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muzanswaifu · 1 year

Text

Bittersweet

Demon! Sanemi x Fem! Reader

18+

Request: "I have been waiting to read something like this for so long. Demon Sanemi craving blood because fem!reader is on her period, so yk he eats her out without mercy❤️"

Demon Sanemi is so mean I love hiiiim :3 Need me a man who would eat me out on my period 😒 Jk jk that shit gotta taste nastyyyyyyy

NSFW Warnings: Yandere, Non-con, Smut, Sexism, Kidnapping, Forced Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Menstruation, Blood Kink, Forced Orgasm, Kinda Gross ngl

The rhythmic pitter-patter of feet echoes through the green, a slow churn of water thrumming with the flow of the current. Even the thick noise of crickets and wind couldn't drown out the hint of life found deep in the brush, the figurative curl of a finger beaconing him to draw closer, to close the union of rarity.

He took a breath. A deep one. Taking in the pungent scent of weak males. And a female.

Shinazugawa could nearly taste the delectable meat already, the flavor settling on his tongue and seducing his taste buds. Drool nearly threatened his mouth, but he withheld himself. He wasn't an animal. Not technically, anyway.

But he might as well be. Only an animal could hunt as he did, track as he did, kill as he did. But a beast was not nearly as precise as he was, not leaving even a scrap of evidence in his wake. Only the crime scene would be found, a gorey scene of bone and torn flesh, remnants of his well-earned meal. But only the males would wither...

As for the female -

Oh gods, did just the thought of it make him salivate, his very bones trembling with need. Her scent alone made him feel weak with hunger, his tongue curling with horrid intent. The fragrance was familiar to him, a vague memory of his past existence of rare blood, the same unique trait only serving as a grand pillar toward his success as a demon. Her blood ran the same, her veins full of the powerful elixir that his kind would quite literally kill each other for. But he had no need for such rivalry.

The path the cattle strode upon was a hidden one, veiled by a plentiful layer of wisteria about fifty feet aways on either side of the trail. The effort wasn’t so useless, he supposed. Perhaps it served useful against weaker demons of no rank, the fiends not yet powerful enough to develop some resistance to it. But his godly build was stronger, the frail flower only giving his skin a lingering sting. His hunger far outweighed it.

He had long stalked his prize. The demon had patience in these rare situations, biding his time for the perfect opportunity to make his efforts all the more worth it. It had been several moons ago that he’d first stumbled upon her delivery across these lands, his keen eye catching the lingering dust kicked up by the horses that pulled her carriage. Even back then, the chance had been perfect. The men were unknowing, all walls of defense down as the car came to a halt, surely one of exhaustion. Shinazugawa drew closer, only a breath away from finally feasting when his vision was obscured by a heavenly vision.

A small thing she was, her skirts nearly catching under her feet as she gracefully stepped down from her traveling abode. The moonlight shimmered brilliantly off her glazed skin as she bent her delicate neck back, stretching out the aching tightness trapped there. Her (h/c) hair was frizzy across the outline, the static from the summer heat pulling at the threads and giving them a coiled curl. His maw fell open with his amazement.

He’d come across several humans of marechi blood in his infinite lifetime, and most, if not all, were nothing much to look at, quite ugly in his opinion. They all bore the same simplicity and naïveté, their only unique trait being their delectable composition that gave them their sole purpose of feasting. But she was so drastically different.

Everything about this female sang rarity, her natural features reminiscent of that of ancient goddesses that mortal men could only wish to touch. But here she was. Within an arm’s reach, he could have her, do with her what he wished. He was nearly disgusted with himself, being far more captivated with his food than he should’ve been. Sparing her of death would’ve been such a waste of opportunity, one that even those lower than him wouldn’t have been so idiotic as to squander. Yet, his own self-doubt swallowed him as he drew back into the dark wood, letting her little toy soldiers bring her back to the safety of the nearing daylight.

He’d gorged himself after that, consuming soul after soul at a nearby village in an attempt to quench his own frustration and need. There weren’t many options to consider. He couldn’t spare the thing entirely, he wasn’t that fucking stupid, but he didn’t very much want her dead either. Turning her definitely wasn’t an option, women just didn’t have as much potential as demons, and he had his own personal beliefs that women shouldn’t dirty their hands. But dear gods, her scent, her smell alone probably called upon hundreds of demons to her location daily, perhaps it would’ve been a mercy to take the female’s life.

Fuck.

He hated himself for how indecisive he was. Not once in his entire demonhood had he been at such a crossroad of hesitance. There had to be another option that held the best of both worlds, yes? Shinazugawa just hadn’t come across it yet.

But fate gave him a hint as he snatched up the severed half of a female he’d killed, her guts spilling into his lap as he gnawed on her fat ankle. His daggered eyes trailed up her cold thigh, lining the dark trail of blood that seeped from under her skirt. A small confusion fell over him as he mulled over the strange placement. His blade’s cut through her navel had been clean, her blood pooling into the muddy grass and not at all staining much of her clothing. Yet the chain of red kept its existence, running into the conjunction of her thighs. Cursing his own curiosity, Sanemi swept the pesky material aside, only to be met with the brilliance of a cruel idea.

It hadn’t been hard at all to follow along the woman’s usual route of travel again, her men taking the same path, ignorant of its dangerous discovery. Yet the timing was unfortunately off, her smell still sickeningly sweet and clean rather than bitter and dirty. He’d have to wait for next time. And the next. And the next. He’d nearly given up hope entirely until the fated night his lungs were filled with the metallic scent that had his belly tensing with primal famine. Just the mere aroma of ichor had drool gathering in his jowls, his fists clenching with need. It only grew thicker as her quaint carriage drew near, the clicking wheels singing a dreadful tune with each snap against the road. Sanemi could already taste the woman on his tongue, her savory flesh plump and tender between his teeth… god, he was going to lose it.

He nearly did as she stepped from her carriage in the same manner as their first meeting, her hair knit in tight braids across her crown, framing her delicate features. She was dressed more eloquently this time, Her gown long and loose yet hugging her figure with a gentle tightness. He mused to himself that perhaps she was on her way to some formal event to maintain appearances, maybe even earn herself a husband. Yet the notion of such a possibility irked him all the same. He’d never felt a hunger like this before, if one could even call it that. This felt so much more significant, crucial even, as if his very life depended on it. And maybe it did, since he would most definitely not let himself live if he couldn’t get even a single taste of her blood. Her body was his to take.

It took him no time at all to do away with the weaklings, the men’s bodies falling one after the other into the gravel, making a sad splash as their vitals funneled out. The man ogling at her backside was the first to go, his head severed the instant his eyeline met the wide curve of her dress, dropping to the ground with a thud and rolling to a leisure stop to her heel. When the woman finally turned from her distraction of the ominous wood, she was met with pure, bloody isolation.

Her horrified scream echoed loud, her hands clawing at her own face as she looked upon the gory scene of blood and guts that surrounded her. Shinazugawa was almost impressed at her reaction speed as she quickly turned foot and bolted, running through the thick bush despite her frailty. He couldn’t help but snicker, so enamored by her utter foolishness of trying to escape. If the men protecting her couldn’t even survive, what made her think she was the exception?

“God, you’re fucking stupid, ha!” he cackled, leaping about the tree-line, nipping at her backside but giving her just the right amount of space to let her hope she could get away.

She was not at all athletic, her stamina quickly dwindling as her frail figure fought with itself to continue on. Her chest burned, her feet hurt, her will to keep moving dwindling by the second and feeding into the persuasive idea of giving up. Yet the monster snatched her before she could choose, slamming her into the soft, melted ground and caking her elegance in earth. His hand wrapped around her pretty neck firmly, another snaking down her bodice and tearing open the gold buttons of her dress. His tongue swept across his lip as he unwrapped her, taking his sweet time to unveil every inch of her pristine flesh to his ravenous eye, her little fists pounding at his chest as she sobbed and screamed for help.

“Shut it,” Sanemi growled lowly, surprised to see her actually listen, her lip wobbling and eyes flooding as she silenced herself. He could still hear her pathetic whimpers as he stripped her, her small frame shaking as he brushed down her stomach, removing the lacy undergarments that hid her delicate body from his sight. He could see her plush intimacy coming into view from beneath her coverings, her curved hips thickening her figure, her thighs trembling as they tried desperately to hide themselves. But there was nothing that could be done about that now as she lied there, helpless, powerless, weak.

He opened his mouth wide, exposing sharp canines and letting his hot breath wash over her firm abdomen as her tears began anew and wept down her flushed cheeks. The demon was pleased, relishing in her surrender and submission as he gently ran his tongue down her navel, sampling his meal and savoring the girl's pitiful sobs. He loved it when humans cried, when they begged and pleaded for their lives like the weaklings they were, it made things so much more exciting.

His tongue flicked out over her pelvis, gliding over the pudge over her sex as he breathed in the scent of her musk, tainted with ovulation. Sanemi could already feel the saliva gathering in a jowls as he began to peel down her underwear, a cotton cloth clinging to the crotch of it. Her breath stuttered.

"N-no, no, please! Please... please!" she cried out, shaking hard and grasping at her own face, nearly clawing her eyes out with panic. But she knew better than to try to fight him off again, clearly more afraid of what he would do then than what he was currently doing. He couldn't help but grin against her supple flesh, his edged teeth nicking her thigh. She jerked at the sudden pain and the warm sensation of blood trickling down her leg, soaking into the dirt.

"P-Please, p-p-please don't... h-hurt me," her words shook with her exterior, her sniffling likely a strong persuasion to those who had a heart. He obviously didn't but was still bothered by her pestering fear of being eaten. "If I was going to eat you, don't you think I would have done it already?" he groaned sarcastically.. The human slowly removed her fingers to peak down at him, her eyes red and welled with tears, lip trembling. He laughed.

"I mean come on, you think I'd let you bitch and moan this long just to kill you later? If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. Quit fucking crying," he hissed.

She sniffled again. "B-but -"

"Zip it."

Her mouth snapped shut, quickly obeying before her brain could even comprehend him.

Sanemi growled. "Talk again and you get to join those fuckers back there." He nodded his head back to the direction of her abandoned carriage and dead guards. His claws dug into her thighs, pulling them to spread wider to encompass his presence. "The sooner you let me take what I want, the sooner I let you go. But I don't deal with brats. You either listen or you don't, 's up to you bitch."

He wasn't sure how he expected her to react, but it definitely wasn't for her to spread herself wider, without any instruction. It was almost touching how quickly she gave in, not even needing a moment to think it over before she opened herself up for him to do as he pleased. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she were eager for it.

His head fell down to her core again, his fangs pricking the surface of her skin yet again, drawing forth a shallow line of blood as he slid them down her inner thighs, his eyes locked on her frightened yet curious gaze. She shivered at the sharpness of his touch, her legs trembling as he moved further south, trying to appease his hungered excitement. He resumed pulling down her panties, reveling in the aroma of moon blood that filled his senses as he took away all obstruction. It was beautiful. The smell of blood. The sight of red dripping from her puffy lips. He could only imagine the taste, so eager in his imagination of its excellence. He'd never tasted pure ovulation blood before, never even thought of it actually. It would be stupid to use just his tongue when he could devour with his teeth in an instant and move on to the next meal. But this was a different situation entirely. This woman could satiate him for years, decades even, with marechi blood. It didn't hurt that she was a hot piece of ass either. If he didn't get himself together soon, he might end up fucking his food as well.

The woman's eyes lingered on his leisure movements, the drawl of his dangerous eyes along her sex as he studied the meal. Embarrassment quickly rose in her chest as she realized his intentions, praying that he’d move on with whatever he was trying to do so her dignity could recover. Although, she supposed letting him taste her menstrual blood was better than getting eaten alive... but hardly.

The demon felt her pulse quicken in his grasp, her breathing growing faster and her patience dwindling as she began to quiver again. He didn't blame her though, not in the slightest. But he had every right to such a rare female, he deserved everything. And if the needs of others were sacrificed, so be it. He knew he wouldn't be able to resist her for too long. He was ravenous.

And he was horny.

He smiled as his head dipped down, his tongue flicking out to smooth against her swollen clitoris, barely brushing the top as he inhaled the fragrance of her blood. Her legs trembled, her muscles tensing as her hips buckled in response, shocked with the sudden feeling of sensitivity. She had to bite her lip to silence her noise of surprise. He chuckled as he teased her, dragging his tongue from one side to the other, teasing her wet folds and leaving behind a thin trail of saliva. He didn't really care for her pleasure at the moment, but he was curious of her response to it. Dinner and a show. That was fine by him.

She bit her lip harder, her thighs flexing to keep from touching him. Sanemi was excited at her reaction, watching her face contort with each and every careless stroke of his tongue, her hips subconsciously rising to feed herself into his awaiting mouth. A few times, she almost grabbed for him, but her arms were still pinned to her side by her own strong will to survive. He liked that, enjoyed her struggle as he continued to lick her up and down, her clit becoming more sensitive with each and every pass. Her blood was intoxicating, his head already growing dizzy as he drank her from the source. He thought it would be difficult to keep himself from biting down but the thought never even grazed his mind as he continued giving sloppy licks and sucks to her weeping heat. She was so tasty, so sweet, so ripe. It seemed like she would never stop bleeding as his tongue was eternally blessed with a fresh coat of red. He wondered for a moment if it was possible to drain her of it all in one night.

He growled, his head lowering down to her opening and his tongue falling out again as she whimpered in anticipation, eyes closed tight. She felt like she was losing her mind with every pass of his ravenous tongue. Her head was so foggy and light, her pussy so warm, she couldn't stop herself from letting out small noises of pleasure as he kept feasting upon her. It took every ounce of her being not to wrap her legs around his head and trap him into her center, forcing him to cease his cruel teasings. What little was left of her fear only heightened the experience, giving her a blissful taste of sin that she'd never indulged before, the sense of danger giving her such a rush.

Her ichor only grew sweeter on his tongue by the second, her slick diluting her blood in heavier batches that gave him more a taste of lust than power. He focused on her hole then, realizing that nipping at her clit certainly wasn't helping the situation. Yet, her pleasure rose none-the-less. His tongue worked hard, dashing inside of her, licking up every drop of liquor, drinking it down as if it were a fine wine. It was nearly too good to be true, this level of strength he felt. He looked down at the girl, his eyes burning into her as he watched her squirm and grip the earth. She was so delicious.

But he needed more.

His tongue pumped into her again and again, dipping as far as it could reach before retreating to her entrance to lick up anything that had escaped him. She shuddered, her hips subtly grinding on his face to chase her nearing end. It continued building in her belly, sending bolts of electricity up her spine and warming her insides. She couldn't even feel the pain of her cramps anymore.

Sanemi sipped at her wetness more vigorously, his tongue lapping at her like a dog, desperate for more of his meal. He slowed only for a moment as the woman gave a small cry, her hips and thighs quaking harshly and tensing in his palms. He wasn't even angry when her juices sprayed him, drenching his lower face and dripping down his lips. If anything he was amused, only a human could come from such little care. Yet, he stopped, her cunt hardly even bleeding anymore being so wet with arousal and relief. What was the point of pleasing her when he gained nothing in return.

He rose from his position on the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as his eyes raked down her sloppy appearance, certainly not that of a noblewoman. Her backside was caked with mud, her hair messy and matted, her face red and mouth leaking with drool. She nearly looked peaceful as she let out gentle pants, still softly shaking from such a strong orgasm. He rolled his eyes.

"Get up," he commanded, uncaring of her condition. "I don't have all fucking night."

The woman only rose when his growls became violent, her movements awkward and her head still in the clouds. She still attempted to cover herself, tucking an arm over her breasts and cupping her sex with another.

"I'm only going to explain this once so I suggest you pay attention-" he began, her eyes quickly lighting up with fright, "You are going to come back to this path every month during your menses. You will come alone. No guards. No friends. No nobody. Understand?"

She squirmed nervously in her footing, her fear beginning to crest again. "B-but I-I won’t be a-allowed to travel for n-no r-r-reason..." she stuttered.

"Not my problem."

"A-and how would I come back without anyone to take-"

"Not. My. Problem." he hissed meanly, making her cower away.

He stepped forward to her, towering over her little form. "I'm not here to negotiate. I'm just telling you what you're going to do. I don't give a fuck how you're gonna do it, but if you know what's good for you, you'll obey. You want anyone else dead because of you?" he sneered.

Her lip quivered and tears glazed in her eyes. "N-no."

Sanemi chuckled, looking down at her and pressing a strong hand over her lower belly and brushing away her small hands, dangerously close to her privates that were still glazed with his saliva.

"This is mine," he stated, passing two fingers between her puffy cunt lips, "Give it to anyone else and I'll kill them and make you watch. I'll make it slow too. You want that?" She violently shook her head, nearly on the cusp of pissing herself from the terror of such a suggestion.

He hummed with his approval of her response, giving her another once over with his eyes and a quick squeeze of her breast before backing away into the night, undisturbed with how on earth she was going to get back home. It would've been any second that he could lose control of himself and pounce, a desperate need growing in pants to satiate himself. He'd have to establish that as another rule - no fucking when she was edible. Maybe he'd pay her another visit later when her period was over, at her estate perhaps, just to take away her innocence and test out how useful she was to him. He could only imagine how pathetic she would look speared on his cock with nowhere else to go, but that would be for another night, he couldn't forget her main purpose.

And he couldn't wait to get a taste of that again.

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paperbackribs · 3 months

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werewolf steve, werebat eddie (ch2)

🦇🧥🦇

Eddie’s knee bounces in the stationary van parked outside the Harrington house; he stares down at the open Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual clutched between his arms, flipping between the werewolf and the dire wolf. A drawing of the former has it standing upright, muscled and snarling with outstretched claws; his eyes are drawn to chaotic evil.

He knows that Steve isn’t evil. He does. The man who had spent hours next to Eddie at his hospital bedside showed an honour and trustworthiness that had drawn Eddie in even before he’d recognised it.

No, the caring guy he’s come to know is about as far from an alignment that lacks compassion and kills for sport as someone could get. That Steve is capable of wielding a nail-bat against the monsters of the Upside Down only lends an appealingly chaotic feel to the man Eddie had begun to think of as a rogue knight.

Sighing, he flips to the other page held open by his spare hand: dire wolf. Unaligned and a beast advantaged by its pack, this seems like Steve’s speed. Resembling his transformed self more acutely with its simple, albeit large wolf appearance. His finger stops on the bloodied maw, but the idea of it is still terrifying.

Reluctantly, he turns to the page he’s now memorised by heart. Man-shaped, this monster growls with open fangs too; sharp tapered ears are fixed on a figure draped in an aristocratic overcoat and cape. Finger trembling, he traces undead and lawful evil before pausing over bat polymorph as one of the vampire’s characteristics.

A loud bang smacks against the side of the van and Eddie jumps high enough to hit his head on the Chevrolet’s roof. “Ow, Christ!” He hisses, rubbing the sore spot and glaring at Dustin grinning at him through the closed window.

“Come on,” he shouts, “Everyone’s here!”

Eddie scowls, leaving behind the manual to tumble out of the van. Dustin immediately starts pushing him from behind and Eddie whacks at him with his hands, “Lay off, man. I’m coming, okay.”

Dustin hums doubtfully, “Yeah, but I watched you sit in the van for the last ten minutes and that was only after I noticed you’d arrived. Who knows how long it was going to take you?”

He quickly opens the front door before Dustin pushes him right smack into it, but the younger boy continues shoving at Eddie until he stumbles into Steve’s living room. In a similar configuration to yesterday’s intervention, the party sits, lounges, or stands about the room, quietly talking.

On the couch, Robin sits cross-legged with Steve who’s flipping through a magazine. Eddie’s relieved to see that all four limbs are human-shaped, and mouth only curved into a soft pout as he contemplates the article in front of him.

Everyone pauses to look over at their loud entrance. Steve glances up and, meeting his calm expression, Eddie almost blushes at how uncoordinated he must have looked falling through the door. He averts his gaze to El who approaches him with an outstretched palm, “Are you ready?”

Eddie sighs but takes her hand; she leads him to the open floor and they sit across from each other, “Yeah, we might as well do this. So, you’re going to force the bat out or something?”

“There’s no guarantee that you can shift,” Lucas leans back against the wall next to Will with casually folded arms. “You could be a normal human with bat scars and that’s it.”

“Or I could be a vampire of the night,” Eddie counters darkly. “I’ve been craving meat lately.”

Max rolls her eyes, “You have not, you big liar. I saw you scoffing down Honey Crunch on your front porch only two days ago.”

“Yeah, well, I was high. Maybe weed mellows out the beast.”

Eddie’s gaze flies to Steve when he snorts, but Steve looks away, concentrating on the magazine that Eddie suddenly suspects he’s not actually reading.

The thought that he’s avoiding Eddie stirs a familiar sense of guilt, giving rise to the niggle that he’d tried to forget after the wolf left yesterday, further punctuated by Robin’s distinct stink-eye. Even amidst the fear that had gripped him, he’d been able to see a sad, dejected version of Steve in the down-turned tail and slow trudge away.

“I'm going to take you into the void,” El says, holding out both her hands over her knees and Eddie takes them at her urging. “When I visit Steve there, he is able to feel the wolf and communicate with him.”

“I sort of see him next to me, if it helps,” Steve finally pipes up, watching Eddie warily like he’s expecting him to reject the advice, but Eddie only nods grimly. He’s going to need all the tips he can get he suspects. “Do I let it possess me or something?”

Steve frowns, a hint of reproach about him, “My wolf doesn’t posses me, he is me. Just like I’m him.” He shakes his head at Eddie’s confusion, “If you have a bat or a vampire or, I don’t know, maybe you’ll have a wolf too, then just reach out to him. He wants to be a part of you and you’ll both figure it out from there.”

Eddie looks into the steady gaze of Steve’s hazel eyes and feels it like a hand over his own: Steve has done this before, and successfully. He just needs to trust in the rogue knight one more time. “Okay,” he says, closing his eyes and following El’s lead.

🐺🐺🐺

Steve throws his Fine Gardening magazine onto the coffee table and leans against Robin’s shoulder, she presses back. “Does it usually take this long with me,” he murmurs, trying to keep quiet for the two sitting silently in the middle of the room. Both El and Eddie have their eyes closed and hands clasped with the other. Max had turned the television to a snowy channel to help channel El’s concentration with the static sound.

She hums a negative, “But then, you two only did it to play around and see if there was more you could learn about yourself. This is Eddie trying to find out whether he even has another version to turn into.”

She grabs his arm suddenly, “Wait.” Steve blinks, unsure of what he’d seen other than to describe it as a pulse around Eddie. A long beat passes before the trick of the eye flickers again, so quickly that Steve can’t be sure of what he’s seeing.

In one rapid swoop, the air around Eddie contracts, pulling abruptly inwards until Eddie the human disappears to be replaced with a bat standing unsteadily in front of El. He blinks wide eyes, faltering on tiny feet before stumbling over to land on his back.

Eddie squawks in what Steve thinks is shock before frantically flapping his extended wings and tossing over to push up into the air, erratically darting around the suddenly panicking humans.

With one wing beating harder than the other, he drunkenly tilts and rolls into Mike’s long hair. Shrieking, Mike pulls Eddie out and flings him away even while crying out, “Shit! Sorry, Eddie! Sorry!”

Eddie cries out himself and flutters, gaining his momentum only to slam into the wall with a thump next to Dustin who leaps forward trying to catch him, but Eddie desperately twists before leaping higher, aiming for the peak of the ceiling.

“Catch him,” Will yells as Lucas runs out of the room.

“I’m trying,” Dustin shrieks in a tone that matches the high screeches of Eddie above them.

Robin shrugs off her boxy jacket, “Wait, I’ve got this.” She advances on Eddie as he zig zags against the wall again, but he must see her as a large threatening animal because he chitters wildly before smacking his wings at her face. Robin yelps and falls, only narrowly avoiding hitting her head on the ground by Max urgently jumping underneath to stop her rapid descent.

Lucas skids into the living room, triumphantly holding aloft the large pool skimmer usually stored in the garden shed. “Steve,” he yells before throwing it across the room.

Steve deftly catches the long handle in the air and, with a twist of his wrist, scoops Eddie mid-flight. Quickly flipping the pole, he entangles his small body in the net.

Panting or, in Mike’s case, holding down his hair, the group silently gather around the squirming bat version of Eddie as he shrieks and tries to bite his way out of the thin rope.

Steve thinks of his first fumbling and panicked steps: the distinct difference between having two legs extended to four, not even at the right height, let alone the terror of suddenly having a completely different way of looking and feeling the world had been indescribable. There are still scratches in the wooden floorboards from how hard he had dug his claws in to stop his legs from skidding in all directions.

“Back up, guys,” he says softly, keeping his tone low and soothing. “Hey, Eddie, hey,” he shushes, positioning the net against his torso so he can roll Eddie out of the mesh without letting him escape. Everyone steps back or sits in a chair, and Steve brings Eddie higher up to his chest so he can meet the eyes of the little guy.

Although his thinking or way of interpreting his surroundings may be a little different, Steve is always aware of the world as he would be as a human, and he can see that it’s the same for Eddie. The big wet eyes of his bat form aren’t that different from his human ones, Steve thinks, a little amused even while worried at how hard Eddie is panting.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, “You’re okay, you’re with friends, and this isn’t permanent. You’re just a bat for a little bit, Eddie, and you’ll be human in no time. Okay? You’re okay.” He keeps repeating reassuring nonsense, keeping his fingers firmly wrapped around squirming wings and resting Eddie against his heart.

As a wolf, Steve likes to lay his head over Robin’s heart, likes the proof that she is alive and well under him, and often finds himself calming under her steady thump, thump, thump.

Under his fingers, he can feel the frantic thrumming of Eddie’s heart start to calm too.

“That’s good,” he croons softly, stroking his thumb over the soft down of Eddie’s head. He takes stock of the little body in front of him: over Eddie’s nose the bridge is one long stripe of white, the rest of him covered in a deep brown while the ruff of his neck is almost golden, his ears are tapered as is the long tip of his pink tongue.

They all watch while Steve successfully calms Eddie as if he is a baby cradled to him. “Do you think that’s a were thing?” Asks Lucas, peering at Eddie as his breathing slows down, he blinks back up at him.

“I don’t know,” Will says thoughtfully, “Steve is pretty soothing to have around.” El nods while Mike shoots his friend a look of betrayal.

Steve rolls his eyes, “He was just scared. Look, now he’s had a moment to chill he’s with us again.” And, sure enough, little Eddie’s eyes are drooping as Steve continues to lightly pat him, clearly relaxing into the comforting gesture. He loosens his hold, still keeping a firm grip but not so tightly in fear of Eddie struggling again.

Max snorts as she peers down, “Oh yeah, there’s the big bad metalhead everyone fears.”

Eddie’s closing eyes snap open with a glare and he squeaks at her. Unfortunately, Steve thinks, the cuteness of it all only supports Max’s teasing. Robin meets his eyes over the kids’ heads and silently laughs in agreement.

“Okay,” Steve orders, “I think the lot of us in the same room may be too much for him right now. You guys skedaddle and we’ll let you know when he’s back to rights.”

Dustin looks doubtful, “What can you do that we can’t?”

Robin snorts, “Uh, Dusty-bun, Steve is literally the expert in this room when it comes to were-changes. You can’t research your way out of this one.”

Dustin grumps, “I could. If we didn’t have Steve, I could absolutely be the one to help him get back to normal.” He turns to the backpack shoved against the table. “Here,” he says, pulling out two books with photos of bats across the covers. Steve peers further into the bag and can see back-ups that apparently didn’t pass muster. “These are the books I brought on bats. If he starts craving blood, let me know — I have more on vampires when he needs them.”

Max takes them from his hands while Lucas steers Dustin towards the front door, where they’d left their bikes outside. Mike mutters a mocking noise that sounds like skedaddle and, with that, the room falls silent once more.

Robin and Steve look over at Max as she falls back onto the couch with El quickly following behind. She stares back belligerently, “What? Mom dropped me off and Eddie was our ride back.” El crosses her arms with a serene smile.

Steve sighs, “Okay, but we’re not doing anything exciting and you guys are making dinner.” The girls readily agree, heating leftovers from Steve’s fridge and serving the four of them as they sit in the living room, eating while watching a Bewitched marathon. At Steve’s instruction, Robin had brought down his blue hoodie with its tunnel-like pocket over his belly.

Little Eddie had curled up inside of it and Steve keeps one hand over him to provide what he hopes feels like shelter and comfort; under it, he can feel the heat of his small body and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

“You look like you’re pregnant,” Robin acerbically observes from the other end of the couch, feet crossed into her lap for the lotus position.

“Does that mean that I can finally eat butterscotch ice cream without you making that face?” He counters with a bitchy expression back.

“What face?” She protests even as she makes The Face. Max rises her brow to Steve, “Why does she look like that?”

“That summer at Scoops maybe put her off some flavours for life,” he shares. El ignores them all in favour of watching Samantha wiggling her nose to float Darrin out of a tree.

“If I have to smell USS Butterscotch one more time, I’m going to puke — lack of pregnancy be damned,” Robin warns.

The commercials blares once Samantha finishes rescuing her husband, and El moves to peek inside the hoodie, tentatively extending a finger and gasping when Eddie’s little bat foot comes out to grip it. “He feels so soft.”

Steve snickers at Robin and he thinks he feels what’s supposed to be a bat bite through the cotton in retaliation, but it’s hard to tell with the lack of sharp fangs behind it. He sobers for the younger members of the room, “Yeah, but he can’t stay this way forever. Can you sense anything from him, El?”

She closes her eyes while continuing to hold Eddie’s foot, “He is not upset like earlier, but I don’t think he is ready to come back to being human-Eddie yet either.”

Steve looks worriedly down at the bump over his stomach, “Is he okay? I ran around a lot at first too, but once I figured out what was happening I tried to turn human again as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, but you also didn’t know that it was possible to turn back to human,” Robin points out. “He could be chilling ‘cause he knows that everything is going to be okay.”

El hums, “No, I do not think that’s it.” She shrugs, gently untangling Eddie’s clawed toes to lean back into Max who shifts an arm and drapes it over El’s shoulders comfortingly. “But he is not willing to share either. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Robin reassures her as she peeks into the other end of the pocket, smirking as she waggles a playful finger at him. Steve can see the wide, wet eyes of Eddie peeking out at her in curiosity. “Maybe he knows that he’s cuter as a bat than as a stinky human boy.”

Eddie glares and snaps his small teeth in the air before sullenly turning, curling up and facing the other way. Once again, a small hidden lump in the hoodie. Steve sighs, “We’ll give him the night and, if he’s not back tomorrow, maybe you can look for him in the void, El? Ask him what’s going on or guide him back to being human again. Whatever it is that he needs since it’s not working for him right now.”

He glances at the stairs, “Do you guys want to stay over? You can sleep in one of the spare rooms?”

“I call third bedroom,” Robin calls, standing up decisively, “Second bedroom has a weird smell.” She points her finger at Steve’s opening mouth, “I don’t care if you can’t smell anything, which, weird. Since you’re the one with the super nose these days.”

She grimaces and says more quietly, “I don’t think I can bunk up tonight, all the screaming got me…” She waggles her hand around her ears and Steve nods, knowing that she needs some quiet time after a lot of stimulation.

Max smirks and takes El by the hand, “That’s cool, we can’t smell whatever weirdo smell your nose is picking up. Night guys.” The girls wave before heading upstairs and Steve shuts off the television.

Picking his way through the house he double checks that the windows and doors are locked before turning off the lights and heading to bed. Lying down, he snuggles little Eddie to him, the small body already curled on top of his chest and asleep.

If you enjoyed anything of this I hope you'll consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 - it would make my day! 💖🦇🐺💖

#steddie #swift wings and a brave heart #this is just a fun fic while I edit Copper Boy so I'm not being too formal with blogging. as you can see lol #for any newbies - I always post on ao3 first before blogging if you're wondering why you're seeing this chapter #werewolf steve harrington #bat eddie munson #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things

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evolutionsvoid · 3 months

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The great seas bear many gifts, yet are home to many dangers. The tales carved upon ivory speak of the treachery of the waters and of the beasts that lurk within it. It is no wonder that the ships of wood and bone set sail with so many blades and harpoons, as they either expect to encounter these monsters or instead are seeking them. Some of the greatest blessings that can be found in these waters are pulled from the bodies and guts of these immense beasts, making for fine materials or fetching high prices back on land. Life upon the sea is dangerous, but many do find a living out there. For them, it is crucial to know the great leviathans that dwell in the depths, and know how to deter them or best them when they rise to the surface. This determines if their ship will return to port intact, or will join the horrid beasts below in the dark depths.

Of the creatures of the ocean, there is no doubt that the Bowel Serpent is the most foul of them. A great worm that writhes through the depths, swallowing prey in a gaping toothless maw. Belching from their mouths are clouds of filth and rot, filling the waters with the taste and smell of death. Scavengers and hungry predators arrive to feed on this chum, only to be sucked into the waiting maw. Though their length is impressive and their reek terrible, Bowel Serpents are not apexes of these waters. Other leviathans see their boneless flesh as a fine meal, and seek to sink their teeth in. To ward off attackers, these serpents discharge large clouds of waste and putrid slime, blinding foes and choking their gills. This smokescreen gives time for the worm to slink away, or perhaps fight back with powerful crushing coils. At times, they flee to the surface, where their presence is known far and wide by the horrid odor they release. Spouts of noxious gas belch from their blowholes, driving away some animals while drawing in others who mistake it for a rotten carcass. For whaling ships, this wretched reek is the sign of a hunt, and they aim their ships straight for the source. Ivory harpoons and bony hooks are launched towards its soft flesh, hooking in and preventing escape. A long fight will go down, with the hopes that the many wounds will bring this leviathan down eventually. Yellowflame is kept away from these battles, in fear that it will ignite internal gases and cause the whole worm to explode, taking the entire crew with it.

From these battles, a valuable haul of ambergris, oil, blubber and hide is won. Many parts of this rotting worm make for excellent fuel, a fine replacement of Yellow Bile when on long journeys at sea. Their skin is good for clothing and equipment, either repelling liquid or keeping it in where they want it. The meat, while plentiful, is one that will make any sailor or fisher groan. Its horrible smell and pungent taste is made only worse by the fact that it is very much edible. While most would prefer to use it as chum, it is an undesired product that few on land would purchase, thus ship captains use it as cheap food to feed the crew. Why waste the good meat that could be sold, when there are stores of useless flesh that could fill the crew's bellies? Needless to say, "worm stew" or "gut steaks" are despised by sea folk as a whole, but when the other option is starving, these meals are choked down with grumbles and swigs of potent ales.

While Bowel Serpents are infamous for their terrible stench, land folk like to joke that these beasts are used for perfume aboard whaling ships. As they say, Bowel Serpent odor is noxious and overpowering, but it sure beats the smell that comes off the crew when they are at sea for months on end.

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"Bowel Serpent"

Hey, it's not my fault that there are old drawings of sea serpents that look like intestines! What was I supposed to do? Ignore them? Impossible!

#sea serpent #serpent #intestine #monster #creature #sea monster #art #drawing #fall of ichor

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anarchy-and-piglins · 9 months

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It's a moonless night when Phil smells that two humans wandered into his territory.

They were smart enough not to come into the woods any other time. His senses are still twice as powerful as those of any human, but even in this form, they're more dulled than they could be. Phil feels it pulling at the back of his mind, the sluggish tug of his instincts is not as strong as he's used to either. When the moon is at its brightest, it burns away his humanity. Right now, some of it remains.

But that doesn't mean he's going to let the trespassing slide.

With his snout pressed close to the earth, he tracks them through the undergrowth. Their scent lingers on his tongue, the phantom taste of fresh meat and blood. Nobody sane should set one foot inside this forest. They know the cursed beasts that live there - human by day and wolf by night. To walk here is as good as a death wish.

It's not their own death they wished for, though.

Phil stops when he sees the shape of something left against a tree in the dark. He growls in warning, waiting for the trap to be sprung. Nothing happens, so he slowly inches forward, closer to the basket those humans left behind. And then he sees the small human sleeping within.

Those that left him wrapped the blankets around him tightly, a waning parental instinct that fought against them even while they were doing the most horrible thing one could do to their child. They left him out here to die.

Phil can guess why. The boy is smaller and thinner than he should be, barely two years old if he were to estimate and already underfed. If his family couldn't care for him, they made the right decision. A quick death in the maws of an animal might be better than the slow crawl of starvation choking the light out of his young chest.

And Phil isn't one to resist his urges.

His nose pushes up against the tender flesh of the child's throat, watching him fidget in his slumber. He smells of human, yes. But he's also been out here long enough to smell like the woods a little bit. Like the river that dampens the undergrowth and the wind that brushes through Phil's fur. The child has no fur, aside from some tuffs of brown growing on his head. He's small and helpless. So tiny he can fit into the basket and seems like he's drowning in it.

It reminds Phil of the two he left in his den.

A thumb forces its way up his nostril and Phil jolts back, exhaling warm air in a surprised huff. The child is awake, prying hands reaching out towards him. He makes a noise that's almost a giggle and coos at Phil happily. His fingers flex and unflex while trying to pet him.

Phil tilts his head. The child tilts his own in response.

He's still reaching out to Phil.

Stepping closer again, Phil carefully lowers his snout enough to nudge his chest. The child - 'pup' his mind helpfully corrects - babbles nonsensical sounds and pushes his warm hands against the side of Phil's neck. His eyes are big and blue and bright.

The moon is gone and Phil has some humanity left in him tonight.

He doubts the pup's parents knew. But he also knows it doesn't matter. His family has abandoned this little one, so they will not get him back. They have lost the right to their pup with this cruelty. Closing his teeth carefully around the handle of the basket so he doesn't jostle its precious cargo while lifting it, Phil heads off back to his den.

The territory is safe, and the pack can rest easy with its newest member safe and sound in the den.

#technoblade #philza #shara writes #brain go brrrr

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cloudyswritings · 3 months

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More Wyrm Things

just some more wyrm(and PK) headcanons.

Wyrm:

They don’t really sleep in the same way that other bugs, beasts, and higher beings do? Like it’s something a bit like how dolphins sleep with half their brain, but on a much more diffuse scale. The result is that they don’t sleep but do have more and less active periods.(this is also why PK was immune to the Radiances influence and why he felt comfortable moving his palace into the dream realm)

They’re fully capable of closing their inner throat to avoid taking in excess water if they burrow through a aquifer underground.

Aditionally Wyrms aren’t really bugs so they don’t actually have spiracles like bugs do, I’d make the wager that they’ve got lungs or some other stranger form of respiration.

It actually seems like Wyrms are vertebrates? Like the wyrm corpse has what look like vertebrae. I think the track of evolution on hollownest world probably has a group of creatures with both a skeleton and an exoskeleton. These would be some kind of fusion of reptiles and crustaceans, this is the group Wyrms and their distant kin belong to.

Wyrm meat is very tough, luminous, and highly toxic to most beings. Of course roots can devour a wyrm corpse without issue.

in lower form(ie after dying) most Wyrms choose to be taller than the bugs that worship them and also still mostly rely on touch and scent over sight.

Wyrms like very dry and windy conditions, in fact stagnant air and high humidity will actually cause respiratory issues and begin rusting their outer coat of armor, making it much harder to move and shed.

PK:

He doesn’t like having bugs that don’t share his pale color scheme in his palace for any length of time.

in fact this might be a wyrm thing in general but aesthetics matter a ton to him, like it’s sorta an OCD thing? But he needs things to be on theme, at least where he lives. Colors that complement it(like red) are tolerated.

when he first met the white lady he was terrified of her. She was the only other pale being he’d met, and he expected their meeting to end with one of them consuming the other.

in general he tries to distance himself from the culture Wyrms have, he only indulges his instincts in private.

he’s a messy eater, so when he holds court and does politics he generally doesn’t eat. I think most denizens of Hallownest think that gods just don’t eat because of this.

He has fantastic spacial awareness and impeccable memory. Yes this does mean he remembers every single mask in the abyss intimately.

He nibbles on things when anxious sometimes.

He wears such a long cloak to conceal the parts of his body where his understanding of lower bugs and beings failed and he made mistakes. He’s got some really fucking weird joints, and seethrough bits( especially over his heart, it’s why he wears his part of the kingsoul there.

his head might be mostly hollow tbh, it’s a lot like the maw of his wyrm form, in a sense it’s even appropriate to say he doesn’t have a true face.

Parts of his brain are actually stored in his lower body and chest, not that it really matters because as a god he’d survive even without a body. Though he’d have a harder time with that than the radiance. He’s a god of the physical world and she’s one of the ephemeral world.

he likes the taste of mint, to the horror of the bugs around him(it’s a toxic insect repellent to them)

he has little ingots of metal he eats, like candy bars but very dense. It’s because he needs metal in his diet, something which hornet deeply regrets inheriting from him.

#hollow knight #Wyrms #hk pale king #hk headcanons #speculative biology #hk hornet #Hk higher beings #Gods #what do you think?

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theresattrpgforthat · 1 year

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THEME: System-Neutral Settings (Fantasy Edition)

Sometimes what you need, rather than a new ruleset, is a setting that makes your system sing. These are a series of system-neutral settings that you can pick up, borrow from, or use wholesale in a game of your choice!

All of these settings would work very well in fantasy or fantasy-like games.

Into the Riverlands, by Ostrichmonkey Games.

The Riverlands rests at the heart of the world. A great current of life and movement that winds and weaves its way through the mountains and valleys of the central continent. The Riverlands stretch from the south to the far north, acting as the lifeblood of continental travel and trade.

The Riverlands are a region of vibrancy and mystery. A colorful mosaic of peoples that call it home, and the strange twilight forest that surrounds it. Explore the bustling and vibrant City of Bridges, the mysterious and primeval Forest, the distant and crumbling Empire, and even further afield.

The backgrounds of The Riverlands have interesting themes, from the mercurial Trickster-Poet to the strange Forest Dweller, to the patient Marsh Apiarist. Picking up a game that is very light on rules, such as Tunnel Goons or Into the Odd, would allow you to slot in a character that fits inside the Riverlands without having to carry as much of the dungeon-delving as traditional OSR games.

Ultraviolet Grasslands and the Black City, by WTF Studio.

The Ultraviolet Grasslands and the Black City is a tabletop role-playing game book, half setting, half adventure, and half epic trip; inspired by psychedelic heavy metal, the Dying Earth genre, and classic Oregon Trail games. It leads a group of ‘heroes’ into the depths of a vast and mythic steppe filled with the detritus of time and space and fuzzy riffs.

This game is designed with a d20 game in mind but much of the setting feels very fitting for an OSR-style regardless of the dice you use. There are 200 pages of interesting locations with encounter tables and plot seeds. Some of the locations in this city include The Porcelain Citadel, The Steppe of the Lime Nomads, The Glass Bridge and The Forest of Meat. The world is weird and resists the tones of high fantasy by populating the world with insectoids, fungal colonies, strange drugs and ancient machines. If you want acid fantasy that mixes the in a bit of weird science or post-apocalypse, this is the setting for you. The designer of this setting also has a free player guide, as well as a creature generator supplement.

Into the Wyrd and Wild, by Feral Indie Studio.

Beyond the reach of roads, past the scope of mortals there is a darkened place. A shadowed tree-line where no-one dares cross and whose boundaries go undisturbed.

This is not the woods of peaceful fey and beast, but the dark and twisted children’s tale that kept you full of terror. It is a world of fear, madness, and bloodshed; ruled over by the uncaring watch of ancient trees. There is no bargaining with the primal forces that rule the uncivilized world, as you have nothing they could ever want.

The woods do not care for you. Never forget that.

Another dark fantasy setting, Into the Wyrd and Wild includes more than a list of beasts and NPCs for the characters to encounter. It includes a way to think about money in the setting, how to emphasize exhaustion, and various other rules that demonstrate the danger and violence to be found inside the Wilds. One of my favourite sections of the book is about the Court of Broken Branches, a faction built out of abandoned children, stitched up with silver stitches and led by a magical Queen. An incredibly evocative setting and a top-tier piece of work in terms of design.

Guidebook to the Viridian Maw, by Orbis Tertius Press.

This 24-page PDF of the digest-sized zine contains fodder for a wilderness sandbox campaign in the Viridian Maw: an overgrown meteor crater, mutated and reshaped by fungal influence. To get a sense of it, check out the free download for the one-page version of the setting.

Everything is system neutral & stats agnostic, though the material is written with genre assumptions leaning toward D&D/OSR games (but usable for games like Apocalypse World or Dungeon World, too).

If you want a game that sinks your players deep into a thick, dangerous forest, this is a great option for you. There are tons of great descriptions of beasts and plants that your characters can encounter, including Driftnettle, a floating kelp-like creature that prey on the unaware and asleep, and the Sporehorn elk, a symbiotic partnership between an elk and a colony of fungi. Much of the encounters you’ll find in this zine will prompt changes to characters that make them weirder, so it might be a good idea to let your players know about that before playing in this setting.

This game works for dark fantasy, but I’ve also used it as inspiration for a Changeling: the Lost game as well!

Into the Sea Woods, by Diwata Ng Manila.

The Sea-Woods is the way it has always been: just beyond the village, across a wall that bars the rest of the roots from coming forward. No one ever knew why that wall was built. Was it meant to keep the Woods out or keep the Village in? One thing's for sure, things changed when a tree stood up from its spot and punched a part of the wall until it collapsed. It then promptly walked deeper into the woods, clearing through a small path.

Never heard of a tree walking before? Ah, then you really must be new here, aren't you?

This is a small collection of micro-settings that are whimsical and evocative. This is more of a friendly forest than a scary one - great for setting a Studio-Ghibli kind of tone. There’s a bit of a formatting issue with the current version, but the ideas present in each setting give a great amount of inspiration for making locations that feel safe and yet unique for your play group. My favourite is the Cabin, a house that always has a warm cup of tea and a freshly made bed, despite having no visible caretaker. Rumour has it the Keeper only appears at night, and if she does, she’ll bet her heart on a game of poker. I've also used inspiration from this setting in a Changeling game before, to great success!

The Gardens of Ynn, by Dying Stylishly Games.

The Gardens of Ynn is a point-crawl adventure set in an ever-shifting extradimensional garden. Each expodition generates its route as it explores, resulting in new vistas being unlocked with every visit. It's a big garden full of whimsy and delight and surreal perils.

The Gardens of Ynn are a constantly re-arranging set of gardens that act as a magical maze. As a point-crawl adventure, this is a great option for a point-crawl game, but it might also be an interesting piece of inspiration for a horror game of some kind. This book begins with some basic lore about the Gardens themselves, followed by a d20 table that adds how deep you are in the Gardens to determine which area you happen upon next. Each area has a description, and many areas have additional roll tables to determine what can be found, or what kinds of encounters you might find within.

#tabletop games #game recommendations #indie ttrpgs #system-neutral #dnd

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voraciousvore · 3 months

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The Giant and the Princess (1/10)

Length: 10 parts, ~25k words total

Author's Note: This story can be read on its own with no context. However, if you are familiar with my other works, this is the tale of Ajax (Chester's father from The Giant) and his past that is hinted at in The Half-Blood Giant when he gives horrible advice to his grandson. The story takes place in a time where the giants and humans lived together in the same world, before the war between them, and Ajax was still a young man, not the crusty old bastard he is in the other stories.

Word Count for Part 1: 2858

Content Warning: Multiple instances of soft, fatal, unwilling g/t vore, both humans and animals (not too explicit)

------ Part 1 ------

Ajax was hungry, and he smelled blood—not just any blood, but fresh human blood, in a sufficient quantity to be fatal. He was out hunting in the woods, and his interest was piqued, so he followed the scent. The trees in this forest were spaced out widely and gigantic in scale, but not quite as tall as his staggering height of 280 feet, so if he wanted to be subtle he’d have to crouch. He didn’t believe this precaution was necessary, however, if his quarry was already dead.

His keen senses picked up the sound of hooves galloping towards him, bringing with it that distinctive blood scent. He spied the horse through the cover of the leaves on the trees, heading for his feet. The poor creature was spooked, sprinting blindly and frothing at the mouth. Its coat and tack were stained red from its rider, who was sprawled out at an unnatural angle over the saddle. He appeared to be a royal soldier, with flashy armor and insignias decorating his clothes, but he was clearly deceased.

Ajax crouched down and snatched up the horse in his hand. The horse bucked and whinnied, but couldn’t escape as the giant stuffed it into his maw, equipment and rider and all. He swallowed the beast of burden whole, sighing with pleasure as he felt the creature thrashing all the way down his throat into his belly. He smelled more prey nearby, so he prowled forward, prepared for more.

He observed clear signs of a scuffle as he continued on his way: broken tree limbs, chaotic hoof prints in the mud, splashes of crimson, random articles strewn on the ground during a struggle. He came across the corpses of men and horses, slain with arrows and swords and splattered with mud and scarlet. Though Ajax overwhelmingly preferred live prey, since he enjoyed the sensation of his meals squirming in his gut, he wouldn’t refuse fresh meat. He dined on the limp bodies as he passed them, not bothering to strip them of their accoutrements. His stomach was strong enough to tear through such trifles.

He slowed his pace and ducked below the tree line as he heard shouts up ahead. His mouth watered and his heart rate quickened in anticipation of the hunt. He could distinguish at least six unique human scents, each with a horse. He could scarcely believe his good fortune; he would feast richly today. He crept forward with minimal disruption to the surrounding vegetation, balancing himself on his fingertips and the balls of his feet.

Soon enough, the unlucky group of humans came into view. Ajax could tell what was going on right away. Four of the men, all on horseback, were a ragtag group of bandits that were harassing the other two travelers. One lone man, a knight, was fighting a losing battle against them. He was heavily wounded and exhausted as he savagely fought off their blows. The last human was a woman, a petite female, whom the knight was struggling to protect. Her horse was inches from death, bleeding profusely from a wide gash in its neck, and in no condition to carry her to safety. She was lavishly dressed and clearly a high-ranking individual.

The giant saw his opportunity to strike and charged in. With a single sweep of his hand he captured two of the bandits, along with their horses, and shoved them in his mouth. The other two, startled by the intrusion, charged off in different directions. The knight stood his ground to protect the lady, who cowered on her dying horse, but he was obviously terrified. Ajax leapt forward, shaking the earth as he slammed his hand down to block one of the horsemen from escaping. The horse reared up with a frantic neigh and raced in the opposite direction. Ajax corralled the other bandit in a similar fashion, then grabbed them both and gobbled them up with delight.

While the giant was eating the other men, the knight hastened to transfer the lady to his own horse, so they could run away. However, the horse was spooked by the colossal giant stomping around and slaughtering the others. The knight, under normal circumstances, could maintain control of his horse, but in his weakness his hands slid off the reins. The horse bucked off both humans and fled into the forest.

The knight was fading fast from his wounds as he fell to the ground. The woman refused to abandon him and tried to drag him away, but a full-grown man with heavy plate armor was too much for her to handle. She knew she couldn’t outrun a giant with such an impossible burden. She collapsed next to him, tears streaming down her cheeks. Their time had come; they were going to die.

Ajax swallowed his final victim and massaged his twitching belly with a burp. After eating so many writhing men and horses, he was stuffed. His gut was bloated almost to the point of discomfort as it protruded over his belt. He looked down to his feet, at his remaining prey, debating whether he could cram two more people and a dying horse into his limited gut space. He kneeled down to examine them closer. He was surprised the woman didn’t run, despite her lack of injuries. She was crying over the other human, who was barely moving by now. The giant reached down and plucked her up by the back of her dress between his fingers. The tiny lady squealed with fright.

“No!” she blubbered. “Don’t eat us! You have no right! Don’t hurt him…” She sobbed, looking at Ajax with pleading, watery eyes that contradicted her sharp protests.

Normally, when humans begged for their lives, Ajax would just ignore their supplications and eat them anyways. He didn’t hate humans, or have anything against them, but he saw them as food more than as people. He knew some of his fellow giants were crueler, and enjoyed tormenting and toying with more intelligent prey that could plead for mercy, but that wasn’t in his nature. All he wanted was a full belly, and right now his hunger was already sated. Eating another morsel would only cause discomfort from an overly stretched stomach.

He debated what to do with her. He could take her with him, and save her as a snack for later, but he was sure the other giants back home would want to eat her instead. He wouldn’t be able to hide a human with such an enticing aroma, and he didn’t want to get into a fight over food. At the same time, though, it seemed like such a waste to just leave her here. The knight would die from his wounds, and she didn’t appear to have the survival instincts to make it on her own, without being picked off by a wild beast.

Ajax sighed as he looked at her. Humans were difficult to catch, and it would truly be a shame for such a delicacy to be lost to a dumb animal. Besides, as he gazed down at her squirming helplessly in his fingers, he couldn’t help but notice her finery, and her beauty. Even among humans, she was no ordinary specimen. She was disheveled due to the scuffle, but he could make out fair features with almond eyes and flowing flaxen hair. Despite his apathy, he felt the smallest drop of sympathy creep through. It must be a difficult life, to be so pathetic and helpless, with no way to protect oneself from hardship.

Maybe he was just in a generous mood because his day had been fruitful, and his stomach was nice and full, but he decided to help her. Why not? He carefully tucked his fingers under the knight and scooped him into his hand, trying his best not to antagonize his injuries. The man’s forehead was drenched in sweat, and he winced with a soft groan, but he was too delirious from blood loss to protest.

“Don’t you dare touch him! Let him go!” the woman shouted, attacking his fingers with all her strength. Ajax smirked. He had to appreciate her spunk in the face of such unattainable odds.

“Relax, human. I’m not going to harm him,” he assured her. “Nor you.”

She stopped her wriggling, obviously stunned by this new development. “R-really?” she stammered incredulously.

“Nah. I’m not hungry anymore,” he explained. She looked up at him with wide eyes, hardly daring to believe her good fortune. “Where should I take you? Obviously he’s in no condition to walk…”

She blinked, still in shock, then pointed in the general direction. Ajax knew there was a walled human city nearby, complete with a castle and a moat. The humans cast protective spells around their cities so giants couldn’t stomp over and destroy them. Not that Ajax would want to anyway: He was content to pick off the occasional straggler that wandered too deep into the giant woods. His stomach gurgled noisily as he digested his meal, causing the human woman in his hand to shudder.

She stayed silent, but he could feel her trembling with fear. And no wonder: She had just watched him heartlessly devour a whole buffet of men. Ajax felt strange, carrying humans in such a gentle manner. He was used to eating them and breaking them in his hands, not… whatever this was. Somehow, though he didn’t want to admit it to himself, the experience was nice. He liked not having the tiny beings screaming and cowering in terror at his very existence.

He tried not to jostle his hands too much while walking, but the terrain was rough and uneven in patches. A small jolt caused the woman to topple forward in his palm and grip his pinky out of reflex. Her weight was inconsequential in his gargantuan hand, her touch light as a feather. An odd emotion surfaced in his heart, one of mild warmth. He stopped to allow her to regain her balance before continuing. She shivered as she sat in the center of his palm.

Finally, after he strolled along for a few minutes, the city appeared on the horizon. Even from this distance, Ajax could tell how puny the castle was compared to his great height: The tallest tower probably wouldn’t even reach his waist. The knight had lost consciousness, but Ajax figured he would survive as long as he received medical care in a timely manner.

“Th-thank you…” the lady’s miniature voice squeaked from his hand. “Thank you so much…” Ajax glanced down at her. She sat in his palm with her back facing him, but by the shakiness of her voice, the giant suspected she was crying again.

“No problem. I guess,” Ajax grunted in return. For some reason, he felt an urge to pat her on the head with the tip of his finger, but he refrained. She was scared enough as it was; he didn’t want to send her into a panic. It was a miracle she was as docile as she was—most likely out of desperation, not trust.

She turned her head and stole a peek up at his fearsome, yet noble, mien. His dark brown hair was long and untamed, with a thick beard and eyes of a similar shade to match. His features were sharp and defined, with a big nose and a wide mouth with thin lips. She’d never seen a giant firsthand, since she spent most of her time ensconced in the castle walls. Watching him eat all those men was terrifying, yet she was relieved to be spared, and grateful he had rescued her from the bandits whom she had no doubts were trying to kidnap her. He saved her, when it would’ve been very easy to scarf her down like nothing more than a scrap of meat. She was surprised by the compassion he displayed, helping her and her last surviving guard rather than leaving them both to die. She always just assumed that giants were nothing more than revolting man-eating monsters, based on the stories she’d heard. Perhaps not.

Ajax’s approach was far from subtle as he clomped towards the city with his prodigious bulk. The castle guards saw his massive figure from afar and rushed out in case they needed to defend the city. Their valor was commendable, yet they stayed within the confines of the magical barrier where the giant would be unable to tread. The only visual sign of the barrier was an occasional flicker in the air, like a ripple in a clear pond.

The giant stopped outside the barrier, looking down with hesitation at the tiny armed men. He couldn’t reach them, but the barrier didn’t stop the soldiers from lobbing projectiles outward at him. Unless they used heavy artillery, the flimsy arrows and spears of individual men typically weren’t enough to be dangerous, but they could still hurt and draw blood. He slowly bent his knees and lowered himself to the grass. The diminutive guards stiffened, prepared for trouble. Ajax gently touched his hand to the ground so the little lady in his hand could dismount. He set the injured knight down on a soft patch of grass next to her.

The soldiers gasped as she gracefully climbed down from his colossal fingers. “Princess Iris!” several voices called out. The soldiers, virtually in unison, dropped to their knees in respectful bows. Ajax raised an eyebrow. He could tell by her dress and entourage she was somebody of high status, but he didn’t expect her to be royalty.

“Get up, you dullards!” the princess shouted, exasperated. “Help him! He’s dying!” She gestured to the knight, whose body was just outside the barrier. The soldiers froze up; none of them dared forsake the protective magic and expose themselves to a grisly death. The princess, more concerned about the man’s life than her dignity, huffed as she struggled to drag the body herself with her slim little arms. Ajax helped by nudging him along with his finger, until he was stung by the barrier and had to pull away.

As soon as the knight crossed the barrier, the guards rushed to follow the princess’s orders and aid him. A few guards left to alert the king and fetch a horse for the princess so she wouldn’t have to walk like a peasant. Princess Iris regained her regal comportment and watched them scramble to obey. Once she confirmed everything was in order, she turned and looked up at the giant, without a shred of nervousness or fear.

Her mouth didn’t move, but her expressive eyes spoke volumes. She had a vivacious fire that surprised Ajax, even enchanted him. Despite how rough and ragged her dress and hair were after her struggle, her stately aura shined through. It wasn’t just her expensive clothes that distinguished her from the commoners; it was her imperial demeanor and character that resonated with authority. She was no ordinary human woman; Ajax was transfixed.

Her spell gripped him even after she left on a horse adorned with the finest livery. He stayed in place, observing her until she disappeared into the walls of the small city, oblivious to the anxious stares of the soldiers at his feet. Ajax raised himself to a standing position and dusted off his knees. He retreated back into the woods, glancing over his shoulder until the city vanished from view.

He returned the same way that he came, deep in thought. He passed by the dead horse with the slashed throat and the smears of blood in the grass and on the bark of the trees. A familiar scent caught his attention. He turned on his heel, sampling the air through his nose to pinpoint the source. He squatted on his haunches, peering through the leaves. Laying hidden in a disheveled patch of shrubbery was a bright glint that was saturated with the princess’s natural fragrance. Ajax collected the microscopic object carefully between his fingertips and held it close to his face, squinting.

It was a miniscule crown, fitted for her tiny little head. The crown was encrusted with expensive jewels and plated with shining gold. Ajax rolled it between his fingers, fascinated. He stared at the gleaming object for a while before stashing it in his pocket and continuing on his way. The sun was setting, so he decided to return home for the night and prepare for bed.

Later that night, when he laid down to rest, he couldn’t sleep. He fetched the crown to admire it again, playing with it in his fingers. He couldn’t get the tiny woman out of his mind. He recalled the distinct feeling of her small form resting in his palm, and the striking way she looked at him before she left to enter the city. He felt a little sad when he realized he’d probably never see her again. They inhabited vastly different worlds, after all. With a melancholic sigh, he placed the tiny crown on his chest and intertwined his hands over his belly. He closed his eyes and drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

Part 2

Writing Masterpost

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captainsy-cookiemonster · 2 months

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The Hunter

Warnings: open ending, possible character death. Not nsfw, but mdni.

Characters: unnamed OFC, unnamed OMC, unspecified monster. A/N: I wanted to post this a while ago but didn't get to it until now. This is the one shortstory from the creative writing course I'm not planning to continue. The task was to show a character's character trait in a situation, well and this took a darker, scary-ish turn. Word count: ~700

Enjoy ❤🌸

The Hunter

It is a day like any other. The men had returned from their work out in the fields and forest, hungry and exhausted, in need of a hearty meal and ale to quench their thirst. So the tavern was quite busy. The dimly lit room smells of sweat and ale, fire and roast meats. It’s loud, voices mingling to an incomprehensible chatter. I pick up bits and pieces now and then, but it’s not the usual gossip. They all talk about a hooded stranger they saw on the road. I try listening more, but there is too much work to be done.

But the moment he enters the tavern, I can’t take my eyes off him. There is something so intriguing about the way he carries himself, and the weapons on his back. I try listening in on his conversation with the barkeep, but my attention has to be on the other patrons as well. There were mutters. “We don’t want his kind here.” Some even worse.

Still, I keep my eyes on him, trying to get a better look at him, this monster hunter. I hear his voice, too, through the murmur of the tavern. A deep voice, almost a growl. Scary. Intriguing. He’s asking something about a contract, recent attacks, but before I can hear more, another tray is placed in my hands and I’m sent off to serve another round of ale to the patrons. Once I return to the bar, the hunter is gone. I hear the creaking of the tavern’s door and look over, just in time to see the hooded stranger leave.

I frown, and without thinking for longer than a split second, I put the tray down on the bar, take off my apron and hurry after him.

Damn, he’s quick.

He had already started walking towards the forest. The sun was already beginning to set. A cool gust of wind announces the end of summer.

I follow the stranger. I couldn’t help it. I know it was dangerous; he was, and so was his profession. But this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. To see a monster hunter at work. And I am not going to miss out on it. So I follow the hunter, quietly and keeping my distance. I don’t want him to catch me. Deeper and deeper into the forest. It’s dark by now. I know I should turn back. But I can’t . But I have to see this.

The hunter suddenly stops and crouches down. He looks around and I dash behind a tree to hide.

I hope he didn’t see me.

I watch him as he leaves the path and heads even deeper into the thick forest, following the traces of the beast. And I follow him.

Turn back! Turn back before it’s too late!

But I don’t. I need to see this!

The full moon stands high, its light breaking through the thick roof of leaves occasionally.

The beast’s lair must be close, the hunter draws his weapon. A silver glint in the darkness. I hold my breath in anticipation. Now… This would be it. The moment I’ve been waiting for since I first learned about the existence of these monsters and the hunters.

A growl. A snapping of a branch. A scream. My own!

I feel the beast’s claws dig into my skin, I hear its jaws snap close right by my ear, smell the stench of its maw. I scream again. Fear and pain, and a voice in my head telling me I should have turned back when I had the chance. But you had to see it, stupid girl.

Then, a shout, and the unmistakable slashing of a blade through air. The beast yelps and I feel it let off my body. I gasp for air. Another shout and slash of the blade, and the beast lets out a final, bloodcurdling scream, before it collapses on the ground with a thud.

I see the hunter’s face, blurred, as he leans over me. I feel his hands. It stings when he applies pressure to my wounds.

“Stupid girl,” he mutters, it sounds far away, before my world goes black.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #original fiction #creative writing #writing #scary stories #scary story #scary-ish story

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mystigaron · 2 months

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ludeo's partnership and the update that would have implemented it into the game have been indefinitely suspended.

hopefully the final update on this and it's a good outcome!!! i don't really know what else to add onto this other than my thanks to whoever else spoke up and made their voices heard. zionists have no place in any community and never will. i doubt this is the last we'll see of this company trying to worm its way into other communities but if they do decide to try it again make sure to speak out and let them know they aren't welcome

#rain world #from the meat beast's maw

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hyuge · 4 months

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Wrapped in Sunshine

Katsuki stood by the campfire airing out the bedrolls. He hung them on a nearby tree branch and crawled back into the tent, wiping out the dirt that had gathered on the floor. As he was organizing their belongings, Katsuki heard heavy footsteps padding toward the campsite at a rapid pace. He poked his head out of the tent entrance to see Eijirou bounding into camp, stopping just shy of the fire.

Eijirou was in full dragon form, red scales glistening in the daylight. His large talons dug into the earth and in his maw hung the limp body of a giant boar. Blood dripped from his chin, and he released the beast. It fell with a heavy thud on the ground in front of the tent and Katsuki stared up at him wide-eyed.

He climbed out of the enclosure, poking the dead animal with his foot, then looked to Eijirou who was sitting upright in anticipation. “What the hell is this?” he asked.

Food for my sunshine, Eijirou replied telepathically. He licked his mouth clean before his body began to shrink, returning from dragon to human. “I thought we could feast,” he said, once he was able to speak in human tongue.

“Ei, this thing is massive. Even if we smoke the meat, it’s too much to carry.” Katsuki chided him. The boar had to be at least three hundred pounds. They would never eat it all and the nearest village was twenty kilometers away. They would have to fly the meat to market.

“But you always say we need more meat.” Eijirou looked and sounded defeated. He kicked his bare foot at the ground, head dipping so that they were no longer making eye contact. He looked like a wounded badger, and for all of Katsuki’s talk, he hated seeing animals (and Eijirou) wounded.

Katsuki sighed. He folded his arms across his chest and inspected the boar. Eijirou had managed a clean kill. If they skinned it properly, they could manage a hefty bag of coins from the remains. The boar was a victory, but also a giant pain in the ass. “You’re right,” he said after a long pause. “We do need more meat, and with a boar this size, we’ll make a profit.”

“You’re not mad?” asked Eijirou, looking hopeful. Crimson eyes glimmered and his cheeks eagerly touched his eyes. The lines of slowly forming crow’s feet wrinkled in delight as he scooped Katsuki up into a bear hug.

“I’m not mad, ya’ big oaf.” Katsuki let himself be hugged, leaning into the touch, and resting his head on Eijirou’s shoulder. “Now help me clean the beast before it expires.”

“Absolutely!” Eijirou held Katsuki at an arm’s length, planting a kiss on his lips before setting him down and drawing his claws out to skin the animal.

***

Katsuki stood next to the river tapping his foot on the ground. His hands rested on his hips, and he was eyeing Eijirou skeptically. “Tell me again how this happened?”

Eijirou sat in the river as water began to wash away layers of dirt from his body. His usually glimmering scales were tarnished. His claws were cracked and chips, the undersides thick with mud and dried blood. He had come back to camp in his half-human form, wings stretched out behind him, face coated in filth, and a handful of raw, uncut gemstones in his satchel.

Eijirou scratched at his scaley face, blushing in the odd way that dragons did. Their armored skin did not flush red, but it was still clear to Katsuki when the dragonborn was embarrassed. “Well, I uh... I heard about this diamond mine nearby. I wanted to get Sunshine something as bright as you are. They make rainbows in the light. Have you seen? If Sunshine doesn’t like them, I can take them back. There’s a ruby deposit to the north. Would Sunshine like rubies instead?”

Katsuki sighed in exasperation and shook his head. “Diamonds are fine, but don’t go digging by yourself. It’s dangerous.” He pulled a rag out of their bag and stepped into the water to begin wiping Eijirou’s body down so that it was free of dirt.

“I promise!” Eijirou smiled happily, his large mouth drawn back into a snarl. His guttural laugh sent ripples through the water and his breath was hot on Katsuki’s skin. The heat dried the sweat on his brow, and he dipped the rag in water to dampen it.

Katsuki took extra care on Eijirou’s claws, using a twig to dig the dirt out from underneath each one. “We’ll have to file your nails once you change back. You could get hurt if you let them stay cracked like this.”

“Okay, Sunshine.” Eijirou agreed, pleased to be groomed by his lover.

With a tired smile and a sigh, Katsuki shook his head and continued to clean his mate. He had grown accustomed to the pet name ages ago. While Katsuki wasn’t a fan of it at first, Eijirou insisted it was because his hair was as warm and golden as the sun’s rays, giving life to the earth—the same way Katsuki gave life to Eijirou. It was disgustingly sappy, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Eijirou to stop calling him “sunshine,” after that.

***

Things were beginning to take a strange turn and Katsuki knew something wasn’t adding up. First the boar, then the diamonds, and now Eijirou had gone out of his way to drag Katsuki to a hoard of ogres. He said it had been a while since Katsuki’s last fight and he knew how bad he had been itching for some action. It was true, but still strange. Usually, Eijirou was a pacifist, only engaging in battle if necessary. It wasn’t like him to actively seek out combat just to appease Katsuki.

Katsuki took a blow to the face, splitting his lip. He grinned wildly, wiping at the blood that was beginning to trickle down with the back of his hand. It smeared across his chin like war paint, and he rushed forward, sword poised for the kill. He thrust the blade into the ogre’s chest, then pulled free, smiling victoriously as the monster landed face-first into the dirt.

As Eijirou finished off the others, swiping his large talons across the battlefield, Katsuki began to wipe his sword clean of the carnage that had just ensued. Eijirou bounded over to him, licking his face with that giant dragon tongue of his. Katsuki smiled, petting his mate on the snout. “Yeah, yeah. This was fun. Thanks.”

Eijirou preened, a low rumbling rippled its way through his body. He nuzzled his snout against Katsuki’s cheek, soliciting a laugh from the blond. “Okay, okay. So, why did you want to go ogre hunting anyway?”

Eijirou whined in lieu of an answer.

“Not talking, eh?” Katsuki wiped at the blood on his lip with his thumb and gave Eijirou a onceover. “We should get cleaned up and see if there’s any loot worth taking.” Eijirou nodded his large head, then shifted back into a human.

“Sure thing, Sunshine.”

Katsuki pursed his lips, but shook it off, moving to the ogre he had defeated.

***

While Eijirou slept, Katsuki packed his bag to head off on a solo mission to the dragon village where Eijirou hailed from. He wanted answers and his mate was not talking. Every request to get answers was met with silence or a distraction and he was not one for being toyed with. There was something going on and he would figure it out.

As his dragon snored softly in their tent, curled up in their bedrolls and blankets, Katsuki stepped into the forest. It would take half a day to walk to the dragon village alone. Normally, Eijirou would fly them there in about an hour, but he couldn’t risk the dragon taking them on a detour or something instead of to his home. If anyone knew why Katsuki's mate was acting strangely, it would be his people. He slung the bag over his shoulder and started off on his journey in the wee hours of the morning.

The sun had yet to rise, making navigation through the forest difficult, but Katsuki had lived there long enough that he knew the area like the back of his hand. He just had to turn left at the old oak tree and then head south until he reached the clearing. Easy. At least, it would have been if the oak tree hadn’t been felled in a recent storm.

By the time Katsuki reached the dragon village, he was exhausted and dripping in sweat. His water had run out, and his rations were painfully low. He had packed for four hours, not seven. On the opposite side of the village Eijirou’s sworn brother, Tetsutetsu, was chopping wood outside his small cabin. Katsuki came to a stop a few meters away from him, hands gripping his knees as he caught his breath. Tetsutetsu dropped the axe he was wielding and rushed to Katsuki’s side.

“Bakugou? Are you okay?”

Katsuki waved him off. “Fine, fine. Can I get some water?”

Tetsutetsu nodded and ran to the well, pulling up the pail and filling the canteen on his side. He dropped the pail back into the well and returned to Katsuki’s side. “Here. Drink up.” He offered Katsuki the water, which he took gratefully. Once Katsuki had sufficiently drank down the water, Tetsutetsu took the canteen back and eyed concerned. “Where’s Ei? Is everything okay?”

Katsuki nodded, taking a seat on the ground. “I came alone. He’s fine or at least I think he is.”

“What do you mean?” Tetsutetsu took a seat beside him, crossing his legs and leaning his elbow on his knee.

“He’s been acting strange lately—showering me in gifts more than usual, taking me to fight monsters when he hates fighting, keeping secrets—it’s not like him. As a fellow dragon, I was hoping you could help.”

Tetsutetsu blinked and gave Katsuki a sniff. His nose wrinkled and scooched a few centimeters away. “Oof. That’s strong.”

“What?” asked Katsuki, confused.

“Ei’s scent on you. It’s stronger than normal, which makes sense since you just explained that he’s courting you.”

Katsuki’s face went white, his mouth dry. “Courting?”

“You know dragons mate for life?” asked Tetsutetsu.

Katsuki nodded slowly.

“Well, he must think it’s time for the bonding ritual or marriage as you humans refer to it. Though, a draconic bonding ritual is way more intense than any human marriage.”

Courting... bonding... Katsuki was embarrassed to not have realized it on his own. He studied dragons for years before meeting Eijirou. Now that it had been pointed out to him, it was completely obvious. He rose to his feet, body still tired from the long journey, but he needed to get back before Eijirou worried.

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah,” he replied.

Tetsutetsu got to his feet as well, giving Katsuki another onceover. “I’d offer you a ride home, but given the situation, I don’t want Ei coming for my head.”

“It’s fine,” Katsuki assured him. “I got here on my own, I can get home on my own.”

Tetsutetsu clicked his tongue and nodded. “Let me get you some supplies at least. I can’t send you back without any food or water.”

Katsuki didn’t argue. He was grateful to have a full reserve of water for the long walk home.

“You know,” Tetsutetsu started as he fetched the pail from the well once more, “the two of you should move back to the village. I know Itsuka would like to see you more too.”

Katsuki chuckled softly, taking the canteen, and shoving it in his bag. “Maybe. Tell them we’ll visit soon.”

He waved farewell to Tetsutetsu and headed back through town toward the forest he and Eijirou called home. Katsuki smiled to himself, thinking about all the things Eijirou had done lately to earn his favor. How long had Eijirou been planning this? Knowing him, from the day they met on the mountainside when Katsuki challenged him to a battle. Stupid lizard, he thought affectionately.

Katsuki was only halfway home when he caught sight of large red wings in the sky overhead. They eclipsed the sun, bathing him in shadows until Eijirou landed in front of him. He rushed to Katsuki, taking him in his arms and checking him over. “Are you okay? I woke up and you were gone. I couldn’t find you anywhere and you’ve been—” He sniffed, face blanching. “Why do you smell like Tetsu?”

“I needed to ask him something,” said Katsuki, patting Eijirou on the shoulder and freeing himself from the dragon’s grasp.

“Why?”

Katsuki shrugged. “No reason.” he replied, purposefully being coy. Two could play at that game. “It’s getting late, and I need to visit my parents before we return home. Do you mind?”

Eijirou pursed his lips pouting but huffed in defeat. “Yeah. Let’s go. I miss Sunshine’s kin. I would love to see what MawMaw and PawPaw are up to.”

It was disgustingly sweet how close Eijirou was with his parents. Katsuki loathed it, but he couldn’t complain that his parents loved his mate. It made life easier, even if they did spend a disgusting amount of time gossiping when together. Eijirou transformed and Katsuki climbed on his back, situating himself as the base of Eijirou’s neck before they took flight.

Flying together was always his favorite. It was invigorating having the vast sky expand around them, soaring through the clouds, having his skin kissed by precipitation. He loved it.

Arriving home took no time at all when Eijirou flew them there. Katsuki dismounted from Eijirou’s neck just outside the village and they walked toward his parent’s home together. Mitsuki and Masaru could keep Eijirou busy while Katsuki did what he needed to do.

The front door opened and Mitsuki walked outside, arms spread wide. “What a surprise. There’s my favorite son.” She hugged Eijirou, looking at Katsuki teasingly.

Normally, he would make some sort of snide comment, but for now, he would ignore it. “Hey hag, where’s my trunk?”

She looked at him, still hugging Eijirou and nodded in the direction of the shed. “I’m not sure what you need that old thing for, but it’s out back.” Mitsuki’s nose twitched as she let go of Eijirou. “Child, you need a bath. When was the last time you used soap? These clothes are filthy.” She began to steer Eijirou toward the house despite his protests. While he could easily put a stop to her dragging him away, Eijirou followed with a pout on his face.

When they were out of sight, Katsuki made his way to the shed, opening the window to let the evening light in. The trunk was coated in a layer of dust. He blew at the dust, coughing as it filled the air, and opened the trunk. Katsuki wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but the best gift had to be within the confines of the wooden box. All his best kept treasures were there, and Eijirou deserved the best. As Katsuki sifted through the trunk, he realized how much clutter he had collected over the years. Many of the items needed disposal, but tucked in the corner amongst animal teeth, scraps of fabric, and odd stones from the lands he visited, were two items Katsuki thought to be perfect for proposing. Everything was a competition, even courting.

He pulled out the skull of a griffin from his first adventure with Eijirou. It was customary to slay a beast for your betrothed, much like how Eijirou had brought Katsuki the boar. He set it down neatly on the floor and smoothed out ratty orange cloth that he had also procured from the trunk. His parents had said it was the blanket he had been swaddled in as a newborn. It was a relic of his past and something Eijirou would treasure for a lifetime.

Katsuki shut the trunk and scooped up the skull and blanket, closing the shed window before walking out of the small building. He started to head for the house, surprised to see Eijirou sitting in the yard picking flowers. The dragon was twisting the stems, tongue sticking out in concentration, as he formed a flower crown. Katsuki laughed to himself, coming to a stop in front of his mate. “Done bathing already?”

Eijirou looked up, eyes widening. “MawMaw agreed it could wait until after dinner if we spent the night. We can spend the night, right? PawPaw is making stew.” Eijirou loved Masaru’s stew (mostly because of the meat and potatoes).

Katsuki nodded. “Yeah, we can stay.” He dug the toe of his boot into the ground, fidgeting with the gifts behind his back. “Ei, can you stand up?”

“Sure, Sunshine.” Eijirou smiled, crimson eyes glittering in the evening light. “I made you a crown of sunshine flowers,” he said, placing the dandelions atop Katsuki’s head.

Katsuki sighed, smiling softly at his far too sweet lover. “I have something for you too.”

“For me?” Eijirou’s wings beat wildly behind his back in anticipation.

“Yeah.” Katsuki wet his lips, moving his arms to the front of his body, blanket, and skull in tow. “Do you remember that griffin we fought after we first met?”

“I do.”

Katsuki gulped, suddenly nervous. He lifted his shaking hands, resting the skull atop Eijirou’s head, a crown for each of them. “A crown for my dragon king.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re mine,” Katsuki assured him, now holding out the blanket. “This was the cloth I was wrapped in when I was born. It’s a piece of me that will always be a part of you.”

“Katsuki.” Eijirou’s eyes began to water, and he sniffled. “What are you doing?”

“You were courting me, right?” Eijirou nodded. Katsuki grinned. “So, now I’m courting you. Will you have me forever?”

“Always,” replied Eijirou, pulling him in for a kiss.

You can also read it on AO3.

#fanfiction #fanfic #bnha #krbk #kiribaku #mha #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #sunrise: a krbk wedding zine #proposals #marriage proposal #courting #courting rituals #fantasy au #dragon kirishima #barbarian bakugou #gift giving #zine fic

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jack-the-nibbler · 6 months

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Voretober Day 7: Hunt

On the night of the hunt, the line between the hunter and the prey is often blurred.

The sounds of howls and snarls filled the night. You had grown used to the cries of beasts and reek of rotting blood. Fear rarely came to you for the most part; the Dream wouldn’t let you die for good after all. After a few nights, the Hunt had become routine…but tonight you’d been caught completely off guard. You were running for your life from a beast you’d once considered a friend.

Father Gascoigne had been hunting far longer than you, and the years had taken a toll on him. Despite this, he’d been happy to mentor you; teaching you how to properly shoot and use visceral attacks, pulling you out of trouble, and giving you a few playful, ultimately harmless shoves. He was a large, intimidating man, but was always fairly gentle with you.

Tonight, the blood had taken him. Gascoigne had roared and charged you with his axe, nearly taking your head clean off. Your yells and pleads were met with roars and snarls, your stamina running low as you tried to keep up the fight. You’d reluctantly retaliated, but the worst had been yet to come.

After taking enough blows, Gascoigne had suddenly burst into a much larger, hairier form, with jagged teeth and claws that could slice through flesh like butter. Already worn down, you just turned and ran down the street, hoping to find somewhere to hide, or even a Messenger lamp to return to the safety of the Dream. Hearing the priest turned werewolf roar, you picked up the pace, your lungs burning. Your escape was sadly short lived.

Gascoigne proved to be much faster, catching up with you in a few bounds and pouncing on you. The wind was knocked out of you in an instant, and the beast’s strong grasp kept you firmly pinned down. You gave a strainer whimper, looking up helplessly at the unnaturally wide maw of your friend. Any moment now, Gascoigne would tear you limb from limb, or perhaps those fangs would chew you into a bloody mess.

The werewolf leaned down and sniffed you, blasting you with hot breath, before giving you a long, slimy lick up the face. You shuddered, struggling as much as you could under his massive bulk as that thick, slobbery tongue lapped over your face again and again. The relentless licking went on for what felt like hours, making you wish he would just bite your head off already. By the time Gascoigne finally let up, your hunting garb was absolutely soaked.

You laid there in a daze, head and shoulders coated in a thick layer of beast slobber. As Gascoigne grasped you like a sandwich and opened his mouth wide, you hoped that he would make it quick. He clamped down, but instead of ripping you in half, he started slurping you in. It took a moment for you to realize that Gascoigne wasn’t going to chew you up…he was swallowing you whole. You screamed as your head slipped into his throat, but your energy was spent. There was nothing you could do.

The bestial priest gobbled you down like a piece of meat, chomping and shaking you around. You weren’t sure if he was taking care not to injure you too much or if you were too fatigued to notice it, but at least it wasn’t hurting. This didn’t help the terror as you slid down the beast’s throat, tightly constricted and squished by the peristalsis. Your head was squeezed tightly before it popped into Gascoigne’s stomach. You took a deep breath, shuddering at the stale, humid air, reeking of blood and bile.

As Gascoigne gulped down your feet, your head and chest slid into the rumbling pouch. Your fleshy prison was fairly spacious, but this was of little comfort to you. You slipped further in, crammed into the literal belly of the beast. The moment the esophageal sphincter clenched shut behind you, the stomach started churning more actively, acids starting to seep from the slimy walls.

Survival instinct kicked in, adrenaline taking over your fatigue as you started to struggle, pressing against the sphincters at either end of the stomach. Neither of them budged, and the strong stomach acids were already starting to eat away at your hunting attire. As the churning pushed you around, working to easier break you down, you reluctantly realized that your only way out was to be digested. With a heavy sigh, you gave in, laying back as the acids dissolved your clothes, well on their way to softening your flesh…

Gascoigne flopped onto his side, giving a belch that sent your soggy hat flying out of his mouth. His hunger was sated, thirst for blood quenched by your sacrifice. Patting his belly, the beast rested his head upon the cold ground, content to let his belly work around his large meal. Over the course of the night, the hunter turned prey would be easily reduced to mush and nutrients to quell his terrible cravings. Come sunrise, you would wake up in the comforting safety of the Hunter’s Dream, while Father Gascoigne would be left to wonder where all this sudden fat on his belly and thighs came from…

#soft vore #safe vore #nonfatal vore #vore writing #fearplay #digestion #nonfatal digestion #unwilling prey #werewolf pred #voreville voretober #voretober #bloodvorne #got a little more violent with this one #nothing really harrowing tho

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evolutionsvoid · 7 months

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Name: Tosho Hephestaur

Title: Hammer Forge Crab

Species: Carapaceon

Element: Fire

Status: Bleed, Stun

A hulking carapaceon whose presence is well known in volcanic regions. When one of these crabs is in the locale, every hunter and monster knows it. The clattering of metal sabatons upon stone and obsidian, the gurgling of lava within a molten shell, and of course, the thunderous ringing of hammer against iron. Tosho Hephestaur does not hide its presence, as its actions can be heard throughout the area. It does not do anything quietly or subtly, for it does not fear anything within its territory. Its carapaceon shell is already a fine suit of armor, but it goes the extra mile in forging itself an extra layer. This species carries with it a hollowed out shell, one coated in countless layers of harden lava and cooled metal. Within it is a store of molten metal, gathered from lava falls and excreted materials. By lifting and jostling this laden shell, it can pour rivers of fiery metal down its carapace, coating its body to form another shell of pure metal.

This same pool is pulled from to fill its own maw with the burning fluid, which it spews upon its own limbs. While this iron coating is substantial, the carapaceon is not content with letting it simply harden as a metallic malformed blob. Instead, it calls upon its massive claw, coated in metals from previous forgings, to hammer this white hot metal into shape. With this, it forms iron greaves upon its legs, and turns its smaller claw into a nasty sharpened blade. With its armor and weaponry, few monsters dare tangle with it, as those who do are met with hammer and sword. Many beasts don't actually have a reason to squabble with a Tosho Hephestaur, as they often don't compete for a food source. This carapaceon dines upon metals and coals, using its powerful hammer claw to shatter stone and its smaller bladed claw to pick out the tasty bits. While many monsters don't share the same taste, there are still some fights over choice ore veins. Brief bouts between the Uragaan and this crab have been reported, though they rarely end in death. Rather, a sore loser scuttles or rolls away, while the winner claims the prized mine.

With no hunger for meat, humans and wyverians rarely are attacked by this carapaceon, as it cares only for metals and fuel. However, that does not mean perfect coexistence. While its iconic weaponry bring to mind a blacksmith, local blacksmiths may curse their name when a pocket of precious materials is gobbled up. Most quests to hunt a Tosho Hephestaur is to either stop them from eating needed resources, or to harvest the hoard of materials they carry upon their bodies. Smaller villages that struggle to get enough metals from mining often task hunters to capture these carapaceons so they can gather from its collected store then let them go. However, these quests will not come easy. One look at one of these crabs already shows that they have the armor and weaponry for a fight. Their tough shell and hardened armor makes them difficult for hunters to hit without their own weapons bouncing. The greaves they have on their legs eliminate those as targets, and their own shell is heavily armored. The only real option for damage is to go for the face, but that maw glows with white hot flame and drips molten metal. Hunters will dream of the days they got hit by the water spray of a hermitaur or ceanataur, in comparison to the torrent of lava that comes spilling out from this angered crab.

Alongside that is its massive hammer claw, whose size and impact puts hunter hammers to shame. The earth shattering blows it lands can pulverize the toughest of guards and leave hunters stumbling from the tremors. It is often lights out for those hit by this massive weapon, and even those who survive may be too stunned to avoid the follow up attacks. While its hammer claw is a slow heavy hitter, its smaller bladed claw is perfect for quick strikes and stabs. Often the two work in tandem, either using a furious rain of skewering attacks followed by the bone rattling finisher, or using heavy slams to stun or trip foes so that its blade can pick them off. While its puny skewer may seem like the better option to take one's chances with, the Tosho Hephestaur has another trick up its sleeve.

When the battle heats up and the crab gets enraged, it spews its store of molten metal upon its smaller claw, thoroughly coating it. Then comes forth its hammer claw, which pounds this glob of liquid iron into shape. With a final blow of showering molten droplets, the Tosho Hephestaur proudly holds up its latest weapon. What once was a tiny little stabbing claw, is now a formidable iron tool that it will happily use against its foes. The addition of metal to this claw gives it extra range and impact, making its attacks that much more devastating. In battle, the Tosho Hephestaur is capable of forging a variety of weapons onto its claw, with the typical being weapons for stabbing, slashing or smashing. The long stabbing blade is perfect for adding range to its lunges, launching forth with surprising speed to catch foes who thought themselves out of range. The slashing sword unleashes a flurry of swipes and cuts, leaving foes with grievous bleeding wounds. The smashing claw is not as elegant as the others, but it does its job quite well. The carapaceon gains a second bludgeon, which its uses with its hammer to double the impact and stunning blows.

It should be noted that these weapons take time and skill for the crab to properly forge, which may be lacking as the battle goes on and the monster's health and patience wanes. As its health drops, its forging grows sloppy, resulting in a malformed weapon at the end. This mangled tool may seem like a useless glob of spike and steel, but the angered crab can wield it just fine. This cobbled together weapon claw can perform stabs, slashes and smashes, borrowing moves from the other three. Combining these fighting styles together makes the carapaceon difficult to predict, as a skewering stab may suddenly whip itself around into a gutting slice.

Hunters who take on quests to capture or slay these mighty crabs best prepare for a long fight. Such a battle calls for either high levels of sharpness or blunt weapons to properly deal with the metal armor. While its iron coating may seem impenetrable, enough damage can finally crack it open, revealing a softer target for one's blades and blows. There are advantages to be gained for hunters who take the time and effort to break its armored parts. If one is capable of cracking open its lava filled shell, the molten pool within will come flowing out and leave the carapaceon with less fuel, resulting in its flaming spit losing a lot of range. However, hunters should steer clear of its back when the shell is breached, as the leaking lava now splashes about wildly. For bowgunners with heavy duty firepower, targeting its armored shoulder should be a priority. This metal heap on its body acts as a counterweight to its huge hammer claw, and breaking it disrupts its balance. If its counterweight is lost, a tired Tosho Hephestaur may not be able to properly lift up its huge weapon without losing its footing and falling over. If one wishes to trap one of these carapaceons, pitfalls are the way to go. Hunters should wait until the crab is enraged and forges an extra weapon upon its smaller claw. Now wielding two heavy hitting metal armaments, the crab will be trapped in a pitfall for longer, as the extra weight makes it difficult for it to claw its way out. Shock traps should be avoided, as the electricity leaps into its metal parts and hunters who make the mistake of striking these charged bits will be in for quite the paralyzing shock.

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

Eh, how about another crab while we are at it?

#carapaceon #crab #blacksmith #monster hunter #mh #fan monster #original monster #art #drawing #HAMMER CLAW!

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eleganthologramcolor · 3 months

Text

A continuation of traveler!141 x mythical!reader

Trapper!Soap x Shifter!reader!

Warnings: hybrid elements, violence, blood

No smut this time sorry, no reader pronouns used.

Johnny traversed the tangled and matted carpet of vines with ease. He'd done this hundreds of times before, hopping from a slight ledge onto an indent on the grassy floor below, the blades bent and pressed into a cushion of familiarity from how often he'd landed there. His bow thumps against his back with each step he takes, donning a cocky grin as he approaches his usual spots, kicking aside a pile of leaves as he drops to his knees, peering under the low hanging branches and into the live trap he'd set.

The wooden crate is shut, and he eagerly reaches forward, peering in through the wire top only to find that the entire back of the box has been torn open. Claw marks decorate the outside of the box, signs of a desperate and hungry guest who took his catch. He frowns, immediately jumping to his feet, walking around the tree as he spots a set of tracks in the moss and mud. The forest floor is steep and uneven as he follows the tracks, a few feet off, of course, in case the thief isn't far off.

A wolf, he hopes, a new skin to hang on his wall is always nice. A proud man like him loves to show off the victories he's had with beasts in the forest. He's already listing the tools he'll need to have repaired by Price in his mind when he hears a sound up ahead.

A crunch and squelch that immediately anchors in his stomach, his breakfast from that morning suddenly heavy in his gut. He quickly brings his bow to his front, drawing an arrow in preparation, crouched as he peers over the uneven and tall grass and thorns, his eyes landing on the beast.

The thing is surprisingly small for what he expected, but what gets him is that it's feasting on a much bigger creature. He's impressed, but the feeling snaps into some sort of anger when he spots his catch strung across its back- like a snack to be saved for later! Not just a thief, but a greedy one!

He takes aim, but in that moment, his throat goes dry. The beast looks as if it's melting, dark and coarse fur retracting to messy hair, a terrifying and abysmal body turning to something a little softer, more fleshy. The hands of the beast(?), now much smaller and more dexterous, reach deep into the blood and gore of the feast before it, picking over various clumps of meat it manages to fish out. Tch. This thing has the nerve to be picky? Johnny wonders, watching as the beast lines up a meal of select chunks of flesh before turning again, back into a grisly predator to eat the meal raw. He watches on, a mix of fascination and horror as it alternates from a small, almost human form and into the beast it must've used to kill today's meal and dessert, stopping mid shift to lap at the red dripping off of its claws. He's torn between disgust and admiration. The violent and primal act of such a creature is somehow romantic and brutal, looking fondly upon a dark work of art indulging in only their base instinct and desires.

Snapping out of it, he steadies his aim again, his bow creaking as he pulls back.

Up to your elbows in blood like brutal lace gloves, the mix of dried and fresh dripping from your maw serving as your lipstick, a full body shudder running through you at the stretch of wood and twine. You jump to your feet and over your meal for cover, eyes landing on him instantly, not wasting a second once you've spotted him.

The eye contact is bone chilling, his blood runs cold at the sheer ferocity in your eyes as you suddenly bound towards him. Scrambling across rocks and grass. Thick matted vines shredding beneath your inconsistent form as you frantically try to decide on the best beast for this twisted masquerade. An unrelenting wolf. A bellicose unicorn. One way or another, you'll year him open. He knows it. You're a snake only for a moment to miss his first, second, and final panicked shot, an arrow ripping away a few scales before rooting in the dirt. Only spurring each other on as you snarl and he drops the bow, stepping back. You've won. A final lunge through the air. Your paws on his chest. Your weight sending both of you back. Your claws digging into his leather tunic.

And his dagger in your side.

The wail that follows is discordant and painful as he shoves you off, preparing for another fight as you rapidly shift, collapsing in a pitiful heap on the ground in your human form. Annoyance and adrenaline aside, seeing the soft flesh of your true form up close does strike guilt in Johnny's heart, and he sighs at himself as he retrieves his dagger, earning a pained whine from you.

"Fine," he grumbles, crouching beside you, biting his cheek as you hiss at him, a jagged cut on your side making it difficult for you to move, opting to growl and hiss at him as he dresses the wound as best he can with the bare materials in his small travel pack.

"Haud yer wheesht," he warns with a click of his tongue, "Ye'll be braw."

You huff and your final growl dissipates into a whine as he ties the scrap cloth tight around your abdomen. He chuckles and pats the spot with a hum, gentle and firm. This time you bite back any anger as you try to still your breathing to not disturb the spot. Your feral mind is in turbulence, urging you to strike, he has the upper hand, attack before he does!

But he doesn't. So you don't.

He watches you as you stare daggers at him, not moving or cursing him through wild sounds. He finds himself enamored with the wild belligerence in your eyes, the absolute feral nature of your being. Johnny chuckles and coos at you, his rough voice softer as his palm settles over the top of your head, "Bonny thing, aren't ye?"

#johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #trapper!soap x shifter!reader #fantasy!141 #ummm sorry if this is way better than the ghost one im passionate about bloody romance

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amorfista · 11 months

Text

Sulyvahn's beast - "Eyes on the prey"

Here's a short story I wrote alongside this artwork. Together they serve as tribute to my favourite Dark Souls monster. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing/drawing it ^^

"As I carefully walked through the marshes, I spat a curse under my breath. I shouldn't have taken the path down the old church on a day like this. The thick fog and humid atmosphere would slow down one's pace, and that only would make me an easy target for whatever the hell decided to lurk around these muddy puddles. It had been hours since I last enjoyed the warmth and safety that the bonfire by the village's exit provided, and if I didn't find another soon, I would have to camp for the night. I dreaded the very thought of this last option, since the accursed monsters that claimed this land as theirs were, if possible, more aggressive under the moonlight. It would be a restless night of cowering in a dark corner and jumping at the slightest noise. Speaking of which, a sudden noise dissipated my thoughts and brought me back to reality. I swallowed as I warily looked around, trying to find the source. The strange sounds were a mixture of grunts and… repetitive crunches. Chewing, perhaps? Watching my step, I pushed aside the tall grass that provided coverage as I slowly advanced towards the sound. With each step, the foliage grew scarcer and my heartbeat faster. I pressed my lips in tension, taking a step out of the bushes. The fog had slightly risen, which allowed me to catch a glimpse of the crooked shape standing in the middle of the marsh. Very slowly I approached, the pounding of my heart almost deafening now. The beast was facing away and had its attention focused on a pile of corpses on the ground, which it was devouring loudly. Its greasy long fur twitched every time it pulled out a chunk of meat, and its tail lashed back and forth angrily. If I was careful, maybe I could sneak past it and find my way out of the marsh; hell, even finding a bonfire seemed likely after an encounter with such a formidable foe. But I was not taking this fight, I thought, not today. I was almost out of Estus flasks and the night was drawing close. I would trust my instincts and take the safe route, and perhaps tomorrow I’d face the beast on my terms. Perhaps. The pondering had boosted my confidence and I smirked. Keeping an eye on the creature, I took another step. Something cracked softly under my boot and I instinctively looked down at my feet, my eyes widened in shock. As my heart pounded harder than ever I noticed that it was the only thing I could hear. No more grunting, no more chewing. I slowly turned my head towards the beast, deeply dreading what I already knew I was going to see. Three pairs of eyes glowing with an unholy yellow light were fixed on me. They belonged to a triangular head resembling that of an alligator and as big as my whole body, which had become paralyzed from the sheer terror I felt. The beast had twisted its neck almost unnaturally to face me, and was standing perfectly still. I noticed the drool that started to drip from its blood-stained maw and was silently falling on its front claws. A drop of sweat ran down my forehead as I swallowed. Running would not change the outcome.”

#dark souls 3 #digital art #pontiff sulyvahn #dark souls fanart #short story #dark souls fiction #my art #my fic

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prey-4-me · 2 years

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Strange Preferences - Part X

Prey Predator x fem!reader

The hunt continues…

Amishta - name, meaning fearless, limitless

Tenahpu - Comanche/nʉmʉ tekwapʉ word for man

Pabi - Comanche/nʉmʉ tekwapʉ word for elder brother

Kiande Amedha - Yautja word for xenomorphs (hard meat)

—

I’m sooo sorry to the person who has asked 2x to be tagged now… I know how to do it on the app, but I always post this from desktop and I thought I was tagging u but I failed 🙃 i will try to figure it out 🥴

***

Tenahpu stood his ground. You inched through the thick slime to see better. He kept his shield active, but used his other hand to tap his mask. He raised his arm and two arrows flew from it. Their aim was true. One arrow hit each of the things in the place where their face should be.

This angered the beasts more than anything. They screamed in unison, then leapt towards him. Only one connected. Your eyes flew to the other one. The female had gotten up from the ground and grabbed it by its dangerous tail. Both beasts grappled with their respective targets, gnashing their teeth and slashing with their tails. The one was still flinging its blood everywhere. You noticed it seemed to sizzle anywhere it landed. Hot blood?

Tenahpu roared in pain, you recognized the sound. Snapping your head to the source of the sound, you saw that he had been pinned against the wall by one of the hard meat. He was using his shield to fend off its savage bites. It was flinging its tail wildly, trying to stab his head. It finally connected with his helmet, leaving a slash across the front where his eyes were. It stood up taller, changing the angle of its attack. Tenahpu groaned in fear. You gasped.

The female screamed again. Your head snapped the other way. Somehow, her mask had come off. She had been burned in the face with the hard meat’s blood. She went down again. You turned away as the thing finished her off.

Meanwhile Tenahpu had managed to free himself. He and the thing had disappeared, their fighting taking them down the corridor. You could still hear the ruckus as they battled for their lives. You were so afraid you felt you might soil yourself. But you crawled forward, down the ledge towards the fighting… and away from the gruesome sound of tearing flesh and strange, blood curdling calls.

The darkness and heat closed in on you. You started to pant, fear coursing through your body and making your muscles weak. You struggled forward, in search of Tenahpu. Sweating, you made it to the end of the ledge. Looking over it, you saw… nothing. You realized you also could not hear them fighting anymore. Where had they gone?

You were alone. Panic rose in your chest. Crying slightly, you tapped your mask to flip through your visions. You found a better one, suited for the deep dark you were currently enveloped in. You debated what to do. Surely he would return for you?

But. But what if…?

No. You would not entertain this right now. You had to get out of here. You turned around, intending to retrace your steps. Teeth.

It screamed as it realized you noticed it, and lunged at you, arms and maw open wide. Crying out, you kicked yourself backwards, off the ledge. You fell. Hitting the ground, you had the wind knocked out of you. Unable to move and fear mounting, you felt your pulse pounding in your veins. Where was it? You cast your gaze about frantically.

Nothing. But it was there. Surely it was there. You sat up when you could. Flipping visions again, you went back to the one that allowed you to see the hard meat the best. It didn’t help at all with night vision. All you saw was black. You couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face. Cowering, you looked around slowly, scanning for it.

Nothing. But it had to be there. You shook with fear. Standing shakily, you put your arms out in front of yourself. You took a timid step forward. Another one. You stopped. Did you hear something? Something breathing maybe?

Nothing. Crying in earnest now, you inched another step forward. Another. One more. Silence. It was so heavy it filled your ears, making your head feel heavy. You took another small step and touched something wet. Gasping in total horror, you dropped down to a crouch. Nothing was visible. It couldn’t be hard meat. You reached out again. Finding the wet surface, you felt around, realizing it was a wall. You flattened yourself against it instinctively. Heart beating wildly, you scanned again, looking for anything.

Nothing. Just black, the heavy heat, and the loudest silence you had ever heard. Trembling, you felt for your gun. Something sticky dripped onto your hand. You froze. Forcing yourself to move, you grabbed your gun. It nearly slipped from your hand. Without looking up, you fired, simultaneously bolting forward to avoid the hot blood. A piercing shriek sounded. You fell forward. Rolling, you popped up. But you had dropped your gun.

Frantically turning, you scanned for the beast. It was on the ground, where you had been. It was sitting, facing you. It snarled. There was damage to the upper side of its head where your bullet had connected with it. Its hot blood sizzled on the ground next to it.

Why didn’t it come? It was hesitating. You thought of Taabe as you stared into your death.

Soft clicking sounded directly behind you. A large hand grabbed your shoulder and shoved you aside. You rolled a few feet until you hit another wall. Frantically tapping your mask, you returned to night vision. You looked up — Tenahpu?

Pabi menaced the beast, bare handed. You heard it shriek. He roared in response, and then they were upon each other.

—

@coolninjavoid @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer

#predator x you #predator x human #yautja x you #predator x reader #feral predator x reader #predator fanfiction #yautja x human #yautja x reader

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