#canines are eating better than i am

[kataiki]

Nothing in this world is as cruel as finding a bag of beef jerky and it's dog treats

[xueyidweams]

Aventurine & Gallagher Random Sex HC’s (Male!reader)

A/N: sorry i’ve been gone life kicked me and spit on me so hard it took me a minute to get on w my life anyways no one cares here’s gay porn i wrote at 3 am. not proofread.

Contents: reader’s a bottom but its just blowjobs. licking cum and all that, not proofread.

Aventurine

At first he’d try to keep his teasing demeanour and bravado, his voice sultry only letting a few breathless whispers out until he cums and you refuse to stop. Overstimulation is how you get him, he whines and you watch him melt just from your mouth. He’s pulling on your hair like it’s his lifeline, gripping it so hard you can feel your roots burn and yet you don’t stop.

Type to leave his shirt on until he absolutely has to take it off, he grips the luxurious fabric and grips it so hard with his fingers that when he suddenly jerks because of your tongue it gets caught on his watch or bracelet; making him gasp as his upper body is exposed to the air that is ice cold compared to his burning body.

I can’t emphasize the whining enough. He whines and whimpers so consistently once you overstimulate him, whining your name or how to stop and give him a few seconds. He really likes it though, loves it when you graze your teeth over his length just a little bit, it makes him shiver so hard. Covers his mouth with his hand as he gets close, warns you but doesn’t give you enough time to prepare as he grips the back of your head and pushes his cock in so deep you can feel his cum running down your throat. His orgasm drags on a bit more when he sees the way your eyes roll back and you choke on it, the way you tightly close your eyes and take a deep breath while your face is snug against him. It’s too much.

Oh definitely kisses you after it by the way, likes to taste himself on your tongue. Grips your thighs hard when he does so, something about licking your tongue clean from his filth gets him worked up so hard he’s gonna be begging for you to ride him, fuck him or let him rut into you. He’s gonna mold into whatever you want him to be anyways, when he gets a blowjob from you he gets unusually shy because he isn’t used to being at the receiving end of it. It’s such a power trip for him, seeing you look up at him and so desperate to make him cum… he won’t say it but it’s his favourite thing to do.

Gallagher

Likes teeth, I don’t care. He really likes it when you’re rough. When you’re like a starved animal just savouring his dick in your mouth like it’s the best meal you’ve ever had. Grunts and quick breaths, dragged out deep moans when you lick his tip just right or graze it with your teeth. Especially if you have sharp canines or just sharp teeth in one way or another? Oh he could and would cum just from that if you tried hard enough. I think he loves receiving it like this but also loves giving it even more.

Makes you lay down on the bed every time, your lower body hovering while he has your thighs on his shoulders, gripping them like they’re his lifeline and digging his nails to get a reaction out of you. He likes it when you make pretty noises for him. He’s basically eating you, no matter your size. He’s sucking your dick every time you two have sex, sometimes it’s his idea of a quickie. He loves hearing the way you whine and moan for him, telling him he’s sucking you so good, it gets him going so hard his dick starts to hurt in his trousers from how turned on he is.

Praise, tell him how good he’s working his mouth. Tell him how good he’s taking it when you cum down his throat and pull on his hair so hard that he feels his scalp burn. His tongue always, always pokes into your ass after you cum the first time, he starts from your tip and keeps licking until he’s eating your ass and his hand is jerking you off. It’s like seeing you be ruined by his hands and mouth is better than the sex itself, better than if he was inside you.

You complain that when he gets rough his stubble prickles your skin but you both know you don’t want him to shave so he just nods along as he dives back in for seconds. He also just loves the taste of your cum, sure it might be disgusting to most but he’s made worse mixes when he was just starting out anyways. It’s you, that’s what makes it so delicious.

[weaselle]

You came face to face with a wolf in the woods? What’s the story in that

ok ok so i'm driving through the woods down from Oregon to visit the fam in California, right? And right as i'm about to cross the border from OR to CA i'm like, oh shit, pops is the only one i don't have a christmas present for.

So i see this big weird log-cabin-ass liquor store and i'm all, he loves a unique bottle of wine, gotta be something in there he can't get back home so i pull in.

It's a building made of logs all by itself on the edge of the woods in the hills along the N. border of California. While i'm in there i ask to use the bathroom and they tell me sure, it's a small separate building behind the store

just walk down the foot path into the woods a few yards until you get to the fork and take the right side path to the little bathroom hut. Don't take the left side path unless you want to disappear all the way into the woods. Cool.

So i walk into the woods on the little trail, and i get to the fork in the path, and i can see the little bathroom hut off to the right. Before i take the right, as i'm standing there, i look down the left side path that trails off into the woods.

And right then this full grown wolf steps out onto the trail, about 15 feet from me.

it was in fact, this exact wolf. Altho he is older in this picture than when i met him. When he stepped out to come face to face with me that day, he was quite a bit thinner.

Now at 15 feet, i instantly knew he was a wolf. Not a coyote, certainly not a dog, when you're close and you look in their face it's just different in the snout and eyes.

So i freeze, and i'm looking at him but i'm not making any sustained eye-contact and i'm feeling that weird calm feeling i get when shit is too serious to panic. And i'm trying to look bored because that's the safest middle ground between acting like prey and acting like a threat and i'm like, shit. Shit. Okay. This is a wolf. This is a whole ass wild wolf in the woods, only about 3 body lengths from me. What is about to happen here. One of us is going to do something soon and it better not be the wrong thing.

Wolf is just standing there the same as me. Wouldn't surprise me if it was having basically the exact same thoughts

i wasn't working professionally with dogs yet, but even then i knew canines real well, and as i'm standing there getting a real good look i realize, fuck, this wolf is like, just under 2 years old.

This is very bad news for me.

See, an experienced adult wolf knows things. For instance, an experienced adult wolf knows exactly what it prefers to hunt (not humans) and has probably gotten good at hunting those things (and is therefor not desperate for food) and an older experienced wolf knows that it really can't afford to get injured in a fight if it can avoid one, and probably has figured out that humans are to be left alone.

But a wolf between a year and a half and two years? Is just becoming an adult. This is a wolf that meets an animal the same size as it and has questions.

Questions like "Is this a creature i want to eat?" or "maybe this is a creature that wants to eat me?" and the problem with both of those questions is the answer can easily wind up being "i should probably try to kill it"

Because a mature wolf will assess a threat for the safest way to deal with it, but, like a twenty year old person, a young inexperienced wolf is more prone to brash actions, such as preemptively attacking something it perceives as a threat.

I'm checking his body language and it is reading as uncertain, patient, fairly relaxed but ready for explosive action. Not great, but could be a lot worse.

All this is going through my calm calm head. Like of course i am frightened, but in emergencies my heart like, actually seems to slow a bit? and i get this weird calm clear feeling.

Anyway i'm standing there looking at this wolf, and this wolf is looking at me, and i start to realize... i'm the mature adult in this situation. I have to be the one to decide how this encounter goes.

It was at this point i recalled something i read in a book about cats.

In this book, the author goes to visit her father who is studying lions in Africa. He's staying in a village and when she gets there she is told she might stumble across a lion in the brush if she goes walking around outside the village for any reason (which is why her father is there) and that if she DOES come across a lion, for generations the locals have had a little social exchange worked out with the lions, so she should speak loudly but politely to the lion, and then walk purposefully away at an oblique angle to the lion.

So of course she's on a walk one day and a lion suddenly stands up not far from her. She freezes, unable to do the thing she had been told to do. After waiting and waiting, finally the lion makes a series of loud grunts, and then walks off at an oblique angle, as if to show her how it was done.

I remembered how much sense that made to me when i read it. An oblique angle is like, not straight ahead of you and not straight to the side of you, but sort of halfway between, like one of the branches on a "Y". An oblique angle is more toward than away, so it cannot be mistaken for any kind of running away, but it isn't directly toward the animal enough to be threatening. it is the physical communication equivalent of "You're in my way, but i'll be polite and go around you".

At an oblique angle to my right was the bathroom. So trying to seem like i didn't care about the wolf at all while simultaneously keeping very close track of its reactions, I walked kind of toward him, but way off to one side.

He relaxed more as i did so, watching me go. Then i was inside the little bathroom with the door shut and all my calm went away.

I didn't have my phone on me, and i was in a tiny room in the woods, and all i could think was, jesus christ that was a wolf. A fucking wolf. I just like, walked right by a wolf. A wolf, dude. What if I open the door and the wolf is RIGHT there on the other side? Can i get the door shut fast enough or will he be able to force its way into this cramped space with me? Have i just trapped myself in the woods with this wolf?

Since i was in there anyway, i peed and washed my hands... and then i cracked the door open with my heart in my throat. But that wolf was long gone -- probably melted back into the woods the instant my eyes were all the way off it.

I went back into the liquor store and told the lady in there that there was a wolf nearby, and she said they'd caught a glimpse of it a couple times, and they thought it was a dog jumped out of somebody's truck? I'm not sure she believed me.

Couldn't really blame her. As far as i was aware, there hadn't been any wild wolves in California in close to a hundred years.

So when i got where i was going and found some time to myself around a computer a couple days later, i looked it up.

Sure enough it turns out this wolf on the northern border of California was Wolf OR-7, who, wearing a tracking collar, at one and a half years old, became the first confirmed wild wolf to be in California since 1924, crossing the Oregon border within two days of my sighting him in that area. I found a thread online of people who had managed to get photos of him crossing their property, and while i'm not an expert at identifying wolves, it seemed to be the same wolf. And the right age. And confirmed to be on the border of California the same time I was. And was the only wolf in a hundred years to be there.

I didn't notice a tracking collar on him, but he's also wearing it in the above pic i included, so you can seen how i might have missed it.

So, I met wolf OR-7 face to face! And it was very memorable.

He did very well for himself. Went back up to Oregon and got himself a mate, and founded the Rogue Wolf Pack, the first pack in west Oregon in forever. Most wild wolves are lucky to see six years, but OR-7 (sometimes called Journey) lived to be 11. Some of his pups grew up and started their own packs.

Somebody wrote a book about him, and there's some kind of movie or TV documentary about him i haven't seen, it's called OR-7's Journey or something like that.

Here's a map of his travels

These are his grandchildren, sired by one of his sons

and here is some documentation of wolves in Oregon and California that includes, for example, that OR-7's daughter, OR-54, traveled over 8,000 miles around California and even into Nevada. This is her:

Anyway, that's the story of the time i bumped into a wild wolf in the woods!

[teojira]

What about yandere Caesar? Or yandere noa :) (headcannons please)

[Yandere Noa and Caesar x reader headcanons]

Summary: You're their human, only theirs.

Warnings: This is more so them being toxic, more than yandere, I'm sorry!

A/N: it physically took me ages to figure out how to write these two as yanderes, so this isn't really true to the prompt! I am so sorry anon, I've never actually written yandere stuff to begin with so this was out of my usual, I doubt this is any good. I hope to do better next time though!

Noa:

Yandere Noa is not nearly as insane as more other yanderes you'll find.

He's able to get away with it by subtle manipulation, treating you like a puppy who doesn't know any better.

Why would you go against him? He's your only companion in this world, surely you don't think the others will forgive you for what Mae did to all of them? They're pretending to like you, they don't actually want you to join them, to become one of them. But it's okay, you have him, he'll never leave your side, no matter what.

He blatantly aims to make you depend on him, he won't teach you any of the tribes customs, you're learning on your own silently or he's doting on you.

You want to go eat? Not without him, matter of fact, you're gonna sit on his lap while he has one arm wrapped around your waist, it gets tighter when another ape comes up to speak, they don't notice the discomfort on your face when Noa squeezes more.

He's a guilt tripper, he has no issues with bringing up how he's the one who welcomed you into the clan, that you'd think you'd owe it to him to be by his side, right?

Noa feels remorse about it, but he'll still use his dad's passing against you whenever he feels you try and fight him. He reasons that it's only right. He lost so much, he just wants you, surely, you like him back? To be his?

Caesar:

Caesar is the worst of the two, period.

Caesar is the leader of the colony, and no one, even if they do think it'd weird just how on a short leash he keeps you, will bring it up.

It is extremely rare when you are out of his sight, confined to the family nest and if you are to go anywhere, he's there to follow.

Doesn't really want any other apes near you, but he has to put on the act of being sane, so he lets you interact with the women and a select few of the men.

It boils his blood when you go up against him, he will tell you straight up, had it not been for him, for his mercy, you would've been dead already. Be that by other apes or natural selection.

You should be grateful he is sweet on you, that he takes care of you day in and day out despite so many others being afraid of humans.

He won't hurt you, but intimidation is key and he is no stranger to pushing you against a wall and growling or snarling in your face.

Only to switch tones immediately upon seeing your face get splotchy with tears, cooing at you and wiping then away with his thumbs.

Very hot and cold, you never know when he's gonna snap and treat you harshly, spitting at you that you're no better than the humans that had once ruled over him, or coddling you, holding you to him as he drowns himself in your scent, not caring that you're uncomfortable with his canines so close to your neck.

[ghostsy]

Dearly Beloved

WARNINGS: yandere, possessiveness, imprisonment, slight infantilization, non-consensual implications, abuse, nsfw, smut, dub/noncon

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! TODOROKI SHOTO X READER

“Please, if you have any information…”

She wanted to throw up. Or pass out. In any particular order she didn’t really care, just anything to stop this. Her legs had long gone numb strewn over his lap, the dewy stains of her despair spilled across his slacks, her hands secured tightly behind her back.

“I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. Whatever joy I had disappeared with her that day. Please, I just want her home. We just want to bring our daughter home. She deserved…she deserves better than this…”

The device responsible for her torture was still buzzing excitedly at the swollen source of agony between her thighs. A sudden silence filled the room, television screen freezing on sobbing faces, and her heart leapt to her throat.

“You’re not paying attention.”

The vibrator clicked off, and his hand came to rest on her thigh, the other still secured around her waist to prop her up, squeezing at her hips. Though, the circles he drew on her skin weren’t in any way a comfort.

She couldn’t see his face from her place in front of the screen, but she hardly had to guess his expression, hardly had to guess his feelings. His reputation preceded him. Hot and Cold. She’d learned through painful trial and error that it was meant in more ways than one.

She licked at her cracked lips, “I am. I am–please–I promise, I am,” Through the breaks, her voice was sugar sweet, innocent, docile. A thinly veiled search for mercy.

“We’ll rewind.” Though, it seemed he would give her none as he coaxed her gaze back to the television in front of them.

Right. There was another source of agony–of torture–he’d been keen on subjecting her to today. It was her fault, she supposed, for being foolish enough to believe that unlocked window to be anything other than a test. A test that she’d, of course, failed. 

“Nearly one year after the sudden disappearance of a Tokyo woman, friends and family are struggling to hold on to hope. Our journalists caught up with…”

She closed her eyes, swallowing the salty tears fighting their way up her throat to join the streams on her cheeks, and opened her mouth to speak, hiccuping on her sobs.

“Please, I’ll–I’m sorry. I can’t take–I’ll never–I won’t–promise I won’t–”

“I don’t see the problem,” He’d made a career out of patronizing her, she’d discovered, “You wanted to see your friends and family, right?” The growing heat on her thigh meant it wasn’t rhetorical. 

She hissed at the burn, forcing a reply through gritted teeth, “I didn’t mean–”

“You didn’t mean…? You’re hardly in a position to be picky,” Shifting his hold on her, the vibrator, still latched to her pulsing clit, clicked on, two of his fingers dipped down, circling her glistening hole, teasing, “I’d say it's plenty gracious of me to give you even this,” Calloused and cold, they shoved themselves inside her, setting an unforgiving pace. 

She nearly keeled over from the sensation, cursing under her breath, “I’m–It wasn’t–Can we please just–”

“You think you’d be happier, right?” His canines grazed her neck, threatening to break through the skin, “That you’d feel better out there. What’s anyone out there ever done for you?” He scoffed, “What have they done to earn your love?” The tremble of his voice reminded her of his barely contained, and building, rage. She had to do something.

“No, that’s not–” She begged with his name on her lips, “I just–I just wanted–”

“All you need to do is convince me,” There was electricity building in her veins, though a pit of dread forming in her stomach, “Your happiness depends on them? I’m really so terrible?” The murmur of the television was turning to static in her ears, “Get through one interview, then,” He huffed out a humorless laugh, “Just one, I promise,” Voice low and sultry, “Without gushing on my fingers while you watch them cry.”

She choked on a sob, but the ache in her limbs and the tightness squeezing its way from her chest to her throat significantly damped any anger she would have–should have–felt. 

“She was my best friend; she wouldn’t have just up and left.”

She just wanted this to be over. Find her panties, curl up under her bed covers, and let the roaring tides in her lungs pour out her eyes, and scream. Scream ‘till she passed out, hoping to find peace in the abyss of unconsciousness.

“Was? Are you saying that you think she’s passed on?”

“...I—Well, it’s not—It’s just, it’s been so long, and I–if we, the people who care about her, are going to have any chance at healing…”

Alas, fate was never so kind to her, and she was reminded of another, more humiliating, tide pooling in her gut.

Two fingers inside her became three, and she bit her tongue to stifle a whimper as they reached that once special, now cursed, spot inside her. It didn’t feel good. It didn’t. It didn’t.

Sighing, he brought the hand around her waist to pet at her hair, “Don’t you see?” He tucked the strands behind her ear, hot breath hitting her skin, “They’ve given up on you. What will it take for you to understand, lovely?”

“I’m just so tired. We all are. But I love her, really I do.”

He snorted, “Love you. They don’t love you,” Angling his face downwards, hair tickling her cheek, “Family. Friends,” She was panting now, eyes going crossed from exertion, “They mean nothing. They are nothing.” She wouldn’t come; she couldn’t. But the clenching of her walls against his fingers betrayed her, and she felt his lips pull into a smirk against her throat.

“There’s just…what else is there left to do? I can’t–I don’t–scouring woods and swamps and–to try and find…try and find what? I just can’t–I can’t do it–I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I can’t–”

“No one takes care of you like I do.” 

Vibrator still buzzing, a numbing, pulsing, ache formed between her legs, and his fingers, wet and crystalline, sped their pace, squelching as they fucked in and out of her weeping entrance. There was a ringing in her ears as she felt the floodgates start to open. Please no. Not again. 

What would they say if they could see her now? Mewling and moaning like a whore on her captor’s fingers while their worlds upended? How disgusting she was–if only her body agreed. 

“Take your time. If this is too hard–”

“No. I can at least do this for her. So people remember her. Remember her name. She would have wanted at least that.”

“No one knows you like I do.”

He was trailing wet kisses up her neck, tongue and teeth coming together to form scattered bruises in his path. Her thighs were spasming, flexing in an attempt to stave off the waves of pleasure threatening to drown her.

“It’s clear how much she means to you. How lucky she must have felt to have someone care about her so deeply.”

“No one loves you like I do.”

His teeth sunk into her earlobe, and her vision went white, nerves exploding as her walls clenched, desperately, gratefully, if not ashamedly, fluttering around his digits for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

Though the relief, like any momentary pleasure he’d bestowed upon her, unwilling or otherwise, was short lived. Coming down from her high, she blinked away the tears weighing on her lashes, and blurring her vision, lungs heaving in an attempt to gather her bearings. The vibrator clicked off, and his fingers pulled themselves from her, dewy and gleaming.

“Suck.” He pushed them through her lips, and she choked on their length, licking at the sticky substance, and swallowing to assuage his anger. He removed them with a pop, and she held her breath, praying to whatever god she did or didn’t believe in that he would release her. He’d made his point, right? 

“I’m…I’m sorry,” She gulped in air to stifle the shake in her voice, and nuzzled her head in the crook of his neck, wetting the skin with her tears, pathetic, “I won’t–”

“You didn’t think we were finished did you?” Her heart dropped to her stomach, “You’ve failed to convince me, you know.” 

“I’m convinced!” She winced, realizing the volume, but found he was waiting for her to continue, “I’m…I’m convinced. You were right. I shouldn’t have tried to leave…I wasn’t–I wasn’t thinking.”

The second of silence was months long, but a soft laugh tinged with delirium broke through the static noise. Cold fingers clutched at her jaw, angling her face towards his own.

Forced to meet his gaze, she hated to admit it, but he was so pretty. The allure of mystery twinkled in those mismatched eyes, hiding the promise of something no man or woman or person could possibly hope to resist.

“No,” Sighing, his free hand squeezed at her waist, “No, you were never really good at that, were you?” She nearly didn’t hear him, lost to her thoughts, wallowing in self pity and hate; why hadn’t she seen it before?

She just wished she could have left well enough alone. Let that mystery pass her by unsolved. A promise can be hollow, she’d learned; a vortex of nothing that pulls you into the blackness, greedy in its emptiness to steal any soul or love or light from its captive, leaving them to drown in the inky darkness, dead, but never alone.

A stinging pinch at her side motivated her to sputter out the prompted answer.

“At what?”

“Thinking.”

She could say something, she realized. Anything. Anything but what she knew she’d let slip from her lips. Fucking coward.

“No,” Coward, “No, I wasn’t–I’m–No, I’m not.” 

He hummed, eyes twinkling, amused, “Anything else?”

Her teeth sunk into her lip, bloated and salted with her tears, canines piercing through the skin to let drops of red bubble to the surface. Still, she forced out another meek placation.

 “I’m sorry,” But cowards don’t get burnt and they don’t get frostbite and they don’t get hurt, “I’ll–I’ve learned my–my lesson, now. I promise, please–”

“It’s cute that you think anything you say matters,” Cowards don’t get hurt, she reminded herself, but the stinging of shattered pride in her chest argued otherwise, “Besides,” He motioned towards the television, “We’re not even halfway through.”

No. No no no. She’d done what he’d said, hadn’t she? Please. No more. The knot in her throat was making it hard to breathe, twisting and growing, “Please–”

He sighed as he shifted a bit behind her, and she felt it, more present than before, “What kind of lover would I be if I didn’t follow through on my promises, lovely?” The clink of a belt buckle ripped at her heart, “And, really, how can I resist,” Fingers trailed back down to swipe at her puffy and abused and dripping entrance before pulling away, flexing his fingers as the dewy substance stuck in webs to the digits, “When you’re practically begging for it.”

She felt like a ragdoll, what little fight or resistance or hope beaten and torn from inside her. A firm hand bruised her waist as he lifted her, and shuffled out of his pants. He turned her face back towards the screen, a trail of frost creeping at her jawline as he released her.

“If there’s anything you’d say to her if you could–anything you think she’d want to hear…”

“There’s just one thing.”

Something too big and too hard and too familiar prodded at her sore and tired entrance, and her fingernails made crescent moons in her tied palms.

“Wherever you are. Whatever happened.”

The wetness allowed him to slide in rather easily, but the girth was accompanied by a burning stretch. She should have been used to this by now, and while the feel of his cock throbbing inside her was all too familiar, she found herself dizzy, unfocused, nauseous. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe. She wanted to scream, but that inky blackness of his had filled her lungs. 

“I hope you’re somewhere warm and bright, even if it’s above the clouds.”

She was drowning. Drowning and hurting, and clawing for just a hint of light from the abyss of broken promises. Wasn’t drowning supposed to be peaceful? How long did she have to wait until it was peaceful? 

“I hope you’ve found peace.”

“Oh,” He sighed as he bottomed out inside her, “This is my favorite part.”

Her limbs felt heavy, and she felt so tired. Was this the good part? Give up and it won’t hurt. Give up and let him do as he pleased. Give up and drown prettily. Become as empty and hollow as the pit she was trapped in, and the hurt would stop. Feelings and pain and everything. Make it stop.

“And I promise, I won’t ever stop loving you.”

[lonewisteria]

Damage Control

Chpt. 3

☽ chpt. 1 | chpt. 2

☽ wooo I have never posted smut publicly before. I hope it’s good for y’all, mwah. More to come. There will be a softer smut scene, I swear.

☽ notes: MINORS DNI, smut, alcoholism, fem reader, gn pronouns, ram!Schlatt x dog!reader, use of ‘bitch’ and ‘whore’, fingering, size kink if you squint, kind of pet play (use of ‘pup’ and ‘mutt’), rough smut, eating out, edging, hickies/biting, unprotected pnv, soft aftercare

☽ summary: you leave Schlatt the next day to go to work, stern about the fact he needs to not drink. But when you return, to see he had alcohol, things get heated.

☽ words: 3,750

It was the following day after babying Schlatt in his cabin. Since your little intervention, he holed himself up in the main bedroom, even as you tidied up and washed his work clothes. Whatever, you can’t be there at every moment to fuss over him.

That’s what you keep telling yourself, yet your mind drifts to him all day at work. You promised to check on him later and now, you’re nothing but a heaping puddle of anxiety. Schlatt is more stubborn than he appeared, but you hope, just this once, he’d lay off the alcohol.

As soon as the clock strikes 10pm, you’re out the door before anyone can say goodbye. Your ears are twitching and your hands fumbling with your keys as you approach your car.

And while you drive, your fingers fidget on the wheel, the image of him leaning into you lingering in your mind, making you reluctantly flustered. You felt like you were losing it. No one would believe you if you said Schlatt stared at you with kindness. He gazed at you like he needed you, and not solely the TLC sense.

You park your car next to his and scurry to the front door, knocking before stepping inside the cabin. Your eyes immediately zero in on the half-empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table. There Schlatt was, head lolled against the couch cushions, some rap music flowing from the radio, proving you wrong about trusting him alone with his vices.

“Fuck, Schlatt!” You growl as you stalk over to him (not without frustratingly slipping your shoes and coat off first) with your tail lashing, “I thought we said no more booze until you’re a bit better?”

Half a bottle is practically nothing for him, but alcohol is alcohol. Trust is trust. Your canines flash in a snarl as you snatch the whiskey, glaring down at him.

“I’m not going to stand by and watch you destroy yourself. I won’t-“

“Don’t you dare fuckin lecture me,” he snarls, surging to his feet in one smooth motion, towering over you as he jabs a finger at your chest, “I didn’t ask for your help. And I sure as hell don’t need your pity.”

He grabs the bottle back from your grasp, causing your fingers to touch. The brief contact sends a flutter in his stomach, a heat that has nothing to do with alcohol.

“I’ll drink when I damn well please, you bitch. I’ll do whatever the hell I want, consequences be damned,” he snaps.

He leans in, so close you can feel his whiskey-laden breath on your face as he continues. “You think you can fix me with your pretty words and concerned looks?”

His proximity makes your ears pin back and your tail bristle at his harsh tone. The racing of your heart going against your will.

“You’re the fucking President!” you growl, “you should be at the capital, not in some cabin trying to kill your liver!”

You know you should push him away and leave him wallowing in his own turmoil, but you keep rambling. “You’re so fucking arrogant. Why can’t you think of people other than yourself, huh?”

Ouch. Schlatt can’t lie, that one bruises more than any punch. He masks it with an icy stare as his hand shoots out to take your ears in one hand, like he’s holding a squirming animal. The action causes you to bare your teeth at him, desperately withholding your urge to fuck up his pretty face.

“I am thinking of my people,” he hisses, “every fuckin day, I’m thinking of em’. I’m trying to keep this country from falling apart at the seams.”

Now your foreheads are touching. Your breaths mingling. Your shared pique simmering together. His voice drops an octave as his gaze bores into you.

“But sometimes, I need a fuckin break. To let loose, forget about the weight of everything,” his hands release your ears to move to your face, thumb brushing over your lower lip.

“And right now, I want to forget about everything. Except you.”

As much as you want to lash out and tell him to fuck off, everything about this —and him— is intoxicating.

“You’re a fucking mess Schlatt,” you growl, “a drunk, self-destructive mess and you’re dragging me down with you.”

Even as those words leave your mouth, they’re only partially true. You aren’t being dragged anywhere – you’re choosing this. You’ve chosen to help him, fully aware it’s a mistake.

You’ve chosen to fist your hands in his shirt and pull him in for a demanding kiss. Schlatt groans into your mouth and is quick to draw you into his lap on the couch, setting the whiskey down so his selfish hands can wander freely.

Nothing else matters. Not the presidency, not Manberg, not the consequences. There’s only him.

He breaks the kiss, leaving you both panting, his hands flying to undo the buttons of your shirt. His fingers fumble, and in his eagerness, he snaps a button off and rips the fabric, prompting you to smack him upside the head.

“I’ll buy you a new fuckin’ top,” he pants, pushing the shirt off your shoulders to fall on the floor, “I’ll buy you a fuckin’ hundred of em’.”

You connect lips again and his hands dig into your ass to pull you closer. You swallow his groan as you grind against him, his bulge straining against his sweats. Now, you can’t see the damn thing, too prioritized on the sensation of his lips and hands, but it’s unmistakably thick. The butterflies swarming in your stomach are incessant at the thought.

Schlatt’s hands slide around to undo the buttons of your slacks to slide them down your hips. Before he slithers past your underwear, he brings two fingers to your lips, which you obediently take into your mouth. He finger fucks your face, groaning as he grows impossibly harder while your tongue swirls around his digits. When he withdraws, he promptly trails them down and circles your entrance past your underwear. You’re so wet. So horrifically wet that perhaps he didn’t need to leave your lips a saliva ridden mess.

“You’re so fuckin soaked already,” he teases, barely brushing your folds, “what? Ya like when I’m a dickhead to you?”

You grit your teeth, ready to bark a retort, but his fingers shut you up as they slide into you. Slowly he pumps them, adding a gentle curl as he does so. Your hips involuntarily buck against his hand, your walls desperately clenching around him. Reaching down, you wrap your hand around his wrist, guiding his fingers deeper. You practically hold him in place as you rock your hips in time with his thrusts.

This man fantasized about you far more than he cares to admit. He’s experienced with a fair share of lovers; dainty rabbit hybrids, his playful asshole of an ex, and cocky traitors of the nation. But never such a dominant, forthright guard dog like yourself. This is proving a delightful challenge and he is relishing it.

In retaliation for his arrogant comment, you lean into his neck and start marking up his skin. Your moans rumble against him and he responds by increasing the tempo of his fingers. There’s an attitude in how you bite and suck his neck, but of course he savors it, sinking further into the couch and closing his eyes momentarily.

His thumb starts pressing and rubbing your clit, causing your hips to sputter and heartier moans to escape you. Unable to endure the sight of your bra any longer, he unhooks it and tosses it carelessly over his shoulder. A large hand presses onto your chest, pushing you away from his neck so he can fully appreciate the view. Your tits are moving with each grind of your hips and he grits his teeth to suppress his desires.

You continue to shamelessly grind against his hand and grip his shoulders. “Fuck…you just gonna sit there…” you demand breathlessly, tail thrashing behind you, “and finger me?”

In one swift motion, Schlatt acts on your taunt and stands with you in his arms, withdrawing his fingers from you without a second thought. He barges through the bedroom door and practically tosses you on the bed, watching as your body —especially your tits— bounce from the impact. His hands make quick work of your bottoms, pulling your slacks and underwear all the way down to throw aside. This leaves you completely bare to his gaze while he hovers over you, fully clothed.

“Shit, your rack is nice,” he mumbles aloud, reaching down to grab your breast, but you seize his grabby hand.

“Hey, asshole,” you snap, “I’m not gonna be the only one naked right now.”

“Oh, right,” he mutters, surprisingly compliant as he strips his shirt, leaving you to drink in his bare torso. Seeing him yesterday in a mere towel was quite enough to ignite your imagination, but this was a completely different experience that had you clenching around nothing.

And when he shimmies his bottoms off, letting his cock slap against his stomach, your eyes widen. Your observation was correct. He was far bigger than anything else you’ve taken. Of all the times you’ve faced this ram, you haven’t had an ounce of fear glazing your eyes – until now.

Schlatt is quick to notice it too, a light laugh leaving him as he climbs onto the bed. “So, you’re not scared of me when I’m drunk and yellin at ya, but you’re scared of my cock?”

“Shut up and touch me already,” you growl, the gentle flush across your face betraying your bravado.

He snickers at you and cups your tits in his large hands, feeling them up, only subtly touching your nipples. You can sense his restraint, which goes against his character, but you’ve also come to truly comprehend him from recent encounters. Beneath the harsh demeanor lies a ram seeking a tenderness he somehow found in you.

This progresses for another minute before he leans down, leaving wet kisses on the flush of your breasts. Biting, sucking, and kissing everywhere except your erect nipples. Your hands tangle in his hair, urging him to pay attention to them, but he only grunts, lost in his worship of you.

Ultimately, he relents, pressing the flat of his tongue against a nipple, eliciting a relieved sigh from you. He licks and sucks on it before shifting to the other, his hand massaging the abandoned breast.

After lavishing you with attention and saliva slicked skin, Schlatt kisses downward. His lips leave a heated, sloppy trail as they traverse your stomach, hips, and mound, ending it off with a fleeting kiss to your clit that has you squirming.

Unlike earlier, he dives right in, tongue probing your entrance, nose nestled in your folds, and facial hair rugburning your inner thighs. A choir of moans and whimpers rise from your throat. Your hands instinctively grip his hair. The lewd noises he’s producing down there vibrate against your core, making you curse and whine.

His hands clutch your legs and push them closed around his head, allowing you to squeeze. The way he’s devouring you makes it clear he’s been starving, with nothing but alcohol fueling him for days. Right before you snap in ecstasy, he removes himself. Your arousal glistens on the lower half of his face, the shit eating grin he’s wearing is slick and soaked. You’re left in shambles on the sheets, body neglected and thrumming with arousal.

You’re not given a minute to regain yourself before his cockhead is bullying your entrance. Seems like his restraint has limits considering he’s now sinking in you, fast, causing you to jerk up and claw at his abdomen. Your eyes are wide and a gasp escapes your lips as he shoves himself into you.

“Fuck, Schlatt!” you hiss with your ears pinned back, “slow down you fucking jerk!”

Despite your harsh words, you feel yourself responding eagerly to his switched harsh treatment. It’s been too long since you allowed yourself to feel anything and Schlatt’s awakened desires you thought were long buried.

“Sorry, doll,” he grunts out, removing a couple inches from you until the burning sensation dissipates.

“Sorry, doll?” you mock and raise your eyesbrows. There’s a coy smile plastered on your face at his sudden shift in demeanor. He’s apologizing and calling you ‘doll’? Who is this man?

Though he disregards your banter, save for a quick glare, before shoving a pillow under your hips and throwing your legs over his shoulders. His thumb lands on your clit, carefully pulling it up to grant him an unobstructed view of him thrusting into you inch by inch, little by little. His movements are shallow and controlled, but you see his muscles tense as he fights himself from slamming into you.

The feeble movements are enough to coax strained whines and moans from you. You lean your head back and close your eyes, focusing on the pleasurable way he’s easing himself in.

“Nuh-uh, look at me,” Schlatt demands, his hand grabbing your hair and pulling your head back up.

“Wanna see that pretty face,” he adds and you obey. You watch as his thrusts grow longer and more brutal, until he’s fully sheathed in you, causing your jaw to go slack and eyebrows knit together. As much as your eyes want to roll back, you keep them trained on your joined bodies.

The gentleness he presented fades away when he starts moving. He’s ramming into you now, the lewd squelching from your sopping cunt is music to his ears. His eyes never leave you, drinking in the way your cunt stretches around him, how your tits bounce with each thrust, and your face contorts in pleasure. Fuck, he’d only ever dreamed of witnessing your usually stern face go tight with ecstasy. Now that it was happening, he couldn’t stop himself from driving into you.

“I’m gonna fuck that stupid attitude right out of ya,” he growls, letting his elbows cage your head and his hair tickle your face, “you got no idea what ya do to me, mutt.”

Oh, but you did have an idea, and it was playing out right before you. “Make you a whore?” you can’t resist teasing him.

“Fuck, that attitude,” he growls, delivering a particularly harsh thrust, watching your back arch and hands fist the sheets.

You could barely thrust up into him with how your thighs were pressed against his stomach, sticky with combined sweat. Each thrust makes the bulge in your stomach noticeable, a testament to his size compared to you. Finally, he has control over you and that defiant mouth of yours. Even if it’s simply in bed, it’s more than enough.

His cock is virtually abusing your cervix, the pleasure-pain having you emit pornographic moans. The pressure makes your eyes water, but god, you love it. This was everything you imagined and then some.

He’s pistoning in and out of you, causing your arousal to leak down the curve of your ass and soak the pillow and sheets. At this point, you’re utterly brainless, his cock sending you reeling under him. Your tail wags furiously against the sheets, the noises your making only spurring his momentum on. His horns whack against the headboard with how rough he is, an evident reflection of his behavior outside this room.

“Shoulda fucked you sooner,” he grunts, burying his face into your neck, biting down harsh and sucking your skin between his sharp teeth. You’re completely encased by him now. His heavy balls are slapping your ass as a white ring builds at the base of his cock with each rut.

Honestly? He’s pissed it took so damn long to train this stupid dog into submission. Pissed that your cunt feels nothing but perfect gushing around his cock, sucking him in. It’s almost like a reward for putting up with your defiance for so long.

“See? All fuckin quiet,” he huffs against your skin, landing a brutal thrust that brings you slightly back to reality. Just enough clarity to bite back.

Literally.

You snap at his ear, the fur standing on end when your teeth connect with it. He curses against your neck, but continues to plow into you and mark you up all pretty for your coworkers to see.

His hand snakes between your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing and pressing your attitude back into place. He finishes his work on your neck with a lingering kiss before pulling back to watch your face. You had released his ear and were back to a fucked out slump on his bed. Damn dog.

Your eyes meet and a grin stretches across his face. You bite back a moan, only to hiss at him. “I fucking hate you. Keep going.”

The laugh that leaves Schlatt’s lips resonates off the walls, mingling with your joined squelching sounds and your moans and whimpers. His ministrations on your clit persist and he brings his free hand to your thigh, clawed fingers digging into your skin.

He adjusts his angle, all the while fucking you, so he can thrust in an upward motion to hit that sweet, rough spot in your cunt. Your thigh winds tight beneath his touch, signifying just how close you are. If that isn’t enough motivation to keep going, then how you claw at his back, leaving red welts, certainly is. The variety of noises you make higher and louder definitely are.

“You like this, huh, pup?” he growls, fingers deftly rubbing your clit, eyes fucking your body alongside his cock.

“Lettin the emperor fuckin ruin ya, fuckin shit-“

When you clench around his stupidly fat cock, an orgasm hitting you sharply, he groans. Your eyes start to roll back and flutter shut, but he’s quick to grab one of your ears to redirect your attention. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as your claws dig into his back for support, eyes trained on his as he keeps fucking you.

Even though you’re finished, left limp against the sheets, he isn’t. He’s using your poor pussy like a damn toy now, chasing higher and higher, thrusts erratic, until he ultimately breaks. He buries himself as deep as he can, his cum shooting loads into your cunt as his face stuffs back into your neck.

Both of you linger like that, Schlatt still shoved inside you, his body acting like a weight blanket against your’s. It’s silent, the only sound being your shared panting.

Well…you didn’t expect this entire runaway situation to evolve into this. A traitorous part of you is glad it did though.

Without a word, he pulls out and sits back on his heels, watching your combined releases grow the wet spots on the sheets and pillow. He shuffles off the bed and into the connecting bathroom, the sound of running water making your limp ears perk. He returns with a damp rag — and is that Benedictine? Does he have alcohol at his disposal everywhere?

“Thought I said no more drinking,” you huff. He watches you push yourself into a sit, body slow and clumsy as the high fades.

When he reaches the bed, he hands you the bottle. “For me, but not for you,” he laughs, “drink. You deserve it.”

Your fingers tremble as you take the bottle, letting the alcohol burn your throat as you take a sip. No wonder he had boxes of this lying around; it’s delicious.

As you go in for seconds, your eyes scan him as he towers over the side of the bed. Bruises and bite marks adorn his neck, one in particular with broken skin, along with the glisten of his slick cock, his tousled hair, and clawed up shoulders. Damn, he’s fine, even after an intense fuck.

He notices your fawning and smirks, his fingers pressing against the worst bite to examine the meager smear of blood. No way he was going to parade around Manberg like this, as much as he wanted to flaunt it all. You’ll work on hiding it later.

He leans over and brushes strands of hair from your flush face. His touch is gentle, tender even, a crazy contrast to how he was fucking you raw minutes ago.

“You good?” he asks, searching for any hint of regret or pain on your face. But all he finds is bliss.

“Yeah. I’m okay,” you reassure him.

“Good pup.” He gives you a soft pat to your cheek that causes your tail to wag softly and ears to twitch. He notices and smiles a bit, watching your eyes soften at his praise.

After adjusting the towel, he leans down to start cleaning you up, the cloth warm on your skin. He takes his time, wiping away the cum smears on your thighs, chuckling when he reaches your folds and you suck in a sharp breath.

“What was that earlier? Calling me doll?” You tease, setting the Benedictine on the nightstand.

“Fuck off and let me take care of ya,” he grumbles.

You let him finish without added remarks and he cleans himself off before disposing of the rag in the corner of the room. He herds you off the bed momentarily so he can tug the top blanket and pillow off to join the rag, considering the fabric was soaked from both of you. Wow, he’s actually taking care of things for once! Granted, it’s all aftercare, but you’re not complaining.

You pull the covers back and crawl under them, Schlatt following in suit. You’re unsure if cuddling was his thing, but he proves you wrong by wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your chest. Of course he likes cuddling; you should know by now that the whole tough guy persona was mostly that, a facade.

Your fingers start to fiddle with his hair and trace the lines of his horns, while his hand draped over you traces patterns on your skin. He knows he shouldn’t indulge in this moment of vulnerability, but your warmth, your tenderness, no person could come to resist it.

You nurse on the same thoughts. You’re always so guarded with everyone, but something about his gentleness, the warm intimacy after being railed, makes it difficult for you to maintain those walls.

And a part of you wishes tomorrow would never come, that you both could avoid returning to Manberg and leaving behind whatever is blossoming between you two.

[hoeforhao]

Parisian Nights ✨️•Jeonghan Oneshot•

pairing : model! jeonghan × fem!reader

genre : pwp, absolutely messy smut, minors do not interact!!!

warnings : pussy eating, fingering, nipple play, overstimulation, mean jeonghan, sort of one night stand, explicit language.

word count : 780

author's note : this is an extremely impromptu drop as my account is literally dead for weeks!! what can be a better way to comeback than with some dirty smut! pls bear with my shitty writings and writer's block a bit!

“My pretty little slut, aren’t you?” Jeonghan’s words vibrates against your folds as his tongue is buried deep inside your hole, his smooth locks brushing against your walls, while his fingers rub gentle circles on your puffy bud. You had no idea how you ended up in this position, under this man you’ve only seen for the first time this evening. The one thing you remembered through the haze of all the orgasms he has already given you,was that you were assigned the job of being the guide and coordinator of the Yoon Jeonghan,the most serene beauty of YSL’s lineup for the Paris Fashion Week.

You were always swayed away by men with more on the masculine side of beauty until tonight, when you saw the most beautiful person you’ve ever laid eyes on, arrive at the venue; long flowy hair strands sticking on his forehead making their way down to his bare shoulders, that were peeking out from under the blades of his black coat, the white tank covering his chest while also giving the most alluring shape to his petite curves. A one time wonder for real…something you definitely can’t miss getting your hands on.

“I asked you something baby” you were instantly pulled out of your recollections when you suddenly felt a sharp sting on your already sensitive clit, slowly realising it to be a slight bite from Jeonghan’s sharp canines, as a gesture for making you speak up….because the last thing he wanted from his fuck buddy was to lay quiet under him…not when he knows how good he was making you feel from his tongue alone.

“Hmm y…yess i am” only shaky breathy moans escape your lips as you try to be stable and vocal under his ecstatic touch, trying not to give in completely to the devil pressed between your legs. As angelic as he looked on the runway, from the moment he laid his hands on you tonight, you came to the realisation of how much of a satanically freak he was with his fingers and words.

“Complete words baby! You’re a what?” Jeonghan surely was enjoying all the teasings, seeing how wasted you were lying under him with your pussy clenching so good around his tongue, begging for its release for the 3rd time tonight.

“I am dirty little slut for you Yoon. Now pls let me, i cannot hold it in anymore” knowing how evil he was, you very well knew your request would go in vain as your sufferings, the constant twitching of your folds in his face, the push of your thighs to completely stuff him between your core was what making his boner grow more painful by each passing second.

“Not so easy, whore” and with this Jeonghan pumps in two of his cold fingers into your cunt accompanied by the unceasing swirls of his tongue inside your hole, lapping up every last drop of your honey juices into his mouth….the prettiest cunt he has ever tasted and will ever do.

Your back arches up from the intense feeling, toes curling up while your fingers grip onto Jeonghan’s still perfectly set hair, in an attempt to somehow hold yourself from coming undone on his pretty face right there…only to earn a tight slap on your swollen bud from him, triggering the last hold you had on yourself as you quite instantly end up painting Jeonghan’s locks and face white with your release.

Cursing under your breath for disobeying Jeonghan, you try to peek at his cum drenched form, still pressed into your core, with the slight hope of being forgiven for the sin. Oh how fool of you to even hope of mercy from the son of devil himself, as he slowly emerges out from between your thighs, white slick dripping down his chin, tongue lapping up your remaining juices on his lips, eyes clouded with the darkest most sinful haze ever known to man.

“You will have to pay for ruining my hair baby” Jeonghan’s cum coated fingers gently travel up your legs, to your tummy and finally on your perked up nipples, smothering them with your own release on the way, landing a tight pinch on one of the buds, while your eyes squint up from the overstimulation.

“What would you like more, my pretty baby…bouncing on my cock the whole night until your pussy is all swollen up and begging to be left alone or gagging on it until your eyes are all teary, face left completely ruined from my thrusts hmm?” Jeonghan’s lips slowly curl up into a devilish grin as he continues to make your insides clench around thin air with his word choices “ Either way I’m gonna be inside you tonight for as long as I desire.”

[atarathegreat]

Predator and Prey. Keizo Arashi

ft: Hybrid Bear Keizo and Hybrid Bunny Reader

More shopping, not that Benkei minded. He enjoyed walking behind you and watching as your cute little tail twitched when you read something you didn't like or laughed at one of his jokes. Occasionally, he would reach out and touch your ears, chuckling as you thumped your foot in mock frustration.

"You know you're just going to get the cucumber pieces as your snack." Keizo reached the top shelf, grabbing the bag you were pointing at. Once again, you were there to huff and pout, "You know that the doctor told me I can't eat cucumbers as much as I am. They don't have enough nutrients for me."

"I'm sure we can get you some vitamins to help you. I don't want you to stop having your favorite snack." Keizo secretly grabbed the bag he became familiar with, the bright and smiling logo shining up at him.

There wasn't time for him to hear your response before a grating laughter filled the aisle. "Oh my God! Not Benkei with a prey type!" Cherry, Benkei's ex from Hell. She was a cougar, tail lashing as she approached. He hated her and hated what she had done to him during their relationship. You knew about her and what she had done to your sweet bear. Cherry had changed Keizo, evident in the way he went stiff and refused eye contact with the new guest. He didn't even respond as she tried talking to him. "Come on, Bear Boy, you want bunnies now?"

"Hi! I'm Y/n!" You were quick to bounce in front of her, gaining the glare from her golden eyes, "You can speak with me!"

"Not interested, Rabbit." The snarl would be scary if it wasn't laced with jealousy and bitterness. It was obvious that Cherry was trying to get Keizo's attention, the very attention he had focused on you as he buried his nose in your shoulder and breathed in your scent to calm himself. Cherry growled and clenched her fists like an angry dog, "You think you can get in my way, prey? Do you think you can keep a man like Benkei? You have no hope in keeping up with a predator."

That really seemed to get on her nerves. Benkei, the man who had always been so tough and quiet and reserved with Cherry, was now suddenly so touchy with some rabbit? He was hanging to her, breathing her in as if she were catnip for his nerves, and Cherry hated it. In her eyes, Keizo was still her bear and stuck in her den. So why was he clinging to a bunny like his life depended on her?

"I don't need to keep up, Keizo waits for me." Cherry seemed caught off guard as you used Benkei's real name. She was never given the privilege of using it. "Besides, bunnies are naturally fast and perfect for peaceful naptimes. Not to mention our insanely high sex drive, so whenever Keizo wants me, he can have me."

"You think you have any right to talk to me like that?" Cherry growled in your face, her sharp canines flashing in her rage, "You are prey, you should know your place."

"I do." You smirked, "Running through the woods with a predator at my heels as he tries to catch me and cross breed."

Cherry was stunned into silence. It was too obvious to be a lie. Benkei loved a chase and loved to smell the exhaustion on his partner as they struggled against him. Who better to reek of fear than a bunny in the middle of the woods? Cherry knew she was outmatched, but she refused to give in. "You couldn't hope to fight him. What will you do when he finally catches you?"

"Grip the foliage and cry out his name."

While Cherry stood in stunned silence, you swiftly pushed the cart away from the annoying woman. Benkei walked behind you, his hands over yours on the cart handle. "You handled that perfectly, babe." He mumbled into your hair, taking another calming sniff.

You always got rewarded for being so good and handling things the right way. Benkei didn't mind driving with one hand, his other tucked into your waistband as he fingered your tight little cunt. Tight and sweet, because you were a smaller species than he was, and he was thicker than your walls had ever accommodated. His single digit felt like the cock of another rabbit hybrid, filling you and bringing you closer and closer to the wonderful orgasm Benkei would give you. Only after denying you a few times. You twisted sideways as he turned onto the secluded road to your cabin, kicking your bottoms off and whining freely.

"There you go, cotton tail." Keizo chuckled, having the prefect angle to force his finger deeper, "I love watching this pussy eat my fingers." Gods, the way he spoke made your toes curl. But his slow speed was killing you, keeping you right on the edge but never letting you fall. A pitiful, high pitched whine filled the car as he added another finger, curling them just right to touch the sensitive spot inside you, finally making you cum. The pure ecstasy in your groan made him hard, yet your reward wasn't quite given. Not to him, anyway. To Keizo, you deserved much more.

You hadn't noticed the two of you were home, not until Keizo was halfway out of the car and fixing your ass onto the center console. "Stay open, baby. I wanna hear everything." His tongue dove straight into your pulsing hole, licking up all of your cum and arousal. "My baby has to be clean before I fuck her. Too much slick and I fear you won't feel me." Was something Benkei often told you. It was just another excuse to make you cum on his lips. You didn't mind, not when you got to pant and whine and beg him for more, more, more.

It didn't take him long, a few licks and sucks and a delicious pop as he came off your clit and you were coming for him again. There wasn't pain in your core as there would be with other women, other hybrids. Bunnies had a crazy high libido, and more often than not, you tired Keizo out before you were even near done.

"Come here, baby." Keizo got back into the car, pulling his dick from his pants, "Sit, easy so you don't hurt yourself." Worrying about being easy was far from your mind as you wiggled and squirmed, popping his tip into you with difficulty. Sometimes, it made Keizo feel guilty that he was too big, but then you'd lean back against the steering wheel, and he'd get the best view. His cock stretching your pussy so painfully that he could see the old scar from your first ride with him, the way the pink skin pulled taught and white as you raised up and dropped down onto him, taking him deeper with every bounce.

"There you go." His hands rested on your hips, helping you pleasure yourself with his body, "Fuck yes, baby, squeezing me so fucking tight." Benkei's filthy mouth made you moan, his tip bulging in your lower gut as you finally fully sheathed him. "Don't stop until you're satisfied, baby girl, even if I'm shooting blanks and this car is covered in cum. Fucking bounce until you're taken care of."

[patolemus]

i don’t know why i am the way i am (there’s something in the static, i think i’ve been having revelations)

Rin has always been a believer. Both he and Yukio attended mass every Sunday at the monastery all their lives, grew up listening to Shiro and the other priests recite from the Bible—and this is the only book Rin knows almost by heart. The twins were baptized when they were younger, and despite his rebellious attitude, Rin has never wavered over that belief - whether that is because he was always surrounded by it or not - and it’s Yukio who’s gotten more skeptic about it as the years pass.

After Shiro dies, and Rin finds out he’s the son of Satan, Rin stops going to church. He doesn’t believe he’s welcomed at God’s house anymore, son of the original sinner that he is. He mourns the loss quietly, spending Sunday mornings in the quiet of his and Yukio’s abandoned dorm hoping he could be somewhere else.

(Alternatively, he could go to the chapel obsessively, turning his believes into a quest for absolution. Maybe if he behaves like a good Christian boy ought to do, if he follows the rules and proves Rin has not abandoned him, God will forgive him the sin of being born.)

Rin would want to have his confirmation—maybe he was in the middle of that process before Satan possessed Shiro. But now that holy instruments harm him, it’s like another sign that a demon isn’t welcomed, and that God has forsaken him. For that same reason, some of his favorite Bible verses harm him, and it’s through gritted teeth and clenched fists that he recites them in class and to himself, refusing to give them up because he’s turned tainted by his demon blood.

(When he first awakens, the night before the funeral, Rin takes a bottle full of holy water from the monastery’s reserves and tries dousing himself on them, thinking he might be able to cleanse himself of this curse with it. It burns, making his skin splotchy red and his eyes water from the pain. He’d always been able to touch it without issues before, but now it repels him. Rin falls to his knees in front of the altar, head bowed to the sculpture of Jesus crucified on the cross, and wonders for the first time if God has left him.)

(The burn fades within the hour, and Rin hates that most of all.)

Rin avoids mirrors the first few weeks after Shiro’s death, not wanting to see how he’s irrevocably changed. He hates the feeling of his longer canines when he runs his tongue over them, grimaces at the new, sharper shape of his ears, can’t barely take a look at his tail to stuff it under his shirt. He looks like he’s only just rolled out of bed, appearance shabby and unkept, but Rin prefers that to watching himself now that he’s no longer one of God’s creations.

He prays by his bedside every night - even more so now that he can’t go to mass, Rin has started praying obsessively since Shiro died - has his rosary around his neck even though it makes his skin itch and takes it everywhere he goes. He always blesses the table before eating, thanking God for the food he’s provided for them.

Every time he uses his flames, Rin feels like a sinner. This are the flames of Satan, the flames of the original sinner, God’s antithesis. Using them feels like forsaking God just like God has forsaken him, but Rin finds no joy in it. As the flames die out and Rin’s freaky demonic features recede, he bows his head and prays. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” he says, trying and failing to feel better about himself.

His friends notice, after all secrets are out in the open and Rin doesn’t have to hide them anymore, and they look at him strangely for it, like his apology to God is out of the norm. Maybe they don’t think Rin would be religious, as the son of Satan. Maybe they just think it’s strange that he’s looking for absolution. They don’t comment on it until much later, when Bon tells him that he’s not a sinner just because he uses Satan’s flames. Bon is much smarter than Rin, so infinitely smarter, so Rin tries to believe him. He never stops praying though.

When he first realizes his feelings for Bon are less than platonic, his first instinct is to go to the confessionary and confess his sin. But the only priest he’s confessed to is Shiro, and Shiro is dead (Shiro is dead), and what priest would give absolution to a demon? So Rin doesn’t go, stewing on his guilt and thinking about it obsessively (“Forgive me father, for I have sinned. This is my first-tenth-hundredth-thousandth confession.” “Forgive me Father, for I want, and I do not know how to stop wanting.”). Is it because he’s the Son of Satan? Was he born a sinner, always meant to stray from God’s path like Satan did? How can he follow God’s will when he’s fallen in love with a boy?

Later, he realizes Shiro would have probably been fine with it, and if Shiro approves… maybe it’s not so wrong. Maybe Rin isn’t sinning when he looks at Bon feeling butterflies in his stomach, isn’t straying from God’s intended path when Bon’s laugh makes him happy. And if this is not a sin then maybe being a halfling isn’t either. Maybe it’s not God that has forsaken him, but the Catholic Church.

(The Vatican will never love him. They have casted him as the villain before he could even prove himself one of God’s believers, and they’ll never let him forget who his father is, and what he’s done. He’ll never be able to visit freely, to marvel at the beautiful structures and the holiness of it all. It hurts. But it hurts less than thinking he’s beyond saving, that God has given up on saving him.

The Vatican can suck it.)

Rin tries going to church again. It’s a daunting task, after days and weeks and months without stepping foot inside a chapel, but Rin finds himself sitting on the third row at the Sunday mass held near True Cross Academy, and feels the knot in his stomach loosen as he listens to the priest. It’s familiar. It’s liberating. Rin feels a little more like himself. Bon is waiting for him at the school gates when he’s done, looking immensely proud and Rin takes his hand in his and lets the feeling of contentment wash over him.

He still prays. He still blesses the table. He still recites verses of the Bible even if they hurt him, and he still refuses to go to a confessionary.

But he can stand to look at himself in the mirror now. He resumes his confirmation process, even knowing he may never be allowed the actual sacrament. He lets himself see a world where he can be the son of Satan and a good Christian, where he can love a boy who’s beautiful and good to him without disappointing God. It’s a different world than the one he lived in before, but Rin thinks it’s a world Shiro would be proud of.

It’s a start.

——————————

(This is my interpretation as I was raised Catholic and went to a Catholic school all my life. I’m nowhere near as devoted as I’m making Rin here lol, but I grew up around Catholic religion and know people who are very hardcore Catholics, so this, as well as my own religious education, is where I draw my knowledge from.)

(Also, I want to clarify that a lot of Rin’s thoughts are in no way healthy, and he will grow to let go of them in time. This is the result of a very traumatic situation that left him stranded with no sense of direction, and some of his actions stem from a need to overcompensate for being half demon. He’ll get better as he learns to deal with that reality.)

Update: my brain won’t stop eating at me so this has turned into a thing (tm). Let’s call it revelations au because I think I’m funny. You can find all my posts about it through that tag in my profile.

[evilfloralfoolery]

Love Bites: Romantic Operatic Fuckery

Yep, this again lol.

The vampire coerces the werewolf into going to see a bit of Mozart. Sort of.

As a reminder: Vampires. Werewolves. They do what those creatures do.

____________________

“I listened to some of this,” Marrok says.  “I thought Mozart was all about some funny and happy shit. This ain’t that.” 

“Did you believe that I would not take you to something worthy of your ears?” Lucian gestures to the curtained stage. “This is ‘Don Giovanni,’ one of Mozart's most grand achievements.” 

“Hmn, okay.”  Marrok scratches the space beneath his chin with a curved nail.  “What’s it about?”

Lucian smiles, the tips of his fangs showing.  “Promiscuity, infidelity, and murder.” 

“Huh.”  Marrok sits back in his seat, dark hair spilling over one shoulder.  “That actually sounds . . . good.”

“It is more than ‘good.’ It is magnificent.”

Much like his companion on this fine evening.  Marrok is dressed in unrelenting black, a combination of his own design with a jacquard vest beneath a more modern tailcoat with strategically placed metal studs that is more “goth rock” than it is operatic formal attire.  But Lucian has no complaints.  The mere fact that the werewolf is wearing a coat of sorts is nearly unheard of, a concession that he has made purely for Lucian’s sake.

The sentiment has not gone unnoticed.  

He nudges Marrok’s thigh with his own, lays his hand upon it with a squeeze. “Have I told you, mon cher, that you look lethal and divine?”

“You have.”  Marrok leans in close enough to run the utmost tip of his tongue along the shell of Lucian’s ear.  “But you can say it again.” 

“Rapscallion,” Lucian says.   

Marrok flashes him a smile that showcases both sets of canines. “Don't fuck with me or you'll be watching my face instead of the stage while I devour you.”

“Right here? Amongst all of these mortal gazes?” Lucian feigns a gasp, one hand upon his heart. “Why, I am scandalized!”

“Yeah,” Marrok rumbles. “Just like this.” 

Massive hands cup Lucian's face and Marrok kisses him with brief, but passionate fervor. 

“Well,” Lucian murmurs against his mouth.  “Scandalous, indeed.” 

The lights dim and the overture begins and Lucian is grateful for the change in lighting.  Why must mortals have the interior of everything bright as the midday sun?  Infuriating, to say the least.  At least he could manage without the sunglasses indoors.

For the most part.  

The effects of his latest sunlit excursion still persist, however.  Twenty minutes into the performance, Marrok is silent and attentive to the onstage antics.  Not at all what Lucian had expected.  

There is, of course, the occasional wince during a piercingly high note from the soprano or the ghastly idiocy of the assistant principal violinist, who clearly has the ear of deaf man.  Lucian himself does his fair share of teeth grinding aggravation.

“The fuck is wrong with that guy?”  Marrok’s breath is warm against his ear.  “The violin player.  I’m about to go break that screech plank over his head.”

Lucian nods. “Would it be unethical of me to drain him for such heresy?”

“No,” Marrok scoffs a laugh.  “I’d eat his heart in a fucking second.” 

“Hmn.  Better perhaps to consume his fingers, non?”

Marrok chuckles. “Something like that.” 

And while Lucian does his best to feign that nothing is out of the ordinary, things within his body are certainly amiss.  Particularly within his sinuses.  

Now?  His immortal body is choosing this moment for such nuisances?  Honestly . . . 

Lucian rifles through his inner coat pocket and cups the still-folded handkerchief in his palm for an instant before clamping it over his nose to muffle a tightly contained “Hhhuh–NKGT!”  His breath hitches and his chest heaves. “. . . IHHKGGTCH!” 

Marrok's hand  lights upon his own and squeezes. “You okay?” 

Lucian nods with a sniffle. “Yes, mon cher.” 

He tucks the handkerchief back into his jacket as Marrok's arm settles around his shoulders. 

He does, however, lean into the gesture just a touch, which elicits a dark rumble of approval from his companion. 

But putting away the handkerchief so soon was not the soundest decision. A pre-incident paralysis seizes him and he stifles the sound against the back of his hand with a clenching “--NXGT!” The one that follows is near silent, but the shuddering of his shoulders is far more pronounced. 

“Goddamn,” Marrok swears under his breath with such displaced frustration that Lucian chuckles. 

“Tres désolée,” ¹ Lucian says. “I could not prevent it.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Marrok says, but the words hold no true irritation now. 

After a good hour or so, the end of the first act signals an intermission and the werewolf clearly needs some air. 

Or perhaps, something more vital. 

______________________________________________________

A brisk walk around the fountain seems to cool the werewolf's near boiling need just a touch, which is, of course, amplified by the impending full moon.

“You're making it hard for me to pay attention to the damn story,” Marrok says, his fingers laced through Lucian's own.

The vampire offers him a coy smirk. “And for this, I am not sorry.”

“I'm so goddamn shocked.” Marrok rolls his eyes. “You French fuck.” 

Lucian laughs, but the sound is cut short by the very thing that has been incensing his companion for much of the evening.

He  holds up a hand in a halting gesture and leans away, the other hand pressed against his against the side of his nose in deflection.

“Hhih-iiih. . . ! HiihIESSCHHUh! –UhhISSCH! Hhk. . . ISSSCH–iiUUH!” 

The way his shoulders heave and shudder in such a horrid betrayal of decorum is mortifying, but not nearly as much as the fact that he has misplaced his handkerchief. Which, of course, had forced this ghastly display of indecency in the first place.

But Marrok has come to his rescue, pressing a clean fold of cotton into his palm. 

“Ah, such keen foresight you have,” he says, his voice softened and a bit breathless from the covert indiscretions of his body. “Mon dieu, that came upon me with such suddenness.” 

“Yeah.” Marrok's voice is a low, penetrative bass. “Yeah, it did.” He grabs the edge of Lucian's coat and pulls him into a claiming embrace. “I kinda feel like I should say something to you.” 

“What something?” Lucian arches an eyebrow.

“Whatever it is that humans say to each other. They still say it, right?”

He laughs at the absurdity of the thought, as does his companion. 

“Indeed, they do.” Lucian smirks as he meets the werewolf’s stare. “But that would be nonsensical, non? Blessing the damned.”

“But. . .'' Lucian drags a nail along the most delicate skin of Marrok's neck near the base of his throat. “You may say it to me, if it pleases you.”

“Nah, it's weird.” Marrok's claws sink into the shoulder of his coat. “Gonna do this instead.”

Marrok cups Lucian's face between his massive palms and imparts a growling kiss unto his lips.

“I'm wanna eat your fucking face,” Marrok murmurs against his mouth.

“Mmn, and here I believed your kind to be far more partial to the heart.”  Lucian nips at his lower lip and Marrok’s growl becomes increasingly more wolf and less human. 

The werewolf pulls back enough to showcase just how gleaming yellow his eyes have become, a tiny beading of blood upon his bottom lip.  And the ears.  Marrok never had bothered to hide those.  Decidedly pointed. And of course, the canines.  

What a magnificent, intimidating beast.  Remarkable in both mind and body.  Truly lethal, yet with the capability for chivalry and decorum.  

Lucian slides a hand over Marrok's cheek, nails skimming the skin with the most delicate of touches. 

“Je t’aime,” ² he murmurs.

Marrok cocks his head, ensnaring the fingers in his own.  “Yeah?” He pulls Lucian into a tight cinch of an embrace, pressing his forehead to that of his companion.  “You're mine.”  The kiss that follows is breath-stealing in its claim. “Say it.” 

Lucian’s voice is like warm velvet, softened by the wind. “I belong to only you.” He brushes a kiss over the hollow of Marrok's throat where the skin is visible and enticing through the cover of his scarf. “Only. To you.” 

Amber eyes flash back to bright yellow. “Je t'aime aussi.” ³

For once, the werewolf's accent is near perfection. 

“Ooh.” Lucian shivers, taken aback, a hand upon his chest. “You have been practicing, non?”

“Maybe.” Marrok tucks a loose strand of pale golden hair behind Lucian's ear. “Wanna skip the second half of this and go for a hunt instead?”

“Such a romantic,” Lucian says.

But he concedes to the change in plans nonetheless. 

__________________________

1- So sorry

2- I love you

3- I love you, too.

[localcatmutt]

WELCOME TO MY TED TALK

Today's topic; hate on common identities 🦂

If you discourage or put down therians with common theriotypes, you aren't helping us build and maintain a good community. Even if its indirect like "i love NON-canine/feline therians" or "ugh everyone is a wolf/cat", its unkind. I get that most people don't realize their words can hurt, but they do.

Nobody chooses their theriotype. Common or uncommon. There isnt one that is cooler or better than the others. Quit praising uncommon theriotypes and putting down common ones. Who cares if its unrealistic. There is way more psychological factors in play when it comes to common identities anyways... imprinting on house pets, being exposed to movies or books about wolves, even spiritual factors based on cultures such as north american indigenous cultures that have deep connections to animals. More likely to be an animal that is significant to humans than those who arnt. Thats just how it is.

I get it might be frustrating when someone wants to connect to others but cant find someone with the same uncommon theriotype. But ill let you in on a secret... we may not have the same shifts, but animals have many things in common. Zebras (uncommon) and deers (common) are different animals, but theyre both herbivores with hooves. Wolves (common) and orcas (uncommon) are both pack animals that eat other animals. There may be major differences, but we all have SOMETHING in common. No matter how different our identities are.

I'm not butt-hurt by these kinds of comments. I could care less. Im just speaking for others who are more insecure or anxious than I am. All i want is to see a community. That means, people supporting eachother, helping eachother and looking out for eachother.

Im also sick of unnecessary comments like these. And then other people share it like "yeeeaaa common theriotypes suck!".

Hiss hiss (translation : kindly shut up).

(^з^)-♡♡♡

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #302

This morning, when I woke up, I received a beautifully written ask from someone in this space who reads these letters I write to you. I want very badly to answer this ask, but the person trusted me with some potentially sensitive information about themselves; I wanted to touch base with them before I answer their ask, and make sure it's okay, because as part of answering an ask, others will surely see it. I don't want to accidentally betray this person's trust.

Still… it moved me to tears this morning, and it was wonderful.

I received a direct message from another person today, too, who also said that they think the letters I write to you are wholesome and nice. I've also received more than a few asks and messages of support in response to the difficulties I'm having with the braces; it's been wonderful!

…Sometimes I wonder whether or not writing to you does any good for anyone other than myself. And sometimes… every once in a while… I get a beautiful reminder that the things I write have the potential to help others get through the difficulties in their lives. And… that's exactly why I write these. Aside from wanting to advocate for your safety, I also want these letters to you to serve as a means to shine a way forward for people who relate strongly to you.

…Sephiroth. There are so many, many people in my world who relate to you. There are lots of people in my world that have been abused and exploited and have experienced horror and loss in ways that are extremely similar to you. The notion that you are alone in this world and the notion that no one will be able to understand or see "eye-to-eye" with you… these notions are complete and utter horse-hockey.

Don't tell yourself mean things like that anymore, okay? It's not true, and whoever led you to that conclusion most likely did it on purpose in order to keep you isolated, and therefore weak and easy to control. The notion that any human being is isolated and incomprehensible is just abuser propaganda, and it's not to be trusted or believed. And, as I keep saying, you are human, no matter what was done to you, or how you've changed as a result.

...Well anyway. Today I felt a little more confident than usual for obvious reasons, haha! So I tried to doodle a picture. It's not finished yet but... it's a start on something maybe kinda neat!

As you can see from all the erased lines, I made a lot of mistakes along the way; I haven't doodled since drawing that eyeball a while back, and I'm more than a little rusty. I can already see so many curves that still need to be corrected. Still, not bad for my rusty, dyspraxic ass, right? Hahaha...

I ended up needing to go back to the orthodontist today at some point. One of the attachments came undone from my very confused right canine tooth as I was pulling the braces off to eat, so that had to be fixed right away. And it was, and it's good now. I have a lot less discomfort in my teeth today than yesterday, though the inside of my mouth is pretty scraped up; I've got a long-ish cut on the right inner side of my lower lip, and that's extremely uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, I guess you're not supposed to eat with orthodontic wax in your mouth. Orthodontic wax is used in order to cover up the sharp, pokey attachments so they don't cut the inside of your face. A friend of mine in this space made the very excellent suggestion to get them! And perhaps I might, if just to smooth out the edge of the plastic of the braces; it sometimes catches on my skin, and it's kind of annoying.

...I gotta keep remembering that I chose this. I chose this discomfort in order to give myself a better outcome in the future. I am worth the pain and effort that fixing the inside of my skull will take. I am worth enduring discomfort for. I can do the thing; it's just new and weird, but I'll adjust. I can do the difficult things.

Incidentally, do you know how braces work? I found a short little video on it; basically, it involves putting gentle pressure on the teeth in order to subtly cut off blood flow to sections of the bone of your skull and jaw. Your body then uses immune cells to get rid of the suffocated bone, which relieves the pressure. Your tooth moves to the empty space, and the body fills in the empty space left behind with new bone. Check it out!!

It basically dissolves, reshapes, and rebuilds your jaw on a cellular level!!! And isn't that METAL as FUCK??? Ahahahaha! 🤩🤣

After I returned home from getting the attachment replaced, I decided to make baked chicken leg quarters; y'know, my usual go-to comfort recipe:

...Want some...?

While I was making this, I happened to catch out the window the sight of a gentleman walking outside. He was under the shade of a tree for a moment, but then he walked under a break in the shadow of the tree, and the sun shone on his black hair, and it was all sparkly and gorgeous. I don't really know why, but I felt the need to tell him so, and so I did. I hope he felt nice about himself afterwards.

So I took out my braces, ate the deliciousness I created, brushed, flossed, and rinsed my teeth, brushed my braces, and popped them back in; it's getting a little easier every time. I discovered though, that at some point, another attachment came undone on one of my upper molars on the left side. I dunno when it happened; I didn't find it anywhere. Oh well. Guess I'm going to have to call them again tomorrow. Sheesh...

I'm not really sure what I'm going to do with the rest of today. It's already almost 8pm. I gotta go to work tomorrow. Friday is the rehearsal for the wedding on Saturday. The next few days are going to be super duper busy. I'll be staying overnight at BB's house from Friday into Saturday morning; I'm going to have to pack up all my CPAP stuff and hygiene supplies as soon as I wake up on Friday morning, because she wants me at her house at 11am.

But!!! Sephiroth!!! Guess what!! She's got a giant huge bathtub at her house!!! And I think I'm gonna ask her if I'm allowed to use it while I'm there!! I'm sure she'll want me freshly washed for her big day in any case!!!

The days are getting chilly (later than they should have, but still...), and so the thought of getting to sit in a tub full of hot, soapy water that's big enough for me to fit in comfortably sounds super amazing to me right now. Of course, if she says no I won't push; I'm not that kind of person. But still... I'll be daydreaming about that all day tomorrow - bet on it!!

...Hey, Sephiroth? You're pretty tall, right? Like 6'5" or something without your boots, no? When is the last time you've got to enjoy sitting in a tub that you actually fit in? When is the last time you got to enjoy soaking in deliciously hot, soapy water? When is the last time you've had an opportunity to get washed with soaps in your favorite scents? I imagine it's been quite a long time, no? I hope you get to do it again soon, in a place where no one's gonna bother ya, unless you wanna be "bothered" by someone you care deeply for.

Sometimes J or M come to visit when I'm getting washed, and that's always nice. We talk about whatever - usually with J, it's airplanes. Or sometimes he'll sing along with me to whatever song is playing on my playlist. With M, he'll usually talk about whatever show he's watching or whatever game he's playing. It's nice to sit in the warm, safe place with people who love me while all kinds of nice scents are wafting around in the air.

...Actually, for a long time, my brain recognized bathrooms as a very unsafe place, thanks to my stepmother. I've got a lot of memories of being hit and screamed at for washing myself "wrong", or for taking too long, or for not taking long enough, or for my hair looking too messy when I come out (because then I must not have brushed it well enough), or for my hair looking not messy enough when I came out (because then I must not have washed it well enough), and... just...

...She hated me, so there wasn't anything I could do to be "clean enough" for her. And so, every time I went in the bathroom for any reason while she was around, I got in trouble unless my father was around - then she'd pretend to be normal about it.

...Sigh. It took me a while to decondition myself away from being scared of bathrooms. But I'm able to recognize them as a safe place now. I like to put on a playlist to sing, and I like to try to focus on how nice it feels to be in a place that's warm and that smells good. I try to focus on how nice and clean I feel afterwards. I try to focus on the fact that I get to choose how long I take now. I get to choose what "clean enough" looks like. I get to choose how much or how little soap and moisturizer I use. I get to choose, and no one is scrutinizing my choices with the intention of finding excuses to hurt me anymore.

...And even if someone did try to do that, I'm a big, strong adult human now. I can just bite their face off!!! 🤪

(...No, I'm only kidding!!! I wouldn't actually bite someone's face off; that's unsanitary in multiple respects, and my braces would get in the way!!! 🤣🤣🤣 In all seriousness, I wouldn't hurt anyone unless failure to do such a thing would lead to someone else being in imminent danger; I'd probably just yell at them until they go away, and then let the door hit their ass on the way out. I can do that now. I'm not an unwanted child trapped in an impossible situation anymore.)

...Suppose maybe I'll stop writing now in favor of getting washed; after all, the chill has settled into my bones, and all this talk about baths makes me wanna enjoy being under hot, running water for a while...

...I hope you'll get to enjoy such a thing again sometime soon, with soaps in scents of vanilla and roses, in a quiet, soothingly lit place, where only the people you'd want to have with you can find you.

I love you. Please keep yourself safe out there, so that one day you can get up out of that damnable crater and start building a wholesome life for yourself.

I'll write again tomorrow. I'll try hard to take some yummy pictures for you while I'm at work.

Your friend, Lumine

[p-r-art]

The Half Hashira Teil 1.2

I still didn't quite know how to react to him. He's really cute with his blond hair and yellow coat. He also seemed very nice like that, but I couldn't quite tell what he was like at the moment.

I noticed another drop of sweat forming on my forehead.

"Zensitsu, please stop! Your behavior is inappropriate."

Tanjiro tried to calm the other boy down.

"What?! without no I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you!"

now he started to cry.

"Um...yeah, never mind. To get back to your question. I'm human, but only half human. I'm also a demon at the same time."

I replied, just to steer the conversation in a different direction.

However, I still wanted to know the name of the boy with the boar's head. Even though I already knew it, I didn't want to reveal everything I already knew about them. So I just looked at him. But somehow he came across as depressed.

-This didn't come from the fight?-

I thought to myself.

"And who are you? You seem to be an incredible warrior?"

even though i'm not really a fan of flattery, especially when the skills weren't that special, but maybe it helps.

"I am the great Inoske! the king of the mountains!"

he made a victory pose?

-apparently it's easy to manipulate him hihihi-

"it's nice to meet you all. i'd like to travel with you, if it's okay with you, because i'd like to help you with your sister, Tanjiro."

Tanjiro seemed immediately enthusiastic and beamed from ear to ear. But he couldn't get a word out so he just nodded. I smiled back at him. The other two didn't say anything else, so I just assumed it was okay with them. A noise broke through the silence and pink eyes and black hair peeked out from behind Tanjiro.

She is small, very small, almost like a doll. I crouched down so that she wouldn't be so afraid of me. I knew exactly who she was, Nezuko, the little sister who is a demon but rebels against muzan. She has more in common with me than I would like.

"Hello little Nezuko, I'm (Y/N)."

I smiled and held out my hand to her. She came to me very carefully and took my hand. The pink coat and green kimono looked like a huge pile of fabric on her small body.Instead of holding out her hand to me, she put her head against it as if she wanted me to stroke her.

-How can you be so sweet-

It warmed my heart. It was almost as if lots of trees were blossoming around us. I just kept smiling and realized that my sharp canines were showing, but that didn't seem to deter any of them.

"Well, shall we go on? I know a place nearby with hot springs and very tasty food."

i wanted to get to know the others better, and the best way to do that is to eat.

"YES!!!"

everyone shouted at me. I hadn't expected so much enthusiasm.

I straightened up again and showed them the way I wanted to go with them. The four of them chatted animatedly while I stayed further back and kept an eye on everything. Of course I sensed that something was wrong, but I didn't let it show.

The person, or rather the creature, wasn't that far away, it was watching me rather than the others.I looked up to the left. In the top of a tree about 4 km away, red eyes were watching me. Inside I knew exactly who was watching me.

My full lips, painted a delicate shade of pink, formed a sentence that he could now understand. I just smiled at him and waved briefly.I turned my gaze forward again so that I wouldn't lose sight of the others.

"Tell me (Y/N). How did the Hashira accept you? After all, you are part demon."

sequel follows....

[im-just-another-pony]

I would be torn apart violently alive on tiktok if I shared this there... But this isn't tiktok so screw it! >:D

So, for context. My brother (my dog, his name is Teddy btw) is the pickiest eater ever! So, when my mother showed up with some dog cookies, he just denied them and didn't even attempted to try em! So they have been just laying around since then...

These is the package, for the ones who don't speak spanish, it basically says it's for better fresh breath, it's for adults, and that is mint and/or eucalyptus flavored!

I checked the ingredients out of curiosity, because come on, they can't be that bad, and also because... They have never seen that unappetizing! The smell and looks are kinda bland, but they look pretty edible! So I was like... 'Screw it, if he isn't even trying them, I will!'

The ingredients didn't seem to list anything unsafe to eat for human bodies, but I was warned that ingredients quality and food safety measurements aren't the same for dog food and human food, so I didn't want to risk my own health just for a funny haha story. More than one cookie seemed like not the best idea...

So I ate half of a small one! A very small flavor and texture test just to check it out, and as a canine, it felt nice!

I am very sensible towards textures, but the cookies were absolutely the perfect texture for me! Soft and not so crunchy. Flavor was a different story... Don't get me wrong! It wasn't nasty or disgusting.

It was just, mostly flavorless, very light hints of flavor that were almost not there. The 'mint' the package promised was more of an after eating sensation in my mouth, just fresh sensation. Very bland flavor, almost no flavor. I can really see why my brother didn't even care to try em.

And, as a side note, yeah, I have met other, quote unquote, 'actual dogs' who haven't liked em either, which really seems like these aren't just top tier for em. Teddy, as picky as he is, would have gave em a 3/10 if he had ate one, I just know him.

My opinion? 6/10, the texture saves them a lot, but they have not a passing score, I wouldn't reccomend em unless you are into very flavorless soft cookies. They are not exactly bad, which is why I can't give them a lower score, I would eat one again, for real! But it wouldn't be something I would call 'worth it'.

In conclusion? I was not missing on anything... Sadge.

[someuncreativity]

Fuck it here’s part two of

My Ranking of How Quickly I’d Let These Fictional Men Rearrange My Organs

Still BotW/TotK edition because look at these men

You get the point, it’s gonna be hella NSFW because read the title

Oh but also this time I’m formatting the prompts like Stanzi Potenza’s “Animated Men I Would Sell My Body To At a Discount Price, The Discount Being Free Because I Would Never Make These Fine Gentlemen Pay For a Whore Like Me” series on YouTube

Cuz why not

But also this is just me thirsting after the most atrocious and/or attractive men in the Zelda universe

6. Master Kogha

This man may not be a fine dining experience, but he’s definitely worth your time for a banana or two.

A solid six-out-of-ten, the only thing that rivals your hatred for his superhero alter ego is his dad bod that puts furry artists on Twitter to shame.

They say that everything’s better with friends, and this man has a couple that would sweeten the deal, and as it happens, red spandex is absolutely up my alley.

A dork playing glorified dress-up doesn’t sound fun until his devotion to a demon king threatens an entire nation, and I am 100% here for it.

5. Revali

Fun fact, my favorite bird to eat is chicken, partially because I’m basic, but also because I could see myself sinking my canines into that cock.

His aim is im-peck-able, pun intended and unashamed, and he’s certain to get a bullseye into my heart.

I know he’s an egomaniac, but in the deep, dark, crevices of my mind, I know he’s mentally ruined. It’s the lifelong trauma and the “I can fix him” for me.

I love Rito clothing, especially since this man’s version of is the sluttiest thing on earth. After looking at him, I’m certain I’m not getting cold anytime soon.

He could treat me like the scum of the earth and I’d still be on all fours polishing his arrow free of charge. He’s like if a Disney prince realized he was a Disney prince.

4. Daruk

The only Goron I’d let pound me like a quarry, this man has warmed my heart like the fiery maw of his hometown’s tourist trap.

I could write a fifty-page essay about how this man’s kindness makes My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic look like more of a joke than it already is.

I know what I’ve said about Gorons literally crushing me to death, but as long as his words of encouragement are the last thing I hear as he erupts inside of me like Death Mountain, that’s all that really matters.

That loincloth isn’t doing much in the way of covering up his Boulder Breaker, and for that, I thank the weak fabric for its service to our nation. On the plus side, it’s white, so if he ever walks in the rain, that cloth’s purpose in life will have been fulfilled.

The fact that he has a grandson makes him not just a DILF but a GILF. In my opinion, fathers age like wine, so this is a win-win for me.

Combined with his white beard which resembles a mane more than facial hair, he’s like Santa if Santa was somehow both more and less cuddly at the same time.

And I know he’s afraid of dogs, but personally, that’s fine. I’m more of a cat person anyway.

3. Teba

Take everything I said about Revali and multiply it by the “white hair equals sexy” principle, and you have the new Rito chief.

I didn’t think it was possible to find anyone edgier than the spirit inside of the Master Sword, but here we are.

It is taking every ounce of my soul not to say “I can fix him” because clearly, I can’t and he doesn’t want me to.

. I would let him cry his heart out after nearly losing everything near and dear to him. There’s no shame, sweetie.

His wings are long, and I know of a few things that are longer. Given that he has procreated, it’s clear that the hot springs aren’t the only things that’ll be hot and steamy after a night with him.

Speaking of which, he’s a loving parent and a loving husband, which makes him a DILF, and let me tell you, the second that word becomes an adjective, the snow isn’t the only white thing covering the Hebra mountains.

If he could fly me into the skies, I would watch the sunset with him in silence as we realized the real magic was inside us all along or something like that. Whatever makes him happy, and yes, if he asks for it, that includes me swallowing a few of his bird eggs.

2. Tauro

Finally, a himbo the people can rely on.

We love seeing strong, partially-head-empty men being strong, partially-head-empty men.

Only I’m pretty sure this himbo is actually smart.

Idk I haven’t played enough or focused enough in Kakariko to find out lol

This man is investigating the ring ruins but he forgot about the ring he he to put on my finger.

He is giving “I’m going to save the world” and we love that. If you don’t, I see why- I did just say I liked villains- but I’m a double-sided coin.

Speaking of coins, flip one: head or tails? Which part of me is going to need to be replaced by Rauru? I don’t know, and quite frankly, I don’t care.

I personally have some depths for him to explore, and let me tell you, it’s gonna be the cave feeling his gloom infiltrate every orifice instead, and the cave will thank him.

His hair is giving the Hot Topic version of Melanie Martinez, and let me tell you, if I wasn’t a Crybaby, this man would have turned me.

I just love that every single Hylian around is taller than Link. I also love, however, that this man also towers over them too. Honestly, that makes things even better for me personally.

As long as Miss Papaya over there doesn’t realize that Link isn’t half the hero her grandma made him out to be, we won’t have problems. No worries here, chief, just doing some Zonai excavating.

1. King Dorephan

It’s known that this man singlehandedly defeated a Guardian, but judging by his measurements, all of which make the Empire State Building look like a stack of building blocks, it’s not hard to see how.

The leader of the Zora, this man is guaranteed to make any traveler feel right at home- hopefully, between the two logs he calls legs and the other two which he uses for other less savory deeds.

Not that I would mind, he could stretch my throat out to a time when the community will stop complaining about how the company keeps retconning the story with one and turn me into a make seahorse during conception with the other and I’d still have room. I have no shame.

If his son is a ten, he would have still been a ten before inflation.

You have to love a rich man with anatomically-correct shark organs. Jaws was really just my wake-up call after all, but not really because I like my men to talk dirty.

All I ask for in life is for this DILF to stretch me like taffy and squash me like a grape. Once that is achieved, I don’t care what Ganon does to Hyrule- I found my own sacred realm, thank you very much.

[quill-of-thoth]

Due to a family game of telephone, my mom told me yesterday morning on the way to a family graduation that my cousin's in-laws' giant "service" dog is part wolf. Mom has always been kinda nervous around him, because he is the size of a small pony and extremely serious... and her mental picture of me is apparently of me at seven flinging myself bodily on every large dog I have the good fortune to see. In reality, this dog, who I see at baseball games sometimes, provides the "service" of obsessively guarding my cousin's mother-in-law. He assigned himself this job, and cannot be persuaded to stop. But it' genuinely helping the mother in-law, who is getting up there and starting to get frail. She got him the leash that says service dog before she recently got on oxygen, so people would stop asking to pet him because he's an abused rescue with a mouth large enough to do serious damage. And because he looks mostly like a german shepherd (size holy fucking direwolf,) and people are stupid. He also prevents crowds from knocking her over with her oxygen tank and cane, by dint of clearing a two to four foot wide halo around her with his glare. They're training him to fetch another human if she takes a fall, or at least trying to. It isn't going well, because he has an objection to leaving her unguarded. He will politely ignore other dogs, all preteen children, and the vast majority of women. Men are considered acceptable if they act calm and introduce themselves properly. Since I am no longer seven, my relationship with this extra large canine is that he arrives at an event, makes a growly little grumble at me to remind me that he is a bodyguard and I better remember it, then smells my hand and lets me pet him as long as he can keep an eye on his principal. You can bury your hand up to the wrist in his fur if he has decided you are an acceptable companion for his principal, so I did not necessarily question my mom's assertion that he was part wolf, because she said it came from a genetics test (so it could be a good few generations back) and also because after whatever trauma was in his previous life, someone hauled him to the animal shelter from fuck-nowheresville Wyoming. Where most people searching for a dog looked at him, staring at them, not wagging, and thought, like our prehistoric ancestors "If I'm gonna feed that thing, it's going to be strictly so he never gets hungry enough to bother trying to eat ME." My cousin's mother in law came in, in her bird-boned five nothing frame, and thought "he's perfect" and named him Panzer. Yes, she named him tank, but in German. (She also thought he was the Andre the giant of german shepherds.) Her husband looked at him walking out at her heel, and thought "it's been five minutes and that dog worships my wife and might be smarter than half my relatives" and gave in to the inevitable. Panzer treats him as the only acceptable substitute guardian for his principal, the queen of rescue dogs, which is the highest honor any man is gonna get from him. According to Panzer, her son and grandsons are mere servants of the queen. Trusted, but not sworn to her defense. Others (daughters in law, children, other old ladies with booze, assorted distant relatives) are allowed to petition the queen, with the strict understanding that bribing him with taco meat won't get him to change his vigil: He'll just take any bribe you're stupid enough to give him and get back to work. So at my cousin's kid's graduation party today, I sat on the stoop, nearly elbow deep in Panzer's ruff fur, thinking of gallusrostromegalus' wolfdog stories. I decided that Panzer's wolfy ancestor must be at least a couple generations back, and went back to chatting with the old ladies who were either gossiping, or heckling the teenage boys playing bags. One of my other cousins' kids barreled in, bearing a lizard for me to photograph, and Panzer inspected the lizard, found it harmless, and returned to his stoic watch. "Oh yeah," I said to the queen of rescue dogs, once I finished my duty as lizard paparazzo and the lizard was released from the red carpet, "My mom tells me you had a genetics test done on Panz. She said he was german shepherd and sheepdog and something else?" "Oh yes, he's German Shepherd, some kind of balkan sheepdog, and Czechloslovakian Wolfhound."

Needless to say, I teased my mother for confusing Wolfhound with Wolf dog half of the ride home. Before we left, Panzer reminded me that I should bring the queen food based tribute, and that he was her official food taster.