#rip made the tail too thin

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song [Part 3]

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: Teaching a Siren to read is perhaps the best or worst idea that you've ever had. If only you were half as capable of reading between the lines.

[PART 1] [PART 1.5] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

‘U-G-L-Y’

“Wow,” you drawled. “What a wonderful use of your new talents.”

The fish you were cooking landed upside down on the hot stone with a crackling sizzle of skin that you could feel as a jumping prickle of heat all along your arm. You poked at your impromptu stovetop with your impromptu stick-spatula and prepared your impromptu leaf-plates. A true culinary connoisseur, you were. When you were rescued, you were going to argue to Riddle that you deserved a promotion to the kitchens. Though, apparently not everyone appreciated your talents.

‘UGLY’ the Siren poked again, jabbing his talon into the sand.

“Then bring me prettier fish,” you returned, pointed. “It’s not that hard.”

His sharp, black claws came up to point at you next alongside his wonderful, two-syllable insult. Then back to you again, with four fingers this time. Both hands going for it. There was a tight, irritated expression on his face that you refused to call a pout because firstly, surely this vicious king of the seas could never pull something so childish. And secondly, because in these past few days you’d developed a terrible habit of just chattering each and every one of your thoughts aloud. And if you called him bratty, or dared imply such pouting was coming from his regal visage, you were just setting yourself up to get drenched by his flailing tail all over again.

“You can’t hurt my feelings,” you said, bland. “Ugly is the nicest thing you’ve ever called me.”

He huffed and smacked his fins against the sand. The trailing, dark tips cracked against your leg and you kicked him right back. It didn’t actually hurt, no more than a pinch to the side, but you’d spent enough time with this asshole now that not fighting back like a toddler pitching a tantrum wasn’t an option anymore.

Just over two weeks, now. Fifteen days and counting.

Those first few days had been spent in a nervous, prey-like panic, of course. Watching him circle the bay with his shredded fins, crying at the top of his lungs until your goosebumps had goosebumps. And then you’d helped untangle him from the mess you’d made, delicately working salt-brined twine away from weeping wounds. Sure, there’d been that whole hoopla of him pinning you in the sand after your act of Great Chivalry and promptly threatening to rip your throat out with his teeth, but you’d moved past that. The offering of home-cooked meals had softened his scaly hide, and then the even greater move of handing him your species’ alphabet like some great, guarded secret of old had sealed the deal. Cheers all around. It’d only taken you nearly being eaten, disemboweled, and drowned, but you’d made peace with your roommate. What a success story.

And now instead of trying to murder you, he just called you U-G-L-Y.

So, you know, baby steps.

The thin, pointed end of his tail whipped up from where you’d kicked him to twine around your ankle and give a sharp tug that had you sprawling face first into the sand with an oomph. Your great tumble sent all those pretty letters of his scattering in the breeze, and you spat out a mouthful of grit.

“Here’s a new one for you,” you chirped, digging your fingers into the muck. F-U-C-K—Y-O-U.

The Siren yowled, which you’d come to recognize far too well as a prickle along your nape and that forever echoing tug, tug, tug somewhere in your head that could never return the call with its corresponding answer. His tail flailed out again to smack at your hands. It was thick, and scaly, and all smooth, powerful muscle. The fact that he hadn’t crushed your poor fingers into a sad, bony paste by now beneath its wrath was a miracle. If you were a more optimistic person, you’d say he was being extra gentle with you on purpose. But even you weren’t delusional enough to think he liked you that much.

“Okay, okay,” you grouched, spitting out another mouthful of pebbles. “Fine. Just not around the food. Unless you want to have to go hunting for dinner all over again.”

The Siren huffed, rolling his eyes like it was a professional sport, and settled himself prettily back against the butt of his tail like he’d never even tried to beat you to death with his fins at all.

You sighed and pulled yourself back out of the sand, scrubbing it from your salt-sticky skin as best as you were able. You returned to poking at your fish. They weren’t too terribly singed, despite your distraction. And the Siren seemed to like the edges extra crispy either way, so it wasn’t any kind of loss. You were in the middle of balancing your impromptu stick-spatula against another impromptu stick-spoon to try and flip the fish without destroying it entirely when you felt a gentle poke, poke, poke against your arm.

You looked back and the Siren stared down at you, lips canted in a sharp smirk that was all pride.

U-G-L-Y—A-N-D—S-T-U-P-I-D, the sand said.

He’d been struggling with applying the whole -pid noise to the proper lettering, because of how similar it was to -ped. And the spelling had been tripping him up (with much obvious frustration) for the last day or so.

“Well done,” you sighed, not even too terribly upset that it had taken you months in Riddle’s impromptu classrooms to learn what he was picking up over the course of a few, harried sessions delivered with broken bits of sharp sticks and an ever changing canvas. “Try this.”

You scribbled another message in the sand. An insult, naturally, because he seemed to like those. You sounded out the letters as you hopped the tip of your finger over them one-by-one, and the Siren stared down at the inscription with the sort of intense focus meant for ancient tomes or sacred texts. You watched his lips move silently as he sounded it out alongside your mini-lesson, and then he was reaching forward to trace over the letters with the curved tip of a claw—knuckles bumping yours for a moment before shooing your hand away.

You returned to your dinner—finishing up the poor, murdered fish as best as you could and doling it out as usual. You reached out to hand pretty boy his leaf-plate, which he took like a lord accepting a meal from a lowly servant. All upturned noses and pointed disinterest. He set it beside him and nibbled on the offering as he continued to study the new task you’d given him—grand, purple fins splayed out at his sides to brush against your hip like a habit. And this was your life now, apparently. Sitting and frying lazy, shallow water fish over a heated stone while your Siren student studied curse words in the sand. If you managed to survive this, no one would ever believe you.

.

.

The wrecked ship called to you like, well, did you even have to say it.

(It felt like a low hanging pun at this point. You’d never be able to use the expression again for as long as you lived without thinking of narrowed, purple eyes nearly rolling up into the back of a too pretty head because you were apparently that annoying.)

Every day when you ventured towards the western side of the islet to feed your teeny, round octopus friend, you couldn’t help but sit and stare at the shattered hull. It’s not like it was in any sort of shape to actually get you off your little, sandy prison, but it was… There was something about it that was familiar enough to scratch an itch in your brain, but just alien enough that figuring out what was itching was outright impossible.

Silver songbirds.

‘Not safe,’ the Siren had demanded, with an almost frantic look to him. Not safe.

Every time you tried to venture closer to get a better look, it was like he could feel it. And he’d be pacing the shoreline like a blood-frenzied shark—rattling off muted, angry complaints the whole time that popped against your skin like soda fizz. So, lesson learned. Keep away.  

It was a particularly sweltering afternoon today. Not a cloud in the bright, blue sky and nary a breeze to be seen. Sweat was beading unpleasantly along your brow and all down your back, and you hated it. At least on the Rose Queen there had been shade. And the lower decks of the ship submerged in the waves had always felt at least a little chilled. You could practically feel the damp, cool wood against your cheek. The smell of salt and pine oils in your nose. But here, on this stupid not-island with its barren trees and nothings, you just had to suffer in silence. The memories of your ship had you thinking of the washed up Songbird all over again, and you were in the middle of a heated, internal debate over making a swim for it again when something cold rained down over your face in small, scattered droplets.

You blinked back into focus to see Mister Merman at your ankles. You’d been sitting with your heels in the water, but no deeper. Because the shallows were still his territory, and while he hadn’t tried to hold you under in a while now, it was hard to forget something like that so easily. You didn’t really want to chance it if a foul mood struck him, no matter what sort of fragile truce seemed to exist between the pair of you lately.

Last you’d looked he’d been sunning himself on one of the wide, flat rocks—as he was wont to do. Lavender-tipped hair splayed out along his cheeks in a pool of soft gold and fins spread at his hips like the finest, plum silks. How he never seemed to burn with that delicate, ivory skin of his you had no idea. Maybe it was a Magical, Mystical, Merman perk yet undocumented. Or maybe he was just Like That. But he’d been snoozing away on his favorite boulder, and now he had rolled in with the tide to lounge by your toes. His fingers were spread, still dripping with sea water from where he’d flicked you in the face. You frowned at him—partly curious, but also pissilly blinking salt out of your eyes that stung, because come on dude.

He flicked more water your way and said something that you couldn’t manage to catch the shape of. When you didn’t respond with anything other than a pointed scrub of the water dripping down your cheeks, he reached out to wrap a clawed hand around your ankle and give a gentle tug.

“What?” you frowned, confused, and he tugged again.

He canted his head towards you, and then out to the cove behind him. He slipped back with the soft, frothy roll of the waves—just a foot or two—and clearly meant to pull you with him. You slid against the sandbar with a yelp and dug your heels into the muck to keep from getting yanked all the way in.

“No way,” you snipped, kicking a mess of water into his face. He didn’t even blink, just frowned down at you with a twisty sort of petulance. “I thought we were over this. If you drown me you won’t get any more cooked food, y’know. And I, in turn, would very much like to not be drowned. Win, win.”

That frown of his went stiff, and his lips twitched down at the corners. His amethyst eyes darted away and for a moment you swore that those gemstone irises flashed with something almost like guilt. He rolled forward with the next curl of surf and pressed a claw into the damp, dark sand at your hip. He scratched out a careful message, stubbornly refusing to meet your gaze all the while.

Won’t, it said.

“Forgive me for not believing that,” you returned, dry. “You’re oh-for-two now, I think. And, you know, fool me twice, and all that.” Though maybe the first one didn’t really count, seeing how you were both tangled together and sinking to the bottom in a mutual sort of destruction. But whatever. You were keeping it.

The Siren’s brow pinched in the middle and he reached forward to dig his claws in again.

Accident.

Your own brows jumped nearly to your hairline. You were just about to politely point out that dragging someone to the bottom of the ocean until they were bubbling from the nose and flailing wasn’t really an accident,but then you remembered the startled look on his face. The way he hadn’t stopped you from clawing your way back to the surface and how he’d carefully helped tow you back towards the shore after. And… maybe he hadn’t really meant it. It had to be strange, probably. Being able to thrive so easily below the waves and then be faced with someone who would die if they were left facedown in a puddle.  

“…Fine,” you huffed, and his eyes jumped back up to yours with all cat-in-the-cream smugness. “But just because I’m about to drop from heatstroke. Not because you asked.”

The Siren rolled his eyes at you and returned to dragging you by your ankles into the shallows.

The bay really was very lovely. It was crystalline clear and the sort of brilliant blue that you’d never even known existed until you’d left the land for a life on the open ocean. The sand below your feet was soft and white, with barely any pebbles or broken bits of shell to dig into your toes. You watched a few crabs scurry out of the way as you were led deeper and deeper, but most of the cove’s occupants were spoiled and slow. Unbothered by this weird, fleshy, bipedal creature stepping past because they’d never known anything else. Once you hit waist-deep, the Siren let go of you to sink more fully into the water. He swam around you in a languid, looping circle—plum fins cresting the surface to flick water against your arms and scales shining like polished glass in the sunlight. It was still far too shallow for him to move around in earnest with how massive that tail of his was, and how wide and trailing his great, beta-like fins were, but he was still elegant. Still fast and flexible as he swam rings around you like an orbit.

“Show off,” you scoffed, but couldn’t quite bite back the grin twitching at your lips.

Because creature from the deep trying to devour your crew or not, Sirens really were so impressive, weren’t they? Straight out of a storybook, and deserving of every song and tale attributed to them.

You reached out before you could help yourself to run your fingers along his tail. The scales were smooth, and sleek, and cool against your palm. The wispy ends of his fins caught along your fingers, but other than a bit of a tangle, you almost managed to run your hand along the whole of it. And what was it? Eight feet? Ten? Bigger than you at least, that was for sure. It wasn’t like anything you’d ever felt. No fish, or whale hide, or shark. Something entirely of its own.

You realized on the next loop when your fingers danced over a patch of still healing scales that you’d felt already that he had most definitely realized your err in personal space, and was letting you poke about on purpose. You glanced up, embarrassed and warm faced, to see the tail end of a smirk quirking out from the water’s surface. Preening bastard.

You turned up your nose and waded deeper. There was a ripple in the water around you, like a chuckle, and he returned to his looping circles. Occasionally his tail would brush up against you to get you to jump, but otherwise he kept his hands to himself and—as promised—did not attempt to wrestle you down to the sandy floor and your subsequent watery grave.

Once you’d made it up to your chest, the Siren was able to start his dance in earnest. He darted away to make a wide arc around the edge of the cove—sunshine catching on his scales like a glare on the water. He shot from one end to the other, so fast it was nearly dizzying to try and keep up with. And then he was back to circling your ankles all over again—tangling your legs in his fins and curling his talons against your calves to try and drag you deeper.

“Okay, okay,” you laughed, paddling after him until you were well and truly above your head. The bay wasn’t very deep, but there were a few areas that dipped down to at least fifteen feet. So soon enough you were bobbing like a top in the gentle surf as he looped around your idly kicking feet—brushing up along your ankles and tugging at the frayed edge of your shirt with his claws when he passed by.

When he next rose above the surface, you’d already taken in a big mouthful of water in preparation, and shot it right into his face. The Siren’s whole expression shriveled up like a hundred-year-old prune and you laughed so hard he had to curl his tail around your waist to keep you from dipping under the waves and choking yourself. You let him drag you around and only grabbed at his fins a little. He would dive below your feet and you’d sink after him. Not nearly as agile or adept, but competent enough to follow his little game of tag without losing completely within the first few seconds. It was—it was nice. Genuinely. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d swam for the fun of it. Way back when you’d first joined up with Riddle’s crew, maybe. It’d been a hot day, just like this one, and you’d been anchored in a safe, shallow inlet off the coast of an archipelago. Deuce and Ace had jumped in first, already brawling, and you’d dove in soon after. It’d been a mess, and Riddle had nearly hung the three of you up by your toes for it. But it’d been fun. Familial. Warm. Something you’d never forget. And while this moment didn’t feel entirely like that one had, there was something similar about it. Sure, you weren’t trying to give the Siren a bloody nose and there were no rock wars, but it was… well, it was nice.

By the end of it, he was swimming lazy, looping shapes around the cove, and you were being dragged alongside him like a raft—kept afloat by the curling press of his tail and relaxing in the afternoon sunshine with the cool ripples of the ocean water to keep you both comfortable in the heat.

“Do you do this a lot?” you asked, as you relaxed in the gentle lull of the surf. “With your pod, I mean.”

The Siren stiffened beneath you, but after a moment he nodded. Slow and rigid. Which—

Oh. Right.

“…sorry,” you mumbled, gaze darting away.

Because he was missing his family just as much as you were missing yours, wasn’t he?

All that frantic pacing at the start of your mutual stranding had just seemed to… fade away as the days passed. He would still circle the entrance of the cove some mornings, singing towards the skies and tilting his head—fins pricked as he searched for an answer. You’d feel it in your nerves, see the gulls overhead dipping in a trance and watch the crabs crawl up onto the sand like they were being dragged out by their little claws. But most of the time now he just… didn’t. He spent his days mumbling over the letters you showed him, or carefully preening over his healing fins and resting in the sun. Catching fish for you to prepare and roast, and taking his meals at your side as you both snipped at each other with sandy curse words. It was pleasant, this routine you’d fallen into together. But all the same, he never really stopped checking the ocean waters. And you could see a spark in his eyes, an itch. The same one that lit yours, no doubt, every time you caught yourself squinting for the outline of ships on the horizon.

The difference between the two of you, of course, was that in a few more days his scales would be healed enough to face the dangers of the open water alone. Life as a rogue mer was notoriously perilous. The lone Sirens were those that poachers were willing to risk battle with for a trophy. They were the ones caught in fishing nets, and found mauled by rival pods. But your Siren was smart. He was big, and strong, and impressive. He’d find a way to survive it, no doubt. One morning you’d wake up and he’d have darted off into the deep to search for his family. To go home. And you…

You would still be trapped here.

Alone.

Forever.

Rotting under the sun with no one to take you swimming in the afternoons. Or bring you clawed up fish to cook for dinner. Or to use your writing lessons just to insult you with scribbled words in the muck.

Which—that was what you’d wanted, wasn’t it? At the start of all of this.

And it was only fair, in the end. He was the better of the two of you, after all. Born and bred to thrive in the depths of the sea that would swallow you whole without a thought. And if either of you was going to survive, to find your home again, it was always going to be him. Maybe you’d be a story, like he would have been for you. The strange human with no ears, just like the rest of the pirates whispered about. Who taught him that fire could make fish extra tasty and that leaves could make perfectly serviceable plates if you tried hard enough.

You sighed, and bubbles of salt water frothed along your mouth.

The Siren raised his head from his own lazy sprawl to arch a brow at you in question, and you did the very mature thing of spitting water in his face all over again.

You ended up being dragged through the cove in a flurry of spitting, Siren rage. Laughing and laughing until he huffed and hauled you back to shore to keep you from swallowing any more seawater like the idiot that you were. And it was fine, really it was. He wasn’t so bad, not really. And if he was able to reunite with his pod once more after all those days of hollow wailing and pacing, pacing, pacing that had made something deep in your soul itch like a freshly scabbed wound that you just couldn’t stop picking, well, that wouldn’t be such a bad ending after all.

.

.

The next afternoon while you were out on your daily Octopus Wellness Check, you came across a piece of pale, purple sea glass mixed into the rocky shore. It was smooth to the touch and frosted over by the endless tumble of the tide. You held it up to the light and it sparkled just like the Siren’s scales.

“What do you think?” you asked the octopus as it grabbed shredded bits of fish with its chubby, little tentacles. “Do you want it? Or should I give it to—”

You blinked, startled, and realized all at once that you’d never learned the Siren’s name. Or given him yours. You’d just sort of been calling each other a variety of derogatory pseudonyms and hoping for the best. Which, huh. You hadn’t even realized you’d wanted to know his name. It wasn’t yours to take, of course. Let alone from someone who would no doubt be leaving so soon. But it was a thought.

“You always give the best advice, you know,” you told the teeny creature, and it hid from you like you were a great, looming monster of old. “Whether you meant to or not. Thanks for that.”

So on the way back to your cove, you picked through some tufts of beachgrass to find the longest, driest spikes. You began winding them together as you walked, and settled down in your favorite little corner of the inlet to continue your weaving. The Siren, naturally—being as nosy as he was—was immediately hovering over you like a child watching someone hold a bag of sweets just out of reach. You clutched your little project to your chest like a secret, and it had him puffing up in irritation and smacking his fins against your sides like your refusal to share whatever had caught your attention was a crime beyond comparison. He arched up as tall as he could to try and peer over your shoulder, and, in failing at that, just outright tried to snatch the thing from your hands.

“I won’t give it to you if you keep being a pest,” you warned, and immediately he was slipping back to rest on his stomach in the damp sand with a starbright curiosity in his eyes, chin pillowed atop his interlaced fingers and gaze following the movements of your hands like a cat tracking a mouse in its hole. Clearly the promise of it being a treat for him was mollification enough to keep him from hovering.

Once you’d braided a sturdy enough chain, you carefully twined it around the sea glass in a little, crisscrossing cage of fibers. Just knotted enough to keep the ocean-worn trinket safe and in place without hiding the shine of it. With that, you held up your trophy with a dramatic wave, and the Siren was popping up all over again. His amethyst glare tracked the swinging pendant with startling focus and a surprisingly wide-eyed spark of confusion.

“Here,” you said, reaching out to drop the makeshift necklace into his lap. He caught it in his claws, eyes still far too round with shock. “It made me think of your scales. I thought you might like it.”

He was staring down at the gift in utter silence. And not the normal sort of quiet either—where your broken eardrums simply refused to pick up on all his petulant grousing against your person. This was actual silence. His lips were parted like they were caught on a breath, but he wasn’t saying anything. Not even a complaint about how plain and ugly it was. He curled his claws daintily around the woven chain, as if he was afraid of tearing right through it with an accidental prick, and then held the sparkling bauble aloft like he was utterly entranced by the soft gleam of it.

After a long, long moment of that near eerie silence and a pool of dread filling your belly that screamed you’d clearly fucked up in some way (overstepped some weird, Siren tradition. Accidentally insulted his father. Handed him a bad luck omen on a string. Something), the Siren was twisting around to show you the back of his neck. He held up the woven chain so it draped along his shoulder blades, and he pointedly shook the ends at you.

When you just gaped back in shock, he turned to sneer over his shoulder at you and jabbed a claw at his throat, then the necklace, then you, then his throat again. Which, oh. Oh! That—that you could do.

So you reached out to pluck the ends of the grass-woven thread from his talons and he immediately shifted around again to make himself comfortable. Curling his tail firmly against the sand with his plum-lined fins spread out in all their glory like a spill of purple ink along the shoreline. He set his shoulders square and firm, and looked straight ahead with that same, queer sort of focus to him as before.

You tied the ends of the necklace in a bow against his nape, making sure it was securely fastened in place and not snagging any of the softer, shorter hairs at the back of his neck. Once it’d been fussed with to his liking, he turned back around and stared you down until you could feel goosebumps prickling up all along your spine. You wanted to meekly tell him that it was just sea glass. Just a little trinket you’d found in the sand that you’d thought was pretty enough that he might like to have it. But the words died on your tongue. They felt wrong somehow. And you’d put your foot in your mouth plenty of times throughout your life, but this definitely felt like it would have been the biggest boot of all.

“…You like it?” you tried instead, because that sentiment at least seemed less like something that was ready to clog up your throat.

The Siren nodded, firm, his eyes still drilling into yours with that unnerving level of focus.

You coughed into your fist and awkwardly attempted to shift away to give yourself a bit of room, and—Huh. When had his tail come up to wrap around your leg? That made running away a bit inconvenient. You’d just have to try and wriggle your way out and hope he would take mercy on your far inferior musculature, and—

There was a poke at your hip. Tap, tap, tap. One, two, three. And you glanced back up at him with a pinched frown, confused.

The Siren pointed to a scrawl in the sand. Tap, tap, tap.

Acceptable.

You gawked, and then swallowed a laugh so fast it nearly choked you. Because he was still himself, wasn’t he? No matter what. Sassy, asshole fish. Gods, you were going to miss him.

You wiped at the bubbling, giggling tears prickling at the corner of your eyes and reached out to pat at his tail in good humor.

“I hope you find your happy ending,” you beamed, and meant it.

The Siren just looked at you with one of his familiar, lemon-sour puckers. He pointedly reached up to flick at the necklace around his throat, like that had anything to do with him finding his family again at all. Like it wasn’t just some silly trinket you’d gifted him in hopes that maybe one day he could look back fondly on the little human that he’d found himself stranded with. To not just forget you outright. To make your fleeting presence in his life something tangible, rather than just a mess of already fading scars and memories that would too easily be swept away in the depths of the sea.

“At least it’s acceptable,” you said finally around your giggling, and he huffed at you in a way that almost looked fond. You stood from the sand and brushed the mess of grit and salt off your pant legs. “Come on. Let’s go have dinner and I’ll teach you some nicer words tonight. So you can give me a real compliment next time.”

There was spray of water all along your back from where he’d no doubt dove back into the shallows behind you and walloped you with his fins to the best of his ability. And honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be bothered by it at all.

.

.

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[55sturn]

disclaimer: gory, violent, mentions of death + murder, blood, psychotic!chris + reader.

chris hadn’t meant for you to find out what he had been doing. he was so careful, always hiding the knives or the guns, scrubbing his hands raw to remove the traces of blood splattering against the milky skin. he made sure to cover every track, every single piece of evidence. he needed to be sure because he didn’t want you knowing that he hunted down every guy that looked at you like you were theirs. he didn’t want you knowing that he was manipulating the game, so that in the end, he’d claim his rightful prize. you.

but you knew. you’ve studied too many serial killers and their cases, you’ve watched every slasher, slice and dice type film under the sun since the ripe age of ten. you know the signs, you see the way he watches the time when you get home after a date, before suddenly disappearing and clambering in through your window during the early hours of the morning, you’ve never once believed his “just need to take a walk.” excuse or his “matt called me about something planned for tomorrow.” lie. chris was never skittish about you going into his room alone and going through his things, at least not until the beginning of last year.

you put the pieces together, and you’ve done some stalking of your own, watching as chris rips the life from every man you’ve ever had any sort of emotional, physical, or even romantically verbal connection with. you knew deep down you should’ve been terrified, but there was something about the way his muscles flexed as he stabbed or knocked the guys unconscious, or the way he’d smirk to himself as he finished the job. you were deeply turned on by the way he took the phrase “i’d kill for you.” quite literally.

you had decided to repair the favour, waiting until some poor girl took her chances with chris, watching and waiting as she walked away in shame before tailing her on the way home. you were quick to make your move, slashing her throat with ease before calling chris.

“hey can you come to the address i’m sending you? i need help with something.” you plead, feigning desperation, giggling to yourself as he immediately obliges before hanging up the phone.

when chris showed up, he wasn’t sure what to expect, given that you normally only went to three places, his house, work, and your best friend’s place. so as he took tentative steps over the threshold, his body on high alert, he was shocked to find you standing over the girl from the party’s body, your thin white tank now a dark crimson, clinging to your body as the poor girl’s blood cakes to your skin.

“what the fuck did you do?” he exclaims, his face twisting in shock, and he knows it hypocritical to react this way, given how he spends his free time, but he didn’t think his perfect girl would ever turn into the same type of monster he is.

“what the fuck have you been doing chris? you think i don’t know about your little hobby? stalking every guy i ever do anything with and killing them so that i’d be left with you?” you laugh, wiping the splatters of blood from your lips, smearing it across the plump flesh, unknowingly affecting chris as he watches you.

“i-“

“don’t worry chris, i’m not mad. i’m touched actually, i find it almost endearing the way you’d manipulated everything to ensure that we’d be together. i wanted to return the favour.” you purr, stepping closer to him as he smirks, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you into a searing kiss before tugging you to his car, wanting to get you both away from the scene of the before it’s too late.

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© 55STURN 2024 ! REBLOGS NOT EXPECTED BUT GREATLY APPRECIATED ! [ you do not have permission to copy or save or share my work to other platforms and devices! ]

[aonungslvr]

he’s…what?

pairing ; jealous! ao’nung x f!sully! reader

taggings ; 🪽⭐️🐚

summary ; ao’nung quickly falls for the sully sister after she arrives in his village, but who is this boy she keeps talking about?

3.1k words

when you and your family had first arrived in awa’atlu you hated it. the sound of ilu’s chirping and waves thrashing against the sand wasn’t normal. the smell of salt was disgusting. there were no trees to shield you from the suns rays or give you coverage when you wanted to be alone. no grass or cool dirt to dig your feet into.

this wasn’t your home; you belong in the forest. you had been chased out of your home after having a knife held to your throat by sky demons; obviously you weren’t happy to be here.

your nerves certainly were not eased when the tsahík of the metkayina, ronal, had grabbed your four-fingered hand to show the crowd. you were instantly met with hisses and snarls from the lighter blue clan. you gently trembled at her touch, less from fear and more from annoyance, and continued staring into the sand, trying to dig your feet into it like dirt. it was too hot; this wasn’t your dirt. your mother intervened, seeing your discomfort, and held you to her; raising her fangs towards the tsahìk. your father entered himself in hopes of calming the situation down, showing the clan his own 4 fingered hand.

when ronal had moved on and the attention focused on the leaders of the metkayina, you glanced up, seeing the ocean clan more clearly this time. you had noticed a girl and two boys closer to your family than the others; they looked around your age. the female was eyeing your youngest brother before her vision shifted towards you. she offered you a warm smile along with a small wave. you looked her up and down before giving her your own smile and wave, though you lowered your hand as you could tell she was now focused on your extra finger.

you looked beside her to see a taller boy with a bun, he had been the one to make fun of your brothers thin tails, the tail you all shared. you sighed and continued staring at the teen, for some reason you couldn’t stop. that was proved false when the boy looked your way, you diverted your eyes back to the sand as fast as you could. you hadn’t been able to see it, but the teal na’vi eyed you up and down silently. his shorter friend slapped his arm and laughed at him, whispering something you couldn’t quite pick up.

apparently whatever your parents and the leaders were talking about had been concluded. you heard the olo’keytans stern and loud voice speak out among the crowd, before he faced your family directly and spoke a bit softer.

“my son ao’nung, and my daughter tsireya will show you our ways.”

ao’nung and tsireya. the boy you had stared at spoke up in disagreement, leading you to his name being ao’nung, as well as him being the chiefs son. the kind girl had also made herself to be tsireya when she guided your family to your new home.

you walked among kiri, trailing shortly behind her. you followed tsireya and ao’nung had followed from behind you all, paired with his little friend.

“i do not like it here kiri.” you spoke as you looked up to face her.

she scoffed in return, “yeah me neither.”

“these are ilu, if you want to live here, you have to ride.”

you and your siblings were all hip length deep in the sea, surrounded by multiple swimming animals, they were called ilu. they reminded you of your ikran.

the ocean siblings had been tasked with training you all to learn how to survive within their clan, and it was time to tame your animal.

tsireya first helped lo’ak, you already knew why. it was quite obvious. he had settled onto the creatures back and held onto the saddle. he made tsaheylu with the marine animal and she took off. you watched as your brother had tried to hold on as best he could but was ripped off due to the speed and pressure that being underwater included.

he had failed miserably and tsireya continued to guide him, but you couldn’t all wait for him. (you’d be there for years.)

ao’nung had invited you over a few feet to show you how to get your own ilu. he explained the process just as tsireya had. you mounted the animal and waited for instruction.

“hold here, when you make the bond, you need to think with her. not against her. let her guide you.”

after seeing what happened with lo’ak, you figured that was a load of bullshit and you would be swept away too. you gripped on the saddle with one hand and grabbed your braid with the other.

“your position is wrong.”

the blue teen pushed your back down and shifted your legs. the feeling was different, the extra skin on his arms were odd. your heartbeat quickened for a moment and the ilu beneath you flapped her fins.

“there. remember, bond gentle.”

you connected your kuru with the creature, and took off. you panicked for a little until you were reminded with how dramatic lo’ak is. he had made this look like such a hard task, it really wasn’t too bad. the water pressure threatened you but you were able to manage. you tightened your grip and squeezed your eyes shut. as you felt the tide flow with you, you slowly opened your eyes. you instructed your ilu to slow it down, which she listened too.

the sea wasn’t horrible. there were so many new creatures you had never even known about. you looked among the fish and corals as you smiled at the sight. feeling your chest begin to tighten, you and your ilu went back up to the surface, swimming closer to where you had left the others.

tuk was the first to congratulate her big sister, “that was so cool (y/n)!”

“yeah way better then lo’ak”, laughed your eldest brother, neteyam.

“ok bro, who invited toruk makto?” your youngest brother was always the jokester, and you laughed at the reference.

looking back at your mentor, you noticed ao’nung hadn’t held any malice or laughter towards you, you took that as a good sign.

throughout the training of your family, you had sectioned off into unofficial groups. tsireya tended to assist lo’ak and tuk, while ao’nung helped neteyam, kiri, and you. ao’nung had tried selling you off to tsireya because he was upset he had to deal with three sully’s while his sister only had two. she had argued that having tuk was basically like having two in one, and she stood with her statement.

with annoyance, he taught you what you all needed to know to adjust to the ocean. most of his lessons were filled with sighs and reprimands when someone would do something wrong, but that had started to fade lately.

“what do you mean ao’nung is nicer? no he isn’t? he still makes fun of us during training…”

oh.

it had only began to fade for you.

well this was fine, neteyam was probably just exaggerating. after all, he was certainly a charmer yesterday.

. . .

“you are not breathing right.”

you and ao’nung sat on a jagged rock in the middle of the reef, he was giving you a private lesson on holding your breath because apparently you were falling behind. (not true.)

you looked at him as he demonstrated how to intake the air and hold it, but it just looked like normal breathing. you tried to repeat what he did but it still wasn’t good enough for him.

“what are you even doing? are you even breathing?”

you rolled your eyes and looked away from the teal teenager, he was so dramatic.

“pay attention to me forest girl,” he redirected your face back towards his.

he placed one of his wide hands on your smaller diaphragm and the other where your heart layed.

you panicked at the sudden contact and prayed he couldn’t feel your heartbeat pick up beneath his touch.

“eywa please i never ask for anyth-“

“your heartbeat is fast. that’s why you cannot breathe.”

thanks great mother.

despite the metkayina’s teasing, he had genuinely seemed to adjust to you. you two spent more one on one training together and even hung out when it wasn’t time to train.

it was nearing eclipse when ao’nung had come to your families marui, unfortunately, your father had noticed him first.

“what are ya’ doin’ here boy.”

the shorter navi hesitated for a moment until he was able to speak up,

“i’m- i’m here for (y/n.) sir.”

your father looked him up and down with a stern look on his face. ao’nung was convinced he would be thrown outside by toruk makto himself. jake grunted and leaded down into your new friends face.

“she’s back by 10 before eclipse. a second after and i’ll cut your tail off. she comes back with even a hint of your touch on her i’ll drag you deep into the ocean by your braid and leave you there. understood?”

“yeah- got it.”

“i said understood.”

“uh-understood sir!”

your dad sighed before finally alerting you of the conversation,

“(y/n!) visitor!”

you showed up at the door as your father was walking away, and was greeted with the sight of ao’nung shaking in the sand.

“hey ao’nung! you alright?”

he eyed the exit, indicating you to leave with him. once you step out he grabbed your thinner arm and ran towards the shore, looking back for the deadly gaze of jake sully.

“oh my god (y/n) why didn’t you tell me your dad is fucking terrifying.”

you giggled and brought your hand to your lips, trying to conceal it.

“whatever, no big deal, follow me.”

despite his ego being damaged, he led you along the shore, pointing out some shells he though you would like on the way. you two eventually made it to the more foresty part of his island, farther from the clan.

you were unaware this area existed and instantly fell in love. it had been months since you had seen a tree. the sight reminded you of your home and it brought you so much happiness. you glanced at the back of ao’nungs head as you continued to follow him where he led. you two made it to a part of the small forest that opened out into the beach. you could see the sunset and water clashing onto the sand all from behind a tree.

“ao’nung! this is so beautiful, it’s just like the forest!”

“well yeah, that’s what i was hoping for..”

he was hiding his flushed face but you could hear the smile he was trying to hold back.

“come!”

you grabbed his arm towards a tree you deemed was tall and had enough branches. effortlessly, you climbed up the tree. you jumped and stood on branches, easily making it to the high thin branch you wanted. you had planted your left leg and arms on the branch as your right leg hung down.

the lighter blue na’vi watched you and his mouth dropped open. he had made fun of your family for being poor divers, but god you were good at climbing. him and his friends would break the branches if they were to ever try that.

“get up here!”

“yeah…i don’t think so.”

you quickly remembered you were among the sea people now, and their bodies simply weren’t built for climbing like you were.

“ah right.”

you hopped down onto a lower branch then the ground, the teen boy staring in aw yet again. you ran up to him and pulled him into a hug while giggling.

“thank you ao’nung, really. this was great”

he scoffed in embarrassment and rubbed his neck,

“yeah, we’ll there’s actually one more thing. i was just wondering if you’d l-“

you cut him off before he could finish his question.

“this is just like what txäol would show me!”

what.

ever since the first mention of this “txäol” they kept coming.

no matter how many times ao’nung tried to get you to like him more, it always ended up as a talk about txäol.

“ao’nung this necklace is so pretty! it looks like the one txäol gave me!”

“txäol used to say that! he’s super funny.”

“oh eywa this shell would look great next to the flowers txäol gave me!”

you were beyond oblivious at the way ao’nungs eye would twitch when you brought up your best friend from back in the forest.

it was a comment on the gifts he’s given you, or the stories he used to tell you, or sometimes you would show the metkayina boy some things the omatikayan gave you before you left the forest.

ao’nung raised his concerns with tsireya first. she was pretty close to you, so he thought she might have some intel.

. . .

tsireya automatically burst out laughing when her brother questioned her.

“your-your joking right? sweet eywa, your so funny! your helpless brother- truly!”

“what- tsireya what are you talking about?! who is txäol?!”

“oh-oh my eywa i cant-“ she continued laughing.

“is he her boyfriend?!”

this just caused tsireya to start laughing again. she gripped her stomach and bent over, unable to stop the giggles that flowed out of her.

“whatever- your never any help! i’ll just ask her!”

and so that’s what he did.

the teal teenager approached you while you were mounting your ilu, getting ready to go hunting.

“(y/n)!”

you turned your head to the sound of your name and saw ao’nung riding his own ilu towards you.

“oh- hey! did you need anything? i was just about to head out.

he had been torturing himself over this question for so long he just cut to the point.

“is txäol your boyfriend?!”

you paused and had no words. your ilu had picked up on your shock and had even dropped her own jaw.

“t-txäol? h-“

you were cut off by the reef na’vi.

“if he is- just tell me. i understand if you have a lover back home that you can’t forget about. all i’m asking is you let me know!”

“he’s n-“ you tried to speak before you were interrupted again.

“i just can’t deal with the not knowing! i see you, (y/n), and i need to know if you see me too! you talk about this txäol guy all the time, so if your in love with him instead, tell me! i won’t be an-“

“he’s gay!”

oh.

bonus!!

the sky people had finally returned back to their planet, and wouldn’t be coming back this time. this meant your people were safe. you could go back to the forest! back to the forest…

when you first arrived at the reef, all you could think about was going home, and how happy you would be. but now that home was right in front of you, you just couldn’t. not without ao’nung.

you two had recently began courting each other, and had plans of mating once you both completed your rite of passages. you couldn’t leave him behind now. so if you couldn’t leave him behind..why not take him with you!

. . .

you yipped for your ikran, calling her down to the sandy shores.

“seyä! hi girl!” you rubbed her nose and cleaned off some sand off her head.

you mounted seyä and invited ao’nung to do the same.

“no fucking way.”

“she doesn’t bite!”

“yes the fuck she do? look at her!”

“aww you poor thing..is he being mean to you?”

you rubbed your ikrans head and made tsaheylu. she flapped her wings and screeched, scaring the hell out of ao’nung.

“yeah there’s no way i’m going anywhere near that th-“

he was cut off as seyä picked him up under his arms using her claws, flying up in the air. you giggled and grabbed ao’nungs hands, pulling him up behind you on the saddle.

“that wasn’t so bad- right?” you could swore you saw a tear running down his face, but he denies it.

. . .

the fly had taken a few days and you were exhausted, ao’nung had given you company and made sure to hold you extra tight when you were getting tired. if it wasn’t for him stopping you to make you sleep, you probably would’ve flown while sleeping.

after what felt like years, you finally arrived back at the forest. you flew over the trees until you saw the omatikaya people, your people. your smile had began hurting your jaw as you landed your ikran on a tree, hopping off and landing on the branches. you would just jumped right down but you had to help the metkayina.

“here- just..place this foot here. and then this arm right here.”

it took awhile (32 minutes) to get him down around 7 branches. it usually took you a few seconds, but who were you to judge.

he mainly just trailed behind you as you greeted so many friends you had missed. he felt like the outsider now, surrounded by darker blue people with thin limbs. he stayed back until he heard someone scream your name. a boy scream your name.

“(y/n)! oh my eywa- your back!” he ran up to you and embraced you in the tightest hug out of everyone else.

ao’nung looked this guy up and down and frowned at him, about to step in and announce himself as your boyfriend until you spoke up.

“txäol! oh i missed you so much-!”

oh. him. the metkayinas anger was reduced, but still present. this boy was all over you! how could he not be upset? he stepped up closer to you and wrapped his hands around your waist, hugging you from behind.

“oh- txäol meet ao’nung, ao’nung meet txäol!”

txäol raised his nonexistent eyebrows at how the boy hugged you and eyed you. he would definitely need you to tell him about everything he missed.

“i’m txäol, (y/n)’s best friend!”

“ao’nung. her mate.”

you kicked ao’nungs knee, trying to get him to be nicer. he was still jealous and god did it show.

“speaking of mates..” txäol started.

you stared and him and gasped. “your lying.”

“(y/n) meet ityea, my boyfriend.”

a shorter omatikayan male entered from the forest and held txäol’s hand. you screeched. like loud. ikran loud.

“txäol oh my eywa i can’t even- you guys are so cute!!” you hugged your best friend and spun around.

“right?! but no- you guys too! i can’t believe you found someone in another clan- you guys are adorable!!”

ao’nung backed up and grounded himself. right. he was gay.

[colourstreakgryffin]

hii! could u write headcanons of Alastor x Male (preferly) Overlord Reader who is the opposite of him? Rarely smiles, isn't very chatty and is rough? and since Alastor loves dancing and singing, maybe Reader is shy about it and doesn't like the way he dances and sings?

You know what! I am gonna kill two birds with one stone and make us an Ink Demon! Overlord. So, we’re basically like Baby Bendy from the second BATIM game. Don’t know it? Look it up. One side is harmless and adorable and the other side is monstrous and vicious— however. Here, it’ll just be causal demon form than evil demonic Ink Demon form! Anyway. Let’s goooo. I’ve been doing a lot of GN for Alastor, this time we got a man! I don’t know if you want us to be romantic, I am just gonna guess platonic

Alastor- Follow Me

You look pretty cute and friendly. Black and white, cartoony, with adorable stereotypical demon features like arch-like horns and a long-thin tipped tail. Most importantly, your entire body is made of ink. Only your clothing is touchable, otherwise, your ‘skin’ is so soft, liquidity and stains anything it touches. For that reason and one more, you harden yourself up and avoid conversation

Alastor, the Radio Demon, is not a fan of making friends with men. He prefers women, they are just easier to talk to. However, you’re not as vile and unlikeable as most men with your personality is. You’re the strict, stern, responsible one of the Overlords, ordering the other Overlords to pay attention to Camilla Carmine

Alastor doesn’t know why but he finds you interesting

Your uncontrollable Ink Demon side is extremely violent and merciless so you had to develop a thick shell, in order to make sure nothing can make it trigger at random. It’s too much of a risk, hence why you behave in the way you do. It’s a self-defence mechanism and it’s a protection method to everybody else around too

Alastor doesn’t even care that you’re untouchable. He will touch you anyway, getting annoyed by the black ink forming your body in a in-fact, solid fashion, getting onto his sleeves or hand but he ignores it to converse with you

Alastor also ignores the gruff warnings you give out when he approaches you. That you’re dangerous and that the Ink Beast will try rip him to pieces if it’s let out. If anybody thinks Alastor would be scared of the Ink Demon, they have another thing coming. He’d actually like to face off this Ink Beast one day

It looks like, to every other Overlord, that Alastor is talking to a brick wall when he talks to you. Since you’re not responding not even looking at him, just focusing on Camilla and her statements with the most bland and rough expression, not a single hint of a grin. You’re the opposite of Alastor and yet, he’d like to befriend you

Alastor keeps trying and trying without even halting. He’s quite the persistent man and when he wants to befriend somebody, he won’t stop until he gets what he desires and at this moment, it’s to make friends with you, rather you shut him down and bark at him to stay away

Alastor finds your overall appearance cute. You look like you were drawn for a kids cartoon in the early 19th century. Possibly around his own time of the 1920s-1930s. You’re bendy and mendable, you defy all laws of logic and have cartoon physics on your side. You’re like if a kids cartoon demon tried to be a big bad mafia boss and ruled a part of Hell itself, and he isn’t filtered when it comes to this opinion. He straight up tells you all that

Alastor, overtime, ends up succeeding like the little I don’t take no for a answer brat he is in getting you to agree in joining him out to the Hazbin Hotel and accompanying him for a nice little tour. Throughout the tour, he notices that some music in the Lobby is blasting and without even hesitating, he drags you over to join him into a dance

“Come, my dear sir. Let us dance this tension away!” Alastor chimes out rather excited, immediately leading you into a half-messy dance performance with him as the head. You just stumble along, slightly gritting your fangs in discomfort but it won’t be acknowledged by Alastor in the slightest. All he cares about is putting a smile on your face

Alastor laughs warmly as you attempt to try keep up with him during this dance he had dragged you into. You’re clearly quite timid, not enjoying the way the Deer Overlord dances and sings but you either don’t care enough to shut him up or you are too kind to try shut him up

Alastor likes to tease you about your behaviour and your looks. He isn’t frightened or intimidated at all by your beast side and you’re too colourless and squishy to be scary, he does actually view you as a wonderful friend. Even whilst you’re cold and dismissive, he can get you to acknowledge him and be polite to him so it’s a win for Alastor in the end

It’s been a long time since Alastor got a male friend so he can be more crude and snarky with you, without actually needing to be sensitive, like with his women friends

“My good fellow. You don’t need to act so broody. Smile now, you’re safe and whatever you are worried about, it’s not going to do anything to you or me or anybody in this Hotel”

[revasserium]

savanaclaw #1 - cheek kisses

leona.

the first time you do it, he has to swallow passed the purr ripping up the back of his throat, his entire body going warm, going soft, going — he blinks as you pull back, laughing, your lashes flashing as you seem to realize what you’d done. he sees you open your mouth to apologize, runs a hand through his hair, shakes his head to silence you. “ah… don’t do something you can’t follow through on now,” he says as he cocks his head, eyes half-lidded and daring, the smirk on his lips going lopsided as you bite your own lips, clearly flustered. he tries not to stare, he really does — but really, what do you expect him to do after you’ve initiated contact? he brushes a finger against your soft cheek, finally letting a purr rumble through him as you look back up at him to catch his eyes. “go on then, try that again,” he says, tapping a finger to his own cheek even as you swallow hard, leaning up on your tip-toes ever so slowly. but just before your lips meet his skin, he turns his head, grinning as you squeak in surprise against his lips, that is, till he pulls you in closer and your eyes finally flutter closed, and everything else is soon forgotten.

ruggie.

the first time you do it, he almost thinks it’s not real, that he’d just imagined it, conjured it out of thin air, because there you are, turning around to high-five Epel for a game well-played, and maybe he’s still just delirious from their win in the mix-and-match magishift game but when he finds your eyes again, he doesn’t miss the way your cheeks flare up with heat and somehow, he feels his own do the same. and he agonizes over it — how could he not? but between leona telling him that he’s overthinking it and jack telling him to just go for it, he isn’t quite sure what his next move should be. after all, if you’d made the first move… that must mean you’re open to him making the second… right? so when he tugs you into a corner of a hallway between classes the next day, pressing a finger to your lips to keep you from yelping, suddenly, he finds himself rather at a loss, but then you’re blinking up at him, and he can almost hear the way your heartbeat stutters, see the way your pupils dilate when you look up at him and he lets himself relax, grinning as he slowly leans down towards you with a, “ne… it was real mean what you did after the magishift match yesterday… so, how’re you gonna make it up to me? leavin’ me hangin’ like that? what… don’t i deserve a real kiss to make up for it?”

jack.

the first time you do it, he goes stock still, his entire body locking into place because no way — no way did you just do the thing he’d been dreaming of doing to you for — for god knows how long. he swivels to look at you, his eyes wide, and you’re peering up at him with that precious, peach-pink blush on your cheeks, and he doesn’t even notice the wild wagging of his tail till you giggle, taking half a step back to point at it, wondering aloud, “ah… so i guess i wasn’t imagining things… right?” you lick your lips and he bites back the urge to sink his own teeth into the plush of your bottom lip, just to see how good you’d taste. instead, he clears his throat and tries not to seem too eager, “n-no — you weren’t but — uhm — what — what gave it away?” and he curses at the way he stumbles over his own words, at how hot his face feels, at the giggling he can hear from behind the statue to his left, knowing that ruggie’s probably got something to do with this, and maybe grim too. still, he waits, watches as you rock on the balls of your heels, lace your hands behind your back, smile prettily back up at him before answering, “oh… y’know, vil-senpai might’ve said a thing or two about how you’d been ‘pining for long enough’ and that it was time for your ‘romance arc’ to begin.” to which he feels his ears flatten to his head, a growl curling up his throat as he swears he’s gonna find vil and — but you tug him back by the arm, blinking up at him with a sly grin he really can’t deny looks good on you, “wait, before you do that… don’t i at least get a kiss back first?”

[tornado1992]

My dude, all your fanfics and ideas for baby Tails break my heart. I need more! How do you think Sonic would take care of a sick Tails? Do you think Tails would be so delirious with fever that he would not calm down until Sonic holds him? Who knows....

Glad to know I’m damaging your heart! That’s my whole goal, thank you for reading!

We don’t have nearly enough Tails’ sick fics out there, but BABY TAILS sick fics? We have a shortage, and that can’t be.

Now, as for how would sonic react to a sick baby tails, in case of a babyfied Tails there’s a variety of angst and comfort levels all around, but, if it were the unbreakable bond early days, both little Sonic and baby Tails? He’d be so stressed! These kids are all alone, don’t have a home, and clearly are not medicine professionals, so just try and imagine poor little Sonic panicking because suddenly his tiny fox kit started coughing and wheezing and he doesn’t know what to do, and poor baby Tails longing for Sonic to just hold him and tell him everything would be right?

Just imagine…

Sonic knew Tails was small

Tails was already so small, way too little for a four year old, his arms and legs way too short, his fluffy fur hiding how thin he was, and his tails big enough to blanket him almost completely, he was way too adorable, and so, so small.

But looking at him, right now, with the sweat staining his messy fur, his ears flatted down to his skull, and his little nose sneezing restlessly while he tried to curl into the littlest, tiniest ball of fur ever with little whines and whimpers leaving his throat almost every time he breathed, all while the speedster could just sit beside him cause nothing he did seemed to soothe him, Sonic felt like he was the small one.

Worried? an understatement. Scared? An inexactitude. Sonic was right down panicking.

The blue blur could handle 10 ton killing machines, ruthless natural disasters and evil crazy scientists threatening to end the world every day. But hiding from the rain in a cold, dark cave, sitting on the rocky ground beside a sweaty sick fox cub who pretty much looked like he war right up dying? Seeing and hearing how every cough and sneezed hurt him from the inside? He wasn’t sure he could handle this.

Tails was breathing heavily, almost like crying, but no tears left his eyes, not that he could see them anyway, he hadn’t opened his eyes since a few hours ago, sniffing and getting coughing fits every few minutes while his chest made a rumbling sound, but it wasn’t the kind of rumbly buzzing it made when the kit was all snoozed close to Sonic, when he wasn’t sick, when he wasn’t in pain. He wants that sound back.

The warmth that surrounded the little fox was nothing like the comfortable coziness Sonic felt whenever he snuggled close to him, when his little paws would reach for Sonic’s arm and try to hug him, when the little kid’s head below his chin felt like he was holding the most softest, warmest, freshly baked bread bun in the world. No, this wasn’t like that. This time, the heat that evolved him felt like hell was inside the kit’s skin trying to melt both himself and Sonic’s heart.

Sonic knew that being sick felt like freezing in your own cold sweat, your body fighting against itself trying to stay alive, even if it meant setting itself ablaze while feeling so he didn’t wanted to rip the thin blanket way from him, but the kid was not just warm, he was burning.

There was nothing his speed could do against the baby fox’s inmune system, nothing that his quills could break with a spindash, no way he could just take the kid and try outrun the threat.

He gave him all the water they had, tried to put some wet rags on his body and spent his very last dime on some cough syrup that didn’t seemed to be of much help. Tails was hurting, and Sonic couldn’t do anything about it.

He doesn’t know how didn’t he noticed him getting ill, sure, he was kinda quiet, but it have been raining for some days now and neither of them enjoyed stormy nights, both of them stayed silent when they were sad or upset, so he thought it was probably just that.

It wasn’t.

He did everything he knew was supposed to be done when a kid was sick, even when said kid’s little paws weakly waved him away when he tried to comfort him, even when he pouted and whined as he was forced to drink some water so he wouldn’t dehydrate, and even if he refused to open his mouth every time he needed to take his medicine; poor kid must be so scared and confused, not fully awake curling in himself not to show his face to Sonic, he must think someone was trying to hurt him. He must think he was alone again.

Sonic hadn’t left his side in hours, he wasn’t planning to, and yet, he was starting to feel lonely himself.

Tails thought he wasn’t a bad kid anymore.

He’d been told all his life than only bad kids would get sick like him. All the adults from his hometown yelling at him for even daring to get close to the village when he was coughing. All the other kids running from him when he sneezed. And his own body betraying him whenever he tried to stand while his head felt like exploding.

Apparently being “cursed” with twin tails wasn’t enough. He was bad enough of a kid to be sick almost everyday of his life before he met Sonic.

Tails knew only bad kids got sick. Because bad kids who stole from peoples garbage would get the most horrible tummy aches. Because bad kids who stayed in the rain when there was a storm would always fall to the ground when their chest made those nasty grumbly sounds that hurt every time they breathed. Because only bad kids would vomit nothing but liquid when they took water that wasn’t theirs.

He thought that now that he was with Sonic and didn’t need to do any of that, then maybe he was a good kid, maybe the universe forgave him, maybe the cosmos knew he always tried to help Sonic save the world, maybe reality wasn’t as cruel as to make him sick now that he was a good kid!, so he ignored the lingering pain in his chest whenever he talked for too long, he didn’t mention anything about how stuffed his nose felt and how nauseous the thought of food made him feel, neither about how as the hours passed he felt like his body was trying to cook itself alive, he was a good kid now, so it must’ve been a defense mechanism against the cold weather, nothing else.

But he did got sick, so he was still a bad kid.

It was fine, he had been through this before, he just needed to wait a little while, maybe less than two weeks, he was in better shape now than last time this happened, when he was alone and got sick he knew if was hungry enough he would just fall asleep for a few days and wake up with a horrible headache and a runny nose, but that just meant he would feel better in three or four more days, he could take it. But he wasn’t alone now, and even if his heart wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his big brother’s arms until he got better…. He didn’t want Sonic to go through that, Sonic wasn’t a bad kid, he was the bestest friend in the world, the bestest greatest brother in the world, he didn’t deserved to get sick.

So even if he couldn’t open his eyes, even if all his body hurt like he was made of broken glass, he waved him away, surely Sonic didn’t know he could get sick from being around him, so he needed to protect Sonic from his sickness, he needed to protect Sonic from him. Even if he tried to pet his forehead or scratch behind his ears, and even if Tails wanted nothing more than to be hugged by him, he needed to protect Sonic, so he curled in himself, rolled on his side when his brother got too close, and even scratched his arms when he tried to pet him. Tears finally started rolling down his tired eyes when he heard his brother’s sudden hiss to the touch of his claws, no, anything but that, he didn’t wanted to hurt him, he didn’t wanted him to be ill, he didn’t wanted his brother to suffer because of some cursed freak, and now he was the one crying, he didn’t deserved to cry, he didn’t got time to cry, he could already feel the rest of his energy going away with the falling of his tears, his body already felt so heavy, sleep taking him down more and more with every heart beat, and as much as it hurt, he needed to get his brother away from him or he would try to comfort him again, he couldn’t risk Sonic getting sick just for petting him.

Bad kids didn’t deserved to be petted.

That was it. Trembling and whining were bad enough besides being sick, but tears? The blood coming out from the little claw scratches on his forearm didn’t sting nearly as much as the tears falling down the kid’s eyes did.

No, he couldn’t take it anymore, it didn’t matter if he scratched his face, growled at him or bit his hands, he couldn’t give him a solid home, five star medical care or even a proper bed, but he could give him this.

He was no doctor, and he knows that no amount of hugs could cure the little fox, but again, no doctor could really know how much better it made Tails feel whenever he was hugged, but Sonic knew, cause no matter when or how, or the limited time’s he’s done it, but he knows that for this tiny baby fox, hugs made him sleep, hugs made him purr, and hugs made him smile. When all the wet rags, medicine and blankets don’t do their job, hugs were the best comfort in the world.

And so the speedster finally placed himself on the ground, not just beside the fox, but completely surrounding him, holding him close to his chest while the kit mumbled silent whines and tried to move his paws against him, hoping the lullaby of his heartbeat could be enough to soothe the little cub, longing for the calm sound of his brother’s almost silent snoring, demanding to anything that’s out there to let him keep his brother alive, to let him end his pain and make him smile soon.

He didn’t really believed in anything up there, if they were real, they weren’t doing their job if the traumatized kid in his arms had anything to say. But Sonic believed in himself, and if the universe wanted to take his kid from him, they’d have to rip him from his dead cold hands, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

He held Tails even closer, whispering soft nothings to him, the kit’s wet nose pressing to his chest while he pet his ears and ran his fingers through his bangs, the fox’s whimpers and loud breathing made his heart ache, but he was still breathing, all cold, sweaty and scared, but breathing.

He wasn’t crying anymore, no longer fighting his big brother’s embrace, no longer trying to get away or to hide from him, and suddenly melting into his touch, relaxed enough that Sonic could feel the heartbeat on his chest against his own.

Then the most beautiful sound ever blessed his ears.

Tails didn’t know why Sonic didn’t leave him alone. He didn’t know why he seemed even more eager to get close to him after he hurt him to the point of bleeding. He didn’t know why he got to the ground and held him closer to his chest when the tears appeared, when he was the one who hurt him. And he didn’t know why he didn’t try to stop him. He needed to protect him, he was barely awake but he could try a last effort. He could push him away. Letting him know he was dangerous to be around one last time. He had to.

His brother’s heartbeat was always fast, almost sounding like a buzzing instead, what would be annoying to most people, but to Tails? Being held right now, his head cradled to the crook of his hero’s neck, listening from up close to the rapid beat, it was the most soothing sound he’s ever heard. As much as he needed to push Sonic away, and as much as his mind told him to protect him, his heart knew that being there, in his big brother’s arms, he didn’t wanted to move away from there, ever. It felt like the safest place in the world. It was the safest place in the world.

Just being there close enough to feel the hedgehog’s breathing over him, getting his forehead rubbed and his ears scratched while the speedster’s voice engraved itself in his heart, It made his headache almost bearable, his tears slowly stopped, his breathing no longer felt like chocking, and the warmth that he felt before was no longer burning, but rocking him to slumber.

Only good kids deserved to be held with love, he knows that, he was never held like this before. Even when every single person on his home island refused to even touch him if it wasn’t to hurt him, and even if he doesn’t remember ever being held like this by his parents, Sonic was here, holding him. His brother was holding him.

The pain and sorrow that embraced him finally being replaced by a comforting rumbling coming from his own chest.

Maybe he was a good kid after all.

[minotaurs-my-beloved]

Wendigos

In reference to this (@0mystic I did ittt)

TW: References to cannibalism, noncon

Body shaking, teeth chattering, your arms are wrapped around yourself trying your best to warm up. It's getting hard to keep your eyes open, face stinging with cold, feet completely numb.

You need to keep going.

You're starving, a deep gnawing hunger in the pit of your stomach. And as terrible as it sounds, at this point, every time you look over at your friend thoughts of eating them pop into your mind, if only for a moment. Just a little bite wouldn't be too bad, right?

You both had gotten lost, it was meant to be a fun trip in the mountains, but a massive unexpected snow storm quickly turned a fun outing into a harsh fight for survival. Everything in your way was trying it's best to kill you.

Nature isn't kind, and you're learning that first hand.

Human bodies are not meant for this, the temperatures are far below freezing and the big coat does nothing to save you from the biting winds. There isn't a chance in the world you won't be at least hypothermic by the time you get back.

If you even get back.

That's when you see it.

Its tall hulking figure standing amidst the trees, jagged antlers jutting out from its wolf skull the long canines coming out just past the end of the jaw, its ribcage protruding grotesquely from its gaunt body, tail of bones sliding behind it, furry goat legs transitioning into hooves.

You stop and stare, fear searing through your veins, blood beginning to pump again as your fight or flight triggers. You look to your side, wanting to ask your friend if they see it too, hoping you're just hallucinating, but they're gone. You blink hard, breathing faster you turn your head back to the creature.

It's looking at you.

It's looking at you with its uncanny, empty eye sockets, tilting its skull as though taunting you, its short fur blowing forward in the wind. You know what it is. You had heard the stories of what happens to those who fall into extreme greed, not just greed but a cannibalistic hunger.

It is a monster. Both inside and out it is a monster. But who are you to judge?

You understand.

Used to, committing such depravity would have been an unfathomable thought. But now, it makes sense. Yet, as much as you understand, you do not want to become its next meal. It's not as though your body would be helping it anyways, cursed with an insatiable, painful, hunger. You can see it in its features, bones nearly apparent under its thin skin.

You want to run, but your body is weak, the extreme environment you've been in taking its toll just when you need your energy the most. You can do nothing but watch as it starts staggering its way towards you, never once breaking eye contact. You can see the gluttony in its piercing nonexistent eyes, as that is now all this creature has become. It comes to a halt before you, slowly lowering its head and tilting it again. You breath becomes rapid, the only movement you can make being the erratic pumping of your chest and the continued shakes from the snow.

It inspects you while your mind races, wondering why it hasn't eaten you yet. Instead, in one quick movement it grabs your leg and starts dragging you, kicking does nothing to stop it, claws digging into your calf from your squirming. You pass out at some point, your body completely giving up on trying to keep you aware even with the danger you face.

Waking up in a dark cave, finally getting a reprieve from the biting wind, you see it standing above you, still staring. Ripping open the crotch of your pants, it cares nothing about your comfort nor protest, greedy, greedy, claws needing to feel you. Leaving marks all over your body, ruining it with its dagger-like nails, long tongue spilling out of its mouth to lick up and down your tits. Ramming its cock inside you with no prep because this isn't about you.

This is all for it.

It is desperate to fill the void that has eternally made itself home inside the creature.

Yet no matter what, nothing will work. It knows this, but refuses to accept it, slamming harder and deeper into you. Your body is stiff, weakly trying to push it off, as it picks up the pace with each thrust. Unable to stop yourself from feeling the never ending hunger it does, lust overcoming your mind as it ravages your body.

The hunger is overtaking your body, if only you could take a bite of the creature. But it doesn't have enough skin on its bones, and soon, you won't either.

You two are one in the same.

You too will succumb to the same fate.

This monster is a glimpse into your future.

[ultram0th]

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 23: Ghost Possession

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20 │ 21 │ 22 │ 23

Despite being a werewolf, Derek didn’t believe in ghosts. In his opinion, they were the cheap product of Hollywood trying to advertise uncreative horror films. He would scoff at the young adults who’d dared one another to sneak into McFadden Manor, only to hear them swear up and down that they’d seen a ghost. Lies, Derek figured.

Still, when Stiles had made up his mind to investigate the ghost stories surrounding McFadden Manor for Halloween, Derek had instantly jumped at the chance to tag along in an attempt to look brave and woo the hyperactive human. 

Unfortunately, Derek couldn’t hide the grimace as he walked through the deserted McFadden Manor. The abandoned mansion was the center of numerous spooky, Halloween-themed tales— all of them focusing on a mischievous trio of ghosts who liked to mess with unsuspecting people. The wide smile on Stiles’s face deeply contrasted with Derek’s scowl.

He eagerly held up an ancient-looking camera. “We should split up and cover more ground,” he said. “I’ll go down towards the garden while you inspect the bedrooms. Radio me if you see anything.” He shoved a large, dinosaur era walkie talkie towards the werewolf.

“I can just text you…” Derek muttered, studying the heavy tech in his hands.

“Thanks for coming with me again, Der,” Stiles said, offering the usually grumpy werewolf a sincere smile, making the alpha’s heart flutter in his chest.

In response, Derek puffed out his muscular chest with pride, his pecs pressing teasingly against his thin, white t-shirt. “S’no problem,” he grunted, trying to play it cool, but he could feel his cheeks grow hot as he blushed. Plus, he couldn’t help but crunch his stomach to make his abs pop against his shirt too, his muscular bod being his best form of flirting since he wasn’t really good at wooing orally.

Stiles happily ran down one of the dark hallways towards his destination, Derek not-so-subtly watching his perky butt as it disappeared.

“Damn,” Derek admired before frowning at the sight of the decrepit mansion. “Damn it.”

Frowning again, he shrugged his broad shoulders and lumbered throughout the dark, cobweb-filled halls. To humor himself, Derek sniffed at the air, smelling nothing in the air except for dust and rats. He rolled his eyes at himself participating in this foolish activity, yet, he forced himself to focus on the endgame: Stiles and him getting together… and then heatedly fucking in his Camaro.

That last thought put a little more pep in Derek’s steps as he explored the empty rooms in the mansion.

*Thud!

Derek tensed up at the sound that echoed out from one of the bedrooms. Following the source, Derek entered a room near the end of the hallway. The room turned out to be a bathroom, the rusty toilet giving it away. There was a dust-covered sink with a dirty mirror near the entryway, and in the far end was a standing tub with a yellow curtain closed over it.

Derek cocked his eyebrow in confusion over the fact that the water seemed to be running in the tub, steam even billowing out from the curtain.

“What the hell?” Derek wondered aloud, knowing that there was no way this house was occupied given its dilapidated state. Still, the running water left the werewolf deeply confused. He grabbed the edge of the shower curtain and ripped it to the side.

Inside of the tub was a portly bluish figure that was slightly transparent. Looking like a caricature ripped out of a cartoon, the ghost had a little tail that seemingly phased in and out of existence as the creature showered. When it noticed that it was being watched, the ghostly figure looked over at Derek and gasped, covering its lower half with its hands… despite there being really nothing to see.

“Do you mind?” the ghost scoffed.

Derek was stunned silent for a moment, his eyes wide as he stared at an actual ghost that was floating before him. “Holy shit,” he finally breathed. “You’re a fuckin’ ghost!”

The ghost exaggeratedly rolled its eyes at Derek. “No shit,” it huffed in a baritone-filled voice that only emphasized its rotund girth. A sly grin formed on its translucent face and its eyes sparkled. “You know, most fleshies tend to avoid this place because of me and my brothers, but here you are.” He sniffed at the air, his smile growing wider. “A werewolf?”

Derek flinched and took a cautious step back.

The ghost continued. “We don’t get a lot of your kind here,” he chuckled. “Your bodies tend to be a little more sturdy. This should be fun!”

The ghost lurched forward at lightening speed, much faster than Derek’s werewolf instincts could react. Since his jaw was still hanging low in shock, the ghost aimed right for the alpha’s agape mouth. 

Derek felt his mouth being stretched to the limit as the ghost squeezed himself inside of him. It was a difficult sensation to describe. Thanks to the ghost’s vapor-like body, it felt as if there was a gust of air that was keeping Derek’s jaw thrusted down as it shoved itself in. Cartoonish stretching noises, like rubber, sounded out as the ghost entered the werewolf. Derek felt himself getting fuller and fuller, feeling as if he’d just eaten a multi-course meal and was stuffed to the brim.

With a simple pop, the ghost finished his entrance and successfully squeezed his rotund body deep inside of Derek.

The werewolf felt full, his stomach and even lower end of his throat feeling as if there was a thick soup trapped in it. Derek stumbled around on shaky feet, trying to piece together what had just happened. The ghost squirmed a little as he settled in under Derek’s skin, the werewolf wincing at the sensation. 

“Damn, I can’t believe that worked!” Derek heard himself exclaim. “I usually have trouble fitting inside tiny bodies.”

Tiny? Derek balked.

Derek’s tingling limbs appeared out of his control, and the more Derek tried his best to strain and walk on his own accord, the more horrified the werewolf grew as it dawned on him that he wasn’t in control of his body. He even attempted to open up his mouth and demand that the ghost leave his body, but he couldn’t even do that— instead, Derek was more so a passenger inside of his own body. He could still experience every sense, smelling and feeling everything around himself, but he couldn’t move or speak on his own.

He felt his legs propel him forward, turning around to look into the mirror. Derek bristled at his own reflection which only smiled back at him, his smile eerily similar to that of the ghost’s.

What the fuck are you doing to me?! Derek roared on the inside. Get the fuck out!

The ghost only shook Derek’s head mockingly. “No way,” he said, making Derek’s body and voice say it on his behalf. “I kinda miss having a body so I’m gonna hang onto yours for a bit. The name’s Fatso, by the way.”

That’s a stupid name.

The ghost shrugged. “And this is a stupid body,” he countered, exploring Derek’s body, running his hands over it. Derek could feel every touch, unable to stop feeling himself up. “There’s barely any room inside of here. Let’s fix that.”

Derek screamed on the inside as he witnessed his stomach shudder before it expanded outwards. His gut grew in size and it rounded out as Fatso forced it to bubble out. Derek’s chiseled abs disappeared as a thick layer of fat appeared over them, going from firm to large and jiggly. It grew bigger and bigger, becoming huge and bulbous as it jutted far out in front of Derek, looking as if he’d swallowed a yoga ball instead of a ghost. To add to the inflation, even Derek’s pecs packed on some fat. They lost some of their tone as they grew larger and saggier, resting atop his enormous belly. There was still some traces of Derek’s large muscles underneath his new girth, but instead of looking like he lived in a gym, he looked more like some ex-jock who was in the middle of a perpetual bulking phase.

What the fuck did you do to me?! Derek roared on the inside, wincing as he examined his new body in the mirror. He must’ve gained well over fifty pounds, with most of it centered on his new gut. His mysterious growth had torn his t-shirt to shreds, forcing him to see all of his girth at once. Despite looking hard and solid, Derek winced at the way his gut hung over his jeans, sagging slightly.

Fatso mock-frowned. “Don’t be like that,” he taunted, putting both of his hands on the sides of Derek’s new belly and giving it a playful shake, causing it to bounce wildly. “I think you look much better with some more meat on our bones. Now there’s some food in the kitchen that we can eat.”

Eat? You mean you want me to get even fatter? Derek protested, unable to prevent his body from waddling out of the bathroom and down the hallway. His thicker thighs rolled over one another as he moved, and his rotund belly stuck so far out in front of himself that he couldn’t even see his feet. He inwardly flinched every time his foot thudded against the hardwood floor, sending a ripple through his belly and pecs.

Fatso forced Derek into the kitchen, where he made him lumber towards the fridge. Derek was surprised that when it opened, it was stocked full of food that looked like it’d just been bought earlier that day as opposed to sitting for years untouched.

Derek felt his arms lurch forward, grabbing fistfuls of various treats and snacks. 

“The only downside to being a ghost is that you can’t eat a lot of food,” Fatso lamented. “But the good thing about possessing a werewolf fleshie is that you can gorge on tons and tons of junk food. Much, much more than a human can!”

No! Wait! Derek pleaded.

His pleas fell on deaf ears as Fatso eagerly shoved loads of food into Derek’s mouth, moaning loudly as he tasted all sorts of flavors. Salty, sweet, savory— all kinds of different foods were shoved down Derek’s eager throat, none of them low-calorie.

The entire time, the werewolf inwardly begged Fatso to stop gorging on so much junk food. However, the ghost was paying no attention to him, moaning loudly as he devoured everything in the fridge.

In the center of the fridge was a delicious looking, three-tiered cake with bright pink frosting. Derek could feel his mouth salivating as his eyes honed in on the monstrous dessert. 

Before Derek could uselessly plead with Fatso again, his hands grabbed at the cake as he greedily gobbled it down. All he could taste was the sugary frosting and the chocolate center of the cake, grimacing at the sweetness, yet Fatso loved it.

Derek inwardly froze when he felt something horrible: his pants felt like they were getting tighter.

It was hard to tell since Fatso controlled his line of sight, but Derek could barely make out his gut growing more and more into his field of vision. It didn’t take long for the werewolf to put two and two together to figure out that, thanks to Fatso’s overeating, he was getting even bigger.

His big belly was starting to jut even further away from his torso as it packed on even more size from the delectable cake. His pecs felt heavier as they grew in size, his nipples even stretching out from the sheer expanse of his enlarged chest. Love handles formed and drooped slightly over the edges of Derek’s pants, which felt painfully tight by now.

Pop!

The button on Derek’s pants finally gave out, ricocheting off and landing on the floor. Derek felt a sense of relief as he continued to fill out, his ass puffing out as his cheeks ballooned out and became large and squishy. To account for his larger rear, Derek could even feel his thighs starting to push closer together as they blew up. As Fatso continued to eat, Derek’s body went from bulky to chunky linebacker status, looking incredibly large as if two of him were shoved together into one body.

Fatso fit the last few bits of the cake into his mouth, swallowing it down loudly and straightening back up. He patted his large gut, satisfied, before letting out a loud burp.

“I always gotta get a big cake before every Halloween thanks to silly guys like you who want to come play detective,” he smiled, rubbing his hand up and down his distended belly. “This was nice. See ya next year?”

Derek let out another loud belch, this one accompanied by a flash of blue as Fatso left his body to fly somewhere else in the manor.

Finally in control of his body, Derek gasped loudly as he ran his shaky hands all over his enlarged form. For some strange reason, even with Fatso gone, Derek was left with his added weight, looking massive and round. He took an awkward step forward, blushing as his entire body seemed to jiggle. He couldn’t see anything past his large belly which definitely wouldn’t fit in any of his clothes anymore.

“Damn it,” Derek huffed, giving his gut a tentative poke. “I have to do so many crunches to get this down to size…” He trailed off when his stomach growled, a deep hunger taking over him.

“Hey, Der,” Stiles called out, his footsteps approaching, “still no sign of any ghosts. I’m starting to think that they’re just stories.” Stiles froze when he reached the kitchen, his eyes nearly falling out of his head at the sight of the fatter Derek.

“Um,” Derek blushed, scratching the back of his head nervously, “I think I found a ghost—” He paused when Stiles stepped forward and placed a soft hand on his rotund belly, rubbing it up and down.

A smile forming on his face, Stiles couldn’t help but look up at the large werewolf. “Do you like belly rubs?” he asked, playfully rubbing Derek’s gut.

Although he couldn’t see it thanks to his big gut blocking his view, Derek could feel his cock rocket to attention, already oozing as Stiles gave him a belly rub. “Y-yeah,” he breathed. He blushed again as his stomach growled a second time.

“Big boy’s hungry?” Stiles teased.

Derek just eagerly nodded, looking forward to eating cake and getting more belly rubs from Stiles. 

All in all, it turned out to be the best Halloween of Derek’s life.

[candycandy00]

Human - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic

You’re a human-shaped cat girl curse in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Part 2

Notes: I got the idea for this after watching the latest episode and loving how they used horror movie music when Gojo was stalking Jogo. So this has horror elements.

Smut. 18+. VERY DARK FIC! Noncon/Rape! Torture! Pain! Gojo being a sadistic freak! Don’t read this if any of those things bother you! Reader doesn’t die but she goes through hell. You’ve been warned!

You had always loved humans. You loved the way they laughed, the way they moved, the way they loved each other so fiercely. From the moment you came into being, you longed to be human. 

You were a curse, and you were supposed to hate humans, to kill them. But you’d never harmed one in your lifetime. It was a blessing that you looked like them. The only visible difference was that you had furry cat ears and a long cat tail. In recent years you noticed young humans wearing fake cat ears as fashion accessories, and you loved it. Mainly because it meant you could walk among them and those that could see you wouldn’t even blink upon seeing your ears. 

You didn’t even need the ears to hear. You had a set of “human ears” as well, which you got your auditory information from. 

Over the past few months, you had even made friends with a couple of human girls who attended a college in the city. You looked around the same age as them, so you blended in well. 

This year, for Halloween, they invited you to come with them to Shibuya for a huge party in the streets. You were reluctant to go to big public places with them, for fear that they would introduce you to someone who couldn’t see you. But this Halloween party sounded so fun! And you could let your tail show and everyone would assume it was part of your costume. 

Your friends helped you pick out a dress to wear. It was black, to match your ears, slinky, with a slit up the side and thin straps at your shoulders. Your friends called it “sexy” and said it complimented your figure. 

On Halloween night, the evening had started out great, but of course it all went to hell pretty quickly. You saw the veil coming down, tried to hurry your friends along to escape without revealing what you knew, what you were, but it was too late. Your friends were sucked down into the subway station, and though you checked and found that you could leave the barrier if you wanted, you couldn’t abandon them. 

So you traveled down to where they were. You spotted some curses along the way but they ignored you, perhaps assuming you were on their side. You found your two friends standing in a corner, their hands clasped together in fear. When they saw you, relief broke out across their faces and they pulled you into an embrace. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had to protect them. 

It wasn’t long before a sorcerer showed up. You saw him hovering above the crowd like a god. He was tall, with snow white hair and a blindfold over his eyes. Even in a sea of humans dressed in outlandish costumes, he would have stuck out even if he were walking among them. There was something imposing about him. Something frightening. 

Then the curses came, and a fight broke out. Or more accurately, a massacre. The curses were killing humans to distract and frazzle the sorcerer, and you quickly ushered your friends to a far corner, as far away from the carnage as possible. You told them to remain there and keep their heads down while you went to check the situation. They didn’t want you to go, they were afraid for you, but you had to find out what was happening. 

When you got a little closer to the train tracks, you saw the sorcerer standing above everyone else, and watched him slowly pull his blindfold down. You saw the most haunting, beautiful, glowing eyes you’d ever seen. The sight took your breath away. And then, the real massacre began. 

The sorcerer dove in among the curses, ripping them apart, laughing with sadistic glee, eyes wild and crazed, mouth open in a terrifying smile. He was beautiful. He was monstrous. He was a nightmare come to life. 

What scared you most of all was how much he enjoyed it. This wasn’t a job for him, a duty. It was pure, unfiltered pleasure. He loved it. He loved the way their bodies ripped at the seams, the way their blood flowed and splashed, the cries of terror and pain. 

You retreated back to your friends, planning to shield them if anything went wrong. The action quickly died down. Whatever plan the curses had for the sorcerer failed. He’d slaughtered them all. You sensed the barrier come down, and you knew your friends would be safe. You also knew you had to flee. The sorcerer probably sensed you at some point, and your fear was that he would mistake you as being with the ones he’d killed, the ones who’d tried to kill him. 

When you had the chance, you took off, running up the subway tunnel, into the darkness, shedding your high heeled human shoes as you went. You found a small maintenance room along the way and went inside. It was dark and empty, and there was nothing but a table, desk, chair, and a couple of lockers in the room. You squeezed into one of the lockers and dampened your cursed energy as low as possible, then waited. If enough time passed, you would feel safe in assuming the sorcerer hadn’t noticed you or at least hadn’t considered you worth pursuing. 

You hid there, holding your breath, trying not to move an inch. But then you heard the door open, and your heart stopped. You listened as heavy footsteps walked into the room. You covered your mouth with your hand as tears trickled down your face. You just saw what this man could do to curses, what he enjoyed doing to curses. You didn’t stand a chance. 

The door to your locker flung open, and you were met with the most horrifying, unhinged grin you’d ever seen, wild, shimmering blue eyes boring into you. 

“There you are!” His voice was deep, with a distinctly gleeful tone. 

He grabbed a handful of your hair and tore you from the locker. “I’m not with those other curses,” you were crying, wanting to make that clear as soon as possible, “I don’t even know them!”

The sorcerer pulled your face closer to his and sneered at you. “So you just happened to be in the same place at the same time?”

You realized how bad it looked. “Please wait! I’ve never hurt humans! I love humans!”

He laughed then. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

Your whole body was trembling with fright, your face wet with tears. You were pulled against him, and you felt a bulge through his pants. Killing the curses had left him aroused. He really was a sadist! His face had turned cold and emotionless. You didn’t know which expression was more terrifying. 

You tried to pull away from him, and his hand slipped from your hair. He grabbed at one of your ears, and it sent a jolt of sensation through you. 

Your ears were incredibly sensitive to both pleasure and pain. When they were touched, it was almost as intense as as being touched between your legs. As his fingers closed over your ear, a moan escaped you. 

He froze. You clamped your hand over your mouth. You glanced up at his face, and you saw a flicker of surprise. He gave your ear a light squeeze, as if to experiment. Your entire body jerked, and your hand did nothing to contain another humiliating sound coming from your mouth. Your breaths became quicker. You squirmed and clamped your thighs together, trying to block out the pleasure emanating from your ear. 

You heard his voice say, “Seriously?” You glanced up and saw a wicked grin on his face, a strange look in those glimmering eyes. His thumb stroked over your ear, softly, and you couldn’t hold back your mewling cries. 

His eyes shifted down to your chest, as if just noticing your shape, the way your breasts heaved beneath the thin fabric of your dress, the way your cleavage nearly spilled out of the low neckline. His free hand slid one narrow strap down your shoulder, exposing one breast, making you whimper in shame. Then he was roughly grabbing the rounded flesh. 

He chuckled. “Why the fuck does a curse have a body like this?”

Your hands were frozen at your sides. You were too afraid to move. You had no choice but to let him molest you as he kept stroking your ear. He seemed to enjoy your distress, that violent, bloodthirsty look still in his eyes. But there was something else there, something that scared you even more. Lust. 

The hand groping your chest moved down, then slid under the slit in your dress, shoving itself between your trembling thighs. He laughed again. “I guess curses don’t wear panties,” he said, his fingers opening your folds and rubbing the small, sensitive nub inside. 

Your body jolted again, pleasure rippling through you. You tried to pull away again, despite your fear, but his hand left your ear and grabbed hold of your tail. 

You screamed. Your tail was more sensitive than your ears, and the harshness of his hand coiling your tail around it and squeezing hard made you see stars. He loosened his grip slightly, now rubbing your tail in a more sensual motion. You could feel the pleasure building again, with his hands stroking both your tail and your clit. You tried to fight it, tried to contain your pitiful moans, tried not to look at those lovely, eerie eyes that were watching your face. But you had always been a weak curse, in many ways. 

“Ahhhhh!”

The cry of ecstasy broke free from your lips, and your body spasmed as you collapsed. His hands held you up, still stroking your quivering flesh and your shaking tail, even as you panted and leaned your head over onto his chest in exhaustion. 

You heard him laugh. “I’ve never seen a curse cum before,” he was saying, his voice so close it sent chills down your spine. “Thanks for the show, but the fun’s over now.”

Fun? What part of this was fun? But within seconds you realized the humiliation you just suffered was fun compared to what he planned to do with you. His hand tightened suddenly on your tail, and just as suddenly, he ripped it off. 

Blood sprayed behind you. The pain was blinding, unimaginable, unbearable. You began to fall forward, but he caught you by your hair, holding you upright. You couldn’t even scream, your mouth opening and closing as you gasped for air. 

“Guess I found your weak point,” he said in a light hearted tone. 

When you finally regained your voice, after your body began slowly regenerating your tail, you pleaded with him. 

“Please let me go! I’m scared!”

He used your hair to turn your head so that you faced him. “And you think all those humans you guys murdered weren’t scared?”

“I didn’t kill anyone! I told you, I love humans!”

His grin faded. “Why would a curse love humans?”

You whimpered as his grip on your hair tightened. He reached up his other hand and roughly grabbed an ear, making you jump and cry out. “Because I want to be human,” you finally said, shuddering with sobs. 

He laughed again, a cruel laugh that made you hate him as much as you feared him. “That’s hilarious,” he said, then suddenly he grabbed a hold of your dress and completely ripped it from your body. You yelled out in surprise, then tried to cover yourself. He pulled your hands away from your body and shoved you onto the metal table in the middle of the room. 

You were on your back, completely bare, the gaping wound where your tail once was trying to close around the tiny nub you’d regenerated. You kicked wildly, thrashing about to try to keep him from climbing on top of you, but it was no use. He was immeasurably stronger than you. He straddled you, his knees on either side of your body. He looked down at you with a mixture of desire and disgust. 

Then, he unbuckled his belt and opened his pants. You were shaking your head before he even pulled out his massive cock, still rock hard from his earlier rampage. “Please, no…” 

“Shut up,” he told you, scooting back on the table to give himself enough room to shove your legs apart. “Stop trying to act human. It’s grossing me out.”

So you laid there, crying and shaking, as he took you. His thrusts were violent, satisfying his lust for your body as well as his lust for hurting curses. He was destroying you. That’s what it felt like. His hands were on your breasts, squeezing far too hard, then on your hips, gripping them with bruising fingers, then finally on your ears. 

Surprisingly, his touch there started out gentle. He caressed them softly with his fingers, and you couldn’t resist the pleasure it caused. You let out little whimpering moans and shivered under his ministrations. He grinned down at you, seeming amused by the fact that he could make you feel this way even as he raped you. 

After a few minutes of mortifying pleasure that left your heart and body confused, when you were on the edge of another orgasm, he suddenly gripped one of your ears tightly, and pulled. You cried out in pain, looking up at him with tear filled eyes. “Please, don’t!”

His face shifted. His grin was maniacal, his eyes deranged, as he oh so slowly pulled your hyper sensitive ear from your head. You screamed, clawing at him then nearly blacking out from the pain. All the while, he was still fucking you. 

One of his hands moved to your other ear, stroking it again in an almost loving fashion. You didn’t have the strength to fight or resist. You could only allow the totally conflicting sensations to wash over you in waves. The white hot pain of your ripped off ear and his cock tearing through you, and the mind melting pleasure of his soft fingers on your remaining ear. 

Eventually he leaned forward, his fully clothed body pressing against your nude one, and pressed his lips to your ear. He ran his tongue over it, gently, and it felt like your entire body was being stimulated. You came with a loud, whining moan, your back arching involuntarily against him. When you looked up, he was smiling down at you, not the frightening grin he’d been wearing, but a strangely kind one. In your hazy, half conscious state, you thought he looked like an angel. 

Then, he ripped your other ear off. 

Your eyes widened, your mouth opening in a soundless scream, your torn body clenching around him. And that’s when you felt his warm cum shooting deeply inside you. “You’ll never be human,” he whispered as he filled you with his seed. 

He pulled out and got off the table, zipping his pants and fixing his belt. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced at you. The anger and the bloodlust were gone from his eyes, he’d fucked it all into you and left it there. As if he had come down from a high, he stood quietly for a moment, staring at your wrecked body. He opened his mouth to say something, but the door to the room burst open, cutting him off. 

Your two friends ran inside, one of them clutching your discarded shoes. They must have seen them in the tunnel and come looking for you. Even after all the blood and violence they’d seen tonight, they still walked down a dark, scary tunnel to find you! 

The looks on their faces were horrific. They ran past the sorcerer and to your side, one of them yanking off her jacket to cover you with it. Then they rounded on him. 

“You sick fuck! What did you do to her?!”

“Rapist! Monster!”

They were screaming, tears on their own faces. You tried to sit up, to tell them to run away. Sorcerers didn’t attack humans as a general rule, but this one was such a terror that you didn’t know what he would do to two human girls who had interrupted his fun. 

He looked at them with bewilderment on his face. He gestured toward you and said, “She’s… your friend?”

“Of course she is,” one of them cried. She was digging around in her purse for something, then pulled out a small pink canister. “Stay the fuck away from her or I’ll mace you in the fucking face!”

You were sitting up on the table, with effort. Everything hurt. “Get behind me,” you told them. 

“No,” the one holding the mace said, “you’re always protecting us! You think we didn’t notice?”

The other girl was standing firmly in between you and the sorcerer. “We’ll protect you this time!”

He looked at them, at the can of mace trembling in the girl’s hand. They were scared, but they refused to back down. 

Several different emotions seemed to pass over his face. Confusion, realization, shock, horror… guilt? Was he just now realizing that he’d brutalized an innocent creature? Had he really thought you deserved whatever punishment he dished out because he assumed you’d killed humans? He didn’t say anything, he simply looked at you with a pained expression, and then he was gone, so fast none of you saw him leave. 

Your friends turned to you. “Let’s get you home. Do you need a hospital, or can you heal yourself?”

You blinked at them. Your ears were already growing back. “How did you know I can heal?”

They glanced at each other. “We’ve known you were different for a while now. We don’t know exactly how you’re different, but we think it’s amazing!”

You pulled them both into a hug, tears in your eyes. They were the silver lining in your life. They made you feel human, and that sadistic sorcerer could never take that from you. 

[elliesflower]

i saw you in a dream [6]

chapter 5 here

summary; you get in your head about ellie and cat.

chapter; 6/? 2.5k words

cw (per chapter); language, light angst

an; SURPRISE SHAWTY

it's my birthday but i felt like giving y'all a gift. you all make my days so special and put a smile on my face with your sweet comments and messages. i love you all with my whole heart!

find this chapter on ao3 here, i also made a spotify playlist to go with this story, listen to it here :)

“Cat,” you repeated her name, with a smile. But it felt like poison rolling off your tongue. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she smiled back, and her teeth were fucking perfect, bleached white and practically sparkling in the soft ambient lighting in the theatre. It sounded insincere, somehow. 

“So, Ellie,” Cat was back to talking to Ellie as if you didn’t exist, turning away from you so that you could gaze at her super angular jawline and dreamy slick black hair as it gently brushed her shoulders. Ellie shot you a quick look that you couldn’t quite decipher—it’s not like Cat would have noticed though, she was too busy tugging at the hem of Ellie’s flannel. You quickly averted your eyes, backing away slowly, scanning the room for Dina. Wishing desperately that the earth would just open up and swallow you whole. Their conversation suddenly seemed…personal. 

“I was thinking tonight I’d take you out to dinner, my treat! Your set was amazing,” she was purring. “I couldn’t have done this without you,” and if she had a tail it would be sticking straight up in the air, curling at the tip and pulling Ellie in. You glanced back at Ellie, who didn’t look at you, and instead looked down and grabbed Cat’s hand from her flannel. You turned all the way around now, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

But Ellie sang your song. Your song? The two of you had hung out one time. You can’t have a song with someone after one hang out, can you? It’s a pretty popular song, and easy enough for a quick performance. Yeah. Your brain tried to piece it all together, drowning out Ellie and Cat’s voices behind you, maybe if you squeezed your eyes shut you could just pretend you were somewhere far, far away, not making a fool of yourself in front of a pretty girl you thought might like you too. 

“Dude, we gotta go, my chem professor just saw me and he’s gonna rip me a new one for missing my final,” Dina appeared practically out of thin air, like a goddamn angel, and grabbed your arm, tugging harshly. You opened your eyes, blinking at her. 

“Wait, you skipped your chemistry final?” 

“What? It’s not like I was gonna pass anyways,” she shook her head at you like it was obvious. 

“Oh. Yeah, okay, whatever,” you sounded dejected. You felt dejected. You probably looked it, too. Dina glanced behind you, presumably at whatever disgusting form of PDA was occurring between Ellie and Cat, based on the change in her expression.

“Who the fuck-” 

“It doesn’t matter,” you cut her off, starting towards the door. “Let’s just go.”

It was stupid. This was stupid. Of course Ellie would end up with a person like Cat. Girls like Ellie don’t go for people like…you. People like Cat always have the upperhand—their features the pinnacle of modern beauty standards, voices like a slow dripping faucet of saccharine honey, a presence that captivates the room in an instant. There was no competing with that. They always win. 

“Hey,” Dina’s voice was laced with concern, and she was by your side in an instant, matching your stride as you practically stomped towards the exit. You tried to blink away the tears that slightly clouded your vision. “What happened back there?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you said, not looking at her. You could feel her gaze piercing into the side of your head, and could envision her brows pinched together with worry. 

“C’mon, just tell me. Who was that?” 

“It was no one,” you grumbled, blinking rapidly now, fighting the burning behind your eyes. 

“Well ‘no one’ sure had some fucking audacity to-”

“Audacity to what, Dina?” You stopped dead in your tracks, turning to face her. She looked at you with wide eyes. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” Your tone was harsh. You felt it, as it painted Dina’s face with dispirit, the corners of her mouth turning downward slightly. Instantly, you regretted it. 

“Okay. I’ll leave it,” she forced a smile, but you couldn’t say anything else, just stuck dead in your tracks as you looked at her, unmoving. Blinking. Why the fuck are you blinking so much?

“Seriously, it’s okay,” she said after a moment, but her voice sounded a little shaky, and you felt like shit. How did Ellie get into your head like this? 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you burst, the pressure behind your eyes turning into a waterfall, spilling from your eyes as you covered them with your hands, shaking your head. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just…a lot.” 

“Hey, I said it’s okay,” Dina assured, and her voice made you want to cry even harder—she was so good to you, grabbing your hands away from your face and leading you further down the hall, away from the people that were trickling out of the theater. “I’m sorry for pressuring you. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Ever.” 

“No, it’s not that,” you sniffed, letting her lead you out the main entrance. “I do want to tell you, it’s just…frustrating,” you sighed, exasperated as the cold hit your face and pricked your skin through the holes of your sweater. 

“I get it,” she nodded. 

“I can’t believe I thought I actually had a chance with her,” you moped, wiping the wetness from under your eyes. Dina was quiet next to you as you walked, though she looked deep in thought, watching the ground as the two of you walked. She led you all the way to a bench just outside of your dorm building without saying another word. You watched your breath turn to fog as you sat, instinctively pressing against Dina to share body heat. 

You felt shameful. Both for that terrible interaction with Ellie, and for snapping at Dina. You wished you had never even gone to that open mic, that you had just said you were sick like you’d proposed to Dina a few hours before when the nerves were settling in—you supposed you should have listened to your gut. 

“That was her roommate. Cat,” and yep, the name was still venomous. Dina looked at you, silently prodding you to continue. You looked down at your hands, rubbing them together in your lap. 

“Apparently, they ‘go way back,’” you made air quotes. “Wednesday, when she invited me to this, she mentioned something about a toxic ex. I have a feeling it’s her. Although she kind of acts more like they’re currently together.”

Dina watched you for another moment, before turning away, looking down at her feet. She was silent for a moment, and you wanted to scream. Even Dina, the queen of advice, had nothing to say to you. Lovely. 

“I’m sorry, but if Ellie doesn’t see what she could have with you then she’s fucking stupid,” she blurted suddenly, and she was no longer sad, but angry. You looked at her, and she was shaking her head, looking out into the empty courtyard.

“Dina, it’s really okay,” you said, but your voice was small and unconvincing. 

“No, I’m serious,” she said. “That was fucked up. And I’m sorry.”

You looked back down at your hands. 

“It’s okay,” it didn’t sound like it. “It was just a crush. I’ll get over it.” Dina kept her eyes on you, watching as you bounced your knee anxiously. 

Just a crush. Hah. Okay. 

“Do you want to go inside?” Dina asked after a beat. Yeah, you were fucked. 

“I think I’m gonna hang out down here for a minute. I could use the fresh air,” you said quietly. 

“Fresh air? Dude, it’s fucking freezing out here, you’re going to catch a cold or something,” Dina chided, before standing up. “God, you’re making me sound like a mom.”

“I’m really okay, Dee,” you tried to smile, but it felt awkward on your otherwise solemn face. “I’ll walk around a bit. I’ll be fine.” She looked at you for another moment with pursed lips, before nodding slightly. 

“Turn your ringer up, yeah?” 

You nodded, accepting her warm hug, gratefully. Ironically, you thought, she also kind of hugged like a mom. 

You regretted not going in with her about thirty seconds into your walk. It was kind of hard to think about anything but the bitter cold stinging your cheeks—though, you supposed, that was kind of a good thing. Maybe the freeze would seep into your brain and ruin the part of your brain responsible for holding onto memory of Ellie. Kind of pathetic, huh?

“Are you out here all alone?” 

You nearly stumbled over nothing, flinching when a voice startled you out of your thoughts, turning quickly to the sound. 

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

“Ellie,” you breathed, your eyes widening, your heart rate increasing by the second. She adorned a tan Carhartt coat now, her hands stuffed in her pockets, and she looked a whole lot warmer than you felt. You swallowed thickly, unsure of what else to say. So much for forgetting about her. 

“You disappeared,” she spoke for you, kicking her foot against the ground softly. Nervously.

“Yeah,” you said lamely. She nodded for a second, before looking down at her feet. You wanted to run away. 

“What are you-”

“I just wanted to-”

Both of you tried to speak at the same time. You immediately crossed your arms across your chest, partially for warmth, mostly because you felt really fucking awkward. 

“Uh, go ahead,” she gestured at you to continue speaking. 

“Oh, I, uh- was just going to ask…uh, what you were doing. Out here,” you stammered a bit, trying to gauge her expression. Fuck, she was hard to read. 

“Well, my house is that way,” she pointed behind you. “So, I gotta walk…this way…” she trailed off, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly. 

“Right,” you nodded, shivering slightly as a breeze swept between the two of you. You didn’t really want to hear what she was going to say. 

“Are you cold?” She asked, eyes suddenly soft. 

“Well I’m not exactly warm,” you quipped, but it didn’t have much weight to it. The corner of Ellie’s mouth twitched up slightly, but her face remained neutral. 

“Do you want to come over?” 

You felt faint. You felt like crying. You felt like saying no. You felt like saying yes. But you couldn’t say anything, so you just nodded instead. 

Ellie gave you her jacket, after weak protest. It smelled like how your tent does on a warm summer night in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the stars and the peaceful whisper of wind through the trees—also like weed, and that amber aroma that seemed to be trapped in her pores. 

She didn’t say a single word to you, after that. Just walked, wordlessly beside you on the familiar path to her house. You tried to regulate your breathing, tried to push aside the questions that ran through your brain like, why is Ellie here, walking me to her house when she could be having dinner with Cat? And also, where is Cat? 

Ellie’s house smelled exactly as you remembered it, though, the scent was mildly soured when you suddenly remembered that Cat lived here, too. The warm air against your cold skin made you shiver slightly as you shrugged off Ellie’s coat in the entryway—of course, she was by your side in an instant, grabbing it from you before throwing it over the rack. It was still silent as the two of you kicked off your shoes, before Ellie turned to look at you. 

“Do you want to go upstairs?” You weren’t sure why she was asking you. You were already shoe-less, in her entryway. 

“Lead the way,” you found yourself saying. Just like the first time. 

Ellie’s room still smelled the same, too. Earthy and rich, dreamy and intoxicating. You felt high already. Your brain was spinning, your heart racing, your hands slightly shaky. Ellie sat down on the edge of her bed, leaving plenty of room for you—if you ever stopped hovering near the door. 

“You can sit, you know,” Ellie said after a moment, smiling softly at you. An invitation. You swallowed. What the fuck are you doing here? 

But then you were sitting, next to her, just this close to touching her leg with your own. You didn’t look at her. It felt like middle school. It felt exciting. It felt so fucking confusing. 

“So, I thought you were going to dinner with Cat. What happened?” Your mouth was moving before your brain could stop you, and Ellie practically flinched at your words. She regained herself quickly, though.

“Oh, I didn’t really want to go out. I’m just a little tired,” she said, pulling her legs up onto the bed and crossing them beneath her.

“If you’re tired then what am I doing here?” You asked. Her eyes widened a bit.

“Well, I mean- I’m not that tired, I just- didn’t want to go out anywhere, you know?” 

No, you didn’t really. 

“Yeah,” you said instead. She was getting harder to read by the second. You shrunk back a bit, drawing your legs up onto the bed and leaning against the headboard opposite of Ellie. The pause hung heavy, nearly tangible between your bodies.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, looking down at her lap. You watched a loose strand of hair fall into her face, and her nose scrunched up. You wanted to brush it away, to feel the warmth of her skin beneath your palm as you caressed her face—

“For what?” You asked, even though you kind of knew. 

“For Cat,” she said quietly. 

“What about her?” 

“She can be kind of…a lot.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” You asked, like you were entitled to that information. Like you’d hung out more than once. 

“No, she’s not.” Ellie was quick to deny, looking back up at you now. Her eyes sparkled in the soft yellow lamplight cascading upon her face. Your throat felt tight. You nodded, pulling your knees into your chest. 

“She used to be.” Ah, there it is. 

“And now she’s your…”

“Roommate.”

“Right.”

Just the other day, Ellie had said she knows all about toxic exes. You didn’t think that meant she literally lived with one. What are you doing here?

“She’s just my roommate, I swear,” she was insistent, leaning forward, trapping you in her gaze. You nodded again. You weren’t sure why she was repeating herself. You glanced at the clock behind her on her desk, which read 10:32pm.

“It’s getting late,” you said weakly, knowing fully well you’d be up until three am. Ellie’s face fell, just slightly. 

“You just got here,” she said, though she wasn’t being much of a great host. 

“You said you were tired.”

“Yeah, but I- well-” she stuttered, picking at her cuticles. 

“It’s okay,” you were saying, though you didn’t know why. It didn’t feel very okay. As soon as your feet hit the ground she was standing up as well, one hand awkwardly snaking into her back pocket as she took a deep breath. 

“I’ll walk you back to your dorm?” She offered. 

“It’s okay. I’ll have Dina meet me somewhere.” You won’t even text her. Ellie didn’t say anything, but she nodded, giving you a smile. 

It didn’t reach her eyes.

[dragonflylady77]

The Birthday Wish

I decided on Wednesday afternoon to write a fic for Billy's birthday (on the Friday). Just pretend it's still 29 March, okay?

Gift for @spaceofentropy

You can find it on ao3

TW Neil Hargrove, child abuse

Steve drove up to the quarry, slowing right down when he noticed there was already a car there. A very familiar blue car.

“Fuck!” His evening was shit enough, having had to endure three hours of the Party as well as Jonathan and Nancy being all cozy on the couch at the Byers’ house for Will’s birthday, he didn’t fancy a confrontation with Billy Hargrove on top of that.

It was too late though, Hargrove would have noticed his car by now, for sure, and Steve knew he’d never hear the end of it if he turned tail now.

He parked alongside the Camaro and turned his engine off. He glanced to his left and did a double take when he noticed Hargrove was sitting on the hood of his car, a thin looking blanket on his lap. The guy was holding something but it was too dark, even with the nearly full moon, for Steve to see what it was.

Steve grabbed his parka from the backseat and put it on once he got out of his car.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” Hargrove asked as Steve did his zipper up.

It was cold as balls, barely above freezing. “Yeah, it’s me, don’t cream your pants,” he muttered under his breath, not expecting Hargrove to hear him but then he started laughing and Steve stared.

He couldn’t remember ever hearing Billy Hargrove laugh before. It was surprisingly heartwarming and Steve wished he could see his face properly. He stepped closer to the Camaro and peered at Billy. He had a can of beer between his thighs and was holding a cupcake.

Huh.

“You’re just in time, pretty boy,” Billy said, pulling his pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his denim jacket, followed by his Zippo and a… birthday candle.

“In time for what?” Steve asked, confused as fuck. He didn’t even react to the pet name, he was kinda used to it. Truth be told, he hadn’t heard it for a while, since he wasn’t at school anymore, and he kinda missed it, not that he’d ever admit that to anyone.

“‘m turning eighteen in a few minutes,” Billy said around the cigarette between his lips. The flame of his lighter illuminated his face for a couple of seconds, long enough for Steve to see the black eye and the dried blood on his cheek.

“The fuck happened to you, Hargrove?”

Billy shrugged. “Neil didn’t take too kindly to Maxine reminding him it was my birthday. He expressed his displeasure before I dropped her off for her sleepover at the Byers’.”

“Excuse me, but what the fuck?”

“Don’t worry about it, princess. I’m just glad he gave me time to pack a bag before he kicked me out.”

“Kicked you out? On your birthday? Again, what the fuck?” Steve couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Well, yanno, I’m eighteen now, legally an adult, so I have to fend for myself or some such,” Billy said, checking the time on his watch and pressing the sad looking candle into the frosting of his blue cupcake.

Steve watched him light the candle, his heart in his throat as he connected some dots. What kind of parent kicked their kid out the day they turned eighteen? What kind of monster beat up their kid because it was their birthday? Holy shit .

Billy made eye contact with Steve before he closed his eyes for a moment and blew out his birthday candle.

“What d’you wish for?”

Billy grinned before he removed the candle and put it back in his pocket. “Can’t tell you, Stevie, or it won’t come true.”

“Happy birthday, Billy.”

“Thanks.” Billy ripped the cupcake in two and offered one of the halves to Steve, who took it with a nod. 

Steve looked at it then back at Billy.

“It’s not poisoned, in case you’re wondering,” Billy said before he moved off the center of the hood and patted the space beside him. “Come sit with me, I promise I won’t bite.”

Holding his half cupcake, Steve sat on the edge of the Camaro’s hood before sliding closer to Billy. The metal was still a bit warm and it made Steve feel something he didn’t care to analyze.

“What are you gonna do?” Steve asked as he took a bite. The frosting was really sweet, and the cupcake vanilla flavored.

Billy shrugged again. “Sleep in my car, I guess, shower at school, or something, I dunno. Neil didn’t find the money I’ve been saving but it’s not enough for a motel, not to last until graduation, anyway.”

“Billy, it’s way too cold to be sleeping in your car. You’ll freeze to death!”

“Cute that you think anyone will care, Harrington.” Billy laughed and this time, it made Steve shiver. Unlike before, there was no happiness in that laugh. “Not sure you’ve noticed but literally no one gives a fuck about me. No one at school. Certainly no one at the house on Cherry Lane.”

“Max cares,” Steve countered. You care , a voice in his mind added but he shushed it.

“She only cares because I’m her ride to places and it saves her having to walk everywhere. I have zero illusions about where I stand.” Billy balled up the paper case of his cupcake and threw it into the bushes.

“Surely—” Steve was sure Billy was wrong about Max.

“Nah, pretty boy. It’s fine. Don’t worry your pretty head about it. Just promise me, when they find me dead in a ditch, make up some good stories about me at my funeral, okay?” His empty beer can went the way of the cupcake case.

“That’s not funny.”

“Like I said, not your problem,” Billy said, an edge in his voice that Steve was wary of. “You should head home before your parents wonder what happened to you.”

Steve snorted. “My parents are somewhere in Europe, and they don’t give a fuck.”

“Aww Stevie, I’m sure that’s not true.”

“They showed up on Christmas Day and told me I had six months to sort myself out because they were putting the house on the market on July 1. I’m lucky my mom talked my dad out of cutting me off when I didn’t get into college.”

“Ouch.” Billy winced. “What are you gonna do?”

Steve shrugged. Working at Family Video was all well and good but it wasn’t really a long term plan. “Saving most of my shitty wages until I have to leave, then, I don’t know. Indy, maybe. Or Chicago, I guess.”

“You need to think bigger, princess. There’s a whole world out there. Where’s somewhere you’ve always wanted to go? What’s on your list?”

Steve took a moment to really think about it, watching his breath make little clouds of steam every time he exhaled. His ass was getting cold as well, sitting on the cooling metal. Billy’s blanket looked even thinner up close than it had earlier. It was time to move this party somewhere else.

“Hey, don’t feel like you have to say yes, or anything, but you wanna come back to my house? It’ll be warmer than here. I’ll even make us some food if you want.”

Billy didn’t punch his lights out or say no outright, so Steve counted that as a win. Billy gave him a confused look.

“Didn’t you have dinner at that weird kid’s birthday party? I saw your car there.”

“Yeah, well, sitting across from my ex and her new boyfriend kinda killed my appetite. I’m starving.”

“I didn’t realize you could cook, Stevie,” Billy said, taking one last drag of his cigarette before pressing the butt of it to the underside of his boot and dropping it in the dirt.

“My parents have been taking progressively longer trips ever since I was twelve, so I had to learn. There’s only so many frozen pizzas and boxed mac and cheese a guy can eat before he craves real food.”

***

Billy followed Steve to Loch Nora and parked his Camaro next to the bimmer in the Harringtons’ vast garage. He wasn’t too sure what was happening, but the promise of warmth, food and company definitely beat sleeping in his car at the quarry with the shitty blanket he’d sneaked out of Cherry Lane. 

He left his boots by the door in the foyer and spent a moment taking in what he could see of his former teammate’s house. The Harringtons lived on the other end of the spectrum when it came to income bracket, no doubt about it. For starters, they had an upstairs and what looked like a formal lounge and, oh yeah, was that a freaking pool ?

“Billy?” Steve called out and Billy startled.

“Yeah?” he replied, wandering towards the voice and the light. The kitchen was bigger than his bedroom at Neil’s house, with a double oven and too many cupboards to count.

“Hey, there you are,” Steve looked up at him from the freezer. “You okay with gnocchi?”

“Um, I guess. Never had them.”

Steve smiled at him and Billy felt something warm unfurl in his chest. He was having trouble remembering why this crush he’d been harboring on Steve was a bad idea, what with the way Steve was finally giving the attention he’d been craving since the first day.

He sat on the bar stool by the breakfast bench and watched as Steve put a big pot of water on the stove. Steve kept telling Billy what he was doing as he was doing it, explaining it was a recipe he’d found in a cookbook his parents had brought back from one of their trips.

The butter and sage smelled delicious and Billy couldn’t wait to try this dish. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken the time to cook for him. Susan’s cooking skills were not the best and she cooked whatever Neil demanded anyway. One of the upsides of being kicked out was that Billy would never have to pretend to enjoy Susan’s bland, dry meatloaf.

Billy realized Steve was calling his name and he looked over at him. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Dinner is ready. You wanna watch a movie while we eat?”

Billy nodded, at a loss to explain why Steve was being so nice to him. It wasn’t like they were friends. Yeah, sure, Billy had apologized after the fight that night back in November, but the few times he’d taken Max to the video store, he’d stayed in the car to avoid any awkwardness.

Now he’d shared his birthday cupcake with the guy and they were sitting down on his expensive looking couch to watch a movie, with a beer and delicious smelling food Steve had made for them. Almost made Billy forget about Neil whaling on him and kicking him out of the house.

He expected Steve to sit on the other end of the couch but he sat right next to Billy instead, his thigh warm against Billy’s. They ate in silence, and Billy did his best to pay attention to the plot of the movie Steve had picked but he was too distracted to care much. He hadn’t been this close to Steve since basketball practice and it was making his heart race.

Billy was trying not to read too much into the prolonged physical contact. He’d already been punched once tonight, he wasn’t looking for a repeat. Resisting the urge to put his hand on Steve’s thigh was getting harder and Billy wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to control his body’s reaction. That was an embarrassing situation he could do without, not to mention extremely awkward. 

He put his empty plate on the coffee table and stood up, asking Steve for directions to the bathroom before telling him he didn’t need to pause the movie. Billy then rushed out of the living room and locked the bathroom door behind him, resting against it for a minute. Fuck. Maybe he should leave, head over to the Motel 6 for the night and work out what to do tomorrow. 

Once he was done in the bathroom, he headed for the kitchen and got a glass of water to give himself some time. 

“You okay?” Steve asked from the doorway and Billy startled.

“Y-yeah, just, um, needed a drink.” He drained the last of his water and put the glass in the sink. “Look, Steve, it’s really late. I’ll… um, I’ll get out of your hair. Thanks for dinner but I better be going.”

“What? No.” Steve walked into the kitchen and stopped in front of Billy. “Why?”

Because if I stay I’ll probably get a boner and try to kiss you…

Billy ran a tired hand through his hair. “It’s just… it’s better this way.”

“Better for who?” Steve asked, not budging when Billy tried to move past him.

“Steve…”

“Listen, Billy, I’m sorry.” 

“What?”

Steve’s hand made it halfway to Billy before he dropped it at his side and wasn’t that a mindfuck? “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by sitting so close to you on the couch. I just…”

“You just…?” Billy’s fingers twitched with the need to reach out to the boy in front of him. He could feel Steve’s eyes on him, a phantom touch that heated up his skin, so for once, he let himself look. Steve’s hair looked like he’d been raking his fingers through it, his brown eyes fixated on Billy, the moles dotting his cheek and his neck, the yellow jumper that looked so soft. 

Billy didn’t let his gaze move below the belt, instead trailing back up to Steve’s mouth, his lips looking so fucking kissable. And so close. Huh? Before Billy could fully process that Steve had closed the gap between them, Steve leaned forward, cupping Billy’s face with both hands, and pressed their mouths together.

The contact was brief. Too soon, Steve pulled away, dropping his hands and taking a step back, eyes wide, like he suddenly realized the enormity of what he’d done. Billy grabbed him by the waist with both hands and pulled him close, capturing Steve’s lips and unleashing a year and a half of pent up yearning and pining. 

Billy found himself pressed against the side of the fridge, Steve’s tongue in his mouth and Steve’s arms around his neck. The kiss went from soft and exploratory to frantic and thrilling. Billy couldn’t get enough. He could feel Steve getting hard against his belly and it was intoxicating.

They broke the kiss when breathing became an issue but didn’t move away from each other.

“Stay,” Steve whispered against his lips and Billy nodded.

Later, tangled with Steve in his bed, naked and sated, Billy told Steve in hushed whispers how he’d wanted to kiss him since the Halloween party at Tina’s. Steve told Billy of all the times he’d stamped down on the attraction he was feeling because he believed it would never go anywhere. Billy laughed when Steve said he’d thought Billy was straight, then told him about Neil.

Over breakfast the next morning, Billy told Steve he’d secretly applied to colleges in California, and Steve told him he’d never seen the ocean. They started making plans.

***

Billy stepped off the stage on Graduation Day and walked past his classmates and the rest of the crowd until he reached the parking lot. Steve and Max were leaning against the Camaro, chatting animatedly. Max ran to him when she spotted him and they hugged.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, Billy!” she cried when he let go of her.

“You can come visit, shithead,” he replied with a grin. Being with Steve had helped repair their relationship and Billy had had to admit that Steve was right and Max did care. 

“You better write me when you get there.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I promised, didn’t I?”

They hugged one last time then Steve said his goodbyes and they got into the car.

Billy told Steve he could picked a tape and a lone birthday candle fell out of the glove box when Steve opened it.

“You never did tell me about your birthday wish, Billy,” Steve said, holding the candle up with two fingers.

Billy smiled as he pulled away from the lot. “I guess I can tell you now, since it came true.”

“Oh?”

“You were my wish, pretty boy.”

[daisiescomelate]

Sukuna's vessel: the scapegoat

Sukuna's vessel: the series

Part 1 (you are here) - Part 2 - Part 3 (not yet) - Part 4 (not yet)

Go to masterlist of fics

Summary: Reader was forced to become Sukuna's vessel and it's not looking like it will work out. For the first time you see Sukuna anxious, afraid that the weight of his soul might overwhelm and dissipate your own if they don't find an alternative vessel on time.

Rated: Teenage up

Content: Sukuna/Reader, Angst, 2nd person POV, Sukuna uses pet names, nothing really happens but a lot of blood is mention, no plot just hug.

Sukuna's vessel

Urame was out looking for an alternative vessel as they had been doing for the past three weeks. It was just you and the curse inside of you in the tiny, moldy apartment you had broken into to take refuge while avoiding the sorcerers on your tail.

The fingers Urame had collected and the ones you had stolen from the school laid on a drawer close to the door in the living room. Sukuna did not allow you to swallow any more of his fingers, but both you and Urame were aware of the danger they represented as it’s very possible for them to attract unwanted attention and you might have to flee again to avoid being killed by some running curse in the area. You weren’t a particularly good fighter, and Sukuna refused to take over the body –in case you wouldn’t wake up again after– so your only option would be running for your life.

But get up and run for your life didn’t sound like an option for you right now either. You were running a fever with intense muscle cramps that bent your body in half most of the time– sucking the soul of a demon into your body was painful like that. You had been laying on the bed for the past three days, barely eating anything if it weren't for Sukuna forcing you to stand up and drag your feet to the kitchen, where Urame had left meals prepared for you to take during his absence.

The room was spinning, the sheets stuck to your skin, shattered in places where you had ripped the thin clothes after gripping and pulling it with so much force due to the spasms. Trails of tears dried over your cheeks. Every breath was painful and hot, your body felt too hot, too torturously hot, and any light that filtered through the closed curtains was too bright for your tired eyes.

Fuck, it hurts.

Sukuna’s presence was almost tactile, as if you could feel him laying right behind you, whispering words of comfort against your nape. He had been standing behind your own consciousness these past few days, an ever present, powerful weight in the back of your mind. He was not close enough to take over, but his proximity was so that you could feel his growing uneasiness. And fury.

Urame should be back this afternoon. He said he would bring medicine for your pains. You just need to wait for a bit longer.

Sukuna’s presence inside of your body was… heavy, suffocating, dark. The pieces of him wrapped around your very soul, crushing it, persistently trying to suffocate it. It took you a consuming amount of effort not to feel like it would blast your consciousness as mere smithereens of crystal. It took a toll on your flesh as well, as if your blood vessels were filled with a thick, dense oil that made your limbs impossible to lift.

Your mind was a rampage of hate, and rage, and blood thirst– and images, noises, bones snapping, denting, maniac feelings, thrill, tremor, delight, hunger, blood, blood, in your hands, in your face, on your lips, flesh, in the floor, in your teeth, the taste of it in your tongue making you shudder in pleasure. Sukuna’s soul was–

Horrible.

Terrible.

Help.

Why, why, why.

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

Yes you can. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay, love.

 I really can’t. Sukuna– help.

You’re going to be okay, he said, his voice a soft echo in your mind. Your breath hiccupped. Come here with me, love. He invited you back to his domain and you didn’t protest. You craved it, his comfort, Sukuna, who would hold you so candidly, who could recite you poetry, who would protect you from anything. He would fix this, he could fix this, out of all the people in this world…

The breeze that leaked from the window next to the bed ran over your cold sweat making you shiver, but bringing no comfort for the heat regardless. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on Sukuna’s image, red blood waters in a turmoil surrounding a throne of bones, pieces of the people who had walked to a demon with thoughts of revenge, of a world with less evil, but had fallen.

Humiliated, stripped from all their dignity. For his entertainment. Screams and cries, for his amusement.

The ruffle of thick fabric of the curtains quieted down, the fingers of the light air brushing over your skin disappeared, and the sunlight that had caught in your eyes from the afternoon that had been hammering your temples banished. Instead, a different kind of warmth wrapped around you, the weight of two arms pressed around your waist.

“Hello”, a low voice greeted. Sukuna picked up your face with two fingers. Sitting on his lap you supported your head on his shoulder, too heavy to manage the weight on your own. Your hands trembled. Sukuna's laugh, Sukuna's glee at the blood, all that blood. With  a choked breath, you sank deeper in his chest, bile threatening to go up your throat. You felt sharp nails on your skull, caring for your hair, moving in slow motions to calm down the worst of your distress.

“It's okay, It's okay”, he said as he took the strands of hair that had stuck to your forehead because of the sweat away from your eyes.

Contained like this, between four arms and the strength of his heartbeat on his chest, you attempted to relax, trusting he would hold the pieces together if your body came to fall apart the way it was threatening to do.

You weren't able to mutter a response, instead answering with a lame whimper.

“You're doing a good job out there, love. You just need to hold on for a little bit longer. You can do that for me, right?” he whispered a kiss away from the back of your ear.

It burns.

“I hate this, Sukuna. Please–”

It was too much, too much, too horrid. The visions, the thirst, the ecstasy of the blood dripping from his fingers to the floor and the bodies, the corpses, the pieces, the screams, they are begging, begging, stop, stop, stop.

“I know, I know.” He murmured and you could feel every word over your skin, a light brush of his lips, “It's okay, Urame is on his way. You'll be alright, you will see. Shh…”

“Make it stop, please”, you cried.

“I will, I will.” He lowered one of the hands over your waist and tucked it under your shirt, gently moving up and down under your clothes over your back. He kissed the lobe of your ear, “I will make it stop, you just need a little more patience. You can do it, sweetheart.”

You jerked with a sob, piercing his skin with your fingernails, drawing out trails of blood over the marks of his forearm. He just kept telling you to wait and wait and wait.

“Shh… Shh…” Sukuna pulled you closer. His fingers moved tenderly over your skin, drawing circles and lines, up and down your arms and shoulders, holding his lips over the crown of your head and rocking you back and forward.

His fault.

It was.

It was all his fault, Sukuna's fault.

For being the monster that he was.

The thing that he was then and the thing he was now.

They were hunting him.

It was him, him.

And all he did, all he killed, all he hurted.

What if you killed him?

If you killed him– would the pain stop? If you just manage to kill him, wouldn't that make you free? If you could just killed him–

“No need to think like that just yet, love”, your mind struggled to make sense of his words, and it took you a moment to understand that you might have said something out loud. “We will see. Don't bother your little mind right now with that sort of thing.”

You needed a solution. You needed something. Because it was only getting worse. There was too much containented in your human, mortal body, pushing from the inside out, tensing your skin, wanting space. Hunting for it, devouring for it. It was going to consume you. If you didn’t cast it out, if you didn’t act first–

But what would it mean to kill Sukuna like this, when most of his fingers had already been used to build this part of his soul that was now inside of you? How many fingers were left? Would they be enough for him to sustain him? Would that form be too weak to last? For how long the shattered pieces of one third of a soul, a fourth of a soul, would be capable of sustaining its form?

“Stop running your mind with useless thoughts.” You felt the sting of teeth over your neck right above your pulse. “Be quiet”, Sukuna said, brushing his lips over the wound before biting again, more carefully this time, moving with a trail of kisses up to your jaw.

He stayed in silence for a moment. The roar of the waves at your feet continued breaking skull against skull into sharp edge pieces that swayed with the waters.

“I know it hurts, love.” He said hiding his face in the space between your shoulder and your neck. “I know”, he repeated, “but I need you to take that agonizing stubbornness of yours and hold on for a little longer.”

Another beat of silence.

“I will be here for you, love.” Kiss. “I will tell you more stories about my time.” Kiss. “I will allow you to bite, scratch, and curse at me all you want.” Kiss. “I will hold you for as long as you need.” Kiss. “I will kiss every tear if that’s what you want.” Kiss.

Every kiss, as soft as Sukuna could never be, dropped over your face, your chest, your hands, palm, fingertips, and melted away the hate, the nightmares. Over every nerve, as if they could truly heal, until he felt you recovered some of your strength and he could hear from you an even breath.

“Don’t fall asleep, you know you can’t do that here. Open your eyes, love.” You fought the weight over your eyelids, Sukuna’s crimson blood eyes looked straight into yours. “There, good job.” He said in a low voice. “It’s okay” he repeated in a whisper, and it was almost so imperceptible you weren’t able to tell anymore if he was speaking to you or to himself.

Sukuna held you closer, with two arms around your waist and another over your tight. His sigh over your skin sent goosebumps over your body. You knew, you could feel it, the boiling anger, the urge to leave his domain –now a prison more than ever– to chase and kill. You knew how worried he was and how uncomfortable it made him feel. How foreign it was for him. And you knew that, as you did, he truly had no hope for what was about to be.

“That’s enough”. He said as he carefully moved you away from him on his lap.

It’s just the longest and most tortuous goodbye.

He cupped your face in his hands and commanded, “Wake up now and go to the kitchen. It’s lunch time already.”

Masterlist - Continue to next part

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Undersea Marauder.

There are so many rules in this world. So many shackles to keep him down.

Let nothing obstruct his errant path.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

A fish is bound to the water his entire life.

It’s not a life for him.

Floyd is on his back, set adrift in the face of the Coral Sea. His hands cradle the back of his head, and he finds himself staring up. A flock of birds form an arrow, slicing through the sky. He wonders where they're going, what they'll do there.

Some merpeople dreamed of trading scales for skin, but Floyd thinks about giving up his fins for feathers. A pair of wings with which to witness all manner of strange things…

He chuckles soft.

Wouldn't that be so freeing?

“Eheheh. I wanna try it, too! Wait up for me, birds. Here I come…!”

Floyd rights himself and dives unto the frigid waters. His powerful tail undulates like a teal ribbon, propelling him after and faster. He steadily gains, chasing the shadows of the birds that skim the surface of his home turf.

Floyd approaches, lifting himself toward the shimmering boundary between sea and sky. A second later, he breaks through with a mighty splash.

His body elegantly arcs in the leap. He’s a skipping dolphin, a flying fish.

Free.

Floyd launches higher and higher, zipping past the flock. He collides with some birds, screeching with laughter as they spin like cars out of control.

Here come the clouds now—he easily bursts through them. They’re made of cool and fine-grained beads of water, refreshing him as he flies.

And higher still he goes, the sky dimming, a gradient of light to dark.

Floyd is among the stars, each twinkling like diamonds in greeting. The planets, like massive globes of sugar orbiting him.

The eel is weightless, effortlessly floating through space. With his arms, he paddles--and though there should be no gravity, the space warps and gives like water, letting him sail as smoothly as a ship after a storm.

He reaches out and plucks a star out of the cosmos, giving it a curious lick. The taste is like sweetened milk, and so he pops the entire thing into his mouth.

Then begins his descent.

At the peak of his jump, surrounded by the stars, he bends downward and plunges.

But there are no longer any waters waiting for him.

He crashes through a canopy of leaves. They scatter like papers, raining down verdant, brown, scarlet, tangerine, and gold. Sunlight pierces them, giving each a magical glow.

Roots come, skittering by him like a snake might slink. Thin tendrils extend from them, brushing his face.

Maybe there is some other name for them? Hyph-something, myce-whatever. Floyd does not care to remember his twin's excitable rambling.

Alarmingly, he spies an ugly bulbous cap poking out from a root. His nose crinkles with disgust.

Shiitake mushroom.

Floyd paddles through the fungi and plants, the scent of dirt and chlorophyll filling his nostrils. It's fresh and green mixed with damp and earthy, nothing like the salty smell of the sea.

Jade would like this, he thinks.

Daisies push through, their petals tickling his skin. He takes a shaky breath, holds, shakes again, and...

Sneezes!!

A great gale is unleashed, clearing his surroundings in an instant. Floyd is sent flying up, up, and away--

He shoots out of the dunes. Sand scatters from the force he emerges with, throwing particle clouds up into the air. Floyd flails, trying to balance his body. No use--he flops uselessly under the pull of gravity.

A scream rips from his throat. Not of terror, but of joy.

The landscape unfolds into a sandy expanse. In the distance, he sees an oasis guarded by palm trees. And below, a great city crowning the desert.

There are bright tents and stalls pitched, merchants hawking their wares. Vases and lamps with unique patterns, ripe fruits, adornments in a variety of designs.

Families and friends mill about in the packed marketplace, satisfied with their mundane lives, the schedules they keep. So content, so peaceful.

Floyd grins.

And he lets himself plummet straight into a stall.

The weight of him collapses it with a loud THUD. The merchant looks on, horrified, and his circle of customers gasp, putting distance between themselves and Floyd. Sticky with fruit juices, he removes the strand of black hair that clings to his cheek.

"Eh, guess it could be worse," Floyd shrugs, tossing off a chunk of watermelon sitting like a hat on his head. A line of juice dribbles down his forehead.

He notices the crowd staring and wiggles his tail in a casual pseudo-wave. One person immediately faints--but luckily, they're caught by a concerned onlooker.

"Riffraff!" the merchant shouts, waving a fist. "Scoundrel!! I demand compensation for what you've wrecked!"

Floyd rolls his eyes. He sounds like Azul.

The eel hauls himself off the pile of fruit--and peels right past the feet of the customers. The merchant's face heats.

"Guards! GUARDS!! Come quickly, HELP!! There's a sea monster on the loose!!"

Floyd rapidly drags himself across the market, digging his talons into the ground, his tail pushing him forward. He gleefully writhes as people scream and flee, clearing a path for him. His laugh, cackling.

He's at the waterways that thread the city when heavy footsteps spill into the street.

"He went that way!!"

Floyd doesn't look back before he dives back into his natural element.

The water welcomes him, its streams washing off the sand that paints his skin, loosening the hair that clumped from fruit juices. A tender kiss, a kind hand.

He has returned to the sea.

The channel goes deeper than Floyd thinks. It widens, becoming an entire ocean bathed in sunlight. A coral reef teeming with life stretched out below him, and when he runs his hand along it, tiny seahorses escape and trail bubbles.

He turns his head this way--a school of rainbow tropical fish race by. The other way, a band is in full swing. A carp on the harp, the plaice on the bass, bass on brass.

Floyd twirls as he passes, happily humming along to the tune. The music wraps around him, giving a warm embrace. He almost misses his name being called, almost forgets himself.

"... od....... loyd... Floyd! There you are."

A face that matches his appears beside him. He is followed by a boy with lilac skin, a series of squirming tentacles at his beck and call.

“Where did you vanish off to?” Jade asks. “Azul and I were starting to get worried about your whereabouts. Weren’t we, Azul?”

“I’m more concerned for the places he visits rather than Floyd himself. Who knows how much collateral damage he could cause unsupervised,” the octopus merman grumbles.

“Oya, Azul… Could it be that you lack faith in Floyd? Even though he has unquestionably served you since middle school?"

"You're saying strange things again. I recall him losing interest and changing his mind last minute more often than 'unquestionably serving'." Azul raises a brow. "So? Where were you all this time?"

Floyd flings himself at the duo, slinging his arms around their shoulders and pulling them close.

"F-Floyd?! What is the meaning of this?" Azul sputters, struggling against his binds.

"I was everything and everywhere all at once," he responds with a laugh. "I was as free as a bird! I'll tell you guys about it~"

"Fufu, it sounds as though you've been away on quite an adventure. We would, of course, be more than happy to hear of your escapades."

[yaut-jaknowit]

Hi there!

So, I recently had been reading your Gawtin stuff and read the original and just thought what if it was reversed(but she still has Qui'oky) like he could be the one who found the almost dead human that seemed so thin and was covered on bruises, maybe she was a slave or she was captured who knows.

You don't have to do this if you don't want too! I hope you have a good day/night!!!

:D

What If...?

Pairings: Gawtin (female Yautja) x GN!Reader (Qui'oky makes an apperance)

Word Count: 2261

Summary: A Bad blood who was hiding out on Earth had captured a human reader for entertainment. Gawtin stumbled upon the camp when the Bad Blood is away and finds a human.

Author Note: I hope this is what you wanted! Thank you for being patient with me! My inbox is already getting full already. I'm gonna try to keep it open as I knock through them all... We'll see.

Masterlist

Ao3

The chain left no room for freedom. It pressed firmly against your skin. Welts and dark bruises rose under the thick, unbreakable band that encased your throat. No matter how many times you complained, it fell to deaf ears. If the creature had ears to beginning with. You whined and looked around the area. Not a sign of life in the vicinity.

Wherever the beast has gone didn’t offer you relief. Your hand ran along the chains linked together. They were attached to a stake deep in the ground. You’ve gnawed, twisted, and pulled at the metal but they’ve barely even groaned at the many attempts you’ve conducted.

Nothing worked to damage the metal.

This time, you hoped it would come back with something for you to eat. It had been three days since it returned with food.

With a groan, you stumbled to your feet and walked to the end of the chain. It was a short leash that didn’t offer a lot to move around with. Though, your fighting spirit had decreased each day you’ve been trapped at this horrible camp ground, you weren’t going to lie down and give up.

Skulls of human lined one area, seven in total. More were decorated the trees. Either a deterrent from you escaping or others to turn tail and run. Or else they’ll end up just like the pearly white skulls and bones that hung from branches. A warning you took carefully.

Especially after the first time the beast found you trying to escape.

Hours of digging through compacted dirt and root filled grounds still hadn’t reached to the end of the stake. You hadn’t heard the silent steps until a foot connected to your stomach. The strength behind it combined with the short leash had you fly through the air for a short period. Then, the chain caught you at the end and slammed you into the ground. The fact your neck hadn’t snapped from how hard the band dug into your skin was a miracle…

Or this beast didn’t want you dead just yet.

Was it just playing with its food? You shuttered and scanned the area again.

Nothing.

That didn’t ease the tension building inside of your chest. You stepped to the end of your leash and looked over at the items that are outreach.

Everything you needed to kill it, sitting over by where it likes to rest. Teasing you. Right there. Knives. Even a spear that you could launch into its chest and watch it die. It deserved with all the torture it made you endure since it captured you.

From the day cycles, you speculated it had been around two, maybe three months. Three fucking months of this bullshit. Barely enough food to keep you even afloat and alive. Water was a once a day thing. It knew you were needy for at least water. It gave you a bag of it for five minutes before ripping it away. Each time, you begged for a sip more.

It never gave you that relief.

You groaned and tugged at the collar ensnared around your throat when it sliced against old and knew cuts. They’ve never had a chance to fully heal as the sharp ends continuous pressed into your fragile skin.

The beast never cared or batted an eye at your cried and pleads to loosen it. Actually, it wasn’t originally this tight. As punishment and probably to shut you up, the creature took out a link on the collar and reclosed it. The entire time, you fought against it while it sat perched on your back. But, you’ve learned since day one that it could kill you with little effort.

A punishment that further diminished your chances of escape. Yet, with how much weight you’ve lost, the collar isn’t dangerously pressed to your arteries or the column of your throat anymore. Maybe two fingers could uncomfortably slip between your skin and the harsh metal.

As you stood there, your gaze fixed on the weapons so close yet so far away, you smacked your crack lips together. There was nothing you could do with what time the beast gave you to dig again. That was your only option to escape. To get this stupid collar off and snatch one of the many knives out on display.

None of the sticks around you were strong enough to even bend the metal without snapping, crumbling away. You huffed then sat down at the base of a tree and leaned against the bark. Pieces poked into your back but you didn’t care enough to move.

That became a reminder you were still alive.

After time, your mind grew numb from the lack of stimulation. You stared blanket at the pine needle covered floor and waited. That was all you do.

Something heavy landed in your lap and jolted from the desolate field of your brain. Your head snapped up to find the unfortunately familiar form of the strange dark brown form in front of you. It scoffed and marched away.

Your eyes drifted down to find the bag of water in your lap. Desperation clawed at your throat. You scrambled to untie the knot that kept it close and began to chug the liquid down. A couple of times, you had to break off and gasp for a single breath before going in for more. This was only a once a day thing.

This time, you were able to down the whole thing before it came back over and grabbed it back. It rolled its dark eyes and sneered down at you with its horrifying face.

Clicks sounded its throat. “If you gave me access to water everyday, I wouldn’t do that every time,” you snarked it and glared dangerously. It stiffened and bent at the waist to get into your face. You didn’t back down. Either to end it all or piss it off, you didn’t know what end goal you were wanting.

The horrible breath rolled over your face, nearly making you gag at the smell. Rotten death.

A massive hand ensnared your throat and easily lifted up your body from the ground. Your feet kicked out and struck its legs but didn’t cause any damage enough to get it to let go.

Instead, it seemed to encourage it as its hand tightened. A deadly snarled rolled off of its hidden tongue and straight into your face. As much as you should’ve been shaking in your boots, you kept complete eye contact with the beast and bared your own teeth at it. It darkened its facial features and shoved you flush with the tree behind you.

An sound of terror was cut off. The whites of your eyes evident. The only thing you could do was stare up at the creature as it leaned and opened up its four fangs.

Death was closing in fast.

A piercing scream scratched at your throat. You wormed around and did everything in your power to escape. It wasn’t enough.

In a blink of an eye, an arrow stuck its way through the head of the beast. Somehow, some way, you doubled your efforts at the troubling sight before you.

The beast stayed on its feet and held you firm to the tree. Yet, as the seconds ticked by, the grip it held on you began to fall away. Then, the beast collapsed at your feet and nearly dragged you down with it. You fell down to your knees and gawked at the dead humanoid figure before you. Another scream tearing at your vocal cords.

Familiar but not, clicks and grunts vocalized to your right. It dragged your attention and pulled you from your scrambled thoughts.

Olive green but half the size of the beast that was just killed before you stood at the edge of the camp. It had a metal, silver mask attached to the bottom of its face. You recognized the shape of the head. This thing was a smaller version of the beast at your knees. You inhaled sharply and picked up yourself from the ground to sprint away.

Heat pressed to your back at the first away from the half-sized beast. You frozen on the spot then slowly tipped up your head.

Though it was only the underside, you saw familiar features and knew instantly to run. This thing towered over you like a redwood to a pine tree. Your feet were acting faster then your brain could catch up. They took a good ten feet from the larger creature before you snapped back and landed roughly on your back. All the air in your lungs knocked, causing you to gasp with a cry.

The collar sliced a deeper cut into your throat. Thick, liquid of crimson dribbled down from the newly added wound in your stupor. You cried at the wound and sat up while attempting to feel at the cut.

You weren’t given much time to collect yourself when a heavy shadow fell over your battled form. Your eyes snapped up within a second to find the same frame of the massive beast. A whimper surged pass your lips. You scrambled backwards but this was the end of your leash. There was no escape. You were to meet your end.

Metal bit into the back of your fragile neck. Your chest heaved with each inhale and exhale, consuming all the air around you. But the beast didn’t move.

Off to your right, the miniature creature bounced over to the tower creature and stood at its side. By the looks of it, the olive-green figure was a young version of these creatures.

Young and full of life, it wavered side to side. But the larger one gave a single snarl that instantly had it tensing up. The little one bowed its head with submission and stood like a statue now.

Their attention returned your trembling form. The dark, dirty mint colored creature took a single step forward and crowded into your space more than before. You sobbed harder and struggled more against your bindings, but they barely even croaked under the strain. It crouched down and grasped the base of your collar. Your hand shot out and ensnared its wrist, but your fingers didn’t even touch the other tips.

It tugged you towards itself. A scream ripping from your lungs as you kicked and squirmed. The thing didn’t struggled. Its other hand was brought forward and grabbed at your collar.

A click sounded. You fell to the ground.

Fresh air brushed against blood and sweat slicked skin of your neck. Instantly, your hand reached up and brushed the dark bruises and cuts that lined your throat. Pain surged forward at the touch. But the collar was gone.

Your jaw slackened while gazing upon the figure leaning far into your space. Half of the fear that filled your veins washed away. Was this a trick? Or trading one monster for another? Unknowns you had no clue on which one was worse. The only thing you could do for the moment was watch and wait for the thing to either move on or act.

An attack never came.

The beast reached out with mindful movements and ran rough fingertips along the wound that incircles your throat. You believed it could feel the thundering beat of your heart like a bird’s wings in takeoff.

There was a moment of stillness t that caused your heart rate to skyrocket even higher. Then, the fingers fell away. Its elbow rested on its thunderous thigh while it peered down at you with eyes that never blinked.

“Thank you,” you whispered in the quiet night air to your savior. You prayed it could understand your words and take the appreciation so it did not end you here and now.

“You are free.” Words tumbled from the creature’s alien mouth. In such a state of shock of ready, you couldn’t react much more than blinking in silence.

It stayed sat on its haunches while looking at you expectingly. When you did not move, it spoke again. “You are free.” Repeated.

Behind it, the younger creature stepped closer and peered over its bigger companions shoulder. Its eyes a cyan but dark with the little light, not even from the moon. It chittered. The one before you grunted sharply. The small figure backed off with a roll of its eyes. Was this a parent and child combo? Their behavior to one another resembled it.

The lumbering giant grunted again. A scaly palm was offered to you in the low light. “Take.” You find its eyes again. They were dark but you saw the purple that colored them.

In the middle of nowhere, surrounded by what had to be miles upon miles of forest, your chances of survival were slim to none. A fact well known and prominent in your mind.

Yet, while you gaze upon this figure and possibly child, you didn’t know where that life would lead you. Though, you know it was better chances than what the forest would offer. Your eyes flickered down to its massive palm once before coming to a decision.

Your hand fell into its own, easily engulfed. The creature gave a short grunt and pulled you to your wobbly legs. A nodded was given to you and the child. Then, it turned on its heel and began to carve path through the forest. The smaller one gave you a look that you didn’t understand and bounced after its possibly parent.

Last in line, you stumbled after the duo.

[citruslullabies]

Oii bom dia!

So, I don't know if you remember me, I'm the girl who said that loved the Catnap x Fox!Reader fic and wanted a part two!

So, here I am, with all my glory (wich it's not much) to make this little request, with some angst if you get me

You've been giving us too much sugar, I don't want to be diabetic/j

(Also, sorry for my terrible english, I'm not using a translator this time, and I suck at writing, I really need to practice it)

I'm a little rusty with writing full blown gore, so apologies!

Trigger warnings: blood, HEAVY gore, all that stuff again‼️DO NOT INTERACT IF EASILY DISTURBED‼️

Romantic/platonic?: unspecified

Requested by: liznarfox (@liznarfox look what you made me do)

Category: heavy angst boysssss

Ship (romantic or platonic): Catnap x fox smiling critter!reader

Word count: 1029 (my longest yet)

A Helping Paw: Severed Hands

You had been made to be of help to Catnap, made to be his best friend and his guide through it all.

That's all the more motivation for him to follow the prototype, to save himself and to save you. A part of him wanted to let you in on the plans but he knew you too well, and knew you'd be far too fearful to go through with them unless thrown in the action. Countless nights he'd stay locked away with only you by his side, tricked by your own feelings to check on your friend growing more and more distant only to fall asleep by his side as he stroked your fur lovingly.

He began to grow incredibly thin, his smile growing larger and his face somewhat distorted with wide disturbing eyes. They scared you, but he knew it'd all make sense to you one day.

The hour of joy was finally here, and all hell broke loose. You were panting and running through your sobs, trying to find the others and a way out. You wanted to throw up at how violent everyone had become, it was sickening. At each twist and turn you saw someone get torn apart, nearly vomiting once you stepped on something squishy and wet looking down to realize it was a tongue still twitching from being freshly ripped out of someone's skull.

Your ears were flat as you ran fast on your feet, tears rolling down your fluffy face as you breathed raggedly. But a glint of hope shined through your eyes when you saw Catnap in the distance. “Catnap-! There you are, we have to go!” You said, running over to him and fast but soon slowing down when seeing how he behaved.

Catnap's jaw unhinged like a snake, his paw down his throat as he pulled out remnants of bones. Your eyes locked on him before they slowly trailed down to the bodies of children torn apart In front of him, one of them still barely alive and trying to play dead but it would only be a matter of time before they were. They were too far gone, with their body practically torn in two and their eye closest to the ground burst like a cracked egg just left on the counter with the yolk spilling out.

The room stunk heavily of blood and tears, the blood in the carpet soaking into your feet and squelching with every step you took away. Your feline friend looked up and over at you, his once friendly face vile and terrifying, with his chin red as if he just finished eating a pomegranate.

“(Your name)...” He purred out, suddenly approaching. The disgusting sound like a sponge being squeezed every time he took a heavy step on the ruined carpet made your stomach twist and churn, but all you could focus on was the horrifying figure approaching you. One you used to call a friend.

You gulped as you looked around, eyes darting the rather large room where orphans used to play but you eventually had to face him again. His eyes were wide and murderous, causing your tail to tuck between your legs. “C-catnap.. why did you do this?” You slowly asked, chest feeling heavy as if you were about to dry heave from the sight caused by your friend. It was a miracle you managed to stomach everything you had seen and smelled.

He was silent, just getting closer and stopping once he was close enough. He pressed his nose against yours, purring despite you having to swallow your own throw up from the smell escaping the hollow shell of your best friend. He looked at you with eyes so cold yet so warm. “I did it… for us… the prototype will save us…” He cooed, once again saying the same sentence he had been saying for months. The prototype will save us. And yet it never made sense, and it still didn't.

You gulped and pulled your face away, clenching your eyes shut as you felt queasy from the smell reeking from him as if the blood soaked into his fur and bones. “What do you mean by that?? Is this what you've been talking about?” You asked in disbelief, taking a step back. With a pur the feline responded. “Yes… isn't it wonderful?” He cooed, watching you shake your head in disbelief and disgust. Catnap fell silent before speaking up again, his voice no longer holding any affection for you as he began to understand that you didn't hold the same viewpoint as he did, that you didn't understand why he did all of this and would only see him as a monster.

“You're meant to help me. To understand me… I see I was wrong.” He said coldly, looking down at you with blank eyes but that same smile he could never seem to get rid. Not even in his most manic times. “Thank you for your care, fox. I will save you in the only other way I know how to.”

Suddenly, a red smoke filtered in the room. He watched as you tried to fight against it, tried to run to the door but you collapsed against the carpeted floor instead. At least this way would be painless for you, or so he hoped. He carefully picked you up in his paws, adoring you like how you once adored him before he carefully cut you open as if you were a frog in a science class. He emptied out everything you had inside, his paws shivering at the feeling of your squishy interior and the warmth that would have at one point comforted him when you were whole.

He left your insides and bones on the floor, but kept your heart. He swore he could still hear it beating, the sound driving him even further into insanity but he kept it close in your memory. With one last nuzzle, he left you there. You had betrayed him in his eyes, and he saved you the only way he could.

He killed you out of mercy, not wanting to see you suffer like any other heretics.

Thanks for requesting! And part one is here

[rindecisions]

More than a Wet Dream

Art by @lady-lostmind

Written for @steddiemicrofic's June Challenge

Prompt | Stuff WC | 483

Rating | Explicit CW | Dub-con? Maybe Tags | Monsterfucking, Tentacles, Demon Eddie, Somnophilia, Magic Sex, Dream manipulation, Belly Bulge

Part of the From Hell and Back universe

༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

As a demon, sleep wasn't an option for Eddie, but he quite enjoyed watching Steve. He was also curious about what dream was responsible for his soft sounds and the incredible erection tenting his blanket.

Eddie laid next to him with his eyes closed, gently toying with his chest hair.

Within the dream, he found Steve in a void with a formless person riding him. Eddie grinned, giving the person a form, his human form, to be exact.

Steve softly huffed and clenched his fists.

Carefully removing the blanket, Eddie positioned himself over Steve. With extra care not to wake him, Eddie precisely matched the motions of the dream version and rode him. His eyes rolled up with pleasure as he took his full girth with ease. Another lovely little perk to not being human.

In the dream, Eddie formed his thin, gray, whip-like tail to caress Steve's body, mirroring the actions in reality and slowly working his way down Steve's body until he could slip the tail inside his ass.

Steve grunted and scrunched his face at the intrusion, but remained asleep.

Keeping his movements slow and making sure everything matched the dream, Eddie formed another tail and pushed that inside him as well.

One by one, Eddie gradually increased the number of tails stuffed inside Steve until he'd lost count. There were so many that his abdomen was bulging and shifting as they wriggled within him.

Steve was panting and whimpering, but with a little help from Eddie's magic, he stayed asleep.

The cock inside Eddie was flexing wildly, and he knew Steve was only one good thrust of his hips from getting off. He remained still while on top of him and made sure the tails didn't directly stimulate his prostate. He wanted this to last until Steve woke up on his own, despite his magic.

That moment wasn't too far off. Steve's whole body tensed as soon as he was conscious enough to realize what was happening. He moaned loudly and grabbed Eddie's thighs, arching his body at the deep, full pleasure he'd suddenly been faced with.

Eddie grinned and cranked everything up to eleven, riding him and swirling the tails to firmly massage against his prostate.

Steve screamed and twisted his hands in his blankets as an intense orgasm ripped through him.

"What the fuck!?" Steve shouted, collapsing onto the bed.

"Morning," Eddie chuckled, whipping the tails out and disappearing all but one.

Steve gasped, cringing at the strange, empty sensation that followed.

Eddie bit his lip and swirled his hips, loving the way Steve's cock felt while softening a little inside him.

The sensitivity of just getting off made Steve grab onto Eddie's chain-draped hips and glare up at him. He glanced at the clock by his bed, then back to Eddie. "It's 2 AM," he groaned. "I have work."

Eddie beamed with both pride and mischief.