If it weren’t for the sturdy construction of a late 2008 MacBook—yes, white (well, more like off-dingy-white) shell and all—and the soft, fluffy rug—a housewarming gift from your mother–that covered your hardwood floors, the computer would have been shattered when you vaulted from the couch after the article—sent from a friend that was in desperate need of a lesson in softening the blow–loaded on the screen.
“Fuck!” you cursed, haphazardly picking your laptop up by the corner and tossing it on the sofa. “Shit, fuck!” Snatching your not-yet-empty wine glass from its perch, you stomped into your flat’s little kitchenette and uncorked the bottle of red while downing what remained in your glass. You poured and downed another.
“Really?!” you screamed at the pocket pig calendar hanging opposite you, a bit of spittle and wine flying from your mouth.
Poor Darius; he and his little cowboy hat didn’t deserve any of this.
You tried to calm yourself, really you did, but after a few huffing breaths that were anything but calming, you gave up and grabbed the bottle of wine before heading back to the couch. Your phone was at your ear, number selected and dialed, before the blankets and pillows had even settled from the force of your entire body weight slamming dramatically into them.
“Honey, are you alright?” Despite the hint of worry in her tone, your mum’s voice managed to calm you a bit; suddenly air wasn’t being forced in and out of your lungs as a more natural rhythm took hold.
“No,” you answered tartly before taking another swig of wine. It was silent as you both waited for the other to speak.
“Well are you going to tell me or can I get back to bed?” Mum was always impatient when it came close to bedtime; she was a solid eight-hour sleeper—nothing more and nothing less—and she coordinated her bedtime and wakeup time perfectly so she always got the right amount of sleep.
“He’s…engaged,” you said bitterly, lips puckering around the words, a sour taste left in your mouth at the admission; it didn’t feel right coming off your tongue. And it wasn’t jealousy—or at least you didn’t want to admit it was—because you weren’t entirely sure that if He were replaced with We you would be left with the same sour feeling.
Description: You’re Min Yoongi’s professor. Min Yoongi doesn’t seem to care about that.
Word Count: 2,593
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
Author: Admin Xiufairy
Just being a teacher was hard, but being his teacher was harder. He was Min Yoongi, a boy in his last year of college with you as his music professor. This kid had a passion, you’d give him that, despite the age gap not being that big.
The day he walked in with his hair dyed mint green, you knew it was over for you. He liked rap, more than the average rapper really did, and not only that, but he was good at it. Good was probably an understatement, you’d say he was one of the best rappers you’d ever heard, celebrity or not.
“Your body is weak. I’m only here because of that. I want to make you stronger.” Dan doesn’t recognize this voice, but it seems to be present in all of his dreams. He looks around at the dark space around him, and tries to find the source of the voice.
“Why me?,” Dan goes to take a step forward, but his foot doesn’t hit ground. It just seems to phase through into the eternal nothingness beneath him and he’s floating now, floating in this place that doesn’t even seem to exist in their plane.
“Because, Leigh,” the voice speaks, causing Dan to cringe at the use of his birth name, “Very few mortals can contain a spirit as powerful as myself. You can hold me very well, but your body, its cracks, it makes it harder for me to control you.” Dan pushes himself forward, the voice coming closer as he floats.
“Control me?” Dan doesn’t understand this dream. He’s been having these weird dreams for years now, but this time.
This time it feels too real to be a mere dream.
“Yes, Leigh. Control you, because that’s what I do.” the voice said matter-of-factly, as if that answer was as obvious as the color of the sky.
“What even are you?” Dan swims out in the darkness, pushing himself forward until he collides with a smooth glass-like surface. He places his hands on the surface and attempts to peer through, finding nothing but darkness.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Dan shakes his head and he hears the voice sigh. “I’m a demon of sorts. You could say I’m akin to an incubus, but let’s not go into specifics.”
“You said you’re only here to make me stronger,” Dan spoke, “so why mention the fact that you’re an incubus or whatever?”
“I meant that I’m only speaking to you now to inform you of this,” the voice sounded annoyed now, “Thought that after all this time, it’d be polite to let my host know that I’m gonna be making some changes.”
“What do you mean ‘all this time’?”
“Oh, Leigh,” Dan can practically hear the smirk in its voice, “I’ve been here for years, pushing you down the right path. And soon everything will fall into place.”
“Who do you think you are?” Dan spits out. The voice chuckles, and Dan freezes at the familiarity it holds.
“It’s not who I think I am, Leigh.” The voice is clear and close and Dan feels his chest grow tight. The glass wall shatters, a deafening noise and then he’s face to face with the source of the voice. The air around him grows thinner as he faces what is undoubtedly a replica of himself, giving him a sick and twisted smile as his body distorts.
Hey Beautiful xxx♡Having your posts on my dashboard always brighten up my day,and ur cute advice posts are lovely❤I have something that hasbeen bothering me for long and im scared to ask advice on it ;n;I'm the only petite/slim figure in myfamily they make jokes about me being flat&less womanly& they see breast implants as a sin.But I love my family❤even if i their jokes make me cry. My male &female friends love me the way i am.But im scared to walkhome bra-less ;n; Any Advice?Thank u sweetie!!❤
I would just remember that the way your body looks does not determine how “much of a woman” you are. Not all women look like the models in the magazine, and not all women have big chests and butts. Everyone Is different and that’s what makes humankind so interesting and incredible. I was born 2 months premature so I’ve always looked small for my age, it’s just the way it is. We are still women regardless of how small we are. Whether we are skinny, fat, flat-chested, large chested, loud-mouthed, quiet, short, tall, trans, etc: We are ALL women if we say we are women.
The burger was pretty good, but the guy behind the counter had this weird glint in his eye as he took your money.
You felt the juice and the heat and the meat slide down your throat after delighting every taste and warm juicy sensation on your tongue.
But now that you’re standing and walking out of “TF Burger!” … there’s a twinge.
Something spreading out from your belly, the fizz of the pop and the warmth of the lump of just delicious FOOD in your BELLY.
“Oh…” You say unbidden as the twinge hits again, this time like a brisk winter’s breeze over your whole body.
You look down at your feet, seeing dark claws have suddenly torn out of your shoes and gripped the pavement. The tearing of the rest of your shoes doesn’t really seem like your feet were GROWING as much as the shoes were SHRINKING and tearing themselves apart as you watched your pink feet fill out like a pair of hot balloons, bigger furry toes clutching the remains of your shoes as you stumble back.
Your back hits the wall and reminds you that “your feet” aren’t something you can run away from.
Fur covers them now, rich dark chocolate brown on top and cream white on the soles. You look back at the storefront of “TF Burger!” only to see it’s gone. The niche restaurant you thought you’d try on a whim … it’s like it never was, and you’re staring in stead at a ramshackle hut with a “condemned” sign on it.
The word resonates, as it seems like you’re most definitely condemned to some sort of furry fate.
An urge to hide grips you, like perhaps if no one sees you it’ll all go away and you can go back to your life. You pull back the condemned sign and struggle into the dark hut, also wildly hoping for that receipt you casually tossed away.
Maybe you like TF and furry, but still seeing it happen to your flesh in real time when (until now) you’ve never heard of anything like it happening in real life leaves a lot of scary questions bubbling up.
What am I turning into?
Am I growing, or are my new feet just big?
And, you say aloud in a hushed whisper as you stare at your tingling fingers: “How far is this going to GO?”
Like your feet, the claws on your hands come in a rush, curling out from the tips where your nails once were. All five appear to be short and blunt, better for gripping the ground (like your feet) than for “ripping someone to shreds” so that’s a plus. You hope.
Over and over you turn your hands as they change, watching the dark chocolate fur spread from where the claws meet your skin, down to your knuckles, then wrists. Also: dark chocolate on the backs with palms of creamy white.
“Skunk?” the thought comes and goes, as you had other things to do.
Looking around the abandoned shack, you see piles and piles of boxes marked “Archives” and (still feeling the need to hide) you move a few and hunker down behind them so they block the path between you and the door.
The door - back to reality, back to humanity, back to the Real World which feels oh-so-UNreal right now.
The change has moved under your clothes, with your hands and feet fully furred and clawed, padded and inhuman. You feel the fur weaving out of your skin as it creeps up ankle and wrist, calf and forearm. You find you don’t know what to do with your handpaws, now, waving them in front of you nervously. On instinct, you slap them onto the ground. Perhaps to keep them as far away from your head as possible.
And that’s when the tail starts to grow.
Like a surfer using his hand to describe a wicked wave he thrashed last week, your tailbone curls out from its cemented vestigial impotence to fully-erecting tent your pants and continue the wave back up your spine all the way to your skull and a sudden SHOUT breaks through the back of your throat. It’s a snake now, your whole spine, and it hears a mobo beat your ears don’t. Thrashing and curling, your whole spine (and slowly growing tail) whip your whole body as you stop sitting and start standing ….
on all fours.
Somehow your tail curls left and out and over your pants, pushing them down just enough to let it wag free.
There’s a pause now and you start to catch your breath. You look behind and see the color pattern remains: dark chocolate fur on back, creamy white underbelly. The tail looks curled like a Shibe or husky and you blink at it once. Then several times, mentally willing the change to stop right there and go no further.
And then comes the ear-splitting whine.
You don’t make the sound - it is what you hear as your ears transform, bulging out and growing the same chocoalte-and-cream fur. Shaking your head, knowing something’s changed there, not seeing it, you look around desperately. Further into the shack you see a cracked, dirty sink and a broken …
“Convenient Mirror Is Convenient.” You say to yourself, and make your way over.
Halfway there, you realize you’re walking comfortably on all fours .. so you stand up. Tall again, head slightly spinning, your hold your arms out and look at yourself. Your clothes aren’t strained over an expanding hulk-like body but in fact are a little loose in odd places, the underlying body having shrunk or grown in places.
You remember why you stood up, and shuffle over to the mirror.
Furred black-and-cream pawhands gripping the cracked sink, you see and feel the fur creeping up from under your collar to begin to enclose your face. Your whole body is furred, leaving only your head. Yes, your ears have changed - husky ears, pulled back in fear. You grab your left ear with your handpaw and pull it out to look at the creamy interior and now the whine comes from you. You’re still changing.
Dream-come-true or not, you didn’t ask any for this, and your body is changing at the whim of a supernatural thing from beyond you’ve never met.
The fur overtakes your normal hair, and you see the edges of your jaw and throat are revealing a fox-like fur pattern emerging on your face. Breathing through your nose heavily, it blackens and curls up and out into a dog’s nose, pulling your lips with it over elongating rows of teeth growing sharp. Grimacing, pulling your lips back, you watch as the teeth grow out into the fangs of a dog. Screwing your eyes shut, the last of the fur covers your head and eyelids and you’re completely covered in fur.
Several seconds pass, breathing heavily. You look at yourself, gripping the sink. You turn your head left and right to see the fur and eyes and fangs and ears. Your every fur folicle stands on edge.
Then a minute. You’re still griping the think with your still-opposable-thumbed handpaws, and you slowly relax. Your ears snap forward. Your tail waves gently back and forth. Your grip on the sink softens.
You look at your handpaws.
You glance over your shoulder at and wag your tail.
You eye your ears in the mirror and flick them back and forth.
You open your mouth as far as it can go, and let your tongue curl back between your canine fangs as you watch your image in the mirror.
You hesitate, but it must be done, and there’s no one around. You start to unbutton your shirt.
It’s a little tricky at times with your new handpaws, but you eventually get the job done, and can see yourself. All of yourself from top to bottom.
A voice in the back of your head says mildly “Not so bad…”
And you feel another twinge.
Your spine and tail decide to do the mambo again, and you find yourself on all fours. Now your neck curls again, and your head pulls back to a position impossible for a normal human body. Your precious opposable thumb shrinks back and your palms stretch out and your fingers bulge.
Your thighs shorten but thicken, your feet grow longer, and your chest barrels out. In a few seconds…
We were supposed to watch the stars together Cuddled in blankets on the summer grass. And it still baffles me How you can mean so much to someone Then nothing at all How you can be all someone thinks about And they can so easily forget I guess I just don’t understand You used to love the way i touched you, The way I looked at you The way my hands felt on your body And now I turn away when you undress I gave you everything i had to offer I wanted it all with you And now
When you’re in the public eye, it’s hard to negotiate your relationship with your body, but the way I look at it is: if I can run 26 miles in under four hours, then there’s nothing wrong with my body. Sometimes younger girls see things and maybe they’ve been Photoshopped or whatever, and they take it to heart. There’s all this angst, and it’s just not necessary.
Warnings: drinking, sexist behavior? Mild violence mentioned, very subtle mention of sexy times.
Word Count: 3.3k
A/N: This was supposed to be a short one, but eh. I’ve been living in the land of heavy angst with You are My Heaven and intense stress in my real life so when this fun, fluffy idea popped up, I ran with it. I’m working on a lot of other stuff so be patient, please! As always, I appreciate your feedback. Love each and every one of you!!
“You wanna bet?” Clint challenged the redhead across the table from him.
Natasha leaned forward and held his gaze, not an ounce of doubt in her demeanor. “Absolutely.”
It was too early in the morning for this childish banter, you thought from your seated position at the far end of the long kitchen table. You slumped forward, dipping the tea bag in and out of the steaming mug of liquid before you, then setting it on the small saucer beside it. Wrapping your hands around the cup’s warmth, your eyes unfocused as you continued to tune out the blathering of your teammates. The only other person in the room paying them no mind was Bucky, who was slouched in a cozy chair, thoroughly engrossed in a book.
“Now wait a minute,” a third voice joined the argument, “If we’re gonna do this, we gotta level the playing field a little. Nat could do this in her sleep. We need someone a little more…down to earth. How about Y/N?” Sam gestured toward you.
Blinking a few times, you finally broke out of your stupor. “Hey! I was only half listening to your stupidity, but I think I’m offended.”