#fox gets hurt and is a bit sad

[muyru-iru]

[cherrysdeck]

Pick a card: The eyes Chico, they never lie.

Your future spouse's pov of you.

Remember: Take only what resonates, this is a general reading. Tarot readings are done with entertainment purposes only. Hope you like it!

Pile 1 -> 4

Pile 1

2 of cups, page of cups, the fool, 7 of wands, queen of cups, 2 of swords

Welcome to your reading pile 1! Ironically (because of my blog’s name) when I started shuffling Harry Styles’ Cherry came to mind. I feel like laying face up and just sigh very heavily. Your fs is someone so so romantic, but they might have trouble openly expressing this part of themselves. They are the type of person to just stare at you in secret. Because you’re pretty, and you’re smart, and you’re ignoring me so you’re obviously my type. Those kind of vibes. They look at you truly with so much admiration, it kind of scares them to approach. I feel like you’re always booked and busy, always on the run, so they might feel a little bit wary of wasting your time. They will want to wait for the perfect time to talk to you. In their eyes, you’re just so soft and beautiful, someone they want to protect and hug, and never leave your side. Eye contact is really important in this pile. I feel like you might have some kind of sad eyes, they can clearly see every emotion on your eyes. They’re very perceptive, and very emotional intelligent. But they might consider you so independent that they shy a little when it comes to offer help and support. They see you as such a strong and reliable person, someone that stands up for others, that always know what to say. They also see you as their perfect match. Maybe you two mirror each other, whether your personalities or your past experiences. But there’s a really deep understanding of the other. They might be hesitant about approaching, because they might feel a little bit insecure. They have put you on such a pedestal (where you should be honestly) that they don’t think they’re worthy of you. Too good for them. This will turn in a very slow-burn situation. But it’s because they think you deserve the best and only the best. You’re so sweet in their eyes pile 1. It’s like an adoration overload. They truly want to make your life easier, acts of deed and gift giving might be their love language. 

Pile 2

the devil, knight of cups, justice, king of wands, 5 of wands, the world, knight of pentacles, 2 of cups 

Hello, hello pile 2. You make hot and bothered , first thing I got, oh well. I feel my mind all mushy and confused. Hot n Cold by Katy Perry. What are you doing to them pile 2? I feel like you’re a kind of intimidating, cold, very focused on your goals, you know what you want, when to do something, very powerful. And they’re just, well, perplexed. You know yourself so well, you’re passionate about the things you like, have well defined morals and values. I feel like you’re often on the eye of the storm. They just don’t know what to do. You’re a well rounded person, know your qualities but also aware of your faults, and you’re working on improving yourself constantly. You’re not someone that can be stopped easily, like a bull, your eyes are set one something then you’ll do anything to get it. I feel like honesty might be your best and worst trait at the same time. They see you as someone who will say what’s exactly on your mind, no sugarcoat, just plain truth, but might forget to consider others and your words might hurt a little. They might want to live up to you, like wanting to follow your steps, kind of like a consort, a step behind. They definitely like when you take control, and will let you take it anytime. This is the part when they get turned on about you, but might not want to admit it out loud. I feel like your presence makes them very happy, just with being by your side is enough for them, kind of person that enjoys doing different things in silence but in the same room. I just got Megan Fox, like how sensual she is, how confident she is, how smart and perfect she is. Will go anywhere, anywhere, by your hand. Breakfast in bed, let’s just stay in all day. They definitely want you all by themselves, I feel like they might have some possessive tendencies (nothing too much, don’t worry). They just feel that you are so wonderful, and it’s clear that he’s not the only one that sees that, that they don’t want to share, or feel they have to compete for your attention. They want to prove themselves to you and show you they’re everything and the only one you need.

Pile 3

the wheel, page of swords, queen of cups, page of wands, the sun, temperance. 6 of wands, king of pentacles

Hi and welcome pile 3. Right off the bat, they love your laugh. Like really love your smile, kind of person that will do anything to make you laugh, even if it means doing something a little bit embarrassing in public. Your fs sees you as someone that is bubbly, out going, positive, very friendly, morning person. But they know that behind that you have gone through your fair share of struggles and have to build yourself up, they’re very proud of you. They see you as someone successful, knows how to manage themselves financially. You have a good balance between work and play. You value your career a lot, and might be a very important aspect of your life, but you know when to clock out and relax, and enjoy other things. They see you as someone adventurous and brave, they want to travel around the world with you, explore with you, do some adrenaline crazy activities too. I feel like food is relevant lol, like going to nice restaurants together, cooking and creating and trying new recipes together, like it’s your favourite bonding activity. Strawberries covered in chocolate. You’re also really smart, they just never get tired of listening to you speak, about anything and everything, you might be a great story teller too. You might know about so many different and sometimes unexpected topics, that they admire you for it. They feel like your mind is a wonder. You’re really brave pile 3, I feel like clapping for you right now. You know how to navigate obstacles and maintaining a positive outlook on life not matter what it throws back at you. Very rational and serious when needed, but knows when to let your hair loose and have fun too. They see you as someone who is so cute and huggable. Your happiness is definitely one of their priorities, and they hate to see you down. I’m going to stress this again, they’re really really proud of you. That message is coming so strong, and if you remember one thing only about this reading let it be that they’re so proud of you pile 3. 

Pile 4

2 of wands, 10 of swords, page of pentacles, 5 of cups, 4 of cups, the world rev, the emperor

Hello pile 4, do you want a hug? I feel like giving you a hug. You’re so strong pile 4, but your fs can see right through you. I know you like hiding your emotions and problems from others, but you can’t trick your fs, seriously. I know it’s hard to open up, and I know it’s scary, and you might have been betrayed or ignored by people you thought you could trust, but your fs is here for you. They want to crack your shell, know about every part of you, the good, the bad, the ugly, the pretty. I want you to see yourself the way I see you. You might stubborn about sharing your issues, you want to do everything by yourself, but I feel like is coming from a place of disappointment. You’ve been let down so many times, you don’t want to go through it again. But your fs is not going anywhere. I feel like they find you stubbornness funny, kind of teasing you until you open up or confess. You might be wary at the beginning to start a romantic relationship, or to even admit you like your fs, but they know and they want to hear you say it. Your fs will soften you up with time. They just want to help you, want to support you on your plans for the future, want to have plans for the future that involves the two of you. They see you as someone so resilient and that has had to stand alone for so long, they don’t want you to do that anymore. They’re here now, they’re not going anywhere, they got you. It feels like walks at midnight, being in your own bubble, everyone can feel the tension, even if you deny it. You two have such a great chemistry, it just makes sense, you fit perfectly, if only you see that too. It’s not going to be a perfect path from now, and there will be more obstacles on your way, but you two can do this, together. Your fs sees it that if you’re together you’ll be fine, you’ll get through whatever. Your fs is not going to let you down.

Xo, Xo, Cherry 💋

[monstersflashlight]

how about a male kitsune x fem reader. Maybe they are childhood friends and he loves to tease her a lot and acts really cocky all the time but scares away any potencial rival. Unknown to them both their parents who are good family friends ,have been trying to set them up together partly due to the fact of some very old promise their ansestors made or something but won’t force it and see it as if it happens it happens. But male kitsune has a secret, his true form and accidentally shows the reader this while confessing but she reassures she doesn’t care how he looks (if anything she finds him quite handsome like this) and she likes him too. His secret form I guess could go two ways I’m not sure which sounds better 1: she never knew he was a kitsune, and them being childhood friends was really just her playing around with a baby fox that she thought belonged to his family. Or 2: she knew he was a kitsune all along but he has a 3rd form he never showed her this one looking more like a bipedal humanoid fox a form of which not even his family has thus being self conscious of. Thank you so much your writing is really cool!

A/N: Hi! This request was very fun to write, hope any of you mind that I mixed both, made sense in my head. Also, as a great mind said “daddy is a state of mind”, I imagine this story as them being very close in age, like max three years apart. Enjoy!

The nine tails

Kitsune x fem!reader || daddy kink, arranged marriage, mates,

When you thought back to your childhood, you always had blurry memories of an animal. A fox. A white fox that followed you around and played with you when you went out into the garden. Your parents thought you were talking about a plushie or something, but you knew better, there was an actual fox that approached you as soon as you stepped outside. But when you were about twelve, he disappeared.

It hurt you so bad and so profound that you cried for days. You cried and cried and your parents didn’t know what was wrong. Your neighbor came around, a nice lady that you’ve known all your life, the mother of your crush… She said it was a pain of heart, and also disappeared. It was ominous and weird, and it woke you off a stupor that you didn’t know you were into.

You woke up and kept living. Even when your friend, your crush, left, you kept going.

And kept going.

When past your twenties, your parents announced that you were to marry an unknown person, or not so unknown. When you walk to the altar and see your long forgotten childhood friend… you are lost of words. You are so confused you dissociate through all ceremony. Before you realize you were married and living with a man you thought forgot about you.

You are calling him husband and he’s calling you wife, and your life is boring. You came back to your house one day, a bit earlier than anticipated because you signed a big contract and you want to go out for dinner with your husband, even if you barely talk. But what awaits for you there is not what you expected.

There’s a white fox in your living room. A white fox that turns into a human, a very naked human in the form of your husband. You gape at him, speechless.

You turn around to leave when he stops you. “Wait! Hear me out, I…”

But then it clicks. “You are the fox,” you deadpan.

“What?” He’s as surprised as you.

“The fox from my memories. It’s you.” Everything starts making sense, why they left, what his mother said when you were a kid.

“I- I thought you didn’t remember that,” he whispers, more to himself than to you.

“Of course I do, it broke my heart when you disappeared. I was so sad my parents bought me a puppy.” He doesn’t answer, staring at you like you grew a new head. You look into his sad eyes and can’t hold back anymore: “Why did you leave me?” Your question is filled with sadness and disappointment, the wound that you thought forgotten is once again open and bleeding. You thought you could get over the fox leaving, probably something to do with nature, but knowing it was him… That it was him who abandoned you…

“I’m sorry. I- They told me I had to. I couldn’t keep visiting you because I could throw everything into the wind if my fox got too attracted to you. So I pulled away, but it pained me, it pained me so much I could barely transform for so long after I stopped seeing you. And then we moved away and I… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” His voice is broken as he explains, his words rushed as if he’s trying to convince you as much as he tries to convince himself.

And you get a new realization at that. “That’s why you came back? That’s why you married me? Not because they signed some papers when we were not even born?” You ask for confirmation.

“Of course not! I love you. Always have. Always will,” he tells you, eyes filled with tears and emotions showing in every twitch of his body. You stare at him, so moved by his words that you just stare. You stare for so long that he starts to squirm and moves to walk away, accepting your silence as a rejection.

But this time is you who stop him: “Then make love to me until I can’t walk anymore. Breed me until I can’t think of anything else. Fuck me until the sad memories disappear and I can only think of you inside of me,” you pronounce the filthy words as if your life depends on it. As if his body and his soul are what you crave more than air.

He chuckles, swallowing back his tears as he tells you: “You can’t say that and look at me directly, or this would end sooner than expected.” You look down at the same time as he does, seeing his dick twitching and growing hard in front of your eyes.

“Does me saying dirty things arouse you, daddy?” His groan is so loud and desperate that you have to bite back your own moan.

You throw your clothes off your body like a soul followed by death and stare at him, naked in all your glory, as his eyes flash in different colors and his ears morph into fox-like ones. And then you see his half form, his tails behind him, all nine of them swinging as he approaches you slowly, making you grin at him until you are chest to chest. He grabs you by the waist, holding you thigh as he lowers his head and kisses you in the most dominating way ever. Your knees give out under you, but he grabs your ass and pushes you up, inviting you to wrap them around his middle.

He gropes your ass as he grinds his dick up to your wet center. You keep whispering “daddy daddy daddy” as he rocks your body against his. He’s as desperate as you are, your kisses consuming, trying to get your love across his lips. Trying to show him all the longing and pain that he caused you, as he tries to kiss it away. It’s intoxicating and deep, so emotional and intense that you are breathless.

When he finally pushes his dick inside your dripping cunt, you shiver with the force of the sensation. He pushes your body against the wall, plastering himself against your front as he leaves your mouth to kiss your neck, leaving marks as he goes.

He fucks you against the wall, desperate, uncoordinated… and perfect. “Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chant over and over, his dick hitting that special place inside of your pussy that makes you see stars.

You start to shake in his arms. “Are you going to come for daddy? Are you going to make a mess out of your pretty pussy for me?” You nod eagerly, biting his neck and making him cry out as the first shoot of cum hit you deep inside, hot as lava.

You groan as your own orgasm rocks your body, convulsing against his arms as his tails caress your legs like the softest touch. It drives you to a new level, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream as he fucks you through your aftershocks. He breathes hard against your neck, biting softly with his long fangs.

“You are so good, such a good girl for daddy,” he keeps whispering soft things against your ear as you come down, breathing hard and blushing harder than ever. He kisses your sweaty forehead as he walks you to the bathroom, not letting you go as he runs you a bath.

[yanderehsr]

Yandere Lyney, Zhongli, Dottore ((why not)) Neuvillette and Tighnari bring up the idea one day that they want a baby but darling dislikes children so she keeps changing the subject or ignoring the idea all together completely shutting that thought down plus the very idea of it makes her stomach cringe having a baby with them

I have a good idea which 4 I'll pick here, Hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping, Suggestive in all of them, proceed at your own risk

Zhongli: You can't tell me this guy doesn't want children with you at all costs, so when you change subject and reject the idea, it honestly hurts him a bit, did you not want to have children with him, isn't he good enough. He can't deal with that, he is going to have a child with you no matter what you say.

All Zhongli needs is to slip you some nice sleeping aids, and he'll whisk you away to somewhere so far removed from society that only he knows about it, you have only yourself to blame here, if you hadn't rejected him then this wouldn't be happening at all, you will wake up sore with Zhongli cuddling you, you have no idea where you are and you feel strange, weird huh.

"This wouldn't be happening if you just accepted it from the very beginning. I am sure you'll be a great mother"

Dottore: Let's be honest here, this freak doesn't do this because he has a kink or because he genuinely wants a family, these children serve two reasons. One, they will bind you to him, it's something of a possessive bond. Two, they are experiments plain and simple.

Dottore also finds a bonus in all of this, he can use children to threaten you to be compliant, he doesn't care about your refusals or your discomfort, he just wants to pump a baby into you so it's easier to get you to obey. He doesn't even hide it and that's what is scariest.

"Wake up, I have confirmed that it worked this time... why are you crying, aren't you happy to have a child? No matter, you are having it whether you want to or not"

Neuvillette: He has brought it up to you so many times and each time you either change subject or completely shut the idea down, it's honestly starting to get to him a little, shouldn't the ultimate goal of any female be to have a child, that is atleast what he understood from other humans.

Neuvillette isn't someone who would force you to have a child, that would go against his morals, or the little morals he has left after kidnapping you, you can at the very least be happy he isn't someone who would force this, he will continue asking tho, hoping that one day you will say yes.

"I just wanted to bring up the subject of potential future childre-... Oh, ok, I understand, could you tell me how your day has been at the very least"

Tighnari: Fennec foxes mates for life, meaning they only get together with one person ever, and that so happens with you, Tighnari does want children but wont force anything if you don't want it, that is until he enters his heat.

Tighnari before a heat will force you away from him, but this time he forgot, and you happened to walk in on him during the heat, he would catch you quickly to have his way with you, he can't really control what he's doing here, but when he goes back to normal he finds himself happy instead, he is sure you'll make a great mother.

"Well there's nothing we can do now about it... you don't need to be so sad about it, I'll be with you every step of the way, MY mate"

[mggrecord]

mgg.01: lumps in my throat

wc : 434 (very short!)

genre: fluff, comfort

a/n: for my new moot on twt:)

summary: you’re feeling like absolute shit today, and all you need is a lazy day with your boyfriend.

on a cool autumn night, gublerween approaching steadily, you sit on the sofa with your boyfriend, matthew, curled up next to each other like little foxes in the winter, wearing matching pumpkin sweaters. you had a lazy day together today, an evening filled with hot chocolate with marshmallows, pumpkin painting, and a hocus pocus movie marathon.

truth be told, you were absolutely going through it at the moment, some unspoken issues making your stomach churn and bombarding your mind. you desperately needed an escape, to get out of your head. good thing you had your matthew.

so, you sat together, your head rested back on his chest as you sat between his legs, leaning against him. his slender fingers gently raked through your hair, his other arm holding your waist tightly, bunching up your sweater slightly, the warmth of his palm was soothing and comforting against your stomach. he had noticed you were a bit off today, but he knew better than to pry. if you wanted to talk to him about it, you’d bring it up. however, offering to discuss it wouldn’t hurt.

“hey,” he murmured softly, leaning down to place his lips against your ear. “you okay? little off today.”

you furrowed your brows a little as he spoke softly into your ear, listening to his words. you nodded your head, sighing quietly, shoulders slumping a little. “‘m good, jus’- “ you huffed quietly, trying to verbalize your thoughts without oversharing.

“i just don’t feel too good today. i need a lazy day,” you decided on saying softly, tilting your head back to look up, your eyes meeting his understanding and warm gaze.

matthew nodded slowly, gently pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. “that’s okay, darlin’. ‘s fine with me,” he muttered quietly. his hand gently rubbed your stomach as the two of you continued watching the movie, and he’d occasionally bring a snack to your lips to encourage you to eat.

a beat.

“‘m here for you, y’know,” he’d mutter quietly, absentmindedly.

and by god did that warm your heart. because he was always there. always. no matter how irritated, or sad, or anxious, or snappy you got. he was always there.

he’d lay faint kisses to your temples, or your earlobe, or your neck, or your shoulder, just to show that he was there, and that he understood, and he felt what you felt, even if it wasn’t verbalized.

the night continued like this, all soft kisses and gentle words as a quiet movie played, hands stroking your hair and murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, practically inseparable.

[mothwingwritings]

Can we have Ren/Fox (TPOF) and Mc with a child?Long after Fox decided to stay with MC, they both had a daughter (probably not something with consent and a bit of Stockholm syndrome).The daughter asks her mother how she got the scars and this makes MC have memories of post-traumatic stress.

I was so tickled by this ask that I started manically typing out a response for it nearly as soon as I saw it in my ask box (which at this point, was quite some time ago. Forgive me, I am a mess lul). I wrote the whole damn thing in a fit of passion, excited to release it into the world… But ultimately hated it and thought it was garbo, so I scrapped it and tried again. Wrote a second iteration and thought ‘hell yeah, this is it!!! Sick!’, but then I read it AND HATED THAT ONE TOO AAAHHH!!!

I rewrote this… so much…

But I never give up on my dreams, and you shouldn’t either! Persevere! Don’t give up on yourself! Here’s your daily motivation for the day! Keep writing even it makes you cry!!! :D

Anyway, so I wrote this third one, comprised of new stuff and the stuff I actually did like from the first two stabs, and it ended up being the one. Truly it is a Frankenstein of a fic lol. Regardless of all the reworking, I had a lot of fun writing this and enjoyed the prompt very much!!! I I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. :)

I’m sorry if the writing seems a tad too mature for the reader’s daughter in this, writing children isn’t my forte. ^^;

Due to the nature of this fic, IT IS 18+ ONLY!!! Thank you!

WARNINGS: Incessant mentions of abuse of all kinds for reader and mentions of physical abuse for her child!!! Reader is heavily scarred from said abuse and that’s a main theme in this fic so please avoid if that is upsetting to you. Also, though not the main focus, there are multiple mentions of child abuse in this fic, as well a part where reader goes off verbally on her child, so please be mindful of that as well! Other things of note: reader is a parent in this (which you can probably tell by the prev warning lol), reader getting hurt, blood, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, being held against your will/isolation, mentions of noncon, sad family stuff :(

Diminishing rays of afternoon light splayed through the open window of your quaint living room, casting a comforting orange glow over everything they touched. The light gave the environment an ethereal and nostalgic feel, wrapping you in peaceful warmth as the sun sunk lower and lower. The loveseat you occupied was plush and inviting, and a mug of your favorite tea stood at the ready on the small coffee table beside you, steadily cooling with help from the last hurrah of winter blowing in gently from the outside. Besides the slight chill, the wind brought with it the heavy scent of freshly bloomed flowers, a delightful precursor to the oncoming spring.

Relishing the rare moment of serenity, you couldn’t help but wish that all your days could be this lovely.

You smiled down at your daughter who sat perched in your lap, happily flipping through the newest gift she had acquired from her Father- a thick picture book full of bright illustrations highlighting various exotic animals. As it lay sprawled across her tiny lap, her chubby finger pointed out each animal she took an interest in, her high pitched voice chirping away as she explained what she liked about the creatures. She got particularly excited when she spotted the page full of foxes, jabbing at the red one feverishly as she exclaimed “its daddy!”

Spotting the foxes began her down a path of assigning an animal to not just herself, but you as well. She didn’t find it fair that only her father had kin in the animal world, even though you pointed out that she technically did as well by sharing half the man’s blood. Your revelation did little to deter her, she wanted something new, something just for herself, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found her perfect soul animal. So she continued on, scanning each page in earnest until she found a creature that suited her.

She ended up picking a bunny for herself, supplying you with a comprehensive reason as to why she chose it. As she explained in great length, skimping no details, you couldn’t help but hold back laughter. She spoke as if she were a professor teaching a class, and you did your best to keep a straight face as she yammered on with her shoddy reasoning, deep down knowing she only picked a rabbit because of how cute they are.

After she was done waxing poetic about bunnies, she continued scouring the book, coming to a halt once she reached the wild cat section. She stopped with a gasp, beaming up at you as she pressed her finger firmly against one of the images on the page.

“Mommy this one is you!”

Your eyes traveled to the picture she was rapidly tapping, “An African Wildcat, huh?” You smirked down at the little girl in amusement, “Why did you pick that one for me?”

“Because it looks just like you!”

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, “It looks like me? How so?”

“It has marks just like you do!”

Her innocuous words sent a chill up your spine. Eying the stripes that crossed the cat’s legs, you felt a great unease begin to overtake your body. Her reasoning was not lost on you, the cats coat did quite resemble the jagged scars that covered nearly every inch of your body, and just like the feline in her book, your limbs were the most prominent location of said ‘markings’. You quickly shook your head, not wanting to dwell on it further. In hopes of moving on from the subject, the outpouring of words that flew from your mouth were jumbled and messy.

“O-oh, I see,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to steady your voice, “well you certainly picked a cute animal for me! Thank you baby, it was a good choice.”

She smiled at you innocently, a gesture that usually made your heart melt with affection. But as her tiny hands moved from the book to your arms, that smile did nothing but fill you with dread, the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this sticky situation hitting you like a brick to the face. 

“Yeah mommy, the kitty’s marks are just like these ones,” her stubby fingers gently traced the old wounds, a look of reverence reflected on her cherubic features. “They make you look like that kitty mommy,” her little voice cooed, “I like them a lot!”

Your muscles constricted at her words, a slight tremor coursing through you as you involuntarily tightened your grip on her. She took note of this, looking up at your strained features with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Don’t be sad mommy,” she spoke assuredly, “I really do like them! I think they are pretty!”

Her words burned you, scorching the inside of your frozen shell of a body, leaving you feeling sickly and discombobulated. The room around you started to spin in a hazy blur, a wave of nausea making you nearly wretch. Your breathing grew erratic as you tried to calm yourself, inwardly repeating that your daughter was just a child, a little girl barely four years of age who had an incredibly limited view of the world. Her words were not meant to upset you. Her opinions were coming from a place of total naivety.

Yet still, the mental assurance did little to help with the extremely uncomfortable position you now founds yourself in. It wasn’t as if this was her first time noticing your scars. She had mentioned them before, her curious mind trying to piece together the reason that her arms appeared different from your own. Each time she brought your old wounds up you couldn’t help but feel flustered, responding with weak explanations and misdirection to try and quickly brush off her questioning.

The marks came from a silly mistake, or a childhood accident, or from a careless moment when mommy should have been paying more attention. It was always excuses on repeat. How many lies had you told her on this topic alone?

But even if they were lies, it beat telling her the truth. You didn’t want to have to explain where the scars on your body actually came from to anyone, let alone a child, and especially not to your own daughter. How could you possibly word it gently, or in a way that she would understand, when you barely understood why you had them yourself? How could you look her in the eye and tell her that these markings were a permanent sign that you had been very, very hurt and that it was her own fathers hands that inflicted the pain?

Reliving the horrific moments that left your body in such a state was overwhelming enough on its own, but to also have to lay bare her father’s sins, relay to her the unsavory proclivities of a man who she idolized and adored, was not something you were keen on doing.

She didn’t know her daddy like you knew him. She was ignorant to the constant state of concern you lived in, unaware of the worries that plagued your mind and kept you up each night. All the troubles of the hell she had been born into were completely lost on the small, carefree girl.

But honestly that was for the best. You had made an unspoken promise the moment she entered your life that you would protect her no matter what. From the day of her birth onward it became your mission to keep her as happy and healthy as possible.

Ren had broken you, but she did not have to suffer the same fate.

At this point in her life, your daughter knew nothing of her daddy’s profession or ‘hobbies’, and you wanted it to remain that way for as long as possible, if not for the rest of her life. You dreaded each time Ren came home from an auction, terrified he may let casually slip too many details about his ‘lively client’ or that he would carelessly step through the door with the stains of his liaisons still littering his clothes. Your daughter was at an age where she was brimming with questions, and she was relentless in getting answers to each question she asked. Everything had to be explained in complete detail for her to be satisfied, drop the subject, and move on. She was a smart little thing, possibly too smart for her own good. You highly doubted a silly joke or wave of the hand would assuage her whirring mind should Ren grow too impetuous in her presence.

And should her questioning become too pesky, you fretted over what Ren’s reaction to it may be. The more you tried to avoid thinking about it the more you seemed to fixate on the topic, pondering just how much goading it would take from your daughter before his temper would rear its ugly head.  You, above anyone, had firsthand experience in just how volatile the man could be, the scars that littered your body a testament to his turbulent emotions and violent outbursts.

Looking back on it now, it’s a wonder you survived any of it at all.

Ren often told you he loved you, each confession spoken through honeyed words that spilled from his lips easily and often.  And while you didn’t doubt those words (you knew better than to, at this point), you also knew his sweet nothings weren’t merely a term of endearment, they also served as your curse. He loved you, but he also loved your fealty to him, your adoration and worship of him and only him. Should you not reciprocate his feelings as quickly or ardently as he expected, the mere thought of whatever punishment he would concoct was enough to send you into a debilitating panic attack.

There were few things he loathed more than when you flinched from his affection or if you exhibited any sign of distress towards his presence, especially after he had spent so many years going above and beyond to provide for you, devote himself to you. You had learned early on to keel any feelings of aversion you had to his advances, several of your more prominent scars a brutal reminder of that misstep alone.

 If your daughter uncovered the truth and saw her father for who he truly was, if she began to fear him the way you feared him, how would he respond?  If not only his partner, but his own daughter started shying away from him, what length would he go to to correct this behavior?

Dwelling on it made your skin crawl.

But perhaps all of your worries were asinine. Despite his inclination for cruelty, Ren had never so much as raised a hand towards your daughter, even when she did act up. If anything, he was overprotective of her, barely letting her move faster than a brisk jog lest she fall and hurt herself. He hated seeing his little girl experience even a modicum of physical pain, mentioning to you previously that were he able, he’d keep her locked up in a padded room all day and night to prevent any foreseeable accidents or injuries. Surely it was just his idea of a joke, but the insinuation still made you cringe.

It was almost comical, just how greatly the manifestation of his affection for her differed from how he showed his love for you.

His domineering nature shielded her from experiencing any true pain. Every scrape, bruise, and cut she ever received was superficial, nothing that caused major bleeding or left a lasting impression. She had no way of knowing what had been done to you to cause the scars that marred your form, the torment and hell you experienced with each slash, smack, burn. Hell, she probably didn’t even really understand what a scar actually was. All she knew was that her mommy and daddy had strange marks on their skin that didn’t follow any kind of set pattern, weird jagged lines and indents that her soft skin was curiously free from. The mystery of it all was as puzzling to her young mind as it was enticing.

However, some mysteries were best left unsolved, and just as with each other time she brought up this hot topic, you found yourself unable to look into her clear, bright eyes and tell her any semblance of the truth. She may have been forced upon you, but she was your daughter. You loved her, and you refused to be the one to shatter her innocence. You would keep her ignorant for as long as possible, shielding her to the endless nightmare of your daily lives, even if it cost you your sanity.

“Mommy,” her voice jarred you, dragging you from your thoughts, “mommy did you hear me? I said I think they are pretty!”

“T-that’s… I…” You stuttered, struggling to find the right words to say, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended it to. The room felt like it had dropped thirty degrees, your body twitching in response to the sudden chill.

“Daddy told me he gave some of them to you, like this one,” her pudgy, cold finger pressed into the faded heart that resided on your chest, the first of many indelible sins he had etched onto your form. Only the top half of the carved symbol was viewable above the collar of your shirt, so she tugged at the loose hem until she could see it in its horrible entirety.

“Daddy said he gave you this one because he loves you so much,” her voice grew quiet, a thoughtful look in her eye as they drank in wounds you wished you could forget, “Daddy loves me too, right mommy? You think he’ll give me a cute heart someday too?”

You felt as if you had been hit by a train.

“S-top,” the words were forced from your throat, airy and breathless, as if someone was wringing your neck to make them come out, “p-please, just stop talking.”

“What did you say mama,” your daughters sing-song voice responded as her fingers continued to trace and prod your scars, “You are whispering, is it a secret?”

“I told you to SHUT UP!”

As if following your command, your booming voice instantly silenced the small girl. Unused to such a violent outburst from her mother, her happy-go-lucky nature quickly shifted to one of alert, her tiny body going rigid as she stared up at you with fearful eyes.

Seeing her in such a state and knowing that you were the cause of it would normally have killed you inside, making you fall to your knees to beg for the child’s forgiveness. But right now, the thin thread that had been holding you together had snapped, and your words rushed out in a torrent you couldn’t begin to quell.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” You seethed, clasping your hands to your ears to try and block out your own intrusive voice, “Just STOP TALKING about it! What are you even saying? Why would you ever want to look like this?!”

Tears started to flood your eyes, blurring the image of the girl who had quickly jumped from your lap and was now cowering before you. Through your bleary vision, you could see tears were brimming her eyes as well.

“You… You have no idea,” your voice warbled, shaking in equal parts grief and frustration, “You have no clue what you are saying, so just STOP IT. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!”

You slunk from the chair down to the floor, burying your face in your cold, stiff hands. The soft blubbering of your daughter could be heard through your own sobbing.

“I-I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hearing her broken voice began to shatter the spell you had been under, instant regret jerking you roughly back to reality. Your head sunk lower, your body scrunching itself up as tightly as possible to hide from this cruel reality.

Your screams were born from deeply buried feelings of hatred, tucked far, far away as a means of self-preservation. For a moment, you felt as if you despised your daughter, her existence tethering you to this wretched excuse of a life, binding you irrevocably to Ren. But as you lifted your heavy head, glancing up to stare into her young face, a face so very similar to your own, a face contorted in panic and sadness over her mother’s abrupt descent into madness… you realized it wasn’t her that you hated.

It was yourself.

Your daughter didn’t deserve this. She deserved normalcy. She deserved a father that didn’t pose a threat to her. She deserved a mother that wasn’t ruined by his hands. She deserved a happy and untroubled life, not to be stuck being raised in a barbed cage, navigating her way through life with nothing but the shattered remains of a battered woman to guide her.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked under the weight of your overwhelming emotions, snot and tears running freely down your ruddy cheeks and chin, “I’m so, so sorry baby…”

“What the hell is going on?”

You hadn’t heard the front door open, nor had you heard Ren’s jubilant greeting as he entered your home. He had no doubt been upset by the lack of welcome-it was one thing to be ignored by a child, but his doting wife? That was not something he was not apt to look past.

But surely any feelings of annoyance or frustration fled from his mind the moment he entered the room, his eyes falling upon your crumpled, messy form collapsed on the floor. You cursed his arrival, upset that he entered the scene at such a compromising time, right as you were struggling to regain an ounce of composure and properly apologize to the little girl who had done nothing wrong.

“D-daddy,” your daughter’s voice warbled as she barreled towards him, colliding into his waiting embrace. You wiped at your face in a desperate attempt to hide your previous outpouring of emotions, doing your best to avoid eye contact with Ren as his sharp gaze quickly flicked from you, to his daughter.

This had already become enough of a scene without Ren’s interference, it was best to try and begin damage control now. 

“Daddy I-I made mommy cry!” Tears continued to pour from your daughter’s eyes, her face twisting into a look of pure dismay. Her misguided admission of guilt made you recoil, knowing full well it would grant her no favors with the person she seeking comfort from. “I’m really sorry daddy! I didn’t mean to!”

After several endless seconds of silence, Ren spoke.

“… You made her cry?”

His voice was far sharper than it needed to be, further agitating the precarious state of affairs. In most cases he would have offered your daughter leniency, letting her get away with far more than she probably should. However that leniency was null and void if you ended up suffering in the process.  Ren could not forgive anyone that caused you any duress (himself, of course, being the exemption) even if that person was his own flesh and blood.

“What do you mean you made her cry? What the hell did you do to her?”

“I-I don’t know,” she wailed, a fresh wave of tears spurred on by the accusatory tone of her father’s voice, “I just told mommy I thought her marks were pretty and then she started crying! I wasn’t lying daddy, I like them! I think they make mommy look really pretty!”

“Her marks…?” Ren’s look of vexation began to dissipate as the meaning of her words donned on him. He lifted his arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own scars to the little girl. Pointing a clawed finger to them, he leaned down until he was looking her in the eye, “You mean like these?”

As she nodded her head vigorously in confirmation, Ren tutted, “That’s the reason for all the water works? An innocent compliment started all this fussing?” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Isn’t that a little bit… silly?

You tensed at the sound of his barking laugh, your frown deepening as an amused grin spread wider across his lips. You wished that you could say it was shocking for him to have such disregard after finding the two of you in such an agitated state, but it was painfully in character of him to shrug off your misery and suffering as inconsequential.  How he could so nonchalantly normalize this hellish situation he kept you and your child ensnared in, you would never understand.

Your daughter was apparently sharing similar thoughts, as her face began to once more morph into a pre-sobbing scowl. She was no doubt wounded that her father was not offering her the comfort she was seeking, her emotional state already greatly weakened by her mother’s venomous tantrum.

To help quell another round of tears, Ren pulled the child closer, wrapping her up in his arms so that her tiny form was nearly enveloped by him.  “Shhh, no more tears angel,” he cooed sweetly, patting her head gently to appease her, “There isn’t any reason to cry, especially because… Well, you’re right! Mommy’s whole body is pretty, isn’t it? Her marks just compliment the beauty that’s already there.”

Slowly but surely, her tears began to dissipate. Hunched over shoulders loosened, and sniffles and hiccups gave way to even breathing. Like clockwork, her father’s gentle handling soothed her, the same touch that destroyed you offering her salvation.

As if under a spell, the turmoil that had overcome your daughter quickly began to vanish, her sobbing fading into quiet sniffles. Once she was fully calmed, Ren continued speaking, “That’s all you meant to say to mommy, right angel? I’m sorry she took it the wrong way, she’s probably just tired or hungry, you know how mommy gets. She’ll get over it in no time flat!”

Heat spread through your body at his flippant dismissal of your feelings, an indignant blush lighting your cheeks as you gripped your hands tightly at your side. Your previous emotional episode left you all but drained, but your will to fight back against his callous commentary could never truly be contained.

“In fact, I bet she is already over it now,” Ren’s voice took on a jovial tone as he directed his focus solely on you, “Aren’t you, pumpkin?”

With the ball suddenly in your court, you flinched as both sets of expectant eyes fell on you. Your own eyes darted from Ren’s piercing glare, down to your daughter’s wide-eyed look of unbridled hope. You felt much like the rabbit that had been caught by the fox, stuck in a lose-lose situation. Seeing him hunched over her small body as she clutched to him as a life line, openly concerned that her mother may once more reject her while her father remained a bastion of strength and understanding, left you reeling. Either you would get heated again and stay the villain, but possibly hold on to an ounce of your dignity, or concede to Ren and have yet another piece of your soul wither away and die-the price to pay so that your daughter could remain in blissful ignorance for another day.

“Aren’t you, pumpkin?” He repeated himself slowly, enunciating each word. The kindness in his voice serving only as a mask for the threat buried beneath.

“Y-yes,” you responded quickly, shooting them both a smile you hoped was convincing, “I am very sorry, baby. Daddy is right. Mommy is just… tired.”

A serene smile lit her face, your words placating her. Seeing her happy once more helped relieve a bit of the ache in your own heart, making the lie worth it.

“Good, good,” Ren affirmed with a nod, carefully detaching himself from your daughter as he stood, “but you know little one, mommy deserves some love too, don’t you think? She may have been in the wrong, but it’s not nice to make her cry like that. Why don’t you go give her a hug, hm?”

With no further persuading necessary, she quickly padded over to you, hopping on your lap with so much enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the wind from you. Her arms tightly latched around your torso as she smushed her face into your chest, rubbing it back and forth like she was trying to burrow beneath your skin.

“I love you mommy,” her voice spoke clearly, any hint of previous sadness long gone. You sighed, relieved that this dramatic chapter was over as you pulled your daughter closer to you.

“I love you too.”

During this show of affection, Ren had made his way behind you, slinking so deftly you hadn’t even known he had moved until you heard him chuckle softly behind you.

“This is what I like to see,” he spoke with a sickeningly dreamy sigh, “nothing makes me happier than when my two girls are happy.”

He placed his hands gingerly atop your shoulders, trailing them down until they rested on your arms. His thumbs pressed gently against the marred skin, rubbing in a small circular motion in an attempt to subdue you. His claws grazed your flesh, uncomfortably scratching against you as they snagged against your skin.

He planted a firm and lingering kiss to the side of your head, pulling away just enough that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “There really was nothing to cry about,” he whispered breathily, his words quiet enough that despite your daughters’ proximity, she would have no chance of hearing them. “It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you are, scars and all. But you must know that, right my sweet pet? I tell you all the time.”

Ren took in a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh, “Seeing these scars reminds me of all we have been through, all that we share. They are a symbol of our bond.”

One of his claws pressed down sharply, a small bead of blood pooling around the piercing. Leisurely he began to drag his finger up your arm, a thin red line following in its wake. You shivered at the burning sensation, but deigned to give him any reaction further than that.

“Don’t forget pumpkin, these pretty marks are a reminder of my constant love for you.” He chuckled softly, peppering a few kisses to the back of your neck while his claws slowly sunk deeper, “And right now I am feeling  terribly sentimental, so for old times’ sake, why don’t I add a few more to remind you just how precious to me you are~?”

[ninjigma]

Taking place between chapters 6 and 7 of 'One Last Moment' Track: 'Fallin' (Adrenaline)' - Why Don't We (Spotify / YouTube)

It was sudden. One moment he was naming the loads of food he would get for Fox in apology for the hectic evening being chased by thugs, and in the next the helmet was gone and lips were pressed against his. It was fast, and hurt a bit with the slight clumsiness of it catching between teeth, but Quinlan couldn’t care less. In fact, he couldn’t feel anything besides the elation and joy, and how every ounce of self control rose in him to stay still a moment. To let Fox move first.

Then the millisecond was over and Quinlan was tilting his head, letting their noses become less smushed and lips to press a bit softer. One of his hands delicately came to rest on one of Fox’s cheeks, encouraging and calming in one go. It was Fox’s pace, but Quinlan had never been one to hide his thoughts; and he wanted it clear that he wanted whatever Fox gave, no matter if it was clumsy kisses in precarious locations or the bickering over food on late nights.

Quinlan loved. He knew this about himself well, and had already left the order once based on such feelings. He felt for so much sometimes it was overwhelming, and his own abilities in the Force felt like a lightening rod for emotion, even from those long past. Even now he could feel the hum as his thumb swiped slowly over Fox’s cheekbone, and he used every trick in his book not to read anything beyond that surface level. What Quinlan truly wanted was it to be Fox’s own choice to share. His own feelings given freely at his own pace. Of course he couldn’t help sensing the nerves Fox was projecting with how strongly they wavered past the clones walls, but he kept everything else as locked as any shadow can. Locked with the key that would be forever freely offered. That if Fox wanted, he was there, and if he didn’t, he would stay at his side regardless.

If this was the only kiss, Quinlan wanted it clear how much he treasured it. Protected it. Already kept it within his heart where no one but Fox could ever take it away from him.

If it was just this moment, Quinlan could accept it and return to being the nuisance nat-born Jedi that Fox had dubbed him. And he would then use every ounce of that title to ensure they made it through this war anyhow. Because Fox would always be a friend, and for Quinlan, that title was nothing short of the highest importance.

If it was only right now, Quinlan would be happy.

Literally has been sitting in my drafts for way too long as I wanted to write something more for it, but have been too caught up with work to finish it; and I just get too sad seeing it in my drafts every time I scroll to leave it any longer.

Who knows, maybe I will finish writing later and reblog with it/edit the AO3 story. Stay tuned just in case XD

Enjoy! (And enjoy the new Dumpy the frog text divider!)

[toomuchracket]

bump in the night (dad!matty x reader fluff)

baby phoebe thinks there's a monster under her bed. matty to the rescue! once again, promptober. enjoy <3

“dad… dad, wake up.”

the owner of the worried voice shoves his shoulder, and matty jerks awake. disoriented, he fumbles for the switch on the bedside lamp; when he finds it, he also finds dylan standing beside him, eyes wide and teeth chewing at her bottom lip. “dyl?” he clears his throat, voice scratchy. “what is it, darling?”

“it's phoebe. she won't stop crying,” her jaw is trembling, a clear sign that she's anxious. matty reaches for her hand, and she seems to calm down slightly. “me and elena both tried to calm her down, but she just keeps sobbing for you and mum. don't know what else to do, dad.”

terror pierces him, the kind of fear that only sets in when you or your daughters are concerned - the worst kind, it goes without saying. extracting his right arm from your still-sleeping hold as inconspicuously as possible, matty pulls himself out of bed, reassuring his eldest before he goes to help his youngest. “you did the right thing, dyl,” he pulls her into a hug, kissing her sleep-messy curls. “is pheebs saying she's not feeling well, or…?”

“no, she just keeps crying and saying she wants you and mum. she calmed down a little bit when lena and i went in, but not a lot.”

“okay,” he rubs his eyes, taking dylan's hand. “lead the way.”

it's only a few steps across the landing and down the hall to phoebe's room, but the worry makes it seem far longer. a wave of relief washes over matty when he and dylan make it through the door, but it's short-lived - his three-year-old is shaking in her big sister’s arms, the flush on her tear-stained cheeks evident in the glow from the nightlight, and elena looks on the verge of tears too. “oh, my darlings,” he coos softly, kneeling at the side of phoebe's bed. “what's wrong?”

phoebe practically throws herself into his arms, tiny body wrapping itself around his. hot tears dampen his t-shirt, and matty can feel his own eyes welling up. he's sick to his stomach when any of his girls are upset, but his youngest is so especially sweet and smiley that her sadness seems to hurt him just that little bit more. “phoebe, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “please tell daddy why you're crying, yeah? deep breaths, munchkin, copy me,” he inhales deeply, and exhales slowly. “can you do that?”

she copies him shakily, while elena crawls to sit on the edge of the bed in front of him; even at seven, her legs still don't reach the ground, dangling endearingly instead. “i think she's scared, dad.”

“alright, darling, thank you,” he smiles at his middle baby, who returns it sleepily. “you two can go back to bed, if you like. thank you for helping your sister, my sweet girls.”

they shake their heads in vehement denial, dylan moving to join her sister on the edge of the bed. “not leaving until phoebe's okay.”

“you sure? you'll be tired tomorrow.”

elena shrugs, matty in miniature. “doesn't matter. our sister’s more important.”

matty's eyes actually do fill with tears at that - how on earth did you and him manage to create such perfect, kind humans? it's baffling. “alright, darlings,” he nods, before turning his attention to phoebe. “did you have a bad dream, sweetheart?”

tiny curls brush his neck as she shakes her head. “uh-uh.”

“okay. was there a big noise outside? foxes, or a car, or people shouting? that can be really scary, especially if it wakes you up.”

another head shake. “in here.”

now we're getting somewhere. “there was a scary noise in your bedroom, munchkin?”

“yeah,” phoebe's little voice shakes, turning to a sob when she speaks again. “like… like a monster!”

“where exactly, darling?”

“the- the wall,” she hiccups; matty softly rubs her back to calm her down. “and under my bed.”

interesting. monsters under the bed aren't exactly uncommon, but in the wall? maybe phoebe's imagination is stronger than you all thought.

or maybe… “what kind of thing did it sound like, sweetheart? can you remember?”

she thinks for a second, wiping her eyes on the shoulder of his t-shirt. “like when my tummy is hungry.”

“rumbling? why would it be… oh,” the answer clicks in matty's brain, the logistics of the house's layout revealing it to him: phoebe's bedroom is directly above the utility room, so - “it isn't a monster, my darling, it's just the central heating.”

dylan lets out a soft “ahhh” of realisation, but elena looks puzzled - when phoebe moves to look at matty, so does she. “the heating?”

“yes, munchkin. it's what makes the house cosy, and makes sure we have hot water for our showers and baths-”

“and washing our hands?”

he smiles. “exactly, my smart girl. but it all starts from that cupboard near the washing machine, and then it travels through the pipes up through your room, and into the rest of the rooms. that's what the noise is, darling. not a monster.”

phoebe sniffles. “really?”

“would you like me to check under the bed anyway?”

“mhmm.”

“alright,” he kisses her head, settling phoebe between her sisters on the bed and ducking down to scan under the bed; his back practically screams at him not to, but he can't disappoint his baby girl. “all clear down here, girls. not even a speck of dust,” popping back up, he takes phoebe's tiny hands in his own. “do you feel a bit better now, munchkin?”

“yeah,” she nods. “but the noise is scary.”

matty can't blame her for that - the bed is right against the wall with the pipework, and she's only three. it's a lot. “tell you what, darling - you come in with mummy and me, just for tonight, and tomorrow we can rearrange your room so the noise isn't as loud, yeah?”

“‘kay.”

phoebe rubs her eyes. matty smiles, scooping her into his arms again - smiling even wider at the way she melts into him - and stands, nodding at his older two. “come on, my girls. back to bed.”

the four of them trudge out onto the landing, exchanging goodnights and head kisses. matty gives dylan and elena an extra hair ruffle each. “thank you for looking after your sister, girls. lie-in tomorrow, alright?”

“mhmm. night!”

“night, dad! night, pheebs!”

two bedroom doors close, and matty carries phoebe towards the last slightly open one; behind it, you're half-asleep, but quickly awakened by the sound of matty's footsteps and, ironically, his hushed “don't wake mummy, sweetheart, alright?” to the little one in his arms. he sighs when you turn to face him, sitting up slowly and flicking the light on. “baby? what's going on?” rubbing your eyes, you notice phoebe. “oh, hi, my darling. you alright?”

“she is now,” matty sets phoebe on the bed; she crawls to you for a cuddle immediately. “but she's staying with us tonight, and i'm spending my saturday rearranging her bedroom.”

“oh, okay,” you raise a brow. “do i want to know?”

“i'll explain tomorrow,” matty flops onto the bed, flicking the light out, suddenly tired. “right now, i think we all just need to get some sleep.”

“alright,” you lean over to kiss him, dropping one onto a now-sleeping phoebe's head for good measure. “goodnight, my loves.”

matty strokes your face, and then your tiniest girl's. “goodnight, darlings.”

[lupunsus]

lots of people like bunny hybrid, but I already have Gorou so I'll expand more on Tighnari so the fucker will come home.

based on genshin hybrid au by @cinnamonest

warning: ashamed novice writer writes bad smut, tighnari drugs, manipulates, and almost eats reader several times while treating them like a living fleshlight as well as emergency food. Reader is also degraded because he thinks you're a dumb bunny who can't do anything themselves :(

In a previous post, I left off on the cute floppy eared bunny, obliviously eating an aphrodisiac flower, which makes Tighnari throw all senses out of the window and act on his predatory instincts.

Of course, as a fennec fox, he had to have a taste of your blood first. What's the harm in biting down a little too hard on those cute ears of yours? Don't cry. You clearly wanted someone to breed you. Why else would you eat such a thing in his garden? Even if you didn't know, it's too late to go back now. As a fennec fox, he already saw you as his mate. And his kind mates for life. Do yours too? It doesn't matter. Tighnari will keep you in his den far away from the humans, in a nest he lovingly made for you, and you alone.

You should be thankful he chose you. Nobody else will be able to satiate you when he conducts his specialized research focused on how your body reacts to being his mate.

For now, he can't get enough of the feeling of your little insides suffocating him. It's a bit hard to get his knot in, but it must mean it's your first time. He'd reassure you and be more gentle, but it won't be long until the flower takes effect and turns you into a stupid whore begging for his knot. Ah, but should he call you that? You're just an innocent bunny who knows nothing of the human language. It isn't your fault that you were born without ever receiving an upbringing similar to what he had.

Tighnari would think of it as a sad thing, as maybe if you had an ounce of knowledge, you'd know better to assume he wouldn't devour an adorable thing like you are. He bets you don't even have a name or an identity. He'll teach you to address yourself as "Tighnari's Mate." The only name you'll ever need as the only place you'll be is by his side, coupling to his heart's content.

You don't understand the feeling of something trying to force its way into you.

At first, it hurt so much. Even worse than how hard he'd bite into your skin and tear it with his claws. It wasn't hard for him to mark his new territory as you were bare for everyone to see. But it was because you didn't need clothes! You were a wild animal, of course, and they'd be unconventional to wear if you needed to escape. Would it have been better to have something to cover you? Just to help shield yourself from the onslaught of his attacks? Why did it start to feel good? Like a feeling of pleasure and content. An itch that's finally been scratched.

When Tighnari finally forced his knot inside, you came.

This was your first time having this kind of experience, and it was exhausting. Not even the flower could keep you from passing out. It didn't matter to Tighnari, too drunk on how absolutely tight you became, the feeling of being smothered within your warm insides driving him crazy. He emptied his load into you soon after, sinking his teeth and claws into your flesh while he rode out his high. If this is how it felt to breed you, he really had to control the predatory urge to eat you.

His private quarters weren't too far. He mainly uses it when he's going through his ruts or when he absolutely can not be bothered. But it only means he can enjoy the feeling of keeping his knot inside without anyone walking in on the two of you. It crossed his mind before on whether someone would see you being bred out in the open by him, but after experiencing your sweet, delicious body, Tighnari was willing to take the risk. But you looked as though a wild animal got to you, so he would be in big trouble as it looked as though he fucked you while you were injured, but it was obvious that those were "love bites" by his design.

It's good he knows how to patch someone up. Such a cute bunny like you deserves to be kept. He can teach you how to be a good mate in his standard. What the different chirps he makes mean, how to tell his mood based on his body language, how to kiss him, his favourite position to take you in,

Ah, he's beginning to get hard again. You wouldn't mind taking in some more of his love while he bandages and licks your wounds clean, would you? Of course not. You're his beloved mate. Leaving him isn't a choice either, not when he can just make it so that you're too drugged to even walk properly. To have you crave him as much as he hungers for you. Just thinking about the future he has planned for the two of you is enough to bring him to the edge once more.

Tighnari thinks he can get used to this lifestyle.

You, on the other hand, can't even remember your life before meeting your mate.

Being so weak and unable to walk for long, he was attentive to all of your needs. It makes you feel useless to see him do things you're supposed to do, but he insists that he wants to do them. Reassuring you lovingly by nuzzling against you and whispering some words that you didn't understand. It's okay, though. The only words you need to know are the ones he teaches you. From calling him your "beloved mate" to breathily moaning out the filthiest things that will get him going.

Tighnari is always kind enough to give you "love marks" as well. Even if they hurt at first, they are meant to represent how much he loves you, as they remain on your body for long periods of time. And when they start to disappear, he leaves more, sometimes biting down to the point where you think he'll eat you alive. It's okay, some panicked squeaks and "Mm! H-Hurts..." Will snap him out of the trance. He always feels so guilty until he licks at the wound. The taste of your blood is so sweet to him. It's addicting.

The only way to get him to realize his precious little bunny is also his one and only mate is to try to intertwine your fingers with his own. Tighnari taught you that it's what mates do to tell each other that their love is true and will last forever.

"For, rever?" You curiously asked one day, looking up at him during another breeding session. He almost came then and there from how adorable you looked, but managed to stop himself and halt his movements. "Even after your eyes close for a long time." Was his response, but it was more of a reminder to himself to rein his instincts in when he gets too far. He's taught you to trust and love him unconditionally. Even if he were to eat you alive someday, you'd still look at him with hazy and unfocused eyes filled with love and adoration.

He's drugged you to rely on him and only him, to see him as your mate. Tighnari knows that if anyone were to see you two now, you'd be taken away from him, as people would see this entire relationship as toxic and inhumane. But without him, you'd probably be in the hands of some degenerate pervert who couldn't even experience sex with a fellow human. To him, though, you weren't something to be used, but something that provided nourishment to both his body and soul.

And if you were to be moved away from him, he'd be no better than other hybrids that developed an attachment to their masters. After all, no matter how many times Tighnari may use you as he pleases, and how incapacitated he's made you with drugs, you are the only thing that can bring Tighnari to his knees.

It contradicts the way he treats you, but he truly wishes to see you happy while in his care. Even if you're not in the proper state of mind to realize that all of this is wrong and against your nature. That you have to run away from this man and live in a completely different country just to feel safe. But when he considers gradually decreasing the amount of drugs he has you on, he fears that the heaven he made for the two of you will completely disappear. And he'll have to eat you so the two of you can truly be together forever.

Tighnari has a feeling that a close friend of his knows about the secret he's kept from the other forest rangers, but seeing your tuckered out form laying in your shared nest, he decides that his friend would've stopped him a long time ago if they felt that his actions were truly wrong. But he can't help but consider a life with just you. The Withering has stopped appearing, and Collei's disease has been cured. Would it be ok to live in seclusion and succumb to his animal instincts?

"Mate..." You're calling out for him even in your dreams. He thinks you know when he's lost in his thoughts, as your actions bring him back to the present. Tighnari always sleeps with your naked bodies pressed closed together, to the point where one could consider it an attempt to strangle them. But you're used to it. Your body can tell when he doesn't have a protective grip on you, and you get really pouty in the mornings. He thinks it's adorable and apologizes by emptying several loads of his love into your body.

As Tighnari presses himself closer, nuzzling and licking at your cheeks, he wonders if he can make a potion that'll make you start lactating. When he succeeds, he'll consider finding a way to make you give birth to a healthy litter. And if there really is no way to make you compatible with his seed, he'll just fuck you enough times so your tummy stays round and full of him.

He doesn't mind pretending you're pregnant with his pups

[000marie198]

What were to happen if Sonic and Tails both became babies? Y'know, besides Knuckles and Amy having to wrangle their clingier than usual sibs.

Imagine two gremlin twin kittens who just got reunited staring at you with these faces:

:3 :3

Moments before disaster strikes

.....

But this happens after they are placed in the same space together and make friends.

The first instinct of baby Tails would be to pounce on his fellow age mate cuz he wanna play

The first instinct of Sonic would be to yip in terror and roll away from the fox and tremble while still curled up in a teeny ball. He won't know it but his action will make baby Tails pause and tilt his head in confusion and then curiously approach the still trembling ball to nudge it. It pricks him due to quills and he also yips and scuttles away, then whimpers and sniffs, holding his bleeding snout.

The hedgehog, recognizing the sounds as expressions of pain and fear and not sensing anything else for a full minute uncurls slightly to make a little peek at the kit, he's cautious but also curious.

They don't really have the memories of their lives but the general instincts and bonds are there and seeing the teary blue eyes and soft sad sniffles... Little hoglet is not able to handle it and uncurls completely and whimpers too.

He hurt the other. He doesn't want the other to be hurt. He's really sorry he hurt the other.

Little hoglet stumbles towards the sniffling kit and pats him with his little paws over and over till baby Tails stops tearing up with a hiccup and stares curiously at the hoglet.

Baby Sonic let's out an open mouthed smile. Tails gets curious and comes closer, which reactivates the hedgehog instincts and Sonic rolls away again.

Baby Tails realizes the other one can get scared if he comes close without warning or pounces so he doesn't do that. He just sits and waits, tails lightly swishing back and forth, watching baby Sonic till he calms down and uncurls, meeting the fox replicating his earlier smile.

Big wide eyes staring at each other and slowly they both become comfortable enough to actually start communicating, in babbles and gestures but it's still communication.

In a while, Sonic's stomach growls, he has always had higher metabolism okay. Baby Tails starts sniffing around to find him something to eat. He sniffs something he likes, FLIES OUT OF THE PEN, locates a cookie and brings it to Sonic. The hoglet muches on it and offers it to Tails after 3 or 4 bites. Tails also munches on cookie.

They start competing on who can munch louder, it's a miracle one of them hasn't choked on a crumb while giggling so much.

They bond over chocolate cookie :]

........

There's a lot more moments we can add afterwards, aka once the two have become friends. .

Both babies would literally have that package deal, Do Not Sperate level separation anxiety specifically and only when it comes to the other.

Knuckles would carry Tails away to feed him something and Sonic would start wailing and reaching, Tails doing the same. They are very loud and they won't shut up till you reunite them, which will end up in close hugs and sniffles

There was that one time Amy had to take Sonic away for a little bit to give him a bath and Knuckles had to fight to hold a frantic clawing fox kit away, especially when Sonic's cries of sorrow turned into screeches of fear. This was so not easy.

Tails bites both their older friends after that while Sonic naps in the background all freshened up and tidied.

........

You cannot leave the babies unsupervised anywhere! They will work together to escape one way or another no matter where and they will drive everyone nuts looking for them only to be found inside a barely ajar cupboard with cereal scattered all around them and blinking like deer caught in a headlight.

......

You give one of them a toy or teether or rattle and they'll fight over it and scream. Sighing, you take away the toys. Next time you make sure to give both of them identical toys. They still look at the other and try to snatch it, starting another fight.

.......

There are two gremlins rolling around and flying all over the house, getting into the craziest, unreachable places. Sonic just scuttled under the fridge, Tails is perched on a ceiling fan. Everything is scattered

.......

The next time baby Tails pounces on the hoglet to play with him, Sonic doesn't curl up in fear

[monstersandmaw]

Male fox spirit x female reader (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Commission #4 in the list of 5! Thank you for trusting me with your prompt:  female reader saves a dying fox on her way home from work, who turns out to be a fox spirit. I hope you like it!

Contents:  Fox suffers a spinal injury when hit by a car (not the reader’s); there’s some magic; some domestic fluff; oral sex, fingering, him coming on her; and a sweet, fluffy ending.

Wordcount: 4400

Driving rain greeted you full in the face as you shoved open the main doors of the building and burrowed down into your coat, drawing the hood tight around your head in a vain attempt to keep the weather out. Nights like this — cold, damp, and at the tail end of winter before Spring took a proper hold on the land — were truly miserable.

Your fingers were half frozen by the time you had fumbled the keys out of your pocket and clambered into your car, and you fired the old thing up with a hopeful grimace that it would start. It coughed to life and you uttered a little prayer of thanks to whichever gods or spirits out there might be listening. “Now if only you could do something about my pathetic love life as well,” you said to yourself as you reversed out of the parking space and headed towards the main road. “Wouldn’t that be perfect?”

Half an hour outside of town, your headlights flashed over something lying on the side of the road, sprawled halfway across the white line, and you swerved instinctively to avoid it. Mercifully there was nothing coming in the other direction, or you’d have caused a serious accident. Adrenaline spiked through you and you slammed on the brakes.

The flash of golden-red you’d glimpsed had told you it was a fox, but it had had its head raised and it had been looking at you with its eyes flaring yellow in the headlights, but the expression on its face had struck you to the core. It had looked… resigned. Like it knew you were going to hit it. Like it knew it was going to die.

“No,” you said through gritted teeth.

You had some old work gloves in the back of the car from when you’d taken a load of stuff from the garden to the dump a week before, so you put your hazards on and slid out of the driver’s side door and into the worsening storm. You cursed softly, squinting amid the stinging rain as it struck your face like little iron nails in the gusty night. You cleared a space in the trunk for the fox, spreading an old picnic blanket out and grabbing those thick leather gloves. No need to get rabies if the thing bit you before you could get it to an animal clinic in the morning.

You knew it was a stupid thing to do, that cars hit wildlife all the time, and you really weren’t equipped to deal with it, but you couldn’t just leave it there when it had looked so sad; black ears drooping, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

Making your way along the edge of the deserted road with only your phone torch to light the way, you found the spot where the fox was still lying on the asphalt, and crooned softly to it. “Hey there,” you said, feeling a bit silly. “It’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s alright. Let me help you out… Let me take you home and see if I can take you to a vet in the morning…”

When your light found its back legs though, your heart sank. They lay limp and slightly twisted to one side. Its back had been broken by the impact with a vehicle.

“Oh baby,” you said, fighting sudden tears. “It’s going to be ok…” you lied.

Was it like with humans? Should it not be moved with a spinal injury? It would probably die anyway, or they’d recommend putting it down. You could at least take it in and keep it warm for its last few hours. When you knelt nearby, it just laid its cheek down on the cold tarmac, defeated, and let out a long, broken whimper.

“I’m going to pick you up, ok? Please don’t bite me. God, this is such a stupid thing to do…”

The fox licked its shiny black nose and just blinked slowly at you.

When it made no move to attack you or snap at you when you got nearer, you scooped it up and marvelled at how light it felt in your arms, its lovely, russet fur damp and matted.

“There,” you said, cradling it in your arms as you carried it back to your car. ‘Him’, not ‘it’, you saw when you set him down on the blanket and stroked his head and neck. He murmured softly, the sound almost a purr, and you swallowed thickly. He was so weak, you wondered if he’d even survive the journey home.

Five cars overtook you as you drove on after that, all beeping and honking their horns and flashing their lights to get you to go faster, but you absolutely would not be bullied into making this last car ride hell for the little, injured fox.

It didn’t take very long to set up a cosy den of blankets and towels in the kitchen by the radiator, and when you were satisfied that it was as comfortable as you could make it — and that any mess would be contained in an area with tile floors — you went back for him. He was still lying on his side, exactly as you’d left him, but his eyes seemed brighter and more focused, and his ears pricked up when you opened the trunk up and gazed down at him.

“Alright?” you asked and he gave a soft snuffle that was half-sneeze and half-chuckle. “You’re awfully perky for someone who’s just gone head-to-head with fast-moving traffic, buddy,” you smiled. “Maybe you will be alright. Ready to go inside?”

You had your gloves on but it didn’t feel like you really needed them, and when you settled him down on the veritable blanket fort inside, he heaved a great sigh and nuzzled his cheek against the fabric with a rumbling moan of contentment.

“You hungry?” you asked. “I don’t have much that’s fox-friendly, but I think there’s some ham in the fridge. Let me check.”

You offered him a saucer of water first, holding his delicate head up as he lapped steadily at it until he’d had his fill, and then you fed him little slivers of cooked ham which he took from your fingers like an absolute gentleman. “Aren't you dainty,” you chuckled as his small, sharp teeth pulled the next piece carefully free of your gloved hand.

He fixed you with such a flat, patronising look that you had to laugh.

The fox flicked an ear and looked away.

“Oh I’m sorry,” you said in a baby voice. “Don’t be grumpy with me, you precious thing… Here, have some more…”

He sneezed, then looked back at you and opened his mouth, head tipped back like a baby bird awaiting a worm.

“You’re not going to take it? You want me to feed you?”

He just stared at you without moving.

“Fine, your highness,” you said. “Anything for you.”

You let the piece drop into his tilted jaws, and then chucked him affectionately under the chin with your finger after he’d chewed and swallowed it.

He caught the leather of the glove’s fingertip in his teeth in a move that was so fast you didn’t even see it, but then tugged gently, insistently.

“I’m not taking this off,” you frowned. “You could have rabies for all I know.”

A tiny, rattling growl, like the world’s tiniest chainsaw, rumbled out of him and he folded his ears back indignantly before pulling on the glove again. Then he let go, his ears pricked about as far forward as he could get them, and he stared expectantly at you.

“No way, friend,” you said, and stood to put the empty ham packet in the rubbish bin.

With your back to the kitchen window, a golden light flooded the room, and for a wild moment, you thought someone was driving straight at the house, headlights blazing. When you whipped around though, you froze. The light was coming from… from the fox.

“The fuck…?”

Your heartbeat started to race, and you weren’t sure if the ringing sound was coming from your own blood pounding in your ears or from something else in the room. The brightness reached such an intense crescendo that you had to look away, shielding your eyes with the crook of your arm until the chiming noise stopped and you lowered it cautiously back down, blinking.

There, standing in the centre of the room, was a man.

You took a step back, fear crashing in on your senses.

You looked around for something you could use as a weapon, but a warm, gentle voice said, “Wait, I won’t hurt you. I swear it.”

Again, you went still, and after taking a steadying breath, you turned to face him again, wide eyed and shaking. “What the hell?”

“Not hell,” he smiled, and you saw that he had warm, tan skin and dark, golden eyes. His hair was a russet colour, and it fell in soft waves around his ears to the nape of his neck. He was slender, not especially tall, and he was quite possibly the most beautiful human being you’d ever laid eyes on. Except… there was still a kind of glow around him, like an aura, and his clothes looked like they belonged at a Ren Faire or something, though the dark green, belted and embroidered tunic was finely tailored and his dark brown boots looked soft and well worn. Tiny points of light, like fireflies, twisted slowly through the air surrounding him before vanishing into a miniature, glittering starburst.

“You’re not human,” you said, despite how crazy it sounded.

“No,” the man replied with a smile. “No, I’m not. But you didn’t know that when you took in an injured fox and cared for him.”

“You’re the fox,” you blurted without thinking.

“I am. Sort of,” he smiled, and you saw that he had perfect, white teeth, with slightly more pointed canines than humans usually did. “I’m a fox spirit. There are all sorts of us, and we’re known by many names all over the world, but the most famous is probably the ‘kitsune’ thanks to modern media.”

“Oh,” you said, only half aware that your vision was darkening around the edges until it was too late. The blood roared again in your ears and your knees went out from under you. The last thing you saw was a flicker of a frown on the man’s — kitsune’s — face before he lunged towards you with hands outstretched, and the world went black.

You stirred and found yourself lying on the sofa in your sitting room, with your feet raised about a foot or so off the seat cushion, and a stranger in green standing over you, holding your legs up by the ankle. The kitsune. The fox spirit.

“Got to say, that’s the first time someone’s actually fainted because of me,” he said with a smile, lowering your legs back down and stepping back. “Are you alright?”

“I fainted?” you asked stupidly, pushing yourself upright and swinging your legs slowly off the sofa and onto the ground. You swayed a little, but didn’t pass out again.

The fox spirit nodded, his lovely hair shining with strands of bronze and copper in the low light of the room, gold eyes glowing as if back-lit. “Thank you for saving me,” he said in a quiet, earnest baritone.

“Did I, though?” you asked, staring openly at him. “I mean… you’re… magic, right? I saw the way your legs were just… Your back was broken…”

“If you’d hit me with your car, or simply left me there for the next driver to do the same, then I wouldn’t have survived. We’re tough, and our magic can heal most things, but not that.”

“Oh.” And then your cheeks went hot and you looked at the carpet, “I’m sorry I baby-talked you like you were an actual animal.”

He laughed; a beautiful, bright sound like dry autumn leaves in clear sunlight. His head tipped a little way back and he looked truly delighted. “You weren’t to know,” he said, still chuckling. “And you’re not the first.”

“Oh,” you said, like a broken record.

From where he stood nearby, the fox spirit smiled at you and then inhaled deeply. “I… should go,” he said, his golden eyes turning a little sad. “Let you return to your life…”

“Wait,” you called from the sofa as he turned away. “What’s your name?”

He cast you a look over his shoulder and the smile he gave you was wry and amused. “You may call me Rowe.”

There was a nuance there that you weren’t understanding, but you told him your name in return, and he inhaled suddenly as if you’d struck him.

“You would part with your name so carelessly?” he whispered, brows pulling together into a frown of utter confusion. “You…” and then his expression cleared and his shoulders dropped. “You have never had dealings with the fae, have you?”

“The… fae?” you stuttered. “Like… fairies?”

The smile that replaced the frown was patient and amused in equal parts, and he sighed and shook his head. “Well, here’s your first lesson. Never tell your true name to a fae.”

Again, all the sound that escaped you was a dull, “Oh.”

He exhaled and approached you, and you tried not to lean back, to lean away from him. This whole night had gone from bad to utterly bizarre in the blink of an eye and you felt a little sick from the whiplash.

To make matters all the more confusing, the strange man knelt before you, sweeping his long, otherworldly tunic out of the way as he sank down onto one knee like he was going to propose or something, and he bowed his auburn head. “You saved my life without thought of debt or repayment, and in recognition of the gift, I give one of my own. I bind your True Name to my heart and hold it there in silence. I may never speak your True Name aloud unless you give me leave so to do. This I swear upon my spirit and my magic and my own True Name.”

The air in the room prickled like static and you had to fight the urge to see if your hair was standing on end. Goosebumps flickered along your arms and legs, and you drew in a shallow breath. “Anything else I should know about?” you asked faintly.

He looked up at you and shrugged. “We’re allergic to iron,” he suggested. “And we’re overly fond of cream and sweet cakes…”

“Sweet cakes,” you repeated thoughtfully, eyes drifting towards the kitchen where you’d bought a strawberry sponge cake just the day before, and an idea half-formed in your head.

Rowe smiled and your heart slipped sideways in your chest for a moment. He was so beautiful it was almost hard to believe he was really there and really standing in front of you. Well, technically he was kneeling like a knight in a fairytale. Fairytale indeed, you thought.

“You don’t have to go,” you whispered.

You were afraid of sounding childish, that if you spoke too loudly, he would think you desperate and would laugh at you, but all he did was tilt his head to the side the way he had done as a fox, and he nodded once. “Alright,” he said.

“I mean, don’t feel like you have to stay either,” you babbled, making a rather pathetic, flapping gesture in front of you with your hands. “I just meant… you’re welcome to stay if you want to. I was going to cook some dinner and watch a movie… eat cake for dessert. I thought… I thought since you’ve had kind of a rough day, you might like to just… chill out with me for a while.”

“May I help you cook?”

“If you… If you’d like to?” you said, standing carefully and holding your hand out to him to encourage him up off the floor.

He slid his warm fingers into your palm, and got to his feet with the grace of a prince, and offered you another smile. “I’d like that very much.”

Rowe stayed with you for a week. You explained that you had to go to work or you’d get fired, and when you came back on the first day, you expected him to have gone, leaving you wondering if the whole thing hadn’t been a hallucination brought on by the combination of a stressful week of work and the awful weather. But no, Rowe was there that evening, curled up as a fox on the impromptu bed you’d made by the radiator while the rain hurled itself at the window pane above him.

“Rowe, you don’t have to sleep on that!” you gasped, dropping your bag by the door and making him startle awake, ears pricked, tail fluffed up in rather adorable alarm.

In a flash of gold light, he was human again, standing beside the bed and smiling at you. “I don’t mind,” he chuckled. “It’s comfortable, and when I’m a fox, I don’t think in quite the same way as I do when I’m in this form. That’s how I got hit by the car in the first place… Please, don’t fret.”

You scowled at him, but relented, and asked him about his day. It seemed he’d spent most of it in his fox form, either out and about in the woods near your house, or sleeping by the warmth of the radiator.

“Didn’t you get bored here?” you asked.

“I could have done the housework for you,” he smirked. “But I thought that might have been an intrusion on your privacy.”

You laughed. “Thanks?”

After three days of sharing your space with him — he sleeping contentedly as a fox on the pile of blankets and you upstairs in your bedroom — you cleared your throat that evening as you sat together on the sofa like old friends, and said, “You know… uh… I… I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to come upstairs with me… I don’t want you to feel like you have to sleep down here like you’re a…” you trailed off, flushing hot with awkward embarrassment.

One russet-brown eyebrow climbed a little higher than the other. “… a what?”

“Like you’re some kind of pet… you know…”

Rowe laughed and, as it always did, your heart skipped a beat. His cheeks dimpled and Adam’s apple danced in his exposed throat and you ached. It felt like a long time since someone had touched you; since you’d been held, let alone kissed. He had a beautiful mouth, like he’d been made just to tempt you.

Some of your thoughts must have shown on your face because the laughter died in his throat and he fixed you with a look that was all concern. He murmured the name you’d given him permission to use when it was just the two of you and asked, “What’s wrong? I’m not upset about the animal comment,” he said, reaching for your forearm and trying to reassure you, but you shook your head. “Then what?”

Tears came unbidden to your eyes and you turned away. His hand felt hot through the fabric of your hoodie, but his grip was feather light. It would take nothing at all to pull yourself free, but the thought of it seemed overwhelming. “It’s nothing,” you choked, pressing your lips together and hoping he’d let the matter drop.

He didn’t. His eyes flared bright gold and he scowled at you when you risked a glance at him. “The fae can always taste a lie,” he said with the slightest growl to his voice. “And I can tell you’re hurting. We were laughing, and then… you weren’t. What changed?”

“It’s —”

A short, animal growl echoed in his throat but he bit it back, shut his mouth with a click of teeth, and glared at you.

“Ugh, fine,” you huffed, standing up and pacing across the room. “It’s been a long time since it’s been this easy around someone, ok? And it’s not every day that a handsome, cute guy with a great sense of humour shows genuine interest in me. I just wished, for like half a second, that you might be interested in me, but I get it. You’re not even human. I was nice to you. You probably feel obliged to stay here. You… You should probably go soon anyway.”

His expression turned from concerned to carefully neutral, and he stood. “If that’s the way you feel,” he said, “Then I can leave. But you should know that I’ve had a wonderful time with you, and…” he swallowed and took a breath, “I think you’re beautiful, through and through.”

“Please,” you scoffed. “Don’t bother trying to spare my feelings.”

“We can taste a lie, but we cannot tell one,” he said evenly. “I could not tell you that your clothes are yellow when they are not, nor that the sky is green, nor that you are not beautiful.”

You turned slowly around to look at him, and found him glowing gold again, those points of light spiralling lazily in the air around him. The slight shape of fox ears seemed to be picked out in two, brighter lines above his copper hair and behind him you saw a golden tail swaying back and forth. His eyes blazed bright like burnished bronze, and he was staring directly at you as he spoke.

“Oh.”

“I would very much like to stay with you, and share your bed, and, if you would let me, I would bring you pleasure too.”

Your breath hitched and you licked your lips. He even spoke like he was out of a fairytale. “You mean it?”

“Yes.”

“Ok,” you smiled.

Together, you tidied up the sitting room, and he followed you upstairs, still glowing softly, as if he were utterly contented and couldn’t help it.

Rowe undressed with you in your bedroom, baring a body like polished bronze; all lean lines and languid muscle, and you almost couldn’t look away. He asked if he could shower with you, and gently washed you and touched you, cupping your breasts and trailing his hands down your sides with reverent care. He passed his thumbs over your hardened nipples and kneaded your breasts until you gasped and tipped your head back, eyes closed. He teased between your legs with his fingertips, and then when you turned the shower off, he kissed your forehead. In a rush of magic, both your bodies were completely dry and your skin glowed softly with a thousand, dewy, golden sparkles. You beamed up at him, and he kissed you.

When he drew back, he led you by the hand into the bedroom and you lay down on the bed, heart racing. He knelt between your parted knees and you stared openly at his beautiful body. He looked like a statue come to life, and his cock had been more than half-hard ever since the shower, even as he turned his attention wholly on you and skimmed his palms up your thighs. You parted your legs a little wider for him and he bowed forward to kiss along your inner thigh until you shivered and lay back on the pillow behind you with a gasp.

He kissed you and tasted you, moaning softly before letting his tongue sweep up over you. He took your sensitive clit between his lips and kissed you there as well, and then he slid his arms under your thighs, lay down on his front, and you lost yourself to the pleasure of his mouth.

You lost count of how many times he made you come that night, with his tongue and with his fingers, but he never asked for more than you were ready to give.

“Come on me,” you murmured. You had no idea how well your current contraception would withstand a magical fae, but you were pretty sure you were safe with that, and when you asked, he nodded.

His fingers were slick from where he’d made you come, again, and he closed his hand around his cock with a low groan that dissolved into a gasp as he brought himself to the brink. He glowed gold again and you saw those ears made of light and the tail gleaming vividly behind him just as he spilled over your stomach with a muted grunt and another beautiful moan.

The golden light suffused the room, and you watched his expression as he came — open and vulnerable and achingly beautiful — and wished more than anything that he would stay.

When you woke in the morning, you expected to wake alone, but the warm pressure of Rowe’s body pressed against your back and the weight of his arm across your waist drew a little inhale of surprise from you. Apparently that was enough to wake him, because he kissed the back of your head and mumbled a sleepy good morning into your hair.

He was hard too, you realised, and you deliberately rocked your hips back against him.

Rowe let out a grunt and his hand shifted to your hips, drawing himself closer to you with a languid, answering roll of his hips.

“I don’t know if the fae have weekends,” you said, “But today is Saturday. I don’t have to go in to work…”

“Good,” he said. “I’m not sure I could let you go anywhere today after last night.” He said it with a laugh that told you he would let you do anything you liked, and you rolled over to face him. The softness in his smile brought one of your own to your lips, and he slid his hand down over your breast and then down between your legs.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he slipped his fingers easily inside you, and you rolled onto your back as he started a rhythm that would end in the kind of pleasure you had only ever dreamed of before him.

He smiled and kissed your cheek without his fingers once faltering, and whispered in your ear, “I’ll stay with you as long as you want me.”

You gasped and bucked, and almost missed his promise.

“I’ll stay with you forever.”

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[originalartblog]

Tiny skk adventures asks!! tiny lore and stuff

fanart of any kind is always welcome. I always say that when people use others' ideas in fandom, it's much more nicer to say so, out of respect and community. And I want to see!! If it inspires your own twist on a similar idea, you're free to decide if you want to mention me or not, that's another subject.

The tinies are more like... mirror versions of their big selves that have been detached. Like daemons or fairies. They have the same life experiences, personalities, emotions, connections, likes or dislikes. Just... more raw? not innocent, but maybe a bit naive? less filtered? They are very small and everything is a lot. The way they react to things might not be an exact 1:1 with how the big ones would react, but it's a good indicator nonetheless.

As for your examples, wounds wouldn't transfer, but their reactions to being hurt would be basically the same. Being sick is different, since it could be contagious. In that case, Tinyzai would have a harder time hiding how bad he feels compared to big Dazai, so even if they are equally sick, it would be more obvious on Tinyzai. This logic could be extended to how they feel emotionally (if a situation makes them stressed, happy, sad, angry, etc.)

@dreamsicle262 - @oribun

First of all thank you for making me look up foxes purring because I didn't know that and it's great. They don't purr the proper way cats do (they just can't), but they do make a lot of happy noises, including a "purring" rumbling. The answer to both asks is yes they absolutely do have some corresponding animal characteristics. I have a comic about this with Tinyzai I've been meaning to finish.

@circuslemon

This is basically the first Tiny skk comic I made, with the cranky, tired and bored tinies were forcibly put in proximity and ended up all snuggled together. You saw how the big ones reacted. But the big guys would NEVER ask to cuddle on the couch. How embarrassing. They don't even have animal instincts or their smallness to blame it on. (that's another comic idea I need to get onto)

[pricegouge]

Fatted Rabbit Part Eleven on AO3

Contents

Bear!Price x reader | explicit

Admittedly, he doesn't get much done. But he's so sated and happy, he's fairly certain Simon could come in and quit right there on the spot and John would just let him go, happy to see the big man moving on with his life. Instead, when Simon barges into John's office, he does not bring such joyous news as 'I'm getting out of your hair'.

John's daydreaming about sex in the first paragraph. It's not overly explicit but if that's not your thing just skip it :)

also, some cannon-typical violence in this chapter! It's gonna get worse from here lmao

By Wednesday, John's so blissed out on love hormones and rabbit cum he doesn't even mind doing payroll. He sits at his desk dutifully, never even once wandering off in search of some menial task to help him procrastinate from the mind numbing desk work, content to stare blankly at his screen and replay getting his rabbit bent over his counter for breakfast. She'd made him keep his hands to himself at first, but it was her mistake; the grip he had on the farside of the counter gaining him enough leverage to set her soft body bouncing, have her drooling onto the counter top. She'd been so pretty. A right bounty, just for him, and when he'd told her as much, she'd finally let him paw at her, get his arms under her soft belly to be sure he wasn't hurting her with how roughly be pressed her hips into the surface.

Admittedly, he doesn't get much done. But he's so sated and happy, he's fairly certain Simon could come in and quit right there on the spot and John would just let him go, happy to see the big man moving on with his life.

Instead, when Simon barges into John's office, he does not bring such joyous news as 'I'm getting out of your hair'.

"Got something you need to see, cap." He slaps a manila folder down onto Price's desk, stuffed with about a quarter ream of paper.

"Not reading a resume that long, Si. If you think they're worth it that's good 'nough for me."

"Man came in asking about your bird last night."

John's eyes dart to the folder in front of him. Some animal instinct compels him to eat the damn thing and be rid of it, but he manages to keep such urges at bay as he reaches his pen out, snags it under the folder's cover.

Inside is a right dossier: birthday, job description, hometown, summary of residencies and former employment. John barely glances at any of it, eyes locked instead on the photo Simon's attached of his bunny standing stiffly in the embrace of a fox-faced blond with a scar on his cheek. 'Phil Graves,' the report says across the top and John attempts a laugh, manages a growl. "You're having a laugh," he mutters, more at God than Simon. His voice is muddled with excess saliva, jowls heavy.

"'M'not that funny," Simon counters, completely deadpan. "Anyway, he came 'round yesterday and asked Soap if 'e'd seen 'er because they were 'supposed to meet up.' Johnny didn't think much of it and told him she'd probably be by sooner or later." John's lip curls in frustration and Simon's quick to go to the man's defense. "Not like 'e knew, cap. Anyway, guy stuck around for 'bout four hours, asking Johnny all sorts of questions about her -."

"And?"

Simon blinks at him balefully. "And, nothing. Johnny got wise quick and didn't tell 'im anything. Then our friend 'ere started asking about you."

"Me?" John asks, lip curling in distaste.

"Think 'e's been keeping tabs."

John slams the folder closed, unable to stand his bunny's sad eyes staring up at him anymore. "Tabs?"

"Gaz managed to get some of his banking info -." He pointedly ignores John's raised brow. "You'll see some transaction summaries in there. Man's been in the area for a bit, probably gathering info. Slow about it," Simon scoffs, and John would probably find that funny if most of his brain function wasn't currently dedicated to suppressing the spontaneous growth of seven centimeter canines.

"He's in Glacier?" John repeats, stupidly. He's trying to follow along, truly, but he feels like a dog chasing its tail; thought process cycling rapidly between general bloodlust, finding his rabbit immediately, and holding his bear at bay at least until he's away from Simon.

"Looks like."

"Since when?"

"At least a week."

"I haven't seen this fucker."

Simon squints at him. "Well, you wouldn't've, cap. Would you?"

"Christ," John hisses, burying his face in his hands. They still smell like the rabbit. Distracting. "What else did he say?"

Simon grunts. "Next bit's the weird part. 'E sad 'e figured we all - that's you, Johnny and me - all knew each other real well, and that we're bad people, so we should know why 'e didn't want ''is girl' 'round us."

"He said we're bad people?"

"So you do know 'im?"

John huffs, shakes his head. "Know of him. Know she just got out of a bad break up, that she sleeps in a car. Know she gets all flighty if I say or do anything that could even be perceived as angry -." I know she doesn't like me to touch her during penetrative sex. "It was pretty easy to figure out, but then I overheard her talking to an old friend on the phone." He motions at the folder in front of him illustratively. "She was asking if a blond guy with a southern accent and a scar on his cheek had reached out to ask about her. From the sounds of it, he had. She told him all about how Phil here controlled her finances, isolated her… got physical. She asked the friend not to mention to anyone that they'd heard from her, and that Phil here was probably keeping tabs on social media."

"He does have a lot of ghost accounts."

John peeks at the picture again, closes the folder just as quickly. "Think I'm gonna kill him, Si."

To his credit, the man doesn't even blink. "Why's he think we're bad people?"

"Fuck if I know, mate. Probably saying some shite to -."

"More specifically, cap, why does he think you're dangerous?"

"Pardon?"

"Well, I figure, this guy can't be spending too much time looking into either Johnny or me. 'E just assumed we all knew each other, before - were all friendly - because we all work together and happen to be European. Bit of an idiot like that, it seems. But see, Johnny has no sense of self preservation. 'E's got pretty much his entire life posted online and even a cursory search would've shown 'im 'e was wrong. So, 'e's not looked up either of us, which means 'is assumptions are based off what he dug up on you." Simon tilts his head curiously, doesn't bother voicing the question that lingers between them. John spends so much time avoiding Simon's silent, omniscient glower he forgets sometimes that the man's tongue is often worse.

John squints, for the first time actually considering Phil's words. He's an idiot, and a lying bastard, most like, but if he's been hanging around town, keeping tabs…

"Sure I don't know."

"Final answer?"

"I'm not in the habit of entertaining the allegations of women beaters, mate," John growls.

Simon doesn't even blink. "And you think you're gonna kill 'im?"

Fuck. He can't even bring himself to deny it.

Still unblinking, Simon nods once in acceptance. "Olright. I'm gonna go double check some browser history. Tell Gaz to do the same." He snags a sharpie out of John's pen holder, turns the folder to himself and marks it with his spidery scrawl as he keeps talking, "Your bird sleeps in 'er car, you said?" His eyes flick up just long enough to see John nod. Briefly, John thinks that if Simon weren't so… Simon, he'd have lovely big cow eyes. "It occurs to me that vandwellers gotta sleep off the beaten path. And if Phil's been following 'er, 'e's probably found 'imself in some… backcountry areas." Done writing now, Simon turns the full force of his upsettingly perceptive gaze on John. He looks like he's waiting for something - some spark of recognition - but John's got maybe two brain cells to rub together currently, and none of them are devoted to interpreting Simon Riley's vague, cryptic, often c-grade horror movie related references, so he just stares blankly back until the man continues. "That's bait."

"Huh?"

"If Graves were just 'ere for the girl, 'e never would've shown 'is hand. 'E wants to draw you out. So, 'e's got something on you, and 'e's trying to manipulate you." Simon ticks them off on his fingers, turns the folder so it faces John again, and stands with a scraping of his chair. "Don't be stupid."

John huffs, adjusts his seat as an excuse to feel his limbs flex. "So he just left? After showing up and being all ominous?"

"No." The conviction with which he denies it would be better suited to a murder trial. "Threw 'im out on 'is ass, didn't I?"

When he's gone, John stares balefully down at the folder for a moment, brain only recognizing the kind of carte blanche Simon has given him when he finally registers the note left there. 'Burn after reading'.

First, he has to secure the rabbit.

***

John doesn't even bother texting first, sniffing her out among the gaggles of tourists growing like mushrooms in the late spring rains. It's easy enough to find her, the distinct honey and strawberry scent that had first attracted him is beginning to change to reflect their bond. Soon it will be strong enough that even humans will be able to tell she's spoken for, if only subliminally. It only serves to make him antsier, upsets him to know she's even been allowed to wander so far when he'd known another man was after her.

Graves' unread file taunts him from the passenger seat. Clearly, Graves was adept enough to track the girl clear across the map. John should have taken the time to figure out what he was up against; but the notion that Graves already knew where his bunny was was disconcerting. If Graves was just biding his time, he could decide at any moment that he'd had enough of waiting.

And John didn't even know what his plan was.

He had to find her first, secure her. He wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything until that was done, anyway.

Her scent leads him to a coffee shop downtown, and she nearly jumps out of her skin when he slides into the chair across from her. "John -?" she starts. Doesn't make it much further.

"We have to leave."

"Pardon?"

"Come back to my place, please, honey. Now."

She squints at him, tetchy. "Why?"

John fidgets, frustration boiling under his skin. It's not her fault, of course, but if he doesn't get her locked in his den in the next thirty minutes, he's going to end up getting himself put down by animal control. He'd had a plan - when he left the office - a script to follow to get her to listen to him. He can't remember more than two words now.

"Graves's here," he blurts, knows he's fucked up when her brow knits ominously.

"Phil?"

John nods, tries to reach for her hand. She yanks it away from him. Distantly, he's proud to see her so suspicious. It's well-earned and a better alternative to the blind panic he'd half expected.

"How do you know about Phil?"

"Heard you talking about him to your friend that day, bunny. I'll explain everyth -."

"You were listening in on me?"

"Didn't mean to. Have good ears -."

"I never mentioned his last name."

John wishes he could follow along better, think clearly enough to find the words she needs to hear. Instead, all he manages is a dumb, "Huh?"

"I never mentioned Phil's last name on that phone call, John. How'd you know it?" His brain feels like it's being pulled in twenty directions, but he still manages to note how pretty she is when she's spittin' mad.

"Came into the bar looking for you. Soap ID'd him." He may as well be talking to the wall because there it is. Late to the party but reliable as the sun. The second he says Phil had been at the bar, the rabbit's eyes go big and round, darting around the cafe as if she expects to see him watching them from the next table over. "Sweetheart," he hedges, but the sound of his voice just makes her squirm.

"I have to go. Goodbye, John," she says, and something about her tone betrays the finality of it.

"Bunny," he pleads, lurching out of his seat to follow her. He can't keep his voice level enough not to scare her; tries placing a soothing palm on her arm instead.

It's as if he'd slapped her, the way she flinches away from him. John holds his hands up when she wheels on him, finds himself murmuring soothing words she doesn't listen to. There are people watching now, but he doesn't care, just needs his rabbit to listen.

She doesn't. "Goodbye, John," she hisses, and then hightails it out the door.

She's a quick little thing. John gets stopped by a well-meaning couple who think he means her harm and by the time he manages to barrel past them, she's already made it to her Jeep. He tries to call after her, but when he opens his mouth, all that comes out are coughs as his lungs attempt to shrivel up within his chest. He needs air. Get's pain instead. There's a hissing noise; it takes him a minute to realize he can't identify it because his eyes are closed. When he opens them he thinks maybe the jelly of his eyeballs have been boiled off; coagulated and cemented to his eyelids like overcooked jam. Still, he catches the barest hint of an aerosol can, stream pointed right at his face. He bats blindly, gets his hand knocked away violently. John grabs the offending hand and yanks, but it only serves to drag the person - and therefore the canister - closer. He gets a mouthful the next time he gasps for breath, and he nearly throws up, bile adding to the acidic taste he can't dislodge.

"Dude, enough!" someone shouts. Closer, muffled, a twangy accent tells them to mind their business. The snarl John emits scares even himself, voice broken and guttural as it is. He opens his eyes just enough to catch the conniving blue gaze hidden safe behind a pair of goggles, identifiable scar visible above the thick facemask he's using to protect himself. John can't keep his eyes open any longer than that, but he doesn't need to. He swings a heavy hand, catches him at the nape of his neck. He draws Graves closer, forgets what form he's in and tries to wrap his maw around the man's head. Human, he only manages to snag his ear between his teeth but that's a good start so he bites clean through it, shaking his head to tear the stringy bits of flesh loose when he pulls away. He can't even taste the blood for all the capsaicin coating his tongue. There's screaming - maybe Graves, probably onlookers. John hears the aerosol can run out and snarls in victory as the grip on Graves' neck turns crushing. Keeping the man close, John tries using his size to tip them both over but Graves is quicker, has the added advantage of being able to fucking see.

Graves turns, converts John's inertia to dump him across the pavement. A boot falls heavy on John's chest. He grabs it, tugs, only succeeds in pulling Graves' knee down onto himself. The weight shifts and then Graves' voice is close, maybe only an inch above him. "You're lucky there are witnesses," he hisses, dodges the mit John blindly swings at him. "I ever see you again, I'm putting you down like the rabid beast you are."

And then he empties another can of mace straight up John's nose and things go hazy for a while.

Next>>

[freestyle-crocodile-trashpile]

Can I request the 141 team x reader

Where reader is kinda stupid and a tall fox like person, has super sharp canines and while they are cuddling maybe it goes to fair and reader bites them and says "look I marked you lol" just stares at it for a moment before (either cleaning it up with a medkit or with their mouth) idk I'm craving something that's like me and I have sharp canines.

If you have done something like this please feel free to delete!

[A/n:Mm, this is different, I like it. Thank you for requesting]

Summary:Your a foxy person with sharp teeth, one day you accidentally bite them alittle to hard and help clean the bite

Type:Short Scenarios: Price X M!Reader: Ghost X M!Reader: Soap X M!Reader: Gaz X M!Reader

Version:Mw2

Ghost

He's already use to your foxyness, that's why your a good sniper. He's used to it, nothing can really surprise him when do these foxy shenanigans. When you guys where cuddling his back was pressed against your chest, he was just laying there, caressing your hand gently. He was half way asleep when you bite him. He jumped and quickly turned around.

"Haha, look i marked you...actually, that looks like it hurts"

You got up dragging Ghost with you. He'll never tell you about the raging blush behind his mask. Getting the first aid kit you gently cleaned the bite. Ghost was quiet still half asleep, that's why he didn't say anything before.

"And there"

Kissing the bite gently you patted his thigh before you both headed back to bed, him staying up alittle longer than he hoped just touching the bite mark slightly, a small blush still on his face.

Price

You were foxy yes, but you were also a crazy good sniper because of that so he never stopped you. Your small pranks were harmless at least, besides the time you and Soap planted C4 near the base to scare the new recruits. You two had a earload from price and a hell of a punishment. Price was reading in bed, sitting up while you layed on him. He had his book rested on your head. Staring at his thigh before glancing up at him. Biting his thign he yelped.

"OW-Fuck!"

Hitting you upside the head with the book he had he gently rubbed the spot you bit. You looked up at him with a sad look before lifting his shorts and boxers to find the bite mark. Price watched as you licked and kissed the bite mark gently "cleaning" it. Chuckling at this he patted your head and got back to his book. Hoping to hide his face. You sucking at his thigh has him alittle flustered.

Gaz

He helped in your shenanigans. It's one if his favorite activities. Running around with his boyfriend messing with people and playing pranks. Its so fun, he calls them dates instead if messing around. He'd probably be laying on top of you, hugging your neck, napping. His small snores making you smile, but the drool on your neck not so much. Chuckling to yourself you kiss his shoulder. Looking at him, like your waiting for something. Deciding it was safe you opened your mouth, stilling looking at him, you bit him. Hard. Hearing a small yelp you felt his shoulder collide with your jaw. Letting out a groan you rubbed your jaw. Gaz looked at you horrified, not processing you bit him.

"Huh?! What happened?!"

Gently grabbed your face Gsz kissed your Jaw to hopefully help it. You smiled tapping his non exposed shoulder.

"I marked you. See?"

You pushed his sleeve out of the way so he could see it. Sighing Gaz stood up to find the first aid kit, it was a bad bite, probably because he slammed(?) His shoulder into your jaw as soon as he felt pressure on it. Cleaning the bite Gaz looked at you, now proped on your elbows staring at him. Gaz gave a small smile before looking back at the bite mark.

Soap

He loves how foxy you are, he now has an excuse to call you foxy, hinting at the fact he thinks your hot. The C4 thing got him in a but load of trouble but doing it with you made it 10x more worth. Sitting next to you on the couch, well more like leaning against you. Soap was on his phone, going back and forth with some silly arguments with his siblings, since there all in a group chat. Looking back at you Soap went on about how his sister were saying something about him being single, and how he wanted a photo with you. Smiling you nodded. Soap smiled back with a wide grin, getting his phone camera ready, he lifted it above his head to get the both of you. Soap Smiled wide, eyes closing slightly. Deciding to take this change, you bit his cheek. The picture took a second before he reacted, it being of Soap smiling wide with his eyes closed, and you biting his cheek, so they couldn't see your face.

"OW! What the hell!"

You smiled cheeky and kissed the bite. He still sent the picture but now he was grumby, punching you slightly.

"Love you too Soap"

He just grumbled something under his breath.

~

[A/n:all my other requests are Scenarios so they might take longer. Thank you for requesting]

[bts-hyperfixation]

Outside of the Fox

Chapter 34 of 35

2785 words

Y/N longs for a new life when the one she’d been living comes to an abrupt stop. Without much thought to those she is leaving behind, the little fox packs a backpack and disappears. She stumbles across the shelter and makes an interim home for herself while she works out exactly what she wants from her second chance.

Last

“And he really said he wanted to meet me?” Namjoon asks for the fifth time.

Jungkook is stood by the door to the annexe tying his laces while you brief Namjoon on how to get to the doctor’s office; not that you really need to, Jungkook is perfectly capable of getting the two of them to Dr Treiver’s appointment on time. But Namjoon seemed less than convinced of Jungkook’s progress.

Which is part of the reason dr Treiver had asked for Namjoon to accompany the rabbit to his session rather than you.

“Yes Namjoon, I am certain. Now go before you’re late,” You scold, pushing him towards the foyer.

He holds up his hands in defeat, and Jungkook takes ahold of one, pulling him along so they don’t end up being late. 

They disappear around the side gate as you watch them through the still open front door.

You feel a bit put out, your routine broken by not taking Jungkook out for therapy. It’s been about ten weeks now since it began, and you had taken him without fail to each one. It was really slow progress, but there had been definite progress. Jungkook was now able to share a room with the builders without twitching too much AND you were able to go into the ice cream shop last week! Sure you were the only customers, but there were two teenagers behind the register that he only hid from briefly.

“Are you going to stand there until they come back?” Hoseok asks.

He makes you jump as his arm snakes around your shoulder.

“Your feet are really going to start to hurt,” Yoongi says, going around you to close the door.

The older man settles on your other side and places an arm around your waist. They turn you around and bring you over to the large plush sofa in the middle of the room. It’s a great L-shape sofa Jungkook had insisted on so it was big enough for the eight of you to pile together, far more comfortable than the 3-seater you had had in the main house before. 

They cage you in between them and Hobi rests his head on your shoulder 

“They’ll be okay you know,”Hoseok comforts.

“Of course I know that,” You roll your eyes.

However, the knot in the pit of your stomach doesn’t untie. You lean your head against his and take a deep breath.

“And you made fun of us for being so concerned about Jungkook when we met,” Yoongi chuckles, he strokes your leg comfortingly.

“I didn’t make fun… I just thought it was odd…” You shrug “And I’m more concerned about Namjoon than Jungkook right now,”

“Now that might be a valid concern,” Yoongi agrees.

_______________

Meanwhile Jungkook switches off the engine as he parks outside of the doctor’s office. Namjoon has driven him nuts the entire drive. He is certain the man means well but all he is doing is making the anxiety in Jungkook’s stomach feel like it did on that very first session again. He lets out a low whine as Namjoon asks him for the fifth time if he is really sure about going in to the appointment. 

“Oh Bunny, if you really are that stressed out we don’t have to go,” 

Namjoon reaches out a hand to pat Jungkook on the shoulder, but Jungkook flinches away.

“I’M FINE,” he snaps.

Namjoon looks taken aback. He has never been shouted at by a pack member before now, especially not Jungkook.

“I am okay, Namjoon,” He sighs reacting to the sadness in his leaders eyes, "You are making me more nervous.”

"I'm sorry," Namjoon answers, his voice small.

Jungkook's hands begin to tremble and he longs to lean over and curl into his leader like he always has done, but he knows the minute he does it's like giving in. Instead he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes like the doctor taught him, steadying his nerves on his own. Namjoon sighs and opens the door, letting himself out of the car. Jungkook follows suit a moment later and allows Namjoon to take his hand falling into step beside him. The younger man leads his partner through to the doctor.

“Good afternoon Jungkook, this must be Namjoon,” 

The elder gentleman smiles warmly at the pair, extending his hand to Namjoon. Namjoon greets the man, warily taking up the offer of a hand shake. Doctor Treiver nods curtly and motions for them to both sit on the sofa. 

Out of instinct, Jungkook sits almost on top of Namjoon before realising and shuffling over to allow for more space. Namjoon can't help but feel a little lost, unsure of what to do with himself if he isn’t comforting Jungkook.

The first half of the session went as could be expected of a therapy session. The doctor focused most of his attention on Jungkook, walking through anything and everything Jungkook was willing to talk about. Today that seemed to consist of renovation plans. 

Namjoon rolled his eyes. This is what Seokjin was paying for? Seemed like an absolute waste of money if you asked him... Not that anyone did lately…

Only on his fifth eye roll did he realise the doctor was now watching him instead of Jungkook. The bear looked down at his feet, suddenly finding the hideous carpet pattern to be the most interesting thing on the planet. 

"Jungkook, you've done a fantastic job today. I can tell you're really excited about this room painting you and Y/N have been doing and I do want to talk more about it," Doctor Treiver says, then he turns to Namjoon, “However I was hoping we could talk to Namjoon and you together today, would that be okay?”

Jungkook and the doctor both turn to Namjoon expectantly. 

Namjoon won't meet the doctor's eyes despite the clear invitation to speak. He hadn't considered he would be the one in the hot seat, prepared to observe, not participate. 

“Okay, let’s try this slowly. Jungkook are you comfortable with me talking to Namjoon about things we have discussed in past sessions? Please understand you can say no,” Treiver says gently.

“Namjoon knows everything about me, doctor, you can talk about whatever you need.” The bunny confirms.

Namjoon prepares himself to be psychoanalysed by this almost complete stranger, thinking somehow this man was going to blame him for every single one of Jungkook’s problems, reaffirming what Namjoon already thought about himself. He braced himself to hear all of his worst thoughts realised by a professional, to hear how he wasn’t fit to have one mate let alone be the leader of such a large pack.

But the negativity never came. In fact, it seemed that while Namjoon had been spiralling inside his own head, the doctor had been commending him for how he had handled Jungkook so far.

“Jungkook’s condition goes back a very long time from what I can see. I think it is a credit to you and your family that he is able to function outside of his birth family unit at all”

The doctor went on to talk about how Jungkook had confided in him about his fear that he had only gotten worse since moving in with Namjoon, no longer able to be independent at all. This made Namjoon cringe until the doctor continued. The elder man explained how this was much more likely to be a response to the new sensation of safety that Jungkook was experiencing, he was finally comfortable enough to shut down and protect himself in the way prey animals typically want to, hiding from the perceived threat of the world outside his burrow, his home.

It was a lot of information to take in. Ever since Jungkook had started therapy, Namjoon had been terrified he would be blamed, that they would find out he wasn’t able to support the people he loved. It hurt to find out that Jungkook had been concerned about his worsening state and hadn’t been able to voice it, but at the same time Namjoon hadn’t brought it up to him either, his fear that Jungkook would want to leave consuming him. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't a little reassuring to hear the doctor blame Jungkook’s father instead. 

The bear rests his hand on Jungkook’s leg and squeezes reassuringly, more to ground himself than his mate. He isn’t sure he truly understands what this therapy is going to do for Jungkook in the long run, and in the short term, it’s just hurting his head. But he is happy that Jungkook has someone outside of the pack to trust.

The doctor glances up at the clock and Namjoon’s gaze follows, only five minutes remain in the session.

“Jungkook would you be comfortable enough to sit in the waiting room on your own for the remainder of the session? Ms. Harris, my assistant is right behind the desk for you, and you can come immediately back inside here if it is too overwhelming for you?” Dr Triever asks carefully.

Jungkook’s eyes go wide and Namjoon can see the immediate rise in his hackles as his panic response begins to activate. Jungkook’s hand finds Namjoon’s and squeezes tightly before the bear has a chance to react. Instinctually he pulls Jungkook into his lap and holds him close, whispering gently into his ears reminding him to breathe. 

“I’ll take that as a no…” The doctor tilts his head observing. “That’s okay, a little too soon for public spaces I see, not a problem, you can stay right here,” 

He makes a note on his paper as Jungkook carefully unfurls himself from Namjoon’s arms, revealing his tear-stained cheeks to the room. 

“Would it be possible for me to see you alone another time Namjoon? I would also like to discuss the tension you yourself show around Jungkook as his primary support system”

“What do you mean the tension I show!?” Namjoon asks, a little sharply.

“That tension Mr. Kim” The doctor states, returning to honorifics in response to the change in tone.

Namjoon looks a little ashamed of himself for snapping at the man, immediately aware of the way his demeanour changes when Jungkook’s scent sours. 

“Right doctor, of course… Do you have any appointments later this week?” He has zero interest in having his brain examined by a shrink, but he would do anything for Jungkook, or anyone in his home. 

“You can arrange with my assistant on your way out. Thank you so much for coming on request Namjoon. Jungkook, I look forward to seeing you next time” The doctor opens the door and ushers the pair back into the waiting room.

___________________

You and Yoongi had just finished showering when Namjoon and Jungkook returned. You had managed to find more than a few ways to keep your mind from wandering to how their joint session might’ve been going. Hoseok had regretfully had to go in for the early shift at the karaoke place, although the two of you had tried very hard to make him call in sick to keep you company. That man had an iron resolve, any other member of your pack would’ve folded the instant your shirt left your body. 

Both men were stood before you in one piece, and with no police escort, which meant the session must’ve gone much better than you had given them credit for. Yoongi had money on Namjoon insulting the doctor in some way that would result in a restraining order; and while you had a little more faith, the issue of Namjoon’s ego and temper had made you a little nervous of the potential outcome.

Still, the pair didn’t seem overly eager to share what had actually happened within the meeting, only sharing that Namjoon would be returning on his own later in the week. So instead of talking about it, you got comfy on the sofa and waited for your other lovers to return to you.

By nine pm, Taehyung still wasn’t home. This had become the norm in recent weeks, but it didn’t make you any less sad. He claimed his family were just being needy at the moment and promised it would finish soon and he'd be home more, but each time he said that, he seemed less and less convinced by his own words. 

The house was at a loss without him too. You'd all been together for such a short time, but one person missing felt long a limb had been detached. Lately, Taehyung wasn't even bothering to join any of you in bed, if he came home at all. You'd all wake up to find him sleeping on the sofa cuddling a pillow, still fully dressed from the day before. Jimin was furious with him, he'd given him the silent treatment for about an hour before he caved. Taehyung had seemed far too sad to stay mad at him. 

After yet another night of watching Jungkook and Jimin mope, while the others were just restless, you decide enough is enough. It's obvious that Taheyung is unhappy with how much his parents are piling on, and it's obvious that no one around here is going to be comfortable until he is back to his normal self. So it's time someone did something about it. 

You text Taehyung to make sure he is not on the way home, only to receive 'Sorry babe, probably going to just sleep here' as a response almost immediately.

You feel a little guilty about your next move, but it needs to be done. You check the Find My Phone app and track Taehyung, finding his parents' home address. Grabbing Yoongi's car keys, you tell the others you're heading to the store and then you follow the little green dot all the way to a very large estate.

You chew your lip the entire drive, feeling guilty about lying to the others about where you were going, feeling even guiltier about stalking Taehyung's phone to find him. You contemplate turning off to actually go to the store and leaving Taehyung alone, but you just can't shake the feeling he needs help, and more than anything you just want to see him. 

You drive up a dauntingly long driveway and park Yoongi's car next to Taehyung's. The door is equally as imposing with a large golden knocker right in the middle, it reminds you a little of your ex-husband's parents' house, and it really drives home exactly how much money must be behind Taehyung's family. You grab the knocker and bang before your nerves get the better of you, although you find yourself wondering if it's loud enough when no one immediately comes to the door.

You shuffle your feet awkwardly as you wait, it feels like hours until the huge wooden door swings open revealing an ageing gentleman in a suit. 

"Good evening Madam, I'm afraid we will not be needing anything you're selling today," He says and moves to shut the door.

"Wait!" You say a little too loud.

The man pauses with the door ajar.

"I'm here to see Taehyung,"

"Master Taehyung did not make us aware of any visitors and he is extremely busy. He is unavailable to be seen."

"Bu... but" You stammer trying to think of a plausible excuse for your random late night appearance.

The older gent just raises an eyebrow as if he is waiting for something entertaining, knowing you have no straws to grasp at. 

"He sent me his location and told me to bring him some clothes, they are in the car..."

"Master Taehyung has plenty of clothes here. Now I must ask that you leave now miss, before I have to escalate the situation.

Once again the man moves to shut the door. You sigh and resign yourself to having to give up, turning to make your way back towards the car. It probably wouldn't do to linger too long, families like this have a penchant for calling police on people they deem to be trespassing. You watched your own butler deal with the police far through the crack in your curtain far too often to think the threat would be a bluff.

Dejectedly, you take one last look at the large house. It really was a beautiful build with ivy hanging from trellises scaling the walls. If you had to guess you probably put the house at at least 200 years old. The stonework seemed old but wonderfully maintained and the windows had that slightly warped appearance that only old glass possessed. Observing more closely, you could see a very familiar, but confused, face staring back at you through one of those windows.

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Masterlist

Sorry about the disappearing act.... it will probably happen again ngl. Also that 35 chapter thing was complete bull we are going so much further than that I guess....

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Part 12

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Characters: Wolffe, Cara (child OFC), Sinker, Comet, Boost, Warthog

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, grief, hurt/comfort, family fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

Author's Note: Phew! That was a whole lot of work, but everything has been converted from reader to oc, and every chapter has been updated to third-person past tense writing 😮‍💨 Nothing in the plot has changed, but I did update some wording and filled in a few gaps I found while I was going through the story. Y'all, the next chapter is the funeral. Enjoy this last bit of, uh... not as sad moment(?), then brace yourselves! As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta: @beating-a-dead-plot

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Wolffe watched from his seat at the desk chair as Cara, Comet, Boost, and Warthog continued to unpack her things and arrange the room. He had Warthog stuff his armor in the wardrobe while she wasn't looking to try and keep the mood up. She was going to have enough to be sad about when they went to the funeral soon. Too soon. He didn't even know if he was ready for it, let alone Cara. He'd already had a conversation with the Wolfpack about it, and they'd be ready to step in when he needed them.

"Commander," Sinker called from the doorway. "Can I talk to you?"

Wolffe sighed and got up from the desk chair to join Sinker out in the hallway. He left the door open so Cara wouldn't fret about his absence, but he'd keep his voice hushed so she didn't overhear their conversation. If he was lucky, she wouldn't notice that he'd stepped out of the room. Sadly, with the look on Sinker's face, Wolffe knew that whatever happened in that briefing couldn't be good, at least not in terms of their remaining time left on Coruscant, and he braced for it.

"How was the briefing?" Wolffe asked.

"We're deploying," Sinker sighed. "I'm sorry, Wolffe."

Wolffe cursed under his breath.

"According to the intel," Sinker continued, "Captain Rex and General Kenobi were taken captive by Zygerrian slavers while trying to infiltrate their operation to free some imprisoned Togrutas."

"You're kidding," Wolffe said.

"Afraid not," Sinker said. "We're being sent to Kadavo as reinforcements for the liberation."

Wolffe pinched the bridge of his nose. "When are we leaving?"

"Two rotations," Sinker answered. "It would've been immediate, but General Skywalker and Commander Tano are already on the ground, so it bought us some time to regroup. As is, it's going to take twelve standard rotations just to get to the Kadavo system from Coruscant."

Wolffe breathed a small sigh of relief. It wasn't a lot of time, but it was enough for him to get his affairs in order. He looked over at Cara and watched as she played a game with Comet and Boost. She will be devastated when he has to put his armor back on and leave. With no mother, no father, and no Wolfpack, she was going to be completely alone. It'd take at least one standard month to get to the Kadavo system and back, and that didn't even take into consideration the length of the actual mission. Liberations could last for months.

"May I be excused?" Sinker asked after Wolffe didn't respond. "I promised the general that I'd help with the… preparations."

Wolffe paused. He knew what the implications of that word meant and while he was grateful that his second in command had his hands on his wife's funeral, it was still a stab to the heart.

"Yes, of course," Wolffe stammered. "Dismissed."

Sinker left and Wolffe walked back into the room, grabbed his comm, sat down at the desk, and typed a message to Fox. We need to talk. It's important.

It took a while, but Fox eventually answered back. I'll be at the funeral.

Wolffe quickly sent another message. No, not there. Tomorrow morning. The diner.

Fox replied back after a couple of minutes. Meet me there at 0600.

Wolffe put his comm back down and anxiously tapped his foot against the floor. It was a long shot, but he needed someone to look after Cara while he and the Wolfpack were gone. Even if Fox couldn't do it, he probably had a couple of trusted brothers in the Coruscant Guard who could. It was better than the alternative of some random Jedi caretaker brainwashing his child while he was off fighting the War. He wanted to be able to trust the Jedi, he did, but he always found a small seed of doubt when he tried.

"Cara," Wolffe called. She ran over to him. "I'm going out tomorrow morning."

"You're leaving?" Cara asked, her voice full of uncertainty.

"No, baby," Wolffe soothed. "I'm just gonna see Fox for a bit."

"Can I come?" she asked.

"No," Wolffe said.

"Please?" she pleaded.

"You don't even like Fox," Wolffe argued.

Cara pouted.

"Comet will be here to watch you," Wolffe said a little louder. He looked up at Comet and received a smile and a nod of acknowledgement. "You can explore the Temple together."

Cara continued to pout.

Wolffe decided to change his tactics. There was something in the Temple that could get her excited, even if only a little bit. "You know," he began. "I heard they have a tree somewhere."

Cara perked up. "A tree?"

"Mhm," Wolffe said. "A real one." It was something Wolffe and his wife planned on doing after the War; moving to a planet full of different flora and fauna for Cara to see. His wife kept images all around their apartment of different trees and plants from around the galaxy, since Cara had never been off-world yet.

Cara gasped with wide eyes. "Can I go see it?"

"Sure," Wolffe shrugged. "But only if you stay with Comet."

Cara thought about the proposal for a moment. "I'll stay with Comet."

"That's my good girl," Wolffe praised. "You can go play now."

Cara ran back to Comet and Boost, but then turned on her heels and ran back to Wolffe.

"Daddy," she said. "I have to go potty."

Wolffe blinked a few times in surprise. He was so used to Cara using the refresher by herself at home, that it didn't even dawn on him that she might need help here. He really wasn't made for parenting, but he was going to do his best to help her. The last thing he needed right now was for her to have an accident, and right before the funeral too. He glanced at the chronometer to make sure they still had time, then took her hand and guided her through the halls to find a refresher.

There should be a one somewhere on that floor, but he didn't remember seeing it on their way in. Then again, he did zone out for a bit near the end. After walking a little further, he saw a sign, but it was for a male species refresher. He looked around and saw another sign for a female species refresher, but he wasn't sure which one he should take her in. His wife would've just taken her into the female species refresher and took care of everything. Maker he wished she was here.

Since he was a male species, did he need to bring her into that one? If he did take her there, he risked her seeing things she shouldn't be seeing. However, if he took her into the female species refresher, was he going to get arrested? He noticed Cara starting to wiggle and he knew he needed to make a decision quickly. Ultimately, Wolffe took her into the female species refresher for her own comfort and protection. If he got arrested, Fox could always bail him out.

"Do you need help?" Wolffe awkwardly asked while rubbing the back of his neck.

"No!" Cara said adamantly and slammed the stall door behind her. "Mommy said I'm a big girl and big girls use the refresher alone."

Wolffe was shocked, but rolled with it. "Oh, okay. I'll, uh, I'll wait out here then."

Wolffe wasn't sure what to do with himself while he waited. He missed out on the potty training phase when Cara was two years old, and this was always his wife's territory, just like bath time. Which was something else that slipped his mind. He had no idea where the bath was, if the Temple even had a bath, or who was going to help her bathe in the morning. His wife was adamant that someone had to watch her in the bath. Maker strike him dead if she drowned when he wasn't around.

Within a few minutes, the stall door swung open and Cara came walking out. Wolffe opened his mouth to remind her about washing her hands, but before he got the chance, she was already at the sink washing her hands with soap. He didn't have to remind her; she did it all on her own. She even used the stool on her own. She didn't need his help at all. Wolffe felt a small twinge of pain in his heart. She was growing up so fast and he'd barely been around to see it. He'd missed so much, and he was going to miss even more.

"Ready to go back?" Wolffe asked after Cara finished drying her hands and hopped off of the stool.

Cara nodded and grabbed Wolffe's hand. He held it just a little tighter while they walked back to the room, because there might be a day when she no longer wanted to hold his hand, and when that day came, all he would have were the memories. It was expected of a clone to grow up fast, that was their purpose, but if he could ever find a way to stop aging, he'd give it to his daughter. It might be selfish, but he didn't want her to grow up. She was his baby girl and he wanted her to stay that way.

When rounded the corner of the hallway leading to the room, Wolffe could see Sinker standing outside of the door, dressed in his formal wear and holding what looked like Wolffe's officer uniform folded neatly in his hands. It must be that time, Wolffe guessed. He grabbed the uniform from Sinker and left Cara with him while he went into the room to change. When the door shut, Cara didn't say anything, but she did look a little confused. Sinker wasn't sure what to say to her, so instead of stumbling over his words, he said nothing.

Comet, Boost, and Warthog had already changed into their dress uniforms and went ahead, which left Sinker, Wolffe, and Cara to bring up the rear. It was fitting, in a way, for them to arrive at the funeral last. After a few moments, the door slid back open and Wolffe emerged in his officer's uniform. He fixed a couple of spots while Cara looked up at him with concern in her eyes, almost as if she knew what was going to happen, but still, no one had the heart to speak it out loud. Inevitably, it was time for them all to say goodbye.

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