#fox gurgles

[carnelianthepreyfox]

pred who claims they wont digest you if you squirm and please them well enough (they are lying)

I think pleasing the pred is my ultimate end goal. I want them to be full and happy. Who cares what happens to me? I was food anyway

[izzystizzys]

“…I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I still don’t quite understand”, Fox says, for what must be the dozenth time that hour. His heartbeat pounds behind his eyes in an incessant drum of hurt, and his head aches with every breath like someone’s taken a rusty fork to the inside of his skull and raked his brain out. Fox’ eyes are beginning to burn the way they start doing around hour 80 of a shift, and he has to suppress the brief urge to check over his shoulder. Not even Stabby could come up with a ploy this contrived to make him sleep. Probably.

In front of him, General Grievous coughs awkwardly, long spindly durasteel limbs shivering with its force. “Certainly”, he vocalizes, in that deep, watery cadence. “For your glorious triumphs in battle, your awe-inspiring victory over me in close combat, and your undeniable warrior spirit, I accept you as my consort. I have proven my skills through the ritual capture, and thus, by Kaleesh custom, we are now wed, Commander Fox. I will honor you as my war-bride, and visit vengeance upon your enemies. I swear it to you.”

Expectantly, Grievous tilts his faceplate to the side, and Fox only just catches the suppression of the manic giggle that wants to escape him. Yeah, probably not Stabby - maybe a dying fever dream? Has the infected gash from that skirmish on the lower levels five rotations ago finally decided to end him? If so, it’s not fast enough for Fox’ tastes.

Here’s how it happened: Fox has no kriffing clue. All he knows is one moment an emergency alert tore him from precious Scream Closet time this morning, he went to rescue the Chancellor’s dumb ass again, and whoop, here he is on General Grievous’ ship with the war-criminal himself declaring them happily married. And eyeing him up and down like a piece of candy.

Why, Fox thinks, desperately, does this always have to happen to me?!

Chancellor’s still kidnapped, by the way. Fox has other priorities for the time being.

“I swear to aim my weapons in your service”, Grievous continues, when it becomes exceedingly clear Fox is not going to break out of his shocked stupor anytime soon. “I swear to aim true and strike with murderous intent, I swear to uphold the sacred bonds of our clans in the name of our union, I swear to raise a strong, bloodthirsty brood of warriors with-“

“Wait”, Fox interrupts, once his brain has caught up past the astromech dial-up sound it seems to be playing on repeat. “Uphold clan bonds? You murder your way through my brothers like a rabid nexu on spice on the regular!”

Grievous’ faceplate, which should be for all intents and purposes totally expressionless, does something that reminds Fox strangely of contrition. It has him gaping and shivering in discomfort, in any case. “A fact I regret, but acknowledge lies in my past before the fateful crossing of our paths. I am a warrior at soul, you must understand, my worthy mate.” Durasteel faceplates don’t turn soft. They don’t. And coughs don’t sound loving. They simply do not. “But I uphold the bonds of these sacred vows under Kaleesh law, that I swear to you, my beloved.”

“All I did was grapple you to the ground”, Fox says, mourningly. “Cody has kicked you in the head dozens of times and you’ve never tried to marry him.”

“He is not you, and his battle lacks the lustful vitality and love of violence of yours”, Grievous declares, and Fox really cannot tell whether the sound that erupts from him is a lovelorn sigh or a hacking death-gurgle. This cannot be his life.

Just then, a droid conveniently enters, putting a pause to all Fox’ sufferings. He’ll need to tell Thorn to research Kaleesh divorce proceedings. Or, better yet - he needs to blow up this whole karking ship including himself and destroy all evidence of this ever happening.

“Generals Kenobi and Skywalker awaiting in custody, Sir”, says the droid, nervously. “They are here to rescue Chancellor Palpatine, but we cut them off just out of the hangar bay.”

Internally, Fox rolls his eyes so hard it hurts his brain. “The Jedi can wait”, Grievous hacks out, and for once Fox agrees with him. Let the two dick around onboard, there’s bigger issues at hand.

“But Sir”, says the droid, all twitchy with an anxiety Fox eternally wonders who the kriff programmed into the damn things, “what if they try to escape and -“

A deep, growling noise erupts from deep within Grievous’ massive metal chest, amplifying Fox’ pounding headache by a thousandfold. “I have no time for this”, he snarls at the cowering droid. “Remove yourself from my and mine beloved’s sight.”

“Roger Roger”, the B2 squeaks, hesitantly, before adding on - “The Chancellor-“

Harrumphing petulantly, Grievous stomps one massive, clawed foot and makes what feels like the whole viewdeck shake. “I will twist his head off his body like a rotten fruit”, he declares. “That will get those pesky Jedi off my ship faster, and then we can continue saying our vows.” He pauses, thoughtfully, and then hooded eyes ringed by what must surely be rotten flesh fix on Fox inexorably. “It will be my wedding gift to you, beloved, an offering of peace to your brothers.”

Fox opens his mouth to protest, but quickly snaps it shut again when his husband already turns tail and storms off.

Huh. Maybe this marriage thing isn’t all bad.

[unholyhelbig]

I just want to say I'm already hooked on the beast you made me. I can't wait for the next chapter!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 2/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 5151

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, animal bones, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Thank you all for the overwelming support on the first chapter! I truly didn't expect that much reception. I'm going to be traveling for the next week so the next chapter might be delayed a bit]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

1917, Rural Pennsylvania

A sweeping river cut through the patch of sweetgrass on the south side of the farm. It emitted a gurgling sound that often soothed your nerves. There was a rocky clearing sandwiched between the tree line and the plain of grass that had become a perfect spot for you to settle in and read the hard-covered books you’d gotten from the corner store.

Your father would bring back any book you requested from the city during his travels. You devoured them faster than he could provide them and had read ‘Eight Cousins’ ,Lousia May Alcott’s foray into the adventures thirteen-year-old Rose, enough to nearly tear the pages from the binding.

The book itself held the clean honeyed scent of the earth, of the secluded spot that you called your own. Your muscles would thrum from loading the bales of hay into your fathers ford. Your fingers were calloused, and dirt caked around your ankle in a dark ring. All of that vanished when you cracked open the book about a girl that was so much like yourself.

It was easy to lose yourself in the paragraphs, the hum of the river sometimes lulling you to sleep. Your mother would pack you a sandwich on warm, hand-kneaded bread, usually some salted meat and mayonnaise. She’d pack sweet tea and send you on your way, knowing that you wouldn’t return to the house until you saw a flicker of a firefly.

Today, you’d fallen asleep under the sun. The book was discarded, and your forearm draped across your eyes. It was easy to drift, and easier still to dream about leaving the small dairy farm for something bigger- the very city that your father would return from with new literature and arts, and spices that made your mouth buzz with flavor.

You were in a haze when the ear-piercing scream cut through the air as if it were a natural solid. Your ears pinched at the sound, heels digging into the coarse sandy shore. Maybe it was a dream. It could have been an animal that had sunk its pointed teeth into the artery of another.

So, you waited, panting with your heart in your chest and the corner of the book barely lapped by the muddied water. And there was this sound. It was no fox caught in a trap or bovine tangled up in the barbed wire fence around the property- no, this was familiar. This was your sister.

Helena was quiet, often described as demure and borderline submissive. Despite being younger than yourself she carried a certain poise about her. Mother would often boast about how she would have no trouble finding a husband, how the boys already fawned over the child of hers that was not feral and unkempt.

Her cry was the loudest you had ever heard her and it had you on your feet, scrambling up the bank. Once past your small world of wonder, you were greeted with an endless sea of sweetgrass that was waist high in some areas.

A warm breeze created waves against the landscape, the farmhouse a small speck among the expanse of land. Your head was spinning, it was hard to track exactly where it had come from. It took another cracking screech to set you North.

Your legs pumped until you were consumed in a blind speed. You’d been renowned for your quickness, for your dedication to get from point A to point B. The kids in your town often joked that you were steadier than a steed. Not only were you the fastest in the class, but the fastest in the county according to some. Still- only a child of fifteen, and no man would want to wed someone with speed. It wasn’t a practical skill.

There was a pit deep in your stomach whirled, instinct knowing precisely where Helena was yowling from.

Jorge had gotten there at the same time you did; his brow was leaking with sweat and he panted against the hot air that surrounded you both. Your older brother was tall and lanky, serpent-like with beady black eyes and pitch hair to match your father’s. His shirt hung low against his midsection, his skin pale despite his hours in the sun working the fields.

“Stay back, y/n.” He demanded sharply.

The old well was a mere foot in front of you both but neither made the effort to move forward. The aged wooden plank that covered the stone shaft had been splintered through the middle, worn from age and weather.

Helena’s soft cries echoed up. When your father had first acquired the property, the previous owners explained that it had been boarded up after of the bulls had fallen down and snapped it’s neck. It was too large to pull out and they left it to starve and then rot.

Your father never let any of his children peer down into the well. You wondered if something had pulled Helena here, or if she had simply forgotten of it’s existence. Jorge dropped down to his knees and did a cautious crawl as if his own two feet couldn’t’ hold him anymore.

You saw the exact moment his skin became waxier, almost a gray porcelain paleness that had a green tint. He was swallowing too much, his white shirt coated in the red clay dirt.

“What?” You asked, voice breaking “What is it?”

“Go get Mama.”

It would have been easy to listen to your brother. He was the man of the house when your father wasn’t there but with him pleading for your mother, for an adult, you got a rancid taste in your mouth.

Against your better judgement you edged close enough to the abandoned well. The sun was setting in a fire-filled orange haze with enough color and angle to get a good view of the bottom; a slosh of fallen grass and rainwater, and muck, and yes; the bones of a beast once left to decay and rot in its own silence.

Your sister was wedged within the ribcage of the befallen bull, almost as if she replaced the beating heart that stopped pulsing long ago. Her hands gripped at the sun-bleached bone, knuckles nearly the same color.

It took you a moment to make out the slick, and the red that stemmed from the center of her stomach. The head of the bull had shattered under her weight, all expect the stretching length of it’s curved horn. That was wedged through her abdomen, surrounded in a vibrant rose red that puddled and had already coated her hands.

Prints from her struggle were against the limestone edges of the well. Her eyes pleaded up at you; your kind and caring, and animal-loving sister was trapped inside the remains of one. You fought back the urge to vomit, the rash thought that if the bone ripping through her flesh didn’t kill her, then infection would.

“Y/n get mama!” Jorge hissed again, and this time you didn’t hesitate. You nearly tripped over your own boots with the fever it took to back away from the scene, the metallic scent of blood mixing deliciously with the turn of rotted soil.

You had never run so fast in your life.

Wanda Maximoff had never felt the cold that wormed its way to her bones before. It was the type of cold that almost wasn’t, a stinging, horrible feeling that had her startled from the folded metal chair. It collapsed within itself as the blinked the wine-dark color from her eyes.

She stumbled backward, only to be brought back to the starkness of the room by a soft grip on her elbow. Wanda allowed herself to be held, if not for stability but for comfort. Steve Rodgers had a welcoming hand on the small of her back, the other steadying her.

He was a solid force, and her reaction stirred him.

“Fuck,” the expletive fell from her lips, “Jesus Christ.”

There was quietness to the room in the aftershock of the fallen chair. It was nicer than a standard holding cell. The walls were cream colored, triple enforced to keep people like you inside. There was a bed bolted to the wall, a bunk that was almost like a summer camp endeavor.

A charged glass wall was blocking you from the rest of the world. It was seemingly unbreakable, and in this moment, so were you. Wanda didn’t want to test the glass, nor did she know how to make sense of the memories- your memories- that had flooded every inch of her body.

You were asleep, chest rising and falling at a normal pace, as if none of what Wanda had just seen was flitting around your mind. Soft snores pushed past your lips, one arm hanging over the side of the bed while the other followed the flow of your breathing as it rested on your chest.

Wanda didn’t understand the secrecy and the precaution that surrounded you. The Avengers compound was a constant ebb and flow of different heroes, Inhumans and mutants. What made you so different? What made you an 0-8-4?

It was a term that Natasha had used only once that was usually attached to objects, not a person. It was an object of unknown origin and in that case, it was a power-filled object from space. Space. She’d been through different dimensions, but that, for some reason, struck her as terrifying.

0-8-4’s were never brought here, but then again, they’d never been alive either. Steve had told her that your energy signal was off the charts, and that they wanted her to dig around your head. Something that she denied doing at first. It was an invasion of privacy.

But, there was a certain pleading within Captain America’s eyes that scared Wanda more than the personal rules she set for herself when it came to her power. What she had seen, what she had felt was barely scraping the surface of what your mind contained. She wasn’t keen on pushing past that barrier for the conclusion of that story. Was it even yours?

“What? Wanda, what is it?”

“I… I don’t” She shook her head, eyes hardening as she stared into Steve’s “Where did you find her?”

He hesitated to answer, his eyebrows furrowing before he looked away from the witches’ prying eyes. She’d been part of this team for years now and they were still reluctant with what they were willing to share. Wanda clenched her jaw, then unclenched it before her stare flashed back to your resting form.

There was a small frown that creased your features. You looked so… harmless. You had shifted, folded into yourself as if you were scratching the surface of what flashed before her. Your arm was folded under your head, knees flush to your chest. A small, beautiful whimper escaped you.

“She’s in distress, Steve.”

“Discomfort, more like. It’s better for all of us that she stays in there for right now. The last thing we want to do is harm anyone but if that requires some temporary-“

“Imprisonment?”

“Containment.” He said firmly, eyes hard. Wanda crossed her arms over her chest but stayed silent, letting him continue. She was sure she wouldn’t have been asked if not for her ability to worm her way into minds, to rearrange things. “What did you see?”

“A memory, one that can’t possibly be hers. The timeline doesn’t fit, this is a woman in her mid-twenties and who I saw was barely a teenager on a farmstead. To experience that much tragedy, that much fear and heartache.”

She started to pace, trying to not only work through her own thoughts, but yours as well. It could have been a story, and she was convinced of the fact save for the vividness. There was the feeling of grass tickling her arms and the sharp, undeniable stench of blood.

“Her younger sister died, fell through some rotted wood and fell to her death.” Wanda’s fingers pressed against the edge of her hairline. “She could have lived, but I have my doubts.”

He lifted a perfectly sculpted brow at her. His expression betrayed his compassion towards you, his stance uncomfortable with the topic. While the revelation was heartbreaking it hardly made you extraordinary. They’d all lost people, none had stirred Wanda as you did.

Wanda’s stare found his after darting to you once more, “Steve, I have the sinking feeling that what I saw was only scratching the surface. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of memories that were pressing in on all sides.”

The sensation of being observed is what pulled you from your fitful sleep. Exhaustion had washed over you like a tidal wave, all at once and leaving your mouth dry like a spoonful of salt. There was a stiffness that rivaled that of the grave you’d crawled out of, and you hoped that it was all a dream.

You were in your bed, in your apartment, after having one too many drinks. It was a horrible stretching nightmare that had plunged you into one sea of darkness from another. But even you weren’t that naïve.

Just as you felt a stranger’s eyes on you now, you had felt the dirt under your nails, the cold sodium-filled takeout as you attempted to chew it. More than anything, you remembered the burning feeling of the Black Widow pressed fully against your back, bending you over Jenn’s kitchen counter.  

“I would prefer if you kept the feeling of my wife’s body against yours out of your mind.”

You shot up with a dizzying amount of quickness, heart suddenly in your chest. There was an imbalance to the bed that you were laying on. It was smaller than your own and unfamiliar. The room was stark white. It hurt your eyes and you had to blink the color away. You pressed the heels of your palms close to your eyes.

It felt as if you were locked in a glass shower with an audience and stage lights. The more you looked, the more you realized it was a room, something with no personal effects but a bed and a dimmer switch that you itched to utilize.

A pitcher of water was on an end table. It wasn’t color exactly, but it was more than the rest of your surroundings. Possibly with the worst manners you’d ever exhibited, you drank straight from the pitcher, not remembering the last time you had a drink. Suddenly, you were parched enough to soak your collar.

Despite your audience, you continued until you felt your stomach protest. You used the back of your hand to wipe away the moisture, black dirt was smeared across your skin. It was then, and only then, that you forced yourself to look past the walls of your prison, your enclosure.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” The woman said, walking close to the glass. You could see her clearly now, there was an heir of recognition about her, in the same way that there had been with the Black Widow.

“You were in my head.”

“For a while. It’s my job. But your thoughts are also deafening.”

“Sorry,”

This woman was intoxicating. Alluring and beautiful in her presence. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt hugging her form. You weren’t positive what time it was- what day it was- but it could be late into the night. She looked like she was roused from sleep, and a part of you felt guilty for the fact.

“Don’t apologize, sweetie.” Her voice was much more tender than it had been a few moments ago. “You can’t control being brought back from the dead. A lot of trauma comes with that.”

You stood shakily and walked closer to the glass. They’d taken your shoes and the tile under your feet was frigid. You crossed your arms over your chest and shivered into yourself. You didn’t want to think about the fact that they had undressed you, probably taken your clothes for testing. Instead they left you in a blue set of scrubs.

You averted your stare from your own reflection, not willing or ready to look too hard. You’d much rather look at this stranger, your heart not slowing, your head pounding. Nothing but a simple pane of glass separated you.

“And I was brought back from the dead, wasn’t I? That wasn’t a fucked-up dream where I got hit by a car and then poof God, if there is one, decided that me of all people was worth bringing back.”

She lilted her head, quirked an amusing brow at you. A chill flushed down your spine and seemed to fizzle out at your toes. This woman was gorgeous and terrifying and made you want to squirm. But if this was prison, you had to assert dominance. Right? That’s what Wentworth taught you.

This cell didn’t look or feel like Wentworth, and this Warden had an amused smile tacked to her lips like she had heard your every thought. And she had. At least you assumed that she did. She’d mentioned her wife earlier, and the woman’s body against your own was plaguing you like a runaway freight train.

When she didn’t say anything, you clawed to fill the silence “I want to talk to Bruce.”

“Bruce? Honey, he’s off world.”

“Off… world.” You laughed, softly at first but then almost manically, tears forming in your eyes that you wiped away with your cold fingers. “No, no, that’s really cool. I worked a 9-5 and now I can’t talk to Bruce because he’s in Outer Space.”

“Maybe not outer space, maybe another dimension.”

You leveled her with a humorless glare. She had both of her hands up as if she wanted to comfort you, or the caged animal you had become. You had to give her credit, she seemed just as horrified as you were. She offered up a dim, faltering smile.

There wasn’t a way for you to process this in a gentle manner, there was no one to guide you through it other than Jenn. She’d done this before, lived a whole life that was flipped upside-down and she’d come out on the other side. It was the uncertainty that scared the hell out of you.

“You were in my head earlier,” You stopped suddenly, pressing your fingers against the glass. The woman didn’t flinch. Your frantic breath fogged with each exhalation. “Do you know why I came back?”

She shook her head, “No. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

“No.” A weak chuckle, you let your hands drop. “At least we’re on the same page.”

The nurse they allowed to enter through the side of the containment unit took cautious steps towards you that made your chest ache. All your life, people had said how welcoming and kind you were; how they were never afraid to come to you with their worries. It had bothered you before the incident, before your death, but now you missed seeing the stare of those who didn’t harbor any fear.

She was small, a mouse of a thing that had pale blonde hair and startling blue eyes. Her name tag read Julia. Your mind rushed with the paths she’d taken to this place. She must be interning here, much too young to hold a classification herself.

Your finger twitched on your knee, palm sweaty. It’s heat radiated through the thin blue fabric of the pants they’d provided you with. You hated needles, always had. But, you struggled to stay still and the effect that had on poor nurse Julia was making you fidget more.

There was a scent about her. It was under the layers of hairspray, nail polish, and shea butter. It was a sweet metal that made your stomach swirl. Was it her sweat? You’d never smelt anything past walking by the bomb that was the boys locker room, and it certainly had never been this tantalizing before.

Your eyes met hers, crystal blue and uncertain. “You’ll just feel a little pinch”

This is when you pulled your gaze back and instead focused on the cream colored walls. There was no problem with needles, you’d dutifully sit for your flu shots, but something about the sharp edge pushing through a layer of skin and fat before hitting your vein made you nauseous.

“We just need enough to run a few tests.” Julia soothed.

She was a normal nurse in that one, small way. Your mind was itching, blood seeming to congeal. It refused to cooperate and her burning touch was all but dominant against your skin. You both waited for the small tube to fill with black liquid. 

Finally, you felt her press the gauze against the crook of your arm and withdraw the needle. Another small pinch and then a massive relief. Her smell hung around you and filled the room. There was an undeniable urge to sink your teeth into her. To taste her.

You’d stopped the elevator just hours before to assess your penchant for brain consumption, but this wasn’t that. This was an intoxicating pull. This was animalistic, the same rush of emotion that had flooded you without prompting during your earlier conversation.

Julia squeezed your shoulder calmly, not entirely over her own reservations, but on the penance that she was a nurse and this was her job. You kept yourself rooted to the bed, fingers digging into the wood. She left the room and you could hear the compressed lock reseal you inside, breathing a sigh of relief.

That sweet odor lingered, and your reaction to it scared you more than anything. The wood beneath your fingertips splintered, and suddenly that anger, that fear, rolled away to shock. That wasn’t… normal. None of this was normal, but you weren’t exactly picked first in sports either.

You were a middle kid, a I guess I wouldn’t mind having you on my team kid. Suddenly your fingers were cutting through wood like it was butter. You let out an indignant squeak and shifted the blanket until the slashes were covered.

“Is everything alright?”

Wanda, you had learned that her name was Wanda, occupied her usual spot in front of the window. A slick sweat covered your forehead. She was holding a small tray that had a steaming bowl of soup and a delicious hunk of French bread.

“I figured you were hungry,” She lifted her chin towards the panel next to your door. “May I?”

“I’m at your mercy.”

And you were, truly. You hadn’t seen anyone but her since you’d woken up. There were shadows of others, people that made the pit in the center of your stomach grow three sizes. You knew exactly what they were doing, you watched enough true crime with Jennifer to know.

Here was this beautiful and powerful woman offering you food and words of comfort, and you allowed yourself to fall for all of it. Listlessly. Because what did you have to lose? You’d already died, and the thought of putting your family through the heartache of resurrection and then possibly enough committal to the ground was too much.

So, let her Stockholm syndrome you. The food smelled divine.

Wanda didn’t hold the same fear that Julia had. In fact, once the compression of air signified that it was okay for her to enter, she did so without hesitation. She set the food down on the equally dull side table and lowered herself onto the corner of the bed, making herself at home.

She’d changed into a pair of jeans, a simple t-shirt that had the outline of SHIELD on its sleeve. You frowned, for a company that does everything in its power to keep itself hidden, they sure loved that stupid bird so much.

“Go on, sweetie. You can eat.”

Wanda had a command about her that made you fold and listen despite any reservations. You took up a spot on the far end of the bed and shoveled the first spoonful into your mouth. An explosion of heady flavors coated your tongue, coaxing a low moan from your lips.

Blush rushed to your cheeks at the spark in the set of stormy eyes that watched you like a hawk. You rushed to break the tension. “So, what’s the plan here? Run a bunch of tests and keep me locked up?”

“Somewhat.” She paused, carefully thinking of her next words. “Y/n, I have the ability to get inside the psyche. Not only can I read every thought, every action, but I can control them too. It’s not something I like to do, nor something I want to. Not without permission.”

You frowned again. You certainly hadn’t given her permission to enter your mind before, and she tensed at the realization. But, you took another bite of soup and swallowed down the spiced broth. What’s done was done. You didn’t expect her to ask, much less admit to her wrongdoing.

“I prefer to ask. Can you tell me what you do for work?”

“Paralegal, the bar seemed like too much stress. But I’m good at my job. I was good at my job before a car turned me into sidewalk art.”

“Right, and your family, what about them?”

There was no desire to think of them and their perfect lives that you’d shattered with your death. Your mother used to sit in the tepid air on the porch swing, downing a glass of wine before she turned to you with tears in her eyes. She’d urge you to be careful working in the city. She’d plead for you to come home. More than anything, she’d utter the phrase a mother should never outlive her daughter.

“My mother is a seventh grade biology teacher and my father runs a painting business that’s been operating my whole life. They’re not very exciting people. They must be worried sick about me.”

Wanda nodded, “Any siblings?”

“Not anymore.”

She stilled at your words and didn’t pry. You were well aware of the fact that she could push through your deflections and learn the information that she wanted to know. But, you respected that she didn’t. Instead, she stared at you, and you stared right back, suddenly not hungry.

Wanda was someone that you felt the need to open-up to. Unlike the brief encounter you had had with her wife. Not that you let that word stick with you, not in the same way that her touch did. Again, you had to push the thoughts to the back of your mind, even if Wanda wasn’t prying.

Instead, she placed a warm hand on your thigh, sending a wave of shivers through your body. You suppressed a whimper at the sudden contact.

“I had a brother named Pietro. He was fast, unnaturally so. Neither of us ever wanted to be heroes, we didn’t think about the future like that. So, when the Avengers, these so-called saviors of the world, recruited us, we knew about the dangers. But it still shocked me when he died. He was my brother. He wasn’t supposed to be fragile like that.”

You stared at her with an amount of tenderness in your eyes that she wasn’t used to from the others. They cared, sure, but in the way that a co-worker would care enough to purchase cut flowers and a ‘sorry for your loss’ card. You were different.

“They’re our protectors.” You swallowed hard, mouth dry “when something drastic happens, it doesn’t seem real.”

“It still doesn’t.”

There was a lapse of silence that pushed memories in your direction. The burning cold weather on the day your own brother had died. You remember the scream that died in your throat and the way you’d knelt in the cracked snow until you couldn’t’ feel your legs or your fingers. It took an EMT with a heated blanket and a horror story about hypothermia to pull you to your feet.

“Jonathan.” You whispered.

She let out a questioning hum, pulling her feet from the floor and making herself more comfortable on the less-than-comfortable bed. “Your brother?”

“My older brother. I followed him around like a lost puppy, but he never complained. He was a hockey player and a damn good one too. He’d use the lake behind our house in Jersey to practice and one winter the ice broke underneath him. He drowned, and I was too weak to save him.”

Wanda let out a shuddered breath. You couldn’t read her facial expression. It was a mix of confusion, or sadness, but not pity and that was something you appreciated. You’d had enough pity, just as your family had enough grief without you adding to it.

She opened her mouth to reply, but both of you were startled when three quick knocks shattered the silence. The Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, stood on the other side. She showed no interest in breeching the containment unit. Instead, she leveled her wife with a dark stare and held up a folded piece of paper.

“Excuse me,” Wanda whispered, giving your leg a settling squeeze.

She left the plate and exited the holding cell. Her words were muffled, but those unripe green eyes that Natasha possessed kept flicking to you nervously. She too, didn’t’ show pity. It was interest and if you were being honest, you thought you saw the smallest spark of fear.

Wanda took the paper from her wife, squinted at something you couldn’t’ see. You felt like you were at a parent teacher conference, just out of bounds of hearing but you could see their body language; the way that Natasha itched to move closer to Wanda, the fingers that the taller woman pressed to her lips, thumb creasing the paper.

Finally, Wanda turned back towards the glass. Natasha met your stare without issue, hitting the intercom on the other side of the cell. It was her who spoke, her raspy voice falling from the speaker.

“In the spirit of transparency, we want to be honest with you about your blood results.”

You stood from the bed, moving to one side of the barrier. They were intimidating like that, standing shoulder to shoulder with a natural beauty. It made you want to shrink. If not for the paper in their hands you would have curled into yourself at the sight.

“Don’t tell me I’m dying.”

“No, honey.” Wanda shook her head, “Quite the opposite, you’re getting stronger.”

“I don’t understand.”

Natasha lifted an eyebrow and pressed the paper against the glass so you could read it. None of it made sense, it was lines of DNA that looked like musical notes. You shook your head, giving her a confused look.

Natasha scoffed, peeling the paper from the surface of glass. Wanda bit her thumbnail nervously. “According to these…You’re Asgardian, Kitten.”

[Taglist💕: @dannipotatoo, @non-binary-frogking, @mysticalmoonlight7, @metanoiablxxm, @coxlong, @b3nzzzzz, @simpforlizzie, @delulu-bayolet-era, @dorabledewdroop, @crescentcrush, @roselockwood, @ellieromanov, @leenasayeed, @theowlappears, @pitifulbinx, @pepemyfantasy, @tekanparadiae, @skittlebum, @mariabeloskivismyoc, @natsbiggestfan1, @marvelwomen-simp, @cinffy23, @kyky-maximoff, @natalierushmansstuff, @bstvst, @lezzylover, @404-almostdone, @mishimrno, @maxidentbby, @shayarshucky, @merlinsouls, @neothepotato]

[georgiapeach30513]

Mark My Territory

Summary: You evaded him. Again. This constant game was being played of him getting closer to you before you were ripped from his grasp. Again. He won’t miss this time you sly little fox. Your scent is etched in his brain more than anything else in the world. He won’t let his handlers stop him. He will have you. And he will make sure you stay put. You are his…

Pairings: Captain Hydra/Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: dark!explicit

Warnings:  dark, explicit language, explicit sexual content, non con/dub con, kidnapping, throwing, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.9K

Steve Rogers Masterlist

Captain’s dark blue eyes refocus as he removes his death glare of his next victim.  His fingers still cling to his neck, but they soften enough for a gurgling sound to emit from his disgusting throat.  Lifting his head fully up, the Captain gazes at his surroundings.  He felt it.  There was a shift.

“You fucking psycho,” the man in his grip screams, but the Captain squeezes as tight as he possibly can, cutting off all air to his lungs, before letting his lifeless body fall down to the pavement.  

Now he could focus.  Pulling his mask down, he takes a long sniff of air before his mouth turns up into an evil smirk, “Son of a bitch,” someone in the control center screams.  “He’s got that crazed look on his face.  He senses her.”

Popping his neck, he lifts his mask back up, and stalks down the road, while a team is sent in to retrieve him.  He was useless when he could feel you.  “Get someone in there now!” Nobody wanted to get in between you and the Captain.  There were always a few casualties.  A few soldiers were always lost.  Only one could ever get his focus away from you.

“He can’t find her.  We’re going to have to change her location again,” he takes a slow pause, seeing the Captain’s body cam.  “Too late,” he groans.

You stand up slowly out from under the table.  Trembling a bit, even if you had a feeling that he would never physically hurt you.  His height was vast and he was just as broad.  Terrifying and ways, and you weren’t sure what he wanted from you.  He always just stood there in front of you.  “Won’t you show me what you look like?” He shakes his head no, but extends his hand towards you.

“I don’t know what you want,” he wiggles his fingers, grunting a bit.  “Are you wanting me to hold your hand?” One nod, and another grunt.  Gulping, you step closer, tickling your fingers against his, and a shift happens to his eyes.

“Do I know you?” His free hand starts to pull down his mask as men surround you.  Jerking you away from him, and he releases an animalistic scream, throwing men aside.  And when someone grabs you from behind, dragging you his yells become growls.  

Lifting up grown men to toss onto the road.  His eyes hardly ever leave you.  You feel pity for him.  He was wanting to protect you.  He didn’t want their hands on you.  “NO!” He screams as a hand covers your mouth.  “MINE!” 

That was a turn of events.  He felt ownership over you.  Why?  Why did he feel connected to you?  He always found you.  Marching over to one man, the Captain’s fingers circle his neck as he turns back to you and your captor.  The man raises his gun pointing it at your head, and the tiniest little whimper squeaks out of your throat.

“NO!” He screams, cracking that man’s neck like it was a toothpick.  “NO hurt!” Tears drift down your cheeks, wetting the man’s knuckles.  There was something about his eyes.  “No,” he wasn’t yelling anymore he was pleading.  “Mine.”

“Soldier, we can’t take a civilian.  You have to go back,” he shakes his head no, a choked mine whispers at the man.  “She stays.”

Stays?  An option to take you wasn’t on the table.  You weren’t going anywhere.  “You might as well let him keep his little pet.  How many more missions are we going to have where he senses her?” Someone speaks into the ear of your captor.  “What’s the worst that could happen?  Might work out for our benefit if he knows he gets to go home to that piece of ass.”

“Soldier, at ease,” the soldier shakes his head no, repeating that you were his.  “At ease.  Get in the truck.  She’s coming with us.”

“No!” You wail, but the soldier walks over to you.  Lifting you up to throw you on his shoulder.  “No!  Let me go.  I am not yours!” 

“Mine!” 

Hitting him felt like he was made of bricks.  Solid and thick.  He makes no sound of distress, just keeps walking.  You could practically feel his smirk as he struts to the truck.  “Let me go!  Put me down!”

“No,” gone is the anger.  It was lighthearted.  This was sick.  This is not the way you wanted to die.  Become a play toy for this psycho that was going to do unthinkable forms of torture to you.  

——

The Captain grunts as he walks through the doors of the compound.  He had one thing on his mind, and it had nothing to do with taking his gear off, and being checked over.  A doctor comes over to his side, but he pushes him away.  

“You need to be cleaned, Captain.”

“Mmm,” he growls, continuing to his new mission.  It's what he deserved.

“Oh, let him have his fun,” an older man steps into the light, smiling at him.  “Having that stupid girl here is making things run so smoothly.  Let him pound into her tight twat.  Maybe eventually he’ll literally split her in half and we won’t have to worry about it again.  No more distractions.  Go ahead, Captain.  Fuck your girl.”

He grunts again.  He didn’t fuck you.  He owned you.  He loved you, and he could think of nothing more than sinking into your warmth.  Could already feel your velvety walls cling tight to his aching cock.  Getting out of his suit was going to be a bitch.  But you were worth it.  

He opens the door to your shared cell, and you hurl a shoe at him.  He catches it.  He always does.  Popping his neck, he curls his finger towards you, pointing at his suit, “Go to hell.”

Rolling his eyes, the Captain starts to take his suit off, with much more difficulty than if you would just do it for him.  “Just go ahead and kill me, you fucking asshole.”

“No.”

“Say something more than no or mine.”

“No.”

“Fucking brain dead asshole,” he charges towards you, slamming your body up against the wall.  Using his thick thigh to spread your own apart, he slips his hands between them, rubbing over your panty clad mound.  

“Creep.”

“Mmm,” your body betrayed you every fucking time.  If only you could see his face.  You never got to see it.  Hydra had him muzzled up like the feral dog he was.  

“Ahh,” he squeaks, pushing aside your panties.  Pushing in two fingers.  Your body hates you.  Told on you every time with its loud squelching.  “Mine.”

“It’s my pussy, you weirdo,” he pumps into you harder, hearing you whimper, and grunts at your pleasure.  “It’s mine.”

“Mine!” Slipping in a third finger in makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, and he presses his palm against your bundle of nerves.  Driving into you with such force, you couldn’t argue.  He was playing unfairly.  Your pussy didn’t have a brain.  And right now, your own brain couldn’t think.

His arm pinning you to the wall, drifts up higher.  Adding pressure to your neck as your body starts to tingle.  Pushing you further and further into euphoria before he pulls out of you, and tosses you onto the bed.

“My god!  You fucking asshole!  Quit doing that shit.  If you’re going to make me wet, let me come.”

“Mine,” he growls, pulling off his suit into shreds.  That glorious cock bounces up once free, and you have a giant urge to bite it, and also lick off every morsel of precum.  He didn’t require your mouth.  He just wanted to edge you until you passed out.  You swore he finally let your body come once your eyes closed.

“Bet you don’t even know how to make me come,” the Captain chuckles under his mask.  Stomping over to the bed.  Reaching his hand towards you, his thick fingers grab onto your ankle.  Dragging your body down, he flips you over to your knees.  Trying to get away, he smacks you hard on the ass.  “Prove it then.”

He gives your weeping cunt a few slaps before driving into your warmth.  Giving you no time to adjust.  It was an assault on your mind more than anything.  You hated him.  Hated being used as a cocksleeve, but damn if he didn’t stretch you out in the most beautiful fucking way.

Your walls hug tight to him, begging for his touch, and sucking him back into your depths every time he pulls out.  Your pussy needed him, and you hated her for it.  Hated that you knew he was close to returning because she was already pooling slick into your panties.  

As if your crooked panties were keeping you too far away from him, he rips your off own clothes, and never misses a thrust.  Grabbing onto your hips, the Captain uses you to fuck him.  You hoped you had pushed him enough to let you come because you were right there.  You are tired of his games, and just needed relief.  

Whimpering out nonsensical words when he pulls out, and flips you on your back, “Told ya, you fucking pussy.  Don’t even know how to make a woman come.  You piece of shit.”

He rips your legs apart, pinning them on the bed beside your ears and stabs into you.  His whole weight on you made you feel even more magical.  You hated him, and your body.  Hated that he was doing this to you.  You were going to die in this cell with someone who didn’t even talk.  

“You.  Don’t.  Know.  How.  To.  Make.  A.  Woman.  Come,” each word was drug out with every push into your wet heat.  You feel your juices leak down your ass and onto the bed behind you.  It was cruel.  You just hope taunting him was enough.  “Claim my pussy then.”

“Mine!” He growls, pushing into you hard.  “Mine!  Mine!” You start to see stars.  This was it.  He was finally going to let you come.  It felt like years of no real satisfaction.  Spewing your arousal everywhere, speaking in tongues as you clench your eyes closed, but he keeps going harder.

“Mine!  All mine!” That was a new word.  He was getting somewhere.  “All.  Mine.  MINE!” You couldn’t see, but you could hear the squeak in his voice as he comes undone.  Thick ropes of his cum paint your walls, and you finally feel like you're floating.  

His thrusts slow down, and ever so gently, you reach up to pull off his mask.  Life flashes before your eyes as you stutter.  Trying to find your words.  It couldn’t be.  He had changed, and still had this weird love for you, “Steve?” 

He blinks hard, staring blankly at your face before the softest, “Princess,” whispers off his lips.

“St-St-Steve?  Steve?  Is that really you?” 

“Okay, that’s enough, soldier,” a man walks into your cell, literally pulling Steve out of you, and you sit up crying and shaking your head.  “Erase him.”

“Erase?  No!  No!” 

“Discard the girl.” 

“No!  Mine,” a needle to his neck, makes his eyes close before he’s dragged out of the room.

“I hope you finally enjoyed your orgasm.  He won’t be seeing you again,” the doctor backs out of the cell, leaving you screaming and crying.  You still felt him on every inch of his body, still had his seed dripping out of you.  What was going on.

“You bastards!  You fucking bastards!  Steve!  Steve Rogers, I love you!”

A shadow steps out of the darkness, and raises his finger to his mouth, “Shh,” and then….

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @harrysthiccthighss 

[a-twistedheartslonging]

Non-human Riddle being a bunny is funny.

Cuz they do the THUMP thing when they get angry.

Imagine Ace fucks up and he hears “ACE TRAPPOLA!!!” And a lot of thumping.

He is JUMPING FROM THE NEAREST WINDOW AND DASHING TO RAMSHACKLE (he gets caught)

Also that means Riddle gives some MEAN KICKS. Buddy kicks you and you can say bye bye to your ribs.

Or what would be better, Riddle is a bunny but Deuce is a hare. Hare’s have more of a haunting look in their eyes and those can be more menacing, not to mention their fights. So Deuce, even tho he’s trying to pass as a simple bunny, has this terrifying look in his eyes when he glares.

An angry bunny boy chasing after a terrified fox boy has so much irony and I love it, on top of angry thumps when a bunny I had was pissed they made a sort of gurgling hiss noise.

The kicks would hurt but it would be worth it to touch those soft adorable fluffer thumpers.

My god the size difference.

and them big ass ears, damn Deuce. No one is gonna see shit if they sit behind you in class.

[firemeyr]

Written thanks to the wonderful prompt by @tesalicious2 : 'The Caf machine is sacred, and the commanders get first pick of the day'

_____ The caf machine gurgled. Hacking up grounds and its plastic vibrating slightly as water was pushed through its filter. The brown sludge, diluted and gritty with grounds too fine to be caught by the flimsy filter, no matter how often it was changed, dripped down into the caf pot. It was already half full and only slowly filling with the weak stream of caf from its spout.

Spittle had been eyeing it for the past 15 minutes, having been the one to start this pot. his shift was nearing closer and closer yet, his mug remained far too clean and empty.

See, as a lieutenant, Spittle knew the rules. He was the first one in their recreational-slash-break room, and so, he was obligated to start the first pot of caf. He was also privileged to the second cup of caf today. The first, no matter how much he itched to grab the pot and finally stave off some of this exhaustion, was reserved for whichever commander managed to force their way to the caf machine first.

It hadn’t been such a big deal for the first year of the guard, but a few too many caf induced burns by exhausted troopers prompted a rule from Commander Fox. He had said that they, the commanders, could at least be trusted to be punctual and calm over the beverage.

Spittle’s eye twitched as the clock above the door ticked on. 16 minutes had passed. He knew damn well both Commander Stone’s and Commander Fox’s shifts started at the same time as him.

The metal door finally slid open. Eyes flicking down from the clock and Spittle was privileged to the sight of Commander Stone elbowing Commander Fox right in the cheek. 

He let out a surprised laugh as Stone forced his way in front of Fox with the action, thundering steps carrying him to the caf pot. It let out one last shutter, the sludge coming to a stop as Stone grabbed for the pot, attention pulled away from it as he opened the cabinet above the pot, pulling a white mug off of the middle shelf.

Commander Fox leaned up against the counter, foot tapping against the ground, arms crossed against his chest, and glaring daggers into Stone’s back.

“Gonna survive, C’mander?” Both Fox and Stone swung their heads to look at Spittle as he spoke. Fox had tensed, letting out a sigh a moment later. Stone just smirked and finished pouring his caf, lingering in front of the machine as he blew across the steaming liquid before taking a sip. They all learned to choke it down, no matter how hot, at some point.

“Probably. Hurry up trooper.” Fox waved to the machine as Stone stepped away, slouching into himself as he did so.

Nearly leaping out of his seat, mug in hand, he stepped over to Stone. Finally handed the pot, barely holding his mug over the counter, he filled it up. Slotting the pot back into its place on the machine, he held his mug with two hands, taking the time to inhale the sweet, sweet scent of liquid energy. About damn time.

[echantedtoon]

Demonstober Day 10 Wendigo

(In the folklore of some northern Algonquian peoples) a cannibalistic giant; a person who has been transformed into a monster by the consumption of human flesh.

Warnings for mentioning of death, dead animals, blood, and murders.

This is the design for the Wendigo I had in mind.

https://www.tumblr.com/rottencoreflesh101/712093224125251584/monster-gyutaro-for-my-monster-au-not-a-wendigo?source=share

Tagging: @lavenderdropp @six-eyed-samurai @trancylovecraft @shadyd3ar @cherrysuzaku

@nousija

Remember if you want to be added to the spooktober taglist lemme know

Also tagging @gyusimp and @mrsshabana because I also like their Gyutaro October writings

Beware of the winters that bring with them monsters. 

Beware of the cold winds that bring out the hunger of beasts. 

Beware of the Wendigo.

The cold winds on the outside of the shutters best them against the glass causing a rattling sound to fill the small house like winter itself was beating on your door DEMANDING to be let inside. The cold seemed to seep into your bones despite the fact that you were sat right in front of the fire crackling away, and a thick wool blanket draped over your shoulders. 

Your grasp upon the blanket became tighter than before as you cowered ever further from the rattling sounds of the shutters against glass and the wind howling demanding entry. Your response was to try and block it out by cowering your head beneath the blankets and curling up hoping that it would spare you and leave you be. 

You didn't want this anymore. Ever since your nineteenth birthday it's haunted you. Again and again it's come for you every time the days grow cold and the snow overtakes the valley. Every year there is always new deaths of both people and livestock. No one could ever figure out the culprit but you knew what it was. 

Ever since that horrible day in winter four years ago now. Gathering more firewood for your first late one night on a cold winters night. Your arms full of wood you heard something behind your woodpile. You were stupid enough to approach it assuming it was nothing but a fox or other small predator to scare away.

Quietly you stepped closer to the pine tree with snow crunching under your feet silently. Slowly behind the tree you went and stopped. The wind blew swaying it's branches creepily and looked like thrashing arms. You grabbed a handful and silently and slowly pulled them back.

And you froze at what you saw-

The winds howled as the darkness crept across the skies. The darkness behind the bush shielded your form from the moonlight which cascaded down between the trees and clouds in the sky. The shadows danced and branches creaked as the wind blew them about. Like arms beckoning you closer to grab you away in their rough grip. Drag you into the shadows never to be seen again. The coldness of the air bit down hard on your skin, like painful bee stings pricking your flesh. The terror far greater than seeing a thousand wolves sunk in.

c r a c k

A snapping of bones crunched between teeth. A splatter of red laid across the grass. Feathers coated in the red liquid of life laid there discarded. Unwanted by the maw that consumed the flesh between its teeth. Purple irises shook, watered at the sight before them. A hunched shadow devoured everything in its claws. Chew. Swallow. Devour. Chew. Swallow. Devour. Down the gullet and never to be returned again. Never before seen by prying eyes. A low hiss of air gurgled from the frothing mouth. Like a wheezing choke. A second later a bone escaped from the maw with a choke, spat out to the ground thudding along. A sigh escaped the maw, as if the bone had been uncomfortable in its mouth. Your body felt rigid. Frozen in utter horror as your mind struggled to comprehend the mass sitting before you. The horrors of it all as your jaw opened up in terror and the smell of blood combed into your senses-

Sniff.

An ear flickered from the top of the head. The mouth paused mid bite into the small body and slowly raised up. Stringy black hair fading to green cascaded down it's spine.

SNIFF. SNIFF.

Loud questioning sniffs filled the air-

C R A C K-

An inhuman snap of its neck sounded as it snapped to you. And you froze as yellowed eyes stared at your very soul. And for a long moment neither of you moved for a long moment until there was a chittering noise and a half eaten chicken dropped to the ground from his claws.

IT WAS HER. THE WOMAN FROM THE HOUSE.

Bones crackled and creaked as the creature rose inhuman slowly. High. Higher. And then higher. Your head slowly followed the thing up as the bone crackling stopped and you found yourself staring into the eyes of a man's- No...Beast's...It- ..YOU DIDN'T KNOW WHAT YOU WERE LOOKING AT!! It was like you were looking at a cross between a man's and animal's face red blood smeared his jaws from the chicken it had been eating however he stopped and stared down it's nose at you easily with it's height. Your hiding place behind the pine tree no longer secure as it continued to stare at your petrified form. There wasn't enough moonlight to fully see what it was standing in the shadows except for part of its face which tilted.... before a wide maw of fangs smirked down at you. Without warning it leaned down and you clamped your eyes shut on instinct. Surely this is the day you died.

SNIFF SNIFF??

You froze more as a warm breath blew over the top of your head and something heavy loomed over you. The only sounds being the thuds of wood that dropped to your feet into the snow. You didn't see it. But you sure as hell F E L T IT!! However a touch to your head made your eyes pop open. Your body didn't even move being too scared but your eyes opened to stare blankly at the leaves of the bush, too scared to look up and see what it was sniffing curiously at your head. The thing above had touched you, and currently had a strand of hair being held in his hands curiously.

What a pretty color. He's never seen a shade of f/c so pretty before. And it felt so soft and silky in his hands. And she even smells nice. Like flowers and fruit. Such a clean and fresh and pure scent.

It made him unintentionally release a growl. "You're lucky you know... Being able to have such delicious traits." A raspy voice spoke out of nowhere.

Your pupils shrank so much they nearly disappeared.

T H I S   T H I N G   C O U L D  T A L K?!

"Do you find me scary? Ugly?", the voice rasped out, like a man with a severely sore throat trying hard to speak after smoking for a hundred years. "It must be nice...Having a roof over your head. A warm meal in your stomach. And a soft bed to sleep in." A growl escaped his throat like a dog. "A pretty thing like you. I have trouble finding any food as your kind constantly hunts me. I can't even catch a break sometimes...Hehe. I suppose it's only fair to eat THEM as my meals instead."

What was it talking about?! What did it want?! ...Food. It mentioned food right?! Your mind flashed back unpleasantly to the..the... whatever it was that it had been eating. It was hungry. Whatever this thing was...It. Was. HUNGRY. WERE YOU NEXT ON THE MENU?! Your scared mind raced at a hundred miles a minute. You were going to die and no one would ever know what happened to you. That thought alone was terrifying enough but you hadn't any idea what 'it' even was that was going to be harming you...Wait. It..It wanted food right? That's why it was here. You then felt the weight of a thing in your pocket. There was a piece of cooked meat in your pocket. A mere hunk of meat you intended on snacking on later. Perhaps you could use it to distract it. At least long enough for you to get back inside. There wasn't any guarantee it was full proof..but what else were you going to do? Ever so slowly, your hand reached for your pocket-

"What are you doing, Pretty thing?" A small tug on the strand of hair still in it's class reminded you of how close it was.

"You're hungry. Right?"

Have you ever experienced an emotion of fear so strong it rendered you completely numb? That's why you came off so calm when in reality you were absolutely terrified. You felt the eyes of whatever it was locked on your hand as it reached into the pocket and wrapped around a hard object folded in paper. Numbly it was pulled out and held up near your head where you heard more sniffing.

"Pork?"

You shakily nodded. The strand of your hair still between it's claws. "It's yours if you want it."

There wasn't a hesitation before it was snatched from your hand and there was a pleased hum and a moment later you heard a loud tearing noise and messy chewing. The same smacking and chewing noises you heard from the thing eating the dead thing, only you didn't hear the sickening cracking of bones...And the touch finally left your hair. The form of whatever it was leaving to stand up too preoccupied with the delicious meat melting in his mouth. Such a beautiful taste. With the looming form partially gone. A numb stiff leg slowly stretched out and took a step back. Nothing happened. She took another soft, quiet, and careful step back. Another one. Another step. And another. Your numb form made it past the tree slowly and then to the middle of the backyard not daring to look up at whatever it was-

"Where are you going, Pretty Thing?"

Your body again froze at the voice. But you were SO CLOSE to your open backdoor. SO CLOSE TO SAFETY!! But you didn't even know how fast this thing could move. One wrong move and you could be dead.

"... I'm going inside. It's getting late and I'm very cold. I don't have the survival instincts to support myself in the cold like you."

There was a silence as the thing stared at the women... intrigued. No one had really given him an answer like that before. It made him chuckle after a moment. "You must be pretty bold to want to take your leave right now while I'm standing in front of you...And so hungry ~ A pretty little thing like you might make for a decent dinner.~"

There was more silence and after a moment purple eyes rose to stare at the yellow ones shining from the shadows. You saw a wide fanged grin but could barely make out the rest of the tall body.

"... Your hunger is not my problem." In an instant, the smile vanished and the eyes blinked. "I gave you my own food and there's plenty of leftover kill behind you. If you're still hungry, go have your fill there. I won't stop you from taking it. Now I'm going inside."

You felt the eyes still stock still as you both stared down at each other before you heard the thing make a questioning noise. "...Eh?"

"You heard me. Take what you need from there but I refuse to be anything's food."

Again there was an awkward silence and you faintly saw the thing eventually tilt its head at you. As if confused. "Hmph...Bold words for someone so brave...or stupid?"

"I'm not stupid. But I am cautious about you. You're hungry so you can go hunt."

"Hmm. Tempting. But what if I want meat from here?"

"By the looks of it you already ate and I already fed you. If you want more meat then there's a stream with fish in it behind you too. I'm not going to feed myself to you." You continued to stare down the creature. "Just take your fill and leave please."

"...And what if I don't want too, Pretty Thing?'

"Then I'll just not talk to you, Pretty Eyes.~" You cooed back to him which... REALLY caught him off guard a he just stared at you.

"....E-EH?!"

Oh?...Was that a stutter?....Wait... Maybe catching it off guard would give you a chance to escape!! It didn't seem to be used to its assumed food talking back. That could be a good thing. Oh how in hindsight you wished you didn't do that.

"You must be rather lonely. Calling me pretty at least four times now. I honestly don't know if you want to flirt with me or just jump straight to the kissing bit."

You jumped suddenly hearing a choked dear bleat cut off by a wheezing noise from the creature. "K-K-KISS?!"

"Yes. That's why you're complimenting me right? Although your eyes are rather pretty too. They remind me of shiny gold coins or sunflowers. So pretty." Another weird inhuman sputtering noise was choked out before you fared to turn around as it seemed distracted. "But never the less, I'm cold. Good night."

You then turned and walked to your door. Not run. If you ran them it might've identified you as prey like any other predator. You got into the doorway snow crunching with every step you took and turned to close the door behind you. It slid shut as you slowly reached over to click the lock shut. There you stood quietly as silence ensued. And then all the panic and fear hit you at once. THUD!! Your body slumped against the door as your arms pressed against the hard wood as you collars to your knees. However your encounter was far from over when you heard it. A snort. A loud snort like an annoyed horse sounded out just behind the door where your head was lying on it, and then there was a louder sniffling noise as you dared not to move. Then there was a humming noise.

"You don't mean those things. My eyes aren't that pretty...Are they?"

"Yes." You didn't know why you answered that. Maybe it was out of fear or automatic politeness but the voice fell silent for a second time.

"...Are you a human? You're really soft looking for one. Are you sure you're not a cupid or Angel?"

"..No."

"Figures as much. You smell human enough....You don't smell of any males either. That means you're not taken are you?" That was more of a statement than question.

"....Why?"

"Why not, Pretty Thing?~ You're definitely pretty enough to drive those crazy enough to fight over you.... Usually pretty girls likee you only want attention. Y'know."

Despite your fear an annoyance bubbled out. "I don't. If all they want from me is my looks when that's superficial. Looks aren't everything."

"Hm...That hadn't been my experience. Most people go for looks first-"

"I don't." Your stern voice cut him off. "I'm not shallow."

Again another hum. "....Not shallow huh? I bet you're lying about that. I bet you'd marry the first handsome face to walk down here. Wouldn't you? It wouldn't even matter if he was a bad person as long as he had a beautiful face and nice body!"

"I promise you I'd marry a beast before I did that."

There was silence behind the door before there was a hiss and something pressed against the wood in the area you were from the other side. The breathing had gotten slightly heavier than before. "A beast..like me?"

"Not without being courted I wouldn't. I won't marry a stranger."

A cheek pressed against the wood as if he could see your every detail. "Is that a promise?"

"....a promise..." What you said wasn't a yes or no but it was something you repeated a bit disoriented by the paralyzing fear.

However someone did take it as a yes. Someone who couldn't believe his ears. Someone who froze and shook in shock. He couldn't believe it. Someone as beautiful as her...and someone as ugly looking as him. He couldn't believe it.

And it was all for him.

She was so pretty. So soft. So PERFECT.

A L L   H I S

He wanted to feel her soft cheeks on his hands the moment he saw her days ago. She was so pretty. HIS PRETTY LITTLE THING. An involuntary growl escaped from his throat as he pawed at the stupid wood. Not as pretty as his precious sister but she was still more beautiful than any human he's ever seen. He wanted her. His pretty. But he had to wait. He needed to proof he had some worth to give if not any beauty.

"Pretty Thing. You don't know what you do to me... I'll be back. Soon."

You didn't hear his last sentences. Slumping against the door and letting the darkness claim you.

You awoke the next morning with a gasp and terror shooting through you veins. You pushed yourself away from the door rapidly with a shout of terror and scrambling back away from the still locked door. But soon calmed down realizing that you were alone. A quick look out the window was enough to convince you to carefully open the door and look out seeing no signs of anything. No strange creatures with yellow eyes and blood on their face. You were beginning to think that maybe last night had been nothing but a dream until you investigated the area around the tree following your own footsteps and froze at the sight of fur and specks of blood scattered all over the ground. There wasn't any remains, but the fur and blood droplets was enough to convince you that whatever happened last night was far from a dream. Even more so when you found the wood you dropped still cold in the snow at the trees base. You felt a deep fear form in your body and for a long, long time all you could do was stare off at nothing as your brain tried to process it. All you could do is just....stare at the mess that was once an animal. Until you got enough sense to whip around yourself. Nothing was there now but it was quite obvious with how much evidence there was.

You didn't know what to think!! You had no idea what to do! The only thing you thought of to do was to just grab more wood to last a few days before retreating back into your own home armed with an ax from your small barn usually only used for firewood and locking both doors up tightly. You remained there for what must've been hours. The sun slowly trickling across the sky until it started to slowly go down. The duration of the day being paranoid and checking out your curtains every few minutes or so. However you didn't dare go to the window when sundown approached and eventually night fell. You stationed yourself by the small fireplace curled your knees up to your chest and clutched the axe to yourself. And waited. Perhaps nothing would happen if you pretended to not be home. So you remained silent and still. No fire going. With the doors locked. Curtains closed. Then it was just the darkness and you. Cold silence as you just sat there. High alert as the night rang out....Until you weren't. You must've dozed off at some point because the next thing you knew there was a shrill cry.

A sickly shrill cry left the darkness and reverberated off the walls. Followed by a metal clang. Your axe fell thudding to the ground from your startled form. Your form frozen to the spot...What was- It happened again. Closer this time. A shrieking bleating noise that sounded like an elk but...not. Much More...Worse! It was loud enough to make you curl up more and then you froze as a shadow passed by your window. Ice seeped into your veins as you eyes shrank to the size of pins and ever so slowly your head turned to the window and you completely froze as you saw it. A silhouette of what seemed to be a deer's head was seen just behind your curtains against the windows. A large mountain of a creature stood there. Pointed ears flicked as there was a loud smelling noise. All you could do was continue to sit there and stare absolutely terrified...until whatever it was lumbered away from the window You continued to sit there as the faint footsteps faded away and long after it went away. Only to come back as the thing kept encircling your door back and forth. Only retreating when it was near sunrise.

Safe to say you got no sleep that night.

The next morning you felt safer with the sunlight lighting up the world and felt safe enough to gather your wits enough to make the hour long trip to town. Every step you took was filled with paranoia from the last few nights. Looking constantly over your shoulders and gazing at every tree you passed as is something would pop out any minute to snatch you away. Thank the gods that you made it through to the town without any trouble. You decided that you DEFINITELY needed that bear trap after all. Something was going on...And that thought was only solidified by the tense air you walked into. You had blinked surprised to see barely any people out today despite it being a Saturday morning and very warm out. Usually there'd be a ton of people out, but today there seemed to be a certain fog heavy in the air. Only a few people were out today and all seemed to have this scared look about them. Looking around quickly or keeping their heads down and speed walking by. That was weird. But you didn't have time to think about that. You just made your way back to the black smiths where weapons and traps were sold. The air from the town left a strange feeling the more you walked and it solidified itself when you found and entered the shop. Once you did, you were surprised when the blacksmith jumped. A large sword he was holding dropping to the ground with a clatter as he whirled around to you...but soon he sighed and gave a glare.

"Dam it! Why do you women always make it a habit to bother us at the worst times?!"

You blinked before frowning. "That's some way to talk to a customer. I'm just here to buy a bear trap. The biggest one you've got."

"Well you're plum outta luck, Girlie!," he sneered before pointing at a wall, "Because I'm completely out of stock!"

You turned and were shocked to see that the wall that had been littered with traps two days before was now completely empty. "What happened?"

He snorted. "I sold them all. That's what. Everyone's been charging in here demanding weapons and traps and whatever else I have to combat the beast."

Your head turned to him with a snap. ".... Beast? What beast?"

He snorted. "Like you didn't hear." You continued to stare at him and be scoffed again before leaning on the counter. "Four nights ago some beast slaughtered a cow or two from a little farm on the outskirts of town. The farmer claimed it was a gigantic deer he saw slaughter his bulls. A few hunters were in here the night after intending to go after the creature."

Wait....your stomach sunk and face paled.

"Their bodies were found slaughtered and ripped apart the next morning. Barely anything was left." Your eyes widened in pure horror as he continued to speak. "Then the next night a slew of livestock was slaughtered and even more was killed last night! Everyone is now arming themselves for whatever evil is closing in." His eyes narrowed. "If I were you, I'd go home and not come back until this whole thing passes. It's dangerous to walk the cold alone right now. Haven't you seen any signs?"

"I...saw some a-animal killed." You trembled where you stood.

"Then take that as a warning or else you'll be another chicken to the beast."

You left soon after that speed walking your way home a new fear bobbing in your mind like a log floating in a powerful river. What was happening around here?! Did it have something to do with the thing that you saw last night? Did that creature who spoke to you cause all this terror? This was a thing that had you sinking further and further into your thoughts walking in the woods back towards your house surrounded by trees and woods and-

"Pretty Thing.~"

You froze. Body rigid and ice cold as a voice cut through the air...No. No! Your mind must've been playing tricks on you! There was no way that was what you thought it wa- Tree branches snapped and snow crunched as something BIG slithered out of the shadows and stopped somewhere behind your frozen form. A snort followed by the clip clopping of hooves followed a little bit...only to stop even closer to you. There you remained frozen until something else hissed your name.

"Turn around."

You didn't want to. Really you didn't. You'd be stupid to even do so...but ...Your eyes slowly turned until they couldn't no more. Your head followed after followed by your body until you looked all the way behind you. And. You. FROZE. At. What. You. Saw. Deer like legs partially covered by worn gray pants stood on the ground. A long tail with swishing long hair similar to a horse swished at its feet. The torso's structure was... HORRIBLE! Thin. So, so, SO thin it was. You could see the bones under the grey skin and the surprisingly strong muscle structure gripping onto the bones for fear life. Your eyes continued upwards and froze. A deer hung from the air by its back legs, obviously dead but still looking fresh as if it hadn't been deceased for very long. But that's not what made you freeze. Black and yellow eyes half lidded stared at you as a wide smile of fangs grinned. The face framed but wavy long black-dark green hair that was mostly in a long ponytail cascading down his back. Two deer like ears flickered from the tops of his head. And his entire body had black splotchy birthmarks all over him. After a moment of just staring at Each other, the events of two nights before hit you like a ton of bricks and you stared frozen. After a long moment he chuckled again and leaned down to look at you closer. Face inches away.

"Didn't think I would be back, Pretty?"

You. 

R A N.

A loud laughter filled the air as you sprinted all the way home and never looked back. Snow crunching under your feet am with every step but you didn't stop until you were all the way home and slammed the door shut behind you. Cowering inside your house and barely coming out all winter despite the same demonic deer calls wafting out calling out to the monster's desired mate and and the voices begging to demanding.

"Pretty Thing, douse that fire and open the door."

"Let me in. Don't you see that I want you?"

"I brought you a gift. A fat deer that's as delicious as you are beautiful."

"I WANT YOU!! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR NOW!! DAM IT!!

"I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated you won't come to me already. Please tell me what to do to fix this."

"You'll love my sister. She's as beautiful as the snow but twice as deadly. You humans refer to her kind as Yuki Onna."

"Do you want one pup or two? I want our children to grow with siblings. An entire litter of hellspawns would be a welcome addition to my cold den."

"HEY! IM TALKING TO YOU!! WHY WON'T YOU ANSWER ME?!"

You never answered and never went out, it seemed that warm fire repelled him so you made sure to always keep a fire going and kept plenty of firewood inside. It also seemed he only showed up when winter was here because after the first day of Spring, you never heard from him again. He left like there wasn't any trace of him. The only signs of him existence was the massive hoof prints that he left behind that melted away with the snow.

However he came back that very next winter. And then the next winter after that. The same thing happened both times. He'd beg, demand, and barter to try and get his way into your home. You learnt in advance to start keeping LOTS of firewood and canned foods in your home for the long winter stay. You never engaged with him and always stayed in until he left with the spring arrival. Each time he became more desperate. Each time more people from the town disappeared or their livestock taken so they took came to fear the winters. Now that the first snowfall of this year arrived with a night. You feared for the thing to come-

SCCCRREEEEAAA-!!

As if like clockwork, the bleating distorted calls of an elk arrived followed by the clutching of your hands against the blankets. The loud snorting and crunching of something large outside your door came back-

And then suddenly a blast of cold air from down your chimney blasted out. You gasped out before shielding your face from the sudden cinders and ashes getting blown up from the fireplace. You coughed from the smoke before you realized that-...

That the fire was OUT.

"Thanks, Sis. Should've thought of this three years ago."

There was the sounds of claws digging at your door before the wood slid open and you watched horrified as a large creature with yellow eyes stepped inside with the cold and a smile of fangs.

"Hello again, Pretty Thing.~"

[carnelianthepreyfox]

unwiling digestion? no no no no no, the correct term is "suprise goo sona"

they’ll be fiiiiiiine……….. until they’re not :3

[varpusvaras]

It happens very quickly.

One moment Seventeen is sitting next to Fox, listening to him talk about the newest project he is doing and the newest legislation his husband is trying to get through in the Senate and the newest program his wife has established. The tubie (baby, he corrects himself, if he remembers to do so. Nat-borns prefer that term to be used. The word 'tubie' tends to make them uncomfortable) is sitting on Fox's lap, trying to chew on his fingers. Fox keeps tugging them out of the tubie's mouth every other second, and every time Seventeen pays attention to the tubie for longer than one second, he looks to be getting increasingly frustrated about it. Seventeen remembers vaguely Fox saying something about teething and bite marks.

Then the tubie starts to fuss, kicking his legs in the air like a bug that has fallen onto its back, and Fox tries to calm him down by hoisting him on his shoulder and patting him on his bottom. Seventeen is increasingly glad over the fact that all the boys were already way over this age when he had to start looking after them.

The tubie fusses more, and now starts to whine a little. At the same time, Fox's commlink starts to ring. Fox ignores it for a while, but then actually glances at it and grimaces.

"I have to take that one", he says, maneuvers the tubie (Even, Seventeen reminds himself. The tubie's name is Even) on his other shoulder and picks the commlink up, and at that point, the tubie starts to borderline cry.

Fox looks at the tubie, looks at the commlink, and then looks at Seventeen.

Seventeen tries to say no, but Fox is too quick, and plops the tubie on Seventeen's lap and very quickly steps away.

"Keep him entertained for a moment", Fox says, and then adds, like the little shit he is, "You survived all of us, you will survive him for three minutes."

He then, again, very quickly retreats to the next room over, leaving Seventeen and the tubie alone with each other. Seventeen is honestly not sure which one of them dislikes it more.

The tubie (baby and Even, Seventeen reminds himself again) seems to take personal offense in being left alone with Seventeen. Honestly, Seventeen can't blame him for it.

"Still", Seventeen says, out loud, and grabs Even under his tiny arms and turns him around so Seventeen can look him in the face, "your buir keeps telling me how much of an angel you are compared to Rex's pair of shebs. Where's that energy now?"

That...actually makes Even to stop all the crying and whining. He looks at Seventeen with his dark eyes wide open, and then grins and makes some sort of gurgling sound, that Seventeen thinks might be a laugh of some sort.

Then he reaches his hands up and stuffs them both into his mouth.

"Do not", Seventeen says, trying his best to get a better grip on the little body in his hands so he can get them out. He doesn't have to do so, in the end, because as soon as he begins to move, Even pulls his hands out of his mouth by himself, and proceeds to slap them both right on Seventeen's face.

They are very wet and there is definitely a trail of spit coming from Even's mouth to his hands. Seventeen makes a face at it. Even makes the gurgling attempt of laugh again and proceeds to slap Seventeen for the second time.

"Okay", Seventeen grunts, pushing his arms out so he can keep the tubie away from his face. "You are definitely your buir's kid."

He gets more gurgling and flying spit as an answer.

[pricegouge]

Fatted Rabbit Part One on AO3

Contents

Bearshifter!Price x reader | explicit

The car park is empty save one Jeep, hatch open and guarding the owner's back as she pats down her bare chest with a wet cloth, eyes nervous and wary as she watches for intruders. She doesn't spot him at first, too worried about the road and the trail head. She wrings out her cloth and then dips to wet it again in a pail of soapy, steaming water. The motion showcases her ample chest and her soft belly and his tongue lolls. She puts on her shirt and her hands move to her belt, undoing it quickly as she checks her surroundings again for intruders. He only notices he's been spotted when the hands on her zipper go completely still. He raises his gaze to her face and huffs at the look of pure terror he finds there. Not gonna hurt you, honey, he wants to tell her, but he's not entirely sure that's accurate anyway. Suddenly, it's like he's fresh off his torpor again, all beast. The only problem is, he's not sure if he wants to eat her or fuck a cub into her. She smells divine, but he can't deny the way her thick body makes his cock twitch. Good mate, stayed so soft all through the winter. He's not entirely sure what he wants, except closer, but when he puts one massive paw in front of the other, the poor rabbit yips and hops back into her little burrow, hatch slamming behind her as she scrambles further into her tentative safety. Curious, John ambles closer, stands with his paws on her car door to peer in at her. 

A/N: no warning for this chapter but later chapters will include: explicit sex, past DV, kidnapping, canon-typical violence, some angst and a bit of a wump but very fluffy overall and I promise a happy ending (at least for John/Bunny)

Spring creeps into the den subtly, slowly, easily. Normally there's some pushes and pulls, a tide that rolls in and muddles his instincts before retreating, leaving him cold and tired once more. It plays nice this year, settles humid and warm in his fur like fingers, a coaxing kind of wake up call that has him chuffing and stirring still a week or so too early to venture out. It's nice, though, this slow ascent to proper consciousness. Has his memory stirring in ways he can't usually process when he's in this form - vague feelings and sensory memories: sun warm sheets, honey on toast. He slips in and out of wakefulness, the steady drip of snow melt counting the days in thirty second intervals. The ground warms, looses its frozen scents for his inspection, a chronicle of the months he'd lost to his torpor: an arid winter, northerly snows, a fox burrow maybe a kilometer uphill. He sleeps some more. 

There's a stream about an hour's hike north of the den. Shallow and wide, it never completely freezes, but John knows it is time to greet the new year when it overflows its bed. It wakes him slowly for the last time, the sound of its gurgling having changed to an echoing rush and what that implies is not immediately obvious to him in this state. He's digging into the mud of his den, trying to find a softer bed to cushion his sore hips when he realizes, and he chuffs in annoyance at his own sluggish brain. If the creek has already overflowed its banks, that burrow is likely empty by now. So much for an easy breakfast. 

He's too grumpy to properly marvel in the new year. He notes it in little ways as he stalks the forest - the pale sun warming his coat, the pungent mud revealing the path of his next meal - but he is still too groggy to properly appreciate the beauty. It's like this every year, which is the main reason he decides to overwinter in this form. Staying human has its perks, the ease with which he can stock and maintain a warm, safe den not least of which; but these first few weeks of remembering how to function, when instinct and hunger drive him more than rational thought, are difficult to navigate as a human. For him, early spring is a time to check his perimeters, ensure no other boars have encroached on his turf. John Price's domain is Columbia Falls and the areas surrounding it. He can't very well go around pissing on buildings and gouging knife marks into anything that stands still long enough. Hard to explain away stumbling into the nearest diner like a zombie and ordering uncooked greens and steak. Best to leave these beastly urges to his beast form, in the mountains and valleys of the park he's come to claim over the last ten years.

The days are still short, the forest slow in waking. A lazy start the world over, it seems. It takes him days to completely shake off the dregs of his torpor and he loses whole hours at a time, comes to shoulder deep in freezing streams or wetting his muzzle in the blood of a calf. He hopes he isn't cutting too close to the early campers when he's like this. He makes for a big goddamn bear, a right anomaly, draws attention. He hates to be spotted, would hate even more for his hunger to win out while his humanity is still so far beyond his grasp.

Cutting a long, circuitous track around the lands he's claimed, he takes his time about it. It takes him nearly two full weeks, but by the time he's at his northernmost point, he's mostly remembered how to be a human. He gives it a shot sometimes, while hiding in the caves he's emptied. He can't stay himself for too long, still too cold and damp for a naked human, but it's nice to stretch his back out properly, clean his teeth with nails. By the time he makes it back south to West Glacier, he's ready to find his clothes where he'd hid them on the outer edge of town and rejoin society, chomping at the bit for real human interaction. Maybe that's why he doesn't skirt the car park as well as he should. He's been a creature of instinct for months by now, if his basic need is just a simple, warm smile, it makes sense that he'd seek out the areas of the park most likely to find it. 

He smells her before he spots her: warm skin and honey, artificial strawberry scent and a natural musk that has his mouth watering. Human, must be - racoons didn't often use scented soaps - he ought to steer clear, especially if her scent is already having this effect. He's never lost control and killed a human, doesn't want to ruin his streak today. But he's base driven, an instinctual animal, and he's padding along before he can really even think it over. He clambers through springy undergrowth, chuffing excitedly when he finds undisturbed greens. It's his final warning before he ventures onto high traffic areas: the green fences denoting areas in which small game is too timid to linger. He simply eats those too and carries on. 

The car park is empty save one Jeep, hatch open and guarding the owner's back as she pats down her bare chest with a wet cloth, eyes nervous and wary as she watches for intruders. She doesn't spot him at first, too worried about the road and the trail head. She wrings out her cloth and then dips to wet it again in a pail of soapy, steaming water. The motion showcases her ample chest and her soft belly and his tongue lolls. She puts on her shirt and her hands move to her belt, undoing it quickly as she checks her surroundings again for intruders. He only notices he's been spotted when the hands on her zipper go completely still. He raises his gaze to her face and huffs at the look of pure terror he finds there. Not gonna hurt you, honey, he wants to tell her, but he's not entirely sure that's accurate anyway. Suddenly, it's like he's fresh off his torpor again, all beast. The only problem is, he's not sure if he wants to eat her or fuck a cub into her. She smells divine, but he can't deny the way her thick body makes his cock twitch. Good mate, stayed so soft all through the winter. He's not entirely sure what he wants, except closer, but when he puts one massive paw in front of the other, the poor rabbit yips and hops back into her little burrow, hatch slamming behind her as she scrambles further into her tentative safety. Curious, John ambles closer, stands with his paws on her car door to peer in at her. 

She's got the back seat torn out, a soft mattress taking up the raised stage area there. Likely some storage underneath. Instead of a passenger seat, a neat little shelf houses a cooler and a hot plate along with some kitchen essentials, from which she's grabbed a knife. He chuffs a laugh, breath steaming the window. He sniffs along its seal, wondering how long she's been hiding away in this paltry den. Few weeks, maybe. A month. She must be cold, poor rabbit, no bucks to keep her warm. She looks on the verge of tears now, and he lowers in sympathy. He should clear out, let her be, but he's addicted to the way her chest rises with each labored breath. He wants to nuzzle there, let her run her fingers through his hair as he kisses and bites and-. Oh, that's human. He wants to be human for that. Good. Means he doesn't really want to eat her. 

Still, always good to leave an impression. 

So he stalks around the Jeep for a while longer, careful to keep his movements as calm and non-threatening as they can be. She loosens up eventually, drops her knife when it's obvious he's not going to roll her little house right over. He wonders why she hasn't driven off yet and then spots her keys on the ground next to her rapidly cooling bath water. Bad luck, that. He debates waiting her out just so he can show he's trustworthy, but he figures she's got a whole den, and he's got a car park so he'd probably lose that venture. Ah well, he has her scent now. He'll be able to find her again. For good measure, he marks her car, chuffing in laughter when he can hear her complain about it. He hides in the tree line after he leaves. She waits another half hour or so before cautiously opening her hatch and retrieving her items, dumping the soapy water on the gravel. Illegal, that, but at least it's not the grass. Once she has her keys, she doesn't hesitate to pull out. John lingers close to the road and watches her watching him as she passes, her eyes more curious than scared now. Brave rabbit. Smart rabbit. Juicy little thing. 

Next>>

[randomfoggytiger]

"You're in a Very Dark Place"

Fictober, Day 2

*-*-*-*-*

Inspired by @cecilysass's prompt: Melissa appears as a ghost to Mulder, which I know you hate because it breaks the ghost rules. But maybe you can think of a very pressing and “logical” reason.  (Cancer arc? As part of the Amor Fati dream sequence we didn’t see? When he’s in PTSD season 8?)

Took this in an Emily direction~.

*-*-*-*-*

“Fox.”

The fog of hard-won sleep dissipated instantly; and Mulder froze, eyes open, lying absolutely still as he listened. Only a handful of people called him by that name. 

“Sorry-- Mulder.” 

It couldn’t be. He sat up, scanning the gloam of the room for a familiar face. “Who is it?” 

“She’s going to call soon.”

“Who is this?” A flash of fear seized him: the threat of Syndicate clones or alien bounty hunters speaking through wires or around corners or from surveillance perches was as jarring as this voice, her voice, rousing him without warning, in warning. 

“She needs your help. They both need your help.”

Mulder bolted upright, hit his shins on the end table, backed up into the glare of the fish tank; then flinched away from it, back into the dim. “Melissa?” 

“She’s going to be calling soon,” the voice-- the late Melissa Scully-- echoed, behind him, from his answering machine. Its ember light glowed tellingly, this supernatural messenger bearing strange, impossible warnings. His hand was reaching towards it, was pressed against the speaker box before Mulder realized he’d moved. 

“Be prepared,” cautioned his partner’s sister; and the omen’s red eye dimmed and closed in the dark as the line disconnected. 

Mulder stood there, not understanding, while the silence grew oppressive and suffocating. He needed to play the recording back, needed the Gunmen to trace the call, needed to phone Scully-- knew, somehow, that she must be in trouble-- but he stood there instead, listening for her voice in the forgotten, routine noises of his apartment. The tank gurgled, eerily placid; the leather couch heaved, audibly reshaping its deflated seats; the floors remained silent, no footstep betraying nefarious purpose in the late or early hours. 

Then the phone rang, splitting the brewing calm and rupturing the fortifications against his adrenaline. His heart raced, his ears rang, and his fingers buzzed as Mulder jolted sideways, shook himself, and answered with more feeling than dignity. “Hello?”

“Mulder, it’s me.” It was Scully, her voice too high and too quick. 

“Merry Christmas, Scully,” he answered-- because what else was there to say?

*-*-*-*-*

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober24.

[izzystizzys]

Ever since touching down on Triple Zero, both a military and quality marker for the planet in his mind, Marshall Commander Fox had become intimately acquainted with the biting pain of headaches and migraines.

This, however, feels like it’s going to make his skull cave inside out.

“I can hear voices, Thorn”, Fox hisses, wide-eyed, breathing harshly through his nose. His bucket sadly lolls around on the pavement from where he ripped it off in a panic, unable to breathe all of a sudden. But even exposure to the open air hasn’t helped much - now, Fox just feels like a fish drowning in water, desperately breathing in the air but unable to keep it in his lungs.

“I mean, we all hear voices, ori’vod, that’s really less concerning than if you couldn’t -“, Thorn begins, hands stretched out towards Fox like he’s trying to approach a rabid beast. “Voices, Thorn!”, Fox repeats, whisper-screaming over the strange sensation of all his blood pooling in his head and ears popping. “In my kriffing head!”

Thorn’s mouth opens to gape, then closes again immediately, countenance turning decidedly more alarmed than before. Fox crumbles to the ground, head clutched in his hands, moaning in painpainpainpain-

The only thing like this he’s felt before is after one of his private meetings with the Chancellor, the one he never lets anyone else have and Fox never remembers. It feels like there’s something else in his head, worming around his thoughts and bouncing off the insides of his skull-

“- is kriffing losing it, Thire, I don’t know what to do -“

“- keep position, help is -“

“- kriffing RED ALERT, what the -“

“- do you mean a karking Venator exploded over Coruscant?!”

“- call it the Zillo Beast - it caved in the side of the ship, apparently, and is making for the surface -“

The pressure inside Fox’s head increases, warmth dripping over his cheeks and from his noise, swelling until he thinks his head really will explode, and then - stops-

Fox looks up, gasping, at the shadow that has fallen across his and Thorn’s patrol, into two massive, glowing eyes. The thing tilts its head, and chirps. It sounds like a greeting.

Silence. Then -

“You’re right”, Fox says, in a daze, “we should kill the Chancellor.”

“WHAT”, Thorn screeches.

———————————

Fox wakes an indeterminate amount of time later to a gentle breeze and nebulous feeling in his head. This is strange for several reasons - one, Guard HQ are both insulated and airconditioned like ass, thus the temperature is always wrong and the air constantly stuffy, and two - he hasn’t woken up not in pain since touching down two years ago.

“Stabby gave you the good shit”, his own voice says, and yeah, that would explain that.

“Stabby is a little bitch”, Fox tries to say, which comes out more like a warbled gurgle. “You’re welcome”, a third voice replies, sarcastically. Fox pries open his eyes with great difficulty. Ah, yes, that’s Stabby looming across the room - and Stone, next to his bedside, lounging in a chair next to a passed-out Thorn, whose head is tilted across the back of his chair at an angle that will definitely put a crick in it.

And, behind them, where the medbay wall used to be, two gigantic, glowing green eyes, tilting along with the rest of the eldritch face floating next to Fox’s bed.

“Hgngndndnsndnfnfffhhh”, he vocalizes, and Stone shrugs. “Yeah, been there the whole time. Do you remember anything?” Fox frowns. Stabby snickers somewhere from his far corner, quietly bustling around and probably concocting something nefarious to make Fox sleep or “take a break”.

Stone’s eyebrows rise incrementally. “Really? Not even when you mounted the space monster, took a joyride through half of Coruscant, crashed through the Senate Dome and battled a lightning-launching Chancellor?”

Fox blinks. The Zillo Beast chirps cheerfully. “Huh.” A sense of strange, deep satisfaction spreads through Fox’s chest, raising goosebumps. “Did we bite his head off? I think we bit his head off.”

Stone chokes, and Stabby races over to thump him on his back, Fox watching warily for any sharp objects. You never know on that one - one second he’s checking your pupils for dilation, then you’ve got a needle sticking out of you and boom, ten hours gone. Or suddenly you’re spitting out decaf - ew - at five kriffing in the morning, being lectured about heart health and some other banthashit.

Something that feels strangely like a chuckle titters across Fox’s mind, and when he looks over, the Zillo Beast is blinking innocently at him.

“Yeah, your little friend did actually bite off the Chancellor’s head” Stone confirms, once he can breathe again. Thorn slowly stirs, until he jackknifes to awareness all at once, and then Fox has a lap full of hugging vod’ika.

“ - took twenty years off my kriffing life, goddamn, ori’vod, you’re giving me grey hair -“

“It’ll match your old man bones”, Stabby murmurs, making Thorn screech indignantly into the top of Fox’s head. The Zillo Beast trills mournfully, aiming a sad look at the medic, who shakes his head and brandishes a hypo at the thing. Fox wonders if he’ll have to intervene - he would try to hypo an eldritch space monster, the absolute lunatic. “Absolutely not - we talked about this, no scritchies until we can be sure it won’t bust more of Fox’s ribs!”

Fox’s mouth opens, and Thorn snickers mercilessly. Stone, far too dignified for it, buries a grin in a datapad. “It’s imprinted on you, Fox’ika”, he says instead, the traitor. “Tried to gte to you in the Jedi temple, but it wouldn’t fit - which is when we brought you here. The interior design was so butt-kriffing ugly it wouldn’t matter much to tear it out.”

“Imprinted?”, Fox asks, not even willing to touch on anything else that’s been said yet. An image flashes across the inside of his skull - him, tossing a space-tennis-ball into the air, and the Zillo Beast slithering off after it. In reality, it perks up and mrows hopefully at Fox God, he wishes he was still insensate. Thorn snickers again, and the desire increases tenfold.

“Yeah, like in that one holoshow, whatchacallit - with that one blonde chick, the Mother of Krayts - you know, the one that made Hound cry when they killed the loth wolves so we had to ban it in barracks?” Thorn’s eyes light up. “Wait, does that make you the mother of Zillos?!”

“Oooh, mummy Fox!”, Stabby screeches, the absolute traitor. Stone breaks out into barking laughter, and Thorn sounds like he’s actively asphyxiating. Fox hates them. Fox turns to the Zillo Beast.

“Please, please eat them.”

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Hi! Can we get some M.onty g.ator vore where he digests his bandmates and maybe a few visitors to gain muscles?

I'm always up for some M.onty vore!

With a flick of his head and a wet gulp, M.onty sends the last pair of kicking legs down the hatch. He slurps wetly over his teeth and huffs out a deep, sated sigh. He can feel the human sink into his gut, bulging it out another notch and making his casing groan. He gives his stomach a few harsh pats and lets loose a deep roar of a belch.

“This has gotta be enough,” M.onty rumbles, looking down at his middle. His stomach is hanging down to his knees, sticking out by several feet. It bulges and shifts all on its own, a decent gaggle of humans packed deeply inside. Their muffled screams overlap, making it hard to pick out any particular voices, especially through the thick material of his gut and the harsh gurgles coming out.

M.onty is sick of being anything but top dog. B.onnie and F.reddy are bigger than him. They’re more popular. They’re always calling the shots. But M.onty plans on changing that. He just needs to get bigger. Once he towers over both of them, they won’t dare to say a thing! But to do that, he needs fuel for his mass…easiest way to get a load of that at once? Mulch a few guys! He’s cleared out his golf course completely of drunk college students and bored dads, and it’s gotta give him what he wants.

“Y’all ready for this?” M.onty roars out, smacking his gut again with a laugh. He still can’t understand what anyone in there is saying but he didn’t care. “Time to get mulched! Let's rock and roll!” Baring his teeth, M.onty focuses all of his energy on his middle, flexing down with everything he could muster. And being a robot, his stomach might as well be a trash compactor.

Snaps and crunches and screams ring out in a grisly cacophony of noise. M.onty’s stomach visibly flexes down, crushing the many people inside together. Limbs and terrified faces stretch out his gut as everything is squeezed, only for those shapes to get squished and crushed down into unrecognizable shapes. M.onty roars out as his stomach wobbles and shrinks several inches, then more, and more. Each time more messy squelches and wet crunches echo out as a couple thousand pounds of human meat is puréed and pumped through his system.

M.onty’s entire body groans and vibrates with energy. Then there’s some creaks and whines as he starts to grow, his muscles developing further. His arms bulge and ripple, his pecs swell with strength, and his legs and tail grow thicker and stronger. M.onty’s stomach flattens out with a deep, harsh rumble, showing off far more defined abs than before. A deep, heavy sigh rolls out of M.onty as his body settles. And then he blasts out another meaty belch.

M.onty looks over himself and flexes his arms a bit. He frowns, tail flickering with annoyance. “What the hell?! That was, like, twenty people, and this is all you could do?! I’m not even any taller! Agh, I’m gonna rip you all to…oh, right. Already dead.” He huffs and rubs over his stomach with a frown. He could spend all day snacking on people and not get any bigger. What should he..?

An idea comes to M.onty and he smirks. “If you guys aren’t worth any meat…maybe those other jerks are.” Going right for B.onnie and F.reddy could be a problem. But…there is someone in the band that’s actually smaller than him. That’ll be just the boost he needs. With a grin, M.onty stomps off, already stalking his prey.

F.oxy is easy to find. He’s at the newly installed bar, his favorite place to be since it lets him drink rum and tell his stories to drunkards. Though, right now, the bar is barren other than the fox and the bit serving drinks. It makes it easy for M.onty to stomp in unbothered. F.oxy doesn’t notice until the gator bumps into his back and makes him spill his drink.

“Yarg, watch where yer goin’ ya—“ F.oxy turns around to keep talking, just for M.onty to grab him by the throat. The pirate squeaks as he’s yanked up into the air, seeing M.onty’s wide, toothy grin in his face.

“Hey, Captain,” M.onty rumbles. “I need your drunk ass to help me out for a second. Don’t worry, it’ll be quick.” Before F.oxy can try to respond, M.onty shoves the fox’s muzzle right between his pecs. F.oxy starts to wiggle pathetically, but M.onty keeps him pressed up against the bar. There’s nowhere for him to go other than further in, with the back of his head being pushed down and squeezed further between M.onty’s pecs.

“Aaaah yeah,” M.onty huffs, pulling his fingers out from his own pecs. F.oxy’s neck deep in them now and M.onty can feel his muffled voice vibrating inside of him. “You’re gonna look way better on me, Captain. So you better…nngh…thank me for it!” M.onty cups his hands under F.oxy’s ass and pushes hard, grunting and huffing as he forces even more of the fox into his chest.

F.oxy’s arms get pinned down fast, his shoulders, chest, and stomach all squeezing into M.onty’s chest with ease. It makes the gator’s chest start to bulge out as it’s filled. F.oxy’s legs kick around, hanging out comically. M.onty squeezes F.oxy’s ass before shoving it into his chest with a huff. Then he grabs F.oxy by the ankles and starts pushing his legs in. His chest swells more and more, until only F.oxy’s twitching feet are poking out. M.onty chuckles and pushes down with a finger, getting knuckle deep in his own pecs before pulling away.

M.onty admits his chest, crudely groping over it as he feels F.oxy struggling inside. Muffled yelling just barely makes it out, bulges shifting around as the pirate struggles inside. “Heh…my chest is already so thick, I can’t hear a damn thing you’re saying! So I’m just gonna assume you’re begging me to crush you into pec meat. And I’m happy to help out!”

M.onty flexes his chest, getting a clearer—though still muffled—scream out of F.oxy. “Hff…alright, let’s try that again.” Another flex, this one with more effort out into it. Something inside crunches and F.oxy thrashes with a howl. “Ugh, c’mon, F.oxy! You’re already stuck in there! Just…let me kill you already! You’re…pec…meat!” M.onty flexes again with a snarl. F.oxy’s scream warps with the sound of crunching metal, the Pirate’s body finally giving out and being compacted down in M.onty’s body. The gator’s pecs twitch and bounce as they smooth out with instantaneous effects.

M.onty’s muscles swell again, mass and power flowing through him to give him more. At the same time, his body groans deeply as he suddenly grows a few inches. His body gets wider, muscles thicker and stronger, and his pecs especially ballooning in size as a lot of F.oxy adds to them. Red hair also begins to cover M.onty, coming from his chest and under his arms, as well as over his abs. A slight scent fills the air, a thick musk that’s emanating from the gator.

M.onty takes several deep breaths, his chest rising and falling with each one. He rumbles softly and flexes over his new muscles a few times, feeling the tingling sensation in them slowly fading. “Haa…see? Wasn’t that hard, was it, pec meat? You look way better like this.” M.onty squeezes his pecs, grinning. “And I…look way better, too! Heh, let's see those two jerks try calling the shots now. In fact…I bet I can get even bigger. And if I’m in charge, who even needs those two?” Chuckling to himself, M.onty returns to his hunt, this time with new prey in mind.

B.onnie and F.reddy were just too predictable. The two of them are spending their time together between major performances, being all lovey-dovey between B.onnie Bowl. It’s a private space just the two of them can go so they can enjoy their time together. Well, until M.onty comes in, interrupting the two of them.

F.reddy gets flustered and pulls away from B.onnie, who doesn’t seem as bothered. He’s moreso surprised by M.onty’s new look. He gets to his feet, finding himself just slightly shorter than the gator, not including his ears. “Woah, Mont, you get a redesign or something?”

M.onty grins, tail flicking back and forth. “Something like that. Jealous?” He flexes his arms and bounces his pecs, shamelessly showing off to the rabbit. “C’mere, cop a feel. I don’t mind.”

B.onnie does step forward, putting a hand on one of M.onty’s arms. “Wow, that’s definitely something. What’s with that smell, though?”

“What, you like it? Lemme help ya get a good whiff then!” He grabs B.onnie by the back of the head, lifting his right arm up and planting the rabbit’s face right into his furry pit. B.onnie lets out a muffled cry, trying and failing to push himself away.

“M.onty!” F.reddy practically jumps to his feet now and rushes over. “That is not funny, let him go at once!”

“Don’t be jealous~” M.onty says, lowering his arm on B.onnie’s head. “You can get a smell, too!” He grabs F.reddy by the scruff, overpowering the bear with ease and shoving his face into the other pit. “Yeeeah, that’s it. That’s the smell of a real leader! Go on, get a deeper smell!” M.onty lowers his other and over F.reddy and squeezes down on them, grunting as he wedges their heads into his pits.

M.onty’s muscles flex and bulge as he starts to pull his bandmates in deeper. Their muffled voices get harder to hear as they start to disappear, shoulders squeezing into M.onty’s pits, followed by their chests. M.onty lifts his arms up now, continuing to flex them to drag more of their bodies in. F.reddy and B.onnie keep trying to thrash, pushing and pounding on M.onty’s body up until they get pinned down by their stomachs sinking in.

Their legs start kicking now, lifting off the ground and steadily sliding upward. M.onty’s arms keeping swelling outward, muscles bulging and shifting as F.reddy and B.onnie get squished into his biceps. M.onty growls lowly, enjoying the sensation and relishing in each flex he gives as it sucks in several more inches of his bandmates. Their legs steadily disappear, kicking and twitching, all the way to the end. Two pairs of feet sink beneath the red fur of M.onty’s pits and he lets out a deep, satisfied sigh.

“That’s…the…stuff,” M.onty huffs out, flexing over his arms with each word. His biceps are bulging around F.reddy and B.onnie, their faces or hands occasionally stretching him out. “This is it. I’m in charge now. You two are just going to make me even better! So hurry up, I wanna feel you two die!” Month flexes his arms down tightly again, feeling the bodies of the two animatronics straining under the pressure.

“C’mon…hurry up!” M.onty demands, flexing his arms again. “I’m bigger and stronger than both of you!” Another flex. He can hear B.onnie lot out a particularly loud yell and something inside his arm gets crushed. “You’re already inside of me, there’s nothing you can do!” Another flex makes F.reddy yell out Month’s name, just barely audible, as something folds and the bulges shift. “Make me better…make me bigger…and get outta my way! Just die!” M.onty roars and flexes down with all his might.

Screeching, warping metal overpowers M.onty’s roar. B.onnie shrieks as his body folds and compresses, and F.reddy tries to plea as he’s crushed and flattened. Both of their voices fade with wet crunches as their heads cave under the immense pressure, and Month’s arms round out and shrink down as their bodies are reduced into nothing.

And M.onty grows. His body ripples and shifts, groans and creaks, as everything changes. He shoots up inch after inch after inch, becoming a full foot taller. His body swells, arms and legs thickening with muscle, looking like tree trunks. His pecs shoot out a couple of inches, more mass adding to him. His stomach is rock hard, abs twitching and flexing involuntarily. Even his tail grows in length and thickness, whipping around dangerously. More body hair covers his body, blanketing his pecs in a thick red and peppering the rest of his torso. He even grows a five o’clock shadow. The stink of musk is now a thick, constant presence he has that would likely be suffocating from its source. Even his voice gets deeper, his roar making the room rumble around him.

And then it’s over. The tingling, burning sensation fades as quickly as it came. M.onty pants and huffs, his muscles still flexing slightly on their own. He’s a walking wall of muscle, far bigger than any of the animatronics had been. He slowly feels over his body, a grin curling onto his muzzle as he does.

“That’s better,” M.onty growls, voice rumbling deep from his chest. “No one needs you guys. You’re just more of me now! That’s better than whatever pointless lives you had before!” He laughs, turning to stomp out of the room. He has to duck to squeeze out the doorway. “Better go out and show off the new bod. Gotta make sure everyone forgets about you jerks. Don’t need you cramping my style again.”

[hiskillingjar]

just a doll on a string

Relationship: Ren Hana/Reader, Fox/Reader Rating: Explicit Contains: Vaginal Sex, Intercrural Sex, Drugging, Dollification, Blood, Light Bondage, Vomit Mention Length: 2300+ words

a very kind request from @woofykill, thank you so much, angel!

my fic commissions are open, so if you want a fic of your own, enquire within!

"Huaah..."

You let out an unsteady moan as the sharp needle slid out of your arm, a bead of blood oozing out of the pinprick in your skin.

You didn’t know the name of the drug now pumping through your system, but you knew that it was probably (definitely) the reason you were immediately feeling dazed and confused, and your brain was feeling hot.

Unable to think of words to say (would you even have any, if you could?), your heavily made-up eyes, skin coated, painted with smeared eyeliner and black kohl, peered up towards Fox as he set the empty syringe down on his desk and approached you slowly, the heels of his shoes tapping metallic *clangs* on the filming room floor.

"There we go, that's it," Fox crooned, his voice low and horribly comforting as he swept a hand through your dark hair and urged your hazy eyes upwards, the handsome crease at the corner of his own crinkling with fondness and lust. "That's a good girl. You’re responding perfectly, darling. It feels good, doesn't it? I made sure that it would…"

"Mm," You moaned softly, keening up to his touch and pulling at your handcuffs (the same that bound your ankles together underneath your thighs). They were the soft ones, pink leather with padded, lined interiors. They were there to restrain you, to keep you still, not to hurt you. "You...ahh, you didn't need to…to drug me..."

"Ah, but I wanted to, sweetheart," He replied with a sharp titter (his practised laugh, the laugh of a showman), his clawed fingers idly tracing down your heavily blushed cheeks and over your full lips. "It's just so nice seeing you so docile for me...so dreamy, so lost...like I could do anything I wanted to you and you wouldn’t have the energy to stop me. It's really too adorable. How could I possibly stop myself?"

Your lips parted obediently (mechanically, like you didn’t have control over the gesture) for his fingers and, satisfied that you had done what he wanted, he pressed them down against your pierced tongue. His golden eyes were practically gleaming as you drooled messily down them, down his palm, down his wrist, letting saliva and spittle cover your lips, your chin, pool down and soak into the front of your white top.

"Look at you," He murmured, his voice thick with something akin to awe and lust in tandem. "So messy, my girl...I'm really going to have to get that fixed, aren't I?"

You gurgled helplessly as he pressed his fingers deeper down your throat, your dark eyes rolling back in your skull at the feeling of his sharp claws raking over your tongue and the delicate walls of your windpipe.

For whatever reason, though, the painful sensations that you should have been feeling, were expecting, were replaced by nothing more than hazy pleasure, and you could already feel cool wetness begin to soak into your panties as you gagged and spluttered around his fingers even more.

If you had the mind to, you might have felt ashamed that he had subdued you so easily, so carelessly. 

But your mind was far away now, and all you could think about was the daze of pleasure you were currently floating on.

"Yes, you're getting it now, aren't you?" Fox then added, settling down on one knee in front of you, his free hand reaching up to idly grope at your chest, fingers tracing over the semi-transparent spots where your drool was soaking in the worst, making the thin material stick to your skin and sheen through white. "You're...familiar with this drug, aren't you, sweetheart? You missed it..."

"Upfff..." You groaned, trying to press your teeth together as he forced his fingers deeper, almost deep enough to make you retch and gag.

And yet, it still felt...so good.

Mind-meltingly good, even, good enough that you had to press your thighs together to stop your cunt from throbbing so much.

"You know, if pain is making you this wet," He annunciates his point by forcing your legs apart again and pressing his knee against the wet fold of your cunt, relishing in the high whimper you let out as soon as he did so. "Imagine how good true pleasure would feel, how good it would feel to take my cock inside of you...you might just lose your mind, hm?"

Without warning, he then drew his fingers back roughly, hard enough to immediately trigger your gag reflex and force a small amount of stringy vomit from your throat and down your front.

God, even the stomach acid burning your throat felt good. 

Despite the pain, despite how much it should have been hurting, you were still moaning mindlessly and drooling like an idiot all the way down your front, your eyelids fluttering like a broken baby doll as you tried to acclimate yourself to the white-hot pleasure.

"Ahh, that won't do," He grimaced at the vomit stain with a shake of his head, wiping his fingers off on his trousers. "No no, it won't do at all. Messy girl.” He chided softly with a low ‘tut-tut’. “I'm going to have to get you redressed…you know, since you can’t look after yourself properly anymore."

As if on cue, you suddenly felt firm hands reach down to the cuffs around your wrists and ankles, unclip them with ease (he hadn’t even put in that much effort to bind you, it seemed) and wrestle the stained clothing from your lax body.

You didn’t resist in the slightest, of course, since all of your limbs were totally lax and malleable as the clothing was stripped off. 

You just hoped that you’d get redressed into something cute.

Fox simply stood in front of you and the firm hands, smiling with placid amusement as you were redressed into a tight tank top (adorned with a tacky graphic in pink and white and glitter, so different from what you’d normally wear) that clung provocatively to your full, pierced chest (clung a little too tight, your breasts were practically spilling out of the thing), and a pink, plaid skirt that wasn’t long enough to cover your backside, let alone your scarred thighs.

This was exactly the way Fox wanted you, though. 

Pliant, agreeable, and dressed like a total slut.

"Much better," He praised with a sharp grin and a nod, taking his slow steps back in front of you as your wrists and ankles were chained up once more (even tighter, forcing your chest and hips to jut forward, as if you were presenting yourself). "And you were such a good girl too, letting yourself be posed and dressed, just like a doll...such a sweet, little thing."

His fingers reached down, then, and rubbed against your now bare cunt underneath your skirt, evidently satisfied when he found it drooling with wetness by the way his ears twitched and his tail immediately began to wag.

"I think I should give you a reward for that, don't you?"

Once again, you felt the authoritative pull of firm hands on each of your bound limbs, as you were pulled up against a familiar foam wedge, your limbs widely splayed outwards in spite of your binds and your half-lidded eyes rolling up to the ceiling, to the single, swinging light bulb.

The air in the filming room was cool on your hot cunt, enough to make you tremble and your nipples swell with blood and perk up, though that was nothing compared to the amount you were trembling when Fox approached you again, unzipping his suit trousers and placing a firm hand on your spread thigh.

"Just look at you," He sighed happily, sliding a hand into his underwear (expensive, Armani or some other designer brand) and slowly jerking himself to full hardness. "A helpless little doll underneath me. Everything a man like me could want. It's difficult to resist, you know." He licked his fangs idly as he pressed the head of his cock against your slit, running it up and down and feeling your oozing wetness slick up his length. "Mmf…and I've never been very good at resisting, as you well know~"

You were unable to do anything else but lie back pliantly and tip your head back as Fox's slim hips pressed to yours and he slid his cock inside of you, almost immediately groaning at the tight clench of your kegel muscles around him.

You, at the very least, had enough of a mind to make this good for him, it seemed.

You let out a long and dreamy moan at the pulsing sensation of his cock inside of you, to which he took in a sharp hiss through his teeth as you clenched up even tighter.

He somehow pinned your body down completely with his own, keeping you still, and you relished the opportunity for him to be so close to you.

"God, your little pussy is so tight," He groaned lowly in the back of his throat, his hands on your thighs clenching as he forced himself entirely inside of you. You could feel the initial swell of his knot against your slit and your entire body ached for it to fill you completely. "You fit around me so well…like…” He gasped again, his ears tilting forward. “Like you were moulded for me.”

"Nghh..." You groaned, panting wantonly open-mouthed and tipping your head back again and again as your spine arched dramatically, the short chains of each of your cuffs jangling with each hard thrust of his hips.

"If I could do nothing but fuck you all day long, I would in a heartbeat," He was panting himself (he did have a good twenty years on you, after all, and you had enough of a mind about you to be turned on by that), his free hand reaching up to the front of the tacky tanktop you'd been forced into, groping and pawing at your breast while he fucked you like he was born to do it. "Mph...too good."

"Nfff..." You bit your lip hard to hide a delirious smile, as you felt him nibble and nip at your neck, his chest pressing to yours, his twitching ears tickling your cheek and making you giggle yourself. "Sss...hah..."

"Oh, sweet girl, you can barely even speak, can you?” He murmured with an eager grin, rubbing his face against the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, scenting you like a fox would (you would know that, if you had even half a mind about you.)  “Mm, if only you could see yourself right now, sweetheart…if you could see what I've turned you into."

"NGH!" 

The sudden flash of pain was a surprise, enough to make you bite your lip unexpectedly hard, as his sharpened claws pressed deeply into your skin, tearing the flesh and muscle of your thigh and breast, and forcing rivulets of blood to drown and paint your skin with gruesome smears of red.

"Good girl," He praised, eminently satisfied by your pained reaction, as he pressed his hips even harder against yours, like he was trying to force his swelled knot inside of you (you couldn't do it easily, after all). "Good, pretty, little doll..."

“Hurts…hah…” You gasped as your hips bucked erratically against his. “Mpffff, pleaseeee, more…”

In spite of the blood, the torn skin, the damaged muscle, the drugs pumping through your system, coursing through your bloodstream and melting down your brain, made the pain feel like burning hot, overwhelming, overstimulating pleasure, easily the best you had ever felt, enough to make your mind fuzz and blur, and your vision go white.

"Oh, that’s perfect," He growled raggedly, baring his teeth like a man starved and narrowing his eyes, as he pulled his cock from your cunt and forced your soft thighs together with a mean slap. "That's just-" He then slid his cock between them, lubing his erratic thrusts with pearly beads of pre-cum and blood. "Mff...fucking perfect."

"Fox...nghh," You mewled, gasping as the head of his cock kept grazing over and over the worst of his scratches (impossibly deep, deeper than you thought any knife could ever go), feeling like he was teasing and stimulating every nerve in your body all at once. “T-Too much, hah…”

"Mm, that's no good either," He purred villainously, grabbing your cheeks with one hand and forcing your head back to the foam wedge, digging his claws into the marred skin around your injured eye as he kept bucking against the soft flesh of your legs. "You're sounding far too coherent right now, love...what, has your cocktail worn off already?"

"Nghh..." You slurred mindlessly, your body growing tense.

"Hmph, do I need to give you another dose?" He then asked, tilting his head with a broad grin, before he lowered his face down to yours, close enough that you could feel the heat from his cheeks and his breath on your skin. "Do I need to dull your brain even more so you'll always be my dumb, little doll, hm? Is that what you need, baby?"

You could still feel how hard he was, even when he wasn’t fucking you...at least he was enjoying this as much as you were.

"God, your body is so hot right now...twisted little dolly," He let out a barking chuckle (his real laugh, the one that only you saw) and pressed his cock-head back against the worst of your cuts, forcing the skin to tear and rupture even more like he was trying to create another hole. "You like it, don't you? You like that I'm threatening you and thinking about the best way to cripple your mind...mm..."

He licked his jaws before he leaned in to scent you again, and pressed a hungry bite to your neck, lighting your body up with another electric shock of pure pleasure.

"Let's try another dose first, though..." He growled, pulling back just enough so that those firm hands could plant your shoulders still against the wedge and line the needle's point with the harsh bite mark.

"Maybe I'll have to schedule you in for a lobotomy after we're done here...at least if the drugs don't work~"

[lesbianoms]

Thinking about a princess with a bellyful of dragon ❤️🐉

This specific dragon is a bit smaller than dragons are normally thought to be— about the size of a fox or a big dog— but she’s managed to swallow it whole and and keep it curled up in her tummy.

Imagine how round and full her stomach would be. So swollen— almost like she’s swallowed a beach ball— as it gurgles and squirms around while her meal waits to settle. Imprints of scaly claws are seen from the inside as the dragon tries to push its way out. But there’s no escape from the princess’s hungry belly, it seems~

Little clicks and growls can be heard from the beast within, muffled by her active gut. Her royal feast shifting around, trying to get comfortable in its new slimy cave, which of course causes the princess to react. Little gasps at the flutters from within that orb, poking out on her middle.

Digestion takes about a week or two, I imagine. The princess burps as her powerful gut works away on the dragon, as the sounds from within get lower… bubblier… her burps begin to startle the royal court. They sound something fierce, especially coming from such a dainty girl like herself. Each deep belch siphons more of her prey’s energy in one powerful, gassy roar.

As the days go by, her belly loses its tighter shape, becoming all doughy and soft… whining as it further processes her meal. She hiccups and pats her gut, hands slapping against its squish and giving slightly as she lets loose another belch. The princess tastes fire on her lips, sighs, and leans back onto her bed with an audible SLORSH from her belly as she gets ready to sleep off her big meal.

That’s certainly one way to slay a dragon~

[amalia-uwu]

“Ambush”

A small drabble /idea for luna-is-lost @luna-is-lost

Based on Underwelcomed Universe created by Luna @luna-is-lost

Cw: blood, angst, major character death, major character injury,

Undertale by Toby Fox

Underwelcomed by Luna @luna-is-lost

SURPRISE LUNA!! GEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA

The humans had ambushed them.

They found them.

They found their hideout.

Undyne screamed "WE FALL INTO A TRAP! LINE UP!"

The soldiers heard her. They tried to fight back.

The battle was fierce.

Flames and and debris were splattered around.

Among this chaos...

Papyrus didn't notice Sir was behind him...

Sans.... did.

It all happened to fast.

Sans pushed the human he was fighting away and teleported.

Sir raised the weapon. Ready hit Papyrus.

"PAPYRUS!" Sans screamed and teleported between them just as Sir swang his weapon.

Papyrus turned around.

He didn't have time to react.

Sans appeared in front of Sir and took the hit.

He gasped as the weapon cracked his bones.

His armor and clothes were torn his blood spilled in Papyrus's and Sir's face.

Papyrus saw. Everything.

His expression turned from confusion to shock to dread.

Sans fell backwards, Papyrus caught him.

Blood ran down Sans's mouth.

"SANS!" he yelled.

Sans took Sir's soul with what little force he had and pushed Sir away slamming him to the wall.

Papyrus held his wound.

"Sans... Wh... I..."

Sans eyes were closing. He tried to speak but he gurgled. His blood and magic oozed.

Papyrus picked him up and floated to a safer place. A cave close to their hideout.

He carefully laid him down.

As if he was the world's most finest porcelain.

He put his scarf under his skull, To give him a little bit of comfort.

Sans groaned "Sans.. Please..."

Sans took a deep breath "hhhhh... re... u... o..ka..y"

"yes.. brother, i am okay.." he said. He carefully hugged him and adjusted his body.

Sans groaned and coughed heavily.

"Sans, I'll try to heal you-"

Sans began coughing heavily.

His breathing grew heavier and heavier.

Sans carefully wrapped his arms around papyrus and whispered softly and with strain "i love you bro...it will be okay...im sorry".

"SANS... I... love you too! Please! I can heal you!."

Papyrus attempted but... Healing magic wasn't working. "Sans.. Why.. Isn't it working?"

Sans took a deep breath "It's okay... Paps.. I am proud of you! Look at you! All grown up..."

"Sans please don't talk like that! Sans i love you too! We promised we will do many things together! Sans...."

Papyrus tried again and again but healing magic wasn't working.. The weapon Sans was struck had magic that was far more powerful than that of monsters...

" Paps... Stop... It's okay.. "

" NO IT'S NOT! YOU... I CAN'T HEAL YOU! IT'S NOT WORKING! "

"It's okay.." Sans gently caressed his face leaving a trace of blood..

Papyrus hugged him tightly yet gently "I love you Sans... You are the best big brother I could ask for! I.. I am sorry please don't go!"

Sans's eye sockets teared up "i..love you...bro...we will be free...remember that.. I'll always be with you... Even if you can't see me... -"

He started coughing heavily. Papyrus looked at him unsure of what to do.

"SANS! STAY WITH ME!" Sans looked at Papyrus with frightened expression...

He didn't want to die. Papyrus held him closer to his chest. Sans claws at his armor he tried to get closer to Papyrus.

Papyrus hugged him.

Soon... Sans's grip loosened.

"Sans...?" Papyrus's voice cracked.

Sans leaned his head to the side and exhaled softly.

Sans went limb in his brother's embrace. His hand fell on the ground.

Papyrus held him closer, listening to the chaos outside.

Sans.

His big brother.

Whom he loved so much...

Was gone.

Papyrus shook him.

"Sans!"

"..." Sans's eye sockets were closed.

"Sans.... This... Isn't a joke.. Stop fooling around... I will listen to you puns just please... I'll do anything just please... "

...Silence...

He shook him harder. Still no reaction.

".. Please..." his chest ached. He began hyperventilating.

Fat hot tears blurred his vision. Papyrus held his brother close almost squeezing him in his embrace.

A scream escaped his teeth.

"AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGG!!

HE WAS AIMING AT MEEEE!!! WHY WOULD YOU STEP IN FRONT OF ME?!

SSSSSAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNSSSSS"

Noone answered his anguished cries...

Images flashed in front of his mind.

Sans smiling at him.

Sans taking care of him.

Smiles

Hugs

...... Sans....

Sans... was gone.

Papyrus wept the lose of his beloved brother... He was sitting in that cave alone... Covered with the blood of his own brother.

His brother whom he won't have by his side anymore... Ever again...

Papyrus was alone...

.

.

Thank you for reading! 💙

Notes: So, I had written this drabble weeks ago. Finished it now! So Surprise!!