#It seems like with men its very much about control

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 19/?

Can I offer everyone some distraction and escape tonight? If you have sent a prompt to my inbox, I will get on those tonight and tomorrow. Just wanted to get a longer offering up as well. It's going to get worse before it ever gets better. Do what you have to do to stay safe, and try to do good where you can. I pray for better days ahead.

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on AO3

From the moment Tommy’s coven master stepped into the house, Evan could tell he was powerful.

Not as powerful as Tommy. Not as old as Tommy, either…but definitely not a new vampire. Something about the way he carried himself gave Evan the impression that he was used to being listened to. Obeyed. His dark eyes zeroed in on Evan as he made his way to Tommy’s living room, and even with no fangs visible, Evan absolutely received the message that this man would neither hesitate to kill him, nor feel an ounce of guilt over it. It should have been terrifying. And make no mistake, Evan was wary.

But he wasn’t afraid.

His magic hummed in the back of his mind, strong and ready to use to defend himself. Even if he had not recovered from the effects of using the teleport spell, though…Tommy wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

The knowledge settled in his mind, startling in its surety. Its absoluteness. Tommy wouldn’t let any harm come to him. Evan knew that.

He did not know how he knew that, or why it felt like such an immutable, inarguable fact. It was an insane thought to have. Sure, Tommy had put himself between Evan and danger several times already, but what possible reason could Evan have for thinking that he’d continue to do so? Against his own coven master, no less? He didn’t have one…and yet he was so completely confident in the belief that he met the vampire’s eyes squarely, his magic swirling contentedly through his body.

He listened as Tommy argued back and forth with his coven master, tensing as Alonzo revealed that the vampires were already spreading rumors about what had happened in Greenway’s office. He’d known in the back of his mind that the men who’d attacked them weren’t likely to just ride off into the sunset, never to be heard from again…but the high coven had seemed the larger threat.

He couldn’t even really blame this Alonzo person for asking Tommy to get rid of him, to turn him over to the high coven and just cut his losses. Hadn’t Evan been begging Tommy to do just that before Alonzo appeared? It was the smart play—the only play that could possibly keep Tommy and his coven out of this.

God, he wanted to give Tommy a way out of this.

“I’ve been on my own before. I can manage. Just do what I said before…let me leave and have your coven master lodge a complaint with the high coven. Tell them I spelled you. I don’t—I don’t know what to do about the vampires, but at least that’ll get my people off of your coven.”

“Well. I wasn’t expecting you to be the voice of reason. Listen to him, Thomas. We don’t have a lot of time to go with that story—not even a powerful witch could control you for very long.”

Evan ignored Alonzo, staring at Tommy as he seemed to consider their words. He wasn’t sure how this whole mess was going to end. He hoped Grant and her coven could find what they needed to in time to avoid a coven war…but Evan knew better than most the kinds of things that powerful covens could get away with when they wanted to. He wasn’t terribly confident. He just knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t do everything in his power to give them the chance.

He thought Tommy felt the same way. Like everything else about the vampire, it seemed a ridiculous thought to have. Three days ago, would have laughed out loud at the idea that a vampire could care about innocent people dying in a coven war. But he’d seen firsthand how much Tommy cared about his coven. Despite the horrible way they’d come into each other’s lives, Tommy had been nothing but honest with him. Honorable. Kind.

Protective.

He wasn’t an idiot. And he wasn’t naïve. Tommy had killed people. More people than Evan could probably conceive of, given how old he was. But Evan didn’t think the vampire was faking the disgust he seemed to feel for the wanton violence and cruelty of the party he’d rescued Evan from. He didn’t think Tommy was faking his desire to get to the bottom of whatever was going on in the city. Something inside Evan told him that Tommy wanted to stop what was coming just as much as Evan did.

The difference was, if Evan died in this storm they’d somehow entered into, the collateral damage would be minimal.

Sally had cut ties with him.

His parents had never cared for him to begin with.

Maddie probably thought he was already dead…or had abandoned her.

There was no one left to care if he died, but Tommy had a whole coven who would mourn him. Hell, Evan had interacted with them for less than two hours, but he could tell how close Tommy was with the two vampires who had come to the loft. There was no reason for Tommy to go down this road with him when there were so many people who would be hurt if Tommy got himself killed. He knew Tommy wouldn’t stand for just turning Evan over to the high coven, but letting him go and then taking a story about Evan casting a compulsion over Tommy to them was the absolute best move that Tommy could make. For his coven. For himself.

“I can’t do that.” The vampire’s voice was clear. Steady. Not a hint of doubt or hesitation in the words. Tommy’s eyes bored relentlessly into his, his back ramrod straight as he refused, refused the out Evan was offering him. “Evan, whoever is orchestrating all this, I’m not leaving you to face them down by yourself.”

And…what? Evan startled, barely managing to keep his mouth from falling open in shock. Wait—wait, no, he couldn’t have heard that correctly. That made no sense. That was—

“Thomas, are you insane? You can’t be serious!” Tommy’s coven master sounded as shocked as Evan felt, the cool, calm demeanor he’d been affecting since he entered the bungalow cracking.

He started to pace back and forth, his movements quick and agitated, and Evan tucked one hand behind his back, clenching his fist and focusing on his magic the way Sally had taught him, drawing it tightly inwards, ready to spring forth at his command. No witch was powerful enough to cast without the structure of a spell…but thanks to Sally’s lessons, Evan could cast faster than most.

Tommy stepped deliberately between them, facing his coven master, and Evan felt a flush of warmth he couldn’t even try to deny. Alonzo’s next words, though, were like a bucket of ice water being poured straight down Evan’s spine.

“If you do this, then I’ll have no choice but to disavow you. Sever our alliance.”

He gasped. He knew he gasped, the soft, breathy sound of it punching out of him entirely without his permission. No. No, Alonzo couldn’t be suggesting what it sounded like he was suggesting. And even if he was, there was no way that Tommy would—

“Exactly,” Tommy said. His voice was still so steady, so sure. As though he was talking about something as minor as changing the paint color in his living room or what he might make for dinner and not…not…

Tommy and his coven master continued speaking, but Evan couldn’t make out the words over the buzzing in his ears. He felt frozen, stopped, his mind swarming with memories and feelings that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to examine in years. The blood pounded in his head, his focus on his magic splintering. No. No, Tommy couldn’t—he wouldn’t…

“Thomas. You’ll be convenless.”

“I’ve been covenless before.”

Covenless. There were a thousand other meanings for that word, and Evan had lived every one for the last five years.

To be covenless was to be nothing. Less than nothing. When Evan had been banished from his coven, he’d lost everything. His home, his family, his familiar. His future. His identity. Everything that made him who he was had been stripped from him, and he’d been left to rebuild himself from fucking scratch…only he’d never be able to. Not really.

To be covenless was to be alone. Completely alone. Unwelcome in every corner of the world you’d thought would be yours forever, unwanted and uncared for. Evan had lost his coven bonds and he’d become a ghost. He’d lost everything when he lost his coven. How could Tommy just give it up?

Why…why would he do something like that for him?

Evan watched in frozen, horrified silence as Tommy did it. Severed himself from his coven. Turned his back on his home, his family, the people he cared for…for Evan. He listened to the oddly formal words—completely devoid of the power that he’d felt when the Pennsylvania high coven handed down his sentence, and yet somehow just as heavy. Just as important. Some part of him tried to remind himself that Tommy had said vampire covens didn’t function the way witch covens did. Vampire covens were alliances, not bonds that were formed in blood and magic…but it didn’t matter. Tommy was giving up his coven. For him.

To protect him. He’d said it. He’d said he wasn’t going to leave Evan to face this storm alone.

It was impossible. It was irrational. It made absolutely no sense. He was watching it with his own eyes, and he didn’t understand. He’d given himself up for Maddie. He’d sacrificed everything he ever was or ever would be to keep her safe, to make sure that she didn’t suffer for what she had to do to set herself free from Doug. He hadn’t set out to lose his coven because of it, he’d just known it was a likely outcome. Had Tommy known he was going to do this when his coven master walked through the door? Had he looked at the situation the way Evan had all those years ago, his sister’s heartwrenching sobs ringing in his ears as they stood over Doug’s still body, and made the same choice Evan had in that moment? How? How?

It had been an easy sacrifice for him to make for Maddie. Losing his coven had been the hardest thing he’d ever experienced or ever would experience, but it had been worth it to save his sister. Keep her safe. Protect her.

But…but he loved Maddie. Loved her more than anything else in the world, loved her more than he loved himself.

What motivation did Tommy have to give up his coven for Evan?

Tommy was still for a long moment after his coven master–fuck, his ex coven master, what had he done?—left the bungalow. Evan listened to the sound of the vampire's car start up, still feeling like he'd been encased in a block of ice. Tommy's shoulders slumped slightly as the sound of the car faded down the driveway, growing more and more distant, and he cracked his neck a couple times before turning to look at Evan.

Evan didn't know what his face looked like, but Tommy's immediately softened. It was almost unbearable to watch…Tommy had just made himself covenless, how could he have room to feel sympathy for Evan?

“Evan, remember. Coven bonds aren’t like what you’re used to for us. This isn’t…it doesn’t hurt me,” he said, and his voice was so, so gentle.

As if Evan was the one who needed to be handled carefully, as though Evan was the one hurting. Because he was hurting. Evan knew that without a doubt, knew it the same way he’d known that Tommy wouldn’t let his coven master hurt him—it was a quiet certainty, a solid as stone beneath his feet. He felt suddenly sick, too hot and too cold at the same time. His heart pounded in his chest, his magic thrumming through him insistently, and he shook his head.

“Why…” He broke off, suddenly unable to meet Tommy’s eyes, and swallowed hard. “Why did you do that?” he managed to choke out, his voice sounding alien to his own ears.

Tommy tilted his head slightly, a stepped toward him, closing the distance between them until he was right in front of him. “I’m not letting you do this alone,” he said, as though that were an actual reason to leave his coven, to voluntarily give it up.

Evan shook his head again, his head still spinning. “That doesn’t make sense!” he burst out. “Tommy, you’re gonna get yourself killed!”

Infuriatingly, Tommy’s lips twitched into a smile, and he reached up to lay his hand on Evan’s shoulder. There was no heat from the touch, of course, and yet Evan swore he could feel the shape of Tommy’s hand on him like a brand. His magic sparked through him, swirling in his chest like champagne bubbles. “I’ve heard that before, Evan. Hasn’t happened, yet,” he said.

“It’s not worth it,” Evan said.

Losing your coven isn’t worth it, Evan meant.

I’m not worth it, Evan meant.

Tommy’s hand loosened briefly, his fingers twitching like he wanted to move them. For a few heartbeats, Evan had the bizarre sense that Tommy was restraining himself from reaching up, brushing the skin of Evan’s throat, skating his fingers higher and higher to touch Evan’s face. Even more bizarre was the pulse of disappointment when Tommy merely patted his shoulder and stepped back, a strange expression twisting his features.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the vampire said. “Now…are you ready to start this snipe hunt?”

*

“How worried do we have to be about one of those locator spells?” Tommy asked as he guided the SUV onto the highway, heading for the address that his friend Chimney had provided.

Evan blinked, startled out of thoughts that would not stop racing in circles no matter how hard he tried. He was glad for the new topic to focus on, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the window. “Depends. If your, uh, if Alonzo lets the high coven have some of your stuff when he talks to them, it could be a problem. If it’s something you’re really attached to.” He opened his eyes and shot Tommy a sidelong glance. “Do you have a lot of things at your coven house?” he asked quietly.

Tommy chuckled, not taking his eyes off the road. It was hard to get a read on his expression, but he didn’t seem especially upset. “Some. Not as much as you might think someone could collect over eight hundred years. I’ve never really cared about things. Most of what I really give a shit about, I keep at the bungalow. But I can text Sal and Lucy and tell them to hide a few other things at the coven house.”

Evan nodded to himself. “We should have a day or two before it even becomes an issue—and they might not think it’s worth it. It’d be hard to hold a locator spell on a vampire. Most of our really complicated magic doesn’t work so great on you.”

Tommy made a curious hum. “Why’s that?”

Evan shrugged. “No one really knows. Probably for the same reason that you can’t turn witches.” He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. “I can cast a charm that’ll let me know if someone’s trying to spell you,” he offered after a moment. “And disrupt it.”

“Will it be a drain on you? I’d rather you save your strength for when we run into trouble.”

“A disruption? Yeah, that’d be hard for me to keep up for very long…but the alert charm is simple. Sa—someone taught it to me when I was a kid, to help me channel my intentions in a spell. Those kinds of things, losing my coven bond doesn’t really, uh, doesn’t really affect me that much,” he finished quietly. “But it’s still a spell. I, I, I get it if you don’t want me casting anything on you.”

Tommy was silent for a long moment, before he said quietly, “I trust you, Evan. Do I need to pull over?”

“Wait, not? You want me to cast it now?” Evan blinked, the calm certainty in Tommy’s voice when he said he trusted him catching him off-guard. Tommy shrugged one shoulder.

“Might as well. I don’t want to risk getting distracted later—and any advantage we can get is worth taking.”

“Um, okay. Okay, yeah, that makes sense. Uh, no, it—you won’t feel anything. Maybe like, a tingle? But it won’t hurt or anything. I can do it while you’re driving.” He pressed his lips together, considering. “Can I have your hand?”

Tommy startled a little at that, shooting him a quick, bemused look. “Sure?” he said, stretching one hand out toward Evan.

Evan took it, cradling it in his palms and resting two fingers on where Tommy’s pulsepoint should be in his wrist. It was odd not to feel the beat of life underneath his fingers, to trace skin that was oddly cool, blue veins standing out more starkly than he was used to. He leaned over Tommy’s hand and started chanting, his magic all but leaping to his fingertips as he murmured the familiar spell. Tommy kept his eyes on the road, but Evan could sense him shooting quick little looks his way, even as he held his hand trustingly still.

It was strangely intimate. The thought skipped through Evan’s head and was gone as he felt the spell building, his hands beginning to glow with the white light of a witch’s power. He breathed out the last words of the spell and pressed the magic gently into the skin of Tommy’s wrist, a sigil glowing briefly before fading to near invisibility. Tommy shivered as the sigil sunk in, his fingers flexing, but he held still until the light of Evan’s magic faded. Moving slowly—almost reluctantly?—he slipped his hand from Evan’s grasp and looked at the inside of his wrist, his eyebrow twitching upwards minutely.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“That’s it,” Evan confirmed, settling back in his seat and going back to staring out the window. “If anyone tries to cast on you, I’ll know.”

“Thank you, Evan,” Tommy said.

Evan nodded silently, watching the LA scenery fly past the window as Tommy sped towards Greenway’s house. He felt like his brain was spinning as fast as the tires, too much happening for him to really get a grasp on it. He needed to. He couldn’t afford to be spiraling with them potentially heading into a hostile situation. Everything—his confusion and disbelief and, yes, all right, his guilt over Tommy giving up his coven, his worry about what they were walking into, his fear for what could happen in this city if they failed, he had to let it all go. He could almost hear Sally’s voice in his head, chidingly reminding him that he needed to stay focused.

Find an anchor, little love. A single thing to concentrate on and hold onto that, no matter what.

Good advice…but advice he’d struggled to take all his life. He looked over at Tommy again, taking in his profile as he tried to read his stoic expression, tried to figure out what might be running through the vampire’s head. Tommy said he trusted him. After knowing him only a couple of days, Tommy was willing to take risks for him that he wouldn’t have asked of anyone in his coven except maybe Maddie. Had made sacrifices for him that Evan knew down to the marrow of his bones his own parents would never have made. Tommy said he trusted him.

Evan breathed out slowly, his magic ebbing through him in time to his heartbeat. In the face of everything, he let the simple truth that had been trying to form in his mind since Tommy had given up his place in his coven to protect Evan wash over him. He trusted Tommy, too. And that was what he was going to hold onto, no matter what.

*

Jonah Greenway had lived on a surprisingly quiet street in a small, nondescript house that was neither especially nice nor especially run-down. Tommy took a couple of laps around the block in the SUV, trying to scout if there was anybody already there. Evan had been slightly worried that the place would already have been under a police investigation, but credit where credit was due—the SoCal high coven was very good at keeping their world secret.

“Looks clear,” Tommy muttered after the third lap around the block. They’d stopped a few intersections and pulled into and reversed out of a couple of driveways to hopefully make it look as though they were just lost to any nosy neighbors who might notice a large SUV with heavily tinted windows. He pulled to a stop about a block down the street from Greenway’s house.

“Wait—how are we getting you in there?” Evan asked, tipping his head towards the window…and the sun-drenched street outside it. It would have been easier to wait ‘til at least dusk to leave the bungalow, but the need to give Grant and her coven enough time to do their own investigations created a sense of urgency that would not be ignored.

“I can take sunlight for a few minutes,” Tommy said, frowning distastefully and twisting in his seat to dis around in the floor behind him. He sat up a moment later with a large black hoodie and pulled a pair of gloves out of one of the pockets. “Although no offense, I’m gonna walk a hell of a lot faster than you.”

“Dressed like the villain in an after-school special?” Evan asked dubiously, his eyebrow climbing when Tommy pulled his sun visor down and grabbed a large pair of sunglasses clipped to the edge. “Really?”

“If you have a better suggestion, I’d love to avoid the third-degree sunburn I’m about to get.”

Evan debated a moment, drumming his fingers on his thigh and poking at the edges of his magic, feeling out the strength. Then he turned in his own seat, staring hard out the back windshield at the corner of Greenway’s house that was visible. There was a decently-sized porch with a roof, and Evan knew any witch worth his salt would have had look-away charms on his house, though they might have lost power when Greenway died. Still, if that was the case, then any hexes or traps he’d laid on the property would also be defunct, and Tommy would be able to break into the place quickly. Evan felt confident he could handle any hexes that were still active, and short out an alarm system fast enough that it would register as a glitch.

“Try not to move, okay?” he said, reaching over to grab Tommy’s wrist as he focused on the corner of the porch he could see, and chanted the spell.

His ears popped, the whole world going quiet and shadowy, sound muffling almost to the point that he was enveloped in silence. The air around him turned absolutely freezing, colder than any Pennsylvania winter, and as the spell ended he couldn’t help coughing. Beside him, he heard Tommy gasp something in a language he didn’t recognize—though by the tone, he could tell it wasn’t polite—and the vampire scrambled to his feet, his wrist twisting under Evan’s to grab at his hand and yank him to his feet as well.

They were standing on Greenway’s porch, well-shaded from the afternoon sunlight.

“What the hell?! What did you do?” Tommy demanded, looking around him in shock. “That wasn’t the same thing you did at the office!”

Evan laughed shortly, pulling away so he could examine the door in front of them. The fact that no defense spells had triggered when they appeared on the porch was encouraging, but he wasn’t going to just take it on faith that Greenway didn’t have something more powerful than simple charms and hexes waiting. “No—a teleport is major magic even when you have a coven bond. I’m not risking that unless there’s no other choice. I took us through the between.” He reached out and let his hand hover over the doorknob, unable to feel the telltale tingle of magic against his skin.

“The…wasn’t that where Greenway hid the flash drive?”

“Yup.”

“And you can…go…there?” Tommy continued slowly.

“If you know how. Most of us just use it like Greenway did. Like a hiding place. Kind of a magical safe-deposit box? But the between is as big or small as you know it is, and it exists wherever you know it will. So, if you know it’s big enough to fit you, and you know it exists where you want to be, you can get to it.”

“That—okay, that actually makes a weird sort of sense and explains a couple of encounters I’ve had over the years. I haven’t met any witch who could do something like that in a century or two, though.”

Evan shrugged, still examining the door. “Not a lot of us can, anymore. It’s old magic. Like, old-fashioned magic, not, uh, not old as in ancient. It’s easy to get lost in, so it’s not like it’s in the normal, everyday lessons. Sally only taught me because—” He broke off, his brain catching up with the amount of private information his mouth was just casually giving away.

Tommy was silent for a moment. “Sally was your familiar?” he asked gently.

Evan clenched his jaw, before nodding quickly. “I don’t think there’s any kind of spell on the door,” he said. Thankfully, Tommy accepted the abrupt subject change, stepping around Evan to grip the doorknob and give the door a fast, almost casual shove with his shoulder. The deadbolt snapped in an instant, and Tommy stepped back to interpose himself between Evan and anything that might be waiting for them inside.

Only silence greeted them, however.

Tommy cocked his head, listening intently, before his shoulders relaxed. “It’s empty,” he said. “But stay close.” He stepped inside the darkened interior of Greenway’s house. Evan took a deep breath and followed, his eyes roving over his surroundings curiously.

The house was surprisingly…sterile. It had all the trappings of a home—comfortable furniture, plush carpets on the floors, bookshelves full of books and mementos, art hanging on the walls. Yet, the place felt cold to Evan. There was none of the warmth and character of Tommy’s bungalow. The place felt like a showroom or a magazine cover. Everything perfectly chosen and placed to present a picture that it just…wasn’t.

It felt, he reflected wryly, like the house he had grown up in.

“Howie and Grant already searched the place for anything useful, but the high coven hasn’t gotten here yet. We need them to think we’re looking for something, get them to waste resources trying to find it first. Toss the place?” Tommy asked, glancing back at Evan with a questioning look. Evan shrugged, turning a slow circle in the large, open-plan living space that took up most of the first floor. Something felt…off.

��They really didn’t find anything?” he asked, his eyes darting around the room.

“Nada,” Tommy confirmed, watching as Evan looked all around him. “Why? What are you thinking?”

“Nothing, I just…there’s something…” he trailed off, the frustratingly feeling of something just out of his reach dancing at the edge of his senses. His eyes fell on a mirror propped up in the corner of a set of recessed bookshelves that had been built into the walls on either side of a large picture window in what Greenway had set up as his living room. Directly in front of the window was a large, ornate wooden writing desk. Evan tilted his head and followed the line of where the mirror was facing…to another mirror mounted on the wall by the stairs to the second story. The mirror was positioned oddly, slightly off-center of where Evan would expect it to be, just enough to look a little wonky. In fact, if he stood in front of that mirror and followed the line of where it was facing, he would find…

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Evan muttered.

“What?” Tommy demanded immediately.

In answer, Evan spun another slow circle in the center of the room, tracing the sightlines of multiple mirrors positioned all around the room. That was what he was feeling. He hadn’t quite shaken the chill of the between from his senses, after all…and there was quite a lot of the between in this room.

“He hid something else here,” Evan said, finding the mirror that was positioned in the northernmost part of the room and pacing away from it until he was as close to the center of where the sight lines of all five of the mirrors around the living space met as he could get. “Fucking smart bastard, I’ll give him that.”

“Evan, what are you talking about? I’m pretty sure Howie and Grant would have known to look in this between place.”

“Yeah, but they might not have realized how big the between is here,” Evan countered. “Like I said…it’s not something a lot of witches learn anymore.”

Tommy tilted his head, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked curious, though, not dismissive. “You keep talking like the size of it can change. Isn’t space…you know, space? Like there have to be boundaries.”

“Ever been in one of those house of mirrors they do at fairs and theme parks?” Evan asked, centering himself and focusing hard. He murmured the appropriate spell and reached toward the desk, the way he had in the office building to find the flash drive. The way he’d—sort of, it was a little more complicated than he’d explained to Tommy—done to get them from the car to the porch to avoid the sunlight. Only this time, he reached further into the between. Through all the layers of it that Greenway had folded it upon itself, over and over, until only a witch or familiar who regularly used it to shift themselves through space and not just store and hide things in would have even realized there was that much of it to explore in this house.

Evan did not travel through the between regularly. It was not something that witches did anymore, the dangers of getting lost too great. But he had been very carefully trained by someone who had learned the art in times when it had been a valuable tool for survival.

His hand closed on something in the between, and he curled his fingers around it and yanked. There was a soft pop in the air, and when he looked at the empty desk again, there was a small, leatherbound ledger sitting innocuously in the center of it. “Gotcha,” he hissed. He hurried forward and scooped the ledger off the desk, pulling at the bands of elastic that bound it at each corner.

“Great work Ev—GET DOWN!” Tommy’s voice changed in a flash, rising to a bellow as he lunged at Evan. Between one breath and the next, Tommy had made it across the room and wrapped himself around Evan, pulling Evan tight against his chest and spinning them around so that Tommy’s back was to the window.

There was a loud sound of shattering glass.

The clatter of something hitting the desk.

And then the whole world around Evan exploded into a mass of light. And sound. And force.

Evan felt himself lifted off his feet, flung across the room. Tommy’s body was wrapped tight around him, the vampire’s arms shielding him protectively, his face pressed hard against Tommy’s throat. They hit the floor hard enough that the breath was knocked from Evan’s lungs, but he was still dimly aware of Tommy taking the brunt of the landing, rolling them with the momentum, one hand cradling the back of Evan’s head and keeping it from cracking on the hardwood floors as they came to a rolling halt.

Evan coughed, everything spinning around him in dizzying circles, his ears ringing so loudly he could barely hear anything over it. His whole body hurt, and when he pulled his head back from Tommy’s neck, the room was suddenly hazy with smoke. What…what had—

“Tommy?” he gasped, when the vampire made no move to let go, to get up. “Tommy, what—”

He could hardly hear his own voice, though he knew he was shouting. He gripped Tommy’s shoulder, more relief than he was willing to examine at the moment sweeping through him when he felt the vampire’s muscles bunch under his touch, felt Tommy shudder and start to struggle to get up. Something was wrong, though.

His vampire was moving too slowly, too sluggishly. When Evan blinked some of the hazy smoke out of his eyes, Tommy’s face—mere inches from his own—was twisted in a grimace of pain. Something hard pressed into the top of Evan’s abdomen, right under his breastbone, and he slowly became aware of a hot wetness seeping into his borrowed shirt. Gasping, he wrenched himself backwards enough so he could look down, a buzzing that had nothing to do with his ringing ears filling his head when his eyes focused on the massive, wickedly sharp chunk of splintered wood that was poking into his chest.

The massive, wickedly sharp chunk of splintered wood that had impaled Tommy through the back, gone clear through his body.

“Tommy! Tommy, what—”

“Evan…run,” his vampire managed to grit out, blood spilling from the corners of his mouth.

“Aw come on Kinard. Let the witch stay.”

Evan’s heart sank, his eyes flying to the gaping hole where Greenway’s front window had been only seconds before. The blond vampire from the office building was clambering through the jagged opening, flanked by two other vampires that Evan hadn’t seen before. They were covered head to toe in the same getup that Tommy had been going to try to use to get across the sunny street—hoodies, gloves, long pants—but every inch of exposed skin was blistered and peeling, obviously burned by even what short exposure they’d had to the sun.

Blondie pulled his hood back, glaring at Evan and Tommy, a nasty smirk firmly in place on his face. Evan’s eyes flicked between the three of them as Tommy tried to push at his shoulder, still struggling to get his feet under him, even as more blood spurted out from around the piece of fucking shrapnel sprouting out of his chest.

Tommy was hurt. Badly.

The vampire who had protected him over and over, even when it made no logical sense for him to do so. The vampire who had been kinder and gentler to him over the past two days than any one of his own kind had been over the past five years. His vampire, who had refused to let Evan walk into danger alone.

His vampire, who had given up his own coven to stay by Evan’s side, against odds that would have sent any sane person running for the hills. His vampire.

Evan curled his arm protectively over Tommy’s back and reached for every drop of magic in his body, the most dangerous spell Sally had ever taught him fairly exploding out of him in a rush of power.

[freebooter4ever]

You know, one thing ive been thinking about the whole keke's outfit thing...it continues to baffle me how the straight heterosexual view of women's 'attractiveness' STILL tends to equate scantily clad with 'availability' or 'asking for it' or 'putting it on display'. As if wearing something skimpy is what threatens the boyfriend's position as the only man who is allowed to be attracted to his girlfriend.

But like. And i cant speak for all women attracted to women here. But i KNOW i am not the only woman who watched nope, caught the VERY SUBTLE HINTS, and was immediately like 'oh she is the hottest thing ever I AM DEVOTED TO HER' because we are starved for lesbian characters just being allowed to exist and be attractive on screen without catering to the male gaze. Like the akira slide and motorcycle scenes? Sexy as hell. The little dancey thing to classic music? Sexy. Her general refusal to sit upright? Still hot. And she was doing it all in slightly butch but still extremely stylish clothing that basically covered everything. And i mean she was still the most attractive character on that screen the entire time, i probably missed half the movie because i was just watching her the whole time. And it had absolutely nothing to do with how little she was wearing.

Like yes keke herself also looked sexy in that dress/bodysuit that her boyfriend hated so much. But why is it THAT that makes him insecure? Why not the thousands of lesbian/bisexual girls who watched nope a few too many times just to daydream about dating a girl like emerald one day?

[shadow4-1]

"Can you just pretend to love me tonight? Please?"

Simon's never gotten a request like this before.

He's never had any qualms about selling his body. Whether it was for his cock, units of his blood plasma, or his war honed body. He's always done what he's had to - anything to stay off the streets and keep a full belly.

The girls who've paid him always wanted a brute, someone to mount them and take them for all they were worth. That was what he was used to, not some doe-eyed sweet thing begging him to be gentle.

"I want to feel loved." You admit, leaning back on the motel bed, thighs crossed in nervousness. "I um...I know I'm not very pretty-"

Simon leans forward on his knees and kisses you gently. Well, he tries to. The tip of your teeth graze painfully together as he mouths you. You squeak beneath him, hands going up to his shoulders to try and push him off on rabbit instinct. He pulls his mouth off of you just enough to mutter an apology.

"Sorry." He swallows.

You look up at him with impeccably beautiful eyes brimming with tears. You seem to finally understand there's nothing gentle about him even when he tries to be. Simon wants you to call him off, send him out of the cheap hotel. He knows he can't be as sweet at you want - as you deserve. He's just physically not built for that. At least, he's sure of it nowadays. He has a brief memory of holding his newborn nephew but it slips away just as quickly as it came.

"Can we just...go slow?" You ask again. Simon can hear the waver in your voice. You're unsure if you want to continue, but you seem to trust him for some reason. "Really, really slow?"

"Yeah."

He can do slow. He can do glacial. If there's one thing he can do, it's be measured, methodical. He wasn't a Lieutenant for nothing.

For the first time in years, he takes his time. He's used to the fast paced, hungry fucks that pay his rent in thirty minutes. This is...new, not wholly uninvited. He kisses down your collarbone, down the swell of your breasts. He nips at the lacy fabric (you dressed up for him when he was expecting just to rip it all off) as he makes his way down further. He laps at the skin beneath your belly button, making your belly flutter. Ticklish. He likes that.

Simon noses his way between your thighs, easily spreads your legs with his thick forearms. As he kisses down your cloth covered mound he admits he likes how you smell. Usually the taste of women turns him off. He prefers men, but desperate women pay more. You're desperate alright, although its a different type of desperation. Something about the nervous wetness staining your new panties has his cock jumping in his trousers. He presses his nose to the fabric, inhales deeply, and relishes in your shy squeak. Simon starts to understand your desire.

You want to be explored, mapped, and consumed slowly. You want to give up control but feel as if you can stop at any moment. You want to be seen, tasted, then completely devoured.

Instead of slipping your panties to the side, he licks his way down your thighs. You squeal and try to squirm away from the sudden sensation but he doesn't stop. He kisses down your calves and across the top of your feet. His hands are so large that they wrap around your soles completely. Simon pushes them up until they're up by your ears. He knows the position is uncomfortable for you, but he likes the view of your soft, cloth covered mound.

He nips at the back of your ankles and calves, licks down the expanse of your thighs, ans nuzzles into the gusset of your panties. Simon relishes in the squeaks and gasps ans twitches of your expectant body. It's been so long since he's teased someone, much less a sweet lil' thing like you.

Your scent is heady, comforting, nothing like he's experienced before. He finds he really likes just inhaling you in. You whimper, thighs shaking already. He hasn't even licked you yet. Simon finally admits to himself that you're stroking his ego.

He plants a firm, sweet kiss to your cloth covered cunt. The fabric is practically soaked through. He can smell your taste on the tips of his lips. His curiosity wins. He takes a firm, long lick from bottom to top. Simon tastes you, but also the flowery tang of your favorite fabric softener. You taste good. He wants more.

Simon finally releases his hold on your thighs. On instinct, or perhaps strain, they fall apart. You try to sit up but he tugs your body further towards the edge of the bed. He can feel the tension in his old knees from kneeling, but he ignores it. You've opened up your body to him. He wants to take full advantage of it.

Simon goes back to lapping at your clothed cunt. He doesn't stop until his tongue is raw from brushing repeatedly over the stitches. Drool drips down his chin.

"Off."

You huff in confusion, trying to sit up. Instead. With too easy of a tug, off come your panties. There you are. Simon knows he should slow his movements but he doesn't care. You haven't stopped him yet, and he'll be damned if he doesn't get those sweet lips in his mouth. He spreads you apart with his middle and forefinger. You're a sight to behold. Perhaps not pornstar perfect anatomy, but you're delicious looking nonetheless. He eyes your glistening, dripping slit. As bad as he wants to force his tomgue deep inside you, instead he presses a firm kiss to the hood of your clit. You jolt, trying to back away or pull him closer, he can't tell.

Simon follows your movement. He mouths hungrily at your clit, flattens his tongue and practically drools against it. He laps at you with a muted fervor. He doesn't want to hurt you. He can tell you're sensitive. It must've been awhile since the last time you'd had a man willingly do this for you. A damn shame.

Your shaky little moans are like music to Simon's ears. He follows them like a map. He circles your clit, traces the entrance of your hood, even dips lower to tease the sides of your inner lips. You seem to like that alot based on the sounds you make. He sucks on your inner wings and you squeal, thighs wrapping hard around the sides of his head. He does it again and and again until you're hiccuping in delight. Your slick drips down his chin and throat. You're such a good girl for him.

Simon knows he's going to make you cum, it's just a matter of time and technique. He has both on his side. He uses his other hand to pet at your entrance. He tries to commit your anatomy to memory, and so he takes his time dipping the pads of his fingers against your fluttering slit. Despite it obviously having been awhile, your cunt holds no resistance. In fact, it practically swallows up the tip of his middle finger. Fuck yeah, that's what he likes to see.

With measured ease, Simon slips his whole finger inwards and upwards inside of you. You keen and gasp and he can feel your insides twitching. You're tight. So tight he can feel his finger already starting to cramp up from the resistance.

If he's going to fuck you right he's still got some work to do.

[mariasont]

Could you do a story where Y/N Is taken in a hostage situation and we see more of a dark hotch? like that early episode where hotch and reid are hostages in the hospital?

TOO EMOTIONAL - A.H

a/n: thank you so much for requestin <3 i hope this is what you were wanting!

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: honestly yall i feel like this is way darker than anything i've written so far, not sure if its good or not but alas, mentions of blood, violence, unsub threatens reader with a knife and a lighter, mentions of sexual assualt (it doesnt happen just mentions of it), unsub cuts open readers shirt, hotch is a dick for a plot, hurt/comfort

wc: 1.4k

Your vision was blurred, you fought to focus as dried blood flaked from your lashes with each heavy blink. You swallowed a cough, the floor's cold concrete punishing your knees. The ties around your wrists and ankles were merciless, digging into your flesh. You tried to focus on the sounds around you—the drip-drop of water, the soft wail of distant sirens.

In the dim light, you caught glimpses of Hotch, his distinct cologne mingling with the warehouse's musty air. He was agonizingly close yet not close enough to touch. The unsub's footsteps were barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Panic fluttered in your chest, unwanted and insistent. Only three cases in, and it seemed the universe was conspiring to reroute your career choice.

Frantically, you attempted to wipe your face on your shirt, pulse roaring in your ears as the footsteps ceased before you and Hotch. The man was a ghastly figure, burns cutting from one side of his face to the other. You couldn't breathe.

"What a day to have feds come knocking." His voice was hoarse, fingers absently playing with a lighter.

"You know, they say the most intelligent criminals are the ones who don't get caught, yet here we are," Hotch said, his chin defiantly up, words sharp and calculated.

Suddenly, the unsub was right there, his disfigured face uncomfortably close, the heat from the lighter singeing your skin. His breath was a hot, sticky assault, and you fought the instinct to flinch.

"Smart men don't leave witnesses, and I intend to be very smart about this."

The foundations of your training flitted across your consciousness, the methodologies for keeping control of the situation, but they sifted through your fingers like said, rendering you paralyzed.

"Take her then. She's new, inexperienced. Probably more trouble than she's worth." Hotch's voice was cold, jarring like a slap to the face, his expression empty of emotion.

You strained to keep your face impassive, your eyes darting to Hotch, pleading for his attention. Your breaths were shallow, scarcely there. He had to be bluffing. You felt sick. The unsub shifted his weight, scrutinizing you both, edging closer to hotch, no doubt with suspicion.

The unsub laughed, a cold and calculating sound as he circled around Hotch. "You expect me to believe you'd turn on your own that quickly? I'm not a fool."

"Look at her and tell me what her worth is to me." Hotch's voice was even, almost bored. "She's a liability. Too emotional, too soft." 

His words were flung carelessly, yet they landed with precision, straight into your chest. Your teeth punished the inside of your cheek.

The remarks were like sharp barbs to your chest, instilling a hollow feeling as you attempted to convince yourself that the wetness on your lashes was anything but tears. His assessment was not unfounded. Your empathy, your sensitivity, traits deemed too tender for the harsher realities of your job, were now being used against you. Hotch had always been an exception, until now.

"Well, I could see her worth in other ways." The man's words oozed contempt, his gaze crawling over you in a way that threatened to turn your stomach. "I bet that's how she got the job in the first place, huh?"

"What do you think?" Hotch's laugh was a sinister match to the unsub's. He tilted his head in your direction. "Look at her. That's all she's been good for."

Your breath caught in your throat, your body turning as much as the ties would permit in Hotch's direction. You could almost hear your heart shattering, could feel it in Hotch's inability to face you. Was this a plan or had he truly discarded you?

You never deluded yourself into thinking you were Hotch's favorite--his reserved interactions with you made that abundantly clear. In fact, you were probably his least favorite. He had kept you at an arm's length, while seemingly forging bonds with the others that didn't seem to extend to you.

This was all within reason, given your inexperience and younger age, but the disdain lacing his words was unexpected, shredding through any pretense of professional detachment.

Hotch had never wanted you on the team, it was Rossi who had vouched for you. And now, look where that got you both.

Maybe this was all deserved.

"Then you won't mind if I try her out for myself?" The unsub's insinuation felt like a perverse validation of Hotch's doubts. 

A low hum escaped the unsub as he closed the distance, his gaze predatory. You stilled, breath caught as he produced a knife from his pocket, skimming your cheek just shy of cutting. You were scared and you were scared to show it. Desperately, you looked to Hotch, the blade now hovering precariously close to your sternum.

Hotch wouldn't look at you. You wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something, but that was all shoved to the bottom of your throat as the unsub sliced down the middle of your shirt, exposing your chest and compelling your gaze to it. Tears of humiliation prickled your eyes. How could Hotch let this happen to you?

The unsub's clammy grip clung to your waist, your lips trembling as you prepared for the worst. You closed your eyes, escaping to your house in your mind—tea brewing, fireplace going—anywhere but here.

A sudden splatter to your face jolted you back, eyes opening in alarm you saw Hotch's eyes, not the unsub's.

"You're okay, you're okay," Hotch murmurs. 

The words did little to comfort you, his hands moving blindly to release the binds at your wrist and ankles. Looking down, you see the unsub, knife through his back, blood pooling around him. Hotch's hands are on your wrists, his thumbs massaging away the sting. 

When your hand touches your face, you feel the splatter from earlier, coming back away with a smear of blood on your fingertips. 

Your voice felt like it was a prisoner inside yourself, words and sounds slipping past you like ghosts. A persistent ringing in your ears muffled all but the pungent scent of the warehouse, which clawed at your senses. 

You felt the jostle of hands, the motion of being lifted, a sensation so distant it barely registered. The world was a smear of lights and faces--the team showing up, the paramedics--until it slowly came into focus. 

You barely registered that Hotch was speaking to you, his words indistinct and muffled.

"What?" you asked, your speech slow to form and blurred at the edges.

You had a jacket over the front of you, his jacket, covering your exposed chest.

Hotch's eyes were pools of worry as he grasped at your hand. It was weird, the feeling of his hand in yours. You realized that was the first time you had felt it. 

"More water?"

You could only nod, and he promptly fetched a bottle, twisting it open and placing it in your hand. You took a small sip. 

"It's too loud," you mumbled, you were aware you weren't making sense.  You shifted to face him, your knee grazing his thigh. "Did you mean those things you said?"

"Of course I didn't mean it," Hotch replied quickly, his gaze intense. "You thought I meant that?"

Your gaze dropped to your lap, voice faltering. "I don't know... I wasn't sure, I mean, no, but I just... I don't feel very useful, and this whole mess, it's because of me and I--" 

Tears interrupted you, your hands fumbling to hide them. Hotch reached out, gently turning your face to his, thumb brushing away the tears. 

"Hey, look at me. Don't say that. This isn't your fault. Nothing I said back there was true. I needed to distract him, had to make him concentrate on you."

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying like this," you stammered between sobs. 

"You don't have to apologize. You're crying because you've been through a lot. Just breathe, take your time."

You managed a wobbly smile. "You hit the nail on the head with the too emotional part," you sniffled.

Hotch gave a small chuckle. "Your compassion, your sensitivity, it's what sets you apart as an agent--in fact, it makes you an outstanding one."

You were close now, your gaze inadvertently drawn to his lips. You could kiss him if you wanted. Not that you were in the right headspace or that it was appropriate. But you could've.

"Oh, my goodness, I'm so glad you're okay!" You were barreled into a hug, the familiar voice and blur of color of Penelope enveloping your senses.

Hotch cautioned, "Watch her head." 

With Penelope's hands around you, you found yourself looking over her shoulder, locking eyes with Hotch. His gaze held a new light, a recognition that maybe, just maybe you weren't Hotch's least favorite agent after all.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme

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[traumatrios]

the name of the game

pairing… dodge mason x fem!reader

wc… 2.3k

summary… you don’t talk to strangers— but there’s something different about dodge. was it his charm? his looks? or the way you couldn’t get him off of your mind?

warnings… ends in smut, face riding, drinking (not drunk sex), iconic red cowboy boots, brief pain pleasure, dodge is soooo delusional

josie’s notes! um i kinda don’t remember how panic ended for dodge (i finished it a week ago) so take the beginning plot with a grain of salt

otherwise enjoy my lovelies ❤️

Dodge didn’t have many friends to begin with, but with most of the kids his age out of Cape and attending college, he did feel quite lonely. 

He’s not a stranger to the fact that college wasn’t in the cards for him– he had too many responsibilities. He knew his sister could very much take care of herself, but lazy Sunday’s on the couch next to her was where his heart truly belonged. 

His mother needed help managing the restaurant, because as much as she prided herself for her hardworking motherhood and independence, he saw the breath of relief she had whenever he was there.

He was perfectly fine as a blue collar working adult. What did he need college for anyway? It was too expensive, especially after the necessary but monetarily disappointing ending to Panic. He was too old to apply now.

Dodge took his time off of working at his bar to nurse the foam of a beer from another in a neighboring town. 

Was this really what his future was? He was dangerously nearing a seat in the same boat as the men surrounding him in the ambience of the dive bar: old (21) with a family at home (he was unattached with a sister and a single mother 5 minutes away from his apartment). 

Dodge might as well accept it; this was his destiny.

But the glimmer of fate came to him through a vision he wasn’t sure whether he was imagining from the wild dreams in his head or the material of a Playboy magazine. 

The mechanical bull sitting in the middle of the recreational space of the bar with a pretty girl attached to its saddle.

Dodge couldn’t tell if you were a saddle bronc rider (like himself) or just intensely familiar with your hips. You rode the mechanical bull like it was a kids bicycle with training wheels.

But with how you grinded against the fur of the mechanical bull with the rhythm it was bucking, he landed on the latter.

It was entrancing to look at, he admitted. The winks you sent into the collecting audience only strengthened his hopes of getting one shot at him. 

The mechanics continued to whir and spin you around, pathetic attempts to throw you off of the attraction you were obviously very skilled at riding. Have you been here before? Has he just never noticed you?

How could he never notice you.

Before he knew it, Dodge was leaning against the inflatable rim of the attraction, eyes wide in awe of your performance. One hand gripped the braided rope attached to the nape of the bull’s neck whilst the other waved in the air freely to your girlfriends, who had been screaming your name in the same way Dodge heard it yelled by paparazzi during award shows his sister watched on the weekends through the television.

The moderator of the attraction seemed just as impressed as anyone else watching you, even holding the twinge of suspicion some kept in the quirk of their brow. A crowd eventually formed around your performance, whistling and cheering you on as the meat of your calves squeezed the sides of the bull’s stomach.

Dodge thinks he heard a “yee haw!” come from the intoxicated group of guys (no younger than 30) stuffed in a booth attached to the wall facing your ass.

Bright digits flashed on the screen beside the control booth, announcing the new high score of Big Star Bar. 2 minutes and 36 seconds.

As you unmounted the artificial bull, Dodge didn’t pull his eyes away from you like the rest of the crowd did. You weren’t a one hit wonder, he had to know your secrets. What was a girl with hips like yours doing in a random dive bar in Texas?

Dodge wasn’t sure how to approach you, especially after losing you in the crowd of girls in identical cowboy hats and guys in flannel. He was lucky enough to skin his eyes over the bar and spot your sparkling red boots tapping and gliding against the dingy dance floor.

The boy filed through the crowd until the heat in the air turned from heavy to sweaty dance floor heavy. 

Dodge scanned the horseshoe— painted? —on the back of your jean jacket and how it paired with your cowboy boots. It felt like something out of a movie, seeing your outfit.

“This your first rodeo?” he greeted, though from his stance behind your back, he wasn’t surprised by the small jump in your shoulders. But when you turned around, you were just as beautiful up close than you were on that damn bull. Dodge noticed the thick pieces of glitter scattered across your collarbone and how it seemed to match with the other girls in your party.

“Sorry. I don’t talk to strangers,” you shrugged, offering Dodge a friendly smile in apology.

Your gaze didn’t even falter or scan him, just unwaveringly looking him in the eye before you turned around again to chat with your friends. 

“Aren’t those the most fun to talk to though?” Dodge tried, and god did it form a pit in his stomach to feel like one of those guys that pushed for a girl's attention— a bad guy.

This got you to turn back around again.

Truthfully, his looks were hard to deny; especially with that ivory colored cowboy hat on his head. Otherwise, he wore a navy tee with a pair of dark jeans and black boots; the simplest thing ever. 

One hand was stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, the other tapping its digits against the sweaty glass of a bottle of beer. 

“Do you really wanna talk? Grandma taught me that boys like you never want to just talk.” 

Dodge couldn’t fight against that, not confidently at least. He knew he didn’t want to just talk, but he also didn’t know what else he’d want to do. Is this what being in limbo felt like?

You gave Dodge the grace of a second before pointing an eyebrow at him and turning again, only this time walking off with your friends to a different corner of the bar.

Dodge was too stubborn to talk growing up, and in this moment— and only this moment —did he curse himself for doing so.

In Cape, everyone was a regular. 

It didn’t matter where you went or with whom, you were known better than the alphabet.

When Dodge came into town, he became a regular. In most places, at least.

He knew you weren’t from Cape because you weren’t a regular here. Which is why he was surprised to see the same red heels he’s been dreaming about since the weekend stroll into the establishment he worked in.

You knew what you were doing, of course. You knew about Dodge Mason because Gina knew about Dodge Mason, and she knew about Dodge Mason from her boyfriend Daniel.

That’s how you got here, wasn’t it? But, Dodge didn’t need to know that.

He didn't need to know how your girlfriends teased you for playing hard to get or how you began sweating just from looking into his piercing eyes.

And when those piercing eyes caught the sight of the painted horseshoe on your back, he thought it must be my lucky day.

As you sat at the bar, Dodge couldn’t think of any other way to praise whatever god trailed you in here rather than repeating the same ‘thank you’s in his head.

“Evening, lucky,” he coined the nickname from the symbol. You fought a smile at his wit, instead rolling your tongue along the flesh of your lip. 

“I’m sorry, do I know you sir?”

Dodge chortled at your act, but your face stood unwavering. Your tits looked perfect while pressed against the bar, but Dodge managed to pull his eyes a little higher to see the small tick in your neck signaling your so-called ‘confusion’.

You must’ve not liked his silence, because you picked up the silence with a small sigh and your order.

“May I have a shirley temple with just a dash of lime juice, please?” you batted your eyelashes at the unconvinced boy, being met with the playful roll of his eyes. 

Despite himself, Dodge began to concoct your beverage. You were strange, he thought. Where did you come from? Were you visiting? Would he see you again if nothing came from this conversation? How would he be sure?

He had to make sure this one counted, not like that pathetic excuse of conversation at the bar. The clicking of your nails rippling against the waxed bar behind his back mimicked the ticking clock– he might as well shoot a shot. Perhaps it was an easy target, especially with his luck sprawled against your back. 

“Did your grandma also teach you these manners?” Dodge planted the highball in front of your impatient hands. You took a look at the glass, then him, then to the glass again, where your eyes stayed as you tasted the drink. The sugar spreads across your tongue, satisfying its parched state.

“I still don’t talk to strangers,” you said, but the smirk that played on your face told Dodge something different. Your game wouldn’t fool him, not when you drop it just as limp as that. Did you want him like he wanted you?

You two weren’t strangers, no, he knew you were meant for something more. 

“So you admit to it,” he turned his head from the focus on your drink, only to catch your face hot with guilt. He chuckled to himself at your game.

“We ain’t strangers. This is our second meeting, perhaps fate is sending a message?” God, when did Dodge Mason become so sappy? He was grasping at the ends of a rope he wasn’t sure you were on the other end of.

But then you smiled. You smiled and twirled the skinny black straw around the ice of your drink. “And what message would that be?” you challenged.

Dodge leaned his elbows on the dark oak of the bar. He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue before his proposal, or rather, ‘the message’. “You should come home with me tonight.” He kept it at that; simple and charming. 

You giggled like a schoolgirl at his confidence. By the looks of it, he had been a lustful young adult, admittedly like you, with maybe a studio apartment. Your mind could only think of one thing he planned to do if you accepted the invitation, and you knew it wasn’t puzzles and lemonade. 

Were you opposed? Not entirely. 

“And what would this night entail? What do I get from entering your home? You gon’ drive me home after?” You matched his stance, leaning forward on the folded elbows you stuck to the waxy countertop. Dodge felt a stream of intimidation flow through his veins at the way you pointed your eyebrow at him.

“Might have to come to find out,” he replied, swiping his tongue over the toothpick that hung from his mouth. You couldn’t restrain your eyes from flickering down to the pair of lips. 

You were sure the sharp metal of his handle left a burning mark when he pushed you against it in the barren hallway of his apartment building. But with the incessant kissing of his lips distracting your mouth– and eventually everything else –it didn’t matter much to you anymore.

Your frame had been stripped of all fabric, laying in addition to his in the ratty hamper dejected in the corner of his room. Soon enough, he was insisting on a third round to cure the burdens of his barren tongue.

“Wanna see how you ride up close, baby,” he reasoned through a hushed tone, kissing the clammy skin of your temple.

How could you refuse? Especially when his hands began to rub those soothing circles into your hips and the tip of his tongue licked the shell of your ear during the whisper.

When he was prodding his tongue into your entrance a few minutes later, you knew it was the right decision to follow him out of the door. With your tits bouncing underneath the warm light thrusting through the ceiling of the sauna he called his room, Dodge took it upon himself to bruise your skin of this (rather heated) interaction through two large grips of his hands on your ass whilst you fucked his face. 

Dodge’s curious tongue soon turned into a hungry one, accompanied by the brief scraping of his teeth against the puffy lips of your pussy. The small bumping of his skull against the wooden headboard spurred him on rather than slowed him down, and you hoped the string of moans and mewls coming from your mouth were enough gratitude to satisfy his desires.

Due to popular demand– a loose request that fell in pieces from Dodge’s dumbstruck position underneath you –you wore his cowboy hat, glaze sticking from your hairline onto the weaved material. Dodge didn’t mind, in fact, he reveled in the thought of that same sweat mixing with his own during a rodeo. Dripping down his face just like how the sudden flood of your sweet juices were coating the stubble on his chin and the point of his nose. 

Dodge lived up to his word the morning after, tapping the ends of his fingers against the leather of the steering wheel to the tune of Bruce Springsteen’s voice singing “Glory Days” from the beaten up radio of Dodge’s Cadillac. Summers' heat wavered through the air of Cape even when Dodge drove past the speed limit on a lonely road. 

When you arrived at the doorstep of your grandmother's house, Dodge didn’t worry about the possibility of seeing you again, only admiring the way you swayed your hips and clicked your heels against the pavement during your strut. The corners of his lips pulled up into something that was not quite a smirk. 

He liked how your game was turning out.

traumatrios, 2024

divider by @saradika-graphics !

[ingek73]

“A few things that people (fellas) seem to not understand about the bear vs man thing:

1. The scenario is, a woman is walking through the woods hiking alone.

Whilst hiking, would they rather come across a bear or a strange man?

The question is not:

Who would you rather get in a fight with?

It is not “A man you know vs a bear you don’t.”

They are not being asked to hug or provoke the bear or man.

They are just walking, in the woods, and come across either a bear or a random dude they do not know.

And most of the women in these comments, as well as the ones we have talked to, plenty of whom have gone hiking alone and who have come across both bears and men whilst doing so, choose the bear as a preference to run into.

Because the threat of the bear is a known quantity and thus a much more controllable one. A bear is more likely to just keep foraging and move on its way than outright attack you, unless under very specific circumstances.

The man is not a known quantity and whether he openly displays aggression or not, a woman cannot know for certain what his intentions are.”

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

THE DRIVE- L. HOWLETT

Pairing- Older! Logan x Mutant! Fem! Reader (Enemies to Lovers)

Word Count: 2.6k (an introduction to the series)

Summary: After being put on the goverments watchlist for being an "unsafe" mutant, Logan 'jumps' (tackles) to the rescue, taking you to the X-Mansion. However, you and Logan do not get along... at all.

Warnings: mentions of violence and guns, swearing, logan and y/n not getting along, crying, reader kinda thristing over logan (as one does)

**authors note/ things to note: this may not be lore accurate/ canon because i haven't watched the x-men movies since i was younger, so its roughly based off what i can kinda remember hehe. y/n has jean greys powers, and jean does not exist in this universe, this is nemies to lovers- but a slowww burn :)

"all this sympathy is just a knife, why I can't even grit my teeth and lie? ifeel all these feelings i can't control..."- sympathy is a knife, charli xcx

“I don’t like you.” you stated plainly, crossing your arms with a huff. This was the most blunt you had been with anyone, ever. But you couldn’t help it.

You had known Logan Howlett now for an hour, and it was an hour you would never get back.

“You’re not s’possed to like me kid. You’re supposed to listen to me, which you’re failing miserably at.” the older man growled, barely looking over at you from the driver's seat. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he slammed down on the gas.

You were thankful in that moment seatbelts were invented.

You bet ten dollars Logan was around when they came up with the idea.

He was an asshole.

He was tasked with the mission to get you to safety- as you were a “rogue” quote on quote mutant as the public called your kind. It made your head spin, not only from Logan’s driving but the sheer weight of it all.

One morning you were pouring your orange juice, the next the national guard was surrounding your house, and a man who happened to have claws shoot out of his knuckles had dived and tackled you as the gunfire started.

Now you were here, in an old rusty truck- speeding down a back road through the woods with an old man who seemed to hate everything. On the run, on your way to the mutant academy- to start over, and to learn how to control your powers.

Or so you hoped.

Logan wasn’t making the trip there very pleasant though.

“I’m listening to you. And even if I wasn’t- do you blame me?! After what just happened I don’t know- maybe an hour ago?!” you rolled your eyes, glaring at him hard enough to leave laser beams through his skin.

“You’re a mutant. Get used to it.”

“Get used to it?!”

He shrugged. “That’s what I said, ain’t it bub? I was tasked to take care of you and get you to safety, so I’m doing that. Doesn’t mean you have to like me.”

You huffed, staring out the window at the trees that blurred together, dark leaves falling on the ground as you whipped by. “I don’t like you.”

“Yeah, I picked up on that kid.”

“I’m not a kid, you know.”

He snorted, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Sure.” It was silent in the car for a few minutes, minus the crackly radio, the station starting to cut out as you ventured deeper into the woods.

You leaned forward, turning it off. Silence.

“So… are you actually two hundred?” you asked meekly, darting your eyes over to stare at him. Even if he was a dick, he was handsome as hell. You couldn’t even deny that.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to ask someone their age?” he mocked.

“Sorry, I forgot elders were sensitive to that kind of thing. Let me know if you need help getting your walker from the back.” you snapped back, as he showed teeth at you- growling.

Good. Piss him off as much as you could, so when you got to the academy he would leave you alone.

He muttered something under his breath, something about how kids these days have no respect (despite you very much not being a child), and you tuned out.

With a sigh, you leaned your head against the window, the events of today taking a toll on your body. You looked up at the clouds rolling by, until they faded away to black.

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

Strong arms carried you, and you curled into the warmth they provided, hands clinging to a rock hard chest. You yawned, savouring the rocking motion, until it stopped.

Your eyes fluttered open, blinking quickly as you adjusted to the dimming light. It was dark out, stars replacing the clouds from earlier- and two dark orbs stared at you intensely.

You squeaked, stumbling down to your feet, backing away from Logan quickly.

“Good morning.” he smirked at your sudden reaction, your frown lines deeply etched in your forehead compared to how they were a few seconds previous.

“What are you doing?!”

“Walking you to our room.”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head.

“Our room?! And I can walk by myself, thank you very much.” He snorted, jangling the keys in his pocket. “Really? I didn’t know you could sleep walk.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Can’t. Already tried.” he said, unlocking the door with a click. 106 was scrawled across the wooden door, and the strong smell of lemon cleaning supplies nearly suffocated you as he stepped inside.

He must have stopped at a motel somewhere along the route- in the middle of nowhere. It was older, not as old as him- but aged. It must have been quiet, you assumed- because Logan didn’t seem like the type of guy to willingly choose to be around people, especially not when on the run.

As shitty as the situation was, you were thankful for a place to sleep, and for a proper bed. The car seatbelt and window was not very comfortable, your neck aching from it rolling down during your nap.

You stepped inside, noting the very obvious couples room, a large bed in the middle of the room, with no pull out couch. You gulped.

“I’ll take the floor.” you stated, as he closed and locked the door behind you. Unease lingered in your stomach.

Please god, do not make me sleep with the Wolverine. I do not have the strength, nor patience today.

“Don’t be stupid girl.” And that was that. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it on a little table, flickering on a little side lamp.

You were stunned into silence. You tried so hard not to look.

So. Damn. Hard.

But his muscles were on display, so much so they might as well be their own art exhibit.

His white tank top clinged to his tan skin tightly, and you watched his muscles flex, dog tags jangling on his chest as he snagged a pillow from the bed and tossed it on the floor.

You quickly looked away before he caught you staring, and taunted you for it.

“I’m going to shower.”

No reply. You bit your lip, turning around quietly and tugged your skirt down as you walked in the bathroom and shut the door.

No amount of scrubbing of the shit hotel loofa could get the grime of the day off your skin- soap foaming as quickly as it sputtered down the drain. You tried to stay in the shower as long as you could- dreading the awkwardness that the night would entail- but soon the water turned ice cold.

Shivering, you rinsed off your hair, cranking the taps until water dripped faintly. Wiping the mirror, you stared at yourself in the reflection.

A long scratch darted up your neck, little ones dotting across your arm. You wished you had Logan’s healing abilities. They were ugly, harsh and jagged- standing out like a sore thumb.

You hoped your pjs covered it, you thought, as you wrapped a thin towel across your body, acting as a corset the way it caused your breasts to pop.

Then it hit you. You didn’t have pjs. You didn’t have anything but the clothes on your back (bathroom floor).

Fuck. Could this get any worse?

Not only did you have to sleep in the same room as Logan, you had to ask him for clothes?! Taking a deep breath, you opened the door a sliver, its loud creak echoing throughout the entire room.

“Uh… Logan?”

“Mhgm.”

You poked your head out, eyes darting to survey the space- seeing your bed untouched, long legs poking out from the other end on the floor.

“I- uh.. kinda forgot pjs.”

Nothing, and then a loud laugh emerged from him, his body shaking from the sheer sound of it. “Course you did kid. Here.” he tossed a black t-shirt your way, and it landed on the carpet with a plop.

It would be massive on you, you could already tell- but it was something. Usually you had to go on a few dates and sleep with a guy a few times before you got to this stage. Not an option this time.

You quickly stepped out and grabbed it before he could look up at your (barely) covered body, shrugging it on in the bathroom.

It smelt like him, like whisky and smoke, cider and fresh cut grass. It was comforting, in this moment of chaos. You breathed in the fabric, resting your head against the wall.

Your lip wobbled, hot, salty tears slipping down your cheeks as you gasped for air.

It hurt. Everything hurts.

You were exhausted, hungry and more anxious and overwhelmed than anything. The shock had started to fade, your hands had started to shake and you couldn’t help but break down.

You didn’t care if Logan heard you. The tears continued to fall, body heaving as sobs tore through your body. How was life so unfair? So cruel? Things had changed so fast- and you hadn’t asked for your abilities. You didn’t even know how to control them yet.

But that was what made you dangerous to the government. You thought, growing even more angry with yourself. But how was it your fault?

It made you sick. You just wanted to go home, lay in your own bed and eat your own food, to see your friends and go to work. You never thought those words would leave your lips- but it was true. It was routine, and it was normal.

You felt normal, when you were filing paperwork, talking on the phone to clients. As boring as it could be at times, it was steady.

And now?

You were bouncing around like a ping-pong ball. A coin had been flipped, your fate plastered on either side- and you had lost the draw. Taking a shaky breath, you attempted to regain your composure before facing the judgemental beast outside.

Your eyes were puffy, cheeks sticky and warm with drying tears. Wiping your face, you found the courage to slink back into the main room, flicking off the side lamp Logan had left on. If he had to shower, he could find his way in the dark.

You were sure he could see in the dark- all wolves could- couldn’t they?

Slouching into bed, you gripped the thin sheets tightly- cocooning yourself to try and stay warm. The air was on full blast, despite it being chill outside- and you assumed you had Logan to thank for that.

Great. I’m going to get hypothermia before I even get to the fucking school.

“Do you have to have the air on full blast?” you asked, looking over the side of the bed, watching as Logan crankly peered an eye open.

“Yes.”

“Well could you I don’t know, survey the scene and see it’s cold outside already?”

He huffed.

“I’m warm. I’m always warm.”

“Well that’s not my problem. Be considerate wolf.” you rolled your eyes, hugging the sheets tighter to your body.

“Deal with it kid. It’s staying on- if you don’t like it, sleep outside.”

Well that made you sit up.

“You’re such a dick.”

“Yeah getting a motel room and letting you have the bed- real dick move eh?”

You huffed, gritting your teeth together. This man was pushing your buttons more than they had ever been pushed before. You hated how much he got under your skin. It was like you had your own set of claws, that only he could set off.

“Well I shouldn’t even be in this situation.”

“Yeah we all think that. Shut up and sleep.” he growled, rolling over to face away from the bed.

“You could at least have some respect.”

That was all you asked for, anyways. You had shown him it even when you were in deaths way, thankful for him for saving you. He didn’t show an ounce of it back.

“I’m not giving you any sympathy, if that’s what your asking.”

It felt like a knife had stabbed you in the back, twisting your insides. You whipped up again, throwing a pillow at his face.

“I’m not asking for your fucking sympathy you old piece of shit!” you yelled, earning nothing but silence in return.

He was over you.

Fine. You could do the exact same thing- but better.

Turning your back to him (a dangerous thing to do, you thought), you squeezed your eyes shut and listened to the hum of the air conditioning unit.

Not long after, the weight of the day pulled you back under the waves of sleep again.

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

“Wake up kid.” a gruff voice called out to you, a firm hand shaking you. You awoke with a start, blinking until the room came into focus.

Two beaded eyes stared at you narrowly from above you, rolling as you mumbled. It was still dark out, as no light showed through the thin curtains.

The clock read 5:00 and you sighed.

“Breakfast on the table. Get dressed and we’re leaving.”

“Good morning to you too.” you grumbled, rubbing sleep out of your eye. A very stale looking muffin sat on the table, next to Logan’s black coffee.

“Why are you feeding me?” you asked, walking over to take a dry bite. You were famished. Eating anything completely slipped your mind.

“Because Charles would kill me if I didn’t. I said I’d look after you. You can’t starve.”

“Jeez I thought that was the plan all along.”

It tasted like sand in your mouth as you took a bite. You were grateful for it, nonetheless. “I never said I wanted you to starve.” he grumbled to himself, taking a long sip from his mug.

“It was heavily implied.” you spat, turning over the mini coffee bar, finding a kettle and a bag of earl grey. You waited for the water to come to a boil, the kettle screaming at you while you poured it.

You were ready for this day to be over and it hadn’t even begun yet. You had a feeling you would have to get used to it- or else it would eat you alive.

Just like how Logan looked right now- like he’d tear your limbs from you and chew them. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“When you finish that we’re leaving. You got five minutes.” he said, grabbing the truck keys from the table. “Five minutes? I haven’t even had a chance to wake up yet!”

“Too bad. We gotta go kid.” He slammed the door hard behind him, rattling the frame as he unlocked the vehicle.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, asshole.” you mumbled under your breath, chugging down the rest of your tea as fast as you could. If you were back home you would have the morning to lounge around in a bathrobe, sipping your tea slowly with a book and some fresh fruit.

The odd time you would use your powers to move the toast to the toaster, or to move your slippers to your feet. But that was no longer the case.

The tea tasted bitter as you chugged it, burning your throat. You shrugged on yesterday's clothes, running into the bathroom to splash cold water on your face.

The front door swung open and before Logan could protest- you bolted out the room. “I’m out, I’m out. Jesus.” Scrambling to the front seat, you watched as Logan glared over his shoulder, slamming the door.

It was going to be an extremely long drive.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Ok so I know you said you have been unmotivated with smut lately, but you don't have to write this if you don't want to. But basically it's Scott summers x male reader where they are best friends, maybe they have some secret feelings that they have never confessed too. So male reader decided so bite the bullet and confess with out confessing, and is like " you know a few bounces on it never hurt a friendship", ( lol like the meme) and smut ensues.

Scott Summers x Mutant male reader

Headcanons

Readers got electrokinetic and magnetic powers, because I couldn’t think of anything original, and ice powers are already yoinked up by Bobby. So, ice cold head is gonna be saved for another day.

I feel like my Scott obsession shines through in this… enjoy some longer work

Feedback wasn’t the most original or coolest sounding name, but hey, it had been Scott’s idea, and you had a soft spot for him from the very beginning. So, Feedback it was. Seeing how Scott puffs up a little when you explain he came up with the name almost makes up for Logan picking on you for it.

Being great friends with Scott, makes most people assume you are a hardass like him. And yeah, you have your moments. You see how much Scott stressed about keeping everyone safe, as well as dealing with the US government and the likes, so yes, you take it seriously.

Your lightning powers lead you to also bond with Ororo, though you are not completely at her level. You cant control the weather, but you sure as hell can use electricity and lightning, and you’ve learned how useful it can be.

It took a lot of training, but who else can paralyze a person without it being lethal as easily as you can? Or fry most electronics or vehicles, even guns and other weapons? You are at least a little proud of your powers.

And maybe it has to do with the fact that Scott always seemed to preen, at least a little, with pride whenever you show how far you’ve come. You are the exact same with him, and your “broship” is kind of a thing in the X-men

To the point where the entire mansion, or island if its on Krakoa, get tense and start tiptoeing around when you two are fighting or arguing. Seeing you two not talking and avoiding each other is as uncomfortable as seeing Deadpool around, except its worse.

It always leads to some of the others, typically the younger mutants, trying to set up some kind of heist you get you two to get along again. Most of the times it fails, but the failure is what brings you together again, in a sense.

You also typically give Scott small zaps with your powers, to get his mind off whatever he’s too focused on. or the times where he lets you run light electricity through his muscles when they bunch up. Him groaning and huffing in relief is only an extra on top of the cake, since you already get to fondle his back.

Your feelings for Scott aren’t as much of a secret as you wish they were. Charles knew almost the very moment he met you. Apparently, you used to project your thoughts quite a lot, and he was growing tired of seeing your fantasies.

After that you got better at hiding. You especially worked hard to suppress and hide it when Scott got together with Jean. Yeah, it hurt your heart, but you never really thought you two would be more than bros.

But to show Jean some respect, you get less touchy and grabby with Scott. In the past you might have smacked his ass after training, or groped his pecs and arms, making some excuse about his gains. But with Scott in a relationship, it didn’t feel right.

Scott did the same thing with you, but… it was only because you did it first, right? So, its not like hed notice. Obviously, he does, Scott being so vigilant about the people around him means it takes him less than a month to be completely sure you’re avoiding him.

That doesn’t mean he says anything. Instead, he just kinda lets it stew. The relationship between you grows… tense in a way. Its not like you two are arguing, but you are trying to pull away enough to wash away whatever feelings you have, and Scott is sure you hate him for some reason, and he doesn’t know why.

In the end its actually Jean that confronts you about it, much to your embarrassment. She’s surprisingly kind about it, or you guessed it wasn’t surprising. Jeans an amazing woman, which was why it was no shock she swooped in and caught Scott’s heart.

Jean knows all about your feelings, but also Scotts. Scott loves her, very much so. But he loves you just as much, he just hasn’t realized it yet. Scott easily just pushes those feelings aside as platonic, or some deep loyalty to his best friend.

So, what if he sometimes has dreams about you holding him down and fucking him so hard he needs his visor, since his shades would be sent flying. Or his regular dream of you using small sparks of electricity to play with him.

But somehow Jean saves the situation. Being able to read minds is great, since it makes her feel safe and secure in her relationship, enough to know that you are both good men, and that you’d never act on your feelings with her in the picture.

This is how it continues for a while. Scotts with Jean, and you have some flings of your own. Over the years you kind of have a thing with Logan, then Warren, and a kind of “ill scratch your itch if you scratch mine” with Remy when he and Anne Marie have their moments.

And yeah, maybe there’s a couple of others on that list that you don’t speak too much about it. Its not your fault Deadpool can be weirdly charming and handsome sometimes. And that one time with Magneto is not something you’ll ever mention, to anybody. You get a feeling Charles knows about it though. You have a feeling Magneto told him.

All in all, you never end up with a long lasting “official” relationship. Its kind of hard to give your heart to someone else when Scott still has his name printed across it in big letters. You’re not like Scott, whose heart is big enough to fit multiple people

What you have with other people is always just casual and never means anything. Well, you do get closer to Logan. Its… a weird situation. He still has a thing for Jean, and you have a thing for Scott, and you help each other out when times get tough.

You thought Scott was gonna kill you when he caught you chewing on a cigar. It’s not like you were gonna smoke it, but seeing him huffing and puffing about you chewing on one of Logans cigars made your pants a bit too tight for comfort.

It really doesn’t help that Scott bulks up over the years. Logan may still call him slim, but there’s nothing slim about him. So, there might be more grope to the smacks you give his ass sometimes, how can you not, it’s so… grabble.

And you are always too distracted by his just… soft and big he is back there, hes even got butt dimples man. It means you never notice how Scott might just arch his hips back a little, or the way his thighs twitch when the excess electricity runs from your fingers into his skin.

Sure, him for thinking about those fingers inside him, its normal. He thinks. Its not his fault you have really nice hands, and the way electricity crinkles around your fingers is way too hot sometimes.

You once licked the electricity off your fingers, the sparks jumping from your fingers to your tongue. Scott knows its just for fun, or be a dick, but god does his front and back twitch think about it.

How you confess can happy in many ways. But the main factor is that Scott and Jean are no more. Maybe shes died, like she does in some comics. Or maybe they just broke up since they grew apart.

But one way or another you just confess. Maybe its after one of your rolls in the hay with Logan, and Scott finally doesn’t have Jean to redirect his attention too and his jealousy boils over. It leads to an argument, with you just spilling that you slept about because you couldn’t have him.

It hurts, after the confession leaves you. You’ve kept it tight inside you for years at this point, and seeing Scott just freeze up makes you feel even worse. You just get your keys into your hands with a flick of magnetic energy, before Scotts upon you.

The floors really uncomfortable, and the air is knocked out of your chest, especially as he places his bulk on top of you, Scotts hands on either side of your head.

Even with the visor giving off its usual red glow, Scott couldn’t get more handsome. The quiver in his lip and how he keeps nipping at its insides. “Scott…” you breath out, hands twitching at your sides, wanting nothing more than to settle on his nice, plush with muscle, hips.

Kissing Scott was everything you had ever imagined, and more. He tasted like the coffee hed been drinking, the brand you always hated but still bought because it was Scott’s favorite. The one he would always brew too strong, and never add any sugar or creamer too.

And yet, as his tongue rolled against your own, you couldn’t think of anything more delicious. It felt more like you two were trying to eat each other, to see who could devour the other one first after being starved for so long.

Any other time you might have been embarrassed about how wet and slick your kissing was, and just how loud it was. It seemed to ring through the empty room, Scotts hands already pulling at your shirt as you allow yourself to truly grope and feel that plump ass of his.

Youd touched Scott many times before. Hell, you’d even touched him naked here and there. But those times had been for medical reasons, or that one time to keep hypothermia at bay. This felt so much more intimate, so much… more.

The lamps in the room flickered as Scott pushed himself up to get fully undressed, your irises lighting up as you finally got to just stare. He was so hard, and with him standing above you he felt like a god, in his own way. You must have said this out loud, since Scott blushed and dragged you up.

It felt like being a virgin again, tumbling into bed and kicking off what clothes you had left on, hands groping and exploring. When it came to men, you had a lot more experience. You honestly only had experience with men.

That didn’t mean you almost didn’t bust on the spot when Scott sat himself down in your lap again, nothing between him and your cock. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel how his ass just draped around you, the smirk on Scotts lips so cocky you almost wanted to smack him.

With that thought, your body seemed to respond. Youd never really shot electricity from your crotch before, but the loud high-pitched yelp from Scott told you just that had happened.

You immediately wanted to apologize, fearing you had ruined the mood. A violent shudder ran through Scotts body, a deeper more guttural groan leaving his body as he rocked against you, precum spilling from him like a faucet. That had felt better than hed ever imagined.

The world felt like it was shrinking more and more until all you could think of was Scott Summers, and how felt against you. How he felt around your fingers as you stretch him open, and the loud wails of want he lets out, when you let the smallest flickers of electricity zap from your fingers to his prostate.

Youd always had a code of sorts, that your partner at least had to finish once, preferably twice, before you would enter them, or let them enter you. And with Scott it was so easy to wring them out of him. You almost wanted to just keep milking him for all he was worth.

Recognizing the look in your eyes, at least somewhat, had Scott tapping his foot against your tip, which was enough to remind you of how hard you really were, and how sensitive.

It gave Scott enough time to flip you onto your back, and with a recklessness you wouldn’t see from him every day, he just sank down on you.

All that working out made it easy for Scott to ride you, his thighs and hips working in harmony, his fingers digging into your pecs as you both groan and huff, letting out noises neither of you had ever let out before.

Kissing Scott as he rode you was a pretty name for it. in reality it was more just your open mouths pressed together as you both panted and drooled, tongues just rubbing together every now and then.

Having edged yourself until now meant you didn’t last long. As Scott shoved you over the edge your vision went white, and you had a feeling the popping noises you heard were the lightbulbs around the room.

It felt like Scott was draining your very soul of your body through your dick, his behind was diabolical. Part of you wanted to joke about him doing some other kind of training without telling you, but your teeth still felt like they were made of static, so all you could do was groan and gasp.

The high-pitched noises from Scotts mouth still registered to your fuzzy hearing, and the splatters of white against your torso made something inside you settle, knowing he had finished too.

The air was knocked out of your chest again as Scott slumped against you like a puppet getting its strings cut. The only noise in the room was the sound of your shared panting and wheezing, as well as the faint buzz of the ruined lightbulbs.

“you’re paying for that…” Scott finally mumbles breathlessly against the side of your neck. A snort leaves you, head still feeling like a thunderstorm and tv-static as you work your arms shakily around him. “Fine… but I’m picking the brand” you reply, voice slurred and tongue floppy in ways you hadn’t experienced in years.

Scott clearly wanted to laugh at your state, but he wasn’t much better himself. He couldn’t feel his legs, and it wasn’t completely because of the zap of electricity you’d sent through his entire body, as much as it was just how good it had felt.

You both needed to cool down, and maybe a nap. And then a good, long, cold shower. Scott lazily mentally noted down that he needed new sheets and lightbulbs, but not much else happened. For once his head felt blissfully silent, in the way only you could make it.

[diejager]

Ok but like what about Wendigo reader? Maybe the team knows she's not exactly human but maybe in her file it just marked n/a and leaves it at that so they just assume that their sweet little medic is just a helpful spirit of some kind. Humans tend to give her a very wide birth since they seem to notice her as something they should leave the fuck alone, the boys just assume it's because of them always being near her and leave it at that. Till they're all on a mission and it all goes to shit, they're pinned down and then one of them ends up taking a bullet and reader just straight up fuckin losses it and next thing they know their is a 10 ft tall fuckin deer monster shredding bitches like their made of PAPER MACHE and EATING THEM, once the dust settles it moves towards them and slowly it shifts into their sweet medic but she is covered in blood and she just casually starts treating their wounds and the team is just like "Well mark me down as scared and horny" (if this makes no sense feel free to ignore)

Stag

Pairing: Monster 141 + Horangi & König x Wendigo!reader

Cw: cannibalism, human eating, greed, blood, canon-typical violence, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 2k (A/N): I felt a bit burnt out so I’m sorry if it’s bad, I reread it just in case, but it still feels bad.

They say that human greed is the source of evil, the all-consuming hunger for more —more than they need. Hunger drives humans to do the unspeakable, to break the line humanity had drawn and commit the taboo. Despite it being carved so deeply into the human psyche, passed down from generation to generation and the propaganda of humanism and equality, it doesn’t take much to make someone tip over, cross the edge nobody dared to and perform the unspeakable. Possession causes needs and needs cause greed.

That’s why people called to him for help, to carry out a clandestine mission to do their dirty work, his duty was to stop whatever men in power started, whatever men in power lost control —he was the one sent when they were scared. Fear was as coercive as power was. That was the reason Task Force 141 was first founded, to stop dangerous men like Hassan (Gaz remembered hearing from Soap that Ghost shot Hassan through the head, straight through him before he slumped down.) and Makarov, a man they were still searching for while signing a liaison contract with KorTac. Price, with Laswell’s help, managed to put the best of the best together: a wraith, a werewolf, a dragon, a harpy, a nagual and a cadejos vessel, all decorated with various medals for their work, and then there was you.

You were a mystery, even to Price who usually had clearance for anyone who joined them. Gaz knew, from a single glance, that you were far from human, you were a monster like Ghost was, turned after an occasion, or a hybrid like him. Surprisingly, Ghost seemed to welcome you warmly, albeit standoffish, having worked with you in the past, seeing that you both preferred working alone. Gaz wanted to show you the same heartwarming welcome as Ghost had, but there was something about you, an uneasiness he felt when he was around you. The others felt it as well, the innate need to keep their distance from you and the instinctual fear that had the hairs on their arms raised. Gaz could feel your eyes whenever you stared at him, like the eyes of a predator stalking its prey —it made him feel perturbed.   

You seemed so human, yet so inhuman-like, your dull, thousand-yard stare, your inability to feel temperature (either cold or warm, you always wore the same clothes), your odd habits and your unusual calmness in every situation. Gaz had caught you staring at a private for much longer than what people considered normal, eyes glazed over and dilated as if you were seeing something else, daydreaming while being aware of your surroundings. Those were your moments, you were usually bubbly, always smiling at him whenever his eyes met yours or treating him with gentleness and always eager to help him. You had a softness to your being despite the eerie feel to you and your unique tendencies, you didn’t discriminate, nor did you show an ounce of hate towards hybrids and humans, treating everyone fairly. 

Although you tried to fit in as best as you could, there were things that Gaz and the others just couldn’t shake off without questioning things. There was the lingering scent of blood on you, a metallic tang that stuck on his tongue after you walked by. König and Soap had confessed that they had a feeling that blood was a part of your scent, unwashable and impossible to hide, it clung to you like a second skin. They chalked it up to you being the Task Force’s medic, having brought people back from the brink of death and stitching men back together, you were practically bathed in the smell of blood and death every day. 

Another thought was that they never saw you in the Mess hall for food, perhaps a cup of tea or a hot mug of coffee to boost you through a long shift in the infirmary as the base’s main medic if you weren’t deployed with them. Gaz never saw you eat, not once had he seen you hold a plate or bowl with substance for yourself. You would bring either of them a plate, caring for them whenever they were under your watch, giving them soup or anything that they could easily digest. 

Gaz, Soap, Rudy and Horangi would chatter about you, throwing speculations on your breed, to see what hybrid or monster fit all your characteristics. You couldn’t be a wraith, your hands weren’t painted with death, a dark miasma that clung to you. You weren’t a werewolf, Soap would know, wolves were able to smell and recognize each other, it was an instinctual aspect of him. You weren’t any shifting hybrid either, there would be signs, little cues if you were one, and your classification wouldn’t be classified, painted over with a red line. 

All they could was wonder and amble around with curiosity dripping from their tongues. Gaz was sure that he’d find out soon enough, whether it was an accident or your choice.

This wasn’t what Gaz meant by eventually, he didn’t mean being set up by Konni, a trap planted for them in the small Belgium town. It was the best set to box them in, a broken and ransacked ghost town that people fled from, walls greyed and cracked, the paint peeling off street lights and rusted metal poles, lost, forgotten and open. There didn’t have any cover, even if they ran and hid behind the crumbling walls, Konni had them surrounded on every end, concealed behind concrete walls and using the shadows to hide from sight. 

It was chaotic, Konni had pushed them into an open area of the town, the centrepiece of it with a dilapidated, Greek fountain, chipped on the sides and green with mould, Gaz would’ve admired the architecture and the beauty it must’ve been in the past when it was still being cared for. They were backed up in a corner, Gaz couldn’t even stretch his wings out with how tightly they were packed together, the uncomfortable pull of his trapezius and the strain in his limbs kept him grounded. The tension was thick, palpable, Gaz could taste it in the air as much as anyone could, their shoulders tense, fingers tapping the trigger of their rifles. All they could do was wait for Konni to act first, to see where they would appear from and work their way out of this open area from there. 

He had his back towards you, he couldn’t see you but he could feel you shake. It might’ve been from the adrenaline pumping through your veins or the nerve of being lied to, of falling into a trap when Ghost had voiced his suspicions about the lack of clearer intel. They were paying for their amateurism. He felt you shudder, breath stuttering, near panting with exhaustion. Gaz wanted to turn to you, words soothing your nerves and twitchy appearance, he acted letting drown in your mind, whatever it was, he hated it. His finger twitched on the trigger, jolting at the sudden crack of bones, an ugly and painful sound that made him wince. It shocked everyone, even the ever so silent and stoic Ghost who had a hard time hearing these cracks coming from you.

Damn this mission; damn the trap; damn this situation, Gaz needed to look at you, to see why your bones were breaking and limbs rattling. Instinctively, his wings shifted to cover you, the ends widening to cover your sides to protect you from whatever pained you, yet you didn’t let out a single squeak, no moan of pain or the grunt of suffering, you were silent. A part of his mind nagged at him to move, he could fly and try to outrun Konni mercenaries to find a way out, but then he’d leave your back open. He cursed lowly, teeth sinking into his lower lip in frustration, he was-

A loud screech thundered through the air, and screams and squelches followed it. You were missing. 

You were shaking just a second ago, body wracked with some unknown ailment and the next, you were missing, your sack, attire, rifle and helmet were scattered on the ground, with a bony creature tearing through Konni ranks. The hair on his neck rose, an uneasy feeling overtaking him as he watched the creature rip men in half, tines stabbing through their torso like a buck fighting another, head lowered and antlers pointed forward. He watched the tall and thin monster move around, its face was one of a deer’s skull, eaten clean of skin and flesh, any muscle or fibre gone with whatever transformation it took. A crown of antler adorned its head, tall and imposing, as pale as its skull, a coat of black fur was wrapped around the neck, draping down the back like a ridge of fur. 

“Fuck,” Gaz hissed, his body moving along the chaos the being created and your disappearance, he aimed his rifle and shot at the Russians who ran out of their hiding, fearful of the monster’s sudden arrival behind their ranks. “Captain! Is that-?”

“Don’t know anymore!” Price seemed to be as lost as Gaz was, reining in his confusion to focus on taking Konni out. “Keep your head in the game, Gaz; ask questions later.”

Gaz knew Price was right, the town was brimming with Russian ultranationalists, hiding and waiting for their time to jump at them. The situation was still chaotic, but it was better than being without cover. Gaz followed Horangi behind a wall, watching his back while they worked through the humans.

Somehow, Konni either retreated or were all dead, swallowed down by the beast that stood before them. Now that Gaz was standing so close to it - to you, after a few minutes of talking back and forth, they concluded that this was you from the pants that hung from your slim hips - he could see that the deer skull was just a mask covering your face, black and unidentifiable with those bright, gleaming eyes that stared down at him. Despite your curved back, bent to look at them, you towered over everyone, even König seemed small beside you, limbs almost as long as you, fingers tipped with blood that you were still licking off, a long tongue wrapped around your digit to clean yourself from blood, muscle and guts. 

You were casually cleaning yourself up like a cat washing, even in the aircraft, you were gorging on the body of a man you picked up, jaw opening to show them the dozen of teeth before you clamped down on the forearm, tearing into the muscle with famished intent. None of them could take their eyes off you, their sweet, smiley medic who sometimes had their moments, devouring a man without batting an eye, obliviously uncaring of their staring. Gaz wasn’t sure if he knew how he felt, a warmth building up in his chest, a heat that seared into the fibres of his beings like an infectious thing. All they did was watch you eat, no one speaking until you finished your meal.

“Mind tell us what happened, Hunter?” 

You perked up, blinking at Price owlishly, tongue lolling out to lick up the stray drop of blood that stuck on your skull’s teeth. Your chest rumbled, a soft growl rolling off your body while you tilted your head, you acted so much like a feline, grooming, reacting and moving like a curious cat, dangerous, yet so appealing. 

“Wendigo,” you rasped, voice breathy and weak, you spoke in broken English, unable to speak fluently after turning, “Curse, eat human.”

Your little mannerism, the small tilt of your head and your fumbling hands, seemingly embarrassed or ashamed after your show of ruthless hunger and savagery was… eye-opening. Something stewed inside him, your being creating a ripple in his heart, pulling at the hunger in the depth of his gut. He was torn by the fear of having you as the potential enemy and the arousal of seeing you break men in half, painting the ground in crimson and guts, and satiating your hunger - craving - with human and monster flesh. 

Gaz was fucked, both in the head and the situation. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @virginalsacrifice

[chitra111goddess]

Vedic astrology notes

Based on my own experiences

• shravana girlies are loved by other women and the type to attract both genders. Their femininity is strongly felt 🎀

• anuradha is strongly associated with spiders , spiders become mostly significant for them when they're conquering their fears and owning their power 🕷

• bharani women make rly good leaders as they seem grounded but also people tend to look up to them. Venus energy is elite ✨️

• tiger yonis (chitra/vishaka) are fierceee badass bitches they can come off as Intimidating but ppl can't help but notice them 🐆

• vishaka women start out as "good girls" from a young age but the more society or people try to control them they bottle it up and then lash out or spiral out of control at one point becoming destructive, these women grow more into themselves later as they find it important to be authentic and true to who they are , thats how they shine🌻

• ashlesha women can bring out the worst in someone like they really know how to push someone's buttons lol

• mrigashira women are very smart and intellectual they tend to follow their logic rather than their heart when it comes to relationships 💭 they also can keep secrets v well

• krittika women tend to have messy love lives with love triangles or cheating but they're also v attractive to the opposite sex

• revati women have 2 sides to them they're either badass from the outside and soft from the inside or they show their softness but internally they're badass and smarter than they led on

• jyestha women have so much sex appeal and they're not afraid to show it. They tend to have issues with other women whether its jealousy or competition but that doesn't take away from their success. Jyesthas end up being on top they make sure they win 🔥

• purva phalguni fr are sex freaks both men and women , but they can also channel all that sexual energy and passion into their creations which makes them very passionate and creative people overall

• shatabhisha women are so smart especially when it comes to getting info and secrets out of people but its mostly not for personal gains but for the highest good 👀

• can we talk about swati women and how they're strongly associated with cosmetics and beautification? 💄

• purva bhadrapada women hate being controlled or restricted especially when it comes to ideologies, concepts or beliefs. They don't like to be put in a box or labeled and would push against those barriers

Let me know if I should make more of these or if anything resonates

[solbaby7]

Forbidden Fruit

pairing: cassian x rhysand’s sister!reader

warnings: sneaking around, suggestive language, swearing, possible sexual content either way minors DNI, mutual pining, a simping Cass and a meddling Az

summary: The General Commander of the Night Court finds himself falling for the High Lords precious little sister.

—

Cassian knew better.

He was smarter than this—had better self-control and discipline than hundreds of thousands of men combined but all of that crumbles to ash the second you come prancing past in those tight pants. The same ones that sat low on your hips paired with the skin tight sleeveless top that showed off the wink of your navel and the dangling piercing that resided there. “Your brother know about that?”

“Oh, Commander,” His jaw clenched at the title, the sing-song lilt of your voice and the bedroom eyes that raked down the giant length of his form. Never in his life had he ever felt so anxious under a woman’s gaze and he fights the urge to shift his weight from foot to foot. “You’d be positively baffled by the things my brother doesn’t know about.”

It was a taunt; perfectly manicured nails plucking at a string that was already seconds away from snapping. Even then, Cassian can’t seem to help himself and like a small animal with little sense of self-preservation—he’s caught in your trap. “Like what?” He clears his throat, the words coming out too soft, too desperate and yet he can’t find it in him to be embarrassed when you’re looking at him like that.

Dark lashes frame pretty eyes that trail down the length of his body, a feline smile on full lips. “I really wish I could say, General,” Never had his body reacted to his title in such a way; skin burning like a flame when it came from you, dark hair hanging over your shoulders and he wills his knees not to buckle when you stalk closer. A manicured finger just barely grazes the length of his bicep and he’s already fighting the growing erection beneath his breeches. “But, I just can’t be sure you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

“I won’t say anything.”

You raise a brow, head quirking to the side and you’re unabashedly aware of the fact that this wing of the house was utterly bare save for you and Cass. “I’m throwing a little party tomorrow,” His surprise is evident; as witty and seductive as you may be, it was common knowledge how responsible you were. The pressures of perfection always weighed heavier on a woman and you handled it well. “Come if you’d like but only you.”

“Where?”

There’s a mischievous glint in your eye, fingers toying with the hilt of the sword hung at his hip. “Can’t say—you’ll just have to find me.”

He’s stuck in place when you saunter off, hips swishing from side to side until you disappeared behind closed doors at the end of the hall. Cassian huffed out a shaky breath, a hand raking through slightly overgrown strands as he willed his heart to return to its normal rhythm but he was already a goner. Mind utterly consumed in all things you from the shimmering pin tucked in your hair or the shiny sheen glossing over pouty lips.

For twenty-four hours he’d obsessed over the smell of your soap until his focus was shifted to the breathy little grunts you offer when sparring in the ring the following morning. “You’re getting sloppy.”

“Because,” You huff, breathing labored, sweat dripping down your back and you’d long since tied your hair in a knot at the top of your head. “I’m tired and can’t stop thinking about food.” You get in a few good jabs but the exhaustion sets in much quicker for you than it did the Illyrian soldier.

The idea that sets into his mind is disgraceful; pupils dilating at the very thought and he nearly moans out loud when you bend over to grab your canteen. Stretchy shorts hug tight around the curve of your ass and Cass is already diving head first into filthy fantasies of you bent over just like that with his face shoved between your thighs. It feels so real his mouth actually waters, throat bobbing with a gulp and his hands clench into tight fists.

It's wrong.

He couldn't—shouldn't—be thinking such thoughts but it's like you're doing it on purpose. Body elongated and spine dipping when tugging off the sweat-soaked training top. Only left in a sports bra and the holsters that wrap along your wrist and forearm, holding two swords so sharp you could probably slice his head from his shoulders with the right amount of intent. Yet, for some reason it doesn't deter him; the lethality of you that was always kept contained like some secret weapon just waiting for their moment.

The shirt hits the floor with a wet shlop and before Cassian can form words, Azriel is brushing past him with a knowing glance. "We'll feed you after you fight me," Cassian hates the way his nose scrunches in jealousy, lip twitching to curve into a snarl at the easy banter that arises between the two of you. Azriel stalks you like prey, sharp eyes raking up the length of skin you have bared—even if he does do it significantly more subtle than Cass.

You offer a breathy laugh, throat moving over the large gulps of water before falling into stance. Its casual, body loose from the thorough warm-up and Cass feels his blood rush at the mischievous smirk growing in the corner of your mouth, eyes darting to the shadows beginning to circle you. "Shouldn't take too long," Confidence dripped off your tongue like hot honey. "If you play fair, that is."

Az slowly tilts his head to the side, acutely aware of the rage radiating off his brother from the edge of the ring. It doesn't deter him in the slightest, shoulders rolling and wings tucking in preparation as a breeze shifted through his hair. "What's the fun in that?"

It's annoyingly fluid and Cassian just can't quell the frustration; lips scowled in a sneer the closer you and Azriel got. It should've been him with his hands touching your skin; should be him making you grunt and snap out snarky remarks whenever you'd lost the upper hand. The General's jaw clenches, teeth gritting when Az slams you down on the mat, holding down your arms as you struggle beneath such weight. "That's fine," Azriel jokes, sun beating down on golden skin, shining across amber irises and the brilliance is nearly overwhelming—nearly. "I like 'em squirmy."

It happens so fast that even the shadows don't have time to react when a whip of endless darkness wraps around the spymasters neck and snatches him back. The element of surprise works in your favor, offering enough time to get back on your feet and gain some distance despite the fact that he recovers unnervingly quick, gaze darkening under the challenge. "What? I thought we were having fun, Azzy?" A innocent little pout completely contridicts the growing throb of power that hums off your frame. "Playing around."

The sharp sting of metal unsheathing and the blades attached to your forearms are unfastened, the hilt twisting with practiced ease as you adjusted your grip.

You play the clueless female well—too well.

Maybe that’s why Azriel underestimates the true extent of your focus; too trained on the rapid rising and falling of your chest, the way your left leg trembles slightly with exhaustion and he’s completely blindsided by the way you adjust your magic to him. The deep abyss of darkness that usually comes when calling your power shifts, the shade adapting to that of Azriel’s shadows until there was no way to tell where he started and you ended.

You take the opening, mentally patting yourself on the back for the look of genuine shock that smears its way across Azriel’s face and he’s on the ground in seconds. Your knees dig into the juncture of flesh in his biceps, applying pressure to vital nerves as you hover over his chest. “Alright, alright,” He taps at the mat twice, sweat lacing his brow and fingers going numb. “You win.”

With a deep exhale, you flop to the side and sprawl flat out on the mat, limbs boneless as your head lazily turns to face a brooding Cassian. “Feed me. The Heiress of your Court demands it.” Maybe it was the linger aftershocks of jealousy that leads Cass to saunter over and hoist you over his shoulder. It’s effortless and the surprised yelp that strangled free is slightly more embarrassing that being manhandled. “Cassian,” You grunt, bunching your hands in the durable material of his leathers to brace yourself. “Put me down, right now!”

His amusement rumbles against your belly, one large hand splayed high on the back of your thigh. “I’m only doing as my Heiress asks.”

A flush warms your cheeks, no longer able to blame it on the sun when the cool air of the house shifts over your skin. “Seriously, put me down. You stink.”

“You don’t smell much better but I was practicing self-control and keeping it an inside thought.”

Your hand smacks on his back in retaliation, huffy swears echoing throughout the halls but Cassian continues as if you hadn’t done anything at all. Instead, he plops you into a seat at the dining table and instantly the house predicts your needs, providing a spread of food that has your mouth watering and stomach growling.

Before you can even reach for a plate, Cassian’s already washed his hands and come back to pile a plate full of your favorites, swiftly avoiding foods you didn’t enjoy as much as if it were second nature. A brow quirks playfully, form sinking into your seat comfortably. “You gonna help me shower too?”

“Only if my Heiress demands it.” His lips shift into a smirk so sinful you shift in place, fingers just barely recovering from losing your grip on your silverware.

A scoff hides your inability to form words, fork scraping against the fine china as you fill your mouth with much needed sustenance. Immediately, your shitty mood dissipates, hips wiggling in complete bliss while you indulge in garlicy breadsticks dipped in creamy pasta sauce.

“You’ve been training your powers.” Cassian mentions more so to distract himself from the little moans you let you with each bite. “I’ve never seen you manipulate them like that. Blending into Az’s shadows?”

“A girls gotta do something to fill her time.”

Golden eyes narrow in your direction, scanning the curve of your cheeks and slope of your nose. He lingers entirely too long on your mouth, pasta sauce gathering in the corner and his fingers twitch to reach over and wipe it off. “What else are you hiding under your sleeve?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Something about the way you look at him has Cassian’s skin going hot, the pale violet of your iris turning into nothing but a thin ring as your pupils eat up the free space. “And, I’d hate to have to get rid of my favorite boy.”

“I’m your favorite?”

You’re outright teasing; taunting the brick wall of a man with nothing more than polished silver and the insinuating drag of your tongue against your fork. “You think I give invitations to secret parties to any ol’ body? Please, I have better taste than that.”

It’s instinctual. Driven by nothing more than pure Illyrian pride, his chest subconsciously puffing up with pride under the kiss of your compliment. He’s not brave enough to elaborate on it—too afraid to jumble his words and make a godsdamned fool of himself. “Where is this party anyway?”

Silverware clangs against fine china, a signal that you’ve finished your meal and the house is quick when cleaning up for you, fondly topping up your wine and providing fresh linen to dab around your mouth.

You don’t take it.

Instead, you offer up a crimson red ribbon just barely long enough to fully wrap around Cassian’s wrist. It’s smooth like silk in his grasp, the material coated in your scent and it takes every scrap of decency he has left not to shove it up against his nose. “Follow those. Once you’ve collected the last one, you’ll find me.”

“And then what?”

A sultry smirk curves at your mouth as you rise from your chair. “Then, you can have me.” His mouth goes dry, fists closing over the strip of fabric clutched between his fingers. “Have fun hunting, General.”

[scaredpigeons]

Aqua Regia VII: Saturate me, I can’t get enough.

Previous chapter // First Chapter

Neuvillette x Fem!reader

Warning: SMUT NSFW 18+ MDNI

Word count: 5.7k

Conifer forests quake in fear at the way you two pine. What do you get when you cross a very pent up dragon and the object of his affections? So much fucking love it will rot your teeth.

CW: sex, penetrative sex, oral sex (fem rec) neuvillette has a dragon tongue, claws appear but no wounds are made, Neuvillettes nest™️ nicknames: my dearest, my darling, love, pretty girl, perfect girl, very gendered language, im sorry :( unrealistic first time sex, multiple orgasms, implied multiple rounds.

Authors note: this is so fucking mushy gushy heavy fluff heavy romance. I literally couldn’t write his first time being any other way. He’s obsessed, okay? There is a lot of declarations of love, devotion, very flowery and flattering language. There are not many things hotter than an all powerful being declaring their utter devotion to you and then fucking you until the sun rises. I left it a little open ended, so maybe an epilogue chapter, if y’all are interested? Anyways, remember to reblog and comment your thoughts! It’s my literal favourite thing to read your opinions and compliments, even if you’re shy, just send an anon ask! I love you all, thank you so much for your support on this piece.

————————————

The sound of little pearls scattering onto the floor accompanied the press of your spine against the inside of Neuvillette’s front door as his mouth consumed yours. 

You were panting, hands roaming over each other as your tongues danced. You’d never kissed like this before. The polite pecks you’ve given men after failed dates were nothing compared to the way Neuvillette drank in your lips like they were the finest water in the world. 

His large, lean body pushed you against the fine wood of his door, hands pressing up into your hair as he pulled your face ever closer, scattering more little pearls along his entryway. 

“Do you…” he panted, lips never leaving yours for more than necessary. “Truly want tea?” He asked.

You smiled as he continued to kiss you breathless. “Tea can wait.” 

He picked you up and hoisted you against him once more, your bottom resting on his forearms as he twirled you around, making you giggle and squeal. 

“Your perfection knows no bounds.” He murmured against your lips as he began to move towards the stairs. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you up the stairs and down the hall, but he hesitated before bringing you into what you guessed was his room. 

“Ah…” he said, a deeper blush working its way into his pale skin. “I forgot about my… well you see…” 

You smiled, pulling him closer to press a peck to his lips. ”What? I can hardly imagine your room is messy, Neuvillette.”

He closed his eyes tight, opening the door to set you down inside. You turned, looking around the room. 

A very large four poster bed was the main focal point of the room, lush sheer curtains hanging from the tall frame, making it seem luxurious and inviting. But the piles of silks, pillows and blankets surrounding the mattress making a large circle in the center was what stood out the most to you. Taking a step closer, you could see there were little things scattered throughout the barrier, the gloves you’d gifted him last month, a few shirts and coats, little trinkets and things here and there. 

Your brow furrowed before you turned to look up at him, finding him looking between you and the bed with a hand covering the lower half of his face. 

“It looks like…” you glanced back at the bed. “It looks like a nest?” 

He breathed, nodding, pinching his temples in embarrassment. “When you were last here, we spoke of some subtle changes I’d been experiencing since gaining my full dragonhood, yes?” 

You nodded, walking towards the bed to run your hands along the fabrics making up the walls of the nest. 

“I’ve been experiencing strange urges, instincts I cannot seem to control no matter how hard I try.” He said lowly, somewhere behind you.

The blanket you ran your hands across was soft, fur of some sort, and it felt so luxurious you wanted to bury your face in it and never leave its soothing embrace. 

“Urges?” You said, feeling a heat pool between your thighs at the thought. 

“Yes.” His voice was suddenly right by your ear, his heat pressing up against your spine. “For example, right now, seeing you next to my bed, admiring my nest— it makes me want to pick you up and place you within it so that I may crawl over top of you to do deplorable, feral and unspeakable things to you.” 

A deep, spine tingling shiver raced through you. You knew the general direction of where this was headed when you begged him to take you to his house, but never in your wildest dreams did you expect Neuvillette to admit something so… dirty… so openly. 

You turned, meeting his eyes with a gasp as you came face to face with a version of your leader you’d never seen. 

He was flushed, panting, his eyes glowing in the moonlight streaming into his dark room. His horns were glowing too, their blue hue radiating behind him as he loomed over you. To anyone else it might’ve been intimidating, but you felt so safe in this moment, so satisfied to know that he wanted you. 

“I…” you wondered how you should phrase this, how to make him understand that you were not put off in the slightest by any of these changes in him. To you, he was still Neuvillette. His draconian quirks made him all the more desirable because it was just another part of him. 

“I’d like to help you satisfy those urges, if you’ll let me.” You said, looking up at him through your lashes. 

Very suddenly, he dropped to his knees, his hands clutching at your dress. The act startled you, and you stumbled back, bumping into the walls of fabrics lining his nest.

”I am undeserving,” he whimpers, and your legs nearly give out at how broken he sounds in this moment, looking up at you. “I know not how to pleasure you in the way you are so deserving, I only have these instincts, these feelings pushing me to take.” 

He stumbled forward, almost blindly on his knees as his eyes kept yours locked to him. He pushes his face closer to your core, inhaling deeply against the fabric of your dress, his eyes fluttering back. 

“And you always smell so sweet, it eats at my very soul to not taste you at every moment of every day.” His eyes look like they’re watering, begging and pleading as he keeps talking, keeps sending waves of pleasure to your core with every word spoken. 

“You deserve more than this animal I’ve become, but I cannot help that you undo me. You unravel the very stitching that I have woven over these past five hundred years and the thought terrifies me because—“ he’s panting, chest heaving, hands gripping the crushed velvet of your gown. “Because I want you so completely, so entirely. My want for you consumes my very being.” 

Your heart sings, because how could it not? You didn’t have very much experience with anything like this either— really none at all. And he was worried? He was worried he was too much? Not enough? This man was the sovereign ruler of a nation. The elemental dragon of your land, a primordial being with more power than you could even begin to fathom. 

“Oh, Neuvillette,” you brought a hand to cup his cheek, the very same action you made the last time you were in his home, comforting him. “Will you do something for me?” 

He clutched you closer, pupils nearly consuming his irises. “I would drain the seas if you told me you did not favor the way they glimmer in the sunshine. I would blot out the sun if you told me you did not enjoy the heat on your skin. Anything, my dearest. Anything for you.” 

“Give in to it.” And you swore you could feel the breath catching in his chest. “Take me and give me everything your heart desires, because I am already yours.”

”Truly?” He pleaded, seeming so small below you.

You nodded, speaking softly to him as you ran your fingertips across his cheekbone. “From the moment I entered your office Neuvillette, I’ve been yours.”  

Your world flipped upside down as Neuvillette lunged, tackling you over the wall of his nest and into the bed. 

He kissed you so deeply it stole your breath away, you gasped as he pulled back to mouth across your jaw, nipping at your throat. 

You noticed his teeth had grown sharper during your fervent kissing, but feeling those teeth drag like little daggers against the delicate skin of your throat made you shiver with something like fear— but it was laced with arousal, with anticipation. 

You moaned as he licked and sucked on your neck, and he whimpered above you, clutching your waist as he went. 

“I'm sorry, I’m sorry—“ he said between kisses along your skin. “I can’t control myself, I can't—“ 

You reached up, grabbing his face in your hands, making him look at you. 

“Neuvillette, listen to me.” His eyes fluttered between yours, searching. 

“When I told you I love you, that means I love you without conditions.” You said, leaning up to kiss his lips gently. “Which means I will love you when you are poise and regal, when you are the perfect gentleman, but I will also love you when you are not.”

You could see iridescent blue scales rising into his skin, framing his eyes so beautifully. You could see them form around his throat, and his horns continued to glow. When he told you he was becoming undone, you knew he was serious, but you didn't realize what exactly that would entail. 

He was beautiful. Raw and open and completely yours. 

“I will love you even if you are rough, or crude, or selfish. I will not watch you suffer against your instincts when I so desperately wish to see you dive headfirst into them.” 

The subtlest of tears formed in his eyes, and the rain continued to batter the windows outside, pouring down around you— the perfect symphony to accompany this moment. 

“I love every aspect of you, Neuvillette. Even this. Please,” you whispered, pulling him ever closer to your lips. “Please, just take what you need. Take me.” 

———————————

He does not remember how your dress and petticoat managed to find themselves sprawled across his bedroom floor, or when his gloves and shirt followed, but he does remember the delightful squeak you gave when he tore them from your body. 

You were shy, of course you were— but he was having none of that, gently and selfishly pinning your arms against the bed as his eyes consumed your body, your naked skin. 

You squirmed and whimpered underneath him, and part of Neuvillette worried that you weren’t enjoying yourself— but the closer he came to your lower half the more he realized that the source of that mouthwatering smell was coming from between your legs, and his mouth did indeed water. 

You had told him to let go of his restraint, to give in, but he had the sense to keep part of himself in check, knowing he needed to be somewhat gentle, attentive to your needs. 

What knowledge he did have of this process was from books, and even then, he thinks the last time he read a romance novel was likely over a century ago. 

He knew basic anatomical structures, their functions, but putting it all into practice was another thought entirely. 

Through his lust filled haze of admiring your naked body, he swallowed the drool pooling in his mouth— so barbaric. 

“Tell me,” he panted. “Tell me how to make this pleasurable for you.” 

You were so red, it fluttered down to your chest, and he watched as your breasts heaved with each breath. He wanted to wrap his lips around them, suck on the delicate skin, so he did. 

You whined as he leaned down, and he loved the feeling of your hands mussing up his hair, pulling his golden circlet away and tossing it into the void that had captured the rest of your clothes with a clattering sound. 

“You, ah—” your breaths were heavy. “You have to work me open. So you don’t tear me.” 

He gripped your waist again, licking and sucking gracelessly across your chest, just enjoying the taste of your skin. 

“How?” He asked, tonguing his way down to your navel, slipping his tongue around the skin of your adorable stomach. Your skin tasted like pure relief, calming the aching fever inside of him one motion of his tongue at a time. 

“F-fingers?” You said, looking down at his hands. He looked too, and you both seemed to notice at the same time that his hands weren’t exactly… normal anymore. 

Those pesky scales had wound up coating his hands too, he could feel them aching around his eyes and throat, his nails forming long black claws that dragged the faintest red lines along your perfect skin. 

“Hah— yeah,” you breathed a panicked laugh, making his chest flutter with anxiety. “Maybe no fingers this time.” 

“What about my tongue?” He said, looking between your eyes and the apex of your thighs.  He wanted so desperately to make this good for you, but he couldn't deny that the thought of tasting that delicious smell directly from the source was a more than appetizing idea. 

You groaned, throwing your hands up to cover your flushed face. “You say it so casually, too—“ 

“Would you enjoy it if I used my tongue, darling?” 

He watched your thighs clench the best they could with him between your legs, and your hands started shaking.  

“Yes,” you whimpered, hands still covering your heated face. “Yes please.” 

Your thighs quivered as he shifted down, his nostrils flaring as he came face to face with your covered core. 

There was a small damp spot on the soft cotton covering you, and he brought his nose directly to it, inhaling deep and groaning as you whined. 

He was truly drooling now, and the desire to taste you became too overwhelming for him to wait any longer. 

The cotton was shredded off your body in delicate ribbons in the wake of his claws, but before you could react, his tongue was already swiping over the entire length of you. 

“Oh!” Your back arched sinfully off the bed, your hands gripping into his hair as he swallowed and sucked and licked over you. You tasted like perfection. No water in the world could taste as crisp and pure as you did— like sweet ambrosia, like everything he never knew he needed until now. 

He tongued over your clitoris, and you seemed to like that the most, keening out as he increased the pressure. But you said you needed to be worked open, which meant…

He pressed his tongue lower, circling it around your twitching hole. You jumped, your nails scraping his scalp— making him moan into you. Your fingers flexed around the base of his horns, and his whole body shuddered as he listened to you whine and keen. 

He pressed in then, eyes blowing wide as a warm, tight heat enveloped the tip of his tongue. His hands gripped your thighs, pushing them further, pulling himself closer to press more of himself inside you.

”Neuvillette!” You gasped out as he pushed in further. Even so, He couldn't help but feel like it wasn’t enough, like you needed more. 

Just as that thought crossed his mind, his tongue seemed to expand, thickening and rolling out into your twitching walls even further. He’d never felt a change like that before, but he kept going, moving and undulating it within your tight heat and savoring the taste of you so deep.

”Holy—“ you screeched, “Oh my Archons!”

A deep, chest rumbling growl reverberated from where Neuvillette was pressed into your core, and even though he knew it wasn’t truly a problem, something inside him did not enjoy hearing those words slip from your precious lips.

But you told him to let go, so he truly did lean into his instincts. 

He pulled his tongue from within you, letting its new length dangle from his mouth a bit before licking up all the slick that had smeared across his face, delighted at the way your eyes popped and your mouth gaped open. 

“There are no pathetic gods here, little one.” He growled, that primal aching welling up in his chest. “Only me.” 

“N-Neuvillette,” you stuttered, hands grabbing at his hair as you tried to pull him between your legs again. “Please—“ 

“Better.” 

He dove back in, using the new length of his tongue to thrust in and out of your dripping hole. He could feel your soft walls relaxing, and a deep, rumbling purr pulled from his chest as you writhed and moaned beneath him. 

Tasting you like this, feeling you move and cry out beneath his hold… it was slowly soothing the ache inside of him that had been tormenting him for months. He could feel himself twitching in his pants, his cock pressing against the confines as it leaked all over the fine material of his pants and briefs. 

In the back of his mind, he was grateful he had enough of a grip on his form to not be sporting one of his more… alarming draconic features, surely that would frighten you far too much to continue. Well, perhaps another time. 

He continued his thrusting, working you open and relishing in the wetness coating his tongue, in the way you cried out his name, your fingertips brushing against his horns as you pulled at his hair. It only served to make him drool more, soaking you even further. 

“Neuvillette—“ you keened as he arched his tongue upwards, feeling your walls clench and quiver around him. He repeated the motion, making you slap your hands down to the bed beside you, grasping at the sheets as your eyes popped wide. 

He continued to press against the spot that seemed to make you fall deeper into your pleasure, his eyes never leaving your face as he thrust his tongue with vigor, watching as you quivered. 

Yes, something inside him purred, watching you lose yourself. Keep going, take it from her. 

He felt the moment your walls tightened so completely that he thought something might be wrong— only to watch as your face shattered into a broken sob of pure delight, your whole body twitching as you cried out. Your thighs tried to clamp around his head, but he pressed further, working you through it with his writhing tongue. 

After a few moments of him working you through the height of your pleasure, you grasped at his hair again, only now you were pushing him back, gasping as your body violently twitched. 

“Too much—“ you squeaked. “T-too much!” 

He pulled back from you, licking your remaining juices from his lips as he watched you regain your breath. 

You threw an arm over your eyes, your every breath heaving in your chest as parts of your body twitched in the aftershocks. 

He crawled over your body, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he purred and murmured against your skin to comfort you.

”Your taste is divine,” he whispered. “Better than I ever could have dreamed, and my dreams were always drenched in your image.” 

“I—“ you sighed, finally pulling air into your chest unlabored. “I dream of you too.” 

“Oh?” He purred, smiling against your skin as he ran his hands down your arms. “And what exactly do you dream of, dearest?” 

You smiled, staring up at the ceiling and avoiding his gaze with flushed cheeks. 

“Your eyes.” You whispered, glancing down at him. “I dream of the way you look at me.” 

———————

You knew this was going to be a lot. 

Neuvillette is not a small man by any stretch of the imagination, but you always figured he would at least be a reasonable size — whatever that may be. 

Clearly your expectations were a little on the small side, because when he unbuttoned his trousers, pulling them down and off his body, exposing his naked skin in all its glory, your eyes ached with how wide they were staring openly at the apex of his creamy white thighs. 

Flushed a ruddy purplish red at the tip, it was literally leaking as he knelt between your spread legs. It twitched—he must’ve noticed your staring, and you chewed on your bottom lip, wondering how in all the abyss you were supposed to fit that thing inside of you. 

Neuvillette was panting. He looked irrevocably desperate, like he was ready to burst at the seams at any moment. 

“Neuvillette,” you whimpered, spreading your thighs further for him. 

He hadn’t touched you since he took his pants off, just staring down at you as you drank him in, watching your reactions. 

“Are…” he seemed strained, like the words themselves pained him. “Are you sure?” 

“Please,” you whined. “Please, inside me, I want you inside.”

He seemed to bite back a groan, eyes roaming over your soaked core, your blush traveling down your chest. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

It was delicate, loving, nothing like the unrestrained devouring before, but it still seemed like he was holding himself back. A beautiful bowstring pulled taut, ready to snap. 

“Neuvillette,” you murmured against his lips. “Please, I want it. I trust you, I want you, please.” 

Your pleading seemed to stir him, and you could feel the hot press of his length against your aching hole. You didn't know what it would feel like, the anticipation making you tense up and hold your breath. 

“Breathe, my love.” Neuvillette said, though he himself was shaking as his hands held him up above you. “Relax, breathe.” 

You released a breath and the tension from your spine, melting into the pillows as he chose that moment to breach your entrance, the slick pooling out of you allowing him to slide the crown in with no resistance. 

You keened, your back arching as you felt the first push. “Ah, fuck! Fuck!”

Neuvillette was still shaking, his voice quivering and yet he still found it within himself to chuckle, low and deep as his eyes fluttered across your face, drinking in your pleasured reactions. 

“Such vulgar language,” he breathed. “Where’d my polite little assistant go?” 

You swear your eyes were about to bulge out of your skull as he pushed another inch in, slowly, his body vibrating above you in restraint. 

It wasn’t hurting, but the stretch was so intense it was turning your brain into mush. You never swear in front of Neuvillette, gods, you never curse in front of anyone but Wriothesley, but your brain seems to short circuit as Neuvillette enters your body one delicious inch at a time.

You were thankful you told him to stretch you out, thankful for that gods forsaken tongue that just came out of nowhere, long and thick and surprisingly serpentine.  

“P-politeness isn’t really…” you tossed your head back in the blankets as he sunk in further. “Isn’t really my main focus… r-right now.” 

“Ah, yes.” Neuvillettes words spoke confidence, but his voice was shaking, his arms vibrating as they held him above you. “We have more pressing things to focus on at the moment, don’t we?”

You groaned, half in embarrassment at his wordplay and half at the way he pulled out a bit just to press back in further. 

He just licked up the column of your throat, that ridiculously long tongue making your whole body shiver in delight as he pressed in further. 

“Holy f—“ you grabbed his forearms, leaning up the best you could to look down at where your bodies were connected. “How much more is there? It’s so… so…”

Your stomach flipped at how much you still had to go, how little your brain could comprehend that this weapon was supposed to fit inside you. 

“Do you need me to stop, my darling? Is it too much for you?” Neuvillette breathed against your neck. His words spoke one thing, but it was like his body was screaming for you to say anything but. 

“No!” You panicked a bit, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him against your lips, kissing him filthy. “Please, don’t stop.” 

It took a couple more minutes of gentle thrusting, the rough texture of this thumb swirling against your throbbing clit and some very messy kisses, but when his hips finally pushed flush against yours, your eyes rolled back in your head, mind finally vacating all thought in favor focusing on how blindingly full you felt. 

“Oh,” Neuvillette breathed. “—My darling. My sweet, sweet girl.” His hips were frozen, probably taking in how you clenched around him, because you could feel it— the way your walls fluttered and squeezed around his length as he remained motionless. 

He twitched, and you keened, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring his face level with yours, panting into his mouth. “Please,” you whined. “Please move.” 

He shuddered before hesitantly bringing his hips back, watching your every breath as he pressed forward again. 

The deep, guttural moan it pulled from your chest must have flipped some kind of switch within him, because all sense of hesitancy seemed to drain from his body as his hips began a desperate rhythm, smacking against yours. 

“Ah!” Your back arched, eyes rolling into your skull as he finally, finally fucked you. “Neuvi— Neuvillette!”

His eyes seemed glazed over with emotions, looking down at you with so much wonder. His expression was strained, breaths coming short as his hands snaked down to your hips, leaning back up and away from your grip.

The change in angle, though minuscule, drastically altered the way his cock pummeled your insides. It was intense before, your mind was nearly floating in the clouds— but now his cock bullied itself along your most sensitive spot and pressed so deep within you, you were sure you could nearly taste it.

”Perfect,” he breathed. “My perfect, perfect girl. So warm and tight— it's like you were made to take me.” 

Your brain had exited the atmosphere, and was now drifting away into the deep nothingness of space. You swore you could feel your orgasm welling in the pit of your core, making your legs shake where they were perched on Neuvillettes hips. 

“It— it feels so good,” your words were starting to slur, your vision hazy with unshed tears of pure ecstasy as you blinked up at him. “I n-never— I never wanna stop. I want this forever.” 

His hips never faltered, not even once as he shuddered and groaned, the sound making you clench down around him even more. His hands gripped your waist tighter, the black claws digging into your skin, sure to leave marks. 

A possessive sort of noise rumbled from his chest, his eyes flaring with need. 

“I’ll give you all of myself until the end of time,” he murmurs, voice full of deep, rasping need. “Tell me you’re mine, I’ll give you everything.” 

Your heart welled, your eyes blinking tears as your legs shook harder. 

“I’m yours,” you cried. “I love you, Neuvillette. I’m yours.” 

He pushed at your legs, hands grabbing your thighs to press them up and forward, nearly folding you in half as you sobbed out in pleasure. Your body ached, your orgasm now on the very precipice as he managed to fuck into you even deeper than before, and you didnt know how it was possible. 

“Again.” He growled. 

“I’m yours!” You keened. 

His hands pressed harder into your thighs, his face leaning closer to yours. Through your haze, you could see how his pupils were blown wide, consuming all of his otherworldly irises. You could see how deeply he looked at you, drinking in your trembling form. 

“Mine.” He whispered. 

And that was all it took for the fraying cord inside you to snap. 

You screamed into the darkness of his room, writhing and shaking as it pulsed through you, all consuming and more intense than anything you’d ever felt in your life. He gasped, muttering something in a language you didn't recognize as his hips stuttered. He pushed you through it, the mind melting pleasure pulsing out into your limbs, making you go limp into the bed. 

His eyes were wild, and his pace slowed, hands holding onto you like you would slip away if he didn’t. 

“My love,” he moaned, desperate as the fluttering aftershocks worked through you, your body twitching in the sensitive overstimulation. “My love, I want to— I need—“

“Inside me,” your voice cracked, hoarse from how loud you’d been in your revelry, but it only seemed to spur him on. “Please, inside me.” 

And within the last three stuttering strokes, he was gone, his forehead pressing into yours as he leaned forward and moaned, long and wrecked and obscene. It made you flutter around him, milking him absolutely dry as he filled and filled and filled you. 

You could feel it, hot and heavy— each jerk of him inside you coating you further, marking you in white, in the deepest places as his. 

He was mumbling, his face moving to press into the curve of your neck and shoulder. Dazed, you couldn’t tell what he was saying— whether he was speaking in another language or if you were just too out of it to register his words. 

You lifted an arm to rest on his back, feeling the heat and the sweat of him. Unfazed, you drag your hand up and down his shoulder blades, relishing in the feeling of his skin, his breath as he murmurs against your neck. 

As your breath finally steadied in your lungs, no longer struggling, you ran your hands through his long, luscious hair, fingertips ghosting his horns. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally said aloud, clear and in a language you understood. “I’m sorry.”

”What for?” You smiled, trying to get him to look at you. When you finally pried him from the crook of your shoulder, your heart skipped a beat at how flushed he still was, how guilty he looked. 

It was then that you realized he was still inside you, still hard as before, twitching and throbbing as he held himself above you. 

“You begged me to take you,” he breathed, clawed hands pulling at the sheets. “And I can’t help but crave more.”

————————————

The sun had just begun rising over the dewy cypress trees by the time Neuvillette sat in the warm bath, cradling you in his arms. 

You twitched and groaned in displeasure as he ran the washcloth along your heated skin, but he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride at the marks scattered along your body. 

He’d been too afraid to hurt you, but after the moan you let out when his teeth accidentally scraped across your collarbone during the second round, (or was it the third?) he’d lost all sense of decency. You seemed to like them as well, and you certainly liked when he ran his tongue across the red and purple splotches to soothe them. So, c’est la vie. 

Your head lolled against his shoulder, you were barely conscious at this point, and he wanted to feel guilty, he really did. But you’d begged and begged and begged for him to take what he needed, how could he refuse? 

He pulled the glass bottle he’d brought from the cooler to your lips, stirring you a bit to prompt you to drink. 

“Please, my love. You need to rehydrate.” He smiled at the way you pouted, But opened your lips to take tentative sips anyways, your eyes still closed. 

He watched a trail of water slip past your lax lips and run down your chin and throat, his eyes carefully following the movement. He swallowed deeply, willing away the erection that was still threatening the dark corners of his willpower. 

He could honestly keep going, he couldn't get enough of you, but you were still so fragile, so incredibly mortal. He knew that he had to stop, give you a moment of reprieve. Force himself to behave until your sweet voice would sing to him again, begging him for more. He licked his lips at the thought. 

“Are… are your urges… satisfied?” You mumbled as he pulled the bottle away. You cuddled up to him, so sleepy. 

He thought very carefully on how to reply to you. 

“For now, yes. They are, darling.” He finally said. “But I believe I will always desire you as strongly as I did then— as I do now, still.”

You gave a sleepy smirk, your eyes still closed as you snuggled closer to him, your bare skin pressed so beautifully against his. 

This— this was perfect. He didn't think anything else could compare to the feeling of being inside you, so connected to your body and in tune with your emotions. But this… being with you, holding you and caring for you… it was just as beautiful. His heart felt full, and for the first time in months, he didn’t feel restless.

“I meant what I said, you know.” He said, kissing the top of your head. 

You sighed wistfully. “Which part? Because when you said you were going to ‘spend the rest of your existence finding new ways to make me shatter into millions of delicious little pieces,’ I was rather inclined to believe you.” 

He felt his cheeks heat a little. “Ah, well. I meant all of that too. But I’m referring to something I said earlier on in the evening.”   

Your voice was wavering, and he could see sleep pulling at you, tugging you into its embrace one sleepy blink at a time. “Which part, my love?” 

His chest still fluttered at those words, despite both of your endless proclamations of devotion and love last night, he was still so blissful at the prospect of being yours, of you being his. His love. 

“The bit where I told you that I would give you all of me until the end of time. That I’ll give you everything.” 

“Mm,” you said, eyes closed and words loose. “I know.” 

He ran his hands along your back, his skin finally calmed down closer to the end of the night, his scales and claws retracting and freeing his fingers for nefarious purposes. But now, he was enjoying feeling your smooth skin against his own. 

“I have things I must do, duties to this realm beyond that of my role as Iudex. It will be a long and perilous road, a road uneasy for myself and those I love. But in this, as in every other aspect of my life— I feel as though if you stood beside me, it would lighten the burden. You make every part of my life better, and I would be honored to have you beside me for the rest of time.” 

He wasn’t sure how, but if he could free the people of Fontaine from their curse, surely he could find a way to keep you with him, if you so wished. 

“Your voice is pretty,” you sighed. “I love you,” you were mumbling, and he realized you were already rather deep in the clutches of sleep, likely not even hearing a word he’d said. 

He smiled, breathing out a sigh as he kissed the top of your head once more. 

“Sleep well, my darling.” 

La Fin.

—————————————————————

Authors Note: remember to drop a comment with your thoughts! I love you guys so much 🖤

[whetstonefires]

Man sometimes I still think about Alfred's Bandit Anecdote in The Dark Knight (2008).

So, the most straightforward reading of this sequence seems to have been the one Nolan intended, because he is not actually a subtle filmmaker, and the further we got into the series the more heavily he committed to making Alfred a mouthpiece. Old man provides words of wisdom that frame the correct understanding of the situation; you can tell it's meant to be correct because subsequent Joker appearances reinforce its thesis statement.

Intended takeaway: some men (like the Joker) don't have rational motivations, they just 'want to watch the world burn,' and you have to account for that when trying to counter them. Chaos agents, basically unstoppable by reasonable means.

But the thing is. This is not a story that stands up to even mild interrogation. The number of assumptions Nolan wants us to swallow without blinking is kind of stunning.

First of all the obvious timeline questions that arise: the Anglo-Burmese Wars and periods between and leading up to them where this kind of white man's burden 'delivering jewels to local elites In The Burmese Jungle to sway them toward British interests, but getting waylaid by bandits' scenario makes any sense all, happened in the 19th century.

The Burmese resistance in the 1930s was centered on university student protests and that sort of thing; it was reasonably successful in moving Myanmar toward independence by increments, though who knows what would have happened without WWII. But it did not provide anyone with reasons to be hand-carrying huge gemstones through forests.

Even if we assume this was somehow a 20th century event, it has to have been before WWII unless we want to postulate a complete alt-history setting, and since The Dark Knight leans heavily into being a modern 21st century story with like, cell phone networking as a major plot point, this still makes Alfred old as balls. Born no later than 1920, and probably earlier.

But that's whatever; comics time. Batman Begins did some fun stuff (possibly in imitation of Batman (1980)) with making it ambiguous what decade it was supposed to be set in, though the sequels dropped that conceit. And anyway, people can be 90 years old.

So that's basically fine, although good god Wayne hire some more servants, this man should be fully retired already.

More problematic is the unfettered colonialism of it all, the confident proclamation that since this guy's motive wasn't profit, since he didn't keep the jewels, he had no motive. Because 'inconveniencing the Raj and weakening their control over the locality' isn't a Real Person Motive that a real person could have had. During or soon after failed wars to resist colonial subjugation.

Like. Come on??

The place where this story utterly shoots itself in the foot, though, is the clever bit at the end, where Bruce asks how Alfred's military unit solved the 'bandit stealing jewels he didn't even want' problem and Alfred's like: 'we burned the forest to the ground.'

Because this is so punchy! In screenwriting technical terms, it's quite well done. It's useless advice that loops the story back to its themes; obviously Batman can't burn Gotham down to get the Joker. Even in a Batman movie that doesn't like Batman very much, this is still obvious.

But at the same time this totally takes the legs out from under Alfred's words of wisdom about human nature. Because if that bandit 'wanted' to 'watch the world burn' then what his unit did wasn't so bad, right; he was basically asking for it. Burning a forest down with all the inevitable collateral damage and economic and ecological cost, all for the sake of horribly killing a group of people in the name of government revenues was totally okay guys!

It transforms the whole thing into a pretty obvious post facto rationalization of colonial violence. Which makes the Insights Into Human Nature bit real questionable!

But the movie gives absolutely no sign of having noticed this.

[hencheri]

18+. mdni.

pairing: mean!xiaojun x fem!reader x mean!hendery

warnings: noncon, mention of physical violence, xiaojun is straight up cruel & hendery is kinda a himbo lol.

wc: 2k

this is part 2 of this drabble. thanks yaz for the idea <3 it's a little different from what you asked.

xiaojun takes a sip of his drink, the alcohol burning his throat as he swallows it down. he looks around, squinting his eyes at the crowd, searching for a face that would spark something in him. something new and exciting.

but no one interests him enough.

he sighs when his gaze falls on hendery, enjoying himself with some random girls on the dance floor. xiaojun can hear his laugh from here, his hand slapping one girl’s ass, whispering in the ear of the other, making both giggle. 

it doesn’t take much to entertain hendery, just some pretty girls and he’s over the moon. with how easy going he is, his popularity is not surprising. his boyish charm always has its effect on women. 

xiaojun wishes he was as easily entertained as his best friend, but he needs more than just some sexy attire and a girl giggling at everything he says. he sees the inviting glances thrown his way, and maybe he would give in if that’s what he was searching for, but for some reasons, tonight he wants something different, not just a hook-up. 

and that something he will find in someone he already knows very well. 

he spots a feminine silhouette at the bar, body wrapped in a short white dress that seems to be made of satin. she talks to a man, presumably boyfriend as he lays a protective hand on her hip, soon leaving her alone. 

xiaojun can only see her back until she turns around with a glass in hand. the same very eyes he made tears flew from are looking straight back at him. 

his entire mood shifts and that spark he needed so badly finally lights up in him. it’s you. 

he’s about to stand up and leave his seat when he notices your eyes going elsewhere, staring at the crowd of people stacked on the dance floor. xiaojun follows your gaze only to realize hendery is no longer dancing, instead walking in your direction. 

you decide to go in the opposite way, but you stop dead in your tracks as xiaojun comes up to you as well. you’re trapped. 

you back away until you hit the edge of the bar behind you, eyes going in between the two men, having no clue on what to do or how to escape. but it’s simple; you can’t escape. and hendery would like to believe this is fate, this is just how life’s decided to be. 

he would be right about one thing; this is how it is and you can’t do anything about it, but fate… no, fate isn’t so cruel. it isn’t so unfair. 

hendery is the first to arrive, flashing you a sweet smile that would have melted your heart if you didn’t know how mean he truly is behind closed doors. 

“what a surprise,” he flirts, casually leaning his body against the bar at the same time xiaojun comes to your level. 

they both exchange a look, their plans totally changed now that you’re here. 

last time, they left you in their hotel room as it was the last night they were staying in. xiaojun knew they would have to leave eventually, they couldn’t keep you. it was a little delusional to even consider it, but hendery has the habit to get easily attached to people. he sure gets over them fast as well, even though your case has been quite special.

your big scared eyes are looking back at him like he remembers, meaning ‘don’t do this to me’. it’s something hendery can’t promise, though. that wouldn’t make any sense. 

your head turns to xiaojun then to hendery again. “i came with my boyfriend. leave me alone or-”

you’re cut off by xiaojun who clasps a hand around your face, harshly pulling it toward him. he seems to always want to control your movements, to control what you see and what you say — he just wants to control everything. 

“or what? don’t threaten us now, princess,” he says sternly, “you know better than this.”

his eyes hold all the hate in the world. he doesn’t give a single fuck about your boyfriend, in fact, he has a stronger desire to take you now that a boyfriend is involved. it means having something that isn’t technically his, but will be once he has his hands on you, as if curving his initials into your skin. ruin you for any other man.

“where’s the little boyfriend anyway? i don’t see him,” hendery mocks, laughing straight in your face. how convinient for them that he decided to leave right when they noticed you. it’s meant to be, hendery’s sure of it. 

you open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. maybe fate is that cruel after all. 

your phone is buzzing incessantly, messages and calls from your boyfriend. you wish for once he wouldn’t worry so much, that he’d at least drop it off for tonight. 

this situation is too reminiscent of the last time they had you both helpless and submissive for their sick pleasure. your dad calling, and now your boyfriend, all while xiaojun is taking you from behind. 

your front is pressed down on the bed as your legs are dangling off of it, hands holding onto the bed covers. 

“can you turn that shit off? that boyfriend’s gonna turn me crazy,” xiaojun groans and rolls his eyes, talking to hendery. 

he picks up your phone from the floor, seeing almost 20 notifications all from the same number. “my guy’s worrying to death,” hendery snickers, scrolling through the unread messages. “we should reassure him and tell him his precious girlfriend is well taken care of.”

you can’t believe they want to mess with your loved ones again. you still remember when xiaojun pressed your phone to your ear, basically forcing you to talk to your father while his friend was on top of you. you won’t forget the sickening glint he had in his eyes, like he’s never been more entertained in his life before. 

“stop it,” you say with a weak voice, tear stained cheek laying on the mattress. you look at hendery, but he doesn’t drop your phone, instead typing something on your keyboard, immediately assuming he’s sending a text to your boyfriend. “don’t! please! why are you doing this?” you cry out loudly.

but again, they choose to ignore you. the smile on hendery’s face makes you sick in your stomach, how can someone so beautiful be so heartless? 

“give it to me,” xiaojun asks, reaching his hand out. hendery hands it to him and he places the screen just in front of your eyes. “how caring of him,” he coos.

you can see all the texts he sent you, asking where you are, why did you leave, if you’re with someone else, if he did something wrong, and then calling you a bunch of times. 

but before you can see what hendery said to him, xiaojun opens your camera and starts to record a video. 

he holds your hip with one hand, thrusting back and forth into your pussy. he films your intercourse, capturing how the translucent pearls falling from your eyes roll gracefully over your rounded cheeks to disappear into the material of the bedsheets. how pretty. 

the back of your thighs burn at how violently he pounds into you, his skin smacking against yours, the sounds echoing in the room. 

xiaojun leans over you, his naked chest sticking to your back, and a surprised gasp escapes your lips when he digs his teeth into your shoulder, biting you. he films it, of course, wanting the video to be as graphic as possible — so explicit that when your boyfriend will watch it, he’ll burst in anger, his little ego crushed by seeing his girlfriend in the hands of another man.

his hips roll against your ass, hard cock entering your pussy and stretching your walls to the size of his girth. the amount of arousal that drips along your inner thighs embarasses you, cursing your body for reacting to his touch — to their touch. 

he positions his lips right beside your ear, “you like this, don’t you?” he growls, sliding his cock into your wet cunt in a way that has the knot in your stomach tightening. “poor little girl getting her slutty hole stuffed full of cock… how unlucky,” xiaojun whispers to you, his mean words making you sob harder. he says all of this while looking straight at the camera, knowing who’s going to be the spectator of it. 

he then straightens his back, resuming his brutal and harsh pace. he ends the video, passing your phone back to hendery who happily sends it to your boyfriend. 

more long minutes pass where xiaojun moves into you back and forth, slapping your ass so hard that you still feel the trace of his hand on you. hendery has a painful hold of your hair, your head tilted to the side as he makes you suck his dick. he can’t stop talking to you, calling you a bunch of names, praising your skills that you absolutely hate using as of right now. 

you wish his words would mean nothing to you, but they will remain in your mind for a long time, replaying in your head every time a man that isn’t him will touch you. you will not recover from this, and the fact that you might not find pleasure with anyone else scares you the most. this isn’t how you should feel. 

your phone is long forgotten, thrown away on the floor, nobody paying attention to it until the battery finally dies down and you don’t hear any more from your boyfriend. you’re relieved, in a way, that his attempts to contact you are just useless now. 

the night feels endless, and rightfully so, because they use you in so many ways that you can’t count anymore. your energy is spent, but they don’t care — not in the slightest. you’re theirs now. 

the sun going through the blinds wakes you up, blinking your eyes open. your eyelids stick together a little bit and you feel the puffiness of your face, the results of you crying all night. 

the first thing you see is hendery’s sleeping face, buried in your chest. you can feel his breath fanning across your skin, quiet and regular. his deep brown hair are in a mess, strands covering his forehead and eyes. 

his big hands are laid on your waist, blood creeping up to your face when you realize that you’re naked. you forgot for a second the reason why you were brought here and with who. 

you squirm just a little, but you can’t really escape hendery’s embrace, he holds you too tightly. 

you look up when you hear the sliding door opening and then closing, seeing xiaojun getting back inside, a cigarette in hand. he takes one last drag out of it until he crushes the end into the ashtray placed on the dresser beside him. 

he’s dressed in a large black hoodie and grey sweetpants. when he notices your gaze on him, he smiles at you, surely the first time you’ve ever seen him do it. 

“do you wanna take a shower?” he asks and honestly, it surprises you.

you remember waking up in an empty hotel room, only your bag and clothes laying on the floor, no trace of the men who had taken you away. but now, they’re here, one of them cuddling you in his sleep and the other offering you to wash yourself. 

what changed? why did they stay?

you faintly nod your head. “great, i’m gonna go start it then.” and xiaojun leaves for the bathroom. 

you look around the room and catch the sight of your phone charging on the nightstand nearest to you, extending your arm to grab it without startling hendery’s slumber. you unplug it, bringing it to your face.

you rapidly unlock it and immediately go to your messaging app. 

a big knot forms in your throat and your eyes begin to water when you read the texts from your boyfriend, breaking up with you just after the video was sent.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi sex witch! This is kinda a scary ask to send but you’ve always seemed kind to other people asking scary questions so I feel brave enough to ask. So I’m a person with what I would say a fairly healthy and positive attitude abt sex- big fan of jacking off when the mood strikes and I’ve had a few partners. However, something that is really upsetting and scary to me are sex dreams because a lot of times I have dreams abt having sex with ppl I shouldn’t be having sex with and DONT WANT to be having sex with- notably, my father and my brother. I have strange dreams normally- anxiety related usually- but I HATE waking up from these dreams, I feel so sick and ashamed. I’m not even generally attracted to men, and these dreams make me feel like I need to second guess my identity. Additionally, my father is dead so I wake up feeling like my brain has disrespected his memory.

I’m trying to get a therapist for other unrelated reasons but a) my insurance is terrible and I’m having trouble finding someone in network and b) I would be so scared to say these things to a therapist - what if I’m secretly much more mentally ill than I knew, what if they hospitalize me, what if they put me on a sex offender registry?

Beyond “go to therapy” is there any advice you can offer me? It’s really very distressing and I’m really sick of it.

hi anon,

let's take a BIG DEEP BREATH before we start, okay?

so, first and foremost let me just say this, because it's important: nobody is going to hospitalize you or put you on a registry for something happening in your dreams. your dreams are not necessarily a reflection of anything you want or would enjoy in real life; your dreams are a pile of goo your brain spits out while its sifting information around trying to make a bunch of pieces fit together. unfortunately, I worry that you amount of stress and anxiety you feel about these dreams may be keeping them so front and center in your mind that makes them keep coming up over and over when you're asleep, creating a vicious cycle.

listen, I can't tell you how to change or feel better about your dreams. but I can tell you that people having sexual dreams that are in no way indicative of their actual desires is INCREDIBLY COMMON. none of those people are a danger to themselves or anyone else because of something their subconscious does that's entirely beyond their control, and that includes you.

having said that, it's totally understandable that you find these dreams disturbing and upsetting. for the time being, while you're managing them on your own, try to get yourself to a calm place while you're getting ready for bed - whatever works for you, whether it's mindfulness, melatonin, exercise, tea, warm bath and candles, taking time away from your phone, etc - and preparing space to be gentle with yourself and get into a good headspace when you wake up by making an extra nice breakfast, taking a long shower, going for a long walk, or anything else that will help you get out of your head and take care of yourself in the aftermath of an upsetting dream.

and if you do manage to find a reliable therapist soon, which I hope you do, I would strongly encourage you to bring this up with them if the problem is still persisting by then. anything causing you anxiety and distress is something that is worth talking over with a therapist, especially since leaving one stress factor unaddressed can also hold you back from resolving others - it's hard to focus on anything when restful sleep is off the table. once you've established a good rapport with a therapist, some conversations around this could be super helpful for you.

wishing you the best with finding some peace of mind xoxo

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 2

ftm yautja oc (Bhankui-ya) x male reader

Can Yautja be FTM? No idea, but this one can. Ive only watched one predator movie, so this is mainly just cooked up from my own imagination and attraction to Yautja, as well as the many fics I read. I used a generator for the name, so if it’s bad, blame the generator.

This is also more just “haha funny relationship between a yautja and his ooman” kinda vibes. very fun to write, i would love to write about Bhan again.

Mixed wording for the yautjas bits.

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Dating a yautja was an… interesting experience. Bhankui-ya, or as you called him, Bhan, was no exception. But really, dating a scaley 8ft tall alien warrior who could rip your spine out of your body with his pinky really didn’t get any weirder. You were never gonna complain though, except for the times he would sit his entire weight in your lap, and you were left gasping for air. It wasn’t your fault that yautja weigh the same as three men of their size. You loved it though, and you had a feeling Bhan knew that.

How you came to date your partner, mate, as he called it, was another strange set of circumstances. You had a past of your own, and there wasn’t much left to live for. So, you had set out to take down the people who’d harmed you and your loved ones the most with you. Your body was littered with the scars they left on you, and your heart was covered in even more, aching for the siblings they’d taken from you. Be it from their abuse, or your siblings taking their own lives because of them.

It hadn’t truly registered at the time. You didn’t know what a bad blood was, or that Bhan was an enforcer. You just knew that scaley fucker, who was already missing an arm and hissing like a wet feral cat, was trying to take your kill goal from you. Bahn would later tell you, after laying in bed feeling like hed just drained the very life out of you, that you fought more feral than a kiande amedha fighting for its queen.

You still didn’t really know what that was, but you had seen skulls, trophies, Bhan kept of them. Apparently, they were a big deal, and seeing you acting like one got him wet. For some reason. But hey, you got hard seeing him cleaning his knives and spears, who were you to judge that he got heated up seeing you rip a bad bloods mandibles right out their face.

Anyways. In the end you came with him, since you’d “proven yourself” somehow. And having literally nothing and no one on earth, you just followed. You were no warrior or hunter, at least nothing compared to yautja. But you had a “look in your eye” in Bhans words, or rather clicks. The implant to understand him still itched at times. You just “needed to unleash it” whatever that meant.

Turns out the one place you can unleash this so-called power is in the bedroom. Because, where yautja may be the superiors in many ways, it seems in the way of the body humans were still more advanced. Bhan would tell you it was because “Oomans like you are controlled by bodily urges”, you just think he’s jealous you used to fuck a toy before you met him.

You honestly felt like you were on top of the world the first time you used a vibrator on his clits, because apparently his people had three. Seeing him rip holes in his seat and how he would arch, and roar made you feel euphoric, it had to be the same rush Bhan felt on a good kill. But instead, you got it from making him squirt so hard his legs were shaking.

You never got to live on that high for very long. Apparently Bahn liked to “peel you back down again” so you “didn’t get too confident”. Apparently, a confident hunter was a dead hunter, or something like that. It was pretty hard to think about his “lessons” when he was riding you though, his sheer bulk slamming down on your already aching human hips until you were making noises similar to the creatures he hunted when they were dying.

That didn’t stop you from stocking up on toys though. The next time you came to earth, you scrounged up money one way or the other, and immediately entered the best quality shop you could find. Bhankui-ya was off doing whatever he needed to do, and in the meantime you were trying to find out which wand would work on him.

The conversation with the store clerk was embarrassing, to you at least. They seemed quite entertained as you fumbled out that you were trying to find something that would work on your “taller than you can imagine, buff as hell and more dangerous than a tiger on steroids” partner. They were very helpful though, and even gave you some discounts and wished you luck on your way, as you stumbled out of the store with at least two bags on each arm.

It was only experience at this point that helped you remember where the ship was, since it was invisible and all that. But as you got inside you immediately clambered off to the bedroom, where you got to work. Bhankui-ya wouldn’t know what hit him when he got back, you would make sure of that.

Of course, you shouldn’t have been surprised when your mate came back beaten and bloody, but lugging the bad bloods head under his arm. You had gained a fascination with seeing the heads of his kills, alright? So, what if it made you morbid. And Bhan? He just seemed to almost preen as you oohd and aahd over his kill.

Patching him up was a couple’s activity, mainly just because you liked patching him up, and Bhan liked when you did it. He could have easily fixed himself up with the many tools he got as a yautja, but where was the fun in that, when he got to see his little blood thirsty ooman patch him up instead. Bhan did have to stop you from licking his blood up at times, lest he decided to ride you right then and there.

In the end you forgot all about the wide array of toys youd laid out in the bedroom, in the order you planned to use them on him. You sent Bhan on his way, deciding to be a good mate and drag his heavy as fuck armour and weapons off to where they needed to go for cleaning and polishing. It caused aches in your back, but Bhans purrs made it all worth it.

Walking into the bedroom Bhankui-ya got to see your little plan, and if the hunt and your pampering, as well as that flicker of bloodlust in your eyes hadn’t got him wet, then this did. How sweet of you, his little mate, to want to pamper him this way. Had you remembered it was your anniversary? (you hadn’t) how could he not use the gifts you set out.

Walking into the bedroom to see Bhan fucking himself with one of the toys, a vibrator against his clits made you almost pass out. Hed even worked one of the plugs into his other hole, his muscular thighs spread wide open as he purred in your direction, his noise like a siren call that had you stumbling over your own feet, almost making you eat floor.

Bahn had tried to laugh at your stumbling, but you were on his slit like a starved animal. It was only the fact that Bahn let you that you got the vibrator away from his nubs, mainly because he loved your mouth on him. It was just so much nicer to have a human eat him out than a fellow yautja, he had taken lips for granted his entire life.

Having just gotten back from a hunt left him more pliable, and willing to go along with your whims. Which was how you got four of those wired vibrators strapped to his thighs, and up his cunt, set to the highest setting as you fucked into his ass. The wand youd bought was worth all the money as well, as you used it to swap from one bundle of nerves to the other, Bhankui-ya howling loud enough that your ears were ringing. You wouldn’t be shocked if they were bleeding, but did you care? No, no you did not.

The adrenaline from his hunt, your powerful scent of want and hunger, and just the fact that Bhankui-ya didn’t indulge in other mates before you, left him sensitive and so needy, something you gladly abused any chance you got.

The bed needed to be completely replaced afterwards, but that’s how it went every time you got him like this. Never in your dreams did you think you could have someone as powerful and dangerous as Bhan, limp and panting, his entire body shaking and spent. Seeing his mandibles quivering always made your heart lurch, it felt like a symbol that you had done it all right.

Times like this were never about you or getting you off. But you also knew Bhan wouldn’t accept it if you didn’t get to finish too, so you always did it wherever he wanted it most. There was little chance of you two having offspring, mainly because Bhan had an implant that made pregnancy impossible. Because, unsurprisingly, yautja had even better prevention care than humans could ever dream off. You swore you heard him chirping about pups every now and then though, when you had him so wrung out that his eyes kept rolling back, even when you weren’t doing more than petting his torso.

Aftercare was also something Bhankui-ya could appreciate that came from humans. Yautja did care for each other after mating, but it was mainly just to patch each other up if it got bloody, or feeding the other food and water. Being rubbed all over and massaged was enjoyable, so you wouldn’t catch Bhankui-ya complaining.

You both knew you were gonna be the one shaking and limping in a few days though. He couldn’t let you get too confident, now, could he? Maybe hed even show you how some of the weapons he owned could be used in more… fun and creative ways.