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goodfish-bowl · 5 months ago

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Hounds on Your Tail

Danny Phantom x Percy Jackson

Masterpost

DP Crossover Angst Week Day 3 - Bleeding out in an Alley Way

Warnings: Minor Gore, descriptions of blood, serious injury, blood loss

Notes: God I wrote this whole thing in less than 2 days. Speedrun time, I guess. Apologies for any errors as a result. It wanted to be longer than intended.

Word Count: 4,505

AO3 Link

Whoever the monsters were chasing after, they were after them with a single-minded focus to be envious of. Not even the demigods on their tails were enough to distract them. It was a group of half a dozen hellhounds, and three harpies, all dead set on chasing the same thing. And whoever they were chasing, was giving them one hell of a chase.

Percy had only noticed the commotion because he was in the city visiting his mom, and had quickly decided to call for backup as fast as he could. Ms. O’Leary had managed to drag over both Nico and Will, both fully equipped. Annabeth had been tagging along on his visit. She was currently trying to figure out where the monsters and who they were chasing were headed. After the fifth double-back, it was clear that the person running was just trying to shake off the monsters, and possibly the group of demigods too. Percy was trying to at least spot who the monsters were chasing but had yet to catch sight of anything other than a beaten, red sneaker around a corner.

Will had managed to get a lucky shot in, killing a harpy with one of his arrows, and both Percy and Nico had each gotten a hellhound. Sometime between when the group of demigods had first spotted the monsters and now, a hellhound and a harpy had both vanished. Percy wondered if whoever they were chasing had managed to kill both monsters or if they merely had broken off from the rest of the group. But Percy was getting just a bit tired of playing chase throughout all of New York City, he had no doubt that the monsters’ target was beginning to flag too.

The remaining four monsters quickly darted around the latest alley detour their unfortunate prey had bolted into. Percy skidded to a halt, suddenly having three hellhounds cornered in a dead-end alley, pinned against a brick wall. The harpy angrily screeched and flew over the wall to continue the chase. Between the four of them, the hell hounds didn’t stand a chance, quickly becoming piles of yellow dust. From the other side of the wall, the harpy screeched again, followed by cries of pain and fighting.

“Shit! How did they get to the other side of the wall?” Percy cursed, before turning to Annabeth.

Percy didn’t have to say a thing, only crouch down. Annabeth came at him in a dead sprint. It was timed perfectly, as she stepped up onto his clasped hands and he flung her to the top of the wall, pulling herself up the rest of the way. Nico took hold of Will and vanished into the shadows of the alley.

Percy was left alone on the opposite side of the alley. Luckily for him, there was a pipe clinging to the bricks of one of the buildings. It had just enough foothold for him to quickly climb up it and perch on top of the brick wall. Below, Will was hunched over a small figure leaning against the bricks, with Annabeth standing to the side, and Nico farther back. Percy jumped down.

Percy winced, finally getting a glimpse at the person the monsters had been chasing for the past hour, possibly longer before he and Annabeth had noticed. It was a teenage boy with a mess and thick, black hair on his head. Blood seeped heavily from his stomach, and Percy recognized the slash of harpy claws. Will was trying to get the teen to stop clutching his stomach so he could at least check the wound. The boy’s jeans looked like they had been torn up even more from the hellhounds, with two large bite marks visible on his legs. There was blood smeared on the bricks he was leaning against, suggesting another wound on his back.

“No! I’ll be fine, you have to leave before they come back!” The teen pleaded.

“I told you, we’ll be fine! We killed the ones who were chasing you. It’s you I’m more worried about. You’re practically bleeding out in this alley! I need to make that harpy didn’t gut you!” Will argued back.

“You really should let him at least check, he won’t stop until you let him,” Nico added.

Percy frowned, not liking the situation one bit. He turned to Annabeth, who was glancing between their mystery teen-likely-demigod, and the top of the wall.

“What is it, Wise Girl?”

“I’m trying to figure out how he managed to get over that wall before the harpy could fly over.”

“There was a pipe I used to get over. He could’ve done that,” Percy offered.

“Not with two chunks taken out of his legs. I’m surprised he even managed to run after taking damage like that,” Annabeth refuted.

Percy winced, “Yeah, he certainly looks like he’s had a pack of hellhounds on his tail for over an hour.”

“Percy!” Will called out, and he snapped to attention.

Will had gathered the bleeding boy into his arms, finally revealing a mix of wounds across his back from both claws and talons.

“Nico and I are taking him back to camp! The slash on his stomach is too deep, I need to treat him there,” Will rushed.

“Got it,” Percy nodded. “Annabeth and I will meet you back at camp.”

“No,” the teen protested, but was unable to fight back, seeming to be getting weaker by the second. Will’s clothes were slowly being soaked with blood.

“Hurry,” Nico said.

Will nodded and the three vanished into the shadows.

“Percy,” Annabeth called out, walking over and crouching down where the teen had been leaning against the wall. “Is it just me, or is there something off about his blood?”

Percy crouched down to get a closer look, and sure enough, there were the smallest flecks of green of all things in the blood. He didn’t like that one bit. Those monsters had to be after that teen for some reason or another, but Percy had never heard of a demigod with green flecks in their blood either. Whatever it was, the monsters really wanted him dead.

“We should hurry back to camp,” Percy decided.

“Yeah.”

And the two took off.

Danny officially banned himself from the big cities, especially places as crowded as New York City. With Jazz off at college and his leash pulled tight around his parents, there was no way he was getting out of not going to their latest ghost-hunter convention. No excuses had worked, and he had tried everything from faking illness to group projects. Danny had been forcibly dragged from Illinois to NYC in the GAV. Sam and Tucker were keeping a close eye on the portal for him at the very least, and he was sure he could fly back within the day if they got overwhelmed.

Turns out, his parents had misinterpreted ‘ghostbuster’ for ‘ghost hunter’, and ended up dragging him to a comic con instead. That was cool, and his parents were thought to be cosplayers for all of 10 minutes before security refused to let them through due to their weapons. His parents still had a presentation to do, even if people just thought they were method acting, so Danny got sent back with an armload full of weapons to dump back in the GAV. Unfortunately for him, one went off, thoroughly shorting out his powers. Danny wasn’t going to let that bother him though. He had intended to go back inside and enjoy the con, avoiding his parents the entire while, He didn’t need powers for that.

But then the first dog monster appeared.

Danny had thought it was a ghost at first, and with his powers shorted out, he couldn’t necessarily rely on his ghost sense. With no powers and a very aggressive possibly-a-ghost dog on his heels, Danny took off running. Before he knew it, there was a whole pack of them, literally nipping at his heels, and doing their best to tear him to shreds. The bird ladies, (harpies if he remembered correctly), joined in not long after, adding in a much harder ‘dodging’ section to the chase. He thought it was weird no one was freaking out about the dogs of the harpies, but maybe New York was just like that?

Danny knew there were people on his heels too, but he didn’t have time to stop and see if they were also hostile or not. Glancing back had earned him harpy claws to the back. Even worse, the more he bled, the more excited his pursuers seemed to get, trying even harder to tear him to shreds. The pot shots he had managed to take at the dogs and harpies were only towards the end, when the steady hum of his powers, as unreliable as they were, started to return. More of them vanished as the chase went on, and Danny was just going to assume he lost them. He had managed to hit one of each, barely catching them collapse into a yellow powder before accidentally cornering himself in an alley.

Danny had run into the bricks first, before finally able to slip through them with intangibility. He only had a moment to breathe before the harpy flew over the wall and tackled Danny to the ground, sinking its talons into his gut. He screamed and fired off another desperate ectoblast that missed by a wide margin.

Danny got to meet his second group of pursuers as two people emerged from the shadows in the alley. One had immediately turned into nothing more than a black blur to Danny’s eyes, forcing the harpy off of him. He had tried to stand up to face the new possible threat, but blood loss forced Danny against the brick wall behind him, sliding down it and likely tearing open the wounds on his back even further. His vision blurred, and Danny was only able to make out golden blonde hair and a bright orange t-shirt approaching him.

Danny cried out, clutching his stomach while trying to force himself back to his feet. The blonde forced themself between Danny and the view of the fight behind him. There was an impact to his left, and Danny was able to make out another person-shaped blur, also blonde with an orange shirt, who took off to help with the fight.

“Hey!” The one in front of him tried to get his attention, but he could barely make out the rest of what they said. His head was feeling uncomfortably light.

Danny struggled for a moment and got his vision to barely focus, but he was able to make out that the person in front of him was a guy and seemed really concerned.

“Hey, I need you to let me see your wound. I’m a medic, I can help,” the guy demanded.

Danny immediately recoiled.

“No! I’ll be fine, you have to leave before they come back!” Danny didn’t want anyone here if there were more possibly-ghosts on his tail. He couldn’t use his powers around other people!

“I told you, we’ll be fine! We killed the ones who were chasing you. It’s you I’m more worried about. You’re practically bleeding out in this alley! I need to make sure that that harpy didn’t gut you!” The medic argued back.

“You really should let him at least check, he won’t stop until you let him,” a second voice butted in. He sounded like he was underwater.

The blonde guy said something else, but Danny couldn’t tell what. There was suddenly a hand on his wrist and he attempted to struggle, but the stranger had a vice grip. He forced Danny’s arm away from his stomach, then said something else. It… probably… hopefully looked a lot worse than it really was. Danny had taken hard hits before and still got up. He had to get away.

Danny felt the hands on him re-adjust and tried to struggle again, but he felt so heavy. He grit his teeth and thrashed as best as he could, but his limbs barely responded. He could feel how absolutely soaked his clothing was though. He was being picked up and the entire world tilted around him. The second person approached, nothing more than a dark blob in Danny’s vision.

His jumbled senses refused to give him anything else before darkness crept in in more ways than one, and Danny passed out.

Danny woke up to acute, stinging pain, taking in a sharp breath that caused him to choke. His vision swam in white while he practically hacked out a lung. In less than a second, there was a supportive hand on his back practically propping him up, before slowly lowering him once again. Danny blinked the light out of his eyes, trying to see where he had ended up this time.

Well, good news, it wasn’t a government facility. Bad news, Danny appeared to be in an infirmary of some kind. The wood interior betrayed it as some sort of cabin, despite its purpose. Danny winced at the familiar sensation of pulling on healing wounds.

“Sorry, but you might not want to move too much just yet,” a voice apologized.

Danny snapped to the person standing over him. An older teen with golden blond hair, tanned skin, and light blue eyes. He was definitely familiar, and Danny wondered if this was the same guy from the alley.

“I just finished with your stitches not that long ago, but now that you’re awake, we can get some ambrosia into you to finish healing the rest of your injuries,” the guy continued. “But you should probably still take it easy for a while.”

Danny just blinked, openly staring at the guy giving him medical advice. He had no idea what ambrosia was. Also stitches, while normally a good thing, was a bad thing for Danny. He was going to end up healing, or burning through them. He prodded just the slightest bit at his core… and good, his powers were back. Which now left his other issue. His caretaker had left his side to go retrieve something from one of the cabinets.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the medical care, but who are you? And also where am I?” Danny asked.

The older teen blinked, turning back to Danny. “Oh right! Sorry, guess we forgot introductions due to the circumstances. I’m Will Solace, head of the Apollo Cabin. You’re currently at Camp Half-Blood right now.”

Danny stared at Will, rotating the names in his head. ‘Half-blood’, huh? That certainly said something, but Danny didn’t know what. He wondered if it was a joke of some kind.

“I’m Danny,” he introduced himself, just giving his first name.

“It’s nice to meet you, Danny. I’m sure the others are going to be eager to meet you. It’s not often that someone can outrun a group of hellhounds and harpies for that long!” Will praised.

Danny mouthed the word ‘hellhounds’ in light confusion. Well, at least he got confirmation that other people knew about the dog monsters and bird ladies. He could also rule them out of being ghosts, since Danny had never encountered a ghost that turned into dust after being defeated.

Will walked back over and placed a small, parchment paper-covered square in his hand. Danny opened it, revealing something that looked like a small lemon square. He sniffed it, getting a citrusy and spiced scent. Weird combination, but a snack was a snack.

“I know I gave you a whole square but-” Will started, only to yelp as Danny popped the whole square in his mouth without hesitation.

It tasted pretty close to how it smelt, but had an odd texture, like fudge instead of a lemon bar, but also uncomfortably chewy. It kind of reminded him of ectoplasm in the strong citrus flavor, but lemon instead of lime. The spices were really warm in his mouth like hot cinnamon, instead of the cool tingly flavor he kinda liked from ectoplasm.

“You weren’t supposed to eat the whole thing!” Will exclaimed, and Danny swallowed.

Will was on Danny in an instant, checking his temperature with the back of his head. Apparently, he didn’t like what he felt and stuck a thermometer into Danny’s mouth. The thermometer beeped after a moment, and Will snatched it, checking the numbers. His legs and back itched, but Danny couldn’t scratch at them due to his stomach injury, which also itched.

“Well, you’re not going to burst into flames at least. You’re not even heating up, if anything you’re hypothermic,” Will announced.

It took him a moment to realize why Will was freaking out, but Danny figured it out eventually. If the terrible lemon square was like ectoplasm, then it was very much not intended for normal consumption without consequences. Will’s words caught up to him then.

“Wait? Flames?” Danny asked, bewildered.

“Ambrosia, the food of the gods, can cause normal people to burst into flames. For people like us, eating too much can cause some pretty bad fevers and internal damage,” Will explained.

That made sense if it was like ectoplasm. But- “What do you mean ‘people like us’?”

Will’s face scrunched up. “Well, um. I’ve only had to give this talk a few times. I’m not normally the one to do it but…” Will made eye contact with Danny. “What do you know about Greek mythology?”

The question seemed a bit left-field to Danny. “A decent amount, I think.” There were ghosts that resembled Greek myths, usually closer to Pandora’s place.

“Well, it’s not as mythological as it may seem. Everything from monsters, as I’m sure you're familiar with by now, to the gods themselves is very real,” Will said like it was supposed to be some sort of big revelation.

Danny processed the information. So the ‘hellhounds’, as Will called them, were Greek monsters, not ghosts. Didn’t like that. He liked that they had decided he was a chew toy even less.

“Okay… and? That revelation didn’t answer the question.”

This time, it was Will’s turn to look gobsmacked for a moment before continuing. “Well, the gods didn’t go anywhere and still exist in modern times. And sometimes they come down and… interact with mortals,” Will added hesitantly.

Danny remained silent. He still didn’t get where the blonde was going with this. He was very tempted to start picking at the stitches in his stomach.

Will seemed to give up with whatever subtly he had been attempting. “Demigods. We’re demigods. You, me, most people at this camp.”

“Oh.”

Danny knit his brows together, crossing his arms and frowning, thinking it over. He wasn’t a demigod, that’s for sure. He wasn’t half-god, but half-ghost. Sure, Danny knew there were some pretty terrifying spirits in the Ghost Zone who could easily be mistaken for gods, so it was possible there was a mix-up with him here too.

“After the monsters and the fact that you didn’t burst into flames after eating the ambrosia, yeah, that pretty much confirms you’re a demigod,” Will said.

Danny did not want to be involved in whatever this mess was. He had enough problems in Amity Park.

“Okay, cool. So, um. I’m a demigod, great. What am I supposed to do with that information?” Danny asked. He wanted to leave. His parents would notice eventually he had gone missing sooner or later.

“Well, Camp Half-Blood exists as a sort of ‘safe spot’, and also a training ground. Monsters can’t get in here. It’s technically a summer camp, but we have campers who stay here both seasonally and year-round. It’s considered really dangerous to be all on your own. You’re probably the oldest new camper we’ve had in a while. Most tend to make their way here between 10 to 12 years old.”

“Do I have to come here?”

Danny did not want to be forced to attend demigod camp. Being out of Amity Park for a week was terrible, but an entire summer? Yeah, no way.

Will frowned. “Not… really, but-”

The door to the cabin opened, and another older teenager walked in. Tall, dark hair and sea green eyes. Danny didn’t recognize him at all.

“Hey, Will!” The new guy greeted, before noticing Danny stare at him. “Cool, you’re awake. Did Will give you the whole ‘congrats, you’re a demigod’ speech yet?”

“Percy,” Will practically whined. “I can’t believe you left that to me, but yeah, I did.” Will looked back at Danny. “Danny, this is Percy Jackson, he was part of the group who found you and brought you here. Percy, this is Danny,” Will introduced.

Danny still didn’t recognize Percy, but he acknowledged that bleeding out on the ground wasn’t especially good for recall.

“Thanks for the save. I like not being turned into bird food.”

Percy snorted a laugh and Will sighed. “No problem. I didn’t do much. The main people you have to thank is Will here and Nico, wherever he’s at.”

“Probably sleeping,” Will hummed in thought.

“Probably,” Percy agreed. “By the way Danny, do you have any idea who your godly parent might be? A few of us like to make friendly bets when we get a new kid. I’ve got money on Hermes.”

Danny didn’t get a chance before Will butted back in.

“Percy, he’s been up just long enough for me to get some ambrosia in him. I literally just explained the whole ‘demigod’ thing,” Will scolded.

Percy gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry. So, what’d the ambrosia taste like? I know it throws a lot of people off when they first try some,” Percy asked, directing the question towards Danny.

“Like a lemon bar someone decided to melt an entire bag of red hots in,” Danny described. “So, bad.”

Both Percy and Will blinked, before Percy snorted, “That’s a new one.”

“It’s not supposed to taste bad. It usually tastes like something you really like,” Will explained.

“Darn, I guess,” Danny shrugged. “Anyways, I do have to leave.”

“Leave? You’re not sticking around?” Percy asked, surprised.

Danny shook his head. “Nope. I’m only in New York for a convention with my parents. They’ll probably notice I’m missing sooner or later,” Danny answered truthfully.

Percy seemed to think about something before asking, “Are you healed up enough to at least get a tour? I understand if you have to go, but it’d probably be a good idea to at least get your hands on a weapon just in case you get attacked again.”

That, Danny could agree to. He wiggled a bitin his bed a bit, noticing that the itching had finally subsided. His stomach was still a bit sore, but other than that, and the stitches that sorely needed to be removed, he was fine.

“Sure,” Danny said, sitting up and throwing his legs over the side.

Will seemed dumbfounded but wasn’t able to get the words out before Percy declared, “Neat. Then let’s go!”

And Danny managed to escape the infirmary.

Percy decided he liked Danny. He was laid back and friendly enough, giving just as much snark as he got. From what he had heard, a lot of new campers tended to freak out for at least an hour, but Danny took it all in stride, more exasperated than shocked. It was a little odd, but Percy brushed it off as just part of Danny’s personality. It wasn’t a bad trait to have.

Percy made sure to give a decent tour as they made their way to the weapons shed. He asked questions and answered some, learning that Danny was originally from a place called Amity Park in Illinois. His parents were here for the Comic Con, and Danny got dragged along. He said he had always been quick on his feet. Percy really hoped Danny would come back for the summer, even if he couldn't stay now. He told Danny all the demigod basics, from what ‘claiming’ was, how the camp was laid out, and even some of the activities they participated in when there were more people around.

From the weapons shed, Danny ended up picking a bronze short sword and was given a sheath to go with it. He told Percy that he knew how to use it just a bit from a couple of martial arts classes. He told Danny to come back and he could personally teach him how to sword fight like a pro.

But throughout the whole tour, Percy picked up on the nonchalance Danny seemed to have, more like he was a tourist instead of someone who had finally found a place to stay. He definitely wasn’t planning on coming back, but he might anyway. Percy knew personally very well that plans rarely went according to plan. They got plenty of attention while walking around, since news of Danny’s chase had already managed to spread throughout the camp. There were some jeers and encouragement from people who tried to recruit him for Capture the Flag. Percy claimed he already called dibs. Danny just laughed.

They were somewhere near the pavilion when it happened.

Percy had just managed to convince Danny to at least stick around for dinner. A bright symbol appeared over Danny’s head, causing everyone who had been gathering to pause. Percy recognized the symbol, but never over anyone’s head in a claiming. It wasn’t a symbol that should even be possible to appear.

The air in camp changed immediately, and Danny noticed just as fast. His stance changed from lax into defensive. He knew how to fight a lot better than he let on, or perhaps it was just instinct. Percy hoped it was instinct.

“What’s that? What’s going on?” Danny practically demanded.

“You’ve been claimed,” Percy stated, more in horror than awe.

“Claimed? By who?” Danny was just as confused as everyone else seemed to be.

But Danny didn’t understand, he didn’t know. It was impossible, it was catastrophic, even. Danny didn’t realize just how bad this was.

“Son of Cronos,” someone hissed.

Danny finally seemed to get the memo then, his facial expression going from confusion, to shock, to realization, and then to irritation of all things.

“Ancients, of course he did,” Danny growled under his breath.

Percy had to act fast, he had to- his hand slipped right through Danny’s wrist, who leaped back out of reach at the same time Percy moved.

“Yeah, I’m leaving now,” Danny said. “Thanks for the sword and the tour, but I gotta go.”

“Wait!” Percy called out, jumping towards Danny again.

He vanished. No flash, no sound, just gone, leaving only footprints behind.

Percy cursed under his breath in a thorough mix of both Greek and Latin. He took a glance towards the head table, where Mr. D and Chiron were both also staring. Chiron looked like he had just aged 40 years, and Mr. D looked about ready to break his sobriety with something much stronger than wine and deeply, deeply exhausted.

Yeah, this was beyond bad.

#goodfish writes #danny phantom #percy jackson #dpcaw24 #dp crossover #dp x pjo #Danny absolutely goes an yells at Clockwork for this #Clockwork thinks its funny #he's the only one laughing #meanwhile Olympus is in shambles and so are the Camps since Danny's gone 'missing'#he went home #Danny is absolutely trying his best to NOT get involved

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anomaly-hivemind · 2 months ago

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Under and Over ☆ Monster! Muriel x Reader | Kinktober Day 16

Summary: You've been waking up in the morning more tired than before you went to bed. This time, you wake up in the middle of the night and find out why.

Word Count: 1469

Tags: slight somnophilia, sleepy, gentle fucking (at first ), vaginal fingering, penis in vagina, size difference, size kink, cunnilingus, light biting, gentle giant,

You had purchased a new bed and frame from a local mattress store. The frame was a cute dark wood and the mattress felt amazing when you first got it. It was also on a killer sale. So you had it moved to your home as soon as possible and then threw out the old and shitty one.

The next few nights you slept like a baby.

Then a few months in, your peaceful sleep changed, you chopped it up to just being stressed at work. But after work calms down, the sleep patterns remain the same, waking up like you had been manhandled or fighting demons. You’d wake up feeling weak in the knees and drained of energy for the next morning. Then there were some days you would be covered in your own sweat feeling like you had run a marathon mixed with a wild sex dream.

However this night was going to be different, you had repeated to yourself. You have the weekend off. You changed all your sheets, having replaced them with new cotton ones. You had taken a relaxing long shower and just put on a simple night dress that was breathable so you wouldn’t so much through the late hours. ‘

You close your eyes and fall into a rather dreamless sleep. A large hand faintly traces up your body. The hotness of the room had long made you discard the covers of your bed. Leaving you exposed with your nightgown that had moved itself up. The weight of the bed had been pushed down. Dipping down until the frame touched the ground. A second hand wrapped around your leg and pulled it upright.

You stir, and all movements freeze, but when your body stays asleep, the movement starts again. Your legs get pulled open by your personal sleep paralysis demon. You're not wearing any underwear. The clawed finger was carefully pushed against your folds. Your body shivers, and you dream of colors dancing at your eyelid. The finger rubs against your clit, and a sleepy moan escapes your lips. Whatever dream you were having was starting to feel like a good one. You could almost feel like you were half awake and struggling to get up.

Your legs were damp with your own arousal, and your hips jolted as you felt a slow intrusion at your entrance. You tried to wake up and stumble through the haze, but it was a struggle. A thick finger fully pushing its way deeper into your cunt makes your eyes flutter open. Everything was blurry, but all you could make out was the overwhelming presence above you. Then your eyes closed again; what was going on? Your mind was a bit fuzzy. You feel the intrusion pull out of your pussy, and your ears pick up on a faint slurping that has followed right after.

Your eyes widened again when you felt a wet tenant; you felt wide awake but incredibly drained. You weakly tried to sit up to see the phantom of your nightly pleasures when you saw him. It was monstrously tall; you could see the outline of horns and the clearly glowing eyes looking up at you.

“Who are you?” You squint at the lofty shadow between your legs. You feel like you should be screaming out or calling for the police, but then another part of you makes you feel like this is all some kind of dream. You let out a huff and lay back on the bed for a second; this is definitely some kind of dream. Your body and mind feel a bit too calm right now.

“Are you the thing that has been keeping my body ragged for the past like a month?” again, there was no answer, but the person bites down on your upper thigh. You hiss, as it sucks on the mark it just created. You feel his tongue back on your folds, and your body shivers. Your hand reaches for one of the horns on the creature's head.

Your nightly beast lets out a groan as you gripped on one of his horns. It feels too real, so rough, yet so smooth at the same time. He pushed his tongue into your entrance, and it caused you to let out a few curses. This felt too good to be real, you think to yourself. Your eyes closed, and you let yourself just enjoy the moment until a voice breaks the silence.

“Sleep no more…” he murmured, his large tongue licking over your heat.

“You spoke?” you shift a bit, his voice was very soothing, it was low and rumbly. He then nods at you and gets ready to continue what he was doing to you.

“So, not much of a talker?” He nips on your thigh this time; it causes a decent mark, and it definitely helps wake you up more.

“Does this stranger have a name?” you started to feel like you were just filling in the silence beside the here and there, slurping from being eaten out.

“Muriel,” he moved to suck on your cunt, his mouth large, and his tongue laps between your lower lips. He pushed one of his thick fingers back into you, then another. Your back arched as you felt him stretching you out. A low groan escaped his lips, it reverberated through his chest, and you could feel it on your pussy. A small moan escaped your mouth from the tandem stimulation of his thick fingers curling within you and his tongue against your clit.

Your back arched off the bed when his fingers pressed against the spongy tissue inside your walls. You couldn’t help the noises that escaped your mouth.

Muriel gets up, and your eyes widen a bit at him standing up, even if it is just a little bit. He was huge, and his size alone felt like it could turn you on, but the sight of him in the slight glimpse of the moonlight. He had long hair that fell past his face, which was still shrouded in shadows, but his eyes were intensely staring back at you. His silhouette was massive and when he moved on top of you, he was towering above you. Muriel carefully pulls your legs around his hips, and you find yourself gripping at his horns.

You muttered his name, and he moved closer to kiss you, if only just once. He grabs the girth of his cock and lines it up with your entrance, rubbing it along your folds to gather up your juices. You could feel how proportional he was to his large size. His movements are so slow that it almost feels teasing. Muriel pushes his tip into you before watching your reaction; then, he pulls out for a second. He pushes a bit more into you, going a bit deeper than before until he pulls out again. You give him a pout even if you weren't sure he could even see it that well, but then again, he had glowing eyes and could probably see in the dark.

He kept pushing in and out of you until he got to push all the way into you, his hips flushed with yours, and you could feel the full stretch of him inside you. However, thanks to his calculated movements, it didn't hurt as much. You wanted to pull him closer and get another kiss. Which is what you did, he stills his moments and focuses on kissing you passionately.

His movements were slow and tender, he was giving you time to adjust to his massive size. Honestly you were surprised that he fit at all, he traced his hands along your skin taking time to map out your body with his hand before he started to move a bit more.

His hands wrapped around your hips and pulled you flush against his hips, lifting your body off the bed a bit. His thrusts reached so much deeper than before; his large phallus was making its home deep inside you. With every thrust, you were hit with surges of bliss.

He rocked into you slowly for one moment, and then he would go a bit faster. Unfiltered moans left you feeling like you could burst on the spot. His hip slammed into you, and your bed frame creaks and stammers. He leaned down to kiss your cheeks, then your neck as his thrust started to become uncoordinated.

Your hole clenched around his cock, and your back arched off the bed and your toes curled as you climaxed. You could feel the sweat on your forehead after you calmed down. You could hear the soft groans of the creature. He let you rest for a moment and then started again.

Guess you won’t be getting much sleep tonight.

#fanfiction #smut #kinktober #the ar3cana #the arcana game #muriel #the arcana muriel #muriel smut #the arcana smut #muriel the arcana #muriel the hermit #muriel of the kokhuri #muriel of the mountains #muriel x reader #the arcana fanfiction

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love7poetry · 3 months ago

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dancing phantoms on the terrace

⤷ loml!homecoming!peter parker x reader

𝜗𝜚. . . synopsis. sophomore year's homecoming, the night peter knew it has and will always be you.

𝜗𝜚. . . general tag. fluff

.ᐟ. . . content warnings. spelling but that's nothing new, clichè, and peter being the clueless genius he is

♫⋆｡ i felt aglow like this, never before and never since, if you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ sophia's letter ! i have decided to give loml!peter a little series and although this could be read as a stand alone, it follows peter and artsy!reader's relationship before the events of no way home/loml. also, hiiii i moved to my main blog! first part of this series will stay in my second blog, but from now on i will be posting all my work here!

part i

wc. 1,363

the music from the gym could be heard even from the high rooftop of the school. students were starting to head to their cars in groups, most likely to attend another party with more alcohol.

a certain girl in a red dress walking out of the doors caught peter’s eye.

liz. he had walk out on her, his date, to go put her own dad in jail.

he could see that she was on a phone call, and he didn’t need to use his enhanced hearing to know she was receiving the news that her dad was being arrested. peter looked away.

he glanced behind him at the door to the roof terrace, sensing someone. he was about to leave before whoever was coming could see him in his homemade suit, but his shoulders relaxed when he saw you.

you made eye contact with your best friend and your heart dropped at the sight. it was clear he had taken more than a few punches. there was blood and ash covering him while he held his left side in pain.

‘oh my god, peter’ he still managed to give you a smile. you rushed over to him with a worried expression. ‘i’m okay.’ he hated making you worry about him.

you sigh, shaking your head. ‘what happened?’

peter looked down. ‘the flying bird-man i’ve been fighting this entire time, is liz’s dad and i just got him arrested.’

you grimace, ‘oh no, pete.’ you didn’t know how to respond to that. sure, ever since peter started crushing on liz, you felt some sort of grudge towards her, but never would you wish having your date standing you up in front of the whole school the same night your dad gets arrested on anyone.

‘i know.’ peter sat on the floor, feeling too tired and defeated to stand. you followed after him.

the rooftop overlooked midtown and through the railings you could see the students in their pretty dresses and dark suits. not one of them had any idea that spider-man was sitting in their school’s roof. for the first time since the bite, peter envied their normal lives.

‘i feel like an asshole.’ peter confessed after a moment of comfortable silence. you look over at him, but he was focused on the lights coming from below you.

you think over your words carefully. ‘you looked like one,’ you started, and peter sighed. ‘liz doesn’t know about spider-man, so she deserves an apology from you. since you can’t tell her the truth, be honest about how sorry you are. it is the least you can do.’ peter nods, knowing you’re right.

you inhale, ‘but you did the right thing. you didn’t let your feelings for liz get in the way of stopping a criminal.’ now you look ahead while peter turns to look at you.

‘you’re not an asshole, pete. you’re a kid with too much responsibility.’

peter’s throat felt swollen. he looked you over and noticed the way his heart was beating. it was loud and fast, but rather than an anxious pit forming in his stomach like it did with liz, he felt a warmth. there was security and excitement with you.

peter’s hand twitched and he is confused as to why it itches to hold yours.

you feel peter’s stare and look at him. your breath hitches in your throat when you make eye contact with his glossy eyes. feeling your shoulder against his, he radiates warm and you think it is from the fight he had with mr. toomes.

both completely oblivious to the affect you had on peter.

‘how was your night?’ it was almost a whisper when peter spoke. he needed you to ground him before he overstimulates himself. for some reason, all his senses were on you and it was scaring him.

he could smell your strawberry scented shampoo, see the glittery powders you added to your makeup even though they were fading by now, feel the burning of your body against his yet it doesn’t feel like you’re close enough, and hear your own heartbeat along with his.

peter was reminded of the day you found him having a panic attack after the bite when he didn’t understand why everything was sticking to him or how he was able to break the faucet with his bare hands. you had told him to focus on you until he could breathe again and he told you about the spider.

the realization that he still searches for the rhythm of your heart every time he feels overwhelmed hits him, and his already exhausted mind is slowly piecing together what his heart has always known.

‘it was alright,’ you answer. ‘people kept asking me about you, so i decided to come here for some peace.’ you noticed peter’s brows furrowed and tried to ease him, ‘i don’t mind them asking.’

you weren’t going to tell him that you came up here because you couldn’t stand the way they kept talking about him and calling him names. peter is already having a hard night.

‘still, im really sorry for dragging you into this,’ peter’s face showed distress.

you know peter is an apologetic person, and sometimes he needs to hear he is forgiven even if he doesn’t need to apologize in the first place.

an idea goes off in your head.

you stand before offering your hand down to him. he looks up at you confused and you bite your lip to contain a smile. ‘i’ll forgive you, if you dance with me.’

by now, there were more students in the parking lot than inside the gym and the music had stop at some point while you were up here with peter, but you didn’t care.

peter hesitates and you playfully roll your eyes. ‘come on, i was sitting down all night and you clearly need a little fun.’

‘i hope you know this is very cliché,’ you know it is, but the smile forming in peter’s lips as his hand reach for yours makes it worth it.

once he’s standing, peter grows stiff and his hands tremble as he hesitates to put them on your waist. you’re making it hard for peter to remember his dancing lesson with may.

he hears your heartbeat increase.

when you see peter struggle, you gently guide his hands, and peter looks down at his feet to hide the blush that is starting to creep down his neck and to the tip of his ears. his own heart speeds up when you wrap your arms around his neck

you start to slow dance and peter follows your lead.

you’ve liked peter since the beginning of freshman year, but you’ve given up on the delusion that one day he will reciprocate your feelings. yet, there is something there tonight, a glimpse when he looked at you like never before.

you step closer.

peter notices and his hands’ grip on you tightens, more so as a way to control himself than to keep you at a distance. he has been your friend since you two were kids, so why is he just now aware of the way his body reacts to you?

even if it is a little awkward to dance to the sound of cars leaving the school’s campus or students hanging out before getting picked up, you’re enjoying this far more than the actual homecoming.

after another moment passes in each other's arms, peter gains the courage to meet your eyes. they tracing every detail on his face, he notices, from the creases on his forehead to the curve of his lips. he grows awfully aware that he is filthy right now, but your gaze is soft.

'you have really pretty eyes,' peter wants to take a picture of you, memorize the way you look tonight forever.

his words make you stop your movements. you feel like melting under his intense, starry eyes. 'i think you hit your head,' you let out a breathy laugh, trying to make light of the situation to spare your feelings.

'no, that's not it.' peter shakes his head. he finally understands what the rapid beating of his heart has been trying to tell him.

peter parker is in love with you.

you can see the realization behind peter's eyes, a sight you're sure you'll remember forever, and peter really hopes he isn't about to mess things up.

'may i please kiss you?'

#୧ ‧₊˚ 🌷 ⋅ 𝕾𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐀 𝕾𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 #୧ ‧₊˚ 🍰 ⋅ 𝕾𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐀 𝖂𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 #୧ ‧₊˚ 🎀 ⋅ 𝕾𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐀 𝖂𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spiderman x reader #spider man x reader #spider man x you #spider man imagine #spider man fanfiction #peter parker homecoming

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stealingyourbones · 1 year ago

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Submitted Prompts #99

Jazz went to Gotham to finish her degree away from her parents, as their obsession with Ghosts started becoming dangerous to everyone. So, of course, she brought Danny with her, so he's also far away from them and the GIW.

Danny held out a whole year without going out on patrol, just establishing his haunt in the new city. Lady Gotham was very happy to be able to show them to their new place, almost giddy that the little King and his Queen Mother have come to live in her beloved city.

Of course, the first time Phantom floats out of his window and into the night, he has a new suit, made of padded black leather, and a fluffy white cape with a hood (imagine the Lightkin Cloak from Destiny2, but snow white, rather than black and grey), along with a facemask engraved with a fanged design. New haunt, new look, and the new look fit right in with the viciousness of Gotham City.

And, as luck would have it, his first Gotham Rogue was Poison Ivy. Thinking back to his fight against Undergrowth, Pantom opened with his ice, forming a double-sided axe to better cleave her vines apart, and locking Ivy herself down with ice.

To further distance himself from his identity as Phantom, in case the GIW somehow became smart at some point, instead of blasting ice like most ghosts fire ectoblasts, Danny asked Pandora for lessons on fighting with weapons, and Frosbite taught his how to channel his element as an aura, or a freezing breath. He even sat down to listen to Nocturne speak as they wove spells and ectoplasm, and the Personification of Dreams softly taught him how to use his powers through objects acting as catalysts, or as manifestations of his will, rather than throwing his affinities around by brute force.

With his new abilities and look, rather than fight like a feral raccoon, Danny took to fighting more like a spellblade, slinging around ice shard and spells to enhance his physical strikes, controlling the pace of a fight to get the upper hand on his enemies.

Suffice to say, Poison Ivy hadn't expected the Avatar of Icy Vengeance to lock her in a pillar of ice up to her neck while her vines withered into frosty sculptures.

Gotham's newest hero got awarded a new name by the news the next day: Ymir, Frozen Progenitor.

Danny thinks it's too pretentious for a random ghost, or random halfa, like him. Joke's on him, the perception of Gotham's people slowly starts empowering him, slowly enough that the only reason he notices his oncoming Ascension to myth as a Protector Spirit is when a terrified kid begs for his help, and he hears them loud and clear out of nowhere.

The Bats are confused by this Entity. Constantine stepped one foot in Gotham, felt it's cleaner air, the sharp bite of ice in his nose and lungs, and the overwhelming pressure of the new Godling training under Gotham herself to control his new powers, and ran out screaming about not getting paid enough to deal with divine beings. Zatanna is trying to contact Ymir to ask them to join the Justice League Dark.

Jason is vibing with the tall redhead Amazon he's met at Babs' library, and her feral little brother who cured his Pit Rage by biting his arm when they first met. One time Jason is in a pinch after a stakeout gone wrong, Bellona (Ancient Roman Goddess of War) takes the fight to his captors to free him, dressed in golden armor and wielding a spear Pandora and Firght Knight made for her. Nocturne and her brother worked together to imbue a spell into her back to give her wings she can use to fly or fight with. The fact it left a badass tattoo on her back, is just another way Jazz rebels against her parents. It also has Jason weak in the knees when he first sees it.

#bones submissions #dpxdc #uh hi bones here... HOMIE THIS IS MASSIVE #HOKLEY FUCK

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notedgyanymore · 2 years ago

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Dp x Dc idea 💡

Jazz has been dating Jason for the last few months the bat family loves her, and she hasn't given any of them red flags to trigger their paranoia as to make them look into her past, so to them jazz just seems like a normal nice girl. Everything changes though when she gets custody of her younger brother, who according to her has spent the last six months recovering from an unknown disease in a specialized hospital in another country.

Danny unlike jazz is a walking red flag, you can tell in your gut that there is something inhuman and terrifying about him and now the bat family is scrabbling to find information about Danny and jazz's past which seems so far to be purposely erased in a way that is so efficient that it's as if it never happened in the first place. The bat family current theory is that Danny is some kind of monster/creature that has infiltrated Jazz's life and altered her memories and that she never had a brother in the first place this corroborates with the fact the while Jazz Fenton existence is very well documented by government, there's virtually no evidence of the existence of Daniel Fenton before he appeared the last month with a fake recently made ID.

The truth is Danny has spent the last six months recovering in the ghost zone from an attempted dissection courtesy of Jack and Maddie Fenton and was being taken care of by his ghost guardians/parents frost bite and clockwork, while healing he discovered the that he really likes "living" in the realms specially after a traumatic experience, not having to deal with humans feels great ! Anyhow, Danny decides that he wants to live full time in the ghost zone and makes a wish to Desiree so his identity both as Phantom and Fenton get erased and the only people who remember that he ever existed are jazz, Sam, tucker and of course the ghosts.

Jazz wasn't all that happy about the wish, but she understands that it is better that her parents forget Danny's existence, so they can't go after him again also making a new identity together seems easy enough. The reason why jazz got Danny's custody in the first place was because of the agreement she made with clockwork and frost bite that Danny should at least finish high school and get to complete his eighteen birthday on earth, and they were fine with this deal after all is just a few years and ghost children age much slower which means that clockwork and frost bite would also get to raise their kid.

Danny currently is very unhappy with the deal having to live on earth, specially on a city like Gotham, moreover having to deal with Jazz's terrible boyfriend and his family who are treating him like dirt. Well jazz isn't happy either, she loves Jason, but she will not stand anyone treating her brother this badly, so he better step up before he gets dumped.

Note : Out of the bat family, Jason is the one with the most antagonistic attitude towards Danny, the pits recognize him as a threat to their existence and activate a fight or flight response in Jason. He tries to be sneaky and not say anything bad about Danny when his sister is around, but Jazz knows what going on and is deeply disappointed. Also, after six months in the zone, Danny has gotten worse at hiding his ghostly nature.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #dp anger management #This is the longest thing that I ever wrote in English if it's a bit incomprehensive or nonsensical now you know why┐⁠(⁠ ⁠˘⁠_⁠˘⁠)⁠┌#Still #I'm pretty proud of myself.

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penvisions · 3 months ago

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gone to the dogs {chapter 5}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x Reader ; brief mentions of Boston QZ! Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Summary: Joel dwells on the new facet he's been witness to, internally overthinking over everything his had become and what it once was.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, age gap (only by about ten years), angst, mean joel miller, joel miller is uptight, degrading language, sexual language, sexual proposition, violence, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, argumentative language, mutual disdain, sexual content, implication of sex work, unprotected piv, sexual acts, reader is snarky, reader gets violent, minor injuries, reader meets joel toe-to-toe with insults and it's amazing, both reader and joel pov, lemme know if there are any i missed!

A/N: aaaaaand i'm back. please lemme know what you think?

ao3 link || series masterlist || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

It’s confusing, the way that he feels about you.

There are warning bells sounding inside his mind, even before the trip to Lincoln to meet with Bill and Frank. While that had helped to establish another partner for trade with a different set of goods, it also allowed him a glimpse into the person you had once been. It had made him begin to think of who you had been and the things the world had done to make you into who he knew you as.

He had been as genuine as he was able to when he approached you in the shower you had indulged in his growing attraction of you. The way you had seemed almost welcoming of him even as you stood naked underneath the stream of water and the whisper of his harsh words from the night before between you. You had allowed him in, had talked with him quietly, none of the biting words you both typically shared.

And then they came back, tinging the air and attitudes flaring the closer you got to the zone.

He doesn’t understand the pull he feels to align in your orbit, the way his appetite could only be sated should you provide toward it.

But he’s all too aware of it that morning as he groans and rolls over to find the bed empty. Tess is at the table, watching him with a detached look on her face. He had started out on the couch, unsure of when he had fallen into her orbit much like he’s used to, much like he’s realizing he’s doing with you.

“Cane dropped off some deliveries for you. I’m going to work, laying low for a while.”

He grunts, pushing himself off the bed. His head hangs between his shoulders as he scrubs aching hands over his face. The hush of his facial hair loud in the silence.

“Didn’t mean to kick you out of the bed.”

“You didn’t. You stayed on your side the entire night.”

“Still.”

“Look, you’re the one who put up the boundary, I’m not gonna push it. We can share a bed without it meaning anything. It’s just sleep.” She’s not upset, at least not that he can sense of her knowing her tells and tones, but she’s not happy either. More…reserved and resigned, willing to play along with the things he had confessed to her as they lay in a furnished house, in a nice bed, with blankets and covers that weren’t matted with dirt no matter how hard they scrubbed them in the sink.

“Gotcha.”

She was out the door before he could finish turning to look at her over his shoulder. He could hear you moving about in your space next door, the slow way your steps move atop the aged hardwood and threadbare carpet with such little sound. So light on your feet, like always. He’s seen it more times than he could count, the way you tip toe up landings of stairs ahead of him, feet light and steps quiet to not draw any attention to you. Always covering your tracks, minimizing the impact you have on your surroundings. Human or otherwise.

‘He can’t sleep, it’s too quiet. He keeps hearing the creak of floorboards, the soft voices of others through thin walls, vehicles patrolling the streets. His mind won’t quiet like the phantom sounds he hears that tell of life in the zone. He’s struggling with being away though he can’t stand to be there in the first place.

It’s an odd feeling, like he doesn’t belong. Anywhere.

The older men have ‘welcomed’ them into their home, albeit he’s sure their hospitality is more of an extension from their fondness of you and Frank’s delight in Tess. Not for him, never for him. A dangerous thing. A dangerous man. Someone to keep an eye on, to tread carefully and cautiously around. He thinks of how he’s had to use his hands, shut off parts of his brain while others shut down on their own in the wake of everything he’s been through, the things he’s done in the name of survival and protection.

And while he regrets, he also revels. In the things he didn’t know he was ever capable of. The things he never wanted to be capable of. He sees in in everyone, the potential. It’s instinct at this point, he sees in himself, in Tess, in you, in Bill and Frank, everyone he interacts with. It makes him a cautious man, exactly the same at the two who had offered him room and board for the night.

Though he doesn’t know if he would’ve done the same, if he had been in their position.

Maybe to Tess, maybe to you. But not another man. It’s hard to tell what they carry in themselves, hard to tell what he carries still and what he’s forced out of his mind.

He doesn’t startle when a soft hand begins to wander over his side, gently holding to his waist.

“What’s got you breathing so heavy?”

“Nothin’,” Is his immediate response, even in the cover of darkness he doesn’t want to open up his mind to the woman beside him. He can’t, she has her own history that plagues her. He knows about some of it, some of it he doesn’t. Some of it may be his fault, some of it is his fault, and he doesn’t…can’t handle hearing the confirmation even if he already knows. Already senses that his lack of willingness to talk, to put voice to things, the way they’ve lived dwells on Tess’s mind far too much. Especially now…

“Joel…” A sigh of her own fills the air, he can feel it on the back of his neck where she’s leaning into his space, arms wrapping around him as they always do. Cradling him, allowing him a moment to feel and not be the one providing, protecting, defending. She allows him that, the chance to just be. Even if he rarely feels like he needs to, even if he feels the need to far more often than he’d like to admit.

Her hand snakes lower, thumb hooking in between the worn leather of his belt and the waistband of his jeans. He had refused to change out of his clothes, while she had willingly and quickly shucked off her own clothing for the set of soft pajamas neatly folded on the bed when they had retired for the night. A finger dangles lower, feeling for him beneath the rough fabric and his mind short circuits.

He….he doesn’t want to. Even as the familiar flare of pleasure roils deep in his body.

“Tess, no.”

“Are you sure? Could help you to relax, actually get a decent night’s sleep for once.” She doesn’t move her hand lower or more firmly, she doesn’t lean into him more, but her words tell of her own willingness and something in him freezes.

“I said no,” He rumbles, feeling at odds with the way pleasure begins to unfurl in his nerves. A natural response to the woman beside him, the only woman he’s known in such a way for over two decades. A lie, his mind decides to betray him, he’d had you just the other day. In a way he’d never anticipated and it had set his nerves on fire and stalled his mind, his bravado crumbling the second your body responded and you touched him in return. It had been electrifying, the way your sounds

“I don’t, I can’t. It’s…it’s not fair to you.” It’s not that he doesn’t feel anything for her, on the contrary, she’s stuck by him for years. Knows him as well as he knows himself, or maybe even more at this point as he’s lost so much of who he used to be. Who he used to think was a good person, a good neighbor, a good brother…a good father. A thoughtful person who watched out for his own, protected and provided for his own as best he could with the hand he had been dealt.

“Don’t you dare make this about me, Joel.” Her voice betrays her, eyes searching his own as he rolls to face her head on, to face his decision and any consequences head on. She’s beautiful, his heart laments.

Her hair is smooth and shiny from a shower she had been allowed to indulge in, with actual hot water and products that he had recognized from his many trips to the store to try and find something to tame tighter curls than his own. Her face is more relaxed than he has seen in- ever, he thinks.

And of course, he would ruin the first real moment she’s had to herself in years. Since before the end of the world, probably.

Joel Miller, a failure once again.'

He shakes the memory from his mind, hoping that today can begin the new page he's intent on beginning.

“I keep forgetting y’all are relatively new here. But the way it happened was, she came outta nowhere, no one knew who she was. Barely recognizable among the mules used for trade to avoid suspicion when the zone first started changing.” The guy is surprisingly willing to talk with his drinking companions, unaware of Joel listening intently as he nurses his own glass. The room muggy and the air stale as the underground cellar is all but turned into a speak easy. “But then one day the man guy who came from the free lands beyond the walls was found dead with his throat ripped out. Teeth marks and a bloody fingerprints stamped on his forehead. Then all of a sudden, she’s in the middle or in charge of every trade, of every product coming in or out of the zone.”

“She was a mule?” The incredulous statement is just that, a statement. A matter of fact that Joel can feel even in the absurdity of the words uttered by a stranger. A theory he’s had since Frank had checked on you, one on one. The worry and anxiety he had expressed at the way you two had been separated spoke more than the story he was sure to never hear the entirety of. It would explain how you knew so much, every small gap in the fence. Every officer to work with, which ones to avoid. The camaraderie he’s sensed between you and some of them even if your face falls the second you turn away from them. How some of them, how some people of the zone, flock to you.

There are no more mules, no more women who are used to trade. Everything done between willing participants, the use of those unwilling eradicated by someone who had been in their place once. He can almost picture it, even if he doesn’t want to. A younger version of you, terrified but cunning. Biding the time until you could take your power back.

“That’s the rumor, she didn’t even come into the zone proper or get registered, FEDRA turns an eye on her because they benefit from her supplies. Some of them fall at their feet for the chance to interact with her.”

“Shit, she’s really got everyone wrapped around her little finger.”

“People tried to report her, rat her out to soldiers because of how much she was charging but she never got caught and then the next day whoever tried to do it would show up dead. The only person who didn’t was her brother, who watched after her like a damn guard dog, day and night. Those damn little paw print stamps were on everything from that point on, the same ones used now.”

Everything froze in the room as the sound of thunder boomed overhead, the heavy sound of tanks rumbling down the road up above following the sound of rain falling heavy.

“You mean to tell me, some little girl who was being used as a mule ended up being in charge of the entire smuggling scene?” The young woman refilling drinks and taking ration cards couldn’t quell her curiosity, the talk of you buzzing all around the room. It was only natural, you were a woman holding control over something, she was but a server working out a debt in the underground bar.

“She ain’t no little girl anymore. Bitch is fit to tear people apart if she even so much as senses they’re thinking of turning her in or ambushing her. Things got a little different after she turned her own brother in, claiming he used her as a mule too to save her ass from getting caught. But no one really bought the lie when the scene didn’t change after his death. She’s always alone though, no one was looking after her until Miller showed up. But damn if she wasn’t hard to find, kept to the shadows and had soldiers doing most of the trading for her.”

The woman glanced over at Joel, not lifting her eyes to meet his as he placed a card on the table to signal he wanted another pour. She did so, his gruff nod of acknowledgement catching her off guard when he didn’t reach for her in a move she was far too used to at this point. When she pocketed the card, he reached out and slipped another few into her hand directly.

She didn’t say anything and neither did he. Draining his glass, he stood and exited the seedy basement.

He stands outside in the alley, letting the rain sprinkle on his face and neck, reveling in the cool feel of it as it sobers him up. He’s still coming down, the day had been long as he realized just how much he had taken. The events of last night play over his head, the snarl of your lips, the heft of your words, the feeling of the cut off fingers thudding into his chest as you pinned him down. His neck stings as the salt in the rain touches the thin cut on his neck and he thinks over the words of the other patrons.

He feels something swell in his chest, a mixture of emotions knows is tainted by dangerous ones. Like desire.

You had been a mule. Not even legal when the outbreak happened, forced into working the underground scene. Separated from the only person who you had known, forcefully from the way he recalls the conversation between you and Frank. But yet…you had flourished. Grown thick skin, a pelt of protection, a snarl to your lips, and threat to your words. A mirror of who he had turned into, the thought heady as it swirls around his mind.

You had made something of the situation, taking it over and blossoming into someone who had the power instead of being controlled by it. There was no doubt you were behind the ransacking of the apartments once they had returned to the zone. He wondered why for a moment, before he realized that it didn’t matter. He and Tess would fall in line, rather be a part of it and work with you than find themselves on the other side of the line and working against you or competing with you.

It was…admirable, he had to admit. Even if he couldn’t stand the air you sometimes adapted around him. Matching his comments, his attitude, his undermining and authority when he put his foot down. He sees it for what it truly is now, a match to his energy. To hide your own meanings and intentions by butting heads with him. Not at all a false notion, as he’s seen real annoyance and frustration flare to life in your eyes more than once. Now that he’s seen another facet of who you are…

He wonders if…if he were to calm down, would you do the same? He’s tired, the days dragging on and the circumstances getting more dire. He didn’t want to waste energy he didn’t have.

He must’ve been standing there for longer than he realized, because the young girl who had been serving steps out, steps faltering as she sees his shadow close to the door.

“Oh! I’m…you startled me.” He sees that same sparkle of fear he had in your own face, though it’s more apparent, more glaring in this scenario. She doesn’t quickly hide it, gloss over it like you had. She’s innocent, she’s doing her best with what she’s got. But it’s not enough, it will never be enough. For either of you. For him.

“Didn’t mean to.”

“Thank- thank you, for the cards.” She takes a deep breath, as if stealing herself. “Do you want-“

“Don’t wanna see you in there again, you hear me?” Joel cuts her off, aware of his drawl encompassing his words more than usual. The gruff way he shoves the sentiment from deep within his chest, thoughts of a younger version of you in his mind, of his own daughter being forced into the same situation. Of how unfair and disgusting it is, the way women are treated in the end of the world, like just another possession to control and seek after. If he can prevent it in this case, then he would.

“You go home and you stay home, do the work organized by the zone. Only the work organized by the zone.” He catches her eyes, dipping his head in order to do so. She’s frightened, unsure of what is going ton, but she’s remained quiet. A nod of her head is all the answer he gets. “You need anything, you come to me. Food, water, clothing, a place to hide away. No strings or favors attached.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

And then he’s shrugging off from his spot against the wall, shoulders of his jacket damp just as his curls begin to feel the weight of the rain collected on them. It isn’t much, but it’s something. He’s tired of wasting energy in an endless fight for hierarchy, he just wants to feel like a person again. You allow him the space to, your hesitant revelations of late letting him know that there’s a yearning to feel normal that lives in you too.

The tear of your skin from the barbs is hidden by the pelting rain much like the scream you suppress into a huff of breath, the snag of it pulling a slight whimper in the base of your throat. Muscles tensing, you continue to haul yourself over the top of the fence, the barbs dragging further as you move over them and allow yourself to fall on the other side. Rolling, you try to minimize the impact, your feet finding purchase and you take off down the dim street as search lights continue to search the part of the city you just escaped.

Steps quiet, the adrenaline coursing through your veins spurs you forward, jacket intact but shirt beneath it torn and you hold a hand tight to your middle with a hiss.

The rain comes down in heavy sheets now, just a sparse sprinkle when it had first started. But now thunder and lightning accompany it. The sky lighting up with every deafening boom and you tried to stick to the shadows of the buildings, using them as hideaways as you made your way back to your building.

You barely plopped down into the chair when you heard the muffled voices of your partners next door.

Shrugging from your jacket, you pulled your hair up out of the way before you began to pull the saturated shirt from your upper body. A hiss fell from your lips when the torn fabric stuck to the still bleeding cuts on your middle. Holding your breath, you carefully removed it and tossed the thing to crumble into a heap on the floor. The bite of your belt buckle into your stomach was ignored as you took a healthy drink from the bottle of amber liquid beside you on the table.

“Fuck,” You whispered to the empty apartment as you began to open the sterile packs assembled on the tabletop.

You’re barely on the second pinch of your skin at the needle’s end when the hinges on the door creak. A lucky thing that you recognize the man walking through it, having blanked out on locking it in your haste.

“Hey, I’ve got those credits you-“ Joel trails off when the door opens easily and he’s privy to the scene of you trying to stitch yourself up. Hands trembling slightly and head craned at an awkward angel to best see the spot that needs tending low on your stomach.

“Just set them on the table.” You don’t look up from where you pierce your skin with the needle, silver medical wire catching the light as you pull it as taut as you safely could, blood seeping through the wound at the action. Twin drops of it trailing down your skin to sink into the fabric of your undone waist band pulled to the side, undone belt clinking with the motion of you reaching for another swig of liquid courage.

“Let me,” Joel’s voice is quiet, nearly soft in the way it lacks the gruff edges normally adorning his words.

He’s scooting another chair closer to you, his hands wiped clean on the abandoned cleansing cloth you used among the supplies. His thick fingers carefully extract the needle from your own, mindful to not pull at the work you’ve already managed. His other hand replaces yours where you had been holding the wound closed, eyes narrowing when he could hear the sharp inhale you took and the faint whimper that sounded out on your exhale.

“Does this mean I’ve got a hunt tomorrow?”

“Unless you plan on beating the shit out of a fence,” You try to joke, but the words get caught in your throat when the sting of the thread moving in your skin causes you to shudder. “Hold on, let me-“

“I gotcha, won’t move until you give me the go ahead.”

Ignoring how close he is to you, kneeled before you with his hands so warm against your middle, you reach for the dime bag stamped with your mark and down the four pills inside with another swig of the amber liquid.

“Okay,” You grit your teeth against the unsavory taste, the feel of the pills slipping down your throat. It was what he was waiting for, before picking the task up again.

The shabby apartment is quiet save for the harsh pattering of rain, distant booms of thunder and the even breathing of you both. The air is tense, if only just a bit, neither willing to break almost peaceful spell that had befallen after such a hectic few days and tense weeks. A crux, almost, that you found yourself teetering on with the man. One path that would lead to continuous arguing, violence and second guessing each other or one path that would lead to a better understanding of each other and allow for things to flow more smoothly.

Joel’s wiping away the blood smeared into your skin as best he can now, the end of the stitches tied neatly off and knotted so they remain secure and do their job well. Eight of them, all in all. The cut a harsh line in the soft spot of your belly, the pudge that had begun to form and stubbornly refuse to burn off even after long days of trekking and working despite a lack of nourishing food. It reminds you of how you looked before, when you were able to be the person who you had always wanted to be. But the end of the world had laid ruin to a lot, including the full shape your body had once been.

“Any others?” Joels fingers are wrapping around the bottle of whiskey, a full swig taken followed by another. You can’t help but watch as his throat bobs with the action, your body feeling the narcotics begin to kick in. Tingling sensations skating across your skin and chasing away the pain of the day, of the night, of survival. If only for a moment.

“Dunno, body feels like one big bruise.”

He sighs, shaking his head slightly as he regards the supplies sprawled on the table. Then the tremble of your left hand, the way your palm is inflamed and the cuts there you either don’t register or are ignoring.

“Let’s start with your hand then…” He’s silently thankful when you allow him to grasp it lightly and pull it into his space to look over.

It’s late, sleep evading you the second the pills began to wear off and the pain of your injury flared.

Pulled you up from the depths of your induced sleep. From the shower Joel had helped you to take, to the inspection he had done for anymore injuries. His quiet voice, the deep rasp of it had lulled you as he laid you down once the drugs and exhaustion took over.

You’re pacing in the little free space of your bedroom, in front of the window. The rain is still falling, though the storm seems to have passed. You’ve got one of the small stamps that had been molded and carved out from a bit of rubber. Tumbling the item in your good hand when you hear the floorboards groan underneath someone’s foot.

Spinning around, you see the dark outline of Joel in the doorway, filling the frame as he simply watches you. And it’s unnerving how at ease you feel seeing him there in the middle of the night, when he’s never been in your apartment longer than a few hours to discuss runs or plans. To help with rationing cards, food, or portioning out contraband.

“Y’need to rest. Antibiotics are gonna take it out of you when they kick in.” He’s quiet, voice low as he stands in his spot.

“Pain woke me up, took another pill to even it out.” You keep your voice low, not wanting to break whatever spell is still cast over your apartment. The one that allowed for you both to see each other as people, as equals. No overly harsh words spit at each other. It’s allowing you to glimpse at who he is in his own moments, in the quiet of the evening, in the dead of night when there’s no one to perform for, no one to front for.

“C’mon, lay down. Pacing is just gonna irritate the stitches.”

“You don’t control me.” You can’t help but breathe out heavily, the heft of your body and the pain throbbing in your middle making you irritable despite the atmosphere.

“Not tryna control you, tryna take care of you,” Joel is moving toward you, his frame towering over your slightly hunched over one. He’s all shadows in the darkness of the room, the streetlamps are out on your block. When you take a step back and tighten the grip around the stamp in your hand, he sighs. “Even though I know you don’t need it, least of all from me.”

“I don’t.” You can’t help but rebut. The paranoid part of your brain thinking this was all just some sort of game, some con he was pulling on you. Always on the lookout, always on alert. And it’s tiring, just as much as it is rewarding.

“Tess does, sometimes.” He tries to reason, tries to appeal to you. “I do, too.”

You think back to the way he stalls in moments beyond the walls, when he thinks no one is looking. How he bumps a fist to the center of his chest as if to dislodge something. The pressure of the world and this life settling sharp and heavy in his chest, making it hard to breathe sometimes. Your eyes linger on the scar about his temple, those on his knuckles, the cracks of his knees as he takes big steps up or around something. The palm he holds to his back and the swagger you know he doesn’t deliberately put into his steps as he treads down the hallway at the end of a shift.

“Only had my brother to take care of me. And it was only for a little while.” You confess, heart seizing at the memories of your brother. His last smile to you. You blink back to reality when there’s a tug of your hand. Joel is unfolding your fingers from around the stamp, thick fingers gently prodding at the skin beneath the gauze wrapped there.

Huh. You had been unconsciously pushing into the wound with it, mind relishing in the sting.

“Gonna tear it even deeper, doin’ that.” He’s pocketing the stamp, and you think to argue against it but as you part your lips to do so he’s swooping down to brush his nose against yours. “Lemme distract you another way, yeah?”

“You’re seriously propositioning me right now?” Your words fall short when you don’t step back from him any further. Body already shimmering at the mere suggestion of his moving against it.

“Only if you’re willing.” It’s an honest response, a genuine one. There’s no teasing.

“What’s the point?”

“The point?” He’s pressing his forehead to yours. “The point is for you to see me, for you to know that I see you. To see that I’m tryna meet you in the middle.”

“But…why?” You whisper, unable to quell the almost giddy sensation of curiosity as you realize he’s being completely open with you right now. That he’s not playing games or trying to manipulate you, nor is he trying to prove a point like he had been the first time around.

“Because I’m tired, Cane.” He admits, “Tired of fightin’.”

“Fighting is half the fun of being paired up, get to rile you up.”

“Fun? Girl, you gotta twisted notion of fun.”

“You don’t even know the half of it.” You smirk, sure he could feel the corner of your mouth pressed to his cheek as you whisper into his ear. But you match the tone of the energy still flowing about the room, the energy flowing between you and press your lips to his in a kiss.

It’s soft, the way his lips move against yours. No nipping teeth or forceful tongue. His hands snake around your waist and pull you to him, body warm and overwhelming as you feel the way he’s already hard.

The kisses turn deeper as clothing is removed, pressed to lips, to shoulders, to the bare skin of your breasts as they are revealed to the cool air. Nipping now, against peaked nubs and exposed thighs, just as your nails leave faint marks of their own on his back, on the front of his stomach where hairs trail down to his weeping cock.

The world stills as he enters you, bodies in tune to each other and your mind blanks as he nestles himself deep and stills. Twin groans of appreciation echo in the air, loud and sharp. His lips find yours in a chaste peck, tasting the soft groan of reverence as it sounds from between them.

“Look at that, little pup just needed something nice and big to fill her up, huh?” He grinds his hips into yours, the coarse hairs surrounding him tingling where they rub at sensitive skin. “To help her calm down and quiet those thoughts in her head.”

“Sh-shut up.” Your words don’t carry any heat behind them, as your eyes clench shut and your body sings in tune with his. Your hips buck, your walls clench, and your breathing heaves. He’s got you exactly where he wants you and he knows it. You know it too, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to submit. Not completely at least, there was no fun in that. But you know that, just under the surface of newfound acquiescence, that the man reveled in the banter you shared. Because you did too.

You trail your hands down from his neck to his shoulders, unclasping them from behind him to push him up. He’s moving with you, willingly, even as you crowd against him and shift him to his back. His eyes are blown wide, pupils taken over as you glimpse them in a strike of lightning that brightens the sky.

“Gonna show me whose boss?” He taunts, even as you can feel the rapid beat of his heart where you hand rests over his chest. Grounding you as you lower yourself back onto him, the glide of him easy as his slick and your own scent the air. “Cause tha’s mighty fine with me.”

“You sure? Didn’t seem to like it all that much the other day.” You gasp as the head of his cock catches deep inside you, sending a bolt of pleasure through you body as thunder booms overhead.

“I was high outta my mind, ain’t my fault.” He grunts out as you settle flush against him. Leaning forward to press your face into the crook of his neck. Your teeth sink into the skin there, tongue tasting the salt of his sweat as you place open mouthed kisses up to his good ear.

“Everything is your fault.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is. But you seem to like this outcome, I sure as fuck do.” He circles his hips, meeting your own swivel, twitching deep inside you as he grips tightly to your hips. His fingers will leave marks, but you think for a moment that it might be glance them in the mirror until they fade. They tighten, gripping to steady you as he begins to thrust up, punching the breath from your lungs with each delicious drag of his length.

“Just this once.” You moan out, voice rounding out as you begin to flutter around him, your stomach tightening as heat and pleasure burn through you. You lean back and rest your palms on his thighs. Hips circling and grinding at a fast pace. The pad of his thumb is pressing to you, jolting you forward and breaking your rhythm momentarily. Your body sings, pleasure cresting and washing over you in waves that could drown. But you catch your breath and ride them out, eyes beginning to droop even as you feel the hot spurts of Joel’s own release paint your insides.

It’s early, the sun barely showing signs of nearing the horizon. The deep, velvet blue of night lightening in pinks and oranges that begin to color the room and allow you to see the man you felt in your bed the entire night.

Joel is still naked, the thin sheets and coverlet covering only his lower half, allowing you a full view of him beside you. He’s breathing evenly, deeply. You had ended up with your large shirt back on, to help keep the stitches a little cleaner once you had been cleaned with a dampened rag. Something you hadn’t expected of the man, even with this new…shift in the air.

It was peaceful, the night taking a turn you hadn’t expected. And your mind ticks and tocks with the possibilities of now having a somewhat more willing Joel by your side. A guard dog that is sworn to you, should you allow him to. A person who wants to appease you and ensure your safety, in all aspects of your life now, not just as a benefit to their own.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Joel’s sudden voice catches your own even breathing, taking you off guard.

“Like what, Miller?” Recovering quickly from your introspection, you roll your eyes; sure he can feel the motion even with his back still turned to you on the other side of the bed. Of course, he had felt you admiring the muscles of his broad back, the way his shoulders were dusted with faint freckles and dotted with dark moles, much like his strong neck and arms. The narrowing of his waist down to his hips, the dimples he had there just above his firm and shapely ass. He was beautiful, though you wouldn’t admit it to him aloud. “You’re not even facing me.”

“You know what.” He rumbles, voice impossible deep and devastating with sleep that clings to him, refuses to let him go even as he begins to stir in the early hour. A shiver runs down your spine, filthy words from last night

“You’re conceited, you know that?”

“Didn’t seem to mind it last night,” He’s smirking as he rolls over to finally reveal his waking face to you. Eyes softer than you’d ever seen them, relaxed almost as he begins to come back to himself and the world. His curls are a bit wild from his sleep, from the night before when you had run your fingers through the tresses, tangled them and pulled them tight. “Tellin’ me how good I felt, how big I was. Gave me a reason to be conceited, darlin’.”

“Oh no, don’t you start with that. You may have a big dick but it don’t mean you gotta act like one.”

“Like what?” He parrots, teeth glinting as he brandishes a wolfish grin at you. You feel the corners of your mouth twitch, a smile fighting to flourish, and you purse your lips so he can’t see it. Brows furrowing, you lean up and

“You know what.” You parrot back, dodging his ducking head as he prepares to nip at you again. It’s a slow roll away and out from under him, but he allows the movement, leaning back onto his knees more to make space. “We got a trek today, want to check out the hotel and then the old bunker underneath the west end hospital.”

“Long trek.”

“Old man, if I can handle it so can you.” You slowly stand to your full height, stomach pulling as the stitches are moved about slightly. Hands over in front of you as you gauge the slight blossom of discomfort.

“Let this old man into your bed.” His hands are hovering over you, ready to catch you should you fall, ready to do whatever they could to help should you need it, should you ask him to.

“Yeah, well, figured he needed something sweet to keep him in line. What’s sweeter than a pretty little thing than me, hmm?”

“God damn, you’re insufferable.” He huffs, the bed springs groaning as he disappears from his spot behind you. You look over your shoulder to see him pulling his ragged jeans back on. He’s turned away from you but that doesn’t stop you from watching him as he does so.

“You too, Miller.” You’re shoving him toward to the kitchen, intent on him starting a serving of coffee before the day truly begins, the sun beginning to shine through the broken blinds and thin curtains as it rises above the towering wall that surrounds the zone. “Now go make some coffee, yeah?”

“Only because you asked so nicely.” He let’s the momentum of your push carry him across the threshold into the rest of the apartment. He’s smirking, you can tell by the tone of his voice but you don’t let it simmer in your chest for too long before you’re focusing on cleaning the wound and replacing the bandage over it. Dressing for another long day, but at least you’ve got a more willing guard dog by your side to accompany you outside the walls now.

Everything seems to be falling into place, tempers easing, and your power no longer being questioned but accepted. You try to shake the feeling that something bigger is wavering on the horizon, now that you and Joel have found common ground and somewhat of an understanding.

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fourlittleocto · 1 year ago

Text

I had a thought that the first time Phantom went little, they didn't really have control of their magic and actually turned little. Some of this I wrote while I was little so I'm not sure it makes any sense, but I don't thank anyone will see it anyway so.

almost 3k under the cut, mentions of food, and Phantom has some flashbacks

I guess it helps to know that big Phantom uses primarily He/Him, and little Phantom uses They/Them, and that Phantom was the runt of his litter.

Phantom was already worried. About everything, to be entirely honest, but today it was even more present. With the tour looming over his head and the ministry threatening to send him back to the pits when he messes up, it's hard for him to find a moment of real peace. His only anchor so far has been his new pack. Well, it's his first and only pack, since quintessence ghouls tended to be pretty solitary in the pits. He’s grateful to have a pack at all, and to be summoned into one that's so loving and supportive is some kind of unholy miracle.

He was on his way back from another unproductive meeting with Sister Imperator that was just an excuse to scare him into submission. It didn't really make him want to please her more though. All he wanted to do was be swallowed back up from the pits, because no matter how bad it was down there, at least his every move wasn't being watched and criticized.

He shakes out his body, like a dog trying to dry itself off, to work out the stress. On the bright side he didn't have to talk to her for another week, and he’s on his way back for some comfort cuddles from his packmates.

He pushes open the door to find Rain on the couch playing video games. Dew and Swiss are having a hushed conversation in the kitchen. He wants to bother Swiss for his attention, but he doesn't want to interrupt the obviously private conversation, so he settles for dropping onto the couch next to the water ghoul. Rain takes his eyes off the screen to smile at Phantom. He winds their tails together. Phantom traps the soft, seaweed-like tip of Rain's tail to rub between his fingers while he watches him play.

When Rain dies, he turns off the game and sets down his control. A faint purr rumbles through Phantom’s chest already. He jumps into Rain’s arms when they open, pulling him close to Rain’s chest and scratching lightly across his scalp.

Both of their heads poke over the top of the couch when Dew pushes back into the common room with a huff.

“Of course you put down your game for him,” Dew snarls under his breath, but he doesn’t put any effort into actually keeping it there, and both ghouls on the couch hear it. Phantom pins his ears to his head and tries to hide in Rain’s shirt with a whine.

“Dew,” Swiss warns, but it’s already too late. Rain’s tail is starting to puff up between his fingers. The light purr in his chest drops into a growl, and instead of comforting Phantom when he squeaks he sits up and pushes the quint ghoul to the other side of the couch, left to curl his tail around himself protectively.

“I’m not ignoring you! If you asked nicely instead of acting like a child about it you could be over here with us too.” Rain bites back. He rolls his eyes at the fire ghoul. He seems to care less about this fight than Phantom does, who’s watching like the most morbid tennis match with wide eyes. His tail taps at his lips, but he holds it in his hand. He’s not a kit anymore and doesn’t need to suck on his tail to feel better, no matter how much he actually wants to.

“I don’t want to share you with him!” Dew yells. The blood pounding in Phantom’s ears makes it hard to be sure if Dew meant to emphasize share or him, but his body is in full fight or flight mode and he doesn’t think he can stay to find out.

He moves so quickly he almost falls face first off the couch. His legs feel shaky, like they’re not really his, but he pushes through with the promise of the safety of his room. The door knob is a struggle too. He slams the door closed harder than he means to, which sends another jolt of panic through his system. He feels like he’s freezing but he won’t stop sweating, and the afternoon light pouring in makes his head pound. He buries himself under his covers and presses his hands into his ears in hopes that the screaming will stop.

It’s no longer Dew and Rain’s voices in his head, it’s his mother, the old pack leader, voices he heard only once but hasn’t been able to shake since. Tell them they’re the runt, they’ll never make it, they fuck up everything. That things like them are the reason packs like that don’t work. Their jeans scratch their skin and pull too tight and they need them off, but their hands are too shaky to undo the button.

They scream.

It’s the only thing they can think to do, to try to relive some of the pressure building in their head. Everything starts to feel better, but in a fuzzy, unclear way that they know they should be concerned about but don’t want to think about it enough to be. It’s at least a break.

They start to pull themself out of their sheets. Their pants stick to the material and slide off too easily, the button still done up but way too big enough to hold onto their hips. The shirt they were wearing falls when they push themself up too, at least staying on their shoulder, but the sleeves reach their elbows and the bottom hem reaches their knees. They stare at it questioningly. All the previous panic has been pushed aside, now they mostly just feel… small. And curious.

They rub the hem of their shirt between their fingers and roll off the bed like they usually do, but instead of landing gracefully they fall way further than they shoot. It sends another flare of panic through their body. This one at least is short lived, but it has their knees wobbling as they take uneven steps towards the mirror in the corner.

When they can finally see themself they freeze, staring into wide, wet eyes, then trailing down their tiny form. They have to be half the height they were just moments ago, and lanky in the way all 6 year olds are, not the usual never-grew-into-his-size lankiness he was used to. They know it’s wrong. No matter how much they want to be happy that their outside matches their inside, they know it’s not right. All the emotions swirl in their brain and start to bring back the bad feelings, and even though they just want their eyes to stop stinging, they start crying instead. Fat tears roll down their face and heavy sobs shake their whole body. They want to curl up in a ball but they can’t look away from that little kit in the mirror. The little kit with the same light patch around their eyes, the same white bangs and dark, unruly hair, and the same misshapen tail snaking its way into their mouth to chew on it self-soothingly.

A loud knock makes them freeze. They scream at themselves to pull their tail out of their mouth so they won’t get in trouble. The person outside calls their name and they whine, which reminds them there’s something more important to fix first, but no matter how much they try they aren’t getting big. It sends them back into their fit of tears.

They watch through blurry vision and the smudgy mirror as Swiss pushes their door open, freezing when they make eye contact. The whole room stills. So many thoughts race through Phantom’s mind they’re surprised they don’t explode with it.

“Phantom?” Swiss whispers. He takes a step towards the little quint ghoul, and that’s finally enough to break the spell. Phantom’s tail pushes back into their mouth as they crouch down into a ball, hiding themself behind their arms protectively.

“P-please don’t h-h-h-hurt me. S’ok,” they slur around their tail. Words seem to stick in their brain. They give a frustrated grunt. Their tongue feels heavy enough on its own, and even though the tail isn’t helping, they know it will only feel worse if they take it out.

“I would never hurt you sweetheart. Can you tell me what happened?” Phantom shakes their head hard, almost falling over from the motion. “Ok, it’s ok baby,” Swiss pauses for just long enough that Phantom starts to worry again. They hide their head more in their knees and let more heavy tears fall, since it seems to be helping. It at least made them feel less big and spikey.

“Can I touch you?” Swiss asks. Phantom’s tears dry slightly as they have to think about it. They still feel wrong, but Swiss gives such good hugs that always make them feel better when they’re big. It doesn’t take much to realize they want to be held. They unwrap their small, lanky limbs, popping their tail back in their mouth and making grabby hands at the ghoul standing above them.

Swiss smiles brightly and easily scoops the small ghoul into his arms. He eases them down so their legs are wrapped around his waist, and their head is resting on his shoulder, ear pressed close enough to hear his heartbeat, which settles Phantom down considerably. Swiss bounces them up and down and hums until the last tears stop falling and they can breathe a little more even again.

“Wanna change into something more comfy?” Phantom tenses again at the idea of being put down.

“No p-please. Like it h-h-h-h-here.” They try to shove their face more into Swiss’s shoulder. Swiss sighs and chuckles at their antics.

“Ok, well are you feeling hungry? Think you can at least drink some water for me?”

If Phantom really thought about it, their tummy did feel a little empty. They nodded into Swiss. The big ghoul shifted them a little so he can walk easier, and the gentle sway and being surrounded by Swiss’ conforming scent almost lulling Phantom to sleep, even just on the short walk to the kitchen. But before they know it, they’re set down on the counter. They rub at their eyes and rock back and forth while they watch Swiss dig in the cup cabinet until he pulls out a sippy cup.

“W-why is that in-n there?”

“For little ghouls like you,” he answers easily. He fills the blue and yellow sippy cup with water from the sink and hands it to Phantom.

“There are other kits here?” They perk up, looking around like these other kits might magically show up just because they asked. Swiss makes a silly face like he’s pooping, which makes Phantom laugh. He takes a sip from his cup and wiggles at how it makes his mouth not hurt anymore.

“Sometimes. Sometimes when Dew or Rain or Cumulus have big feelings, they get small like you are.” Swiss looks back at Phantom after he grabs the cheerios from the top shelf, then turns around and grabs a bib from a drawer lower down. He tries to loop it around Phantom’s neck but the kit crosses their arms.

“I’m a big b-” they start, but saying boy doesn’t feel right even if it tries to slide off their tongue, so they try again. “A big kit.”

Swiss nods and puts both things away, instead grabbing a muffin from the snack cabinet that Phantom reaches for enthusiastically. They turn the wrapper off quickly and shove half of it in their mouth before Swiss can reach for it to stop them.

“Phantom,” he scolds. The little ghoul ignores it though, loudly chewing the too-big mouthful and starting up a wiggle again.

“Oh thank Lucifer Swiss, I need…” Dew stops himself short when he walks in the kitchen and finds Phantom’s big eyes looking back at him, muffin crumbs all over his face and sippy cup frozen half way to his mouth. “That’s… mine. What-” he starts, but Swiss steps between the two.

“I’ll wash it, Phantom just needed to borrow your sippy. He’s feeling vulnerable,” Swiss says the last part through his teeth. Phantom doesn’t really know what that word means but they know it’s probably not good.

“But that’s not normal. Are you sure he’s ok?”

The blood starts to pound in Phantom’s ears again. All they hear is that they’re not normal, too small. It’s something they’ve heard too many times to count. It makes them want to hide again.

But they’re big. They don’t need to run away, they’ll show Dew how big they really are. They throw the sippy cup on the ground. It obviously isn’t meant for ghouls as big as them, because the top pops off and sends water all over the floor. They feel a little bad, but Dew and Swiss have stopped ignoring them, so they cross their arms and say as big as they can, “I’m big, and I’m not a boy.”

“Oh,” is all Dew says.

“Are you a girl?” Swiss asks. Phantom’s big act falls quickly. They hadn’t really thought about it. If they aren’t a boy or a girl, what are they? Can you not be a boy or a girl? They know they’re not a girl, so maybe they are a boy. They shake their head and look towards Swiss for him. Luckily, he smiles warmly again.

“Ok, you can be our little bat.” It pulls another happy wiggle out of Phantom, this one reaching from the tips of their ears to the spade of their tail, which now that they’re done chewing they can slot back in their mouth.

“Our little bat is actually a toddler,” Dew says only to Swiss.

“I’m 6!” Phantom yells and kicks their feet. Dew puts out a hand like Phantom just said the same thing he did, which makes them cross their arms and stick out their tongue at not being listened to.

“Hey babybat,” Swiss crouches down so he’s the same height as the kit. “Why don’t you finish your muffin, and then we’ll go take a nap, alright? I’ll be right back.” Phantom chirps in agreement, too busy after remembering they still have a whole half of their muffin to inhale. Dew steps out into the common room. He keeps watching Phantom the whole time through the window between the two rooms, until Swiss hands him a different sippy cup, this one pink and sparkly, and goes out to join Dew.

Phantom watches them wave their arms while he chews on his muffin. He imagines they’re dinosaurs fighting each other, the flying ones that look like bats and have big claws and beaks. They roar at each other, and it’s a good thing Phantom speaks dinosaur.

“Get away from my egg,” Swiss roars. He spreads out his wings to make himself look big. Phantom, who’s obviously the egg, puffs out their chest to match.

“I’m going to eat your egg!” Dew roars back, taking a swipe at Swiss, and even though they know they’re only playing pretend, the thought of Dew hurting Swiss for real scares them. They look down. The floor is so far away, but they have to be brave. They shut their eyes tight and push off, somehow landing on their feet. They take a deep breath. They’re so brave, they can do anything, so they run out of the kitchen and wrap themself around Swiss’s leg. Dew’s attack stops right away.

“Don’t h-h-hurt h-him,” Phantom pleads. They make their meanest, scariest face at the fire ghoul. Dew tilts his head at them, looks back up at Swiss, and then crouches down to be on Phantom’s level.

“I’m sorry bug, I didn’t mean to yell.” He looks at Swiss awkwardly. It takes Phantom a minute to remember that, oh yeah, that is how this whole thing started. They don’t know what to say, so instead they chirp and lay a big, wet kiss on Dew’s cheek. He wipes it off and sticks his tongue out, but he still can’t stop himself from smiling, which Phantom takes as a win. They stick their tail back into their mouth and smile back shyly.

“Feeling tired babybat?” Swiss asks, ending the moment. Dew stands up and starts to slowly make his way towards Rain’s room, while Swiss scoops up Phantom once again and carries them to their own.

They didn’t think they were feeling tired, but being laid under they’re covers and surrounded by Swiss, it’s hard to keep their eyes open anymore.

When he wakes up he’s groggy, but it slowly comes back to him that his shirt’s not so big anymore, and Swiss isn’t covering him so completely, and he sobs into Swiss’ chest in relief.

#regressed ghouls #phantom ghoul #aeon ghoul #little phantom #swiss ghoul #caretaker swiss #dew ghoul #ghost band fanfic #the band ghost #octo presents #octo sfw

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buckyclevens · 8 months ago

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phantom touch by me (aka burglarbilbo on ao3)

summary: set post-stalag-fight. john egan has some intricate rituals.

Gale’s fist stings and John knows he means it.

He pushed and pushed and Gale finally pushed back.

He sulks in his own bunk, letting the feeling of Gale’s fist on his face linger. John thinks about getting a wet rag or something to press against his reddening nose, but decides against it. In his lap, his hands shake lightly. He can still feel the phantom touch of Gale grabbing his legs and pushing and pulling at him.

The news of D-Day had been quick to distract Gale and alleviate just an ounce of John’s own worry, but it did nothing to repair the rift John feels growing between them. He sighs, unable to shake the weightless emptiness in his chest.

The rest of the barrack files in and John glances at Gale as he walks in, catching his eye for half a moment before he has to look away. Something between shame and guilt stir in his chest, hot and icy.

Gale’s bunk lies empty; Gale sits at the table, working on putting finishing touches on his radio. It’s rare that John spends time in his own bunk, usually he’s taking over Gale’s, but when John had thought about sitting in Gale’s bed when all of them were ordered back into the barracks, something in him shot that idea down quickly.

He lets the feeling of Gale’s hands on him fade.

It’s not until after dinner when Gale comes to him.

He’s got the doc’s makeshift medkit tucked under his arm, a bowl of undoubtedly icy water in one hand and a hand rolled cigarette and lighter in his other hand. A peace offering.

“Hey there, Major,” Gale says.

John bites back something mean and venomous before it can leave his mouth. He looks away but sits up in bed, swinging his legs over the edge.

Gale pulls up a chair and sits next to the bed, close enough for his knees to brush John’s. John doesn’t meet his gaze, keeps staring down at where their knees brush, feeling the warmth of him through the thick fabric of their uniforms.

Gale places the cigarette and lighter on the bed next to John’s leg and wordlessly places the medkit in John’s lap before dabbing a cloth into the bowl of water and leaning forward. He takes John’s face in his hand, gently cupping his chin, and starts gently cleaning away the few drops of blood that had started to dry and crust on his upper lip.

John knows Gale can feel his jaw start to tremble and he still can’t look him in the eye, even this close to him — especially this close to him. Hands resting limply in his lap, John sits still as Gale cleans him up. His nose isn’t broken, Gale clearly pulled his punch during their scuffle, but it still smarts. It’ll bruise. John guesses it already is starting to. (He thinks he wants it to.)

“Sorry ‘bout this, John,” Gale says, voice soft, as if it’s just the two of them there.

John clenches his hands into fists in his lap to keep himself from reaching out and touching Buck the way he wants to, the way he needs to.

“We got to western Europe,” Gale says. “It won’t be like this forever.”

John swallows around the lump in his throat. He looks around, catches Demarco’s eye at the poker table before he looks away, then finally, John looks at Gale . The tightness in his chest pulses as he meets Gale’s warm gaze.

“Nine months,” he says quietly.

Gale looks at him.

“It’s been nine months since you’ve touched me,” his voice is barely above a whisper. Gale is still holding his chin in his hands, gentle, firm, and warm.

“John…”

He grabs Gale’s wrist all of a sudden, stops him from cleaning his face. He presses the pad of his thumb to Gale’s pulse. John has always known Gale to have rough hands, at home he worked with animals, at bootcamp anyone who came in with soft hands wasn't long for them , and here and now no one, least of all Gale has had leisure time for calluses and blisters to fade. Ever since they started this thing between them, John’s loved the feeling of Gale’s hands on him; his rough hands giving him the lightest, gentlest touches. Now, John will take whatever touch Gale will give him, even if he has to press for it.

The first time Gale touched him, just a half-joking caress of his cheek, John thought about it for days after, half thinking (half hoping) that his cheek was branded with Gale’s fingerprints. They’d been in bootcamp then, young and bone-tired; John had been halfway drunk but he remembers it all so vividly.

Now, John holds Gale’s wrist with a cautious tenderness. Everything around them fades away — the sound of the men playing poker, the freezing barracks, the damn stalag itself . It’s just them. John’s skin burns where Gale touches him — intense and familiar. John almost closes his eyes, starts to lean into it.

At the poker table, Brady cheers loudly, breaking the two of them out of their thoughts. Reality comes back around them. Buck looks away, back at the table, smiling in quiet congratulations.

“Bucky,” Gale says again, a slight warning. He takes his hand away from his face, letting John’s grip on his wrist drop. John doesn’t fight it.

A bitter smile stretches John’s mouth and he looks away, grabs the cigarette and lighter. His face throbs a bit more and he wishes he had ice to dull the pain. He lights up. The tobacco is a nice distraction from the fact that he wants to run and he wants to touch Gale and he wants to get the fuck out and he wants to —

“Bucky,” comes Gale’s voice. “It’s cold tonight, mind if I bunk here?”

“Sure, Buck,” he says. “Sure.” Because what else could he possibly say? Gale is trying, John can see that much, and he’s felt shitty all evening. Maybe the news about landing at Normandy does mean this will be over soon. The energy for hope is draining him and he doesn’t have it in him to push Gale away, at least no further than he already feels.

Lights out comes and goes.

John lies down, presses his back against the wall of his bunk, facing outward. He closes his eyes, letting the time pass, dull moonlight streaming through the grimy windows. He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he feels his blankets shift and Gale crawl into his bunk. John opens his eyes and finds Gale’s soft face inches away. Gale smiles at him, small, mouth closed. He knows this smile well. He knows all of Gale’s smiles well.

Under the scratchy blanket, Gale reaches out and places his hand on John’s arm, squeezing gently.

“Hiya, Bucky,” Gale whispers.

John squeezes his eyes closed and reaches for Gale. He closes his hand around a fistful of fabric, pulling him close. Gale presses his lips to John’s forehead silently.

“I’m sorry, John,” Gale says. “We’re getting out of this.”

John nods. He’s heard this so many times, lately it’s seemed like Gale is always saying it to him. “I know,” John says, but he’s hard-pressed to believe it. He doesn’t have the energy to pick a fight and he doesn’t even really want to, not when he has Gale here like this.

“I’m serious,” Gale says, his lips against John’s face, breath warm on his skin. “You ‘n me, Bucky .” Another kiss. “John.”

Gale presses forward, wraps an arm around John , holding him close, pressing them together. John buries his face in Gale’s neck, breathes him in. His face aches with the phantom touch of Gale’s fist but this cuts through that noise; his neck is warm and soft and through all the grime and dirt he still smells like Gale.

“How are you like this all the time?” John says before he can stop himself.

A beat passes in silence between them.

“I don’t know any other way to be,” Gale says. “It’s you and me.”

John’s chest twists and he clings to Gale tighter. It’s the warmest he’s felt in ages.

“Yeah,” John says. “It is.” He shuts his eyes and wills his mind to be quiet, forcing himself to get lost in the way Gale holds him now. For the first time in months, John falls asleep peacefully, warm in Gale’s arms.

#clegan #mota #buck x bucky #i'm a glutton for hurt/comfort #julia writes

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emeritus-fuckers · 2 years ago

Note

Gimmie some Sodo fluff please?? Maybe what it would be like to be exclusive and move into a shared apartment together at the ministry?

Got my favorite ghoul heavy on my brain since the tour started up :3

I always end up going back to my first Ghoul crush. Sodo refuses to leave me and I refuse to leave him. He would probably kick my ass though. (I would thank him)

Also, I'm gonna include some fluffy headcanons both with his s/o and a bit of general fluffy Ghoul interactions with him because yes - Jez

Sodo fluff headcanons

Sodo is not soft. At all. He's a meanie.

He does get somewhat softer with his s/o, however. He's still grumpy and impulsive, but his anger is never directed at his darling. Never.

(It's usually aimed at Aether. Recently it's also aimed at Phantom.)

He will be grumpy around you and very snappy at others, but if you do anything to annoy him, he will only sigh at most.

Hides his face in your chest or shoulder and groans in frustration sometimes.

He's the type of person to never say why he's upset. He just is.

Can and will suddenly bite you to deal with his frustration. Licks up the wound and gives you band-aid right after, bashfully looking away.

For some reason he only has childish band-aids. Usually with Peppa Pig or Hello Kitty.

Cumulus is the one switching them out because she thinks they look cuter. Sodo knows this, but nobody yells at Cumulus. Ever.

While Sodo is a total bully a lot of time, he is fiercely protective of people he cares about.

He acts like a jerk to a lot of people, but he also does small random acts of kindness, too.

Such as getting Aether a new banana-themed keychain and leaving it in his room or cleaning up after Copia's rats when he gets overwhelmed with his work.

Nobody mentions it because he would absolutely deny it and call them delusional.

When it comes to his s/o, he's kinda like a crow. He just brings you the most random gifts out of nowhere and then leaves like nothing happened?

He's not too cuddly, but won't protest if you initiate it.

Holds you if you need to be held. He's not too big on PDA, but he does love you. A lot.

He's not the best at showing it, though.

He's your biggest defender, no matter what happens.

It doesn't matter if you got hurt or just had a bad day, he will keep anyone away unless you directly tell him you don't mind seeing a specific person.

No matter how much you annoy him, he will die before he raises his voice at you.

Throwing pillows at you is fair game, though.

He won't admit it, but he likes pillow fights.

And pillow forts. Aether and Phantom are not allowed near his fort.

The Ghoulettes are, though. He may be angry, but women need to be respected, damn it!

And about living with him, he does a lot of chores, but doesn't want to be thanked. Doesn't thank for doing chores, either.

In his eyes, it's your living space and you're both expected to take care of it. It's nothing to thank or be thanked for.

He doesn't like being thanked in general and will tell you not to thank him for things.

And not in the "pick me" way, he genuinely dislikes it. Kiss his cheek instead.

As a Fire Ghoul, he is your personal heater.

And he always makes sure you're tucked in.

In general, he does a lot but in small ways.

#ghost band #ghost bc #ghost #ghost band x reader #ghost bc x reader #ghost x reader #ask #anon #sodomizer x reader #sodomizer ghoul #sodo ghoul #sodo x reader #nameless ghoul #nameless ghouls #nameless ghoul x reader #nameless ghouls x reader

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honey-tongued-devil · 1 year ago

Text

Muzzling ghouls headcanon

Headcanon referring to an upcoming chapter (6/7) of the fanfiction I'm currently working on [HUITS]. The headcanon is right under the explaination

The first image shows the 'metal muzzle,' which is a leather muzzle featuring a medium-sized metal ring placed at mouth level, connected to a chain that links the first ring to a second one positioned under the chin. This way, when the ghoul holds the piece of metal between their teeth, the person handling them has the option to clamp their jaw shut by securing one of the chain ring to the leather fastening, making it impossible for the ghoul to open and close their mouth or, in simple terms, speak. (ft. Rain)

The second image depicts the 'silicone muzzle,' which features a much wider and slightly flatter disc that needs to be gently bent between the fingers to be properly inserted and removed. When pressure is released on the ends, it returns to its original shape, completely filling the ghoul's bite, so they can't spit it out or remove it themselves. Additionally, it has a second safety strap that fastens just behind the neck for added security. (ft. Dewdrop)

Sodo (Dewdrop):

"oh no! The muzzle!...that sounds kinky"

He huffs as soon as he sees the muzzle, he gets goosebumps, but he tries to cover the anxiety with a cocky, smug mask.

He's not one to make a scene, but he can't stop emitting a constant stifled growl as soon as the confident mask falls off

He finds it humiliating to be treated like an animal, but even more humiliating is wriggling like a cat at the vet's.

He hates it to death. They never put the one with the metal disc on him because he makes his teeth grind against it making everyone's skin crawl.

He remains in a bad mood for hours or even days after thay take it off, responding rudely to anyone who talks to him. He perceives it as a personal attack.

Rain:

"Oh c'mon, sister. I’m not a wild animal."

The agreement with the water ghoul is that it's always the same person who touches him.

The sisters adore him; whenever they can, they give him a little scratch on the back or simply sit beside him, since he's the most docile one.

In return, he is extremely shy and perceives that contact as a stressful situation.

He doesn't fight against it; he's very cooperative instead, not that he likes it, but he knows there are no other options, so he might as well not prolong the torture.

He knows that no one is targetting him, but that the sisters are just doing their job.

When they take it off him, he drools a lot, but he doesn't mind it too much.

He usually keep staying with sisters or/and asking them if they need help with anything.

Phantom:

Everyone thought Sodo was the worst one to muzzle, but then Phantom arrived.

It's not entirely his fault; he barely holds back a panic attack every time.

Since he's new, it often happens that he gets contained to meet Sister Imperator.

"But... but I don't even bite or fight..."

The sisters often use incense to knock him off calm him down, although more than once it was necessary to inject him with a sedative.

He's always handled by the same sister, like Rain, but simply because there are very few sisters who have the heart to forcefully lift his head when he curls up with his arms wrapped around his stomach and short breaths.

Or that, in case of an adrenaline rush, have the energy and patience to fight him.

Because of the sedatives, he always drools a lot and can barely stand.

Swiss:

"Whoa... what's this for? Can't you let me do something funny before Copia catches me?"

Holds the record for the most broken muzzles.

With the ones with metal disk, he uses the chain to stim, making constant noise.

While with the silicone disk ones, he chews them until they crumble, always waiting not to be looked at before spitting the pieces on another ghoul or into a plant.

The other member of the "incense club".

As soon as the sisters start to contain him, he has a constant series of tics, which often makes the operation difficult and quite dangerous, so incense is used to avoid accidents.

"Ohhh, the sisters got the catnip," he usually jokes when he smells the incense.

He finds the muzzle almost amusing since wearing it he can easily scare those who don't know him, preteding to be aggressive and blood thirsty.

When they take it off him, he spends the following hours laughing and telling stories about all the staff members and the ministry workers who will spend the nights having nightmares.

Aether:

"Oh? Has something happened, my dear?"

The crowd favorite, along with Rain.

He has no problem with the muzzle; he knows it's a standard containment procedure and accepts it as it is.

Occasionally, the sisters ask for his help in containing others before getting to him, and he's always happy to help, especially when it comes to more difficult members.

If he sees that an inexperienced sister has to contain him, he tries to help her as much as he can, and if the muzzle falls off or she puts it on too loosely, he tries to reassure her in every way.

The ghoul who is constantly being taken around. An interview? They take Aether. An award? Aether. Even just for a routine trip, they'll choose him, since he's so calm that one sister is enough to handle him.

When they take the muzzle of off him, he doesn't pay much attention to saliva dripping or minor incidents. He doesn't find it a problem; in fact, he often laughs about it, easing the tension for others too.

Mountain:

"Why do I need a muzzle? Do I bite?"

Nervous. He plays with his fingers and picks at his cuticles like crazy, but he tries to be as good as possible.

He hates making the sisters' job difficult, but he can't help but let out agonizing sounds as soon as the leather touches his face.

It's always tight. And he feels like he has dough in his mouth. And saliva accumulates at the corners of his mouth, causing itching. And the metal ring under his chin is always crooked, so he has to rub it against his shoulder to straighten it.

He finds it a completely unnecessary procedure since they block their teeth and claws, but if they wanted to attack someone, they could easily use their own element.

And the fact that this doesn't happen indicates that it's not really necessary muzzle the ghouls.

When they take it off him, he's always so overstimulated that he hides somewhere alone to rest.

He feels a bit resentful towards the sisters who insist so much on saying that they don't like it either, but they never oppose to that humiliating procedure.

Ifrit:

"I need to be sedated like an animal?"

Just a few kind words are enough to completely change his attitude.

The sisters scratch his ears, chin, and horns before containing him, and in response, he rubs his head against their shoulders and hands, making it difficult but enjoyable for them.

He hates being contained, but he visibly tries so hard not to cause problems, that the sisters themselves stay as close to him as possible to calm him down.

After not too long in that situation, he dissociates, which is why he's one of those who require more attention to be moved or taken around.

He's used a lot when there's a need for a very dramatic appearance or when the ghouls need to look menacing, given how big he is and the fact that at least two staff members are needed.

From an outsider's perspective, they think he's a terrifying ghoul, one who not only needs his mouth clamped shut and his wrists tied but even requires an entire team of four people to be moved with complete safety. In reality, the staff is there to prevent him from getting lost or stumbling while he's dissociated.

When they remove the muzzle from him, he always remains absent for a while. He doesn't feel resentment or blame the sisters; he simply finds it deeply embarassing, needing some good aftercare.

Aurora:

"Can I have a sugar packet first?"

She doesn't say it out loud because she feels that the rest of the pack is always tense when it comes to being muzzled, but she actually likes it.

She often has trouble hearing what people are saying because she gets distracted, or simply doesn't know how to respond, and when they contain her, she has an excuse not to answer without risking someone thinking she's stupid.

Plus, the ring placed between her teeth, whether it's silicone or metal, allows her to indulge her oral fixation, which calms her down quite a bit.

More than once, she has asked the sisters if they could wet the ring and cover it with sugar or something sweet before containing her.

The sisters were initially puzzled but accepted it gladly since she's neither agitated nor shy, recommending not to tell anyone.

When the muzzle is removed from her, for a while she makes faces as if she's trying to crack her jaw before immediately resuming nibbling her nails, lips, and/or cuticles, feeling the need to use her mouth again.

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fountainpenguin · 11 days ago

Text

I got a wonderful comment on "Chalaza" today about how strong my Bdubs dialogue and his inner monologues come across!! :)

He's my favorite to dialogue for in the whole Pixels Imperfect series, so here's a compilation of Bdubs Bits I love in various 'fics of mine:

Martyn is dead, but unfortunately, no one's had the chance to tell that to Martyn. Martyn's in a fishbowl. Well, like… Martyn's soul is in the fishbowl- his skin fell in the Void. Or maybe got vaporized? Not sure. He looks like glowing blue smoothie stuff, complete with weird sprinkle colors, but Bdubs is pretty sure Etho would strangle him if he tried putting Martyn in a cup. Can you get drunk on real souls like you can on raw binary code? Huh…

Nobody in New Star Station's ever seen nothing like this. Or if they have, they sure haven't said that to Bdubs. Etho said the guy's trying to fight a system overload - Martyn; Martyn's trying (Etho says) - but it sure is violent. Geez…

"Chalaza" - Chapter 1

"Scar," Bdubs is saying, and Bdubs has his full wingspan on display. Saliva's dribbling from one corner of his mouth. His eyes are lanterns washing the road, electric green like lamps made of limes. "I love you. Oh, of course I love you… but it's not a full moon. That's our feed!"

[...]

"The hour's mine," Bdubs says again, trembling where he crouches on his hands and feet. His tail smacks once against the floor, wings flaring up. "I'm the devs' perfect killing machine. Aren't you scared?"

One and a Half Birds - Chapter 15

"Why… Why are we eating worms? Are we that low on resources already? I thought we had cows. Why would you do that?"

"Protein." Then, probably since Impulse still looks miffed and is getting miffed-er by the second, he tosses in, "Oh, quit complaining… The wheat is fresh! I just- Like, I just barely made it on the crafting table not five minutes ago. It's only got worms because I just pulled it from the dirt. Not because it's gone gross. It's got nothing to do with that. I don't eat old worms."

"You don't know how old those worms were."

"Babies. It's a new series, Impulse."

Scar, from the distance, "You ate a baby!?"

"Hickory (You Dick)ory Dock"

“Did you get the cobwebs?”

“Oh! Forgot. It was that witch, poking around here. She got me turned around.” Bdubs flapped his hand, already trotting off to get his sword. The sword should be a great way to pull cobwebs off the ceiling, right? You can twist ‘em up like cotton candy. If baby spiders are a thing, they probably crunch real nice on every bite. He checked back only once. And Etho stood there, shivering above a puddle on the floor. “Hey. You should strip. You’re gonna freeze to death.”

“S’okay. Spawn’s not that far.”

“All right… It’s your funeral. And if you die, I’m not burying your body in drippy clothes. That’s how you get mold. That’s how you respawn as a drowned or something.”

"Do Fish People Dream of Magic Gloves?"

"Um…" There's context here. Probably. Impulse pulls back anyway, exhaling hard. "I never had a flock before I joined the New Star portal hub. I had Skizz."

"You didn't have a flock?" Bdubs leans across the bed, eyes shining with invasive curiosity now. The mattress squeaks and dips. When Impulse tightens his lips, Bdubs throws his arms to either side. "Oh, no way! I was there when Skizz brought you to the station! They called me in to check you out! You were spawned beneath the full moon like me, right? 'Course you were; it shows. Only phantom hybrid I ever met whose wingspan beat out mine. 'Never had a flock;' Judas priest… I don't believe that for a second." He slaps the lower part of Impulse's back, which jolts them both as they briefly drain half a heart. They tick up again. Bdubs falls back on the bed with a whump. "Impulse, I was drooling over you and I wasn't even insecure about my status. You were captain material if ever I saw one."

"Like Newlyweds Do"

Getting Impulse into bed takes Herculean effort, and trying to cuddle him is a fight like you wouldn't believe. He's always so stubborn! For real, he acts like plopping his head down on actual pillows is an affront to nature and everything in it. And for what, huh? There's no way that makes him happy. Literally no way.

[...]

See, every relationship's gotta have that one guy who takes initiative. Otherwise, how are you gonna get anywhere? This is basic roleplay 101. He's the instigator; he'll break the ice. This is fine!

Aren't they supposed to be husbands in this game? Husbands should cuddle, probably. Bdubs pushes his shoulder again - shaking it, really - and whispers, "Hey… Are you still up?" in an attempt to get him to turn over.

[...]

"Shut up. Hey, come on. If you didn't want to roleplay married life with me, you wouldn't have agreed to be my husband. You're in love with me."

Impulse makes an excessively rude gesture over his shoulder with one hand, not turning over in the slightest. Bdubs sucks in a gasp, writhing up through the bed sheets, and shakes him back and forth again.

"Hey! You can't do that! What are you tryna say, huh?"

"You Can Sleep While I Drive"

Bdubs is the next to speak up, lifting his head. "Mom, we don't hunt in the Fox Dragon's territory. Scott's asked us not to leave the perimeter. So we don't."

"Your talents are wasted here, BdoubleO100."

"Not wasted." His hands are shaking, though. Martyn stretches out one foot, laying his ankle against Bdubs' own. I've got you, he says in the silence, and Bdubs relaxes his fingertips out from fists. He clears his throat. "I'm a proud captain. I hunt not only for my flock, but for anyone in New Star who can't. That's real noble."

"So it's about the sport?"

"It's about providing."

"Why is InTheLittleWood hungry?"

Another wave of silence crashes down around the table. Martyn's stare is on the numbers in his drinking glass. His hands are in his lap. Bdubs looks at Linda, then at Martyn. Then at Linda again. "Huh?"

Again: "Why is InTheLittleWood hungry?"

"Martyn's fine! He's got his own special hunting ground. He's fine."

"Mum's the Word"

"Why'd you come here in the middle of the night?" Bdubs asks, settling down on the bottom step. He folds his hands in his lap (in the wide, floppy hem of Impulse's shirt, which Etho is not looking at and certainly isn't jealous of). "Must be something big."

"Um." Etho didn't think he'd get this far. Maybe some part of him had still been operating on Yellow Etho instinct, because Yellow Etho wanders and bolts and flutters aimlessly around. He's grateful (maybe) that he opted not to put his chestplate on. He burrows his hands in the hem of his own shirt and kneads them together, much the way Bdubs is doing. "I just… need to talk. I'm having issues with my aggro. With Joel."

That gets Bdubs' attention. "Trouble in paradise? Oh, is this about the bite marks? I saw those. You know, I asked Joel at the pool party and he said you'd been hurting him just about every night. He seemed ready to kick you out. Take back his boat. Were those all from your aggro? He looked like he'd fallen in a pit of zombies!"

[...] "Um… I mean, I wouldn't say living with Joel is ever paradise… But I am having aggro problems. I can't… keep it down."

"I can go all night," Bdubs brags with a hand to his chest, and Impulse snorts on the landing above.

[... Etho] leaves down the hall to go clean. Bdubs follows him, leaving Impulse behind. As Etho starts scraping glass chunks together, Bdubs leans against the couch arm and shakes his head.

"I don't know why you get so worked up about it, Etho. Aggro's not gross. It's natural! We're all adults here; we've got needs! If Joel can't accept that, maybe he's not the right partner for you."

"I've been biting myself," Etho repeats, because Bdubs clearly got lost in the metaphor. Bdubs ignores him, tugging on the edge of his blindfold.

"Hey, there are plenty of salmon in the river. There are other husbands. I'll set you up. Grian and Scar are really going through it; do you like Scar?"

The glass makes a screeching sound as Etho scrapes it together with the broom. "Joel's not my husband." Etho doesn't know what relationship he and Joel are roleplaying. They're not roleplaying much of anything, which severely blurs the lines. Joel never did stop wearing Etho's shirt. He still does, and it's melded with the code of his current skin, and it's confusing and Etho never did ask. "He's my soulmate."

Bdubs shrugs, releasing the bandana. "If you're not comfortable… We could offer you a place to stay here. Impulse and I can put you up. You could join our polycule."

There's a shatter of glass in the kitchen. Followed by thumping palms on the counter, followed by an intake of breath. "Our. WHAT!?"

"Canadian Idiot"

The dogs. Oh, those stupid dogs. They snap at his heels as he tears through the pines as fast as his shoddy boots can take him. He lost one back in the river. He fell. Lost Impulse along the way- they're… they're separated now. Not in roleplay; not the marriage. The marriage is fine! Bdubs has the wedding oath clock on a gold chain around his neck, bouncing up and down against his chest with every flying step he takes. Impulse looked okay, though, like the 'maybe not drowning' kind of fine. He's not. Bdubs would feel it if he were drowning.

His crossbow bangs on every other tree trunk as he sprints across the snow. The dogs are freakin' everywhere. Is this all Pearl's been doing when they play? She never had a soulmate to cuddle up to, so she just kept breeding dogs? There's like a dozen of them, all with huge paws scooping the snow and flinging it behind them on every leap.

Gotta get outta the snow… Where's the- Where's this snowy forest end? I saw the drop-off just a second ago. The wolves prob'ly won't follow over the cliff. Bdubs has a water bucket. The dogs don't. And he'll let them fall. He will, maybe. He doesn't care- they're just stupid dogs. And he likes dogs, but these ones haven't been cuddly puppies in a long time.

"Seeing Scarlet"

I don't need NOBODY'S social approval or permission. That's my husband. Still gets his tail wagging and everything, even if he doesn't show it. Gosh, isn't he a sweetie? He and Impulse don't always wear their rings, 'cuz it's not like that as often in the Between dimension now like it used to be, but it's… You know. It's still clocks and hugs and elbows in the chest, even if it's not all mwah-mwahs and low-roaming, backside-squeezing hands.

Well. Sometimes it is. I mean, why shouldn't it be? They both had fun. No one's mad at them for it. See, that's the lovely thing about Impulse- ain't he sweet? Bdubs can turn the roleplay on and off with him, and Impulse just goes along with everything. He's wonderful. It's a real shame there aren't more Impulses, because everyone deserves to hang out with him from time to time.

Bdubs tries to find a better place to stand where he's not getting pushed at and stepped on. Not that he can feel it, but it's the principle of the thing. Since he is one of the two shortest in their gang (though he's loath to admit it), maybe he needs a place near the front.

He pushes forward. Souls blur together, blue and overlapping, and the glowing doesn't help with the identity stuff like at all. He can pick out Tango (facing away from him) by the enormous white gash scarred down his right shoulder. Not pointing fingers, but that one's a Bdubs original. You're welcome for helping you look so cool, you're turning heads.

"The Man He Sets His Spawn With"

Impulse keeps breathing. His chest heaves, eyes unraveling Bdubs' entire code and piecing him together again. His gaze dips low, then lifts like a boat at sea. His fingers clench tighter around the sword hilt, which rattles like broken glass in his hand.

"… If I kill you, you just respawn… and I've broken the rules. I'll get in trouble. That's not what I want." Impulse recites it like he's explaining all of this to his first-year self. One hand claws through Bdubs' hair, feeling for… something? It pulls. He's silent. Bdubs keeps breathing too. Then Impulse dips the sword tip lower, against the bobbing spot of his throat. He's really leaning forward funny to get the angle. Maybe 'cuz he's a slime, he's sticky and won't fall. Maybe he's got perma-crouched benefits. Maybe perma-Swift Sneak. At least he's blocking most the rain. Then Impulse whispers, "I think this… isn't how I fix this. Maybe we can just… talk about what happened in 3rd Life? About the betrayal?"

Bdubs gawks up at him, bleeding horror out from every shake. "Can't you just kill me?"

Sparks dribble from Impulse's cheeks, mingled with lightning static and slime blobs and the rain. He's still clutching Bdubs' hair, the sword all too tight against his neck. "Just apologize for betraying me! We were Day 1 alliance in 3rd Life- You, me, and Cleo!"

"Yeah? And I was Cleo's dearly devoted husband back then, and you our 'secret girlfriend' who wanted to get under the armor of everybody on the server; what's your point, Littlefinger?" Bdubs jabs a finger up at him. "Do you want a Get Well Soon card or something? Maybe a care package? A subscription to the Mod of the Month club?"

Dog's Life - Chapter 19

Bdubs paces between them, pulling the throat of his mossy cloak over and over again. A classy gold clock bounces on his hip. "You… you can't do that! You outrank her! This is- Oh, this is gonna be big… This is gonna be the biggest thing people talk about for months. You're getting fed by someone you outrank… Oh, wait 'til BigB finds out about this. Heck, wait 'til the rest of the flock finds out! They're gonna be all over you!" He throws his hands in the air- "Is everybody breaking rules today?"

Aw, geez… Martyn bristles. Cleo shuffles out of the way. "I'm hungry." It's a statement, not a whine. Did he forget I needed food tonight?

Bdubs shoots him a look of pure disgust, his nose all squashed and lip hooked high. "So? Go hunt something. I hunted tonight, and I don't even have wings. Cleo too! It's not like it's hard."

"Bdubs-" Cleo cuts in, but neither looks at her. Martyn flaps out his wings, but Bdubs stays stubborn and glowering all the while.

"Are you gonna watch the eggs while I do that?"

Bdubs laughs. It's a cackle, edged with ribbons of the infamous phantom shriek. He throws back his head. "Freakin' no! I'm not putting in the work just so you get credit for it!"

Dog's Life - Chapter 21

And a bonus sneak peek of this jungle duo scene coming in Dog's Life Chapter 61 (Give or take):

“That’s okay. I’m proud of you for trying. Do you want more?”

Grian shakes his head, pushing his plate across the table. “I shouldn’t. I’m an omnivore; I can eat other things. Anivores eat first. Isn’t that proper?”

“You don’t have to eat it,” Bdubs tells him, pushing the plate back. “But phantoms, we say the souls of insects are for the birds. It’s your right as much as mine. All predators can eat the prey. It’s the abandoned things that get snapped up by phantomkind.”

“Yeah, but I don’t need it.”

“Does your hunger meter fill when you eat souls?”

“That’s not the point.”

Bdubs shrugs. He stabs his fork in another piece of soul, then brings it to his mouth. “More for me, then. But I’m serious, G… You should figure out what you want in life. Unlearn shame! Why deny yourself the things that make you happy?” He takes the soul, tines sliding past teeth, as Grian watches with interest from across the table, his head tilted to one side. Bdubs reaches out to take another piece, and Grian’s breathing gets a little stronger. By this point, Bdubs is standing just to lean, stretching over the table and taking scraps two or three pieces at a time with the stabbing trident tines. As he draws them to his mouth, fangs on display and saliva dripping, he meets Grian’s wide eyes again. So the trident stalls.

“You want it, baby?”

“… Yes.”

===

He is so ?!?? <3

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