#this will be read as a furry post but i don't care

[maranull]

humans not having tails is the biggest evolutionary step-down

[solradguy]

I came to terms with the Sol kinnie thing months ago now because honestly who gives a shit, but every now and then I'll find myself in a situation where I wonder if whatever it was I was about to do was/is a pre- or post-Guilty Gear interest lol

[llycaons]

anyway: critical role fans. good omens fans. cql fans. stop glorifying celebrities and acting like they're your friends and putting them on a pedestal like stoopppp

[emberwhite]

So as I have been making my rounds posting about my book across all social media, some people take a look at my cover, get confused, and ask me at point blank, "Wait. Does this book support trans people or not?"

Of course I support trans people (that's the whole point of the book!), but I don't want to use any language that could be interpreted as political by your average Joe that is turned off by any politics. You lose reach that way. I think the book could have a larger impact by using language to make the story more universal to all people. With the right message, it could be seen an an allegory that applies to not only trans people but anyone who feels like they don't fit in with the tribe.

Yes, I did decide to go with the animal metaphor for the book in spite of some hot social issues going on right now. There were previously two books that used that metaphor to make a crude political point. I don't care too much for that, but if you read them, you're ultimately left with the feeling that they discourage children from play and imagination. I used to teach kindergarten and elementary students, so I felt there was something deeply upsetting about that. It was shortly after that I felt I HAD to make this book, no matter what. I saw the stigma around the analogy as a challenge.

The good news is that after talking with other trans people about it the overwhelming majority seem to like the end result. And since the book's launch, I've had so many furries, therians, and autistic people thank me for making the book. There's something about the experience of what it is like to utterly deny things that are inevitably part of the self yet completely oppose the tribe and the regrets we ultimately face because of it. A lot of people can relate to that. It is the heart of the struggle of all humanity and society. That is culture, not politics.

So there you have it. "The Boy Who Wanted to Be a Deer" is now available on Amazon, or you can read the whole thing for free on YouTube.

If you would like to support the book, ratings on Amazon and Goodreads are the best way to do so.

[dark-moonlust]

The Werewolf, the Minotaur, and Their Mate

Pairing: werewolf x minotaur x f!human reader

Summary: You get caught between the heated desires of your werewolf and Minotaur boyfriend. They often get too possessive as if touching you is a competition. They eventually work together, pounding you good and deep so that you never forget how much they love you.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, double penetratiοn, oral fem and male receiving, p in v sex, anal +plug, fingering, huge🍆, belly bulge, knot, lots of 💦. Don’t like, don’t read please.

This is the full one-shot. It was posted first on Patreοn as my patrons get early access to my Tumblr posts+more smut! 😍I hope you like this! It’s so steamy!

Happy reading!

It was a late night and you were lying with your back on the bed, your body exposed to your two boyfriends: a werewolf named Ari and a minotaur named Bront. Aric had a big muscular frame and was covered in black fur that showed off his bright amber eyes. Bront was slightly larger than Ari and had coarse brown fur, a bull’s face and long protruding horns.

They had long now undressed you, their gazes roaming over your body, caressing your curves and making you shiver with anticipation. But when the time came for them to start touching you, they lost control. They wanted you too much, their desire overwhelming, and they always had a hard time sharing you and working together.

It didn’t help that they were both overly possessive of you, their primal instincts driving them to claim you.

“Move over, wolf. It’s my turn to kiss our mate,” Bront growled as he leaned in and claimed your mouth, his tongue pushing down your throat.

“I haven’t kissed her nearly as much as you,” Ari rumbled as he licked along your neck and up your face.

Their tongues battled for dominance, each trying to claim you in their own way. Captured between them, you moaned and wiggled slightly, overwhelmed by their intensity. You wanted to talk, to tell them that you were theirs, but every time you opened your mouth, one of them would grab the chance to kiss you deeply. When Bront’s tongue finally withdrew, Ari’s immediately took its place, plunging into your mouth and so on. The constant back-and-forth left you breathless and frustrated.

“Wait—mphhh—” you muttered, trying to catch your breath before Ari’s tongue invade your mouth.

Bront grumbled but decided to play with your breasts. His large, rough hands cupped your tits, shaping the soft, plump mounds and thumbing your sensitive nipples. His mouth enveloped each tit in turn, careful not to hurt you with his sharp teeth. His suckling was gentle yet fervent, alternating between your breasts, his tongue tracing circles around the tight, aching buds.

“Look at her…” Ari joined in the game, fondling the tit that Bront had just released and massaged it, his tongue licking around the areola. “Fuck, such softness.”

“Want to mark her pretty tits with my seed,” Bront growled, teasing your nipples with his skilled tongue.

“Yesss… please…” you whimpered and clutched both their furry arms begging them to stop teasing you. “Want you to fuck me.”

“We’ll fuck your pretty holes, mate,” Bront said, his voice sending vibrations through you, making your pussy leak even more. “But first, we’ll play with you. Hm?”

“No playing—“ you muttered, clutching their furry arms. “’m too sensitive.”

Bront gave you a firm look and settled down, his horns casting shadows on the wall as he gripped your hips and spread your legs open. He curved your legs upward, dragging them until your knees were at your ears, exposing your eager holes to their hungry eyes. You pussy clenched eagerly, you were drenched with arousal. Your ass was also filled with a pretty heart diamond plug.

“Told you the diamond plug would fit her best,” Ari drawled, his eyes dark with lust. “It looks so cute, lodged up her pretty ass.”

“Hm… looks stunning indeed,” Bront agreed shakily. “But I want to ruin her pussy first.”

You opened your mouth to speak but cried out instead when Bront’s long tongue lapped at your cunt, devouring your juices and flicking your sensitive clit. His hands kept your legs pinned wide while he did shameless things with his tongue. Ari watched enthralled, but then realized he wanted to taste you, too.

“Fuck, her cunny is so wet. Move aside, bullface, I want to taste her, too.”

“Get in line, mutt,” the minotaur snarled, his tongue plunging deep inside you, causing you to whimper and babble pathetically.

You were so close, each possessive lick brought you higher and higher and despite their bickering you came with a whine, your toes clenching, pussy pulsing around Bront’s relentless tongue. Your minotaur kept licking you up, slower this time, prolonging your pleasure.

Realizing he wouldn’t get his turn soon, Ari shoved Bront aside with a grin. “Step aside and watch, bull. It’s time to prepare her lovely ass.“

Bront narrowed his eyes at him yet reluctantly watched as Ari rolled you on all fours, his hands spreading the mounds of your ass. Ari’s tongue flicked around the butt plug, teasingly, before gently toying with the handle. He pulled it back slowly, stretching your hole, then slammed it back inside, making you gasp and tighten your anal muscles.

Bront, not one to be left out, pushed you down with a gentle palm on your back, pressing your face into the sheets. Leaning close, he watched the sight of you being so thoroughly at your limits.

“Take the plug out”, Bront demanded hoarsely. “I want to fuck her pretty arse.”

“Jokes on you, bud. I’m fucking her pretty arse,” Ari said, carefully removing the plug. It left your hole with a wet squelch, and you groaned as the thick protrusion exited your insides, leaving you feeling empty and needy.

Ari grabbed the bottle of lube and after he’d retracted his claws, he smeared the cold liquid all over his fingers and your ass. A thick werewolf finger stretched you, curling inside you. The sensation was incredible, especially when Bront joined in, inserting his own finger alongside Ari’s. You had both digits up your ass, both as thick as a human dick at full mast.

“I think she needs a bigger plug next time,” Bront said, squelching sounds echoing as he thrust his finger alongside Ari’s.

The werewolf hummed. “Hmm, she’s too tight.”

“I’m here, you dumbasses,” you groaned, the constant shifting of their fingers leavening you wanting more. “Stop talking and just fuck me!”

“Naughty little mate,” Ari said and smacked your ass playfully. “We prepare you first, and then we fuck you crazy.”

“Come on… hn…” you whined. “Can’t take this anymore. You both need to stop arguing and share me.”

Bront clicked his tongue. “Ask nicely for our cocks, little mate.”

You huffed. “Enough with the teasing. Make this work before I leave you both and go fuck my dildos.”

“She needs to be punished for even suggesting this,” Bront said in all seriousness.

Ari agreed, his brows furrowed. “Your mates are right here, hard and eager to satisfy you. Never dare say you’ll substitute us with stupid toys.”

“A lesson is in order,” the minotaur said. “Our impatient mate needs to get fucked stupid until she understands the gravity of her words.”

“Fucking finally,” you moaned and gasped when you received another light slap, this time on your pussy by Ari.

“Can I take her pretty mouth?” Ari asked. “You can break her ass and then we can take turns fucking her.”

They nodded in unison.

And began fucking you senseless.

Gone was their earlier miscommunication.

With impressive cooperation, Ari positioned himself near your head while Bront took his place between your legs. Their cocks stood at attention, their shafts as thick as your forearm, the tips leaking precum. Without waiting, Ari tapped his cock against your lips, parting your mouth and shoving his cock down your throat. You gurgled but at the same time, Bront lined up with your ass, the cockhead stretching the tight muscle and thrusting inside.

You gasped, “Mphhh!”

They fucked you from both ends in perfect unison. Ari’s cock filled your mouth and throat, salty precum trickling down your throat. Bront pounded deep into your ass, his huge frame hanging over your back, his breathing just as heavy as your own. The dual sensations were overwhelming, liquid pleasure coursing through your veins as they filled you again and again. The room echoed with the wet plap-plap of skin slapping skin and your muffled moans mingling with their grunts.

“Mmmm, such a good girl for us,” Bront said, his hips pounding you into the mattress. “Taking Ari’s cock down her pretty throat and my cock in her tight arsehole.”

“That will teach her not to mention dildos again,” Bront said, his fingers reaching to circle your pussy. You were drenched and painfully empty there, your poor clit begging for attention.

“You can use dildos only to prepare yourself for us, little mate,” Ari said while pulling back from your mouth, his cock coated in your saliva. “But never, never use them to threaten us this way. Understood?”

“Hmm… understood,” you took a deep inhale, shaking all over.

“We are also sorry, little mate”, Bront kissed your nape. “We quarrelled and teased you a little too much when we should be giving you one orgasm after the other.”

“Our mating bond is too strong and we want you too much that sometimes we lose control,” Ari added, kissing your flushed lips. “From now on, we’ll do better, love. We promise.”

“Please, make me yours,” you told them, your eyes misty. “Make me forget everything but you.”

“You want us to fill you up with our cocks?” Bront asked, his huge palm pumping his raging dick.

“Our seed trickling down your thighs?” Ari added, fondling his swollen balls.

“Hm! Yes, want you! Want you both to fuck me stupid!”

Your declaration was all they needed to get back at it.

They repositioned you so you were straddling Bront, your breasts rubbing against his chest while Ari kneeled behind you, his dick hot against your ass. Your minotaur lowered you down onto his cock, and your werewolf pushed into your ass. They thrust to the hilt, stretching your holes, both shafts rubbing against each other inside you. Then they started pounding you, their thrusts deep and relentless, their cocks hitting all the right spots.

You clung to both of them, your nails digging into their flesh as they fucked you in perfect harmony. When Ari’s cock left your pussy, Bront’s entered your ass. Next they alternated the pace, both slamming at the same time inside your holes. You could only whimper and blabber their names, their combined efforts pushing you over the edge.

Body trembling, you came hard, sobs of pleasure escaping your dry mouth. Bront devoured your cries with his kiss, his tongue brushing with yours in a rough messy kiss. Ari nipped and kissed your neck, leaving little love marks. Your mates were primal and unhinged, and you loved them—you loved how good they fucked you, exactly as you liked it.

And they were far from done.

They ruined you from what seemed like hours. With their inhuman strength and size, they put you in all positions imaginable and took turns claiming your holes, their powerful bodies working in sync to drive you insane with ecstasy. You lost count of how many times you climaxed and your voice went horse from all the moans and cries of pleasure.

When they did finish, they had completely delivered their lesson; you were sleepy and blissfully fucked, your lips smudged with seed, your cunt and ass overflowing with it. You collapsed between them, panting and sweaty.

They gave you water and some bites of food, then gently cleaned you up. They tucked you between them in the bed and held you, whispering how much they loved, how precious you were to them, how lucky they were to have found you.

“That was one amazing punishment,” you muttered with a sleepy smile. “I love it when you go feral over me.”

“We’ll be gentler next time,” Ari said, nuzzling your neck.

“Nooo,” you pouted. “I loved it.”

Bront half-laughed and kissed your nose. “Then you’ll get many more good and deep poundings tomorrow, sweet mate.”

You smiled, exhausted but satisfied. “Thank you. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” your mates whispered before you drifted off into a pleasurable sleep.

Did you enjoy? Are there any other pairing you’d like to see? I’m all ears 😆🩶

[coolcoolcoolbutwtf]

Fentons family's guide Section on being an evil assistant to a supervillain

_________________________________________

Fentons family's guide to being an evil assistant to a supervillain

Guide by Jazmin Fenton in case of employment with a supervillain.

Being an evil assistant or henchmen is surprisingly a very stable source of an income stream all things considered.

You just need to find a boss. A as in singular it's very important, who is pathetic and or stupid enough to constantly have their large scale plan failing even without the hero's Involvement.

And while their large scale plan for taking over the world with a weapon of mass destruction could be feasible if only they didn't think to actually use it. Using it to threaten the world leaders for sway is the correct way. It is the most unused method the one being used most is the method of actually using the weapon of mass destruction for mass destruction.

You as the evil assistant then have the responsibility to make sure that the villain doesn't/ can't use said device to destroy the world. The heroes can help. Later then take the blame for the failure absolving you of involvement.

Being a good evil assistant is babysitting the evil boss.

_________________________________pg 9___

"Oh man never thought I'd actually need to use the 'Fenton guide' Jazz made me." Danny mumbled quietly and heaved a sigh of relief when he had found it among his hastily packed together bag.

Jazz had been the one making both of their emergency bags when she had told him about the guide. He hadn't appreciated it then now he truly did now with everything going on.

God he missed Jazz so much. He wanted to see her so badly he wanted to hold her hand like when they were kids. He really wanted her hand to squeeze his back in reassurance that everything was going to be fine.

Danny tried holding back his sobs at the thought. He couldn't stop the mist in his eyes or his hands shaking holding the little booklet.

But he wanted her safe and far away from everything even more. He wanted his friends to be safe with his sister. It didn't matter if he had to be far away working getting those crystals every way he could think of. His friends and sister needed money to keep them safe, hidden and taken care of. They needed that money and crystals and if Danny had to choose between his morals and fright he would always choose his true family. Morals be damned.

• • •

He hadn't expected the costume to be so good in quality. That had surprised him the most the second being how easy it would be getting a job with villains. Turns out working as an "meta" henchmen who knew everything from fighting to logistics and machinery was a rarity in this dimension. Who would have guessed it with all the metas and enhanced humans going about? And omg they even have aliens in this dimension!

Getting the money for the crystals had been going surprisingly smoothly. Everything had been going so smoothly that of course it had to be ruined! The villain Danny was working for had gotten noticed and promptly got beat. Which meant he didn't have an employer anymore at least until a breakout was orchestrated. So no more job until then.

And Danny had finally managed his way to the middle hierarchy in that organization! Now he would need to go looking for evil henchmen positions again! It wasn't even a good season to go looking for openings in other organizations.

Damn it that bat furry in Gotham and his flock of birds. Don't they get how hard it is for a henchmen to find descant work!?

Maybe he should go with the duo villain and assistant type next time.

Thank you so much for reading I hope it was enjoyed!

Danny in the lair after having saved his villain boss from Batman after said villain had their scheme blown up in their face. Danny knew the plan would fail miserably but at this point he didn't care. He stopped trying to help when it came to schemes ages ago.

+Some art

Idk if I've posted this idea before but I've had this thing bouncing around in my head for a while.

[jmdbjk]

Well...

I've always harped on their "chemistry" and its no exaggeration. They fit together so naturally. They are so very in tune with each other, when you are with that person and you feel like everything is right and it doesn't matter what you are doing, where you are going or if you are doing anything or nothing at all.

This episode was completely different than any of the previous episodes.

By the end of November they both knew what was going to happen and embracing the idea that they were about to "go in" and they were doing this together. They flat out said they were making memories to take with them while they served their military obligation.

Jimin and Jungkook clearly see themselves as just ordinary people living extraordinary lives, and they want to and expect to experience ordinary things.

The convenience store visit.

They ran like kids sliding on the ice, stomped in the snow, threw snowballs at each other, even though occasionally, Jimin's pragmatism burst their cozy little bubble:

Jungkook: "When it snows during our military service I think I'll recall this moment."

Jimin: "Right now, we're watching the snow from a hotel window but soon we'll have to sweep it up."

Ever the romantic, that Jimin...

Walking on the street with the general public, getting coffee, making their way to the train station... just like everyone else...

Yes, they had a crew with them, leading them and following them through the streets of Sapporo. But everything they did was ordinary.

When they are ordering food or drinks, their attempts at reading and speaking Japanese are endearing. They just dove right in. I love them. See? Don't let language be an obstacle when traveling in a foreign country!

I don't know if that's his personal little round furry money purse or if the staff used that for this trip's spending money and just handed it to him... but it was cute as fuck.

There is nothing pretentious about them. Yes they can whip out the black card to pay for expensive whisky but Jungkook took pleasure in choosing what he wanted himself, carrying his armload of 18 year old whisky to the counter and paying the $4000 for it himself at the distillery. He could have had someone else do it for him.

We saw these purchases in his refrigerator during his live on Dec. 8:

As ordinary as it was, there were still some very WTF moments that everyone has already pointed out:

That moment from the car ride on the way from the airport to the hotel at 11 o'clock at night, no seatbelts, Jimin practically sitting in Jungkook's lap and both smushed against the door. Jungkook looking like he is about to get lucky or just did.... man, I don't know what that was all about and how it stayed in this episode instead of getting edited out. I mean... there is a cut so we are not seeing the entire thing but what they left in was... ok?... I guess?

The train ride sequence (even though it was highly manipulated in post-production to wipe out all the other people)...

That culminates in this... we hope it ends up being a selca in the photobook. The moment was so sweet.

At the distillery, cosplaying their pickup lines at a bar...

Jimin's moment of clarity when he envisioned himself a girl dad and Jungkook thinking "uhhhhh... ok, Jimin, whatever you say"...

Gotta say though, Jimin envisioning himself a father at some point in the future was very sweet.

They reminisced a lot, talking about how much they and the other members have changed over the years and still remarking to each other how young they both look when back outside in the cold air, cheeks flushed from whisky and beer and a hot meal.

Their point of view regarding their looks, "they enjoy watching us gradually get raggedy and fat."

Yet, their age difference is exactly what makes them click. Jimin being older, caring, watchful, responsible in the early years, and Jungkook, so young, still socially awkward, always watching Jimin, always sticking close by him, learning how to maneuver the situations they faced in their profession. Through the years they evolved and matured personally and professionally into the men they are today.

If they had been same-agers, the outcome may not have been the same.

Again, props to the staff for everything they did to make this happen for Jimin and Jungkook. It appeared that some of the time they remained outside in the cold while Jimin and Jungkook were indoors eating or getting coffee.

This trip was their final trip before that "rite of passage" that every Korean male is obligated to fulfill. There was a poignant edge to a lot of this episode, in what they talked about, in the imagery. Jimin has always seemed to want to hang on to his "youth" and now he was about to cross that line and he knew it.

I also keep harping on the fact Jimin and Jungkook are together as we speak and I am thankful for that every day. I firmly believe they are thankful for each other, even if they are not same age friends.

Two more episodes.

[faun-the-fawn77]

hi! Okay so again thank you for accepting my request about characters meeting their fandom counterparts I was wondering can you maybe make a part 2 where they find a version of their yn like a cat yn for Alastor and Lucifer and a tiny yn for Adam and maybe right about how each fandom counterparts would react when seeing they can have their own in like their canon counterparts? Just a idea

Thank you take care out there! 😁

"Paw-some!"

Alastor x GN!Sinner!Reader, Lucifer Morningstar x GN!Sinner!Reader, Adam x GN!Angel!Reader

Genre: CRACKFIC

Word Count: 1467(I got carried away💀)

Warnings: Swearing(don't we know this by now?), mention of having kids in Adam's part, that's it:)

Desc: Part 2 to the other Drabbles! This time the guys encounter their partners looking just like their counterparts! Chaos ensues:)

Note: I love crackfics so much! Gotta be my fav genre of fic:) Happy reading ya'll!

Edit: Reqs for Hellaverse are closed:) Be sure to check my pinned post for what I write for and who!

Alastor:

Alastor had honestly thought that his feline counterpart stole his lover. He knows that it could never replace him but that jealous feeling tugging at his mind is slowly convincing him that the feline was plotting something.

Alastor had left early that morning to run some errands and hopefully to return with a plan on how to get rid of that devil cat that looks a bit too much like the radio demon.

"Meow" Alastor paused in his tracks, humming coming to a halt. He turned his head towards the soft sound. His ear twitched when another meow echoed from the alley he was in front of.

He grinned and slowly paced down the dank alley with a plan to capture the creature. He was hoping that if this cat was a female then it could hopefully capture the attention of the other pest currently staying the bedroom he shared with his lover.

He spotted the (H/C) feline slinking out from the shadows and strutting right up to the Overlord. His eyes widened at the similarities it held with his love.

He bent down and scooped up the precious creature. He made sure to be careful with his claws when he went to scratch the beautiful creatures head.

"Why, hello my dear! How would you like to come home with me, hm?" The cat stared up at hime with huge (E/C) eyes and meowed.

Later, when Alastor returned with his new furry friend, he made sure to place her gently on the king size bed in his room. He could sense that no other presence was in there at the moment, which meant that Alastor was going to surprise his partner with a cat similar to them!

When Y/N had returned that evening with who they had deemed "Catlastor" in her arms, they halted when a fluffy feline fell into their line of sight. The other feline in her arms had glanced up when his owner froze and looked to see the sleeping beauty on the bed.

The red furball couldn't get out of Y/N's arms fast enough. It pounced onto the bed and pridefully strode up to the sleeping cat.

"What the-"

"Welcome back, my love!" Y/N jumped as the loud static voice of their lover sounded behind them. Alastor walked up to stand near them and watched as the two felines on the bed sniffed each other to get familiar with scents.

"Isn't she gorgeous?" Y/N smiled when they watched the red furball curl his body around the smaller (H/C) feline. Their tails twined together and with that, the two animals were asleep.

"Not so jealous anymore are you, Alastor?"

Lucifer:

A cat can indeed replace him. He could feel the irritation in him build when he saw the cat, that freakishly looked a little too much like him, cuddle up on his lover's chest.

Lucifer pouted as he witnessed the cat give him the side eye. He swore that it was smirking when it stretched a paw to place it on the cheek of Y/N.

"I'm going to the garden for a bit. I'll be back in a few." Y/N hummed to acknowledge that they'd heard the king and went back to petting the purring feline. Lucifer huffed and stomped towards the glass doors that lead to the garden.

The garden behind his mansion had always managed to calm him down. He sought out the bench that was handcrafted and gifted to him in his early days of reign.

"I can't believe I'm jealous of a fucking cat..." Lucifer groaned and placed his clawed hands over his face.

A bush near him had started to move, like something was hiding inside. Lucifer jumped a bit before staring intently at the flowering bush.

What came next had almost made the King of Hell pass out. A sleek (H/C) cat slinked from the bush and looked up at the pale angel. Lucifer stared into the sparkling (E/C) eyes of the small animal in front of him.

"Holy Hell..." Lucifer stiffened when the cat walked up to him and jumped up onto his lap. He froze before relaxing and started to pet the gorgeous creature that resembled his lover a bit too much.

Lucifer st up at that. His lover! He looked down at the cat in his lap, gently scooping it into his arms before walking as fast as he could to where his lover currently resided.

"My Love!" He gently opened the door to their bedroom. He saw Y/N still in bed with a book in hand and the feline version of him still in their lap.

"What is it, Luci?" Y/N didn't glance up until the cat on their lap shifted before getting up. They looked up and saw Lucifer putting down a cat that strikingly resembled them onto the bed.

"What the fuck?" Y/N placed their book down, sitting up more to observe the two felines sniffing each other. Lucifer beamed at his love and quickly got into the spot where his feline counterpart once rested.

"She's perfect! Look! They're like us but cats!" Y/N giggled and ran their fingers through the kings golden locks as they both watched the cats purr and nuzzle each other.

Definitely just like their counterparts.

Adam:

When Y/N first brought home the tiny version of him, he almost lost his mind. I mean, the little shit was stealing them away from him!

Since then, Adam has grown used to his tiny self and had honestly started thinking of it like his own child. He knew he had told Y/N that they were the caretaker of this thing but Adam couldn't help but become attached to the little guy.

Today happened to be Y/N's day to take care of the tiny Adam. They went out to the shops while Adam himself had left to the training are for the exorcists.

It was a far fly to the area so when he had arrived, he didn't expect to see his right hand woman holding onto a tiny version you Y/N.

Lute held her arms out as far as she could so she didn't get her hair pulled like the first time she picked up the tiny angel. When she heard the heavy steps of her superior, she turned to him and quickly shoved the babbling tiny angel into his arms and sprinted off to see over the other exorcists.

"What the fuck, Lute!?" Adam growled and continued to mutter swears under his breath but stopped when the sound of whimpering caught his ears.

"Oh- uh... Hi there, honey!" Adam smiled down at the tiny version of his lover. When the tiny angel stopped whimpering, he took that as a victory but that didn't last to long when the angel full on wailed.

Adam almost dropped them at the loud sound before regaining his grip. He started to freak out until he figured out that his mask was what's causing the problem. He glanced around to see the exorcists busy training before turning away and taking his mask off.

"See? Hey, no need to cry, sweetheart. It's me!" The tiny Y/N stopped their crying and looked to see the face they loved so much. A smile spread on their lips and they reached out for the man.

"Let's get you home, yeah?" With that, Adam spread his golden wings and took off to the penthouse he shared with his lover.

Walking through the door, he could instantly hear his Y/N talking to who he could only assume is the tiny version of him. He looked down at the tiny version of Y/N and saw their eyes staring at the door leading to the other two.

"And the- Oh! Adam, you're home early!" Y/N turned to face their lover and paused when they saw the tiny version of themselves being held gently in a maskless Adam's arms.

"Is that-?"

"It is! Hey, tiny me! Look who's here!" Tiny Adam turned to see what his counterpart was talking about. His eyes widened before he wriggled himself from Y/N's grip and sped towards the bigger version of himself.

"Here ya go!" Adam set down tiny Y/N and watched how the tiny him had ran up to them and pulled them into a hug.

Adam smiled as he watched the two tiny angels speak in a language that could only understand. He felt Y/N brush their hand against his arm before gripping it and leaning onto him.

"I know you said no kids but... I think I'm getting baby fever just watching them." Adam hummed in agreement. Maybe kids with Y/N wasn't such a bad idea...

This my last Hellaverse req! Thanks so much for requesting! Every time I see the notif on my inbox I cry a bit:') I hope you all have loved my Hazbin fics as much as I loved them! Ill def get back into the Hellaverse at one point cause I seem to always come back to whatever fandoms I love:D

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 51

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber, Steve Kemp

Note: ya'll rock.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Amber takes you to a large truck. The man, Curtis, opens the door and she helps you in. It’s an older model with a bench seat. He gets in the other side and slides a key into the ignition. You hug your things tight, staring ahead. Dazed and dull. 

You’re out. You think. This is real, right? 

Amber rubs your shoulder as she keeps her arm around you. Curtis turns on the heat so it blasts on you. You only realise then that your teeth are chattering. 

“Bub, you okay?” Amber asks. You nod and blink at her then the man on her other side. “This is Curtis. He’s a friend.” 

He dips his chin and you look at the dashboard. You can’t speak. Your insides are all shaky. You look over your shoulder at the house. Their house. 

“Go,” Amber says. “Curt, let’s just leave.” 

He shifts and puts his foot on the gas. Amber holds you as he drives. You wiggle your nose and sniffle but the tears don’t come. You’re still afraid. It doesn’t feel over yet. It’s not. 

You look down, your stomach shielded by your clothes, bundled around the tablet and journal. That’s all you have. All you have to prove it was real. If you didn’t take them, you would be sure you didn’t dream it all. 

“There’s the blanket,” Curtis says. 

His voice is grizzly, like a bear. His knuckles are even a little furry. Amber pulls the blanket from between them and throws it over you. 

“I’m just so happy you’re safe. You’re here,” Amber rocks you. “You’re with me. Oh, bubba, I was terrified.” 

You lean into her. Her warmth enshrines you. You turn your face into her shoulder. Just like cinnamon. “Me too,” you whisper. 

You stay like that. When the engine quiets, you feel like you’re still in motion. You don’t move until Amber does. She helps you slide out of the truck but as you land on your feet, you stumble. Your journal slips out and lands open on the cold ground. 

She hops down after you and picks it up. You squeal and grab at it. She can’t read it. It’s yours! She closes it calmly and smiles, holding it out. She tucks it behind your armful. 

“Come on, bub, too cold out here.” 

You let her take you inside. Curtis holds the door again. He’s quiet and patient. He’s scary at first sight but there’s a calmness to him that keeps you from panicking. After the men you’ve dealt with, you should be hiding. 

You set down your things little by little. It’s hard to let go. You leave them on the low bench as Amber and Curtis unlace their boots. You slip off your shoes and look around.

One of your paintings hangs on the wall; a bluebird with a sprig of lily-of-the-valley in its beak. You go close to look at it. You know it’s yours but you find it hard to think that you made that. It looks so cheerful. 

“Pretty,” Curtis comments and you back away from the painting to look at him but your eyes only make it to his chest. 

“She’s talented,” Amber preens, “bubba, let’s get you settled. You want a hot bath?” 

You shake your head. The doctor said no hot baths. You feel sick. Your eyes widen and you scramble in panic. You don’t think as you push between them and race down to the bathroom. You hurl over the sink and whine. 

You hear your sister’s hushed tones followed by her soft footsteps. Her shadow hovers in the door and you crank on the faucet to rinse your mouth. You can barely breath. The acid burns your throat. You can’t tell her the truth. 

“Sorry, I... I’m not feeling well,” you cough and face her. 

“That’s okay. It’s been a hectic day,” she beckons you out. “Well, how about some tea? Ginger, for your stomach.” 

You think that’s okay. It doesn’t have caffeine, you think. You shuffle out after her to the kitchen. Curtis puts the kettle on the stove as you enter. She nods and he nods back. He heads for the door. 

“Call me if you need anything,” he says. 

“Sure, Curt. Thanks again. You don’t know what you’ve done for me.” 

He takes a deep breath, “any time.” 

He leaves and you listen to his steps and the subsequent open and shut of the door. You stare after him. The kettle shakes softly as it heats. You turn back to Amber and you cheek twinges. She’s watching you. 

“He’s your boyfriend.” 

She drops her head and shows her palms, “you got me.” 

“Is he nice?” You ask. 

“So far,” she answers. 

Your chest constricts and you turn your attention to the wall, “mine weren’t.” She lets out a noise, something like a whimper. You shake your head. “No, don’t... feel bad. I don’t want you to.” You push your shoulders up and go to the counter. You lean on it. “You found me and I’m okay now.” 

“Bub, that’s... you’re safe but...” 

“I know. I know. It’s stuck in my head.” You touch your forehead, leaning into your hand. 

She’s silent. You know what she wants to ask but she won’t. Because she loves you. Because she cares. She doesn’t want to hurt you but you hurt her. You heard it in the first note she spoke to you. 

“Let’s have our tea first,” she says as if she can sense your thoughts. 

You nod. 

“Will you get it ready?” You look at the door. “Be right back.” 

“Sure.” 

You go back to the entry way and sift under the clothes. You take your journal. The tablet can wait. You come back as Amber pours the steaming water. She takes a cup and you take the other. You go to the front room and sit on the couch. The mugs clink on the table to steep. 

You clutch the journal in your lap and chew your lip. 

“We don’t have to--” 

“I have to. Or I won’t ever.” You insist. 

“Okay,” she agrees. 

You sit and breathe. It takes a few minutes before your stomach stops churning. You bite down and measure your words. 

“I was with Andy. And he hurt me. So I left. Steve... Dr. Kemp said he could help. I... I thought he would. I thought...” your lip trembles. “I thought I loved him. It’s stupid but I wanted to love him. I wanted someone to love. I wanted him to love me too.” 

Your eye twitches.  

“He didn’t.” 

“Oh, bubba,” she puts her hand on yours. 

“I can’t say... I can’t tell you...” you slip from under her grasp and lift the journal above your lap. You open it. “Will you read?” 

You look at her. She looks scared. 

“You don’t have to but I don’t think I can explain... out loud.” 

“As long as you’re okay with it.” 

“Please,” you beg, “every time I wrote, I wrote to you.” 

You hand her the journal and she takes it with reverence. She pauses and runs her hands over the pages. She puts her head down and her eyes begin to move across the writing. 

Her hand comes up and she covers her mouth. She’s silent and still as she reads. She turns the page and lets out a soft gasp into her palm. It isn’t until she turns the next and wipes her cheeks that you realise she’s crying. 

“Oh, bub...” 

“Just read,” you whisper. 

She continues. Her jaw tenses and her eyes flare as her grief dries up. Her horror turns to anger. She taps her finger at the bottom of the page. 

“What is this?” She flutters the page to the next to check the similarity. 

You know you can’t hide it. Not forever, not today.  

“My cycle. My period,” you explain. “And...” you shudder and your throat locks up. You bring your hands up to your neck and make yourself exhale.  

“It’s not here... or here...” she keeps flipping the pages. “Bub.” 

You feel sick again. You grab the tea and take a gulp. The heat soothes but it cannot heal this wound. 

“Yes.” You sniffle. 

“Yes?” She echoes. “Yes, what?” 

“I have a baby.” 

“What?” She wisps. 

You look down and touch your stomach. “They tested me at the hospital. It’s in there.” 

She slams the book shut and grips it tightly. You’ve never seen her this angry. She stomps around, pacing, then throws the journal and shrieks. 

“They did this too you!?” 

“I let him--” 

“No, no!” She balls her fists. “No, you didn’t ask for it. Don’t you say that. Do you say it!” She snarls and strides around like an animal. “Bub! They—a baby! A--” she stops and sways.  

She closes her eyes and opens her fingers. She flicks her lashes up and looks at you. She walks over to you slowly and sits. She takes your hands into hers. 

“What do you want?” 

“What?” You frown. 

“What do you want to do?” 

You consider her. You left because you didn’t want to burden her. Now you’ve brought home an actual burden. You know what needs to be done. You also know it’s what you want. 

“I don’t want it. It’s not mine. It’s his and I don’t want anything to do with him,” you eke out. 

“Okay, then we will figure it out.” She squeezes your hands. “Together.” 

Your eyes well, “why?” 

“I’m your sister. Why not?” She breathes. “It’s only ever been the two of us. You and me.” 

“I thought... I... they told me you hated me. That I was a burden--” 

“They are bad men. That’s not on you. They took advantage of you and that’s their issue, not yours.” She says. “You got that? None of this is your fault. None of it. Grown men like them know better.” 

You lower your head, “but I... left you.” 

“So? It doesn’t matter. You’ll always have a place with me. Always.” 

You heave into a sob. It’s all coming out now. You can’t hold back. You collapse against her and untangle your hands as you wrap her in a hug. She puts her arms around you and pulls you closer. She leans back with you as your despair pours out in streams. 

“I’m sorry,” you garble, “Amber, I’m so sorry.” 

“Shhh, bubby, shhhh,” she pets your head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing.” 

🕊️

You sleep in Amber’s bed. You just want to be close to her and the thought of being alone is scary. She’s warm and safe. 

When the morning comes, you haven’t got much sleep. It’s hard to relax knowing what’s inside of you. The latent but constant nausea also keeps you awake. You make another trip to spew out your guts before Amber wakes. 

You make her tea. The routine is so simple and familiar. You savour each step. You marvel at the walls that once seemed plain and the house that isn’t so small as it is cozy. 

She smiles, her eyes still sleepy, as you give her a cup. You take your own, chamomile, and stand across the counter from her. You watch her and she gives you a grimace. 

“What?” 

“When’s Curtis coming back?” You ask. 

“Oh, bub, don’t worry about him. I don’t want to crowd you--” 

“But he’s your boyfriend. You miss him already, don’t you?” 

She giggles, “you’re teasing me.” 

You nod and laugh too. 

She rolls her eyes, “he’ll be back when he’s back.” 

“He’s sure strong. And tall. And he has nice eyes,” you goad. 

“Quit,” she sticks her tongue out. 

You almost shake with amusement. It feels good not to be so afraid. “I’m glad you had him, Amb. You shouldn’t be alone. Ever.” 

“He... he’s been a help.” she says. “But, bub, there’s some things we can’t do on our own.” 

You deflate. Right. Back to reality. 

“I think we should take your journal to the police. I found that card you had tucked in there for that officer, Jones? Maybe they can help--” 

“What? My journal?” You yipe. “Please, no, they can’t-- no one else can read it.” 

She sets her cup down and her expression sobers, “I know it’s hard and it’s entirely up to you. Always. I’m not telling you what to do, I’m letting you know you have options. But I want you to think about it, okay?” 

Your nose tingles with unspent tears. She leans forward. “Bubba, there were other children there. Are you sure... you were the only woman? What if they find another like you?” 

You flinch and shake your head, “what? No—no. I...” you tried not to think of it before but you’re not stupid. They won’t just give up, even if it’s not you. 

“Look, you don’t have to decide today. There’s a lot more to deal with. For both of us. So let’s just have one day where we don’t think.” 

You stare at her. You want that so badly but you don’t know if you can stop. The worry stirs constantly, simmering and threatening to boil over. Yet for her you can try. 

“Okay,” you agree. “Let’s do that.” 

[serenityinstone]

Feline Fiasco

Hetalia x Reader

This is written for a female reader but there isn't really anything specific that would suggest that besides a few references. If you want to read, I'm not going to stop you.

Also (Y/n) is completely uninterested in the countries for the majority of this, all she's interested in is the cats. This is way fluffier than anything else I've posted, which is two things, and this part is relatively America-centric because (Y/n) works for him. This is also way less quality work than those two posts but idk deal with it?

There is more to this but it's unfinished and I'll probably never post it. My friend also helped with the cat names so if you don't like them... uh assume that they chose them. One last note, I thought it would be funny to write the accents so you also have to deal with that.

As one of the many secretaries working in the White House, it was actually quite a surprise to you that you ended up as the main secretary to the human personification of the U.S.A.

Because of this, you had become quite close to Mr. F. Jones and more importantly: his cat.

You couldn't help but coo at the adorable and floofy feline. Sure, you should probably finish filing those papers, but national security can wait a few more minutes. Besides you couldn't resist the allure of the purr. It would be an understatement to say, when you learned that the other personifications also had furry friends of their own, you were excited.

America didn't want you interacting with the other countries, especially not Russia. But you honestly didn't care and you weren't the recording secretary for those meetings, so it's not like you were in attendance anyways. That somehow didn't stop you from having to tag along and meeting more nation cats; of which you weren't sure why they had brought them along in the first place. It's not like you were complaining.

Ball of fur after ball of fur. No cat went un-petted. Except for Germany's cat; he had evaded you time and time again. But no longer! For today was the last day and you were going to pet that cat if it was the last thing you did.

There it was. It's sleek black fur, the ribbon in Germany's signature colors around its neck, and that always alert look on its face. He would evade you no more. You crouched down in your very inflexible pencil skirt and prepared to pounce.

"Vhat are jou doing?" A voice thick with a German accent called out, startling you and the cat who decided to bound back towards him and into his arms.

"Uhhhh." You blanked.

"You're America's secretary right? Vat vere jou trying to do to my cat?" He questioned, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

You gulped and tried to explain your actions in a way that didn't sound absolutely ridiculous.

"I-uh. I wanted to pet your cat and… he kept evading me and I thought if I snuck up on him that I could pet him." You looked away and pitifully whispered, "Sorry."

"If jou vanted to pet him, all you had to do was ask."

"Really!?" Your eyes lit up and you looked up at the German with pure and unbridled excitement. He coughed and looked away with a slight blush resting on his cheeks.

"Of course." He held the cat out. You, with no hesitation whatsoever, immediately started to adore and love the cat, even shifting it from Germany's arms to your own.

As you continued to pet the cat, who despite his earlier refusal, seemed quite happy, you asked Germany a question. "My name's (Y/n). What's yours if you're willing to share? No pressure though."

His eyes widened a bit before he shook it off and gave you an answer. "Ludwig Beilschmidt." He responded, studying his cat. "Germouser seems to like jou."

You could barely stifle a laugh at the name he had given to the black cat. He sensed your amusement and gave an explanation.

"Feli- Italy named him. I vas going to name him Johann or something similar. Italy was zoroughly horrified by my suggestions and vould not rest until I vent vith his."

You smiled at the Italian's antics and shook your head with amusement. "Germouser is a fine name for an absolutely wonderful cat."

Germany seemed to get flustered again as he watched you coo at his cat, completely ignoring his presence. He would have just left him with you, but the meeting was starting soon and he didn't want to be late. Luckily for him, America decided to pop around the corner, demanding your attention. So you were forced to give up the precious kitty cat and return with Mr. Jones.

Alfred was annoyed. Not at you but at everyone else. Why did they have any right to be around you? You were an American citizen. His citizen. Sure, all you were really interested in was their cats. But what if you thought that they and their cats were so cool that you left him and went to live in a different country instead? He couldn't let that happen.

"So, (Y/n), dude, broette." He said on the way to the meeting room. "Here's the deal."

You gave him a look and raised an eyebrow.

"I need someone to watch Hero for me and my sitter flaked so you're gonna be watching him." He fingered-gunned at you and stars seemed to shine in the air around him. This, of course, was nothing new to you. It wasn’t like you would have rather been attending the meeting anyways.

So you stayed in a different unoccupied meeting room with a lovely, furry friend. It wasn't until he started hissing at a corner that you were in trouble.

"Hero, what's wrong?" You asked, concerned at the agitated cat. His tail bristled up and his ears flattened down as he took a defensive position. Out of nowhere another fluffy cat waltzed in from the very corner that Hero had been hissing at. It was Boris, a cat that belonged to Russia.

You hadn't actually gotten to pet him yet because to be honest, you were also scared of Russia. But… He wasn't around… and his cat was. And his cat was purring.

That was about all the reasoning that you needed to brush past Hero and scoop Boris up into your arms. The former started yowling for your attention and followed you as you went to sit down with the Russian cat.

You laid down on the plush carpeted floor and lifted the cat that you were holding up above you. Boris’ fluffy body was placed onto your chest and he immediately started purring louder once he got comfortable. He nuzzled his face into your neck, much to the annoyance of the American cat. Hero yowled at you and pawed at Boris, desperately trying to get him off.

Boris only gave him a smug look in return and kneaded into you, further solidifying his spot. Hero decided that it wasn’t worth the fight and that he was going to get his owner to remove the Russian cat and put him back into his mother’s lap: aka you.

The surprisingly smart and agile cat leapt around the room and pushed down the door handle, slipping out through the crack. You didn’t notice this as you were currently immersed in the bliss of a cat sitting on you and letting you pet it.

Eventually the purring lulled you into a peaceful and warm slumber, the two of you deciding to take a cat nap.

It would be Russia who found you first. Ivan realized that his cat had gone missing and he honestly didn’t care enough about the meeting to stay. It's not like anyone would try to stop him.

So as Hero bounded down the halls towards the meeting room, Mr. Ivan Braginsky came from the other direction; his sense of where his cat was at any one moment was completely uncanny.

The Russian gradually opened the wooden door and it quietly opened without any resistance. He turned his head towards where he heard purring and was met with a surprising sight. It was America’s secretary, with his cat, lying, with his cat.

You were breathing softly and the movements of your chest moving up and down also moved Boris. Ivan couldn’t help but faintly smile at the sight. Said cat opened a singular eye to acknowledge the new presence in the room. He flicked his tail and settled back into his spot. Not wanting to bother you or the cat, Ivan pulled out a chair and sat down. 

He pulled out some paperwork, seemingly from nowhere, and began to work on it. The sounds of your quiet breathing, combined with the light purr from Boris, made for a calming work environment. 

As the three of you remained in peaceful bliss, another kitty cat was running around the corner on the never ending search for food. Itabby trotted up and down the corridors looking for an open door that might lead to some food that didn’t come from England. Her golden fur glimmered as the sun shined through the many windows in the building. She looked over at a door that had opened slightly and was too blinded by the thought of food to notice the scarily familiar scent coming from the room.

Itabby scampered over to the door but screeched and meowed as she was sent flying by an American blonde and his equally irritated cat. She tentatively peered around the door at the scene forming.

“HEY!” Alfred yelled, startling both you and the cat. You shot up straight, Boris falling into your lap. “What are you doing with her?!” He yelled again, getting his face up into Ivan’s. The other man gave him an unamused look and stood up, towering over him. Alfred, despite this, did not back down and continued to stare angrily at him.

“Go away.” The white-haired male said, his accent heavy as he crossed his arms. “You have startled them with your unnecessary noise. You are just like the rest of your country.”

The air tensed and became heavier as the seconds went on. They began to size each other up as Hero, ironically, “heroically” walked proudly over to you and with his front paws, pushed Boris off of your lap. He quickly took his place and started purring. Boris’ fur began to puff up as he hunched down and prepared to pounce. His back legs flexed and he made the jump, sending both him and Hero flying towards their fighting owners, who were remarkably somehow not in a physical fight. Yet.

You very quickly realized that you did not want to be in the middle of  two superpowers fighting and quietly took your leave. (E/c) eyes met feline amber ones and you swept up the cat and made your escape, leaving behind the feuding men and cats.

Itabby snuggled into your arms as you finally slowed down to catch your breath. Her round tail whooshed back and forth as you tiredly walked through the long hallway. The two of you eventually ended up in the rose gardens of the meeting building. The area was well taken care of and beautiful if you did say so yourself. The meeting was taking place in England and Mr. Jones had told you about how the Brit enjoyed gardening, so it made sense as to why it was here.

Speaking of the British, you spotted a fluffy feline shape from the corner of your eye. It was deeper into the gardens and among the trees. Itabby finally decided that it was time to go and return to her owner. She gracefully leaped out of your arms and landed on all fours and trotted off to beg Italy for some pasta. You instead continued your approach to the cat, which at this point, you could tell was a Scottish Fold.

The left side of his face was brown and so was his tail. Alike to his owner, he seemed to have what you assumed were some kind of eyebrows and when he opened his eyes to look at you, his olive eyes stared into yours. He flicked his tail and layed back down onto the wall that he was laying on. His collar jingled as he moved and you quietly moved up to him. On the gold circle attached to the same olive color collar, was a name.

‘Scone’ You thought. ‘Oh my god. This is the most English cat name I have ever seen.’

You almost started laughing but the smoldering glare the cat gave you made you think otherwise. The stone wall was surprisingly cold for the summer sun and as you sat down, you took a look at Scone. He seemed to still be quite grumpy, but he knew you from earlier in the week, so he was not alarmed. You lifted up and moved your left arm forward to start petting him.

Scone was soft and clearly well-taken care of. His fur was clean and had no knots or dirt insight, despite laying around a garden for half a day. You continued your actions and the both of you started to fall back into slumber. Your hand hovered on the back of the feline and your head slumped alongside your body.

It was peaceful. With birds chirping and the wind lightly blowing. There was a river babbling somewhere in the background and it made for a serene scene. The only reason he had let you pet him was because you had fed him earlier in the week. He didn’t have his collar at that point so this was the first time you had gotten his name. Your eyes closed as you recalled the event from a couple of days prior.

The day after the plane landed you were on the hunt for felines. Armed with some cat food, a retractable mouse-on-a-stick and hope, you made your way around the building England had set aside for housing the rampant countries, and byproduct, their cats. France’s cat, Monsieur, was an absolute attention wh-. He really liked attention, and would rub himself against your leg anytime the two of you crossed paths. It’s not like France, or Francis, was much better.

It’s not like you minded petting him. He was adorable after all. The cat, not Francis. But you had wanted to meet as many other cats as you could and so you had to stop by Francis’ room multiple times to drop off Monsieur.

“Je suis désolé.” He said, taking Monsieur out of your arms. “He keeps getting out. But I guess he knows when there’s a lovely lady around.”

You ignored his attempts at flirting and instead scratched Monsieur’s chin one last time before leaving. He purred at you and while you felt bad about leaving him, you were on a mission! Besides, you had a certain Japanese cat to track down. Monsieur meowed at you as you walked down the hallway and if you didn’t know better you’d say so did Francis.

Either way, nothing was going to stop you from petting Tama, Japan’s cat. He was an adorable little black and white feline with the cutest little bob for a tail. You had actually spotted him earlier and was about to go up to him before Monsieur literally jumped into your arms, demanding attention. Of course you weren’t going to say no so Tama quickly left your sight as you went to return Monsieur. 

Wait, isn't Monsieur just sir in French? Oh well there was no time to think about questionable cat names, this building was full of them.

Monsieur wasn’t the only attention whore of a cat. Prussia’s cat, Purrussia, wasn’t much better. He would follow you down hallways and meow with his scratchy meow at you while Austria’s cat, Allegro, whined behind him. He literally tried to jump up at you a few times.

Of course both of them were interrupted when Hero ran straight at you and tackled you like a professional linebacker. You had thought that it was mostly fluff, but no, apparently Hero could pack a punch. He knocked the wind out of you as you fell backwards onto the tiled floor. The cat sat proudly on you and looked around like he was waiting for something or someone. Whoever he was waiting for, however, wouldn’t show up fast enough to see Purrussia return the favor and tackle Hero off of you, much to Allegro’s horror. 

The white cat had a German ribbon as well but it looked like it was fraying at the edges. The reason you were bringing this up was because Hero was currently using one of the edges to try to choke Purrussia and Allegro was using the other to try to pull Purrussia away from Hero. Neither was really working and all it was really doing was making Purrussia more and more agitated.

“PURRUSSIA!!!” A shrill voice yelled out from down the hallway.

The cats stopped their roughhousing to see two of the countries barrelling down towards them. Well Prussia was. Austria was slowly walking over, looking more inconvenienced than anything else.

“Purrussia! Purrussia!” Prussia reiterated, pulling his cat up by its arms. “Did jou vin?!”

Everyone but the two Prussians stared in disbelief at his statement. The albino feline furiously nodded his head and if he could have talked you would have imagined that he would have been saying, ‘I’m awesome!’

Hero angrily meowed down below, as if to oppose Purrussia’s non-verbal statement. Allegro just haughtily licked his paw and stuck his nose up as if to pretend that he was disgusted with their fighting as if he hadn’t just been a part of it. Austria picked up his in-denial cat and you picked up Hero who calmed down as soon as you did. 

“Sorry about him.” You said, brushing his unruly fur down with your hand. “He gets a little competitive.”

“Ja. It’s fine.” Austria said, petting his own cat. “Purrussia is not much better.”

“HEY!” Prussia yelled. “My awesome Purrussia is doing his best! And besides, at least he actually does something!”

“Jour cat picked a fight vith a vall (wall) Gilbert.” Austria sassed.

“Vell jour cat’s piano playing is trash!”

Austria gave a gasp of horror before inching closer to the Prussian.

“Jou take zat back, RIGHT NOW!”

Prussia just laughed, still letting Purrussia’s back paws dangle as he held him like one would a toddler. He got in close to the Austrian’s face, smiling deviously at him.

“Nein.”

He suddenly, while still holding Purrussia, took off, running away from Austria. He wasn’t far behind though and you could hear the man yelling in German all the way down the far corridor.

“Well Hero.” You said, looking down at the cat who had made himself very comfortable. “That was weird.”

He just snuggled closer to you and you sighed. You scratched him once more before heading down the opposite hallway. The destination was clear, before you could continue your cat quest, you’d have to get this one safely back to its owner.

You suddenly snapped back to reality, still sitting on the wall. The sun was now high in the sky and the spot underneath you was no longer cold. You were especially warm as you now had a Scottish Fold sitting comfortably upon your lap. Quietly cooing at the cat, you looked to see if there was any way to escape your furry prison. The most important rule of cats: once a cat sits on you, you’re not moving until they do.

You sighed, legs uncomfortably stiff. Scone was far more content and his bushy tail occasionally brushed against your leg. It was incredibly cute but it didn’t make your back stop hurting from being hunched over for the last half hour.

Voices came from farther within the garden. There were two people currently engaged in a soft conversation. You caught bits and pieces of it; there was a man with a British accent and a man with what you thought was American until you heard him say ‘aboot.’ You couldn’t help but snicker at your own observation, disturbing Scone in the process.

He scornfully meowed at you and you offered pets in an apology. Around the corner turned Scone’s owner and a man who looked incredibly similar to America. They both turned to look at you when the Scottish Fold you were fondling stretched out to impossible lengths and complained like a cat while he did it. England looked down at your lap to see his cat very happily cushioned on your thighs. The man next to him was also holding a cat who again looked very similar to America’s.

They were clearly different though. This man’s hair was more auburn and his eyes were a shade of impossible purple. There was also more of a wave to it whereas America’s hair was as straight as hair comes. Familiarity lit up in your eyes, not for the man however.

“Maple!” You exclaimed, wanting to go to the cat but also not willing to disturb the one on you. “How have you been?”

The men stared at you, wondering if you were talking to them or the cat. Of course Maple himself answered this as he jumped out of his owner’s arms and darted over to you. He gracefully climbed up the small wall and placed himself down by you. Scone was on your lap and he was nicer than Hero so as to not push him off. You moved one of your arms to pet Maple and kept the other on Scone. They were so cute you felt like you were going to explode.

“Oh.” A quiet voice spoke out. It came from the man behind England. “You’re Alfred’s secretary right?”

You smiled and nodded at the man. “And I assume that means you’re Canada, right?”

He looked a tad taken aback before nodding himself. “Yeah…” He trailed off and England instead picked up the conversation.

“I thought you were supposed to be watching his furrball cat, Hero.” He walked over and leaned against the wall.

“I was. But then he and Boris got into a catfight… and then America and Russia got into a catfight.”

Canada laughed in the background but quickly covered it up. England stared at Scone, looking to see if there was anyway to get him off of you without being scratched himself. He had enough injuries, that should have scarred had he not been a country, from the cat. He shivered a bit, though also began to pet the feline, scratching his under the chin.

“That sounds like those two.”

You hummed in agreement, continuing your affections. Canada also came over to pet his own cat who ironically did smell like maple syrup. 

“Can I make you the villain of this story?” You asked England, gesturing to Scone. “I do actually have somewhere I need to be.”

“Oh I suppose I can assume that role.” He mused, carefully picking up his cat. He was not happy to be moved but England just shushed him.

Canada also picked up his cat who was slightly nicer about the whole thing. He fidgeted with Maple’s ear as he held him.

“I’m Matthew.” He said, carefully shifting Maple so he could put one arm out to shake your hand.

You finished the formal greeting. “I’m (Y/n).”

The other blonde butted in from the background. “I’m Arthur, love.”

“It’s very nice to formally meet both of you. Seeing you from across a meeting room doesn’t really count.” You smiled and gave a small pat to each of the feline’s heads. “Well I wasn’t kidding about needing to get somewhere. I really didn’t mean to get stopped as long as I did.” 

You playfully glared at the Scottish Fold sitting comfortably in his owner's arms. He promptly ignored you, instead turning around cutely. England apologized but you told him it was fine. You were at least 50% sure that Mr. Jones was probably still fighting with Russia. Those two really were like angry cats. You waved the two men off and went on your way to find out the answer to that question.

Instead of coming across two feuding superpowers, you came across two of the Asian nations’ cats. You had already met them both but this was the first time you were seeing them together. Tama was sitting up high on a shelf while China’s cat, Meowzedong, was angrily meowing at him from down below. Everytime he tried to climb up, Tama would use a paw and swipe a book or other object down at him.

You flinched as a very breakable, very expensive-looking, vase crashed down. It was this movement that alerted the two cats to your presence and Meowzedong wasted no time at all to come over to you and complain. Now you couldn’t exactly speak cat but you got the jist.

Bending down, you carefully picked up the cat. Meowzedong always had a weird clump of fur that looked almost like a ponytail that, no matter how much China cut it, always grew back. He yowled at you and pointed a furry paw in Tama’s direction. The other cat had already loafed on top of the high shelf and you looked at him, back at Meowzedong, back at Tama, and then back at Meowzedong again.

“I don’t know how tall you think I am but I’m not that tall.”

Meowzedong just narrowed his eyes and meowed at you again. You sighed, looking back at Tama. If he had a long enough tail to flick it at you he would’ve. Sensing the futility of his quest, Meowzedong instead spread himself out in your arms and if you didn’t know better you would have said that he was mocking Tama. And if you really didn’t know better you’d say that it was working and that the bobtail was getting more irritated by the second. The personifications might have had to act cordial but their cats had no such qualms.

Finally, Tama de-loafed himself and gracefully hopped down a few other layers before reaching the bottom. He gracefully walked over to you and sat on your foot… Well shoot. What were you supposed to do now?

So here you were, from one cat prison to the next. Standing in the middle of some random, out-of-the-way hallway because the nations’ cats were all attention-hogging, though very adorable, brats.

You didn’t know how much time had actually passed. There was no clock in the hallway, you didn’t wear a watch, and both of your hands were occupied so you couldn’t check your phone. As cute as they were, your legs felt like they were about to collapse in on themselves. You couldn’t even shift how you were standing because Tama had taken it upon himself to lay across both of your shoes. Your arms also felt like they were going to fall off at any second. Meowzedong wasn’t a particularly heavy cat but try holding anything over five pounds for longer than five minutes.

You were desperately hoping that either they would finally get bored and leave or someone would come to save you. Wow you guessed you really did need a “Hero” right about now… Dammit you thought that referencing needing a hero in your head would magically summon America or his equally hotheaded cat.

“Tama. Meowzedong.” You murmured. “Can you please get off?” You hoped to whatever god or gods were out there that they didn’t hear the desperation in your voice. Never show weakness to a cat.

The two cats made eye contact with each other for a moment and seemed to come to an agreement. Meowzedong stretched his body out before jumping onto the ground. Tama did the same but instead greeted Meowzedong when he landed.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration if you said that you collapsed onto the wooden floor below. You quickly got up however as you didn’t want them to see it as another chance to sit on you. At least not right now. You pulled out your phone to see all of the messages and calls you missed. You had put it on silent while watching Hero and forgot to turn it back to vibrate.

‘Oh my god Mr. Jones called me twenty-three times.’ You thought, frantic. ‘I’m gonna be in so much trouble!’

You raced down the hallway, startling a group of micronations as you went. There was no time to apologize! You had to keep your job! If not for you then for the cats!

Not even thinking to knock you burst open the door where America was staying, side note why wasn’t it locked? And were greeted with the sight of!... Mr. Jones… crying? His cat looked pretty dejected too and was currently hanging himself off the side of the bed like a rug.

“Sir?” His head shot up to look at you.

He quickly snapped his head back away, mushing at his face in an attempt to try to make it seem like he wasn’t crying.

“(Y-Y/n)” He stuttered for a second, before immediately going back to the hero persona. “Where’ve you been!?”

“Are you okay?” You ignore him, instead asking your own question.

You titiled your body to look at what he was looking at… Was that a framed picture of you?!

It didn’t matter because he was very quickly all in your face again. You could see what seemed to be a rapidly healing black eye and a tooth that hadn’t fully regrown in yet as he smiled at you. Just how long was he fighting with Russia for?

You sat him down on his bed, considering if you should even bother getting a medkit for him. Either way you ended up spending the rest of the day with him, watching movies and sitting what you considered a good ways away from each other on the plush couch. He apparently had a nicer room in all of England’s properties from when he used to live there during parts of the year.

Hero filled the gap in-between you of which America was mildly annoyed about. He kept trying to get you to use ‘Alfred’ but you insisted that it was unprofessional. He’d close the gap one day.

[deandoesthingstome]

Labyrinth Fantasy

Pairing: Minotaur!Sy x Reader

Summary: There's a new hotel in town. You now know it's for real and you need more.

Word Count: 5.7K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, cunnilingus, p in v (standing and reverse standing cowgirl), monster fucking (right?).

Fantasy Hotel Masterlist

You'd recounted enough of the details to convince your online benefactors that the investment was worth it, but kept enough to yourself to make the experience truly special.

Like, you didn't mention the time stretch at all. Though you had been wondering why the hotel even offered longer booking sessions if the hosts could just snap a finger and keep you satisfied forever. You felt only mild guilt about keeping the image of naked human Walter to yourself. They didn't need to know how good he looked NOT as a monster. You were keeping that for you own private thoughts. But you were bemoaning your current funding situation.

sendmeanangel: ugh, I'm never getting back there!!! MNstrluvr: Listen. There's a way. sendmeanangel: how? I can't get any more shifts at the restaurant. MNstrluvr: let us open a Patreon for you sendmeanangel: I'm NOT giving a recount of this event to total strangers darkgothnightengale: you have no idea who we are sendmeanangel: you are NOT total strangers. I know your favorite coffee and what you're studying at uni and your top 10 comfort movies. I know how you got that scar on your hand. darkgothnightengale: yeah but you didn't know that until you asked. Up to then we were total strangers who loved your work. Just like everyone on Patreon will be only they'll be paying MNstrluvr: yeah and you don't have to tell it to them like you told us. Put a different spin on it. Don't make the story from the perspective of the hotel. Make it a true fairy tale. Red riding hood in the woods and shit. Make him your boyfriend, The Woodsman, who's ready to show you his secret this fine full moon evening. sendmeanangel: oh my goddddddd!!! darkgothnightengale: yeah, but put all the most important details of him in Sendmeanangel: you just want to read about his massive cock splitting you open again darkgothnightengale: i have my needs. Besides, I just mean those details you only know now because you experienced it. You have something to draw from, something to make it real for everyone MNstrluvr: seriously, meana, do it. You will make so much money. You should have been putting your other stories out there long ago but this you can post and sell cause it'll be completely your own content with no re-imagining of existing characters sendmeanangel: okay, but you gotta beta the shit out of this for me. I can't have it sounding like I'm just recounting the whole thing from last night's fuck session with my partner MNstrluvr: 😆 🤣 😂 😹 darkgothnightengale: oh my goddddddd!!!! MNstrluvr: anyway we already created an account. We'll add your email and send you the password reset so you can run it and transfer the money to your bank whenever darkgothnightengale: and as always, no pressure on timing other than knowing you need the money to get back to Walter but I can't wait to read this! sendmeanangel: what if he's not available?

As you clicked Reserve something caught in the back of your mind.

Would Walter care you weren't coming back to see him?

How could he? You spent two hours (or was it more? You could never figure out the time swap calculations) together. You weren't even sure if that was his real name. Sure, you fantasized about him when you got home. You'd been in a fog of post-orgasmic bliss when you saw him in his human form, but that didn't stop you from cataloging every inch you could. Imagining snuggling next to his enormous and furry body wasn't hard.

It was this domestic bliss scene you'd eventually settled on as the opening to your "boyfriend's werewolf confession during an evening walk in the woods" fic that you posted on Patreon. The feedback had been a dream come true.

While the income wasn't as plentiful as you'd hoped, the wages and tips from your extra shifts allowed you to book another stay the following month. Walter was indeed not available on your only open day of the week so you sought out another option and found a four hour time slot with a new-to-you creature.

The listing called him Captain of the Guard.

Something about this fantasy made you select the box at check in specifically requesting your host enter in form. You had missed this at your previous visit, and as you thought back to meeting Walter, you appreciated the gentle way he eased into the scene. But you wanted a little more…mystery? Suspense? apprehension this time. The front desk clerk told you your host's name was Sy, and sent you down to a lower level of the hotel. The only key he provided was the code you punched into the elevator number pad to allow you to press L3. 

When the doors opened, you entered a small, rustic room with a hard dirt ground and cool stone walls. You only saw one other door besides the elevator you just stepped through and your mind did some mental gymnastics. Was that the exit to the maze or a bathroom? If it was the bathroom, where was the maze?

A few benches were scattered around and sitting on one was the Offering Tray you purchased, along with a note telling you to dress or undress to your level of comfort and step out into the hall through the door opposite the elevator when you were ready. Okay, door to maze then. But your nervous pee sensation was building. Where was the bathroom???

You knew the elevator was locked after you exited the car, but the note also contained the return code you were welcome to use any time, even before your reservation was over. And the note also revealed the secret to locating the washroom around the corner of one of the walls that you now noticed didn’t quite reach the next wall, causing a little optical illusion that the room was a simple square with no other space. Clever. It reminded you of a scene from a fantasy movie you’d seen when you were younger.

You peed and then undressed for a quick rinse in the surprisingly warm shower. You had imagined the temperature of the liquid streaming over the mini waterfall in this rock room would be ice cold, but it was as if the water was heated to a constant, perfect temperature from a thermal spring. The floors were warm on your bare feet too. You almost had to tear yourself away. There was a fantasy to be had.

You hung your street clothes on the garment hooks and pulled your red cape from your bag. You had researched a few different costume options and came across a clever way to fashion a toga of sorts from the material, albeit a slutty red toga with a giant slit up one thigh. You didn’t bother with underwear this time either. After one last look in the mirror to make sure your nerves weren’t showing too badly, you gathered up the offering of cured meat and stepped into the hall.

The rough hewn stone walls were at least three feet higher than the room you’d just exited. You noticed shelves jutting out occasionally at various heights and made a mental note not to run into them. Not that you planned on running. The ground was soft and sandy, rather than hard packed earth. Even in bare feet, this was going to make running hard. Again, not that you’d planned on running. 

Now, which direction? Left was always your gut instinct so you followed the path in that direction, choosing a left turn anytime you came to an intersection. After dead-ending twice in about five minutes, you began to rethink your approach. While you figured it had be wise to build in some extra time to find your treasure, you didn’t want to spend four hours in a fucking maze alone. 

As soon as you made the next right, the air shifted. The hairs on the back of your neck stood at attention and a ripple of goosebumps grew up on both arms. You made a few more turns before you began to hear snorts and huffs in the distance. For a moment, you froze, unsure if you wanted to move toward or away from the beast. Not because you didn’t want to meet the beast. But only because you truly couldn’t decide how. Sneak up and surprise him? Or let him chase you?

A new roar announced he was getting closer and you made a snap decision to turn away. Let him find me.

You maybe delayed the introduction by a few minutes. He was adept and clearly knew this maze inside and out while you were still trying to find your footing. You were just about to turn a corner that looked surprisingly familiar when you felt a rumble and the sand shift beneath your feet before you heard a snort and few stamps on the ground.

“Turn around.” Though a command, it came out like a question and you knew this was yet another opportunity for you to provide your consent to the game. Keep walking forward and it would all be over. As a matter of fact, you were convinced your next step forward would take you to the hall where the door to your changing room was. Your turn was deliberate. So was the flash as the cape swished around your legs and settled back into place. Give him a show, you smiled inwardly to yourself, before you wiped that grin right off the face in your mind and dropped your jaw instead.

Before you stood a monster of a man/beast, which explained the rumbling of the ground. You noticed the hooves which explained the stamping sound. As you drew your eyes up his solid and thick legs, you were a little disappointed to see he was wearing a heavy pleated leather skirt which hid any hint of what might be hanging underneath. His biceps bulged and thick veins trailed down each forearm. His chest was broad and teeming with unbridled strength, bare and full of the fur you were hoping to find.

Walter wasn’t the first hairy man you’d been with, but he definitely made you appreciate it more and this beast sported a similar amount. As your gaze met his, you took in the visage of a bull’s head, noticing the ring you expected to see in his nose was not there, but the horns near his ears were. They were massive as well and you had plans.

“Who dares enter my labyrinth?” he demanded as he sauntered ever closer to you. “What little bird has been flitting through these halls?”

You gave your name as you held out the tray in front of you, but he simply stood before you, motionless, save his eyes which roamed over every inch of you. When he returned his gaze to yours, he cocked his head to one side.

“And what am I supposed to do with this?” he roared, obviously unsatisfied with the tray of meat. Did the hotel make a mistake? “Maybe you’re playing a game with me? Is that it? Interrupt my peaceful solitude and taunt me with a delectable offering only to hide it behind a curtain of fabric and an offensive tray of inferior flesh?”

“I … I didn’t know… I didn’t think…” you stammered. Your heart was beating furiously, though he hadn’t taken another step toward you and you weren’t exactly trapped. You were more convinced than ever that if you wanted to escape, the entry room and the elevator were just around the corner. He was giving you time to acclimate to your decision to stay, making sure you weren’t having second thoughts. Though he commanded this hall in this maze, he was letting you call the next shot and you knew you were in no danger. Well, none that you didn’t want.

You set the tray on a ledge nearby, and grabbed fistfuls of your robe in both hands, lifting the material enough to give you the feeling of freedom around your lower legs. Just in case. Not that you were planning on running.

“In this labyrinth, the offerings are usually a little more respectful. Would you like to try your offering again?” Something about his words, the way he cocked his head again, the subtle pawing at the ground, as if he was about to rear up. He wanted you to. 

You licked your lips, and nodded. Took one more beat. Then turned and ran. Past the door to the changing room, up the hall to the right, left down the next corridor, then right again. Left. Left. Left. Right. For a moment you imagined he wasn’t right on your tail and then you hit a dead end and he descended on you as you turned to try to escape the hall thinking you might have enough time to head in another direction. Well, around you really. His arms caged you against the wall behind you.

He was so close. His musk was intoxicating and the scent added a little more fuel to the fire already burning in your loins. You peered up into his eyes, which you now noticed weren’t jet black, but rather a deep, dark azure. 

“That’s better,” he chuckled. “The offering is always sweeter after a little vigorous activity.”

“I’m so sorry,” you spoke. "I had no idea the offering I was given wouldn't be to your satisfaction. I should have anticipated better for a creature who commands such obedience and reverence as you."

“The tray isn’t the offering, little bird,” he huffed near your ear as you felt a hand drop from the wall beside you to your shoulder and then down to the pivotal point on your costume. One little tug, and, yep, there it went. The makeshift dressing had held up surprisingly well on the chase, but it was designed to come off easily and that it did. He made an approving sound, tracing a finger over one breast and down the valley between both, nearing your apex before he dragged the back of that hand up your belly and around your waist, ending with a firm grip on the meat of your hips.

“What…what is the offering?” you asked, with feigned timidity, as if you didn’t know what he meant. His arms moved to circle your waist and his hands slid to the creases beneath both now bare cheeks.

"I'll take this peach instead," he snorted with what you perceived to be a wink and a grin. He jiggled the flesh of your ass and grinned wider as he caught the moan of pleasure you tried to suppress. "You don’t need to fight it little bird. This is why you're here. To let go of inhibitions and feel free to express your feelings and desires with no judgment. If you like someone paying attention to this luscious cake, you shouldn't have to feel like you have to hide it."

The exchange felt a little out of character for the scene, but you didn’t mind. The chase was fun, but it was going to be even better finding out how this man would take care of your needs. So you let him know.

"Fuck. It feels good to have you touch it. Most men just go straight for the pussy and ignore the pleasure I get from the tease, the idea of you..." you trailed off, uncertain if you wanted to broach that subject here.

"Oh, it's just an idea, huh? Nothing you want to try? Isn't that why you're here?"

You thought about Walter and wondered if Sy was as well endowed under the fabric covering his loins. Surely the beasts at this hotel were all inordinately adept at providing pleasure; that was after all the entire theme. And maybe there were other ways to pleasure a person, and maybe this hotel had them too, but you couldn’t begin to imagine that the size of Sy’s cock wasn’t proportionate to his stature. You weren't quite ready to feel that in your ass.

"It's alright, little bird. We're here for whatever you'd like,” he answered without you even saying a word.

“Can I call you Sy?” you asked, unsure how committed to the bit he’d be.

“Of course, darlin’.” That was an odd Texas drawl that had just overridden the previous enigmatic accent you assumed was meant to convey ancient Greece. He kept the twang when he saw your surprised eyebrow quirk. “We can take this play anywhere you want to go. Though I’m going to make one choice for us.”

He bent to scoop you into his arms, cradling your legs and back as he held you against his chest. You could feel his heart pounding and wondered if he could feel yours, too. You took some slow deep breaths to try to calm yourself.

For a brief moment, you nestled your head against his neck, relishing the feel of the fur against your cheek. Then you turned your head to pay attention to where he was taking you. You figured you would need to make your way out of this maze alone after being well and thoroughly fucked and somehow you imagined you'd still have enough brain cells to remember the path he was taking.

But Sy wasn’t going backwards to any open hall. Instead he was making his way directly into what you took for a dead end. Before he crushed you against the wall, as you were sure he was about to do, Sy stepped through the wall. Sort of. Through another optical illusion that proved the dead end was actually a T intersection.

Sy took the left branch and in a few short strides, you found yourself in a room filled oddly with accouterments of pleasure. A platform bed covered in softness in the middle of the space was an inviting contrast to the sandstone walls you'd acclimated to. In a few spaces, what appeared to be fur rugs hung against the walls. Straight ahead, covered in dozens of warm glowing candles illuminating the room along with hanging oil lamp pendants, sat a wooden altar. Bowls draped with mounds of luscious looking fruit and plates of cured meats and cheeses were nestled in between the candle holders.

As you looked around, you noticed no other entrance to the room, though you kept missing the non-obvious openings, so who knew? The markings on the wall and other accompanying furnishings led you to believe you were not just in some other hall of the maze. You were now in Sy's sanctuary. You’d found, or rather Sy was going to show you, the treasure at the middle of the maze. 

Sy set you on your feet and stepped back, as if judging your temperature again. 

“Is this where I meet my fate, then?” you asked, with a shy smile.

“You’ll die a thousand little deaths in here,” he promised, returning to the previous accent, and you noticed now a tail swishing behind him. You hadn’t seen that before, but it seemed…excited.

“Sounds amazing.”

With that he rushed you as if you still held the red cape as a target. In what felt like one fell swoop, he bent to capture your hips and swing you forward over his shoulder as he turned and took a few steps toward a fur-lined spot along a wall and none of those movements jostled or startled you. It was as if he was picking up a piece of cloth, the ease with which he maneuvered you and held you stable so nothing hurt. Not his fingers in your hips, not your hips over his shoulder, not your back as he held you captive, pressed against the wall of the hidden sanctuary.

“Walter said you smelled delicious and tasted even better,” Sy huffed with hunger.

Did they talk amongst one another? That hardly seemed ethical. And yet, you’d gossipped and dished about this place and the man you’d met previously. Why would you assume he wouldn’t do the same?

“So that’s the first thing we’ll take care of here,” he continued as he dug his massive thigh into the moist heat between your legs and huffed breath onto your neck. His hands traced the length of your body, down both sides, over your belly, onto the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

In a heartbeat, he had you off the ground, legs spread wide as he continued to trap you against the wall. You tried to hold onto his beefy shoulders for stability, but soon realized he wasn't done lifting you up as you lost purchase.

You were sure you'd be tumbling forward onto the sandy ground in front of you as soon as you cleared another foot of his body, but somehow you remained upright. Well, ‘somehow’ was known but you were still amazed at the raw strength and power Sy possessed to hold you aloft and continue to elevate your body.

With one final shrug, he had your naked form where he wanted it. Legs over shoulders and pussy right at his face waiting to be devoured. You'd had men, including Walter, in between your legs before. A few times when you were upright, and that always put a nice checkmark next to their names in your book. But never while hoisted six feet in the air.

The thick swath of muscle that ascended through your folds filled you with a warmth you had been craving for weeks. Sy somehow managed to manipulate the shape as well, so that he alternated between targeted tight circles with a tip and wide saliva drenched passes that were soon mingling with your own juices.

You had the distinct impression that the wall behind you was for your benefit only. A way to make you more comfortable and secure in the knowledge that he wouldn't let you fall while he was feasting at the altar of your thighs. That he had the ability to hold you upright all on his own while he ate you out.

He made you come at least three times with your back arched against the wall and crying out for relief as you pressed into his head to hold yourself steady, even while he supported you with a hand cradling your ass and another secure against your side. You had wanted to grab his horns, but something told you to stop and wait until you could ask permission. It didn’t seem polite to just grab at them without warning.

“Please, Sy. Please fuck me now,” you pleaded and he skillfully obliged, though he took his sweet time getting there.

He took a few more licks, sucking in the moisture dripping from your pussy before he began to ease your legs off his shoulders, down his body, and around his waist. He settled you there while he reached back to unhook his skirt and drop it to the ground. Then he knelt, still holding you against the wall, and shifted your legs down to rest on his thighs. This gave you an opportunity to peek down and see what he was working with, and not that you were at all surprised but it was still a bit of shock.

A strap of leather remained wrapped around his waist, traveling down both sides of his Orion's belt with the ends connected to a ring that sat stuffed behind his cock. While you contemplated just how long it would let him last, he worked an especially large condom onto his massive member, drifting a knuckle through your folds at every opportunity, given the proximity. He grunted and grinned each time you rolled your hips against his fingers, eagerly seeking more pressure, more depth, more everything.

“Patience, little bird. We’ll get there soon enough,” he warned as he finished affixing the rubber. You watched rapt as he held himself firm in one hand, tugging with the same languid pace he also used to trail his fingers from the other hand around your entrance, flicking at the hidden pearl up top and pressing his thumb deep inside you. It was killing you, but this was not one of the little deaths he had promised and you contemplated telling him so. 

As if he could tell just how impatient you were becoming, he finally spread your puffy lips wide and began to nudge the tip of his cock at your soaking entrance. A gasp was all you could manage as he moved to standing at the same time, easing your legs back up around his waist again.

Sy moved into you inch by glorious inch, pausing every so often to make sure you were comfortable. It was certainly not something you were accustomed to, but the feeling was familiar and you knew now he was at least as large as Walter. This was going to be fun. When he was almost seated you asked.

“Sy?”

“Yes, little bird?”

“May I touch them? Hold … hold onto them?”

“Yes, little bird, you may.”

You used the leverage of your grip to drive your hips down the rest of the way onto his colossal cock and willed your inner walls to ease around him. A heat filled you, a desire to grind against him, but he stilled you. Made you sit with the enormity of the situation for a moment while he palmed a breast, rolled a nipple.

“Please, Sy, please. I want you to move. I want you to fuck me into this wall. Please.”

He didn’t make you beg another time. He was slamming into you and somehow rotating his hips in such a way that you felt him in every muscle and nerve in your body. It felt electric and vibrant and you wanted to explode. Sy let you. Fucked you right through it and into the midst of a second one before you could open your eyes again. 

You were grinding against him, pulling your body up and pushing back down using his horns to guide you and you were coming hard around him again. His laugh was infectious and you let one out with the third little death in this position. 

Suddenly, he spun you away from the wall. For a moment you thought he was heading for the bed, but he lifted you off his cock, then turned you around. He held you against his chest with one arm around your waist as his other hand guided his throbbing member into you once again.

You threw your arms behind you to grasp at his neck as if you needed to somehow participate in keeping yourself steady against him, but he could handle you all on his own. He had your legs splayed wide, an arm under each knee, and he drove up into you as if it was nothing. And while you didn’t need to, you absolutely wanted to slip your hands up a little higher, off his neck, over the back of his head and right back onto those epic horns. 

You smoothed your fingers over the bone, into the curl, and held on. It could have been your imagination, but his grunts and snorts seemed to magnify as you did so. Maybe he really liked it? Before you had a chance to consider dragging your fingers along the form again, he hit you with another deep wave of pleasure that had your eyes rolling back into your head as you slumped against him.

And it was like he knew how much more you had in you, because he just kept fucking you right back into consciousness, at which point you did gather your wits and give his horns a few more sensual strokes. It was his groan that told you he was close and you were helping him along. It only took a few more thrusts before you were coming hard around his dick and it seemed like he was letting loose with a roar, too.

He eased his phallus out of your sweaty, quivering body and moved forward to deposit you on the bed, admonishing you to stay put before he disappeared behind another secret wall. You heard water rushing and the sound began to lull you into a light sleep that only the warm, wet cloth pulled you out of.

“Don’t open your eyes just yet,” he spoke, his voice a little less gruff than before.

“I was promised a thousand little deaths,” you teased, unable to move your eyelids or anything else for that matter. His laughter lifted your heart.

“Oh, you want more? Looks like you’d scatter in the wind like a dandelion if I put my cock in you one more time.”

“I wish you weren’t right,” you joined him with a light laugh of your own. “Maybe if I could get a little nap…”

“Unfortunately, time has been flyin’ while we’ve been having fun. Don’t think you’ve got enough left for that.”

You peeled your eyes open, curious about his statement. You hadn’t meant to imply he should give you more time and you were embarrassed that he might think you were being pushy, demanding. You were not prepared for the sight of the man in front of you.

Where Walter’s shift had given him just a little extra height and bulk, not that he needed it to maneuver you around the room, Sy’s return to human form was dramatic. And not that he wasn’t massive in his own right, but the size of the beast that had just fucked you senseless was even more apparent comparatively. You could see he was solid, tree trunks for thighs and branches for arms. His shoulders were wide, chest broad. All the things you’d noticed of the bull, but just scaled down. And still incredibly daunting. 

“S’okay I shifted back?” he asked with concern.

“Of course, whatever you… I mean, this is all so new to me. I have no idea what’s allowed. And how much time…” Was what you were thinking about within bounds? “Has it really only been almost four hours? How much time is left? I think I assumed…”

Sy gave another chuckle as you trailed off.

“Yeah, he musta really liked you from the get go.” At your quizzical gaze, Sy continued. “We don’t all have that gift. Walt’s one of the few. And he uses it sparingly. It’s not really a sanctioned hotel offering. If everyone could and did, we’d get nothing but two-hour bookings.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to… I mean, I hope that didn’t sound like I was demanding any special treatment or anything.”

“You honestly still don’t look like you have enough strength left to demand a deep breath,” Sy teased. “Here, lemme give you a hand. We’ll get you cleaned up for real.”

He scooped you off the bed and carried you into the bathroom, outfitted similarly to the entry room. He placed you gently under the warm, rushing waterfall before sudsing you up with a shower gel that smelled surprisingly like something you already owned. You watched as his hands slid over your body, easing the soap down your legs and guiding the water to rinse you off. 

“Sy,” you began, wondering if you should even bring it up, but as he stood to grab a towel for you, the shape you thought you’d seen as he washed you was even more apparent. “Is it allowed? Do we have time … Can I…help you with this?”

You reached for him, circling a hand around his obvious erection and tugging gently. His eyes closed slowly as he dropped his head back with a deep sigh, before he wrapped his arms around you and drew you to him. He put a palm against your cheek and tilted your head to train his beautiful blue eyes on yours as he spoke.

“It’s technically not allowed.” Your heart sank at his words. “But Imma make it good for you one last time anyway.” 

You let the towel drop to the floor as he lifted you to move back out to the bed. He set you down and you watched him climb onto the mattress, expecting him to grab a condom and crawl over you, or flip you over. When he settled himself between your legs, it wasn’t his cock that penetrated you. Sy put his mouth over your pussy again and the moan that escaped his throat had enough vibration you were sure you could come from that alone.

He was better. He was unbelievably better than Walter at this. It wasn’t something you were particularly proud to be thinking, but truth was where you found it and this was the truth. Sy was skilled and all the tricks he used in Minotaur form, he used here as well. You were squirming within moments, grinding up into his face and grabbing onto his freshly shaved head to help keep him where he’d do the most damage in the quickest amount of time. Not that he needed your help, because he was fucking good at this. He knew how to use his tongue and lips and, yes, teeth, gently, and yes fingers, deep and deft. And if you weren’t mistaken, he was squirming, too. 

You could see his ass wiggling and humping into the bed and if you weren’t losing your own damn mind you’d have noticed his hips stuttering as he came into the mattress right around the time his fingers landed back on the spot that, in combination with the movement of his tongue, had you screaming his name.

He let you linger in bed a moment, catching your breath while he slipped on a pair of white, slouchy linen pants before he held out his hand to help you off the bed. 

“Here,” he pulled the sheet around you with a soft chuckle and a grin. “This’ll be more comfortable than traipsing back to the elevator naked. I’ll show you the way.”

Sy led you back to the entry room, stopping along the way for a small detour to find your discarded cloak down the dead end hall. You swapped material with him as he deposited you outside the changing room and wished you a wonderful day.

“Come back and see us again, sometime. It was a pleasure,” he tilted his head at you as you stepped backwards into the room.

“The pleasure was all mine,” you replied.

“Don’t be too sure about that, now.”

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS headers made for me by my wonderful friend in fic @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007 @peyton-warren

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's another monster fucker lol!)

Tags from Werewolf!walter (if you commented):

@ellethespaceunicorn @juliaorpll78 @martha-oi @cardierreh15 @cinnamoroll-things @caramariehurst @zombicupcake3 @openup-yourmind @shellyshellshell @nickfowlerrr @greensleeves888 @misshinson @thelastsock @princessaxoo @augustsprincess @justjulie1105 @minimin1993 if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

[needtoloveoutloud]

Shadows Of Our Past, Present, and (possible) Future — Series

My Hero Academia — Female!OC Fanfiction on AO3

Part One (Completed — 93k words):

The one where Shota Aizawa stumbles upon a back alley full of stray cats and ends up adopting a child

“Fine, then a cat? We both know how much you love those little furry…things.” At this, Shota paused the game and turned to the pushy blonde next to him. “I actually have considered that.” “And?” “And: also, no. It makes no sense.” Hizashi looked almost scandalized. “Makes no sense?” “I made a pro and contra list.” “Of course you did.”

When underground hero Shota Aizawa, twenty-two years old, is out on patrol one Friday evening, he doesn't expect that a single meow from a cat would lead him to find a homeless girl called Yoru. From then on, Yoru and Shota grow up together, make mistakes together, and try to overcome every obstacle life throws at them.

>> Read on AO3 <<

Part Two (Ongoing, regular updates — growing long fic — 231k words so far — READ PART 1 FIRST, PLEASE AND THANK YOU):

The one where Yoru Aizawa tries to navigate through life at U.A.

Two days after her fifteenth birthday, Yoru decides to drop the bomb on him. “I want to go to U.A.” “You want to go to U.A.” Her Dad puts the book he's been reading down on the glass balcony table.  “Yes, I want to go to U.A.” She slumps down on the outdoor couch next to him, grabbing the discarded book. “What are you reading?” ‘A Book of Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi — The classic guide to strategy ’. She raises an eyebrow. “Reading that for fun, huh?” “Why do you want to go to U.A.? You never cared much about heroes. Besides Edgeshot, that is.” Yoru smirks up at him. “What, jealous?” “As if.” “You know, even if they sold Eraserhead posters, I wouldn’t hang them up. It would be super weird.” “Good to know where your loyalties lie.” He rolls his eyes. “Back to the topic at hand, why do you want to go to U.A.? Because Shinso wants to go?” “No.” Pause. “Okay, that may be part of it. But I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and I really want to go.” “That might be so, but you still neglected to tell me why you want to attend there.” Yoru plays with her hair, noting how it’s time for another hair cut when she finds some splint ends. “I wanna be a hero.” Her Dad blinks. “A hero?” “Yes. Well, I want to help people and do some good with that shitty quirk of mine.”

When Yoru tells her Dad that she wants to attend U.A., she expects it to be a difficult path. She didn't expect all the awkwardness, blossoming friendships, confusing feelings, and near-death experiences, though.

>> Read on AO3 <<

Please heed the warnings/tags (TWs in the author's notes of chapters where they apply to).

This story is a mix of:

Slice of life

Hurt/Comfort

Angst/Fluff

Humor

Dadzawa

SLOW BURN Romance — Enemies to Lovers (Bakugo x Yoru)

Growing up, coming of age (hopefully lol)

Teenage awkwardness

Mixed media (pictures, music, chat screenshots (later on in Part 2), etc. — chat screenshots will always have the written text below, to make it accessible for visually impaired folks or people who use screen readers)

Author: NoBecksPleaseNo on AO3

Please don't copy the work, the character, the premise, etc. Also, no cross-posting anywhere, please and thank you.

Disclaimer: Yoru's image is AI generated and then edited/adjusted by the author. The other character images in the header are from Pinterest (besides the one of Present Mic/Midnight, that one's from the light novels) — unfortunately without a source. If you're the artist, and you're not okay with me using them, please message me and I will remove them. If you're the artist and are okay with me using them, please tell me, so I can credit you.

Besides the OC characters, I don't own any already existing characters from the My Hero Academia Universe — that honor belongs to Kohei Horikoshi.

[sumaneun-stars]

I've never asked anyone on Tumblr for anything before... but I just love the posts on this account.

So would it be possible to do something related to Jay and the reader having a fight? (something angst), but with a good ending so that reading leaves us with a warm heart

'38 Missed Calls' — pjs.

a/n: awhh tyy! ofc it's possible!! omg first request let's gaur!!!

Throughout the entire drive back home, Jay thought of nothing but cuddling with you. All he wanted to do was wrap himself with you and go to sleep, with your voice as a lullaby after a tiring day. But life had a different plan.

“Y/n, I'm home” he said to no one.

Silence almost deafened his ears.

He walked into every room, only met with non living objects. He sighed. Today was not his day. He brought out his phone to dial you.

‘Sorry, this user is currently unavailable’

“What the-” he dialled Heeseung instead.

‘No I haven't seen her, sorry dude’

Sunghoon was his only hope.

‘Uhh- didn't she tell you? She said something about partnering with Chaeryeong to go to club Red Tulip’

He had only ever heard about Club Red Tulip, and he couldn't believe Sunghoon's words.

Without a second thought, he went straight through Chaeryeongs profile, knowing you didn't frequently update your page.

9.54 p.m.

The recent post was a selfie with a man by Chaeryeong’s side, but that wasn't all he saw. You, drunk in a red cocktail dress, dancing in between a crowd of random strangers.

Why didn't you tell him? Why were you here, in this vibrant mess of a club? 

He leaned against a wall as soon as he entered, slightly startled at the intensity of this place. He redialled your phone for a good 45 minutes, his anger boiling with every repetitive line that that damned AI robot spoke. Jay stopped for a second to breathe in this congested place, his eyes scanning every person to find you. 

He was exhausted, leaning his head to the wall to look at the ceiling which reflected the blinding lights. He was taken aback by an unfamiliar touch on his body. A girl was standing in front of him, dressed in hot pink with a furry pink scarf decorating her neck.

“Uh- do I know you?” He asked, holding her wrist so it wouldn't wander around anymore (except her left hand took over)

“You don't need to. Most people come here when they wanna ditch their lovers, now let's have some fun!” she said in a high pitched, dazed voice. She wrapped her arms around him and started dancing, but Jay's mind was too far away to care. 

‘Ditch their lovers…?’

You pushed yourself through the crowd as you searched for Chaeryeong, until you found her still in the middle of a group of boys.

“Chae, I'm going home” you screamed but she barely heard.

You sighed as you made your way towards the entrance, switching on your phone which was shut down by Chaeryeong, who stated that you'd be always on the phone if you had it on. 

Before you could dial Jay, you stopped at your tracks at the blurry but sure sight. Jay, against a wall, with a girl basically grinding on him. He wasn't doing anything, not even pushing her away. You kept staring, the view getting heartbreakingly clearer with every step, until he met your eye.

“Y/n” he said, pushing the girl away from him.

You scoffed, crossing your arms as you made your way out of the red and white nightmare of a club.

“Y/n!” 

Too late. You were already in the taxi, wiping away the tears. What was wrong with him?

He entered the apartment, to find a torn apart you. You turned your head at his entrance, rage filling your eyes. You stared at him, waiting for an explanation. He walked closer to you, only for you to push him behind.

“Y/n, we can settle this if you explain”

“Me? Explain? So I'm the bad guy here?” You scoffed in anger. “So I was the one with someone grinding on me while I was already in a relationship?” You questioned him, each word louder than the next, tears blurring your vision.

“You were the one who brought me there y/n! You didn't even care to tell me” his fiery eyes turned into heartbreaking ones in the last words, adding fuel to the fire. “38 missed calls y/n. Thirty eight.” 

“Jay I-” fresh tears formed in your eyes.

“And guess what? Sunghoon was the one who told me. I guess you should go date him instead!” 

Unbelievable.

“I sent you a fucking message Jay!” His expression changed with your words. “It wasn't getting delivered, so I dialled Sunghoon instead!” You said with hot tears drenching your face.

You showed him the messages in your chat, before he took a step closer to you apologetically. Before he could hold you, you ran to the bathroom, locking the door before leaning on it.

“Y/n open up!” You heard banging, but you didn't care. Your explosion of tears overpowered his noises. How could he just assume something like that?

“Y/n…” he leaned on the other side of the door. “I'm sorry, I was in a meeting and they told us to mute our phones and I was panicking when you weren't home so I-” he stopped, realising he was rambling nonsense, making excuses.

“Y/n please forgive me, I promise I'll never do it again so why don't we just talk it out? Hm? Open the door, darling”

You opened the door after a solid five minutes, head down as you sat cross legged in front of the boy who leaned his head on the wall hopelessly. You crawled onto his lap, arms wrapped around his body and crying into the nape of his neck.

“H-hey- I-” Jay stuttered.

“Forget it” You raised your head, wiping your tears as you spoke firmly. “Never do that again”

“I promise!” He made a pledge, two fingers to his forehead before he wiped your cheeks with them.

“I can never stay mad at you” you pouted, but smiled immediately when you heard his chuckle.

“Y/n…” he said with his forehead connected to yours.

“What now?” you wiped his tears this time.

“I think I have a crush on you”

“Yeah, no shit” 

[faithshouseofchaos]

SAW UR ALEX POST AND RAN RIGJT TO YOU 🙏 Alex Albon jealously smut maybe?? Or hes having a bad day because of him crashing (Australia type shi) Or a Alex fluff where him and reader have a bunch of animals and shes trying to convince him to get more

Bunny — Alex albon x reader

Fluff

Word count 852

You've longed for a bunny for years, and finally, an opportunity has arisen to bring one into your life. The only hurdle is persuading Alex, who is content with the 23 pets you both already have. You understand that it won't be easy to convince him, but you're prepared to put in the effort and plead your case to bring a little bunny into your home.

"Alex, can we please talk about something?" you ask one evening as you both relax on the sofa. Alex looks over at you, a mixture of curiosity and skepticism on his face.

"Sure," he replies cautiously. "What's up?"

"Well," you begin, a hint of nervousness in your voice. "You know how I've always wanted to get a bunny?" Alex groans internally but tries to maintain a neutral expression. "Yeah, I remember. But we already have 23 pets, and they're already a handful. I'm not sure we need another one, especially a rabbit."

You nod understanding his concern, "I know we have a lot of animals, but a bunny would make such a wonderful addition. They're so cute and fluffy, and they don't take up much space. Plus, they're relatively low maintenance."

Alex rubs his temples, a habit he does when he's thinking. "I get that they're cute and all, but they can also be destructive, and we have so many other animals to take care of. It's not just about space; it's also about time and energy."

You take a moment to collect your thoughts before continuing. "I understand your concerns, but I've been reading up on pet rabbit care, and it's really not that demanding. We could set up a dedicated space for them, and I'll take full responsibility for their care. I promise it won't add too much to our workload."

Alex considers your proposal, his love for you warring with his practical nature. "It's not just about the work; it's also about the cost. Rabbit care can be expensive – vet bills, food, toys... it adds up. We already spend a significant amount on our current pets."

You anticipated this argument and have prepared a counter. "I've already researched and budgeted. I'd cover all the expenses related to the bunny, so it wouldn't put a financial strain on us. I really want to do this, and I'm willing to make sacrifices elsewhere to make it happen.

Alex can't help but soften a little at your determination. He sighs, his resolve weakening. "You always have an answer for everything, don't you?" You smile, sensing his resistance is softening. "I'm just thorough. I've thought about this a lot, and I truly believe a bunny would bring us joy. They're incredibly affectionate and therapeutic; their soft fur and playful nature can be a huge stress reliever."

Alex scratches his beard, processing your words. "Alright, I can see how much this means to you, and you've clearly done your research. But 24 pets... it's a lot. Are you sure you can handle it, and that I won't end up doing half the work?"

You reach for his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. "I promise, I'll take care of everything. The bunny will be my responsibility, and I'm fully committed. I'll give them all the love and care they need without relying on you for anything."

Alex looks into your pleading eyes and finds it impossible to resist. "Okay, fine. We can get a bunny. But you have to promise me that it won't be too much work, and it won't affect the attention we give our other pets."

Your face lights up, and you can barely contain your excitement. "Thank you, Alex! You won't regret this. I promise to take care of the bunny, and I'll make sure it won't take away from our other pets. I'll be the best bunny mom ever!"

Alex chuckles, unable to stay mad at your enthusiasm. "I hope so. I don't want to end up cleaning up after a tiny, furry menace."

You give his cheek a playful pinch. "Don't worry, I won't let that happen! I'll make sure our bunny is the most well-behaved and tidy little fluffball. You won't even notice they're there."

Alex rolls his eyes but can't help but smile. "Famous last words. Just don't come to me complaining when the bunny gnaws on your favorite pair of slippers or poops in your shoe."

You let out a lighthearted laugh. "Hey, no bunny slander allowed! They'll be an absolute angel, and I'll train them not to do any of those things. Trust me, the bunny will be the most well-behaved member of our little zoo."

Alex shakes his head but can't help but be amused by your optimism. "Alright, I'll take your word for it. But if that bunny turns out to be a troublemaker, I reserve the right to say 'I told you so.'"

You nod, a mischievous grin on your face. "Challenge accepted. I guarantee you'll be eating your words. Our new bunny will be the most perfect addition to our fur-mily, and you'll fall in love with them just as much as me."

[lurkdragonstuff]

I'm an atheist and a philosophical materialist. I don't think there's anything more to the universe than what can be observed and measured. Disagree if you want, that's fine, but take as read that this is where I'm coming from.

As you can imagine, this makes it very strange to me that my brain thinks I'm a dragon.

I have been trying to square this circle for years. Since around the 2000's, when I first made contact with the Internet, I would look in on the otherkin community, and the draconic community nested inside it, and I would think, man. I wish I could believe that. I wish I could believe that souls were real, and that I had one, and that it was a dragon, and that's why I was so odd. For quite a while, I just explained it as a furry fandom thing. Sure, yes, my fursona is feral, but ferals are furries, too. This is still true! I'm still in furry fandom, and my dragonself still acts as my fursona. But they are also, in a deeper sense, me.

I'm a secular pagan. I don't think gods exist, and I don't think magic is literally real. I can't really cast a curse on shitty charities. The moon's a big shiny rock. It doesn't care if I roar at it when the sun reflects off it just so and I can see the whole of its tidally locked face.

But my dragon brain doesn't know that. It likes the big shiny rock. It likes little shiny rocks, too. It likes to light things on fire, and considers this a sacred act, both bringing destruction to noxious things and bringing honour to things worthy of it. It likes to growl and hiss when things annoy it. It likes to collect things, to have a hoard. It likes to range around its territory, keeping an eye on what's around in what season. It finds it frustrating that its wings don't seem to work at all, and its other limbs barely better. It wants its tail back. It wants its fire breath.

I'm autistic. Sometimes speaking is hard, and I growl and hiss when things annoy me. I like to collect things related to my special interests; I have a sprawling collection of cetacean, Nintendo, and SEGA figurines, as well as lots of little animal figures. Plushies, too, and videogames, and books. I do wildlife photography, as well, marking who's around in what seasons. This is, to my frustration, limited a lot by waning energy because of chronic health problems.

If backed into a corner, to say what I really believe, of course I'm a human. It is in my DNA, expressed in a bipedal body plan, five fingers on the forelimbs only, nails and not claws, no wings, no muzzle, no tail, short neck, skin and fur instead of scales. Not even any horns. I find this frustrating, but it is what it is. I also find it frustrating when people call me 'she' and not 'they', and that really there is no feasible gender presentation that would guarantee that strangers would use the right word. The best I can hope for is that people will read the 'they/them' button on my hat, or otherwise call me 'he'. Still wrong, but at least novel.

I honestly think my draconic identity developed when I was younger as a way to explain why I was so weird. I have never been normal. I will never be normal. As an adult, I have fancy words like "autism" and "anxiety and depression secondary to post-traumatic stress disorder" and "seasonal affective disorder" to explain why I'm abnormal.

But a part of my brain, I think the same one that still believes in magic and deities even though I don't, tilts its head, then grins a sharp grin and says, "Cool story, bro. I'm still a dragon."

I generally have, for any given of my eccentricities, the philosophical materialist explanation (generally that I am either brainweird in some way or another or am playing pretend for placebo purposes to manage executive function etc.) and the dragon explanation (generally what the pretend play revolves around). But - and this is hard to explain - it isn't exactly playing pretend, either. It's me.

When I'm pretending to be Link, either playing a Zelda game or writing Zelda fanfic, Link isn't me. I might be inhabiting him as an actor, but he isn't me. When I play Animal Crossing, and I'm playing a character named after me, that's closer. It's me but greater. Me but more. Me existing in a life I wish I could have.

When I put on my mask, when I sit and daydream about the multiverse-hopping shenanigans I get up to, when I hiss at someone startling me by getting into my space, that's me. I'm not a dragon, I'm a human wearing a mask, daydreaming, hissing because "back the fuck off!" isn't allowed in the workplace.

Yeah. Cool story, bro.

I am still a dragon.

[canonkiller]

Hi, I'm trying to do art commissions, but no one has commissioned me yet. Do you have any advice for attracting customers?

I wrote a lot of words for you in hopes that at least some of it will be helpful, so I'm putting the bulk of this answer below a read more to save people the scrolling. The quick and easy two tips that I find people forget to do the most are:

Is your art easy to find? Having a pinned post with a tag for your art, a link in your bio, or an art-focused / reblog-light blog (like this one!) make it so that people know you draw, and knowing you've been posting art for a while makes you less likely to be a scammer.

Is your commission info easy to find? People can't buy things that they don't know you're selling; clear and accessible links to your prices and terms are important.

Now for the real bulky meat of advice giving, where I say a lot of words that may or may not be relevant:

I have a lot of advice, but I do want to say before getting into it:

A lot of selling art (especially in a non-industry setting, like with social media commissions) is luck.

There is no one size fits all method for selling art, and it's best to go with what feels right to you (I'll go more into this later)

Tips for selling are not necessarily tips for creating, and there will be advice in here that I don't apply to myself. Determining what you do and do not implement is something you should decide for yourself and your work flow.

Your art not selling doesn't mean nobody cares about it.

Personally I think the idea of intentionally curating a single subject demographic of Customer and Consumer for your work is limiting and doomed to burnout in a non-industry space. I will also touch more on this later.

Now for the rest of it in varying orders:

✨ Attracting Customers

This one is going first because you mentioned it specifically. It is kind of vague though, by nature of the term, so what I advise doing is specifying.

When you are thinking of a customer, are you trying to appeal to:

People who will buy pre-made art products? (Pins, stickers, prints, etc)

People who will buy custom work? (Commissions for specific subject matter)

People who will buy art resources you've created? (Fonts, bases, texture packs, 3d models etc)

There's also frequency: a repeat customer of custom art will usually be appealed to more by a wide range of options (like illustrations), while you might get more single-purchase customers if you only offer a limited range of options (like only icons).

Demographics also, of course, play a substantial role in just custom art commissions; furries get lauded as high spenders, but they're also a huge community that is focused around OCs, so by statistics alone they will have more people with spending money and will be frequent customers of people drawing OCs. A narrower audience means fewer people, but often the spread of the people within that audience is the same - and at the end of the day, selling an art piece only requires one other person, it's just a matter of happening to find them.

The follow up question is of course the finding: the average artist in fandom spaces selling commissions does not have the platform or budget for an ad campaign. This, however, is also its own category:

✨ Posting Online

Right out the gate: anyone who has told you that just drawing x thing is the way to get easy money is wrong.

"If you draw more fan art, you'll -" wrong.

"Nobody cares about that, you should be drawing this instead -" wrong.

"if you need to sell fast, just sell porn -" wrong. And also re-evaluate your perceived lack of quality or value about the subject.

The things you will be able to create easily and consistently will be the things YOU, SPECIFICALLY, like to create. It is also entirely impossible that you are the only person on earth to have ever liked those things, which means that if you create them, there are people out there who will enjoy them.

It feels itchy to be like "and those people are Potential Customers", but it is true; your work will resonate with people. They will want you to create it. It is vitally important to your own well being that the things you create, that you want others to enjoy, are things you enjoy as well.

(This is also why the "just draw porn" joking advice that gets tossed around is particularly fucked up. You as the artist should not feel forced into drawing things you aren't comfortable with, and the vast majority of customers for explicit content also don't want the people making it to feel forced into doing so. It's basic consent. I have strong feelings about this.)

If you are creating things and putting them out into the world, they will find an audience. That audience may be one singular person! The number does not matter, because that's still a person who - again, sucks to frame ig this way - has the potential to buy things from you.

If you're constantly chasing a bigger follower count, more interactions, etc etc for the future, it can genuinely be pretty taxing on the people who want to support you in the present. When you enjoy someone's work, and want to support them, being told constantly that that support is not good enough is frustrating. Trying to follow your work should not lead to seeing more "likes are WORTHLESS and NOBODY reblogs my things" posts than it does art. You are a person making things to share with other people, and you have to remember it or you will burn yourself out into a desiccated husk.

TL:DR consistency is key and the easiest way to be consistent is to just draw whatever the fuck you live drawing in whatever ways you want to draw it, and then slap it on the internet somewhere and Keep Doing That

✨ The Actual Commission Information

this one is just factual really. A lot of artists have really shitty commission sheet layouts, because advertising graphic design and illustrative art are different skill sets. That's fine. You don't have to remake the wheel. A good commission sheet should include:

More images than text (if you can't see what the examples are when zoomed out, you have to rearrange or cut down on words)

Examples organized by price / type, and clearly labeled

Your personal favourites for examples - one really strong example piece is better than twenty tiny images of work you think is just "okay"

Contact information - having a method that works WITHOUT a social media account (email.) Is important and way easier to keep organized, imo

A SIMPLE list of strengths (the things you draw the best) and things you won't draw (common example: mechs). You do not need to list every fandom or subject matter. Limit yourself to a top five.

A clear and easy to type link for your terms of service. Carrd, and sites like it, is good for this. This will go into details about your process, what you will and won't do, permissions granted to the commissioner (like "no, you can't make an NFT with this"), your privacy policy (saying you won't sell commissioner details to third parties), and other stuff. You do not want to have all of this on your original post, because it should be thorough and you want your main post to be showcasing your work and not your legalese. Here's mine as a reference; if you have trouble writing your own, feel free to copy from it and make the necessary alterations for your work.

✨ There Was More I Was Going To Write But I Forgot

I have a different document of commission related talk here, which is also incomplete but in a different way. It's in my nature. Hopefully some combination of this and that can be useful to you. Sorry if they're not. I love you have a nice day