’t. Don’t disturb her. Leave her be, purring away happily.

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:3 - Rip x

[ms0milk]

𝟖 | 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐰𝐨.)

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"You do flinch though, when the prince parts your legs with his hips at the lip of the counter to be this much closer and tilts your face up with that same oddly soft hold from before, a thumb and forefinger balancing your chin where he wants you."

cw (I) bkg mom mode activate, reader attempts murder at a dinner party, super brief paranoia sequence. (II) accidentally suggestive wound-tending, a completely reasonable misunderstanding + bkg is momentarily horrified by what you think of him. 5.7k.

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It's akin to murder in Aldera, killing an ant or fly or caterpillar– to not move worms off the path after a rainstorm. Your home is love.

The little Todoroki Prince is delicate like his mother and his kingdom, like his older brother and sister seated beside him, pale and silent, but as he sits down to eat he crushes a spider making home between the candles and sweeps its body off the table without thought.

It’s a nagging dread across your cheeks, it’s the prickle of a thousand invisible whiskers towards the danger in the corners of this bustling room of feast. Something is wrong with Takoba. The Todorokis are quiet and unpleasant, sure, but something else– someone– shouldn’t be here.

“Y/n?”

Your head tilts to Kirishima sitting at the table in front of you when his low voice cuts through the clamor.

“Are you okay?”

“Mm.”

He smiles as if to say just checking, and pours himself back into his meal and a conversation between friends.

Is Takoba truly so wealthy that they can hire pleasant crowds on demand? Where did all these happy feasters come from? Where do the wicked crows from the throne room roost? The sparkling white hall where you’re stationed this evening bathes in dusk and endless candlelight, music, fine dancing, fine food and kind company. It is the warmest room in all the kingdom for one night only.

All day long you tried tracking down the simmering blond princling currently sitting with his back to your post, but he hid, like a whelp, until dinnertime.

“Where is Prince Bakugou’s chamber?” You attempted to interrogate the maid sent to deliver your change of clothes and show to your room last night, but she just shook her empty head.

A soldier was posted to your door at dawn and you scared him out of his polished boots in your own Takoban uniform well before the sun even crested the castle walls. As delicate as the kingdom and all its trinkets could be, the cotton padded tunic did an admirable job of keeping out seachill. Your halberd bled a red gash down the back of your white and blue uniform and you felt altogether ready for war.

“The feast has been planned for weeks– you must attend!”

“I mustn’t do a single thing.”

“I’ve been ordered to take down your preferences. The prince himself–”

“My prince?” You cocked your head to the nagging butler who had finally caught up to you outside of the soldier’s quarters. Aizawa and all his exhaustion had been no help in your search.

“No, M’lady the Tako–”

“– I am not your Lady.”

“Miss please,” he’d begged. He’d begged and begged until he grew too weary of your wandering.

The prince’s less than modest attitude soured your sleep, even after the shock of opening your chamber door to a room fit for a lord. Green ivy rugs, climbing their little fingers in a pattern across the floor to the sea-facing window beside your bed. Four wooden posts and white linen curtains. It would take two of you to touch the ceiling and ten more to reach from one wall to the next and by all means you should have slept like the dead.

But Bakugou’s smug canine grin burned into your eyelids like a flare. Marching alone down a hallway, you bared your teeth to the thought.

“I’m sorry Ma’am, I haven’t seen him.”

“I’m not important enough to know such things.”

“Who?”

“Weren’t the Alderans injured? Maybe the hospital?”

Through every level of the seashell castle, through every kitchen and office and workshop and training ground, you searched for the prince’s chambers. You marveled all the way through the grand entryway and combed empty jeweled halls and peeping windows. You wished a good morning to Lady Mina and Sero on their way to breakfast and stormed anxiously through the outdoor walkways built into castleside, trying your hardest not to peer over their railings into the sea.

Ahead of you now Prince Bakugou looks too polished and still all too natural at the head of the table while you stand guard behind him, close enough to pluck a golden hair off his head.

The Alderan guests and Takoban royalty perch on a platform at the front of the room and an expanse of feasting festivities stretch out before them. Thankfully this crowd is less oppressive, it is less hateful and more excited to eat the fine food and sing merry songs than to bother much at all with you. Even a place as callous as Takoba enjoys hot meals with friends.

Kirishima gives piggyback rides to children brave enough to approach and Mina watches on, picking petals off the set flowers and tossing them gleefully to the rowdy bunch. The crowd, all seated at their own long tables, giggles and cheers and soon the redhead is lost under a pile of little girls in their poofy ball gowns.

Whiskers twitch again and your gaze shoots across the room to a man milling with drink trays and the blindspot of a candle behind him where the wall stills in darkness. You’re brought back to the light when a voice hisses,

“Denki! Quit it–”

Sero admonishes his friend as Kaminari gorges on roast vegetables and sliced meats that have wafted their warm autumn sweetness through the seashell castle all day long. The noisy eater is seated directly beside the fairy blue prince and his bellsong siblings who’ve hardly spoken a word all evening. The three of them dazzle even without their mother present, they wear it like the color blue was made for them and you know that behind her sick, the Takoban Queen must be the most beautiful woman in the kingdom.

Mina squeals at something the fair princess has said and Sero, along with the youngest Todoroki clap and smile when Kaminari starts to hiccup from all his inhaling of food. More people who already know each other and more reason for you to feel a bit out of place.

When Prince Todoroki tilts his delicate face far enough towards you, you can almost catch a glimpse of the famous red framing his features. What does he sound like, you wonder? Out of all of them Bakugou is the only one whose face you can’t see, broad shoulders pressed flat back against his chair as he lounges.

“Quit starin’ Eyes, you’ll ruin my appetite.”

“Yes, sir.”

The fork squeaks as his fist tightens around it. Where has he been hiding?

"..Little Alderan…"

Sweat prickles your temples when a ghost calls to you suddenly, traveling from shadow to shadow in the candlelit room, swimming through them strategically to be closer. Shadows cast by dancing men, or thrown behind full mugs of ale across the long feasting tables. The steaming scars of the flame mage still burn ripe across your mouth from where he grabbed you in the forest, like a muzzle. You stand with square shoulders and hands behind your back and wish Shinsou or Uraraka were here to share your paranoia but they’re stationed outside with their men where fire demons don’t dance across the walls.

The prince doesn’t seem bothered by the song or dance or laughter; he only wipes his mouth and looks out over the crowd. He peers behind his tall chair towards you every so often, never truly looking, and it rubs something in you wrong the way he can’t even trust you through one meal.

You’re far enough away from the joyful crowds that they can’t swallow you whole. Harps and horns do not make your heart race and you only need worry about the six royals in front of you and the gaggle of incompetent Takoban guards standing similarly around them. Prince Bakugou’s head bobs as he eats. Tens of candles burn so hot across his table that their melted wax pools around his plates and bowls and he reminds you of his father the way food will just steal his attention away. How is this the same cruel man from last night? It is hard not to remember his family while you watch him.

A clatter of silver across the floor startles the table’s attention from friends to the feasters and you jerk your dagger in its scabbard, but a child has just tripped on his too-big shoes and into the side of a serving tray.

It is too eerie for words, this happy bustling hall, and too threatening to explain. Gods, it’s hot in here. Blue lords and blue ladies create the sea beneath you and fires, even the smallest candles, threaten to set their world alight. Sometimes when you blink, the cream calm world goes horribly blue.

“Cool it.”

A creaking wooden chair pulls your focus and in his seat your prince shifts while Mina makes a show of declining a great many offers to dance from beautiful suitors. He watches on like always, peering into the depths of the room and through the idle chatter. Without his red cape Bakugou appears broader, less contained, tucks his chin into the crease of his shoulder and submits to boredom. He rasps across the high lilt of a fiddle, “Calm down.”

The prince has tilted his ale warmed cheeks far enough again for you to see an expression clearly, empty but present, and you make a point to only glance. To just watch a little. To linger on a few pieces of golden hair that stick to his face with sweat. Oh how angry it makes you, how beautiful he is and how easy it would be for him to get away with anything. What a wonderful distraction from the imperceptible threat you can’t quite shake.

He shuffles his tongue across his teeth and tilts a little further– far enough that you realize he’s peering directly at you from the corner of his eye. An accusatory jewel. The candles in front of him flicker suddenly a hot, hot purple.

“You hear me?”

You do not.

Those candles set on the table jump for a moment, quivering in the windless Hall all while two figures slip across the edges of the room: one a man cloaked and the other his shadow. Your hands can hardly stay still within each other while the tiny flames all around your company flicker white then red, then purple again– they are fighting to be blue.

Kirishima is the first to see you advance. He is the second to try and stop you.

You know that, had you given the champion time he would have taken your hands and asked again, are you alright? But he saves his worry at the sight of your hand on your dagger. Between the redhead and the prince you approach their table and bend calmly at the hip, quietly blowing out the candles that surround their food and faces.

Prince Bakugou barely has time to register your presence or come up with some horrible quip before you’re at his side and drawing your weapon.

“Do not–”

“– Y/n!”

For all their showy training these two are not faster than you. Kirishima lurches for your dagger from his seat in shock, so you drop it to keep all his fingers attached and plant a steadying foot behind you.

Joy dies when your halberd launches across the room.

Through the familiar stretch of your bicep, relief pours when you fetch it from your back, through the strain and still of aiming well trained eyes and finally through the flex of your ribs when your back arches and whips itself forward to create the deadly momentum you need. Release. Thumb, index, middle and ring, the bloodred weapon sails from your fingers. A star begging to explode.

You unsettle something in him, Prince Bakugou, and as a rule he does not like to watch you. But his mother’s favoritism starts making sense tonight, that crazy fucking woman.

Thunk, is the hollow sound of pierced wood followed by a flat squeak of musicians trailing off midsong and the immediate hush of dancers and feasters. You must look as smug as you feel because your aim is, as always, perfect. The tip of your halberd spears a cloak to the wall, trapping but still sparing the man wearing it and necks crane to the front of the room. Your royal table stares. One head behind the next, mouths open, eyes bulging, those might be tears in Kaminari’s eyes– and even in a kingdom as incompetent as this one, you suppose only one thing can happen next.

Almost immediately the Takoban guards seize you. The room erupts.

“–Y/n!”

“Stop!”

“Don’t– wait, wait!”

Your body is snatched up by armored men and thrown flat onto the wooden table with all of its webs and candlewax. “Don’t dawdle!” You shout into the hard surface you’re pressed against, “He’ll get away!”

But you are the spider now and no one is listening. 

To their credit, the Todoroki siblings gather themselves quickly enough to stand. One of them, the little prince, waves an arm and shouts to his men– maybe ordering them to release you, maybe ordering to kill. It’s so, so loud now.

The Alderan company and their thunder can’t help you, the champion is held back by Sero and Mina whose eyes dart to every face in the room to try and find reason in your attack. Kaminari clutches the arm of the guard who takes a bit too much pleasure pressing your face hard against wood grain with a hand on the back of your head.

It’s a different sort of chaos from the prince’s smoking of the throne room. No one swarms, in fact no feasters yet have the courage to walk past the spot where your weapon has sunk deep into the elven doors, and flee into the safety of the hallway. A little talisman to ward off the flies. A talisman no longer containing the shadowed man, only his cloak and a shred of shirt cloth.

“He’s–!” You grunt, struggling against heavy hands holding your body down and moreso than that, to be heard. He’s escaping! You want to scream but fingers have threaded their way through the hair at the base of your head and gods it hurts when you’re yanked back up by a braid. Momentarily lightheaded by the rise, you consider all the ways to get this guard on his back without having to cut his hands from your hair.

“Oi,” a firesoft voice breathes, soot ash and matches, “let her go.”

It’s quick, faster than that– in fact, it takes the same amount of time for Prince Bakugou to separate you from the soldier as it did for him to give the order. Before you’re even pulled back up to standing, a heavy hand wraps around your bicep and he plants his other over the soldier’s headpiece to let loose a few tempered sparks. As you're yanked into his chest the guard goes flying.

Others replace the first, soldiers alerted to danger by the haunting sound of an explosion rush from the floor where they watch over stunned guests, and to the platform where their own Takoban Royals are once again under threat from Aldera. It’s never ending. Even as you plan to attack them it isn’t lost on you, what a headache you have been to these royal guards.

It’s easier to focus on one thing.

You have to plan your defense and you certainly have to find an escape route, but you can’t see over the swell of his shoulders. His warmth, his caramel, it’s distracting, it’s all too distracting– it’s all moving in slow motion. Broad but not all that tall, soft, Bakugou’s body surrounds you momentarily as he steadies you both from the recoil of his shot.

“Enough!” A low voice like bells is heard suddenly so clearly that the rest of the voices in the Hall become mud. They all become racket in comparison to, “Leave them.” 

They all become cut glass played against, “We’re fine.”

Around the room soldiers freeze mid stride in shock presumably and folded inside of each other, you and Bakugou must look exactly like them because the Todoroki siblings are standing as calm and bored as napping babies. The eldest even reaches into his quilted jacket breast to check the time on a pocket watch.

“Go on then, leave them alone,” the princess reiterates, little flecks of red warming white hair. Her crystal glasses glint so bright in the candlelight one could hardly see her eyes but her stance is strong and her blue dress whips about the floor from the sudden quiet of the room. The silence of the forgotten partygoers is comical, a collection of a hundred wide eyes blinking from one action to the next like bats in a cave.

Bakugou seems to realize how closely he’s holding you and pushes you away with his hand still around your bicep.

“She needs to be punished!” Your blown-away guard insists, “She fired into a royal crowd!” He’s collecting himself as best he can from where the prince shot him backwards, disgruntled, armor crooked, and generally singed. He rushes you in the grip of your prince, and before you can brace yourself, before the youngest Todoroki can cooly object or your champion can finally hit someone, Bakugou snarls and jerks you forward.

“You think I can’t punish my own fucking staff?”

You teeter on the lip of the platform step and the prince practically throws you to the floor from how close behind he’s pulling you, caramel vicegrip still firm on your arm. Bakugou tears into the thick hush of the Hall, heavy footsteps, nagging growls, indignant muttering. You just try to make sure you don’t roll an ankle from how quickly you’re expected to move, down off the platform and into the petrified crowd.

Kirishima cups his hands around his mouth and tries to call after you, which gets him exactly zero response. In fact the prince grips your arm bruisingly harder at the request as he marches you both through the parting sea of partygoers. They stumble over each other to both watch and hide from you in their fancy clothes.

“Highness–” you grunt, but you’re cut off immediately with another tug. Your cheeks sting from being dragged across the table. He doesn’t seem to be marching you to the entryway, but past it, to a door at the back of the room. “See?” You grumble and reach out for your halberd with your free had as the pair of you pass it, “My aim–”

“Do not!” Bakugou spins around and seethes. He swats your hand and jerks you forward yet again to leave the red weapon exactly where you’ve sunken it, “Not helping ya little fuck.”

If last night was a short fuse, what you’ve cut for yourself tonight is a lit explosive. Oh how the prince rumbles. He holds you somewhere between ferocity and urgency and you hate to remember– you curse yourself for your timing– just how deeply you embarrass him. How many different ways you could have detained the suspicious figure– even if he was a mage, the mage, even if fires did beg to turn blue.

Past the long wooden tables, past frightened guests and musicians tuning on the orders of their exhausted princess, Bakugou tows you to the back of the room. He kicks a modest door in and blinding candlelight pours wet warm over your shadows. Veins throttle the back of his hand. The hand that grips your arm so tightly– his hand that relaxes and slips as he storms inside behind you, to cup your elbow.

The silver kitchens are alive. Handmaids and bakers and strongmen heft vats and soups and bread every which way as the door to the Hall closes behind you, and you have to duck or dodge every few steps to keep out of their bustling paths.

“Clear out! I need the flouring tables,” your prince barks into the kitchen carnage and in his new oddly gentle hold you’re only reminded of his presence because of that voice. The one that splinters wood and drops plum pits to your gut no matter how many times you hear it or how many times it’s barking directly at you.

Punishment. Dragged from your post, from your entire company, to be punished by him with the full roster of kitchen staff here to watch. Shame boils every stream of blood in your body so violently you have to cup your chest to believe the rate your heart is beating.

The man crude enough– you suppose, the only man who even ranks highly enough– to treat you like a toy. After growing up beside one another. Chewing you up, spitting you out, nothing but ridicule for an entire week punctuated by last night’s wretched performance of submission.

The prince must feel your heartbeat in his fingertips because he begins marching faster the second it picks up from your embarrassment, “Hurry up.”

While Bakugou guides you deeper into the organized chaos, maids and bakers and butlers shift slowly under his orders like watching ants change course in a rainstorm. Great big balls of dough are heft from the counter islands in the center of the room, silverware clatters, fires blaze around you from cold new stoves starting, and most impressive of all, every worker buzzing through the bedlam keeps up their pace without faltering.

Muscle plump bakers trot past and behind you every which way, narrating their movements with cupped hands to teammates.

“Behind!”

“This isn’t sugar.”

The prince’s odd orders add to their symphony, “Cold water and boning tweezers– need ‘em yesterday!”

“Someone light this for me?”

“Hey will you– and this—”

“Here Kats, tweezers.” A butler in a highcollar frock pulls the metal from her pocket and drops them cold into your prince’s hand on her way out the door with an ale tray.

Kats? You dare a glance as the butler makes her way back into the Hall. Just one, a look not a stare, up the curve of your collarbone to his clenched jaw and even just a little higher than that. The prince’s brandfire pupils glow behind lids half shut with exasperation. Hooded, heavy eyes watch yours. He’s looking.

He’s looking at you and your mouth has gone dry.

You don’t know how to prepare yourself because you aren’t sure what to expect, least of all Bakugou lifting you up under the arms like you aren’t fully suited and setting your hips on the closest countertop. Partially stunned and partially professional, you make sure to sit up straight suddenly at his eye level, legs dangling, to receive your punishment. The bluefire mage is as far as he’s ever been from your mind.

“Been telling you to calm down all night,” he rasps– to himself if volume is indicative of anything. Even his inflection goes menacingly quiet now that kitchen chaos can’t slip between the pair of you. He keeps the tumult behind him and boxes you between his shoulders, grumbling before closing in, “My fault for thinking you had a brain in that thick skull.”

You have to keep yourself from clutching his wrist when the prince abruptly cups your jaw and begins rocking your face slowly side to side, and you hope beyond all hope that whatever he’s going to do to you ends quickly enough for you to return to your post unbruised; he looks like a man that likes to leave marks.

If he takes this much pleasure in your pain, why does he still wear your earrings? Your golden suns hang in mismatched holes from his many missing piercings but they still scream with Aldera pride. He knows that they’re yours. He knows this as he thumbs your stinging cheeks, as he turns and barks requests into a half-listening crowd, and as you try your best not to pull away from him. He refuses help, companionship, and protection– it must only be to torture you.

“Give me your hand.”

The way he speaks is not dissimilar from last night. Mean. When Bakugou finishes warming your face like putty in his fingers, he arms himself with his tweezers and waits for you to execute his orders. “Hand,” he repeats and you don’t hesitate this time to give him what he wants.

You do flinch though, when the prince parts your legs with his hips at the lip of the counter to be this much closer and tilts your face up to meet his with that same oddly soft hold from before, a thumb and forefinger balancing your chin where he wants you. Like a cat who kneads suddenly with its claws, your skin prickles at every agonizingly delicate touch of the prince’s fingers as you wait for sparks.

He presses his face so close to yours that for a second you think he might kiss you. Force himself onto you. Closer than two swordsmen crashing at their hilts, your faces mirror each other in the prince’s concentration. Whiskers sear. This is the only kind of punishment you won’t tolerate. You can’t– you know that you’ll strike him. Wine and honey roll from his tongue in puffs of sweet air as he leans in further– as you struggle with the sudden proximity and try not to let your thighs cradle his.

Bakugou doesn’t seem to care about your wide eyes this time, doesn’t really seem to be paying them all that much mind in his focus. What is it? What is he focusing on? A week without looking at you and now the bridge of your nose is the most interesting thing in the world?

“You’re a fucking headache.”

“Sir, I–”

“Told you not to call me that.” He plucks what feels like a hair from your cheek and your eyes flood immediately and involuntarily with sensitivity, “Well, Eyes? Or– hah, should I call you captain?” One sharp exhale like a laugh and his head cocks a bit to the side, “Since you’re obviously so qualified to be my fucking keeper.”

Prince Bakugou crowds you between bread proofing bakers, a confinement that should make your skin itch, and stands tall in the chaos of the bustling kitchen, a room that would otherwise fill you with dread. He pinches your cheeks again with his tweezers and drops something from them into the hand that you’ve given him, and somehow even in the overheating swell you don’t bubble over with panic. Even as you picture all the ways to disarm him, he is the one still thing you focus on to stay calm.

“Fuck are you so tense for? I don’t bite.”

“I’ve seen you bite many times,” you breathe into his shoulder, monotone and confusion.

What is he waiting for? When is he going to strike you? Burn you? Take you? The anticipation and confusion is worse than whatever punishment he could dream up. The violence always in his eyes and the way you can’t even find a hint of threat right now in his concentration, chills you. His borrowed white formalwear radiates cold from all its twinkling silver baubles but the warmth of his body obliterates the chill. Chest against chest, it shocks your overstimulated nerves and sends you ever closer to the sensation of being trapped in your skin.

He continues his gentle pinching as you continue gauging how much stronger than you he might be. Lifting you like nothing, throwing men through the air, even if you tried to fight back you might not be able to stop him.

A bowl of ice water appears beside you on the counter and the woman who delivered it tosses a rag your way, casually, as if Bakugou’s already dragged a thousand disobedient guards into the kitchen to disrupt her soup stirring. It only reminds you though, that no one here seems to be all that interested in Bakugou’s royal status and subsequently even less interested in coming to your aid if he decides your body is the only penance he’ll accept.

He waves his thanks to the kitchen and pulls away from you for a moment, never making eye contact but still taking something in. A part of you. Like admiring a painting, or more likely– with those furrowed brows– wincing at a carriage wreckage. He wets the rag and rings it out in a fist without looking away.

Prince Bakugou Katsuki looks so much like his mother it’s going to break your heart.

You flinch when he brings the wet cloth to your lips and a lump swells in your throat when it makes him smirk. How could someone this cruel come from the woman who raises the sun? His ashen hair, shoulders thick from training his magic, soft leather hands and beautiful eyes– the sun did create him. And she asked you to keep him safe.

The prince drops the rag in its bowl and takes your jaw up in his hold again, presses his hips back to yours to be closer, still just as eerily gentle. You must be biting your tongue hard to taste all this blood.

Even as a sparkworn palm steadies itself on your thigh instead of the countertop beside you, all you can think of is your queen’s request– your orders. You won’t resist him. You fired into the crowd in a foreign castle. Your prince spared you a public humiliation and you won’t deny him your punishment.

“Highness,” you can barely hold dignity in your voice as you speak into his tunic from how closely he keeps you, and something about the pitiful sound makes him pause his little strokes at your cheeks. You muster the courage to continue, “Please just– just be quick.”

“What, so you can go back out there and assault another waiter?” He growls back, distant with focus, “All that got you this time was a face full of splinters.”

Before you can process his words the prince claps your cheek to agitate the last few flecks of wood still embedded there under the skin.

“Leave it to a Takoban carpenter to serve their guests on fucking driftwood.”

What?

Your angry prince, shoulders hunched, jaw set, frowning– always frowning– is plucking your…splinters? What splinters? Cradling your face instead of attending his own feast? Instead of punishing you? Instead of screaming, striking, exploding– instead of pulling your tunic apart by the buttons and eating you.

“What are you doing?” You breathe again, unsure of if you’ve even said the words out loud.

“You got the short term memory of a goldfish.”

Prince Bakugou drops the tweezers in the water dish after dusting clean his now-wood-free canvas and tilts your face up a bit higher to match his gaze. Your hips connect. Cold blooms at your mouth where the prince presses the icy wet rag again and this time you realize he’s wiping blood from your nose.

Does he not remember marching you through the Hall five minutes ago? Last night’s raised hackles and voices flash so vividly in your mind that you still feel his arrogant breath down the back of your neck. The furious canines that kept you up all night. Who is this?

“Titania almighty you’re jumpy, what happened to my Alderan Captain huh?” But his eyes stop half way through their rolling before he finishes speaking again. His hand freezes where it steadies your jaw, fingers and thumbs cupping you there and a warm pinky stilled at your throat with his words, “Like you think I’m–” knotted brows fall as he realizes, “– that I–”

Slowly, your prince’s face lowers to the shadow your body casts in candlelight and for the third time in your life, you watch each other. Wide red eyes, too near to see clearly, burn into your own and you can’t quite decipher all that they’re saying. His fingers twitch like he’s only just realized who it is he’s touching and how he’s touching her and for a moment you can feel his thighs tense inside of yours. Like he’s going to run away. Blond hair sticky with kitchen sweat brushes your temples from how close you’re kept. 

“Did you think–”

“Let go of me.”

At the same time Bakugou realizes your fear, violence finally returns to you. How long has it been?

Heat soars from your heart to every tip of your body in humiliation. From the top of your head to the points of your fingers, you reel forward off the counter to disrupt his hold and he similarly jerks away from you, chest and hips parting, fists clenching.

Heads turn at the sudden disruption. The rhythm of these kitchens never stops, but maneuvering around Alderans has become tonight’s full time precaution and at the very least you could be considered entertainment.

You and your prince stand facing each other. You, chillingly still and bleeding so slightly, and Bakugou at a safe distance.

Growling, taunting, threats and blows, spitting, sneering– why now of all times to be kind? Your mouth forms the question. Hours of patience, a lifetime of service, admiration, devil’s advocation, self sacrifice, pride. But your voice can’t quite push it out.

Is it fun? Toying with me?

Prince Bakugou stares across the floured floor at you, cheeks and neck so flushed it makes his white tunic glow. Your posture curves inward like a stalking cat as you stare back.

For the first time in his life, Bakugou can’t find words. You won’t know what he’s trying to say for a long time and for now it’s a coincidence and a blessing that you’re too grieved to speak.

When you push silently past him back into the Hall hardly a soul notices you. Music swells and children dance. Blood drips from your nose as you march, your cheeks sting, and slowly blue lords and blue ladies at the edge of their tables catch chilling sight of you. You consider all the ways you should apologize to the waiter you speared in your delirium.

Slowly, forks are lowered and necks crane. Slowly mother’s pull their daughters closer, drunkards stop singing, eyes fall on your stride. The music tapers out as you approach the front entrance.

A genuine laugh is so close to escaping you when the entire room winces in unison– you plant your heel to the polished white wall and rip your halberd from where it’s still wedged, pretty and red, in the elven door and with a flourish the polearm is back in its holster between your shoulders. Your company is gone; no one sits at the royal table. Bakugou doesn’t follow from the kitchens.

As you slip from the Hall and back into the seashell castle, you’re sure you’ll be punished for this too, whatever the fuck that means.

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couldn't tag for some reason :,( and please let me know if you'd like to be removed from the taglist at any point!

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: This is really old... have fun with this I guess lol banner art isn't mine!! The one on the left belongs to the amazing @cat-terpillar Here's my masterlist!

Warning(s): Female reader, reader is a lumberjack, 3rd to 2nd reader, slight misogyny if you squint (not from Alex), kisses on the cheek

Pairing(s): Alex x Reader

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ 10:00 ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

It was the day of the Stardew Valley Fair. Alex cracks his joints, groaning as he sits up from his cocoon of warm sheets and blankets. It was common knowledge that he was presumably the strongest in his town, as he held the highest score for the Smashing Stone at the fair. And he was determined to keep it that way.

Getting out of bed, he shuffles to his closet, to put his shirt on and change into his favorite pair of jeans.

Once he was ready, he looks at himself in the mirror, grimacing at his tousled hair. He didn’t particularly like it, it was a major distraction when it came to working out, sweat causing it to stick to his forehead and cover his vision whenever he did push ups, pull ups, etc. But it made him popular with the other bachelorettes around town. (Haley wouldn’t leave him alone whenever he worked shifts at the ice-cream stand. He didn’t mind though). Hopefully he could be married soon and leave his home. Sure he loved his grandparents, but he needed to feel independent!

Sighing, he ruffles his mane of brown hair, styling it until it looked presentable enough to go out, but good enough that it wouldn’t bother him. For now.

It was on 7:30; the fair started at 9:00, so he walked out of his room and see what was for breakfast. Evelyn, his grandmother, bless her, made him a hearty breakfast, complete with Pancakes, hash-browns, and fried eggs. Alex could almost taste it. He hugged Evelyn happily, before sitting down and indulging in the food. He practically inhaled the meal, but tried his best to savor it. No matter how good the food was, he was to stay on diet. 

After a few minutes of painfully slow chewing, he finished his meal. He grins, noticing the time was 8:10. Perfect.

He trudged outside, as he watches the booths and grange display boxes being set up. Walking over to the dog house, he greets Dusty, rubbing the canine’s fur behind his ear and smiles. 

“I’m going to be the best, you hear me? I’m going to demolish that strength booth.” Alex says cockily.

Dusty barks in affirmation, wagging his tail. In all honesty, he just wanted food.

They sat there, under the tree, lightly playing fetch with Alex’s grid-ball, before be noticed the time. 8:50 already? Time sure felt a lot faster in the valley. But he didn’t mind. 

The clock struck 9, and he raced to town square, leaving poor Dusty behind. Rushing past the grange display, he reaches the Smashing Stone, greeting the burly man that watched over it.

Hefting the mallet that he handed him, he heaved it, testing out the balance before swinging it, the hammer hitting the metal with a resounding riiiingg.

He smirked, content with the score that flashed in front of his eyes. Beat that.

After the strength booth, he decided to look around, seeing the grange displays being set up. Marnie’s was especially mouthwatering.

After that, he went to go find Haley. She was over by the booth where you buy star tokens, and she smiled upon greeting.

“Hey! Are you excited for another year of being the top?” She grinned.

Alex smirked confidently. “Of course. I’m the strongest person in the village.” He rolls his eyes.

Haley coughs, making a sound that suspiciously sounded like the word arrogant.

Alex was about to question her when a sound rang out throughout the town square.

“WINNER!!” The sound came from the Smashing Stone. Alex’s blood ran cold. There, at the booth was the last person he expected, and the only person to defeat his score.

A local lumberjack stood there, triumphant, her smile stretching from ear to ear. That lumberjack was you. Alex surveyed you from afar. He had heard about you, you were a local farmer in the village, but you made your profit by selling sums of wood, hardwood, tree sap, acorns, pinecones etc. Watching your proud expression, he felt an unusually emotion from his core. He didn’t feel jealous, surprisingly. Just…intrigued. Alex itched, wanting to talk to you, and find out more, but he glanced at his grandfather, George in his peripherals. George…was, old-fashioned, to say in the least. He frowned upon any modern ideals, which included women indulging in what he believed to be masculinity, including the lumber industry. Alex wasn’t against it, in fact, he was fascinated by your sheer strength, noticing the defined muscles in your biceps. 

Haley coughed obnoxiously, breaking Alex out of his reverie and rolling her eyes. “If you want to talk to her so badly, just walk over to her cottage later after the festival.”

Alex nodded, a little embarrassed that he was caught, but glad that he had someone like Haley to help him think straight. You walked away from the Smashing Stone after a while, after having a lighthearted conversation with the bodybuilder there, and you left to examine the grange displays. 

Mayor Lewis announced Pierre won, as he did every year, and after a few hours of more games and prizes, the fair came to a close.

Alex didn’t realized how quickly time had passed, his watch reading 10:00pm. The lamp posts were his only form of light as he made his way across town, quietly passing 1 Willow Lane before entering the Cindersap Forest. 

He knew it was a bit of a stretch to go to such lengths to talk to someone he’s never met, but it was in only chance, given how watchful his grandfather way. Silently, he crept through the all the trees, seeing how there wasn’t many. You must’ve been doing a good job, because the ground was littered with saplings. The sound of metal hitting bark echoed throughout the night, signaling that you were here.

Wiping a bead of sweat, you sighed, exhausted. It was late, but you only needed this last tree to fulfill your quota for the day, ensuring you got your daily profit. Setting your iron axe down, you rest your hand onto the tree bark, leaning your back against it for some time, feeling a little tension leave your sore muscles. 

Suddenly, a twig snaps somewhere around you, pulling you out of your reverie to see Alex of all people entering your vision.

“Wha…Alex? What are you doing here?” You asked, bewildered. He was the last person you expected to be here. Yet, it excited you. You had admired him for his strength, as well as his personality. His ambition, confidence, and occasional sweetness made you more fascinated with the man.

The man in question looked embarrassed before looking at you. “I uh, wanted to talk to you. I saw you at the fair. You beat my score.”

You couldn’t tell if he was upset or fascinated. His voice was monotone and his face was still mostly shrouded by shadows. 

“Uh yeah, I guess I did.”  You say, unsure of what to do.

It was painfully silent between the two of you before he spoke up, stepping towards you. “Look-”

“Watch out!” You yelps, before a stray stone sends him tumbling in your direction. 

He tripped, as he lost his footing, and he fumbled to brace himself against the tree, ultimately pinning you down, sandwiching you between the bark and him. 

You’re pretty sure you felt your face turn every shade of red there was. Alex looked just as flustered. You were about to apologize when you noticed something in his eyes. A connection of sorts. Sure, you only really acknowledged each other around town, but you both knew that you both shared something, deep down.

You felt Alex’s breath warm your next, noticing the definition of muscles that showed through his shirt. Then you realized you were staring for too long. 

Staring back up into his eyes, some magnetic force instinctively told you to lean in, and you did. Alex reciprocated, his lidded eyes never leaving you.  

Then as you were only inches apart, your noses lightly grazing each other, a creak from a door make you two scramble away from each other. There, in her robe, was Marnie, with what seemed to be…hot peppers? You quirked an eyebrow. Lewis loves those. Marnie’s face was bright red, and her eyes were wide as she noticed both of you, mere fractions apart. 

Everything was silent, all you could hear was crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves.

Marnie was the first to speak up, hiding the peppers behind her. “No one should ever hear about this.”

The two of you nod, and she takes her leave, going to where you both assumed was Lewis’s house. 

It was quiet again. And then you turned to Alex, seeing as the moment was ruined. But maybe not all was lost. Taking a deep breath,  you stood on your toes, and pecked his cheek. 

“Goodnight Alex. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Giving a small smile and a wave, you heft your axe, and your wood, before leaving to turn back home.

This was definitely a night you wouldn’t forget.

[t3acupz]

🩻🤍💉 Brownham Medwhump May 💉🤍🩻

6. Doctor turned patient

Will usually comes home at around 7 PM to make dinner for both of them but today Matthew wanted to surprise the older man with a home cooked meal. He had been planning it for the past couple of days, and he finally settled on a recipe he felt confident enough to attempt.

Before living with Will, Matthew would get takeout every night from one of the hole-in-the-wall restaurants that littered the street by his apartment. Since moving in a month ago, Will cooked all the meals. During the week he’d make Cajun inspired dishes for dinner, and on the weekends he would bring Matthew with him while he fished. The former orderly would silently sit by the side of the stream, and watch Will cast his line, in awe of the gracefulness of his technique.

After taking a few weeks off, Will decided to go back to teaching to keep his mind occupied on anything other than the incessant Chesapeake Ripper news cycle. He liked working with the FBI trainees, and giving lectures on topics that caused both intrigue and fear in the minds of the young hopefuls.

Earlier in the day, Matthew took Winston on the five mile long run to the closest mom-and-pop grocery store. Will offered Matthew his old, beat up Harley-Davidson that was stored away in his shed but after inspecting it, and deciding that Will was better at restoring boats than motorcycles, Matthew said he’ll just walk. He didn’t mind it, Wolf Trap was scenic and peaceful compared to his old life in Baltimore.

It was 5:30 PM, and the sun was starting to set. Matthew had almost two hours to cook the skillet French onion chicken with baby potatoes. The grocery store didn’t have a great selection of fresh meat or vegetables so he made do with what he could scavenge. He started boiling a large pot of water for the potatoes, and suddenly realized he was surrounded by the whole pack, their tongues drooling over the wooden floor and their tails eagerly smacking his legs in anticipation of any scraps. Matthew watched Will cook all the time, and the dogs would typically lounge by the warm fireplace. He realized how well Will must have trained them but they weren’t interested in taking any orders from the newcomer.

“C’mon pups, let me through.” Matthew chuckled as the dogs didn’t move at all. He resigned to just having to maneuver his way around them, careful not to step on their paws.

He threw the potatoes in the boiling water, and picked up one the onions. How hard could it be, he mused, observing the layers as grabbed one of Will’s kitchen knives. Within seconds of cutting into the onion, Matthew’s eyes started stinging. “Yeah, this is a little annoying,” He said out loud to no one in particular but all the dogs perked up. “And no, none of you are getting any onion scraps.” He glanced down at Buster who was whining right under his feet. “I don’t think dogs can eat them anyway.”

In an instant, the pack started barking, and Max, Will’s burly retriever mutt, bumped into Matthew as he ran after the others to the front door. With his eyes full of tears from the onion, and his feet losing balance, Matthew’s hand slipped, slicing his thumb a half centimeter down into the flesh.

“Hey guys!” Will cheerfully exclaimed as he rubbed the closet canine’s back, coming home more than an hour earlier. “The students had presentations today so I didn’t need to stay late to grade—” He dropped his briefcase on the floor in shock when he finally locked eyes on Matthew bleeding on the floor of the kitchen. Sensing something was off, the dogs became frantic, running back and forth between the entryway and the kitchen.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Matthew grimaced, as he tried and failed to stop the bleeding. “It’s just a little cut.” Will ran over to Matthew, and helped him to a nearby chair.

“Stay here, the first aid kit is in the closet.”

Blood was already pooling by his feet, reminding him of his murder tableau. Prior to now, he hadn’t considered how painful cutting flesh would be until he accidentally did it to himself. Hannibal must’ve really wanted to eat me for what I did to his wrists.

“Are you feeling faint?” Matthew shook his head as Will hastily brought out the isopropyl alcohol. “This will sting a bit.”

Will gently took Matthew’s hand, and slowly started pouring the antiseptic over his left thumb. Matthew shut his eyes, desperate to hide the pain. He didn’t want to inconvenience Will any further but nothing gets past the FBI profiler’s keen empathy.

“Look at me, Matthew.” Will commanded. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” Muttered the young man, looking away from his thumb in hopes that not seeing it would somehow lessen the pain. “I was trying to surprise you with dinner, and then you came home early, and the dogs got—”

“I should’ve called,” Will cut him off while wrapping Matthew’s hand in a clean towel as he applied deep pressure on the cut. “Have you ever gotten stitches before?”

“On my chin, when I was a kid.” Matthew motioned with his free hand to the thin scar that ran down from his lips to the bottom of his chin. “I don’t remember what the stitching felt like though.” He admitted, wondering if he lacked the memory because the pain was too much for his small body to process at the time.

Will took out the curved needle, and sterile suture thread and sighed. “You’re not going to like this.”

Matthew didn’t want to admit that he was enjoying every minute since Will came home. He loved seeing Will take control, and be the doctor this time. Matthew’s mind began to wander to that night a few weeks ago when he gave Will head. They hadn’t done anything more since then. He worried that Will wanted him to leave but was too anxious to admit it. The thoughts were interrupted by the piercing sting of the needle going in.

“You need to stay absolutely still for this part,” Will said, leaning in close so he can see the flesh wound better. Matthew nodded but he was starting to feel dizzy from the loss of blood. Will worked on his thumb, each time the needle went in, Matthew bit his lip. He was sure by now his lip was just as bloody as his thumb. “Almost done, just a little more.” Will assured him.

That was the last thing Matthew remembered before passing out, and falling to the floor.

“Matt! Matt! Wake up!” Will cradled the young man’s limp body in his arms. He felt Matthew’s forehead, a cold sweat had broken out on the younger man’s face. Shit, Will thought as he checked Matthew’s pulse, he must have lost too much blood while being hypoglycemic.

He felt Matthew’s head for any bumps, and carried him to his bed. “Shh!” Will glared at his pack, and they quickly hushed down with tails between their legs, and scurried over to the fireplace.

Will brought a cup of cold water, and a banana with him from the kitchen as Matthew began to stir.

“Will?” He groaned, rubbing his head where he landed on it moments earlier.

“You’re going to be okay, try to sit up and drink some water. I finished your stitches right before you fainted.”

Matthew slumped back in the bed in embarrassment. He ruined dinner, he bled all over the floor, and he forced Will to suture him after a long day of work.

“I’ll pack my things tomorrow morning, and be out of here by noon.” Matthew whispered, taking the cold glass of water.

“What are you talking about?” Will replied in confusion. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head too hard when you landed?”

“Ever since that night, you’ve not touched me again,” He took a small sip and continued. “I’m sure you feel like it’s too awkward to tell me to leave so I’m doing it for you.”

Will lifted Matthew’s chin up with his pointer finger and kissed him. After he felt Matthew’s body relax into him, he broke the kiss, and cupped Matthew’s flushed cheek. “I want you, Matthew Brown.”

Matthew felt the tears well up. “I—” Will kissed him again, this time with tongue.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Will whispered as his lips hovered over Matthew’s. “I’m not good at relationships.” He noticed Matthew’s ears turning redder than he’d ever seen them before.

“You look pretty cute when you’re covered in blood,” Will began lifting Matthew’s bloodied shirt over his head. “But it’s probably better if we get you out of these clothes.” Will threw the shirt on the floor, and pulled down Matthew’s bloodied sweatpants next. He ran a hand down Matthew’s hard abs, and slid it into the younger man’s boxers. Matthew gasped at the sensation, unable to stay sitting up anymore, he fell back on the bed.

Will stroked Matthew’s cock until it was hard and throbbing. “Do I want you?” Will asked playfully as he teased Matthew’s cock with his tongue, feeling him squirm in his grasp.

He gave Matthew a rough jerk that made the young man moan into the pillow. “Answer me.” Will instructed, waiting for Matthew to reply before he continued.

“Yes,” Matthew’s breath hitched as Will took his cock in his mouth, and giving it a long, hard suck.

“Yes what?” Will went up the length of Matthew’s cock with his flat tongue.

“You want me,” Matthew groaned, barely able to stay conscious. The pleasure was building, and he wasn’t too sure if Will thought this through but there was no way in hell he was going to stop what was currently happening.

Will pinched Matthew’s pert nipples, and ran his hands down to the enigmatic tattoos on his ribcage. He continued down to Matthew’s hips, and held him down as he bobbed his head, getting faster in accordance to Matthew’s breathing. Will knew that Matthew was getting close to finishing.

“Come for me,” Will commanded, sending Matthew over the edge. He jerked Matthew’s cock until the cum began to spurt onto his abs, caking them with the white liquid. “You did so good for me,” Will praised him, licking the bit of cum that landed on his fingers.

Will took the blanket and began cleaning Matthew. “Matt?” Will noticed that the young man was limp again. “Shit.”

After a few minutes, Matthew regained consciousness. “Oh god, did I pass out again?!” Matthew yelled, covering his face with his hands. Will nodded in amusement.

“I guess I’m that good, huh?” He teased, peeling the banana as he watched Matthew’s ears turning red again.

“Here, eat this, and I'll finish making dinner.” Will smirked, handing the young man the banana as he got off the bed, and headed towards the kitchen. “I’m sure those potatoes are beyond ready at this point.”

[song-birds-stuff]

Because I see a lot of people giving trolls their own stylized design and with a simi-au in mind I decided to take a crack at it, with some notes

Branch while gray was unable use hair camouflage or use his hair as easily so while still building the bunker (which took until he was 11) he needed other ways to defend himself ala manually sharpening his teeth and making gloves that give him claws due to pop trolls having rounded teeth and no claws or nails to speak of so Branch at a young age took matters into his own hands.

Being exposed to predators before the bunker was finished Branch stayed in a small and cold cave for shelter and made him need to fight and find ways to keep himself safe, as a result he got many scars from fighting and even killing predators, his oldest and now most sensitive scar is a large, deep claw mark on his back only hidden by his vest, he doesn't like looking at it, closes his eyes getting dressed in the mirror and he tends to freak out a little if someone touches his back where the scar is.

Branch being gray and colorless for so long had the side effects of him having patches of gray in his fur that will never fade, because he will never be the same troll he was before losing everything, including his colors, he can mentally recover and be in a better place, but he will always be deeply affected by it.

While Branch sharpened his teeth to be big and sharp, his brothers only have sharp canines, like fangs, John Dory's is only a little sharper and a pale comparison to Branch's teeth that would put a beartrap to shame.

Raising himself near the kinda comically dangerous Pop Forests, Branch's feral survivalist lifestyle still has an effect on him though since getting his colors back he tries acting 'normal' in front of other trolls, Poppy preferrs it when he doesn't pretend though; the animalistic behaviors and survivalist mannerisms is part of him and Poppy loves every part of him.

Troll tails are long and prehensile, though they can't stretch it or change color like their hair, it can be used to balance on the trees and used for swinging in forests, it can also be used to hit smaller predators with enough strength, as far as the pop troll tails go at least, it depends on the genre of troll though the tail texture will also matter on how its raised and around what sort of trolls, this is where my poprock Branch hc comes in, still having the dip the pop tail does, but with thinner fur.

Branch actually didn't take too much care of his fur while gray, making it shaggy, coarse, and not as fluffy as pop fur should be like Poppy's he is trying to take better care of it now as a form of learning self care, Branch has thicker fur due to not bothering to trim it not seeing the point.

Troll antlers are hard as stone, but they are less durable and strong when trolls are children, its for this reason Branch's antler broke when he fell from the troll tree when he lost his grandma, troll antlers don't grow back, they do not shed, Branch's antlers will always be like that, troll antlers are usually used for scaring predators that are smaller than them or rubbing antlers with a significant other as a form of intimate acts of affection.

Branch grew up not really eating a regular meal due to surviving on his own, it stunted his growth a bit, making him shorter than he probably would've been at his age now, Poppy being taller, Branch's head (minus hair height) is about to her chest as a result.

[hedgehog-rehab-by-the-levee]

Hey everyone,

I'd like to introduce my new blog, where I will be sharing content on the hedgheog rehabilitation that I do.

Who am I?

I am a student, graduated with a B.Sc. in Biology and a M.Sc. in Marine biology in Germany.

Hedgehogs have been part of my life, my whole life. When I was little they were already diligently fed in the garden by my mother and we helped them through hibernation if they were too small to survive hibernation on their own.

When the pandemic hit in 2020 and university was pretty much put on hold, I, like many others, began to engage even more intensively with my environment (even more than a biology student already does). And so one evening I realised that one of my one-year-old hedgehogs that I had helped hibernate the year before (Biscuit) had a strange crust on his shoulder.

And so began the endless research into what Biscuit might have. I visited vets, who were unfortunately useless as they were not hedgehog experts, contacted animal shelters, hedgehog centres and associations until I finally got help from the latter and the diagnosis was clear: skin fungus.

With the help of hedgehog experts, I began to bathe and treat Biscuit and once the skin fungus had been combated, he could be released back into the wild, healthy and lively.

I started to take a closer look at my hedgehog guests in the garden and slowly slipped into hedgehog care (and with me, involuntarily, my parents as I live at home).

Over the years, with the help of hedgehog experts with decades of experience (from hedgehog networks, forums and scientists), I learned more and more, and word quickly got around to neighbours (both human and hedgehog) that I care for hedgehogs and so more and more hedgehogs ended up at my place until the guest loo became a mini hedgehog station (much to my parents' chagrin).

Medication (whether antibiotics, fungicides or infusions), visits to the doctor (x-rays, dental care), release enclosures including cat and rat-proof feeding and sleeping houses, or simply food have to be bought and that adds up quite a bit.

Over the last year (feeding starts around March to around December, when young hedgehogs born too late are still on the move) I have fed:

wet cat food (820€ Carney, high quality without sugar or added grains

plus mealworms and meal beetles (own breeding)

and dried soldier fly larvae for €117.56 (4x €29.39) = A total of 937€ for the food alone.

Plus visits to the doctor totalling €362.12

Food supplements (e.g. biotin or probiotics, lactase) €82.94

Medication 472,35€

Summing up to total costs for last year of = € 1,854.97

This does not even take into account the fact that some weakened hedgehogs need special rebuilding food (a/d Hills Diet for €3.20 per 200g tin) or rearing milk (Royal Canin Baby Cat/Dog 2x €23.90). As well as outdoor enclosures (5x Trixie 41,49) incl. sleeping (2x 35) + feeding houses (2x 60€) are needed for rehabilitation and reintroduction. Fortunately, my parents are covering the heating and water costs.

As a full-time student, this has been quite a hit to my savings, but I am happy to take it on myself for a good balance of rescued hedgehogs.

However, I need financial support so that I can continue to take in and rescue hedgehogs in the future. I am grateful for every small donation so that I can improve my deficit from last year and realise purchases that are necessary this year (such as new outdoor enclosures and sleeping houses).

Me and the hedgehogs thank you for everything you can make possible

[bamm05]

25 Quick Dog Meal Recipes That Your Furry Friend Will Adore

Feeding your dog a diet of homemade food is not only a cost-effective option but also a healthier alternative to processed kibble. By preparing meals at home, you have control over the ingredients, ensuring that your furry friend receives a nutritious and delicious diet. In this article, we will provide you with 25 easy and quick dog meal recipes that are sure to satisfy your pet’s taste…

[xoteajays]

Share 5-10 facts about the OC most on your mind right now

time to talk more about my babygirl koi! tagging @daughter-of-melpomene too ♡.

like most mermaids, koi is vegetarian. that means sanji has to adapt meals for her, which she feels kinda bad about and says she can make her own meals, but he still insists. though she doesn’t say anything about it, watching anyone breakdown fish for food makes her uncomfortable. it reminds her of losing her tail.

koi is not the best fighter in the beginning and it’s a long road to her eventually figuring out what weapons she can use well. before her signature weapons, she can usually be found chucking whatever she can get her hands on at enemies. her signature weapons are a trident (collapsible and hung from her waist when not in use) and a stiletto dagger.

she hates heights. she even refuses to go up in the going merry’s crow’s nest.

despite growing up mostly on a pirate ship, she is surprisingly girly. this can mainly be traced back to how her father and his crew treated her like a ‘princess’, similar to how one would play pretend with a child. she was also shielded from a lot of her father’s actual piracy.

like other mermaids, when she’s serious/angry, she can create maelstroms - but she has to be in - or at least partially in - the water for it to work.

in listing her favourites: she loves pearls in any form, and any foods with red bean paste/anko. she’s also a big fan of sweets.

since she grew up in the ocean and on a pirate ship, she gets very excited about going on land and seeing things she’s never experienced before. though, she does find it difficult to sleep on land and, if somewhere with water isn’t available, she prefers to sleep under moonlight.

koi has a habit of emotionally/mentally throwing zoro off-balance with her genuineness, especially when it comes to her complimenting him.

she knows some sea shanties taught to her by her father’s crew, but knows more merfolk songs and prefers them. she can often be found humming a lullaby her mother used to sing because it comforts her.

despite having her tail stolen, she still retained some physical mermaid traits, most notably, her slightly webbed hands and fanged canines. she also still has the scent of a mermaid that can be recognised by fish-men and other merfolk.

[shih-tzu-chronicles]

A Paw-spective from Katherine's World

Hey there, fellow Shih Tzu lovers! Today, we're thrilled to present an exclusive interview on "Shih Tzu Chronicles" that brings you closer to the heart of these lovable fur companions.

The person we've interviewed is not just any interviewee; Katherine Israel a seasoned Shih Tzu owner with years of firsthand experience, and she spills the beans on all things Shih Tzu. 

In our conversation, Katherine shares her wealth of knowledge and passion for these charming canines, offering valuable insights beyond the basics of the lovable Shih Tzus.

When we first asked Katherine about what drew her to the Shih Tzu breed and what she most loves about them, she unveiled that it was the charm that initially captivated her and spilled the beans on what she adores the most.

"It's all about the cuteness factor, how sweet they are, and their unwavering loyalty." Katherine says with a laugh.

Dylan, Katherine's dear Shih Tzu

The Shih Tzu breed as we all know has its own stereotypes when it comes to their temperament and personality, and Katherine had a lot to say about that too. 

“They’re so stubborn!” She says almost immediately after asking. “And of course, spoiled to the bone, you can’t even forget them in your grocery runs. Not to mention their clingy-ness to you grows over time as like when they were puppies, they were more pretty active in everything.”

At 49, Katherine is currently a U.P. Scientist and a professor at the University of the Philippines Los Baños. We were curious as to how she balances her work and life as a pet owner especially one that demands more of her time on a day-to-day basis. We also asked her on how she manages her pet’s health, grooming, and training methods that worked for her.

“My baby vomits a yellow fluid once in a while. This is due to acid reflux. This is nothing to worry about. Just give them small meals in between so they won’t get hungry. Another common sickness is diarrhea. When he poops liquid several times in a day, I immediately take him to the vet.” Katherine responds as she recalls some instances that happened. “They make lab tests to determine the cause. This is usually bacterial in nature so antibiotics are given. I also give my baby Nexgard spectra once a month to ensure he doesn’t get ticks, fleas, and heartworm. Maintenance is quite expensive but I could not compromise his health at all costs. 

“Maintenance is quite expensive but I could not compromise his health at all costs.”

- Katherine Israel

As for their grooming, “In my baby’s case, he hates being blow-dried and combed. So I cannot keep his hair long. He also hates me trimming his hair. So I have him groomed every 1.5 months. He gets a full groom, summer cut with poodle-cut feet. I give him baths twice a week to keep him clean and tidy.” she says while also showing us a picture of her dog.

“You really just have to allot time and patience when you’re trying to teach them something or else they’ll forget and just be "pa-cute lang dyan” Katherine laughs. “My dog is a spoiled dog. He expects to walk twice a day, morning and afternoon. I think he has too much energy that he needs to spend, that is why he loves to walk. Also, he loves to see different places. Aside from the walks, I also give him joy rides. We go around in my car with him looking out the window and barking at everything and everyone he sees. He gets so excited every time he rides the car. He gets too noisy that I have to wear ear mufflers to protect my ears from his high-pitched bark.”

Shih Tzus are often described as excellent companions, and in our quest to understand the depth of this connection, we asked Katherine if there were any memorable experiences that highlight the bond between her and her Shih Tzu.

“Yes, my baby is my precious companion. He sleeps on my bed. He has a pillow beside my feet. He climbs my bed when he is already sleepy. But before he sleeps, he first checks on me if I am also about to sleep. He wakes up around 4 or 5 am and goes up to my side and asks me to rub his ears and belly. After he had enough, he will go back to his pillow and sleep again. He always follows me wherever I go in the house. He checks on what I am doing.” As Katherine shares this heartfelt anecdote, it becomes evident that the bond between a Shih Tzu and their owner transcends the ordinary. 

Beyond the confines of bedtime rituals, Katherine further elaborates on the daily activities that strengthen their bond. “During the pandemic, I had my online classes. He was always there beside my foot during my classes. He just lies there quietly. But when he hears me saying “Thank you, byebye,” he immediately gets up and gives me a stare as if saying “Mama you’re done, let’s go!” This means he wants to have his afternoon walk. That is always exactly at 4pm. He feels the time that it is 4pm already. When my class goes beyond 4pm, he starts to become uneasy and starts barking. I had to apologize to my students for my noisy dog.”

For first-time pet owners or aspiring to be one, research on the breeds is always a must. Especially for a breed like our lovely Shih Tzu. In this part of the interview, we asked Katherine about her insights to give for someone who is considering adopting a Shih Tzu for the first time.

"First and foremost, be both financially and emotionally prepared.”

- Katherine Israel

Katherine advises with a knowing smile. "Shih Tzus, as much as I adore them, are high-maintenance dogs. They require regular vaccines, meticulous grooming, specific vitamins, and here's the kicker – they are picky eaters. Forget about just dog food; they want their meals prepared, preferably wet food. It's like having a tiny gourmand at home."

She continues, highlighting the time commitment needed for Shih Tzus. "These little companions can be quite demanding of your time. They don't appreciate being left alone, and trust me, it can tug at your heartstrings when you have to step out. It's a real lesson in patience, especially during their early months when you're potty training them. For my fur baby, it took around two months to get him potty trained."

Shih Tzus can be prone to separation anxiety. There is also an underlying issue as to how pet owners can manage this, especially how they can ensure that their Shih Tzu feels secure when they’re away. 

"This is very true," Katherine acknowledges with a hint of understanding. "I always make sure that there is someone who will accompany him at night when I am away. He tends to just stay near the door and wait for me to come home. There has to be someone to look after him and cuddle him."

Katherine's solution to separation anxiety is grounded in companionship and comfort. Recognizing her Shih Tzu's inclination to wait for her return, she ensures that there's a supportive presence to keep him company during her absence.

As we wrap up our conversation with Katherine, she graciously unveils some charming facts that people may not know about this fantastic breed. 

"This may not be true only for Shih Tzus but for all dogs," Katherine begins. "They cry when they get lonely. I noticed this because sometimes when I leave him, he has wetness all around his eyes, which are probably tears."

She continues, “He also dreams a lot. During his sleep, he usually barks silently. He also sometimes moves his feet as if he was running.”

Katherine Israel’s candid sharing paints a picture of the responsibilities that come with being a Shih Tzu owner. She not only leaves us with insights into the breed but also a profound appreciation for the layers of emotions and quirky personalities that make Shih Tzus who they are as a breed.