#theres always the little lingering of that its just always kinda there but tonight its just hit full force yk

[clavicuss-vile]

gahhh the gender rlly do be hitting tonight this is very like bittersweet. the trans lads will get it its that gender envy from yourself (did some masc makeup stuff) but also the thing of no one else will percieve you that way. if that makes sense

[danikamariewrites]

sooo for that feyfey request.

everyone is living back in that cottage. fey is fucking that guy. but theres this woman, who is like a neighbour. she always sees fey and has a crush on her, but isaac (i think thats what his name is?) is keeping fey busy

one day, reader gathers the courage to flirt with fey

then slowly, the become friends and some time later, when fey is eating dinner with reader, reader crawls up onto the desk sensually and is being all hot and sexy

fey realises for the first time she likes this woman. its soo taboo but fey wants this

so she lets reader show her all the good stuff 😏

and then in the end its a lil fluff but they both know this wont progress further most probably 😔

(absolute filth plis im so thirsty for mommy feyre 😩😩😩(i also dont mind if its porn without plot i just need som filth 🥲))

When She Loved Me

Feyre x reader

A/n: This was the best Feyre ask I think I’ve ever received and I had to write it. I also added an epilogue-esqu ending and it’s kinda sad so I’m sorry for that but I couldn’t resist.

Warnings: oral, fingering, tribbing, angst at the end (also not fully proof read)

You rushed around the house making sure everything was perfect for when Feyre arrives. Dinner was in the oven, the living room was fully of cozy blankets, and you had turned the lights down to achieve the perfect ambiance.

The two of you met in town months ago. At first you had just waved and passed each other while you were running errands and she was trading pelts from animals she hunted. One wintery afternoon you got up the courage to finally introduce yourself.

The blue of her eyes had taken your breath away. When her rough exterior melted away and she gave you a genuine smile you couldn’t help but get lost in dreams of a future with her. Where that smile was never dulled by her hunting or family.

Tonight was the first time Feyre was coming over to hang out. You had only ever hung around in town together but you wanted one on one time away from prying, judgmental eyes. The nature of your relationship had been a little more than friendly. Sure you flirted, not thinking anything of it. Feyre had told you about her and Isaac. How he was just someone to relieve stress and blow off steam with.

The relief you felt when Feyre had said that was like a weight lifting off your chest. Since she had said that you had turned your flirtatious advances up hoping she would reciprocate. When Feyre did you were rendered speechless. The giggle that sounded from her was angelic.

A light knock on the front door had you squealing with excitement. Rushing through the house you skid to a stop, careful not to fling yourself into the door. Opening the door you’ve never seen Feyre look so happy. “Hi,” you breathed. “Hi.” Her voice light and happy. Stepping to the side you wave her in.

She looks around curiously. Her eyes wide as she shrugged her jacket off. “Your home is lovely.” You take her jacket to hang up. Gosh, how did this thing keep her warm out in the woods? The fabric was barely held together by the leather straps Elain had sewed in for her.

“Thank you. My mother has quite the eye for interior design. You should see her and my father’s room.” You joke. Feyre gives you a sad smile. As if she was remembering her old house. Guilt had your face heating. Feyre grabbed your hand giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Dinner smells wonderful.” She says, that happiness back in her voice.

You perked up at the mention of the meal in the oven. “You’re going to love it. Come,” you pull her along to the kitchen. As you ate the conversation went to weird childhood stories and Feyre’s hunting adventures. After dinner you switched to the living room, curling up in the blankets on the couch and enjoying the brownies you baked.

As the night went on your stares lingered on each other. Eyes wandering what could be seen of the others form. With each tick of the clock the two of you inched closer and closer until your thighs were touching. At the first touch you jumped a little. Only relaxing when Feyre holds your hand again.

When the clock struck midnight Feyre was lying on your chest. You absentmindedly twirled her sandy locks between your fingers. You fall into a comfortable silence just enjoying each other’s comfort. Not thinking before moving, you lean forward pressing a kiss to the top of Feyre’s head.

Shock took over as she popped her head up, eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t know-’’ Feyre surged forward, connecting her lips to yours, effectively stopping your rambling. Your fingers go back to those sandy locks, keeping Feyre’s lips attached to yours.

The kiss was all want, need and a fight for dominance that you were determined to win. You wrap an arm around her waist, pulling Feyre up, flipping her to lay on the couch. Feyre’s breath hitches, her fingers digging into your scalp. You detach your lips from her, nudging your nose against her perfect button one.

Holding yourself back was becoming impossible. You need Feyre like you need to breathe. Every part of her is perfect and you were desperate to explore her.

You were both breathing heavily. Feyre lifts her head to peck your lips before dropping back against the couch cushion. “Do you want to keep going?” You asked, hopeful her answer would be a resounding fuck yes.

Feyre nodded vigorously. Her blue eyes glazing over with lust, “I want you, y/n.” Your lips break out into a wide smile. Climbing off of the couch you grab her delicate hand, pulling her to follow you to your bedroom. Slamming your door you turn to find Feyre laid out on your bed, only in her underthings, smirking at you seductively. In a swift motion you slip your dress off, leaving it in a puddle on the floor as you bound toward Feyre.

She lets out a giggle, the sound so sweet it almost stops you completely. It has your cheeks flushing as you straddle her hips. Feyre rests her hands on your hips, gently running them up and down your sides, reveling in the smoothness of your skin. Something flashed in her eyes, making her look anywhere but you.

“Hey,” you say softly, bringing your hand to rest on her cheek. “What’s wrong, Fey?” She squeezes your hips gently before looking into your eyes. “I just…I’ve never been with a girl before and I like you, I just don’t want to, ya know,” she rambles. You tilt your head in curiosity. “Fey it’s ok. We’ll take it slow, you just relax. I got you.” You smirk at her, leaning down to place soft, open mouthed kisses down her neck.

Moving down her body you undo the band around her breasts, stopping at the top of her underwear. You look at her through your lashes, finding her face flush, eyes half closed and lips parted. You rub her clothed cunt, making her wet spot grow with each circular motion. Feyre lets out a soft moan as you kiss up her thighs. “Please y/n, I need more, need your mouth.” She begs, throwing her head back against the pillows.

Sitting up on your knees you remove the band from your own breasts, reaching to pull Feyre’s panties agonizingly slow down her legs. Wasting no time you dive into Feyre’s dripping core, lapping at her arousal. Feyre moans out your name, gripping the sheets, her hips squirming against your face.

Capturing her clit in your mouth you let out a hum. Your eyes roll back at the taste of her plus those sweet, sweet sounds falling from her lips. “More,” she begs, “please more. Your fingers p-please.” Feyre struggles to get out. Bringing your finger to her hole you slowly work her open. “Tell me, was Issac this good with his mouth?” You ask with a teasing smirk against her pussy. She shakes her head, “N-no. Fuck no, you’re so much better y/n.”

You go back to sucking her clit, slipping another finger into her pussy. You know you hit that sweet spot (one that Issac clearly never hit) by the way she clenched around your fingers as you curled them. Feyre’s screams became louder and louder with each motion. “Come on Fey, let go.” You urge her. Arching her back Feyre falls apart on your fingers, one of her thighs trembling. Removing your fingers you lap up her release, the sweet taste of her intoxicating.

Sitting up on your knees you run your hands in a soothing motion up and down her thighs. Feyre went limp against the sheets, her chest heaving as she collected herself. Spreading her legs Feyre lets out a small laugh, “Good. I wasn’t done yet.” You laugh at her breathlessness. Throwing one leg over her hips you rest your pussy against hers, lightly rocking back and forth.

Feyre throws her head back again, leaving her neck exposed to you. You picked up the pace of your hips, leaning down to suck and nip at her the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Feyre brings her hands up to your breasts. Running her thumbs over your peaked nipples you moan against her skin at the contact.

Neither of you lasted long. Feyre’s hands felt too good, too skilled. Sharing a pillow she played with your hair as your eyes fluttered at the feeling and softness. You could get used to this. The softness of Feyre, taking care of her, having her in your arms every night. But that was a dangerous way of thinking. Maybe if everything worked out with her sisters marrying, then maybe she could be yours.

———

After that night with Feyre there were only a few more until you stopped seeing her. You had been holding back your feelings, hoping to bring it up while holding her to your chest. It had been a while since you’d been past her family’s cottage, or into town for that matter. Feyre would usually knock on your door asking you to accompany her but hadn’t in weeks.

Donning your cloak and winter boots you head out. Passing through town you heard whispers of the Archeron family name. “His boats were found.” “No, I think a beast did that. No winter winds have ever been that strong,” “I wonder when the middle one will throw a party.” “The aunt is sick I believe.”

All of these pieces yet nothing whole. The gossip made your heart pound. Picking up the pace you start running to the Archeron cottage.

Finally stopping in front of it you feel your heart stop. Your eyes wide taking in the darkness inside and the broken front door. Stepping closer you saw claw marks in the rotting wood. You stopped breathing. What the hell happened here?

“Are you looking for the Archeron’s?” You jump at the voice behind you. You turn to face the stranger, hand over your now rapidly beating heart. Clearing your throat you answer, “Yes, do you know where they are?” “Yeah, new fancy manor-lookin’ place on the other side of town.” You nod in thanks rushing off, knowing exactly where to go.

Politely knocking on the massive front door you step back and wait, twisting your gloved fingers nervously. Elain answered with a bright smile. Her eyes lit up with recognition at seeing your face. “Y/n! What a lovely surprise.” She said cheerily. “Hi, Elain. Is Feyre around?” You ask peeking over her shoulder. Elain’s face fell a little. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry. She’s visiting our aunt. She’s very ill right now so Feyre is helping around her house for a bit. I can’t believe she didn’t tell you.” She says with an air of curiosity, tilting her head a little to the left much like Feyre did when you rambled.

Tears stung your eyes at the familiar movement. You quickly blink them away, not wanting Elain to feel pity for you. “Oh, well I’m sorry about your aunt, I hope she gets better soon. Would you mind umm…when Feyre gets back will you tell her I want to see her?” “Of course!” You nod in thanks and turn to leave. Left with an empty feeling in your heart you let your tears flow freely once you’re back on the street. Why wouldn’t she tell you?

[modern-naiad]

Yachi's Ball

(Yachi x platonic!Karasuno VB team)

This was a headcanon that spiraled out of control so now its a fic I guess. I wrote it at like 1-2am, its not really proof-read. angst to fluff I guess? Obviously I would never want this to happen to my girl Yachi, but I had this idea and I thought it was kinda wholesome so... here you go, enjoy!

So let's say theres like a school dance or event going on and Yachi happens to have a crush on someone in one of her classes. She feels so lucky and happy when they ask her to go with them, she is overjoyed at practice talking to Kiyoko about it, the team overhearing, is happy she's happy. She and Kiyoko plan to go shopping for their dresses and excitedly plan for the magical night.

The night of the dance rolls around, her date told her they'd meet her there, so nervously she enters the crowded school gym. She had arrived with Kiyoko after she had helped her get ready, they both "look like a million bucks" according to Tanaka and Noya who almost too quickly upon Kiyoko's arrival stole her away to dance...it was almost as if they were waiting at the entrance for her arrival...

ANYWAY. Yachi is quick to assure Kiyoko that she can go have fun with the boys and that her date would be there soon, it had only been 10 minutes past their agreed meeting time, they were probably just running a little late. So Yachi waits, lingering near the entrance nursing a cup of punch as 10 minutes go by, then 20, then 30. As time seems to drag on and no messages come from her supposed date she starts feeling frustrated. Frustrated with how optimistically happy she was when they had asked her, frustrated by how much time she spent talking about how much she looking forward to tonight, frustrated with how much money she put into her outfit, how much time she took to do her hair and makeup, with how she had taken up Kiyokos time to help her, and of course how frustrated she was with her date. She's an understanding person, if something came up she would have understood, but not a single text was exchanged and she just felt so dumb about the whole thing.

She'd lost Kiyoko and the two rambunctious 2nd years over 40 minutes ago. In the crowd of bodies moving around her short stature and anxious nature did not help her efforts to look around for a familiar face, even with the damn heels that had been nothing but cruel to her feet. Not wanting to call her mother to come pick her up she decided to become a wallflower, finding a nice spot to lay low. She didn't want to cry, but she felt as if she were on the verge of tears, embarrassed by the whole situation, head lowered, tightly clenching her near empty cup of second refill punch by her side.

It's only then, when she is about to make a break for some fresh air outside, or an empty classroom, or maybe the volleyball gym, or literally anywhere but the cursed dance that she notices many sets of mens dress shoes appear on the floor she was so intently staring at. As she looks up there the boys volleyball team stands, dressed in their best formal wear, a certain Shōyō Hinata stands right in front of her, a hand extended towards her. "Can we have this dance?" he asks with the same determination and enthusiastic tone he has when it come to the sport he loves so much. She looks around the group, all the boys looking at her expectantly, some with sympathetic faces, others with bright smiles, and some somewhere in between. However, those faces turn to frowns as she lets the tears fall. She is quickly pulled in for a hug by Kiyoko, but as the boys begin to awkwardly apologize, she wipes them away and expresses her gratitude for the sweet boys who have tried so hard to bring a smile back to her face after seeing her standing dejectedly on a wall.

Claiming this was the sweetest thing anyones ever done for her, she smiles through the remaining (happy) tears, going in for a large group hug. The boys gladly huddle around her, when they release from a hug she thanks them again, explaining her frustrations which had lead them to this point. There are exchanges of threats and trash talk about her so called date, most notably the "piece of shit" from Kageyama and a "looks like I'll be having a little chart with someone" from Daichi. Tanaka and Noya reiterate enthusiastically that she looks so pretty, Sugawara laughs as he gives her a little twirl, showing her off. She giggles as well before stopping in front of a flustered Yamaguchi who manages to stumble out a sincere "You look beautiful Yachi-san", she flushes deeply at the compliment and thanks him. She is now smiling brightly, looking around, happy she has such great friends, when Hinata prompts again, "Now, how about that dance?". She takes his hand and exclaims, "lets go have fun, I did't get all dolled up for nothing" she jokes. With that she, Kiyoko, and the gentlemen of the boys volleyball team take to the dance floor! They dance in a group having a fun time, some (*cough* the first years *cough*) offer her solo dances when slower songs arrive, graciously accepting she dances the night away.

Her trash date isn't even on her mind, she's just happy she had such a good time with the boys who she takes care of at practice taking care of her for a night. When the dance comes to a close the group decides to go out for some late night, trash food. Tsuki offering to carry her heels as they walk through the grass outside. After their bellies are filled with food and exhaustion takes over they call it a night, but not before more thank you's and hugs are exchanged.

By the end of the night many photos and videos were taken and posted on Instagram, captions ranging from "happy I could make you smile" to a more ballsy "their loss". Yachi herself posts a series of photos, the first being a group photo of her and the boys, captioning it something along the lines of "the Karasuno Boys Volleyball team, sure know how to make a girl feel special! Very grateful to call you all my friends 🥰". Other photos are of her and Kiyoko, some solo shots of her (not pictured the boys hyping her up), a first year group photo, some duo shots, and lets not forget the pic of everyone in their formal wear chowing down on greasy fries, burgers, and milkshakes!

Needless to say when her "date" sees the post they know they missed out. Hitoka Yachi is ✨t h a t ✨girl and now everyone knows it.

I hope you all enjoyed, I know I haven't been putting out much original content, but every now and then I have some sparks of inspiration and time lol. I've been taking some summer classes, but my last one should finish up soon so I might be able to put out some more content for you guys ( I say that like a whole bunch of people read my shit and follow me lol) anyway, as always feel free to reblog, please leave a comment or like if you know, you liked it lol. Even though I don’t consider myself a serious writer I appreciate the validation 😂

also tagging my mutual, @aka-ashi-keiji (mwahahaha more fluff!)

<3 marveling

[uhhhhsmut]

roommates with bakugo (pt.3)

1 week later

living with katsuki had not been the best. his constant yelling and wanting everything perfect made you just wanna leave.

he’d yell at you about the littlest stuff and at practice he didn’t make it any better. everytime you and him were training he’d just try to box you.

you were at the gym right now, getting ready for practice. it was raining outside. like pouring. once you were done you went onto practice to train. you had a match today and you knew you had to win or you’d hear katsukis mouth.

you found out that he was the top boxer of the group and figured out why he had gained hatred towards you. to him, you were a threat and competition. you didn’t see why he was this mad but you were not about to let him just walk all over you. you’ll have to humble him. his ego is too big.

you made it out of the gym and headed to your match.

...

you were now in the locker room and you were warming up. kirishima was helping you out and you could feel katsukis eyes on you. katsuki had told you to call him bakugo but you refused and he yelled everytime you called him katsuki.

kirishima hung around katsuki a lot. they were somewhat best friends. kirishima started to talk to you, “Don’t worry about bakugo he’s really uhhh...competitive. i promise he’s not always like that it’s just you’re uhh very different from what he’s used to and his anger gets out of control at time.” he told you and you looked over at bakugo, he averted his attention somewhere else.

“by different you mean i talk back to him when he’s wrong right?...look i’m trying my hardest not to hate him but that’ll only last so long.” you said putting on your boxing gloves. kirishima nodded his head understanding what you had said. you didn’t care, katsuki was very hostile towards everyone and you weren’t letting it slide. you felt that he needed to learn how to control himself or you and him would be arguing for the longest.

before going onto the ring katsuki walked up to you. he fixed your helmet and made sure your gloves fit. he acted as if he didn’t want to do it, you thought maybe coach aizawa made him do so. you had no problem with him watching over you as long as he didn’t open his mouth.

“good luck idiot. don’t lose.” he said avoiding eye contact with you and you rolled your eyes smiling. “thank you. you don’t have to be nice to me if you don’t want dummy. i’ll deal with you and your attitude either way.”

...

anddddd you won. your cheek was bleeding a little but that was it. your body felt so heavy now. you smiled at the audience as cheering and screaming came from the crowd. this was your favorite part. hearing the crowds screams. coach aizawa smiled patting you on your head.

you headed back into the locker room with the coach to be flooded with congratulations and good jobs. your smile was big and you were really happy. kirishima lifted you onto his shoulders, taking you by surprise. you placed your hands into his hair. “DONT DROP ME.” you exclaimed and laughter escaped his lips. “I won’t. i promise.” you laughed and told everyone thank you. from the corner of your eye you could see katsuki looking at you. kirishima put you down and instantly squeezed you.

you had become close with kirishima but it was on the friendly bases. his arms wrapped around you tightly and you smiled.

“i’m proud of you.” he said ruffling your hair with his hand. “thank you. i really appreciate it.” you said wrapping your arms around his neck. you pulled away and started to get ready to leave. the locker room started to empty out as more people started to leave and soon enough you were the last one left.

you felt someone hit the back of your head, “good job dummy.” you heard katsukis voice say as he walked in front of you to leave out.

“i told you not to touch me.” you yelled and he was already out of the door. you let put a frustrated sigh gathering your things.

...

you made it home after stopping to get some ice cream. you were exhausted and knowing you’d have to come home to katsuki was even worse. you headed up the elevator. the common area was filled with people watching the basketball game that came on tonight. you noticed mina.

“heyyy y/n. congratulations on your win. wanna join us?” she asked and you smiled apologetically as you shook your head no. “boxing always drains my energy. thanks for the congratulations and the offer though.” you told her and she nodded her head understanding and went back to watching the game. you opened the door to your apartment, witnessing katsuki on the couch with reading glasses on. he had on a black tank top with a pop sickle in his mouth, typing away at his mac book.

he didn’t bother with looking at you, you walked past him. “no shoes in the house.” he said and you sighed. “stop talking to me.” you told him closing the door to your room. you took off your shoes then started to run some bath water. you took off your shirt and pants and realized the heat was on. you groaned and thought about what you’d say to katsuki when you got out the bath. the rain outside had you relaxed but the heat inside had you angry.

you went into the bathroom and stepped in the water and you were instantly relaxed. your body was aching and you had to bandage up your cheek when you got out. your mind wandered off to anything. you thought about how your parents hated boxing because it was a “dangerous sport”. but without it your anger was hard to tame and the pills the doctors gave you didn’t help. your parents loved the money boxing brought in but now that they’re not receiving the money, their opinions on you doing it got worse.

you sighed letting your hair down. now you had to live with someone who acted exactly like you. you didn’t realize that katsuki is the version of you without boxing. he’s how you would’ve turned out if you didn’t box.

you wondered what his problem was though. he boxed but for some reason he still acted out of control. you noticed something crawling on the wall and realized it was a spider. you jumped out of the bath, wrapping a towel around your body and went into the living room to get bakugo.

“THERES A SPIDER IN THE BATHROOM. ITS ON THE WALL. HURRY UP AND KILL IT.” you told him and he looked at you angrily.

“you’ve got water on the fucking carpet-

you grabbed his arm, pulling him off the couch and forcing him into the bathroom. “you see that? kill it. now. before i slap you.” you told him seriously. he grunted taking off his shoe, smashing it. he looked back at you.

“you could’ve did it yourself.” he told you and you rolled your eyes as he walked out. “CLEAN UP THAT WATER OFF THE FLOOR TOO.” he yelled from the living room. great. you got back in the bath but it didn’t feel the same so you just washed up and got out. you went into your room after cleaning up and turned on some music, you rubbed baby oil all over your body and put on a tank top the showed your under boob a little but you didn’t care cause you didn’t plan on going out of your room.

you grabbed a pair of grey biker shorts and put them on. you looked at yourself in your mirror and dabbed a alcohol wipe on your cut then put two of those white butterfly bandaids that closed your cut. to you they had worked better than the band aids that covered up the cut fully. you rubbed cocoa butter on your skin and put some chapstick on your lips. you left your hair in it’s curly state. the rain started to pour harder and you put on a pair of white nike socks.

you seen a notification pop up on your phone.

mina> denki thinks that bakugo likes you. please tell me you don’t like that arrogant idiot.

you smiled shaking your head.

you> i don’t like him mina. he’s not right for me. ask denki what made him think that.

mina> he says he’s started started to notice the sexual tension between you too. he says bakugos always staring at you and stuff. i kinda think he’s right y\n. you’re the only one he hates as much as he does.

your cheeks heated up as you read the text. sexual tension?

you> he only hates me because i know how to handle him and plus i’m competition to him.

mina> that just proves my point even more. you’re the only one who knows how to handle him and he knows that. that’s why he hates you so much. before you came...he was way worse. he was fighting everyday. you’ve calmed him down a lot. we all can see it- denki

you sighed.

you> why are you telling me this?

mina> because you 2 have potential and you should tell each other how you feel because not doing so could make things worse sooner or later. he likes you a lot. i promise. he’s just not very good at expressing it. anger is the only emotion he knows and now that you’re here you’ve changed that a lot- denki.

you heard your door open realizing it was katsuki you turned off your phone and looked at him.

“your food is ready. come on.” he said before walking out. what denki said still lingered on your mind. you got down from your little chair and walked out of your room following katsuki to the kitchen.

you watched him as he transferred the ramen in the pot into the bowl. you sat down at the counter. you took in katsukis features. his red eyes were very intimidating, almost daring. his jawline was perfect and his body matched his personality. his muscles were always showing and his hands were very large and very lewd thoughts crossed your mind. you could feel yourself start to get moist. you shamed yourself for it. you were letting what denki said get to your head.

“stop staring and eat.” you heard him say, snapping you out of your thoughts and you stayed quiet. thinking about him like that was idiotic. you hated him more than anything, at least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

you started to eat the ramen he had made for you and it was very good. you watched him use his chopsticks to eat and you wanted to know how to use them.

he looked over at you, “Why aren’t you eating?” you placed your hands in your lap embarrassed, “i don’t know how to use chopsticks. i’m not originally from japan like the rest of you.” he started laughing, “you don’t know how to use chopsticks?” you looked at him angrily.

“obviously. didn’t i just state that?” you asked and he sighed, “is your mouth always this smart?” he asked and you rolled your eyes. you weren’t even being smart. he got out of his chair and came behind you, placing his hand at your waist and he placed his right hand on top of yours. this contact made your heart race, “I-I told you not to touch me again dummy.”

“do you want to learn how to use chopsticks or not?” he asked and you stayed silent. “that’s what i thought. now do as i say.” he demanded. he showed you how to use the chopsticks. it was surprisingly easy and you realized how impatient katsuki was. everytime you’d get it wrong, his grip on your waist tightened and his voice got louder.

you were now finished eating and was cleaning up in the kitchen. katsuki was back on the couch doing whatever he was doing on his computer. once you were done cleaning you decided to make you some some sweet tea.

you heard katsuki come into the kitchen. “what are you doing?” he asked.

“making sweet tea.” you said softly getting out the lemons.

“when you’re done pour me a cup. i turned off the heat but that’s it. i’m not turning on the air. that’s too cold.” he said and you turned around to see him sitting at the island top counter. why was he being so nice?

“why are you being nice?” you asked, he turned his head. “i’m not being nice. the team told me to “ease up on you”. i’m not doing this because i like you or any bull shit like that.” he stated and you nodded your head going back to making the tea. he just had to let it be known.

once you were finished with the tea. you grabbed two wood cups and your tank top slightly lifted up as you did. you poured the tea inside the cups and walked over to him handing him his cup. you watched him drink it.

“it’s good now stop looking at me like that.” he said and you smiled drinking your tea. it was good. your mother had taught you how to make it when you were a child.

you stood at the far end of the counter drinking your tea. you were leaned over with your shoulders on the counter, scrolling through twitter as you did.

you hadn’t realized how silent the apartment was. nothing but the sound of rain hitting the windows filled your ears. you laughed softly at a meme you saw. katsuki looked over at you as he placed his cup in his sink.

you went over to place yours in the sink too. you rinsed his and your cup out, putting it back in the cabinet, your shirt slightly raised again.

“are you doing that on purpose?” you heard him ask. “may i ask what you’re talking about?” you said focusing on the new text you got from kirishima. you felt katsukis presence behind you. he closed the cabinet and took your phone.

this made your blood boil, you turned around and once you realized how close you were you froze up. “why are you texting kirishima?“ he asked and you rolled your eyes.

“why are you worried about who i’m texting?” you asked and he looked down at you. you tried grabbing your phone but he raised hit above his head.

“do you and kirishima have something going on?” he asked and you sighed trying to figure out what he was getting at.

“why? are you jealous?” you asked jokingly but katsuki seemed to take this serious, his jaw clenched and he dropped your phone on the floor. your eyes went wide and you looked at him as if he was crazy. you were about to slap him but he grabbed your wrist and wrapped his other hand around your neck. his lips met yours and that once anger you had for him disappeared.

his lips were soft and he was a very good kisser, the hand that held your wrist was now at your waist, he kissed you eagerly as if he had been wanting to do this for the longest.

he placed kisses along your jawline, “you tease me with the shit you wear and expect me not to react.” you decided to give him the silence treatment. he growled in your ear, his lips touched your neck and your lips parted surprised at how good this felt. you placed your hand at the back of his head, rubbing your fingers through his head.

you could feel yourself getting moist by the second, “damn right, i’m jealous. look at you” he told you sucking the skin on your neck. you let out a soft moan and you could feel katsuki smile against you skin. he dragged his kisses along your collarbone. his hand went up your tank top, squeezing your breast. up until now you hated how big your breast was. his hands was large enough to cover them, that’s all that mattered to you now.

“you enjoy this, don’t you?” he asked lifting you up, cuffing your butt. your arms wrapped around his neck. he took you in his room and placed you on his bed. you watched him take off his shirt, waiting for whatever he was gonna give you. the window view in his room showed his whole room. the rain hitting the window, the sounds of the rain made things so

much better and the view was beautiful.

bakugo grabbed your chin bringing your face towards his. he kissed you passionately biting your bottom lip before his hand raised your shirt. you knew this defied everything you once stated about him but you needed this and the wait for him was too prolonged. you knew deep down that this is what you wanted from you. during arguments him doing this crossed your mind so many times.

he took your breast in his mouth, lightly sucking on them. you placed your hand in the back of his head, moaning at how good his tongue felt on your nipple. he twirled his tongue around your nipple, sucking it before pulling it with his mouth making it bounce back. he did the same to your other one.

he started to place kisses down your stomach. he pulled your shorts off. you didn’t have on any panties and he smiled cockily, “did you know that i wanted a taste?” he asked and you rolled your eyes with your cheeks tinted a bright pink. “no. idiot.” you said and he laughed quietly pulling you towards his mouth. somehow he still annoyed you during moments like this.

he used his thumb to run your clit, dragging his finger between your folds. teasing you as he kissed in between your thighs. he was teasing you.

“k-katsuki.” you moaned lightly. “i need you to tell me what you want me to do and i’ll do it.” he said and you swallowed hard. “i-i want you to lick it.” you whispered and he looked up at you, “lick what? you’ve gotta be specific” he asked and you told him clearer this time, “fuck katsuki. i want you to eat my pussy.” you told him and he smiled. “that’s all you had to say.”

he licked his lips before before he moved his tongue in between your folds. you moaned, throwing your head back. he wrapped his arms around your thighs. once he got to the top, he licked your clit. he gave small licks before deliberately sucking your pussy, pulling your folds with his mouth then going back to licking between them. then he began to twirl his tongue around your clit, making eye contact with you before he started to suck it.

your back arched and you moaned louder at how good his tongue felt. he stuck his tongue inside you and your moans slowly turned into whimpers. your hand went back to his hair as you watched him eat your pussy whimpering. you could feel yourself reaching your climax and you couldn’t take it any longer.

“katsuki. i’m about to c-cum-

his fingers dug into your skin making sure you weren’t going anywhere and he started to eat you as if you were his last meal. his tongue moved sloppily against your pussy and your legs started to shake and you slightly felt that you had to pee, but you moaned loudly and a clear liquid came from inside you as you came.

you looked down in shock. bakugo licked up all of the access juices from your pussy. a string of your juices came from his chin as he lifted his head. he licked his lips, wiping the corners of his mouth, sucking his thumb. he looked at you and smiled, “is this your first time squirting?” he asked and you nodded your head. he kissed you on your forehead and you looked at his pants to see him on hard. he noticed and he put back on his shirt.

“don’t worry about it. this is my way of congratulating you on your win and plus. this was for me, not you. i wanted a taste.”

[cannibalisticshadows]

Nightcall (1/2)

Inspired and named after the song “Nightcall” by Kavinsky 

Rating: T

Pairing: Megamind/Roxanne

Tags: Angst with a happy ending. 

Summary: Megamind can’t take it anymore. He has to tell her.

(ao3 link) | (part 2)

He’s sick.

It’s shameful how badly the words sit on his tongue, begging as if it’s life or death to be said. And it’s sick. So, so sick. Evil gods above, common sense screamed that everything about this was wrong on a million levels. Though “common sense” never applied to him much, this was a boundary even he was unwilling to cross. Their relationship was professional!

But how can he help it when he sees her walk away, hips swaying side to side like a metronome that seems to beat to his heart. He wants to cry out from the tugging at his soul the farther she is from him.

So, he supposes that’s why he’s always taking her. Mr. Tighty-Whities goes out and entertains hundreds of woman, but there’s only one woman that’s worth the effort.

These day’s he’s taking her more frequently. Half-assed schemes be damned, all he cares now is seeing her face again, right in front of him and not on television. To hear her voice being spoken just for him, tones low and seductive and just for him.

Temptress...

He can’t even...

He digs his fingernails into his palms so hard that even through the kid leather it hurts. He can feel it behind his gums, unsoothable even with his own tongue, which drools with the mere thought of being allowed to touch her in the most chase of ways.

The need to have her to himself has become overpowering. He writes out absurdly poor or well-thought-out plans just for the sake of telling Minion to fetch Ms. Ritchi. Once every-other week has become weekly.

Weekly incidents have become twice, or even thrice, a week.

“Are you okay?” She asks suddenly, tied to her chair and being quieter than usual. No. No that’s not right. She’s supposed to be talking about the plan. Taunting him. Bantering with him. Why isn’t she!? "You kinda seem... tired."

He nervously runs his hands down the crappy built control system of today’s Evil Scheme. It’s cold here, biting at his exposed skin, but the heat of his desperate, sick want keeps him heated. Bitting into his lower lip, he hunches over the buttons and knobs with his back turned to her. But he watches her from the little mirror he put beside him.

“I am ecstatic,” he says with false, half-mad cheer. “Today is the day Metro Man will die.”

“Wow,” she says mildly. She pauses. “Never hear a death threat before.” Despite her tone they both know it’s true. He usually says defeat. Is she frightened for once? Nowadays he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. He bites harder, this time on the tip of his tongue.

He tastes metallic, and it burns his throat.

“Just shut up and be a damsel for once?” He sneers, baring his teeth and turning around to show her. He’s angry at himself, not her.

But it makes Roxanne jolt in her seat, comically surprised. Then she goes still, eyes wide with... Something. He can't read her. Always guessing, with her. She doesn’t respond, but shrinks a bit in her chair, glowering at him with suspicion.

It’s a weird feeling to drawl out this reaction from her.

~.~.~

He’s becoming more desperate to help his vice. Withdrawal starts the second Wayne throws him into prison, keeping him quiet and brewing over the duration of his stay. The guards notice; they steer clear of him.

No one is surprised when he breaks out not twenty-four hours later, snarling at the one puny guard who dares to raise a gun at him when he comes charging out.

Minion, barely given the warning he’s breaking out on his own, manages to catch him a few miles away from the prison he’s running from.

He’s sick. Still sick. Still wants to barrel himself through this confusing life with the little bits of the drug that’s pretty much the only thing keeping him afloat. An unquenchable hunger that has nothing to do with food, and it gnaws at him like a flesh-eating parasite. And it’s so, so wrong. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. Shouldn’t be physically shaking everything she moans his name in tiredness at yet another kidnapping. Shouldn’t be crying into his pillow at night because he wants to hear her voice outside of the television.

Kidnappings are more frequent. At the third kidnapping this week, Roxanne is barely awake which slightly pisses him off. This is a two-person job. He can’t just broadcast their trysts with her snoozing!!! He wants to grab this little woman by the shoulders and shake her—gently—because he just wants to talk to her.

Curse his alien psychology. Because he damn well knows what is happening to him. He knows why he’s resorted to spending more time in his room, biting at his own flesh because he can’t have what he wants. No. What he needs. Minion is starting to catch on, a bit, and Megamind cannot let that happen. No. No he doesn’t feel anything more than an annoyance for Ms. Ritchi, Minion! I am not falling into the same cycle my ancestors did!

He has to convince himself that his tone is somewhat convincing. Because it isn’t.

Tonight he’s determined to do it better. Today’s kidnapping ended before it even began, thanks to a sloppily build machine. It ended with a bitter, nasty remark at her choice in dress. He feels like a boy on schoolgrounds, tugging at the cute girl’s hair to get her attention.

But anyway. He fixed the machine and he demands a do-over. Tonight. At this very moment.

She’s at home, according to one of his spy-bots. not gonna admit that he’s so wretched over his own alien heart he’s started to spy on her in an indirect way.

He’s already on his hoverbike, because Minion, bless him, finally passed out from being worked too hard. He’s getting really close to Roxanne’s place when—

“Oh, no you don’t,” says a disapproving, gruff voice.

Snatched out of the air, his bike’s handles caught in the same beefy hands used to grab his collar, Megamind finds himself dangling and flailing his limbs.

Fucking Wayne. Fucking fucking fucking Wayne. What does he have to do at this time of night around Roxanne’s place, the bloody creep.

Oh. No. Megamind’s the creep, he viciously realizes, eyes ablaze with fury. Wayne’s the perfect boyfriend. Fuck him, Megamind weeps internally.

“Listen, little buddy,” the meat-head starts, pissing off the other alien even more. “You’ve kidnapped Roxie four times this week. What’s your problem?”

“You are my problem,” he hisses vehemently. “Let go!”

“No,” Wayne sighed, flying off closer to her apartment. Still spitting curses, but also rather confused, because why bring him to his destination when he was usually dropped off at the prison when caught? “You need to see this.”

Wayne drops him on the balcony without delicacy, making Megamind hand on his side with the air sucked out of him. Huffing, he stands and wipes dust off him. He breathes in, catching the faint vegetation scent of her potted plants.

His long-time enemy lands beside him on his white-clad toes, staring inside of the glass doors. Peeved, he meets where his gaze lands.

It’s Roxanne. Yes, she is home, and not at all conscious.

She’s still dressed in the same outfit from earlier; a sleeveless, deep wine-red—almost black—dress that flared at the knees, hugging her hips and derrière like a godforsaken glove. She looked good enough to drink. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, earlier,

That could have been a terrible, terrible tease if she hadn’t spent the duration of their short encounter today falling asleep. Why was she so tired lately?

She’s conked out on her red couch, one leg hiked up over the back of the couch, the other hanging off with her heal barely hanging onto her big toe. Her hair is completely disheveled, her mouth parted open as she drools slightly onto the couch’s fabric. One of her arms is curled up behind her hair, with the other hanging off the side of the couch.

And with that hand she’s gripping onto a bottle of wine. Her mascara has smeared down her face like black veins.

“You need to back off a bit,” Wayne said, his heroism voice gone and replaced with something that actually sounded human. It made things a hundred times worse because Megamind knew what his problem was.

He stood and stared at his poor Roxanne. Why. What the fuck is wrong with him!?

Wayne grabbed him by the collar before he could linger another moment, and he’s being thrown back into prison, to the bewilderment of the Warden. Can’t blame the old man; everyone could see Megamind was finally losing his marbles. He could see the thoughts in their eyes.

But as he sat in his cell, the tv on but muted, familiar orange jumpsuit scratchy against his sensitive blue skin, he thought over this hell of a month. He was sick of this. Sick of his wretched alien secret of this… need.

It should be below him. It should be abolished from his DNA; a trait his pre-evolved ancestors needed for… things. He was a scientist; an evil genius; a lone wolf. He shouldn’t be made weak by the simple, kind smile of a blue-eyed reporter.

Yet he was.

And he knew what he had to do.

Before it destroyed him.

[crown-eater]

A maze of pain and insane fantasies

Over the course of the past week, ‘Choly had been making a genuine effort to start moving into Cecil’s apartment beyond simply leaving a few belongings here and there as he came and went. Things hadn’t quietened down on the Bell front, but his landlady had served him yet another "final notice” that felt more ominously terminal than the others that had come before it. So between acclimating to his metagenesis and running errands for Bell, Chalcedony, and the Tellurides, he had found himself doing his best to at least scavenge the important things.

Like the leg lamp.

The leg lamp caused a huge fuss, and it ended up in the garbage at least twice. Cecil hated the thing, but it was one of ‘Choly’s most cherished possessions, one of the few things he felt his mother’s hoarding habits had yielded to benefit. He had no idea why it existed, or what cultural significance it might have had, but it was his and he loved it. Ultimately the lovers had to agree to disagree, and the leg lamp moved around the apartment as Cecil repeatedly disowned it. ‘Choly always returned it to the side-table beside the daybed he’d taken for his own.

'Choly had a sizable collection of physical copy novels, including his most prized possessions Roadside Picnic and Crash, the former of which being a nearly verbot relic and thrill token, a tangible piece of Quarter history. But, the stack of roughly a dozen novels paled as child’s play compared to the walls of Cecil’s apartment so densely lined with bookshelves that he also used them as sectional dividers. Cecil had been spelunking to rescue books since childhood, and he cultivated two very different collections from the life’s work: one at the physical copies wing of the library, a good third of it his own additions, and a second at home. His private collection was comprised of books which catered to his own personal interests, including many books too damaged to donate or too controversial to air in public.

Unprecedented for ‘Choly was the experience of a good Wi-Fi signal in a private setting. Cecil had left ‘Choly to the task of unpacking a couple of boxes while Cecil went to work for the day, and once ‘Choly felt like he had gotten sufficient progress, he treated himself to Web surfing unabated.

The notification sound of his chat app startled him, and at first he was disgruntled because an unfamiliar username was messaging him.

9augen: hey you havent been posting very much lately

9augen: everything all right?

9augen: this is rev by the way

«There you are, you stupid ghoul,» he thought to himself. «So you went silent for over a month and came back with a new username. Clever.»

ketherphorbia: *i* haven’t been posting much lately?

ketherphorbia: welcome back to the land of the living

9augen: not quite

9augen: i was just wondering. isnt like you. didnt even make a journal post

9augen: usually you vent if somethings wrong?

ketherphorbia: you’re honestly the only person who’s noticed the radio silence, ironically

9augen: why wouldnt i notice? youre my favorite for reasons you know

ketherphorbia: ...i guess if i can dish to somebody, it’d be you

ketherphorbia: i, well

ketherphorbia: i did it. i tried it.

9augen is typing...

9augen: whatd you get your hands on???

ketherphorbia: the junk that’s making all the stalkers sick. fluxeldrin. turns out my assumptions were wrong. it’s not what made the supermarket geek

9augen: ...

9augen: the slag does it do to a dreg then

ketherphorbia: a lot of what it did really slagging sucks. i’ve mentioned my joint disorder before. all those symptoms are magnified to a fault. i...

ketherphorbia: i kinda literally fall apart now

ketherphorbia: on the plus side, it did make me a meta. a really shitty meta, but ME. a META.

9augen: magic fall apart powers sound incredibly useful to me

9augen: haha pics or it didnt happen

ketherphorbia: yeah i thought you were as hard over this as me, you dreg

ketherphorbia is sending a file DSC39082_100-3493.JPG.

ketherphorbia: it stretches pretty far actually

9augen: fuck--

9augen: shit--

ketherphorbia: did i break you? you should see tricks my dick can do now

9augen: i--

ketherphorbia: i really need to take pics of that, but i’ve been kind of nervous to post ‘em anywhere

9augen: slagging cocktease the fuck man. im at a finnegans

ketherphorbia: sorry

9augen: no you arent. one of the reasons i love you

ketherphorbia: yeah no you’re right. you know me too well

9augen: ive told you before i think youre cute right

ketherphorbia: slag, the skin thing makes it hard to disagree with you

9augen: i never sent you a pic of me did i

ketherphorbia is typing...

ketherphorbia: i’m taken, y’know, but no. you haven’t.

9augen: i know. youre a chouay nasty little creature now like youve always wanted. maybe not the next clayface. but you still have got this teratophilic dregs heart pounding hard tonight

ketherphorbia: ...i try

9augen: theres a reason i havent sent you a pic before, but the reason i was quiet for the past month makes things a little more comfortable. i used to be pretty selfconscious about photographs

ketherphorbia is typing...

ketherphorbia: i have no idea what you could even possibly be going on about. you trying to tell me something happened last month? are you going to tell me what happened or not

9augen: The vampire stuff isn’t an act anymore.

ketherphorbia is typing...

ketherphorbia has stopped typing.

ketherphorbia: WHAT

9augen is sending a file DSC92734_101-2245.JPG.

ketherphorbia cancelled the file transfer.

9augen: the slag did you do that for

ketherphorbia: vampires don’t show up in pictures

9augen is sending a file DSC92734_101-2245.JPG.

9augen: very funny bugdick

ketherphorbia: ...a hybrid...?

9augen: im more lamprey than anything else. but theres a lot of nuance to the cocktail. fine tuning

ketherphorbia: ...gives a whole new meaning to ‘body modification.’ how the slag did you even get that done last month? isn’t that stuff banned?

9augen is typing...

9augen: slag i hear somebody griping at the waitress about the smell of me. like some dead thing crawled out of the bay. shes probably going to kick me out. i should get going anyway

ketherphorbia: rude. you a wifi hopper too then?

9augen is typing...

9augen: parting thought for you though. i want my mouth all over every inch of that metahuman skin of yours. just imagine all the perfect lancet marks making lace out of you.

ketherphorbia: you show up in pictures. i really doubt i could keep you away just by not inviting you in.

9augen: im pretty sure they just called the cops. not the evening i was anticipating

9augen: i gotta get a bite to eat. later dreg

9augen: and would you really do something to keep me away? ;)

ketherphorbia is typing...

9augen is offline.

ketherphorbia: did you just--

‘Choly nearly flung the reader once his friend logged off without further answers. Had Rev just implied what it had sounded like? After a minute of trying to calm down, he opened the vampire’s selfie again and stared. He’d snapped that picture in the Finnegan’s. Time-stamp aside, ‘Choly could recognize the newsprint-plastered walls in the background--that was a frequent Wi-Fi lurk for him. The fact the two shared a stomping ground but had never initiated meeting in person haunted ‘Choly a bit. But now, his friend was a lot less inconspicuous.

He decided to make lunch instead of try to linger on the chaos that just thrust itself upon him. Hours later, he was checking his mail on his reader, and had gotten correspondence from a 9augen email. The following thread of emails were exchanged over the course of just over two months.

▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼

To: ketherphorbia@geemail.com From: 9augen@tricity.co.dv Subject: Sorry to have cut out on you like that. —————————————

I suppose I do owe you an explanation, Kether. We’ve known each other long enough, and we trust enough enough. Yes, I did get the work done last month. Yes, that kind of work is verbot. Yes, I’m supposed to keep hush-hush about it until the coast is clear. But, I know I can trust you with the knowledge that the movement is still very much alive and kicking.

You like stories. How about some non-fiction for a change?

I didn’t know what to expect when I went to see him. Aside from what little understanding of splicing I had through news coverage, all I knew of it had been vampires in my coven who’d had the fortune--and I use that word in both senses--to have had work done while it was still legal, to become more like themselves and live as the creatures of the night they were in their souls.

There’s still a lot of under the table activity. Alleyways, clinics. People get work done however they can sneak it. One girl came into this one club a few months ago, even, said she’d traded a few sexual favors for the funds to get a splice that’d emulate albinism for her and would cut her teeth. She was having great difficulty keeping herself from feeding directly from the flesh afterward. They hadn’t used sterile equipment, and the last thing she wanted was to contaminate the coven or its donors. She became a pariah for her limitations after the coven learned of the blood disease. Requiring blood be drawn, rather than be capable of drawing it oneself, is weakness, and in one of us weakness is revolting. And she wasn’t strong enough to accumulate the funds to go about seeking a cure, to dig herself back out of her self-imposed grave.

I was so wary of botched jobs, of diseased implements, of cut dosages... Everything after the ban went into effect sounded too good to be true, that anyone might ever have the chance to get work done again by someone with both the credentials and accommodations to do it and do it well. A friend of a friend was in with one of the underground grafters, got us private referrals for a new project, at a cut rate due to it being a test procedure. None of us was given the same time. The location was a residential address, an apartment in the lower-mid of Union City. Nice, but still obviously it was an aging complex. A feathered girl greeted me and, after confirming I was alone, ushered me inside. Despite being a residential space, the whole place was set up like a laboratory. It was prodigious.

I went in with a lot of specific plans in mind. I told the grafter the things I wanted. Heavy on the bat serum. Wolf eyes. I had the money and the opportunity, and I was going to get exactly what I wanted out of it.

Turns out, I only thought I knew what I really wanted out of it.

Let me tell you. This Linnaeus is the most intimidating, persuasive, and completely dominating individual you will ever have the pleasure of meeting. He’s also probably the most brilliant. I couldn’t even begin to guess what species he’s got in him. In the month since, I’ve been told he specializes in splicing with extinct species. I would call bollocks on such a claim, but it sounds crazy enough to be one-hundred percent true.

After hearing the particulars of my desires, he thought a moment, paced. He pulled up a chair next to me and coolly asked me what vampire species I could name off the top of my head--besides the vampire bat. On the spot and overshadowed by his overwhelming aura, I could only stammer out something stupid, like mosquitoe or flea. I can’t remember exactly what answer I gave him, but I clearly remember his trite, patient laugh that came of it. At that point, he pulled out a graphics reader and tried to pitch to me an entirely different angle. I can only guess that an artist can draw so many of a thing before becoming tired of repetition, regardless of it being a commission. And I am starting to believe that the species I desired for the work simply didn’t push the envelope enough to fit the bill of his particular... project.

This was so much more than just getting the features of bat and wolf. This was about becoming myself. He’d deliberated the best way to give me what I’d be happiest with, and I had the impression he had the entire animal kingdom to sample from--within reason, of course, as he’s working within the shadows of the law. He told me briefly, without going into significant detail, that he was working on harnessing the strengths and idiosyncrasies of all life, going beyond the animal kingdom. It certainly sounds promising, whatever he means.

Ultimately, we came to the agreement that my splicing job would use the pacific lamprey as its base, but that I would get the vampire bat ears I’d sought coming to see him. The underlying work is complex, but everything is so finely tuned to enhance everything else. Cave salamander, and a strange anemone-like creature called a tunicate. Did you know the cave salamander has cultural roots with the Roma? The gills along my neck are mostly superficial, and the lungs don’t do much either--all that’s in my skin now. The nasal structure has a bit of a sonar thing to it, from both the salamander and lamprey; every smell is intense now. Slag, my mouth is filled with teeth now, cheeks ringed with lancets. Linnaeus tells me the tunicate helps with bloodborne pathogens. I later found it also helps with whatever I get exposed to in the bay.

Doesn’t help with the smell, though.

I’m glad that I could reach out to you, and keep correspondence with you. It’s taken a lot to get used to being aquatic, but I regret absolutely nothing that I’ve left behind. Living near the docks has been a slagged blessing. Perfect hunting grounds, and nobody bothers me so long as I stay off shore. I think you’d love hearing about the weird shit I find at the bottom of the bay. Believe it or not, it’s good money. Pawn shops hardly ever have the nerve to question where I got waterlogged goods. Not that it’s smart to question me. With this lean, cartilaginous skeleton, the splicing also yielded me significant height gain, mostly in my torso. The lengthening of my body was necessary to accommodate swimming muscles, but I slouch horribly so it’s hardly obvious just how tall I stand until I straighten up.

I so enjoy the shock value of doing that. Norms haven’t seen the likes of this nascent wave of chimeric hybrids, so I must be some kind of unholy cryptid to them. As though I’d continue unfolding in other ways were they to truly rile me. Admittedly, I do. ...But it’s rare to get a glimpse of the inside of my mouth.

I would love to meet you in person finally sometime. Get acquainted with one another’s new-found inhumanities. Get to play with that skin of yours. Show each other in person what the other’s body’s limits are. Maybe include your boyfriend in fooling around, if he’d be interested. I promise I won’t eat you, either of you, except perhaps in the most platonic sense. I cherish you too much.

Though really, I must admit, the hardest thing about adjusting to this wonderful luck of mine was finding a waterproof reader. Not that I get good Wi-Fi reception in the better half of the bay, nor that I’m able to recharge it without venturing onto land. I just don’t want to slag it up if I get it wet, you know?

This got meandering. I’m going to cut it off here, and leave everything open to discussion. It’s good to be back in touch with you. I wonder if, now that you’re what you write about, that you’ll write about yourself instead of just for yourself.

                                 --Don’t be shy.

▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼

To: 9augen@tricity.co.dv From: ketherphorbia@geemail.com Subject: Re: Sorry to have cut out on you like that.  —————————————

>I suppose I do... >You like storie... >I didn’t know w... >There’s still a... >I was so wary o... >I went in with ... >Turns out, I on... >Let me tell you... >After hearing t... >This was so muc... >Ultimately, we ... >Doesn’t help wi... >It’s taken a lo... >I so enjoy the ... >I would love to... >Though really, ... >This got meande... >--Don’t be shy.

I hope you understand how overwhelmed I am with all this.

I still don’t get how I didn’t pick up after all this time that you were in the vampire scene. That... kind of actually manages to make you even creepier than before. In a good way. I promise in a good way.

Understandable, then, I hope, just how jealous I am of you and what you have. This skin and bone deformity is nothing compared to having become an outright monster, complete with the appetites of one.

Slag it all, man.

You’ve got to tell me everything.

What was it like? To have the serum take effect? You must have been conscious.

Describe it to me.

Your semen must be very salty.

▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼

To: ketherphorbia@geemail.com From: 9augen@tricity.co.dv Subject: Re: Re: Sorry to have cut out on you like that. —————————————

>>I suppose... >>You like s... >>I didn’t k... >>There’s st... >>I was so w... >>I went in ... >>Turns out,... >>Let me tel... >>After hear... >>This was s... >>Ultimately... >>Doesn’t he... >>It’s taken... >>I so enjoy... >>I would lo... >>Though rea... >>This got m... >>--Don’t be...

>I hope you unde... >I still don’t g... >Understandable... >Slag it all, ma... >You’ve got to t... >What was it lik... >Describe it to ... >Your semen must...

Spouting off Ballard quotes at me. You must be a wreck...

Creepier than before? I suppose. You’ve always known my predilection for the classics. Fang and claw have always been a preference over tooth an nail.

What was it like? It was an utter entheogeny, my friend. Do you know what a grafting gun is like? To aid in the serum’s administration, it isn’t a single needle but six very fine-gauged needles, in a pneumatic hypodermic gun. In that medical implement, the approximation to vaccination is one which makes me smile to this day, chemicals which carried with them the proverbial antibodies which would make me capable of fighting off the plague of a chronic illness otherwise known to the public as “humanity.”

Linnaeus and his technician had before the procedure harnessed me like a modern Saint Andrew, the cross-like restraints having evolved thoroughly alongside the medicine which required them; their robotic cuffs could expand or contract, as could the distance of each of the hydraulic arcs of its aureole, which envelopd the entirety of the body of the device and acted as its structural integrity in the absence of a characteristic saltire structure.

He’d said that it had been difficult to replace this harness in particular after the ban, also said it had been necessary to be procured again. Implications lingered that the ban had bankrupted his agency, though there was something more to the specialty of this device. There had been incidents in the movement’s embryonic state, before he had implemented such measures as protective bondage.

He did not, however, go into further detail.

In deliberate irony or not, he went for the throat for the injection site. The serum itself felt much like a typical intravenous application, well-chilled and somewhat astringent. Heavy in the veins. Its seeming effervescence was not from gases, but of its heterogeneous components under high pressure. The syringe hisses pneumatically when it fires its contents into you One would suppose that someone with an aversion to needles would panic at hearing that sound in the sense of an injection; though, panic might be too considerate a word. Especially inches from one’s ear.

If he had not been referencing a phobia of needles in his practical necessity for the ring-like restraint system, however, it was the resultant agony of a teenage growth spurt, magnified across the span of the boughs of species, and sped up within a frame observable to the naked eye. It was as though I’d never truly experienced the metamorphosis to the adulthood I’d been meant to undertake. As a normal human being acclimates to his changing body, he might have his shins ache, or be inexplicably hungry, or suffer from bouts of hormone swings. All these things are exponentially worse when your cells are shifting between species, and trying to settle comfortably somewhere in between.

I never realized just what kind of masochist I was until that night.

Bone became cartilage. Skin became mucous membrane. Entire organs restructured themselves. There were entire minutes I could not breathe. My jaws dissolved, for the most part; simultaneously, the total surface of my expanding mouth sprouted dozens of rings of razor-sharp thorns. Nearly three times the vertebrae now comprise my spine. I was suffocating, and I was starving.

The metamorphosis extorts a great energy from a hybrid.

The feathered woman was the one to release me from the cross, whispering forth pedantic blandishments as I sank to rest on all fours. As I glared up at her, the extension of my external gills must have seemed more a threat display than a cry for oxygen. My head swam, but all of me needed to. I was too dizzy to take in anything either of them said, though I clearly recall the doctor finding some distinct pleasure and pride in how completely the serum had taken. “You’ll learn to breathe again,” I remember him admiring as the two of them permitted me at last to shove myself out the door and down the street.

I was fortunate that their secret clinic was so low in the city’s bowels, so close to the river. I didn’t care then how rank the water was, how I knew in my heart even just a fraction of the stuff might kill me. Water. I needed water. I don’t remember how I ended up at the dock, or how I ended up in the bay. I imagine I mostly flopped by inertia. The salt only stung for a moment, as it caught me off-guard; but then, as my faculties began to seep back into me, I could tell that the saline levels were facilitating my ability to breathe and take in the water.

So I was a saltwater fish now? I remember asking myself. It’s a good thing I’m a Jersey devil, then, I guess. I remember the insistent hunger, too, and that even then, my veins burned violently, especially those in my skull.

You know me well enough to know what state in which that experience left me. You also know me well enough to take pride in knowing this is an erotic work crafted for ketherphorbia, written for your own eyes only.

I suppose it’s not entirely out of line for me to return the favor, and ask you to describe your metagenesis.

A celebration. A coronation of wounds inflicted against the iniquity of manhood.

We’re both creatures now. More alike than either of us thought previous. Am I right?

I want to see more of you.

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To: 9augen@tricity.co.dv From: ketherphorbia@geemail.com Subject: Re: Re: Re: Sorry to have cut out on you like that. —————————————

>>I hope you... >>I still do... >>Understan... >>Slag it al... >>You’ve got... >>What was i... >>Describe i... >>Your semen...

>Spouting off Ba... >Creepier than b... >What was it lik... >Linnaeus and hi... >He’d said that ... >He did not, how... >In deliberate i... >If he had not b... >I never realize... >Bone became car... >The metamorphos... >The feathered w... >I was fortunate... >So I was a salt... >You know me wel... >I suppose it’s ... >A celebration. ... >We’re both crea... >I want to see m...

There are no words to convey just how arousing that sounds. I guess the best compliment I can give is to divulge the mighty fine time I’ve had rereading that last email. I can only imagine how the fuck the man knew how bad your autoerotic asphyxia was. Maybe he noticed the rope-like bruising on your neck... I’ll get off your case, but I won’t stop getting off on your case. :)

You want to know how it went? The story’s one testament after another of my own clumsiness and stupidity. It started with a date with Cecil at the coffee shop on Garden Center. The woman spearheading Tri-City’s EPA presence had decided that same shop would be where she would unwind after the day she’d been having, and a point of conversation with Cecil resulted in her burning ears shouldering in to both drop information and grab some of her own from us. One thing led to another, and I ended up with enough information to suggest not just where the Supermarket Geek had taken his spill, but what it had been he spilled in.

I vacillate whether I have hindsight not to have researched my facts further before acting upon them. But it was enough for me, that the conversation had yielded an unprecedented factoid, to the point that said information spurred a particular writing session.

I don’t know if you read the “Quarter Oysters” wip I threw up on my blog a while back. I’ve written more recent things, but there are a number of reasons I can’t share them. Really, though. I don’t know. Maybe I can share them with you. You’ve already made me an accomplice to slag all of verbot shit. Turnabout’s fair play...

Any rate... After writing “Quarter Oysters,” I snuck out of the house and broke into the dump site I’d had described to me. The place was littered with toxic waste drums. In several spots, they were stacked up over a story high. I’d never seen such a thing be so organized as this. Many of them were leaking to spite their order. Some of them even glowed. There were two guards stationed, and I managed to duck them once; they’d almost found me the first time because I’d slipped and thrown out my knee, but I chewed on the shoulder of my shirt and reset it while in hiding. I found a drum of Fluxeldrin cordoned off by tape, and I had my tippling cane with me, so I had a vial to sample of it. I’d have taken more than one, since the cane contained four, but I already heard them coming for me, and I couldn’t hide fast enough. So, I only took the one and hastily reassembled my cane, rather than risk getting caught actively stealing it. They threw me out of the Yard, but they thought I’d just been a snooping idiot cripple. For once my youthful look and decrepit demeanor benefited me. They had no idea I’d smuggled my prize.

I shambled down the street and found myself a safe place where I could mull things over in private. The place was run down, even for a half-completed apartment complex. I’m not even joking, it was creepy as hell. Someone had been living there, I’m sure of it, and from what I saw in the rotting pressboard cabinets, I’m sure they were cooking drugs or bombs or something. There was even a nasty spring-box mattress there. And a bathtub, but not attached to anything. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen the kind that installs into where the floor and wall meet when it’s just a free-floating hunk of fiberglass, but they are unsettling as hell when they’re not installed.

My reader was going dead because I’d used it as a flashlight while retrieving my prize, so I couldn’t really research after the fact. I knew Cecil would freak if he found me in possession of the stuff, so I had to act on it then and there. I didn’t have enough to rub it into my skin and get even coverage, so I decided like an idiot I had to drink it for maximum effect. Fluxeldrin glows an aggressive lime green, is oily like antifreeze, and smells like rotten cut flowers but worse. The consistency of it made it cling to every surface of my innards that it came into contact with, and the smell and taste of it had me fighting all compulsion to regurgitate every last drop of it along with all my organs. I flung the vial after downing its contents, too caught up in the moment to realize the recklessness of it. Fighting the urge to vomit, hands on my mouth trying to keep my lips clenched tightly together, I ultimately collapsed on the mattress, not even caring about the grime.

When I awoke, there was blood on the mattress where my face had been, crusted up around my nose and mouth. I threw out the same knee again upon trying to stand--but this time, I threw it out as though the joint weren’t actually connected, and I spilled out on the cement floor. I really wish my reader hadn’t been dead by then, because I would kill right now for a photograph of something that can make me vomit. And I mean I puked to the bile, the way that the fall had disheveled my leg. Couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I managed to get it back together, and gather my belongings. Putting my cane back together, I barely managed to get to my date with Cecil for lunch the next day.

I bullshat some stupid excuse about having had to hit the yards early that morning for something time sensitive. The night before he’d suggested that he could get me a job working at the Central Library, and after lunch he dragged me up there to show me around. I was interested in doing all this, really I was... but it was so hard with all my joints feeling like every surface was over-oiled. With fifteen minutes to closing time, I ran into the Geek trying to use his library card for the first time. Meeting him, I can guarantee you he’s a stalker too. ...I made an idiot out of myself and really shook him up trying to get him to eat my finger splints. I’m still messed up over that.

But that doesn’t even get to the verbot shit. The stress of having slagged up first impressions with the Geek had me pretty literally falling apart. All the physical problems my joint disorder’s inured me to, that all’s magnified by what the Fluxeldrin did to me. Worse for wear, I ended up trying to get in with Dr. Bell before the All’s Well Clinic closed for the evening. I didn’t manage it. So, I did the logical thing and broke in through the back door with the intent to “borrow” some pain pills, and wait out the night to see him first thing in the morning. The first week I was like this was the most excruciating, man. This condition has the unprecedented ability to drive me to do just about anything to alleviate these systems, when they flare up. And breaking and entering a pharmaceutical storage wasn’t outside the realm of what felt acceptable in my present state that night...

I fell face-first into Bell’s racket. He’s the only doctor in the city with knowledge of the metahuman condition, and the only one whom I can reasonably see helping me cope with what the Fluxeldrin did to me--but it comes at with a high price tag. I know his deal, but he has that B&E hanging over me. If I don’t do exactly what he says, he’s got ways to make my life hell. And he’s got me running shopping errands for him for the truck he cooks for his projects. He’s the heart of the Quarter, I just know it.

I’m so torn on the right thing to do because my dick doesn’t want what’s taking place to ever stop. I guess I’m telling you not just that I trust you not to tell anybody, but that I want some input on what kind of person it makes me, to be going along with this madness to avoid the fallout of shaking the foundation everything’s tentatively scattered upon. I’m scared, Rev. For Bell’s victims, for me, for Cecil. For everybody who’s ever gotten sick in the Quarter.

This got really long-winded and meandered into a “from one friend to another” situation. So, to make it up to you, a quick and dirty recap:

I broke into a stalking yard and stole a flask of fluxeldrin. And drank it. I drank something that fluoresced neon lime green, smelled and tasted like rot, and felt like gasoline. Something I knew could kill me. Something I knew was banned in its industry of origin due to its health hazards. I drank that. And it made me the shittiest meta that will likely ever be.

It’d be nice to meet, but I’m not sure how that would even work. You said you’re a fish now, but you’d be a fish out of water... Even I know better than to go anywhere near the toxic soup that dares to call itself Hudson Bay...

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To: ketherphorbia@geemail.com From: 9augen@tricity.co.dv Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Sorry to have cut out on you like that. —————————————

>>Spouting o... >>Creepier t... >>What was i... >>Linnaeus a... >>He’d said ... >>He did not... >>In deliber... >>If he had ... >>I never re... >>Bone becam... >>The metamo... >>The feathe... >>I was fort.. >>So I was a... >>You know m... >>I suppose ... >>A celebrat... >>We’re both... >>I want to ...

>There are no wo... >You want to kno... >I vacillate whe... >I don’t know if... >Any rate... Aft... >I shambled down... >My reader was g... >When I awoke, t... >I bullshat some... >But that doesn’... >I fell face-fir... >I’m so torn on ... >This got really... >I broke into a ... >It’d be nice to...

Delight is in the details. Oh, would I have never expected a short story written explicitly for mine eyes alone--let alone with such minutiae of gauche detail! Were it under suspicion of being fiction, I would think you a master for the unfortunate believability of your tale; that the course of events you’ve described can’t not have happened.

I’ve been around the coastline of the Quarter since my rebirth. The scent you described is very potent for this nose, these gills. If I were to hazard assumptions, I do believe the stuff has begun to seep into the water table, into the river. Of all the areas of the waterways around this city I can’t tolerate, it’s there, believe it or not. Something about it is fundamentally repulsive, and no matter what it is, I can’t shake what feels like an archetypal fear of it. So, for you to so casually narrate your deliberate pursuit of obtaining this Fluxeldrin business, and so flippantly have imbibed it... Well, I harbor a revolting admiration for you.

You do find yourself between a rock and a hard place, I imagine. Several. Or maybe, you simply find yourself hard between all these rocks. I won’t force details, though I can certainly read between the lines. It’s difficult to say. But, knowing you...I needn’t remind you how often we’ve shared the fantasy of some pandemic mutating the masses like some fabric-rending reality, culling the unfit. Everything is perfect.

The world is fluorescing into wounds, as you so describe.

To say you’d kill for something graphic enough to make you retch. I’d love to see it, too. Systemically disarticulate you, just to watch what you’d do. Stretch out that stuff that used to be your skin, curious how translucent it is, admire the veins.

Calling the bay an unapproachable toxic soup, though? I survive just fine in it. It’s all I have, Kether.

Regardless.

I’m sure we can determine a way to make this work.