#foaming and kicking and hissing and biting

[happytapirstudio]

SPIDERHEAD BY GEORGE SAUNDERS NETFLIX ORIGINAL?????????

[igotanidea]

2 a.m. visit: Jason Todd x reader

link to the photo in the description, my mouth is foaming....

Summary: Y/N wakes up in the middle of the night to some disturbingly familiar sounds coming from her neighbour apartment.

Warnings: a bit of smut, but nothing too graphic (still MDNI), swearing, and possibly messed up ending.

***

It was 2 a.m. and she was fairly annoyed, knocking on her neighbour’s door.

God damn Jason Todd and his stupidly stupid habits of waking people in the middle of the night!

God damn Jason Todd who was apparently too busy making noises to open up!

“Todd!” she cried out, her rapping becoming more exasperated by a second. “TODD!” she couldn’t care less about the rest of the neighbours, who (with no hard feelings) were probably too old or too deaf to hear her calling. “Open up or I swear I’ll kick those doors”.

Obviously there was something around zero chances of her fulfilling that threat but what else was she supposed to do.

“TODD!!”

“What the hell?!” the door finally opened and the culprit himself stood up in front of her, wearing nothing but his boxers, his upper body exposed, his hair tousled in a perfect mess, his eyes a bit blurry. Clearly, it took him a second to realise that it was Y/N standing at his doorframe, but once he did, his eyes grew wide, he blushed a little and quickly grabbed one of his shirt hanging by the door and put it on it. “Y/N... I…. um….” He stuttered.

“Oh, stop with the fake modesty, Jason. I’ve patched you up too many times to care about you being covered or not.” She almost rolled her eyes at his actions.

“What…. I mean.. um... did something happened?” he mumbled looking at the floor. If only she knew what he was doing merely seconds ago she would probably understand why he was trying to cover himself up so desperately. Thank god, she was clueless, standing within arm’s reach of him, so cute and innocent in that pyjamas and without makeup.

“could you please moan quieter?” she asked, being as straight-forward and blunt as always.

“Wh-what -?”  he could swear he had a mini heart attack the second those words left her lips. Oh, god…. “You-- ?”

“Thin walls.” She muttered.

“I…”

“Hey, it’s okay Jay. Don’t be embarrassed. We all have needs, I get that. But it’s not like I want to be up all night with that soundtrack in the background. However…” she trailed biting on her bottom lip to hide the amused smile showing on her face.

“What…?” Jason was both pale as a wall and red as a tomato.

“It’s quite a progress that I only hear one voice.”

His eyes grew wide once again, looking like a mill wheels. Oh shit, shit, shit….

“Y/N….”

“Sh. Told you, it’s okay. Apparently you got a way for girls to agree with you all the time. Yeah, I heard all those times too.” She winked at him. “But you’re alone tonight, aren’t you? Hope I didn’t ruin a perfectly good orgasm for another woman?”

“Y/N!!”

“What?”

“Stop it!” Shit, shit, shit.

“Why? Those are completely normal things, Jason. We are both adults and everyone else here is deep asleep, so what’s the problem?”

“YOU are my problem!” he cried out, pulling the shirt closer to his body, trying to hide something that was becoming terrifyingly visible. Fuck, she had no idea …

“Me?” Y/N frowned “Why me? Don’t be silly we are friends, I won’t give away which girl caught your attention. Besides, I didn’t hear you groaning any names so…” her casual shrugging almost made him yell in frustration. How could she possibly be so cool about everything, unfazed by the strangeness of the situation, while he was almost crawling out of his skin due to the mixed feelings?

“Fuck that!” he finally hissed and much to Y/N’s surprise grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside the apartment in the accompaniment of a single surprised cry.

“Hey! What’s with the passive aggression? I didn’t lock my flat!” poor girl tried to bypass him, but apparently Jason was dead set on making it impossible for her, standing in her way, his muscular frame blocking the exit.

“shut up!” he hissed, clenching his fists and it took her by surprise. Yes, she saw him pissed off before. Yes, she knew he was short-tempered and had anger management issues, but this? This was something different. Like he was walking on the edge, barely controlling himself but still fighting against blowing up in her face. Key word being barely.

“Jason….?” She stuttered taking a step back, bumping into table and almost throwing down the lamp. “Calm down… please…”

“Calm down?! The fuck am I supposed to calm down when you come here saying things like that to me, acting all innocent and pretending that you don’t see what you do to me!” he shouted taking as many steps forward as she was taking back.

“What I do to you?” she repeated, being completely oblivious to everything that was happening inside and outside Jason.

“Don’t pretend to be stupid!”

“HEY!”

“You do this on purpose!”

“Do what?! I don’t….holy shit!”

Mhm. Yes. You guessed it. She finally saw what she had been doing to him. And it was both exciting and disgusting. Jason was her friend! Her neighbour for god’s sake! A man who had different girl in his bed almost every night. Or every other night. And now… now he was clearly ready to make her one of his booty.

“Oh, no. No. No!” she scoffed “No way in hell.”

“Y/N…” Jason hissed, the way his body was reacting on having her so close was becoming painful. He took another step forward but she stopped him with putting a single finger up.

“Don’t! You dare move an inch. Why on earth do you have a hard on while …” she didn’t finish the sentence, her face dropping. “Oh… fuck… please tell me you didn’t …”

“Y/N….” he tried again, this time way more desperately.

“Oh my god… you did.” She gasped, her mind going into overdrive. “You did, didn’t you?”

“Please, just listen to me…” Jason Todd was whimpering like a dog, feeling like a total looser, embarrassed, humiliated, ready to crawl back to his grave and die because of the look she was giving him at the moment. It was never supposed to happen. She was never supposed to know or – god forbid – experience. It was supposed to be a secret. Closely guarded. To put it lightly, Jason was cursing himself for opening that stupid door in the first place. He foolishly believed that one round with imaginations in his head would be enough, but clearly it  was not.

“Just say it! Come on, just admit it!”

“Fine! Fuck! Fine! I was thinking about you! Happy now?! I was thinking how it would be like to have you! To touch you, to kiss you, to hold you, to take you! Is that what you wanted to know?!”

“Damn Todd…”

“I can’t control it, even I wanted to! And the reason you didn’t hear any names through that fucking wall is…”

“No! No, don’t you dare saying it!” she rushed at him, putting her hand on his mouth, shutting him up.

The sudden contact, given the context of situation, was probably a mistake, since her touch sent shivers through Jason’s body and his eyes flashed dangerously with desire. Y/N was playing with fire now. The fire she was capable of starting so easily but unable to put out. And she knew it. And, being the perfect contrast to Jason’s burning, she froze at the spot.

They were standing in front of each other, in a dark apartment, Jason in boxers and shirt hanging loose from his body, doing nothing to hide those tons of muscles and Y/N in her pyjama, which was doing pretty much as little.

Slowly, mindful of every single muscle twitch she put her hand down, her eyes never leaving his. It was almost as if she was hypnotised. Or shocked. Or both.  Her mind was screaming at her that Jason was her friend. Her friend. And it was unwise to ruin years of knowing each other just because she had the sudden urge of feeling the weight of his body on hers. Because for some unknowing reason, despite the fact that she saw those muscles and those scars so many times before, helping him with his injures, he never found him hotter than at that moment.  Because the picture and imagination of his hands on her, his mouth on hers, kissing, biting, licking, tasting and exploring every inch of her skin, was doing so many things to her, she had to bite her bottom lip to stop the moan, arising inside her. Y/N heard a lot of girls through that wall and she knew Jason was more than skilled in the art of love making and pleasuring a woman. And despite all her morals and inhibitions the craving of him giving her a little demonstration was becoming unbearable.

That was not the plan.

That was definitely not the plan.

But she was just a woman, who hasn’t been touched in a while and her neighbour/ best friend, was apparently (and visibly) more than ready to help fight that touch starvation.

Shit.

Her gaze landed on those perfectly sculpted abs, chiselled chest, strong arms… Her mind started wondering of what it would be like to be gripped by them so tight it would leave hand shaped bruises, what it would feel like to be left breathless due to the pressure of his body pushing her into the mattress, to lose her voice while calling his name, feeling him in the most intimate way possible.

Shit.

She tried to not look at his face, to avoid those green eyes filled with lust. For her, for her body, for her moans, the taste of her lips, the feeling of her skin under his fingertips.

Oh, yes, she tried so hard.

To the best of her abilities and her  obviously unwavering values.

She even tried to move back to run away from her own needs, which, ironically, she called normal a few minutes ago, while standing at his doorframe.

Funny how the tables turned, cause now she was all hot and bothered, feeling like a freaking prey while Jason was the hunter. And given all his Red Hood skills, he was not going to let go before getting the bunny he’s been chasing.

“I want you.” He whispered with that hoarse, low voice, making her take a sharp breath, almost catching in her throat. “I want you…” he repeated, appearing right next to her in a split second, grabbing her by the waist, pulling her to him, one of those perfectly thick thighs pressing between her legs in a way that made her buck her hips forward, wetness soaked her pyjama pants, her core craving friction. “Babygirl…” Jason whispered in her ear, brushing lips over her earlobe, and cheek, his breath burning her skin as he moved to nibble and lick the soft spot on her neck with his obviously trained tongue. Y/N could only fantasise what it would do in some other place.

“Jason…” she moaned.

“Yes, princess….” This was not a question. He didn’t have to ask what she wanted cause he already knew, probably even better than she herself could express. “Say yes… come on, sunshine. Let me make you feel good. Let me show you the pleasure you never knew before.” He kept caressing her, hands finding a way under her pyjama shirt, travelling up, feeling her soft skin, moving up to her breasts, not covered by bra, almost touching them, but leaving her wanting and needing.

“how are you so cocky now…?” she gasped, her body squirming when he pressed her into a wall.  “you weren’t so self-assured a minute ago.”

“I must be doing something wrong if you can still think logically…” he smirked, reaching fingers up under her shirt, brushing over her boobs, causing another shudder. “Say yes…” he grabbed her tighter, showing all the man attitude. “Just say yes, baby…”

“Fuck… shit…” his thigh was pressing into her core invitingly and she wanted nothing more than  to brush against it, but he was effectively preventing her from doing so. Little bastard wanted to be in control and to break her.

“Not even close, baby…” he nuzzled his nose in her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with the smell of her skin. “I want you… you want me… you can make it easy with just one word. Come on…” he started tracing the letters of said word on her waist, scratching gently, adding to her arousal “Y-E…”

“YES! Ok, fuck, yes, yes! I – mhp!”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence when his lips finally crashed on hers, hands grabbing her waist lifting her up and holding tightly against him, her back pressing into a wall, her legs wrapping around him. Each of Jason’s caress and movement was an entire declaration of the feeling that he had kept hidden for months, trying to suppress his affection for Y/N with multiple one night stands.  

In a blink of an eye, his shirt was gone and Y/N was tracing over his skin, seemingly in the same way she’s been doing while cleaning him after patrols, but in fact, completely differently.

This whole situations was completely different, emotions and hormones running high and wild, out of any control, not that either of them wanted it.

No.

No, fuck the control. All they needed was the release, the sweet feeling of being with each other in that perfect, unfiltered, unadulterated way. No hesitation, no inhibitions just all the feels, even if they had no idea what they were doing, but also at the same time, moved with purpose, heading towards a specific goal.

Hands, lips, tongues, teeth, muscles.

Fingers tangling in hairs, hot, ragged breaths, mouth whispering love letters on skin, the urge to be even closer than physically possible.

Just them two in their bubble in dark room in a dark apartment.

Full desire.

Full pleasure.

The warmth of the other’s body, shivers of lust and excitement all over.

“Jason…” she whispered, letting go of him for a second to allow him to take her sleepwear off.

“Y/N… Y/N… oh, mine, mine…” Jason might have read hundredths of books in his life and had a vast vocabulary range but at his moment, he was only using body language, the only word on his mind was her name. HER name.

“Please…” she whispered, grabbing him tighter, running nails down his back. “Please…” she begged for the release, craving the feeling she’s been missing for such a long time, grinding on him, aching.  

“Oh, princess, I’ll give you everything you want. But I want you in my bed first.” He smirked, pressing his lips to hers again, tasting her, while carrying her to bedroom, kicking the doors shut the second they reached the destination. “you’re the queen, I’m not taking you against the wall, baby.” he threw her on the bed, immediately climbing on top of her, spreading her legs and diving into her core perfectly, without even trying.

It was like they were made for each other.

“More…oh, more…”

“Yes.. yes, more… everything you want, baby. Everything you need from me. Everything.” He whispered into her ear, giving justice to all her fantasies from before. “Sing for me, my angel.”

Heaven is not a place. Heaven is a person.

And Jason was hers as much as she was his.  

***

When she woke up next morning at first she couldn’t recognise the place she was in. But the sheets smelled like him and she smiled to herself, remembering the last night, what they did, how many times and in how many ways they explored their bodies, breaking the laws of biomechanics and flexibility in the process. Who would have thought that you can fit as many things in such little amount of time.

There was still this pleasurable tingling on her skin in the places where he kissed and touched and devoured her. Hopefully he felt the same given all the crazy things she did for him.

And speak of the devil, her night-time hero walked right through the door with a sleepy expression on his face and with the perfect bedhead, curls falling into his face.

“No breakfast?” she teased, noticing his empty hands “what happened to treating me like a queen?”

“Hm…” Jason muttered in response, blushing ever so slightly “are you asking for more of it? I’m more than ready for it, but figured you’d still like to walk…”

She laughed a little when he jumped on the bed next to her, resting head on arms, looking at her lovingly, melting her heart.

“Hey Jason….”

“Hey yourself, pretty one…”

“Look, I…” she sighed not sure what to do now and how to figure out her own feelings. Jason was clearly head over heels for her and slowly, the guilt and remorse that she had only used him in the moment of weakness and body talk, started creeping in.

“Sh. You don’t need to say a thing.”

“But…”

“Not a thing, Y/N.”  he said again, propping himself up and kissing her temple “I’m just glad you’re here with me. I don’t really need much more…”

Liar.

Of course he wanted more. He wanted her to love him back, to be his one and only, to have her exclusively, to be her boyfriend, with the tiniest amount of luck. But on the other hand he was also desperate and would settle for any scrap of her affection that was more than friend-like. Hoping that with the right amount of patience (which he lacked), stubbornness (which he had in excess) and caring he would get the same confession out of her in the future.

@lightwing-s

[pitviperofdoom]

It has been a HOT minute since I posted anything here about Caleb and Jack, my vampire-and-frankenstein-monster duo. They're two of my nearest and dearest OCs, and rest assured that no matter what else I get up to, they're always in my thoughts.

But this was the last time I made a substantial post about them, about six-ish years ago when I tried writing their story for NaNo. The way I was writing it wasn't really working out, and I shelved it for a bit so I could continue developing the storyverse they're part of.

And, well, I did a lot of development! Came up with a much more coherent plot for their intro story, ended up working on it last November for NaNo, so it worked out.

Anyway, some time after my previous attempt, Jack in particular went through quite the redesign, and for a while I've been wanting to draw how he looks now, but it's been ages since I drew regularly and I could never get up the nerve and motivation for it.

But hey! Writing's my thing! So I figured, why not just post his in-universe description?

So, here's Caleb and Jack's first meeting, in its current incarnation. Hope you guys enjoy:

Caleb’s hand was halfway to his phone when, further into the woods to the southeast, a pair of high-pitched howls rent the air.

“Shit.” He was already running. Normal wolves didn’t range this far west. What the hell were werewolves doing out here when there was a creature on the loose that already put two of theirs in the hospital?

A third wolf voice joined the rest, not so much a howl as a yelping scream. Caleb abandoned running and took flight instead, shooting upward until his bat form broke through the foliage and flitted over the trees unhindered. The wolves, bless them, continued to howl for help, leading Caleb straight to them. Once he was nearly on top of them, Caleb dove back down through the treetops. He abandoned his bat form halfway down, and let his weight carry him the rest of the way to the earth.

Three small, rangy wolves paced and snarled in the dark. One was limping. The other two crowded in front of them protectively, teeth bared to the gums at the fourth figure crouching in the loam nearby. 

It was a person, or at least person-shaped, dressed in rags and snarling like a beast. It moved strangely, its feet elongated so that it balanced on its toes like a bird. There was blood on the ground, and blood on its long, sharp, shining fingers.

One of the wolves lunged and snapped, and the creature charged. Caleb met it halfway and struck claws-first.

His talons tore through clammy flesh. The blow sent the creature stumbling back, clumsy on its oddly-built legs. Its foot caught on a root and sent it flailing to the ground, and Caleb was upon it before it could recover.

It struggled wildly beneath him, teeth gnashing and foaming as it tried to bite him. Another blow to the face, and Caleb’s claw caught on something that didn’t feel like flesh—string? Thread? Its breath smelled of blood and chemicals, and its eyes—

There was something wrong with its eyes.

It kicked out at him, and he found its feet just as sharp as its hands. He was forced to let go when it cut him in the stomach, and it broke away and scrambled back until a tree halted its retreat.

One of the young wolves charged again, baying like a hunting hound, only to catch another sharp-taloned kick to the face. The cornered creature lashed out again, and Caleb flung himself sideways into the wolf, knocking her out of the way with a yelp. 

“Get out of here!” he hissed, and the wolf snarled back at him defiantly. In the space left by their argument, the creature scrambled to its feet and fled. Caleb was about to give chase when the wolf slammed him back and took off after the creature themself.

By now the creature was wounded, and its gait made it slow. The wolf caught up in two bounds, and Caleb couldn’t reach them before the creature whipped around and tensed as if to attack.

With a deafening snarl, a fourth wolf—easily twice the size of the others, dark brown with a dusting of red around the ruff—appeared out of the trees, sank her teeth into the creature’s shoulder, and flung it back. The smaller wolf yelped in shock and skidded to a halt. Caleb overtook them and pounced on the creature before it could recover. It was trying to rise when Caleb pinned it to the earth, fangs bared. Dimly he was aware of the wolves’ snarling presence behind him, but his eyes were fixed on the creature. His mind raced. Removing the head or destroying the heart was usually a good bet, but he didn’t know what he was dealing with in the first place.

Head was easiest, at this point. If this was somehow a fucked up zombie, it might not even have a heart.

His hand closed around the creature’s throat. God, he wished he’d brought a knife.

Beneath him, the creature went limp. Its jaws cracked open, exposing smooth, shining teeth.

“St—Stuh—Stop.”

Caleb startled so badly he let go. The creature gasped and scrambled away again, before the red-maned wolf darted round to cut off its escape. A snarl from her sent it cowering into the dirt, crying out. 

“Stop please.” The words scraped their way out of its throat. Immediately it flinched, curling in on itself as if anticipating another blow. 

All Caleb could do was stare at it, then at the wolf helping him corner it. “You heard that, right?”

Maya Robinson cocked her head to the side, looking for all the world like a dog that had just heard a new sound.

“Did you just talk?” Caleb demanded, feeling ridiculous. It could be mimicry. He’d heard rumors of necromancers teaching their puppets to imitate speech.

The creature curled into a tighter ball without a sound.

“Hey,” he bit out. “Answer me if you understand. Did you just talk?”

It flinched again. Breath rattled and hissed in and out of it. “Sorry,” it rasped out.

Caleb stared at the wolf cornering it. She stared back, nonplussed.

Behind him, another growl rose from the smaller wolf from before. They crept forward, eyes fixed on the creature. The cuts on their face still bled. They lunged, only for Maya to let out the loudest snarl Caleb had ever heard. Cowed, they immediately dropped to the ground and pinned back their ears.

The creature on the ground startled visibly, rolling to its feet. Maya turned toward it, teeth bared, and made as if to lunge and put it straight back on the ground.

“Wait,” Caleb cut her off, one hand in front of her glaring face. “Just, wait. Give it a minute.” The wolf gave a disgruntled snort. “Don’t. You aren’t even supposed to be here.”

Maya snorted again, unimpressed, before turning away, tipping her head back, and howling to the sky. Answering calls reached Caleb’s ears within seconds.

“You, sit,” Caleb growled at the creature. It sat, arranging its legs awkwardly on the ground, and Caleb stepped back to take his first good look at it.

It looked human, for the most part. Its component parts seemed mostly human. It had two arms, two legs, and a head, all where they were supposed to be. Cautiously he took hold of one of the creature’s wrists, turning it over for a better look. It submitted to the inspection meekly enough, silent as it waited for him to finish. 

Maya had been half-right about it wielding knives. Its hands were knives; the fingers stopped at the second knuckle, and instead of the last two joints were six-inch steel blades. The thumb had been treated similarly, the last joint replaced with a shorter blade. Caleb tested one edge and cut himself easily. He released the wrist and turned instead to the strange shape of its feet, and had to stare at it for nearly a minute to understand just what he was looking at. Below the heel, its foot was an elongated fusion of metal and flesh that split into three toes with long, curved steel talons. It was built to walk like a bird. Like a dinosaur, more like.

Beneath the rags it wore, prominent seams crisscrossed its flesh, making its skin a grisly patchwork. The face alone had at least three different skin tones, each bordered by thick, even stitching. A shock of grayish-white hair grew from its head in uneven tangles. Caleb cautiously brushed it out of the way of its eyes, and couldn’t suppress a hiss of instinctive revulsion.

It didn’t have eyes. No sclerae, irises, or pupils. The sockets were pits of viscous black ooze that leaked like tears.

Caleb breathed in, drinking in the mingled floral-chemical scent, and sighed.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you,” he informed the wolves. “I have no idea what I’m looking at.”

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 7

Rustshade and Oilpaw struggle to cooperate.

[Image ID: Rustshade and Oilpaw face each other. The text box above Oilpaw says “Maybe I’d trust you if I knew what you were doing half the time!”]

“Are we on a walk or are we on a hunt?” Rustshade called back to his patrol. “Come on. Weedfoot and Downstar need food.”

“I’m freezing,” Oilpaw groaned. She walked beside Scrubmask through the snowy forest. They were near the Great Northern River that flowed along the northern edges of SlugClan, AshClan, and RippleClan. Oilpaw could see it through the conifers; a beautiful path of white foam over water that matched the color of the sky. 

“Stay close,” Scrubmask said. “We’ll stay warmer that way.” Oilpaw rubbed against Scrubmask. Her long fur was like sitting by a fire compared to the chill stabbing through Oilpaw’s feet. 

“Scrubmask, I want you to go through the trees,” Rustshade said, pointing his tail up. “Let’s search for gray squirrels.”

“Dad, why don’t we try the river?” Oilpaw asked. “There are bound to be some fish there.”

“I don’t want to risk frostbite,” Rustshade said with nary a glance toward the rushing water. “We have other tasks to handle today. We don’t have time to sit by a fire after the hunt. I’ll head further west. Scrubmask?”

“Into the trees,” Scrubmask sighed. She launched at the nearest pine and scurried into the branches. Her absence sent a cold wind across Oilpaw’s pelt.

“Oilpaw, look around this area,” Rustshade ordered. “Fennelspot said he saw some jumping mice near here.” With that, Rustshade pushed on and left his daughter in the cold.

“Oh, what do you know,” Oilpaw grumbled, kicking a pebble. “WheatClan cats don’t fish.” Oilpaw couldn’t smell any mice nearby. Why shouldn’t she look at the river?

Oilpaw stalked through the trees toward the graceful majesty of the Great Northern River. The river flowed smooth the further west Oilpaw looked, but as the water ran to the ocean, rocks tossed the water about and jutted out of the river. The river’s flow cut smooth lines through the stone that guided its path ocean-ward. A junco bounced around the edge of the river, leaving tiny marks in the snow underneath. Rustshade never said anything about hunting beside the river, now did he?

Soon after, Oilpaw had the dead junco at her paws and licked warm blood off her fangs. It was a solid catch, capable of feeding at least two of her little siblings, but it wouldn’t be a lot. That was when Oilpaw heard a loud splash to her right. A big fish flapped on one of the big, flat rocks that dotted the edge of the river. It was a brook trout as long as Oilpaw’s leg. Oilpaw would have been a poor hunter if she gave up a star-given opportunity like that.

Oilpaw pounced on the trout before it could flop back into the water. She dispatched it with a swift, albeit messy, bite to the back of the neck. She couldn’t help but purr as she placed the trout beside her junco. Now this was a good catch, and she barely had to wait a moment between the two! Now how to carry them back to camp…

“Oilpaw!” Oh great. Dad. Rustshade trotted out of the trees, eyes locked on the trout.

“I leave you alone for a moment, and you immediately go against my orders?” Rustshade snapped.

“I didn’t go fishing,” Oilpaw insisted. “The trout jumped out of the water. I swear! See, I’m not even wet!” Oilpaw held out her paws, but Rustshade pushed them down.

“I asked you not to bother with the river, and you still went here,” Rustshade growled. “Are you this rude with Weedfoot?”

“Weedfoot doesn’t give dumb orders,” Oilpaw hissed. She stood over her prey like Rustshade would steal it. “If we’re hunting, why shouldn’t we try the river?”

“When I’m leading a patrol,” Rustshade huffed, “you need to trust me.”

“Maybe I’d trust you if I knew what you were doing half the time!” Oilpaw yowled. Rustshade’s fur rose. Oilpaw nudged the trout onto her back, with the fish’s slick body carefully balanced along her spine.

“What are you doing?” Rustshade asked.

“Bringing my prey back to camp,” Oilpaw growled. “Your kits need to eat, don’t they?” She grabbed the junco before she could regret her words.

“Oilpaw, please wait,” Rustshade groaned. He reached for Oilpaw, but she slipped away, marching away from the river as her heart burned.

(Rustshade: 64, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)

(Oilpaw: 11, female, historian apprentice, charismatic, morbidly curious)

(Scrubmask: 24, female, warrior, gloomy, fast runner, good hunter)

Burdockkit convinces Scrubmask to play with him while Clamkit talks to bugs.

[Image ID: On the right, Clamkit faces a tiny ant and says “Hi, little ant! I’m Clamkit!”. Below her, it reads + NEW TRAIT: INTERESTED IN CLAN HISTORY. On the left, Burdockkit chases Scrubmask, yowling “Can’t you run any faster?” Scrubmask says “Trust me. You don’t want that.” Under Burdockkit, it says + PLATONIC LIKE: SCRUBMASK, + NEW TRAIT: INTERESTED IN CLAN HISTORY)

(Burdockkit: 1, male, kit, bossy, interested in Clan history)

(Scrubmask: 24, female, warrior, gloomy, fast runner, good hunter)

(Clamkit: 1, female, kit, lonesome, interested in Clan history)

Although Carnationpaw recovered from her cold in time for the Gathering, Twinekit now has greencough.

[Image ID: Twinekit sits in a nest, with text underneath her reading + NEW TRAIT: QUICK TO HELP. Locustkit sits on the right, saying “Twinekit? Twiiiiiinnnneeekit! Come play with me!” Underneath him, it says + NEW TRAIT: MOSS-BALL HUNTER]

---

“Twinekit? Twiiiiiinnnneeekit! Come play with me!” Locustkit hovered outside of the medicine den. His little nose twitched as he leaned into the den. The full moon shone onto the den, as though StarClan wanted Locustkit to explore the mysteries inside.

“Nope,” Oilpaw chuckled. She snatched Locustkit by the scruff and dropped him a few tail-lengths back. “The medicine den is full of sick cats right now. We don’t need you getting sick too.”

“But everyone’s leaving, and I’m bored!” Locustkit groaned. “Twinekit said she’d play moss-ball with me tonight!”

“She’ll play with you once she gets better, alright?” Oilpaw sighed. Locustkit groaned dramatically and flopped onto the sand. Oilpaw couldn’t stop herself from laughing. When she forgot where they came from, her little siblings weren’t half bad.

“Remember, don’t strain yourself,” Fennelspot said from the Shiprock. He sat next to Downstar, whose belly had grown plump in the last moon. Oilpaw could almost feel the life radiating from her leader. Fennelspot groomed Downstar, but Downstar gently pushed him back.

“I know what to do,” Downstar said, laughing. “I can’t wait to show off in front of Autumnstar tonight. Two litters in RippleClan! He’ll be furious.” 

“Please don’t fight Autumnstar,” Fennelspot groaned.

“I make no promises,” Downstar purred, gently bumping into her cleric. The rest of RippleClan gathered in the center of camp, grooming themselves before Downstar led them to the Leader’s Stone and the full moon Gathering. Rustshade was not in their small numbers, to Oilpaw’s surprise. 

“Locustkit!” Burdockkit yowled from the nursery. “Help me out!” Burdockkit had Clamkit pinned in the snow. The golden molly squirmed under her brother’s hold. She spun around and nipped Burdockkit’s cheek. Locustkit ran at his littermates and pounced on the duo.

“Be good tonight, alright Oilpaw?” Weedfoot lingered just inside the medicine den. Her voice was congested and yellow phlegm dribbled down her nose. At least she wasn’t coughing her lungs out now.

“When am I not?” Oilpaw chuckled, fluffing her pelt. “I’m going to tell all the new apprentices about the Giant Frog of RippleClan.”

“Good for you,” Weedfoot hummed. “Fennelspot said I’ll be better soon, and I can join you on patrol again.”

“I’m looking forward to it!” Oilpaw said. Violent coughing bounced through the medicine den. Rustshade stepped out of the holy den.

“Fennelspot, did you say to wait before I give her catmint, or give it when she needs it?” Rustshade asked.

“Wait until we leave, at least,” Fennelspot sighed. He trotted up to Rustshade and touched noses with him. “Good luck tonight.”

“You’re staying behind?” Oilpaw asked her father.

“Fennelspot wants to make sure Downstar doesn’t strain herself,” Rustshade explained. “I’ll stay behind and look after the kits.”

“Oh,” Oilpaw muttered. “Well, like he said, good luck. Let’s go!”

“Hold on,” Rustshade called as Oilpaw turned around. Oilpaw groaned and faced her father. “I want to talk to you before you leave. Over here.” Rustshade nodded to the apprentice’s den. He trudged across camp while Oilpaw looked to her Clanmates for help.

“You’re on your own,” Weedfoot said, going back into the medicine den. Oilpaw groaned again and dragged her paws after her father. Rustshade lurked inside the apprentice’s den and sat next to Oilpaw’s nest.

“Are you still mad about that fish?” Oilpaw huffed. “It’s been days, Dad, let it go.”

“This is more important than a fish,” Rustshade grunted. His tone was tense and he sat tall and stiff. Oilpaw hopped into her nest as her fur prickled. Rustshade sighed deeply, his surprisingly gentle eyes meeting Oilpaw’s. “Tonight, when you get to the Leader’s Stone, I need you to speak with Sunstrike. Tell her Twinekit has greencough, and… it’s bad. Very bad.” For a moment, Oilpaw couldn’t breathe. Did her father actually admit something for the first time in his life?

“I knew it!” Oilpaw hissed. “I knew they were Mom’s kits! Did you steal them?”

“Oilpaw, you know I wouldn’t do that,” Rustshade snapped. He fought to keep his fur flat. He took another deep breath, closing his eyes. 

“She told you she wouldn’t be your mate anymore,” Oilpaw growled. “She gave me up. And you had kits with her? Did you want to traumatize another generation? No, that’s not the question I want to ask. How in StarClan do you have them? Why aren’t they in WheatClan?” Rustshade scooted closer.

“When your mother couldn’t hide her pregnancy,” Rustshade whispered, “she left WheatClan and gave birth in the wild. As soon as the kits could start eating gruel, she brought them to me and went home. WheatClan thinks she was taken by humans. They don’t know the kits are hers.”

“You couldn’t stop yourself, could you?” Oilpaw hissed, stepping out of her nest. “How am I the responsible cat in this family? You two can’t control yourselves!”

[Image ID: Oilpaw and Rustshade face each other. Under Oilpaw, it says + DISLIKE: RUSTSHADE. Under Rustshade, it says + PLATONIC LIKE: OILPAW. The description box below them acts as a giant text box, with Rustshade saying “Oilpaw, Your mother and I... our relationship is complicated. We love each other as much as we hate each other. But we both care for you and your siblings, and we’re trying our best to give you good lives.”]

“Oilpaw…” Rustshade groaned. He slowly set his chin on Oilpaw’s head. Oilpaw shivered, but she didn’t pull away. “Your mother and I... our relationship is complicated. We love each other as much as we hate each other. But we both care for you and your siblings, and we’re trying our best to give you good lives.”

“So she put them in danger by giving them up?” Oilpaw muttered.

“She thought they would live better lives outside WheatClan,” Rustshade explained, “just like she thought you would be better with me in RippleClan.” Rustshade looked Oilpaw in the eyes and said, “We love you, Oilpaw. Please understand that.” Oilpaw couldn’t look away. She thought she was going to cry and throw up at the same time.

“I can’t talk to her,” Oilpaw gulped, stepping back and shaking her head. “I can’t do it.” Rustshade nodded softly.

“Alright,” Rustshade sighed. “I won’t force you to do this. Who knows, it may not matter. Twinekit might get better.” He moved closer, but stopped himself. “Enjoy the Gathering.” With that, Rustshade left Oilpaw to her confusing, conflicting thoughts.

(Locustkit: 1, male, kit, troublesome, moss-ball hunter)

(Oilpaw: 11, female, historian apprentice, charismatic, morbidly curious)

(Fennelspot: 64, male, cleric, insecure, valuable insight, incredible runner)

(Downstar: 66, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Burdockkit: 1, male, kit, bossy, interested in Clan history)

(Clamkit: 1, female, kit, lonesome, interested in Clan history)

(Weedfoot: 56, female, deputy, charismatic, very clever, formidable fighter)

(Rustshade: 64, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)

[topazy]

Inside, outside

Pairings: 10k x reader, Addy Carver x sister reader

Warnings: Smut, swearing, mentions of vomit

Chapter: 4.09

The moment the cellar doors slam shut, you rip the damp bandana from your mouth, letting clean air into your lungs. Your pit stop to look for supplies took a turn when a toxic gas that turned into foam appeared out of nowhere, forcing everyone to take cover. Warren and Sarge split off while the rest of you headed towards a shop that appeared to be open, but when a couple of Z’s appeared, you and 10k managed to lure them away and mercy them before taking shelter elsewhere.

“I think we are below a bar,” 10k says, his eyes observing the barrels of booze. He turns and looks at you in surprise as you start to pull your clothes off. His jaw tightened as you shimmered out of your soaking wet jeans. “What are you doing?”

“Stripping.” You laugh at the blush on his face. “I have clean clothes in my bag.”

You open your backpack and pull out a plastic bag, throwing the clothes you’d just been wearing inside. The dampness from the fog didn’t bother you, but being covered in zombie guts did. When you turn back around, you find 10k standing with his face inches from yours and his body bare aside from his boxers. He has a mischievous look on his face as he tucks strands of hair behind your ear.

“Tommy…”

He smiles and says, “We could be down here for some time.”

“Or not…So we better be quick,” you giggle.

He crashes his lips against yours, hooking his hands behind your thighs and lifting you up. Your legs wrap around his waist as you deepen the kiss. 10k pulls back; his eyes move around the darkened room until they land on a sleeping bag in the corner of the room. He walks over to it and places you back on your feet.

Clumsily, he pulls off his boxers before kneeling to the ground and kissing your stomach, his finger tracing the scar on your thigh. Both of your bodies were covered in scars, but the only one that you cared about was 10k’s bite mark. It was a constant reminder that he died.

“Hey!” Feeling a nip on your thigh you look down to see 10k grinning up at you, “Did you just—”

You stop talking when he places a kiss over your most sensitive area before hooking his fingers into the side of your pants. When your underwear hits your ankles, you kick it to one side before gently pushing 10k onto his back. You unclasp your bra while straddling him and say, “I’ve missed this.”

He locks eyes with you briefly before sucking at the skin along your collarbone and chest, leaving bruise-like marks. You didn’t necessarily just miss being able to have sex with your fiancé; you missed being able to spend any time alone with him more than anything. You regretted taking the days you lived in the treehouse in the forest for granted.

10k lets out a moan of pleasure as you sink onto him, his lips finding yours quick. Finding a rhythm was easy in that position; his hand comes forward and slips between your legs, causing you to let out your own moan of pleasure. It’s not long until you’re both chasing release, letting out a groan as you reach your high.

You collapse forward, your hands landing on either side of 10k’s head, both of you panting and sweating. He kisses you on the forehead and says, “I missed it too.”

—

You jolt up when you hear a banging noise close by. “Shit,” you hiss while scrambling for your clothes. “Z’s or other survivors?”

10k gives you a worried look while pulling his boxers back on. When the banging grows louder, he picks up his gun and aims it at the cellar door.

“Warren?”

Recognizing the voice, you quickly climb up the ladder. “Sarge, it’s Astra, don’t shoot!” You yell before unlocking it, and you hold it open for her to come in. It worries you that she’s alone, “what happened?”

“The foam became so thick it was hard to see, and I lost sight of Warren.”

“Warren’s tough; I’m sure she’ll be okay,” 10k says, lowering his gun.

Sarge looks between the two of you and scrunches up her nose when she takes in the sight of you both in nothing but underwear. “Seriously?”

You try your best to hold back a laugh. “How-oh-shit,” you point at the foam starting to leak through the door. “It looks like we need to move fast.”

—

You, 10k, and Sarge manage to make it to a barber shop, where Doc and Murphy are currently taking shelter with four other men, including Sketchy and Skeezy. It amazed you that they had survived so long. Unfortunately, the two other men were in the middle of robbing the barbers when you arrived, but the three of you didn’t notice until it was too late. The foam was becoming thicker and more toxic; 10k had inhaled some of it, which was causing him to vomit. You quickly pass him a bucket and look the other way; you only turn back around when you hear the cock of a gun.

“This is still a robbery!” A short, bald man says, pointing the gun in Doc’s direction, but Sarge charges him, causing a fight to break out. During the commotion, you stand with your back to the wall beside Murphy in the back room to try and avoid the bullets being fired. The fighting only stops when a naked, deformed-looking Z runs into the room and knocks Sketchy and Skeezy to the ground. A very tall, bulky man named Tiny stamped on Z's head, crushing its skull.

“Oh shit man!” Skeezy says he's panicked and pulls the back of his collar down. “She bit me! She bit me!”

—

Tiny and his bald companion, whose name kept changing between Sal and Tony, pulled their guns out, and you and 10k slowly started to back away before another fight broke out. Doc was trying his best to calm the situation while Sarge chimed occasionally, supporting the bald man’s plan of cutting off Skeezy and Sketchy’s arms and legs.

If it wasn’t for 10k protectively pushing you behind him, you would have suspected the whole thing was a hallucination.

“Stop! We're going to do this the old-fashioned way,” Murphy says, stepping into the middle of the room. “It sucks, but fate has chosen to screw you. We play by one rule. Survival of the fittest We toss him out in his ass, and let Darwin do the rest.”

Sketchy looks at him appalled, and let’s put in a loud gasp. “Murphy, how could you? We're talking about Skeezy here.”

Murphy turns to look at you and says, “Astra, out of the two of them, which one did we almost kill?”

You didn’t need any time to think before answering; you still got chills thinking about that day. “I headbutted Skeezy, then you hit him on the head with a brick.”

Sarge gives you a shocked look and asks, “Why?”

“He was being a creep.”

After some debating, it was decided that it would come to a vote on whether Skeezy could stay inside or be forced out into the toxic foam. Before the final vote could be cast, two men entered the bar, both of them projectile vomiting. They seemed odd; both of them were talking in fake English accents and were wearing sombreros.

When they stopped throwing up, the two men came in and immediately grabbed Skeezy and started to push him out of the door. It was obvious you’d missed a lot before arriving. “Wait! Wait!” Sketchy smiles at Skeezy and then gives him a very passionate kiss. “I just had to, before you go.”

Skeezy smiles at him and says, “I love you.”

“I know.”

You raise your brow at them for quoting Star Wars. You were starting to wonder if you’d be better off taking your chances with the Zs at this rate. The men toss Skeezy out, and he screams violently as he dies... of something.

When the screams stop, one of the new robbers pulls out his gun and demands everyone strip. Sarge eyes you suspiciously, noticing the fresh hickies on your body and lets out a snort, “Twice in one day? Lucky me.”

Murphy shakes his head and tuts, “You two are like feral rabbits.”

You roll your eyes at his tone of disgust and return your attention to the two men holding you hostage. Neither of them seemed to have planned this far ahead and were trying to figure out a plan.

Sketchy starts to beg them not to take him to the basement, making them take you down towards it. You notice the nervous look on Doc’s face as he asks, “What’s in the basement?”

He mouths ‘Z's.’ Oh shit. The doors to the basement open seconds later, and Zs pour from them. You retreat back up the staircase as the dead devour the new set of robbers. Tiny and Tony/Sal shoot the Z's, then return to holding you all hostage.

When the door to the shop begins to rattle, Sketchy motions for you to step back from it. Seconds later, a sharp pole lands in the chests of the men holding you hostage, killing them, and Skeezy walks back into the barbershop.

You look between Sketchy and Skeezy and say, “Was this whole thing planned?”

The two slightly unhinged men explained the whole thing was a set up so they could take over the barbershop. You stare at them dumbfounded and say, “We need to find Warren.”

—

When morning comes, you find Warren standing on a bridge, looking slightly confused. She doesn’t say much, but you follow in the direction of Route sixty six.

[trash----panda]

Story pt 2

There was no way out, her new roomate was gonna kill her. She was frantically looking for a way to survive, anything that could save her, but this was the end, he'd dealt the final blow.

"DAMN IT" she kicked the joystick, it was bigger than most of her body "you only won cause this thing is huge!"

the bright red letters blinked on the screen 'player 1 wins', the larger male giggling a little as the pixie threw her fit. They'd only been rooming a week but were already quite comfortable together, Joey learning he was too much a push over to be a threat and Dendro just glad she wasnt scared of him. She'd started spending every day, 9am-4pm training, everything else was learning her way around the faucility and bothering her new partner.

"you cheated!" She insisted, the light fuzz of her body puffed up at the moment, her eyes giving away how she was thinking about where to bite him.

He was just glad she was hanging around "well you said the size of the controller didnt matter, that you could still win" he couldnt help it, a little bit of a cocky smirk escaping. He watched as she hissed and went to go hide under the bed, she didnt need much space so she was mostly living under there, except for the nights, she was usually gone before he woke up but the fuzz she left behind let him know she'd wanted some snuggles. He wagged his tail a little, getting up to turn off the system "how about this? We go get some snacks and try again later?" He watched the darkness under the bed for any movement, it took a moment but she did come out again.

"fine, but im not walking" she mumbled, waiting for him to put his hand down before stepping on "i hate you, you know that?" She glared up at him, even more moody when he laughed at that.

------------------

The canteen was in no way full, basically abandoned when it wasnt a meal time, to the left of the dining area there was a small shop where you could get more mundane items and even snacks. He headed inside and looked for anything they'd both like, though it was kinda hard picking anything they could agree on that wasnt candy. She liked meat while he prefered dried bugs, she like potato chips but he liked tortilla, he was so focused on searching that he didnt notice she'd gone off on her own to look.

Joey was in the candy, of course, looking at hard candies, they'd work as projectiles and as a snack. Already silently plotting her revenge for that loss. The both of them got startled when their wrist watches got an alert, a mission? Already? Ok whatever. She sighed, going to look for him, by now the dummy was looking for her, trying to call for her softly "Joey? Hey" she landed on his head, leaning over to look him in the eyes "i'm here" he visably relaxed, headed towards the garage.

------

The pixie was still kinda hungry but that had to wait at the moment, they'd met up with the chief, she didnt like him. It was cause he was human, humans were annoying and self-important, she could even hear it in his voice. Sadly that's all she was paying attention to, snapping out of it when Dendro started headed for one of the AATV(Armored All Terrain Vehicle).

"wait what are we doing?" She tapped his head, trying to make sure she had his attention.

".... Did you hear anything he said?" He picked her up and gently slid her down into her seat before going to his "it's just supposed to be recon, possible infectious disease, basic symptoms are the usual. Aggression, loss of inhibition, foaming at the mouth?"

She starred at him blankly, letting him know she heard none of it "like rabies... but 10x worse?" She shrugged, figuring she'd know when they get there.

He sighed and started up the vehicle, getting it out on the road before setting the auto-pilot. He needed to change, since this could effect him he needed to get a hazard suit on. Blushing a little when he felt the other's eyes on him

"what are you doing?"

"muscles" she kept starring

"what-"

"im a bug" she gestures to her body "i cant build muscle the same way... it makes your body look.... interesting"

He just tried to ignore her, not wanting to think about it too hard, just going over the breif in his head over and over instead, hoping they'll get there soon.

[crackedopen]

𝓘𝓽'𝓼 𝓮𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭, 𝓸𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓼- a Foxiyo angst one-shot

Hello there, 

As I’ve mentioned here, my mental health and university got caught on me and this led to me not posting anything both on my AO3, but also on my Tumblr. I’m sorry for that. 

Have this sweet painful Foxiyo one-shot as an apology, you can read it also on AO3.

(Obligatory TW for: gaslighting, mentions of erotic themes, torture, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of an assassination attempt)

Enjoy! 

The crimson red stilletos were now lazily propped up against the wall, leaving the souvenir from a 4 hour long meeting with The Council in the shape of tiny chaffs and scars on her ankles, dark blue against the cyan skin. The golden headband with two curved crescent moons at the front laying on the white and gold dressing table also left scars, in the form on the dull ache on both of her temples. She wished the traditional Pantoran garments weren't that heavy as she stood in front of the mirror and took of the nose stud linked to her earrings with a heavy chain.

Her royal purple shawl was looking at her from where it has been thrown across the chair, as if it was looking with annoyance.

You really fucked up as a Pantoran woman, Riyo.

The senator sighed.

Why am I not perfect, she asked herself before telling her faithful servant android to turn off for the night as it finished cleaning up.

There was a knock on the door. Riyo opened, tying a night robe around her waist in a hurry.

Her knees sank.

"Fox."

The bigger man in a civvie sherpa jacket scooped her up, kissing her without any tiny bit of patience.

Her eyes scorched his soul as they broke apart, gasping for air.

”Are you alright?”

"Yes. Very much so..." the guard purred low in his broad muscled chest visible from under a basic grey T-shirt "And you... Did you miss me?"

The Pantoran nodded eagerly.

"Yes. Yes, I did. I... I longed for you so badly. I thought my heart would break during that damned meeting. It took us four hours to finally decide what to do with The Chancellor. Four hours."

Fox's heart sank. The Commander was also on the brink of patience, sanity and consciousness. Everyone on Coruscant and in The Senate was.

And all of that because of one Sith Lord who was hiding all along under their noses, under the costly robes of The Chancellor of The Galactic Republic.

"Fox...." she mewled, her sky blue tattooed hand sliding across his chest, her own squeezing in pain and desire.

Her golden round eyes lined with smudged kohl meant only one thing.

The Pantoran almost squealed in an extremely non-senatorial way when the giant man picked her up like she weighted nothing to him (which was, frankly, quite probable), carrying her to her bedroom in a bridal carry.

Riyo purred, her hand caressing Fox's chest.

"I've missed you so much, Fox... I'm literally burning"

Fox chuckled, biting his lower lip not to hiss in pain. The boxing training was a pain in his ass today, so bad he could feel every singular thread of muscle under his skin taut with pain.

Just like that one time when a pale bony hand made his synapses scream, getting torn apart and shaken deep from the core by blue lightning creeping up and down his body. Forming spit and foam around his mouth, carving black and blue scars that could not be covered with exquisite ink he got to cover and adorn himself, to wrap his broken shell of a body in a cocoon of colors and shapes.

And the voices.

Oh, those were the worst.

"Well, I can say that too” he murmured, taking on a small smile, so small but yet so big it could hide all the anguish  “I feel like my training routine mixed with daily work in the Senate is kicking my shebs right now..."

Her purple lips curved in a soft smile.

"I can help~"

*

The elderly man’s blue (no, they were yellow, Fox was sure he saw a glimpse of yellow in those crystal-like irises, sick putrid yellow) eyes were cold, glacial, even though they burned. His smile cut through his soul like a spear thrown into his body, even though it was warm. Friendly.

No. There was nothing friendly about this smile. Small smile, making his pale wrinkled face even more distorted. Deformed, as if it was done by a dull knife.

Just like the one given to this poor blue-haired shiny by drunk civilians during a lonely patrol in the depths of the dark, rotting Underworld. The Commander flinched under the thick plastoid shell of crimson armor.

The boy would never smile again.

Long bony fingers like the ones of an ancient mummy tapped the smooth surface of an expensive goblet crafted of fragile Pantoran glass. Fragile like Her skin.

May Manda protect my Lady, Fox prayed, clenching the burly gloved hand so hard and making the whiteness bloom on his knuckles under the rough fabric.

“Commander CC-1010. Are you unwell?”

Trooper’s body stiffened, taking on the position coded into his muscle memory. Arms behind the back. Straight posture. Helmet on.

And by Manda, don’t move.

Don’t show him anything.

He already knows.

“By any means no, Sir Chancellor. I feel alright”

A non-existent thin brow rose up nearly to the nobleman’s disappearing hairline as his face froze in shock. A perfect parody of concern.

“Oh? Just alright, Commander?”

Boots crafted from red Nabooian bull leather made a slow rhythmic sound, like a distant sound of Kyr knocking on the door of a dying man. The costly dark blue robes flowed down the wooly carpet, deep dark navy of the ocean against the crimson of drying blood.

Crooked yellow teeth appeared from between the Chancellor’s thin lips in a snarl, stinking breath filling the filters in Fox’s helmet.

“Aren’t you grateful by what I do for you and your people? Don’t you feel just…. Just a tiny amount of satisfaction, a feeling that you owe me everything? The caf you drink? The armor that protects you disgusting lab-made body from getting mauled and crushed and shot at? Your brothers and sisters?”

Lab-made body.

Lab-made body.

The shell of flesh, bone and thick strong muscle that hosted the organs and bones. The living tissue that tasted punches and cuts, got licked by flames and lightning, swallowed blades and bullets and shrapnel. For Fox it was weird how it could still carry on after two and a half years of being in the Coruscant Guard. The Guard Chief Medical Officer also didn’t bother to hide his shock. The crimson Commander remembered the time Pierce had to physically drag him to his private quarters.

Ah. A common occurrence.

Fox wasn’t a fearful man. A one not incapable of emotions, yes. But not fearful, and most certainly- not a coward. No one who spends their days and nights carrying the whole Triple Hellhole on their back is a coward. But a sound of frail Pantoran glass being smashed against the wall into tiny little shards by enraged Chancellor’s hand would make even them shudder.

“Kneel”

The warrior did so, feeling his heart speed up.

The elderly nobleman in long flowing dark blue robes started circling him, each step crunching the pieces of broken glass under his heels.

“I must admit” The Chancellor hissed through gritted teeth “I’ve been blind. I’ve been blind to all the signs, all those things that have been happening under my nose. Blind and deaf to this… Peculiar relationship of Miss Chuchi and yours."

Fox saw the tips of scarlet leather shoes as Chancellor Sheev Palpatine of Naboo stopped right in front of him, gazing down at his unmoving kneeling body.

“I’ve been in love as a young man, you know? A short-time relationship with my father’s secretary. But, alas, the poor girl lost her charm and beauty and wit as sickness struck her. Oh, how she begged, how those sweet golden eyes pleaded me for comfort, for understanding.”

The older man bowed down, his lips against Fox’s helmet.

“Just like your lover’s, Commander Fox. Do you want to know what happened? How I comforted her?”

The soldier’s whole body tensed like he’d been turned into a stone by whatever magick in the Universe.

“I came to her chambers at dusk, and slit her throat. One single cut was enough to comfort her. Don’t weep, though, trooper. She was getting boring after all”

Fox felt bile fill the back of his throat, stomach acid biting his esophagus.

“Now, clean up everything. Leave no piece not picked. Or else my dear Red Guard will do the same to the dame of your heart just like I did to my Fiona of Naboo”

Droplets of red soaked into the expensive thick rug as the trooper’s thick fingers caught each piece. Each shard.

It’s either my blood, or hers.

*

Dull ache and rising, circling pressure in her lower belly, the soft feeling of something hot and tight hugging him. Hot breath gathering in the crook of her neck like steam against the window glass. Ragged moans of pleasure, limbs tangled in messy silk sheets.

And then bliss. And soon, the sound of a snoring man filling the spacious bedroom they share in her apartment.

Riyo got up, wary of her movements as she stepped into the pile of forgotten pieces of clothing and underwear they scattered all over the room in a rush of longing and chemistry linking their bodies together.

Cold bathroom  tiles stung the soles of her feet as she looked in the mirror.

The bacta Syntflax bandages were said to be the most recent and useful invention of Galactic science, at least that was what the medical droid said. Completely weightless, they healed even the harshest injuries of all kinds, then mending together with skin until they disappeared, invisible to the naked eye.

Thank Moon Goddess for that, the Pantoran senator thought as she laid the dressing on the edge of the porcelain sink.

The wide gash crossing her throat, now only a little bit darker than the light blue skin around it, should disappear in the matter of hours. Syntflax healed everything, even if it was caused by a Nabooian dagger.

[the-purple-elf]

-Content warning: mildly sexual-

Dyra opened her eyes, rubbing her hand over her face. She felt sore in all the right places, and some odd ones too. Bringing her fingers to her neck, she pressed on a sore spot and hissed. When she brought her fingers back to look at them, they weren't bloody. She chuckled at the memory of his impassioned bites.

That really did sum up her little pet artist. He had an infectious passion for life, and jumped into everything with both feet, consequences be damned. He was the definition of being "in the moment." That was nice. It kept her from thinking too much.

She slipped out of her giant bed - her former marital bed, now empty and all for her. Renovations were well underway. She could hear the faroff thuds of magical hammering, which she wished would be a little more quiet. Her hangover was *killing* her.

She shuffled to the bathroom and relieved herself, yawning as she sat on the toilet. With a lazy flick of her hand she magically turned on the tap for the bathtub and levitated some freesia-scented bubble bath into the water. She had no clue if Alarun was back or not after their Orgrimmar drinking excursion and it wasn't her business. She smiled to herself, kicking off her underwear and pulling off her nightgown. Then she sank into the tub, playing with the bubbles as they grew in number into a thick foam.

Alarun. He was admittedly a good lay. And she'd been with many. She thought of him - every inch - and her hand snaked between her legs. No one was here, why not? He hadn't left her *wanting* but he was not here now, and the bath was so *warm*.

She didn't need a cock to be satisfied. It was just icing on the cake.

Besides, now she had one more person who could help her in that department. Speaking of *him*. Perhaps she should reach out to Saviero again. He had a tendency to isolate himself, like her. She should check in on him and perhaps invite him to stay with her, too. After all, the estate was large, and she could start a collection of lovers. *Artist* lovers. Ooh, that thought appealed. A gloomy writer and an effervescent artist. Who else could she add?

Her thoughts dissipated like bubbles in the wind as she leaned her head back and gave in to the sensations of her own hand.

[spaceumbredoggos]

So Much For Stardust Chapter Eighteen

Bee’s POV:

Kenz buckled back as Dipper lunged at them. Dipper hissed loudly, pinning them down to the ground. Kenz growled and glared at Dipper. “Oh. So you’re after Bee, eh? Why? She’s…” They were cut off by Dipper biting their neck. Kenz screeched and rolled out from under Dipper, standing up.

I noticed Dipper foaming at the mouth and hunched over, clearly delirious and not all there. “KENZ!!! BACK DOWN!!!”

Kenz wasn’t listening, got with fever and anger. Dipper’s eyes glowed a bright yellow in the moonlight. The two circled each other. Dipper charged at them, pushing them down and biting their arm. Kenz yelped in pain and tried to shove Dipper off, then started punching him.

Dipper clearly had something wrong with him. He was thin and his hair was matted even more than usual. He was pale and covered in frothy spit. His yellow eyes were crazed and he didn’t speak a word as he bit Kenz on the throat again. Kenz howled in pain and tumbled down the hill with Dipper, flailing for their life.

I chased after the two, watching out for Kenz. Dipper threw Kenz across the clearing like a ragdoll, but Kenz bounced back with a swift kick to Dipper’s face. Dipper bit their calf, drawing blood and staining the grass scarlet. Kenz hissed, clawing at Dipper’s saffron colored eyes. They grabbed a fistful of mud and chucked it into Dipper’s face, causing him to let go. Kenz stood up, but gingerly held their bitten leg. “What the fuck is wrong with you, buddy?” Kenz was panting and gasping for breath, hunched over. Dipper tackled them again, pinning them against a tree. An ugly crunch sounded from Kenz’s body as blood trickled from their mouth. They collapsed, whining in pain. Their eyes widened in terror as Dipper bit the back of their neck and shook them like a werewolf. Dazed, they flopped around as more bones crunched in their body.

Kenz kicked back at the ground and shoved themself free, stumbling to their feet. They paused to catch their breath before tears streamed down their eyes. Their face no longer had that feverish tint of red, and they no longer held themself in an uncomfortable cramped position. They shook themself as Dipper charged at them again. Kenz swiped their hand across Dipper’s body, dodging his bite with his momentum. “Dipper!!! What’s wrong with you?” Kenz backed away slowly before turning to run, limping with each step. Dipper grabbed their forearm with his teeth and jerked his head back, causing Kenz to slam into the ground. They laid there limp for several moments.

“NO!!!! KENZ!!!” I rushed up to them, only for Dipper to block the way. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY!!!” But Dipper didn’t budge. Instead, he lunged at me, trying to bite me. I shoved him back, turning into my full demon form. I stood between him and Kenz before Kenz started to wake up. Dipper turned his attention to Kenz and bit them hard enough in their shoulder that blood stained their shirt. Out of options, Kenz bit him back, jerking their head back and forth. The froth disappeared from Dipper’s mouth, which meant only one thing. Dipper had rabies.

Dipper’s eyes narrowed to slits as he burst out laughing, circling the injured Kenz. “You think you could weaken me that easily? You’re so pathetic! Pine tree had rabies and you didn’t even know that your bite was the only cure.”

“What?”

“Umbredoggo venom. It’s the only cure for rabies.” I rushed up to shield Kenz from Bipper. His mouth started to foam again and the crazed look returned in his eyes. He wiped the froth from his mouth. “Of course, it has to be administered several times. But look at you! Too weak to transform. Pine tree is as good as gone.”

Tears streamed down Kenz’s cheeks as they gazed at Bipper, who returned to his rabid state. Kenz pushed at me to try and bite Bipper again, but their push was too weak to do much. “No… Don’t let him die!!! I’ll never forgive myself…”

Bipper lunged again, but I threw him back. I rocked Kenz soothingly. “Let me handle this.”

“But what about my venom?”

“I can get a sample when you’ve recovered more.” I rubbed Kenz’s head soothingly as they leaned on me. “Promise me that he’ll be okay. But can’t you get rabies?”

“I’m an immortal demon.”

“So no?” Kenz nuzzled me before falling asleep. I rushed them back to my house, Bipper savagely rushing behind us. I locked the door to the room that Kenz was in, covering them in blankets and setting them up with an IV. Now to deal with Bipper.

I rushed out of the door at Bipper, who lunged at me again. I shoved forward and pinned him to the ground, managing to put a muzzle on him. I tied him up and carried him inside.

I unlocked the door, waking up Kenz. They held my hand as I prepared to bare some bad news to them. “Is Dipper gonna be okay?”

“Sort of.” I sighed, extracting some of Kenz’s venomous saliva with a syringe. “Dipper will always have the virus in him. He will always carry it in his saliva and could risk transmitting it to others if he bites someone. He’ll also go through what’s called ‘Regression Phases’ where his body will return to a rabid state.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Kenz gazed at Bipper, who glared daggers at them. “Like, is he gonna be okay to live a normal life? I know rabies can cause brain damage—“

“Which the Umbredoggo venom mostly prevents, with the cost of these regression phases.” I noticed the defeated look on Kenz’s face. “He’s gonna be a huge danger to himself and others. He almost killed me just now. And I noticed the yellow eyes. Bill is possessing him. That means Dipper’s mindscape form is watching this. He must be so scared. Judging by the fork marks on his arms, he got himself possessed before the furious stage. Bill can’t really control Dipper’s body.” Kenz leaned on me, heavily breathing. “You’re the only one he can really be with when he’s like this.”

“Besides the fact that I am immune, can my venom snap him out of it?” Kenz gazed at Bipper worriedly. “You’ll have to let the regression phases run their course.”

Kenz sat up, pain in their eyes. “There’s so much he has to miss out on. He can’t kiss Pacifica or really anyone ever again because the virus will be in his saliva. And I’m not keen on having a relationship with him. I’m not really in a relationship mood right now that I’m not in heat/rut. I see Dipper as more of a cousin or even my brother.” Kenz sighed and leaned away from me. “But would I rather have him alive knowing that he’ll have to live with rabies in his system, poised to strike like a trigger happy sniper?”

I then remembered the merchant who contracted rabies who had a pet Umbredoggo way back at the dawn of time. She only seemed to calm down in her regression phases when the Umbredoggo was around. And gradually, the regression phases became less frequent and violent. But they never disappeared all together.

I sighed and told Kenz the story of the merchant. Hope returned to their eyes as they nodded. “I guess I’ll have to be some sort of platonic comfort to Dipper. But we have to deal with Bill possessing him first.”

“Don’t worry. Bill’s in a pretty weakened state. He isn’t fully possessing Dipper right now.” I sighed with relief, leaving the room to give Dipper the injection. I came back into the room, noticing just how bad Kenz’s injuries were. There were a couple broken ribs, a shattered forearm, several nasty bite wounds that were bleeding pretty badly, and an ugly gash on their right calf. “Kenz, can you stay still for a moment?”

They reluctantly obliged as I set the broken arm and bandaged up their wounds before healing them with some healing magic. “My healing magic doesn’t work that well. But it should keep things in place.”

Kenz nodded, losing that lovey dovey look in their eyes that they had when they were in heat. They positioned themself away from me, less inclined to cuddle. They dozed off to sleep. They’re so cute when they’re sleeping.

I felt a part of me tear in half as I noticed how differently Kenz was acting. Kenz was more reserved. More logical. Less of the impulsive mess that I knew them as. Yet I didn’t want to admit that I missed it.

Tex walked into the room in his human form. He transformed into his hellhound form, nuzzling my neck lovingly. “Hey Vortex.”

“What’s going on?” He noticed how troubled I was. “Remember how I was telling you that I had to keep Kenz from hurting themself because they were in heat?”

Vortex nodded, gazing at Kenz. “They’re a good kid from what I’ve heard. A little stubborn, but a good kid.” I nodded and kissed Vortex. Is there something more than them being a good kid? I know Vortex and I have a pretty open relationship, but where does Kenz come in?

[lovrboyx]

pushing through cus i have to but im doing it kicking screaming clawing grrrr bite bite hiss scream rrrr scratch scratch bite foaming at the mouth bite

[missmeinyourbones]

COME BACK, BE HERE

a/n: a little (angst littered) fluff for my sweetest bf <3 me and cass were talking about how megumi probably sleeps like he’s laying in a coffin...and then this happened lol

Megumi is jostled awake in the middle of the night with a sharp jab to the chest.

Instincts kicking in and sleepy mind mistaking the shove as an enemy’s stab, his muscles move before his mind can catch up. Instantly grabbing the weapon lodged into his pectoral, he holds it still before it can be plunged any deeper.

After blinking a few times and allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark, he eventually comes to. With his back flat against the memory foam of your mattress, he’s exactly where he fell asleep: in your shared bedroom. With a quick scan of the room, he notes that the door is still shut and the windows are still closed. 

And most importantly, the weapon in his hand is truly no weapon at all–it’s your elbow.

His eyes dart from the pointed limb and over to your eyes. He’s surprised to find you already staring back at him, wide awake but oddly content with his rather harsh grip on your elbow. Realizing there’s no harm at hand (if anything, it’s the complete opposite), he instantly loosens his hold on you, rubbing his thumb across the sensitive skin he accidentally pinched in the process.

His brain starts to catch up and read the situation at hand. You’re awake, and by the look of it, you’ve been awake for a while. Your extended elbow looks unnaturally angled across your body, almost purposeful where it stills by his shoulder. Almost as if you meant for the dig to his chest to startle him, to wake him up from his slumber. 

After all, you've never been a restless sleeper before.

Megumi moves to ask if you’re alright, if you need something from him. If there are remnants of a bad dream plaguing your mind or an unsettling bump from the kitchen you’d like him to investigate.

However, known for being a man of few words, what comes from Megumi’s mouth is nothing short of inadequate compared to his intentions.

“What?” he hisses into the darkness of the bedroom, though the rasp in his voice has it sounding like more of a statement rather than an inquiry. It comes out harsher than he means it to, but you know by now to take his hostility as care rather than harm.  

Feigning innocence with glossy eyes, you parrot back his expression, “What?”

Megumi almost thinks you’re sleeping with your eyes open as you blankly stare back at him. He anxiously brews beneath your intense attention.

“Hello?” he questions with a bit of a bite.

You simply breathe by his side, “Hi.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you continue to gawk at him through the dimmed shadows of the streetlights from outside. 

Your adamant glare makes him feel uneasy. Not like how it normally does–flustering him with a blushing shyness at the hand of your usual lovesick grin. 

No, right now, you aren't admiring him with your usual appreciation. Right now, you almost look worried. Your stare is a bit too intense for the situation at hand. Refusing to look away from him, your eyes seem to frantically search over his entire frame, though your body remains oddly still in his hold. 

“Are you okay?” he finally stammers. 

You nod, “Yeah, are you?”

He watches your gaze flicker from his eyes to his mouth, and then down to his chest, directly where your elbow now rests with less pressure. Your eyes remain there for a few seconds, almost as if searching for something. He watches you take in his chest rising and fall with his words.

“Can I ask why you’re poking me awake in the middle of the night?” 

He watches your eyes flicker back up to him, now filled with an overwhelming layer of guilt as you cower.

“Oh, that,” your voice is small against the sound of the ceiling fan whirling.

He snorts, “Yeah, that.”

“Sorry, you just...looked a little too asleep.”

Megumi feels as if his brain is short-circuiting. As if he needs to reboot his eyes and ears in order to truly understand you right now. You woke him up from his sleep because... he looked like he was asleep? Too asleep? Should he not be asleep right now? Are there things other than sleeping that he should be doing at 2:37 in the morning?

Maybe he’s still dreaming, because he’s finding this incoherent conversation way too difficult to follow. 

“Because I was,” he deadpans. 

“No, like you–” you prop yourself up on your elbow (the one that’s not still pressed to his chest) to get a better look at him before continuing with a shaky whisper, “–you looked like you were dead.”

Megumi’s eyes squint at the weird assumption that falls from your lips. Well, maybe it’s not that weird. After all, his mind went to weapon before elbow when waking up to the feeling of a sudden hit.

“Based on what?” he feels himself losing his patience to the impending feeling of exhaustion settling beneath his eyelids. 

You feel incredibly foolish as you state the obvious, “Your eyes...were closed.”

Megumi huffs in disbelief, “As they are when one sleeps.”

Suddenly, you’re up and off of him, as if his quick-witted remark was your final straw.  

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, okay? You weren’t moving and I couldn’t tell if you were breathing or not, and it was freaking me out. So I woke you up to check, sue me,” your voice rises as you defend yourself against his mental accusations. 

Megumi hears your tone waver with (what he knows to be) tears souring in the back of your throat. He goes to speak up, but you beat him to it. 

“Sorry,” you spit with a clear disappointment, “I won’t do it again.”

In a split second, your elbow is no longer pressed into his chest–and what was once a jabbing feeling of discomfort is now a barren lack of warmth, leading Megumi to miss the mere weight of your arm across his ribcage. 

Your stubbornness defeats your embarrassment. Wiggling your way off of his body, you cradle yourself in your arms all the way to the opposite end of the bed.

Forever slow to realization, Megumi takes a few moments to fully comprehend what just happened. Your sharp elbow lodged into his chest was an act of desperation. Your intense focus that he’d mistaken for confusion was actually fear. You said he looked dead, you thought he wasn’t breathing. 

His heart cracks as he realizes the misunderstanding unfolding in front of him. 

“Hey, c’mere,” he beckons into the now silent space. 

His arm is thrown across your shoulder as he worms his way over to your side. You stiffen, fully prepared to put up a fight until you hear a tiny whisper of desperation into your hair. “Please,” Megumi kisses the plea into the top of your head a few times.

Though it’s with an obnoxiously irritated sigh, you do turn around for him. Megumi welcomes the shift, loosening his arms around your frame and allowing you to face him, glare and pout included. 

“Thank you for checking on me,” he earnestly presses into your forehead with his lips. They feel hot on your skin. Heat–another reminder that he’s still here with you, alive and well in the safety of your shared sheets. 

Gently, he lifts the bottom of your chin up from his chest so that he can see you properly. 

“Next time you think that, you can do this instead,” his voice is light, faint. 

He grabs your hand, pressing specific fingers down and making your smaller ones resemble a compressed peace sign. Your two digits plunge straight out and smush against one another. 

Then, he drags your wrist over to the side of his neck. Cautiously, he rests your fingers against his own skin, before pushing them down with a bit more pressure. When you shoot him a look that reads stumped, he simply reaffirms your action with another tap of his palm on your fingers. 

“Press right here,” he confidently instructs. 

After a few seconds of your skin against his, you feel something. Beating against the pads of your fingertips is Megumi’s lively pulse. You feel the thumping of blood and life and love running through his veins and out of his core.

Not wanting to interrupt your intimate realization, he settles for whispering, “Can you feel it?”

Afraid of your voice drowning out the rhythm of his vibrations, you simply nod. 

Megumi sighs with a grin, guiding your head back down to the pillow but choosing to leave your fingers where they rest on the side of his neck. “And if that’s still not enough, then I guess jabbing me until I wake up works, too.”

His tease gets a soft smile out of you, and he’s suddenly grateful that you’re listening to his pulse and not his heartbeat–for he’s sure you’d sense an increase in thumping if that were the case. 

He feels your breath tickle the crook of his neck. “M’sorry,” that dull hint of shame floods your mumble again, “I just love you, and I get nervous sometimes.”

“Don’t apologize,” Megumi lightly scolds, but you feel the love behind it regardless of its suddenty.

As his hand cradles the back of your head, he allows his fingers to skim over your own pulse point. He doesn’t apply any pressure to the spot, but the faint buzzing beneath your skin brings him a comfort unlike anything he’s ever known.  

“I love you too,” he promises into your skin, “even if you wake me up in the middle of the night for stupid shit like this.”

© 2022 MISSMEINYOURBONES. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate on any platform.

[randomwriteronline]

Skull Kid stands perfectly still, completely tense, looking about to kill something.

“Do you ever feel an unquenchable zest for violent murder,” is rather coherently the first thing that comes out of their mouth.

Sky sighs: “All the time,” he nods.

The imp turns towards him: “You should bite meat then,” they suggest, ignoring Warriors and Twilight’s very worried look at the skydweller. “And get a lot of spit in the back of your throat.“

“How would that help?” Sky argues. “Also, that would be very gross.”

“It’s to make the growl wet.”

“How is a growl wet?”

“Shut up and listen.”

The kid bares their teeth and gives a long, dull ‘grrrrrrrrr’.

“That growl sucks,” they say then, “Because it’s dry.”

They then repeat sound, but now it seeps out of their fangs with a sort of ghoulish gurgling noise, making it seem like they’re going to start foaming at the mouth at any moment.

“That’s a wet growl,” they explain, “Because I have all the spit in the back of the throat and I do gargarisms. And if you open your mouth--”

“Don’t you dare spit that.” Twilight warns them.

“I wasn’t going to!”

“What else do you do with a lot of spit and an open mouth?”

As an answer, they start growling again, making biting motions without letting their teeth meet: the result is a long string of angry gibberish clicking and rumbling menacingly at the three men.

“You sound possessed,” Warriors comments.

“That’s the point,” Skull Kid replies.

They get down on all fours, back arched, pupils like pinpricks: “I am a beast,” they hiss, and turn their side to them a little, like a cat, “I am full of claws and teeth!” and they jump closer to them a little (exactly like a cat - a kitten trying out ambushes) and gurgle another chittering growl, searching for their knees with swipes of a hand all posed like a fiersome paw full of daggers: “I’m a beast!! I want blood!”

They give a sound like a ‘grrra-ra-ra-ra’ and fall on the ground, contorting like a ferret before fulmineously standing back on all fours, almost surprised at their own actions.

They look like a domesticated predator, notes Twilight in his mind, not frightened in the slightest.

“What’s the meat for, then?” Sky asks.

Skull Kid answers: “Mauling.”

“Mauling?”

“All beasts maul! You gotta grab it and swing it around and kick it and kill it!”

“It’s already dead.”

“You gotta kill it!!”

Warriors fetches one of Hyrule’s old, old meats and chucks it weakly somewhere close enough to the imp: “Maybe it’s better if you show us.”

Skull Kid flattens on the ground as soon as the stale food touches down: their pupils grow huge for a single second, and then go right back to being near nonexistent. Their body wiggles as their droning hum rises in volume and raspiness until they leap onto the ration and sink their nails into it, maw opened like a bear trap clasping closed around it with what is almost a full on roar. Their momentum makes them bounce on the dirt as they energetically shake their head to tear the cooked muscle apart, and soon enough they’re rolling in the dust in a frenzy, boots kicking angrily at the food as if to cut open its stomach, and they just never stop making positively furious noises. They let their prey go, grow quiet and perfectly still; then they’re right back on the offensive.

The three heroes observe them without a word.

“This feels weirdly cathartic,” Twilights comments at one point.

“It does,” Sky echoes him with a slight nod, completely engrossed in the action.

All three then proceed to keep watching intently and in complete silence as Skull Kid ferociously continues to kill the meat.

Eventually Hyrule comes back with Four, and upon taking the scene in and processing what exactly he’s seeing and hearing he asks: “What the hell is going on here?”

Warriors turn to him: “Enrichment, I think,” he replies.

As soon as he’s finished, Skull Kid snaps the bone in half and howls a victorious gurgle of war. Four pales a little.

“You killed it?” Sky asks.

“YES.”

They arch their back as high as they can: “I AM A BEAST!!” they yowl.

Then they sit down on the tip of their toes, grab the killed meat, and stuff it in their mouth, loudly saying ‘gnam gnam gnam gnam gnam’ as they chew openly.

“You definitely are.” Twilight agrees.

[sageyrage]

Warm Hug

Mentions & Implications: This is a Bakugou x Fem!Reader fic. This is part of the BNHAREM collab. This month is all about our favorite blasty boi, Bakugou! Also I hope all of this makes sense. I wrote this in many parts over the past few weeks and I'm eternally distracted. So while I normally spell check and grammar check everything, this fic did not receive any of that lol. No warnings really unless you count language because let’s face it, this is about Bakugou and according to fandom, he curses. But since this a fluff, I kept it to a minimum. Also, I really suck at fluff, so if you actually like this, please let me know. I could use the serotonin and dopamine.

He watched her glide on water and come sliding to a stop, spraying water in the villain’s face. For the first time he was starstruck. How had he not noticed her before? They were in the same class together. They graduated together, right? Surely he’d trained with her at some point. So why was today the first day he actually SAW her?

She felt eyes on her. Cold, calculated, crimson. Her breath hitched and she almost lost her footing if it weren’t for the fact she remembered she was in the middle of apprehending a criminal. After the handoff to police, Y/N wondered if it actually happened. Did he really look at her? Did he finally notice her after all these years? A side glance from behind her shades told her that yes, he was most definitely looking at her.

He was angry at himself for not remembering. Affirmations about you from Kirishima solidified that you were there. You’d always been there. You’d been quiet, while he’d been loud. You’d been slow and steady, while he rushed ahead. He had Mina speak about you. She eagerly complied and caught him up on everything that made you-you.

“Did you really forget about Y/N being in our class? She hung out with everyone!” Mina laughed.

“Not with me. Tell me more about her.” He filled out paperwork as Mina chatted on, while on the opposite side of the building, Kirishima was having the exact same conversation with Y/N.

“It’s disheartening that he’s just now noticing that I exist. But that’s okay. He’s been hyper-focused on trying to be #1. No one should fault him for that.” Y/N played with the hem of her shirt before sighing and picking up the sandwich on her plate.

“He’s still a good guy, Y/N. He’s just never been good at socializing.” Kirishima took a bite of his food and downed it with a gulp of lemonade.

“Oh I know. It’s okay. I’ll just keep watching him from afar. I don’t want to give him a reason to lose his focus.

/*-+-*/

He watched her in the office. She gave him side glances on patrols. They would discreetly help each other while taking villains down. And then one Winter day he asked her to train with him.

"Oh! Oh sure, that sounds like fun!" He and Y/N made their way to a nearby facility and lost themselves in a few hours of teaching how to support the other with their quirks.

/*-+-*/

"I wanna ask her out on a date, but I don't at the same time."

Kirishima looked at his friend with confusion. "You know it's obvious that you two like each other, right? I mean... literally everyone can see it. You two spend almost every waking minute with each other. What's stopping you?"

"I really like her. I don't wanna scare her away." He rose from his place on the couch and frustratingly ran his fingers through his hair as he made his way to the oversized window.

/*-+-*/

"Can I borrow this? Mine got ripped to shreds when a villain fought me on my way home the other night." Holding up a black sweatshirt, Y/N waved it in front of Mina's face. Mina blinked in thought before breaking out into laughter and nodding. Y/N slipped it over her head, inhaling the faint scent of smoked caramel. “Thanks! I’ll keep it until I can get another one!” With a sly smile, her pink alien friend waved her off and told her not to worry about it.

The cold wind was sharp on her face when she pulled the hood over her head and inhaled. The scent calmed her like a warm hug as she hurried home. Thoughts of a spiky haired man invaded her mind, making her already pink cheeks burn. She loved the man since their first year at UA. He never looked her way, never knew she existed. But she watched him as they faced trials and tribulations as a class, as individuals, and now as heroes. What made him finally look at her? She entered the dark apartment and kicked off her boots in favor of the memory foam bunny slippers, sighing as she shuffled to her room. She fell against the pillows and plushies on her bed and fell asleep still wrapped up in the black sweatshirt, a smile on her face as visions of Bakugou invaded her dreams.

/*-+-*/

“What’s so funny?” Y/N tilted her head, looking at a giggling Mina as they entered the doors of the agency.

“Oh nothing!” Mina sang as she skipped into the room. Bakugou was already stationed at the coffee pot, glaring at it as if willing it to drip faster with the black gold. A side glance stilled his heart for a fleeting moment when he saw Y/N walk in. All smiles and sunshine next to her friend. Then he saw it. Bakugou couldn’t help but notice the familiarity of the pullover. There was a certain tear by the pocket with a singed edge. “Where did you get that sweatshirt?”

She hugged herself in the oversized sweater, “Mina let me have it, why?��

“It’s mine.”

“Oh. … OH!” Shrugging off the garment hastily, she folded it over and offered it to him, “I’m so sorry, Bakugou! I had no idea!” Keeping her eyes down, she heard a soft ‘tch’ and a shadow moving away.

“Hurry up and get changed so we can go train.”

She watched him walk away, and heard stifled laughter behind her. Turning to see Kirishima and Mina huddled together at a corner table, Y/N walked up to her friends and hissed, “What is so funny? He’s clearly upset that I have something that belongs to him!”

“Oh sweet summer child, you really are clueless, aren’t you?” Pinky beamed and grabbed Y/N’s hand. Kirishima shook his head and laughed, “He really likes you!”

Stars lit up in Y/N’s eyes as she turned in time to watch Bakugou turn the corner. “He...likes me too?” Still clutching the pullover in her arms, she quickly followed after him, only to see him enter the locker room. Turning around, she noticed the door to his office was open. She entered his room and left the sweatshirt on his desk before leaving to get ready to train.

/*-+-*/

Hours later, Bakugou walked into his office, narrowing his eyes at the black bundle on the desk. He picked it up to examine it when soft notes of jasmine and vanilla wafted up to his nose. He narrowed his eyes and tucked the shirt under his arm as he took a folder into his other hand and left the agency.

The entryway of his home lit up when he turned the key and opened the door. Kicking off shoes and padding down the hall, he deposited the jumper and folder onto the table before unwinding for the evening. Once evening chores, dinner, and paperwork were all caught up, it was time for bed. He started for his bedroom when he spied the hoodie on the table. Gingerly picking it up he took it to his bedroom and slipped into bed. Cuddling the garment close, he inhaled the vanilla jasmine scent, and all thoughts of Y/N consumed him as he fell asleep.

Bakugou walked into the agency the next morning and took notice of Y/N wearing a new sweatshirt in an ombre gray. Scoffing to himself, he poured himself a cup of coffee. “...look better in black.”

Y/N turned at Bakugou's mumbling, “Hmm? Did you say something?”

“I said you look better in black!” Narrowing his eyes he gave her a severe look and stomped out of the room to his office, slamming the door behind him. He never did see the small smile and blush that crossed her features.

/*-+-*/

Weeks of lighthearted flirting turned into months, and the cool morning of Spring kissed Y/N’s skin as she walked into the lounge room of the agency rubbing her arms for warmth. He was already pouring a cup of coffee when she came in. He cocked an eyebrow and scoffed. “It’s not even cold outside anymore.” He watched her sunshine smile as she stepped near him, only to open the refrigerator door.

“It is to me!” Y/N blushed as she hid her face on the other side of the door, before pulling out a bottle of orange juice and retreated to her office. A bundle in black was draped over her chair. It was the hoodie she had returned to Bakugou months ago. She turned the covering over her arms, the scent of caramel and smoke filling her senses, a smile of giddiness on her face.

“Just tell him already!”

Y/N jumped to find her pink friend leaned against the doorframe. “Mina! I-I can’t do that. He’s got to focus, remember? I don’t want to get in the way of him trying to achieve what he wants the most.”

Mina crossed her arms and shook her head. “You’re so dense sometimes, Y/N. He gave that back to you. He clearly likes you. And you! Your cheeks might as well be permanently pink, and you have hearts in your eyes! Everyone in this building can see how in love you are. I’ve been talking to Kirishima and he agrees with me. We’ve been watching you two flirt for a long time, and it’s agonizing! And you know what? He’s scared of asking you out. He’s afraid to run you off. You’re going to have to be the one to do it. You’re going to have to ask him out.”

Floored by the new information, Y/N sunk into her chair, clutching the hoodie close to her heart. Her mind faltered and unable to form words, she stared dumbly at her best friend. “But- I… He’s scared of running me off?”

/*-+*/

“You just left it in her office? Why didn’t you just give it to her? Everyone in this building already knows you like each other! Be manly and just tell her already, bro!” Kirishima exclaimed, zipping up his duffel bag. “You know what? If you don’t go ask her out, I will. I think she’s pretty cute and I bet we’d have a great time at this new ramen shop that just opened across the street.”

A low growl emanated from the explosion hero, “Don’t you dare.” Still in his hero uniform, Bakugou stormed out of the locker room leaving his best friend to snicker and shake his head.

/*-+-*/

Hearing a familiar stomp down the hall, Mina gleefully smiled before moving aside to allow Bakugou to enter. “I’ll see you later Y/N! I expect a call or text soon!” Mina shut the door as she waved her goodbye, leaving both heroes to stare at each other, their voices trapped from shyness.

Remembering the sweater in her arms, Y/N rose from her chair and slowly walked toward the tall blonde. “You left this for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Are we sharing this hoodie now?”

“I’m letting you borrow it. It’ll keep you warm better than that crappy one you had. It’s going to be cold tonight when we go to the ramen shop across the street.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he turned away in an attempt to hide the slight blush that formed on his face.

Eyes enlarged with disbelief, Y/N brought the pullover up to cover the astonishment expressed on her face and mumbled, “We? Are you asking me out on a date?” Gazing up at the man before her, she couldn’t help but notice the tips of his ears were turning red. He didn’t look at her when he nodded, but once the bells of her happy voice rang out, he turned and couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

/*-+-*/

*15 YEARS LATER*

“Remember I’m going to be late tonight because Todoroki is holding a study group at his house! Hurry up Harumi, I don’t wanna be late to school because of you!”

“Sorry Raiden! Bye Mom, bye Dad! Love you!”

The door slammed and all was quiet. Y/N stuck her thumbs through the torn holes in the sleeves and started clearing the table when she heard the door of the bedroom shut. Picking up a cup of leftover orange juice, she brought it to her lips when two arms snaked around her waist and she felt a kiss on the back of her head.

“You still have that? It’s worn all to hell. Let me get you a new one.”

Y/N glanced at him mid sip. Smiling into the cup, she finished her drink, her other hand lovingly patted her husband’s arm. Finishing her drink, she wiped her mouth on the sleeve. “A new one? But this is my favorite! I plan on wearing it until it completely falls apart!”

Rolling his eyes, Bakugou peppered Y/N’s face with kisses, ignoring squeals of laughter and the playful pushes against his chest. “Move so I can help you with the dishes before we head to work.”

/*-+-*/

Filing paperwork was the best way to wind down after a long day of apprehending villains. Huddled over her desk Y/N was writing up the last report of the day when the door to her office swung open and her sweaty husband swaggered inside. She narrowed her eyes at his appearance.. Was he wearing a new pullover?

“Just got done going for a run. You ready to go home yet?” Bakugou removed the hoodie, a hint of his waning abs peeking from under his shirt. “Tch. Put those eyes back in your sockets, woman.” Holding out his hand to a giggling Y/N, he pulled her away from the desk and against him for a quick hug before leaving hand-in-hand from the agency.

A sudden breeze blew against the two, causing Y/N to rub her arms. In a side glance, she saw her husband putting on the sweater.

"Sharing is caring, now give me the sweatshirt!"

“Hell no! You chose to not bring your old piece of shit hoodie even though I said it was going to be cold tonight. Suffer the consequences, ya brat.”

“Please sweetheart? I know I should have listened this morning, and you’re right of course. I’m just so cold. You don’t want me to get sick, do you?” Her sugar sweet words twisted around his heart as she gently wrapped her arms around him and tilted her head up and batted her eyes in a most heartfelt manner. Bakugou glared at his wife and paused before grunted his displeasure. With a sigh and an eye roll it was all over. The man scoffed and shook out of the sweatshirt and slipped it over Y/N, pulling the hood over her head.

Face flushed red, the towering blonde pillar looked anywhere but at her. “Dammit woman, why do you do this to me? Next time listen to me and don’t be so stubborn. You’re lucky I love you.”

Enveloped in the warm hug scented of woodsy caramel, she pulled the oversized sleeves over her hands and cupped the tall hero’s cheeks and turned him to face her, “I am the luckiest girl in the world, aren’t I? Thank you for my new hoodie. I love you.”

Lowly growling at the woman before him, Bakugou cocked a brow before breaking out into a smile, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous, woman, tricking me like that. I love you too. Now let’s get home and have some quiet time before those brats get home.” Putting his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her against him and felt Y/N’s arms wrap around him. He smiled against her hooded head as she giggled and together they walked, their steps in sync toward home.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

tuxedo iii, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: It’s the next morning. Your cat is still a man. Fuck. He still thinks he owns the place, including you. Sigh. Well, you still have to do your job, because, yikes, your cat-man has spent a small fortune on new clothes (spending like he’s got a black card, what’s up with that?). Ah, but... maybe both of you are starting to finally acknowledge that he might be a more man than cat – at least for the time being...?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; mentions of and a tiny bit of smut (fem reader, spanking, doggy, unintentional??? voyeurism, dry humping / thigh riding); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft slightly cocky Jeon Jungkook (+drama!!!) and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin; breaking of the fourth wall; are YOU a furry? yeah, I kinda think you are

*deep breath* I reference a certain boat that was stuck in the Suez Canal, Yoongi's livestream where he poked himself in the nose with the coffee straw, his love for tangerines, too many Twitch chat memes, that time his mom called him a boiled dumpling, 'BST' pink pajama Yoongi, DTS, TXT's 'Cat & Dog', etc...

–

part i | part ii

-

You woke up slowly. 

A perfect, peaceful morning. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Neck cradled by your memory foam pillow? Check. Back well supported by your soft mattress? Check. Not sleeping on your sofa and destroying your spine? Check. Hey, you’re moving up in life! Ah, what a normal day already. You opened your eyes a crack; vision blurred from the morning sunlight filtering through your curtains. Bundled in your minty-green duvet? Check. Wearing your extra soft black-and-white striped pajamas? Check. 

Large pale human hand firmly gripping your right titty? Check. 

Wait… 

What?

Your eyes snapped open and flew to your left. 

Min Yoongi's face was centimeters from yours, buried into your pillow, messy bedhead sticking out everywhere. Black choker with the tiny silver bell around his neck. Still had those black velvety pointed cat ears and glowing pale skin, pretty pink lips ever-so-slightly upturned, warm exhale against your ear. 

Your cat still a disturbingly handsome man?

Ah, yup, check. 

His hand was on your right breast, fingers molded to the soft curve. A quick glance and, whew, he was still fully dressed in his black t-shirt and sweatpants from yesterday. Yes, fully, completely dressed. Shit, what if he caught you staring? You quickly flickered your eyes up at the ceiling, hastily wiping the drool away from your mouth. Whoa there. That would be embarrassing if he caught that.

Also, kind of gross. Don’t be gross. Keep it together.

Hahaha…

Well, yup, this was still awkward, the whole hand-on-the-titty thing, hahaha, but not as awkward as it would be if, hahaha, you accidentally, oh, don't know, hahaha, got really, really, really disgustingly drunk and, hahaha, had somehow lost all impulse control and, hahaha, fucked your cat?

Man.

Cat-man. 

Hahaha, that would never happen. You’d make sure of that.

... 

Unless?

No, no, no, stop, he's your cat, your cat, he's literally been a (cat) man for one fucking day, albeit a incredibly hot, deliciously built (cat) man who put your facial massager on your nipple and let you touch his human dick in the shower and he was hard for a hot second, so... no, no, no, stop, you are not a desperate thot, get a fucking grip – well, you kind of are – but not him, for fuck’s sake, you still don't understand what the fuck is going on or if he even remotely likes you and, let's face it, he probably doesn’t because you almost paid a guy to chop off his nuts–

"Are you dying?"

You choked on air and lurched sharply at the sudden deep, raspy voice. The grip on your right breast tightened, preventing you from moving away. You did what any sensible human being would do in this situation and wheezed like you were on the verge of passing out. 

"Urk!"

"Do you have high blood pressure?" Yoongi yawned calmly, turning his face to the side to avoid breathing in your face, thereby pressing his body even closer to you. Your neck and ears heated to five billion degrees. "Your heart's beating abnormally fast. Maybe you should see a doctor."

You definitely needed to see a doctor for something as well as several gallons of holy water and a priest to get an exorcism for that horny demon inside you. 

"Y-Your hand!"

Yoongi grunted. "What about it?"

What about it???

"It's on my tits!" you squeaked.

Yoongi lifted his head, squinting. "It is." Then his head dropped and he closed his eyes again. 

HELLO, Min Yoongi? That's ALL you have to say???

"Is there a problem?"

IS THERE A PROBLEM???????

"I've always slept like this," he mumbled.

That's... true though. Your tuxedo cat, previously named Shooky until you realized he had his own name, did used to always sleep next to you, when he wasn’t trying to murder you by sitting on your chest, that is (he was adamant on letting you know when he needed breakfast). Usually, your cat was splayed out by your left side, his long body extended and pressed against you, his white, sock-like paws encircling your arm. Shooky had basically been a small furry heater that kicked you sometimes in his sleep. 

Keyword: small.

"Y-You w-were a cat!" you sputtered.

"I'm still a cat."

"No, you're a man! With arms!"

"The reach is a little farther. Who cares?"

WHO CARES???????

Before you could very loudly inform Yoongi who exactly cared – that’s you, by the way, yes, you – he wrapped his arms around you and yanked your body to his, turning you into a red-hot chili pepper with the amount of heat your face was now emitting. Then his free hand grabbed your other titty. Without asking! Without even so much as buying you dinner or, hell, giving you a goddamn cracker! You didn't need to be wined and dined, but at least a single fucking snack before using your tits like his own personal stress ball!

Yoongi pressed your back into his chest.

You froze. 

He pressed his crotch into your ass, shivering slightly.

Your soul left your body. 

"Ugh, this human body is terrible," Yoongi muttered. "Always so cold. I need this extra body heat or I'll die."

You'll die? YOU’LL DIE?

You were pretty sure that you were already dead. Rest in peace.

Hang on. 

Something was stuck in a very specific place, quite similar to a far-too-large boat in a narrow canal.

"Um."

Er...

"What?" your cat-man grunted.

"Your..." You gulped. "Dick."

"What about it?"

"You, uh... have morning wood."

"Is that a human euphemism?" he grumbled impatiently, clear annoyance in his tone. "I don't understand your species. Wouldn't it be easier to be straightforward and explain yourself clearly?"

A muscle in your eye twitched, reaching breaking point.

"Your dick is rock-hard and you're shoving it between my ass cheeks!"

"Yeah, so? It's cold too."

Your irritation fizzled out at Yoongi’s self-assured, completely calm response. In fact, he sounded borderline bored and exasperated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His hard dick was cold, so he put it in the warmest place he could find, your ass, duh. Nothing weird about it, of course. Your mind reeled, unable to compute what the fuck was going on. Thus, your body did what it did best in these moments where you did not want to give a response that would most certainly expose you and your dire need to get dicked.

Not deal with it, of course.

You fainted.

-

"Fuck!"

You shot out of bed at the harsh yell, tangled in the covers, barely registering that Yoongi no longer had a death grip on your tits – in fact, he was no longer in bed at all – and stumbled towards the source of the sound, highly disoriented, your earlier fainting spell turning you into a bumbling mess.

Admittedly, not that different from your usual self.

(Ouch, roasted.)

"What, what, what?" you croaked, running into the doorframe of the bedroom and nearly taking yourself out. 

Might as well, maybe it would have been a blessing in disguise, considering the way your life was going. 

You finally tumbled your way to the kitchen, where your cat-man was hissing at the pan on the stove. 

"I was trying to make eggs," Yoongi spat, pointing accusingly at the frying pan. His ears were flat and his tail was sticking straight up. "And then it attacked me."

If you had three functioning brain cells, you would have remembered Yoongi putting his morning wood between your ass cheeks this morning, but alas, you only had two at the moment – you did run into the doorframe, might have lost one there – so instead you nudged him aside and rolled up your sleeves, taking the pan and shaking it so the eggs wouldn't burn. 

"Was it the oil? Sometimes it pops," you asked as Yoongi continued death glaring at the pan.

"I saw you doing this yesterday. You didn't seem bothered," he mumbled, finishing with a low, angry hiss as if the pan was sentient and mocking him. The oil popped and seared your forearm, but at this point you maybe had five hair follicles total on your arms with how many times hot oil had splattered in you. It used to bother you when you were a kid, but years of cooking had desensitized the feeling, turning it to nothing more than a mere annoyance. Yoongi stayed behind you, intermittently letting out hisses of rage as you cooked.

"I told you, my dad's a chef. You get used to it," you said, tipping the pan and flipping the thin egg pancake with ease. 

"That's bizarre," Yoongi muttered. "No normal animal gets used to pain."

Normality was starting to become a bit of a foreign concept to you.  As for being an animal, well…

You took the pan off the heat and rolled the egg onto a plate with a spare set of chopsticks, turning it into a log shape. A literal egg roll, ready to be sliced into bite-sized pieces. You took a sniff. It seemed to be seasoned already. Had Yoongi simply copied what you did yesterday? His observation skills were insane.

"Then again, you seem to enjoy–"

"Yoongi," you blurted, not wanting to know what he thought you seemed to enjoy, but very sure it was going to be one-hundred-percent embarrassing and only for you. "There's some leftover beef and vegetables in the fridge you can have with the egg and rice."

He raised his eyebrows. "Beef? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Because I was asleep and maybe half-dead? "Did you brush your teeth?' you asked suddenly. 

Yoongi scowled. "Unfortunately."

"Right, so should I, goodbye now."

You marched away hurriedly, trying not to think about how your cat had surely witnessed you getting spanked while being fucked from behind by none other than, surprise, surprise, his not-so-favorite human being, Jeon Jungkook. Tattoo guy strikes again. The worst part was, you couldn't lock the door on your cat either, because then he would meow incessantly while you were getting deep-dicked and that was even worse. 

"Your cat really likes you, huh?" Jungkook mused as you yanked open the bedroom door to the black-and-white tuxedo furball. 

"Like is a strong word," you muttered at your cat, who yawned and sauntered past you to his cat tree, acting like he owned the damn place. 

"I like you."

"Hah... wait, what?"

Jungkook grinned as your eyes found his. Took a while. You were a little distracted by his nakedness. His tattoos up his right arm. His tan skin. His muscles. His white teeth biting on his lower lip, tiny mole underneath flashing. His long black hair, framing dark chocolate eyes and teasing, cocked eyebrow. 

"I like you," he repeated, voice deep and sexy.

You turned red and made the most coherent noise you could. 

“... Urk?”

“Noona.”

Why did he look so fucking hot and disrespectful at the same time when saying an honorific?

Jungkook came up to you, hand cupping your head and tangling his fingers in your hair. He brought his face close to yours, lips brushing against your swollen ones, taking your breath away.

"Wanna go back to me spanking you while you get off on my dick?"

Respectfully, of course. 

"How much rice do you want?"

You started, poking yourself in the nose with your toothpaste-covered toothbrush and smearing mint up your nostril – almost as bad as poking a coffee straw up your nose during a livestream in front of millions of people, yikes – as Yoongi appeared behind you, breaking you out of the memory. Your cat-man watched you with mild disgust and displeasure as you coughed and dunked your head into the sink, hurriedly rinsing off your burning nose.

"Whatever, I'll just fill it halfway."

And he left you sputtering, pajamas and hair soaking wet in your haste.

Awesome. 

-

“I’m ordering some groceries,” you announced in between bites of rice and egg. You tapped lightly at the phone screen as you spoke. Green onions, tofu, cucumbers… “Do you want anything?”

“Meat.”

You swiped rapidly and added packages of chicken, pork, and beef into your cart. Why the fuck not? You like meat. All kinds of–

“Yes, Yoongi, I’m getting meat. Anything else?”

“What else is there?”

You made a face and handed him your phone. “All sorts of things. Household products too, in case you don’t want to smell like my soap.”

“Your soap is preferable,” he said absentmindedly, scrolling through the online grocery app. You continued eating, shoving things in your mouth and none of it dick. Sad. At least it tasted good. Your cat-man had seasoned the egg well. You jumped as Yoongi spoke again. “I want these.” He turned the phone around.

You squinted at the screen, staring at a picture of orange balls. “Tangerines? Why?”

He turned the phone back to him. “They’re small, round, and look tasty.”

You blinked at him, then shrugged. “Sure, why not? I guess your palette might have changed. Try whatever you want.”

He pursed his lips and pressed a few buttons as you ate. You realized you needed to order more groceries now that your cat was a man eating your human food and no longer a cat eating his rather expensive cat food. Sigh. You had put Shooky’s cat bowls in a cabinet earlier this morning before sitting down to eat. It seemed weird leaving them out on the floor like that. Kind of offensive, maybe, now that your cat was a man and all…

“Okay, I ordered it.”

“Ah, okay, that’s good. They’ll probably come later this week.”

-

After breakfast, you spent nearly half an hour with Yoongi trying to pick out something for him to watch from your various streaming services, only for him to select a historical drama series. Like what? You cat (man) wanted to watch historical drama out of all things? Instead of learning about the modern world, he wanted to watch a depiction of the past?

Whatever, it had seventy-seven episodes, so at least he would be occupied for a while.

You let him be and went to your computer, intending on getting some editing done. Sure, the universe decided your cat was a man now, but you still needed to pay for said cat-man’s existence. You still didn’t know what you were going do to with all that cat food, cat toys, cat tree… ugh, this was all a problem for future you, not present you.

Present you needed to splice five-hundred images of PepeHands together and overlay it over a League of Legends one-shot compilation.

Uh, so, it was this meme of a green frog named Pepe holding up his anthropomorphic hands in despair, therefore coining the term PepeHands for a particular Twitch chat emote… never mind, it just meant you were spending some time video editing for a gaming YouTuber and it required concentration, shitty memes, and well-timed captions. And you were getting paid good money to do this.

Yeah, it’s a weird world.

You sat at your desktop and got to work, doing the rough cuts of the video first. Thankfully, the YouTuber had already sent you the timestamps of the noteworthy moments, therefore making your job a lot easier. You spent several hours compiling the clips before adding your extra flair and effects. You had a library of images and sound bites that you commonly used (including Goofy singing Evanescence's ‘Bring Me to Life’) and was in the middle of grayscaling a video clip and adding the familiar audio of all around me are familiar faces before being scared shitless.

“Woof.”

You swore someone was singing ‘Mad World’ as they were narrating your life right now.

“Gah!”

You jerked in your seat to see Yoongi leaning over behind you, eyebrow raised as you gawked at him.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you exclaimed, pulling back an earcup of your headset.

He frowned. “How can I sneak up on you?” He flicked the silver bell on the black choker around his neck, making it jingle cheerfully. “You put stupid thing on me, remember?”

You winced. “Well, I’d take it off, but there’s some kind of voodoo magic on that shit – and hey, don’t change the subject! You have that weird cat thing where you’re silent no matter what.”

Yoongi looked unbothered. “Weird cat thing? Thought you said I was a man?”

“Thought you said you were a cat?” you shot back.

You glared at him and he gave you a blank expression. Then he cocked his head to your desk.

“Your phone is flashing.”

You jerked your head to see your phone screen flicker. You grabbed it off you desk and unlocked it, checking your messages. Five messages from – ah, but of course – your best friend. Kim Seokjin.

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

You pursed your lips. With the pandemic and all, you hadn’t visited Seokjin in forever, but every week he would text you, asking for a photo of your cat and he would send you a picture of his sugar glider. With every week being the same and nothing interesting of note happening, it was hard to think of conversation topics. Therefore, Seokjin and you came up with this weekly event so your friendship wouldn’t deteriorate. Also, both of you were serious introverts, so he spent most of this pandemic playing MapleStory while you spent most of it on your couch watching Netflix with your cat. It was a miracle you two hadn’t morphed into actual potatoes yet.

You glanced at Yoongi, who was inspecting his nails and picking at them. You frowned and batted at his hand. He frowned back and smacked yours, harder. You glared at him. He gave you a vacant stare, as if he had done nothing.

“Why are you picking at your cuticles?” you muttered, going back to your phone and sending Seokjin an old picture of Shooky. You couldn’t exactly send him a picture of current Shooky. He was… well, currently not a cat. You stared at the picture of the fluffy tuxedo cat curled into a ball, asleep in your lap on the couch.

That moment wasn’t even that long ago.

Somehow, it felt like ages since you had last petted that furry butt.

“Hm, dunno. Occupies my hands, I guess,” Yoongi replied distractedly.

“Well, you shouldn’t. It’s not good for you.” You noticed you had another message from the local delivery service, saying a package had arrived at your doorstep. You stood, placing your phone on the desk and looked at Yoongi, who was staring at his old cat tree, the one by the window. When he was a cat, he used to poke his head between the curtains and look outside, watching the birds. It was his favorite haunt.

Now…

“Why’d you say woof?” you asked abruptly, giving him a quizzical look. “I thought you were a cat.”

Yoongi shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the cat tree to give you an uninterested stare. “Thought it would surprise you more. You’ve heard meow for long enough.”

You furrowed your brow. “Why would you want to surprise me?”

He shrugged again. “I was bored.”

“… You were bored so you decided to sneak up and scare the shit out of me?”

He paused, black tail swishing back and forth, pointed ears perked. Then he nodded.

“Yup.”

Sigh.

-

You lugged in the huge cardboard box, Yoongi standing out of sight of the front door as you huffed and puffed with your weak arms. Okay, it wasn’t even that big, but it was quite heavy and you weren’t exactly John Cena. Your arms were about as strong as a bowl of overcooked ramyeon noodles and that was putting it kindly. You weren’t the working out type. People who worked out diligently were dog people. People who preferred sleeping as their primary workout regimen had cats. What were the kinds of people who had cat-men then? The kind of people who like sleeping, but also needed a…

(You already know the answer.)

Yoongi snapped the door closed the second you managed to pull it on far enough to do so.

“You look like a boiled dumpling,” he commented.

“At least I’m delicious food,” you wheezed, inspecting the box. You recognized the clothing brand. “Is this the stuff your ordered? How did it come so fast?”

“I selected next-day delivery.”

You paled.

“I need clothes as soon as possible, don’t I? Or should I go back to being naked, since you’re a pervert?”

You choked, ears burning. “I’m not a pervert!”

“Mhm.”

You tried not to think about the hit on your wallet as you grabbed your keys from the side table and opened the box, seeing all the plastic packages inside. Monotone, in white or black. Figures. You tipped the box to the side and the clothes spilled out, tumbling all over the floor. It took a firm shake to dump it all on the ground. You got on your hands and knees to spread them out, tossing the cardboard aside carelessly to shift through the items. Hopefully, Yoongi had read the listings and selected the correct sizes. From your brief glance, you noticed the tops were quite oversized. Maybe he liked that fit? He had been quite a fluffy cat.

You spotted the packing slip with all the prices listed. You fished it out and then heard a thunk-thunk-thunk, the sound of cardboard on hardwood. Huh?

You looked up to see Yoongi swatting the box around.

“What… are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Investigating.”

You blinked. “Investigating what?”

“Don’t know. I simply feel the need to investigate, thus I am doing so.”

You stared at Yoongi for several minutes as he continued to… uh, investigate (???) the cardboard box, holding it this way and that, smacking it around, watching the flaps bounce in the air as it rolled. His velvety ears perked upwards, sleek black tail swishing with interest.

His expression was completely neutral.

For the first time since becoming a human, you thought Yoongi was more cat than man.

“Uh… okay…”

You glimpsed down to the paper in your hands, seeing the total cost.

You felt the color drain out of your face.

My… wallet…

F in the chat.

You fainted.

-

You felt someone poking you in the head.

“Are you dead?”

You gasped and jerked up like a drown victim coming up for air, still in mild shock of the sudden financial hit of your cat becoming a man. It was okay. You weren’t poor. You just didn’t expect Yoongi to be a shopping like he owned a fucking black card.

“Did I spend too much?”

You snapped out of your stunned state at his soft tone. Yoongi wasn’t looking at you. He was kneeling on top of the pile of clothes, dark eyes on the paper in your shaking hands. With a start, you realized his words were heavy with guilt, his ears pointing downwards and tail tucked against the ground.

“No,” you said quickly, putting the receipt down. “No, Yoongi. I asked you to buy clothes, remember? And besides, it’s better for you to buy things you like and are interested in, rather than me wasting money on things you’ll never wear.”

He raised his head a little, eyes darting from your face to your hands.

You smiled at him, reaching up to pat his head and stroke the fur on his ears. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s only money. Money will never be more important to me than you, okay?”

For a second, you saw something flicker in Yoongi’s eyes. It was so fast that you barely caught it. Relief? Gratitude? Fondness? Then he ticked his head out of your hand, fair cheeks flushing pink.

“You… you don’t have to do that,” he muttered.

“O… oh.” For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest at his words. “R-right.”

Yoongi made eye contact with you, dark brown orbs guarded. He spoke quietly, without emotion.

“Do you wish this never happened?”

“What?” You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to himself, waving a hand up and down carelessly. “This. Human me.”

Human me.

You answered instantly.

“No.”

Yoongi gave you the disbelieving side-eye.

You let out a sheepish puff of air. “I always kind of wished you were human.” You scratched the back of your head aimlessly. “No one listened to me like you did. Even if I was having the shittest day of all time, you always made it better. You were the best cat ever.” You chuckled, smiling up at him. “Sure, your species changed, but you’re still the same, right?”

His eyes shifted, his cheeks still a light pink. “I’m still a cat,” he mumbled awkwardly.

You raised your brows. “Mhm, is that why you were playing with the box?”

“I wasn’t playing with the box,” Yoongi huffed, sounding insulted.

“Then I’ll break it down and recycle it.”

“No,” he snapped firmly. “It’s useful. We’re keeping it.”

“We don’t need a box, Yoongi.”

He tutted. “Hmph, humans. So wasteful. A perfectly good box should be reused.”

“Right.”

You tried to hide your laugh as Yoongi refused to look you in the eye.

-

You left Yoongi to examine his new wardrobe on the floor. You tried to pick them up but he stubbornly remained on the pile of clothes, not letting you move them. When you stood up to leave, you asked him when he was going to move – he replied with, "When it feels right", just cat things, you supposed – and hurried off to export the edited video you were working on earlier. The due date was today and you had to review it for quality.

A certain quality. 

A certain quality of... of... 

Needing the money.

Because your cat (man) had spent fat chunk of it on clothes, only to be more interested in the box they came in and sitting on said clothes rather than the actual items themselves. 

Sigh. 

-

"I ordered the wrong color."

"Oh?" you muttered distractedly, clocking on the export button. You'd been going cross-eyed for the past two or three hours – had it really been that long? shit – and checked your phone to see Gukmul, Seokjin's white sugar glider, peering up at the camera on a white fluffy blanket. You smiled, typing a response to praise his cuteness, completely ignoring the fact that Seokjin had also stuck his handsome face in the photo, smiling with a thumbs-up next to his pet. 

The reply was instant. 

hello, acknowledge my BEAUTIFUL FACE

You deliberately didn't answer right away to piss Seokjin off even more. 

"What's wrong with it?" you asked, looking up. 

Your jaw dropped. 

You dropped your phone. 

Yoongi, your cat-man with excellent reflexes, made absolutely no move to catch it. 

It smacked you in the calf and hit your toes – fucking ow, holy shit – before clattering to the floor. You had a protective phone case on it with a cute tuxedo cat graphic. The screen wouldn't crack with the protector on it. In this moment, however, you didn't give a shit about your smartphone, Kim Seokjin, or even the blinding pain in your foot. Nope. 

You were ogling at Min Yoongi in pink silk pajamas.

-

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to–

Oi!

No, don't you dare scroll past! You think you're clever or something?! Hm? Advertisements always happen at the most crucial parts, you say? 

This is just an ad? 

Look here, Lemona Vitamin C Powder can provide a lot of benefits, including providing natural energy and boosting your immune system in, say, a worldwide pandemic–

STOP TRYING TO SCROLL PAST!!!

-

Jeon Jungkook stared at his phone. 

At a very specific number. 

He put it down, sighing a little, looking out the window instead. It was a nice day, but he couldn't enjoy it the way it was meant to be enjoyed. Pandemic and all that. He frowned, looking at the urban jungle surrounding him. Had he made a mistake moving here to the big city? Sometimes he wondered. Back then, he had moved to finish school and pursue his ambitions. Back then, his choice had seemed full of opportunities, but now.

What did he have, really?

A tiny apartment with a kind and understanding landlord. The world at his fingertips from his computer. Still a decent amount of savings left. Online courses that he needed to finish to get his film degree. 

Loneliness.

He delved into his memories, smiling at the recollection of confused looks, awkward smiles, indignant huffs. So very unlike him to tease so much, but it was too fun and he hadn't felt the usual nervousness and shyness he had around others. There was something comforting about that smile, that apartment, and that fluffy tuxedo cat that loved to interrupt everything. 

He shouldn't have played it off.

He shouldn't have distracted.

Not after he admitted it.

"I like you."

Jungkook said it to the air, to the memory. So vivid that he reached out to touch those lips, but then it all disappeared, just like that. 

Ah.

He looked at the back of his phone, wondering. But now he was too nervous and shy to pick it up again. Why was that? When he was there, being seen by those surprised eyes, he could do and say shameless things. But far away, when he was alone, Jungkook was hesitating, suddenly afraid.

Sigh. 

-

You sneezed. 

Very loudly and jerking your head away from your cat-man in luxurious pink silk, jamming your nose into your elbow.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. 

You sniffed, rubbing your nose. 

"Someone must be thinking about me..." you muttered. 

Yoongi looked down, plucking the collar of the pajamas. "The cotton shirts are the same size, but for some reason this one fits tighter. Why is that? Is there no regulated sizing in human fashion?"

Dude, be glad you're not a girl, you thought dryly. "Might be the fabric," you coughed distractedly. Distractedly because you were staring at quite possibly the most gorgeous man in the history of men and you stared at a lot of men in your short lifetime, so you had experienced eyeballs.

Wait. 

Man or cat-man?

Well, Yoongi was definitely the most gorgeous cat-man considering you were pretty sure there was only one in current existence.

His pointed ears stood straight up in interest, black hair messy from taking clothes on and off, fair cheeks and nose flushed pink, perhaps from physical exertion. Dark brown eyes sheepish, not quite looking at you. The black leather choker stood out on his neck, silver bell gleaming against his collarbones. The material was a mauve-pink silk, clinging to his lean body, showing off his shoulders and long limbs. The button-up shirt created a rather deep v-neckline, a sliver of pale chest visible. And his legs! His slim legs reminded you of a nimble dancer, ending in fuzzy black slippers. 

There was a weird lump in one of the pant legs, going down his thigh. 

Whoa. 

"W-Why did you pick them?" you tried to ask in the least awkward way possible, attempting – and failing – to not to stare at his delectable thighs. 

Yoongi shrugged. "They looked like the ones you have. I meant to get black, but I suppose I didn't read the listing closely enough. They're comfortable though," he mused before making a face. Your eyes bulged as there was a sudden jerk in his pants, creating a large tent in the crotch. 

Alarms sounded off in your head, arousal shooting up like a rocket. 

Oh. 

Oh??? 

Oh!!!!!!!

"My tail is stuck," Yoongi grunted, lowering the back of the pink silk pants. The sleek black cat tail slid out, swishing in the air, tent in his pants gone. 

Oh…

Right. The tail.

Because he's a cat... man.

Your inner thot was sad. Your dignity smacked you upside the head, highly disappointed in you for falling for that, then calmly shot down your arousal rocket with your shame. Oof.

"Can you show me how to sew so I can fix my own clothes from now on?" Yoongi asked as he readjusted the front of the silk shirt. 

You bent down to pick up your phone, trying to do something with your face and hands to disguise your embarrassment and burning ears. "Yeah, of course." You placed it on your desk and turned back to face him. 

Yoongi was right next to you. 

Literally so close that you could feel his body heat. 

"... Urk!"

You jumped in your seat, banging your knee against your desk and howling in pain, computer chair rolling and making you lose your balance, ass about to slip before Yoongi grabbed your chair and shoved it into the table, making you trip and fall back into the seat, head hitting the headrest a little too hard, seeing stars and rubber duckies for a second. 

Wait, were they rubber duckies? They were white and glittery, almost as if they were made from snow…

Yoongi slapped you in the face.

“Ow!”

You rubbed your cheek, blinking rapidly to clear your vision before glaring at him.

“Checking if you were alive,” was his placid response.

Alright, it wasn’t that hard, but the unexpectedness of it still hurt. You frowned, only for the pain to slowly melt away, quickly being replaced by something else as you realized Yoongi was still half-leaning over you, a knee on your computer gaming chair to prevent it from rolling. The sting in your knee was temporarily forgotten. Yoongi spoke again, his voice low and deep, almost a sensual purr.

“You hit yourself pretty hard.”

He doesn’t know what’s he’s doing. It’s just a coincidence. A kitty-incidence, Seokjin would say.

Your eyes widened as Yoongi closed in, peering at your unfocused gaze. Now you could see down his shirt. Holy shit. Were you so deprived that you were getting mad horny from seeing Yoongi’s fucking clavicle and sternum?

Is that even a question?

Yes.

Yes, you were.

“You look like you did last night.”

“What?” you breathed, still unabashedly looking down his shirt.

“Your pupils are dilated.”

You froze. His cool fingertips were on your neck.

“Heartrate increased.”

You wanted to pull back, say, no, wait, don’t do that, but Yoongi was too close and his exhale was too feathery, brushing against your lips, and you couldn’t move, trapped in your chair, between him wrapped in pink silk and your mind reeling, him still playing fucking doctor while you were trying not to jump his half-covered ass.

“And that smell.”

You finally tore your gaze away, eyes drifting up to his.

You swallowed.

“S… smell?”

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Ohnoohshitwhatifhecansmellmypus–

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, surveying you closely. He was so close you couldn’t see his lips, only his dark brown orbs. He didn’t say anything. He smelled like your soap, reminding you of his naked body pressed against you in the shower. Your heartbeat was leaping to your throat, threatening to choke you with your own horniness. Honestly, at this point, would you even be surprised?

You chuckled nervously, clinging onto your last shreds of self-preservation, which, admittedly, were rapidly yeeting out of your hands.

“Hahaha… but you’re… a cat… yeah?”

Right?

Seconds passed.

Right???

Minutes passed.

RIGHT???????

Yoongi’s lashes lowered, not quite looking at your eyes. Staring at your lips.

“I’m a man too,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes widened.

Yoongi kissed you.

You were so shocked that you swore your eyes nearly left your head.

It was a soft kiss, his eyes closed, tilting his head slightly to fit better against yours, pressing you back into your chair. Your head hit the headrest and you gasped, your tongue lightly flicking his lips and they parted, his own tongue sliding against yours, gentle licks, your brain malfunctioning, but body remembering, hands coming up to grab his shirt and yank him closer, pressing back against him. He backed up a little at your suddenness, exhaling hard. Your eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of how forceful you were.

Yoongi looked away, pointed black ears flicking back and forth uneasily.

You kissed your cat. Man. Cat-man.

He’s been a man for not even two days and you just tried to make out with him like a demented beast!

“A-ah, Yoongi, no, I’m so sorry, I-I… please, I didn’t mean to…” you stuttered, letting go of him quickly, but also not wanting to let go, but you should, your hands getting confused by your mental signals, repeatedly clasping and unclasping the pink silk, not realizing that he wasn’t even trying to move away.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Yoongi said slowly.

You clutched his shirt, staring at your white knuckles, unable to look at him directly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… you’re so handsome, but I’m your owner… and I cracked…”

“What you are is a desperate, sexually deprived human.”

You jerked your head up, seeing his unreadable expression. “I-It’s been over a year–”

All of a sudden, Yoongi lowered his knee and grabbed you by the ass, scooting you down on the rolling chair. You yelped at the swift movement, gasping as your crotch collided with his thigh, wincing as you heard the squelch of your panties jamming into your soaked core.

Yikes.

Welp, you can’t hide that shit now.

“You like things like this, don’t you?” Yoongi murmured.

Your cheeks heated. “T…Things like w-what…?”

Oh, you knew what. You knew very well what, but you also couldn’t form coherent sentences.

His fingers sank into your ass and he pressed you into his thigh, rolling it into your heat. The whines tore out of your throat involuntarily, grabbing his arm and staring up at him with shaking eyes, seeing his curious gaze looking down at you.

“B-But, Yoongi… I’m your o-owner,” you panted, resolve slipping with every second, your hips already rocking into his thigh, the slippery thin fabric doing nothing to hide his lean muscle, your own thighs clamping around his leg. “I’m supposed to t-take care of y-you…”

And last more than two days, fucking shit, get it together!

But you couldn’t get it together, especially not as Yoongi’s voice dropped to a lower octave, one side of his lips curving upwards.

“It’s a little different now, isn’t it?” he drawled softly, lashes lowering, eyebrows raising, his black hair darkening his gaze. “Since I am now capable to take care of you too.”

You whimpered, losing it.

Just started freely humping his leg, self-preservation completely gone. Did he even know what he was capable of, really? Did he have any idea what he could do? Surely not.

Surely, he had no idea how good he could make you feel.

Yoongi bit the side of his lip, frowning. “How will can I make it feel better? I’m only cop…” He trailed off, furry ears anxiously flicking.

You tugged on his arm, getting his attention. “Angle your leg a little more downwards… Y-Yeah, like that…” He did as you instructed, his thigh now pressing down on your clit and your rocking hips moving faster, clinging to his arm and setting your jaw, moaning at the added pleasure. “A-ah… yeah, fuck… yes, I c-can… like this…”

“You can what?” Yoongi breathed, watching your face closely, firmly holding the armrests of the chair so it wouldn’t slide.  

Your head tipped back a little, bucking harder into his thigh, so wet your juices were soaking through your leggings and drenching the pink silk, turning it darker, the strong scent of your sweet arousal clearly evident. Your eyes drifted to Yoongi’s dark orbs covered by black hair, vision hazy, noticing the slight inquisitive upturn of his upper lip. There was no point in hiding it anymore.

“Can cum, Yoongi, fuck, I’m going to cum…” you moaned, inhaling his scent, his presence, saying his name and looking up at him, the stimulation and touch of another enough to get you there, eyelids fluttering as your orgasm swept down, taking you away and filling you with serene satisfaction, crashing waves soaring through you, washing away the sand of your dry spell, a different kind of euphoria than when you were on your own, pulling Yoongi close, kissing him deeply, breathing hard.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Was it nice?” he murmured. “Was I what you needed?”

“Yeah…” You kissed his soft lips again, semi-breathless. “I–” The wave of guilt came now, your words dropping, brows furrowing, a sharp pang in your chest. Rising, rising. Panic. Yoongi lowered his head, black hair and soft pointed ear rubbing against your eyebrow, nuzzling your cheek. Once. Twice. Again, headbutting you lightly, smoothing the worry away from your forehead, a small laugh bubbling from your throat.

“What are you doing?” you chuckled, patting his arm, smoothing out the wrinkles you had made while furiously humping him. Your eye caught the dark mark now on one of his thighs. Welp. You lasted less than ten minutes.

Pink pajama Yoongi was dangerous.

“You liked this,” he mumbled. “When you were upset.”

You chuckled, instinctively reaching up and caressing his velvety ear. “You were a little smaller then.”

“Only a little.”

He slowed until he came to a full stop, dark eye staring into yours, cheek to cheek.

“I have to look after you, my clumsy human.”

-

part iv

--

masterpost

[bleedingvengnce]

Guns and Roses | JJ Maybank Smut

Summary: JJ’s girlfriend doesn’t enjoy him wielding a gun around, and is very vocal about it. JJ needs to show her that he knows how to handle it, and her.

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Warning: Smut(a lot of it), unprotected sex, gun kink, absolute filth, 18+

A/N: Haven’t written smut in ages but I knew the world just needs a JJ Maybank who has a gun kink. Enjoy;) (Not Edited)

“Okay, everyone, listen up! Get the hell off of our side of the island!” JJ howled, resentment and hated wrapping around his words.

You watched her boyfriend aim the gun towards the sky, firing off two piercing warning shots to bring terror to those around him. Shrieks and cries emanated from the dispersing crowd as you watched on with wides eyes. Your mouth hung open in shock at how psychotic JJ was acting within this moment, a crazed looking creasing on his features.

“Are you fucking crazy?” You screeched, your voice hitting new heights.

“You idiot, why would you do that?” Pope backed your words, shoving his friend roughly, narrowed eyes directed at the blonde boy.

“I’m saving his life, ok?” His tone was desperate, hands thrown in the air as he unsteadily waved the gun about.

“You’re going to jeopardize everything!” You were glowering at him, seething with irritation at the stupidity of your reckless boyfriend.

“Whatever,” He muttered.

His eyes narrowed at you, treading towards his injured friend that collapsed limply into the frothy foam.

“Oh god, John B!” The group rushed towards him, Pope and JJ hauling his lax figure from the grips of the salty sea.

Your eyes caught onto the sight of the gun shoved lazily in the waistband of JJ pants, your gaze shooting daggers at the inanimate object. You always held a hatred towards the weapon, witnessing too many lifeless bodies on the news, headlines scribed, “Twenty Kids Shot Dead During the School Day,” or “Unarmed Black Man Killed by an Officer with a Gun,” or something to that effect. You were a known activist for stricter gun laws, wanting to rid the world of the ruthless weapon that has taken so many innocent lives too soon. You loathed it even more that JJ was well aware of your beliefs and completely disregarded your feelings by continuing to wield the gun around.

The two of you dropped Kiara and Pope off, the two of them being busy with work early the next morning or their folks needed them home for the night. All that was left was the annoying JJ and his knocked out friend sprawled in the back seat. The three of you finally arrived at John B’s place, JJ shifting the raggedy and run down van into park, the engine sputtering off. Your boyfriend dragged John B from the van, lugging the boy’s weight over yours and JJ’s shoulders as you both heaved him towards the house. He was heavier than he looked. You kicked the door open, tossing his body lazily onto the couch in the living room, John B’s eyes remaining shut throughout the entire process, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths as a sign of life.

JJ sauntered into the kitchen, pulling the door to the fridge open, gazing into it at the few items placed inside which was beer, condiments, and more beer.

“You want anything?” You heard him call out to you as you checked John B over to make sure he was ok, nothing bleeding heavily or any bruises that looked as though they may lead to internal bleeding.

You didn’t respond to his question, still frustrated over his actions from tonight.

“Ok, fine,” He mumbled, pulling out a bottle of beer and twisting cap off, downing the golden liquid as though it was water.

“What’s your deal, Y/N? Seriously still pissed about the gun?” Your eyes rolled at his words, not even sparing him a glance as you sat at John B’s side, the unconscious boy being your only distraction within this moment.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” His words were hard, vicious as he leaned against the kitchen table, burning holes in the back of your skull.

“Yeah I’m still pissed, dumbass,” You hissed, shooting him a disapproving scowl, venom twisting around your words.

“Seriously, Y/N? It’s not that big of a deal,” He huffed, shaking his head at you, as though you were some silly child he couldn’t understand.

Though, he was the child in this situation.

“Yes, it is. You could have killed someone tonight. You could have killed multiple people. It’s not a toy.” The level of your voice was steadily beginning to rise, lifting yourself into a standing position as you faced your idiotic boyfriend.

“I know it isn’t. I know what I’m doing,” He defended, stepping towards you, eyes in slits as he stared you down.

“No you don’t. You’re careless. You shouldn’t even have a gun.” You were yelling at him now, motioning your hands in exaggerated movements as you inched closer to the boy.

“Yes I do. Stop being a nagging bitch,” He spat out poisonously, infuriated with you and your words.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re literally a child.” You were beyond seething, but knew those were not the right words to say to a raging JJ in this moment.

The two of you were inches away from one another’s now, the tension hanging thick in the air as you both glowered at each other, fury igniting within your irises.

“What did you say to me?” His voice was low, rumbling deep from within his heaving chest.

Though, something shook you to the core. You watched as JJ’s piercing gaze flit between your eyes and your pursed lips. The dark glint clouding in his eyes was not solely anger, but something else entirely. He instantly reached his hand up, fingers harshly grabbing at your jaw. Your eyes instantly widened at the contact, his calloused grasp tilting your head to the side in a vice like grip.

“I said, what did you say to me?” He quirked a brow after reiterating the question, his jarring stare unrelenting as he tsked in disappointment.

“I-I said you’re a child.” You tried to maintain the spiteful tone you directed his way, but your voice unwilling wavered.

Your brain was scolding your resisting body, the way he was manhandling you causing a dripping warmth to pool between your legs, mouth running dry at the way he peered down at you with his eyes storming with arousal.

“A child, hm?” He hummed, irises smoldering behind the tendrils of his golden hair.

“I’m not a child baby, and I’m going to prove that to you.” He dove into the exposed crook of your neck, using his blunt ivories to bite down on your sensitive skin.

An unruly moan tumbled from your lips at the roughness of his kisses. Faster than you could blink, you backed you into the wall behind the two of you, your head cracking against the wall with a sickening thud. Your mind was numb due to the plethora of suckling being done on your neck. He nipped at the bare flesh of your collarbone, your jaw still locked in his clutches, the other entangling around your waist to pull you flush against his muscled figure. You felt your stomach flutter at him leaving ragged purple bruises along your throat, your hands desperately grabbing at his biceps for more stability as your legs wavered.

“JJ,” You breathed out, nails digging into his skin as his free hand groped your butt.

“Let’s take this into the bedroom,” His words weren’t a question, but an order, pulling you into John B’s room, your mind unable to fully comprehend you would be having sex on your good friend’s bed.

Though, this wouldn’t be the first time.

JJ slammed the door shut behind the two of you, turning back to focus his attention on your heated figure. He roughly pressed his lips against yours, teeth clashing in a messy makeout. Your fingers weaved their way through his thick blonde locks, tugging at them each time his tongue dipped easily between your parted lips. His hand traveled from the protruding bone of your hip up the length of your body, finding its resting place on your throat. The tips of his fingers were gentle at first, loosely gripping around your neck, before her squeezed harshly, constricting your airway briefly, before releasing his deadly grasp. A whimper escaped your throat after he let up, though, not releasing your dainty throat. Your knees trembled at the aggressive behavior he was portraying. You could feel your panties soaking from the arousal dripping from your pussy, craving his expert touch.

“Mm, baby, you like that?” He purred, pulling away from the kiss with bruised lips, left over saliva from your mouth glistening against his beautiful mouth you craved so much.

All you could do was nod, words leaving you within this passionate moment, only heaving breaths, struggling against the weight of his hand, were heard.

“Come on baby. Tell me what you like.” He urged for you to tell him your deepest desires, the fantasies buried deep within your mind that you would touch yourself to while he was away.

“I-I like when you’re rough with me.” Your voice trembled measly, looking at him with desperation as you squeezed your thighs together, desperate for any sort of friction.

“How rough, baby?” He was attempting to coax those unspoken desires from your lips, his other hand clutching at your waist, fingertips roughly pressing into your delicate skin and leaving sore marks.

“So rough with me. So rough that I can barely breathe. That marks are left on me for days. I want you to show me that you’re in charge of me. I want you to take control.” You spilled your darkest secrets to your boyfriend, never having gone much farther with your sexual experimentation than brief choking and light slaps against your ass.

“Very good, sweetheart.” He nodded in approval, a devious smirk toying at his lips as he grabbed at your shirt, instantly ripping it off of you to reveal your bare breasts, a bra being no where to be found.

He didn’t miss a beat, his pretty lips wrapping around your nipple, suckling the pebbled nub into his mouth. His teeth lightly nibbled on it, a free hand reaching at to pinch harshly at the other one, leaving it red and aching after the twists and pulls with his fingers.

“JJ, please, I need more.” You practically cried out, your pussy throbbing in desperation at the built up tension he was creating.

“Sh, baby, I’m getting there.” He shushed you, nipping at your sore nipples, before standing back up straight.

Both of his hands found your hips, lifting you in the air and carelessly tossing you on the bed behind the two of you. You squealed after you hit the bouncy mattress, looking up at the approaching boy, tossing his shirt to the floor, revealing his chiseled chest that you could admire for hours on end.

His lips found yours again as he settled his weight on top of you, putting most of it on one arm while the other grasped at your jaw again. The kiss was messy, disorganized, but delicious, enjoying the way your teeth clashed together, tongues sloppily lapping at each other as he ground his hips down onto yours, relieving some of the burning arousal. As soon as the fervent moment began, it stopped, JJ having pulled away to gaze down into your eyes, seriousness creasing along his features.

“My love, do you trust me?”

You cock an eyebrow in curiosity as the clouding lust dissipated from his eyes, wondering why he could be asking this question.

“Well, it depends.” You answered honestly, completely unsure as to what he would say next.

“Please baby. I need you to tell me you trust me.” He eyed her carefully, urging her to respond.

You don’t understand the persistence within the question he was asking, but, after a moment of consideration, you parted your lips to speak.

“Yes, I trust you.”

The serious expression set upon his face eased greatly, the glint reappearing within his eyes, this time fiercer and more prominent than before, a devious grin spreading on his lips. You watched as one of his hands disappeared behind his back, soon returning with the weapon that you so loathed. You felt your eyes widen, eyeing the gun carefully.

“JJ...” You trailed off, but all you could think about was how the question and this weapon could be connected, “What’re you doing with that?”

You pieced the clues together, before finally landing on a surprising conclusion, staring at the boy with his favored toy, hovering over you with a hunger look pooling in his irises.

“Oh,” You breathed, your body reacting to the new toy brought into the bedroom to use, for him to dominate you with.

You felt your skin buzz with excitement at just the thought, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. He was awaiting your words, not making a movement as he desperately stared down at you. But, like you stated previously, you trusted him. You lifted one of your hands, the tips of your fingers dancing along his arm as you turned your head down in an accepting nod, going against everything your brain was screaming for you to do, listening to your body’s needs instead.

He grinned down at you, thankful you accepted his unspoken proposal. You felt the cool plastic of the weapon grazing against your cheek, feeling your heart begin to patter at how close the barrel was coming towards your face. His free hand trailed down your abdomen, fingers lightly brushing along the waistband of your shorts. You exhaled a shuttered breath, never breaking eye contact with him as his hand ungracefully unbuttoned your shorts, you kicking them the rest of the way down your legs.

JJ ran a finger over your clothed clit, feeling the wetness seeping through the cotton fabric.

“Mm, baby. You’re soaking.” He hummed in approval, running the weapon down between your breasts and around your stomach.

You felt his fingers slip under the waist band of your bright pink underwear, hovering over your throbbing clit, chest heaving with anticipation of his deliciously long fingers. You needed him so bad, lifting your hips to meet his touch. He shook his head in disappointment at the action, knowing how much he loved to tease you. The hard plastic of the barrel dug into your hip bone, JJ using it to press your core back into mattress below.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Your boyfriend tsked with displeasure, a whine emitting from your throat at the feeling of the weapon making you compliant as it jabbed at your skin.

“Please touch me, JJ,” You whined, tongue swiping over your dried lips as you lay in expectation for his pleasurable touches.

“What ever you say, princess.” Without warning he dipped his fingers into your dripping slit, narrowly missing your clit.

A wanton groan tumbled past the escapes of your lips, eyes rolling into the back of your hair at his calloused finger tips dragging between your lips. He repeated the motion, this time flicking over the overly sensitive nub. Your hips jerked up at the sensation, knocking against the gun still pressed harshly into your abdomen.

“Oh yes!” You yelped as the tip of his fingers circled your clit, applying different types of pressure against the nerve endings.

The weapon he clutched onto went back to circling around your stomach, gentle touches as he rubbed mind numbing figure eights onto your clit, feeling yourself pushing closer to the edge with each motion of his finger. He knew just how to touch you, his lips easily caressing your inner thigh as he lay between your open legs. He practically disregarded the deadly weapon, pulling your panties aside to flicker his tongue across your core, the new sensation dragging you right near the edge of release. JJ’s lips effortlessly wrapped around the nub, sucking harshly while he used his free hand to plunge two fingers within your tight hole, curling the two fingers upwards. You felt him brush against the spot that makes your legs tremble, breathless moans coming from you at the pleasure he was creating from his luscious lips and long fingers.

Your fingers weaved into his golden blonde hair, watching him eagerly lap at your core, his gaze flickering up to your face.

“JJ, I’m-” Your words were halted by him humming against your clit, that being what caused you to hurl yourself directly over the edge, your orgasm consuming your mind.

Your eyes snapped shut as you arched your back into the air, your mind dropping into a world shattering orgasm. Your legs twitched as he let you rid it out, gently slipping his fingers out from inside of you, giving your clit one last lick before retracting from between your legs. A glistening liquid coated his lips as he grinned down at you, his bulge large and prominent between his legs.

“My turn, baby.” His pants were on the floor in second, his hands rushing to rip your panties off of your body.

He roughly gripped your hips, lifting them to meet his. He grasped at his now exposed cock, running his hand over it before slipping it over your still dripping pussy. You felt it bump against your overly sensitive clit before swiftly sinking the length inside of you.

“Oh fuck, Y/N,” JJ hissed, relishing in the feeling of your tight heat clenching around his dick as he bottomed out.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of him sully stretching you out, loving the way the veins of his length grazed against every deliciously sensitive part of your heat. He then pulled himself so just his tip was remaining, before slamming back into you. He found a perfect and rough rhythm, pounding into you over and over again, unrelenting. You felt the click of his gun returning, this time, digging into your temple, the barrel positioned in a dangerous spot. Just his finger twitching, and you could have a bullet in your skull. His other hand harshly grasped at your hips, bruising them with his grip. You felt adrenaline pulsing through you with your throbbing core. You were ashamed how much you loved the way the weapon was stuck again your head, his length wrecking your insides as he violently thrusted inside of you. You loved how he had complete and utter control of you and your body, holding your life in the palm of his hand as he turned you into a moaning and sweaty mess.

“Oh shit, baby, I’m close.” You gazed upon him, his face creased as his brows furrowed together, his thrusts becoming sloppy, the weapon that was previously against your skull now discarded on the table next to you.

You urged him on, meeting each snap of his hips until you felt his warmth filling you to the brim, his length pulsating within you. He let out a rumbling groan, squeezing your pelvis tightly, before collapsing on top of you in a sweaty heap.

“Holy shit, JJ,” You breathed out, unable to fully comprehend what had just occurred between the two of you.

“Holy shit is right.” He rolled off of you, gathering your petite body in his arms to comfort you, the both of you savoring your mind blowing orgasms you had.

“So, did you, did you enjoy it? With, you know?” He couldn’t fully formulate the words, but he didn’t have to, you understanding what he was referring to.

“In a way, yes. It was horrifying, scary, intense, and pleasurable all at the same time. I loved how dominant it made you, how fully in control you were.” You confessed, staring up into his beautiful blue irises.

“Maybe we can do it again.” He winked, a teasing tone threading his words, but knowing he was more than serious in wanting to partake in something like that again.

“Maybe let’s not point a loaded gun at my head again.” You stated bluntly, though, a little part of you couldn’t help the way your thighs tensed at him fucking you like that in the future.

“I hate to tell you this, but the safety was on the whole time.”

[dizzydancingdreamer]

The Servant and The Prince | Four

Mama Mia, here we go again lovelies!

Description: This is very much a Cinderella trope because I cannot help myself and I am in love with Loki, chapter four

Pairing: Loki x Female!Reader, third person as I may adapt eventually with an OC

Warnings: anger, mentions of abuse (not graphic), mentions of death (not graphic)

Tags: angst, fluff

Word count: 6.2k (oh god)

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Master List

Y/n’s heart thunders as she gazes up at the glittering golden gates of the castle. If she was not so bogged down with bags she would throw a hand over her brow— a futile attempt to keep her eyes from burning out of their sockets. Do they really have to be this glittery? She thinks they are marvellous, that is not the problem. The problem is that she is not marvelous. Not in the slightest. Not worthy of such magnificent, splendid, rich architecture. She glances down at her simple dress— the loose green threads hanging from the side of the garment— she had meant to fix those— is this really where she must stay? Surely there must be a stable somewhere. A barn for animals like her.

“Come on you churl—” Estrid hisses, her demon-esq nails digging into her arm where her step mother’s hand curls over sleeve— “you are making us look bad. At least pretend to have some couth.”

Estrid drags her forward for a moment, ushering her— all but kicking her— through the blinding gates before losing interest and rushing to meet Anna. Y/n bites her tongue. There are many things she could say. It is almost strange just how many retorts rush to her tongue. They race through her skull, infecting her mind like a sort of mould. Unlike with the bread back home she cannot seem to pick away at it— she cannot make the bad spots go away.

Perhaps if they had not left her to carry all of their things then she would not be taking so long. Do they really believe the princes will spare their diamonds a glance anyway? They are sure to be able to smell the fakes from miles away!

Y/n blinks a few times at the roar of fire that swells in her chest, encasing her very lungs in flames, almost stumbling over the marble stairs beneath her. It feels as though if she does not scream right now— if she does not say everything on her mind, unleash this pent up resentment— then she will surely cook from the inside out. It bubbles, simmers, does the thing pots do when they begin to sizzle— like they are screaming but she is not screaming; she only wishes she was. But she has never wanted to scream and she has been through so much worse. What is one little name, one hand yanking her arm? It is nothing but still she is ready to let the flames engulf her and burn the entire city.

It is terrifying— this kind of all consuming rage.

Estrid turns back towards Y/n, who is still stumbling over the steps, always the faithful servant, and her step mother scoffs. Estrid mutters something under her breath that she cannot hear. An insult, no doubt. It does not reach her ears. There is no way she would have been able to hear it anyway, not over the sound of the flames disintegrating her bones and blood and flesh from the inside out. It makes her want to scream louder— harder, make the castle walls crumble the same way she feels like she is— loud enough to hear over the roar.

Can you not hear it? Do you not care? She can taste the words as they beg for mercy on her tongue, wanting nothing more than to die on the cobblestone before her, spat out in a string of venom like they are meant to be. Can they not see that she is burning to the ground?

She barely swallows the words— she can hear them crying as they pass her throat and she almost changes her mind. She almost sets them free. It is all she can do to bend her neck at her step mother, wonder if the flames are visible in her eyes, and try not to cough up smoke right here on the castle steps. That would be very unladylike— a dishonor on her family. Oh— wait— no it would not be. Her family is dead. She can vomit as much smoke and flames as her little, burning heart desires. She has no one left to bring shame to. Gods, she is so terrified.

Why she is terrified, she does not know. She has never been scared before— not like this.

She was scared of the dark for the longest time. She used to see shadows on her walls and under the waves in the wash basin and against the trees when her mother would make her fetch the cat before bed. She used to think that was true fear— the night. The shadows. The wash basin. But then the morning sun would come and fight the shadows— then her mother would empty the basin— and before long there was nothing left to be afraid of.

But then there was no mother to empty the wash basin and suddenly she was afraid of death and the dark. Surely death must be the greatest fear one can have. Right? The all consuming nothingness, the longest sleep, the unknown. What could be scarier than the unknown? Than losing the people she loves the most and being left to wonder where they are and what they are doing— if they can even do anything— and are they okay? Please, someone just tell her, are they okay? She is not okay.

Darkness and death— death and darkness. At least those were always the scariest things and at least she had overcome them— both of them. There is nothing scarier than those two things. Except, apparently, herself. That is all there is left to be afraid of. Not Estrid or Anna, not pain. Not him. Those are all things she has survived. Overcome. Enjoyed. There is only herself to be afraid now, and the overwhelming, unbearable anger unfurling in her chest and arms and neck and skull. She is terrified of herself.

She is terrified of the anger.

“This way ladies— your chambers are this way!”

Y/n blinks— certain her eyelashes are singed and the blur in her vision is from the smoke in her eyes— and finds that she is no longer on the marble steps but in a long hallway. Pillars rise to her left, showcasing an expansive forest and a smudge of blue that must be the ocean. It feels so close— she can see the waves cresting with white foam so it must be. She can smell the salt, like it is right next to her. She can almost feel the surf lapping at her toes, cooling some of the burning tingle. She would do anything for it to rush up her legs. Soak her dress. Make her skin sticky. She would take the stickiness over the relentless flames. There is no time, though, to take her moment of peace. No time for stickiness. There never is.

“Are you deaf?” Estrid’s hand presses down on her spine, right where the bruises are from the last time the two came in contact. “Move! I will not take kindly to getting the worst chamber because of your dawdling.”

Are the bruises purple? She wonders. Perhaps they are red and black— like molten lava, shifting under her skin. She does not voice her musings aloud, of course. She swallows those thoughts alongside the rest of them. She can feel the precise way they fall on top of their partners, each wasted syllable mushing into the last. They fill her aching belly all the way, pressing on the hollow dip of her throat. If her thoughts were food she would never be hungry again.

Of course, she does not say any of that. Instead she bows her head, eating the flames as they rise. She is so full already though. “I am very sorry, Milady.”

Estrid scoffs. “You should be. Henry should have drowned you at birth had he known you would be so slow.”

At the sound of her father’s name her head snaps up. Estrid is already walking away again, hurrying to meet her impatient daughter. Anna taps her heel against the marble. Click, click, click. Each tap makes her head pound harder. Soon she cannot hear the clicks anymore. Her father would never do anything of the sort— her father was kind! They are not looking at her anymore. They cannot see the smoke billowing from her ears. They cannot see the blackness she feels flashing across her vision. They cannot see the hate. Just like she cannot see the bruises. Are they purple? Are they scarlet? What would her father think of them? She cannot see the bruises but she can feel them. Hot and itchy and painful. Can they feel the hatred? Are they just ignoring it like she is ignoring the volcanic bruises?

Probably. And they are not the only ones. Y/n weaves through the crowded hallway, dodging women of all shapes and colors— quite literally, she narrowly passes a woman with purple tinted skin— all of whom spare her not even a glance. It makes her feel invisible. It makes feel like she can finally breathe. It makes her angry. She is breathing the smoke again. Every face that passes her that does not look at her makes her charcoal lungs ignite even more. Her only solace is the all too familiar feeling of being split in two. The anger is not wholly her own— it is his as well. She can feel him in her chest, that aching part of her anger where he demands to be seen.

Is he mad at her?

She stops dead in her tracks. Just like that, her own anger is gone, replaced with something ice cold and unbearable. It starts in her hands. Her wrists begin aching— freezing— as the ice flows up through her veins. She thought the fire was bad. She takes it all back in this moment— she wants the flames again. The ice is in her chest now. She can feel it creeping closer to her heart. She wants the anger back. Her anger. Why would he be angry with her?

Does he hate her? She can no longer feel her heart beating— the ice has done its job. It is after her throat now, climbing higher and higher. What would it feel like to throw up shards of Ice? Nevermind, she does not want to know. She had wanted to scream before. She had wanted to burn the kingdom down with her voice and words and screams. Now she cannot even whimper. Her tongue is frozen. Her knees hit the floor— she does not feel it. Maybe it does not even happen, maybe her eyes are just frozen now and playing tricks on her. They make her feel as though she is falling— pull the ground from under her and send her vision spinning— but perhaps she is still standing. Still following. Still invisible.

Why would he hate her?

She watches as feet pass by her, heels and boots of all colors all slowing when they cross her path. Well, maybe they are slowing. Maybe that is just her mind continuing to play tricks on her though. She would not be able to tell the difference right now— if there is one, that is. She cannot look past the soles of the shoes, cannot meet the eyes of those passing her. She is stuck— her neck which was so hot only moments ago now stiff. To think that a simple thought could send her reeling in such a grand way as to literally floor her. It is almost impressive, actually. If she could feel anything other than the crushing, ice cold weight on her shoulders then perhaps she would laugh.

To think that a nameless, faceless man could make her feel such torrential and devastating emotions. Anger and sadness. Longing and desperation. It is unreal the things he makes her feel. Otherworldly things. Impossible, tragic, wonderful things. There is no way that any of it is real. She must be losing her mind. She wishes she was losing her mind. Her chest zaps where the emerald ring hits her sternum, tied to a thin strap of leather around her neck, the ice melting for a fraction of a second. It taps against her skin as her hands meet the marble floor, a gentle reminder that this— he— is real. Gods. A measure of the anger sparks back up and this time she knows that it is entirely her own.

When she was a little girl she used to watch the dust devils in her neighbours corn field. Her father would watch with her sometimes. One of those times he explained what was happening. He told her that wind only spirals like that when the cold air meets the hot air. When that happens— and the temperatures collide— they begin to fight. Imagine them like two rivals, her father had said. The cold air grabs the hot air’s hair. In turn the hot air kicks out at the cold air’s knees. They keep doing that— kicking and shoving and biting and pulling— until finally their limbs are but a blur. That is all a dust devil is, my girl— two rivals fighting. She had not thought to ask him what happens when the cold air and the hot air are not rivals— she had not thought to ask what would happen if the hot air and the cold air were actually lovers. Would the same thing happen? Those little dust devils? Would it be better?

Would it be worse?

Much like most things in her life, she does not know the answer to that. All she knows is that she can feel the air— be them rivals or lovers— punching and kicking, kissing and touching, in her chest and it hurts. All she knows is that if he is real then he better come and get her right now before her body caves to the icy fire tornado that is swirling in her lungs. She is going to implode.

“My dear—” a warm hand lands on her shoulder and it is like magic the way her thoughts are silenced, leaving behind nothing but a harsh ringing in her ears— “are you alright? That was quite the spill you just took.”

Whoever is speaking to her has a voice that is like honey and silk. It wraps around her, soothing every ache in her weary body. The hand rubs a circle into her shoulder, not letting her go, and she begins to thaw, the ice around her eyes and throat and heart melting away in seconds. Not back to the anger— no, that is long gone, a mere thought in the back of her mind— but instead to a new feeling. She is neither ice nor fire— she is springtime. She is warm and calm, her fingers flexing against the marble like small creatures emerging from hibernation. She curls them a few times, relishing in the blood as it returns to her hands and the way it does not feel as though it is burning her. It is not fire, it is just blood.

“Do you think you can get up?” The soft voice is right next to her ear now and she closes her eyes for a moment. It sounds so familiar— so gentle. She never thought she would hear that voice again. “I think maybe we should go to the healers— just in case, my dear.”

She can smell it now— the yeast. The berries. She takes a deep breath in and she can taste the strawberry jam on her lips like she is eight years old again. Her father used to always sneak her an extra pastry after dinner. They would split it on the back porch, their fingers sticky and their laughter twisting into the twilight. Her mother must have known— she was meticulous. She was so aware of the things around her at all times. She was beautiful and kind and made the best jam in the entire realm.

“Mother?” The word slips off her tongue instinctively. Naturally. She cannot stop it because, for a moment, it is as though she is right next to the woman she misses most. It is as though everything is okay again.

Y/n lifts her head— she finally can, her neck is no longer stiff with ice— her eyes landing on a woman with flowing golden hair that twists and curls against her chest. It is not her mother. Her chest squeezes. She knows that it should not— it was never going to be her mother and she knows that— but she cannot help but feel deflated. If there was ever a time for a miracle it would be right now. Preferably a miracle that makes the best strawberry pastries and gives hugs that feel like taking a warm bath. She shakes her head lightly, clearing the thought and the mist that has begun to gather in her eyes. It is not the time for sentimentality.

The woman— the woman who is not her mother— has soft blue eyes— iridescent almost— that bore into her own. There is a ring around her pupils where the blue turns to a darker coal. For a moment it looks like the ring is pulsing. The longer Y/n looks into her eyes the deeper she falls into them. It does not feel as much like drowning as one would think. It is a softer kind of falling— it is as though the woman can see every inch of her soul with a simple look. Her aroma strengthens, changing slightly. The yeast is no longer present— that was only ever her imagination— and now there is a strong, flowery scent. It is strangely intoxicating.

She has to blink a few times, turning away for a taste of fresh air, her gaze falling to the woman’s flowing silk gown. It is a delicate ivory number with beautiful embroidery all over the bust. Little flowers. Perhaps that is where the scent is coming from, wafting off the garden around her collarbone. She really is springtime.

The woman laughs and the flowers sway, moved by a breeze of breath and glee. “Oh my darling, I think you just confirmed my thoughts. Let's get you up, alright? See if we can find someone to take a look at you. Your head must be pounding.”

She is like an oasis in the desert. Y/n has never been to the desert but still— this is what she imagines it would feel like. Gentle and easy, like a cool breeze or a patch of shade. It would feel like the soothing touch of this woman’s hands as she pulls her body from its heap on the ground, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her from toppling right over again. Her legs feel unstable and her knees are shaking but everything is okay. But oasis’ are just figments of the imagination— or at least this one is. They are doomed to fizzle away eventually, taking with them the joyful shade and leaving behind the scorching heat.

As the golden woman begins to turn with her, no doubt pulling her in the direction of the supposed healers, there is an ear piercing screech.

“There you are! You were supposed to be following us you dense child.” Estrid is in front of Y/n in seconds, her narrowed eyes locked on her and the familiar, gut wrenching sneer on her scarlet lips. “It is like you never listen on purpose— you just mill about in your own little world. Always about Y/n, never about anyone else.”

The fire from before— the scorching heat— begins bubbling in the pit of her stomach. It splashes like tar, slowly coating her insides in that all consuming hate. She bites her tongue, clenching her jaw. She can still feel the woman’s hand on her shoulder. There is still a piece of the oasis and she clings to it. But even that is being consumed— the touch melting into the lightning in her veins. She is definitely going to explode.

Her step mother takes a step towards her but halts, her eyes darting to the floor where they stay for a long moment. When her neck snaps back up she is positively fuming. “You dropped our things! Why you ungrateful little brat, I—”

In less than the blink of an eye she is no longer looking at her step mother but rather at the back of a blonde head, her hand laced with a hand so soft she would think it an evening glove.

“This young woman has tripped.” The blonde woman’s voice is calm still but holds no more of that gentle tread. Her hand squeezes softly, a contrast to her firm tone. “I will be escorting her to the healers to see what has happened.”

Estrid blinks, her eyes darting away from Y/n and up to the new woman. When she does her entire face goes pale, as though she has seen a ghost. How odd.

“Your Majesty.” Estrid bows her head, her knees bending slightly in a curtsy.

Your Majesty? Y/n’s eyes drift back to the gown— the marvelous ivory silk. It is as though all the little details begin appearing in that moment. The high thread count, the intricate stitching at the waist and bodice, the gemstone bracelet on her dainty wrist. That bracelet alone must be worth more than her entire life. Sapphires and rubies and emeralds. She wears it as though she has no idea how much it is worth— as though she has no idea it is even there at all. She wears it as though she is royalty and she has many more of them in her room.

Oh no— no, no, no.

The blonde woman turns back to her, her crystal eyes softening marginally from what she can only imagine was an icy stare moments ago. “Come on, dear. I will take you to my healer.”

Y/n shakes her head, her eyes wide. Her spine aches as she does. Her mouth feels like it is filled with cotton. She cannot speak but she has to. She has to refuse.

“No, no, your Majesty—” She copies Estrid’s greeting, she does not know what else to call her— “I am alright, truly. I do not wish to burden you further. I will—” She pauses, woozy all of a sudden, the salty breeze ten times stronger— “I will be fine.”

The woman’s crystal eyes narrow but not in the sharp way her step mother’s usually do. “My child, I insist. You do not look well.”

Y/n can practically feel Estrid’s stare burrowing into the side of her face. She can feel the bruises on her back— perhaps purple, perhaps yellow. It does not matter. If she does not go now then they will surely be black in an hour. Less. There it is— there is the fear she had been missing. She wobbles slightly on her feet. The salt air mingles with the pine trees. It is intoxicating— it is deadly. She is going to pass out if she does not move. She shakes her head at the woman, hoping there is something in her eyes that conveys the danger she feels.

“I am alright,” even she can hear the pleading tone in her voice. “Please.”

The woman— the Queen— stares at her for a moment. It is only a few seconds, the coal ring around her pupils pulsing gently, but it feels like days. It feels like a lifetime. She purses her rosy lips, taking a deep breath.

A hand— one much more rough and hot— wraps around her other wrist. “Your Majesty—” Estrid’s nasally voice is high pitched, like she is attempting to hide her cruel intentions— “my daughter just needs to sleep I think. I can take over from here.”

Y/n forces a smile to her lips— one that tastes like metal and blood— like betrayal— hoping it is enough to convince the queen. She adds a little nod in there for good measure. It is all about appearances. For a moment she thinks it is actually going to work. The Queen’s shoulders sag gently, her chin dipping down in a partial nod. It is actually working— maybe she will not get punished too harshly. She will pick up the bags and hurry to their room and stay as silent as a mouse and everything will be fine. Right?

Estrid squeezes her wrist harder— enough to make her bones whine in pain— and she can feel the on her face grin falter. It is for only a fraction of a second, the corner of her lips peeling down in a grimace that she cannot suppress, but it is enough. By the time she has painted the fake smile back on her face the Queen is at her side, that silky hand curling around her shoulder, gentle but firm enough to pull her away from her step mother. Y/n does not know if she would rather thank her or cry.

“I am afraid I truly must insist. As a Queen—” She stresses the word, her title. This is no longer a suggestion; it is an order— “it is my duty to ensure that all my guests are properly taken care of. It will not take long; just a quick check up.”

The Queen’s hand ushers her a couple steps down the hallway. Estrid follows, her brows pulled together dramatically. “But your Highness, I—”

The Queen holds up her hand, an elegant and dangerous gesture, her kind face cracking under the weight of her furious eyes. She does not even try to conceal the rage swimming in the crystal pools. She does not have to— she will face no repercussion for her anger.

“But nothing. She is to go with me and that is final.” Her burning crystals glance down to the bags, all of which are still spilling over onto the marble, draping the stone with bits of lace and silk, none of which look nearly as exquisite as the Queen’s gown. “I will send someone to gather your belongings and return them to your chambers. Now, if you will kindly excuse us.”

With that she is spinning, pressing her hand gently against Y/n’s back and leading her back in the direction she had come from. She can feel Estrid’s glare on her neck, burning holes in the back of her head. If stares were able to kill then she would be laying in a heap on the marble again, she just knows it. Soon, though, they turn a corner and she can no longer feel her step mother’s lethal gaze. That does not stop her heart from racing so hard that she wonders if it will jump out of her chest. It does not stop the vomit from pooling in her throat. She should feel relieved—grateful— but all she can think about is the pain. Both the pain she is in now and the pain she will be in later.

“It was okay really,” she mutters. It is a last ditch effort, one that is destined to fail before it is even out of her mouth, but she has to try anyway. “I am okay. I think I just slipped.”

She did not slip— she lost it. She does not know quite what it is but she knows whatever it is has been lost. Her sanity. Her grip on reality. Her damn mind. Any and all of them, now gone.

The queen stops, turning her bright blue eyes on her once more. She sighs, her smile understanding. “I think if you had slipped then you would have gotten back up.”

The Queen’s tone is pitying, her fingers gentle on her hand, and Y/n drops her eyes to the ground. She resents it— all of it. She does not want pity. “I needed a moment is all.”

A hand presses under her chin, bringing her gaze back up. There is no more smile on the Queen’s face— only a firmness in her eyes. She does not look so much like a Queen here; she looks like a mother. Her mother. She can see some of her own mother in the faint lines near her eyes and the cupid's bow above her rose petal lips. She has to bite down to keep the ache from her throat at bay.

“That was not a moment, my dear. I was there. That was quite a few moments. You were ready to let those girls trample you, were you not?”

“I— I just—” she swallows hard, trying to make her words work. It seems like she cannot string a sentence together for the life of her. Like her entire vocabulary has vanished— “I needed a moment, your Majesty. That is all.” All she can do is repeat herself.

The Queen narrows her eyes, her thumb smoothing over her jaw before she finally releases her. “Frigga.”

Y/n’s heart stutters and she has to cover her cough from the way all the air whooshes out of her lungs. “Pardon me, your Majesty?”

“Please, call me Frigga.”

This time her heart does not just stutter; it stops completely. She presses a hand against her chest, taking a tiny step backwards. She cannot breathe again. The smile on the Queen’s— Frigga’s— face is too kind. Too gentle. Too much. This is not a trick, she is not trying to get her in trouble. She is not telling her to shut up or to hurry up or to grow up. She is just being kind. No one is kind to her. Not even when they want something from her. What could the Que— Frigga, Y/n, her name is Frigga— possibly want from her? What could she give her that would mean anything more than what she already has? She sucks in a breath, sounding quite like a dying animal in the middle of the thankfully empty corridor. It is too much— it is all too much.

“No, I could not. You Maj—”

Frigga grabs her hand again, her warm skin stilling her own, clammy hands. “Calm child. It is alright. You are alright” Her words are slow, her tone a low murmur. It works wonders on her nerves. It is magic. “Frigga. Please, nobody here calls me anything formal. You should hear my sons.” The side of her mouth quirks up, her tone becoming teasing, “mother, where is father? That is all anyone around here says to me. I am not used to such formalities. I would prefer Frigga, my dear.”

Y/n takes another breath, nodding her head.

“Y/n—” she whispers back, not sure what else to do besides introduce herself back— “my name is Y/n.”

Frigga’s smile grows, nodding as well. She makes it feel like this is a normal exchange— like they are just two new friends meeting for the first time. “That is a lovely name.”

The Queen turns after that, pulling her once more to continue walking down the grand hallway. They move in silence, Frigga no doubt trying to give her some room to breathe. It is surprisingly easy to just be there with her. It is serene. She stares out past the pillars as they walk, her eyes dipping back to the faraway shoreline. Now the water is sparkling in the high afternoon sun, the cresting waves catching the light and bouncing it back and forth amongst each other. It is as though each wave that passes winks at her before smoothing against the sand. She cannot tell if they are saying hello or goodbye. Perhaps neither. Perhaps they are just acknowledging that she is there. She bows her chin gently, acknowledging them as well.

She does not know how long they walk for, her attention too focused on the blinking shore, but soon Frigga is pulling open a heavy wooden door— one that has the most intricate carvings on it’s frame that Y/n longs to stare at in depth—and tugging her in behind her. She has no idea what she is expecting— maybe a herb closet and a long table for practicing healing— it is a healer’s closet after all— but whatever it is, what she sees is not it. She is not expecting the most exquisite room in all of existence.

The first thing her eyes fall to is a wonderfully large pool of water sitting in the middle of the room. It must be the size of her entire bedroom, which granted is not that large but in comparison to her own tiny tin basin at home this is pure luxury. The sides of the pool are golden and tiled with colorful gemstones. She cannot even name all them, not recognizing half of the stones. They catch the light pouring in from the expansive balcony, sparkling against each other. There are steps leading up the side, promising entry into the luscious looking water. Altogether it is hypnotizing, calling her name until she is taking a few stuttered steps towards it. As she gets closer she can smell the fragrant oils, much more rich than anything she is used to.

“Oh my.”

“It is quite something, I will admit.” Frigga laughs from behind her, meeting her next to the edge of the tub. She dips her hand into the water, submerging the expensive bracelet in the water without a care. “It was a present from Odin for our first anniversary. I was just as shocked. I did not leave this room for weeks. I even slept here, can you imagine that?”

“I think I would as well, if I were you. It is stunning.” She, too, dips her hand below the water. She almost gasps at how warm it is— at how soft the water is. “I have never seen anything like it.”

Frigga pulls her hand from the water, shaking the droplets lightly from her skin. She turns back to Y/n, her crystal eyes sparkling with joy. “Perhaps later— only if you would like, of course— you could try it.”

Her mouth falls open, her own hand, still swirling through the silky water, pausing. “Oh no, your Maj—” Frigga purses her lips, her eyes crinkling gleefully— “Frigga, I could not.”

The Queen laughs again and she can hear the way her own mother used to giggle. “Of course you can my dear. In fact, you must! But first let us eat.”

Y/n’s brows pull together— what about the healers? Is that not why she is here?

Frigga must notice her confusion because she lifts her hand to her face, the Queen’s fingers now scented like rose petals. “I have found that the best medicine is a full belly, would you not agree?”

Instantly the tears well up in her eyes again. They are not from sadness this time— nor from longing— instead they are from the relief she feels coursing through her body. It is so foreign that she does not recognize it at first. It is neither hot nor cold. There is no pressure on her chest alerting her to it. In fact there is nothing. She feels nothing. It is exhilarating.

She does not notice the first tear fall until Frigga’s thumb catches it. “Thank you.”

The Queen sighs, her smile faltering. It is still there but barely. “Come, child.”

Y/n follows Frigga to the balcony, passing under some gem coloured curtains and into the warm sunlight. She almost freezes in her tracks, the memory of the last time her back was in the sun still fresh on her mind. Her mind falls back to the man, her nose filling with salt and pine which leaks in from the gardens below. She can feel his hands on her back, crawling over her hips. She does not wonder what color her back is this time— be it purple or yellow or molten red— it does not matter anymore. For some reason the thought of him makes it not matter anymore. He makes it better.

Frigga turns on her heel, her eyes lighting up, her hands shooting out to grasp Y/n’s shoulders. It is all she can do not to reel back from the suddenness of the action, wobbling slightly but smiling. She, in turn, reaches for the Queen’s hands, steadying herself on her silken skin.

“I completely forgot my dear, I told my son to meet me here for afternoon tea. You do not mind, do you?”

Y/n’s breath catches in her throat, her memories surging again. She can taste him on her lips for a brief moment. A short, silly moment. She pushes him down, shaking her head lightly to clear her thoughts. That would be impossible.

“No, of course not this is your home.”

Frigga squeezes her shoulders. “Wonderful!”

As the blonde woman releases her, moving to sit in one of the golden chairs on the balcony, there is a voice that sounds from the door. It is deep, impossibly so, and sends shivers racing down her spine.

“Mother, are you in here?”

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