#wrk!

The scent hits him before he even rounds the corner.

Sweet, cloying, wet. Not perfume. Not sickness, either, not to his nose. No, this was instinctual. Fermented. Mewling.

You.

Rook pauses by the doorway to the infirmary, sharp eyes peeking just beyond the edge of the frame. You’re laid out messily on the cot, ears flattened, limbs twitching, your tail writhing helplessly against the sheets. The nurse had stepped out to gather something, likely unaware of what exactly they were treating. A fever, they'd said. Delirium.

Fools.

Your friend had brought you in, confused and a little grossed out by how you’d clung to them, whining, your words slurred and breathy, begging for something. You’d nuzzled into their hands, mumbled sweet nothings, tried to crawl into their lap. They hadn’t understood. They hadn’t seen.

But Rook had.

Of course he had. He always knew you better than the others.

It wasn’t illness. It was heat.

And how precious you looked in the thick of it. Sweat-slicked fur, flushed cheeks, drool on your chin, pupils blown wide with that foggy, unspeakable hunger. You couldn’t help yourself, could you? Poor, tender thing. Barely sentient. Barely holding on. All instincts and need. You should’ve been locked up the moment it started, but instead, you were here.

Alone.

With a hunter who’s been starving for you.

He slips in soundlessly, the click of the door lost beneath your soft little sobs. His gloves come off. His belt, loosened. His breath, calm. Calculated.

You blink up at him slowly. Eyes glassy. There’s a soft noise, the first sound of recognition, his name, maybe, or just a whimper shaped like it.

"Shhh," he hushes, already crawling over you like a shadow. "Je suis là. I’m here now."

You grab at him desperately. His shirt, his waist. You rut your hips up toward him, helpless and squirming, whining like you’re already halfway broken. There’s nothing human left in you right now, and oh, that’s what makes you perfect.

"You poor thing," he coos as he presses you down, grinding against the warmth between your thighs. “Look at how far gone you are. Have they not been tending to you properly?"

You cry out as he slides inside you. Wet, needy, no resistance. You’re already soaking through the sheets. He doesn’t bother to be gentle, you don’t want gentle. You want him. All of him.

Every thrust draws out more of your helpless little sounds, your body convulsing as you grip onto him like a lifeline. Your face is a mess: eyes leaking, lips bitten red, drool trailing freely down your cheek. And your nose, oh, mon dieu, it’s dripping too. But Rook doesn't flinch. No, he leans in and licks it all up like you’re the most sacred treat he’s ever been gifted.

It makes you keen. Your claws dig into his shoulders. You bare your teeth through the moans, the pleasure overtaking whatever little shame might’ve been there.

"Yes, yes, that’s it," he murmurs, words slurred against your ear as he ruts deeper. “You’re mine, petit animal. My darling little pet."

You nod, or maybe you just tremble, so far past words you can’t even think to disobey. He kisses your temple, your cheek, your wet lashes.

And then he finishes inside you.

The warmth floods your belly, and you jerk against him, overwhelmed. The scent of sex and sweat and his cologne wraps around you like a collar.

He doesn’t pull out.

Instead, he strokes your ears tenderly, smoothing the fur back from your face, admiring the mess he’s made of you.

"You’ll stay with me now," he whispers. “Won’t you?"

Your body shudders. You don’t answer.

But he knows.

You will.

Malleus’s understanding of the human body wasn’t exactly lacking. There were just... gaps. Odd little blind spots that, until now, had never posed a problem. But tonight, something about you didn’t sit right.

More accurately, something smelled off.

The scent of blood was unmistakable; sharp and heavy, like iron heated over flame, and it clung to you with a persistence that set him on edge. You waved him off when he asked about it, a nervous laugh and a quick excuse, but he saw the tension in your shoulders. You were hiding something.

That wouldn’t do.

Uncertain, he turned to the only source of wisdom more mischievous than merciful: Lilia.

The old bat had the nerve to laugh.

“Oh, that?” Lilia grinned wide, fangs peeking. “She’s just bleeding. Perfectly normal.”

Malleus stared. “She is injured?”

“Not at all! It’s called menstruation. Human thing. Happens monthly. A sign of fertility, actually-”

Lilia’s tone took a smug lilt as he leaned in, explaining the discomfort, the cramps, the sensitivity. How the body purged itself to make way for potential life. His expression shifted somewhere between fondness and arousal.

“Humans are adorable when they’re hormonal,” he mused. “You should see what a little massage can do. Or how needy they get when they’re touched the right way...”

Malleus stopped listening.

He didn’t need advice on how to lust after you. What he needed was a way to ease your discomfort, and perhaps selfishly, to understand this strange new rhythm of your body.

So, he offered you his magic.

A simple thing at first. Warm palms pressed against your lower belly while you lay atop his bed, eyes fluttering in drowsy relief. His hands moved in slow, soothing circles, his body curled around you like a protective wing. His lips brushed your neck between hums of an ancient lullaby.

You sighed. Melted.

You didn’t notice how low his hand had begun to drift.

By the time you did, his fingers were already parting you, sliding through the slick mess of blood and arousal between your thighs. You gasped, hips twitching, but you didn’t stop him.

Not when he murmured your name with such reverence. Not when his hand moved with care, slow and steady, the heel of his palm rocking gently against your clit.

And not when your orgasm left you trembling, boneless, and wet all over again.

Malleus’s breath caught as he pulled his fingers from you. Blood painted his knuckles, his wrist, the base of his hand. He lifted them to his mouth and tasted you like wine, tongue dragging slow along the curve of his own flesh.

The taste of your body on the brink of creation.

His cock ached.

Before you could shift, before you could close your legs or gather your thoughts, he was moving again. Strong hands pressed your thighs back toward your chest, baring you to him, already flushed and oversensitive.

“Malleus! wait-” Your words stuttered out, high and breathless. You tried to wiggle away, but he only growled, low and dark, the sound vibrating against your cunt as his mouth latched onto you.

Your blood coated his tongue. Your scent filled his lungs.

And he ate.

Ravenous, worshipful, almost desperate. Every moan you made, every twitch of your hips, only spurred him on. Your protests grew weaker as the heat built again in your gut, nerves shot and body buzzing.

He could feel it... the pulse of life inside you, the potential. The red river flowing from the womb that would one day swell with his children, carry his legacy, sing his name in every heartbeat it bore.

But not yet.

Not yet.

So he fed. And waited.

it gets so fucking hot in savanaclaw.

now that the sun has set its not that bad though. mostly anyway, the last rays of light casting gorgeous pink and orange hues visible through the wide open aired windows of the dorm. you're much too preoccupied to worry about any of that even though you should be, nrc does have a somewhat enforced curfew afterall. something to consider tomorrow maybe.

for hours its been like this; chest to your back, a hot mouth pressed against your neck leaving a path of wet bites and kisses, sharp freshly manicured nails(a 2 days early birthday gift from vil of all people apparently, how sweet…) digging into the fat of backs of your thighs to keep them pushed up to your chest and spread open. leona did almost all of the work for you, stuffing your cunt and bouncing your body up and back down on his lap.

grunting and panting against your neck he moves a hand from your thigh to push against your lower stomach. he can feel himself filling you and you squeal at the pressure. he mumbles a strained 'fuuuuck' under his breath before lifting you off of him, scoffing teasingly at your whine from the loss of him inside of you. you're pushed down onto the bed on all fours, your lion towers over you from behind.

a pile of gifts sits in the corner of his room. its not even half of what he received today in total since he gave most of it away in the last few hours, whatever ruggie didn't manage to already get his paws on anyways.

you face it now and leona's sliding himself back into you leaning over your much smaller body and nipping at the nape of your neck. a warm careful hand moving to where you both were joined to push and rub at your clit in slow lazy circles timed differently from his thrusts. he could feel your cunt pulsing with your heartbeat.

a few tags have long carefully written notes with long titles signed in gorgeous typography too small and loopy for you to read with your clouded mind and tears of pleasure filled eyes. most are written simply 'to: leona'.

he hums pleased with himself when you cum against him from his fingers(sure to have you finish first how princely!) popping his fingers into his mouth to lick clean and moan and slowing his thrusts.

his sweat drips down on your back to mix with your own. a growl sounds from behind you, weight is shifted to lean atop you more forcefully and nails dig again against your tummy. feeling again how he makes room for himself inside of you, he loves it. skin to skin for a second he stills and you gasp.

he fills your already warmer than warm insides with his own liquid heat and your toes curl. your gift to him and his gift to you.

face still smushed against the mattress and drool pooling in your mouth you mumble "happy 'irthday my prince". he simply grunts in acknowledgement, eyes already closed. he flops to lay on his slide facing you, fast asleep.

being caught in the claws of a siren should mean death for the victim but lili was feeling nice today. really he always has had a soft spot for humans, plus you're cute to boot!

this is of course still a miserable time for you, and painful as well. one clawed hand holding your wrists up and away, the other gently knuckling the eggs back into you. he's cooing and kissing at your tears in a way you can tell is more patronizing and teasing than comforting.

by the time he's had his fill of you you're left on the shore right at sunset. dazed and confused, covered in scratches and love(?) bites with your swimsuit in tatters.

leonas tongue lays flat stuck out above his bottom lip. he's sitting pretty next to you on the edge of your bed, hands placed in his lap and tail waving around behind him lazily. he's waiting for you to place another small chunk of meat in his mouth. you do, not before admiring the way a bit of drool pools under his tongue around rows of sharp teeth threatening to spill over and down his chin.

he chews with his eyes shut and hums a bit, pulling you closer to sit in his lap before laying down on his back. "not a good idea to eat laying down, you can choke" you say flatly, he scoffs a bit and taps along your thighs with his nails, he chuckles at the way you shiver in response.

"oh please 'm not a helpless kitten I'll be fine, this was your idea anyway" the 'prince treatment' you called it he rolls his eyes at the thought "now don't keep me waitin' yeah?" he motions to the toothpick you had been using to transfer the beef chunks from plate to mouth "dont use that thing this time either, you can pick up more with just your fingers" nodding with a huff you pick up two pieces with your fingers this time asking him to say 'aaaaaahhhh' first.

he obliges with a unamused look on his face, basically swallowing the pieces whole and grabbing your wrist before you can move them. why did you think it was a good idea to put your hand in the waiting maw of a hungry lion?

his tongue is rough against your fingers, not as rough as a lions tongue well more accurately not as rough as you'd imagine a lions tongue being. much more similar to a house cats, maybe even softer.

cute.

hes purring too you think, or humming atleast, usually you would tease him but not now, you'd like to enjoy now

he removes your fingers from his mouth but doesn't let your wrist go just yet. instead nipping at the back of your hand playfully before giving it too a long flat tongued lick as if lapping up water. then cupping it in both hands for a kiss. he smiles a soft genuine smile afterwards, looking up at you with soft eyes. weird.

"what the fuck was that about?" you pull your hand away rubbing it off on the side of your shirt.

when I was younger I used to be obsessed w this mermaid poem so that kinda shapes the way I see this au I suppose. it was about catching a mermaid and keeping her in your sink(tub in this case cus malleus is so big) feeding her lemonade and snails so she would do the dishes and sing in turn, even though she was sad and wanted to go home, or something like that

anyway

merman malleus stays in the tub day in and day out, where else is he supposed to go. he likes splashing around you found, esp when he's excited, so filling the tub all the way is not an option. his gills are on his neck you've noticed but he cam breath air somewhat fine, as long as his lower body is moist, maybe he's somewhat amphibious? you wouldn't know.

his shiny black scales have a pretty green opalesce to them, pretty enough to pluck and wear almost. not that you would think of doing that… right?

your relationship with him is fine after the first few weeks and then months and then years. he learns how to drain and refill the tub on his own pretty early on and while unable to speak to you he learns a few words and to nod and shake no as well. in turn of course you pick up on a few of his vocalizations, happy chirps and curious shrills and so on.

he has stockholm syndrome i think, dont feel like elaborating sorry.

you take showers and baths with him still in it because of course you do. he likes being close to you it seems. skin to skin contact soothing to his senses.

taking him to the bed with you isn't a reasonable option so at night when you're feeling needy you make your way to the bathroom. he likes kissing but has a strange way of going about it, licking at your mouth desperately not caring much for the actual lip to lip contact it seems. be careful not to let your lips or tongue get nipped by his sharp teeth, not that he would mind; he loves the taste of your blood and would bite if you'll allow it.

his slit is barely noticeable usually but at times like this it's puffy with arousal. he wants you to touch him. slide your fingers down and lick or kiss until the two tendril like members present themselves. you're still not certain exactly how they work, but he chirps happily and cums lots at your touch so does it matter? cums twice in your mouth and once against your thighs then again inside of you.

omg omg keeping him in a shallow tub with just enough water for him to not dry out. it's strange to see such a rare majestic creature all pathetic and vulnerable under a feeble human. poor things so confused. he doesn't even understand human language.

hands on his horns and grinding your slit against his until his dicks make themselves known, pressing up against you all slick and throbbing. tail thrashing and trilling the creature only calms somewhat after you manage to slip both inside of you and begin riding.

a rough start yes but after a while he can't get enough of you.

where he's been watching you for months, maybe from since before he got switched to pomefiore even. he thinks you're the fluffiest cutest thing and keeps tabs on you regularly though is rather laid back in his pursuit.

it's when you start exhibiting strange out of character behaviors that he takes a more hands on approach. he notices you seem more whiny than usual, you're rather feverish and spacy as well. one of your friends brings you down to the nurses office wrongly assuming you must have just caught something and not understanding what you're begging for when you cling to them and mumble unintelligibly but rook does.

you're in heat, far out of your right mind and the second you're left the only one in the ward he swoops in. he knows he's taking advantage of you but doesn't care, you just look so adorable clinging to him desperately as he bounces you on top of him, your face running with tears and drool prompting him to lick and taste at you(a bit of snot also though he doesn't mind and licks it up all the same). he finishes inside of course. the sheets are a mess.