ic; feed their lungs to the family dog

[bigbaddy]

( also known as mary, please, private rooms, personal space, ever heard of it?? )

Comments

[raws]

[ He surrenders, or he fights. In an instant, Mary is filled with him: his taste; teeth and tongue; his hands - claws, now - tearing through her shirt and digging into her back. Her back arches as he scrapes at her, ribs in a forward jut against his chest. She can hear his own clothes straining against the halfway of his transformation, seams holding desperately and futilely. He had wanted a second change, or so he said; Mary is not the person to be offering that. This isn’t that - but it’s something. An offering, a challenge, a bending of lines. Her fingers trace down his arms and the touch is surprisingly gentle, spider-light… until she turns her fingers, just so, and that soft touch becomes the sharp, unforgiving kiss of her nails. Against his fur and flesh, they cut like glass.

He’s bearing down so forcefully that it’s hard to breathe and she’d be fine with that normally. She’s a Fable, a myth; her legend is her oxygen and sustenance. It may not be worrying, no, but it is uncomfortable. The longer the discomfort remains, the more she longs to lash it back at him. No effort is made from Bigby to support his own weight. In one swift motion, she pushes at his shoulder to reverse their position. Mary is left on top of him, sitting comfortable at his waist, seizing him as if he were a throne and she were the queen designated.

Her glamour is an expensive one, even now that she’s no longer under the Crooked Man’s employ, but even it can’t transform certain things. Plain eyes darken, sigiled and bloodied. Thrill and delight undo her mask in degrees. ]

See?

[ Mary takes a moment to smooth down her hair. There’s blood on her tongue, a splash of near-black contrasting the delicate pink, but she pays it no mind. ]

I knew you liked it rough.

don't.. mind me.. i forgot my paid ran out and left me with crap icons whoops

[bigbaddy]

[ Old scars - coutesy of Mary, even - still linger, and it's easy enough to push even someone with Bigby's strength over if you know where to go for it. And especially if you're rather strong yourself. So the wolfman finds himself lying on his back before he even fully realises what's happened to reverse their positions, glancing up at the woman - creature? - sitting on top of him. At least her eyes are pretty much the last thing he's concerned with right now, especially since his own are a bright gold in turn, barely even human anymore. The emotion in them is obvious too and also not as human anymore. It's a strange kind of rage combined with lust (wanting more, wanting blood and flesh and bone) that Bigby is probably not even trying to hold back anymore with just how quickly his mind is slipping away further.

It's always been a slippery slope, really, even at moments where he thought he could control it more than this. But Mary always seems to drag out the worst of it, or at least do everything but make it better.

The only response to her words is an animalistic growl, and even though it definitely takes effort (Mary may seem small, thin, but she's got much more power contained in that glamour-covered body than most people would assume) he manages to at least sit up enough to reach her. Not enough to flip their positions back once more, but enough to stare her in the eyes with a glare. ]

Shut up.

[ Because he doesn't want to talk right now, doesn't want to think, because it all doesn't seem like anything more than a gigantic waste of time. Especially to the wolf in him that's roaring, that's breaking its chains, demanding--

After he bites the words out, there's only a split second before he manages to move himself up and Mary close to him enough to sink his teeth straight into her shoulder near her neck. It's a strange combination of violence, yet with a little more than that - if it was just straight up violence, he'd definitely be trying harder to just directly kill her. But this way he can taste her blood on his tongue once more, his teeth trying to rip and tear as they have done many times before in the past. His tongue runs over the wound, wanting to preserve every single bit of the taste of her skin and flesh.

He doesn't want to stop now, he just wants more. This stuff has always been way too addicting to him. ]

I'm going to find a new Bigby, you have failed me!

[raws]

[ His teeth rip clean through her shirt, tearing fabric and flesh alike. Blood flows, staining white. He’s leaving marks on her the same way she had branded him, so many months ago, but the difference is his teeth marks will fade by morning. Her breath hitches, biting back a grunt of pain - of pleasure, maybe - as their position adjusts, as he presses close and in, as he bites and marks and claims for himself. ]

Now, now. If you keep up with such sweet talk, everyone will really think we’re in love.

[ Murmured against his ear. It’s an absurd idea, and one he likely finds both contentious and repugnant; she’s trying to see how angry she can make him, where desire ends and rational mislike begins. How much of him is the big bad wolf and how much is Bigby?

He hadn’t been wrong, earlier. She’s still trying to annoy him. It’s quite fun, really. Mary can see why most Fables make a hobby of it. So, guess what, Bigby. She’s not going to shut up.

Her mouth remains hovering somewhere near his ear. Against his skin, alight and electric with whatever they’ve conducted between them, he’ll feel her words as much as he’ll hear them. ]

I have a better idea. Why don’t you make me scream?