#when you feel the ghost of little claws and soft fur then you know he’s nearby.

[kizzer55555]

When they first lose the amulets I’m sure who the rogue will be yet but I feel like those amulets are going to go on a journey. The rogue who got them didn’t know their value and basically ended up tossing them away, (likely killer Croc or Grundy) and maybe they end up in the sewers. Where they will travel until someone finds them and puts them into a museum with lots of security. There, Selina will likely steal them, then resell them to someone. A fight breaks out and while one amulet is recovered, another is sent to the police who identify it and place it in police custody. The other amulet meanwhile ended up getting picked up by a crow because ✨shiny✨ and put in it’s nest. During another rouge attack, that amulet then falls and Poison Ivy finds it and gifts it to her girlfriend Harley. And then Harley used it as a decoration….somewhere. And has to consistently fight off the crow who wants it’s shiny back. It doesn’t even look like the amulet anymore. Meanwhile, the Amulet in police custody ends up in the center of a murder case at the police station and is the sole evidence left so it’s being passed between detectives, police, and even a few bats. And then they go through a few more things before Danny and Jazz finally find it. Some of which include falling the the bottom of the harbor, buried under a house, kidnapped by a raccoon, stuck in the engine of a car, left in a garbage can for days, used as a dog collar (that was a fun day for the bats, they still don’t know who that shapeshifter was), and used as a tribute for a ritual summoning. Danny and Jazz are running all over Gotham and always just miss them.

Meanwhile, Damian tries to talk Jason out of letting his pets roam Gotham as it’s dangerous. And Jason tries to explain to Damian that technically he doesn’t own them. And he’s fully aware of how capable they are in looking after themselves. Damian might try to take matters into his own hands and tail them during patrol but Danny and Jazz always give him the slip. Jason is going to have a slight existential crisis when they turn human again. He’s also still protective of them. They still count as therapy animals right? Humans are animals after all.

Danny would fail the wall test 😔 (click for clarity)

[ghouljams]

I feel like each of the 141 has a difference preference when dicking down their mate.

Kyle prefers to stay human, it lets him really get a good show while fucking into the pretty thing he managed to take home. Seeing how your skin contrasts to his softly colored sheets is more reassuring to him that you're his than any scenting could be. Also, he's a lighter sleeper as a human, letting him keep you in his bed if you try to slip out while he's asleep.

Price likes the little hint of other, as a sign of his age and experience. He's the only one of the 141 who can shift only a few senses instead of having to start properly shifting. Let's him memorize your scent while fucking you, all so he can let you have the illusion of choice by letting you go and "finding" you again later. Eventually, he'll make it seem like a bit of fate and offer you out on a date.

Ghost partially shifts, and that's the most he can hold himself back when it comes to you. Claws and teeth come out, drool dripping from his maw to your skin. He needs to taste you, to make sure you taste the same. Taste like his.

Soap is a dog and he will fuck you in full transformation because of it. This man needs you on the most primal level, so why not just fuck you at his most primal. It also gives him a better nose to smell your sweat soaked skin, a longer tongue to shove into you, better hearing to catch each and every whimper you make. He needs to consume you and the best way to do that is with his wolf.

At least, that's my thought.

As usual how does it feel to be so fucking right?

Gaz absolutely prefers fucking you as a human, it feels too much like taking advantage of you when he has his semi-transformed strength and the idea of fucking you fully wolf makes him itch a little. He's so worried about damaging you with his claws and fangs :( his poor human mate, he doesn't want to ruin you. We'll, not like that at least. That won't stop him from knotting you, that's a luxury he can't afford not to indulge in. He loves the way you squirm and complain about the stretch, shushing you with soft coos, promising it'll be over soon, even when he knows it'll be a good 20 minutes at least.

Price is old hat at transformations and after years of growing and shrinking it's worn on his joints, if he doesn't have to transform he won't. He'll indulge in the sensed his wolf-form lends him, pressing his nose to your pulse and getting himself drunk on your scent. His eyes are always dark, animalistic, when he drags his flat tongue against your sex, and you worry that the teeth he's hiding might bite too hard, but he hasn't hurt you yet. And the only scare he gives you is when he presses his hand against your come filled stomach talking about pups.

Ghost simply lacks self control around you. The man has the control of a saint, but once he gets drunk on the scent of your arousal it's over for him. He grips you with heavy clawed hands, his skin splitting with fur and his nose starting to lengthen, and it scares you a little. His breathing is uneven, but his hips don't stop moving even when his bones start to break and his joints begin to pop. His drool dripping onto you is the only indication you get before he's sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You'll have to take wolfsbane in the morning if you don't want to end up going through the same pain.

Soap though... Soap fucks you like a dog, literally. He'll hunt you down on a full moon and hold you down with big paws, murmuring canned tones from his open maw about how he can't stop himself. He's all instinct, all panting and howling as he mounts you and ruts his cock against your sex, uncaring what hole he fucks himself into as long as it's yours. He'll lay directly on top of you once he's knotted you too, licking your face in apology but you know he doesn't mean it because he keeps asking for another round.

[cherie-doll]

☾ Headcanon: COD Men As Werewolves

⨯ Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Phillip Graves, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

His breathing becomes ragged, hot breath fogging the clouded reflection in the mirror. His body trembles and his knuckles turn white as he grasps the mirror edges. His mind blurs as he tries to concentrate on his image in the mirror, with each pounding heartbeat, his pain grows unbearable.

He could feel the fur prick through his skin as it covered his body, a set of sharp teeth grew, and pointed claws broke through the pads of his fingers. His gaze became unclear, turning into something less than human before he lost all focus.

Ghost

He for some reason gets a lot of scars and scratches from accidentally clawing at himself

He hasn't been a werewolf for long so he's still getting used to it just like you are

You treat his injuries yourself because you can never decide whether you should take him to the doctor or the veterinarian

Soap

You find him acting odd, like truly doing the weirdest things. But when is he ever normal?

That new chewing toy you bought for your puppy? Suddenly you find Johnny with it in the living room gnawing on it, at least it's not your furniture

Will randomly lick/affectionately bite you

Dude imagine how cool he looks in his werewolf form with his mohawk

Gaz

Kyle absolutely despises being a werewolf in summer, you can always be sure to find him soaking in the bathtub all day

You both sleep with a fan in summer, just sleeping next to him makes you feel the heat radiating off of him, you can't even imagine how he must feel :(

But it's an advantage in fall and winter, practically turns into your personal heater in winter, just cuddling together the entire time, and since he bought the best conditioner for his fur it's so soft

Roach

Loves you stroking his ears and tail, gets highly sensitive with his tail

He frequently runs off for days and when he comes back he always brings something for you

You don't want to hurt his feelings so you have to pretend that the dead bird he brought you is the best gift you've ever received whilst he watches, tail wagging and seemingly content :(

Alejandro

Imagine how much hair would be on his chest ૮꒰´ ཀ ྀི꒱ა

Sheds everywhere

You have to help him shave it because the amount of thick hair he grows is insane and even gets in the way sometimes

He'll be getting it stuck in zippers, tangling it even more when he tries to cut it with scissors

Completely gives up wearing clothes and just stays inside the entire time because he overheats with clothes on

Phillip Graves

He gets territorial and stays lurking near the house, the mailman can't even come near to deliver the mail

Bares his teeth and being downright mean so you can't have anyone over but turns soft for you

And when he gets hungry you make him eat outside, you can’t stand watching him eat raw meat or making a mess inside

Keegan

Likes scaring the living daylights out of you

Sometimes it's easy to forget your boyfriend is a werewolf when he doesn't tell you exactly when he transforms

He laughs seeing your sleepy eyes widen in surprise when you wake up to a beast in your bed

He stalks around at night scaring kids too, loves scaring the little shits knowing no one is going to believe them if they ever told

König

He's strong but imagine how much stronger König becomes when he transforms

It sounds hot but also imagine how much of an inconvenience it is for him

He's constantly breaking doors when pushing/pulling on them, breaking chairs, can't get a single pair of pants or shirt on without it ripping

Horangi

Likes to tease you by biting or nipping at your skin, especially in sensitive areas like your neck, chest and thighs

His nighttime activity increases, when you wake up in the middle of the night to find his side of the bed cold and empty, you open the Find My app to track him and find that he decided to take a walk around town and even went out to eat

Sometimes you accompany him but it's almost every night he does it and you can't keep up

Nikto

He's actually really gentle as a werewolf

Although you're used to his big body weighing down on you

Since his claws grow out he has you filing them down and clipping them, as a joke you sometimes paint them and he has to go around looking like a menace until someone sees his hot pink nails

Is very protective of you, like a lot more

Won't let you go anywhere by yourself, especially at night and is by your side 24/7

[neetily]

Kinktober 2024 — Werewolf Alex

— ✧ pairing: Alex / F!Reader — ✧ genre: smut 18+ — ✧ word count: 6,856 — ✧ warnings: noncon, werewolf, A/B/O, knotting, pet names (pup), established relationship, breeding, size difference, biting, cervix fucking — ✧ synopsis: you were never meant to and he didn't mean to. you have to understand...

— ✧ A/N: we are SO late to posting this but yknow what. it's posted. thats all that matters. thank you for waiting for me mwah mwah much appreciated please enjoy idk if its good or not i havent written in so long thank you x

— ✧ kinktober masterlist

The end of the month is always a difficult time, right? It’s hard to relax when knowing that the next working period is just right around the corner, haunted by visions of dirt and hay in the corner of his eye. Like a ghost of continuous hardship— he assumes it’s that way for everyone, though not least for him especially. Completely spent, hours toiling over ripe land—the life of a farmer, he knows, he isn’t complaining beyond reason—has left his muscles all sore and aching, straining against the skin surrounding it with bulging exhaustion. If he’s feeling this weak and tired himself, then he can’t imagine just how bad you must feel every month… A pang of guilt leaving him momentarily breathless as he considers his appreciation of you; he can do better, no doubt.

But he especially feels lacking tonight, cosied up in bed with you beneath him, moonlight pouring in from the forgotten about blinds in the dead of night with stark remembrance. It’s a little cold, he thinks. A shivering running up his spine at the chill that envelops him whole, one that he tries to spare you from lest you’re forced to endure the unkind nature of the night with him.

Well, any more than you’ve already had to, anyway.

He’s sure that the nights are long for someone like you, manual labour wearing you down day in and day out… Perhaps the number one thing you look forward to is those comfy bed sheets you currently lay upon at the end of every night. Soft and sleek, slinking over your body with only the utmost of care— it sounds nice! Real nice. He’s aware of how hard you work and, subsequently, how hard you must rest. But selfishly, he thinks that nights like these might just be a little more difficult for someone like him, for someone undergoing his predicament.

Farm work is hard, but have you ever experienced complete and utter transformation in the light of the night? A horror in its own right, from scraggly fur to his shortened temper… It’s scary for him too, y’know? Exhausting, actually, to go through such change in such a short amount of time. Just a little window of moonlight, that’s all it takes for him to forget about his humanity, even in the face of your utter innocence. Have you ever felt the hardship of turning into that which you hate at the end of every month? Regardless of your own wants or wishes?

No, he didn’t think so.

He’d warned you beforehand at the very least. Given the state of things, he felt he owed you the bare minimum of that. He wouldn't be a very good boyfriend if he hadn’t, right? Now, he knows that he’s not responsible for his actions after the fact! He did his due diligence and you decided to ignore him. It’s not his fault. He did his best.

Oh, but as he stares down at you through hazy eyes, taking in the sight of your big wet puppy stare back up at him, he can feel the remainder of his humanity beg for a much needed break. Fluffy wolf ears twitching in contradictory excitement when you whine up at him in assumed confusion, long well groomed tail swishing from side to side eagerly behind him when you avoid his half-lidded gaze. He fucking warned you, little pup. Fucking knew that this would happen at some point, though he thought he’d have taught you better by now. Advising you against his pearly white fangs that shine in the moonlight swimming in from your bedroom window, urging you to leave him and his sharp claws all alone tonight like every end of the month, but oh, they look so nice when digging gently into your soft skin, right?

And, more than anything, he warned you of his inability.

He’s always prided himself on his ability, first and foremost. Strong, well cared for muscles bulging under the weight of the moon tonight, his efforts to be reliably strong for you have paid off in the worst ways possible, right? Knees firmly planted by either side of your hips, half his weight keeping you pinned atop the soft bed sheets he’d helped you pick out one day in town. You were right, they are pretty, and they do compliment you well… particularly when you’re wriggling around on them, attempting to worm your way out of the sticky situation you’ve now found yourself in. Because don’t be mistaken, this is your own fucking fault, pup.

And yet still, here he is, utterly incapable. The complete opposite of everything he’s ever wanted and strived for, an ache clawing at his chest far deeper than he claws at your waist at the realisation that he’s failing you right now. He wants to be better for you, chewing on his bottom lip enough to taste just a sting of metallic as his brows furrow in sheer concentration of the taste, veins popping in his arms in a subconscious attempt to hold back in spite of your stupidity tonight.

“… Warned ya.” He eventually mutters mid leering, huffing to exhale a stagnant sigh he hadn’t meant to hold. As if doing so would somehow temper him, keep you safe on the pretty bed sheets in his strong arms like you were earlier, back when he was frantically warning you to get away— “Sorry— I jus’, fuck, would ya quit fuckin’ squirmin at least—”

Cause you’re making it worse. Not just for him, though his fat cock throbs with barely restrained want at all the wiggling around you’re doing; even if it’s useless. You haven’t a hope in fucking hell of escaping him, not with how hard he trains his muscles just for you. But also, you’re making the situation worse for yourself… You really should have left him when he’d given you the choice, escaped somewhere, fuck, anywhere but right next to him, let alone in your own fucking bed. All you’re really doing is riling him up further simply by existing, pushing him closer to the edge he’s so dangerously perched upon, pleading for him to take that final plunge. And like the loyal little mutt he’s always been for you, he wants for nothing more than to please you. Give you exactly what you’re asking for, panting and pleading for the opportunity to, really.

Which is unfortunate, because he really can’t help himself when it comes to you. Never has been able to, and he bets he never will be able to. That is, providing you stick around him after tonight… Of which he’d never blame you for rejecting the offer, given how mean he’s been to you thus far— and that’s while trying to stay composed, too. You’ve got no fucking idea what the night has in store for you, and the thought alone has excitement welling up in his already racing heart. God he loves you. Fuck he wants to ruin you.

Don’t ever fucking leave me. I need you, you don’t understand—

“Mate—” he growls at you, chest rumbling with obvious affection, throat tight with choked up lust. “My mate.”

“Alex— W-wait, please—!”

You sound so soft right now. Scared, like a little animal. A mere pup to his much larger wolf stature, shivering with inherent submission as he paws and plays at every inch of skin he can reach. The moon hangs high in the sky for him, whispering sweet nothings down his ear with promises of forever— all it takes is one night to secure his place by your side forever. Forever and ever, his half lidded gaze stuck on your tummy as you attempt once more to flee his bruising grip, though the attempt is pitiful. He could fill you up so well y’know? Give you so many cute little pups— oh, and he just knows with a twitch of his cock that you’d be the best mama in the world. His perfect little mate; don’t you want that as badly as he does? Don’t you wanna be his pretty princess pup forever? He always imagines it, yknow. Thinks about it every time he fucks his fist silly, especially during his red hot heats when he’s left to fend for himself. Always thinking about you. Always wanting you. Just you. And the way you’re gasping and shaking from under him tells him that you like the lewd idea just as much as he does, right?

Because where you might babble for a break, your body is at least being more honest with him in place of your verbal lies. And he forgives you for that, for letting your inherently needy nature communicate with his own whether intentional or not. You can’t hide from him, he’s your mate, remember?

But to shut you up for a moment, he pinches at your waist a little harder than necessary. He doesn’t mean to, baby, but you have to understand his position here…

Cock rock hard before you, standing tall and proud as it bobs with precum adorning his red hot tip, arms tense and muscles taut under the amount of restraint he has to exude in order not to split you in half right this very second. You have to understand, that as the moon shines upon his back and his wolfish tail wags happily from side to side, that he’s no better than a mere predator animal right now. The man you’ve come to love and adore is there, distantly, behind the wolf mask smirking down at you.

You’re lucky he even gave you a warning at all, y’know? Not many of his kind would offer you the same sanctuaries.

He’s not sure where your sudden bravery has came from tonight, but he’s not one for complaining. You’ve left him to deal with his heat all alone on many occasions as per his wanting, and things have been just fine, right? You’re still with him for the time being, still consider him your boyfriend, right? He doesn’t understand why you’d ruin it all tonight, everything he’s worked so hard for previously. Doesn’t get why you’d prompt him into pinning you onto the bed with teeth bared and cock out; he can never stand the feeling of fabric rubbing against his heated skin every time his heat comes along. All scratchy and wrong, and besides— doesn’t it feel better to be bare? To be in your most natural state possible? It makes sense, given his animalistic nature.

And it’s only a once a month annoyance anyway. Trivial in the grand scheme of things, no? You really should have been a good girl like how you usually are and stayed the fuck away from him given his genuine pleading, but alas, here he tugs on your pretty skin just for idle fun until you settle down a bit. He can only hold off his instincts for so long, y’know?

And never long enough for you to go back on your stupid decision, that’s for sure.

Y’know, it was just so easy for him to undress you too, like you secretly wanted this to happen deep down. Hell, he has half a mind to actually believe that despite your thrashing around as he pulls and tears items of clothing from your heated body, that you do want this. Maybe you’re just playing hard to get, offering him a little fight to help kick start his prey drive— nothing but the best for you. And well, he can hardly blame you if that’s the case, given how hard his heart thumps with sheer awe upon gazing at your shivering naked frame, gaze glued to your perfect tits that his paws automatically grope at as if magnetic. As if home; he’s only doing what comes natural to him. And he could never be blamed for that, right? What’s natural is never wrong, surely.

“Sorry,” he’s not really, it’s just the he doesn’t know what else to say in the moment. Doesn’t understand how he could possibly bite back the moons influence on his hormones, a shiver running up his spine at the way you inadvertently rub your exposed tummy against his hot cock. Tip just drooling all over your front, a copious amount of precum to help aid in his sole goal tonight. “Don’t mean t’make ya wait.”

You just look so pretty when struggling for him like this, writhing around on the sheets with a wobble on your lips, you wear fear so well, such a little fucking tease aren’t you? The way your brows furrow before him in concentration—or is it upset? He doesn’t care much either way, really—is so fucking hot to him, has his cock twitching and trembling against your soft, breedable body with insatiable need.

“Alex, I— I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t— Didn’t mean to, I didn’t know—”

Bullshit, he seethes to himself upon hearing your lies, huffing with an air of arrogance while rolling his eyes at your misfortune. You fucking knew. Knew exactly what you were getting into tonight, and he’d even go so far as to claim that you want it too. After all, after tonight, you’ll be his pretty puppy mate. And nobody knows his mate better than he does, right?

Which is why he takes to cooing down at you gently. A sickly sweet attempt to warm you up— though he’s sure his excess pheromones will do much of the heavy lifting for him. Exuding his scent all over you, wrapping his tail around one of your legs to softly soothe and relax you into compliance. “Shh,” he whispers down at you, though he can feel the way his expression tugs into one of pain and suffering. Because it hurts to hold himself back for you, physically fucking pains him to keep himself in check for your own safety. If he had it his way you’d be face down ass up on the bed at this point already, but he’s not so far gone as to act the simple animal just yet. There’s still time. “S’okay, lemme take care of ya…”

The weight he pushes down on you from sitting on your lap is enough to keep you in one place for his affections, letting his cock rub along your tummy and pelvis, smearing precum all over your front as if claiming you in the meantime. His claws, once digging into your hips, take to travelling lightly up and down your sides to lull you into a false sense of security. Opening you up to what will come whether you like it or not, simply because it’s in your best interests to lay there and fucking take it— God, fuck… he’s already so hard for you, dripping his stink all over your pretty body to assert his dominance over such a lowly pup such as yourself.

Though what’s important is that you’re his lowly pup. All mine, mine, mine.

And the little squeals and kicks you let out only serve to turn him on further, cock pulsing and fucking begging for more, to feel the too tight squeeze of your cunt as a promise of shared devotion so late at night. It’s almost romantic, he muses to himself, if not for the brutal aspect of his transformation. His ears instinctively turn downwards at the thought, an unspoken apology— though he doesn’t stop. Can’t, really.

All hunched back and muted growls, he simply towers over you. There’s no chance of escape, no way you could ever get out from under him. And that, the complete and utter lack of control you currently have in the situation, turns him on more than anything else. Having you rely on him for anything and everything, just fucking gets to him, y’know? Tail travelling over your legs to leave your knees all wobbly before wagging eagerly behind himself.

You’re lucky he’s been able to hold back till now.

Heat overtakes him at the sight of your attitude, warmth swallowing his lungs whole with a mere gasp escaping him. Its like a light switch goes off in his mind, spurred on by your petulant demeanour— a deep rooted need to prove himself to you, to have you submit, preferably willingly, under his rough touch and leering eyes. The moon commands it, he simply perks his ears up to listen to her call.

“Sit still a minute,” he hums at you, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek to puff it out a little, a subconscious display of dominance as he manhandles you into proper mounting position with such ease even he’s a little surprised at himself. Causing you to squeak as he flips you over so that your face is squished into the soft pillows below, and his bulging arm can hook under your tummy to hoist your ass up in the air for his own selfish enjoyment. The heat, no doubt, has increased his strength. Always does, which is in part why he’d rather you’d leave him alone when the full moon comes. Your pretty little human body is no match for his fur coat.

Little lamb just wanted to offer herself up for the slaughter, didn’t you?

“Alex,” you cut him off with such a scathing tone, the tasty fear dripping your words as he shifts himself to be in a better position to give you exactly what you want in spite of your bodily actions has his heart skipping a loving beat. Like yeah, you should be scared of me. “I—” you attempt to follow up with something less important than his growls, but his harsh hand shoves your face further into the pillow below to shut you up once and for all, to teach you not to interrupt his concentration, or his begging cock that pushes and rubs pre all over your ass cheeks now that he’s primed and ready to mount.

Though he can still feel the twinge of sorry caught in the back of his throat, the way his cock twitches against your shivering frame when he dips the tip down automatically—instinct imploring him to go on, take what’s rightfully yours—the more beastly side of his existence easily convinces him to continue. Pointing his ears in your direction to hear those yummy muted sobs as the tip of his cock grazes against your soaked little slit and— oh, his pheromones are working, right? Either that, or, like he thinks, you fucking want this. Somewhere, deep down in that sexy little wiggling about body of yours, you crave his pups, don’t you?

And, well… Even if you don’t, you’re gonna get em anyway. Because your body is at least asking for it, and he promised to look after you. Every part of you, regardless of whether you ask for it or not— it’s the job of the alpha, right?

Poor little pup, he sighs to himself, one hand keeping your face smooshed against the pillows, while the other automatically takes to wagging his cock between your legs, teasing that puffy little cunt with his sheer weight and size. Everything about him increases during his heat; an attempt to secure a good mate, he thinks. Certainly not to attract a human such as yourself, but alas, he’s hoping that the meagre teasing he provides to your swollen cunt will be enough to help you take him somewhat at least. He’d ordinarily want to, and does, offer you far more in the way of warming you up to his sheer size, but the night wont last forever. And he can feel the ache of need well up in his tummy the longer he stares down at your slit with lust filled hearts in his eyes. Ogling at the tiny little peek of cunt your arched back position offers him, biting down on his bottom lip to suppress a lewd groan from escaping at the shiny slick that coats his cock all sticky with the shaking he does— tail and all.

He’s got alpha appearances to keep up with after all.

Precum oozes from his tip as he idly wags it against you to tempt your submission, humming groans and growls down at you in the meantime. “Behave,” he huffs when you still yet attempt to escape his grip, only prompting him into adding more pressure to your head to help pin you in place. “You’ll get it, fuck— wan’ it so bad, dont’cha?” he lulls, mind fogged with lust as the ache in his balls grows bigger and bigger and—

Ah, he’s rutting against you now. It’s hardly surprising given how hard you tug around his cock, writhing around like a little slut just for him. It’s nice, that despite how much your lips lie against the sheets, your pretty puppy pussy drools honesty all over him. And he wants so badly to lap it all up for you, clean you up empty with flat tongued sucks and greedy gulps, but his cock fucking hurts when pulsing against you. An insatiable need to breed buried deep down in his soul, a tutting scold escaping him when he realises just how long he’s made you wait. That’s not very nice of him, is it?

“S’okay,” he reassures you with a full fanged smile on his lips. It’s short lived, wiped from his expression the moment he leans into the slow thrusts against your slit and fuuuuck— he’s so fucking sensitive, shit. Got the heat to thank for that, pleasure shivers running along his spine to leave him gasping for air simply from a little petting. Like he’s the pup, and not the wolf his appearance dictates otherwise. “Gonna— fuck me—” he can’t fucking focus, cutting himself off as his eyes roll to the back of his skull as if to signal that the transformation is complete, that he is now the wolf in sheeps clothing. Dragging his hips back to let his cock run along the line of your slit, pushing it upwards so that your folds wrap around his girth and— yeah, yeah, “That’s it,” he huffs from behind you, tip pressed dangerously close to your twitchy hole. This is it, God, he can’t wait to fucking take what belongs to him. “Atta girl—! You got it, promise t’take it real nice an’ slow fr’ya.”

He’s smiling wide and toothy to try and hide his lie, because he knows that he wont be able to last like that. Not with his favoured mate bent over before him like a bitch in heat.

He supposes you are now, at least in theory. Soon to be practice.

And it’s so easy for him to let go in the end. Disregard those well intentions he’s spent so long building up for you, casting your wellbeing aside in the selfish pursuit to do only what comes natural to him, which is to say… It’s so easy for him to tilt his hips at the right angle so that his tip catches on your hole, and the resulting squeal you sound from your pillow muffler has a fat bead of milky pre rolling out to leave you stickier than before.

Remember: he gave you his warning. Whatever happens tonight, it’s your fault.

But he doesn’t blame you too much, not when he starts to push his soaked with pre tip inside of sopping cunt, letting it dip into your hole enough to hear you gasp at the unnatural stretch already. Poor babe, he’s struggling too! Holding his breath as a means to concentrate on just how unreal you feel right now, immediately squeezing down on his throbbing cock, choking every slow inch he manages to shove inside of you with impatient minuscule humps. He even whines in sheer sexual frustration over just how much he wants it, how badly he needs to split you in two on his cock, desperately in puppy love with how good you’re making him feel. Got the big bad wolf keening for more, like he was a filthy fucking virgin all over again—

Ah, but you’re just so tiny, and he’s just so big. Comparatively, at least. Little puppy cunt doing her best to accommodate his girth, but no amount of lube could ever hope to have him squeeze in his full size any time soon. And though he may be lost in your tight heat, hazy eyes struggling to take in the sight of your sobbing frame, he’s not evil. Not even as he forces you to endure the burn of his cock humping into you bit by bit, the veins running along it throbbing with every squeal and mewl you let out in response to his bullying, he doesn’t want to hurt you. Not intentionally.

Then he’d have no mate to play with, y’know?

Selfishly, he hunches over you, ‘accidentally’ fucking more of his cock inside of you until you sob in too much pain. Mumbled sorries drip from his puffy lips, bitten bloody from how downright difficult it is for him to treat you with any ounce of respect, especially when his body is practically screaming at him to rail your shape into the mattress under you right this second, to fuck you straight into next week with wobbly legs. But the new angle he provides is a deeper one, greedily so. Instincts kicking in full swing when you wiggle around to attempt getting comfortable on the end of his fat cock— he’s barely even fucked any of it inside of you yet, puppy…

And yet, he finds himself gasping for air alongside you. Forcing his way inside of your too tight little cunt with eager huffs and knowing growls. You’re just so soft and squishy, like what a good little pup should be, gushing around his cock as he pours precum against your hot insides. His tail straightens in his efforts, as if to help him worm his way inside of your tight cunt just a little more, fully gasping for air as the tightness and wetness of your creamy cunt has knocked the wind out of him.

For such a big alpha wolf, all it takes is one little pretty princess pussy to render him stupid, huh? Truly fucking dumb, tongue lolling out from his open maw as he moans openly in enjoyment, pleasure prompting his toes to curl as you attempt to claw away from his unfair little humps, but he’s far too strong for you, isn’t he? Got you pinned pretty in place, hovering over you to completely encase your meagre frame under his much larger stature— he can see the swish of his tail from side to side cast in the shadow he causes above you.

He shifts his weight around a little, letting his sweaty front rest heavily upon your sweaty back while he pins your wrists above your head. Surely causing you to fall off balance and fold into the sheets a little more in the process, but it’s this action that finally allows his sopping tip to kiss against your cervix, and a low howl to escape his dry throat in utter enjoyment. All scratchy and rough, crawled up to his lips automatically as his grip on you tightens, claws digging into your soft skin for better leverage.

“Fuck—” escapes him, hushed and whined with a droop of his ears. Maybe you were right, maybe he should be fucking you for every rut, right? The sobs of pleasure you let out upon the pop of his cock filling your poor little angel cunt right up convinces him to continue, humming to himself as he pats your ass once or twice as encouragement. You’ve got him feeling better than he’s ever felt before, stark hot stimulation coursing through his veins as your tiny hole squeezes the life out of him so well— “Feels good, right?” he huffs just as much for himself as he’s trying to rile you up some more too, taking in the sounds of your gratification before matching you with his own happy sounds. Smiled moans pressed right against the shell of your ear— of course you’re enjoying being filled to the brim with his fat cock, yeah? You wouldn’t be shivering otherwise, he thinks to himself. Wouldn’t be mewling his name over and over again all pretty like that, high pitched and broken, vibrating with excitement as he lets his fat wolf cock rest heavily inside of your hole for a moment or two. Not for your own benefit or anything, but because he’s sure that if he were to move immediately, he’s bust a load before even getting to fully enjoy himself.

And he wants to fuck you into submission too, remember? He cant rightly do that if he cums within seconds like some sort of loser. No, he’s your alpha wolf mate. And he intends on taking care of you, because it’s whats best for you, especially given the way your cunt leaks all over his cock all pretty and sticky like that, dripping down the length of it and onto his balls, and—

Oh. He’s only managed to fuck half his cock inside before you’re fit to burst. The remaining half still pulses outside, jealous no doubt of the warmth his tip his currently experiencing. It’s a shame, of course, that this is all you can manage at the moment, but he’s willing to wait for you. Willing to fuck you again and again during this heat, and for the future heats he’s sure to experience. There’s no escaping them really, so you should be happy to deal with that which you’ve caused. Willing to fuck you until your meek little body learns to accept his full fat cock.

He’s happy enough to fuck you wide open eventually, internally promising to himself to train your cunt to accept his affections sooner rather than later. But it’s difficult to deny just how good it feels to know that he’s so much physically bigger and stronger than you are, as well as the obvious ego stroking your cunts doing to him right now. Stroking him almost as well as she does his cock, squirming around him so well that he has to hang his head lower against you in sheer enjoyment, a greedy curse escaping him in the motion, prompting a small huff to escape your squished lips.

He can’t help himself any longer.

“Gonna ruin you,” he starts, voice low and tense, just like his muscles as he tugs on your body to get you situated perfectly on his cock. Still his hands remain on your wrists, keeping you sufficiently pinned in place, but his other hand spreads your ass cheeks apart so that he can enjoy the sight of your hole twitching around his assaulting cock. “An’ don’t be shy,” he teases, flashing his fangs as a display of dominance even if you can’t see him right now. Surely you can hear his taunts loud and clear through your babbles and bubbles of sobs, picking up on the dominance of his pheromones, right?

“Wanna hear jus’ how much y’enjoy it, kay?”

And he doesn’t give you much of a chance to respond before taking what he wants from you, well past his limits of holding back by now, all thanks to how inherently lewd you’re being for him tonight. Ignoring his well meaning warnings, wiggling your ass impatiently on his cock, and sobbing for more— it’s obvious that he couldn’t refrain from indulging in your sweet scented cunt; he can practically taste the want dripping from your twitchy hole.

Relenting to his natural wolfish instincts, he gives you exactly what you need.

A good dicking down, yeah? A nice, breeding, fuck.

There’s no tenderness to his actions as he pulls his hips back once more, letting just his tip remain inside for you to cry about so sweetly that his cock trembles against you, and there’s similarly no love to be found in his full force slam back inside— unfair in his affections, selfishly seeking to fulfil his sole reason for existing through your tiny little body; God, he could fucking eat you right up if you’d only let him. He just might anyway, regardless of your consent.

Because that’s how fucking feral he feels right now. Unable to listen to reason, or even his own humanity for that matter. Turned into a useless fucking dog at the whim and mercy of his precum coated cock. For all you probably care, he’s a mere tail wagging, drool spilling, hips swinging, fucking dog right now. Fucking into you at such a brutal pace— you aren’t so used to the strength he gains from heats, he’s made sure of that, though he normally has a decent weight behind his thrusts when fucking into you like an animal, there's just something more about him when he inhabits his instincts, right? Complete brutality, an utter disregard for anything other than how good he feels. The bed immediately creaking under your shaking body to match your girlish squeaks thanks to his rash thrusts, fucking as much of his cock inside of you as he can; which is merely half, still, despite the endless supply of lube he offers you. Tiny little puppy, you’re sooooo fucking cute, it’s unfair!

And for a moment he’s choked. Cock and throat, really. In awe at the way you do your best to take him in spite of the stupid size difference, his knees digging into the sheets below to keep himself stable enough to fuck you raw and heavy. Fuck you like you deserve to be, ruin that pretty little pussy, yeah? He’s only returning the favour considering the sheer amount of overstimulation your tight cunt is sucking him into right now has truly ruined him from spending his heats alone. This is what you deserve, yeah? For not leaving him alone like he’d asked.

Oh, but he forgives you for it. Truly, he does. For if not for your stubborn nature, he wouldn’t get to experience the sight of your cream frothing a ring around the mid of his cock like you’re doing right now, body jerking up the bed from how heavy his frantic thrusts are inside of your tight hole. He’d be disallowed from listening to your cute cries for more if you hadn’t been so adamant on sticking around, the mix of no and stop sound so pretty and broken when falling from your lips, got his hips pumping in and out faster out of pure need to hear you make more of those pitiful sounds alone.

You truly are the perfect mate for him.

Nobody else would have him acting this unruly, fucking into your tight little cunt like a man starved, unable to keep up with the brutal pace he’s set for himself as he humps your hole raw. And God, he’s never felt so fucking good before, completely giving in to his selfish desires as he lets go of your wrists now that you’re sufficiently fucked out on half his cock, only to immediately paw and grab at your pretty hanging tits as they bounce in his clawed hands and fuck, he can feel the tacky sheen of sweat line his forehead as he gulps for air and—

You sound so pretty too. All high pitched and cracked, voice barely able to escape the stupid bout of whines and gasps his girth fucks out of you, but pretty all the same. Like you can’t handle his cock, struggling to take his utter adoration of you as he forces his cock shape against your insides, throbbing inside of your hole with seedy intent. Feels good, too fucking good, so unfair in the tight suck of your cunt, he’s got no choice but to give you his all, right? Growling down at you when you yelp at his rough tugs and pulls on your tits, prompting his hips to stutter just a little against your ass as he huffs with feigned annoyance.

“Be a good girl,” he almosts warns you, though he doesn’t intend on it. It’s just that your cunt has him so riled up, heat radiating from him to meld where his cock pounds into you, a rough tone to his voice as if communicating just how downright fucking desperate he is for you tonight. Like he always is, of course, but this time is different. It’s more feral, isn’t it? All teeth and claws and disregard for human nature. Fucked like a filthy animal, so fucking hot, right?

“Be a good girl an’ cum fr’me, yeah? Wanna— shit, wanna feel ya so bad babe—“ he punctuates his begs with greedy fucks forward, incidentally knocking you a little off balance to fall further into him. A welcome mistaken, given that it allows him further leverage to fuck you open, the feeling of your insides squirming around his fat cock is enough to have him on the edge already— which reminds him. “Gotta feel ya cum around me, kay? Jus’ once, promise, I— oh fuck, that’s it— I, I promise, jus’ once baby, c’mon—”

To be honest, he’d say just about anything to you right now if it meant you’d cream his cock, any sordid lie or exaggeration, fucking anything to feel the way your walls choke his cock off so well like that, fuck.

And he’s close too, can feel the way his thighs start to shake and his tummy tightens under the strain of your submission. So cute when you’re being so obedient for him, laying there without a care in the world, just so that he can use you to his hearts content. It’s what he deserves, he thinks, for being suck a good alpha for you, right? Leaning over you just that little bit further so as to clamp his teeth down on your neck— not too hard! He doesn’t intend on harming you from biting, but his fangs are deep enough to promote your compliance, to keep you in place long enough for one of his hands to sneak between your thighs to rub at your clit. All messy and sloppy, barely coordinated from how lightheaded and dizzy he feels thanks to your tight hole sucking him off so well, but he nonetheless urgently attempts to get you off before he busts himself.

He slurps and sucks around your neck wound, making sure to clean it all up for you before you have a chance to cry about the mess, cooing sweet dirty words down your ear and huffing moans for you to hear just how good you’re making him feel, how thankful he is to finally have a mate to spend his heat with. Flicking at your clit the way he knows you enjoy, incidentally fucking into you a little deeper given the way your cunt pulses harsher around his cock— “That’s it, m’so close too, c’mon—” he urges you, listening intently to the loud wet slap of his balls against your slit; he can only imagine the puddle of slick gathering under your creamy cunt. And suddenly his throat is dry with want to suck it up from the sheets immediately following— “Give it t’me, feel s’fuckin’ good, holy shit babe—”

It’s a good thing that you cum almost as soon as he’s finished provoking you, and the confirmation of your returned affections is enough to trigger his own orgasm. Pumping you full of his fat wolf load as deep as he can; it’s an attempt to mark his territory. To claim you as his own pretty pup, his cute little mate that’s currently creaming his cock, gushing around his girth as he offers you meagre little thrusts to make sure as much of his seed stays inside with breeding intent.

His tail wags the whole time, clearly happy with his work as his cock swells and he’s forced to wince at the displeased sounds you let out in response. He’s barely caught his breath enough to reassure you with “I know, I know babe, jus’— fuck, jus’ hold on a minute—” all breathless and moaned, still yet painting your insides white as you come down from your high and come back to your senses. “Know it hurts, God—” he sighs, blissfully unaware of just how much he must be stretching you out on his knot, because he’s too busy feeling the gratification of successfully breeding his perfect pet. “Jus’ wait, you’ll get used to it, promise.”

Keeping you locked under his weight, it doesn’t really matter whether or not you want to get used to the feeling of his knot. All swollen and locked inside of your cunt— you can’t get away from it. Forced to lay there like the breeding bitch you are to him right now until he’s fully empty, letting his seed pump copiously into your already full little hole until it inevitably dribbles out and down his balls, the feeling of which causes him to whine with frustration.

What a waste, he thinks to himself.

“Will give y’more, don’t worry…” he whispers down your ear, humming gently to the sound of your weary weeping.

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 21 - Lavender 4

This is a long one! I wanted a way for Shanks and Mihawk to come together, and what better way to do that is a nice sick fic!

Shanks is a flirt and both are possessive bastards. They worry about their little treasure. Took some creative liberties with Haki btw! hope you enjoy!

No warnings today!

Masterlist

Hank watches his human lay still and silent in her bed. His nose twitches when a draft comes by and tickles his nose, and a sneeze follows when his little brother comes back and smacks him in the nose. Hank grumbles at the fluffball, but at least Sukuna doesn’t use his claws this time. The cat jumps to the chair that Hank lays under, golden eyes watching his human too. 

Neither animal understands what had gotten into their human. She had yet to get up and start the day like usual, instead, she still sleeps. Hank whines when his nose picks up the scent of something that doesn’t belong on his human, and he shuffles out from under his chair to stand by the bed. Sukuna joins him, jumping from the chair to come to a stop by their person’s head. Hank jumps up, nosing forward and huffing when he picks up that same smell. 

It’s hot and rancid, and the two of them nearly jump a foot into the air when you suddenly groan and roll over, eyes cracking open to the sight of two concerned brothers. 

“Hello children,” You green softly and wince at the soreness of your throat. You snake an arm out from under the covers, shivering when the cooler air of the room floods the blanket cocoon you’ve made around yourself. You feel awful, and you wonder what had changed so suddenly for you to feel this way. You frown as you think. No not suddenly. You’ve not been feeling yourself for a couple of days now. More tired than usual, a constant chill that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard you tried, and you dearly wished that Mihawk and his overheated body were here to help warm you up. 

Sukuna darts forward to press his forehead into your open palm, purring up a storm as his human gently scratches between his ears just the way he likes. Hank shoves him when he heaves the rest of his huge body up, and Sukuna sends the mutt a sharp glare for the disrespect. Their antics bring a giggle out of you, however, so the cat isn’t too upset about it. 

“Gimmie a second and I’ll get up. Not like you’re starving or anything, you gluttons,” You grumble good-naturedly and force yourself to sit up. 

Hank surprises you by butting his big head in your chest and knocking you back down. It takes the wind out of you, and you send a half-hearted glare at the big lug, “Hey. What was that about?”

The shaggy dog whines, not wanting his human up in fear of spreading the hot, sick scent that he can still smell. You break easily when Sukuna teams up with him and steps on your chest, making a round of biscuits and then lying down. You shove one hand into his fluffy orange fur and then the other into Hank’s grey, tangled locks. You have half a thought of brushing him soon before your stuffy brain is making you go back to sleep. 

Sukuna shares a look with his older brother when a soft wheeze spills out of your chest. This is not good. Their human was sick and the other humans who liked to show up were not here, and probably would not be back for a while. The dark-haired one that smelled like steel and old books had left only a week ago.

It’s hours later that you wake again, and luckily, Hank allows you to get up when you express the need to go to the bathroom. He knows what that word means, but still diligently followed after you when you got out of bed because he is a good boy. Sukuna flees to the kitchen, selfish enough to beg for food now that his human is out of bed for now. 

You wash your face after doing your business and look at yourself in the mirror. You look like utter shit, face flushed and skin pale as a ghost from whatever sickness that has a hold of you. You sniff and blow your nose a couple of times, hurting your throat even more each time. A cup of tea sounds like a grand idea, so you shuffle to the kitchen and put on the kettle. You choose a nice chamomile and load the cup up with the honey that Dracule had gifted you not too long ago. A lemon slice is next, another gift, though the lemon tree had come from Shanks on his third visit to your island. 

Speaking of the redhead, it’s been a while since you’ve seen the other man. You assume that his Emperor business is keeping him busy, but you still kinda miss the older man. He always knew how to make you laugh. Gullt curls in you at the thought, but you shove it away and remember the talk that you and Dracule had on his last visit.

Mihawk had assured you several times that he and Shanks had come to some sort of agreement. They would more or less stay out of one another business unless there was a shared concern about your well-being. Dracule had basically given you his permission to seek comfort and companionship in Shanks when the warlord could not be there. 

You still didn’t really know what to think of the idea that Shanks and Mihawk had spoken about you while you weren’t there, and you know that neither of them had come completely clean about whatever deal they had going on.

What you did know was that something fundamental had changed between the two men, but honestly, you didn’t much care about all the details. If they were happy, then you were happy. You didn’t know what you would do with yourself if either man stopped coming to your island, and just the thought of being alone like that makes agony tighten around your heart. You’ve known Mihawk for over a year now, and the reclusive man had slowly opened up to you during that time. He was a friend, a lover, a protector, and you loved him. 

Of course, you haven’t told him yet, you’re not so much an idiot to bring the L word into the equation, not when the very notion made fear strike through you like lightning. You wouldn’t ruin what you have going on with him, not unless he said those three words first. You just couldn’t risk being that lonely again. 

And Shanks? That mischievous man had wiggled his way into your daily thoughts and heart, fast. His easygoing attitude is so different from Mihawk's, but no less enjoyable to be around. 

A loud meow right in your ear has you jerking out of your thoughts. Sukuna stands on the counter, big golden eyes narrowed as he meows loud enough for it to echo in the house. You wave him away and apologize for not being fast enough to meet his majesty’s needs. 

You feed Sukuna his usual dish and a little extra for being patient with you this morning and then go outside to do the same for Hank. He whines when you step outside, but his food easily distracts him so that you can go check on Neal and the three chickens. You really need to give them names, you feel bad that it’s been this long. 

Neal bleats a greeting when he catches sight of his human, and you laugh when he digs into your loose dress for any snacks to be found. You gently steer his the other way, fixing up his feed and water before leaving them to it. You stoke your fireplace and settle in on the couch with a new cup of tea, blankets bundled high around you. 

You still feel awful, and a deep ache has settled in the middle of your back, but the satisfaction of doing something keeps any bad thoughts away. Sukuna and Hank find their way back to your side whenever they finish, bullying you into lying down so that they can cuddle with you on the couch. It works, for you are back to sleep in no time, dead to the world. 

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

Three days later, It’s Neal who hears the sound of loud laughter and the soft thuds of crates hitting the sand down at the beach. He waits until he can see a familiar silhouette trudging up the footpath to his home, hoofs stomping when he realizes that it’s the red-haired one, and not the one with the tasty-looking hat. Neal bleats a warning, loud enough that it gets the attention of Hank who comes bounding out the door. 

Shanks grins when Hank runs to meet him, the shaggy dog jumping up to place his paws on his chest and whining in his face, “Hey, big guy. You seem excited to see me.”

He pets the dog for half a second before Hank jumps down and trots into the cottage. He turns and whines again at Shanks, big eyes demanding the other man to hurry up. Shanks frowns and picks up his pace, entering the cottage with a frown when he notices that you are not up and about like usual. It was midday, but the house was silent as a grave. 

The emperor winds his way through the house, following Hank until he reaches your bedroom. He doesn’t hesitate to step inside, and his chest seizes when he sees the pitiful bundle of blankets and pillows that lie on the bed. He can hardly see you, only your hair making your whereabouts known in the mess on the bed. Hank whines at his feet, paws tip-tapping on the floor in his distress.

“How long has she been this way buddy?” Shanks asks out loud and doesn’t receive an answer, not that he was expecting to. He steps to the side of the bed, knee sliding on the mattress as he reaches over and pulls the blanket closest to your face down.

“Babygirl?” Shanks murmurs and slides his hand along your jaw, hissing when he finds your skin literally ice cold. His hand throbs when he pulls away and he wipes the frost off on his pants leg. Gods, no wonder you were bundled up like you were. 

You groan when he pulls away, your body seeking any amount of warmth and your voice is nothing but a croak when you speak, “Who?”

Shanks slides his hand back to your cheek, uncaring of the cold when he hears how loopy you sound. He wonders if this is how your devil fruit is reacting to you having a fever. Freezing you to the bone instead of warming you. Mihawk would know how to answer that better than he could. 

“It’s me, sweetheart. It’s Shanks. Think you can tell me what’s wrong?” Shanks shifted more onto the bed, crowding you close in hopes that he could warm you up a little, “You’re freezing, way more than usual, Baby.”

“Dunno. Thought it was a cold, “ You slowly slur as you focus on the handsome man above you. You grin up at him, chest losing one kind of ache now that one of them is here, “Shanks, how was your trip?”

Shanks scoffs at you, eyes rolling skyward as worry curdles tight in his stomach. How could you be asking him questions like that when you looked like a zombie come to life, “It was fine, silly. Don’t worry about that right now. Tell me what I can do to help you get better.” 

Before you can speak, a shiver wracks your body so hard that it leaves your body shivering, teeth chattering and frost creeping up your neck. Shanks jerks his hand back before the dangerous frost can touch him, anxiety curling up when he spots the fear lingering in your eyes. You swallow and curl further in your blanket next, “I don’t know, Shanks. I- I don’t have any medicine. I didn’t think that someone like me could get sick!” 

You don’t have any books on devil fruit users, had no idea how to deal with how your body works sometimes even though you’ve had this horrible power since before you came to this island. You’d always resented the devil fruit inside of you, having never been taught how to properly use your logia abilities. 

Shanks licks his lips. He was out of his depth here. None of his crew had a devil fruit. They’d fought plenty of men and women on the grand line who used them, but Shanks never had the responsibility to know any more than he needed to know about them. 

“That’s alright, Babygirl. We’ll figure it out together, okay?” Shanks assured you and went to rise off the bed only for your hand to shoot out and wrap around his wrist. He looks at you and sees the fever lingering in your eyes, so he changes tactics and shifts to lay down on his side, curling you against his chest, and tossing his arm over your waist to pull you in close. You snuggle close, grateful for the heat that slowly seeps past your blankets. 

Shanks thinks quickly for a solution. He would need to move later, go check on his crew, and see if his crew’s doctor could help with any of this. If that didn’t work then the redhead would call the one person would would most likely know what to do, and Shanks couldn’t help the excitement that erupted at the thought of having his two treasures in the same room together. Despite the situation, it was a chance that Shanks couldn’t pass up.

He wanted to see how the two of you looked curled up together. Wanted to watch the sweet way Mihawk would kiss you and how you would open up to him in kind.  

Turns out that Shanks wouldn’t have to go anywhere, for Benn came to check up on him when he didn’t return after so long. He knocked on the doorframe before peeking his head inside after Shanks told them it was fine.

Benn took one look at your pitiful state and then left to go grab Hongo. The doctor of the crew was able to suggest the proper things than most medical professionals could for what looked like the common cold gone bad, but even he became stumped when it came to the problem of her devil fruit. 

“In a way, It’s preventing her fever from getting too bad, internally at least, but it's also inhibiting the growth of any fresh, healthy cells and bacteria that are trying to get rid of the virus. She needs medicine Captain, and I doubt that I’d be stocked up with what she needs.” 

Shanks sighs heavily from where he sits on your bed, hand behind him to keep hold of your own. You had refused to let go of him, and Shanks didn’t have it in him to leave your side. 

“Bring me my transponder, I need to make a call,” Shanks ordered and Benn left to go find the snail as Hongo packed up his medical bag. 

“Keep her hydrated captain. She needs food too, nothing too solid or hard on her stomach,” Hongo advised and then he was gone too. 

Now alone, Shanks rolls back over, looking down at your scrunched face even in sleep. He smiles and leans down, balanced on his knees so that he can place a quick kiss on your brow, “Don’t worry, Baby. We’ve got you. You’ll be better soon.” 

Benn leaves again when he brings Shanks the snail, though he reminds his friend to call if he needs anything. Shanks had given him a grateful nod and then focused on the transponder, licking his lips as he dialed the number he’d never forgotten. 

Ca-Lick

“There aren’t many people who know this number, who is this?” Dracule sounds furious, and Shanks can hear the sound of shouting and battle in the background, “This better be good.” 

The Emperor takes the dive, “Mihawk, it’s Shanks.” 

The silence on the other end, at least from Dracule, is deafening. It’s only been a month or so since Mihawk had tracked the other man down. He can feel the panic on the other side, and quickly continues, “It’s _, She’s sick, Mihawk, and we don’t have the kind of medicine that she needs.” 

Shanks hears a sudden explosion and then the probable death of whoever it was that Dracule had been fighting. Arousal swirls inappropriately when he listens to Mihawk wields Yoru, and Shanks longs for a time before when he could watch Dracule fight whenever he wanted. The sounds of battle fade away after a moment, and when the warlord speaks next, Shanks can hear the worry lacing every word.

“What do you mean she’s sick? What is wrong with her?” Mihawk had left your island a week and a half ago, and you had seemed just fine then, so what had happened?

Shanks quickly explains the problem, and Dracule wracks his brain for a solution, though one seems unlikely until Shanks mentions that the devil fruit is the problem. He focuses on that, licking his lips as he debates with himself. 

Haki users like Shanks and himself were logia users' worst nightmare since haki could bypass their powers. Could Shanks negate yours long enough that normal medicine and treatment could work? But that could take days to work, especially with just one of them, and Mihawk refused to let someone else from Redhair’s crew get that close to you. Garp would be pissed that he was leaving his assignment half-finished, but Mihawk could care less. His angel and Shanks needed him.  

“Dracule? Is everything okay?” Shanks’ voice brings him back to the present and Drcule straightens up even if the redhead couldn’t see him. He didn’t like how his body had warmed up at the concern he could hear swimming in the other man’s tone. 

“Fine, Shanks. I have an idea.” He informs the redhead then hears Shanks shuffle on the other side of the phone, and realizes that he had to be near you, “Let me speak with her.” 

The emperor shifts so that you are comfortably lying across his chest and can be closer to the transponder snail. You open blurry eyes and sniff harshly, “Mihawk?” 

“There’s my angel,” Dracule coos over the phone, tone soft and full of affection for the young woman, “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit, but Shanks helps,” Comes your blunt reply and Mihawk can’t help the snort of laughter that leaves him. He still feels that jealous sting at knowing the redhead is the one holding you, but it’s not nearly as bad as it used to be. Damn, Shanks and his ability to get into people’s good graces, his included.

“Then I am glad he is there for once,” Mihawk quips dryly and fixes his hat, “I’m going to have Shanks try something, Darling. He’s going to try and coat your body in haki. If that works, then your devil fruit shouldn’t be a problem. That way, your immune system can fight off any infection, and you’ll start feeling better.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” You slur, already half asleep by the time he has finished his explanation. Thankfully, you have a redhead who has taken his duty as a caregiver very seriously. 

“This is why I called you, Dracule. You always know what to do,” Shanks praises quietly, voice laced with sincerity. The other man is quiet on the other end, but Shanks doesn’t mind, it just means that he’d surprised him. 

“Just do what I said, you fool,” Mihawk grumbles quietly, “Have Hongo come back and give her some medicine, whatever you have in stock should work once her body is coated. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

The smile on Shanks’ face is nothing but fond, and he nods even though Mihawk can’t see, “Sure. Be safe, We’ll be waiting for you.” 

You call a weak goodbye to Dracule, lucid enough to hear that he is coming back, and then you are gone again, body weak and exhausted from fighting off the growing virus. Shanks curls around you, focusing on weaving his haki over your body until you are completely coated by his will. 

Shanks doesn’t know how to describe the way it feels to have someone so intimately twined within his will. He can feel everything, every twitch of a muscle, every shallow breath you take. It’s almost overwhelming. However, it seems to be working. 

The frost that has been ever-present has slowly begun to melt away, leaving the blankets damp and uncomfortable, but Shanks feels victorious. He calls for Hongo, and the doctor is back in the cottage in a flash and tells his captain that whatever he is doing, he needs to keep it up. Shanks easily nods, curling around you and focusing on keeping his haki a consistent stream to regulate your body. It’s harder than it looks, and Shanks is very glad that Mihawk is coming.

----------

You are still loopy and out of it when Dracule arrives two days later, pushing his ship as hard as he can and catching every tailwind he can navigate to speed up the process. Even though your body had regulated itself into something more human than logia, the process of recovery was slow going. The Red Haired crew greets the warlord when he makes landfall, but Mihawk is in too much of a hurry to return the greeting.

He darts up the path and into his home, stopping long enough to toss his boots, hat, and coat off, and then Mihawk is creaking open your bedroom door, ringed eyes landing on the bed. What he seems makes him choke up, but in a way he hadn’t expected. 

It’s not anger that he feels upon seeing you curled up in bed with Shanks, blankets tangled around both of you as the redhead holds you to his chest. Your face is pressed into his chest, mouth open in a soft snore that has Mihawk’s lips curling at the sides. Shanks turns his face just enough to catch sight of the older man and send him a weary grin, and it definitely isn’t jealousy that Mihawk feels. No, it is satisfaction, at seeing the two people he cared for most in this world curled up together in the too-small bed. 

Dracule shuffles to the other side of the bed and lays on his side, boxing you in between the two men. He can feel the way Shanks’ haki coats you and his own reaches out to glide along the redheads, curling protectively around you and Shanks both. He jumps when he feels a hand land on his waist and glances over you to see Shanks grinning, that familiar teasing look in his eye. 

You wake between them before Mihawk can puff up about the sudden invasion of space, and his attention is quickly drawn to you. You yawn, and then roll, opening your eyes to see another body beside you that isn’t Shanks. A blush floods your face when you realize that Mihawk is there, his magma-like body pressed close to your own. 

You latch onto him, arms coming up to wind around his neck as you bury your face in his neck. Mihawk tightens his grip on you, kissing your brow as you sniffle into his chest and ramble about how much you missed him. He glances up and catches Shanks watching, a fond, though possessive look in his dark eyes. 

“Thank you for looking after her,” Mihawk whispers once you’ve quieted down. It pains him to admit it, but you would have been so much worse off if Shanks had never shown up.  

“Don’t thank me for something I wanted to do, Baby,” Shanks says and pulls at Mihawk from where his hand still rests on his side. The older man looks exhausted, and Shanks knows that the warlord pushed himself since the phone call, “Sleep, Mihawk. I’ve got you.”   

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax

[silentsnowflower]

Lazy-bones versus Soft-paws

A slice of life in ThunderClan a year after the Great Hunger, from the perspective of Speckleflight (Speckletail in canon), who was a kit during the Great Hunger. So much of her formative moons - kithood and apprenticeship were shaped by the Great Hunger and as a young warrior, having just lived through a normal leaf-bare, is beginning to see the clan recover - mostly. Except for a few cats.

In this AU, the ThunderClan family tree has been substantially overhauled. Here, Speckleflight and Tawnyspots are littermates and are the offspring of Mumblefoot and Fawnspots (Doestar’s sister), born shortly before the leafbare known to the clans as the Great Hunger. I always imagined the two of them looking similar and this way, it makes more sense to me, for Goldenflower to name her daughter Tawnykit - after her uncle, who was also Goldenflower’s mentor in this AU.

I’m also still trying to practice with Procreate (specifically with coloring and shading) and find my style. Time spent on the drawing is approximately 2 hours.

TW: Grief

Speckleflight lay stretched out in front of the warrior’s den, enjoying the warm of the newleaf sun on her fur. It’d been so long since she’d felt properly warm and she was so close to feeling bundled up in sunshine. Now, if we could just take Sunningrocks back from RiverClan. She flexed her claws, imagining sinking them into the thick-furred, oily pelt of a RiverClan warrior. She would send their warriors screeching from the gray, flat-topped stones, claiming them for herself - and ThunderClan, of course. Purring, she imagined stretching out on the stones.

“What’s got you so happy this dawn?”

Speckleflight rolled over and blinked happily up at Robinchest. The wiry brown and ginger queen stood over her, scraps of moss still clinging to her pelt. “Just enjoying the sunshine.” Her paws flexed, kneading the air happily. Stop that, Speckletail scolded herself. You’re not a kit anymore.

“It is a nice day,” Robinchest murmured, settling down next to the young warrior. With brusque strokes of her tongue, she began tidying her pelt. “Has Mumblefoot sent out any patrols yet?”

Speckleflight shook her head. “Not that I’ve seen.” Her father was sitting attentively next to Pinestar, listening as the ThunderClan leader spoke to him. “I think he’s letting the clan have a slow start today. The dawn patrol hasn’t come back yet. They’re a little late.”

Robinchest chuckled. “Fuzzypelt bet me some fresh moss that Weedwhisker asks to stop and hunt.”

“Did you take him up on it?” Speckleflight looked sidelong at the queen. She seemed happier, lighter today - like her constant grief was not weighing on her as much.

Robinchest flicked her tail as she shook her head. “No. We’re already on moss-duty today. He’s already getting fresh moss for his nest.”

“Seems a pointless bet,” Speckleflight purred. “Weedwhisker is always hungry. You know you’d lose.”

“Indeed.” A heartbeat later, the queen added, “I can’t wait until we get some apprentices. Then I won’t have to worry about gathering moss or helping the elders with their ticks.” She made a face with the last statement.

“You don’t even like taking care of your own. I’ve seen how you beg Fuzzypelt to get them off you,” Speckleflight teased.

Robinchest swiped at her half-heartedly, cuffing Speckleflight’s ear. “Don’t forget - I raised you.” Just like that, grief settled on the queen, as thick and heavy as the snow during the Great Hunger. There was a far-away look in the queen’s eyes. She was haunted by the ghosts of her lost kits. Her milk and her warmth had not been enough to save them. Speckleflight could hardly remember the three kits - two brown and one black. They’d been born tiny scraps of fur at the start of leafbare, when Speckleflight was just two moons old, and died two moons later, while Speckleflight and the rest of the clan struggled through the gray twilight haze of perpetual cold and hunger.

“I know,” Speckleflight mewed, deliberately keeping her tone light. She missed Fawnspots dearly. Too many of the clan had been lost to starvation. At least I still have Tawnyspots.

As though she’d called for him, Tawnyspots slipped out of the warrior’s den. He glanced at Robinchest and tilted his head to the side, in a question. His green eyes were shadowed with concern. Speckleflight shook her head, rising to her paws to greet him. “How’d you sleep, lazy-bones?”

“Well enough,” he meowed. “I didn’t have to go on the dawn patrol.”

“That’s just as well,” Speckleflight chirped. “They’d hear your sleep-heavy paws coming from tree-lengths away.”

“Oh - you’re one to talk.” A mischievous glint appeared in Tawnyspots’s gaze. “Every cat in the forest knows when you’ve stepped on a bramble, soft-paws.”

“Take that back!” Speckleflight ordered, a growl in her throat.

Tawnyspots danced away, his tail flicking in an invitation for her to come and get him. His ears tipped back and he crouched down. “Make me.”

Speckleflight leaped for him, paws outstretched. The two young warriors collided in a tangle of fur and paws, rolling head over tail as they grappled. “I was having a fine morning until you decided to stick your nose in it,” she puffed.

His hind paws battered at her stomach and he kicked her off, sweeping her forepaws out from underneath her in the same move. She crashed to the ground and he was on top of her, pinning her. “How about you take back your lazy-bones comment?” he meowed, thrusting his muzzle in her face.

Her gaze flickered to Robinchest and so did his. The queen was still looking lost, not paying any attention to their mock-fight. Tawnyspots exhaled slowly. “Sometimes it feels like she’s not ever going to get any better.”

“It will take time,” Speckleflight assured him, playfully kicking at his stomach. “Now, come on. Do you really think you can best me in a fight?”

“Seems I already have. I’m not the one on the ground.”

“Not like this!”

She drew her legs back and kicked his hind legs out from underneath him. Tawnyspots crashed down on her - driving the breath out of both of them. Gripping his shoulders with her paws, claws unsheathed just enough to hold onto his fur, she rolled them over, so that he was underneath her now. He twisted, trying to repeat the same move that had allowed him to pin her initially. She reared back, dodging, before diving down on top of him. He stopped her with a paw pressed against her brow, over paw poised to strike.

“That’s enough!” As quickly as the fight began, it was over. Speckleflight scrambled away from her brother, blinking innocently at Mumblefoot, who had finished his conversation with Pinestar. The dark brown tabby padded across the camp, his yellow eyes narrowed. “You’re warriors now. I expect you to act like one.”

“Sorry,” Speckleflight muttered, hoping her father did not call her out on her insincere tone. Tawnyspots said nothing.

“Now, I was going to have you lead your own patrol today, but-“

At this, Tawnyspots’s ears flicked forward. The young tom squared his shoulders, a quiet “No” escaping him, interrupting Mumblefoot.

“Excuse me?” Mumblefoot grumbled.

“Sorry, sir. I was just surprised that you were considering us for patrol leaders.”

“I was - but it seems that neither of you are mature enough to be leading one.”

“Oh - leave them be. I’ll lead whatever patrol you wanted Speckleflight to be in charge of. And she can come with me.”

Only Seedspeck. The mottled gray she-cat was Mumblefoot’s former apprentice and to Speckleflight, it seemed that nothing could scare the warrior. If I could be like her. She turned to look at the other warrior. Seedspeck’s green gaze was steady as she met Mumblefoot’s yellow one.

“Fine,” Mumblefoot grumbled, but his words were soft. “Take Speckleflight, White-eye, and Sunfall. I’ll leave it up to you to decide where to hunt.” As the deputy turned away, he continued, “because apparently no cat will listen to anything I say.”

“Only those who aren’t afraid of you,” Seedspeck meowed sharply. “You should quit terrorizing your children.”

Mumblefoot flicked his tail contemptuously.

I really want to be like you now, Speckleflight thought, staring at Seedspeck. She tipped her head towards her brother and murmured in his ear, “Will you stay with Robinchest?”

“Of course,” Tawnyspots promised. “I’ll see if I can get her to go hunting. Or for a walk. Just something to get her out of camp.”

“Maybe Goosefeather will have something for her,” Speckleflight meowed.

Tawnyspots shrugged. There was no love lost between him and the strange medicine cat. “I don’t think herbs will help.”

“Herbs won’t,” Seedspeck murmured, joining their conversation. “Just time and weather and new, good memories will help.”

“She’s supposed to go gather moss with Fuzzypelt today,” Speckleflight added, suddenly remembering what the queen had mentioned earlier. “Maybe you could take her, Fuzzypelt, and another cat on a patrol to gather some moss? Sparrowfur or Moonflower?”

“I’ll do that. Just be careful that Mumblefoot doesn’t hear you. He might think you’re wanting his job,” Tawnyspots purred, turning away to slip into the warrior’s den. “I’ll send White-eye and Sunfall out to you.”

“Tell them we’ll be waiting in the ravine,” Seedspeck called, padding away.

With a glance at Robinchest, Speckleflight followed. Her ears and tail drooped as she thought about the sorrowful queen.

“You can’t help her - not any more than you already are.” Seedspeck paused before the bramble barrier, her gaze lingering on Robinchest as well. “Caring for you and Tawnyspots is why she’s still here today. I’m glad you’ve never forgotten about her.”

“She’s like our mom,” Speckleflight explained, ducking through the thorns. “I spent more of my kithood with her than with Fawnspots.”

“I know.” Seedspeck stretched, hooking her claws over the top of one of the many boulders scattered along the ravine. Her back arched and the she-cat purred. “But don’t spend too much time worrying about her. Or dwelling on the… on the last leaf-bare. It’s a nice new-leaf day, and I, for one, want to enjoy the sunshine.”

“Maybe we could hunt by Sunningrocks?” Speckleflight suggested, hoping the older warrior would at least consider her suggestion.

“Sure!” Seedspeck nodded. “This way, we can scout out the best sunning spots before ThunderClan retakes Sunningrocks.”

Surprised, Speckleflight broke into a purr. She wasn’t the only cat dreaming of warmth.

Cats featured, in order of appearance/mention:

Speckleflight (Speckletail) - golden spotted-tabby she-cat with amber eyes

Robinchest (Robinwing) - light brown she-cat with ginger patches and amber eyes

Mumblefoot - long-furred dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes

Pinestar - large, dark reddish-brown tom with green eyes

Fuzzypelt - long-furred black and white tom with green eyes

Weedwhisker - pale ginger tom with white fleck and yellow eyes

Tawnyspots - broad shouldered brown tom with lighter, tawny spots and green eyes

Seedspeck (Seedpelt) - mottled gray she-cat with darker flecks and green eyes

White-eye (One-eye) - very pale gray and white she-cat with one blue eye and one cloudy, blind white eye

Sunfall - slender dark ginger tom with a lighter ginger tail and green eyes

Goosefeather - long-furred pale gray tabby tom with blue eyes

Sparrowfur (Halftail)- dark brown tabby tom with a stump of a tail and amber eyes

Moonflower - silver-gray tabby she-cat with dark stripes and very pale yellow eyes

Fawnspots (Deerdapple) - pale ginger spotted tabby she-cat with green eyes

[miserymerci]

<- Day 4: Learn Day 6: Fire ->

Fluffy February Day 5: Planet - Maybe When the Sun Comes Up

@ // fluffyfebruary

Fandom: Lego Monkie Kid

Characters: MK and Sun Wukong

(Father-son relationship, hurt and comfort, platonic cuddling)

Warnings: Possible dissociation

Summary: Set after S3 E7 (Cooking with Chang’e). Wukong is taunted by Macaque. Except, something doesn’t feel right. Wukong floats between life and nothing. Sometimes all someone needs is to feel the ground beneath their feet, and the gravity weighing down on them.

The breeze combed Wukong’s fur and prickled his skin. Something warm and cold simultaneously seeped through his veins, like heavy rain and like simmering blood. It felt misplaced— wrong. The rain clouds should not be crying; his body should not be sick with anger.

Wukong choked on life and shot his head off the ground.

The world, deep and dark, stared back at him. Hard rain ricocheted off the rock under his hands. He sputtered, coughed, and rolled onto his back.

One moment, the moon was whole. The next, there was an eclipse.

“Hey, Sun Wukong ,” said Macaque, the moonlight spilling onto his edges.

Distant thunder rolled. Wukong’s simmering blood roared along with it.

“You!” he spat, the words drowned by the downpour.

Macaque squeezed one clawed hand around Wukong’s neck. Wukong’s limbs were heavy, hands only forming into fists as Macaque closed in on him; a weightless and pressuring, freezing and burning thing.

Wukong wanted to choke. He could not– not anymore.

“Don’t look so mad,” said Macaque like a pitter-patter of rain underneath a raging storm. He eyed Wukong’s bared teeth and smiled. “It makes you look stupid. You knew that your actions would lead you here. Don’t try to act innocent on me, now. We both know the truth.”

‘The truth?’ Wukong wanted to say, but his mouth remained shut. His eyelashes fluttered at the next numbing breeze.

Macaque smiled and laughed like a soft, broken tune.

“You know ! You do !” he barked with a heavier laugh. His teeth, gleaming like the moon, leaned in closer to Wukong’s face. His hand shook against Wukong’s throat.

Wukong still couldn’t feel it. His chest felt faint, as if the most important bits of it were floating away. The rain cried against the rock. The bramble and brush howled with the wind. Touches of ghosts pinned him to the ground.

“Whatever plan is brewing in that little noggin of yours is never going to work . Like all your plans, they’re just doomed to fail. And , just like the rest of them, you’re going to ruin the ones you love, aren’t you?” sneered Macaque. The rain was beginning to drag his fur down, a stream of it dripping to splatter and run down Wukong’s face.

Wukong blinked.

‘No,’ Wukong wanted to say, ‘I have a plan– more of a blueprint, really, but I’ll be taking all the blame. I’m going to do this right– play this right– and in the end, I’ll do it by myself !’

But the words were never said.

Macaque’s eyes dulled, the smile became lazy, and the sound of the storm fell into a muffled patter.

“When are you ever going to learn ?” he said quietly, seethingly. The ghost touches grew cold. Nails pushed into Wukong’s buzzing fresh. “Still the same self-destructive, collateral-damage Wukong. Will you change once someone is killed over your incompetence?”

The breath was coming back to Wukong. Heavy at first; lungs digging into the oxygen like claws scooping quicksand. They clawed and clawed and scooped in a craze, dormant one moment and slipping the next.

Wukong filled his chest with empty air.

Macaque’s other hand clamped over Wukong’s mouth before he could speak.

“But no,” said Macaque, “no, that’s not right, is it? You’ve already killed someone. How could another’s change you? Maybe you’re not meant for change. Maybe you’re doomed to curse everyone who’s ever had the misfortune of loving you… does that sound right?”

The rain wept and wept. The purple glow of Macaque’s eyes was too much. In a brave display of energy, Wukong’s eyes flitted over to look at the tiny stone monkey perched sweetly atop its rocky bedding.

Over him, Macaque’s nails dug deeper into his skin.

“Look at me,” he said through clenched teeth. “ Look !”

Wukong did not. The rain began to feel cooler against him. His lungs fought against that quicksand. He coughed against Macaque’s palm, gasped a struggling breath, and shot one leg up to kick Macaque in the stomach.

Macaque shouted something– swallowed by the thunder above– and dark eyes and purple limbs came crashing down on him.

Wukong took his attacker by the throat.

His cry came out strangled. For a frightening second, dark hair was midnight fur shimmering in the moonlight– and then the vision was gone.

“MK!” gasped Wukong, hand dropping to his successor’s shoulder. “ Kid , I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

Above him, MK took a fleeting breath and shrunk back.

“Um… yeah. Yeah, I am. Are you ?”

Wukong sat up slowly and looked around. The group was sound asleep around them, the night sky was speckled and full, and MK was kneeling at his side.

“I… Here, let me take another look at this.”

MK managed to stay mostly-still as Wukong’s golden vision swept over him. Then, he let out one last shuddering breath and shuffled closer again.

“Bad dream?” asked MK, cautiously.

“You can call it that,” said Wukong. “It might leave a mark for a day or two. I really am sorry, bud. I’d poof up some ointment, but it wouldn’t exactly do anything because it’s technically hair .”

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t think it is.”

Wukong flexed his hand experimentally. His skin was still buzzing; still numb from his dream. He frowned.

“It is kind of cold,” said MK as he watched him.

“What?”

“It’s cold out,” he repeated.

It wasn’t really to Wukong. The breeze was light and gentle, and the clouds were pleasantly still. Yet, MK did look flushed with cold. Maybe a mortal thing.

The thought gave no comfort.

“Wh…” Wukong shook his head, “ What are you awake for, bud? You should be asleep. You know, not interrupting other people’s sleep.”

MK at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“Yeah, well… I took a look at Pigsy’s recipe book and decided to try to make one of Chang’e’s mooncakes.”

“What?”

“I took a look at–”

“No, bud. I heard you the first time,” Wukong rubbed his eyes, “I just– now ? Of all times? Why don’t you bother the chef?”

When Wukong blinked back into focus, MK was looking at him worriedly.

“Don’t look like that,” said Wukong before he could stop himself.

MK’s expression faltered, tried to harden, failed, and then became worried again.

“Sorry. Um… I’m not allowed to wake up Pigsy until six in the morning. It’s a rule. And I needed mooncake molds because I don’t know how to shape mooncakes without them– oh, and probably an oven too. I need an oven.”

Wukong blinked at him.

“You want me to poof up cake molds and an oven?”

“I wouldn’t mind an Easy Bake?”

Wukong fell back down to his back and slung an arm over his eyes.

“I don’t know what to say to you right now, bud.”

He heard MK sniffle. Then, two crossed arms pressed onto his chest. Lightly at first, but then pushed down carefully until MK’s top-half was fully settled on top of him.

Wukong inhaled harshly. The oxygen found grace in his lungs.

“What is it?” wheezed Wukong, peeking down at his successor.

“Do you ever want to run away?” asked MK.

Wukong blinked at the top of MK’s head and guessed that he was staring at the stars. He frowned, swallowed, and then looked up

“That’s a weird question,” he said.

“I mean like… go off and never come back. As far as you can go.”

“No,” said Wukong, quietly, “do you?”

MK huffed. He tucked his knees closer to his stomach, pressing Wukong with more of his weight.

After a moment, the warmth began seeping back into Wukong’s bones; gently, as if it was there all along; like the feeling was finally thawing out.

“Maybe sometimes,” said MK when Wukong’s breaths were easier. “I don’t actually mean any of it, though. Just quick thoughts. When I’m really freaked out, I mean.”

“I don’t like the thought. Running away, I mean. Don’t like it.”

MK relaxed from his place on Wukong’s chest.

“That makes sense,” he said, “you just want to make things right.”

Wukong was glad MK couldn’t see his face. His hands, feeling as if they were truly his hands again, went up to settle around MK. The ground dug against his back. The cool breeze tickled his nose. His kid, though heavy, pulled together his jittering limbs until they clicked back into one body.

“One day, we might,” said Wukong.

“Might what?”

“Make things right. But… not right now. And sometimes, I feel like we never will.”

MK didn’t reply. He was almost entirely curled into a little ball of monkey. It probably wasn’t comfortable at all. So, after one more full breath, Wukong sat up and let MK slip down to his side.

“ Ow ,” said MK, not actually hurt at all.

“ Yeah right , you baby. Mortals are so fragile .”

“Am not .”

“And because mortals are so fragile,” said Wukong, ignoring MK’s protests, “they need their sleep.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“ I’m more than a thousand years old, bud. You're always going to be a kid to me.”

Wukong curled an arm over MK, letting him weigh him down to the Earth. He settled his chin on top of MK’s head– just for now. In a few minutes, he planned to let go, and then they would wake up as normal and carry on with their way.

Unfortunately, like most of his plans, they were doomed to fail.

“It’s okay to be hurt,” said MK, minutes later, when Wukong thought he was already asleep, “I get it.”

Wukong laughed softly.

“Bud, you hold grudges like they’re toasted marshmallows.”

“Wh– what does that even mean? I can hold a grudge!”

Across from them, Tang grumbled in his sleep.

Wukong sent a warning look in MK’s direction before continuing.

“I think that’s a good thing about you, even though it can lead you to trouble. But there are a lot of things between him and I that aren’t easy to explain. If I tried to put it into words… Well, I don’t know. It’s complicated. I am hurt. He is too. We’re hurting each other. Nothing I’m thinking feels right.”

MK was giving him that worried look again. Wukong forced himself to blink back to the present.

“Do you want me to give you those molds and an oven, now?” asked Wukong.

“Not yet,” said MK, blinking slowly and settling down completely at Wukong’s side. “Maybe in the morning.”

Wukong blinked.

“Yeah,” he agreed in a whisper, “maybe in the morning.”

[tiramegtoons]

(Hi, the bullying anon is speaking. Neither English nor Italian is my native language, but I still hope you'll find the next text enjo- I mean horrible. Have a nice day, spectre smoocher :3 ) This day has been not like most of the days of this month.

Since the morning Snatcher’s been swirling around you the entire time, leading you either on a simple walk, to a place in the forest where he rolled out a black and purple blanket and presented you a fruit basket, or back to the tree-house where a sweet homemade tiramisu’s been awaiting you since Friday.

You knew it was there since Friday not because he told you, but because the entire room covered in cocoa powder and Snatcher (the culprit themself) were the first thing you noticed when you returned home after another long day. When you asked him about the mess, he said he didn’t understand what you were talking about, and you were too tired to ask him any further. Besides, kissing his cheeks was never as sweet before.

Long story short, today was so busy with activities that you needed a weekend after this weekend.

At the very least, now you could relax in the embrace of your favourite ghost. Face hidden in his chest, lazily playing with his fur, evoking quiet purrs from the depths of his soul.

“So what is the meaning of all this?” you ask him quietly and turn your head up, examining the softened features of your capturer, his gentle smile, and expression of adoration.

The paws on your shoulders don’t go anywhere, but the rubbing stops for a second. Then, Snatcher continues making biscuits out of the tired muscles of your back, like a big cat does when it feels safe and comfortable. Heh, maybe there is a relation between ghosts and felines.

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? NOTHING’S BEEN OUT OF-“

He interrupts himself, glimpses towards the forest, and snaps his fingers. There’s a yelp resounding from somewhere afar that makes him let out a mischievous chuckle. He turns back to you and to his previous emotional state of affection. He caresses your cheek with a claw while staring into your eyes with that same soft expression. You cover his claw with your hand, squeezing it oh so slightly.

“AS I WAS SAYING, NOTHING’S BEEN OUT OF ORDINARY!”

He isn’t answering you that easily, is he?

“Fine,” you say as you lean back from him and stretch a little, his paws retracting from you in surprise and barely concealed disappointment from the lack of your touch only to wrap around your waist a moment later, “then, I guess, I’m going to...”

You pause and giggle, savouring the sight of Snatcher’s confused and expecting expression.

“...spend the rest of the day studying!”

You jump on the floor.

“NOOO-“

Noodly arms, wrapping thrice around you and completely stilling you like a rope, but still not tight enough to bring you any sort of discomfort, replace the paws on your waist.

Pfft. Gotcha.

“I MEAN-“

“Yes?” You drawl while slowly turning your face to your shoulder where Snatcher’s head now rested, “is something wrong? I thought you loved studying. Even when it takes a lot of time.”

Snatcher sighs, realising the futility of his attempts to keep his intentions secret. Already having a few ideas about what the answer could be, you wonder why would he be so sneaky about it.

“NOT WHEN IT’S YOU WHO STUDIES FOR WEEKS ON END AND IT’S THE ONLY THING YOU DO.”

“Aww, is the spooky spectre worried about me?”

Snatcher doesn’t burst into denials, as you kind of expect from him. Instead, he simply looks at you, no sign of a smile. You almost expect tears to form on the edges of his dimmed eyes with how concerned he seems to be.

“Yes. I am.”

Oh.

All your desire to joke around dissolves almost instantly. It’s hard to stay in the playful mood when he looks at you like this.

“Sorry, schpookums,” you lean to his face with yours, touching his cheek, and give him a weak smile. You were tired after all, “you know how it is with studies.”

“OH, I SURELY DO!” For a second, his voice sparks with joy from a wave of memories, but he returns to his previous state, “BUT YOU’VE BEEN GOING FOR SO LONG. SONO FIERO DI TE, MIA CARA, MA... I JUST WANT YOU TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF MORE.”

Sense of pride for his attempt at speaking Italian rises in your own chest and mixes with a heavy lump of feelings in your throat. You try to swallow as discreetly as possible.

“Those hours spend on learning Italian sure do pay off, huh? Well,” you have to clear your throat and turn away from Snatcher, who’s still resting his head on your shoulder and now returning your weak smile, “one full day off certainly won’t hurt me.”

“YES, CERTAINLY! ESPECIALLY SPEND IN MY COMPANY.”

And here we go.

“Can’t believe you only get more humble with years.”

Snatcher quickly wraps around you with his tail, almost as if he’s still thinking you’re going to run to your chemistry notes as soon as he moves away from you for an inch, and frees his paws instead. He combs his invisible hair with one while resting the other on his chest and gives you perhaps one of his smuggest smiles.

“WHY, OF COURSE I DO! IT’S ONE OF MY MANY TALENTS AND WHAT MAKES ME SO PERFECT FOR YOU.”

Some thought seems to cross his mind, as he stops the dramatic posing and turns back to you, holding his paws in front of him, dinosaur-style.

“AS MUCH AS I’D LOVE TO TALK ABOUT HOW GREAT I AM, DON’T YOU WANT TO MOVE BACK TO THE CHAIR?”

“Mhm! Also, is there any tiramisu left in the fridge?”

“SURE IS!”

And so you two spend the evening cuddling in one seat and talking about everything and nothing at all at the same time until you fall asleep, your soul warmed by the presence of the purring ghost by your side and the tiramisu in your stomach. Maybe you can even hear a quiet “ti amo” and feel how Snatcher carefully takes you to your sleeping place while you’re drifting away and how light his touch is when he spoons you from behind.

However, one thing you surely aren’t aware of is a beast of an unknown species hiding in the bushes near your and Snatcher’s home, swearing under its breath and occasionally throwing annoyed looks towards the tree while tending to its singed tail.

JXHDHFJDJDJCJ

WHAT THE FRICKA FRACKIN

WHAT

*SUPERSONIC SCREAMING*

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

[infinite-riches]

TactiCAT

Summary: “LT…” Soap pulled his best puppy-dog eyes as he looked up at Ghost, the tiniest kitten he had ever laid eyes on cupped in his hands. As if perfectly timed, the kitten let out the sweetest meow either man had ever heard. “We cannae leave her here..”

“Johnny…” Ghost gave a defeated sigh, lowering his weapon as he looked at the kitten. She perfectly resembled Johnny. A tiny, fluffy, brown tabby, the fur on her head groomed into a mohawk. “Price will kill us if we take her home…”

Or: The boys find a kitten and fluff ensues

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Word Count: 1791

Warnings: cannon typical violence (no gore)

A/N: This lovely one-shot was inspired by a prompt from a member of the CoD babygirls server, much love to her!! <3

And as always feel free to leave feedback/constructive criticism <3

AO3 Link (if you prefer): TactiCAT

“Johnny? Sit-rep?” Ghost was in the next room over, downloading any data he could scrape off the security system.

“All cl-” The sound of rustling stopped Soap in his tracks. “Got movement…”

Soap slowly approached, MK14 raised and held tight to his shoulder. His eyes rapidly scanned the dark corner of the room, looking for the cause of the rustling. It wasn’t until there was the soft sound of scratching that he leaned down, lifting a folded newspaper off the ground. 

Soap could hear the featherlight sound of Ghost’s footsteps behind him as the smallest, sweetest pair of blue eyes stared up at him, a tiny squeak filling the silence. Soap slung his rifle over his shoulder, crouching down. He gently held his fingers out, the small fuzzball taking a few steps forward, sniffing his fingers before nuzzling them. With a little persuasion, the kitten climbed into his hand, claws pressing in a little to gain purchase on Soap’s calloused hand. 

“LT…” Soap pulled his best puppy-dog eyes as he looked up at Ghost, the tiniest kitten he had ever laid eyes on cupped in his hands. As if perfectly timed, the kitten let out the sweetest meow either man had ever heard. “We cannae leave her here..”

“Johnny…” Ghost gave a defeated sigh, lowering his weapon as he looked at the kitten. She perfectly resembled Johnny. A tiny, fluffy, brown tabby, the fur on her head groomed into a mohawk. “Price will kill us if we take her home…”

“Okay… and?” It was another moment of Johnny being a total smart-ass. “I’ll hide her in my vest, you can pretend you know nothin’… please, Si?”

“Only because I love you and you’re going to do night patrol with me for the next 2 weeks. Plus you’re solely responsible for her. Understood?” Ghost couldn’t help himself, the two were a perfect pair, matching mohawks and sparkling blue eyes- so much warmth and joy radiating from the pair already.

“Aye, of course! Whatever you want!” Soap placed a gentle kiss on the kitten’s head before speaking to her, “Okay Spike, we’ve gotta get out of here so I’m gonna tuck you in my mag pouch… gonna take good care of you…”

With a gentleness Ghost had only seen used with himself or Soap’s nieces and nephews, Soap tucked the small fuzzball into one of his mag pouches, Spike’s adorable head poking out to take in the view from such great heights. 

The computer from the other room chirped, signaling the drive had finished downloading the data. 

“Time to exfil, Soap. Make sure you keep Spike safe.” 

“Yes, Sir!” Soap called out, a giddy grin on his face as he followed his LT out of the room. 

On the way out of the building, Soap kept close watch on the pouch that Spike was tucked in, a sense of relief flooding his veins every time he heard a small meow or chirp from the kitten. 

They had one long corridor, dotted with doorways, between them and the hike out to exfil when a bullet whizzed past Soap’s ear, nearly nicking his helmet. 

“Get down!” Soap barked, pulling his body back behind the wall, chest heaving. “You got eyes?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” Ghost was leaning around the wall, trying to catch any glimpse of movement he could. Time ticked by achingly slow as both men listened for footsteps and Ghost watched for the slightest misstep. 

“Gonna throw flash, cover my six. We’ll push in hard and fast- can’t be many of ‘em if they aren't already pushing us…”

“Aye, on you, LT…” Soap gave a firm nod, hand dropping for only a second to gently push Spike down into the pouch, securing the velcro closure over her head. “Gonna get you out of here, lass…”

It was a flurry of light, sound, and motion down the hallway. But then, one shot, two shots, and a third. Ghost’s M4 didn’t make a dent in the Russian armor. They took cover, pinned down by a swarm of lead. 

“You’re up,” Ghost said. Soap nodded.  Soap and Spike swung around the corner, MK14 leveled. One shot, two shots, and a third. Then… silence. 

“7.62 black tip doesn’t fuck around, Si.”

“Solid?” Ghost cast his glance back at Johnny, doing a quick visual check on his partner. 

“All good, LT. You broken?” Soap is all teeth as he looks over his Ghost, hand absentmindedly petting at Spike through the gap in the pouch. 

“I’m solid, let’s get the hell out of here so we can get this drive to Price.”

It was an arduous hike but not the worst by far. The last strength of summer meant the air was warm but not suffocating, a gentle breeze pushing through the pines as they picked their way out of the valley. 

The sound of the chopper blades seemed to upset Spike, soft mewls of protest sounding from Soap’s vest.

“You’re on your own, Johnny…” Ghost warned as they pushed into the clearing, Price visible in the helo.

“Shh, shh, shh, Spike… if you’re quiet I’ll give you one of the LT’s hoodies to sleep in… you won’t believe how soft it is…” By some stroke of luck, the kitten seemed to be pleased with the trade offer, instantly settling down as they approached Price.

“It’s all yours, Captain,” Ghost called out, handing the drive over and settling in for the flight back to base.

“You boys broken?” Price tucked the drive away as Soap climbed aboard, Nik lifting the helo off the ground moments later.

“We’re all good, Sir. Just another day at the office…” Soap settled next to Ghost, trying his best to fight the sleep tugging at his eyelids.

20 minutes into the flight, as Soap leaned on Ghost deep in sleep, Soap’s mag pouch began to move. Neither Price nor Ghost noticed till the small kitten had popped its head out of the pouch, nuzzling into Soap’s chest before also falling asleep, a gentle thrum of purrs pouring from her chest.

Price gave Ghost a pointed look but the younger Brit simply shrugged and gave a look along the lines of “I have no clue, but we are talking about Johnny.”

The matching mohawk and blue eyes seemed to help Johnny and Spike out in the end, Price caving and outlining very clear rules about keeping a cat with the task force. 

She quickly became the favorite member of the task force.

Gaz found a blank patch in supply, using a quick rough stitch to emblazon ‘TactiCAT’ on the black patch with white thread. He stitched it into Spike’s favorite cushion, one they had saved from an old office chair being discarded. 

In the mornings, Spike accompanied Ghost to the gym, alternating between sitting on the stack of weight plates or screaming until Ghost turned the treadmill on to the lowest setting so she could go for a walk. Every afternoon you could reliably find the small ball of fuzz curled up in the oversized cushion placed in the 141 rec room, right in the patch of sun filtering in from the window. Sometimes, she would exchange her patch of sunlight for the warm space next to Gaz when he and Soap had a moment to spare on video games. Each night, Spike wandered to Soap’s room, curled up in one of Simon’s hoodies at the foot of the bed. Some nights, when Price worked especially late, Spike would wander to his office, welcoming herself into his lap as he worked into the early hours of the morning- they had only been caught a few times but it was enough for Soap to get a photo and place it on the fridge in the rec. 

Spike had settled into a steady routine, loved by every member of the team, and as much as she loved all of the men there was a certain pair she favored. 

It was late at night, Johnny propped up in bed, Spike lying across his legs as he sketched. The small kitten nuzzled into his shin, perking up as Simon quietly slipped into the room, tossing his mask onto Johnny’s desk. A small chirp escaped from the fuzzball, prompting a chin scratch from the Brit.

“Good evening to you too, Spike…” The sweet moment made Johnny’s heart sing as Simon leaned over to kiss his forehead. 

“Long day, lover?” Johnny asked, setting his pencil between the pages and closing the sketchbook. He knew Simon had been holed up in the conference room with Price and Laswell, some important video conference eating away at the day. 

“The worst kind…” Simon grumbled, perching on the edge of the bed to unlace his boots. His hoodie followed next, tossed to the foot of the bed for Spike. He swept the other hoodie, now thoroughly covered in cat hair, off the bed, and into the laundry bin. Shirt and jeans quickly followed the old hoodie before Simon all but collapsed onto the unoccupied portion of the bed. Head in his arms, he looked up at Johnny, chuckling as he felt the familiar feeling of Spike’s paws on his back- kneading the tense muscle. 

Simon looks completely blissed out as Johnny tangled his fingers in the soft blonde locks, fingers massaging the Brit’s scalp. “You gonna fall asleep like this? Ya big softie…” 

“Couldn’t possibly… you haven’t even kissed me good night… incredibly cruel, don’t you agree Spike?” A determined meow rang out from the kitten, leaving Johnny slightly stunned as he laughed. 

“Alright, alright… let's get ready for bed, and then I’ll kiss ya all ya want…” Spike only softly protested as she was removed from the warm perch that was Simon’s back, settling as she snuggled up in the still-warm hoodie.

Eventually, the boys were back in bed, only the soft glow of the lamp illuminating the space. Just as Johnny leaned over to kiss Simon, Spike appeared, wedging herself between the chests of the two men. 

“Lass… you’ll get your turn…” Johnny scolded, leaning over again to kiss Simon, soft and full of love– something Simon had been craving all day. Once Johnny and Simon were well supplied with good night kisses, Simon opened his arms, Johnny and Spike both moving at once. 

Spike was faster, happily nuzzling into Simon’s chest. “Sorry love, she beat ya’ to it…” Simon scooped the small fuzzball up, turning over so his back was to Johnny’s chest, Spike still snuggled against him. 

“Aye, she did… it's alright though, like gettin’ to hold you like this, love…” Johnny shifted close to Simon, an arm thrown across his stomach. “Sleep well my little loves. Love you, Si.”

“Love you, Johnny…” Simon whispered, leaning over to turn the light off. 

[a-strange-inkling]

A late WIP Wednesday

A little more of that Hellcheer/OneCheer Thriller:

The cat is rigid, hissing at him as she bats at his pathetic, grabby hand that’s turning red and purple from the strain.

She’s scared out of her little mind.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m not going to hurt—AH FUCKIN’ HELL!” He yelps when one of her claws snags the thin layer of skin between his thumb and pointer finger, curling into him enough to draw blood.

“I’m just trying to save you! Let me save you!” he whines miserably, pressing his shoulder against the window pane harder and shifting his body weight so that he can stretch out further. Almost there… She flattens against the panels, snarling in warning, but thankfully she doesn’t edge further away. With a quick swing, he’s able to grab hold of the fur from her scruff, and tug her back into the window.

She growls, whipping and swinging angrily as Eddie stumbles back to keep his footing and his hold on the frightened and angry little ball of fur. Last thing he needs is the neighbors’ cat running wild in the house. “Hey, hey, easy, it’s okay now damn it!”

He winces in pain when she scratches his palm just before climbing up his arm and curling up into his elbow, doing that scaredy cat thing they do where they just ball up tight. He can feel her frantic little heart beating. “Hey, it’s okay now, I’m sorry I had to get a little rough with you.” He smoothes over her white coat that’s standing on edge with his palm, petting her carefully until she starts to slowly calm down. After about ten minutes of schmoozing her on his bed, she starts to unfurl and even begins purring when he scratches under her chin, rubbing up against him. She’s pretty cute actually. “Yeah, you’re alright… c’mon I think your poor mama’s been worried sick about you.”

…

Jeff is going to kill him for this. They all are. But what is he supposed to do?

Not return the cat.

He cradles the nervous little thing as she rides along his forearm, carefully walking up to the front gate, making sure her husband’s car is gone before giving it a push with his hip. It’s locked, which doesn’t really surprise him, but he can see the little recluse in the window behind the gossamer curtain, staring at him.

He waves awkwardly, holding up the cat for her to see. Her eyes widen and she can’t seem to stop herself this time, running to the door and unlocking the heavy deadbolt.

Eddie’s heart rate picks up when she sprints (sprints) down the walkway toward him, tears shining in her eyes. He feels a sudden rush of heat climbing up his neck. “Hey, sorry… but uh I’m pretty sure this little lady belongs to you.”

He smiles as he carefully hands the cat off to her, their fingers touching during the exchange. So she is real, not a ghost or a figment of his imagination. Her fingers are soft and warm.

“W-where did you find her?” she asks in astonishment, hugging the purring creature to her heart, tears of joy and relief running down her face. He remembers how frantic she had been in the yard yesterday, searching and calling for her.

“She was stuck on the back of my roof, I heard her crying and was able to get her down.”

She looks up at him, noticing the long scratches stretching up his arm and hand.

“She had some opinions about it.” He adds, his smile becoming a slow, playful grin.

He sees a little smile hiding in the corner of her lip as the cat nuzzles up against her cheek, so happy to back with her mama. Christina closes her eyes with a pitiful little sniff. “I was so worried something happened to her… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Oh, well…” He rubs the back of his very hot neck. “I’m just glad she’s okay… she seems to mean a lot to you.”

Chrissy nods sorrowfully, wiping away at her tears. “She’s… she’s my only friend sometimes.” she confesses quietly.

Oh his black, callous heart, it’s being ripped apart by the seams. He raises a careful hand, brushing the cat’s ear. “What’s her name?”

She’s quiet a moment before she answers. “Amalthea.”

He blinks, smiling bemusedly. “Wow. That’s uh—that’s quite a mouthful.”

Sounds like a Tolkien name or something.

She ducks bashfully, and that smile escapes her this time. “…It’s from a book I used to read when I was little.”

[team7-headquarter]

The thing about my Dogs Come In Packs au is the huuuuungeeeeer! the fucking huuuuungeeeer !!!!

It is not physically in their bellies but they can feel it clawing their insides late at night and in the early morning. It's tearing their brain apart and it's barking on their ears when they are walking from a safe distance or in the middle of a crowd and it's thick wet fur cold winter embrace over their skins.

⠀

Sasuke is freaking terrified of closing his eyes due the feeling a genjutsu waits for him and he is also terrified of opening his eyes because what if the massacre is there for him to witness. The poor kid hates sunsets —all he sees is the blood of the sky his brother brought upon him. He lies on the floor very still thinking it almost feels like he could be dead (and he wants to be dead, he wants to have been killed by Itachi with the rest of the clan) but that's ridiculous because dead people shouldn't feel that hunger. For something, for someone. For the ground to shake and open up and swallow him and spit him in front of Itachi where he could put a blade to his neck and slide and it'd be over, his hunger hopefully satisfied so he can breath and walk and feel the sun properly over his skin again.

It's the same hunger that bites into Naruto's flesh every waking hour; it bites on both his legs, on his hands, on his head. It chews his hair in messes of desperation. It's a giant mouth that has swallow him whole and all he sees is people out there but no one near. He is inside of the beast, he's another stupid victim of the beast—no, he is the beast. He doesn't know how to put it into words, he couldn't even if he was asked to, but that's how it feels for him. Sitting all alone on his old swing at the park, he's watching the other kids playing and laughing with their families. They bite and bite and bite and bite and bite pieces of the world that he will never get to taste and the hunger never spots and he's restless. Maybe if he yells loud enough and let's it out enough and jumps high enough and runs fast enough and achieve just enough, maybe it'd stop harassing him and he'd be able to see something aside the black big cavern of a belly.

And Sakura is so good at making it seem like she's totally fine, stomach full, well fed, but her hunger has been there long enough to take form inside of her, the form of a black angry being that looks like her and has her voice and moves like her but she is not her. She's not the soft, pretty, pinky pastel love girl Sakura was raised to be. She's not the all ladylike little girl who moves oh so so so carefully, never letting her temper lash out. Thst hunger of her, it is pink like a tongue, like the muscles inside a throat, like the flesh under the nails or the scars of a pale body. It's dirty, unkind, it is selfish and it brags and wishes bad things to others and Sakura doesn't fucking know what any of that means or why it's there or how it came to exist. She knows how to hide it under big sugary smiles and overly loud affection that covers her envy and desire for recognition. It doesn't make it disappear, tho.

⠀

That's why Kakashi takes one look at them and sniffs, his nose filling with the smell of hunger.

He notices how Sasuke's mouth presses on wired smiles, like talking little would keep the ghosts of his past swallowed down his throat or the sharp edges of his teeth hidden behind his lips. He looks at Naruto's idle laughs, almost scratching from his soul the memories plaguing him like flees, shaking with energy bursts the unpleasant stares of the people of Konoha. It's Sakura's perfectly brushed appearance that he has to take a second look at to understand —it almost hides the skinny frame of her self-esteem (almost), but that blandness of her evaporates every time she gives into the barks she seems to be so ashamed of.

Maybe he's not father figure material —anyone in Konoha can tell you why he's too broken for that, but no one else in fucking village knows nearly as much as him of how it feels to be so hungry you'd go anywhere if it means you can get rid of it.

He's not about to let those kids live the way he has for more than twenty miserable years.

[stesierra]

Find the Word tag!

@serenanymph tagged me with the words pattern, develop, protest and express! I'm drawing from School of Souls.

Trigger warning: dead guy and monsters

Pattern

When the trees opened up, revealing a long stretch of lakeshore, I staggered a few more yards and threw myself down on a big flat rock. I sat there, feeling like death. The coffee I’d gulped down at breakfast barely kept my eyes open. I felt both jittery and exhausted, an awful combination, and my head throbbed.

Declan stood over me, hands on his hips. “Don’t you want to see the lake, Juniper?”

“Go look at it yourself,” I said dully. “I live on this rock now.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll be right back.”

I watched him diminish down the shore and closed my eyes. I couldn’t sleep, but the darkness behind my eyelids helped my headache a little.

Some instinct warned me a few minutes later. I opened my eyes. Standing just beyond the treeline, a monster stared at me from yellow eyes.

It had been a puma once. Its head was still a big cat’s head, its legs upright and strong, its enormous paws still tipped with claws. But diamond-patterned snake skin had replaced tawny fur, and some heal-transformer had molded its body and tail into a Komodo dragon’s.

Its ears were back, and it made no move to leave. I sat frozen, as if I could fend off an attack just by pretending to be a statue.

“You’re excellent bait,” Declan said from down by the shore. “How should I kill it? Should I burn it alive?”

“Leave it alone,” I said. “Please.” The words surprised me, but they felt right. Yes, this was a monster, but it had been an innocent animal before the students of the Seramia Boarding School got at it. It didn’t deserve to die for that. And it hadn’t attacked me.

Declan snorted. “You realize one of the major ways we practice being sorcerers is dealing with monsters.”

“Or making new ones,” I said bitterly.

He crossed his arms. “Well, I don’t. I’m an entroper.”

The snake-lion apparently decided we were off the menu. It walked away into the trees, off to hunt for easier prey. Declan watched it go with a crestfallen expression.

“Thank you,” I said as the monster vanished.

“You’re too soft,” he said. “Are all vegetarians crazy enough to spare a man-eater?”

I crossed my arms. “You don’t know that it ate anyone.”

He grew a funny little smile. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

Slowly, I heaved myself off my rock and followed him down onto the shore. We hadn’t gone far when the first body appeared, sprawled on its back, feet in the water. A man with gray in his hair and a fishing pole lying snapped nearby. The monster had ripped open his plaid shirt and loose jeans and eaten out his intestines and stomach and liver and kidneys. His body cavity was dark and red, blood pooled at the back. More splattered the shore, turning the sand to mud. Flies already buzzed around the corpse, settling on his torn tissue.

Develop

Kye said, “I think one of us should take zolpidem every day. Just enough to see the ghosts and know if they’re doing anything weird.”

My throat cramped up. “I don’t want you guys to get addicted. It’s really awful.”

“Will we get addicted if we just take a tiny amount?” Valentina asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“We’ll take turns,” Kye said. “So nobody takes it every day. I bet you can’t get addicted if it’s just occasional.”

Valentina nodded. “Whose turn will it be tomorrow?”

“Mine,” I said hollowly. “You’ve both already done it this week. But I’m scared. I just got off it, and backsliding is a risk. I don’t want to start withdrawal all over again.”

“Then you don’t get a turn,” she said. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“I’m not letting you two take all the risk. It’s my turn tomorrow. But I’ll just take a fourth, like you.” Even I was doubtful. I’d developed a tolerance to zolpidem over the last year. Would a quarter of a pill even be enough to let me see the ghosts? Tomorrow I would find out.

Protest- I couldn't find this one, but I found "object."

“Well, she won't bother us again.”

“Why?”

He grinned unpleasantly. “I snuck up on her and burned her tongue out. Even if she finds a heal-transformer willing to grow her a new one, I think she's learned her lesson. And until then, she can't say a single spell to screw anybody's mind.”

I stared at him. “That's gruesome.”

“She tried to kill you twice. Should we have let her do it a third time?”

“I didn't say I objected. It's just gruesome.” I hugged my knees to my chest.

Express

Ember swirled her hands and said, “Yo contacto Beatrix Seramia.” And a picture swelled in the air in front of her. At first, just a woman’s narrow face appeared, pale with blood-red lipstick and heavy brows. Then the image expanded, following the woman’s thin black hair where it fell over her bony shoulders. By the time the image stabilized, I could see her whole body, clad in a purple pantsuit and Birkenstocks with socks.

She pursed thin lips and said, “Well, well. Is this the new class, Ember? They look a bit rubbish, don’t they?” To us, she said, “I’m Beatrix Seramia. This is my school, and you are my new students.”

“Rubbish?” Astrid said, her voice like ice. “What are you, British? And at least we don’t wear socks and sandals.”

Beatrix’s gray eyes swept over us. “You will meet here every morning, so that I can observe your progress. And after that, you will split up and attend the rest of your classes.”

My hallucination tightened its hands on my shoulders. And then it lunged forward and sat in my chair, at my desk. Its transparent body overlapped mine. My skin plunged into ice water, and my hands and feet tingled and fell asleep. I yelped and jumped up from my chair.

All the other freshmen stared at me. The hallucinations that had stood behind them all sat in their chairs, overlapping the real kids like two photo negatives laid on top of each other. My hallucination stayed sitting, but it stared at me with the most perturbed expression.

Beatrix said, “Oh, bother. What’s wrong with that one? Sit down, girl. I’m not done with the announcements.”

I sat. Right there on the floor. I wasn’t sharing a seat with a hallucination that felt like a blizzard in human form.

“You’re an odd fish, I see,” the woman said sourly. “Fine. Get your bum covered with dirt. Now listen up, you lot. There are rules around here...”

Tag list for everything

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@aziz-reads

@owlsandwich

@symbioticsimplicity

@squarebracket-trick

@fishythewriter

@koala2all

@rmgrey-author

@atomatowriter

Just chapters and snippets

@da-na-hae

[nimata-beroya]

Thank you @annwayne and also my bestie @photogirl894 for tagging me!! Since today is fic back Friday, let's do this too!

Gai Bal Manda (Mandalorian OC)

Lost for words, Volas stares at the surrounding destruction and lets out a curse. The last thing he imagined when he had to land on this backwater planet to make emergency repairs to his ship was that soon after the place was going to be destroyed by a groundquake. Little of the small village he is in remains intact. The most affected area is the residential part near the river, where most people live.

The Tables Have Turned (Kalluzeb)

Captain Rhamis walks through the discreet entrance to Seduza, his favorite brothel in Galssop, a nearby town to the garrison in Cophrigin, where he’s stationed; far enough to keep his activities under the radar, but close enough to come and go as often as he can. He’s taking tonight off to indulge in his vices. Little does he know that his evening will end in nothing as he expects.

The Enemy Within (Kalluzeb)

“Easy, Big Guy. Wait till the Ghost is down.”

Zeb is glad that embarrassment is less obvious in Lasats than it is in humans. He doesn’t flush with mortification as light-skinned humans do—and even if he did, his fur would hide the change of color well. He also does his best to control how his ears move, which are the only part of him that can betray how Rex’s amused warning gets to him. For much that he wants to play it cool, it’s hard to miss that Zeb has failed in epic proportions. His eagerness to return to Yavin IV is easy for anyone to see.

Ramaanla (The Mandalorian)

As soon as the body slumps on the ground, Din turns the Darksaber off, and the gathered crowd burst into cheers. He sees the excitement in his people for his new victory, but barely can hear them. The drumming of his heartbeat in his ears drowns the noise.

High Above the Ground (Foxiyo)

Fox wakes up to the soft chirping of birds outside, sunbeams of the breaking dawn bursting in through the crack between the curtains, and a warm body clinging to his torso in bed. Despite having woken up in a similar fashion a thousand times before, he can’t stop marveling at the delightful sensation that is Riyo cuddling next to him. It makes him feel like he’s high above the ground, and he never wants to come down. A fond smile spreads on his lips, even before opening his eyes to look at his beautiful wife. Will he ever be tired of loving her? Only when it snows on Tatooine, he figures.

Something in the Dark (Foxiyo)

The lights in her office flicker once, twice, and then go out, leaving Riyo in darkness. Every second that passes, it gets darker. She can see out of her office window like lights are extinguishing and darkness rolls over the entire city like a tide. Her first thought is that Coruscant is being attacked. Again.

Running Out of Air (Kalluzeb)

Kallus has the instinct to claw at his own throat to fight against the invisible force constricting his windpipe, but with his hands cuffed behind his back, there’s nothing he can do. Panic clings to the marrow of his bones as Darth Vader approaches him, and lifts him until only the tip of his boots is grazing the ground. Kallus struggles to gain purchase and reduce the strain on his throat, to no avail. He gasps and wheezes hard, almost rivaling the sound of Vader’s mechanical respirator. He wills for precious oxygen to fill his burning lungs, without success.

How to Save a Life (Foxiyo)

The unnerving sensation of walking as if his body is a marionette controlled by a puppeteer is stronger than it has ever been. His steps are taking him in the opposite direction of where he wants to go. Fox should turn around and chase after Riyo; his heart is asking him to. The memory of tears streaming down her face and her eyes dulled by sorrow makes his chest hurt, knowing that they're his fault.

Deconstructed Reality (Kalluzeb)

17 BBY Coruscant

With wary expectations and his hands clasped behind his back, Colonel Wulff Yularen observes through the one-way transparisteel as an 8-trooper squad brings the prisoner into the lab. As a general rule, he’d think using that number of escorts is excessive, but this isn’t the average insurgent that he usually deals with. Three platoons under the orders of Yularen’s best student were needed to bring the man down.

Welcome to Yavin IV (Kalluzeb)

By when the Ghost touches down on the new rebel base, Kallus holds himself upright by the sheer power of his will alone. He’s running on fumes but wants to keep the extent of his injuries from everyone. Alexsandr is sure that the rebel crew—Garazeb, in particular—would pity him and waste the ship’s meager medical supplies on his wounds. He won’t allow that. He can’t.

And honorable mention, something that it's not a proper fic but it's related to my works...

Nimata Beroya's OCs Profiles

Tagging without pressure @renee561 @seleneisrising @takadasaiko @genericficerblog @airlockfailure @ahsoka-its-all-of-us @rachaelkelleher @probablynot-john @mistr3ssquickly @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @apocalyp-tech-a @kanerallels

Creator Self-Promotion

Rules: post the first lines of your last 10 fics you posted. If you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

"But K, I don't write but I still create can I still play?"

Post your last 10 pieces and give us a play by play. What was the inspiration? Any fun facts you can share with us?

Anyway let's get on with it

1. Fishing for Compliments - Merman!Crosshair x F!Reader

A sigh passed the young woman’s lips as the sun began to disappear beneath the waves. The waves rocked her quaint vessel as if it were a mother soothing her child. Her meal as well as a plate of identical food remained untouched as she kept her gaze to the depths. Every ripple of its surface a reminder of the mounting minutes that her company kept her waiting.

2. Drop Me a Line - Wrecker x F!Reader

The young woman stifled a yawn as she continued to work the mass of dough to her standards to be plopped into pans to bake. She continued working the dough sparing glances to the chrono on the wall as the sky outside began to lighten with the sunrise. Her pulse spiked when the chrono was checked again. She abandoned the lump of dough as she snatched up a pastry box. The bell chiming as the door opened and closed.

3. Budding Romance - Rex x F!Reader

“And you’re sure you’ll have them there.”

“A bit of faith would be nice, Anakin.”

4. Skin in the Game - Wrecker x OC (Rina) (18+ Please view responsibly)

Wrecker was on the hunt. Thankfully the Marauder held only a few spaces to hide away as he searched the ship. His target tucked away by the sensors. Vibroblade twirling between his fingers while his idle gaze stared at the screen. The demolitions expert took a breath, hoping to find answers.

5. Hair Support - Tup x Reader

The days of the Clone Wars tended to drag on in between assignments. Thankfully, the Republic saw it fit to dispatch your research team with a clone legion escort to ensure the lush jungle planet would not eat you and your colleagues alive. It was in the sweltering heat of the afternoon that one of your study binges was interrupted. You shook your head knowing who dared tread into your tent.

6. Interrogations - Echo x F!Reader (18+ Please view responsibly)

The former arc trooper sighed. Another fruitless attempt at slipping free of his bonds. The chair he was bound to chilled any amount of exposed skin. The room kept dark to prevent him from gathering his bearings. He bided his time, waiting for the tell-tale clicking of his keeper. It was a whisper at first but grew louder as the automatic doors parted.

7. Personal Tastes - Hunter x F!Reader

Strands of meat sizzled and spat as she flipped the tangled mass. Her work distracting from the pair of eyes watching you from the doorway. Her culinary tasks from the staccato chops of a knife to peppers to the accented clink of a mortar and pestle offered a calming tune.

8. Just This Once, Everyone Lives - Rex x Reader

Your bottom lip remained captured between your teeth as the speeder came to a stop. The building looming over the city streets twinkled in the night. A beacon for personnel to gather while dressed to the nines. A hand curled around yours, smoothing over your knuckles.

9. Keep Away - UniversityAU Wrecker x Reader

You filed out with your fellow undergrads as your last class for the afternoon let out. the professor's voice offering mention of the end of the first sprint. You traversed amongst the student body's current before veering off to a corridor. The current loosening its grasp the closer you ventured toward the sanctuary of paper and ink.

10. Nothing Fight - Crosshair x F!Reader

It could be easy to say Clone Force 99 had a culture separate from the sea of clones. Clone medics would be reassigned in the blink of an eye and nat born medics often assigned whoever pissed off the higher ups. This led to your current long term assignment. Having a medic on board being the main reason one of your patients was released to his squad early pending observations.

NPT - @photogirl894 @rain-on-kamino @tecker @techs-stitches @littlemissmanga @annwayne @fakegingerrights @merkitty49 @moodymisty @starrylothcat

Wanna promote your work here too? Do it!

[bucketsofmonsters]

read your stories and im so in love with how you wrote acacius, i hope you continue making stuff with him! he's just... 🥹💖🫶 maybe little stories of them like the in-betweens and the afters!

The phrase the in-betweens and the afters is so cute, I cannot get over it. I wanted to write you a little something and it got a little out of hand, sorry it took so long to get out. Anyways, hope you enjoy, thank you so much for the ask <3

Word count: ~2k

“Well, when do you usually show up?” you asked, not willing to let this go until you got a proper answer.

“I don’t know, when I’m sure they’re gone.”

“It took you forever to show up for me, I was freezing and I couldn’t feel my legs, I don’t want to put them through that.” A shudder ran through you at the thought of that first night, when you’d been left out to die. You wouldn’t change it for the world, it had led to the best thing that had ever happened to you, but that night would never be a pleasant memory. You could still feel it all so viscerally, that fear, the biting cold, the restraints, everything. 

“I didn’t know you’d be there because you freed the last sacrifice, remember? I thought your silly little village was done with their obsessive sacrifices, how was I supposed to know that was your doing? We will show up on time for this one, I promise.” It took him a moment to notice the state you were in. 

“Hey.” His voice was softer this time and you looked up to make sure he was alright. You found him looking down with the same concern. You’d gotten much better at reading him since that night, gotten more familiar with how emotions worked on his monstrous features. “You know you don’t have to come, right?”

“What?”

“I mean, if you think it might be overwhelming. I’ve done this before, I can do it again.”

You shook your head, adamant in your decision. “No, I want to come. I just don’t like thinking about it.”

His sharp claws ghosted past your cheek as he cradled your face in his hands, studying your features and making sure you really would be alright like you promised. 

You heard the soft fall of raindrops coming from outside and a smile plastered itself your face. You’d always loved the rain, even if it was a bit more inconvenient when you were living out here instead of inside manmade structures. 

Acacius’s ears perked up at the noise. “You shouldn’t go out.” 

Your brow furrowed as you looked up at him. “Why not? I’ll be fine, I've been in the rain before you know.”

“You don’t have any fur and it’s the middle of the night, it’s too cold

You couldn't help but laugh. “You are so dramatic, I’ll be just fine.”

He had already begun gathering up furs, barely listening to you as he did. You gave up your attempt at reasoning with him for the moment, knowing he was already too wrapped up in his little task to hear you. 

Unceremoniously, when he’d decided he had enough, he dropped them on you and you almost collapsed under the weight of them. “Okay, so I’m not taking all of these because I can barely carry them. I will take one,” you reasoned with him. 

“You’re not even strong enough to carry a few furs and you expect me to think you’ll be just fine?” It would be sweet if it weren’t so annoying, how careful with you he was. 

You rolled your eyes. “I don't need to be able to lift heavy objects to be able to walk in the rain. Besides, if I get too cold, you run hot, I’ll be fine.”

That seemed to get through to him. You knew that if you showed any signs of being too cold you’d be swept up in his warm arms and carried home as quickly as possible. The idea was kind of appealing, you half considered letting him. 

“Despite what you seem to think, I am not a walking blanket,” he said, his feigned annoyance not even slightly convincing. 

You rolled your eyes, leaning into his warm side and immediately pulling a low pur from him. “You don’t seem to mind.” 

He shook his head, which wasn’t quite as convincing when he was still purring at you. “You’re impossible. If you insist on going we need to leave, with this rain they’ll be freezing.”

Your eyes widened as you realized you’d gotten totally distracted from your little mission. “Right! Yeah, we have to leave, come on.” 

You scurried out the mouth of the cave into the rain and Acacius followed after you, not taking long to catch up despite your head start. 

He always tried to move slower for you. You were so much smaller than him and you weren’t built to move as quickly. You would never cease to be impressed at how easily and quickly he weaved through the trees, stopping every few moments to ensure you were trailing dutifully behind him.

He always tried to carry you, and occasionally you’d let him. You bickered over it, mostly to maintain your pride, but eventually you’d give in and let him sweep you off your feet. 

Not this time, however. This time he seemed content to let you trail behind him, at least for the time being as you approached your destination. 

Just as you knew there would be, there was a girl bound to a familiar stone in a familiar circle of trees that you’d honestly rather forget. Her tears were mixing with the rain as she occasionally tugged at the bindings around her ankles and wrists. 

You heard a terrified cry escape the little sacrifice the second Acacius stepped into her view, immediately nearing her. 

He started to undo her bindings. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.”

His low voice and reassurances didn’t stop her thrashing and sobbing. 

It felt so silly, seeing someone be so afraid of him. You couldn’t fathom it, him being scary, your Acacius. At the same time, you understood exactly what she was feeling. It felt like you’d lived in this forest with Acacius for a lifetime and yet it was so easy to pull yourself back a year and remember exactly how it had felt to be in her place. 

You could tell the second she spotted you standing behind him because the look of fear on her face dropped as her eyes went wide. “You’re dead,” she informed you, her face a ghostly white. 

You weren’t entirely sure how to respond to that accusation. The best you could manage was, “Not really.”

Acacius finished breaking her bonds and helped her to her feet. “And you won’t be either. The next town over is…”

She sniffled, blinking the rain out of her eyes. “I just want to go home, please let me go home.”

That gave him pause. “Are you sure? They left you here to die.”

Despite the monstrous figure standing next to her, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of you. “Why aren’t you dead?”

“Mostly because of him if I'm being honest,” you said, nodding in Acacius's direction. “Turns out I don’t have the best survival instincts.”

She was just staring at you wide eyed as she hesitantly stood, shivering in the rain. 

“Here,” you said, pulling the fur from around your shoulders and wrapping it around hers. “This’ll keep you warm, can you find your way back?”

The girl nodded eagerly, already glancing back towards the village. She spared one last nervous look towards Acacius while backing away. “Thank you for not killing me.”

“Anytime.”

And with that she took off running and it was just the two of you once more. 

“You know she’ll tell them you’re alive, don’t you?” he warned you.

You shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter anyways, what’re they going to do?”

“Nothing. At least not while I’m around. They’re not even going to be able to find you. Unless you want them to, I suppose.”

“God help them if they do, I’ve got a big bad monster on my side.”

His hand fell to your waist and a low rumble of agreement left his throat. You were mostly joking but you knew that if push came to shove, you were more than safe from anyone who might come poking around. 

Your head was cocked to the side as you leaned into his touch, staring at the gap in the trees the girl had run through back to your old home. “She wasn’t what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“I’m not sure. Not that.”

“She was more pleasant than you were when we first met,” he teased. 

You reeled back. “Excuse you, I was delightful.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, playfully sizing you up. “You grew on me.”

It was hard to look offended while you were giggling but you did your best. 

Before you got the chance to shoot something back, the endless patter of rain ceased and you looked up at the sky. Most of the stars were still hidden behind clouds that you could barely make out in the dark. You were still sopping wet but the end of the rain left you with new opportunities. 

“We can check some of my traps on the way back!” you stated triumphantly now that the two of you were no longer rushing to escape the water. 

He shook a little, getting the water out of his fur and drenching you again. “Watch it, wolf-man!” you said with a laugh, trying to ring some of the water out of your own hair and your clothes. 

“Sorry, I had to. We don’t want your walking blanket to be all wet, do we?”

You rolled your eyes, refusing to dignify that with a response. “Come on, trap time!”

He followed you with a huff. “Anything but the traps. I don’t understand your insistence on keeping those things, you don’t need them. I can get you food.” You knew full well exactly why he didn’t like your traps. He wanted to provide for you, give you everything you needed.

You shrugged. “I don’t know, I like doing it, feels familiar and besides, I like feeling useful”

He waved away your concern. “You’re plenty useful without those things. Besides, traps are unnoble anyways, your little human trickery”

“Well, we don't all have wolf instincts and massive claws and fangs. Some of us have to get crafty”

“You have me, you don't need wolf instincts.”

Aside from his huffing, he followed after you without much protest. The first trap you checked hadn’t been tripped, still at the ready. In all fairness, it had barely been a day since you’d set it, you hadn’t been too hopeful it would be full. 

You’d made certain that they were humane, that they’d be relatively painless for any of the prey that stepped inside. 

Despite your bickering over the traps, you truly didn’t want to upset him, not in a way that really mattered. You’d checked in before, that the traps didn’t truly upset him, but you couldn’t help but do it again. “Are you sure this is okay? I don’t want to mess with your forest.”

He nodded. “You’re part of this forest now, part of the give and take. You can hunt in your little traps and take from the forest and someday, the forest will take you.”

You could see the way his face fell as he discussed it. You both knew human lifespans were much shorter than his was but he tried to forget that one day he’d be without you. That was the way things were, the give and take of the forest. He’d never resented it before until he met you.  For now, he just tried to forget it, to enjoy you while he had you. 

You gave his arm a reassuring squeeze as he looked down on you, 

“I like being part of your forest, it feels like I belong here.”

“I think you do. Come on, let’s go home,” he prompted gently and you wanted to agree but your enthusiasm got the best of you.

“One more trap first?” You were far too excited about them, you knew that, but you wanted to catch something, to have some prey to show for yourself. 

The second he laid eyes on your hopeful smile you knew you wouldn’t be going home quite yet. “I let you get away with too much.”

“It’s cause you love me.”

He trailed behind you, letting you lead the way to your carefully selected hunting areas. 

You couldn’t help but yawn as you marched onwards. It was just now catching up with you how late it was. 

You didn’t have the chance to say another word. Acacius didn’t give you the opportunity to protest and insist you could walk on your own like you normally did before he finally convinced you to let him carry you. You were scooped up into his warm embrace and you instantly knew that you’d be checking no more traps tonight. 

He seemed to read your mind as he immediately reassured you, “They’ll be there in the morning, little one.”

The lack of argument was unusual for you, your drowsiness stealing some of your fight. What did line up with your usual behavior was that as soon as you were in his arms, you snuggled right into his fur. You couldn't help it, he felt so warm and safe. 

“Wake me up when we get back” you muttered into his fur, already succumbing to sleep. 

He grumbled out something in the affirmative that you could tell he didn’t really mean and pulled you closer as he trudged along through the trees, shortening his gait so as not to wake you.

[delimeful]

Snapshot: Cleanse

snapshots: a new compilation of mini-fics taking place in the WIBAR universe! this one takes place a few days after Making Adjustments!

warnings: none! Whoops, All Fluff!

-

It was a few days after the Breakfast Ceasefire that Virgil decided enough was enough.

He needed a shower. Badly.

It didn’t matter that he was on an alien ship full of alien stuff, or that showering meant temporarily ditching the comfort of his hoodie, or even that two out of three aliens would probably happily see him dead at any opportunity.

He had picked up what felt like an entire football field’s worth of dirt, mud, and other muck while him and Patton were planet-hopping, and impromptu washcloth (read: a patch torn from the back of his shirt) cleaning sessions had only done so much. They only came across clean water every so often, anyhow. Most of it couldn’t be wasted on washing.

Patton had picked up on his discomfort back then— that or the smell— but the Ampen’s idea of ‘cleaning up’ was very similar to that of chinchillas’ back home on Earth: dust baths. That’s right. More dirt.

(Yes, he’d rolled around in the dirt with his friend. Contrary to popular interstellar belief, he wasn’t a monster.)

Still, it was time to come clean. Literally and metaphorically.

Patton had spent last night cuddled up to him, which meant that he had actually gotten a full eight hours of sleep (good!) and that Roman was probably sulking around (ungood!). The sense of clarity that came with not being quite so horrendously sleep deprived only made him more aware of how dirty he was. It felt like heresy to even touch any of the numerous well-sanitized surfaces in the ship.

“Patton,” he called, once the Ampen had started doing those little antennae twitches that meant he was half-awake. “Can you show me the wash room?”

The response was a little delayed, but eventually Patton startled into full wakefulness with a little chirp-peep that reminded him of a computer startup noise.

From there, he was led down the circular halls to a square room that sort of resembled a locker room shower area, complete with drainage grates in the floor. There was a ledge along one side of the room that led up to a windowbox-like protrusion, and Virgil could see from here that it was full of soft, beige dirt.

Patton paused, visibly turning his head from Virgil to the washbox, as though measuring things out in his mind.

“That’s probably too small for you, huh?”

Virgil stopped him before he could start making plans for a human-sized sandbox. “Uh, actually, Pat, I need water to wash.”

“Oh!” Patton exclaimed, more surprised than disconcerted. “Well, water we doing over here then?”

Virgil couldn’t hide a smile, and Patton crinkle-smiled back at him before waving him over to the opposite end of the room. He pointed up, where there were little circular discs with a grid of tiny holes set into the wall. “Here you go! Roman uses these to help with his slough, or when he gets particularly rough and tumble down on planetside!”

… Great. Odds were borrowing his shower was probably going to make Roman even more homicidal towards him. Virgil decided to worry about that later. For now, he was faced with the biggest challenge of them all: figuring out how a friend’s shower knobs worked.

Surprisingly, it seemed like the panel set into the wall below each disc worked similarly to the other touchscreens he’d seen set into the control room of the ship. Unsurprisingly, they were all labeled with the written form of Common, which meant he had about zero chance of figuring it out on his own.

Patton noticed his blank stare and patted at his knee, and Virgil squatted down easily so the undersized alien could clamber onto his shoulder. He rose up, and Patton’s little claws scrambled for purchase for a moment before he caught his balance, Virgil tense with preparation to twist and catch him if he fell.

“This little icon has the symbol for on, and this is how you get it hot or cold,” he chirped, leaning forwards to point at the screen for emphasis. Virgil obligingly shifted closer, trying to commit the guidance to memory. “You’re a little squisher than Roman, so you should probably change the pressure, too.”

Once he’d shuffled around so he was sure neither of them were about to get slammed by a jet of water, he tapped the power button.

A three-note chime played as a sort of countdown, and water shot out of the disc, at what was probably the appropriate pressure to powerwash muck from under tightly-packed scales. Virgil pushed the slider down until he could put his hand under without feeling any sting from the water’s impact. Then, he cranked the temperature up until it was just short of scalding.

Patton eyed the steam curling up into the air with a concerned fluff to his feathers, but didn’t protest after seeing the small, delighted grin that Virgil made as he held his hand under.

No, this wasn’t dunking his head in cold streams, or dipping his arm in a lukewarm puddle, or the humiliating icy hose downs in captivity. This was warm water. He’d never take it for granted again.

He shrugged out of his hoodie as he walked over to the entrance. “Does this… lock?”

“Any door on the ship can be sealed,” Patton replied, and bonked his head to Virgil’s sympathetically at the shudder that information sent through him. “Nobody’s going to lock anything without your permission, though, okay?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, knowing he sounded less than convinced. “Can you guard the door, still? Just in case,” he added in English, one of the phrases he’d used a lot while they were on the run.

Patton gave him a sad look, more than aware how unsafe he still felt, but nodded firmly and dropped carefully down to the floor, taking up position just outside the door like a tiny sentry. Virgil draped his hoodie over him, and then-- checking that the others weren’t nearby to witness and freak out about it-- he gave him the world’s smallest noogie, ruffling the feathers atop his head with a knuckle.

Having preemptively twitched his antennae out of the way, Patton made one of those bird-like laughs at him, batting his hand away. “Go clean! And make sure you wash out for slippery floors!”

Virgil snorted, and carefully sealed the door behind him, trying not to think about the feeling of being stuck in a tiny square room again. He shook his head, dragging his thoughts back on track.

He had access to a warm shower, his first in literal months (...years?). He was going to stay under that spout until every bit of dirt washed down the drain.

---

Roman was midway through a session of storywriting when he heard Patton’s bright voice coming down the hall, passing by his room and chattering all the while.

His ears flicked back automatically to check in, and he frowned when he realized that he couldn’t hear Logan’s arms clicking alongside the Ampen. No, apart from Patton’s tiny tapping footsteps, there was nothing. Patton had to be talking to the Human, then, since he was the only one who ghosted around the ship silently enough to make Roman feel stalked at every corner.

Well. He’d grown tired of watching his characters make a rather vexing detour from his carefully-plotted main storyline anyhow, and he was loath to leave his smallest friend alone with a Human, regardless of how docile that Human pretended to be.

After a brief cleanup of his writing instruments, he was sweeping down the corridor to the commons after them.

Logan was already in the room when he arrived, which was surprising; even Roman had picked up on the ludicrous lengths the Human went to avoid the Ulgorian, as though Logan of all people was someone to be scared of. The nerd’s poison blood was the most “threatening” thing about him, and the Human had already shown how easily he could shake that off.

Patton was leading the Human by one hand, their size disparity as jarring and terrifying as ever. And the Human…

Roman turned his head to the side to study the scene more intently, and that in itself was strange.

Normally, Virgil was almost preternaturally aware of when he was being watched, according to Logan. It was obvious when he knew: the Human went tense and rigid, practically poised to pounce at any moment.

But now, he was trailing after Patton with a relaxed slope to his shoulders, his steps almost languid. He all but collapsed on the fluffy cushion Patton gestured to, eyes gliding shut as the Ampen climbed up after him.

Roman took a few steps into the room, and the Human cracked one eye open-- not entirely out of it, then. The mild suspicion he was regarded with was almost reassuring.

Upon closer inspection, there were physical changes, too. The human had gone from pale, almost grey-toned to having a pinkish tint to his skin. The grey-brown still clung to the hooded garment he’d draped himself in, creating an even more jarring contrast. Dirt, then? It would certainly explain the smudges he left everywhere he touched much better than some strange Human Residue.

… He wasn’t crossing Human Residue off the list of possibilities, though.

Most striking of all was his head. He had originally stalked around with a matted mess of fur, glinting oily in the light where it wasn’t dull with dirt. Now, the fur was clean and stuck out in little fluffy tufts, creating a much less menacing look overall.

Patton apparently agreed, because he’d scampered up to one shoulder and immediately buried his tiny hands into that fluff. Roman and Logan both startled, exchanging an alarmed-exasperated-fearful look, one that had become exceedingly more common after Patton came home with his new Human cellmate.

Surprisingly, all Virgil did was go even more boneless on the cushion, turning his head to better meet Patton’s touch. Patton closed his eyes happily, apparently completely fine with petting one of the most feared creatures in the galaxy.

That wasn’t surprising at all, actually.

What was surprising was the Human’s apparent tolerance for it.

“I wasn’t aware Humans enjoyed tactile ministrations,” Logan said, tapping his wristplates curiously. “Is Virgil alright?”

The Human in question turned slightly to glance at them, eyes still half-lidded. It was probably the least threatening body language Roman had seen from him since… well, ever. “Mm?”

“You’re just relaxing, aren’t you kiddo?” Patton combed through that mess of fluff some more and Virgil lost what little tension he’d regained. “Virgil spent a lot of time on guard while we were on the run planetside. He deserves all the time in the world to recuperate… and all the head scritches!”

Roman’s tail swished exasperatedly, but even he really couldn’t come up with a reason to begrudge the Human for this, not when Patton was so clearly enjoying having someone else onboard to preen. Even if that someone was a Deathworlder.

He moved to settle onto his own cushion under the guise of supervising, though for once he thought the Human might actually fall asleep in front of him.

And if he was perhaps just slightly curious about what exactly a fluffy Human felt like? Well, that was nobody’s business but his own.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

okay I'm supposed to be packing rn, but I have not deer/old god!tomura brainrot

tw: monsterfucking, 18+ minors dni

The trail of fur that leads up his the little dip in his stomach is so soft under your fingers. The antlers that frame his massive head are coated in velvet, not yet shed. They knock against your shoulders when he leans down on his front legs to look you in the eye.

Those eyes, red and older than time that watched the mountains being birthed from the ground and knew the land when the rivers were infants and man was only beginning to learn the ways of the dark earth.

Tomura is older than these hills, older than the tallest of the oak trees.

And he takes your hand, so, so small in his own. It's a strange feeling to have a creature so ancient touch your mortal flesh and bone. He has powers, the woods bow to him and no other, and you know he could show you the way too. His lips are like the hard cracked dirt of lake beds during the summer heatwaves, rubbing against the skin of your throat, chuffing into soft, ephemeral skin. The rumble in his chest shakes the ground and makes your ribs rattle.

It must be lonely, you think, living so long and watching as the men eat away at this land and forget him.

Waves of shaggy hair the color of the sky when storms are brewing over the mountains blocks out the trees from view. So all you see is Tomura, this immortal thing that holds your fragile body in his grasp and looks at you with hot, dark eyes that crave.

And you know he can see all the thoughts in your head.

One clawed finger runs its way over your chest, slicing through your clothing while he hums, taking in the sight of you bare in starlight. There are no words that leave his scarred lips when he speaks, but you hear them like the rush of the creek only a mile from the cottage. Like the movement of wind through the canopy. He can teach you the ways of the flesh like you've never known. Show you all the secrets of the dark earth and how to harness it. Show you how cheat death and avenge the land from the cruel hands of your kind.

And when his lips ghost over yours, you think you'd be happy to let him devour you.

@simultaneously-sick-and-calm cause we just talked about this and it won't leave my thots 👀