#i WANT like a fucking gluttonous beast

[arc-archernar]

.

[glacierclear]

ISN'T BITE ALSO TOUCH? part ii.

fuckboy!leon x gn!reader

content: hurt/some comfort, angst, apologies, reader is sad, brief intrusive thoughts, mentions of alcohol

The seasons change. You can only hope he will, too.

[ao3 link]

…and you didn’t see him for three months.

The shifting grace of Autumn gave way to ice. A once verdant campus green now muddled under gray snow, crunched with grit and soot. Passerbys did not linger. Bundled under layered coats and coiled up scarves, students hastily searched for warmth, leaving the sidewalks barren and lonely.

You relied on consistent distraction. School work that numbed your fingers. A fleeting, creative hobby that lasted all of a week. Outings with peers who’d never consider you a friend. None of it seemed to fix you.

And God, you missed him. More than anything in the world.

But the words looped in your head. The stinging from that night boiled into agony.

I don’t fucking need you.

He didn’t mean it. You knew better than to take his venom at face value. But it nurtured the foulest parts of yourself. Self-loathing feasted like a gluttonous beast, growing fat on the careless anger of his beer-fueled tantrum. Because if there was even the slightest chance of it being true…what had it all been for?

Were you truly just a warm body he used for shallow company? Is it possible you were just as disposable as all the rest?

But those thoughts were never allowed to mature. You snipped the buds and opened another lecture video, paralyzing any hint of an emotional response.

Sometimes you’d see him. In the distance, hovering at the edge of his usual crowd, smiling. Once or twice you even made eye contact, but he’d break it within the first moment, as if he had seen nothing but a fly among trash. It’s on those days that you cried. Cried and cried, until all that remained was bitter apathy.

Angrily, you wished he felt the same. You wanted him to break. You wanted him to regret every moment of that night from the instant his eyes opened that morning. You wanted him lost and abandoned and miserable, just like you.

And, truly, it only confirmed your worst fear. If you were always this hateful beneath it all, he never really needed you.

December bit frost under the brittle edges of your fingernails, and you conquered every day with the determination of an undying plague. Christmas was only a week away, and if you could just make it to the holidays, maybe you’d finally start to heal. There’s catharsis in the new year, meaningless or not. It might’ve been what you needed to forget everything. To forget him.

You trudged back home, your evening class wrapped up and concluded for the day. Friday used to mean something. It meant a weekend with Leon. Drunk, covered in gummy worms, squealing at some god-awful horror movie he rented just to get you to hold him. He used to wrap an arm around you, hugging you tight, promising to the moon and the stars he’d keep you safe from anything.

It was hard to take him seriously with popcorn in his teeth, but now you found yourself fantasizing the memory with teary eyes, although it’s probably just the cold weather.

With rosy cheeks and a dripping nose, you turned your key into the lock, kicking open your door with a disgruntled shove. It was dark. Your roommate left for the holiday early, leaving your dorm hollow and unwelcoming. You hovered in the common area, letting the mask you wore crumble off piece by piece.

Friday used to mean something. Now all you did was rot. You stepped over towards your half of the flat, reaching forward on instinct before a reactionary tug gave you pause. Your door was closed. It wasn’t when you left for class.

You listened, straining to hear beyond the chipped oak, but you received nothing. With a dry mouth, you closed your fingers around the knob, twisting, pushing your way in.

What awaited you inside nearly sent you to the floor.

He sat cross-legged by the bed, curled up on your little, brown rug. All you could see was his back, and the gaudy, expensive headphones clamped shut over his head. His head nodded gently to a beat you could barely make out, and he thumbed slowly through a book yanked off your shelf. It wasn’t the careless flipping of empty words, but the patient turning of pages of someone actually reading.

He never read around anyone but you.

You crept closer, letting your backpack drop to the ground like a lead weight, crashing and jolting Leon out of whatever paragraph he was enjoying. He batted the headphones off his ears, swirling to gape at you with wide, fearful eyes. His eyes.

Your favorite shade of blue.

“Jesus! Scared the fucking shit out of me–” He pressed a palm to his temple, panic easily bleeding away, but in its place you saw him tense, awaiting your anger.

“I scared you? You…how’d you even…did you break into my room?” You met him with accusation, though all you wanted was to hold him.

“...I mean, yeah. Duh. Not like you’d ever let me in willingly.” The dismissive tone of his voice riled you up more than you’d care to admit, and you stepped closer.

“Of course you’d stoop to this instead of just asking. What the hell is wrong with you?” The seasonal chill you felt walking home has all but melted completely. You were a live wire. “How’d you even get in here?”

“Come on. You know I bribe the janitor. We’re bros, me and Jeff.” He donned a cocky smirk.

“Oh, well, that’s great. I’m so happy for you, Leon. Now get the fuck out.” You vaguely gestured towards the exit, glowering down at him with an impatient scowl.

Leon’s smirk dropped. He set down the book, standing to his full height. You forgot how much taller than you he was.

“...no. I’m not leaving. Not this time.” His face hardened into a devastating intensity, prying out your seams one by one. “We need to talk. I need to…fix this.” You watched him flail his hands a bit, attempting to sculpt form to whatever this was.

You knew it would never be enough. No apology or heartfelt confession would repair the damage carved from three months of absence after the worst night of your life.

But you’ve always had shitty taste in guys, and he was the shittiest. You missed him more than anything in the world.

“Fine. Speak.” You settled on an impartial response, arms folded across your midsection. “But I’m really not in the mood for bullshit, Leon. I’m not.”

“I know,” he hung his head. “I know. I…” You were kind enough to grant him patience. The time you knew he’d need. Emotionally stunted didn’t even come close to describing Leon, and any effort on his part to offer honesty is effort you needed to encourage, in your own quiet way.

“I fucked up, okay? I really fucked up. Just like I always do and–” You noticed him halt, sucking at his teeth and wincing as if cinched with pain. “No. I’m not…fuck, listen. I’m not trying to like, make you feel bad for me I just…I always do this. I do, and you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

The words came out stuttered and unsure, as if the mere concept of an apology churned the acid in his gut. And maybe it did. What little you knew of his childhood easily explained his behavior. A blood-red thread woven into his heart like stripes on a cobra.

You nodded, coaxing him to continue. You would not shelter him with yielding platitudes.

“...all that shit I said…I was…god, I was scared. Do you realize what the hell you are? What, fuck, what you mean to me? The most fucking important person in my life and I thought I was gonna lose you over a shitty party.” He was too frustrated to look you in the eyes anymore. You felt cold again. “And you’re right. About all of it. I made you go and I ditched you and then I blamed you for – fuck, and then I didn’t have the balls to do anything for two months–”

“Three months.” You interjected, your lips a thin line, the ice he walked on.

“Three…three months? Jesus, I didn’t…” Leon ran a trembling palm through his hair, wrestling his own relationship with time. “Has it really been that long?”

You nodded.

“...I’ve been a mess. I…my grades are tanking, man, and I can’t even eat.”

Against your will, you deflated with a sad sigh. He did seem skinnier. His face sunken in. His body looked frail under his sweatshirt. You wondered if any of his other friends had noticed.

“You shouldn’t forgive me. I’m not really like, expecting you to. But I…I’m…” The word dangled off his tongue, the teetering step into territory unknown. “I’m sorry.”

For the past three months, you dreamed of this moment. Twisted visions of him crawling back to you on his hands and knees, begging for mercy when he deserved nothing of the sort. Over and over again, you extracted pleasure from the possibility of denying him, turning your back and thriving in spite of him.

You were sure the words would feel great. Amazing, even. But hearing them in person, hearing the shriveled warble of a man reduced to his own imitation, you felt nothing.

The silence stretched for miles. Both of you were too hurt to say anything. From the floor, his headphones faded into quiet before transitioning into another song, lyrics incomprehensible from where you stood, mirroring the noise of your own thoughts.

He broke the emptiness with a cough, and scratched his neck.

“...damn, well, I should…I’ll let you enjoy your Friday, I guess. I’m sorry. I really am, I–”

“You said you weren’t leaving.” The words came out without thinking. Leon blinked.

“...what? I–”

“You said. You weren’t leaving. Not this time. Are you really going to break another promise, Leon?” You’re not stupid. You understood your challenge was nothing more than a thinly-veiled plea to get him to stay. You couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your dignity died with the autumn leaves.

“...oh, I was…I didn’t think you’d – yeah. Okay. Yeah, I’m not leaving. Not going anywhere. Swear on it.” Leon puffed his chest a little, the hopeful beginnings of a smile creasing his cheeks. A real smile.

You shuffled closer, breathing in, filling your lungs with mercy.

“Did you really mean what you said, Leon?” It was spoken so softly, and he leaned closer to hear, just as you hoped he would.

He smelled like cedar.

“...what I said?” There’s confusion in his stare, yet he tilted his head, an eagerness to understand.

“When you said you…when you said you didn’t need me. That I was–” Whatever else you were going to say didn’t matter. In an instant, you’re strangled with warmth. Arms latched tight around your chest, your face smashed into the flesh above his heart.

“I need you.” It’s said so easily. And you knew he didn’t need to think twice. “I needed you every day and I will need you every day after today and…every year and…just, so much, man.” Ruefully, you couldn’t help but laugh. Such an indelicate way of speaking. So thoroughly Leon.

Your arms wrapped around his stomach, squeezing with a reluctant pressure. You still couldn’t believe he was real. But here he was.

“Okay. That’s all I needed to hear.” You went slack in his hold, forgoing oxygen in favor of him. He filled your mind and soul, and you never knew you could miss the scent of Irish Spring so much.

“...okay. Is…Is that it? I mean, not that I– shit, are we good? We chill?” He pried you off, cupping your cheeks with burning palms, searching your eyes for safety. Reassurance.

You wanted to give him that. But pretty words and a warm hug were only enough to quiet your demons. They did nothing to heal.

“No, we’re still not friends.” You said finally, staring away, unable to face his reaction.

“Wait, seriously? What…but I–”

“I don’t forgive you, Leon. Not…not yet.” Cautiously, you gripped his wrists, lowering his hands back to his sides. “I missed you. A lot. But it took you three months to tell me all of this. Three. Months.”

“Yeah, but…you’re actually just…gonna leave me forever? For three months?” It’s not anger in his voice, simply the aching desperation of a heart longing for closure. An answer to every question he had.

“Listen, I…we can be friends again, maybe soon, maybe later. I still wanna see you and hang out and stuff, but…it’s gonna take time, okay?” His shoulders sagged. “You have a lot of things you need to work on, and I can’t be the one to fix them. It has to be you, Leon. It has to be different.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him clench his fists. A vein pulsed on his neck, and you braced yourself for the backlash. The brewing storm he hid behind when he was afraid.

But whatever happened the past three months has drained the fight from his body, and he went soft again, his posture slouching.

“I’ll get better. I will. But…can I ask you something? Can I ask you to promise me one thing? Just one?”

You stared at him again. His ocean stirred, but you stayed afloat.

“Sure, Leon.” you whispered.

“...wait for me. Promise me you’ll still be here when I come back. When I’m…when I’m fixed.” He was so close, you could study each twitch and crinkle of his face. All the voiceless ways he loved you. “Will you let me come back to you?”

It wasn’t even a question.

“I promise, Leon.”

And you loved him, too.

[eldritch-spouse]

I ain’t sure if it’s been asked but

Can we get Morell going down his Piglet?

I desperately, like a deprived man in the desert with no water, need Morell to go down on me. Would Morell do that or is he afraid of just chopping by accident from his.. urges?

Oh he goes down on you alright.

In truth, Morell is more of a fingers man. This is due to a few reasons, mainly that his digits are big and fat, and he has no nails to harm you with. He also just likes having a nice view of your face while he fingerfucks the sense out of you. If it makes you feel better, he's done this so many times that the chef has clearly gotten better at discerning the spots and rhythms that'll make a piggy squeal loudest.

Using his mouth is less frequent than the above method because he's a tad self-conscious about the absence of lips. His teeth will drag on your skin, and though his tongue is large and gooey enough to maybe make up for it, Morell feels that he's not as proficient in that. Fingers will be added almost from the get-go. Does the urge to bite flare up when he feels your tight walls clamp and flutter around his tongue? Does he feel like your clit could just be sucked right out? Yes, yes he does.

Morell is fortunately not a glutton however, so caving into base desires like that already implies some level of build up and malicious intent, or just frenzied heat stupors. Nevertheless, should the need to sample your cunt get a little too literal, Morell will withdraw to bite your thighs instead. His bites are far from gentle, being that not only is he massive, he's got the strength of a beast and those flat teeth are still abhorrently powerful in their crocodile hold of your meat.

What he does to remedy this is switch between digits and mouth. Or give himself a break, making you fuck the handle of his beloved cleaver while he pumps his cock and bites down on his own tongue. You have no idea how literally he means it when he says you have a juicy pussy. It's looking at him like it wants him to put it on a platter.

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

Fantasy AU Vanderbell ❄️❄️

Naha Micah nearly fucking dies by freezing outside on Mount Hagen.

Enjoy on AO3 or Tumblr…

Author notes:

I am not the proudest with this work but OH WELL.

Micah and Dutch can be interpreted as sexual lovers, romantic lovers, or toxic friends, or something else if you wish.

Dutch uses “son” in this fic as a general form of endearment. It doesn’t mean he sees the person literally as his son.

Dutch has good ol complex mourning that really fucks with him. Can interpret it as a variety of PTSD if you’d like.

——-

Distinction between fall and winter was a concept that existed in the gut of animal and man but yielded no visual tell in the valley of Mount Hagen: It was white, cold, and hostile year round. And yet every man in the Bell Gang knew winter was climbing handhold by handhold in the rock face.

Fire crackled in the abandoned cabin the two outlaws had shaped up to become their temporary sanctuary. At one corner was a curled up beast, larger than the house was intended to house. The other, a long-bodied serpent man huddled next to the pseudo sun.

The larger beast lifted his head to cast a solemn look over his jacketed shoulders. His once silky curls of raven fur were now matted on his long neck, at one end was the body of a sphinx: a black leopard with wings of a dragon. The other end held the taut face of Dutch Van Der Linde, cheeks sunken and bearded with neglect.

Micah looked grayer in his age; his gold hair got silver at the roots til he had enough of it and cut it short. Even the scales running his Crotalus atrox body turned to cobblestone with each shed. Yet his eyes never dulled. Even now, staring into the fire he looked stronger than Dutch. The snake in him allowed for longer bouts without meals; unlike Dutch’s large stomach that demanded constant upkeep. Upkeep that hadn’t been happening for a day now that they came to the mountain.

Micah’s eye twitched to the side, “you’re lookin’ at me like you wanna eat me. Didn’t your mommy cuff you over the ear for starin’?” Dutch’s leopard ear twitched.

“We need food.”

“What would we catch: Deer, elk, moose?” He snapped.

“Don’t talk about killing deer,” he calmly said but the vibrations in the floorboards told of the withheld growl.

Micah slithered before him in a beat and arched over the sphinx’s lowered head, his last nerve was stretching thinner with his overgrown companion. “You need to get over yourself. Deer is all we have up here, now eat what my boys have caught or shut your snout and ssssstaarrrrve.”

Dutch’s dark eyes were glossy: He got despondent like this at times. Since reuniting to lead the gang, Dutch’s little grieving act had been making Micah question why he even liked this male. He’s nothing like what he used to be way back in 1899.

Micah rattled his tail, face growing redder. “I’m not helpin’ you! If you really cared about us then you’d listen to me and eat somethin’. I’m not goin’ to treat you like some damsel in distress who needs to be spoon fed.” Dutch barely twitched a whisker in response. “Die! Die and make room for those who want to live. If you come to your senses, you can find me outside: the men and I need to blow off some steam. You know, keeping the moral up. The shit you used to be good at!” Sliding scales turned to boot stomps and a slammed door. Dutch glanced up, the jacket that hung on the wall was gone; going with the nasty-tempered snake in men’s clothing.

The wood breathed its last will and collapsed into ash the same gray as his beard. The drawn curtains and fall of night made the darkroom gluttonous in its swallowing of Dutch. His mind grasped for stimulus: conjuring images of faces, trees, summer warmth, and what he could not return to; the familiars he could not return to life. Heavy paws covered his eyes, then ears, but aided no relief.

Micah in his infinite wisdom would have begun talking at length to provide distraction, or the polishing of blade and bullet would glimmer in his peripherals and pull his mind from the intangible. In the valleys of shallow sleep, his body would coil along the length of Dutch’s and squeeze tighter than a mother clings to her dying son. It was secret and they never spoke of it before, during, or after.

Longing for that security got him to balance his old bones and plant unsteady paw after unsteady paw towards the door. The human-sized exit laughed at his magnitude. A sphinx, even as thin as him could never fit through. To the door’s surprise, magical creatures had tricks up their sleeves. The long neck rose to the rafters before it began shortening. Muscled arms, dragging tail, and atrophied wings flexed then shrunk down till they were figments. Fur changed texture and shape till it was no more, and or repurposed into clothing. The large jacket shrunk in time until it rested snuggly on a human’s body. Dutch pushed open the door and pulled his gloved hands to his face as a wind gust welcomed him like dog licks.

His reputation as a legendary monster preceded him in papers and by word, and yet few men under Bell knew of the fantastical secret right under their noses. Micah too slipped under the radar of his men: it’s just how they had to live in this world.

The human men smoked and drinked and picked at their teeth around the miniature campsites they rooted in the rock. The trees that tolerated the beating above and the snow below provided ample defense from the elements. The men glanced at Dutch as he walked by with his head low. He wasn’t Micah, and that was all they cared about; he was Bell’s plus one and that was that.

He approached one of the men. His dry voice cracked under his breath, “Have you seen Micah?”

“Big man? Sure…” nodded the man with skepticism. He wasn’t going to ask why Micah was needed, no one did because they feared what answer they’d get on why the two men spent so long in their private cabin. “Last saw him headin’ that way. Was loudly talkin’ about sendin’ a huntin’ group out for something special.” Dutch didn’t thank them for their time, simply departed as a wind-blown ghost down the mountain.

He followed the footpath baked into the slope. So many desire paths, it felt like one big snake carved through like butter. But no snake no matter its size could survive slithering so far; all cold blooded monsters must slow to a stop at some point.

Deer musk struck his animal olfactory bulb before he saw it, a quiet bunch of men heaved deer over their shoulders towards Dutch. The cold air made the warm smell of recent life all the lighter, it sucked into his senses against his wishes and circled him like a noose. His boots flash frozen in place, the hoarse shouting of a sickly buck echoed down the mountain but no man could hear it, only Dutch.

Finally, he snapped from his moment. The men were still coming his way, he could smell the activity of the men behind him as they came to investigate the newest catch. His disguise was slipping with his self-contained torment scrambling his mind. He could feel his bushy tail developing under his pants, if he spent more time in view, he would surely be caught. His legs twitched to run and he only had one way out.

He fled off the beaten trail and trampled up to the dense forest. He kept going, going, going, til his clenched jaw could finally melt and his breathing no longer whited out his vision. His gate grew uneven, caught between walking upright and dropping to his hands and knees like his gut desired.

He dropped to his senses, retching and quivering but not to create bile, but to return to form: his large sphinx body popped its joints as he stood and took a deep breath, at last able to breath with his full lung capacity and not the fraction accessible in that minuscule humanoid body.

Dull though it was, the smell of gun oil and deer blood caught his twitching nose. So cold and far from camp, no sane man would be out here shining a weapon. The specific gun oil was familiar, one Dutch had smelled day after day during the downtime of the past year. His boulder-sized heart dropped.

Wide paw after paw, he bounded through the icy stalagmites of trees, keeping his head extended outwards to pinpoint the origins. Untouched snow fought him and pulled each arm and foot down like Mother Nature wasn’t sated by just one frozen victim. He endured with a ferocity to save that he wished he had all those years ago when it mattered most.

He passed blood spattered snow; A shallow bloody divot in the snow where something was shot. Human boots stomped through the snow and lead back to camp, but one set kept going. Dutch smelled gunpowder in the tracks. He followed them til they grew uneven in stride, then where the person collapsed. The tracks went on as a wiggling line, like a massive branch dragged through snow.

Ahead of him the tracks grew shallower in their ungulation til it ended at a circular hole melted in the snow, it was deep enough that he couldn’t see inside until he was upon it and curved his head over the lip.

In the basin was Micah’s curled up form, jacket gripped tight til his claws punched through the lapels. Snow drift landed on his form and stayed as pristine as if it touched ice. Not a twitch racked his frigid body.

“Son!” His throat felt sore uttering that word for the first time in a year. He leapt into the hole carved by body heat and scooped up Micah. Limp as a rag doll. cold as rock and pale as snow. To expect a response from his fanged lips would be to expect dirt to talk.

He panned down the rest of Micah’s body: his legs reverted back to their natural scaled state out of stress. His long lower body was unguarded to the cold, sapping him of body heat until he had nothing to do except die.

“Stupid, stupid snake,” Dutch grit through his teeth. He wrapped him around his neck, like Micah would do when hitching a ride. He popped his collar to shield his living scarf from the cold.

With each leap through the snow, he felt Micah’s body flop jaggedly up and down. He had to pause momentarily to readjust him, pull him tighter. If it wouldn’t result in Micah’s bone’s breaking, Dutch would have tied him in a knot to keep him stable.

Dutch always had a plan, but now? Nothing came to his feverish mind. All he had was the white expanse before him and the black speck of cabin in the distance.

What if the men spotted him? Mythical creatures had no place in America anymore, the Pinkertons showed them that when they hunted down his gang. Now was the century of humans: gangs of humans organized by humans to hunt down mythical creatures. The Bell gang had been in need of a score, maybe seeing a black sphinx contrasted by white snow would look like gold and jewels to their alcohol-swollen eyes.

The time to decide was cut short each second he sped closer to the forest edge. The cabin was at a lower elevation than they were; the forest claimed a raised slice of land that looked down on the cabin. The cliff edge and the cabin were a mighty distance.

Cold air rushed in from the edge, snowflakes darting for Dutch’s eyes to blind him. He squinted through the blur and could make out the dark-gray rock where the ledge ended and tree roots jutted out. He had no good option except doing what he did best: be a careless leader.

He lowered his head and pushed harder with each landing paw. The sky egged him on, chanting that he’d miss his step and fall. A body-length from the edge, he bunched his hind legs, when they came down at the cutting tip of the rock, he launched himself.

Wings fanned out, quivering as the thin membrane grew fragile with the cold near instantly. In a long fluid arch, he glided through the air, arms outstretched for the cabin roof. It was only seconds before the black tiles lunged for him.

He landed on the slanted surface with a thunder clap. The wood beam inside groaned with a splinter but kept its shape. The roof tiling fell under Dutch’s weight, sliding him backwards towards the rocks below. A misplaced hind paw dislodged a tile and lost his footing. He threw his clawed fists into the ridge beam at the peak, they sunk into the tough wood and cured tar, providing enough traction to pull himself up.

He sneaked down the front of the cabin in a controlled manner. Crouched at the front door, he allowed Micah’s body to slip from around his neck. Dutch transformed and yanked his monster counterpart up the stairs and through the door swung wide open. Micah, even if resembling half human in his current form, was larger and heavier than Dutch. It took multiple attempts to get Micah through the open layout and in front of the dead fireplace.

Men shouted down the mountain, they must have heard the echo ripple through the mountain. Hastily, Dutch ran to grab the living rug that laid lamely in the snow. He shouldered it past the threshold and slammed the door behind him. He stared at the pathway, anticipating a mob of men to come running with guns drawn. But the voices stayed distant, sounding like men more drunk than in the mindset for monster hunting. Dutch sighed and slipped back inside.

Micah was out of it. The degree of his rigidity and colorless features was emphasized by the hard, rich floorboards that contrasted him.

He shoved his companion into a pile before the fireplace. With fresh wood, paper, and a match or two, the fire came to life.

The human act was pointless in the privacy of the walls now. Dutch unfurled his long body from the constricting skin and curled around Micah. His neck ran across the pointed scales running Micah’s curves.

There was a twitch, sounding like falling sand in a glass bottle. Dutch peeked his eye open and looked at Micah in his arms. His tail fell from side to side, the segmentations knocking into each other dryly. The wagging became stronger until it was the fur-raising warning of a rattlesnake.

“Micah,” Dutch commanded alertness. He took Micah’s cheeks in his paw and shook him awake. Gray eyes struggled to break the crust of ice sealing them. His pupils were sluggish to constrict, then dilate to fine tune his vision. Micah stiffened and tried to wriggle away, out of the pan and into the fire. Dutch gripped him tighter and yanked him back. Pinned to the ground, Micah’s slitted eyes finally focused.

“Duuuuutchie, knew you wouldn’t let me die,” he slurred. All the worry in Dutch’s body drained like the blood from his cheeks hearing that insidious voice once more. He felt the weight of a body in his hands, perhaps as light as Arthur may have weighed at that moment Dutch turned away from him and chose this snake instead.

Dutch couldn’t grasp what to say to his face. His claws itched to sink in between his scales and show how he felt. He forcefully snorted in Micah’s face. Dutch released him and paced the opposite end of the room.

“Come on, don’t give me the cold shoulder,” gasped Micah at the loss of heat. His lower body was unresponsive, he used his arms to claw each floor board and drag himself forwards. A paw came down on his back and squashed him like a bug.

He was a spinning dime, “You can’t fault a man for trying to save his second in command! I was huntin’ with the men, they caught a deer but I needed to get somethin’ for you.”

His sickly sweet tone felt slimy under Dutch’s sweaty pads. He wiped them off on his chest fur and lumbered to the fireplace at the other end. Micah followed behind, quicker than before. He wrapped around Dutch’s torso and squeezed. The extent of Dutch’s thinning was felt in how tight Micah’s plump rolls could indent his abdomen. Grim as the reminder of his health was, Dutch felt reassurance in the quiver of his heart; winter was finding its way inside him with Micah as its Trojan horse and he welcomed it. Dutch crumpled to the floor, Micah grunted with his body being crushed. He wriggled to get comfortable amongst the salt-and-pepper fur.

“I haven’t slept well. Excuse me… I’m…” Dutch trailed off, eyes sinking into the fire. “I haven’t been myself, since…”

“That was a long time ago,” Micah brushed off the memory so easily. Dutch was still going in circles trying to untangle his fur of these burs. In between brief silence, Micah apologized, “I was too harsh before. I didn’t mean it.” Micah formed a smile but saw there was no progress cheering Dutch up.

Maybe Dutch was waiting for that: for Micah to drop the act he put on when caught causing more trouble than was warranted.

He caught Micah off guard with his question, “have you ever considered eating one of your men?”

Blue eyes twisted from the fire to Dutch’s face. His wide eyes squinted, then scowled as if analyzing his words for some underlying test of loyalty, or morality.

“No,” he cut. “We don’t eat humans, you know that.”

“What’s stopping you?” Dutch was a rock but his raspy voice was reverberant in Micah’s head. “There are so many men, and you told me yourself how disposable they are to you.”

“Monsters don’t eat humans: I don’t eat humans, you won’t be eatin’ humans. That is unless you fancy angerin’ the hornet’s nest. Kill one human and twenty more will follow.”

Stomach growls pulled both of them from the topic of taboos. Micah squeezed tighter and Dutch groaned at the disturbance to his abdomen. His head fell into his paws; he didn’t hide behind glamor and words anymore. His ill-wellness was on display to all that could see, and Micah was getting an eyeful.

“There will be food for you, we just need to wait. We will get off this mountain once the bounty hunters pick up the scent of someone easier to catch than me.” Micah patted Dutch’s shoulder, transitioning it into scrubbing his tangled neck fur and up to scratching Dutch’s ears. “I’d let you eat my human legs if it wouldn’t result in me bleedin’ out.”

His joke and jab of his shoulder elicited no reaction in Dutch apart from a slow, tired blink. Micah traced the scales on his cheeks with his claws and shakily inhaled.

“You and I could go huntin’ together? It could be nice, just the two of us: I do the hard work and you keep me from freezing my limbs off.”

A black tail swatted and covered Micah’s mouth. “Stop talking. Let an old man rest” Dutch curled his neck inwards til he surrounded him, cheek pressed to Micah’s upper body.

Micah couldn’t argue, he too was exceptionally tired: physically and emotionally. He let his upper body relax into Dutch’s neck like a regal bed calling his name. His constricting hold loosened but remained securely around the panther’s body.

“Have faith in me, Boss. We’re survivors.” But Dutch wasn’t convinced; Neither one of them could survive long without the other in this changing world of men, monster, and winter.

[positivelybeastly]

Sometimes I feel like beast gets treated more harshly for some things than other characters are for almost identical actions. The time travel stuff especially, but the collective actions of the Illuminati as well

Heh. You know, it's funny, I was literally just grabbing a cap of some Stuart Immonen art from All-New X-Men #2, of a really pretty X-Jet, and, because I'm a glutton for punishment, I clicked the comments. Do you wanna read them? No? Too bad, I had to read them, so now, so do you.

"Hank is so self-absorbed it's incredible. No wonder the Watcher thinks he's garbage."

"Also, i think Beast should be lobotomized for his crimes against children and the space/time continuum."

"That said: f**k you, Hank. You are so weak and arrogant that you would risk destroying your oldest and dearest friends because you can't handle Scott helping mutants? You risk destroying the timeline and destroying your friends' relationships and their very minds and spirits."

Like . . . fuck, man.

It really is all just Bendis' fault. He made Hank do something so mind-numbingly stupid, and it was presented slap bang in people's faces, and LITERALLY NO-ONE stopped to question if it was even in-character for him to do this.

It wasn't, by the way.

Be warned, disturbingly hot, smart, and urbane Hank McCoy incoming.

OH HEY.

LOOK.

IT'S ALMOST LIKE HANK'S FUCKING SMART OR SOMETHING.

I JUST.

GET.

SO.

FUCKING.

ANGRY.

THE MAN IS FUCKING SMART. And then Bendis just has him do something so mind-numbingly stupid, and no-one even blinks an eye at whether or not it even made sense for him to do it.

And do you know what makes me fucking laugh? Is that other writers were actively mocking the plotlines as they were going on, but because so many comics readers are as dumb as fucking rocks, they didn't even realise.

Oh yeah, it IS almost as if people in the Marvel Universe regularly fuck the timestream without taking it for dinner or applying lube, I almost fucking forgot! But because Bendis decides that there are ramifications this time, suddenly Hank is the destroyer of all of space time.

Which of the three is it? Was this something that was always meant to happen, or not? If this is something that can happen when you meddle with space-time, why did Hank do it? Why? Is? Bendis-Hank? So? Fucking? DUMB???

And you know what, I need to bring this up, because LITERALLY FUCKING NO-ONE ELSE IN THE FANDOM EVER WILL

This was not a decision he made in his right mind? He was dying? His brain is seizing? He's having heart palpitations, in agonising pain, his mentor is dead and one of his oldest friends was the one who killed him, and he's in such a depressive spiral that he doesn't even want to tell the people around him that he's dying because he doesn't want to worry them.

But no, this is a decision that we're never, ever, ever going to let Hank live down. In fact, this decision is SO AWFUL THAT

Fucking blow me.

I know that I'm, like, seemingly the one X-Men fan that actually reads fucking comic books rather than going off panels I see posted on Twitter (this slight is aimed mostly at Reddit, not here, don't worry), but, like . . . god, I'm just so fucking furious that I had to sit, and watch a targeted character assassination, in real time, of my favourite character, and the fandom just fucking lapped it up.

Even now, the era from the end of Avengers vs. X-Men to Krakoa is called the Lost Era in mutant history. There are SO MANY THINGS that have been completely forgotten.

Hey, remember when Emma Frost did this?

Oh yeah, what consequences did she face for this?

Nothing?

The amount of shit that sticks to Hank makes me fucking sick. Everyone gets a pass for what they did, except for Hank.

The New Avengers/Illuminati stuff is the one that gets my goat, because do you know how Hank spent that time?

Buckle the fuck in.

Hank lacks the constitution for hard decisions.

Hank believes in the power of good men to change the world with ideals.

Hank will take the coward's way out, every time. The way that saves lives.

Hank will spend the time to talk, every time.

"We should help if we can. How could we not?"

Oh hey, Bruce Banner, I think everyone kinda forgot you were in this Illuminati too and you get a free pass!

Interesting.

Hmmmmm.

That last one REALLY makes me laugh because it really does just kinda read to me as Hickman pointing out that Hank's actions in All-New X-Men make no fucking sense.

And Hank has to just.

Sit there.

And take it.

And every.

Single.

Time.

Someone tries to put him back on the path to being who he is meant to be, some.

Fucking.

Jack-off.

Ruins it again.

Shit sticks to Hank like it doesn't stick to anyone else.

I'm fucking sick of it.

I ain't even touching the Percy stuff. That's just - phwaoooooah. Not to mention, I'm out of images.

Just sucks, man.

Just sucks.

[mramur]

what’s your favorite dragon in the httyd franchise?

These beasts <3

nadder, zippleback, the sentinels, buffalord, eruptodon, and death song.

reasons: i love Nadder and Zippleback's firepower, body shape, and traits (nadder being similar to bird and zippleback mainly belch and barf's chaos-seeking and trickster personalities). Sentinels, the silent guardian statue-like type of dragon? fucking awesome. Buffalord, chill but will fucking kill you indiscriminately if taken away (like theyre so introvert coded). Eruptodon is similar to buffalord, like all they want to do is eat and be in their habitat, no harm will be done to you if you just let them do their thing, and they got big bodies and cool design. Deat song, cool design (bright orange color yeash) and dragon-eating glutton, and a good singer to add! whats not to love about them.

Tho if i have to pick a dragon to train i'd take deadly nadder.

[toesucker416]

Saw a "Strawhats as Percy Jackson houses" post and it pissed me off so badly I'm making my own.

Luffy: legacy born to Dragon, the World's Worst criminal, son of Garp, the Hero of the Marines, who we will discuss later. That said, given how Luffy is, who Dragon is, and the Will of D in general, I think Eris, goddess of Strife is a good one.

Zoro: a dignified warrior with strong "fuck around and find out" energy. If he's not drinking, he's napping, and if he's not doing either of those, he's training. Textbook son of Ares (the post was actually right about this)

Sanji: his whole story falls apart without Judge and Sora, and yet, who's to say Sora has to be his bio mom? Son of Athena, who, fascinated with Judge's attempts to perfect life, saw fit to help. Sora gives birth to mundane (for a given value of mundane, they're still genetically enhanced) triplets. Athena is simultaneously proud and disappointed in him, because he's so smart, but then he's so stupid

Usopp: the original post said Hephaestus, and while I don't think that's inaccurate, we can do better. Usopp is the skill monkey of the crew. Before somebody comes along to specifically do something, he's the one doing it. He's the de facto shipwright and musician before those spots are filled, and even after, he's the de facto trickster. In Arlong Park, when Luffy describes Usopp's role, it's not that he can shoot from long distances, it's that he can lie. So I'm saying Hermes kid.

Nami: this one's hard to say. One of the simplest backstories, and yet, such a multifaceted character. Navigator. Cartographer. Thief. I almost wanna put her in Hermes with Usopp, but that feels like cheating. Still, I don't have a better idea at the moment, so I'll just stick with that.

Chopper: that is a reindeer.

Robin: not a demigod. She has enough problems being the sole survivor of a buster call, the only one who can read the Poneglyphs, and having the largest starting bounty in history. I entertained the idea of making her an Athena kid, but it felt wrong somehow.

Franky: the original post and I see eye to eye on this one. Franky is an orphan from nowhere who builds war machines as a teenager. He's so clearly a Hephaestus kid.

Brook: Son of Hades, a forbidden child. Old enough and spent enough years isolated that he doesn't get why this is such a big deal.

Jinbe: As much as I'd love to make the First Son of the Sea a son of Poseidon, I feel as if his story works best if he earned his strength and reputation.

Right, crew out of the way, let's get to some extras. Yonko first.

Whitebeard: Zeus. Zeus isn't just the God of thunder and the sky, he's also the king of the gods. That makes him a god of hospitality, as well. And what's more hospitable than adopting literally hundreds of children because growing up an orphan sucked so bad? Not to mention that, within Riordan's continuity at least, Zeus is the worst deadbeat of the lot, so making his son the pinnacle of fatherhood in Shonen anime just feels right.

Big Mom: Also Eris. Big Mom and Luffy are, fundamentally, the same. Two gluttons who want freedom and equality for all, with horrible abandonment issues. The difference being, Luffy had Shanks to set a good example for him, while Big Mom had a life of crime. If their roles were reversed, they would have each other's lives, and we'd be watching Big Mom Piece (ngl that'd go so hard)

Kaido: Kaido is something called an Oni, but what does that mean? It looks like he has horns and he's stupid big. I kinda want Kaido not to be a demigod, because he's a monster. The King of the Beasts, the World's Strongest Creature, a dragon waiting in a castle for someone to kill him.

Shanks: Manga spoilers in this one. You've been warned.

We recently learned that Shanks is Figarland Shanks, son of Figarland Garling, leader of God's Knights. He's a celestial dragon. I'm not sure if you've seen One Piece, but celestial dragons aren't good people. They steal, rape, and kill with impunity, and Garling is especially cold blooded among them. However, the celestial dragons are also an example of Oda doing Nature vs Nurture again, and Shanks is his example of that. Shanks is found in a box by the Roger Pirates at God Valley, and the King of the Pirates chooses to raise Shanks as his own. Anyways, Shanks is mortal, although all the CD's are probably legacies.

Blackbeard: I'm not saying anything on this one until we get more backstory. For a placeholder answer, I'll say Apate, goddess of deceit.

Buggy: Aphrodite, because have you seen that man's sex appeal? Plus, people believe him way too easily, he gotta be charmspeaking.

That's it for Yonko, let's get the original three Admirals, and then some important miscellaneous characters and we'll call it a day.

Akainu: who needs to be a demigod when you're HIM? Wallahi we're not ready.

Being serious, though, I'm a "Rocks Pirates killed Akainu's family" truther. His narrative role is best fit by him being just some guy.

Aokiji/Kuzan: Speaking of fan theories, he's 100% Brook's son.

Kizaru: Given how he usually drones when he talks, and he never seems to take things seriously, I'm saying Dionysus. I will double down on this if/when he betrays Saturn.

Garp: remember a thousand years ago, when I talked about Zoro and his "fuck around and find out" energy? Yeah, Garp regularly talks shit about world nobles *to their faces.* Ares for sure.

Roger: I'm feeling either just some guy, or Athena. Something about the search for the One Piece, a quest for lost knowledge and absolute freedom, feels very Athena to me.

Ace: See Roger. That's the only part of his story I'm touching, because his backstory is lowkey perfect.

Sabo: just some guy. He was always just some guy that Luffy and Ace liked, and it's one of his greatest qualities in a story littered with lineages of heroes and special races.

[pigeonwhumps]

Declawed

Sam and Lucan masterlist

Taglist: @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @onlybadendings @whumpofdory @haro-whumps @flowersarefreetherapy @enigmawritesstuff @quietly-by-myself

Kara's declawed.

1.1k

CWs: medical whump, non-con surgery, restraints, dehumanisation, 'it' for dehumanising, non-human whumpee, werewolf whumpee, burns, amputation, briefly referenced past non-con, slavery, fantasy racism, muzzle, minor whump (Kara's between 16-18)

"Mouth open, wide as you can."

Kara obeys, and her handler forces it open even wider, fitting an open-mouthed gag into her mouth, the buckle catching her fur at the back of her head. She breathes deeply, trying to stay calm. Why would they want to keep her mouth open?

"Good. Now get on the table, paws spread."

She jumps onto the examination table, holding still as the handler straps all four paws down, the thin leather digging in. He scratches her head behind the ear, and she leans into it, the way she knows she's supposed to.

"Good girl. You stay well-behaved like this and you can keep your privileges." He ties her leash to a ring in the ceiling, keeping her head held high, and presses a button on the wall.

A man in a white coat strides in, wheeling a tray of surgical tools. Kara isn't sure what they're all for but the sight of the saw fills her with cold dread. She whines involuntarily.

The– doctor? Surgeon? Kara isn't sure – the man ignores her, taking her back paw in one hand, and a smallish knife in the other. Kara can't see what he's doing, but she can certainly feel it when he slices through her toe, nerves lighting up as they're severed. The bone crunches as he saws through it, and she whines in the back of her throat, back arching away from the pain. She feels every one of the stitches going in.

Then he moves onto the next toe, and the next, and her other back paw, and she doesn't think it'll ever stop. She can feel the blood wet against her pads, it's horrible and sticky, please let it only be the back paws. God, it hurts so much.

Then he comes into view, knife dripping with blood, and takes her front paw. And she can't stand it. She bucks away, growling, trying to pull herself back. It's impossible but she keeps trying until the doctor takes a step back.

"I thought you said it was trained to take pain."

"It is. But this isn't the pain." The handler yanks her head back until she's nearly choking on her collar and says in her ear, "You're not going to play again anyway. No-one would ever want a beast to do something like that. Shut the fuck up and be still before you lose any more privileges."

Kara gulps in air when he lets go, the doctor taking the opportunity to slice through one of her remaining toes. Her eyes go wide with the pain, and she sees her handler smiling. She whines.

"You know, it'd be much easier to work if you were silent. Oh well. That's your paws made safe and bandaged, just your teeth to go now. Keep your head still unless you want a hole in your cheek."

Kara does so, trembling with cold and pain and blood loss and fear as the doctor reaches inside her mouth and files her sharp teeth. It doesn't really hurt at first, not like her paws do, but then he gets down to the nerves and pain shoots through her jaw, white-hot and pulsing. She whines and growls instinctively but he ignores her this time.

The pain pulses from her jaw to her head, her paws throb, and she doesn't even notice it's finished until the handler unstraps her, smacking her a few times until she notices.

"Finally. You're really a glutton for punishment today, 07598. Care instructions?"

"No doing anything with its hands until it's healed. You can teach it to walk properly again in humanoid form but that's it for its feet. No bitted muzzles. And no fucking it until it's healed either. Other than that? Have at it."

"I'm not allowed to fuck it anymore anyway, now it has an owner. Shame. Off the table and follow me, 07598, and keep up."

Kara tumbles off the table at a yank of her leash, not having noticed she's been untied, and yelps, scrambling after her handler. Her paws don't skitter anymore, she notices vaguely through her haze. They won't ever skitter again.

She ends up being dragged a few times across the rough concrete, her paws too sore to move at speed, but she barely notices over the throbbing already there. When they reach her cell, her handler pulls out what looks like a sheet of bent silver-coated steel with holes punched in it. She whines, cringing back as he slaps it over her face, tightening the straps tightly behind her head. It burns. It all burns, even the straps burn. She whines, resisting the instinctive attempt to paw at it.

"Gotta make sure it'll stay nice and tight to your skin in the morning, haven't I? It's your own fault you've lost privileges. And don't expect any food, water or clothes either. After that mess in the clinic, you're not getting anything until I'm satisfied you've learned. Your new owner wants you thin anyway."

Then he ties her leash to the wall and leaves, slamming and locking the gate behind him. Kara curls up under the fluorescent lights, the metal clang reverberating around her head, throbbing paws curled over against her chest. Her face is a mass of burning, pulsing agony, she can't cover it or more of her will burn. She whimpers but it can't be heard past the metal. She can't she can't she can't, she can't do anything, it's all too much, too much too much too much, and maybe if she'd been still and silent it would've been less, but she couldn't, it was too much then and it's too much now and she won't ever be able to play again with her hands like this.

Kara's jaw throbs like it never has before, why did they have to go down to the nerves, that wasn't necessary even if they wanted to file her teeth, and she curls up tighter and sobs. She doesn't care who hears, this place is full of crying anyway.

Her little sister, in the few months between her sister discovering Kara's lycanthropy and their parents calling the hotline for her to be taken away, nicknamed her Sharptooth. Now... she'll never be Sharptooth again. Even if she did, somehow, miraculously, find a way out of here, even if she could see her sister again, she'd never be Sharptooth. She'll never play her clarinet again. She definitely couldn't achieve her dream of attending a conservatoire now.

Even if she manages to escape (and she will, one day, somehow, there must be a way), she'll never get any of her life back.

[ask21771]

what your superhero crush says about you

Superman-you’re basic

Batman-you’re basic but you want to seem dark and edgy

Wonder Woman-you like strong principled women and/or are into s&m

Flash-you’re impatient

Green Lantern-you want someone who can literally give you almost anything

Aquaman-you have a fetish for fish smells

Martian Manhunter- you have a very dirty mind

Hawkman-you’re a history nerd

Harley Quinn-You’ve had to issue restraining orders  against all you’re past relationships (also you want a threesome with a lesbian couple)

Oracle-You’re into nerdy girls

Green Arrow-You’re basic but you didn’t want to look like a Batman bandwagon chaser (Also you remembered to watch the CW more readily then you’re loved ones birthdays)

Black Canary-you’re into screamers

Blue Beetle-You have a thing for lovable losers (Also you sent death threats To Geoff Johns, Greg Rucka, and Judd Winick multiple times)

Booster Gold-you either like him for his complexity or you’re as money hungry as he used to be

Nightwing-you want a male version of Nikki Minaj

Red Hood-You’re into bad boys with tragic pasts 

Red Robin-you hate how he’s still a teenager even though he’s been around for 31 years

Robin-Chris Hansen will be paying you a visit soon

Superboy-You were really glad that his wife and kid were retconned out of existence

Superboy-Prime-you have issues (srsly seek help)

Cyborg-you’re SUPER into vibrators

Beast Boy-You're a closted beastiality enthusiast  and you wish Raven would just die

Raven-you either are into strong assertive women, tragic women or a mixture of both (if it’s the version from the first animated series definitely both) you also wish Beast Boy would just die

Starfire-You HATE that her outfit got less and less revealing over time

Amanda Waller-You have ZERO self respect

Peace Maker-you’re either alt right have a John Cena fetish or both

Stargirl-You like the sweet innocent type  

Spiderman-You have zero self respect and zero regard for your life

Wolverine-You like Batman but with a bit of s&m throw in

She Hulk-you have several fetishes you don’t want anyone to know about

Hulk-you’ve got a real thing for angry sex

Jean Grey-you have issues with commitment

Rogue-if you could find a way to die in the sack with a smile on your face after a night of incredible sex you would

Spiderman (Miles Morales)-you want happened to the real Gwne to happen to Spider Gwen

Deadpool-You get yourself thrown into the behavioral health wing at hospitals just to get a hook up

Thor-you’re favorite place to get laid is Renaissance fairs

Scarlet Witch-you’re into the crazy dangerous type

Iron Man-now I ain’t saying you’re a gold digger

Mister Fantastic-You don’t care how your partner treats you

Daredevil-you believe love is blind

Fire-you want a threesome with her and Ice

Ice-you want a threesome with her and Fire

Catwoman-You want a relationship that’s like a roller coaster always going up and down

John Constantine-the phrase glutton for punishment was invented to describe people like you

Supergirl-you wanna fuck the homecoming queen

Power Girl-Do I really need to say what this says about you

Black Lightning-That one Young Justice episode awakened something in you

[starvation-l0v3r]

glutton

my internal sin, ive battled for a very long time. i may be just an ana blog to you but i have a hidden beast a desire to consume all i see. it burns to see what i do with my mouth how much disgusting amounts of food i eat. she wasnt always here i mean i found such comfort in eating i dont know why, maybe because it tastes so good . how pathetic, ive spent my days wondering why it wasnt ana. why couldnt i find comfort in starving. nowadays i do, i never eat during the day but at night she erupts, after hours of thinking of food i cave. i find myself opening every cupboard trying to find something that satisfies me. but food never does. it just leaves me with this terrible feeling like 'what did i just do, im gonna be fat forever' but ladies (or whomever) there is a brighter side. self-control she is whom i welcome who i want to consume. it makes me feel good to say no. to be so powerful saying that i will not eat that or do that. even if glutton tempts me even if im one step away from eating that entire fucking fridge i call upon her and i am able to stop able to free myself from EVER feeling like a stuffed up pig again.

so please if you also cannot stop glutton (binging) seek self-control

[cheemken]

About the newest Champion Villain AU, you asked about which organization would Hau join since there is both Team Skull and The Aether Foundation. I think him joining the Aether Foundation would make more sense if we go with the direction that he wants people to respect him

The Aether Foundation is a front for Lusamine’s ultimate goal of opening a portal to Ultra Space. While they are a Pokémon sanctuary, they also conduct experiments on Pokémon and even cloned a Pokémon which they named Type: null. And if I remember correctly then in the first game when Hau and the player first meet Lusamine, an ultra beast nicknamed UB-01 appears though a portal before quickly leaving

Now think of Hau, a boy who wanted to be respected by others but was laughed at for being a child who was “trying to hard”. Almost the same reason as Iris. But seeing the powerful Pokémon appear in front of him, he knew at that moment that he needed to get his hands on one of them. He’ll prove he’s better than staying in his grandfathers shadow by showing all of Alola how strong he truly is

Lusamine accepts his deal, his strength in exchange for letting him capture an ultra beast. She honestly only accepted because he’s close to the player and Lillie, the latter who stole “Nebby” from her. And Nebby is needed to even open the portals in the first place. She was just going to discard of Hau once she finally got Nebby from Lillie

But luckily for Hau, people tend to underestimate children. And Hau’s team is no pushover, even without an Ultra Beast

(Also I know he isn’t champion yet at this point, but imagine if instead of Kukui being the final challenge, it’s Hau. And he wins the title for Alolas Champion with the help of the Ultra Beast he caught)

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Oughghghbhfjxhd there's just smth abt Hau playing all dumb and such when he's not to trick people and I fucking love it ncncnc

Like he's friends w Lillie and such ofc, but despite that he never told her abt Lusamine and her own plans bc it's ruin his and he won't get that cool and strong Pokémon he just saw

Oughfjxsn Hau also double crossing Lusamine?? Or when he sees Lusamine w Nihilego and helping Selene stop her, he also wanted to help Selene hunt down the other Ultra Beasts just so he can have one for himself. And ofc, Selene let him help, it's better than to just do it on her own. The two of them went on their ways, and just chmdnd idk idk but like, the thought of Hau having Guzzlord is dope hahaha

Idk smth smth symbolism of being gluttonous, an insatiable hunger for not only food but power.

Like cbdmdn can you imagine this tiny boy as acting champion, down to his last Pokémon, and he pulls out a Beast Ball, calling out the pkmn within, letting out this huge ass mfer of a pkmn, it's thunderous cry was heard in all corners of Alola, and he smiles at the challenger, smiles at his friend, and just "let's make this a fun battle, Selene!"

And ofc Selene's fucking vibing, no wonder, no fucking wonder, Hau insisted on keeping that one. Guzzlord may not have the best attacking power of the rest of the Ultra Beasts, but it's sure as hell tanky as shit, even w the quad weakness to Fairy. Selene only has one pkmn left, and while she has no problems losing, there's smth abt the glint in Hau's eyes that made her determined to try, that she should ateast put up a fight, that she must win. So she calls out her Primarina, she has faith she can win this fight, they've battle the other Ultra Beasts, and they've won. But,, unlike before, Guzzlord now has a trainer, a very skilled and strong trainer, a battling prodigy, and she knows better than to underestimate Hau.

[eldritch-spouse]

Me being the 4th person sent to her table. I'm sweating, gulping, trembling like a leaf, and smiling nervously. I place all the dishes I'm carrying in front of her. Which isn't nearly enough.

"Apologies m-ma'am, the o-other entrees need a bit m-more t-t-time to prepare. In the-Would you b-b-be interested in s-some c-complimentary wine?"

[Hhn I rushed this because I lost steam.]

TW: Vore thoughts.

Vorticia hisses.

Peckish isn't doing it justice today. Neither is famished. Being the Queen of Gluttony is hard work, but being a mother manages to be harder still.

Especially when one of her kids is being stubborn. She can only nag and warn so much until her patience is all but decimated and she has to leave so as to not make a scene. Thus, Vorticia's respite is her grand dinner tonight.

She specified wanting nothing less than the best of the best, from her Ring, from beyond Perdition- Betrayer, if it wasn't such a rushed decision on her part, she would have requested for that mushroom monster's services. He's better than a full-blooded glutton at what he does, which is bizarre enough to make Vorticia wonder if he's not just a tiny fraction demonoid in nature.

As she lounges, facing the table alone, the Queen's rational side acknowledges that the delay in her servant's work is due to poor timing, poor arrangements. They can't perform miracles-

But that doesn't stop her from slamming her fist on the table and sending a vicious rattle of a snarl through the halls, no doubt making the very kitchens quake in terror. The long-since emptied trays clatter and some tumble off the side entirely.

Maybe she should just storm in there herself, pick and choose from the gaggle of lousy fuckers making her wait...

" Remember, she likes it when you smile, so get in there and give her a big old heartthrobber! "

You stare at the greenish imp with complete bewilderment, hands on the entrée-full cart you're about to carry into the dinning hall.

How did it come to this?

One day you're working business as usual, the next you, and all your coworkers, find out the bastard made a deal he just couldn't commit to- And the high-ranker he slighted decided that payment would come in the form of lives. Your lives. You don't know where the rest of your coworkers are, things got messy quickly when you entered Gluttony. Most of them are probably already dead, bits of their flesh stuck between a random demon's gnarled teeth.

Not you. You had the immense misfortune of ending up in the Queen's mansion. Her kitchen, actually. And while initially a part of you only wondered how painful it must be to have your organism boiled alive, or thrown into a furnace- The horned chefs and assistants made it very clear you weren't going into any sort of pan or platter.

You're going raw.

You're one of the Queen's little mice tonight.

Want to live a precious moment longer? Just make it interesting.

How you're going to do so when you're butt-ass naked and on the verge of tears, coming to terms with your own mortality, is anyone's guess.

" Y- You... You have to be fucking kidding me. I'm just supposed to- To go out there a- and smile?! "

The imp chortles, though the jolly mask slips off their face upon the tilt of a curly-horned head.

" Listen- We're all having a bad time right now. Don't make this about you. "

The fucking nerve.

" No! "

You're not going to walk into the jaws of whatever beast is making a racket beyond this long and ominous hall! That's madness, pure mockery! They're making a joke of your very existence, like you're some underpaid circus freak.

Eleri, as you've heard them being called, plucks a knife from one of the carts other imps are rapidly bringing into the dinning area. It's sharp, that much doesn't surprise you, what has you on edge is the way that it's hooked upwards, like it's meant to stab into your flesh and shred it as it's dragged upwards, snagging your entrails along, maybe even your soul.

It's a foul-looking thing and you know this imp will pierce you with it.

" You can get in there on your own two feet, or I can fetch a spare cart for your corpse, please choose quickly. "

You're going to die either way, but no, you can't let go of those few little moments that cooperating would offer you. Your silence speaks loud enough to echo through the walls.

" See? " They nod, peculiar eyes gleaming with no small amount of smarm. " Chin up! Make a good impression. "

The knife is set down on your own cart, Eleri accompanies you to the massive doorway leading to the dining hall, opening it with some effort to allow your entrance as well as the speedy getaway of mildly rattled kitchen staff.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight of the Queen of Gluttony.

To be fair, you don't quite know what you were expecting. But it wasn't anything like her.

This absolutely massive "gigante" of a serpentine woman, all shimmering, sickly yellow scales from the top of a sharply flared hood to the very tip of a majestic tail... Are those mouths on her tail? They must be, each one sharper and bigger than the last. Your gaze flits to what you thought were adornments on her neck, but reveal themselves to be two extra heads, smaller, vaguely chaotic in the way they evaluate their surroundings, snipping and hissing at each other.

She's covered only by dark, thin-looking robes that exposed a well-fed belly and the sides of sizeable breasts. You'd never quite seen a serpentine female with a chest this defined... But by no way in Hell are you complaining, eyes stuck committing the details of each scale to memory- Amidst all the images of horror forever carved into your mind's eye, this one will stand as a dirty little outlier. Your destroyer, in her feminine, horrifying glory.

You suppose if you had to be consumed by anyone, it might as well be a person as enticing as her.

You walk inside with a mute gulp, eyes plastered to the spotless metal of your cart, a terrified reflection meeting you. Maybe if you're quiet and small enough, she'll mistake you for an imp and let you waltz back out like nothing was ever amiss. Now isn't that a hopeful thought?

Another sharp, cutting noise sends a shiver up your spine, and as soon as you steal a glance upwards, you find her eyes glued on you. Rich golden pools freeze you on the spot, and truly, the only thing that's missing here is the rat's tail that should be tucked between your legs.

The Queen observes you for long, painful, silent seconds while the imps around you scurry to lay things out on the table. You cannot find your will, your voice, your step. Fanged lips stretch upwards, her head tilting slightly in appraisal as you sweat, bare and fragile. When a servant warningly bumps your side, survival instincts kick in and you mimic them, placing entrées on the table's length and trying your best to ignore the scalding intensity of her gaze on your form.

If you run, she will hunt you. If you scream, she will rip you. If you cry, she will laugh.

This is a predator, and everything belies the fact that you've now entered a very dangerous game.

Smile, Eleri said, she likes it.

" ... Is thiss suppossed to be all? " The massive infernal being starts, and she doesn't need to raise her voice for fear to sink into everyone's bones.

The imps around you gulp and toss looks between themselves, trying to convince each other to speak first and chance evoking her wrath further, their tails curled around their midsections and legs protectively.

No one talks.

Something slams onto the ground out of nowhere, rocking the very room quake. It takes you a bit to realize it was her formidable tail.

" Answer me! "

You straighten like a plank.

And maybe because you're taller, maybe because you're naked, the Queen's gaze deviates towards you again, ever fiery.

Every second that passes adds another furious crease to her complexion, and even if rage is an admittedly majestic look on the monster woman, you'd like to milk this mockery of a dinner for all it can offer- Before she decides to sink her fangs through you. You need to speak. You need to say something, her bumbling assistants are only making it harder for you to stay alive here.

" A- Apologies ma'am, the- The other entrées need a little m-more time to prepare... "

You bullshit, doe eyes blinking upwards at the tyrant. She immediately makes a different expression, as if appalled you muttered anything at all. You hope the imps are smart enough to play along.

" Uuhhm- " Frantic eyes dart around, finding the surprisingly large bottle of what you assume must be some Hell-brand wine on your cart. " Would... Would you b- be interested in- In some complimentary wine? "

It's difficult to make yourself smile. It feels strained, more of a desperate showing of teeth than genuine emotion. A plea for mercy that you aren't sure you'll find in that scaly hide.

The Queen makes a show of deliberating on your offer, what was once a steady hiss melting into a much less acidic hum. Eventually, she adopts a different position, leaning forward and downward to be more at eye level with you. It's impossible to tell whether it's meant as a threat or a show of good faith.

So entranced with her eyes, you only now notice movement on the long table, clawed hands sliding towards you a goblet big enough to fit your head in. Wide, fear-addled eyes dart from the hellish inscriptions on it to her face, waiting.

Finally, after a pause where your very blood seems to pump hard enough to burst your poor veins -What a song it must be to her ears- The royal speaks.

" But of course. "

It comes out smoothly, soft, nowhere near the level of agitation and poison her previous outbursts had sported. It feels like mockery, at first. But when she doesn't strike a cruel blow atop you, you figure there's no time to waste.

Carrying the bottle itself is harder than you'd like, and as your form wobbles in fear and exertion, it's truly a miracle that none of the liquid spills out. You're not sure what she'd do to you if you ruined that expensive table cloth... Better not linger.

Courtesy of it's size, the length of time required to fill the goblet allows an awkward pause to stretch on between the two of you. The ceasing of goosebumps on your back is enough of a tell that the large woman has diverted her attention to something other than yourself. You don't look up when she snaps her fingers, instead hearing a cacophony of movement and rushed apologies as every single imp in the room leaves hurriedly.

Finally, you manage to tip the large glass bottle back in time to avoid another potential spill, setting it on the cart and feeling overly proud of yourself for not fucking it up. You sure are being a person right now.

Glancing back, the Queen has already lifted said container to her face. You stand politely, bare and sweating yet trying to seem as unbothered as possible, even going as far as trying to crack another pitiful smile at her. The monster woman holds you still as stone with her gaze as she sips her drink, and you dare not guess if her look is one of hunger, or desire when she scrolls the length of your figure.

The floor sure is interesting. Where are those tiles from? You wonder how much each singular piece is worth. If only-

" Sit. "

" P- Pardon, ma'am? "

A crease wrinkles her forehead for a second, this distant echo of the frustration she mostly managed to sweep aside. It says everything, you better not make her repeat herself.

" Ssit, human. Dine with me. "

Scales point to the empty chair opposite to Vorticia. It's large. Larger than it ought to be for someone as small as you, though this whole table looks lived in, as if many people -Many demons- Frequently gather around her.

It will only put a deceitful distance between you two, for no matter the position, you're always a mere reach of those gargantuan arms away.

Still, even if this is some cruel game of cat and mouse for her, you're not foolish enough to turn it down.

" Of course ma'am. "

And you sit, bare of ass on cold leather, alert enough that you can feel the patterns on it against your skin. You have no idea what to do with your hands or where to look.

She swirls the wine in her goblet pensively, still examining you like an oddity.

" Do you know where you are, dear? "

Dear...

" Hell. " You chance a peek at her eyes. " Gluttony. "

She smiles. " Do you know who I am? "

Your gulp was loud enough to echo. " The... The Queen? "

There's a sharp sound.

" Do you know who I am? " The demoness repeats.

Honesty might save you. " No, ma'am. "

" I guessed so. " And when she chuckles, a sound low yet feminine, elegant, you find yourself amazed for a moment. Charmed by the snake. " My name is Vorticia. "

You nod attentively, another stretch of silence unfolding before she pointedly raises a brow.

And such, you begin introducing yourself as well. Your name, where you come from, a piece or two of your identity dragged out by her intense staring.

" It's- It's a pleasure, ma'am. " Not really. At least not in these circumstances.

" Oh likewise. " Vorticia makes a dismissive gesture, grabbing a plate and sliding the entirety of its contents down her gullet fast enough that you hardly had time to guess what was on it.

" I simply musst ask- What brought you to my Ring? "

She says it as if you're no more than a tourist, here to sight-see in Gluttony.

" My- My boss. " You start, met with a blink from her. " He made a deal he couldn't finalize. As c- compensation, we were taken from our work directly into... Whatever nooks and crannies there are here. And I... I landed in your kitchen. "

The Queen makes an amused sort of hum, the sound rising to a "hhm!", as if it pleased her that this was the outcome.

" At my table no less. " She jests.

" Yea- Yes. "

Watching this woman destroy the entrées in front of her is nothing short of magical. They can barely be called entrées when they're more than twice the size of a proper main dish, but to her, they are truly less than morsels. Vorticia hardly chews, hardly tastes, opening those jaws, stretching them beyond sightly means just to stuff them down the hatch as soon as possible. A tongue, no two- Three?! Darting muscles clean everything she brings up to a T. And even if she carries herself with a flair nothing short of perfection, she eats like a fucking pig.

The noise of her slurping on plates and sucking the flesh off bones is as foul as it is oddly lewd to you, and it doesn't help that thick drool strings her lips to the cutlery, breaks on her chin. You almost imagine a different type of wetness on her scales, and her oblivious grin has you heating several degrees more.

" Are you not hungry? " Vorticia finally stops gorging to focus on your tense form.

Truthfully, you haven't touched a single thing on the table. Not that you aren't hungry, being next to so many gluttons in a short span of time has you famished. But politeness and terror keep you in check.

" I have invited you here out of the goodness in my heart, to eat with me, not sstand there like a limp animal! "

" I uhm... I- "

Looking at her face tells you something vital. She's extremely upset that you're not eating. That's the only thing those shrinking pupils and suddenly freezing room tell you. And, in hindsight, it makes sense. A glutton is offering you food -Which isn't something they just do- So to reject one's gift when it's already so hard for them to part ways with their meals is kind of like slapping one across the face.

Like slapping the Queen of Gluttony across her serpentine snout.

You don't want to do that.

" Eh- Ex- Excuse me! " You nearly chatter like a skeleton. " I'm just... In shock. "

Clawtips tap a slow rhythm on the table, her tail shifts, a spare hand urging you to elaborate.

Fuck it.

" In... In all fairness, Queen Vorticia, I thought I would be the dinner. "

...

Moments of silent blinking pass.

And then, surprisingly, she erupts in jubilant cackling. The most heartfelt, stupidly contagious bout of mad laughter you've ever heard. There's tears in her eyes.

" Oh, that's too cute. You're preciouss. "

Well. At least you made her laugh? The imp in the hall did say that was a good thing, that it would help in keeping you alive for just a minute longer. A heat settles on your cheeks when her fit of mirth dies down, and the demoness spares you a look far too soft.

It couldn't be that she's drunk already, could it? No. A goblet that small wouldn't even give her a buzz.

You almost don't mind her staring now.

" Would you like to be? "

Just as a sense of calm was tentatively trying to take hold of your limbs, it's thrown off the window again, and your eyes widen to almost the same width as the massive dinner plates on her table.

" Y- Your dinner? "

" Yess. "

What the fuck kind of question is that?

" N- No ma'am. "

She pouts. The Queen of Gluttony actually pouts at you, then shakes her head.

" Only a fool would reject a hungry glutton. "

And when Vorticia licks her scaly lips, tongues flirting with her fangs, darting their length in your general direction for a fleeting second, it all clicks in your fogged brain.

Realization dawns on you with the heat of a thousand suns, and thus, you simmer alive on the chair she so graciously offered you. At this rate, part of you will die in humiliation if a wet spot forms on it.

Maybe... Maybe you spoke too soon. It would certainly be a very memorable experience to be eaten out by such a formidable woman. Though there's nothing to say she won't get ahead of herself and simply gobble you up like a crouton mid-cunnilingus.

Even then, getting to orgasm before you perish is probably a merciful end. As merciful as the bowels of Hell can be to you.

" ... I misunderstood. " You eventually squeak, in disbelief you're actually going to try this.

The Queen rises in her seat, another breathy sound escaping her throat, not quite a hiss but just as sharp, inordinately pleased with your receptivity.

" Oh, we wouldn't want that now. " The Queen nearly purrs. " Come nibble, allow me to make things as clear as crystal. "

When the serpentine demoness starts clearing the space directly in front of her, you can only warily take a stand, not too eager but definitely curious. She beckons you with long fingers and the hypnotizing sway of a split tail.

When you've circumvented the long table to stand by her side, the royal gluttoness dips to whisper into your ears. You can see past her flimsy robes, a close up view of generous tits distracting enough to nearly make her words fly over your head.

" You're going to ssit on my table, morsel. Then, you're going to part those soft little thighs for me. "

A lock of your hair is twirled condescendingly around her digit.

" And I'm going to eat you. "

[huntershowl-moving]

CONTINUED FROM MEME — @gluttons.

he begs to differ. simplicity is found within those caustic collisions -- it is much easier to speak in the language of brutality, than it is the awkward syllables that paved the way to this contented life for the weak & corrupt. lips bear in a maw. this war has whet his appetite; his veneer of humanity all but a husk, draping like silk upon demonic visage, a skin eagerly - awaited to be shed. he flicks his wrist, a casual rotation of a dagger slicing soundlessly through the air. " do not presume you know what's best for me. all of fodlan is dancing in their palm -- you are but the pawn & i the callous observer. " he eyes her with disdain. " do you presume that you can fell me ? "

AS THE WAR HAS CAUSED HIM TO SHED his skin, so too has it caused persephone, hellhound, to shed hers. humanity falls away to reveal beast and blood. there is no longer any need to hide the strange magitech arms, the hair that lets off smoke. the adrestians among them know what she is ( a necessary evil, a bad decision. ) and blissfully, finally, they steer clear.

except for sebastian. the only other who craves blood as much as she. persephone's eyes have lost the playful glint they held while school was in session. they are dark, wild, alert. their stance shifts, face pulling back into a snarl — a cornered animal baring its fangs.

❝ do not speak to me of pawns, ❞ they bite back, stalking closer to him, one hand already curled around a thin blade of its own. ❝ there are more players in this game than you know. ❞ he is right — they are a pawn. but the one who holds their puppet strings is not yet on the chessboard. ever-closer she steps, closer into striking distance, eyes locked on each other with a ferocity unmatched by anyone else in this place that was once a sanctuary. ❝ what do you want from me? blood? there is plenty to be found on the battlefield. do not fuck with me. remember that i know who you are. ❞

[arfthewizard]

i was hungry at 2:59am and i was like i want taco bell so i opened uber eats (devil app) and i was looking for food and i didn’t even rlly want taco bell tbh it was just the only place open at 2:59am besides like mcdonald’s and fheir delivery fee was 5 dollars and i was like no that’s too much so i got taco bell and i was looking at the menu and i was like shit i can eat more than this number 2 supreme combo with large baja blast and i got to thinking abt it and i was like damn u know what i could eat two meals maybe even three at this moment and then i saw the masterpiece the taco bell menu called meal for 4. so i was like im gonna get this taco bell meal for 4 (online exclusive) and i ordered it and it was like 25 dollars and like 15 mins later my uber guy was like hey can u call me rq. and i was like oh no but i called and uber guy was like hey bro they’re fucking out of crunchwraps. what the fuck u mean they’re out of crunchwraps its taco bell that’s the crunchwrap place the place where you go to buy crunchwraps. so i was like damn if im not getting my crunchwraps that’s kinda ass dookie i spent too much on this fuck ass order to not get my 2 crunchwraps so i’m jut gonna cancel the order i guess so i tried to cancel the order and uber eats was like fuck u u gluttonous beast if u wanna cancel the order its gonna be like $35 and i was like damn. so i didnt do that i just told my uber guy to see if the taco bell guys can switch out the crunchwraps for like some more tacos or something so he asked the taco bell guy and he was like yeah we can’t do that. so i was like double damn. so i was just like fuck it its too much money to cancel this order i’m just gonna take the L and get the food without the crunchwraps. and this whole time my kickass uber driver was bending over backwards to get me my food ngl shoutout to dwaine the uber eats guy. so like we were on the phone and dwaine the uber eats guy was trying to get them to substitute some of my bullshit for other bullshit and he was like god this day has been rlly shit and i was like damn i lowkey feel bad so when he got my measly meal for 4 minus two crunchwraps to my house i tipped him like $10 mind you this was at 3 am inthe morning. and then i brought it inside and i realized i forgot to say no ice in my baja blast again like i always do so that kinda sucked too but that was my fault so idc and i sat in my nasty ass bed watching pirated adult swim cartoons and ate like 3 tacos and 2 chicken quesadillas in my bed with my dog like a fucking putrid fucking hog and i also wasnt able to finish it all because it turns out meal for 4 is not meant to be eaten by one person

[eldritch-spouse]

which of your ocs would be an absolute skullfucker and no i will not be elaborating

[Fucking finally. If you're not elaborating, then I will. If you didn't mean literal skull fucking, then it's your fault for not elaborating anon.]

TW: HEAVY GORE.

Kalymir should come as no surprise to anyone. There are many forms of domination to exert over a fallen foe, and fucking the brains out of their skull is one of the most satisfying/humiliating. He'll sometimes go as far as to make sure to crack the back of someone's cranium just so he has an excuse to do this (although the sockets are fine too, if not a bit small). Kaly loves flaring the spikes on his cock so he can rip out more gray matter with every thrust. You may or may not be tasked with cleaning his dick afterwards.

Ludwig gets urges sometimes, just like most Wrath demons. Hell, he's probably had wet dreams about fucking your skull open and then had to lie about it. He's very calm for his type as you already know, but that doesn't mean sometimes Lud isn't driven to extremes and provoked consistently enough to give in. He's definitely fucked some skulls before, and the post nut clarity has him even angrier.

Obie is noteworthy, in the sense that he's not really too into the idea of putting his cock in there, but gluttons have the longest tongues and the biggest appetites, so he's definitely wiggling it around someone's skull and pulling chunks out. Might even eat the whole thing, bone included.

Nebul is more of a mind fuck type of guy. But when pets fail, they still have many uses. In fact, they can be sold to people who don't really want something long-term. Nebul doesn't make mistakes often, but sometimes he'll tweak a little too hard and someone's psyche shatters, his anger at such complex work being destroyed flares and he fucks the lost cause's sockets until they flicker out of consciousness.

Vinnel is also another one you probably expect. If he's the type of guy who will make holes in others to fuck, then he's definitely going to shove that horror cock in someone's sockets, or the back of their head after a good aim game with the crowd. If they're still mildly aware of things enough to cry and spasm, he's going to come harder than ever.

Krulu is kind to you sexually. And not too harsh on his servants' bodies either. But everyone else is subjected to true cruelty, as he'll tear them from ass to mouth without care and play with whatever part of said sad sap he prefers. Skull fucking was more prevalent in the void, when his desperate mind didn't know what to do with the few other prisoners tossed in there. He's grown a taste for this, and it sticks to him even to this day. He could lightly try to fuck yours one day, but it's quite risky.

Morell thinks every part of the long pig should be eaten, including the brain, but clientele doesn't always agree. Sometimes he's nice enough to give piggies a swift end, other times he cleaves their fucking head open and takes a bite before shoving his cock in there to cream it. Yeah, it's wasting food, but it's also a mind-melting orgasm that has him crushing the bone to a pulp in his pleasure. He should do it more often.

Shags internalized a lot from spending his youth with Morell, and he acquired some even more somber tastes as a result of that. He's not a brutal skullfucker, in fact, it's usually his failed muses that are subjected to this, or Morell's dying useless pigs. He whispers about how much of a mercy it is, how it'll all be over soon, pace gentle as he caresses the poor person's shattered head and floods them in cum before it all fades away.

Vesper has, does and will continue to fuck people to death. Usually only those who seek to genuinely harm him or overthrow his rule. A hole is a hole, after all, and if you ever catch Vesper in the midst of this, you'll realize how much of a beast he really is, and why people respect him. Because the look on his face is the same ecstasy when he fucks anyone else, it's the same to him. He'll dislocate jaws, tear holes in someone's throat, fuck through their organs, anything to leave a puddle of cum in every crevice of his challenger's body.

In a similar vein, Santi can and will skull fuck someone who attempts to kill him as well. Or, which is more likely to happen, rail the brains out of some ballsy concubus that didn't quite get the message when Santi told them to leave his territory. It's fine, he'll drill the message into that little fuck pocket of a head they have.

This might not quite count, but Patches enjoys getting skull fucked. Stitches, on the other hand, is the one that's more likely to drill into someone's head during a fit.

A lot more characters can be driven to skull fucking, but these are the ones that jump out to me.

[littlefreya]

Hmmm degreasing henry, sounds like a mechanic au to me

Pairing: AU!Mechanic Henry Cavill x Reader

Warning: 18+, RPF, hinted sex stuff (sex as payment), a little bit of cocky Henry, kind of a bad porn movie situation, really.

A/N: ​Talk to my lawyer. Divider by @firefly-graphics

The Mechanic

A towel soaked with sweat and oil rested on his large shoulder. Inhaling arduously, the hulking savage towered above you, wearing a ratty white tank-top and toying with a heavy wrench between his dirty fingers while letting out a long whistle.

Grease tainted his bristly face, making those crystal-blue eyes appear even brighter as they sized you up the way a gluttonous cougar sizes up his meal. His sight alone made your thighs clench, and almost mindlessly, you snuck a peek at his groin, detecting what seemed to be like a sizeable bulge. 

‘Fuck...’

He was a brute, a dirty, arrogant greasy brute. Yet there you were, daydreaming about him fucking each of your holes right there in his garage. 

“Yeah, like I told you before, miss, the engine is a complete wreck, kaput, dead, gone, you get?”

You threw a gaze at the smoking crumpled hood and then back at the mechanic. 

“Weren’t you supposed to fix it, then?”

Sucking on his bottom lip, he grinned cockily and shrugged, continuously glazing over your figure. “I would, but it will cost extra.”

A deep sigh of frustration cracked from your throat, and you threw your head back, “how much?”

“7000.”

“Are you kidding me!? I don’t have that kind of money!” you whined and spun in your place helplessly. “Mr Cavill...”

“Henry,” he corrected you, remaining stoic upon your meltdown as if he’s seen that kind of behaviour before, though a hint of grin did tug at the corners of his lips. 

“Please, Henry, I really need my car; I’ll lose my job without it,” you begged, your eyes glossy and pink. “Can’t we arrange something?”  

Flicking his tongue over his lips, he took a deeper breath but then shook his head, “sorry, pet, running a business is tight. You can go to someone else, I won’t charge you for the consult, but I assure you they might charge you more and leave your pretty little car even worse than before.”

Whatever happened next was like a minute of utter unconsciousness. You found yourself on your knees with your hands fisting his cargos. Henry stilled and looked down at your damp cheeks, remaining reserved while your hand began to wander over the bulge in his groin but the vibration in his cock gave him away. 

His hand reached for your chin, squeezing it lightly between his thumb and index finger and tilting your head to stare at him before he gestured you to stand up. 

Shame filled you the moment you faced his glare. He did not want you and even though it felt like a horrible, degrading idea, the humiliation of being denied by a man so beast-like and handsome made you want to cry. 

“Tsk, tsk,” Henry emitted and turned on his heels, walking toward the garage door. 

You stared confused when he pressed the button for the metal door to shut down. The light of the outside world soon faded from your sight, leaving you locked in his realm of metal and gasoline.

“Take off your panties and bend over the desk,” he ordered and discarded his top, exposing a mass of virility that would put a Viking berserker to shame. It made you gape, your excitement laced with a sudden fear that he might rip your little slit apart. 

“I...” you began mumbling when Henry crooked an eyebrow and reached to fumble with his belt.    

“7k is a lot of money, pet, I won’t settle for a blow job, and every minute we stand here talking, you cost me more customers, so how about you’ll give me all you’ve got.”

Your eyes widened as he pulled out his cock, your cunt pulsating with desperate, primal need.

'Oh.' 

He was going to fix you, alright.