#from the meat beast's maw

[mystigaron]

never posted this publicly before and i feel like i should because it's funny and a little bit scary. Game Theory If He Was Scared

[muzanswaifu]

Bittersweet

Demon! Sanemi x Fem! Reader

18+

Request: "I have been waiting to read something like this for so long. Demon Sanemi craving blood because fem!reader is on her period, so yk he eats her out without mercy❤️"

Demon Sanemi is so mean I love hiiiim :3 Need me a man who would eat me out on my period 😒 Jk jk that shit gotta taste nastyyyyyyy

NSFW Warnings: Yandere, Non-con, Smut, Sexism, Kidnapping, Forced Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Menstruation, Blood Kink, Forced Orgasm, Kinda Gross ngl

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The rhythmic pitter-patter of feet echoes through the green, a slow churn of water thrumming with the flow of the current. Even the thick noise of crickets and wind couldn't drown out the hint of life found deep in the brush, the figurative curl of a finger beaconing him to draw closer, to close the union of rarity.

He took a breath. A deep one. Taking in the pungent scent of weak males. And a female.

Shinazugawa could nearly taste the delectable meat already, the flavor settling on his tongue and seducing his taste buds. Drool nearly threatened his mouth, but he withheld himself. He wasn't an animal. Not technically, anyway.

But he might as well be. Only an animal could hunt as he did, track as he did, kill as he did. But a beast was not nearly as precise as he was, not leaving even a scrap of evidence in his wake. Only the crime scene would be found, a gorey scene of bone and torn flesh, remnants of his well-earned meal. But only the males would wither...

As for the female -

Oh gods, did just the thought of it make him salivate, his very bones trembling with need. Her scent alone made him feel weak with hunger, his tongue curling with horrid intent. The fragrance was familiar to him, a vague memory of his past existence of rare blood, the same unique trait only serving as a grand pillar toward his success as a demon. Her blood ran the same, her veins full of the powerful elixir that his kind would quite literally kill each other for. But he had no need for such rivalry.

The path the cattle strode upon was a hidden one, veiled by a plentiful layer of wisteria about fifty feet aways on either side of the trail. The effort wasn’t so useless, he supposed. Perhaps it served useful against weaker demons of no rank, the fiends not yet powerful enough to develop some resistance to it. But his godly build was stronger, the frail flower only giving his skin a lingering sting. His hunger far outweighed it.

He had long stalked his prize. The demon had patience in these rare situations, biding his time for the perfect opportunity to make his efforts all the more worth it. It had been several moons ago that he’d first stumbled upon her delivery across these lands, his keen eye catching the lingering dust kicked up by the horses that pulled her carriage. Even back then, the chance had been perfect. The men were unknowing, all walls of defense down as the car came to a halt, surely one of exhaustion. Shinazugawa drew closer, only a breath away from finally feasting when his vision was obscured by a heavenly vision.

A small thing she was, her skirts nearly catching under her feet as she gracefully stepped down from her traveling abode. The moonlight shimmered brilliantly off her glazed skin as she bent her delicate neck back, stretching out the aching tightness trapped there. Her (h/c) hair was frizzy across the outline, the static from the summer heat pulling at the threads and giving them a coiled curl. His maw fell open with his amazement.

He’d come across several humans of marechi blood in his infinite lifetime, and most, if not all, were nothing much to look at, quite ugly in his opinion. They all bore the same simplicity and naïveté, their only unique trait being their delectable composition that gave them their sole purpose of feasting. But she was so drastically different.

Everything about this female sang rarity, her natural features reminiscent of that of ancient goddesses that mortal men could only wish to touch. But here she was. Within an arm’s reach, he could have her, do with her what he wished. He was nearly disgusted with himself, being far more captivated with his food than he should’ve been. Sparing her of death would’ve been such a waste of opportunity, one that even those lower than him wouldn’t have been so idiotic as to squander. Yet, his own self-doubt swallowed him as he drew back into the dark wood, letting her little toy soldiers bring her back to the safety of the nearing daylight.

He’d gorged himself after that, consuming soul after soul at a nearby village in an attempt to quench his own frustration and need. There weren’t many options to consider. He couldn’t spare the thing entirely, he wasn’t that fucking stupid, but he didn’t very much want her dead either. Turning her definitely wasn’t an option, women just didn’t have as much potential as demons, and he had his own personal beliefs that women shouldn’t dirty their hands. But dear gods, her scent, her smell alone probably called upon hundreds of demons to her location daily, perhaps it would’ve been a mercy to take the female’s life.

Fuck.

He hated himself for how indecisive he was. Not once in his entire demonhood had he been at such a crossroad of hesitance. There had to be another option that held the best of both worlds, yes? Shinazugawa just hadn’t come across it yet.

But fate gave him a hint as he snatched up the severed half of a female he’d killed, her guts spilling into his lap as he gnawed on her fat ankle. His daggered eyes trailed up her cold thigh, lining the dark trail of blood that seeped from under her skirt. A small confusion fell over him as he mulled over the strange placement. His blade’s cut through her navel had been clean, her blood pooling into the muddy grass and not at all staining much of her clothing. Yet the chain of red kept its existence, running into the conjunction of her thighs. Cursing his own curiosity, Sanemi swept the pesky material aside, only to be met with the brilliance of a cruel idea.

It hadn’t been hard at all to follow along the woman’s usual route of travel again, her men taking the same path,  ignorant of its dangerous discovery. Yet the timing was unfortunately off, her smell still sickeningly sweet and clean rather than bitter and dirty. He’d have to wait for next time. And the next. And the next. He’d nearly given up hope entirely until the fated night his lungs were filled with the metallic scent that had his belly tensing with primal famine. Just the mere aroma of ichor had drool gathering in his jowls, his fists clenching with need. It only grew thicker as her quaint carriage drew near, the clicking wheels singing a dreadful tune with each snap against the road. Sanemi could already taste the woman on his tongue, her savory flesh plump and tender between his teeth… god, he was going to lose it.

He nearly did as she stepped from her carriage in the same manner as their first meeting, her hair knit in tight braids across her crown, framing her delicate features. She was dressed more eloquently this time, Her gown long and loose yet hugging her figure with a gentle tightness. He mused to himself that perhaps she was on her way to some formal event to maintain appearances, maybe even earn herself a husband. Yet the notion of such a possibility irked him all the same. He’d never felt a hunger like this before, if one could even call it that. This felt so much more significant, crucial even, as if his very life depended on it. And maybe it did, since he would most definitely not let himself live if he couldn’t get even a single taste of her blood. Her body was his to take.

It took him no time at all to do away with the weaklings, the men’s bodies falling one after the other into the gravel, making a sad splash as their vitals funneled out. The man ogling at her backside was the first to go, his head severed the instant his eyeline met the wide curve of her dress, dropping to the ground with a thud and rolling to a leisure stop to her heel. When the woman finally turned from her distraction of the ominous wood, she was met with pure, bloody isolation.

Her horrified scream echoed loud, her hands clawing at her own face as she looked upon the gory scene of blood and guts that surrounded her. Shinazugawa was almost impressed at her reaction speed as she quickly turned foot and bolted, running through the thick bush despite her frailty. He couldn’t help but snicker, so enamored by her utter foolishness of trying to escape. If the men protecting her couldn’t even survive, what made her think she was the exception?

“God, you’re fucking stupid, ha!” he cackled, leaping about the tree-line, nipping at her backside but giving her just the right amount of space to let her hope she could get away.

She was not at all athletic, her stamina quickly dwindling as her frail figure fought with itself to continue on. Her chest burned, her feet hurt, her will to keep moving dwindling by the second and feeding into the persuasive idea of giving up. Yet the monster snatched her before she could choose, slamming her into the soft, melted ground and caking her elegance in earth. His hand wrapped around her pretty neck firmly, another snaking down her bodice and tearing open the gold buttons of her dress. His tongue swept across his lip as he unwrapped her, taking his sweet time to unveil every inch of her pristine flesh to his ravenous eye, her little fists pounding at his chest as she sobbed and screamed for help.

“Shut it,” Sanemi growled lowly, surprised to see her actually listen, her lip wobbling and eyes flooding as she silenced herself. He could still hear her pathetic whimpers as he stripped her, her small frame shaking as he brushed down her stomach, removing the lacy undergarments that hid her delicate body from his sight. He could see her plush intimacy coming into view from beneath her coverings, her curved hips thickening her figure, her thighs trembling as they tried desperately to hide themselves. But there was nothing that could be done about that now as she lied there, helpless, powerless, weak.

He opened his mouth wide, exposing sharp canines and letting his hot breath wash over her firm abdomen as her tears began anew and wept down her flushed cheeks. The demon was pleased, relishing in her surrender and submission as he gently ran his tongue down her navel, sampling his meal and savoring the girl's pitiful sobs. He loved it when humans cried, when they begged and pleaded for their lives like the weaklings they were, it made things so much more exciting.

His tongue flicked out over her pelvis, gliding over the pudge over her sex as he breathed in the scent of her musk, tainted with ovulation. Sanemi could already feel the saliva gathering in a jowls as he began to peel down her underwear, a cotton cloth clinging to the crotch of it. Her breath stuttered.

"N-no, no, please! Please... please!" she cried out, shaking hard and grasping at her own face, nearly clawing her eyes out with panic. But she knew better than to try to fight him off again, clearly more afraid of what he would do then than what he was currently doing. He couldn't help but grin against her supple flesh, his edged teeth nicking her thigh. She jerked at the sudden pain and the warm sensation of blood trickling down her leg, soaking into the dirt.

"P-Please, p-p-please don't... h-hurt me," her words shook with her exterior, her sniffling likely a strong persuasion to those who had a heart. He obviously didn't but was still bothered by her pestering fear of being eaten. "If I was going to eat you, don't you think I would have done it already?" he groaned sarcastically.. The human slowly removed her fingers to peak down at him, her eyes red and welled with tears, lip trembling. He laughed.

"I mean come on, you think I'd let you bitch and moan this long just to kill you later? If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. Quit fucking crying," he hissed.

She sniffled again. "B-but -"

"Zip it."

Her mouth snapped shut, quickly obeying before her brain could even comprehend him.

Sanemi growled. "Talk again and you get to join those fuckers back there." He nodded his head back to the direction of her abandoned carriage and dead guards. His claws dug into her thighs, pulling them to spread wider to encompass his presence. "The sooner you let me take what I want, the sooner I let you go. But I don't deal with brats. You either listen or you don't, 's up to you bitch."

He wasn't sure how he expected her to react, but it definitely wasn't for her to spread herself wider, without any instruction. It was almost touching how quickly she gave in, not even needing a moment to think it over before she opened herself up for him to do as he pleased. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she were eager for it.

His head fell down to her core again, his fangs pricking the surface of her skin yet again, drawing forth a shallow line of blood as he slid them down her inner thighs, his eyes locked on her frightened yet curious gaze. She shivered at the sharpness of his touch, her legs trembling as he moved further south, trying to appease his hungered excitement. He resumed pulling down her panties, reveling in the aroma of moon blood that filled his senses as he took away all obstruction. It was beautiful. The smell of blood. The sight of red dripping from her puffy lips. He could only imagine the taste, so eager in his imagination of its excellence. He'd never tasted pure ovulation blood before, never even thought of it actually. It would be stupid to use just his tongue when he could devour with his teeth in an instant and move on to the next meal. But this was a different situation entirely. This woman could satiate him for years, decades even, with marechi blood. It didn't hurt that she was a hot piece of ass either. If he didn't get himself together soon, he might end up fucking his food as well.

The woman's eyes lingered on his leisure movements, the drawl of his dangerous eyes along her sex as he studied the meal. Embarrassment quickly rose in her chest as she realized his intentions, praying that he’d move on with whatever he was trying to do so her dignity could recover. Although, she supposed letting him taste her menstrual blood was better than getting eaten alive... but hardly.

The demon felt her pulse quicken in his grasp, her breathing growing faster and her patience dwindling as she began to quiver again. He didn't blame her though, not in the slightest. But he had every right to  such a rare female, he deserved everything. And if the needs of others were sacrificed, so be it. He knew he wouldn't be able to resist her for too long. He was ravenous.

And he was horny.

He smiled as his head dipped down, his tongue flicking out to smooth against her swollen clitoris, barely brushing the top as he inhaled the fragrance of her blood. Her legs trembled, her muscles tensing as her hips buckled in response, shocked with the sudden feeling of sensitivity. She had to bite her lip to silence her noise of surprise. He chuckled as he teased her, dragging his tongue from one side to the other, teasing her wet folds and leaving behind a thin trail of saliva. He didn't really care for her pleasure at the moment, but he was curious of her response to it. Dinner and a show. That was fine by him.

She bit her lip harder, her thighs flexing to keep from touching him. Sanemi was excited at her reaction, watching her face contort with each and every careless stroke of his tongue, her hips subconsciously rising to feed herself into his awaiting mouth. A few times, she almost grabbed for him, but her arms were still pinned to her side by her own strong will to survive. He liked that, enjoyed her struggle as he continued to lick her up and down, her clit becoming more sensitive with each and every pass. Her blood was intoxicating, his head already growing dizzy as he drank her from the source. He thought it would be difficult to keep himself from biting down but the thought never even grazed his mind as he continued giving sloppy licks and sucks to her weeping heat. She was so tasty, so sweet, so ripe. It seemed like she would never stop bleeding as his tongue was eternally blessed with a fresh coat of red. He wondered for a moment if it was possible to drain her of it all in one night.

He growled, his head lowering down to her opening and his tongue falling out again as she whimpered in anticipation, eyes closed tight. She felt like she was losing her mind with every pass of his ravenous tongue. Her head was so foggy and light, her pussy so warm, she couldn't stop herself from letting out small noises of pleasure as he kept feasting upon her. It took every ounce of her being not to wrap her legs around his head and trap him into her center, forcing him to cease his cruel teasings. What little was left of her fear only heightened the experience, giving her a blissful taste of sin that she'd never indulged before, the sense of danger giving her such a rush.

Her ichor only grew sweeter on his tongue by the second, her slick diluting her blood in heavier batches that gave him more a taste of lust than power. He focused on her hole then, realizing that nipping at her clit certainly wasn't helping the situation. Yet, her pleasure rose none-the-less. His tongue worked hard, dashing inside of her, licking up every drop of liquor, drinking it down as if it were a fine wine. It was nearly too good to be true, this level of strength he felt. He looked down at the girl, his eyes burning into her as he watched her squirm and grip the earth. She was so delicious.

But he needed more.

His tongue pumped into her again and again, dipping as far as it could reach before retreating to her entrance to lick up anything that had escaped him. She shuddered, her hips subtly grinding on his face to chase her nearing end. It continued building in her belly, sending bolts of electricity up her spine and warming her insides. She couldn't even feel the pain of her cramps anymore.

Sanemi sipped at her wetness more vigorously, his tongue lapping at her like a dog, desperate for more of his meal. He slowed only for a moment as the woman gave a small cry, her hips and thighs quaking harshly and tensing in his palms. He wasn't even angry when her juices sprayed him, drenching his lower face and dripping down his lips. If anything he was amused, only a human could come from such little care. Yet, he stopped, her cunt hardly even bleeding anymore being so wet with arousal and relief. What was the point of pleasing her when he gained nothing in return.

He rose from his position on the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as his eyes raked down her sloppy appearance, certainly not that of a noblewoman. Her backside was caked with mud, her hair messy and matted, her face red and mouth leaking with drool. She nearly looked peaceful as she let out gentle pants, still softly shaking from such a strong orgasm. He rolled his eyes.

"Get up," he commanded, uncaring of her condition. "I don't have all fucking night."

The woman only rose when his growls became violent, her movements awkward and her head still in the clouds. She still attempted to cover herself, tucking an arm over her breasts and cupping her sex with another.

"I'm only going to explain this once so I suggest you pay attention-" he began, her eyes quickly lighting up with fright, "You are going to come back to this path every month during your menses. You will come alone. No guards. No friends. No nobody. Understand?"

She squirmed nervously in her footing, her fear beginning to crest again. "B-but I-I won’t be a-allowed to travel for n-no r-r-reason..." she stuttered.

"Not my problem."

"A-and how would I come back without anyone to take-"

"Not. My. Problem." he hissed meanly, making her cower away.

He stepped forward to her, towering over her little form. "I'm not here to negotiate. I'm just telling you what you're going to do. I don't give a fuck how you're gonna do it, but if you know what's good for you, you'll obey. You want anyone else dead because of you?" he sneered.

Her lip quivered and tears glazed in her eyes. "N-no."

Sanemi chuckled, looking down at her and pressing a strong hand over her lower belly and brushing away her small hands, dangerously close to her privates that were still glazed with his saliva.

"This is mine," he stated, passing two fingers between her puffy cunt lips, "Give it to anyone else and I'll kill them and make you watch. I'll make it slow too. You want that?" She violently shook her head, nearly on the cusp of pissing herself from the terror of such a suggestion.

He hummed with his approval of her response, giving her another once over with his eyes and a quick squeeze of her breast before backing away into the night, undisturbed with how on earth she was going to get back home. It would've been any second that he could lose control of himself and pounce, a desperate need growing in pants to satiate himself. He'd have to establish that as another rule - no fucking when she was edible. Maybe he'd pay her another visit later when her period was over, at her estate perhaps, just to take away her innocence and test out how useful she was to him. He could only imagine how pathetic she would look speared on his cock with nowhere else to go, but that would be for another night, he couldn't forget her main purpose.

And he couldn't wait to get a taste of that again.

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[evolutionsvoid]

When hunting the great seas for blubber, meat and oil, there are a variety of species that whalers are eager to spot. Massive flabby beasts that are sure to fill their holds with valuable materials to be sold back on shore, and perhaps ones with some extra meat on them so that the crew can be spared of gut steaks for a few nights. You can certainly tell when one of these favored creatures are sighted, as the voices that ring out from the nest up high are filled with excitement, which soon spreads through the entire crew. They rush to their stations and ready the ship for the hunt, eager to sink their ivory harpoons into that valuable flesh. However, the vast oceans house many beasts and monsters, and there is no telling what leviathan will rear its head during a voyage. Some are sought for, others ignored, while others fill the hearts of the sea folk with dread. And in some rare cases, it can be a bit of both. This can be seen in the Harpoon Leviathans, whose presence typically creates hesitation in the most hardiest of whaling crews, as they wonder if the chance for a big payout is worth the risk of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. 

Harpoon Leviathans are sea monsters whose very image speaks of their deadliness and ferocity. When one wants to depict the dangers of the ocean in scrimshaw, you will commonly see one of these horned beasts carved into the ivory. They are certainly a sight to behold, armored scales running down their bodies, maws filled with sharp tooth and tusk, and of course that massive spike jutting from their heads. This great horn is sharp and serrated, perfect for piercing prey and causing a ton of damage going in and out. This ivory spike is connected to a muscular socket in their skull, which allows it to pivot and rotate according to the situation. Said situation is the gutting of other leviathans, using this weapon to slash open hides and pierce thick blubber. Harpoon Leviathans feed upon whales, porpoise and great serpents, going after organs to ensure a fatal wound. Prey is detected through their snout covered in vibrissae, and their sharp eye sight helps them zero in on large silhouettes. They make sure to strike fast and hit crucial weak points, and then leisurely follow the wounded beast til it bleeds out. Since they fight large leviathans like themselves, they are aggressive and determined, even more so when another beast tries to steal their kill. Their armored plating not only helps survive a hunt, but to help defend themselves from scavengers and ensuing feeding frenzies that wish to benefit from their hard work. Thus, Harpoon Leviathans are quick to anger and quick to throw down, and that massive horn is more than capable of backing up this ferocity.

Though Harpoon Leviathans come off as rage-filled beasts, there is a different side to them. They are very sociable creatures, seeking company with their own kind and even mating for life. The horn that spears prey can also be used as a signal for other Harpoon Leviathans, raising and lowering this horn like one would message with a flag. Social grooming is also a behavior seen in their pods, as individuals take turns cleaning off the bloodied horns of their fellows. When they have young, they are fiercely protective and keep close to them well until they are armed and armored enough to face the world. Harpoon Leviathans are known for good memories, being able to recognize and remember fellow beasts even after years of separation. But this also means they are more than capable of holding a grudge, which is exactly what they will do if one kills their mate or offspring.

Due to their aggression and obvious weaponry, Harpoon Leviathans are a worrisome sight for whaling ships. These beasts are always ready for a fight, be it with an attacker or competition. Unfortunately, these beasts have learned that these odd ship things are a combination of both, hunting both Harpoon Leviathans and their prey. So they are quick to fly into a rage and try to destroy whaling ships that get too close. Their bulk allows them to ram into the boats in an attempt to capsize it, while their armor helps ward off harpoons and blades. The infamous horn can pierce through hulls, but it isn't always easy to remove once stuck in. Some would think this is a good thing, as the beast is now trapped, but they would quickly realize the opposite once it starts panicking and thrashing. Tales enjoy the symbolism in a ship sinking with a drowning Harpoon Leviathan still embedded within it, a tale of two aggressors dying while locked in battle. Obviously, the folk who don't enjoy these stories are often the ones who actually have to live them. The other worry that comes with the sighting of one of these leviathans is the chance that the captain may command them to hunt it. While these beasts are certainly a threat, they are also a lucrative catch. Their meat, oil and blubber is as good as any whale, and it also adds the bonus of hardened scales and a wonderful trophy. Harpoon Leviathan horns are capable of making one rich, and there is no end to buyers eager to add it to their collection. These horns are also important to the sea folk, who often use them for scrimshaw and crafting elaborate shrines and memorials from a single huge spike. They sometimes are even used as weaponry, though too big for a single man. Whaling ships may strap one of these horns to their bow to ram into prey, or construct elaborate devices fueled by explosive whale oil or Yellow Bile to launch a powerful spear into the sides of leviathans. But of course, carrying a horn or killing one of these beasts is sure to enrage another Harpoon Leviathan, who will not stop to destroy the ship responsible. And thus the hunt and fight begins once more. Certainly there is something to be said of these two sides, who are not too different from each other, forever locked in this endless battle.

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"Harpoon Leviathan"

Fall of Ichor needs sea beasts too!

[izgnanik-a]

Someone put it in my head, and I can't stop thinking about it now so I'll make it your problem — Shifter!NikPrice (Grizzly Bear!Nik x Wolf!Price) MDNI

back to masterlist

slight gore under the cut (they’re carnivores obvi)

Winters are usually easy going for Price.

The cold makes it so much easier to shift, so when he wants, he’ll strip down to nothing and slip out into the snow blanketed world. It’s quiet, cold, and yet Price hears and feels everything.

He doesn’t have to worry about hunters because he’s miles and miles out from civilization in his cabin. He also gave his neighbors a rumor that he’d managed to tag one of the wolves, and with a makeshift bright collar he’d given himself, the neighbor let him be.

He feels the snow crumbling under paw as he tip-toes into his own steps, making him a silent killer. Driven by the noise of carrion overhead, they’ll see something fresh and dead before he ever does. But when he gets closer, he realizes that the murder of corvids and vultures obviously didn’t take this beast down.

Wary of the tracks surrounding the body, he steps closer and the birds rush off in fear of being a chew toy in his teeth. The meat is scalding under his maw, but delicious and savory. He’s covered in blood and guts to his chest before recognizing the warning cries of danger from the corvids.

When he tips his vision up, he sees it.

A bear.

Standing up on its hind legs to gaze at him, once it’s spotted, it settles on its front paws like it’s been caught. Huffs and grunting, it comes in close.

Price hasn’t had his fill of the dead carcass yet, but he sends a prayer, and steps back when the bear grows closer. With a warning growl and snarl, the bear lingers back before snatching the dead carcass by its spine to bring it closer to itself.

The bear, though he’d seen bears before in person, didn’t compare in size to the usual who loomed in the country. He wasn’t exactly a model wolf either, bigger than a Grey Wolf, heavier than an American Dire Wolf. All of his human bulk and weight had just translated over.

If someone were to catch him, they’d have a bountiful dinner (that is until he turns back into a human when his heart stops beating).

With big black eyes and massive paws, its nails dug into flesh and pooled more blood into the cavity that had been dug out by Price himself and the vultures. Price stared too long at the size of it.

Price let it take his found kill. He’ll just find dinner elsewhere at his cabin.

He returned home slowly.

🐾🐺

When he went out again, bright collar around his neck, he walked a whopping 10 miles up the mountain before catching wind of something; the smell was thick with musk, the kind that made him think of the underside of wet bark, deep layers of earthy dirt, and scalding warmth.

It brought him to a scented tree, the tuffs of fur stuck between the cracks. It was a bear’s smell, no doubt. He didn’t want to stay longer than he needed to if he was moving into bear territory. He’d have to mark it on his map to stay clear of it when he gets back.

What he didn’t expect was to find a small campsite in the middle of a clearing. Someone had hunkered down in the snow behind his land without his knowledge. He was tempted to steal the cooked meat left to dry on the rack, but the movement of a standing body coming from the stream made him pull back.

He was spotted before he could dash.

“Oy.” The man clapped his gloved hands to spook Price, but he wasn’t moved. “You’re a brave big dog, aren’t you?” His eyes panned to the bright collar around his throat. “I’ve never seen a collared wolf before.”

Price kept his defense up, watching the man with a low head, lip ready to snarl if he stepped too close. Even though he was in this man’s campground, what was going to stop him from finding Price’s cabin and breaking in while he was away?

“You hungry?” Said the man as he moved forward, daringly towards Price.

Price snapped his jaw before scurrying up the incline to get above the man.

With no real evidence of nervousness around the “wild wolf”, the man proceeded to unhook his meat and toss it at Price’s feet. “There you are, pup.” He huffed. “We all get a little hostile when we’re hungry.” He smiled.

Price took the food and turned.

He didn’t report the man in the woods. But he wondered if he knew there was a bear in the same territory he settled down in. And if it would run him out of the woods. Or worse.

(a/n : More?? Lmk)

[paperbackribs]

werewolf steve, werebat eddie (ch2)

🦇🧥🦇

Eddie’s knee bounces in the stationary van parked outside the Harrington house; he stares down at the open Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual clutched between his arms, flipping between the werewolf and the dire wolf. A drawing of the former has it standing upright, muscled and snarling with outstretched claws; his eyes are drawn to chaotic evil.

He knows that Steve isn’t evil. He does. The man who had spent hours next to Eddie at his hospital bedside showed an honour and trustworthiness that had drawn Eddie in even before he’d recognised it.

No, the caring guy he’s come to know is about as far from an alignment that lacks compassion and kills for sport as someone could get. That Steve is capable of wielding a nail-bat against the monsters of the Upside Down only lends an appealingly chaotic feel to the man Eddie had begun to think of as a rogue knight.

Sighing, he flips to the other page held open by his spare hand: dire wolf. Unaligned and a beast advantaged by its pack, this seems like Steve’s speed. Resembling his transformed self more acutely with its simple, albeit large wolf appearance. His finger stops on the bloodied maw, but the idea of it is still terrifying.

Reluctantly, he turns to the page he’s now memorised by heart. Man-shaped, this monster growls with open fangs too; sharp tapered ears are fixed on a figure draped in an aristocratic overcoat and cape. Finger trembling, he traces undead and lawful evil before pausing over bat polymorph as one of the vampire’s characteristics.

A loud bang smacks against the side of the van and Eddie jumps high enough to hit his head on the Chevrolet’s roof. “Ow, Christ!” He hisses, rubbing the sore spot and glaring at Dustin grinning at him through the closed window.

“Come on,” he shouts, “Everyone’s here!”

Eddie scowls, leaving behind the manual to tumble out of the van. Dustin immediately starts pushing him from behind and Eddie whacks at him with his hands, “Lay off, man. I’m coming, okay.”

Dustin hums doubtfully, “Yeah, but I watched you sit in the van for the last ten minutes and that was only after I noticed you’d arrived. Who knows how long it was going to take you?”

He quickly opens the front door before Dustin pushes him right smack into it, but the younger boy continues shoving at Eddie until he stumbles into Steve’s living room. In a similar configuration to yesterday’s intervention, the party sits, lounges, or stands about the room, quietly talking.

On the couch, Robin sits cross-legged with Steve who’s flipping through a magazine. Eddie’s relieved to see that all four limbs are human-shaped, and mouth only curved into a soft pout as he contemplates the article in front of him.

Everyone pauses to look over at their loud entrance. Steve glances up and, meeting his calm expression, Eddie almost blushes at how uncoordinated he must have looked falling through the door. He averts his gaze to El who approaches him with an outstretched palm, “Are you ready?”

Eddie sighs but takes her hand; she leads him to the open floor and they sit across from each other, “Yeah, we might as well do this. So, you’re going to force the bat out or something?”

“There’s no guarantee that you can shift,” Lucas leans back against the wall next to Will with casually folded arms. “You could be a normal human with bat scars and that’s it.”

“Or I could be a vampire of the night,” Eddie counters darkly. “I’ve been craving meat lately.”

Max rolls her eyes, “You have not, you big liar. I saw you scoffing down Honey Crunch on your front porch only two days ago.”

“Yeah, well, I was high. Maybe weed mellows out the beast.”

Eddie’s gaze flies to Steve when he snorts, but Steve looks away, concentrating on the magazine that Eddie suddenly suspects he’s not actually reading.

The thought that he’s avoiding Eddie stirs a familiar sense of guilt, giving rise to the niggle that he’d tried to forget after the wolf left yesterday, further punctuated by Robin’s distinct stink-eye. Even amidst the fear that had gripped him, he’d been able to see a sad, dejected version of Steve in the down-turned tail and slow trudge away.

“I'm going to take you into the void,” El says, holding out both her hands over her knees and Eddie takes them at her urging. “When I visit Steve there, he is able to feel the wolf and communicate with him.”

“I sort of see him next to me, if it helps,” Steve finally pipes up, watching Eddie warily like he’s expecting him to reject the advice, but Eddie only nods grimly. He’s going to need all the tips he can get he suspects. “Do I let it possess me or something?”

Steve frowns, a hint of reproach about him, “My wolf doesn’t posses me, he is me. Just like I’m him.” He shakes his head at Eddie’s confusion, “If you have a bat or a vampire or, I don’t know, maybe you’ll have a wolf too, then just reach out to him. He wants to be a part of you and you’ll both figure it out from there.”

Eddie looks into the steady gaze of Steve’s hazel eyes and feels it like a hand over his own: Steve has done this before, and successfully. He just needs to trust in the rogue knight one more time. “Okay,” he says, closing his eyes and following El’s lead.

🐺🐺🐺

Steve throws his Fine Gardening magazine onto the coffee table and leans against Robin’s shoulder, she presses back. “Does it usually take this long with me,” he murmurs, trying to keep quiet for the two sitting silently in the middle of the room. Both El and Eddie have their eyes closed and hands clasped with the other. Max had turned the television to a snowy channel to help channel El’s concentration with the static sound.

She hums a negative, “But then, you two only did it to play around and see if there was more you could learn about yourself. This is Eddie trying to find out whether he even has another version to turn into.”

She grabs his arm suddenly, “Wait.” Steve blinks, unsure of what he’d seen other than to describe it as a pulse around Eddie. A long beat passes before the trick of the eye flickers again, so quickly that Steve can’t be sure of what he’s seeing.

In one rapid swoop, the air around Eddie contracts, pulling abruptly inwards until Eddie the human disappears to be replaced with a bat standing unsteadily in front of El. He blinks wide eyes, faltering on tiny feet before stumbling over to land on his back.

Eddie squawks in what Steve thinks is shock before frantically flapping his extended wings and tossing over to push up into the air, erratically darting around the suddenly panicking humans.

With one wing beating harder than the other, he drunkenly tilts and rolls into Mike’s long hair. Shrieking, Mike pulls Eddie out and flings him away even while crying out, “Shit! Sorry, Eddie! Sorry!”

Eddie cries out himself and flutters, gaining his momentum only to slam into the wall with a thump next to Dustin who leaps forward trying to catch him, but Eddie desperately twists before leaping higher, aiming for the peak of the ceiling.

“Catch him,” Will yells as Lucas runs out of the room.

“I’m trying,” Dustin shrieks in a tone that matches the high screeches of Eddie above them.

Robin shrugs off her boxy jacket, “Wait, I’ve got this.” She advances on Eddie as he zig zags against the wall again, but he must see her as a large threatening animal because he chitters wildly before smacking his wings at her face. Robin yelps and falls, only narrowly avoiding hitting her head on the ground by Max urgently jumping underneath to stop her rapid descent.

Lucas skids into the living room, triumphantly holding aloft the large pool skimmer usually stored in the garden shed. “Steve,” he yells before throwing it across the room.

Steve deftly catches the long handle in the air and, with a twist of his wrist, scoops Eddie mid-flight. Quickly flipping the pole, he entangles his small body in the net.

Panting or, in Mike’s case, holding down his hair, the group silently gather around the squirming bat version of Eddie as he shrieks and tries to bite his way out of the thin rope.

Steve thinks of his first fumbling and panicked steps: the distinct difference between having two legs extended to four, not even at the right height, let alone the terror of suddenly having a completely different way of looking and feeling the world had been indescribable. There are still scratches in the wooden floorboards from how hard he had dug his claws in to stop his legs from skidding in all directions.

“Back up, guys,” he says softly, keeping his tone low and soothing. “Hey, Eddie, hey,” he shushes, positioning the net against his torso so he can roll Eddie out of the mesh without letting him escape. Everyone steps back or sits in a chair, and Steve brings Eddie higher up to his chest so he can meet the eyes of the little guy.

Although his thinking or way of interpreting his surroundings may be a little different, Steve is always aware of the world as he would be as a human, and he can see that it’s the same for Eddie. The big wet eyes of his bat form aren’t that different from his human ones, Steve thinks, a little amused even while worried at how hard Eddie is panting.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, “You’re okay, you’re with friends, and this isn’t permanent. You’re just a bat for a little bit, Eddie, and you’ll be human in no time. Okay? You’re okay.” He keeps repeating reassuring nonsense, keeping his fingers firmly wrapped around squirming wings and resting Eddie against his heart.

As a wolf, Steve likes to lay his head over Robin’s heart, likes the proof that she is alive and well under him, and often finds himself calming under her steady thump, thump, thump.

Under his fingers, he can feel the frantic thrumming of Eddie’s heart start to calm too.

“That’s good,” he croons softly, stroking his thumb over the soft down of Eddie’s head. He takes stock of the little body in front of him: over Eddie’s nose the bridge is one long stripe of white, the rest of him covered in a deep brown while the ruff of his neck is almost golden, his ears are tapered as is the long tip of his pink tongue.

They all watch while Steve successfully calms Eddie as if he is a baby cradled to him. “Do you think that’s a were thing?” Asks Lucas, peering at Eddie as his breathing slows down, he blinks back up at him.

“I don’t know,” Will says thoughtfully, “Steve is pretty soothing to have around.” El nods while Mike shoots his friend a look of betrayal.

Steve rolls his eyes, “He was just scared. Look, now he’s had a moment to chill he’s with us again.” And, sure enough, little Eddie’s eyes are drooping as Steve continues to lightly pat him, clearly relaxing into the comforting gesture. He loosens his hold, still keeping a firm grip but not so tightly in fear of Eddie struggling again.

Max snorts as she peers down, “Oh yeah, there’s the big bad metalhead everyone fears.”

Eddie’s closing eyes snap open with a glare and he squeaks at her. Unfortunately, Steve thinks, the cuteness of it all only supports Max’s teasing. Robin meets his eyes over the kids’ heads and silently laughs in agreement.

“Okay,” Steve orders, “I think the lot of us in the same room may be too much for him right now. You guys skedaddle and we’ll let you know when he’s back to rights.”

Dustin looks doubtful, “What can you do that we can’t?”

Robin snorts, “Uh, Dusty-bun, Steve is literally the expert in this room when it comes to were-changes. You can’t research your way out of this one.”

Dustin grumps, “I could. If we didn’t have Steve, I could absolutely be the one to help him get back to normal.” He turns to the backpack shoved against the table. “Here,” he says, pulling out two books with photos of bats across the covers. Steve peers further into the bag and can see back-ups that apparently didn’t pass muster. “These are the books I brought on bats. If he starts craving blood, let me know — I have more on vampires when he needs them.”

Max takes them from his hands while Lucas steers Dustin towards the front door, where they’d left their bikes outside. Mike mutters a mocking noise that sounds like skedaddle and, with that, the room falls silent once more.

Robin and Steve look over at Max as she falls back onto the couch with El quickly following behind. She stares back belligerently, “What? Mom dropped me off and Eddie was our ride back.” El crosses her arms with a serene smile.

Steve sighs, “Okay, but we’re not doing anything exciting and you guys are making dinner.” The girls readily agree, heating leftovers from Steve’s fridge and serving the four of them as they sit in the living room, eating while watching a Bewitched marathon. At Steve’s instruction, Robin had brought down his blue hoodie with its tunnel-like pocket over his belly.

Little Eddie had curled up inside of it and Steve keeps one hand over him to provide what he hopes feels like shelter and comfort; under it, he can feel the heat of his small body and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

“You look like you’re pregnant,” Robin acerbically observes from the other end of the couch, feet crossed into her lap for the lotus position.

“Does that mean that I can finally eat butterscotch ice cream without you making that face?” He counters with a bitchy expression back.

“What face?” She protests even as she makes The Face. Max rises her brow to Steve, “Why does she look like that?”

“That summer at Scoops maybe put her off some flavours for life,” he shares. El ignores them all in favour of watching Samantha wiggling her nose to float Darrin out of a tree.

“If I have to smell USS Butterscotch one more time, I’m going to puke — lack of pregnancy be damned,” Robin warns.

The commercials blares once Samantha finishes rescuing her husband, and El moves to peek inside the hoodie, tentatively extending a finger and gasping when Eddie’s little bat foot comes out to grip it. “He feels so soft.”

Steve snickers at Robin and he thinks he feels what’s supposed to be a bat bite through the cotton in retaliation, but it’s hard to tell with the lack of sharp fangs behind it. He sobers for the younger members of the room, “Yeah, but he can’t stay this way forever. Can you sense anything from him, El?”

She closes her eyes while continuing to hold Eddie’s foot, “He is not upset like earlier, but I don’t think he is ready to come back to being human-Eddie yet either.”

Steve looks worriedly down at the bump over his stomach, “Is he okay? I ran around a lot at first too, but once I figured out what was happening I tried to turn human again as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, but you also didn’t know that it was possible to turn back to human,” Robin points out. “He could be chilling ‘cause he knows that everything is going to be okay.”

El hums, “No, I do not think that’s it.” She shrugs, gently untangling Eddie’s clawed toes to lean back into Max who shifts an arm and drapes it over El’s shoulders comfortingly. “But he is not willing to share either. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Robin reassures her as she peeks into the other end of the pocket, smirking as she waggles a playful finger at him. Steve can see the wide, wet eyes of Eddie peeking out at her in curiosity. “Maybe he knows that he’s cuter as a bat than as a stinky human boy.”

Eddie glares and snaps his small teeth in the air before sullenly turning, curling up and facing the other way. Once again, a small hidden lump in the hoodie. Steve sighs, “We’ll give him the night and, if he’s not back tomorrow, maybe you can look for him in the void, El? Ask him what’s going on or guide him back to being human again. Whatever it is that he needs since it’s not working for him right now.”

He glances at the stairs, “Do you guys want to stay over? You can sleep in one of the spare rooms?”

“I call third bedroom,” Robin calls, standing up decisively, “Second bedroom has a weird smell.” She points her finger at Steve’s opening mouth, “I don’t care if you can’t smell anything, which, weird. Since you’re the one with the super nose these days.”

She grimaces and says more quietly, “I don’t think I can bunk up tonight, all the screaming got me…” She waggles her hand around her ears and Steve nods, knowing that she needs some quiet time after a lot of stimulation.

Max smirks and takes El by the hand, “That’s cool, we can’t smell whatever weirdo smell your nose is picking up. Night guys.” The girls wave before heading upstairs and Steve shuts off the television.

Picking his way through the house he double checks that the windows and doors are locked before turning off the lights and heading to bed. Lying down, he snuggles little Eddie to him, the small body already curled on top of his chest and asleep.

If you enjoyed anything of this I hope you'll consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 - it would make my day! 💖🦇🐺💖

[tyrantisterror]

At Sea Without a Map pt. 17

She's the first friend you've made in your entire (admittedly very short) memory, you are not letting Calibani get eaten without a fight! With a heroic athleticism you didn't know you possessed, you take a running leap off of the broken boat and onto the deck of your own, bridging the gap of water between you so quickly that no lurking beast below could hope to catch you. Unfortunately, you act so swiftly that you don't actually prepare well to land, and end up slipping when your feet hit the deck, sliding a ways until your sheer momentum sends you crashing into Calibani. On the other hand, you hit her with enough force to pry her tail out of whatever was holding it, and as you lie on top of her in a heap on the deck...

...well, she doesn't look particularly upset about it, at the very least.

You don't have time to dwell on your close proximity for long, though, as the boat shifts violently beneath you while the waves around it become larger and nastier. Quickly you get to your feet, steadying yourself with the railing as you look over the side to see something massive rising up from beneath the water.

What emerges is more hideous than you would have dared to imagine, a twisting collection of lumpy, tumorous flesh held loosely together by rancid sinews of rotting muscle tissue. One by one the pus-dripping flesh globs that make up the bulk of its mass begin to split open, their skin pilling apart to reveal a chaotic assortment of eyes and teeth. On occasion an eye will close and the flesh will seal over it, only for another tear to appear elsewhere in the beast's roiling surface like a fresh zit. All of this occurs as it continues its dread ascension out of the ocean, its body like some nightmarish pustule oozing its way out of the skin of the sea.

More gaping maws on the beast open, and soon you are hit with that familiar reek of halitosis as long, hideous tongues emerge from the rancid mass and slither towards your boat. You're fairly certain you know what killed the other sailors now.

As the hideous glob of rotting meat rises in front of your boat, ones of its twisted jaws opens and speaks with a soft, vaguely-British voice that has an oozing aftertaste of lewdness. "Oh my my my, what luck! Two tasty sausages for me! A crunchy one and a chewy one, how splendid! I can't wait to take you inside me!"

As you confront the worst nightmare you've seen yet, you consult your compass.

[cloudyswritings]

More Wyrm Things

just some more wyrm(and PK) headcanons.

Wyrm:

They don’t really sleep in the same way that other bugs, beasts, and higher beings do? Like it’s something a bit like how dolphins sleep with half their brain, but on a much more diffuse scale. The result is that they don’t sleep but do have more and less active periods.(this is also why PK was immune to the Radiances influence and why he felt comfortable moving his palace into the dream realm)

They’re fully capable of closing their inner throat to avoid taking in excess water if they burrow through a aquifer underground.

Aditionally Wyrms aren’t really bugs so they don’t actually have spiracles like bugs do, I’d make the wager that they’ve got lungs or some other stranger form of respiration.

It actually seems like Wyrms are vertebrates? Like the wyrm corpse has what look like vertebrae. I think the track of evolution on hollownest world probably has a group of creatures with both a skeleton and an exoskeleton. These would be some kind of fusion of reptiles and crustaceans, this is the group Wyrms and their distant kin belong to.

Wyrm meat is very tough, luminous, and highly toxic to most beings. Of course roots can devour a wyrm corpse without issue.

in lower form(ie after dying) most Wyrms choose to be taller than the bugs that worship them and also still mostly rely on touch and scent over sight.

Wyrms like very dry and windy conditions, in fact stagnant air and high humidity will actually cause respiratory issues and begin rusting their outer coat of armor, making it much harder to move and shed.

PK:

He doesn’t like having bugs that don’t share his pale color scheme in his palace for any length of time.

in fact this might be a wyrm thing in general but aesthetics matter a ton to him, like it’s sorta an OCD thing? But he needs things to be on theme, at least where he lives. Colors that complement it(like red) are tolerated.

when he first met the white lady he was terrified of her. She was the only other pale being he’d met, and he expected their meeting to end with one of them consuming the other.

in general he tries to distance himself from the culture Wyrms have, he only indulges his instincts in private.

he’s a messy eater, so when he holds court and does politics he generally doesn’t eat. I think most denizens of Hallownest think that gods just don’t eat because of this.

He has fantastic spacial awareness and impeccable memory. Yes this does mean he remembers every single mask in the abyss intimately.

He nibbles on things when anxious sometimes.

He wears such a long cloak to conceal the parts of his body where his understanding of lower bugs and beings failed and he made mistakes. He’s got some really fucking weird joints, and seethrough bits( especially over his heart, it’s why he wears his part of the kingsoul there.

his head might be mostly hollow tbh, it’s a lot like the maw of his wyrm form, in a sense it’s even appropriate to say he doesn’t have a true face.

Parts of his brain are actually stored in his lower body and chest, not that it really matters because as a god he’d survive even without a body. Though he’d have a harder time with that than the radiance. He’s a god of the physical world and she’s one of the ephemeral world.

he likes the taste of mint, to the horror of the bugs around him(it’s a toxic insect repellent to them)

he has little ingots of metal he eats, like candy bars but very dense. It’s because he needs metal in his diet, something which hornet deeply regrets inheriting from him.

[anarchy-and-piglins]

It's a moonless night when Phil smells that two humans wandered into his territory. 

They were smart enough not to come into the woods any other time. His senses are still twice as powerful as those of any human, but even in this form, they're more dulled than they could be. Phil feels it pulling at the back of his mind, the sluggish tug of his instincts is not as strong as he's used to either. When the moon is at its brightest, it burns away his humanity. Right now, some of it remains.

But that doesn't mean he's going to let the trespassing slide.

With his snout pressed close to the earth, he tracks them through the undergrowth. Their scent lingers on his tongue, the phantom taste of fresh meat and blood. Nobody sane should set one foot inside this forest. They know the cursed beasts that live there - human by day and wolf by night. To walk here is as good as a death wish.

It's not their own death they wished for, though.

Phil stops when he sees the shape of something left against a tree in the dark. He growls in warning, waiting for the trap to be sprung. Nothing happens, so he slowly inches forward, closer to the basket those humans left behind. And then he sees the small human sleeping within.

Those that left him wrapped the blankets around him tightly, a waning parental instinct that fought against them even while they were doing the most horrible thing one could do to their child. They left him out here to die.

Phil can guess why. The boy is smaller and thinner than he should be, barely two years old if he were to estimate and already underfed. If his family couldn't care for him, they made the right decision. A quick death in the maws of an animal might be better than the slow crawl of starvation choking the light out of his young chest.

And Phil isn't one to resist his urges.

His nose pushes up against the tender flesh of the child's throat, watching him fidget in his slumber. He smells of human, yes. But he's also been out here long enough to smell like the woods a little bit. Like the river that dampens the undergrowth and the wind that brushes through Phil's fur. The child has no fur, aside from some tuffs of brown growing on his head. He's small and helpless. So tiny he can fit into the basket and seems like he's drowning in it.

It reminds Phil of the two he left in his den.

A thumb forces its way up his nostril and Phil jolts back, exhaling warm air in a surprised huff. The child is awake, prying hands reaching out towards him. He makes a noise that's almost a giggle and coos at Phil happily. His fingers flex and unflex while trying to pet him.

Phil tilts his head. The child tilts his own in response.

He's still reaching out to Phil.

Stepping closer again, Phil carefully lowers his snout enough to nudge his chest. The child - 'pup' his mind helpfully corrects - babbles nonsensical sounds and pushes his warm hands against the side of Phil's neck. His eyes are big and blue and bright. 

The moon is gone and Phil has some humanity left in him tonight.

He doubts the pup's parents knew. But he also knows it doesn't matter. His family has abandoned this little one, so they will not get him back. They have lost the right to their pup with this cruelty. Closing his teeth carefully around the handle of the basket so he doesn't jostle its precious cargo while lifting it, Phil heads off back to his den.

The territory is safe, and the pack can rest easy with its newest member safe and sound in the den.

[captainsy-cookiemonster]

The Hunter

Warnings: open ending, possible character death. Not nsfw, but mdni.

Characters: unnamed OFC, unnamed OMC, unspecified monster. A/N: I wanted to post this a while ago but didn't get to it until now. This is the one shortstory from the creative writing course I'm not planning to continue. The task was to show a character's character trait in a situation, well and this took a darker, scary-ish turn. Word count: ~700

Enjoy ❤🌸

The Hunter

It is a day like any other. The men had returned from their work out in the fields and forest, hungry and exhausted, in need of a hearty meal and ale to quench their thirst. So the tavern was quite busy. The dimly lit room smells of sweat and ale, fire and roast meats. It’s loud, voices mingling to an incomprehensible chatter. I pick up bits and pieces now and then, but it’s not the usual gossip. They all talk about a hooded stranger they saw on the road. I try listening more, but there is too much work to be done.

But the moment he enters the tavern, I can’t take my eyes off him. There is something so intriguing about the way he carries himself, and the weapons on his back. I try listening in on his conversation with the barkeep, but my attention has to be on the other patrons as well. There were mutters. “We don’t want his kind here.” Some even worse. 

Still, I keep my eyes on him, trying to get a better look at him, this monster hunter. I hear his voice, too, through the murmur of the tavern. A deep voice, almost a growl. Scary. Intriguing. He’s asking something about a contract, recent attacks, but before I can hear more, another tray is placed in my hands and I’m sent off to serve another round of ale to the patrons. Once I return to the bar, the hunter is gone. I hear the creaking of the tavern’s door and look over, just in time to see the hooded stranger leave.

I frown, and without thinking for longer than a split second, I put the tray down on the bar, take off my apron and hurry after him.

Damn, he’s quick.

He had already started walking towards the forest. The sun was already beginning to set. A cool gust of wind announces the end of summer.

I follow the stranger. I couldn’t help it. I know it was dangerous; he was, and so was his profession. But this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. To see a monster hunter at work. And I am not going to miss out on it. So I follow the hunter, quietly and keeping my distance. I don’t want him to catch me. Deeper and deeper into the forest. It’s dark by now. I know I should turn back. But I can’t . But I have to see this. 

The hunter suddenly stops and crouches down. He looks around and I dash behind a tree to hide.

I hope he didn’t see me.

I watch him as he leaves the path and heads even deeper into the thick forest, following the traces of the beast. And I follow him. 

Turn back! Turn back before it’s too late! 

But I don’t. I need to see this!

The full moon stands high, its light breaking through the thick roof of leaves occasionally.

The beast’s lair must be close, the hunter draws his weapon. A silver glint in the darkness. I hold my breath in anticipation. Now… This would be it. The moment I’ve been waiting for since I first learned about the existence of these monsters and the hunters.

A growl. A snapping of a branch. A scream. My own!

 I feel the beast’s claws dig into my skin, I hear its jaws snap close right by my ear, smell the stench of its maw. I scream again. Fear and pain, and a voice in my head telling me I should have turned back when I had the chance. But you had to see it, stupid girl.

Then, a shout, and the unmistakable slashing of a blade through air. The beast yelps and I feel it let off my body. I gasp for air. Another shout and slash of the blade, and the beast lets out a final, bloodcurdling scream, before it collapses on the ground with a thud.

I see the hunter’s face, blurred, as he leans over me. I feel his hands. It stings when he applies pressure to my wounds.

“Stupid girl,” he mutters, it sounds far away, before my world goes black.

[vuldak-juneau]

@heroic-ignus Location: The journey to Hrimthur's Outpost

(tw: violence) Each step further into the wasteland was agony. The miles and days had piled up, but so too had the promises. Little aside from callouses and frost-bitten extremities had materialized as rewards. That was until the long-whispered about village materialized before their eyes.

Rest was welcomed, and the collective held breath was finally released. Hands were made busy with preparing beds for resting, hunters were dispatched to find meat, and gatherers for what other provisions there were to be found. Even Juneau, perpetually pessimistic, found her mood slightly lifted and her surly attitude a bit more welcome to chip in for the benefit of others. 

Juneau had been tasked with preparing a space for the horses, and that solitary work suited her fine. She spread the hay as evenly as she could, and perhaps fed them a bit more grain than was prudent, but they had earned it after all. Her back had begun to ache from the manual labor of refreshing the stalls and wielding the heavy pitchfork. A breathless sigh escaped her as she pulled the thick sleeve of her coat across her forehead.

And then—somehow immediately amongst the throng of refugees—she saw his face. Ivar. Whatever happened between the moment she first laid eyes on him and meeting him toe to toe was beyond her. Rage and shock had blacked out her senses, and then next thing she knew she was throttling him. 

Pitchfork in hand, she grappled him to the ground and relished in the fact that her newfound strength allowed her to best him. Juneau was determined now to demonstrate her superiority in every way, to return his favor of demonstrating how little he had needed her but sending a clear message that she needed him even less. Ivar struggled, and his panicked eyes found no reprieve or tool to aid him in his plight. Instead, he only saw the jackal’s smile materialize on Juneau’s face hovering above his own.

He was fighting as hard as he could, and the unyielding, violent urges that drove Juneau’s decision making process spurred her on. She pinned him, one foot pinning down each of his arms with her full weight. Juneau needed him to understand how futile escaping his fate would be, he would receive the same lack of mercy he showed her a month prior—none. Her breath was ragged with elated anticipation as she gripped the pitchfork in both of her hands and strained her back to lift it above her head. 

The movements were swift and secure as she brought the rusted points of the pitchfork down with the whole of her might. He screamed and the sound of it could have made her laugh. Perhaps there was a time and a place for small mercies, for rather than piercing him through the neck, she pinned him to the frozen floor of the village path between the lethal prongs of the tool and slowly lowered her face toward his. She felt her mouth opening, the flesh of her cheeks lengthening until the sinew tugged at itself to the snapping point, her gaping maw opening wider than the hinge of a human jaw would permit. The razor-sharp jowls of a wolf threatened to raze through his neck and swallow him whole, but when the beast of Juneau took in that anticipatory breath before the kill all it loosed in her was a scream.

The woman jolted upright into the frigid, dark air in a chaotic, sudden lurch. Juneau panted and clutched at herself, finding that she was still very much human in form. The flickering light of a near-dead fire reminded her that they had not arrived anywhere except another bend in the winding mountain pass, another false summit, another unkept promise of respite. She swallowed hard and pawed at her cheek finding it dry—it was too cold to allow for the materialization of tears, not that she was weak enough to cry. Not for that fucker. The beating of her heart began to right itself again, slowing back to its normal rate in increments and she glanced around hoping that her decision to sleep as far away from the others had granted her the privacy it was intended for. 

[mystigaron]

creating something beautiful on my college studio wall

[evolutionsvoid]

A massive beast that shambles through hair fields, the Demodon is one of the major grazers of these lands. Its mouth parts are designed to comb through clumps of hair and strain off oils, loose keratin, eggs and growths. Demodon move slowly through the fields, looking for patches with heavy growths to comb and clean for sustenance. Due to their large size, they spend most of their time awake grazing and then long periods of sleeping. Their diet isn't the most nutritious, so they move slowly to conserve energy.

Their size and soft flesh makes for tempting targets, and Demodons have to worry about predators. To help protect themselves, their backs are covered in stiff sharp hairs along with rows of larger barbed keratin spikes. These are meant to keep larger predators from taking a bite from above, and smaller ones from hopping atop where the Demodon can't reach. To go with this defense, their long fleshy tail sports even more keratin spikes to thrash foes with. By whipping these spiny clubs about, they can maul or skewer predators, making them difficult to approach if the Demodon is alert.

Regardless of these defenses, Demodon are still targeted by carnivores, but also by humans. Their size means plenty of meat to be harvested from a kill, and their slow nature can easily to exploited during a hunt. Their sharp spikes can be fashioned into spears which, in a twist of fate, are often used to hunt down even more Demodon. One of the main warnings that come from hunting these beasts is that a game plan must be thoroughly thought out on how the victor will haul the spoils once the deed is done. A dead beast of this size is a feast for any creature, and the smell that comes from their death will alert predators and scavengers for miles around. Hunters must be prepared and fast when it comes to field dressing the carcass and hauling out all the parts they want, as it won't be long before a feeding frenzy arrives. A good chunk of injuries and deaths that come from these hunts are the result of hunters becoming collateral damage when a wave of hungry maws crash upon the carcass, devouring everything that doesn't run fast enough.

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

"Demodon"

Another short entry, sorry folks! There are some critters that kinda just....exist. Not too much crazy stuff going on with em, but I think they are neat!

[voraciousvore]

The Giant and the Princess (1/10)

Length: 10 parts, ~25k words total

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Author's Note: This story can be read on its own with no context. However, if you are familiar with my other works, this is the tale of Ajax (Chester's father from The Giant) and his past that is hinted at in The Half-Blood Giant when he gives horrible advice to his grandson. The story takes place in a time where the giants and humans lived together in the same world, before the war between them, and Ajax was still a young man, not the crusty old bastard he is in the other stories. 

Word Count for Part 1: 2858

Content Warning: Multiple instances of soft, fatal, unwilling g/t vore, both humans and animals (not too explicit)

------ Part 1 ------

Ajax was hungry, and he smelled blood—not just any blood, but fresh human blood, in a sufficient quantity to be fatal. He was out hunting in the woods, and his interest was piqued, so he followed the scent. The trees in this forest were spaced out widely and gigantic in scale, but not quite as tall as his staggering height of 280 feet, so if he wanted to be subtle he’d have to crouch. He didn’t believe this precaution was necessary, however, if his quarry was already dead. 

His keen senses picked up the sound of hooves galloping towards him, bringing with it that distinctive blood scent. He spied the horse through the cover of the leaves on the trees, heading for his feet. The poor creature was spooked, sprinting blindly and frothing at the mouth. Its coat and tack were stained red from its rider, who was sprawled out at an unnatural angle over the saddle. He appeared to be a royal soldier, with flashy armor and insignias decorating his clothes, but he was clearly deceased. 

Ajax crouched down and snatched up the horse in his hand. The horse bucked and whinnied, but couldn’t escape as the giant stuffed it into his maw, equipment and rider and all. He swallowed the beast of burden whole, sighing with pleasure as he felt the creature thrashing all the way down his throat into his belly. He smelled more prey nearby, so he prowled forward, prepared for more. 

He observed clear signs of a scuffle as he continued on his way: broken tree limbs, chaotic hoof prints in the mud, splashes of crimson, random articles strewn on the ground during a struggle. He came across the corpses of men and horses, slain with arrows and swords and splattered with mud and scarlet. Though Ajax overwhelmingly preferred live prey, since he enjoyed the sensation of his meals squirming in his gut, he wouldn’t refuse fresh meat. He dined on the limp bodies as he passed them, not bothering to strip them of their accoutrements. His stomach was strong enough to tear through such trifles. 

He slowed his pace and ducked below the tree line as he heard shouts up ahead. His mouth watered and his heart rate quickened in anticipation of the hunt. He could distinguish at least six unique human scents, each with a horse. He could scarcely believe his good fortune; he would feast richly today. He crept forward with minimal disruption to the surrounding vegetation, balancing himself on his fingertips and the balls of his feet. 

Soon enough, the unlucky group of humans came into view. Ajax could tell what was going on right away. Four of the men, all on horseback, were a ragtag group of bandits that were harassing the other two travelers. One lone man, a knight, was fighting a losing battle against them. He was heavily wounded and exhausted as he savagely fought off their blows. The last human was a woman, a petite female, whom the knight was struggling to protect. Her horse was inches from death, bleeding profusely from a wide gash in its neck, and in no condition to carry her to safety. She was lavishly dressed and clearly a high-ranking individual. 

The giant saw his opportunity to strike and charged in. With a single sweep of his hand he captured two of the bandits, along with their horses, and shoved them in his mouth. The other two, startled by the intrusion, charged off in different directions. The knight stood his ground to protect the lady, who cowered on her dying horse, but he was obviously terrified. Ajax leapt forward, shaking the earth as he slammed his hand down to block one of the horsemen from escaping. The horse reared up with a frantic neigh and raced in the opposite direction. Ajax corralled the other bandit in a similar fashion, then grabbed them both and gobbled them up with delight. 

While the giant was eating the other men, the knight hastened to transfer the lady to his own horse, so they could run away. However, the horse was spooked by the colossal giant stomping around and slaughtering the others. The knight, under normal circumstances, could maintain control of his horse, but in his weakness his hands slid off the reins. The horse bucked off both humans and fled into the forest. 

The knight was fading fast from his wounds as he fell to the ground. The woman refused to abandon him and tried to drag him away, but a full-grown man with heavy plate armor was too much for her to handle. She knew she couldn’t outrun a giant with such an impossible burden. She collapsed next to him, tears streaming down her cheeks. Their time had come; they were going to die. 

Ajax swallowed his final victim and massaged his twitching belly with a burp. After eating so many writhing men and horses, he was stuffed. His gut was bloated almost to the point of discomfort as it protruded over his belt. He looked down to his feet, at his remaining prey, debating whether he could cram two more people and a dying horse into his limited gut space. He kneeled down to examine them closer. He was surprised the woman didn’t run, despite her lack of injuries. She was crying over the other human, who was barely moving by now. The giant reached down and plucked her up by the back of her dress between his fingers. The tiny lady squealed with fright. 

“No!” she blubbered. “Don’t eat us! You have no right! Don’t hurt him…” She sobbed, looking at Ajax with pleading, watery eyes that contradicted her sharp protests. 

Normally, when humans begged for their lives, Ajax would just ignore their supplications and eat them anyways. He didn’t hate humans, or have anything against them, but he saw them as food more than as people. He knew some of his fellow giants were crueler, and enjoyed tormenting and toying with more intelligent prey that could plead for mercy, but that wasn’t in his nature. All he wanted was a full belly, and right now his hunger was already sated. Eating another morsel would only cause discomfort from an overly stretched stomach. 

He debated what to do with her. He could take her with him, and save her as a snack for later, but he was sure the other giants back home would want to eat her instead. He wouldn’t be able to hide a human with such an enticing aroma, and he didn’t want to get into a fight over food. At the same time, though, it seemed like such a waste to just leave her here. The knight would die from his wounds, and she didn’t appear to have the survival instincts to make it on her own, without being picked off by a wild beast. 

Ajax sighed as he looked at her. Humans were difficult to catch, and it would truly be a shame for such a delicacy to be lost to a dumb animal. Besides, as he gazed down at her squirming helplessly in his fingers, he couldn’t help but notice her finery, and her beauty. Even among humans, she was no ordinary specimen. She was disheveled due to the scuffle, but he could make out fair features with almond eyes and flowing flaxen hair. Despite his apathy, he felt the smallest drop of sympathy creep through. It must be a difficult life, to be so pathetic and helpless, with no way to protect oneself from hardship. 

Maybe he was just in a generous mood because his day had been fruitful, and his stomach was nice and full, but he decided to help her. Why not? He carefully tucked his fingers under the knight and scooped him into his hand, trying his best not to antagonize his injuries. The man’s forehead was drenched in sweat, and he winced with a soft groan, but he was too delirious from blood loss to protest. 

“Don’t you dare touch him! Let him go!” the woman shouted, attacking his fingers with all her strength. Ajax smirked. He had to appreciate her spunk in the face of such unattainable odds. 

“Relax, human. I’m not going to harm him,” he assured her. “Nor you.” 

She stopped her wriggling, obviously stunned by this new development. “R-really?” she stammered incredulously. 

“Nah. I’m not hungry anymore,” he explained. She looked up at him with wide eyes, hardly daring to believe her good fortune. “Where should I take you? Obviously he’s in no condition to walk…”  

She blinked, still in shock, then pointed in the general direction. Ajax knew there was a walled human city nearby, complete with a castle and a moat. The humans cast protective spells around their cities so giants couldn’t stomp over and destroy them. Not that Ajax would want to anyway: He was content to pick off the occasional straggler that wandered too deep into the giant woods. His stomach gurgled noisily as he digested his meal, causing the human woman in his hand to shudder. 

She stayed silent, but he could feel her trembling with fear. And no wonder: She had just watched him heartlessly devour a whole buffet of men. Ajax felt strange, carrying humans in such a gentle manner. He was used to eating them and breaking them in his hands, not… whatever this was. Somehow, though he didn’t want to admit it to himself, the experience was nice. He liked not having the tiny beings screaming and cowering in terror at his very existence. 

He tried not to jostle his hands too much while walking, but the terrain was rough and uneven in patches. A small jolt caused the woman to topple forward in his palm and grip his pinky out of reflex. Her weight was inconsequential in his gargantuan hand, her touch light as a feather. An odd emotion surfaced in his heart, one of mild warmth. He stopped to allow her to regain her balance before continuing. She shivered as she sat in the center of his palm. 

Finally, after he strolled along for a few minutes, the city appeared on the horizon. Even from this distance, Ajax could tell how puny the castle was compared to his great height: The tallest tower probably wouldn’t even reach his waist. The knight had lost consciousness, but Ajax figured he would survive as long as he received medical care in a timely manner. 

“Th-thank you…” the lady’s miniature voice squeaked from his hand. “Thank you so much…” Ajax glanced down at her. She sat in his palm with her back facing him, but by the shakiness of her voice, the giant suspected she was crying again. 

“No problem. I guess,” Ajax grunted in return. For some reason, he felt an urge to pat her on the head with the tip of his finger, but he refrained. She was scared enough as it was; he didn’t want to send her into a panic. It was a miracle she was as docile as she was—most likely out of desperation, not trust. 

She turned her head and stole a peek up at his fearsome, yet noble, mien. His dark brown hair was long and untamed, with a thick beard and eyes of a similar shade to match. His features were sharp and defined, with a big nose and a wide mouth with thin lips. She’d never seen a giant firsthand, since she spent most of her time ensconced in the castle walls. Watching him eat all those men was terrifying, yet she was relieved to be spared, and grateful he had rescued her from the bandits whom she had no doubts were trying to kidnap her. He saved her, when it would’ve been very easy to scarf her down like nothing more than a scrap of meat. She was surprised by the compassion he displayed, helping her and her last surviving guard rather than leaving them both to die. She always just assumed that giants were nothing more than revolting man-eating monsters, based on the stories she’d heard. Perhaps not. 

Ajax’s approach was far from subtle as he clomped towards the city with his prodigious bulk. The castle guards saw his massive figure from afar and rushed out in case they needed to defend the city. Their valor was commendable, yet they stayed within the confines of the magical barrier where the giant would be unable to tread. The only visual sign of the barrier was an occasional flicker in the air, like a ripple in a clear pond. 

The giant stopped outside the barrier, looking down with hesitation at the tiny armed men. He couldn’t reach them, but the barrier didn’t stop the soldiers from lobbing projectiles outward at him. Unless they used heavy artillery, the flimsy arrows and spears of individual men typically weren’t enough to be dangerous, but they could still hurt and draw blood. He slowly bent his knees and lowered himself to the grass. The diminutive guards stiffened, prepared for trouble. Ajax gently touched his hand to the ground so the little lady in his hand could dismount. He set the injured knight down on a soft patch of grass next to her. 

The soldiers gasped as she gracefully climbed down from his colossal fingers. “Princess Iris!” several voices called out. The soldiers, virtually in unison, dropped to their knees in respectful bows. Ajax raised an eyebrow. He could tell by her dress and entourage she was somebody of high status, but he didn’t expect her to be royalty. 

“Get up, you dullards!” the princess shouted, exasperated. “Help him! He’s dying!” She gestured to the knight, whose body was just outside the barrier. The soldiers froze up; none of them dared forsake the protective magic and expose themselves to a grisly death. The princess, more concerned about the man’s life than her dignity, huffed as she struggled to drag the body herself with her slim little arms. Ajax helped by nudging him along with his finger, until he was stung by the barrier and had to pull away. 

As soon as the knight crossed the barrier, the guards rushed to follow the princess’s orders and aid him. A few guards left to alert the king and fetch a horse for the princess so she wouldn’t have to walk like a peasant. Princess Iris regained her regal comportment and watched them scramble to obey. Once she confirmed everything was in order, she turned and looked up at the giant, without a shred of nervousness or fear.  

Her mouth didn’t move, but her expressive eyes spoke volumes. She had a vivacious fire that surprised Ajax, even enchanted him. Despite how rough and ragged her dress and hair were after her struggle, her stately aura shined through. It wasn’t just her expensive clothes that distinguished her from the commoners; it was her imperial demeanor and character that resonated with authority. She was no ordinary human woman; Ajax was transfixed.  

Her spell gripped him even after she left on a horse adorned with the finest livery. He stayed in place, observing her until she disappeared into the walls of the small city, oblivious to the anxious stares of the soldiers at his feet. Ajax raised himself to a standing position and dusted off his knees. He retreated back into the woods, glancing over his shoulder until the city vanished from view. 

He returned the same way that he came, deep in thought. He passed by the dead horse with the slashed throat and the smears of blood in the grass and on the bark of the trees. A familiar scent caught his attention. He turned on his heel, sampling the air through his nose to pinpoint the source. He squatted on his haunches, peering through the leaves. Laying hidden in a disheveled patch of shrubbery was a bright glint that was saturated with the princess’s natural fragrance. Ajax collected the microscopic object carefully between his fingertips and held it close to his face, squinting.  

It was a miniscule crown, fitted for her tiny little head. The crown was encrusted with expensive jewels and plated with shining gold. Ajax rolled it between his fingers, fascinated. He stared at the gleaming object for a while before stashing it in his pocket and continuing on his way. The sun was setting, so he decided to return home for the night and prepare for bed. 

Later that night, when he laid down to rest, he couldn’t sleep. He fetched the crown to admire it again, playing with it in his fingers. He couldn’t get the tiny woman out of his mind. He recalled the distinct feeling of her small form resting in his palm, and the striking way she looked at him before she left to enter the city. He felt a little sad when he realized he’d probably never see her again. They inhabited vastly different worlds, after all. With a melancholic sigh, he placed the tiny crown on his chest and intertwined his hands over his belly. He closed his eyes and drifted off into a dreamless slumber. 

Part 2

Writing Masterpost

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

More knights, please...

I can do more knights!

When the curse had been laid upon him by the warlock, the knight had figured nothing had happened. It didn't hurt him, weaken him, or turn him into anything--so he'd thought nothing of it and finished the job he was set out to do. It wasn't until much later in the night, while he was sitting with some of his companions at the castle, that he could feel the deep, rumbling hungry bubbling up from his stomach. At first he'd thought that it was just him needing to eat after a long day, but the intensity of it was near debilitating, and his companions took notice of their friend doubling over as his stomach growled like an animal. The knight didn't even realize what was happening next. One of his companions had tried to help him up, and when he looks up at them, he lost control of himself. He pulled the fellow knight in close, his jaws opening wide, and he engulfs his head in an instant. He devoured another knight like it was nothing, effortlessly working down his broad and powerful form, armor and all. It was enough to stun his other two companions as they watch kicking feet disappear down the hatch and hear the groan of the knight's armor as metal stretches over a stuffed gut. The hungry glare the knight gives his two friends is enough to make them return to their senses and try to fight back...but he overpowers them both almost effortlessly, his supernatural hunger giving him the ability to fight back with ease. One knight tries to plea with him as the other is devoured whole. But those eyes glare down at him like meat and he finds himself being devoured just as ravenously. Three knights was the limit as the groaning armor finally gives away and pops off, crashing into a wall. the knight's stomach surges forward, large and bulging with the forms of three fellow knights struggling for their lives inside his tank. But along with his hunger, his acids are also far more potent, and the three men find themselves being melted right out of their armor with ease. Come the next day, there'd be nothing left of them other than some belched-up armor scattered around the knight's sleeping quarters, worn and ruined after bathing in such strong acids. The knight kicks a helmet out of the way as he stretches his much thicker gut. His armor won't fit over that anymore...especially when it lets out another deep growl that makes the knight wince. His friends weren't nearly enough, it seems. He'll have to pick off the rest of the court then...maybe even the guards. Maybe even more. Eyes glowing with hungry and stomach rumbling like a beast, the cursed knight leaves his room to fill the empty void of his stomach on everyone he knew.

He was known as a party slayer. At a first glance, the knight wouldn't seem the type. If anything, he looked retired, wearing an old and worn helmet but little else in regards to armor, only dressing in a pair of old pants and leather boots. His round stomach was always on display, a few scars showing pas battles, and while his pecs and arms showed impressive muscles, the knight still didn't look very out of place. That was what gave him an advantage. He challenged adventuring parties where ever he could--in towns, in the wilderness, in the heart of a dungeon--and they'd almost always accept. He had no weapons, little in way of armor, and looked like he had let himself go after a lack of training. Parties with much younger men, each one strong and skilled in some way, should be able to wipe the floor with him with ease. So far, no one has come close. The knight blocked or dodged nearly every incoming attack and would retaliate quickly with a grapple. Stronger men, usually with weapons or hand-to-hand combat training, were almost always the first of a party to be grabbed after they got in close for an attack. They often made the best example of how the fights go as well when the knight's helmet opens up to reveal a drooling maw that effortlessly takes in whatever part of the party member it can. The fight tends to freeze there as thick gulps and slurps suck the screaming, wiggling fighting down the hatch. The knight's belly will slosh and expand as they drop inside and he'll give a good belch to the rest of the party just to show off. Fights tend to go a few ways after that. Some will attempt to stay and fight, usually becoming more aggressive and trying to use raw speed or strength to take the knight down and free their friend. That always ends the fastest, and the knight wipes the entire party out in a matter of minutes. Some try to bargain with him or call off the fight, but that just makes it easy for him to come in close and scarf down whoever is left. Most try to turn tail and flee the second they realize how outmatched they are, but the knight isn't one to let food get away. He's fast and he's strong, and he has yet to lose a single party member in their attempts at escape. All it does is help some of the earlier ones melt a bit faster when they have to deal with his bouncing gut sloshing them around. No matter what, it all ends the same. The knight settles down by a fire, warming his stomach with it as it processes another party of adventures. He'll cough up whatever goods or trinkets he can to keep for later, though sometimes he'll end up with bent armor and acid-worn boots he tosses away. If it's late, he'll sleep, but otherwise, he'll pick himself up once his belly has done its job and be on his way again. He has no end goal or destination in mind, really. He'll go wherever he thinks he might find food. Nothing feels greater to digest than an entire party of wanna-be adventurers, and until one of them manages to take him down, he'll continue to wipe them out one after another.

Each knight stands in a line as their captain moves down it, stopping at each of them to speak. It was inspection day, which meant that the captain of the kingdom's court made sure that each knight was able to meet the expected standards set out for them. Their captain was wearing his armor, as always, but they knew that wouldn't keep them safe. It was enchanted just for stations like this. The third knight down the roar is lifted off the ground, letting out a startled scream as he's so easily manhandled. The captain's helmet opens wide his jaws and the knight is lowered in feet first, steady gulps sucking him down the hatch while he pleas and begs for a second chance. He'd failed to meet the mark during their archery training that day, and so, he was to be disposed of. The captain's stomach swells out as the knight drops inside, metal plating stretching like flesh as another man is forced inside. He belches into his fist as he continues moving down the line, now with a churning, sloshing gut that had the muffled voice of their companion screaming out of it. The next knight to be scooped up is much larger, normally in charge of taking on bigger threats. But today, he'd been late by over and hour after getting drunk at the tavern the night before--and that alone was enough to send him down the hatch, the brute howling and roaring the entire way down. It makes the captain's stomach bump into the next night as it doubles in size, earning him a mumbled apology before a massive belch blasts out above him. The third knight to fail was always barely making the cut, and today, he was just behind enough to be lifted up and guzzled down. He didn't make a peep as he was devoured, as if he had been expecting it for a while. The last knight to be disposed was at the end of the line. He'd done nothing wrong, and in fact was one of the better knights in the court. "But I'm still hungry," the captain says simply before leaning down and engulfing the man's head. The knight kicked around as he's devoured, but the wet slurps and gulps overpower him, and soon the captain is tipping his head back as he sends kicking legs down the hatch. The rest of the knights stand by silently, holding the position despite a couple gaps in the line. The captain steps back, rubbing over his guts as it churns loudly. He lets out a few belches...and finally, a helmet flies from his jaws, clattering to the feet of the other knights. And then a second...and a third...and a fourth, which comes up with a belch so loud it rattles their armor and rings in their ears. Then, finally, they're dismissed. One of the knights collects the helmets to place with the others while they all leave their captain to digest his meal in peace. They were all jus happy to have survived another inspection.

[suzyandthefox]

Day 2: Thrill

(Little something with ocs of mine, Warnings for suicide ideation, self harm, and heavy angst with no comfort

Also an F bomb)

(G/t m/m noms)

He shouldn't have done that

He shouldn't have aggravated the beast, "Don't poke the bear" they said, and yet he did, so now here he is, running for his life, regretting everything.

With bated breaths and a deafening heartbeat thumping and drumming in his ears, he scurried, not seeing where he was, or where he was going.

Survive, lose it, that was his goal.

But in his blind chase of safety, and the darkness of the forest, save for the thin rays of moonlight going through the treetops, he didn't notice the root of the tree beneath his foot.

He tripped, face planting straight towards the ground.

He was not able to feel anything but the searing pain in his leg.

"FUCK!"

He tried to lift himself up, to crawl... But to no avail,

He was truly done for,he saw nothing but darkness and the stuffiness of his own clothes against his skin, his long dark hair sticking to his face.

Then he heard a rustle, a shuffle, then slow, careful steps...

A growl, a deep, animalistic growl that shook him to his very core, but it wasn't a wolf... Or a bear.

The figure before him was no animal, but a monster,A giant horrible creature that stood at least thirty feet tall, maybe more.

The Lord of the forest... And also the man that he loved the most.

He wanted to say anything, defend himself, try to diffuse the situation, anything, but no words came out of his mouth

A great clawed hand pinned him to the ground, almost breaking his back from sheer pressure.

But he could only stare into the larger man's eyes, a burning blaze of fury and determination, shining against the darkness of his sclera.

A determination his cowardly self could never possess, just another reminder of why he fell in love with this beast.

He watched as the beast's gaze fixated on him and as he inched closer and closer, His breaths heavy, hot, dizzying to take in.

And then his jaws opened wide, rows and rows of large, razor sharp teeth ready to snap him into two, devour him like the helpless little prey that he is.

He was ready, he was ready to have it all end here and now, at the hands of his beloved monster.

He closed his eyes and waited...

But instead of having teeth sinking into his flesh, instead the jaws engulfed him, eagerly, and yet carefully.

In a second he was no longer laying on the ground, no longer exposed to the cold air of the world. Instead he was settled on his stomach within the dark humid cave that is the monster's maw, unbearably warm and tight, just like his next destination.

He did not feel an ounce of fear,not when the teeth snapped behind him and not when the beast took the first gulp and sent him down his hungry gullet.

But it wasn't quite enough to send him all the way, so he stayed there, upside down, his head deep in the esophagus and his legs up at the entrance of the throat, hanged between heaven and earth.

A good time as any to rethink all his choices as his blood flooded to his brain.

No regrets, if that's how he dies, he couldn't be happier.

Another gulp and he was gone, he couldn't help but think about how he looked from the outside, a lump sliding down the giant's neck, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

His thoughts were interrupted by the unceremonious fall into the belly of the beast, a place he was no stranger to.

But it was only once, and it was only a few minutes, and it was to protect him and their shared lover.

Now... He doesn't even know, and maybe it's better this way, it's even more exciting like this, no?

It was tight,hot,wet, the air was heavy on his lungs, the folds of his meat prison shifted around him and held him in a possessive hug, almost as if absorbing him into them.

It was hard to stay awake, not with such strong heartbeats beating above him, loud and fast and each one he felt in his own body.

Nothing but the calling of his name snapped him out of his daze.

========

He didn't remember what happened.

He only remembered that something ticked him off, a word, an action, but what it was exactly he can't even remember.

He snapped into a rage fueled with hunger, chased after his beloved boy, and in the matter of seconds he was overwhelmed with the sickeningly sweet taste of... Molasses.

He had only realised what he had done when he felt the small warm weight of his boy under his skin.

His large clawed hand, dark and speckled with white spots, hovered above his stomach, still unbelieving of what he just did.

His stomach churned around his treasure, both in disgust of himself,and in protection of the precious one he was holding within himself.

At last he hugged himself, his breaths heaving, his tears threatening to spill.

"Baki?" He called, pressing his hand onto his abdomen.

No response, only soft squirming, he bit on his lips.

"Baki? Little star?"

Please be okay please be okay please be okay-

"Sup', Big guy"

"BAKI!! Are you alright?! Are you hurt anywhere?! Are you_" He was interrupted by a gentle touch to his insides.

"I'm all good, buddy, I'm all good" Baki's reply was simple.

"How are you so calm?! You_I_ I ate you alive!"

"Because I already knew it was going to happen."

Silence from both of them, the beast sat down, his hand still cradling his stomach, still processing this entire thing.

"Sorry for pissing you off earlier." Baki cut the silence.

"...Why did you do it, if you knew I would eat you?" The beast asked, his voice quieter than before, but still a deep growl.

No response.

"...Did you do it on purpose?"

More silence, then a weak "yes". The beast did not specify what he meant by "it", which only confirmed what he was afraid of.

He rubbed his stomach in worry for the one inside, he knew him as energetic and hyperactive, so feeling him quiet like this, it hurt him deeply.

"Getting yourself eaten on purpose, in this rather... Dangerous manner, why? Why would you do such a thing to yourself?"

He wished to let him out, but he was torn, for on one hand, there was nowhere in the world safer for Baki than his stomach,away from everything and surrounded by his protector.

But on the other, he didn't want to imprison the boy in a cage of his flesh, no matter how much he loved him, he doesn't own him.

"You could've just asked me... I would never deny you a rest you need, you know that, right?"

Baki didn't respond, he only squirmed some more, not out of fear, but instead making himself comfortable.

"Then It wouldn't be as fun, no?"

"Fun?!"

"Yes! Fun! I made you angry on purpose because I was bored and I wanted you to chase after me! Get that...That Adrenaline rush! That thrill! Of being hunted but also knowing that you would never truly hurt me!" Baki huffed, Lightly kicking at the wall Infront of him.

"It was fun and exciting, but now you're souring everything with your stupid questions! What are you, my Mom?!"

"Why do you care even?! Why can't you just, I don't know, SHUT UP and let me sleep in here?"

The giant did not respond, not with words anyway, but a deep, guttural growl echoed all around him.

"Hey,Hey Anta? Antahiko? You good?" The boy asked with a nervous tone.

"FUN?!"

"You aggravated me on purpose, made me chase you on purpose, made yourself get eaten on purpose, FOR FUN!?"

"And when I express my concern for you, you complain! You used me to have your cheap thrill! And yet you want me to go through with it like an obedient dog!"

"And now you want me to keep you in here,as if it is not my stomach that you're in, as if I will just shrug it off!"

Antahiko stopped when he felt that flinch, that weak shaking within him...The sobbing, his poor sweet boy was about to cry.

It just dawned on him that he was yelling at someone who was inside his belly, feeling every syllable in their ear, and he was screaming at him.

He bit on his lip, he resisted the urge to cry as well as he realized how much he has hurt Baki.

He wanted to hug him, tell him he is sorry but... Baki hurt him too, he wounded him.

His stomach hugged the scared boy one last time, then kneaded around him and began working him upwards to the esophagus.

There was no reason to keep him here

========

Baki never heard Antahiko yell at him before, he thought it was never going to happen, that the patient, calm, mild mannered man he always knew was still inside this giant beast, that the curse haven't changed anything.

But here he was, in the belly of that beast, and he can't find the man he knew.

Tahiko was calm, reasonable, never was he this overprotective, raging monster... or was he?

He truly fucked everything up, didn't he?

Baki clutched his ears in pain as he was absolutely certain they were bleeding, the beast's anger rumbled within his frail body and he felt every syllable as it vibrated in his bones.

He tried to shrug it off,tried to make it appear as if nothing had happened at all, but he couldn't stop shaking, shaking in fear, in pain, in betrayal.

Something about the gentle darkness around him coaxed him to sob.

Just how awful was he? To push the only person in the world who could handle him to the very edge? What was he trying to do?

The flesh that surrounded him rippled and held him, before he was pushed upwards, in a process that was the reverse of swallowing.

Antahiko was... Spitting him out?

Indeed he was, as he was back in his mouth and then held in a firm fist, wet and slimy and pathetic.

Clothes sticking to skin and hair sticking to face, covered in saliva and god knows what else, he didn't even have the courage to look at the face of his former devourer.

"Do you hate me?" He hoped he looked pathetic enough to be forgiven, to be told that it's okay, at the very least he wanted a sincere "No" as answer to that question.

Antahiko was silent, his gaze cold, making Baki feel smaller than he already was.

"You know better than to ask things like that." He hated it, hated it so much when Antahiko... Tahiko spoke like that.

That disappointed look and tone, that way of speech that screamed "I'm older and more superior so you have no choice but to listen to me as I lecture you."

The times where Tahiko acted like a father, when Baki never wanted one.

"What do you want from me?! Do you hate me or not?! Because I know that I hate you! You're not him anymore!" Was what he wanted to say, but he bit on his lip and still he looked away.

"I am hurt by what you did,Baki. You used me as a way of entertaining yourself, you hurt me and yourself as well... It was reckless and very,very inconsiderate of you."

"What about my feelings, huh? Or is it only your feelings that matter?" He snapped.

Antahiko knew that neither of them was in the right headspace, that him trying to argue with the boy will only make things worse.

But he couldn't contain his anger as his fist tightened around the boy and made him whimper.

He, rather roughly, wiped the slime and saliva from the boy, at least so that he wouldn't catch a cold.

He placed him on the ground, and turned to the other side, aiming to leave into his cabin.

"I need space from you,Baki. Please do not speak to me for the rest of the evening. We can talk about this mess with Tahi tomorrow, but until then, you mustn't speak a word of it to her." His voice was a snowstorm in Baki's ears, cold and booming... And is no good sign.

"Wait! Wait! What do you me_"

"Silence."

Baki whimpered and nodded, he could only follow the giant.

Why did he do all of this?

[hyuge]

Wrapped in Sunshine

Katsuki stood by the campfire airing out the bedrolls. He hung them on a nearby tree branch and crawled back into the tent, wiping out the dirt that had gathered on the floor. As he was organizing their belongings, Katsuki heard heavy footsteps padding toward the campsite at a rapid pace. He poked his head out of the tent entrance to see Eijirou bounding into camp, stopping just shy of the fire.

Eijirou was in full dragon form, red scales glistening in the daylight. His large talons dug into the earth and in his maw hung the limp body of a giant boar. Blood dripped from his chin, and he released the beast. It fell with a heavy thud on the ground in front of the tent and Katsuki stared up at him wide-eyed.

He climbed out of the enclosure, poking the dead animal with his foot, then looked to Eijirou who was sitting upright in anticipation. “What the hell is this?” he asked.

Food for my sunshine, Eijirou replied telepathically. He licked his mouth clean before his body began to shrink, returning from dragon to human. “I thought we could feast,” he said, once he was able to speak in human tongue.

“Ei, this thing is massive. Even if we smoke the meat, it’s too much to carry.” Katsuki chided him. The boar had to be at least three hundred pounds. They would never eat it all and the nearest village was twenty kilometers away. They would have to fly the meat to market.

“But you always say we need more meat.” Eijirou looked and sounded defeated. He kicked his bare foot at the ground, head dipping so that they were no longer making eye contact. He looked like a wounded badger, and for all of Katsuki’s talk, he hated seeing animals (and Eijirou) wounded.

Katsuki sighed. He folded his arms across his chest and inspected the boar. Eijirou had managed a clean kill. If they skinned it properly, they could manage a hefty bag of coins from the remains. The boar was a victory, but also a giant pain in the ass. “You’re right,” he said after a long pause. “We do need more meat, and with a boar this size, we’ll make a profit.”

“You’re not mad?” asked Eijirou, looking hopeful. Crimson eyes glimmered and his cheeks eagerly touched his eyes. The lines of slowly forming crow’s feet wrinkled in delight as he scooped Katsuki up into a bear hug.

“I’m not mad, ya’ big oaf.” Katsuki let himself be hugged, leaning into the touch, and resting his head on Eijirou’s shoulder. “Now help me clean the beast before it expires.”

“Absolutely!” Eijirou held Katsuki at an arm’s length, planting a kiss on his lips before setting him down and drawing his claws out to skin the animal.

***

Katsuki stood next to the river tapping his foot on the ground. His hands rested on his hips, and he was eyeing Eijirou skeptically. “Tell me again how this happened?”

Eijirou sat in the river as water began to wash away layers of dirt from his body. His usually glimmering scales were tarnished. His claws were cracked and chips, the undersides thick with mud and dried blood. He had come back to camp in his half-human form, wings stretched out behind him, face coated in filth, and a handful of raw, uncut gemstones in his satchel.

Eijirou scratched at his scaley face, blushing in the odd way that dragons did. Their armored skin did not flush red, but it was still clear to Katsuki when the dragonborn was embarrassed. “Well, I uh... I heard about this diamond mine nearby. I wanted to get Sunshine something as bright as you are. They make rainbows in the light. Have you seen? If Sunshine doesn’t like them, I can take them back. There’s a ruby deposit to the north. Would Sunshine like rubies instead?”

Katsuki sighed in exasperation and shook his head. “Diamonds are fine, but don’t go digging by yourself. It’s dangerous.” He pulled a rag out of their bag and stepped into the water to begin wiping Eijirou’s body down so that it was free of dirt.

“I promise!” Eijirou smiled happily, his large mouth drawn back into a snarl. His guttural laugh sent ripples through the water and his breath was hot on Katsuki’s skin. The heat dried the sweat on his brow, and he dipped the rag in water to dampen it.

Katsuki took extra care on Eijirou’s claws, using a twig to dig the dirt out from underneath each one. “We’ll have to file your nails once you change back. You could get hurt if you let them stay cracked like this.”

“Okay, Sunshine.” Eijirou agreed, pleased to be groomed by his lover.

With a tired smile and a sigh, Katsuki shook his head and continued to clean his mate. He had grown accustomed to the pet name ages ago. While Katsuki wasn’t a fan of it at first, Eijirou insisted it was because his hair was as warm and golden as the sun’s rays, giving life to the earth—the same way Katsuki gave life to Eijirou. It was disgustingly sappy, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Eijirou to stop calling him “sunshine,” after that.

***

Things were beginning to take a strange turn and Katsuki knew something wasn’t adding up. First the boar, then the diamonds, and now Eijirou had gone out of his way to drag Katsuki to a hoard of ogres. He said it had been a while since Katsuki’s last fight and he knew how bad he had been itching for some action. It was true, but still strange. Usually, Eijirou was a pacifist, only engaging in battle if necessary. It wasn’t like him to actively seek out combat just to appease Katsuki.

Katsuki took a blow to the face, splitting his lip. He grinned wildly, wiping at the blood that was beginning to trickle down with the back of his hand. It smeared across his chin like war paint, and he rushed forward, sword poised for the kill. He thrust the blade into the ogre’s chest, then pulled free, smiling victoriously as the monster landed face-first into the dirt.

As Eijirou finished off the others, swiping his large talons across the battlefield, Katsuki began to wipe his sword clean of the carnage that had just ensued. Eijirou bounded over to him, licking his face with that giant dragon tongue of his. Katsuki smiled, petting his mate on the snout. “Yeah, yeah. This was fun. Thanks.”

Eijirou preened, a low rumbling rippled its way through his body. He nuzzled his snout against Katsuki’s cheek, soliciting a laugh from the blond. “Okay, okay. So, why did you want to go ogre hunting anyway?”

Eijirou whined in lieu of an answer.

“Not talking, eh?” Katsuki wiped at the blood on his lip with his thumb and gave Eijirou a onceover. “We should get cleaned up and see if there’s any loot worth taking.” Eijirou nodded his large head, then shifted back into a human.

“Sure thing, Sunshine.”

Katsuki pursed his lips, but shook it off, moving to the ogre he had defeated.

***

While Eijirou slept, Katsuki packed his bag to head off on a solo mission to the dragon village where Eijirou hailed from. He wanted answers and his mate was not talking. Every request to get answers was met with silence or a distraction and he was not one for being toyed with. There was something going on and he would figure it out.

As his dragon snored softly in their tent, curled up in their bedrolls and blankets, Katsuki stepped into the forest. It would take half a day to walk to the dragon village alone. Normally, Eijirou would fly them there in about an hour, but he couldn’t risk the dragon taking them on a detour or something instead of to his home. If anyone knew why Katsuki's mate was acting strangely, it would be his people. He slung the bag over his shoulder and started off on his journey in the wee hours of the morning.

The sun had yet to rise, making navigation through the forest difficult, but Katsuki had lived there long enough that he knew the area like the back of his hand. He just had to turn left at the old oak tree and then head south until he reached the clearing. Easy. At least, it would have been if the oak tree hadn’t been felled in a recent storm.

By the time Katsuki reached the dragon village, he was exhausted and dripping in sweat. His water had run out, and his rations were painfully low. He had packed for four hours, not seven. On the opposite side of the village Eijirou’s sworn brother, Tetsutetsu, was chopping wood outside his small cabin. Katsuki came to a stop a few meters away from him, hands gripping his knees as he caught his breath. Tetsutetsu dropped the axe he was wielding and rushed to Katsuki’s side.

“Bakugou? Are you okay?”

Katsuki waved him off. “Fine, fine. Can I get some water?”

Tetsutetsu nodded and ran to the well, pulling up the pail and filling the canteen on his side. He dropped the pail back into the well and returned to Katsuki’s side. “Here. Drink up.” He offered Katsuki the water, which he took gratefully. Once Katsuki had sufficiently drank down the water, Tetsutetsu took the canteen back and eyed concerned. “Where’s Ei? Is everything okay?”

Katsuki nodded, taking a seat on the ground. “I came alone. He’s fine or at least I think he is.”

“What do you mean?” Tetsutetsu took a seat beside him, crossing his legs and leaning his elbow on his knee.

“He’s been acting strange lately—showering me in gifts more than usual, taking me to fight monsters when he hates fighting, keeping secrets—it’s not like him. As a fellow dragon, I was hoping you could help.”

Tetsutetsu blinked and gave Katsuki a sniff. His nose wrinkled and scooched a few centimeters away. “Oof. That’s strong.”

“What?” asked Katsuki, confused.

“Ei’s scent on you. It’s stronger than normal, which makes sense since you just explained that he’s courting you.”

Katsuki’s face went white, his mouth dry. “Courting?”

“You know dragons mate for life?” asked Tetsutetsu.

Katsuki nodded slowly.

“Well, he must think it’s time for the bonding ritual or marriage as you humans refer to it. Though, a draconic bonding ritual is way more intense than any human marriage.”

Courting... bonding... Katsuki was embarrassed to not have realized it on his own. He studied dragons for years before meeting Eijirou. Now that it had been pointed out to him, it was completely obvious. He rose to his feet, body still tired from the long journey, but he needed to get back before Eijirou worried.

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah,” he replied.

Tetsutetsu got to his feet as well, giving Katsuki another onceover. “I’d offer you a ride home, but given the situation, I don’t want Ei coming for my head.”

“It’s fine,” Katsuki assured him. “I got here on my own, I can get home on my own.”

Tetsutetsu clicked his tongue and nodded. “Let me get you some supplies at least. I can’t send you back without any food or water.”

Katsuki didn’t argue. He was grateful to have a full reserve of water for the long walk home.

“You know,” Tetsutetsu started as he fetched the pail from the well once more, “the two of you should move back to the village. I know Itsuka would like to see you more too.”

Katsuki chuckled softly, taking the canteen, and shoving it in his bag. “Maybe. Tell them we’ll visit soon.”

He waved farewell to Tetsutetsu and headed back through town toward the forest he and Eijirou called home. Katsuki smiled to himself, thinking about all the things Eijirou had done lately to earn his favor. How long had Eijirou been planning this? Knowing him, from the day they met on the mountainside when Katsuki challenged him to a battle. Stupid lizard, he thought affectionately.

Katsuki was only halfway home when he caught sight of large red wings in the sky overhead. They eclipsed the sun, bathing him in shadows until Eijirou landed in front of him. He rushed to Katsuki, taking him in his arms and checking him over. “Are you okay? I woke up and you were gone. I couldn’t find you anywhere and you’ve been—” He sniffed, face blanching. “Why do you smell like Tetsu?”

“I needed to ask him something,” said Katsuki, patting Eijirou on the shoulder and freeing himself from the dragon’s grasp.

“Why?”

Katsuki shrugged. “No reason.” he replied, purposefully being coy. Two could play at that game. “It’s getting late, and I need to visit my parents before we return home. Do you mind?”

Eijirou pursed his lips pouting but huffed in defeat. “Yeah. Let’s go. I miss Sunshine’s kin. I would love to see what MawMaw and PawPaw are up to.”

It was disgustingly sweet how close Eijirou was with his parents. Katsuki loathed it, but he couldn’t complain that his parents loved his mate. It made life easier, even if they did spend a disgusting amount of time gossiping when together. Eijirou transformed and Katsuki climbed on his back, situating himself as the base of Eijirou’s neck before they took flight.

Flying together was always his favorite. It was invigorating having the vast sky expand around them, soaring through the clouds, having his skin kissed by precipitation. He loved it.

Arriving home took no time at all when Eijirou flew them there. Katsuki dismounted from Eijirou’s neck just outside the village and they walked toward his parent’s home together. Mitsuki and Masaru could keep Eijirou busy while Katsuki did what he needed to do.

The front door opened and Mitsuki walked outside, arms spread wide. “What a surprise. There’s my favorite son.” She hugged Eijirou, looking at Katsuki teasingly.

Normally, he would make some sort of snide comment, but for now, he would ignore it. “Hey hag, where’s my trunk?”

She looked at him, still hugging Eijirou and nodded in the direction of the shed. “I’m not sure what you need that old thing for, but it’s out back.” Mitsuki’s nose twitched as she let go of Eijirou. “Child, you need a bath. When was the last time you used soap? These clothes are filthy.” She began to steer Eijirou toward the house despite his protests. While he could easily put a stop to her dragging him away, Eijirou followed with a pout on his face.

When they were out of sight, Katsuki made his way to the shed, opening the window to let the evening light in. The trunk was coated in a layer of dust. He blew at the dust, coughing as it filled the air, and opened the trunk. Katsuki wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but the best gift had to be within the confines of the wooden box. All his best kept treasures were there, and Eijirou deserved the best. As Katsuki sifted through the trunk, he realized how much clutter he had collected over the years. Many of the items needed disposal, but tucked in the corner amongst animal teeth, scraps of fabric, and odd stones from the lands he visited, were two items Katsuki thought to be perfect for proposing. Everything was a competition, even courting.

He pulled out the skull of a griffin from his first adventure with Eijirou. It was customary to slay a beast for your betrothed, much like how Eijirou had brought Katsuki the boar. He set it down neatly on the floor and smoothed out ratty orange cloth that he had also procured from the trunk. His parents had said it was the blanket he had been swaddled in as a newborn. It was a relic of his past and something Eijirou would treasure for a lifetime.

Katsuki shut the trunk and scooped up the skull and blanket, closing the shed window before walking out of the small building. He started to head for the house, surprised to see Eijirou sitting in the yard picking flowers. The dragon was twisting the stems, tongue sticking out in concentration, as he formed a flower crown. Katsuki laughed to himself, coming to a stop in front of his mate. “Done bathing already?”

Eijirou looked up, eyes widening. “MawMaw agreed it could wait until after dinner if we spent the night. We can spend the night, right? PawPaw is making stew.” Eijirou loved Masaru’s stew (mostly because of the meat and potatoes).

Katsuki nodded. “Yeah, we can stay.” He dug the toe of his boot into the ground, fidgeting with the gifts behind his back. “Ei, can you stand up?”

“Sure, Sunshine.” Eijirou smiled, crimson eyes glittering in the evening light. “I made you a crown of sunshine flowers,” he said, placing the dandelions atop Katsuki’s head.

 Katsuki sighed, smiling softly at his far too sweet lover. “I have something for you too.”

“For me?” Eijirou’s wings beat wildly behind his back in anticipation.

“Yeah.” Katsuki wet his lips, moving his arms to the front of his body, blanket, and skull in tow. “Do you remember that griffin we fought after we first met?”

“I do.”

Katsuki gulped, suddenly nervous. He lifted his shaking hands, resting the skull atop Eijirou’s head, a crown for each of them. “A crown for my dragon king.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re mine,” Katsuki assured him, now holding out the blanket. “This was the cloth I was wrapped in when I was born. It’s a piece of me that will always be a part of you.”

“Katsuki.” Eijirou’s eyes began to water, and he sniffled. “What are you doing?”

“You were courting me, right?” Eijirou nodded. Katsuki grinned. “So, now I’m courting you. Will you have me forever?”

“Always,” replied Eijirou, pulling him in for a kiss.

You can also read it on AO3.