#but his head is shaped like a cat and he has all the fur so it works

[clesired]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ! “can i request a fred x black cat!gf since he’s such a golden retriever!bf?” thank you to the lovely anon who requested this <3

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ! my take on what i imagine a golden retriever bf!fred x black cat gf!reader relationship looks like.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! no warnings, fem!reader, fluff, golden retriever bf!fred x black cat gf!reader, established relationship!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 !

🥥 golden retriever bf!fred who’s obsessed with you, his black cat!gf

🥥 you’re the only person that can get him to chill the heck out when he’s all hyper and causing chaos with george ( you and angelina are constantly tag teaming the twins )

🥥 will do anything you ask without question

🥥 constantly laying his head in your lap

🥥 will follow you around like a puppy

🥥 you are constantly wandering the castle grounds on your own and fred always has to hunt you down using the marauder’s map ( he borrows it from harry after he and george give it to him )

🥥 you never get pranked because you’re dating fred, but also because the twins are afraid of how you’d retaliate

🥥 cuddling is his favorite pastime

🥥 people are constantly sending you patronus messages to come and get fred because he’s causing a ruckus

🥥 professors regularly use you as a messenger to inform the twins when they have detention

🥥 fred found a way to get past the enchantment preventing boys from entering the girls’ dorm just so he can cuddle with you every night

🥥 he knows you hate quidditch and the only reason you watch the games is for him, so he always makes sure to balance out the weekends with stuff you like to do as well

🥥 carries your books and/or book bag for you even when you insist you can do it yourself

🥥 always makes a plate for you first; no matter if it’s breakfast, lunch, or dinner

🥥 loves to cuddle

🥥 if you’re ever in an argument/fight with someone, he’ll let you go off because he knows you can handle your own, but he’ll still be ready to jump in if things escalate

🥥 during breaks, he’s terrible at writing letters for everyone except you

🥥 he and george will sometimes pretend to be the other twin for a day but you thwart it every time because you can tell them apart

🥥 whether it’s holding hands, an arm around your waist, or even you sitting in his lap—if you’re near, you must be touching him in some way, shape, or form

🥥 you met him and george at the same time and they did that thing where they pretended to be the other twin, and you—the natural skeptic that you are, immediately called their bluff…he was head over heels after that

🥥 if someone calls your name, he will look up too

🥥 happily listens to you lecturing him after he gets injured in a game and ends up in the hospital wing—partially because he loves seeing how much you care, but also because the potions Madam Pomfrey gave him are strong

🥥 instantly melts when you card your hand(s) through his hair

🥥 will act like a needy baby when he’s ill and demand you take care of him ( you do, obviously )

🥥 in turn, will be the most doting mother hen when you’re ill even though you try to make him go away so you don’t spread your sickness to him

🥥 adding on to the previous one, he’ll get all embarrassed when you poke fun at him for his doting ( “the molly genes are strong in this one” )

🥥 will prank someone if they piss you off ( unprompted btw, you don’t even have to ask!!! )

🥥 will proudly wear an ‘i love my gf’ shirt

🥥 he loves it when you get jealous because he thinks it’s hot

🥥 he instantly shuts all of it down, though—he’d never dare let your relationship be disrespected

🥥 you don’t even need to ask for reassurance because he’s so loud in his love for you that you never question it in the first place ( you still get jealous though )

🥥 much to your chagrin, he names your fur baby y/n junior ( fic )

🥥 absolutely melts whenever you call him freddie

🥥 did i mention he likes to cuddle?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 !

𝐤𝐞𝐲 ! fred, you, other person

🐚 “guys, where’s my girlfriend?”

🐚 “i miss my girlfriend.” “she just went to the bathroom?” “exactly.”

🐚 “cuddle time?” ( constant ask btw, not that you’re complaining )

🐚 “can you at least pretend to be happy that your boyfriend is here?” “you’re supposed to be in detention!?”

🐚 “not arguing with my beautiful girlfriend. whatever you say, gorgeous.”

🐚 “can we go cuddle now?”

🐚 “i know my girlfriend is pretty, mate. you don’t need to stare though, yeah?”

🐚 “love it when you call me freddie.”

🐚 “are you single?” “fortunately, no!”

🐚 “why are we studying when we could be cuddling right now instead?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 !

𝐤𝐞𝐲 ! you, fred, other people

🫧 “what did he do this time, professor?”

🫧 “nice try george, i know you’re not my boyfriend. where is he?”

🫧 “cuddle time.” ( your response every time he asks )

🫧 “freddie?” “yes, my love?” “nothing, just wanted to hear you call me that.”

🫧 “ang, i feel like the castle’s been too quiet lately.” “i agree…” “wait- where are the boys!?”

🫧 “y/n, come quick! fred keeps talking about spiking snape’s pumpkin juice!” “of course he is. why are you telling me this?” “you’re the only one who can tell him not to!”

🫧 “yes, we can go cuddle now, freddie.”

🫧 “y/nsaywhatifyouloveme.” “what?” “yes!”

🫧 “i love you, freddie.” “you love meee.” ( he giggles as he says it, canon )

🫧 “yes, my love—i think you’re the prettier twin.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! wooh, first headcanon post done!!! i hope you lovelies enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

©clesired - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

xoxo,

mila! *: ･🐚༄🫧*���✩

[squorttle-pox]

please. i need alastor with his hair up so we can see the side of his head. second set of ears or smooth flesh prairie?

[billymayslesbian]

Before Lionblaze could argue, another shape burst through the billowing smoke to stand beside Squirrelflight. His eyes glared; his gray fur was matted together and stuck with bits of burnt leaf and twig. Confused by the smoke and flames, Hollyleaf almost thought she was seeing one of her warrior ancestors, until she recognized Ashfur.

Squirrelflight dropped the branch. “Help me push it into the fire!” she yowled.

Grabbing the branch in strong jaws, Ashfur thrust it past the wall of flame and into the ever-narrowing patch of ground where Hollyleaf and her brothers huddled. But Hollyleaf didn’t feel any sense of relief. There was a look in Ashfur’s eyes that she didn’t understand: the look of a cat who had just spotted an unexpected juicy bit of prey.

The branch made a bridge through the flames, but Ashfur stood at the other end of it, blocking the way to safety. Lionblaze nudged Jayfeather to his paws; Hollyleaf took a step toward the branch, then paused. She felt a cold weight in herbelly when she looked into Ashfur’s glittering blue eyes.

“Ashfur, get out of the way.” Squirrelflight’s voice was puzzled. “Let them get out!”

“Brambleclaw isn’t here to look after them now,” Ashfur sneered.

Hollyleaf felt her fur beginning to rise. What did Ashfur mean?

Lionblaze’s golden pelt was bristling, too. “What have you done with my father?” he howled through the flame.

Ashfur looked at him pityingly; his eyes were twin points of fire amid the burning forest. “Why would I waste my time with Brambleclaw?”

The main branch was too solid to catch fire easily, but the leaves on it had shriveled and the twigs were beginning to smoke. Hollyleaf realized that they didn’t have much time before their bridge to safety would be ablaze.

Squirrelflight staggered up to Ashfur. Hollyleaf had never seen her mother so angry. Her fur bristled with fury; she looked like a warrior of TigerClan. Yet it was obvious that the climb to the top of the cliff, followed by her struggle with the branch, had weakened her, and she was exhausted.

“Your quarrel with Brambleclaw has to stop,” she hissed. “Too many moons have passed. You have to accept that I’m Brambleclaw’s mate, not yours. You can’t keep trying to punish Brambleclaw for something that was always meant to be.”

Ashfur’s ears flicked up in surprise. “I have no quarrel with Brambleclaw.”

Hollyleaf exchanged a shocked glance with Lionblaze. “That’s not how it looks to me,” he muttered.

“I couldn’t care less about Brambleclaw,” Ashfur continued. “It’s not his fault he fell for a faithless she-cat.”

Faithless? A growl began to build in Hollyleaf ’s throat, but then she stopped and watched the cats on the other side of the blazing branches. Something ominous was taking place in front of her, and even with flame roaring around them she felt a sudden chill. She shrank closer to Lionblaze and Jayfeather, whose head was up, his sightless eyes intent, as if he could see the confrontation between his mother and Ashfur.

“I know you think I’ve never forgiven Brambleclaw for stealing you from me, but you’re wrong, and so is every cat that thinks so. My quarrel is with you, Squirrelflight.” Ashfur’s voice shook with rage. “It always has been.”

Horrified, Hollyleaf took a step back and felt her hind paws begin to slip on the edge of the cliff. Her head spun as lightning stabbed out and thunder drowned all other sounds, even the roaring fire. For a heartbeat she dangled over empty air, and she let out a strangled yowl.

Then she felt firm teeth meet in her scruff; blinking against the smoke, she realized that Lionblaze was hauling her back to safety. But there was no safety: only the hungry flames, and Ashfur blocking the end of the branch with fury in his eyes. Fiery sparks floated down on all three young cats, scorching their fur, and flames licked the underside of the branch; fear flooded afresh through Hollyleaf when she saw that it was already beginning to smolder.

Ashfur has to let us get out! But Hollyleaf couldn’t find any words to plead with him. What was happening here didn’t have anything to do with them, even if they died because of it.

“All this was moons ago.” Squirrelflight sounded puzzled. “Ashfur, I had no idea you were still upset.”

“Upset?” Ashfur echoed. “I’m not upset. You have no idea how much pain I’m in. It’s like being cut open every day, bleeding onto the stones. I can’t understand how any of you failed to see the blood. . . .”

His eyes clouded and his voice took on a wild, distant tone, as if he could see the blood spilling out of him now, sizzling on the burning ground. Terror burst through Hollyleaf and she pressed closer to her brothers. This cat was more dangerous than the storm or the fire, or the fall lurking perilously close to her hind paws.

Desperately she tried to step onto the end of the branch. At once Ashfur rounded on her, fully conscious again, his teeth bared in a snarl.

“Stay there!” Turning to face Squirrelflight but keeping one paw on the branch, he hissed, “I can’t believe you didn’t know how much you hurt me. You are the blind one, not Jayfeather. Who do you think sent Firestar the message to go down to the lake, where the fox trap was? I wanted him to die, to take your father away so you’d know the real meaning of pain.”

Hollyleaf ’s shocked gaze met Lionblaze’s. “He tried to kill Firestar?” she gasped. “He’s mad!”

Determination glittered in Lionblaze’s eyes, and he bunched his muscles for a giant leap. “I’m going to fight him.”

“No!” Hollyleaf fastened her teeth in his shoulder fur. “You can’t!” Her words were muffled now. “He’ll just push you into the fire.”

“Brambleclaw saved Firestar then,” Ashfur went on to Squirrelflight. “But he’s not here now. He’s not here—but your kits are.”

Squirrelflight’s eyes blazed. For a heartbeat Hollyleaf thought she was going to pounce on the gray warrior, but she knew that exhausted and in pain, her mother would have no chance. Squirrelflight seemed to realize it, too. She drew herself up, head high; she was trembling, but her voice was clear and brave.

“Enough, Ashfur. Your quarrel is with me. These young cats have done nothing to hurt you. Do what you like with me, but let them out of the fire.”

“You don’t understand.” Ashfur looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time; his voice was puzzled and petulant. “This is the only way to make you feel the same pain that you caused me. You tore my heart out when you chose Brambleclaw over me. Anything I did to you would never hurt as much. But your kits . . .” He looked through the flames at Hollyleaf and her brothers, his eyes narrowing to dark blue slits. “If you watch them die, then you’ll know the pain I felt.”

The flames crackled threateningly closer; Hollyleaf felt as if the heat was about to sear her pelt into ashes. She edged backward, only to feel the edge of the hollow give way under her hind paws. The three of them were pressed tightly together, so close that if one of them lost their balance, all three would be dragged off the cliff. Hollyleaf couldn’t control the trembling that shook her whole body as her glance flickered between the cliff and the fire.

Jayfeather was crouched close to the ground, looking tinier than ever with his pelt slicked flat by the rain. Lionblaze’s claws were unsheathed, glinting as the lightning flashed out again, but the tension in his haunches didn’t come from preparing to leap at Ashfur; it came from the effort of keeping himself on the top of the cliff.

Squirrelflight raised her head, her gaze locked on Ashfur’s crazed eyes. “Kill them, then,” she meowed. “You won’t hurt me that way.”

Ashfur opened his jaws to reply, but said nothing. Hollyleaf and her brothers stared at their mother. What was Squirrelflight saying?

Squirrelflight took a step away from them, and glanced carelessly over her shoulder. Her green eyes were fiercer than Hollyleaf had ever seen them, with an expression she couldn’t read.

“If you really want to hurt me, you’ll have to find a better way than that,” Squirrelflight snarled. “They are not my kits.”

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru x darling

TW: NSFW, noncon, fantasy au

gn reader

Thinking about hunter Gojo and the pretty little nymph that gets themselves snared in one of his traps.

You can’t get your poor leg loose, having twisted your ankle in your fall to the ground – something’s wrong with your wing too, you can feel it – the thin network’s been folded, almost broken – so even if you did manage getting loose, you wouldn’t be able to fly away.

Branches snap around you along the crunch of old leaves – and your heart’s beating out of your chest in fear of it – knowing something large and dangerous is not far behind, that whoever set the trap is not something that wishes you well.

“You’re not a rabbit.” The man says, having crept in close before you’d even heard him approach – crouching in front of you with a hunter's grace. Hawk-eyes ice-blue and piercing, hair as white as pure snow.

He’s got three daggers sleaved in his belt – a fillet knife, a gutting knife, and a larger one you imagine is meant to slice throats. He doesn’t carry a sword like most men but has a bow and sack of arrows slung on his back. Otherwise, dressed lightly – brown leather boots, brown slacks, and a blue cotton shirt. You could have mistaken him for a woodland elf if it weren’t for the thick stench of man.

“Eating creatures from the holy forest is forbidden.” You snip, despite your wide eyes and the wobble of fear evident on your lip.

He only smiles at the quip, a grin like a predator humored by prey. “You wouldn’t tell a wolf not to hunt.”

He stalks you, leaning in closer, and you try shuffling away – but the movement only makes you wince.

“I’m just another hungry animal…”

Rope gnaws into your fine skin while his breath puffs hot and dewy on your face.

“And tonight… seems lady luck has favored me once again.”

He gags you and ties you further up before redoing his snare for the next unlucky creature – then carries you over his shoulder until he’s dropping you down on a bed of furs.

Your skin flushes with goosebumps at the thought of being skinned the same way – mouthing a little prayer around the cloth he’s split your teeth and lips with. He’s cut trees down as well; you hear their pitiful screams when he lights a fire with their bodies. You mourn them, too.

At his full height, the man must be two heads taller than any male nymph you’ve ever seen and at least three heads taller than you. You hope you’re enough to satisfy him tonight, to spare the forest of further bloodshed.

You shiver and sniffle when he starts prepping you – removing your clothes and groping your tender, fleshy places with a strength you’re not used to – hands large and crass – kneading you like dough – probably to assess the quality of your meat. He has a smile on his face while at it. 

Humans make you sick – to think he’s planning on roasting then eating you despite the soul fueling your spirit and the beating heart in your chest. But you’ve long known that all death but their own matters little to them – they don’t feel the same way nymphs do – they don’t regard life with the same respect they’ve donned themselves. It must be a sad and lonely existence, you think. It even makes you feel a little sorry for him.

You yelp when his gritty fingers brush the area between your legs – shimmying when he lowers his mouth down to the same place. Oh God – does he plan on eating you raw? While your body’s still hot and pumping blood?

But the bite never comes – not yet eating but tasting it would seem – licking and slurping and sucking on you.

He takes his shirt off. Probably to avoid spilling on it, you think.

You don’t really understand what’s going on until he’s got his fat manhood pointed toward your kernel-sized hole. Eyes wide as he splits you apart slowly and unabashedly – as though it isn't as deviant as a dog mating a cat – sinking in inch after meaty inch.

You whimper at the stretch – wincing when the plush mushroom-shaped head grinds against that special place inside you. 

It doesn’t fit more than halfway, but that doesn’t seem to bother him – rolling his head back with a rusty groan, even with just the tip gaining purchase within you – pounding into you like a beast in his rut.

“What's the matter, pretty nymph? Did you think I was gonna eat you?” He laughs, bearing over you – his hands steadying your hips to meet his sharp thrust – each hit deeper than the last. “I’m the only hunter in this forest; I can eat what I want when I want – but eating you?” He scoffed and snickered. “That would just be a waste.”

The blood on his breath makes you wrinkle your nose – squeezing your eyes shut as his tongue sweeps up the tear streaks on your cheek.

“My stomach’s already full. Time to empty my balls.”

[iceunhie]

— phaethetically in love !

premise. belle thinks her brother is the most oblivious person in sixth street. the reason? one: because his (super obvious) crush on you is practically the worst kept secret in new eridu, and two: because he can't even see that said crush is reciprocated! good thing he has one (1) amazing, wonderful, nosy sister to help him out, yeah?

or, belle thinks the two of you are a prime example of an s tier romance movie; and she really wants to skip to the final arc already.

pairing. wise x gn!reader.

warnings: kinda ooc wise (i just started the game), wise is a loser (lovingly), belle is an instigator (proudly), comedy, facepalm moments.

a/n: for @vxnuslogy and @milksnake-tea bc yes wise kissers yes

MY (rlly cool btw 🥺) MASTERLIST || INBOX !

“you're in love with [name], aren't you?”

like all siblings in the world—or what's left of it, belle schemes.

(against wise, of course. obviously.)

her brother bursts into a mess immediately, nearly spilling his cup ramen all over his new shirt, chopsticks sticking out. laughing nervously. general chop would not be proud. “who told you that? i mean— haha, who said that, belle?”

his sister rolls her eyes. “me, myself. i.” she emphasizes, leaning her elbows against the table and putting her palms together; the grin she wears right now is so serene, but not in the angelic, nice way. belle smiles and wise finally thinks, oh. my sister may need to book herself to the closest self-help guru in new eridu.

“i have reason to believe that you, my dearest brother, are in love with [name].”

her voice goes up an octave at the last bit, leading wise to stuff her mouth with potato chips. already, heads have turned. “mff.”

“keep your voice down! and stop broadcasting it to everyone here-”

“what, i am right, aren't i? they clearly like you back, so why haven't you confessed yet?”

“keep. your. voice. down.” wise says, and belle's shit eating grin only widens as she sees her brother's ears tinged with pink. “and... how did you even know that?” he asks, mortified.

“well, one: because it's obvious—like, have you seen how obvious you are?” belle huffs, taking a bite of the potato chip with force (personal grudges are involved). “and two, because they like you back, dummy!”

because when belle sees the two of you together, it's like wise focuses on no one else. you are the center of his world—and he is just being pulled to bask in your light. his eyes soften like they melt only for you, and wise looks like all he is is, all he wants to be, is to belong with you.

(and, wise likes to stare at you for ungodly amounts of time. belle even caught him staring when you were petting a cat by the street and decided to name the stray ‘wise’; courtesy of him, apparently. the cat literally just had grey fur.

“wise.”

“hm?”

“you're practically spawning heart eyes now.”)

it's sickening. (in a oh my god my brother is in love kind of way, mind you.)

“so!” belle says, a devilish sparkle in her eyes. “allow your dearest sister to help you out, 'kay?”

wise nearly coughs up blood.

“what?!”

so at present, belle compiles her (hastily written) list of romantic moments you and wise have shared. she's not surprised—the number can be counted on one hand. diabolical, disappointing, world-ending! she resists the urge to cough up blood.

first, a coff cafe date with tin man's help: a fail. tin man's wingman capabilities were very superb, but she never heard the end of it when wise was lecturing her about how tin man kept sending over heart shaped desserts and little fortune cookies. the fortune cookies in question which said ‘you can do it!’ and a latte with art of caricature tin man making a heart. (you were very confused). belle thought it was motivating. wise thought it was mortifying.

next, even instilling help from fairy to calculate statistics about what event would you two be likely to be together. fairy said, and belle quotes: “probably never. that kind of pining's for the long run, with the other master's current experience. give it a year or six, master.”

so, she's currently face-palming.

did her brother really have zero game? why were the two of you just dancing around each other?! she's tried everything—from letting you two spend more time with each other in commissions, her inviting you over more to leave you to chat with her brother, and even the entirety of sixth street has lent their aid! how were you two not dating yet?!

“didn't they go on an arcade date at random play yesterday?” belle mutters. “that should've increased your progress by a long mile, bro! even general chop said you two were really, really close in the noodle shop....”

just what was she going to do now? at this rate, her brother would be relationshipless in no time! in fairy's words again, it would be phaethetic. and that would be a phaethal blow on her pride.

“...master, i said no such thing.”

“well, now you did.”

“The Ethereal Reckoning,” there's a pep in your step, the boxes full of movie DVDs in your arms as you walk back to the movie store. it was heavy, but at least you got to walk with the grey-haired proxy beside you. “That movie was great! Thanks for recommending it to me.”

Sporting a dopey, lovesick grin in response, wise nods at that, content to listen to your voice. it was actually belle's idea to let you lend movies you like over so the two of you could talk about it back and forth. wise would need to (begrudgingly) treat her to a bowl of ramen later on.... she saved him—he probably wouldn't even be talking to you for this long at this point, let alone hang out with you without her. for someone so nosy, he guesses his sister was a pretty good wingwoman.

“the main character was pretty similar to billy, you know?” you ramble on as wise listens. “i mean, because they were an android too, and...”

he finds that he's content to listen to anything you say, really. (right now he doesn't really know what you're saying, something about a horror ethereal movie, but you could just tell him anything and he would listen).

“i feel like the heroine's death was unnecessary, though.” you sigh, “too much tension just for it to end like that? how anticlimactic.”

your voice was so nice, so warm and easy to listen to, and wise can't even say anything to retort, simply staring with a growing (lovesick) smile on his face. talking to people was hard work, and talking to you? it might just make him combust.

“...ise? wise?”

“ah, huh?” he snaps out of his trance, only to find you mere inches away from his face, the only thing keeping you apart the boxes full of movies he's carrying. “...!”

“are you listening?” you furrow, and someone really might be out to get him right now because in that moment, wise flinches from the proximity, bumping into you.

then, because the universe thinks his life couldn't get more dramatic than it already was—you stagger, about to fall forward.

he moves before he thinks. “watch out!”

and wise.... practically astral-projects to another plane when he feels you fall into his arms, his hands on your waist. he can feel the warmth of your skin on his, the flustered look on your face. (he feels like he's going to die).

the two of you lock eyes for a moment, and wise feels like he's about to so something very stupid and his hands are still on your waist—

“....”

“.....”

someone save him.

“ah...”

“sorry!” you recover first, hurriedly letting yourself pull away from him (much to his disappointment). “i wasn't looking, and i- are you okay, wise?”

“no, no, it's fine.... i-i'm fine....” he hopes his voice isn't as small as it is, he couldn't be smooth to save his life; and wise helps you gather your bearings, his hands brushing against yours, blood rushing to his ears. sheepishly rubbing at his nape. “sorry, i was distracted.”

perhaps in the mood to lift the atmosphere, you sputter out, “no worries! it's fine! besides, you listened to me all this time.... i really enjoyed the movie, really.”

“of course i'll listen.” and before wise can think to stop his traitor of a mouth, the words spill out of his lips like it always wanted to be.

“you're worth paying attention to.”

it's automatic—your face heats up, warming like the sun on a hot day in new eridu, and god, he is such an idiot-

“you think so?” wise gulps. you looked bashful, and were way too adorable right now, and his face felt like it was on fire.... wait, that's not the point! he has to answer you, at least. this is a chance to make progress!

“y-yeah. definitely. i enjoyed... watching the movie with you.” he says. did his voice just crack just now? “we can hang out more often too, even without belle.”

he feels bad for throwing his sister under the bus like that, but—wait, did he just ask you out on a date? (accidentally)

well, it didn't matter because wise feels like he won the lottery right now, because you brighten up immediately. “really?”

then you cough and compose yourself. “i mean, sure! i'm sure it'll be fun, haha...”

awkward silence ensues. uh oh, did he say something wrong? was he too forward? he wants to say something, but something is lodged in his throat, and wise can't bring up a response. (his heart was beating like crazy right now, though).

“uh...”

“....”

then, something soft brushes against the side of his cheek. as fast as it was felt, wise felt the sensation leave just as easily. did you just-?

you just kissed him. on the cheek.

“thanks for hanging out with me, wise.”

“you're welcome- wha- huh?!” he nearly drops the stack of dvd's he was holding. you pull away, an enigmatic smile on your face. face flushed.

before he can even respond, the two of you finally arrive at the movie store. damn it, gods of the world. why did his luck run out now?

“i guess this is your stop.” he blinks, your voice coming back to him. “and, wise?”

“ah, uh, yeah?”

“it's a date, then?” your eyes sparkle and shine a light through his heart. super effective!

is this really happening? is he really going on a date with you—oh, he's so thrilled he could actually burst into song and kick his feet, but belle would tease him ruthlessly after. nosy sisters were so much work....

“yes!” he almost yells it out, but because he didn't want to look uncool in front of you, wise composes himself. play it cool, play it cool. don't mess up this chance! “yes, definitely. it's... it's a date.”

you put down the other stack of dvd's down the table, flashing him a dizzying, lovely smile smile. wise swears he falls even harder for you.

“then it's a date.”

BONUS.

“seriously?! you're going on a date with them?!” belle shouts, so unceremoniously that wise slaps a hand on her mouth.

“not so loud! but, yeah.” he says, face heating up. “your plan worked, sis.”

“yes! yes! finally!” his sister practically cheers, “i can finally be free of your sickening heart eyes... and finally, our street's most anticipated couple is here!”

wise can't help but sigh in fond exasperation. he guesses he'll let her have this one today.

“also, belle?”

“what?”

“you didn't tell anyone about this, did you?”

...

“uhh....”

(on the day of the date, wise receives an abnormal amount of good luck posters. he also gets a disturbing amount of thumbs up from the neighbors.

the last straw? tin man, giving him a baked cake with the words ‘rooting for you!’ covered in pink heart sprinkles.

he facepalms. belle...!)

a/n: d d do you guys get it..... phaethetically...... phaethon..... wise is phaethon and he's awkward in love lol hahahahaha (💀)

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

[byexbyez]

lovers of valdaro | leon kennedy x reader

PART I  |  PART II  |  PART III (finale)

pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader 

summary: Some things have changed. The months, the weather, the air that hangs between Leon and you. Yet one thing has remained constant: his desire to keep you as close as possible. 

word count: 8.2K of gratuitous smut 

warnings: 18+, smut, established relationship, pda, bickering, consensual somnophilia, groping, dry humping, unprotected p in v, fingering, prone boning, swearing, slight dom/sub undertones, pet names, an attempt at praise kink, pill as contraception, creampie, oral sex (f!receiving), marking, unintentional edging, masturbation, aftercare, no use of y/n, oh and ooc 

notes: i’m sorry to those who were expecting pt 3 to be angsty. i wanted to portray some changes and get used to writing and publishing smut. also, this can be read separately as it is almost all smut. enjoy!

➵ read on ao3.

“This man yaps a lot,” Leon says from behind you, you’re startled by his voice near your ear. His lips tickle your earshell. Like a cat’s fur standing up, your shoulders go up slightly. Renting only one sunbed –a narrow chair, really– for the two of you starts to feel like a mistake. Well, you plan to swim anyway, I’ll just sunbathe, you had said earlier, failing to account for Leon’s FOMO when you pulled out your book from your beach bag. For some reason, he was interested in anything that captured your attention as of late. 

You were looking at travel guides for you and your sister back at home when Leon saw your laptop screen. “What’s this?” he asked, adjusting the screen so he could see it better. 

“Beaches in Italy,” you answered. “My sister will be using her yearly vacation this year. I’m making  a list of places we can go if she asks.” Leon was silent and when you turned to him, already watching you intently. “What?” 

“Our anniversary is coming up.” 

You looked at the date, wondering why he brought it up. “I guess it is.” 

“How about we go? Before your sister asks, I mean,” he suggested, scratching the back of his neck. 

You straightened up on the couch. “You wanna go on a vacation with me?” 

The corners of his lips curled up. “Err, I believe I asked you first.” 

A little girl runs by your sunbed with her arms full of plastic toys, screaming with joy as she plops down to the sand. The bottoms of her tiny feet are red, probably because of how hot the sand is. She begins digging up sand with her toy shovel. 

“It’s Dostoevsky,” you say, like that would be enough clarification for Leon. His arm comes up to pinch the book up top to flip it and peek at its title, which reads “White Nights.”  Propping up your elbow on your torso to adjust both your book and your attention, you try to move as little as possible to not disturb him. He basically made you sit between his legs and lay your back on his chest, saying he would take a dip in the sea in a few minutes. 

You know he’s about to speak again when your head rises along his chest. “He’s been talking nonstop for three pages.” 

“Leon, I’m trying to focus.” 

The little girl a few feet away lets out a frustrated cry when her castle crumbles down, her little arms flap irritably, chucking the toy shovel in front of her in the process. A slightly older boy, probably her brother, comes to the rescue with a bucket full of sea water. He shows his little sister how to wet the sand for it to hold shape. The sound of waves crashing against the breakwater drowns out their shrill laughter.

“You’re squishing your boob,” Leon blurts out, takes hold of the planted elbow on your breast and lifts it in the air. 

Trying to follow the words, your head knocks on Leon’s chin. “I can’t read like this. Let go of my arm.” 

“Nuh-uh. If I let go, you’re gonna keep pressing your arm to your boob and have a nip slip.” 

“I’m not gonna have a nip slip.” 

“Whatever the correct verb for a nip slip is, it will happen.” His chin digs into the crown of your hair. “And those teenagers will remember this day forever.” 

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “What teenagers?” 

“The ones that are looking this way,” Leon states in a matter-of-factly tone. He’s right, a bunch of boys are in the sea, laughing among themselves by splashing water. Every now and then their heads tilt up to your direction. 

You look down on yourself to see if the swimsuit is covering you like it’s supposed to. There’s nothing wrong with it, yet that doesn’t stop you from setting the book down on your stomach. “Why are they looking here? What’s wrong with my swimsuit?” 

“It looks good on you, that’s why. Hormonal teenagers.” 

“I think it’s the position we’re in,” you mumble. Your back feels damp with sweat as you peel away from him, sitting up further away.

But Leon has other plans, he snakes his hand around your shoulder and plants his palm right on your sternum, pulling you back to him by your chest. 

“Oof,” you breathe out once you collide with his torso again. 

He taps his fingers on your breastbone as he catches the slipping book on your lap. “Here, I’ll hold it. You turn the pages.” 

“It’s too hot for this,” you groan. 

“Pardon me for doing something,” he says, sounding neither hurt nor sorry. 

“You said you’d swim,” you say, though it sounds more like a suggestion. “Want me to lather you up in sunscreen? I know you didn’t put it on back at the hotel.” 

“I mean, when you ask it like that, sure.” He’s grinning like a cheshire cat, it warms your heart that he’s pleased with himself just by managing to get under your skin. Something quite like a heartbeat, it feels intimate, an embrace out in the open. In a snap, you shake off the feeling. You’re not going to see these people again, they do not know you, just like how you don’t know the couple dipping their feet in the water while holding hands, little girl building sandcastles with her brother, young boys jumping on each other’s backs. Who would have thought being a stranger to all of it would make your yearning flesh all the more tender? 

Your wandering eyes shut in bliss when you feel it. A featherlight, barely-there kiss on the back of your neck, placed just below your hair, followed by the disappearance of your book from your sight. Leon reaches down to drop it in your bag, you wiggle away to let him search for the bottle of sunscreen. 

“Take your shirt off,” you say once you turn to face him. 

“Damn, woman. At least buy me dinner first.” 

“Can you get any cornier? You’re getting overpriced beer at best.” 

“...May your sky always be clear, may your dear smile always be bright and happy, and may you be for ever blessed for that moment of bliss and happiness which you gave to another lonely and grateful heart. Isn't such a moment sufficient for the whole of one's life–?”

Your attention snaps away from your book over a playful voice. “Hey, miss. Sorry to bother you.” Leon is standing a few steps in front of your chair, hands on his hips, most of his weight on one leg. Water drops cling to his firm chest, following a delectable path down his muscles. Some even caress his faded scars gently, a reminder that he has endured things far from gentle. His hair seems darker due to saltwater, the tips of it almost poking his eyes, by the looks of him having to shake them away from his face when he attempts to tilt his head to the side. “Are you perhaps single?” 

You purse your lips to suppress a grin. “Why are you asking?” 

“I’m interested.” 

“Oh,” you croon in mock-embarrassment. “I’m married.” You make sure to show off the gold band on your ring finger. 

He walks next to your chair. “Lucky guy. Speaking of, where is he?” His gaze lingers on your legs that are bent towards your chest, the book propped up on your knees. 

You close the book and play along. “He’s swimming.” 

“Is he a good swimmer?” 

“Yeah, his strokes are phenomenal.” 

His eyebrows shoot up. “Are we still talking about swimming?” 

You tilt your head to the side. “Why yes, is there a misunderstanding?” 

“No, no. Just making sure we’re on the same page here. Tell me more about him.” 

You gesture to the empty room on the foot of the sunchair. “Then you might want to sit here for a while. Maybe dry off?” 

“I’d love to keep you company until your husband shows up.” Leon sits sideways next to your feet, way too familiar for a ‘stranger.’ “What’s he like?”

“First of all, he looks a lot like you.” You press your lips together. This is ridiculous. “He’s also incredibly annoying.” When Leon gasps half-mockingly, you cast a sideways glance at him. “His jokes are really corny, he’s lucky I put up with them.” 

“That might hurt his feelings.” 

“Well, he’s not here.” 

He scrunches his eyebrows together, there’s a visible question mark in his blink. “My jokes are that bad?” 

“Aaand, the play is over.” You slap your knees lightly, sliding your feet towards Leon until your toes touch the side of his thigh. “We are not sharing the chair again. You’re still dripping.” 

A sluggish sigh escapes his lips. “Let me lean on you at least.” 

And before you can say no, Leon is relocating your hands from your knees, moving them by your wrists, placing your arms at your sides. He folds his own arms on top of your knees and rests his temple on them, hugging your knees to himself, looking off into the side. You could lean forward and bury your nose in his hair like this, inhale the sun and salt, let your lips linger, let him feel the ghost of a kiss for a change. Though he was always better at unprompted acts of affection, maybe because he didn’t think much of it. 

It’s peaceful—the secluded space you’ve managed to carve out for the two of you, despite the chaos of the crowded beach. It feels like a quiet world unto itself, hidden in plain sight amid a sea of distant faces, as if removed from everything around you. It’s strangely intimate. Minutes or hours pass, you can’t make out which, lost in the stillness. 

When Leon speaks, his thumb starts brushing your knee. “I can hear you think,” he murmurs, his voice low. What’s going on in that head of yours? 

“Will you tell me a truth?” you ask, almost in a whisper. 

Leon doesn’t lift his head up, lazy like a cat in the sun. Although his body reminds him to be on guard upon hearing a kid yell in the distance, his muscles twitch reflexively. “Why?” 

“For all of this to feel real.” Your eyes follow the slope of his nose, then the squished red cheek leaning on his forearm. The sunscreen you copiously put on his nose bridge couldn’t protect his skin. You can’t help but admire his long lashes, fluttering so prettily the action could make butterflies jealous. 

His answer surprises you. “I’m scared all the time.” 

“Of what?” 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His thumb stops moving so he can squeeze your kneecap. “I’m scared that one day you’ll want us to go our separate ways. I’m scared that I will not be able to let you go. You know I wasn’t able to do it the first time around. I dread the day you won’t want to see my face again.” 

“Leon–” 

“Sometimes I get scared that something will happen to you and I will lose you.” 

It dawns on you then. The reason why you’ve been waking up to strong arms tangled around your waist for months. 

“Leon, nothing’s going to happen to me.” 

However, he’s still going on. “If you decide you’ve had enough, just let me know, okay? Don’t just up and leave.” 

Your throat constricts itself. You don’t know what to say to that. Part of you wants to do just that: up and leave. Not the way he means but in a way to escape his hold, step aside to mull it over and come up with a humane response. The fact that he couldn’t meet your eyes while saying all that leaves your heart with a dull ache, chest too heavy to even breathe. 

He finally looks up, expression unreadable. His eyes scour your face, searching for something. “Does it feel real now?” 

You swallow on nothing as you meet his eyes. Sure, you nod. It terrifies you how real it actually feels. 

Leon thinks he’s a genius for lowering the temperature of the air-conditioning while you were in the bathroom, carrying out your night routine. No, he didn’t have any malicious intent, not at all, he was just sweating a lot even after his shower. By the time you entered the bed in your pajamas, you suspected nothing, lifted the bedcover to join him. Your skin was glowing from all the products he couldn’t wrap his head around, your lips were shining clear. For a moment, he wanted to plant his mouth to your lips and taste the vaseline. 

He was aroused, which was not surprising considering the amount of sex you two had been having. It’s become so regular that he thinks he never had this much compatibility with anyone before. Goodnight, Leon, you murmured before gracing him with the sight of your back, voice so sweet he nearly whined out of desperation. He didn’t know why he waited for your breathing to fall steady, he’s been holding you in your sleep for a while now. Every morning you wake up before him and toss his arms aside, get the day started. 

When he’s sure that you’ve fallen asleep, he makes his move, drapes an arm around your waist, pressing his bare chest to your clothed back, spooning you. He’s careful not to wake you despite the evidence of his arousal resting against your ass. Normally, he would ignore it and take care of it in the morning but you make that impossible by squirming in your sleep. A few minutes pass by and he guesses the room must feel like an icebox to you, he knows you get cold quickly. Leon thinks he’s a genius because he could just wake you up and suggest warming you up. He also thinks he’s a fool because what if you don’t wake up, with all this squirming? He could move to the side and wait for the cold to do its own thing or he could just get up and go to the bathroom to rub one out. Or he could lower his boxers, do it right here. He’s positive you wouldn’t mind, that’s how intimate you two have become.  

Before he can decide, a shiver takes over your body, a soft whimper escaping your lips. Now Leon feels bad. He’ll just get up and fix the AC to an acceptable temperature. 

You shrivel into him, searching for warmth. The arm across your waist reaches up, the entirety of his hand cupping your breast that’s pressed against the bed. His body runs hot despite the breeze in the hotel room, so he thinks this will help. Just as a quiet, needy cry from your throat travels to his burning ears, his other arm snakes beneath your body to press against your belly. He squeezes you tightly until he can feel the blood pumping through your veins, buries his nose into the crook of your neck. Inhaling deeply bestows on him your enticing scent. 

Guilt washes over him as he ruts his hips into your sleep shorts, because who becomes an animal in heat when they smell clean soap? 

Leon. Leon does. 

The smallest things have been setting him off. All of your flimsy sundresses, swaying of your hips in them, your smooth legs, the gold anklet that matches with your wedding ring, the swimsuit that makes your cleavage call his attention. You, taking his arm while walking side to side. In fact, he suppressed smothering his face into your cheek today at lunch—cuteness aggression— as he tried to eat his food in peace. You were enjoying your pasta, humming contentedly after your first bite, you smiled at him when you caught him watching you intently. Leon was never into taking pictures but at that moment, he wanted to engrave the picture of you smiling up at him lovingly into his memory for the future, remember your crinkled eyes and adorably scrunched up nose when he would miss you. He knew he would miss that moment right when it was happening, he’d be gone again for an assignment soon. 

“What?” You laughed.

“That good?” he asked, eyes pointing to your bowl of pasta. 

“Yep! Want some?” 

Leon keeps clinging until your body twitches no longer, takes deep breaths against your neck, pleased as his heat completely stills you. His hold relaxes as he becomes aware of his grip strength. He releases his clamped fingers from your breast, stroking your nipple apologetically. It will surely leave a mark on your soft skin, which you will whine about later, though he knows deep down you enjoy him being rough with you. After all, it was you who brought up that you weren’t made of glass, he didn’t need to act as if you were going to break. 

Your soft sighs soothe him to an extent, as far as the strain in his boxers allow. Fuck it, he thinks. He’s still humping your backside, cock throbbing. He’s going to wake you up. Pounce on you once you open your eyes. 

Forefinger and thumb pinching a hardening nipple, he nuzzles his face into where your neck meets your shoulder, dropping heavy kisses first, then switching to sucking your skin. If he could drown in your smell, he would. “Honey, please wake up.” 

“Hm?” He hears you, heart starting to beat even faster. “Leon?” Your first touch is on his arms, fingertips ice cold, groggy voice calling to him. 

“You awake?” he breathes in your ear. 

Feeling tickled, your shoulder rises to your ear. “Clearly,” you reply hoarsely. His thigh is glued to the back of yours, reaching back to hold it, you manage to slow his movements. His erection is fully pressed against you. “Everything okay?” 

“No.” He pants in your hair. “Need to fuck you.” 

“Leon,” you groan, face dropping fully into your pillow. “I’m too tired.” 

“Please, you don’t need to do anything.” 

“Don’t think I can even lift my leg.” 

“Then don’t. I’ll do everything. Lift your hips for a second so I can get this off?” 

“Fine,” you huff, rolling onto your stomach so his strong-willed hands can strip off your shorts along with your underwear. “We don’t have lube.” 

He drops a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll just have to prep you.” 

Ugh, so sweet. “Make it quick,” you say as he carefully sits on the backs of your thighs, his knees trapping your legs together. “How do we do this?” 

“Stay still,” he mumbles, barely audible. You grow impatient as you hear him moving in the dark, taking off his only piece of clothing. He reaches over to the bedside drawer to turn on the lamp. The blanket is scattered across the bed. You hiss sharply, eyes adjusting to the soft light. 

He holds your shoulders firmly. “What’s wrong?” 

“Why is it so cold?” 

Somehow, you can hear him grinning behind you. “The AC’s broken.” 

“Have you tried calling the reception? It’s too cold for this.” 

“I’ll warm you up,” he says as his heat hovers over you, fingers hiking up your flimsy camisole to gain access to your waist, the other hand shaking off the thin straps. He buries his nose into the back of your neck, kissing a path to your right shoulder, sharp teeth grazing skin along the way. He shifts his attention to your left shoulder, reaching down to cup your ass, pulling apart your cheeks. His fingers find your sex straight away; he’s familiar with your body. 

“You’re a bit wet for someone who’s feeling too tired,” he teases. 

You don’t bother with pleasantries. “I will leave you blue-balled for the rest of the week.” 

“Right,” he says. “Lift your head up.” 

“I just woke up, you’re asking for too much from me.” 

He nudges his nose into the back of your ear instead of answering. Kiss me, he demands, pressing his hips to your plushness. Familiar with his silent commands, you submit to his reign, craning your neck back, open mouth chasing his. 

Your mouths clash unceremoniously. It’s messy, sloven, uncoordinated, and animalistic. He finds your tongue in no time, suckling on the wet muscle all the while managing to lift your shoulders off the bed to drop your thin straps around your elbows, pulling your camisole down. Now your top sits below your naked breasts, bunched around your middle like a thick headband. Leon’s jaw moves as if he’s thirsty, drinking from your mouth unapologetically. The noises from your so-called kissing are obscene, filling the room along with the sounds of heavy breathing. Heat starts to pool in your lower belly, body slowly warming up. 

Quick as a wink, a strong hand wraps around the back of your neck, pushing you face down to the mattress. Your surprised yelp into your pillow is cut short once he pulls your hair gently, laughing next to your ear. “Don’t want you to suffocate. Try to keep your head up. Can you do that for me, honey?” 

Rolling your eyes, you bite back a remark. Resting your cheek on the pillow is all he’s going to get. After all, he did tell you that you didn’t need to do anything. Your crushed breasts feel funny, one side aching considerably more than the other, owing to him groping it roughly while you were sleeping. 

Leon lets out a low chuckle and continues his undeterred path from your jaw to your neck, nipping at skin, leaving a stinging sensation behind. His knees make room for your squirming legs, a perfect chance for him to dip his hand between your thighs, a slight part of your legs to accommodate his fingers on your cunt. Rubbing your lower lips, he slicks his fingers with your wetness. 

Your breath hitches when two pads of fingers make contact with your clit, drawing tight circles. “That feel good?” His voice is muffled by your skin. 

You groan a noise of confirmation as he puts more pressure on his fingertips, quickening his movements on your now soaked pussy. His thumb catches at your entrance, maybe accidentally, and you can’t hold yourself back from pursuing that pleasure, back arching so your hips could sway up, chasing his touch. Thankfully, he is quick to place his thumb back, swiping back and forth. The double stimulation on your opening and clit creates enough lubrication for him to slide right in. 

Your eagerness doesn’t go unnoticed by Leon, the feel of his teeth on your earlobe is a wary appreciation. “Too tired, huh? Look at you.” He means your hips in the air, quivering right in front of his view. “Lemme help you relax.” 

You think he’ll finally thrust himself in, however, you’re taken by surprise when he works two fingers into you, the stretch unexpected, but appreciated nonetheless. He shoves your hips back down into the mattress, arm across the small of your back to keep you steady against the bed. “Don’t be disappointed. I need to open you up first,” he speaks into your temple, nose pressed to the tail of your eyebrow. He starts moving his fingers in and out. “Don’t want you to hurt.” 

He grabs a handful of your ass to pull apart while working your cunt open with his fingers. Your whole body feels electrified each time he strokes the velvety walls of your pussy, throat humming with need. 

“Leon…” you moan, wanting to arch into him. Your desperate hand slides under your belly to touch your clit. “Enough.” 

But that’s not what you want to tell him. You want to tell him this is not enough, he needs to be inside you right now or you will start to wail, turn over and jump his bones. This is quite the opposite from where everything started, with you worked up and fussy in his hands, unable to speak properly. 

You feel him watching his own hand between your legs, ears perked up for the sounds coming from where you are gushing, shallowing his thrusts once he feels your fingers join in. “Enough? You don’t want to come first?” 

“S’cold,” you cry out. “Fuck me already.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey,” he coos at you, pulling his soaked digits out of you, head rising to meet with your parted lips. The arm around your waist slides up, fingers gently digging into your scalp to hold you in place as he kisses you, using the fingers he just pulled out of you to slick up his cock. He moans into your mouth before pulling away. 

“You have me. Ready?” 

You nod into the pillow. 

As he presses his swollen tip into you, he watches the back of your head tip back with a shiver, your neck exposed for him to reach and grab. Instead, he wraps his arm around your neck in a gentle headlock, helping you rest your cheek on his bicep, the movement helping him slip further inside you. 

Hot, bullish breaths burrow into your neck when he is buried to the hilt, balls pressed against your clit and fingers that are spreading yourself. 

“Fuck, you smell so good,” he whispers, his torso meeting your back. 

He presses his entire weight down onto you and it is glorious, being trapped between him and the mattress, surrounded by his body heat with no room to flee. Not that you even consider it. Though your wrist, strained under the weight, digs into your pelvis as he begins to thrust feverishly. “Oh, fuck,” he grunts. 

Your mouth opens to let him know of the awkward position your arm is in but you only manage to moan wantonly. He takes it as a cue to snap his hips faster. 

“Wait, Leon—my wrist.” 

He stops completely, lifting his hips slightly for you to pull your arm out from underneath, dropping a kiss in your hair as an apology. “Fuck, sorry. Forgot your hand was there. Are you good? Am I too heavy?” 

Your hands fist around the sheets to brace yourself. He did not pull himself fully out of you, you just want him to fill you to the brim again. Even though you don’t know if you can come like this. “No, I’m good. Let’s continue.” 

As your wish comes true, his hips pick up a frenzied pace, the bed starts to shake. You don’t know how he manages it, you’re immobilized under him, high on the pleasurable feeling. Your poor nipples are chafing against the sheets with all the movement. The noises escaping your lips are embarrassingly loud, mingling with the creaky springs of the hotel bed. He doesn’t hold back either, sucking love-bites wherever his mouth can reach, moaning against your spit-lacquered skin. Palms sliding under your shoulders to hold you even closer, he squeezes you to himself while letting his weight push you hard into the mattress. 

It’s as if he wants to open up his chest and tuck you beneath his ribs, or crawl beneath your skin from behind, until you both become one. 

His pace falters, you squeak as he bottoms out, walls pulsing around him. He must have been desperately horny, for he is spitting out delirious things in your ear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck— you look so cute. You always do.” 

“Huh?” 

Rather than addressing your confusion, he leans in your face. One hand cups your jaw, guiding your face to his, squishing your cheeks together until your lips are puckered, ready for him to attack, though it’s a pleasant assault of kisses. “You’re so—” Kiss. “Soft.” Kiss. “It makes me crazy.” Kiss. “And you always smell so good.” Kiss. 

“Leon, what’s gotten into you—mmph!” 

He doesn’t care about what you have to say about his raving state; instead, he crashes his lips to yours for a longer, deeper kiss. His strong arm hugs your neck again, cradling you to himself. You swallow his animalistic groan when your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling on the tresses while trying to squirm. His hair has gotten so long; a luxury of taking time off work. 

His hips start to grind, precise snaps eliciting small sounds out of both of you, his cock massaging your innermost crevices. 

“You’re like an angel,” he whispers in your mouth, panting wildly. “You feel like heaven. God, I love you. I can’t believe—shit, I’m close. I’m gonna come. Tell me where to come.” 

If he wasn’t literally in your face, you might have missed it—that sacred, dangerous word slipping past his lips as if it was an everyday occurrence. 

It didn’t even register at first, partly because it happened so quickly and partly because it made you clamp down on him with an intense ripple of pleasure, causing him to grunt. 

Losing all strength in your muscles, you sag against his arm on the pillow, neck too numb to keep your head up, feet plopping down with a pat. When did you lift your feet up? 

Like a snap of a thread, his demeanor changes instantly. Concerned, he brushes your hair away from your face hastily. “Baby, did you just come?” 

A sound resembling “yes” is murmured into your pillow, your whole body feeling prickly upon the fondness in his voice, spasming uncontrollably. He’s still inside you, reaching incredibly deep, hip bones digging into the meat of your ass, caging you in his warmth. 

“Didn’t even need me to touch your clit,” he says. There’s that smugness in his tone, like he didn’t just rock your whole world. 

Feeling fuzzy around the edges, you remember his need to have a release, and words rush out without much thought, “Inside. Come inside.” 

The faint rhythm of his hips turn sloppy upon hearing you. He’s gasping, “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, I’m on the pill.” 

“Fuck. Thank you, baby.” 

His face finds home in your neck again. It’s not long before you feel the thick trickle of warmth filling you up. Coming to his senses, his arms loosen around you, waiting for his breathing to turn to normal. 

You can sleep like this, you think. With him literally in your skin, smothered under his delectable weight. It’s calming. 

Eventually, he pulls out and rolls over on his back, the absence of his weight feels oddly sad. He turns his neck towards you. “That was… something else. How are you feeling?” 

You stretch your arms, sliding them under your pillow. “Like I’ve just run a marathon. And I didn’t even move much.” 

“Now that you’re properly tired, you’re gonna sleep like a log.” He chuckles, throwing an arm on his forehead. 

You slide a hand between your legs, knitting your eyebrows, reconsidering. “We need to clean up first.” 

“Right,” he sighs. “I promised you I wouldn’t make you move, didn’t I? Wait here.”

Before you can say anything, he gets up from the bed, picks up his underwear from the ground and heads to the bathroom. You don’t move in case the viscid fluids threaten to leak onto the bed. He comes back with a few rolled-up toilet papers and a damp towel, with his underwear on. He sits on the edge of the bed next to you. 

You spread your legs as he holds up the rolled-up toilet papers to your dripping entrance. “Push it out.” 

You squeeze out the mixture of you and him. Your cheeks flare up, not because of embarrassment. But because of something else. Him instructing you with a raspy voice shouldn’t get you fired up, your limbs are still weak from the earth-shattering orgasm he pulled out of you, but your body reacts on its own volition. 

“I didn’t know you were on the pill,” he continues as he wipes down your sweat with the towel. 

“A recent development,” you say, eyes heavy with sleepiness. “Started it a while ago, I meant to tell you.” 

“That’s fine.” He cleans up the residue between your thighs lastly. The pressure of his touch is so careful, in case you’re overstimulated. “Honestly, I think I found out about it in the best way.” 

A small chuckle from you eases his heart. The image of you lying naked on your belly, your head turned to the side with bleary eyes is like a painting to him. He leans down and places a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades. 

“Can I wake you up in the morning?” he mutters into your skin before hoisting your camisole to its place on your shoulders. 

You understand his implication. “Yeah, but no sooner than eight or I’ll be super cranky.” 

“We’ll miss breakfast.” 

“Breakfast or sex. The choice is yours.” 

“Room service it is.” 

Eventually, he finds your panties and shorts under the blankets, lifts them up over your hips, and finishes dressing you.

You give him a smile, fingers resting on your lips as you ponder. “I have something to ask you.”

“I know,” he replies, too quickly. He’s aware of the things he’s just said. “I know you want to talk about it. But I feel awful for disturbing your sleep. You’re tired. We can talk all you want in the morning. Just know that I meant it.” 

“C’mere,” you whisper, rolling onto your side to reach out to him.

This time, it’s Leon who seeks warmth, succumbing to the balmy caress of your hand as you pull him in.

The kiss is too soft, too fragile, and he wants it to linger forever. 

He’s offended when you pull away abruptly. But that feeling is short-lived as you turn your head away to sneeze twice. “Bless you,” he says. 

Deep down inside, remembering he changed the settings of the AC, he rolls his eyes at himself. He gets up and turns it off, throwing the soiled toilet papers in the trash on his way. “I’ll call the reception the first thing tomorrow.” 

Leon is insatiable. 

The first things he notices when he opens his crusty eyes is his morning wood and the deep red hues scattered across the back of your neck in front of his face. Wiping the sleep from his eyes with one hand—the other arm trapped under your neck—he presses himself to your backside. A repeat of what started everything. 

He retracts after letting out a low growl into your hair, only to roll you on your back by your shoulders. You’re still asleep, muscles all soft and pliant under his maneuvering. So pretty, he thinks. The tiny flutter of your eyelashes casts soft, quivering shadows on the apples of your cheeks as warm sunlight streams into the room through a narrow gap in the curtains. Hovering over you between your legs, he cups your face, thumbs caressing the dainty shadows. His breaths fan your face as a gentle nudge to your slumber. 

“Baby…” he croaks, voice all ragged from hours of disuse over the night. 

Even in your sleep you seek out his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, rousing something carnal in him. His lips get to work on your throat briskly, sucking the delicate skin, humming against it. 

He feels the vibrations of the mellow sound your throat gives out against his lips and continues the path down to your clavicle, leaving ruddy blemishes behind. Rubbing up and down on your thighs, his palms curve behind the backs of your knees, bending them to spread your legs completely open against the bed. He presses his hard-on to your center. 

Your cunt must be sore, he’ll kiss it better. 

He mouths at the tops of your breasts, palms fondling them up in his face. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispers, though you’re too drowsy to hear. 

His head slips down the blanket, your cover slides down your body as it gets caught on his broad back, opening an airway for him. 

He starts littering kisses on the inside of your thigh, beginning from your knee and continuing the path up to your groin, pulling back each time his nose touches the verge of your panties. He looks up expectantly to see you stir. Because once he sees you awake, he’ll devour you. 

You are stirring, head lolling in an attempt to turn on your side. Leon’s hands quickly clamp down on your thighs, “Nuh-uh.” He denies you, keeping your hips still. His mouth switches to your other thigh, repeating his ministrations. 

His teeth graze the edge of your underwear. Your leg twitches under his touch, which further encourages his sudden urge. 

Blunt teeth sink into the soft, supple flesh of your inner thigh. 

That seems to wake you up as your head jerks, hand flying to his hair between your legs under the blanket. “Ow.” 

“Morning.” His tongue darts out to soothe the dull ache. 

With heavy eyelids, you crane your neck to assess the situation. His lips are slick and plump from all the kissing and biting. “Mhm. Good morning.” Yawning, you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, the other one cards through Leon’s hair lazily. As your grip tightens, you drop your head back to the pillow to blink away the haziness. 

The sounds of his lips smacking against your skin are accompanied by the fan noises filling the room. You realize you’re no longer sweating like you were through the night, when the broken air-conditioning left you sweltering—or would have had you freezing if it were actually running. You’re confused. “AC’s working again?” 

You feel him smiling against your thigh. “Yeah. Called the reception and everything.” 

“What was wrong with it?” 

“I’m literally in between your legs and that’s what you wanna know? Like, right now?” He nuzzles your underwear, placing a kiss on your clothed center to stress his frustration, which you reply with a startled whimper. 

“First, I risked frostbite and then sweated like it was hell. Of fucking course I wanna know the reason of my suffering.” 

“You didn’t suffer,” he says in a jeering tone, fingers hooking under your panties to peel them off. He’s quick to get rid of that obstructive piece of fabric. “I’d say I took pretty good care of you.” 

You roll your eyes dramatically. “Yeah, yeah—world’s best husband or whatever, keeps waking me up because he’s horny.” 

“Hey, you said breakfast or pussy and I made my choice.” 

He licks a path up from your entrance to your clit, your hips jump. He grips your thighs and slings them over his shoulders. 

“I did not say that.” Words slurred, your eyes close upon the honeyed sensation. 

“Something along those lines,” he mumbles, lips brushing against the sensitive little bud of nerves. 

You kick the blanket off his back so he doesn’t suffocate under the heat. The slight temperature change makes your hips jerk up to his face, his morning stubble scratches the insides of your thighs deliciously. He drapes an arm across your abdomen to keep you steady. His other arm tugs on the thigh slung over his shoulder, only slightly, to make room for his head. 

Two fingers brush your slit, spreading apart slowly to gain access to your most sensitive parts. It’s still a little tender and swollen that when his hot breath fans across the sensitive flesh, your legs try to shut instinctively. His hold grows stronger to remind you not to squash his head. He licks a broad swipe up your slit and looks up at you through his long lashes. 

You can’t help but moan. He looks so pretty like this. 

Leaning forward, he places a kiss directly on your clitoris, the soft smack sound sends a hot burn to your ears. 

He parts his lips to suck your sensitive clit into his mouth, your back arches as you gasp. His plump lips pull on the taut flesh, making you writhe against the sheets. Now aware of your fist that was bunching the sheets this whole time, you let go to join it with your other hand in his hair.  

He’s always liked your hands in his hair, petting it, tugging at it, pulling it to steer him to where you need him most, he loves it all. He moans as you make a mess of his soft tresses, sending jolts of vibrations up your body. 

Relaxing his tight jaw with a wet pop, he quickly drops a kiss to the juncture of your thigh and begins to lap up your dripping mound like a starved man. 

“Leon!” Your back arches again, hands buried in his hair pressing his face firmly between your legs. You’re not sure if he can even breathe with your thighs caging him. You don’t care, he’ll tap you if he wants to take a breather. 

Blindly, the hand that keeps your slit open slides up to your chest, to push between the valley of your breasts. You clutch your palm on the back of his hand, fingers slotting between his. He squeezes his hand once. I’m alright, it means. He keeps your intertwined hands there. 

His face burrows deeper into your slick, thrusting his tongue into your hole in and out. Nose pressed against your clit, he hums contentedly and starts wiggling his head, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. 

The gasps that fall from your lips fuel him, he drags his tongue back up to your sensitive bud, flicking up and down with only one goal in his mind. 

Up and down. Suck. Up and down. Suck. 

“Too much, ‘s too much!” You repeat with a shaky voice. But you are insatiable too, with the way you guide his hand to your tit, encouraging him to squeeze tight. 

“I know, baby, I know. Just tell me when,” he rasps, trying to keep up with your bucking hips. Groping your breast under your pressing palm, he can’t quite reach to your shoulder to lower the straps of your top, though his fingers find your taut nipple through the fabric and start to draw circles around the pebbled peak. 

His stubble burns your thighs so good it only drives you more crazy. Your droopy eyes lock with his determined ones, mouth hanging open in a silent moan, hand brushing away the hair on his forehead. 

He tightens his tongue and places the tip of it right on your sensitive clit, wriggling the wet muscle in a snake-like fashion, and listens to your moans. Each roll of his tongue is a sweet torment, delivering sparks of pleasure to your quivering body. 

“That’s not—ah!—that’s not fair.” 

His mouth never leaving your pussy, he hums questioningly. “Mm?” The short syllable vibrates through your core, making you fussier. 

What’s not fair? His hips grinding into the mattress? The hand that previously held you down now slipping under his boxers to rub his slick, swollen tip? Fairness is not even the last thing on his mind right now. He’s too drunk on your essence, happily suffocated between your legs, unaware of the fast pace his hand picks up on his cock. He’s fully pumping himself. 

You also know you’re not making any sense. A hot blush warms your chest, travels up your neck to your ears, a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin. Your body is screaming for release, of course you don’t have any idea what you are blabbering about. 

Feeling your clit pulse beneath his tongue, he waits to hear your staccato breathing, waits for the tumble of unintelligible words to fall on his ears. 

“Leon, I’m… I’m—ah, fuck!” 

Just before the intense wave of pleasure comes crashing down on you, he tears his mouth away from you, panting for oxygen. 

“No, please,” you cry out. “Don’t be mean.” 

Not wanting to deny you stimulation, he gets to work on your tit and gives it a firm squeeze for good measure before returning his fingers to your aching nipple. He toys with it, flicking, pressing down, pinching through fabric. You whine softly through it all, trying to wrap your trembling legs tighter around his head so he could return to what he was doing before. 

“Please, I was about to come…” 

“I know, honey, I’m sorry. I needed to breathe.” He plucks at your nipple, rolling it before returning to your sex. 

This time he alternates between kitten licks and soft kisses on your clit, meant to be soothing. It feels as if he’s grazing a feather on your oversensitive, swelled up nerves. It’s so ticklish that your hips jump to chase after the phantom itch. 

That’s all it takes for the overwhelming waves of pleasure to come crashing down on you. The coil in your belly snaps. Eager as ever, he presses his open and panting mouth against your cunt, moaning against the spasming flesh. Cleaning up the remnants of your climax is only a poor excuse for his lips to linger. He presses a kiss to your thigh before pulling away from between your legs, the slick coating his mouth and chin leaves your skin damp. 

Taking a deep breath, he rises to sit on his knees between your thighs. Your legs drop from his shoulders. Pride fills his chest once he eyes up the litter of love-bites on your flushed skin. His doing. The rapid rise and fall of your chest. Also his doing. 

Through a fucked-out smile, you say, “What? What’s so funny?” 

Unaware that he’s cheesing, he shakes his head. “Nothing, honey. You look so pretty.” 

“I feel nasty, though.” 

He shuts you up with a kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“Mm… How about you?” you mumble into the kiss while ruffling his soft hair. 

His hips are grinding against his hand in a faint rhythm, palm stroking up and down slowly. He huffs. “Keep spreading your legs and it won’t take long.” 

Discerning the questioning raise of your brow, he swipes a thumb at the corner of your lip. “I’m not gonna put it in. I know you’re sensitive, baby. Trust me. Please?” 

You wiggle a bit to open your legs further, trying to find a comfortable spot on the bed because the way he kept pinning you has you feeling sores on your butt. “Yeah, okay.” 

Lining himself up against your slit, he hovers his cock above your puffy cunt and keeps stroking. He groans and bucks into his hand, head falling backwards. You whimper and bunch the sheets in your fists. He looks so hot. His hair is chaotically messy, lips swollen and slick, hand working desperately on his cock. Your pussy flutters at the sight. 

Eyes zeroing in on your center, he says, “Show me. Hold yourself open.” 

You reach down and spread yourself for him, shamelessly displaying what he wants. Your hole clenches down on nothing upon the little stretch, pulling another groan out of him. 

He’s grinning, head tilted to the side. “Fuck, that’s it. Like what you see, huh?” 

You nod fast, staring at the movement between your legs. It’s captivating. 

Feeling devious, you lift your hips slightly to touch your pulsing clit to his red tip, directly to his precum-coated slit. Like a featherlight kiss. It sends a pleasurable shock through your entire body, you plop down on the bed again. 

“Oh shit—you…” His expression tells you he’s very close.

Gripping your thigh, he jerks himself to completion against your twitching pussy. Thick spurts of cum coat your center and belly, your thighs get to have their fair share, too. 

A breathless laugh escapes him, like he can’t quite believe what just happened. His gaze softens, as though clearing a daze. “I’m sorry. Let me carry you to the bathroom.”

A quiet shift lingers in the air. 

He’s so silent while massaging shampoo into your hair, cocooned by your arms around his waist, water cascading over his back. His lips are set in a straight line, eyes roaming your face and coming back to meet your gaze every once in a while. 

You and him, in that sacred, safe haven again. 

I can hear you think. He wills you to speak without saying the words. 

“You don’t need to be scared.” 

His hands pause in your hair. Of what? 

“The things you said at the beach yesterday… You don’t need to be scared, Leon. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you,” you continue. 

He pulls you closer, cups the back of your neck and rests your head on his shoulder. I love you. 

“And I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing your face. I miss it terribly when you’re away.” You nudge his neck with your nose. 

He closes his eyes. I love you. 

“Tell me a truth?” you whisper, watching the slow up and down of his Adam’s apple. 

The urge to draw you even closer to himself is too strong. Come, live inside my skin—I’m yours, anyway. Instead, he opens his heavy-lidded eyes, locking his gaze with yours. 

“I love you.” 

With a slow and languid kiss, he seals his lips to yours, weaving your souls together in that tranquil, infinite moment. 

“At times I think of human relationships as something soft like sand or water, and by pouring them into particular vessels we give them shape.”

― Sally Rooney, Beautiful World, Where Are You

[cerealboxlore]

Kindergarten Hero (idea ramble)

After re-watching Kindergarten Cop, I got to thinking that a similar scenario would fit Captain Marvel. Hear me out. As the beloved and iconic hero to Fawcett City, he'd go out volunteering all the time just to help out his city in any way he can. Rescuing cats from trees, helping the elderly cross the street, working in soup kitchens, volunteering at animal shelters, you name it, he's there with a great big smile, happy to help. He doesn't have to stop a big bad villain in order to be a hero, as he tells the public that it's the everyday heroes that inspire him to be kind in return. Heroes like first responders, volunteers, etc. Especially, teachers.

I can see Captain Marvel being a common sight at schools for special events to help pass down wisdom to the kids and to have some fun with the citizens he protects on a daily basis. Reading to the third graders, playing basketball with the 7th graders, helping the 12th graders figure out what paths they want to pursue in life and how to apply to colleges (thanks to the wisdom of Solomon for the last one). He gets told that he's a marvel with the kids, and that he'd be an excellent educator. He laughs it off, claiming he could never be as good as the present teachers, but it does linger in his mind just a little.

One day, while stopping by to say hi to some kids during recess at a random school (the patrol was quiet so he'd figured he could waste time this way), Captain Marvel overheard from one of the teachers in charge outside that it's a shame he can't stay longer. The teacher says that one of their kindergarten teachers is out sick, and with a substitute shortage, it's been a struggle to wrangle up the kids without hassle. They all have their hands tied with their own classes enough as it is. Without thinking about it, Captain Marvel says he's happy to volunteer for the position temporarily while they seek a more permanent solution.

Captain Marvel (Billy) thinks this will be easy! Teaching kindergarteners? Psh! He's been through kindergarten before (as Billy), and he's used to helping kids. Of course, teaching is going to be easy, I mean, how hard could it be?

Within the first ten minutes, Captain Marvel wants to admit defeat.

It is not easy to teach. It takes a strength stronger than Hercules to be able to get a classroom of little gremlins to sit down and do their classwork. The man is 6'5ft and the sight of tiny kids running around him is quite a funny sight to the other teachers, who can be heard laughing at him in their classes. Already there's a kid crying, another with glue on their head, and too many of them are trying to eat things that should not be eaten! He never thought he'd have to tell someone not to eat a Lego, but he supposes more impossible things happen whenever he's doing a magical mission.

He's determined not to quit though. If regular teachers can do this every day, then so can he. With the wisdom of Solomon and the stamina of Atlas at his side, Captain Marvel manages to find a way to speak to the littles, and manage the class into respectful students. He teaches the littles to respect their peers and parents, and passes down the importance of being good to the world around them.

He entertains them with lessons from history, the stories from around the world, and how the past can shape the future even centuries later. He gets to show his passion for geology (canon, actually!) to the littles and the science behind it. He even gets to bring in Tawky Tawny for class one day, where Tawny reads to them and they can pet his soft fur.

At the end of his temporary substitute era, Captain Marvel is glad to have that experience. He's grown closer to his city, and learned that Billy would love going back to school after seeing the Captain doing such a good job through his eyes (not back to Kindergarten, of course, ha!).

Anyway, that's me rambling on about Captain Marvel. I had more thoughts about this, but this post is long enough. Maybe next time!

[gremlinmodetweeker]

I am back with the KatTac asks

The day comes when CatMom and Horangi and König are outside together in the garden. And the unspeakable happens, a bird swoops not at mom but at the smaller sun bathing cat, Horangi. How does that play out???

I need my cat boy kick gimme the goods 💖

You lean over your garden to check in on the tomatoes. There's some browning on the edges of the leaves. Your frown. It looks like it might be fungal. You sigh and put your gloved hands on your knees and hang your head. Everyone told you gardening would be easy, but it looked like this season would be a rough one.

Behind you, your cats lay splayed out on the patio deck. König is curled up in a garden chair while Horangi happily splayed out over the wood in a glowing patch of sun. He looks almost reverent with how the sun made his fur glow against his dark stripes. His eyes, normally bright with wicked mischief, are blissfully closed as he naps peacefully.

You turn around to give them a small smile.

König briefly glances up at you to give you a tiny mew. You can't help but smile a bit more at the sight.

You get up and stretch your hands way up high above your head. It looks like the cats were happy, at least. Since putting bells on their collars you'd trusted them more outside. You didn't like decimating the local wildlife, after all. You had grown fond of the family of finches outside your bedroom window.

You look up into the sky. It's a bright, beautiful day. The endless blue sky above smiles down upon you while you work. You take a moment to breath in the fresh air and relax. Nothing could ever ruin this day.

You walk towards the door, ready for another glass of lemonade from the fridge. You're not thinking really when you walk, there's no need to. Why should you concern yourself with thoughts of work or life? It's just a beautiful day. Nothing could go wrong.

You take one step when a dark shape bombs down from the sky. Before your very eyes, a large hawk swoops down and grabs Horangi right before your very eyes.

König looks just as shocked as you are.

Where Horangi once lay is an empty spot. You fall to your knees in the grass. A cicada buzzes in the distance as you blink and try to comprehend what you just saw. Another sound joins the mix of the summer din. You don't know what it is until König is bounding to your side. It's you. You're screaming. You're screaming and you can't stop.

You bundle König into your side and sob heavily. You want to die. How could this happen? How could you let this happen? All your moments with Horangi flash before your eyes, but he's gone. Horangi is gone and there's no bringing him back.

---

You hear the cat flap open in the middle of the night. You were only awake because you couldn't stop sobbing. You hadn't been able to stop since Horangi was snatched.

Despite yourself, you sit up in bed. You think it must be König, but... You look down at your side, where König is shaking against you.

You blink and stumble out of bed.

There's a twinkle of a bell outside your bedroom door.

It can't be. It's impossible.

You look down at König and then back at the door.

No. He couldn't.

You step closer to the door. You look back at the bed, where König has slowly woken up. He blinks sleepily until he hears the bell, and then his eyes shoot wide open.

Could it be? You open the door and look out into the dark.

There are your feet is your precious little toyger.

Horangi chirps at you and quickly pads to your side. You gasp as he weaves between your legs, perfectly unharmed. You can't believe it, but he doesn't look like he's so much as been scratched. He's fine. How is he fine?

You pick him up and look into his emerald eyes.

"Horangi?" you ask with a thick throat.

Horangi chirps.

You pull him into a crushing hug. He grumbles a bit and tries to get down but just this once, you don't let him go. You hold him and you cry. You shake with your sobs and Horangi stills. For just this moment, he lets you hold him.

When you go to bed, you hold him close the whole night. And just this once, Horangi lets you.

[kiwi]

I love Joe Cool Cat!! Question: did you use a particular pattern as a base or follow any specific set of design principles?

omg thank you for letting me talk abt puppets, i have been rabid

i followed this video to make the head shape and mouthplate (joe cool cats head is just flatter than the example, and i shaved down the jaw mouthplate a bit so that he has sort of an overbite, which left room for me to add fangs)

for the rest i winged it! its all stuff i found around the house so some of the materials arent ideal. the skin is felt which doesnt move well and makes him kinda stiff, so next time i definitely want to try fleece or fake fur

however the felt worked really well for the hands! its two flat hand shapes sandwiched together with a wire skeleton in between so theyre posable, like kermit the frog's. if you plan to make posable fingers though you should really use armature wire instead of random wire lying around like i did :( one of his fingers is broken already but it had a great grip before it busted. his other hand isnt attached to his vest at all, the fingers are just strong enough to hold it on his own! this leaves space for movement as the middle of his arm flaps around and makes him more lifelike

his body is just a simple rectangle of fabric made into a tube (like the sleeve of a shirt) and his arms are attached by safety pins so that they can be removed and replaced. the pins are hidden by his vest, which is also detached so that it can move naturally and allow for repairs. i learned that by looking at the notes from the jim henson team on display at the puppet museum in atlanta! :•) definitely a must visit if youre able

design wise, hes based on the vibes of the band The Stray Cats, especially their songs Stray Cat Strut and Nine Lives. id like to add more patches and buttons on his vest (the little pin he's wearing is made by covering a sewing button with fabric). the vest itself is a single piece with holes cut out for the arms because i was not about to follow a clothing pattern

things i would replace or do differently next time:

- more flexible fabric on the head. stiff felt doesnt work well!

- use stronger wire specifically meant for posing in the hands

- make the arms a little shorter and attach the pole by the wrist instead of the elbow. i wanted him to be kinda long and skinny but overdid it, and i thought i was clever by making the stick come out of his elbow. his movements look cool but hes tricky to maneuver, especially when trying to raise his hand to his face (arms too long and the stick often gets in the actual puppeteer's way)

- try using a little less hot glue and a little more sewing for ease of movement and repair

anyway yeah ive been super into learning about this stuff lately and im working on a blinking puppet next! i might be doing a small puppet show next month if i finish the other members in joe cool cat's band. if anybody has questions or wants to talk puppets dont be shy pls! im already talking my roommates ears off about it lol

[ask-elliot-doorman-fam]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN YALL!

Haunters Eve-

“This is embarrassing Kia…” Tera mumbled, looking at herself in the mirror, she was dressed as a cat, a black cat, the ears poking out from her mane of black hair, most of it held back in a wolf's tail.

Black fur covered felt covered the cord of her tail, the only part uncovered was the head; which protested bring covered by anything. Her costume included gloves shaped like paws- the world's most unflattering black leather jacket, and black shorts.

“You look puuurfect!” Kiara giggled, wearing a witch costume, pointy hat and all.

“Ugh… I think I'd rather be one of the monsters for Mom's haunted house again…” Tera groaned, which got worse when Kiara rang the bell attached to her neck.

“You promised~” She teased, making Tera's face heat up in blush and a growl escape her core.

“I promised to go to the festival with you and Rad… not to wear a catsuit.”

“Daw but you look sooo cute!” Kiara replied, pushing lightly on Tera's chest, making the solver drone sigh.

“Fine. Whatever, what's Rad going as?”

“Werewolf.”

“So why am I cat?! You're both actual monsters!” Tera protested, slumping in defeat.

“Hehe. Because you said you didn't care what you went as and let me pick it out for you.” Was the worker girls response, standing in the middle of Tera's room, ready to head out.

“Right…”

Kiara grabbed her wrist and out the door they went, tumbling down the walkway stairs and ending up on the ground in a minute flat.

The little town of Sanctuary was lit up in a festive hue, lights of purple, orange, and green, banners of every color depicting drone cores. There were booths full of games and prizes that ranged from food to plushies to electronic parts, and a stage with live music.

Of course… there was also a big, spooky temporary structure sat at the mouth of the front gate- the haunted house, run by the Chieftess Uzi Doorman herself.

“Hey dudes!” Said a voice from behind them, and there stood Rad, green eyes mixing well with the shaggy brown ears stuck on his hat and a limp tail attached to his shorts. He was wearing tattered rags with faux fur lining the arm and leg holes…

“Nice witch K! And uh…” He looked Tera up and down, snickering a little. “Cute kitty.” He teased.

Tera whipped forward and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, about to yell about how she absolutely was not cute- only for her big paw gloves to squeak loudly.

Rad began to laugh histericly, despite still being lifted into the air. “Oh my god! That's the best!”

Tera flustered, putting him down and crossing her arms. “I'm not cute.”

“Tell that to the squeaky paws.” Rad smirked, earning him a few more indignant grumbles.

“Soooo? Haunted House first? Lines not long and we have a whole night!” Rad suggested, pointing at the open maw of the gate that served as the entrance.

“Sure. Not like it's gonna be actually scary.” Tera shrugged. Looking a bit aloof, owning her costume accidentally.

“Awesome! -Ah wait, Kiara?”

“Um… shouldn't we do that last? It's like, the best thing to do right? Like a uh- grand finale!” There was sweat on the inside of her visor, and her voice shook.

“You're not scared are you princess?” Tera teased, lifting an eyebrow.

“N-No! Of course not!” Kiara protested. “I just think it's a better thing to do last.”

Tera and Rad looked at each other with equal shit eating grins.

“Yeah. Were going.” They said in unison, all but dragging the eldest member of the group into the maw of the unknown.

Once they pass the blackout curtains, they arrive in a recreation of the Outpost-3’s bunker doors, wide open, snow blistering from the beyond and the howling of angry winds blasting against the mouth of the underground shelter.

“Holy hell! Your mom has got the atmosphere down! It almost feels like I'm really there!” Rad exclaimed taking in the painstakingly recreated environment.

“Yeah well… Halloween is her favorite holiday.” Tera replied, heading up to where the guides were… which was just her Dad. N.

“Hey kids! I just got done with the last group. You want to go through?” His head tilted to the side and his tail wagged, he wasn't dressed up as anything. Just himself, which was perfectly on theme.

“Yes please Mr. Doorman!” Rad exclaimed in excitement, and N laughed in response. “For this tour, call me by my name…” He said eerily, visor flickering into an X and his head beginning to twitch.

“Ooooh. Spooky.” Came from Rad. Tera just chuckled and Kiara just smiled warily, scooting a bit closer to Tera.

“Follow Me.” N hummed, disappearing behind a black curtain painted to look like a ventilation shaft, and the trio went along with him, Rad leading the charge.

N lead them through a dark corridor, His voice becoming echoed.

“Before we settled here… we lived on a planet called Copper-9-' The sound of wind blew more harshly, hail pattering against the walls… “Somewhere frozen, Inhospitable, a broken, forsaken place.”

“The worker drones were safe in the bunker… but outside?”

Three giant claws erupted through the ceiling next to Tera's head. Kiara jumped a foot in the air, and Rad yelped, Tera just ducked slightly with a laugh. “Hey V.” She hummed deadpan.

“Outside there were monsters… Angels of Death that swooped down in the night, stealing away anyone caught outside the safety of the walls.”

“Aren't you a Dissasembly Drone too?” Tera called out. Knowing every keyword the attraction had by heart.

N stopped in the middle of the hall at her words before suddenly whipping around, smiling maniacally, swiping his claws just shy of actually making contact with any of the group.

He growled before pulling back. “I have more… self control…”

Rad looked impressed, whistling at the showmanship. And Tera smirked, Kiara laughed but it sounded nervous, her eyes flickering to the hall they'd just went through.

“Come on, it's just my dad.” Tera hummed, just quiet enough for Rad not to hear. Kiara laughed a little.

“I-I know! I'm not scared!”

“As I was saying… there are monsters outside.”

The audio of utter carnage began to soak through the wall; gunfire, screams, the sounds of drones being ripped apart and eaten.

“But… they don't compare to the horrors beneath the planets crust.”

The hallway opened up the room swarmed by black tentacles, erupting from the ground crawling on walls… the red overhead light made it seem like they were moving…

“Up from the depths, all drones are consumed- no matter their make or model.”

Tera shuffles uncomfortably. She never liked this section even when she was activly working in it, it always made her feel uneasy.

Kiara screams. Activating all the alarms in Tera's head, Kiara grips onto her- something pulling her down into the floor. Rad yelps as something grabs his leg too.

Tera grabs them both, acting on instinct and lifting them both off the floor with one hand, Rad in in left hand, and Kiara in her right.

She hears giggling underneath the floor and sighs.

It's the twins.

“We shouldn't linger here.” N hums ominously, inviting them to follow. And Tera drops her freinds back onto the ground.

“Come on scardy cats.” She groans before moving on, ignoring the comment from Rad about her costume.

The next room is one the Doorman family likes to lovingly call, “The Chase”

There are multiple ‘infected’ drones clawing at a fence behind them, before them is a long dark hallway, only at the end is there light.

“This is what happens to drones caught by the infection.’ N utters, his voice seeming to spur on the excitement of the infected, they growl and hiss, tentacles incasing their arms or legs- even entire face.

And then one fucking screams. Beginning to climb the gate at an unnatural speed.

“RUN!” N shouts. As the rest of the infected scale the fence to reach them, Rads the first one off, half-yelling, half-laughing as the first one leaps over the fence and sprints towards them.

Kiara is frozen though. Standing shock still as two more hit the ground running.

“Kia! Move!” Tera shouts before, taking her onto her shoulders and sprinting down the hall, but there's one drone that can somehow keep pace with her, hot on her heels as she has to actually TRY to get away.

It was probably Bishop. But that revelation only came later.

The infected drone swipes at them, just barely missing as they fall into the next room, quite literally plummeting a few feet onto a pile of pillows.

N does not follow… they are on their own.

Tera maneuvers herself so that she breaks Kiara's fall. She knew there were pillows, but old habits don't die with that knowledge. And so the worker lands on top of her with a grunt.

They both pant breathlessly, Tera staring up at the worker that has her pinned to the ground, her arms either side of her head.

Then she starts laughing. “Dammit! I knew that was coming and I still got surprised!”

Kiara joins her a moment later, both flying into a fit of giggles. “You goob! And you called me scared!”

After a moment, they climb out of the pile, pulling back a curtain to reveal a room that's pitch black…

“Rad? Raaaaad?” Kiara calls out, and gets no response. Tera squints into the darkness, it's oppressive and even the eyes on her tail struggle to make out anything.

Then- feedback noise so loud it makes Kiara wince and Tera nearly double over, yellow light rises from the floor, the entire room spinning and spinning…

The walls are flesh, the floor is flesh… there's something moving on the ceiling, it curls and coils in strange patterns, lurching unnaturally, it's humanoid then it's not, dozens of eyes in the shape of camera lenses stare at them.

Tera freezes, she knows what this room is, she's been in this room, worked here, been the one controlling the thing on the ceiling and yet being down here brought a whole new feeling.

It was the thing from her nightmares- the creature she'd been fighting every other night in her sleep, it was here, staring, looking into her soul to try and seize it from her.

She's pulled out of the room by the wrist, ending up back in the beginning room. The bunker. Her core pounding out of her chest, she doesn't realize it. But she's trembling.

“Tera? You alright?” Kiara's voice brings her out of it, and she snaps back to reality. Her Dad is back behind the desk, and Rad was chatting with some random worker in their own group.

“Wh- Yeah! Totally!” She quickly recovers, shaking off the feeling of dread and finding herself grounded by Kiara holding her hand- when had that happened?

“Alright! Let's head to the rest of the festival!” Rad runs back over to them, giddy beyond reason. Kiara's hand is quickly no longer there.

“Thank god… no more haunted house.” Kiara laughs, seeming to relax a lot more after the ordeal was over.

Tera found herself agreeing…

“Yeah. Let's just head to the rest of the festival…”

[zylusmusings]

Winter's surprisingly warm in September

Synopsis: M/C loves Zayne, and Zayne loves M/C. They spend a week away in a quiet cottage to celebrate Zayne's birthday. Zayne is thankful, yet he cannot truly express it in the way he wants to but he finds a way.

Word Count:c2.5k 

Warning/s: None, just good ol' fluff hehe.

Note: I had initially posted this on A03 for Zayne's birthday but had only gotten around to proofreading it and making some changes. If there are any other grammatical mistakes welp sorry call it a rebellion against the coloniser's language lmfaooo.

______________________________________________________________

Zayne is not a cold and indifferent man, he really is not. It is simply that his bashful grins and crinkles beside his eyes are solely reserved for one. Locked and kept away for years on end - he had known for just as long that she had held the key. It was merely a test of his patience and trust in fate that she had taken her time to realise her ownership.

His passive face is one that she and everyone else have grown accustomed to, so it warms her to no end when he spoils her with his boisterous laughter and endless affection. She likes it though (almost feels selfish too sometimes) yet the fact that this side of him is reserved solely for her? She treasures it like an intimate secret, the honourable one he’d chosen to bear witness to his most vulnerable moments and parts. As beautiful as the raw Zayne is, a protective lover she is - she’d close the blinds at anyones else’s attempt to steal a peek at her treasure trove.

It is snowing, and Zayne looks right at home. Sure, it is a little on the nose, with his Evol being ice after all. But he is beautiful, the green in his eyes the perfect apology for the lack of leaves, all fallen as nature dances into the cold season. She wonders sometimes, if he realises that every part of his body and character sung symphonies and wrote poetry illustrating nature’s best work. A crimson shade has found home across his cheeks, a little due to the cold, many due to her unbashful flirtation. She loves complimenting him and is very well aware that she does it a lot, but she likes to think of it as making amends for all of the time lost from forcing the distance between themselves from each other. 

It was a funny yet regretful story that she would hope to tell their future children. About how she went so long bearing the weight of forcing her true feelings to the side out of fear of rejection from him? A seasoned hunter in combat she was, but even the bravest soldiers lack the courage to bear vulnerability.

As frustrating fate can be sometimes, it can also be sweet. She had determined that her and Zayne are fated to be together - a little cliche - the Doctor who heals, and the reckless hunter who gets hurt. But as puzzle pieces go, opposing shapes are the best pair. Hence, despite their feeble attempts to stay away from each other, it was always fated that they would end up together anyway. Despite, despite, despite.

Despite how a chief cardiac surgeon and a hunter’s schedules would never compliment one another. Despite the fact he still hasn’t found a cure for her heart condition (and it pains him to no end after each working day of research that leads to nowhere, so much so that he feels unworthy to be sleeping in the same bed as her at night). Despite the fact that he isn’t able to tell her that he loves her. (He does, very much so.)

Despite betraying Astra to love her, only to be punished for doing so.

But reasons of despite were set aside this weekend, the swirls of adoration and awe crystal clear in her eyes as she watches Zayne pet the black stray cat and welcome it into their lodging - a quaint cottage by the mountains. Nestled near the fireplace, she watches quietly as the raven haired doctor brushes snow off the feline’s fur, his voice an octave higher as he coos at the cat. The black cat, one that Zayne muses has the same mannerisms as his lover, nuzzles its head thankfully against his warm and large palm. The faint buzz of its purr is telling of the cat’s fondness of Zayne. Well, it seems like this gentle and loving side of him is reserved for two now.

“Found him underneath the bench outside,” Zayne chuckles as it begins to knead its wet paws on his trousers, but he paid no mind to the now soiled material. “Three’s not a crowd, right?” He briefly glances at her, still a little distracted by the cat.

She watches it all, and feels it in her chest. The way her heart races, the tingle in her fingers as she clutches the material of her knit sweater - Zayne is too good to be true. She swears she physically feels the atoms of love form within her chest, and her discipline wears thin soon enough as she makes her way over to the raven haired pair by the front door.

“Not at all, as long as he’s okay with sharing Doctor Zayne with me.” Folding her legs, she also begins petting the cat, and the purring grows impossibly louder. They both laugh, and he feels his heart squeeze too. He could not ask for more, no. His lover, a warm purring companion and a fireplace. Santa had packaged and wrapped up his gift in this quaint cottage. Zayne immediately says a prayer of gratitude, a pang of panic and fear attempting to whisper distractions into his brain. But Zayne wills them away, he refuses to give into the possibility (or as the narrator of his life would call ‘inevitability’) of losing her and the heartbreak that will follow suit - not tonight anyway.

In an ideal world, this is the life he would be able to live everyday. They’d both be married, and he’d come home to a cat and her. It’d be cold outside, but it’d be warm inside. Zayne doesn’t think he’s asking for much, too. Home could just be four walls, and a symphony made of their combined laughter and their cat’s purrs would be the only song he’d have playing on the vinyl. 

In this world of reality, they’d be back to the status quo. Zayne would be ending a day of surgeries with at least three hours of research (that would still lead to more disappointing revelations) and she would be deep in quarantine zones fighting wanderers. (Her occupation does nothing, maybe only worse things for his anxiety for her safety and health) It is then another four days of yearning and rounds of nervous regulations before he has her safe and sound in his arms again. He’ll have the kettle of green tea freshly brewed for her in the kitchen, her (his) favourite worn our Akso Hospital staff t-shirt and cotton shorts laid out on the bed, and the new crime documentary about the case she hasn’t stopped babbling about ready to go on the television screen.

Reality isn’t bad at all though, he thinks. Any reality with her in it is one worth sacrificing for. 

“Hm, are you saying you’d be okay with sharing? I remember the sigh you gave me when I asked for a bite of your dessert.” He teases her, pressing a kiss against her cold cheek. The chilliness of her skin makes him frown immediately, and he stands up carefully, pulling him with her. The softness in his eyes fade a little, worry glazing them instead. “You’re cold. You should get under the covers in the bedroom. I’ll get the heater going.” Nothing gets him back into the stern and moody character than his worry for her. He plays around with different reasons as to why, but it is exceptionally hard for him to see her cold, especially. (It’s because in some other world, he freezes her as an act of retribution for her attempts to steal the Creatio Protocore.)

Everyone loves their Evol, humans were always encouraged to celebrate their unique types of Evols - but not Zayne. Perhaps it was because he still hasn’t figured out how to control it the same way everyone else is capable of doing so. The ice, though woven in his DNA, is never truly his companion - only a fair-weathered friend who has more loyalty to Astra than to him. He’s well familiar with the freezing pain caused by his own Evol. The same freezing pain he has to endure, enough to make him nauseous to think if even a hint of it was felt by his beloved. So, in this world, he usually settles for this reason as to why he simply cannot stand seeing her cold.

Sighing, she slides her arms around his waist, her red nose nuzzling against the thick material of his sweater. “It’s snowing outside, of course I’m a little cold. But I’m okay, I was just waiting for you.” Her voice is muffled against his clothes, her nose scrunching as the fibres of his sweater tickles her skin. Slowly, his shoulders relax, though the frown on his face stubbornly stays. He sighs, but wraps his arms around her shoulders. “Thank you for waiting for me. We should get in bed now.”

And so they do. Nestled underneath the thick blanket, Zayne exudes the opposite of his Evol. He is a man of warmth, her own personal furnace as she continues to nuzzle herself closer against her lover. A familiar thought intrudes her brain, he is too good to be true.

Little does she know, Zayne feels the same way. Despite the complex lore of their story and compounded complication of their fates, Zayne knows one thing - he loves truly and deeply. True to his Evol, the icy terrors are already covering his skin as soon as he begins to form the intention of rolling a syllable of the three words off his tongue. 

Astra was a being that Zayne has grown to hate, yet knows that he would still get on his knees in gratitude for their mercy upon him for he is still able to show his affection for her with little to no consequences. He’ll take anything, anything at all. A prized possession like her, the exact molecules that both the sun and moon are made of – oh to be graced by her presence, it is more than enough reason for him to pilgrim Astra’s both heaven and hell.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” his voice barely a whisper as his arms naturally pull her closer against his chest, their blushing noses meeting for a brief moment. “This is truly a birthday I will remember for the rest of my life.” He speaks so earnestly that it causes a flip in his own stomach, his own body physically reacting to the profound feeling of love in his chest.

“Thank you for letting me celebrate your birthday with you.” She knew that Zayne had never truly celebrated his birthday, and the fact broke her heart. While she also knew that it was not necessarily something Zayne got upset over, the fact being of his own scheduling faults too, it was a habit she wanted to break. She’d spent everyday celebrating this man if she could, and the day Earth was graced of this kind and selfless man was not a day she planned to take lightly. Hence, after pulling some strings and endless communication with his colleagues at work, here they are. 

She feels the emotions bubble up in her once again, unknowingly causing a jerk reaction of her fingers to clench around the material of his sweater and she whimpers. With furrowed brows and an immediate worry, Zayne gushes out, “What’s wrong? Is your heart in pain?”

Shaking her head immediately to soothe his worries, she releases her grip on his sweater promptly as her cold fingers gently caress the smooth skin of his face. 

“Zayne,” she begins, her voice laced with shyness.

“My love.. If it hurts, you must let me know.” She feels his grip on her waist tighten ever so slightly. “It’s not my heart. I’m okay, I promise.” Biting on the flesh of her lower lip, her eyes darted down to his own plump ones. Her impulse wins, and she presses a chaste kiss onto his lips. Sighing, she rests her forehead against his and feels his body relax soon after. “I love you, Zayne.”

It isn’t not a profound confession, it was something she knew that he knew. But she also is aware of his condition, and the curse of it all that prevents him from saying it back.

It truly doesn’t matter to her though, because a lover like Zayne would never make her doubt his true feelings for her. Through his gentle caresses, the separate kettle of green tea that he brews her (despite the fact that he likes coffee, and she doesn’t), the safe late night rides back to her apartment after her long hunting days (and his very own long night of surgical procedures) – she knew that he loves her.

She feels his eyes flutter open, a pained look in her green orbs. Swirls of guilt are evident in his green orbs and though this look would have fooled people into thinking he was guilty for not feeling the same way, she knew that it was because he couldn’t repeat the sentiments.

“Shh, It’s okay.” She shakes her head, pressing yet another kiss to his now trembling lips. “I love you, Zayne. I’m not saying it because I need to hear it back. I’m saying it because that’s how I feel. I’m telling you, Zayne.” Her voice shakes against her will. “I love you, Zayne. I want you to know that I love you. I want to tell you that I love you.”

“And I don’t need to hear it back. I know you do.” Her fingers move to the back of his head, as they comb gently through his raven locks. “I don’t want to not say it, just because you can’t say it. I love you, Zayne.”

It isn’t the first time she has said it either, but definitely is one of very few times, considering their situation. She wishes to change this fact, because a man like him deserves to be showered with love. The grip on her waist tightens, and she swears she hears him let out a whimper before his lips crashes against hers.

“Thank you.” He whispers, voice wavering ever so slightly (but she doesn’t miss it), and he moves impossibly closer to her. “I love you too.”

It is now her turn to be in panic, yet before she could even protest, he continues despite the wince on his face, the thin layer of ice already beginning to form on the side of his neck. “But more importantly, I live for you.” He confesses through a pained voice. “This curse, or whatever pain life may bring me, I promise to live for you. So that I can take care of you.” He blows air out of his mouth as he awaits for the ice to melt away - and it seems like Astra beared mercy this time - it does so quickly enough under her touch.

He smiles tiredly as the pain fades, nudging her nose with his own. “I live for you.” He repeats, and immediately, she understands what it exactly means.

Because it will hurt - he knows that. The curse is a curse that he knows would not ever be retracted. Despite the exhaustion that plights him, despite the fate of pain written in his destiny, he lives for her.

“I love you.” She whispers.

“I live for you.” He echoes.

Author's note: Anyway it's been like 927492 years since I had tumblr so I started this blog anew!!I've been creeping on here to satiate my LNDS cravings so I thought I'd join the fun lol. Pls enjoy and feel free to send in requests/prompts (I am in my 20s but I refuse to write smut lol)

[implalazz]

Asked for some yokai fusions on reddit, this is the first batch

L-R: Frostysol, Nonoko, Venyan, Lord Lie-in, Slimatina, Whisbuzz

Some thoughts on these designs under the cut

Yayyyyyy thoughts on these because I like talking, esp about my creative process

Frostysol: I WILL SAY RIGHT NOW I KNOW I FUCKED UP THE KOSODE MASSIVELY, IT DOESN’T HAVE SLEEVES & IT’S TOO BIG….. I literally only had two ideas for this desgin, one was inspired by the yuki onna segment's backgrounds from Kwaidan & the other was inspired by the spirits from Kuro Neko. The eyes in the backgrounds of yuki onna were so striking & I had just watched the movie recently so it was still fresh in my mind. I knew I wanted her to be closer to a real yuki onna rather than just a cute snow girl spirit. And in that regard Kuro Neko helped with that. I guess subconsciously I wanted her to give off vibes of an unsuspecting girl who kills you & turns out to be a yokai. I thought a kosode would make more sense historically than a random cape, but also idk if young girls wore kosode like that or if it was just adult women. Had no ideas how to incorporate pallysol so I just used him for little details. He's more prevalent in the design intentionally than physically

Nonoko: Pretty simple what do I say. Uh I thought I could do a clover for the tail rather than a heart like Bloominoko. Wanted to make him even fatter than he is cuz he's Noko x2, also made his spots clover shaped cuz what's more lucky than a four leafed clover? An eight leafed clover! Or two four leafed clovers..... Also gave him double teeth & some little wing shaped clovers on his head kinda like Dudunsparce. This one didn't have a lot of thought go into it, I just kinda did what felt natural

Venyan: The first thing I thought about was what colour to make the fur & what colour to make the hair. I decided on red hair cuz it would pop more with dark blue fur. Also made his face pattern a part of his hair cuz he doesn’t have enough room on his face for it with Venocts bangs. I wanted him to be kind of a shitty little bastard, a real cat kinda cat. A good mix of their personalities y’know. Didn’t have much going on with this design either other than I didn’t want the scarf to be all bulky with the dragons cuz Jibanyan is very squart, so I moved them to the tails. Also just because that looks cooler. Had a hell of a time drawing them, I have experience drawing dragons but I’ve always been bad at drawing them roaring or snarling, they look okay but not great.

Lord Lie-in: Also had a bit of trouble combining these two, makes sense cuz I put this one off for more than a few weeks. Didn’t wanna give him big spiky saiyan hair so he got some stray hairs in the front. Took his face framing bangs & tied them up cuz I always like that look (They’re two different pieces tied individually then tied together, so there’s two mini ponytails instead of one. Also had to deliberate on the hair colours cuz I knew I wanted him to have white fur. One of my favourites was red hair with light blue ends but I didn’t go with that one cuz his outfit is mostly red. I also DID NOT feel like giving him a whole kimono (mostly for silhouette reasons) so I just gave him Miku-like sleeves. I originally wanted to give him split leg hakama but when looking at reference I remembered “Oh yeah these things have a lot of pleats & the crotch is pretty low so that’s not great for the silhouette I have in mind.” I gave him harem-esque pants & if you look closely at the upper thigh you can see a little slit in the side of them. Underneath his waist plate & top, the pants tie together like hakama do so I guess I got the hakama in a little bit. I didn’t have any room for his arm warmers so I made them into gloves & gave him the kind of socks that I don’t know what they’re called (Catra has them & I think they’re cool). Also gave him tengu cuz they look cooler than whatever Lie-in Heart has going on. Also cuz it makes him more like “Woah what a bold guy/character!!” And don’t ask how the sword fits in that sheath, idk magic or something he’s the king of the yokai he can do whatever he wants

Slimatina (or Frostymander): Again not much going on here it’s pretty simple. Gave the lower body muscles cuz I noticed the lower body of Slimamander kind of looked like a chest & also just cuz that makes it more creepy. I gave the main body/head some hair clips resembling the patterns on the bulbs of the other heads. Also made the openings in the head look more like a woman’s mouth cuz again, makes it creepy, but also I just thought it would fit more with the Frostina part. Also gave the main heads head eyelashes that look like the openings on the other heads. Decided to give her a cape this time cuz I’m not fuckin around with another kosode. I don’t know if it comes off in the piece but I wanted her cape to be flying up like she just summoned a harsh wind. Last thing is I gave her an eye ornament on her obi & a specially tied obijime cuz I saw one tied like that on google & I thought it looked cute

Whisbuzz: YET AGAIN SAY IT WITH ME! NOT! MUCH! GOING! ON!!!!!! Uhh gave him a frown cuz he’s depressed or whatever, made the top of his hood look like Whispers…… ahoge???? Made his wings wispy on the ends. That’s about it. Fun fact before I drew that one I had another one but I scrapped it because it looked too much like a sperm cell :]

[quitealotofsodapop]

The fact that some of Macaque's "clones" are so weirdly affectionate of Wukong and MK only serves to confuse them more. Like, it gets to the point that every time Macaque appears in S1-S3, the two little shadows can and will tackle either Wukong or MK for cuddles. In the scene where Macaque attacks them while in Sandy's airship and is focusing entirely on MK because he now knows Wukong is pregnant, the cubs have the job of keeping Wukong occupied and they do so by, what else, pinning himnto the ground like Baba-Macaque wants and full on nuzzling and purring as they don't get to see 'Wukong-Mama" a lot because Baba is so mad/sad whenever Wukong comes into conversation altho it doesn't stop him and them from spying on Wukong-Mama from a the shadows. MK and Mei are fighting for their lives in the episode where they get separated, and Rumble and Savage are hanging around Pigsy, Tang, and Wukong and enjoying seeing him acting so silly with Amnesia. It's only during the Lantern City Talent Show that Wukogn realizes they aren't just weirdly affectionate clones.

Prev post.

these clones do seem to pin/tackle Wukong a lot.

I imagine in the SlowBoiled au - the tackling is a little more gentle given what Macaque knows by then. Wukong def notices that the two clones are still very affectionate to him and MK - and has his suspicions all the way back during S1.

In S3 when the gang gets separated; Macaque instructs the "clones" (even he's figured out that not true) to stay with Wukong while he chases MK. The Twins are delighted! Papa is giving them time to spend with Wukong-Mama! Clearly, their plans to repair the troop is working.

Pigsy, Tang, and Mo quickly notice the two stowaways and at first react with fear/anger at their presence - only for the two Macaque-shaped shadows to cock their heads with confusion, chirping like baby monkeys as they shrink to the size of cats. Wukong had already been in astral meditation at this point, so he's not able to recognise the twins' presence, even as they curl on his crossed legs and pick through his fur. The twins hoot sadly, thinking that their new "Mama" is ignoring them.

As Pigsy and Tang try to wrap their heads around the situation, the twins accidentally wake Wukong from his meditation, trying to get his attention. Tang is ofc kidnapped by Scorpion Queen in the confusion. Wukong awakens, memory fractured, and sees what he thinks is part of his Pilgrim troop, and a pair of unfamiliar baby monkeys.

Amnesiac!Wukong: "Oh! When did you two get here? You smell awfully familiar." (*sniff sniff*) "Macaque! You smell like him! Did he send you ahead to make peace?" Rumble & Savage: (*delighted chattering!*) Amnesiac!Wukong, with a wistful/worried tone: "Oh plums... do you... have a mama? Or another parent?" Rumble & Savage: (*look between each other, confused. Both shake their heads and leap into Wukong's arms, chattering a short explanation*) Amnesiac!Wukong, shocked: "Ehh?! He brought you into this world himself?! Then he managed what I've been trying to do! No wonder he sent you to find me! Oh I'm so happy!" Rumble & Savage: (*chirp a cautious question*) Amnesiac!Wukong, smiling: "Of course! I'd be delighted to be your Mama! I can't wait for Macaque to arrive so we can all be together as a family! The Stalwarts will be so glad!" (*Wukong cuddles the twins tight, all three monkeys purring*) Pigsy: "Err... Monkey? "Master" is still missing." Wukong, sighs: "Okay... c'mon cubs, I need to save Master Tripitaka. He's like the head of our troop. I can introduce you to everyone properly once we get him back." Rumble & Savage: (*cling to Wukong's front and back, chirping with excitement!*)

The rest of the Amnesia Rules episode becomes more focused on Wukong's interactions with the Pilgrims, and how he's at his core a gentle, motherly monkey. Pigsy sees a side of Wukong he never knew existed.

Once Wukong's memory returns, he is very confused by the baby shadow monkeys clinging to him, calling him "Mama". He sniffs and looks them over in Gold-Vision (the twins giggling the whole time), and with a shocked expression declares;

Wukong: "Macaque brought these two back from Diyu!" Tang: "What?! Is that even possible?!" Wukong, thinking hard: "It shouldn't be. Unless... they were hanging around the Underworld, unable to reincarnate because..." (*suddenly gets really sad/guilty look on his face*) Pigsy: "Because how?" Wukong: "If they weren't registered in the Book of the Dead... or if someone accidentally erased their names as he was going through the list of monkey demons..." Tang: (*covers gasp as he realises*) Rumble & Savage: (*confused chirps?*) Wukong: "I'm so sorry babies. I don't know why Macaque brought you back with him, but I'm glad he did. He's always had a soft spot for cubs. I hope in a... weird way, that this is a sign that he wants to repair things." Rumble & Savage: (*delighted chirping & hugging Wukong as they chatter about their "Papa"*) Wukong, chuckling smugly: "Oh really? He's been saying that about me? I just knew he couldn't get me out of his head." Rumble & Savage, both mimicking Mac's voice: "Peaches!" Wukong, slight blush forming: "He still calls me that?" Pigsy, Tang, & Mo: (*shared looks of confusion*)

Once the gang reunites after catching up with the Demon Bull family, MK sees the twins and splutters out;

MK: "Monkey King! They're-!" Wukong, twins clinging to him: "It's ok MK. They're just little demon monkeys. Macaque picked himself up some strays while he was in the Underworld. And super cute ones, might I add!" (*blows raspberries on the twins' faces*) Rumble & Savage: (*delighted giggling/shrieking*) MK, Mei, & Sandy: (*look to the others for an explanation*) Pigsy, shrugs: "He's good with kids."

Pigsy ofc starts to recognise some similarities to how the twin monkeys act, and how MK was when he was little. But that can of worms can be opened later. Now they've got Rings to gather and a bone demon to defeat.

Lantern City doesn't go as smooth as planned for Macaque. LBD has figured out that his two "persistent clones" aren't actual clones, and threatens them as collateral to get Macaque to comply.

The twin baby monkeys shriek when they glimpse at the Samadhi Fire. Almost as if they've seen it before...

[yanderestarangel]

Would you write the lin kuei trio turning into neko? And the reader would be responsible for taking care of the three of them until they returned to their natural form

HEADCANONS MK1 | NEKO!TRIO LIN KUEI

A/N: Random fun fact - my boyfriend's kitten is called "Tomas" because my boyfriend knows I like Smoke from MK, so he let me put it.

TW: sfw, cute, fluff, the Lin Kuei trio can turn into kittens too!

✧ headcanons from neko bi han ✧

Oh no... The Lin Kuei trio have become cute nekos!

You really didn't know how to deal with the three ninjas now as nekos, mainly because Bi Han was going to tease poor Tomas even more, his little ears were gray, Bi Han's were black, just like Kuai Liang's and each one would take on a different personality. combinatorial with his current neko form.

Bi Han is like an elegant and skittish black cat, he can transform into a smaller kitten too, but he is still extremely grumpy and likes to knock things over on purpose when he takes on a black kitten form ── he is the type who sees a mug at the end of the table and deliberately knocks it over just to see your reaction, soon transforming back into a humanoid neko and saying that he "didn't realize what he did."

He's really the one who gives the most work out of the entire trio, especially when he realizes that you're paying more attention to his brothers than to him. He will also coo on your lap and scratch and bite you if you don't pet his tail ── regardless of whether he is like neko or totally kitten, he needs your affection and to be spoiled by you.

Tomas is a more fearful and quiet neko, like a Siamese cat ── with white fur and small gray spots. He was scared by the transformation but quickly got used to it, mainly because he kept biting his own fluffy tail. (He will whine and complain when you forbid him from biting him, his big blue eyes will bore into you while he would just go somewhere alone. )

The ninja will also try to play with his older brother when they are both in shape. kitten, but Bi Han will hit him and kick him out of his side (like in those videos of kittens fighting and pawing each other) he will come back meowing and crying at you, saying that his brother was mean to him.

(Bi Han will just turn his face away and go back to pretending nothing happened while he waited for you to pet his head.)

Regardless of whether he is as neko or not, the slavic ninja is extremely sensitive, enjoying playing and having your attention ── He's really not as worried about changing shape and becoming fully human again like his brothers, he has you taking care of him and a warm bed, hot milk and love.

He will stay on top of you while you sleep (please don't complain to him, he knows he is heavy but he will just want you to massage his gray ears while he purrs happily and yawns showing his fangs. He will also turn into a kitten sometimes to go for a walk around and also for you to carry him in your arms.)

Kuai Liang is the calmest of all, he doesn't ask for affection and doesn't want to be taken care of ── but he also won't complain if you pet him. When he turns into a kitten, he will be the orange kitten type, running around and being equally silly.

He is also responsible for taking care of Tomas, sometimes you will see the two of them walking together like kittens, playing with some balls of wool that you left loose, while Bi Han will fight with Liang for being so inelegant (later you will seeing the grandmaster also playing with balls of wool with his brothers is a rare scene where the three are together).

Kuai will also spend most of the time sleeping, you can feel his arms and claws on you during the night while he sleeps again ── if he accidentally hurts you he will apologize and lower his little ears while hiding his face in the sheets.

You'll also have to share a bed with the three of them, so be prepared to stay up all night listening to the three cat men's loud roars.

You will be responsible for taking them out for a walk and stopping Tomas from running away at the first opportunity he sees something that catches his attention. So every time you ask them to transform back into kittens to make it easier for you to take them from one place to another.

You'll see them watching cartoons while you take care of the Lin Kuei appointments in Bi Han's place (he'll just purr and say he can't write down the papers because he's too tired, and he'll still be on your lap while you write everything down, listening to him tell you to do it faster and pay attention to him and his brothers.)

Overall you'll have to be very patient, but it's worth it after seeing the three of them sleeping peacefully with their ears flopping happily.

𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒅 ©𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍. 𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆.

♡⁠˖ 》 my ao3 profile

♡⁠˖ 》 my janitor a.i pfp

♡⁠˖ 》 my character a.i pfp

[the-s1lly-corner]

Head rest (TADC edition)

No unfortunately I'm not quite ready to take on TADC requests again, they're not really in the same category as how I treat creepypasta at the moment, still a little teensy tiny apprehensive about opening requests for it... but I do kind of miss the characters..

Written on mobile

CAINE:

He rests his head on your lap. He sees your lap is free and he just goes for it. It's a little commendable that hes so ready to risk facing rejection. Other times he might settle for leaning his head on your shoulder.. though his short height might have him resting against your arm. Actually I dont think he would stop at just the head. He drapes himself across your entire lap and laments about how tired he is. Hand over where his forehead would be and everything.. oh please please let him rest here! Just ignore how hes not going to sleep! Shush!

POMNI:

Shes too nervous and awkward to put her head on your lap, so when shes tired and starting to doze off she tends to lean against your arm before she realizes what's going in. Snaps away and awake only to lean back into you.. she'd rather you carry her to bed so she can sleep there and not have to bother you.. tends to do this after a rough day in the circus

RAGATHA:

She let's you rest her head in her lap whenever you want, just as long as shes not needing the space or has to get up soon. You dont have to be tired, you can do it whenever you want! She runs her fingers through your hair and braids some of it, massaging your temples while you mumble about anything and everything that comes to mind. She carefully moves you to her bed when you fall asleep

JAX:

Begrudgingly let's you lean against him or lay your head in his lap if you're tired. He might play with your hair, lightly flicking it and moving around. Though the second he hears someone coming hes going to quickly stand up, effectively having you fall onto the floor and face plant. He tries to play it off as if hes not embarrassed about being possibly caught being sweet..

KINGER:

Kind of freezes when you lean against him. Hes too scared to move, afraid that hes either going to wake you up or have you hit the ground. The fur of his coat comically fluffs, like a cats fur does when they're scared. Strokes your hair and tucks it behind your ear. He stays there until you wake up and move yourself. Hes trying so so hard to not move, to not jerk around or fidget.. it's so hard but he manages

ZOOBLE:

Regardless of who's laying on who it's not particularly comfortable... this is due to how zooble is shaped and them feeling like hard plastic.. though sometimes you can find some comfort leaning on their chest! Just ignore the noise your cheek makes when you peel it off of them.. your cheek is all red too. They usually read or zone out and think while you're holding them hostage.. they're a little wary about being seen like this but they aren't as harsh about it as jax

GANGLE:

If you leaned on her youd both collapse, so usually it's her wrapping her arms around yours and putting her mask against your shoulder. She practically weighs nothing so you can actually still move around with her hanging on to her, sometimes not even waking her up. Very embarrassed about it when she wakes up and realizes shes been koala hugging you for who knows how long

[avonne-writes]

humbly here on my knees to beg and beg for more kitty!Gale content 🥺🙏🏻 can’t get enough!!

You're in luck, anon 😊🩷

~♡~

Outside, the men are still shooting up the occasional flare to celebrate the end of the war, but on the stairs inside the Tower, the noise is barely audible. The whoosh of Gale's rapid breathing echoes between the cold walls and the icy grip of nerves around his heart. The only sound of life is his own. No footsteps followed him here. John stayed up there with only his flask and the heavy emptiness they both feel for company.

But not for long now.

Gale closes his eyes and sinks into that wild call inside of him until his bones start shifting, and the next blink finds him on four cream-white paws on hard steps that look bigger than they were a moment ago. He shudders and almost shifts right back by accident, because the fear of being killed or eaten hits him with a harsh, unexpected low blow. But he counters it with the memory of his father, stomping and swishing his belt as Gale scrambles to hide with the barn kittens, and staying a cat becomes easier again.

Gale's bravery is sometimes only a matter of finding a stronger fear. He’s not sure if he should be ashamed of that.

Soundlessly, he pads back up where he came from. On his way down, he left the door open just a crack, enough to shoulder it further ajar and to push his slender body through the gap. He’s a pale shadow sweeping across the ground like the moonlight. Stealthiness thrills him, even as the jitters under his skin are making his fur all puffed up. No matter. At least, it might cover the sorry state he's in with all the weight he lost. He’s grateful that the scars on his cheeks don’t show unless one's looking for them.

A few feet away from John, he freezes, crouching low. His heart is pounding so fast it might just tear out of his chest. What if John doesn’t recognize him? It’s been almost two years since he last saw Gale in this shape, since he last held him and whispered sweet compliments in his ear. Two years since he let Gale rub his cheek against his neck and leave his scent on him. What if he doesn’t find Gale lovable anymore? What if all he sees is a mangy stray, or worse, a reminder of - of what they’d done in the stalag.

He doesn’t have time to get lost in the horror of that memory though, because John turns his head to watch a green flare on his right, and in its flash of bright light, his eyes land on Gale.

He gasps and leans forward in his seat. "Princess?"

Gale's relief is loud and high-pitched. "John!" He wants to sob, but all he can do to let the waves of pain out is to continue meowing. Sad and pitiful, it floods out of him in a way he can’t express as himself, as a man.

"It’s you! Jesus Christ." John slides out of his seat and to his knees on the rough stone, his arms outstretched like the first time he met Gale as a cat. "Come here, come here, baby."

Gale wants to jump into his embrace, but his doubts hold him back. What if he remembers it all wrong and it won't feel as good as he thinks? What if John changed in the stalag? What if he did? He walks towards John slowly, hesitant. His whole body trembles, and he can’t get a grip on it, so he starts a low purr, both to calm himself and to offer an apology.

The noise John makes is nothing like Gale has ever heard him sound. It’s both happy and distraught, a perfect mirror to the turmoil in Gale's heart. He scoots forward until his hand is right in front of Gale, and when Gale headbutts it, he chuckles wetly and runs his large palm over the line of Gale's spine.

"Shh, don't be scared. It’s just me. Just me, darling." John's quiet voice cracks. "I know I've changed. I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" Gale cries as he closes the rest of the distance between them and tries to climb on John's lap, rubbing himself to John's stomach and chest. When John's arms wrap around his small body, he goes limp and closes his eyes. He’s scooped up high on John's chest.

"You’re so thin, Princess. The boys didn’t take good care of you, did they?" John says mournfully, then his voice goes even quieter. "Or did you lose the ones who did?"

Stroking Gale's back and side, he sighs long and hard. "Oh, your fur."

"Just ignore it, please." Gale thinks, hiding his face against John's uniform. It will be silky and beautiful again, it has to be. He’ll recover.

John pets his head and rubs his ears, sniffing and rocking gently back and forth with Gale. "I'm sorry I wasn't here. I'm sorry."

"I love you." Gale purrs when he feels John's face pressed to his side. He puts his paw on John's chest and sinks his claws in softly, then releases. "I love you."

But John doesn’t know what he's trying to say. He doesn’t know how every second of his warm embrace tears Gale's badly healed wounds right open just to stitch them together properly. He doesn’t know how much pain and joy and relief it is for Gale to be here with him, still loved. Not even the knife of captivity could cut this away from him.

John doesn’t say anything for the longest time. His breathing comes uneven against Gale's fluffy body, as if he's trying to hold something back. Gale keeps purring and kneading his chest, hoping it helps, but a few minutes later, he feels wetness soak into the cushion of his fur.

John cries silently, without a single sound. His chest shakes and heaves with it, and his heartbeat drums erratically under the touch of Gale's paw, but he doesn’t let himself sob. Not until Gale gives his temple a lick as a kiss of consolation.

It bursts out of John then, hard, guilt-stained agony. "I didn’t know." John cries. His breath hitches. "I didn’t know."

It doesn't matter what specific facet of the war he means, Gale feels what he feels. They didn’t know how horrifying life could get, when you live in an endless hide and seek with death, or how far an act of madness could ripple down a group of men. They didn’t know what it was like to starve or to be powerless on enemy soil, to see no point in existence anymore but the light in each other's eyes, to march into their death with the thought that at least it would be by each other's side.

Perhaps, what John means is that he didn’t know what he signed up for, or that he didn’t know the cat he thinks he left behind would end up thin and faded in his absence. It doesn't matter. Gale understands.

"I know, John," his small, rumbling meows mean to convey, and he squirms in John's hold to be able to rub his head to John's chin.

"I missed you too." John laughs wetly. He wipes at his face and stands up. The movement makes Gale's stomach flip in a pleasant tickle. "Think you can handle a jeep ride, Princess? Wanna introduce you to someone."

He scratches Gale's chin until Gale's putty in his arms. "I'll find a way to take you home with me." John cups his paw, and to his own astonishment, Gale lets him. "Or find you a nice home in town at least, I promise. How about that?"

Uh-oh, Gale thinks. He’s too comfortable to be alarmed, but a thought appears in his mind. Is he gonna have to help organize his own adoption?