#everyone in that fic makes me want to claw the floor and grind my teeth and scream and cry and

[m00ngbin]

Very abnormal this Tuesday

[whiskeynwriting]

also this is me requesting another daddy whiskey fic with spanking

Ask and you shall receive, my love. Especially when it comes to Daddy Whiskey.

Good for You

Agent Daddy Whiskey x Female Reader

◆

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) 

Dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, spit kink, degradation, spanking, brief hair pulling, rimming, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, anal sex, rough sex 

◆

A/N: Basically porn without plot. This is filthy. You’re welcome. 

Also, this occurs promptly after the end of "What They See".

◆

Daddycember Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

◆

It’s the shove on your back that sets the mood, the force he gives causing you to stumble into the room. It’s harsh, your feet scraping across the floor, heels shuffling on the ground to kick off your flimsy shoes. He doesn’t let you turn; his hand is only off your back for two seconds so he can lock the door. And then it returns, holding firmly on your shoulder from behind, leading you forward with his strength and weight, until you’re forced over the side of the bed. 

“Don’t cover yourself up now.” He mutters, hand tugging and tearing your cover-up off your body. The limp fabric of it falls to the floor, the material of your swimsuit quickly tugged down, too. “You let everyone else see - you gonna let me see?”

He’s already spreading you open from behind, the sting of it prompting the dull ache in your core, the intense throb he can so clearly see between your cheeks. Within seconds, he’s groping you, massaging the sweet flesh of your backside while he groans. Thick and heavy, his breaths waft into the air, alongside an array of words that are so mockingly sweet.

“You’re my slutty little girl, aren’t you?” Pushing your curves together, he sighs, shuffling out of his shorts. The only reason his hands leave you is to then lift his shirt, removing every last piece of his clothing. “You let everyone see what daddy has, didn’t you, baby?” 

“Daddy,” It’s already muffled, your desperate words spoken directly into the duvet. And then he spanks you, watching your ass jiggle softly. Gripping it harshly in his hand, it makes you whine, your own fingers clawing at the bedspread. 

“Stings, don’t it?” He murmurs lowly from behind, looking up when he hears your shrill moan. Leaning down, he sucks a mark into your lower back, biting into your flesh while grumbling, “I know you like it.” 

Jack loves showing you off; it’s nothing new for the two of you. This time, though, there wasn’t someone up close to gawk at you like Frankie did at the party. No, these people didn’t get to see the real treat - the special spaces between your legs. 

Bending over your smaller frame, he fists the plump flesh of your ass with both hands, spanking you harshly again. He slaps your right cheek with his dominant hand, wanting it to sting. And it does, the quick pressure of it lighting your skin on fire and stoking the flames of your rapidly building arousal. He’s building himself up, mouth and teeth and tongue roaming your body the more he smacks your soft skin. Bruises blossom along your shoulder and neck, your sweet cries swirling in the air around him. He’s biting you, marking you, growling, “Don’t cover it up, sweet thing. Let them see how well I treat you.” 

Already, you’re breathless, from his attention and love and overwhelming affection. And it’s for you, it’s all for you. Always for you. 

“I wanna spoil you, angel.” Soft lips and bated breaths ghost over the splotches on your neck and upper back, Jack’s naked pelvis grinding into you from behind. And then he smacks you again, forcing you further up on the bed. “Wanna play with your body ‘till you’re shaking, baby.” 

Already, your skin is red and pulsing from him. Pushing back into his body, you sigh, grunting slightly. “I want that, daddy.”

Reaching forward, he grabs your hair, using it as leverage to yank your head back. “I fuckin’ know you do.” Tossing your head forward and releasing his grip on your hair, you gasp, feeling him drop to his knees behind you. 

Pulling you apart, he watches you pulse again, moaning as he witnesses the arousal twitching its way through your muscles. “Look at you flutter…” 

His pointer finger is already sliding up and down your thin, sensitive lips, pink and wet and ready for him. Left hand on your cheek, he squeezes it, blunt nails digging into the skin. It makes you wince, the painful ache soothed by the pleasurable drag of his finger sliding over your slick. The tip of it penetrates you from behind, quickly pulling it into his mouth to get a quick taste before he truly begins. 

“You know…” Your husband sighs, heavily, deeply. “I spoil this pretty little hole quite often, don’t I, honey?” Tilting his head, those dark eyes wander up your exposed crevice to land on the tight ring of muscles he’s left empty for, in his opinion, far too long. 

“Yes, daddy.” Nodding, you lift your head to take a deep breath. “Always, you always do.” 

“Hm…” Your words make him compliant. So submissive, so sweet. “Maybe I’ll pay a little more attention to this neglected one then, hm?” He offers, tongue sliding across his lower lip. 

Before you can even wonder what he’s referencing, the finger he just removed from your sex begins circling your tightest hole, your jaw dropping from the sensation of it. He’s right, he hasn’t played with you back here in weeks; it has been neglected. 

“What do you think, baby?” He hums quietly, leaning in to kiss your soft cheek. “You want daddy to satisfy you back here? Want me to play with your pretty little hole?” 

“Baby,” Your core clenches from his words coupled with the absence of him, wanting to be filled in whatever way he deems fit. “Yes, yes please. Play with me…” 

Jack fingered you back here almost every time you had sex, but when it came to licking it, he didn’t do it nearly as often as you liked. It wasn’t because he didn’t like to, it’s because he just paid attention to your pussy more. But now that the urge has hit him, it’s hit him hard. Licking your ass made him feel so desperate for you, absolutely feral for you. 

Leaning in, he lays his tongue out, licking a long, flat stripe up the valley between your cheeks. Turning his head, he bites into your plump flesh, only stopping when he hears you squeak. And then he’s grabbing your hips, pushing you forward so you’re fully resting on the bed. He situates himself on his stomach, and you stay on yours, too. He’s laying between your legs, moaning pleasurably as you spread them further, welcoming him in. 

He can’t keep himself from your pussy, though. Sucking two fingers inside his mouth, they then quickly prod at your entrance, sliding in to their last knuckle. It makes you gasp, pushing your hips back against him. And just like that, he’s shuffling forward, tongue lapping at your upper hole. He shoves his fingers into you, forcing them down to search for that beautifully sensitive spot. The hand not pulsating its fingers into you keeps you spread, kneading the beautiful flesh of your ass. 

“D-Daddy, please.” You can feel yourself shaking, lungs gasping and hips rotating into his grasp. 

“What is it, babycakes? What do you need?” His voice is thick, dripping in lust and scraping against his throat whenever he speaks. 

“Don’t stop - k-keep going. Please.” 

A guttural groan vibrates from his chest, giving your ass a quick slap with his free hand. The tip of his tongue prods at the center of your taut muscles, dipping it in as he attempts to open you up for him. 

“Don’t you love it, honey?” Your husband gasps, his humid breath hitting your skin. “Don’t you love being nasty with daddy?” 

He can barely help himself, it’s like he’s devouring you from behind, pursing his lips to suck on your hole before shoving that skillful wet muscle inside. And you feel like you can hardly move at this point, drunk off the talent of his tongue. 

“I love, I love when you lick me.” Eyes closed, you enjoy his attention, smiling breathlessly. “I love it…” 

It’s lewd, the way he puts his mouth on you, the way he uses it against you. Removing himself to take a breath, he purses his lips again, this time dripping a cool trail of spit onto your skin. And then he’s pulling his fingers out of you, rubbing your hole with the combination of his saliva and your slick. Shoving his face into the space between your cheeks, he licks into you deep, moaning wildly. 

Wiggling from the pleasure of it, your mouth hangs open, your saliva beginning to pool on the sheets. And when you writhe beneath his body, he growls, briefly baring his teeth and hauling you closer to his face. 

“Let me spread you wide, babycakes.” Sucking in a quiet huff of air, he says, “Let daddy tongue fuck your dirty little hole.” 

The tip of his tongue lines your rim as he moans, whining quietly every now and then. His fingers press into your muscles, keeping you spread so wide that it stings. 

“Sweetheart,” Swallowing thickly, he begs, “Can I finger it, baby?”

“Oh my god,” It comes out as a groan, your eyes rolling back. “Yes.” 

Not even a second passes by before he’s spitting on your crease, watching it slide down over your puckered skin. 

“Look at you,” He grunts, dragging his pointer finger along the valley between your cheeks. “Your pretty fuckin’ ass.” And then he slaps it, leaving the red aftershocks of his hand on you. 

Just barely, he pushes his finger in, only to the first knuckle. A pleasurable wave washes through your limbs, your body shivering as it releases a contented breath. And when he hears that, he smiles, your happy sound giving him all the consent he needs to push his finger the rest of the way in. 

“Daddy,” The title you’ve moaned a thousand times comes out once again, fingers digging into the blankets, eyes pinching shut as you feel the first hint of that pleasurable burn. “F-Fuck.”

“You’re doing so good, baby.” It comes out immediately, his genuine praise. Twisting it, he pulls out halfway before sliding back in. “So good for daddy, baby…” 

After a handful of pumps, he keeps his finger seated inside, dripping another long drop of saliva onto it. He watches it squeeze into your hole around the intrusion of his fingers, groaning when you clamp down on his finger.

“I know daddy doesn’t have lube, baby. I’m so sorry, angel.” Those deep, warm eyes still haven’t left your throbbing hole, not since he licked it. 

“It’s okay, daddy. It’s okay… you know I… I like when you spit.”

And that’s just what he loves to hear. 

His lips crack a half-grin, giving his head a quick shake alongside his breathlessness. The fact that Jack can do absolutely anything he wants to you astounds him. Through the good and the bad, you’ve been so loving and trusting of him, nothing has broken that and nothing ever will. Not only are you the person he’s been searching for his entire life, you’re also the person he can explore every corner of his mind with. Genuinely, what could be better? You’re a gift to him. 

“Baby - daddy, please give me your tongue again.”

“You don’t want my fingers, honey? You don’t want me to open you up?” 

“I do, I do, I just… it feels so good…”

He hesitates. Does he do what you ask of him, or does he force you to give into his own desires? 

“Please,” You whine in the silence, shoving your hips back against him. “Lick me.”

And how could he not give you what you want? How could he not give you every single damn thing you need? 

With an ardent and exaggerated sigh, he’s spreading you open again, diving between your crease. The way he’s licking you now is the exact same way he licks your pussy. His breaths are heated, his groans passionate, his movements quick and firm and fuck, you wish you could see him. His face shoved into your ass, mouthing at your crease, thrusting his tongue as deep as it’s able to go. He’s hungry, repeatedly stuffing the wet muscle into your tightest channel while grunting against your skin. 

“Love this, love tasting you like this.” And when his tongue returns, you moan, muscles tightening before him. Removing himself, he gives you a disciplinary smack, digging his teeth into your bruising flesh. “You naughty fuckin’ thing… I can feel you clenchin’ around me.” 

“W-Will you fuck me?” It’s not necessarily a beg, just a simple question. But if he asked you to beg right now, you’d do so without hesitation. 

“You want me to?” Placing a sloppy kiss on the curve of your backside, he adds, “You want daddy’s dick in your ass?”

“Fuck me.” Rolling your eyes back, you sigh, a fresh wave of euphoria rocking through your body merely from your husband’s words. 

Jack’s strong body shuffles up behind you, lifting himself to his knees. With both hands, he hauls your hips into the air, his toned chest puffing out with each intense breath. You let him move you as he pleases, practically going limp beneath him. And honestly, he likes you best this way. 

“Okay, honey…” He says, trying to calm his breaths as he talks to you. Jack wants to remain relaxed, wants to be your rock - especially during times like this. He knows this might be a bit painful for you. 

Placing his left hand on your lower back, he rubs your skin with tender swipes while lining himself up with your rear entrance. It feels so much different than the sensitive space between your legs; it’s quite a bit tighter and at times, warmer, too. He can’t wait for this. 

“Open up, pretty girl…” And his words prompt you to do just that, your body listening to him subconsciously. 

Sliding forward, his tip pushes past your relaxing muscles, jaw dropping as he watches. You keep still for him, knuckles turning white from clutching the bedsheets for so long. 

“There you go…” Jack coos, watching himself disappear inside of you. “There you go, honey, that’s so good.” 

Even when your husband let his passion and desire fuel the fire inside his body, he made sure to care for you. No matter how rough or feral he was feeling, he knows how he wants to treat you. You’re his little angel, his pretty, perfect thing. And you deserve to know it, no matter what you’re doing. 

“Beautiful…” Comes his breath of amazement, of absolute awe. 

Gritting your teeth, you take the sting, having done it so many times before. It’s easier than it used to be, but with the size of your husband… it takes a minute to accommodate him, regardless of where he is.

Quite suddenly, his chest forces out two intense breaths. Your eyes fly open, head turning back slightly as you call out to him. “Baby?”

“It’s so… tight.” He’s groaning, head dropping back. “You’re so tight back here.”

“Daddy,” Sliding your hand further up on the bed, you whine desperately, begging for him to continue. “I want it.”

“I know you do, daddy knows it, honey.” Dropping his head forward again, he keeps his hands on your ass, squeezing your flesh. “Daddy’s giving it to you.” 

Pushing forward, Jack’s eyes don’t leave you. He forces himself to watch the entirety of it, of his length sliding into you. You’re pulsing around him, muscles stretching from the intrusion. But after a minute of gentle pressure, he’s in, the curves of your ass surrounding him. 

“Jesus.” Without thinking, he slaps his hand down on your right cheek, listening to your high, surprised whine. It shoves you forward, your muscles squeezing around him from the impact. 

Leaning over your bent body, he spits, watching it drip down slowly. He does this twice, letting it coat his base and your delicate crease. Retracting himself halfway, he listens to the soft squelch his spit gives, aiding in his re-entry. Gradually, he sets his pace, listening to your little whimpers and whines. 

“Don’t hide them, baby.” Shaking his head, he gives your ass a small tap. “Don’t hide those noises from me.”

His words allow you to let go, your lungs releasing the breath you’d been holding. “Daddy.”

“There she is, there’s my girl.” He’s speaking to you so softly, so lovingly. 

Before he’s even ready for it, you start bouncing back against him. It prompts the sound of your slapping skin to fill the room, Jack’s soft attitude quickly fading. 

“You’re such a whore for it, aren’t you?”

This makes you groan, the sound airy and needy. Cementing his hands to your hips, he leans over you just a bit, now diving into you at a quicker pace. 

“I asked you a fucking question.” Reaching for your hair, he fists it, yanking your head back.

“Yes,” Gulping, you lick your lower lip, trying to look at him. “Yes, daddy.”

“Yes, what?”

“I’m a whore for it.”

“Ugh.” Tossing your head down, he releases an ungodly groan. Swatting your ass again, he then places his hand on your upper back, pushing you down on the bed. “You’re so good to me.” 

His hips are slamming against you, your compliance only riling him up. He’s throbbing inside, feeling the tight squeeze of your pulsating walls. And at this point, any and all pain has dissipated into something new, something great.

“Daddy, you feel s-so, so good.” You’re stuttering, the breath leaving your body. 

“Yeah baby,” He nods, brow beginning to sweat. “Just take it, angel. Let daddy fuck you open on his cock.”

The way he sways his hips against you makes your eyes roll back, forcing a melody of moans to leave alongside your rapid breaths.

“D-Daddy, oh my god. Fuck.” 

“Oh, I know; daddy’s fuckin’ you, oh god, he’s fuckin’ you so good, isn’t he?” 

Jack doesn’t mean to boast, but it’s like he can’t even help it. He knows the sex is good for you, knows it’s fucking amazing because it feels the exact same way for him. Christ, he’s never felt anything as good as you. And you’ve never felt anything as good as your daddy. 

“I can’t wait, sugar. I can’t wait to fuck you like this when we get home.” Your mouth hangs open as he repeatedly stuffs himself inside, feeling your ass swallow him whole. “Bend you over and lick you again, lube you up for it. I should’ve fingered you more, should’ve made you take it.” 

The fact that Jack wants to do these things to you makes your head spin. The fantasies he has about you are endlessly erotic, filthy, and quite often… extremely taboo. And everything about that excites you.

“Daddy, fuck, fuck me…” The way he’s handling you becomes rough, his fingers digging into your sides, his chest rumbling from his grunts. 

“Oh baby, I already am.” He teases, smiling breathlessly. “But that’s not what you mean, is it? You want daddy to wreck you, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Baby, p-please.” It makes you delirious when he talks to you like this, when he mocks you for the way you react to him.

Jack’s body is so strong, so sturdy behind you as he repeatedly thrusts himself into you. And with every thrust forward, he’s also guiding you back, diving in as deep as he can. 

“You’re so good, angel, so good for me. Letting daddy play with you like this…” 

“Daddy, oh my god… it feels so good…” It really shocks you how fantastic this can feel, your husband stretching and filling whatever hole he wants.

“I’ll always make it good for you, honey. Always, always.”

He’s panting behind you, bottoming out in your ass every time he fills it. And ever so slightly, you feel his forearms begin to shake, hear his grunts begin to grow heavy and ragged. 

“Are you gonna cum, daddy?” You sound so innocent, so sweet. 

He chuckles, shaking his head quickly. “You know me.” 

Using your grip on the blankets as leverage, you move to bounce back against him once again. Audibly, he becomes flustered, dropping his head. It hangs over his chest, eyes pinching shut as he reaches up to grab the back of your neck.

“H-Honey,”

“I know, daddy.” Comes your sweet coo, hips grinding back into him. “Cum for me.” 

He doesn’t know how the tables turned so easily, but all at once, he’s crumbling for you. His body weight pushes you down until your stomach and chest are pressed against the bed. His pelvis rolls into you, his body jerking from the tiny pulsations in his cock. 

It blooms warmly inside you, the feeling of him. His spend is thick, coating your insides as he breathes heavily against your skin. Jack’s mouth finds your upper back, shoulder, and neck, covering you in passionate kisses. He’s thanking you, you know it. 

By the time he’s cleaned you up, it’s the early afternoon. You could go back to the beach, but neither of you really want to. After having you like this, it’s reminded Jack of his internal possession over you. He’s not sure if he wants anyone else to see you naked ever again. 

“You okay, baby?” You’re laying on your stomach again, covered in one of Jack’s clean shirts and a pair of your panties. 

“Mhm,” Closing your eyes, you sigh contentedly. 

Jack chuckles, walking over to you now that he’s all clean. Bending over the bed, he kisses your shoulder again, murmuring, “That good, huh?” 

“Oh my god,” You groan, moaning quietly when you feel his teeth. “Yes, daddy.”

[utterlyinevitable]

Hello! Ethan x MC! Please 20. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

thank you so much for this request! i’m sorry if it’s not what you were imagining 😬

20. things you said i wasn’t meant to hear

From the things you said prompt list.  Send me a pairing and number and I’ll write a mini fic!

—

RunAway

Pairing: Bryce x F!MC (Becca Lao) x Ethan Rating: Teen+ Summary: Becca left Bryce’s place before he woke up and overhears something she certainly shouldn’t have heard between Naveen and Ethan.  Trope: Issues; Ethan Confession; Jealous  

A/N: this is in the trials and tribulations universe and directly follows Not A Choice.

—

Becca left before Bryce woke up. Wriggled out of his secure arms and gathered her things in the 5:40AM darkness. 

She didn’t go to work (too soon). She didn’t go to her apartment (too many questions). She didn’t go to the gym (too early for that shit). She didn’t really know where else to go. 

So her feet made the decision for her. 

Derry Roasters was dimly lit, the comfy dark wooden décor brightening with every passing second dusk turned to angelic morning. Becca ordered a coffee and breakfast sandwich then retreated to the farthest corner, away from the six other patrons making use of the compact seating area. She was glad to see not a single colleague from the hospital. 

Staring at the wall, her back to the rest of the world and hood pulled up enough to cover her face, she ate. Slowly. Every bite a chomp, hard and grinding her teeth more than necessary to offset the gnawing in her chest. The clawing of growing guilt she’s been carrying around and near-bubbling over. 

She checked the time on her phone. 

Still two hours until shift. Bryce would be getting up any minute now. Maybe she should grab some food and head back? Tell him she’s sorry for startling him and pretend she didn’t run away. Bring him a remorse muffin.  

Just as she was about to move - pack up and go - something stopped her - 

She felt him well before the familiar voice confirmed the sensation. 

“Another sabbatical? Ethan, be reasonable.” 

Naveen. 

Shit. 

Becca sat back down and made herself smaller, hunching over and burying her face in the hood more. Her espresso colored eyes finding the stained grooves of the wooden table all too interesting. 

Shit shit shit. 

“I assure you, I am.” 

Ethan’s voice was noncommittal. The words dry and devoid of any feeling, as if he was making a throwaway comment to someone in passing, and not being confronted by his closest, oldest friend. 

Naveen tried to be coy; “This wouldn’t have anything to do with your fight with a resident earlier?” 

A humorless chortle left the diagnostician. “Hardly,” he chided. “If they cannot handle a spat with me they’re certainly not cut out to be a physician.” 

“Ethan...” Naveen’s voice was stern in his admonishment. 

Becca wished she could turn around. To take in their nonverbal cues. There’s only so much she could derive from all the way over here. Part of her wanted to make a silent escape; hoped they wouldn’t continue the conversation here and take their orders to go and she could slip out unwittingly. 

A sicker side of her couldn’t believe what she was hearing. And it stung to know that he’s not as tuned to her presence as she is to his.  

As quietly as Becca could she searched her pockets and her backpack for headphones. She didn’t want to hear this. Especially not right now. 

Nothing. 

She presses her lips together as tight as possible to hold in her groan, knowing she’s forced to suffer further. No crutch, no prominent discussions, just her head and heart at war with her ears; keenly apt to know how he’s dealing with things. 

She could feel Ethan take a resigned sigh before answering Naveen truthfully. “Not entirely, no.” 

Oxygen froze in her lungs. Was he actually about to disclose his truest feelings? 

Everyone took pause as the pair moved from the counter to a table.

Becca heard the two chairs screech along the floor, the clink of porcelain touching wood, and the two doctors shuffle around to get comfortable. 

“I’m sure you can work through whatever this is.” 

The words were wrapped in an earnest concern. Yet Becca felt like they were strangling her. 

Ethan let out another humorless breath. 

She could only imagine the glowing hopeful look on Naveen’s face that then coaxed Ethan to speak a harrowing truth; 

“She’s with someone.”

And if Naveen’s earlier inflection hadn’t killed her, Ethan’s stab to her heart was sure to do it. Chest heaving in a rapid fire Becca struggled to control her breathing; any small grumble or gasp the two were sure to hear and look her way. 

As much as she tried to convince herself the last few minutes otherwise, its undoubtable that they’re talking about her now. Especially with Naveen’s all-knowing temperament. 

“If I recall, she was with you once.” 

Another dry snort came from Ethan. 

Becca could feel him opening his mouth ready to deny deny deny -

But Naveen spoke first; 

“Those feelings don’t just go away, son. Especially in such a short time.” 

Becca rubbed her brows wondering; Was he referring to how quickly lust consumed them, or how it hadn’t even been four months since they were last in each others arms? 

She didn’t know and couldn’t recall how much Naveen actually knew of their dalliance. Though both were more than truthful. Loving Ethan was a whirlwind. If only he was as swept up as she.  

After a beat Naveen added ever so effortlessly, “You can’t help who you love.”

And Becca froze with her fingers pressed into her eyelids. Back going rigid and upright in her hiding place. To hear those words out loud, spoken into existence by someone who knew him was jarring. And the second time they materialized that morning was just the sugar on that giant guilt pastry. Fingers curling around the tables edge, she braced herself for impact. 

Ethan’s words flew out of his mouth with swift incoherent clarity, “I - Who said - What would you know about it?” 

“Oh there are many things you don’t know about me, my friend. Perks of being twice your age. As for your question, I know enough to know the signs.” He paused and Becca could only assume it was to form a sage smile. “And when to steer you away from turning into me.” 

“There is nothing wrong with being devoted to your work.”

“No. And watching you grow over the years has been a delight in my life. Though, I can’t help but feel your restlessness.” The warmth in Naveen’s voice for his pseudo-son turned evidently concerned. “It’s not for the job anymore; its for something else.”

Ethan’s demeanor must’ve changed because the air around them all stalled once again. It wasn’t debilitating like earlier, but borderline revelatory.  

“You aren’t you mother, Ethan. Nor are you me. You’re your own person - the great Ethan Ramsey!” 

The corners of Becca’s lips tugged upwards at the prideful playfulness of Naveen’s words. 

“It’s never too late to become the better version of yourself,” he advised in all his wisdom. 

Ethan must’ve went to interrupt. For the next words Naveen spoke were quiet and forceful; 

“Put your pride aside and talk to her. Like a man, not an attending.”

Her head was reeling. Spinning with all this new information. Her heart and body firing a war of memories with her body the battlefield - She could feel Bryce's touch, its warmth and the endless security she feels with him. But.. she can feel Ethan's kiss still lingering on her lips and the electrifying way he holds onto her being.  

Did she want to talk to him? (Not particularly.) What would she even say? (She said all she needed last time.)

Before Becca knew it, chairs were skidding against the flooring and two sets of heavy feet were retreating. And in an instant she could breathe.

_________________________

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Perma:

@lucy-268  @thegreentwin  @queencarb  @danijimenezv  @starrystarrytrouble   @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @maurine07  @mercury84choices  @schnitzelbutterfingers  @the-pale-goddess @whimsicallywayward15  @mvalentine  @mm2305 @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine   @withbeautyandrage  @forallthatitsworth   @stateofgracious  @missmiimiie  @uneravine   @iemcpbchoices  @sophxwithers @therookie @quixoticdreamer16

Ethan:

@udishaman  @binny1985  @honeyandsunfl0wers @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @ohchoices  @dulceghernandez @blossomanarchy  @stygianflood  @caseyvalentineramsey @openheartthot @senseofduties  @tsrookie  @kalogh @aworldoffandoms  @takemyopenheart  @casey-v @ethanramseylover @a-crepusculo @randomperson111  @lilypills @anntoldst0ries @nix-grey  @aishaaaaaaah

[mushroomkwan]

Beauty and the Beast (M)

Pairing: Johnny Suh//Seo Youngho x Female! Reader//Soulmate/Hybrid AU of sorts this fic was a trip to write

Words: 3,186

Warnings: porn with some plot(idk how to just write a smut anymore oops), tiger hybrid!johnny, deer hybrid! reader, amateur writing(I haven't written in a year or two so it might be shit sorry y'all) size kink, praise kink, and some degradation but its miniscule, big cock johnny bitch let's be honest 😳👀, oral (female receiving), fingering, technically panty sniffing too, minor mentions of blood, unprotected sex (wrap it up y'all), breeding??

SYNOPSIS: Being in heat when you meet your mate is both ideal and horrific. Johnny shows you the latter isn't a possibility with him.

It's past the midnight hours, the sky a swirl of pale yellows and pinks filtering through the trees and startling you as it peeks through a sliver of the curtains in your den and onto your face. You wheeze as you stretch your body, your hands searching for the clothes you had laid out the night before, tucked onto your dresser along with the accessories you chose. Today was the day you had been looking forward to for weeks, and your nerves were all over the place. Hybrid society, separated from the very humans who created them, was ruled as a hierarchy, the first hybrid to become exiled had become Queen, and her children onward reigned. And today, you crowned the new King, Queen Seo Myeoryun's son Youngho, who had been a pillar of the community since he was born. And everyone likes a good coronation ceremony, so what was not to love? Well besides the fact that it fell onto the same day your heat should have started. It would be fine though, it only really hurts or is bothersome when you've found your mate, and you've yet to find yours. Without your mate, heats were just small cramps in your side and your sex drive goes up. It may seem cliche, but part of you wished it to be Youngho. He's a gentleman, he's ethereal visually and conceptually, and he makes you feel included at every social gathering, sending you drinks, and smiling at you from across the room. He had yet to come up to you though. And perhaps it was right of him to. There was still that stigma of predator and prey among hybrids, and you were a deer, timid, small, and a tiger's ideal meal. And Youngho unfortunately was a tiger. A very very....very attractive tiger.

With a sigh you pull the top around your body, a lilac mesh puffed sleeve thing, and throw on a pair of loose jeans as to complete it. To top it off, you put on a flower crown, smiling shyly at your reflection in the mirror beside you. You go out the door, surprised to find someone already waiting for you, his face frustrated and his striped tail flicking back and forth, annoyed.

"Ah f- Doyoung you scared me!" You pouted and hit a hand against his chest, him not sparing you a wince or pained expression, instead laughing at your feeble attempts to hurt him.

"We're late Y/N, they already introduced the host, which by the way we all knew would be Jaehyun he's the MC of every event ever." He sassed, but you grabbed his hand and ran toward the venue a block away, which was still quite the run. Jaehyun stood on the stage in a black and red velvet suit, smiling as he talked about the upcoming ceremony and how it would play out. You settled into a spot between Doyoung and Donghyuck, a pudu hybrid who was too busy on his phone to mind you sitting next to him.

"Do you think he's nervous for his coronation?" Doyoung turned his head and you looked at him for a moment, your gaze flickering to the stage every now and then as Jaehyun spoke.

"Please, he's Seo Youngho. He's probably known about this since he was a child, and is ready for it. He's confident too so I don't think he'll have a problem with being shy either." You blushed as you spoke, your ears turning down against your head as you thought about it. Doyoung eyes you and smirked, laughing as he came to a realization.

"Oh my God you do like him. That's literally so cute. You realize he'd probably snap you in half in bed though, right?" He made the dirty comment and you went completely red, stuttering as you tried to come up with a response, until Haechan cut in.

"You guys missed his speech, they're about to crown him." You gasped lightly as you looked to the stage and sure enough Youngho's mother was holding the crown, finishing up her own speech, and there he stood. Well shit. His hair was parted and his bright yellow eyes scanned the crowd with a smile. Such a charismatic smile, and those lips were just sin themselves. His suit clung to his body and he was wearing a damned corset vest over it. You were staring for too long, and he caught your stares. He looked at you fondly and smiled, his eyes twinkling as he waved. You smiled back and waved enthusiastically, cheering as he was crowned and the celebratory party began. Doyoung was no where to be seen, and you were hoping to find some time to finally talk to Youngho. You made your way to the bar, where you were surprised to find he was already there standing, him gesturing for you to come over. You gulped and walked over, your tail stood up in alarm. He was there in front of you close up, and for the first time you noticed he was blushing. You went even redder than before and he giggled, his hands fumbling with the glass in between them.

"How can I help you?" You giggled nervously, settling against the bar as he still messed with his glass awkwardly, his tail swinging back and forth uneasily.

"You know the whole thing with mates and first touches? How you'll know when you first touch?" He asks and you go still, nodding and trying to ease your rising emotions. He looked into your eyes and his hand extended.

"I need to know...if you'd allow me." He spoke again and you could feel the nerves radiating off of him. His eyes searched yours and you smiled back, your cheeks burning.

"I'd like to know too." And then you did it. You laced your fingers together, and a spark ricocheted from your fingertips to your toes and you gasped as a thousand emotions passed through you at once. His eyes glossed over and he pulled you into his arms.

"I always fucking knew it was you. Now so can tell Jaehyun I was rightfully obsessed." He joked as he sniffled, and you laughed wetly as some tears fell, burying your face in his chest. You heard a whistle and Doyoung stood there, a drink in his hands and finger guns pointed at both of you. You went to smack him but a dull ache in your underbelly stopped you, biting your lip as you settled for glaring at him, your tail and ears still moving angrily.

"It's not like I totally knew this whole time." He sassed and you smacked his chest, your cheeks turning red. Doyoung smirked and blocked your attacks, turning to Youngho, whose nose was turned into the air, curiously sniffing. He whispered into Youngho's ear and Youngho's eyes darkened with an emotion you could only describe as lust, his gaze falling up and down your body. You turned to Doyoung in confusion but he just pushed you toward Youngho, who ran an arm up and down your own. You shivered at his touch and keened into it, your body beginning to sweat feverishly.

Authors note: for the smut I changed the time-tense without realizing so sorry about that.

"Follow me? There's something I'd like to tell you." Youngho smiles and you nod, skipping along with him away from the celebration. It's only a ways away, his den, and you blush as your thoughts race with images of you and him together, your pulse seemingly moving to in between your legs. He invites you in and closes the door, suddenly against you. You yelp in surprise and he buries his head against your hair, sniffing down your body. You clench your legs together as his nose presses against your thighs and breasts and his scent runs through your own nose, your body immediately reacting.

"I wanted to tell you that your scent right now...it's sweeter than usual. Oh God you're in heat aren't you?" He practically growls the words and you whimper as you nod, your core throbbing with need as his body pressed against you.

"Please Youngho I need something." You whine against him as your hands rake at his neck, pulling him into a kiss. It's slippery and your tongue circles his fangs as he holds your hips in his hands and sucks on your lower lip, pulling away to put his forehead against yours.

"Johnny. Call me Johnny, baby." You wiggle impatiently against him and he picks you up, your body already bucking towards him as your core tightens around nothing. To best describe, it's a burning feeling, like every synapse in your brain is screaming at you to get something, anything.

"Such a needy girl, you're falling apart in my hands and I haven't even began to touch you." He kisses you and you're only just aware that you're pressed against the doorframe of what you can only assume is his room.

"Johnny, please take my clothes off. It's too hot." You pant breathlessly and he laughs, elated to get you out of your clothing, his ears up and at attention. His claws trail the fabric of your top, pulling roughly upward. You raise your arms and the top comes off with a swift motion, leaving your bra in it's place. You blush under his gaze, a hungry stare that makes its way to your pussy, the ache becoming more. You tug at his corset vest and he pulls it off and his dress shirt as quick as he did your own shirt, his abs on display. You ogle at his stripesnand press your hands against his chest as he attacks the side of your neck with his mouth, his tongue and teeth marking every surface area of your skin.

"Do you have any idea how good you smell right now?" He swipes his hand against your denim covered core, and you whine as you grind into his touch. With the sharp nail of his ring finger, he separates the metal from it's buttonhole and pulls your pants down. You step out of them and he scoops you up as soon as your feet hit the floor, pushing you against the bed. You gasp and moan as his fingers trail your sides, his claws leaving marks against your skin. The pain is nice though, and it drives you crazy with how gentle he scratches you.

"Johnny, I want you to...well won't your claws hurt?" You trail off in embarrassment and he presses his lips onto yours, staring fondly into your eyes as his arms cradle you.

"Don't worry baby, they retract. I would never hurt you. But fuck, was that the cutest way you could ask me to finger you." He speaks gently, a growl ripping from his throat as he presses his mouth back onto your own. You moan against his lips as his hands pull your bra off, his kisses trailing down as your breasts spill from your bra, which he quickly tosses aside. His hand, with claws now retreated into the nail beds, rubs you through your panties. He's amazed with how wet you are, your underwear almost sticks to you with how wet you are, and your small tail stands stiffly despite being laid on. Looking at you as he presses his nose against your breasts, licking the middle of your chest and teething against your skin. His fingers hook under your panties and he revels in how warm you are, pressing the heel of his palm to the very top of your entrance. Johnny begins to circle his fingers around your clit, as you shake under him. With one hand busy teasing you, the other kneads the flesh of your left tit, whines and moans spilling past your lips. You press your own palm against his cock, which strains against his slacks. He makes a guttural sound as you rub at the head through the cloth. He pulls his hand away and growls at you, and you suddenly feel so much smaller. So dominated.

"I have a new idea baby. You smell so good but I bet you taste even better." Without warning his nose presses into the very top of your panties, his fangs nipping at the cloth. You yelp in surprise and shudder as his tongue swipes across your panties, moans leaving your mouth as you bite down on nothing. Johnny gives a satisfied moan himself and peels your panties away from your body and down your legs, tossing them haphazardly as he sniffled once more, the tip of his nose brushing against your clitoral hood. Whimpering, you spread your legs shyly and he takes it as invitation, his mouth wrapping around your pussy as his tongue prods against your hole, which throbs for his touch. His tongue was long, you knew this from just his smile and him talking, but you weren't prepared for how helpful it would be until now. Johnny's tongue works against your clit, kitten licking as his one of his fingers comes up and separates your lips, his tongue picking up speed. You're a mess of moans and whines, your eyes looking reverently toward him as he tongue fucked you with determination and his finger enters you to the knuckle. You wince once, but the feeling is immediately replaced with curiosity. He brings his finger out and back, until he's created a pace that has you keening for more. He curls his finger and rubs against a spongy surface within you that you never realized felt so good. You arch away from the bed and sigh out breathlessly, a mewl wheezing out of you. Johnny sees this and knows he's found it, propping both of you into a better position. You lay on his left thigh, one arm supports you and the other is busied between your legs. He returns his middle finger to where it once was, curling in and out of you at the same pace before. Soon his ring finger too prods at your entrance and he ducks you with both of them, your hips bucking against his wrist. A pressure in your lower abdomen makes you bite your lip, gasping when Johnny curls his fingers and once again hits your g-spot. He prods at it for a little while more, but stops before you can fully come undone. Kicking his slacks off, he returns to you and hovers over your body, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You can feel his tail swipe against your legs as he speaks.

"I want to fuck you properly, but I need to know if you're okay with it. I'm...well endowed and don't want to hurt you." Your heart swells at his words and you nod as you bite your lip, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"My heat has made me slick enough and you've stretched me. I feel safe enough for it. Now please, fuck me." You take a deep breath as you look down between your legs at him, and he wasn't lying. It's harder than a rock, standing against his stomach with a bead of precum sliding down the side of it. He's cut, which you can't say didn't surprise you, and it definitely has girth to it. Perhaps it is five or six inches soft, but hard it looks to be seven inches. He pulls your hips closer to his and massages your sides as he positions himself.

"Be gentle with me? This isn't my first time but you're bigger than I'm used to." You blush embarrassed but he nods, pressing into you slowly. You grunt painfully as you're stretched, the tip of his cock almost touching your cervix, but not close enough to fully make contact. Johnny bends down towards you and kisses you hungrily, his tongue curling around your own.

"You can move now." You say quickly as you pull away from the kiss, and he feels his hips back, before pushing in again. You moan louder than you ever have, his cock prodding against every surface of your pussy, making you feel so full. Both of your bodies rock together and he growls out a low moan, gasping breathlessly with you as you both make noises as if no one can hear. Your arms wrap around him and scratch, your mewls bouncing off the walls of his room and the bed creaking back and forth.

"Fucking hell." He moans as he sighs out, his hips snapping into yours. You're close to tears with how good you feel, and those tears finally spill over when his fingers circles your swollen clit, his dick still sliding in and out of you.

"F-fuck cum in me Johnny. Please." You please as you cry from overstimulation, all your senses going haywire as you feel the beginnings of climax take you. Johnny bites into your shoulder as he fucks you, and you cry out in pain as his fangs break through the flesh of your shoulder. You quickly moan as he picks at the wound, breathless apologies spilling from his mouth. You kiss him to shut him up, and he happily kisses back. The coil in your underbelly becomes taut and you keen away from the bed and into him. It snaps suddenly and you're clenching down on him hard, practically screaming as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave. You're shaking, but you ignore it as you use your legs to pull Johnny closer, deeper into you. He rubs soothing circles with his thumb against your cheek as he cradles your face, his orgasm nearing. His thrusts are becoming sloppier and your name is spilling from his mouth with other curses and gibberish.

"Are you sure you want me to cum in you Y/N?" Johnny falters and you pull him in for a kiss, biting his lower lip and waving your tail side to side.

"Please." You whimper and he bottoms out, a couple more thrusts before he is burying his face into your neck with broken moans spilling past his lips. Warm cum seeps into you, and he's making the sexiest noises you've heard come from a man. Johnny's forehead knocks against your own and he removes his cock from your womanhood, slumping against the covers and next to you. Both of you say nothing, catching your breaths as both your chest heave up and down. His arms wrap around you and pull you in, a small peck pressed everywhere over your face. One of his hands pets at your tail soothingly and you use your own hand to scratch behind his ears as you both become more and more relaxed. Your eyes are closing, but before you sleep you kiss him again and thank him.

"Thanks for being the best mate a girl could ask for." Your ears fall flat against your head as you blush and he chuckles, kissing your forehead.

"Same goes to you. I'd wish for no one else." And he pulls you closer, both of you tangled. And just like that you sleep, ready to tackle your heat again in the morning.

AHHH sorry I don't know how to end smuts but this is the first thing I've written in a while so please tell me if there were mistakes. but here you go!!!

[wallwriterstuff]

Teeth || Demetri Volturi x Reader ||

A request from @volturidoll13 that is continued from this headcanon right here ——-> Demetri Reacting to a Stimming Reader <——-. I hope I’ve done you justice once more with this one chickadee :D </b>

Part 2: This fic

Part 3: Control (fic)

Warnings: TW for anxiety. Readers stimming will stem from anxiety, if you are having a rough time with yours right now be careful reading this one, and please know you’re not alone! I guess maybe a warning for biting to? There’s some biting going on.

Words: 2620

Summary: It’s been a little over two months since Demetri discovered your stimming. He’s remained vigilant ever since, keeping your anxiety at bay with a whole host of tips and tricks he’s learned over the course of your time together. The one thing he cannot stop is the march of time, and yours is running out fast…

You weren’t sure what had made you so nervous back then, why Demetri finding about your autism was such a big deal, why you were so afraid your stimming would be an issue between you both, that your anxiety and it’s side effects would somehow ruin his perception of you. In reality, telling Demetri the whole truth had been the best thing you had ever done. His sensitivity was astounding to you, because he really was diligent in checking in with you and keeping things as calm as possible in your now shared room – your baths had become a now weekly occurrence. He never treated you like you were made of porcelain either despite all his little interventions, no, he whole-heartedly encouraged your every attempt to explore and integrate yourself into the Volturi with your new found confidence, but when you needed the support he was always prepared.

Your newfound confidence came with a price.

After just a week of venturing out of your shared room you had been called to the throne room, a terrifying moment in itself given you had met them only once before to explain why you hadn’t been bleeding out with the rest of your tour group on the floor, and Aro had taken your hand with a sickly smile before joyfully exclaiming something in Italian you had had no idea how to go about translating. That was two months ago, and now you had only a single month left to live before you joined them in their immortality, perpetually frozen as you were, never moving forward, never evolving. The concept was terrifying given the stories you’d heard of newborns. You didn’t want to hurt people or be that volatile little newborn who became violent on a whim. You didn’t want to feel the inferno in your throat begging you to commit unspeakable acts of cruelty against a race you were currently still apart of.

A month left of mortality.

A month left before you became someone entirely new.

Felix’s sudden grunt snapped you out of that particular reverie, and you blinked at the bright sunlight invading your eyes despite the shade you had situated yourself in under a twisted old red maple, planted in Didyme’s honour oh so long ago and still going strong thanks to Aro’s tender loving care. They had chosen to sit beneath the branches simply because it made their skin sparkle less, which was far easier on your eyes and far less distracting since you had a tendency to try and rub off Demetri’s sparkles, like they were glitter on his skin you could just remove. Jane was smiling at your giant friend, whose teeth were clenched tight before he suddenly relaxed and shot her a glare.

“Now now children play nicely.” Demetri chided from beside you. He’d been sat a while, smoothly redirecting conversation from you when he saw your attention falter. You had been zoning in and out a lot the past few days, your mind clearly elsewhere. He’d kept half an eye on you as the twins debated a book they’d been reading the past week, Felix teasing them as was his usual manner until Jane caved to the temptation to cripple him with her trademarked glare. You clearly were not okay, but you hadn’t come to him to say as such just yet, so he’d not pressured you into talking. Perhaps after this afternoon he should? You usually jumped at any chance you got to spend time with them all, enjoying the social interaction after the long days you spent either studying Italian or with them absent performing duties you would soon help them undertake.

“What do you think Y/N? You said you’d read The Hunger Games before, what do you think of the idea that the death of Primrose is symbolic of the death of the last of Katniss’s innocence?” Alec questioned. The boy was equally as perceptive as Demetri, having found himself insatiably curious since the day Demetri had quietly spoken with them about it to ensure they didn’t harass you, and consequently had gone on to read everything he could get his hands on about your condition. It was painfully obvious to all of them your head wasn’t in the conversation but none of them brought it up, instead finding ways to lead you seamlessly back into the group when you wandered off. Your brows furrowed as you tried to think over Alec’s question, but your mind was pulled in too many directions at once. You were so focused on the dark thoughts swirling around your future immortality that your mind struggled to conjure the image of the book cover, never mind its contents.

“Erm…I don’t really…she lost it way before that.” You stumbled your way through the answer and it was audible to everyone there the way your teeth clanked together when your jaw clenched. You did your best not to flinch as Demetri cast you a concerned glance. You’d been doing that a lot, your teeth gnashing and grinding as you clenched your jaw over and over. It was a tic he had seen before, though not quite as frequently as this, and it set alarm bells ringing in his head as a thousand articles and memories hit him full force. Alec hummed, not looking entirely like he agreed with you while Jane grinned, triumph in her eyes.

“Ha! See brother, I told you!” she didn’t seemingly notice the way you flinched, teeth gnashing audibly once more at her exclamation. Alec’s face was immediately taken over by a scowl, and the pair were bickering once more while Felix watched on with obvious amusement. Demetri had given you his sole attention instead, tuning out their argument to instead take notice of the way the muscles in your jaw moved, your gaze distant and entirely unfocused as you lost yourself to your thoughts again. He didn’t actually think you were aware of the way your hand moved until he gently snatched it mid-air. You blinked, staring uncomprehendingly at the frozen fingers clasped around your wrist, centimetres from your open mouth that you quickly snapped closed. Demetri made no comment after that, sliding his hand up to intertwine your fingers together and squeeze your palm lightly.

You squeezed back with a weak smile, mentally already berating yourself for your behaviour. You hadn’t even noticed you were about to bite yourself but now you had you could feel the way your jaw ached, the entire lower part of your jaw tense from the amount your stimming had overworked it that afternoon. Demetri soothingly ran his thumb in circles over your knuckles but even his cool touch wasn’t enough to drag you from your misery today. You had less than a month to live and there was so much you wouldn’t get to do after that. You had always wanted to travel to try some of your favourite foods in their home contexts – you could only imagine how good authentic Chinese food would taste. You wanted to sleep in a five-star hotel just to see what a memory foam mattress might do to improve your sleep.

It was all trivial stuff (you were painfully aware since Caius had told you so when you’d brought it up) but they were simple things for your bucket list, you dared not even consider the big dreams you had because they would be impossible once you were-

“Ah ah ah.” Demetri caught your hand again. He still held one in his grip but the other had whipped up to make it’s way into your mouth. You completely disregarded his warning, a burning need inside of you driving your head forward in an effort to clamp your teeth around your finger, sure in the knowledge it would bring some relief if you could manage it. Demetri didn’t let you, and your head quickly turned for his hand instead. He didn’t comment when your teeth almost broke trying to break through his skin. You immediately recoiled, both horrified and mortified at what you had done, but despite the fact you wouldn’t meet his eyes, Demetri pulled you close to his chest and kissed the top of your head.

“I’m sorry, I-“

“What have I told you about apologising to me about this?” he tutted, lifting your chin with one of his index fingers. He quickly had to let go when your hand flashed up to your mouth again, desperate to chew down on something.

“To stop apologising. Sor-er…I…” you cringed, the apology ready to fall from your lips but your fear of disappointing him latching it’s claws into you and making you bite down on your tongue instead.

“You never need to apologise to me for this my love, I love every part of you, even the parts of you you struggle to love yourself.” Demetri assured you quietly. Your teeth began to grind once more because what if he didn’t see you that same way after your change? What if your crimson eyes and still heart were abhorrent to him since he revered your human-self so much?

“Can we go?” you mumbled, your head spinning with all the worrisome thoughts tumbling about it. Demetri searched your face briefly as he nodded, very well aware that this wasn’t something he could encourage you to keep fighting and you needed to tap out now and recover.

“Of course. Excuse us you three.” He glanced to them briefly, knowing they’d have heard your quiet conversation anyway so to lie would be pointless. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at them, too embarrassed by your stimming today to meet their eyes. You’d bitten your vampire mate in front of them, after all.

“Thank you.” You mumbled, keeping your head down as you walked along beside him. Demetri hadn’t let go of one of your hands, squeezing gently every now and then to try and encourage you to channel your anxiety into your hand instead of your mouth. Perhaps he ought to buy you a stressball? You’d liked the last one, though it had disappeared somewhere around the castle and sadly, his gift only worked on people and not tracking down inanimate objects.  

“Don’t thank me yet, might I give you some advice?” he enquired. You looked up at him, your expression inviting him warily to speak, though you weren’t sure what he could add since this was your lived experience, and one he had only read about. “As you go to bite down open your mouth a fraction wider, it will allow you to clamp your teeth into a wider surface area and hold your prey stiller.” He advised, half a smirk dancing on his lips. He was failing abysmally at trying to hide it.

“I – excuse me?” you were somewhat astonished he’d given you advice on how to bite yourself better. What happened to your caring mate? The one who did his best to help you calm your anxiety. The one who held your hand on nights it felt like you couldn’t breathe?

“I thought it would be sound advice,” he said, giving up on his efforts now to fight back his smirk, “As my little vampire in training, you need to know how to bite down properly. If I had been your prey just now I would have easily escaped, and you would be left hungry.” You stopped stock still, eyes bugging a bit in your head as your brain just…stopped working.

“What…did you just call me?” you asked. Demetri had walked on ahead as if nothing was wrong, but he paused to turn back towards you now with a shit-eating grin on his face, crimson eyes sparkling.

“My little vampire in training. Unless of course, you would prefer puppy? They chew on things to, no?” he tilted his head at you while your jaw dropped. Just for a brief moment there was clarity in your head, the sheer absurdity of his comment punching through all your anxious thoughts. You felt you should be insulted, was it an insult? Coming from someone other than Demetri maybe it would be but this was the man who listened to every little thought in your head, wiped away every tear and held you while you cried. No, Demetri could never do you harm, whether it was with words or fists he was bound to protect you always, he was incapable of insulting you meaningfully.

“Your little – Demetri!” you scolded. God did your jaw ache. He chuckled.

“Alright alright forgive me…though can I say, I feared your bite far more than Felix’s.” he held out his hand to you and you automatically sidled up to slip your palm against his, Demetri turning you both back in the direction of your shared room before you began to walk once more.

“Felix’s has bitten you?” you asked, your curiosity sparked.

“Oh yes. You see, when I first joined the Guard Felix was assigned to my combat training. He won every round. I, however, am a quick learner, and once I began to pick up his teachings I won my first spar against him quite easily…and the one after that, and the one after that…he gets bitey when he loses.” He revealed. You bit your lip, fighting back a smile as you imagine the hulking man tossed onto his back by your own, lithe tracker. It was a funny enough sight in itself, but adding the image of him lunging with teeth barred to gnaw on your mate was even funnier. It should have been frightening but you knew the gentle giant too well to think he would ever attack his comrades with any malicious intent.

“Alec best watch his back then, he’s getting close to Felix’s high score on Crash Bandicoot.” You mused. Demetri snorted briefly.

“Yet another fun story…Alec once locked himself in his room for three whole days when Jane picked up one of his games and completed a level he’d been stuck on for weeks on her first try.” He told you. Your smile grew a little wider, stretching across your face as you imagined the calmer witch twin throwing said hissy fit. Demetri continued his stories long after you entered your room, laying on his side with you opposite him as he regaled you with one story after another. Aro had once dropped a book on his foot after a late night of studying, looked around to ensure nobody had seen, and stuffed it back on the shelf so fast he had placed it back upside down. Jane had a beautiful singing voice but had been startled so badly by Felix interrupting her once she’d slipped right up the scale on the last word and tortured poor Felix for a whole hour straight for ruining her song.

Story after story you listened, enraptured by his smooth baritone while he played with your hair, soothing your turbulent mind as you focused on his words and his words alone. You might wake up tomorrow and find you were once more trapped in the cycle of anxiety that you were hard-pressed to escape one it got you in it’s clutches, or maybe this blessed moment of relief would last and tomorrow you would be free once more for a little bit longer until the next moment something you felt was too big too manage came along. For today, Demetri had lulled you to sleep against his side, your breathing slow and even for the first time that day. Whatever you had to face next, whatever challenges might come your way, you knew on your worst days Demetri would always be with you to help you overcome them, armed with all the latest mummyblog advice for you to rebuke.

[yikeswtfmate]

Strange Times || Ch. 3

previous part // Strange Times Series Masterlist // next part

Summary: Ray does some thinking. These new revelations are bad news, but maybe he can work around them, until he can’t anymore.

Pairing: Raymond (Charlie Hunnam - The Gentlemen, 2020) x Reader

Warnings: swearing; sexual references and themes; some sadness

A/N: this has been a whirlwind and i’m probably going to take a short break from this fic; i’ve barely scratched this part together so i might need more time to come up with the next part, especially because of what i have in mind for it; i really don’t want to write it just for the sake of it and then be unhappy with how it turned out, so please be patient with me! until then... here’s part 3

A/N 2: should i make a masterlist for this series? i made a moodboard for it this week just bc i was bored so might as well? let me know!

It’s been almost a month and Raymond can’t yet say whether Y/N’s pulling his leg or his skills are starting to fail him, because there is no other explanation for her completely falling off the face of the earth for hours on end without him knowing anything about it. When she told him so nonchalantly about her plans that first night, he expected he’d be able to track her every movement without too much fuss. Y/N Pearson, however, is a woman of many talents, so he was forced to finally admit that she was right in warning him not to underestimate her.

It’s not to say that it’s because of lack of trying – he’s had David tail her Uber for a few days but she somehow managed to slip away, only to pop back up in Oxford exactly the second Mickey started handing him his ass because she was nowhere to be found until midnight. Then he tried tracking her phone, just to find out that she’s been leaving her phone on the coffee table every day, although Rosalind somehow always knew how to get in touch with her (whether she’d let Mickey and Raymond know where Y/N was, was a completely other story). Finally, he decided he’ll just tail her himself, but that backfired when he followed her into a nursery store without too much preamble.

Trying to find his bearings, thoroughly confused as to why she’d enter this shop, suddenly horrified she might be pregnant with a fucking cunt, whoever this fucker is he’ll find his death today, he was startled by a hand slipping on his arm, bringing him flush against her small body. Looking down, he couldn’t help wondering what the fuck she was on about now, smiling innocently at the approaching shop assistant and completely ignoring him.

“Hi, darling!” She thrilled in the most obnoxious voice he’s ever heard. “My hubby and I are expecting this tiny wonder that’s growing inside of me, and we’d like to look at some cute little tiny clothes for this amazing bundle of joy that will grace our lives!”

To say that Raymond never felt more terrified in his entire existence should say something, considering he has three older sisters who each had the right mind to think he was actually their little puppet throughout his entire childhood. Three hours later, after listening to more coos than he’d care to ever experience again and now knowing how much every single stroller in the Kingdom fucking costs, Y/N escorted him outside (still latched like a fucking octopus to his arm, never having let go) and turned to him with another blinding smile that would be more fitting for a snake? Fox? Fucking Loch Ness monster? He’d take anything over her at that moment.

“What the fuck.” He doesn’t even have the energy to try to appear more threatening.

“What, babe? I thought you wanted to know what I’m doing all day. Isn’t that why you and Mickey have been freaking out? That I’m being naughty and doing unspeakable things? I just showed you that I’m being a good girl.”

He looks at her for a moment, his jaw set. Maybe one of these days he’ll just break his bottom teeth from all the tongue biting and teeth grinding he does whenever she opens her mouth. There’s a small part of his brain that lets him know it’d be great to get back at her by spanking her ass until it’s bright red, but he pushes the thought aside and just turns around and starts walking away.

“Hey!” She yells, heels clicking rapidly on the pavement until she’s in step with him again. “What the fuck, Ray? You can’t just up and leave!”

“I can and I am. I’m not putting up with your shit anymore, love. You’re Mickey’s responsibility, not mine, so you can do whatever the fuck you want for all I care.”

“Aw, Ray! Come on, babe, you don’t mean that!”

She grabs his hand, forcing him to stop and look at her. Disregarding the fact that they’re in the middle of a very busy shopping centre and everyone has to get around them, Y/N swings their interlocked hands between them, nearly making Ray think she’s a sweet angel. It’s easy to forget she’s been keeping him on his toes from the moment she stepped foot on British soil, when she looks up at him through her eyelashes, a small smile on her lips, almost – but not entirely apologetic.

He sighs and hangs his head. She will be the death of him, but apparently he has no control whatsoever over his body or feelings anymore, and with an arm around her shoulders, Ray brings her into him and directs her back in the direction of their house. (Their house? Since when did he start thinking of his own house as theirs?) He just wants to go home and maybe erase this whole encounter with something strong to drink.

He’s not even aware they’re holding hands until they are forced to split by an errant toddler. He notices how she smiles over at the little pig-tailed girl, a softness in her eyes that is surprising in a way that strangely warms his own heart. She takes his hand again, interlacing their fingers on reflex, unaware of Ray’s slow blink in her direction. He’s thoroughly enjoying her little display of affection, having more or less been subconsciously craving them ever since she first kissed him.

There’s a flutter in his heart, a missed beat that makes him question this whole thing with Y/N. He’s more than aware that she pisses him right the fuck off, but he can’t help but miss her presence and erratic personality the whole time she’s not with him. One month, and she’s already clawed her way in, gnashing unintentionally at the veins around his heart, until she’s found her way in. With a start, he realises that above all the dirty thoughts he’s had, all the images of her bent form before him, he wants to protect her, keep her safe, tuck her under his arm and kiss her head.

He realises now that whenever he steps down into the kitchen to find Y/N making coffee, still dressed in one of his t-shirts (having been seemingly diving into his wardrobe on a regular basis), bed hair sticking out, eyes half closed, smelling like she’s still dreaming, his heart swells. She would hand him his mug and with her own in her hand, she would trudge her feet behind, peck his cheek and stroke his jaw on her way up to her morning shower. And now, he doesn’t want anything else, but that. That moment to keep happening, every morning, every day for the rest of his life and what in the name of Jesus, Joseph and Mary, what the fuck!

*

“I’m home!” Raymond announces as he steps into the house. For a split second he’s surprised once again at the words he’s just uttered, unsure about how to feel knowing that Y/N is still currently living under the same roof as him.

He was comfortable in his life, alone and uncommitted, sure that he would never find anyone who would understand the sort of existence he’s leading, until Y/N barged into his life guns blazing and fucking up whatever sense of security he had until now. Not to mention that understanding earlier in the week that his feelings for her developed so high as to shoot the fucking moon did nothing to alleviate his irritation with her. If anything, it’s gotten worse, especially since she’d become even more secretive lately, until he snapped at her in the morning before she left with a final slam of the front door.

He doesn’t want to get into another fight with her, not in the mood for another shouting match where he’d try to pry out whatever the fuck she’s been doing. He’s tired of her keeping him at an arm’s distance, but doesn’t want to admit that he’s hurt by her not trusting him enough to confide in him. A tiny voice in his head points out that he hasn’t been truthful with her either – hiding his own feelings can only show he’s a coward, but he waves that away. All in good time, he’s not in a hurry, although the thought of Mickey finding out does more than put him off the whole ordeal.

“Got you that ice cream you kept going on about like a bloody lunatic yesterday!” He shouts, trying to distract himself from the dark thoughts that swirl into his mind.

There’s no response and the house feels empty, cold, desolate. An icy shiver runs through his spine, worst case scenarios running before his eyes. He’s left Y/N at home, having just stepped in when he went out to buy some groceries. He declined her offer of joining him when he saw how tired she looked, but now he fears it was a mistake.

He takes out the gun from its holster, slowly moving around the hallway and now that he’s closer to the back of the house, he can hear a small tune playing from the living room. He steps carefully around that particular creaky floorboard and inspects the space which seems clear. It’s only when he stands next to the kitchen island, that he sees Y/N’s head over the sofa. She’s sitting on the floor, next to the vinyl recorder, chin on her knees, hair falling around her body, as if she’s surrounded by a halo.

Raymond lowers his gun, places it on the kitchen counter, but is unsure what he should do next. This is unprecedented, having never seen Y/N this small before, shoulders hunched over as if in defeat. He makes up his mind, and sits himself on the floor next to her, back to the sofa, close enough that she can touch him if she so wants, but far enough to retreat if she wants to be left alone.

“This was my grandpa’s favourite song.” She murmurs.

She places her cheek on her knee, a movement small enough to allow him to look at her. He notices the tear stains on her face and there’s nothing he wouldn’t want to do more in that moment than to just brush his thumbs under her eyes and kiss her forehead. In time with the lyrics, she starts whispering the words, silently asking him to pay attention. He realises this is important to her, so he rests his head on the sofa and closes his eyes. He vaguely remembers buying this particular vinyl in a dingy shop, thinking it’s one of the most beautiful love songs he’s ever heard.

There’s a shift and Y/N crawls between his legs, curling in on herself on his chest. He raises his arms, placing one around her waist and another one to brush her hair. One of her palms rests on his bicep, drawing slow circles into the soft sweater, and she continues to murmur the song.

Raymond keeps his eyes closed, waiting for her to speak, revelling in the feeling of her skin. Her hair is soft and smells like vanilla, mixing in with the undertone of her cinnamon shower gel, and he wonders whether there is anything sweeter in this entire world than to hold her in his arms.

Rosalind warned him that there’s more to Y/N than the trouble she likes to stir, more than the reckless girl who lunges herself into aristocratic gossip and shitty remarks intended to shock. He’s used by now to the brash personality, peppered with unabashed flirtations and caustic curses, the brilliance of her mind whenever they debate an important subject, the vast knowledge that she still surprises him with. But this is never something he would have expected her to be. This mellow and sad part of her that she’s been hiding so well is the entire galaxy in his eyes, confusing him to no end as to why she would show it to him. She trusts you, Raymond, Rosalind’s words echo in his mind, going against all he thought he knew about her. She’ll never say it, but she’ll show you.

He kisses her temple then, a smile on his lips, but he wants to take her pain away. He wants to stop the tears from falling, although he’s not entirely sure what caused them in the first place. She looks up at him, eyes searching his face, and she kisses his jaw tentatively. It tickles her lips so she licks them, but Raymond stops her in her tracks when he kisses her cheek softly. He doesn’t move back, waiting for her reaction and there’s a question there, behind her pupils, blown wide, unsure and afraid. She moves her face closer until her breath fans over hips lips, and her body turns over his, and now they’re chest to chest. He brushes a strand of her hair behind her ear, thumb caressing the side of her neck. She leans into the touch that now moves up to her cheek, and her head rests in his palm now. She opens her eyes again, waiting, asking, hoping.

This is it, he thinks. This is enough and he gives in. Raymond kisses her then, the sweet scent of chocolate on her tongue, tentatively at first, capturing her lips in a dance that he dreamed of having – it’s different, softer, more meaningful than the rough kiss they’ve already shared. Lavishing her, hands move into his hair, while pulling and sucking at his lips. She shifts again, straddling his hips, leaning into him so he moves an arm on her waist to steady her. She moans into his mouth, the sweetest melody covering his veins and there’s fire in his lungs that spreads around his entire body. They come up for air and he peppers kisses on her brow, her cheeks, her nose, while she places her palms flat on his chest. Her forehead rests on his and there’s a moment where they just breathe each other’s air.

“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me.” She whispers.

“We both know I have to bruise your ego from time to time so you can come back to reality.”

“You’re too good for me, Raymond.”

He brushes a hand over the side of her head, taming her hair after his ministrations. She leans into his touch again, filling his heart with affection.

“I’m really not, love. I’m too fucked up to ever be good enough, nevermind too good.” He smiles. “And speaking of fucked up, your brother is going to kill us if he finds out about this.”

“Well, that’s a sobering thought. Please, never speak of Mickey when we’re in this position, ok?” She chides, rubbing her hips into his to emphasise her point, which earns her a surprising whine in return. “Oooh, I like the sound of that.”

“The floor is really not the place to be doing this, babe.” He grunts, as she starts sucking and licking at his neck.

His arms find their way to her hips again, forcing her down, trying to create as much friction as possible. There’s an uncomfortable strain to his jeans, and his cock is suddenly even more alert and asking for attention. His unspoken plea is clearly understood and with a giggle, her hands fly to his belt buckle, tugging and loosening. He feels more than sees the zipper opening, fingers creeping under his shirt, leaving a burning trail on his skin. With a grunt, he grabs the back of her neck, bringing her even closer, sucking on her tongue and demanding her own breath. He pulls her sweater off with his free hand while she tries to make good work of removing his jeans.

Raymond warned her that the floor is not fit for this, so he grabs her ass and hoists her up, leaving a trail of jeans, sweaters and shirts behind them as he makes his way to the bedroom, never letting her go. He places Y/N carefully on the bed, intent on making this last, and not rush it into a quick and dirty fuck. He looks at her, splayed before him, red faced and wet lips, such expanse of bared skin just for him. He lowers himself above her, bruising her with another kiss.

“You’re mine now.” He whispers into her lips and she nods, pulling him closer.

Bloody fucking hell, Y/N Pearson will be the death of him.

[lilhemmo]

honestly i love how much you love vegeta! and i really like the way you write him! would you be able to write something around the majin saga?? not necessarily in the saga but centered around the same type of things?? maybe vegeta admitting that he misses the way he used to be when he didn't care about anything and didn't have any attachments?? and then something happens to make him realize that love isn't a crutch but a weapon? thank you in advanced!!!

a/n: thank you so much, you sweet little thing!! i hope i do your request justice :)

a/n x2: wow i am pretty much just rambling in this fic. hopefully it makes some sort of sense. 

“I will not be bested by that sad excuse for a Saiyan again!”

You hear the roar from across the courtyard and it piques your interest. You look outside to see Vegeta panting, chest heaving as he blasts through a training session. You want to laugh, but this time is different. Vegeta has always been tense, but the past few weeks have been excruciating. 

“Vegeta!” you call, leaning out the open window of the kitchen. He turns just enough that you know he’s recognized your voice and you smirk, “Lunch is ready.”

“How dare you interrupt my training?” he scoffs, snatching a bottle of water from the countertop. Vegeta drinks the entire bottle, crunching the plastic between his hands before tossing it perfectly into the trash can. 

You take a breath, “Are you okay?”

Vegeta pulls a plate of food from the counter and broods over the top of it for a moment before eating a few bites. He’s surprisingly reserved today, which only makes you even more scared and confused. 

“I refuse to fall behind him any longer,” Vegeta scowls. His jaw trembles under the stress of his teeth as he grinds them together roughly. “Even in death, he surpasses me. I can sense it.”

You shake your head and lean against the counter, your arms tucked around your abdomen. “I think that’s part of the reason you’re having issues.”

He raises a brow and you swear you see his eyes start to glow. Vegeta grunts before shoveling another mouthful of food between his lips. he doesn’t answer you immediately, but when he does, the sheer anger that is simmering just beneath the surface of his words sends a chill down your spine.

“I would rather die than be bested by that terrible representation of our race.”

You swallow and respond despite everything in your body telling you to tread carefully, “I don’t know what crawled in your armor this morning, but you need to calm down. Your whole life doesn’t have to revolve around Goku, you know. Maybe try just getting better for yourself?”

“You foul woman,” Vegeta growls, grasping you by the collar to pull you close. “How dare you speak out against me, Prince Vegeta?”

“Talking about yourself in third person won’t make you any more intimidating,” you narrow your eyes at him and wedge your pointer finger into the hollow of his throat. “I’m sick and tired of this back and forth, Vegeta. It’s redundant for you to believe that all there is in life is for you to be better than Goku.”

“Kakarot,” he huffs under his breath. 

You roll your eyes again, “Regardless! Haven’t you seen that there is so much more to life than just the next fight? You’re absolutely ridiculous!”

Somehow you manage to slap his hand away so he releases his grip on you. You turn on your heels and don’t look back over your shoulder as you make your way back to the engineering building, ready to fill your mind with busy work so you don’t have to worry over the frustrating prince. 

--

Something shifts the next time he’s in the med bay. 

You’ve engineered a new type of spray on bandage that minimizes healing time by half, which is much better than your last invention. You’re rubbing in the adhesive when you notice the Saiyan’s eyes are on you.

You tilt your head up in silent questioning. He does not say anything.

Vegeta’s dark eyes are difficult to look away from - he commands you with just a glance and you know he would have made a strong king, if his planet were still around. He would have been a proud Saiyan, one who led his people with honor. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks you, breaking your mind from your imaginative state.

You can’t help the small grin that perks your lips, “You.”

It’s bold, and daring, but you do it anyway. 

His voice catches in his throat as his Adam’s apple rakes across the thin skin of his neck. Vegeta tenses under your hands, but you continue your ministrations despite it all. You are wrapping gauze around his bicep when he asks why you’d be thinking about him. If you weren’t so distracted by the sinew of his muscle, you’d be sure that he’s nervous. 

“I’m imagining you on Planet Sadalla, or Planet Vegeta. You, as a king, with your tail.” You lick your lips and refuse to meet his eyes, you can’t handle the intensity now. A blush brings heat to your cheeks, “I think you’d have made a wonderful king, a great leader. You have honor and pride and you know your way around an enemy. I’m angry at Frieza for taking that from you; I wish I could punch him in his smug, alien face.”

A chuckle catches you off guard. You turn your head to look at him, a smile gracing his face. It’s strange, new. You want to cup his cheek with your palm and take in every curvature of his face, but you know better. 

“Frieza would demolish you, little earth woman,” Vegeta cackles. His palm presses to your thigh where it’s straddling the bed next to his own body, and you feel a wave of heat and electricity spark in your veins. His eyes are hooded when he looks up at you, “I appreciate your desires, nonetheless.”

You grit your teeth for a moment as you contemplate speaking up again. Whatever emboldened you before is back at it, and when you say your next words, you confuse the Saiyan prince even more: “I hate what the world has put you through, Vegeta. You’ve been enslaved, murdered, stolen from your home, lied to, and manipulated. I wish I were strong enough to become everyone of your oppressors nightmares, but I know I’m not.”

“I don’t need your-” 

Something stops Vegeta mid-sentence.

He clears his throat and starts again: “Would you like to train with me?”

“Wh-” You drop the bandage in your hand and it rolls around on the floor until it’s nothing but a cardboard tube. You tilt your head and he chuckles at the sight, “You look like a confused animal, earthling. Do you want to train or not?”

You swallow thickly and stumble over your words for a moment before agreeing. You pick at your cuticles when you speak again, “W-What would be the point? You’re so much stronger, I wouldn’t be a challenge for you at all.”

“Tch, nonsense,” Vegeta stands to his feet and flexes his hands into fists, feeling his way around the bandages there. “I trained with Kakarot, and he’s hardly more than a child in an overgrown Saiyan body.”

You shake your head. You can’t believe this. 

“Vegeta, I-”

“Do you want to, or do you not? I won’t offer again.”

-

It’s another hour before he has you pinned to the ground, knee between your legs and a palm pressed firmly to your throat. You claw at his arms but he pins your wrists above your head with a quick side swipe.

You kick him in the back with your free leg and cry out for mercy. He chuckles as he releases his hand from your neck, but does not remove himself from you. 

“You did well,” he tells you, brushing a stray lock of hair from where it was stuck with sweat against your cheek. Vegeta smirks, “You’ll be the strongest earthling in no time.”

You can’t help it when you laugh, “Vegeta, Krillin would take me out in one blow. You don’t have to lie to me, I know I’m a weakling.”

His thumb stops against your law and his eyes are like crystals when he glares down at you, “Don’t ever call yourself weak. You’re the strongest woman I know.”

The fact that he so gently left out “little earth” from before the “woman” bit does not go unnoticed by you. You take a chance and reach up to run your thumb over the pulsing muscle of his bicep. 

“Gah,” he squints and steps away from you, rolling his shoulders as he stands to his full height. He shakes his head and looks down at you, “That’s all for today.”

You squeeze your palms a few times to regain feeling, noticing the small splits and cuts there. You weren’t able to get hits on Vegeta, but you did manage to slam into the walls and floors and fighter-bots a few times. He must notice you looking at them because he asks, “Does the doctor need a doctor?”

You don’t want to admit that the gashes in your hands hurt as bad as they do because he just called you strong, so instead you nod your head in the slightest. The motion makes him chuckle and you like the sight of a smile on his face. 

He walks just ahead of you back to the med bay, his own bandages still fresh from the past few training sessions he’s held on his own. You find your way to one of the beds and sit a still as possible while he plucks different supplies from the cabinet. You think he’s going overboard - he’s got all kinds of things sitting on the counter now - but you dare not criticize him for fear of him possibly lashing out and you having to dress your wounds yourself. 

“Thank you,” you force yourself to say before the pain of stitching you up begins. You look up at him as he loiters over you, all bulk and muscle. It’s still a strange sight to see when the smallest of grins upturns the corners of his lips. 

“I couldn’t let you give yourself second-rate stitches,” he shrugs off your compliment, doling out a few anti-bacterial wipes to clean the blood and dirt off first. “If you get an infection, you won’t be able to train again.”

You nod and let him get to work. He slots himself between your knees and holds your palms more gingerly than you thought ever possible. You try your hardest not to wince when the antiseptic soaks into your open wounds, you know that Vegeta would take back what he said about you being the strongest woman he knows if he saw you squirming because of a little stinging pain.

“You can stop being so tense,” his voice is just as gentle as his touch and it startles you. You swear you hear a short bark of a laugh part his lips.

“I’m sorry.” You swallow the lump in your throat and try to relax your muscles. You swing your feet back and forth just enough to brush your thigh against his and the friction makes you both startle. 

Vegeta looks you in the eye, “Why are women always apologizing?”

You’re confused by his question until you realize that you did in fact apologize. Your cheeks burn and you feel your stomach flip, “I-uh, I don’t know.”

“Well, little woman,” he grabs for the cotton bandages to wrap your clean hands so they can heal. “You should stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for, not with me.”

Vegeta turns his head and glances at your split lip before silently starting to clean it as well. His thumb brushes the pad of antiseptic over the cut and you hiss at the feeling. Surprisingly, he cradles your jaw in his palm and kneels down to look at your wound closer, never releasing the cotton pad from your lip.

You go to apologize, but he pushes the pad of his thumb against your parted lips, “Don’t.”

Your brow is raised and he answers your quiet question, “You were about to apologize. I already told you there’s no need.”

The lump in your throat grows with emotion and you let him continue his ministrations. He’s close to you and his Saiyan blood pumps hot in his veins, the skin of his that’s touching you making your body boil. You lean into his hand and he doesn’t rebuff you, so you stay there while he cleans your lip. 

“There,” he removes the cleansing pad from your lip and takes a half step back from you. Vegeta looks up at you and you’re suddenly aware of how close your faces are. If you were to lean forward and he weren’t to run away, you could kiss him soundly, despite the split on your lip.

It takes all of the courage in your body, but you grip him by the hem of his shirt and tug him down to kiss him square on the mouth. Vegeta lets a surprised gasp echo from the back of his throat and it turns something over in your belly. You let your fingers wander, the pads of your bandaged hands brush over the taut muscle of his abdomen. 

Vegeta’s hand is still on your jaw, his thumb just under the soft part of your chin. He holds you still, his other palm cupping your thigh as it inches up his side. You whimper as his teeth graze over your lip, splitting the wound again. His tongue touches the sensitive flesh and then he pulls away, his thumb finding the wound once again.

“I guess you’ll have to take a break from training, little woman,” Vegeta smirks, eyes tracking the movement of your pulse against your neck. He snickers, “You’re bleeding.”

“As if,” you curl closer to him, your ankles wrapped around his calves. “You just don’t want to have to face me again. Like I’d give you the satisfaction.”

The look on his face is one you can only describe as prideful.

-

“I’m only joining this stupid competition so I can kick Kakarot’s ass!” Vegeta growls, curling his hands to fists. “If we’re here for some silly reason other than the competition, I’m going to rip you all apart!”

Goku is standing in front of him, halo hovering over his head, and it’s like a billboard that displays all of the Saiyan prince’s inequities. The kai’s share their ideas and it only makes Vegeta’s blood boil.

A heat begins to pulse at the back of Vegeta’s head and he hears a voice, small and slithering like a tendril of smoke. It threatens to take over his mind if the plume grows too large. 

I will give you the tools to overpower Goku and take back your Saiyan pride once more. 

Vegeta shakes his head, the voice pounding against the sensitive spots just behind his eyes. He swallows the lump growing in his throat and tries to ignore the temptation.

You will finally be able to surpass the lower-class Saiyan and prove that you are the almighty Prince Vegeta!

A searing starts on Vegeta’s forehead and he doubles over in pain. He screams, attracting the eyes of those around him. 

I will help rid you of all your possessions that are holding you back! You will be the mightiest warrior! 

“Vegeta!”

He turns his eyes to see you in the bleachers, your hands cupped around your mouth as you shout out to him. 

The way tears sit in your eyes makes his heart clench in his chest, but the burning keeps coming. The cloud of smoke is burning just behind his eyes, clouding his mind until it hurts to keep his eyelids open.

Your steps are quick as you rush down the bleachers, pushing past security. He can sense your energy as you come closer, and the closeness of it pulls him from his fog. He winces as he looks up at you, falling down to his knees as the writhing pain continues. 

“What is going on?” you ask him, mirroring his position. You shake your head, “Hey, talk to me.”

“Get away from me, you foul woman!” Vegeta snaps.

You can see the tears in his eyes, and you know that there is something sly afoot. You run your hands over his shoulders and up his neck to cradle his jaw, “Stop this. What’s happening?”

Vegeta winces, “I-I said to get away.”

You notice there is a symbol pulsing red on his forehead - it looks similar to the letter “m”. You brush your thumb over the spot and Vegeta whimpers in pain. 

“I need to beat Kakarot,” he murmurs, blood trickling from his nose at the struggle. “I am sick and tired of these earthly tendencies I’ve picked up. I’ve forgotten what it means to be a proud Saiyan!”

You tilt his chin upward and he looks you in the eyes and you can see that there is some horrible internal battle that he’s going through. You’re not sure if you can do anything to help him.

“Vegeta,” you whisper, your knees digging into the dirt. “I’m not sure who is trying to overpower you, but you’re so much stronger than this. You don’t need anyone else’s help to pass Goku’s power level. You can do it on your own!”

You palm his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. His eyes are dull and you feel his spirit fading as the mark on his forehead grows more opaque.

“I don’t need you,” he grits the words between his teeth like they hurt. Blood trickles down his nose as he continues fighting. His palms dig into the dirt, his Super Saiyan form threatening to break through. “I don’t need you!”

You try not to take it personally - he’s going through something and you must be a part of it. You swallow your pride and force your tears to stay locked away, “Vegeta. I can feel some negative energy. Please, tell me what’s going on.”

She does not know what it means to be a proud warrior. She is but a mortal! Get rid of her, she is the problem. She has made you weak, she has softened you. She is what is holding you back from becoming a true Saiyan warrior!

“You’re the issue,” he grumbles, looking you in the eye. His eyes glow blue and the aura around him starts to shine golden and you know that Super Saiyan is on the way. “You’ve made me weak, you frail, pathetic earthling! I’ve grown too comfortable here, too complacent. I’m a pathetic Saiyan - I should be proud! I should be formidable! Instead, I’ve become satiated. I’ve lost my drive!”

A resounding SLAP can be heard across the entire courtyard. 

Vegeta’s cheek is bright red and your hand is ready to come back around for another smack. Your lip is trembling but you force yourself to speak, “Your doubt in this moment is what’s making you pathetic, Vegeta.”

His jaw goes slack and he tries to formulate a response but you notice the dark symbol on his forehead is beginning to fade just slightly. 

“You having something to fight for makes you that much more powerful. When you have nothing to lose but yourself, it’s easy to fall, it’s easy to take a loss because it doesn’t matter.” You coddle his cheek, feeling horrible for the action but knowing it was necessary nonetheless. You lick your lips and feel your voice growing heavy, “Whatever this is that’s tempting you to break away from the path you’re going down, it’s lying to you. It’s manipulating you.”

“How dare you!” Vegeta’s brows are raised, eyes wild, “How dare you insinuate that I, the mighty Prince Vegeta, can be manipulated!?”

Your lip quivers, “Go on, then,” you shrug, falling back on your heels, “make it easy. Say I never mattered to you.”

Flashes of memories burn behind your eyelids. Moments of lips and hands and skin. Moments of secrets and truths and laughs. Moments where you thought the feelings blossoming between the two of you could mount to something much more permanent.

“I-” Vegeta’s voice is caught in his throat, his fingers shaking at his sides. 

He’s looking down at you and trying to beat out the cloud in his mind, the voice that’s telling him how you really shouldn’t be important. He can’t help but feel that it’s all lies - but if it’s lies, then why does it feel so right? 

That’s right, Vegeta. Let go of her. Let go of your attachment. I can make you powerful, but you have to let go.

“Listen to me, Vegeta,” you pull at his cheeks again, forcing his gaze to fall on you. You run your hands against his face and push his hair back out of his eyes, “I don’t know who is on the other side of this, but don’t let them win. You’re the strongest, smartest, and most capable fighter I know. You can beat this!”

Vegeta grips his hands in his hair and squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a feral scream. Tears surge down his cheeks and he starts talking in an ancient language that you don’t understand, and to someone that you cannot see. 

The symbol on his forehead glows bright red before fading away. 

He releases a puff of breath through his mouth before falling to the ground, the exertion from the internal struggle wearing out his body and mind. 

You catch him against your own body, resting his head in your lap, “C’mon,” you look up at the others, “I’m going to take him back to Capsule. It looks like you guys have a fight to win.”

-

When Vegeta awakens, he’s surprised to find you curled up in a chair with a small scrap of a blanket covering only half of your body. There are gentle snores rumbling in your chest and the Saiyan finds himself grinning at the sound. 

“Hmm,” you murmur as you readjust, your eyes opening just enough to check on him. Once you’ve realized that he’s awake, you leave your eyelids cracked so you can keep a closer watch on him. 

“You stayed,” Vegeta manages. He doesn’t reach out to grasp for you - he doesn’t feel like he has the right. Not after what he said at the arena earlier. He never has really deserved you, but now he knows that you should run far away from him. 

You nod and tuck the blanket up under your chin, “Yes, of course. Someone had to make sure you didn’t try for world domination in your sleep. You were under some heavy medicine.”

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts.

You’ve never heard Vegeta apologize for anything, ever. 

Your body is moving before your mind can comprehend. You’re climbing into his hospital bed, holding onto your scarce blanket as to not totally invade his space. You tuck yourself into his side and take a deep breath.

“You were being controlled by a wizard, I know that now.” You brush your thumb against the bulging muscle of his bicep. “I’m so sorry, Vegeta. I just want you to have some peace.”

He turns, much to your surprise, and envelopes you in his arms. Your ankles cross and you hold back tears at the thought of what he was going through silently. You feel the warmth of his kiss against the top of your head, “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I didn’t mean them. I-I was...frightened.”

You tilt your head upward, the corner of your mouth grazing his jaw, “I know. I can’t even imagine.”

Vegeta swallows and brushes his thumb over the shell of your ear, lingering against the corner of your jaw. He smiles, “You got me through it. He was trying to use you against me, to tell me that you were the reason I was weakening. And yet, knowing that it was you trying to talk me out of it was the very thing that convinced me to break out of the wizard’s control and come back to my senses.”

“I-I,” you take a short breath, unsure if you want to make your admission out loud. Instead, you back pedal, “You’re important to me, Vegeta. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

He tilts your head upward and you feel his lips before you can blurt out anything else emotional. Vegeta’s palm stays against your neck, so he can feel your pulse. For some reason he needs to be sure that you’re real and that you’re safe. 

“You foul woman,” he murmurs against your lips, and you can feel the smirk in his voice. “How dare you make me fall in love with you?”

You smile in return, your body melting as he holds you close. You shrug, running your thumb over his collarbones. “I hope that won’t be a problem, Prince Vegeta?”

His eyes turn to dark, crystalline orbs that take in your every minuscule movement. Vegeta’s breath hitches, “No, little woman.” He presses a warm kiss to your lips, biting down on your lower lip with his sharp canine teeth. 

“I don’t think it will.”

a/n: I HOPE THAT YOU LOVED IT. FEEL FREE TO REQUEST MORE! SORRY TO THOSE WHO HATE ME WRITING THIS WAY BUT IDC I LOVE IT AND I’M WATCHING SUPER RIGHT NOW AND IT’S GOT ME IN MY FEELS FOR GEETS.

[biorusted]

Precipice (Or: I could love you)

Out of the depths of my brine pool I come baring an actual, honest to God fanfic. And a smut one at that. 2020 is full of surprises.

Thank you @soulswimmr keeping my soul tethered to this mortal plane and for prof reading this fic.

Fandom: Satan and Me -- Pairing: GabeMike -- Words: 5510 (and no its not 10 pages of intercourse there are other things that happen)

If I had a AO3 account I would tag this fic as: Explicit! Panic attack tw, anxiety and depression tw, messy feelings, Hurt/Comfort, porn with plot, First times, cis gay sex, under negotiated kinks, (as in *slaps roof of fanfic* this baby can fit SO MUCH under negotiated kinks) light Bondage, light impact play, Dom/Sub tendencies, aftercare. yeehaw.

Summery: Michael accidentally confesses his love to Gabriel. Putting it lightly, it doesnt go well. But then Gabe shows up later that day and makes amends. (they boink)

Edit - 9/29 (michaelmas) Added a NSFW pic inspired by the fic (at the bottom)

Michael had no idea how he got here.

Well, no, of course he did; he was there when it happened. But to say that the day began with him nearly falling over the edge into despair to having Gabriel grinding up against him, pressing hot kisses to his neck and chest, toying with his body… well no one could have possible seen that coming. Except God, but he wasn’t really thinking of Him at this time.

Theres no way to track how This started. It could go back way before the Fall, to when Michael was first discovering that he liked Gabriel more than others. But that was normal, right? People had their favorites so why was this any different? Just because he leaned in closer whenever Gabriel spoke, or found him smiling like the sun whenever Gabe leaned up against him while they were on break, didn’t mean it was anything special. Besides, Gabriel had Anthea. Gabriel didn’t know he had Anthea at first, but Michael wasnt that blind. So he didn’t say anything to dissuade Gabriel from going after her. He didn’t encourage it either, though. Even after the Fall, he didn’t say anything, he himself just lost Lucifer so any chastising or encouragement would have been hypocritical, but eventually he’d thought that Gabriel would let go of her.

He never did though. And Michael never got rid of his feeling for Gabriel either. It grew, in fact. Slowly, like a vine coming around to choke the statues in the gardens, wholly unnoticed until there is nothing to do about it. Every laugh, ever tired roll of the eyes, every unexpected yawn would bring about a new leaf that would suffocate Michael if he wasn’t already doing everything he could to push his feelings down. He didn’t have time for whatever he felt for Gabriel. There were things to do on the surface, troops to train in Heaven and he, being the one on the pedestal, had to be perfect. And feelings were messy.

The point is, as much as he wanted to run his fingers through Gabriel’s curly red hair and kiss him on warm summer nights, he couldn’t do it. Would never do it.

And then the prophecy child came along. The end officially started, Michael got stabbed by his sister, contracted to a human, poisoned by his brother, sold off as a bartering chip to War, lost his physician, pulled some strings and brought a spirit back to earth, pulled some more strings to keep Gabriel from getting to irreversible trouble (but still had him sent to the tank for two weeks), finally saw God after years of radio silence, met his literal doppelganger, got formerly-mentioned-brother’s wings sent to him as sick gift and, quite frankly, was at the end of his rope. Everything was just happening too fast and no one seemed to care. The air was tight whenever he was with the other Archangels. It felt like he didn’t really know any of them anymore. Not even Gabriel, though his heart begged for that not to be the case.

Oh, right. Anthea had also died. So there’s that too. See? Messy.

All of that was basically to say, that when Gabriel made the snide comment that he, Michael, couldn’t possible know what it was like to truly love someone other than himself (which wasn’t even true, Michael did, in fact, hate himself immensely) Michael wasn’t planning to confirm or deny it.  However, after the initial shock – Did Gabriel really think him that heartless? – and feeling everyone’s eyes on him – all the other archangels were in the room, plus some other guards – he did answer. It came out like a holy confession, a whisper accompanied by searing hot tears.

I love you. He said.

Michael couldn’t breathe in the silence that followed, which made Gabriel’s laugh, a cruel sounding thing, even harder to take. Michael choked on air and when Gabriel turned to leave, but when he made to follow, maybe to explain himself more? To apologize? Anything but be alone with his thoughts or worse, alone in a room full of people, Gabriel slapped him.

Gabriel said something to him, but he didn’t catch it. All he felt was stinging on his cheek and embarrassment crushing his chest. Michael didn’t know how long he stood there, cradling his face and trying to think, but not comprehending anything around him, but eventually his brain caught up and he realized he did not want to be in that room right then. So, he ran.

--

Raphael had taught him some breathing techniques to help with panic attacks, but he couldn’t remember them. He guessed he actually had to breathe for them, which he wasn’t doing. All he was doing was sitting in a ball on the floor of his room trying to crush his feeling out. How typical of him, really, to fuck everything up. Now what? He had just cut ties with the only other person he felt a true connection with and now he was well and truly going to die lonely when The End came. That was always the plan; a murder suicide with Lucifer, but he’d thought there would be some pride when he went? Someone who he was fighting for? He didn’t know. He did know it was all his fault. Everything was his fault, no matter who he assigned blame to.

When he finally stopped crying, Michael sat very still. The apathy that came after such a strong release was always welcome. He breathed. And then he got up, washed his face and then went to his personal office to get some work done. He was nothing if not a good angel. Perfect in the eyes of the public.

Numb to everything that wasn’t directly in front of him, Michael actually got a lot done. The shuffling of paper and scratching of his pen was a pleasant relief compared to the chaos of his own thoughts that he was used to. He didn’t even hear the door to his office open, didn’t feel the presence of someone else in the room until they came to where he was organizing paperwork into the proper bins and gently grabbed both of his arms.

Oh, Michael could recognize Gabriel’s hands anywhere. They were hands he trusted completely with everything from a nice manicure to executing an offender of the faith. The only problem was he didn’t know what Gabriel was going to do with those hands. So, he stood completely still at Gabriel’s mercy for the second time that day.

“Turn around.” Gabriel said, taking the rest of the files from Michael and tossing them out of reach. Michael couldn’t discern anything from his voice, really only comprehending that he was very close to his ears, so, he did what he was told.

“Look at me.” he said next, as Michael found the trinkets on his desk a better study. When he didn’t listen, Gabe let go of the shelving he was pining him to and put one hand on the side of his face. It didn’t take a lot of pressure to tilt his head so their eyes met. It frightened Michael to see how stormy Gabriel’s eyes were. Dark, alluring, and troubled were not something he’d normally say about Gabriel, but now only those words applied. There was something else too, his jaw was clenched, as if he were holding his tongue, or arguing with himself.

Michael never got the chance to ask about it, because Gabriel leaned in, parted his lips, closed his eyes and kissed him.  The fog of apathy flushed out of him immediately and he felt everything; the warmth of Gabe’s hands on his cheek, the way his other hand lifted from the table and came to rest on his waist, the smooth silk of his own clothes against his body, heat coming from everywhere and, oh lord, his lips. The clouds couldn’t compare to the softness of Gabe’s lips on his, he could spend an eternity in this moment and it would never be enough.

The kiss (they’re first kiss), of course, did not last an eternity. It was only when Gabe moved away from him that Michael realized he didn’t close his eyes, or move towards him or do… anything. Kisses always looked magnetic, so why didn’t it fix everything between them? Michael felt a knot forming in his stomach and it only grew heavier as Gabe opened his eyes to gauge his reaction.

They were still standing so close that their breaths were shared. So, Michael only had to whisper when he said;

“I don’t understand.”

“Do you want to?” Gabe quipped back, tilting his head to the side. He was being completely serious.

“Wh-What?” He really wished his eyes were the bright emerald green they were usually.

Gabe’s grip on Michael’s waist tightened and the storm behind his eyes grew. “Do you want to understand?”

Of course he did. His cheek still burned from where Gabe hit him and the shaking anxiety from his panic attack never left completely, if he understood then maybe they really could make this work. Whatever this could be. Or he could fuck it up.

“No.” He said, and closed the gap between them.

Almost immediately he was shoved back into the shelving with Gabe’s hands clawing at his skin and teeth biting his lips. Heat rushed through his entire body as Gabe pressed up against him, ground up against him leaving his full intent out into the open.

God, since when could he move like that? Michael thought as he opened his mouth and let Gabriel’s tongue meet his own. Gabe’s piercing clicked on his teeth, setting off another wave of heat down his spine. He’d always wondered what it would be like to feel Gabe’s piercing in his mouth. One of his own hands slipped behind Gabe’s chiton and laid flat against his chest while the other raked through his hair. He almost wished Gabriel hadn’t cut his hair short, he would have love to pull on the curls, but the deep moan that came out of him made up for it.

Gabriel’s tongue was on his lips, and then his lips were on his jaw, kissing a line up and then down his neck, Michael could barely catch his breath, the way he gasped at every press of his mouth on sensitive skin. Even when Gabe slowed down to focus on a spot at the base of his neck, Michael didn’t complain, especially as Gabe’s leg pressed in between his own. Michael didn’t realize how hot his body felt, certainly didn’t realize how hard he was, how hard both of them were, but it was all he could think about as Gabe’s hands slid lower and started groping his ass, gathering the fabric of his skirt between his fingers.

Humans always made this stuff look strange, Michael didn’t get all the moaning and begging and crying out. The ‘losing control’ part never made sense to him either, but there was nothing controlled about the sounds he made now; broken whispers begging to be understood as wanting more. He wanted more of this, whatever this ended up being and he wanted Gabriel there to guide him through it all.

Naturally, that’s when Gabriel pulled away. Michael didn’t think he could fall for him anymore, but the vines he always compared his love to bloomed in such a vivid way. The messed up hair, the dilated pupils, the reddened lips, the way he dragged his eyes down every inch of him; it could have destroyed him and made him whole all at once.

“Tonight.” Gabe said. “I’ll meet you in your room.” It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t a statement either.

“Yes.” He nodded, but when he felt Gabriel leaning away from him, asked “But why?”

He straightened himself up, making eye contact as he grazed his crotch and nodded towards his desk. “You still have work to do.”

--

The afternoon passed as quickly as he’d expected it to, which is not very quick at all. After getting himself fixed up, Michael found he could not possibly focus on anything other than events prior. It didn’t matter what he put in front of himself, all he could think about was how this whole thing wasn’t good. It’s exactly want he wanted in his deepest and most sinful dreams; a physical relationship with his millennia-long love—but he’d only let himself pin for a romantic one, chaste save for a few kisses. They both were angels after all. This… This wasn’t even love, he thought. Especially not in the way silence grew serious between them when they parted. Lovers didn’t do that… they talked at the very least.

No. This was lust. And he found that he was ok with it… he wanted to be ok with it.

Eventually he got up and left his office. The empty hallways of his home echoing his footsteps, he tried not to think about it. He paced around his room a bit, wishing Gabriel had been more exact about ‘tonight.’ Did he mean at sunset? Or closer to midnight? Were they just… going to get straight to it? Or… what? Was Michael expecting to be taken out on a date? Please. Gabe was probably just going to get off and then leave. He would be lucky if it was a mutual thing.

Still, he couldn’t stop thinking. How would it happen? Was he expected to do anything? How did Gabriel know how to move his body like that? Eventually, just about when he thought he’d lose it, Michael caved and looked up what to expect.

The internet was, as usual, very helpful, but by the end of his searching his mind was even more frayed than before. He decided to take a shower. A long one just to calm himself down and … maybe to… test some of the things he read.

By the time Gabriel arrived, Michael had taken a long shower, dried and dressed himself and even put on what he hoped was subtle perfume and straightened up his room. Everything was, hopefully, perfect. He was halfway through setting up two glasses of wine --because he did keep wine in his room now-- when the knock came.

“Come in,” He said casually, almost forgetting the situation they were in.

He heard the door open and close, but there came no greeting, so when Michael turned around to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, he was surprised to find Gabriel outright staring at him. He looked the same as he did before, except now he carried a bag with him. Michael, however, did dress up. Or down. It depends on how you look at it. He still wore his chiton, but in a more traditional way that showed off more of his chest and thighs. He also wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

He swallowed and turned back to the wine, wishing his body didn’t blush so much under Gabriel’s intense stare. But he faced it again, this time with a bottle of wine in his hands.

“I thought that we could have a drink?” His voice faltered and he stood rather awkwardly and small.

That seemed to break Gabe out of his trance. He dropped off his bag on the bed and approached him with an even gaze. Stopping right in front of him, he took the bottle from his hands and set it down.

“No… No more wine.” He said in that deep tone that put butterflies in his stomach. Upon seeing his reaction, Gabe added, “I’d rather have you right now.”

And to that Michael could only say one thing.

“Please.”

--

And now here they were, Gabriel leaving bite marks and hickeys on his neck while he pushed up against him so that every nerve was on fire, begging for more. Michael twisted and strained on the ropes tying his wrists to the bedposts, trying to catch his breath. But whenever he did manage a moment clarity, Gabriel would do something else to make him jump and moan beneath him. He was playing with his nipples now and dragging his fingernails down his sides. He still hadn’t taken off his clothes yet, but by now they might as well be ruined, soaked through with each other’s sweat and precum. Michael moaned again as Gabe slapped his thighs, by now he wasn’t afraid of being loud, he wanted Gabe to know exactly what he felt.

“Please.” He begged again, not expecting an answer but praying for one anyway. His legs shook underneath Gabe’s firm hands as he kept them pressed to the bed, no matter how many times he coaxed Gabe forward, to rub their cocks together, for any friction at all, he still denied him.

“Please, what?” he said into his ear, “Aren’t I giving you everything you want?” The honey in his voice made Michael shiver.

“Yes, God yes! But please… fuck- please touch me. I need you.” He captured his lips again for a messy kiss.

Gabe pulled away. “Greedy, much?” He kissed a line down his body, then above his navel, “You really are a whore.”

Michael gasped as the sash at his hips was untied and thrown aside. His whole body throbbed with need at the silent promise. “Only for you.”

Gabe lifted the remaining fabric and breathed in the wet spot where his precum soaked through. “Is that so? All of this is for me?” He gently pulled the fabric away from his body, finally leaving Michael bare and spread wide for him. His dick fully erect, leaking and red, begging for release by any means.

Michael shifted under his gaze, looking down on him like he owned him. He only hoped he looked as beautifully desperate as Gabriel did. “Of course.”

Gabe nodded and took off the rest of his own clothes. His hands traveled up and down his glistening tan body, fulfilling a desire that Michael wished he could do instead. How many times had Michael wanted to run his fingers up and down the curves of Gabriel’s toned body? He couldn’t remember at that moment. If he didn’t like his wrists being tied up so much, he might have asked to be untied.

When he got to his dick though, he only traced light lines with his fingertips, moaning and biting his lips in pure ecstasy. It was a sight to behold, the lines of precum hanging on his fingers, the trail of ginger hair cropping his dick. ‘Heavenly’ could hardly cover it.

Michael let out a groan and Gabe stopped, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“My eyes are up here.”

“Fuck me already.”

That earned him another slap on the inside of his thighs, he bucked and noted the way his cock bounced in the air. Did everything have to be so erotic? Gabriel reached back to the bag he brought, the one that also had the rope, and pulled out a small bottle of lube and a condom. Now that they were on track, Gabe wasted no time in slicking his fingers up, propping up Michael’s legs and sliding said fingers up and down his ass, even grabbing his balls for good measure. Michael thought about biting into his own arm to stop from crying out too loud, but instead just lifted his legs higher. The house was empty anyway.

Gabe let out a satisfying hum and pressed a finger inside him. It felt as strange as it did when he practiced in the shower, but god was it so much better.

“Take deep breaths. I’m just stretching you out now.” He said, smiling to himself and kissing Michael’s calf. “It would be a shame if you finished now.”

“It wouldn’t be my fault. I didn’t know how much you liked teasing.” Or slapping or bondage or powerplay or literally anything. Then again, he himself didn’t realize how much he’d like those things too, much less being on the receiving end. He took a deep breath. And another. Then, the question that was haunting him slipped from his mouth. “How do you know how to do this?” he blurted out.

“Hm?” Gabriel looked away from him, suddenly abashed, as if he wasn’t massaging his asshole for his pleasure and use. “I uh. I watched some videos.”

And to that Michael laughed, more genuine than he had in a while.

“What?” Gabe took the opportunity to insert another finger, stopping his laughter with pain and pleasure. How cruel!

“Nothing! I just…” He turned his head to hide his face in is arms. “I watched some videos too.”

“Really?” The quality in his voice changed. It had been changing from when they made out in his office to now… it felt like they were talking normally with each other, like friends… or, well, like lovers. It helped that he was smiling now, not quite a joyful or mischievous smile, but a quaint one. As if they both were taking each other in with a new light.

“Yeah… I practiced some too.” He could share that, right?

“Oh… did you…?”

“No. I was… saving that for you.”

“Oh.” Was all he said, hiding his quiet delight behind adding in another finger inside of him.

They stayed like that for a while, Gabe stretching him out gently while Michael sighed and kept his breathing relaxed. Gabe never pushed his fingers in deep, even though Michael thrusted his thighs up, trying to convince Gabe to finger fuck him a little. After a few minutes, Michael was craving for something thicker and longer. Even so, he was not ready for how cold, empty and gapping he’d feel when Gabe’s fingers left him.

“Ready?” Gabe asked as he slid the condom on and poured more lube onto his hand. He bit his swollen lips and he slicked up his shaft; he wasn’t the only one that was denied.

“More than.” He angled himself up more and welcomed Gabe’s steady hand bracing on his red thighs. There was a moment of blissful silence as Gabe lined himself up, only broken by the feeling on his head pressing up against his hole and pushing in. They both moaned.

Gabe was gentle going in, pushing forward and pulling back bit by bit. His whole body jerked as he guessed his prostate was hit, he read that it felt like sparks shooting across the body and by God was that right. He rocked his hips up even harder now. Michael had never felt so full, never felt the need to be, but when Gabe bottomed out and rutted against his hips, he felt as if he’d need this the rest of his life. Is this what it felt like to be truly connected? To be full and content with your lover? It felt cheesy to even think, but he imagined soulmates felt like this.

Michael moaned even louder as Gabe pulled halfway out and slid down faster. Again and again he felt sparks as his lover’s wet hips slammed into his own. The noises they made were obscene and only made worse when Gabe leaned over him to get a better angle. Now he could feel Gabe’s hot breath on his face and see just how gone he was, which made the heat pooling in his own stomach twist and flood his senses. This was started to be too much.

“Touch me!” He begged, straining on his wrists again. “Oh, please I want to come. Please let me come.” He had to have this, he’d waited so long; Michael needed this.

“Oh fuck.” Gabe moaned and leaned down to bite at his neck once more. “Beg for me. I’m so close.”

“Please, Gabriel, I wanna… I wanna feel you come inside me, I want your hands pumping my dick until I scream. I want you. I need you Please. Please. Please!”

Michael’s breathy cries grew more erratic along with Gabriel’s pace. The wet slapping of skin filled the room until Gabe cried out and shook with his orgasm. Michael pushed up against him, writhing around his partner’s twitching cock, until Gabe collapsed onto him and gasping for breath, oversensitive and spent.

“Fuck.” He gasped as he lifted himself up and crashed his mouth on Michael’s. His lips screamed desperation. His hands trembled as he grabbed Michael’s cock and pumped at a horrifically fast pace. Michael gasped against his mouth and bucked, arching his back as much as he could. When his orgasm hit, he froze, coming quickly in Gabe’s hand before opening his eyes again and melting into the bed. Only then did Gabe slide out of him and collapse. He couldn’t breathe for a moment, and then the only thing he could do was breathe. His mind and body spent.

They laid together for a few minutes, Gabe resting on top of him, both of them basking in the afterglow. Michael felt sticky and sore and empty but didn’t feel like moving, and honestly, if they laid like that for the rest of the night, he would be completely fine with that.

As if reading his thoughts, Gabriel kissed his jaw and lifted himself up. How he went from blitzed out to composed Michael couldn’t guess, but he noted the way Gabe still trembled. “We should… clean up.” He emphasized this by taking his hand—still covered in Michael’s cum – and dragged his tongue up his index finger. He made a face and shrugged, “It doesn’t taste that good.”

Michael huffed. “I’m sorry I’m not made of sugar.”

“Hm. But those noises you made were so sweet.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Untie me, please.” He didn’t thing he could play anymore games.

“Just a second.” He peeled off the condom and made to get off the bed.

“Where are you going?” A bolt of dread shot up his spine; he wasn’t leaving, was he? Not tied up to the bed and out in the open?

“Bathroom, Michael. Getting a towel and washing my hands. Also, you’re sticky.”

“And whose fault is that?” he tried shove his anxiety back into its box.

He didn’t get a reply, just a hum and a good view of Gabe’s back side as he walked to the room adjacent and cleaned himself up. He wasn’t even out of sight, keeping the bathroom door wide open, but Michael still felt tendrils of doubt writhe in his chest.

He put on a smile as he walked back holding two warm towelette—because yes, Michael had towelettes on hand. They’re nice to have— He was still surprised when Gabriel cleaned him instead of just untying his wrists and letting him handle his own ‘sticky’ body. Somehow this seemed more intimate than what they just finished doing, especially how gentle Gabe lifted his legs to get a better angle. The warm towel felt wonderful on his abused butt and dick, more so than he thought it would. After getting his lower half he used the other towelette to press on his neck, which had much the same effect. Michael didn’t think that a warm towelette would make the deep bite marks and bruises heal right away, but it was like a gentle kiss. He didn’t think Gabe would be so kind to him.

“Whats wrong, Michael?” Gabe’s calm voice cut through the silence. He didn’t meet his eyes as he asked.

What should he say to that? Everything was wrong, they just—they just had sex! They didn’t even talk about it before hand they just… did it! And this morning he was pretty sure Gabe hated him and Michael… he didn’t know what he wanted to do with anything. No one could find out, he was sure of that… but did that mean he had to forget this whole night happened? All in all his life was falling apart! He didn’t want to push his last lifeline away.

“I’m fine.” He smiled. He tried not to panic as the mood shifted over Gabriel. He could see the clouds over his eyes again. Shit shit shit of course he’d ruin it. “I-“ He started, frantically thinking about what would make this right. “I just want you to stay.” Pathetic.

That seemed to work, though it hurt to say, but he didn’t get an answer right away. Instead, Gabe moved up to his arms and finally undid the rope. Michael hissed as he moved his freed wrists again.

“Oh, I brought something for that.” Gabe said, reaching for his bag once again. He produced a bottle of lotion and applied some to his hands before taking one of Michael’s and massaging it. It felt good, though much like the towel still at his neck, he didn’t think it would do much. They fell into a lull again. Michael felt as if he could fall sleep, if not for the unanswered question weighing on his mind.

“What do you want to do with the cover?”

“Hm?”

“The duvet is… wet.”

“Oh… just throw it to the ground, I’ll clean it tomorrow.” Or he’ll just burn it, whatever.

“Ok.” Gabe let go of his hands and began to pull back the blanket beneath them. Ideally, they should have taken it off beforehand, but they weren’t really thinking logically then, just about how to make each other shake with pleasure. Michael sat up and helped kick the thick blanket to the ground. His ass hurt and his whole body was sore, scratched up and bruised, but at least he was clean-ish. He had honestly never felt so… exhausted before. Satisfied but still so wanting. Maybe he was a selfish whore. He pulled back more blankets from the front of the bed and crawled underneath him, not caring to put on clothes or turn off the dim lights still illuminating his room.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the heaviness he felt all around him versus the sounds of Gabriel sliding off the bed and walking away. It didn’t really work, he still felt hot tears behind his eyes and tried biting the inside of his lip to keep from making noise. If Gabriel wanted to leave, then who was he to stop him? He knew this wasn’t good. He should be happy that he got to have sex with him at all. A check off the bucket list and all that.

But he didn’t leave. Michaels eyes snaped open as he felt a thumb wipe away his tears. Gabe was hovering above him, looking somewhere between tired and concerned; he’d just turn off the lights. Michael wanted to laugh because of how ridiculous he was being. Or cry.

But he didn’t. He shifted over and let Gabriel slide under the covers with him. It was awkward, they were both naked and wasn’t sure how get comfortable like this, but they soon settled down where Michael was laying on Gabe’s chest and they were tracing shapes on each other’s arms.

He was about to drift off when Gabe muttered, half to himself, “I could love you.”

That didn’t feel as bad as it could to Michael. “That’s all I need.” His words slurred together before he dropped into darkness. He’ll deal with everything else tomorrow.

--

Gabriel didn’t know why he did this anymore than Michael probably did. All Gabe wanted was a release, something he thought he could only have with Anthea. A stress reliever, maybe. A good fuck before the world went to shit. He tried to ignore the darker thoughts he had that day, where he pushed Michael over the edge and left him to shatter on the ground. Or the ones where he’d hurt Michael outright to finally get across all of the hurt he’d experienced at his now-lover’s hands. But there was something—a spark? – when they kissed, and a shift when they actually talked to each other. No masks, no pretenses. Just feelings; whatever they happened to be.

And Gabe remembered how Michael used to be. Fun, genuine, loving. He remembered the quiet nights where they watched the sky and how Michael would, very obviously, check him out. The way he always seemed to prefer either him or Lucifer. This whole thing was ridiculous; of course Michael loved him, it was so obvious. So why did Gabe react like that this morning? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to think about it anymore than he already had.

Gabe wasn’t lying when he said he could love him, but he wouldn’t lie and say that he loved him now. His heart was recently broken and, the tattoo of Anthea’s name was barely over a month old. Before today, he believed it too soon for anything new. Obviously, another part of him disagreed, but he would save those thoughts for another time. Gabriel kissed Michael’s head and fell asleep with him in his arms. He’ll have to see what the next day brought.

____

a doodle:

[writinginthedarkwood]

Hitoshi Shinso x Reader: The Vampires Prize Part 2

Happy Halloween friends!!! I would say that this is a Halloween special but I feel like supernatural fics have become my brand. So I wouldn’t really expect the ~spooky~ and the ~kinky~to disappear with the changing month.

Find the prologue to this here -> https://writinginthedarkwood.tumblr.com/post/188023875254/the-vampires-prize-pt-1-hitoshi-shinso-x-reader

Lemon content, blood play, master kink.

When you woke up, you were in the middle of a party. You sat alone at a table, people were dancing in Victorian era clothing. Long gothic dresses and tightened corsets. Leather pants and puffy sleeves. They twirled and floated together along the dance floor to the sound of a low sultry stand up bass, and a haunting cello melody. On the table is a beautiful golden chalice filled with blood red wine. You felt compelled to pick it up for some reason, but fought the urge. A cold hand gripped your shoulder and you jumped, the purple haired man smiled down at you with that wicked mouth of his. “How are you feeling Y/N?” His voice was hypnotic, the way he spoke low and monotone vibrated through your ears like your favorite song.

“Where are my friends?” You asked, trying to sound polite but coming across shaky and obviously full of fear. “Well they’re having a wonderful time over there, why don’t we join them on the dance floor?” He pointed to a corner of the room. May was sitting on Lee’s lap, you gasped in horror and covered your mouth. A woman was standing behind Lee, sucking on his neck hard enough that a light trickle of blood was streaming down his collar bone and into his hoodie. May had a man doing the same, but to her wrist. They hardly seemed to notice, they were passionately grinding into each other, mouths clashing and tongues shoving. The man chuckled and helped you stand up on shaky legs. His laugh was raspy, almost like he hadn’t used it a lot. “You’re not really dressed for a party such as this. Would you like something to change into?” He had slipped his hand onto your hip, pulling you close to his chest. You whipped around and ripped his hands off of you. “Don’t touch me! What the hell is happening here? Who are you?” He looked at you with a blank stare, almost like he was irritated that he had to explain anything to you. “I just said that we’re having a party. Look around, it’s almost my favorite night of the year.” His face softened a bit, giving you a look of pity. “I’m the master of this manor. You are welcome to address me as such.”  You looked closer at the people dancing around the room. Some of them had lace masks covering their eyes, and red contacts piercing through the black fabric. “It’s almost All Hallows Eve love, let’s celebrate.” He purred into your ear. A man drifted by with thick hair sticking out of his shirt collar, he had a mouth full of sharp canines.

Things started to click and make much more sense. It’s a Halloween party, there was nothing too strange going on. Everyone’s in costume, you scolded yourself for being so irrational. Why would I even think that something supernatural was going on. I turned to look at the strange man’s face, he gave me a small smirk. “Would you like a drink?” He picked the golden chalice up and pressed it to his lips, taking a small drink. He offered it to you, putting it close to your mouth. You let it part your lips, taking a test sip before gulping down a mouth full. You aren’t too familiar with the taste of wine, but this felt off. It was incredibly tangy, had an almost copper taste to it. You recoiled and shoved it away from your mouth. “What is that?” You felt your stomach churn. “Let’s say it’s my own special blend.” He gave you a wink and you suddenly felt a rush of panic. “Why did you bring me here?” You took a step back and bumped into someone else. They cursed at you under their breath, their drink sloshing onto the ground. “Watch it, bitch.” The woman hissed at you with a forked tongue.

Your heart was beating so loud you could hear it pulsing in your ears. The room was starting to blur, your sense of smell started to get overwhelmed. You could smell the harsh scent of sweating bodies along with something sweet. What was that sweet smell? “Take another sip, darling. Aren’t you hungry?” He pulled you into his arms and you greedily grabbed the beverage again and gulped it down. You almost choked sucking down the liquid so fast. “Very good kitten. Come with me.” He cupped your face softly with his slender fingers. He kissed the top of your head, and you took a deep breath, his scent flooding your head, completely intoxicating.

He pulled you along the dance floor, twirling you in sync with the others in a dreamy waltz. You couldn’t help but smile, every step you took felt like you were weightless. You weren’t the worst at dancing, but you were known to trip over your feet sometimes. You felt elegant dancing with him, every move you made complimented his. Your feet never came close to stepping on his, every time you were at arms length, you felt your breath hitch and you couldn’t wait to get back closer to him. He grabbed you by the waist and dipped you, staring deep in to his eyes. His beautiful lavender eyes glowed, a purple fluorescent hue you couldn’t look away from. He leaned in, connecting your lips together. You kissed him back with hunger. You shoved your tongue into his mouth and clawed at the back of his neck. He smiled into your mouth and pulled away from you. “Easy now love, you don’t want to leave the party already, do you?” You looked around, you weren’t the only ones in the throws of passion. People seemed to be kissing and heavy petting all over the ballroom. Especially on each others necks. The room was filled with pheromones. Your mind had a ringing voice in the back of it saying you were making a terrible mistake. You ignored it, and slammed your mouth back onto his, you felt starving. Nothing would feed your insatiable hunger except for just another taste of him.

His bedroom was dark and beautiful. The windows were covered with thick black curtains. A large iron bed with red silk sheets was at the center of the room, the furniture is lavish and expensive looking. The two of you had swept into the room, it was so easy for him to lift you in his arms. He pulled you by your hips to lay on top of him. You fell kind of sloppy onto his chest in a fit of giggles. Were you drunk off of one glass of wine? You felt like you had a drank an entire bottle, but instead of feeling sluggish and sick, you felt like you could feel everything so much more sensitively.

His teeth ran over your bottom lip. His fang ripped a thin line open on your wet flesh, a small amount of blood gushed to the surface and he licked it up.

Those props really feel stuck in there... like real fangs.

A moment of clarity washed over you and you tried to pull out of his arms. You don’t know this man, why are you throwing yourself at him like this? How did you even get to this mansion?

He seemed to notice your new hesitation. “Here darling, why don’t I get you another drink...” He ran a hand down your spine, leaving goose bumps all over your back. You know you should try and get away from him, find your friends and run back to your cars but... damn why does everything he does have to feel so good? “I- I don’t want another drink...” You stuttered as he slipped his hands even further up your tank top, pulling it over your head without it getting caught in your hair. “I need to find my friends. I should be leaving-”

He laid back with a stoic expression, his smirk wiped off of his face. “Leave? I have to disagree Y/N. I don’t think you need to go at all.” He grabbed your hips and grinded them against what was stiffening in his trousers. “In fact.” Your sex was starting to tingle, you felt yourself getting wetter. “You won’t be leaving any time soon.” You bit your lip, trying to hold back a soft moan as he rubbed you on himself. “You’ve caught my attention, and to put it simply...” He flipped you on your back, quickly pinning your wrists above your head. “I always get what I want.”

He bit down on your neck, it was soft at first, just a nibble. Getting kissed on the neck was one of your favorite guilty pleasures. The gentle tugging quickly shifted, and suddenly a very sharp and obvious pain stabbed underneath his mouth. His teeth sank into your skin. You cried out and pushed on his shoulders, his weight was heavy and he barely budged. He released your neck and licked at the wound, drinking up your life essence. “Here my love, have a taste.” He ran a fang over his own wrist and put it to your mouth. You couldn’t fend him off, the blood trespassed the boundary of your lips and pinged your tongue. You spit, the red substance splattering over your chin and his arm. “Now now kitten, you enjoyed it so much before. You better drink up or my feed is going to hurt.”

The wine you had before, was his blood?

“You’re really a- a-” You couldn’t finish your sentence, it felt ludicrous to even suggest that he could really be anything other than human. “A vampire.” He finished your sentence for you. “That’s not possible.” You squeaked out.

His dark laughter filled the room, echoing off of the walls. “Not possible yet here we are.” His eyes peered down at you with cat like curiosity. The candle light that gave little illumination to the room bounced off of the contours of his face. “I’m not just any old vampire either darling. I’m your new master, and you’re going to learn to submit to me.” He said his piece so calm, almost lovingly. He put his bloody wrist back up to your mouth and said in a more stern voice. “Now drink, or I’ll stop being gentle with you.” You let the fluid run over your tongue, the tangy almost sour taste instantly washed over your mind, giving you a rush of adrenaline. You barely noticed that he began sucking on your neck again, no pain at all this time. Just a sudden foggy bliss. You started squeezing your thighs together, rubbing your legs as you felt a low itch. You were getting restless, his tight body pressed down on you, he was still hard. “Master- I ohh~” He retracted his fangs and dragged a hand over the stream, soaking his hand in your blood and than placing it on your face. He stained his hand print on your cheek.

The rest of your clothing was peeled off of in just a few seconds. Your master pulled down his cotton pants, exposing his dripping staff. His thrusts were quick and short. He hardly pulled himself out of you before slamming his hips back into your throbbing cunt. You whined and cried out, hardly able to catch your breath between strokes. He’s relentless, clawing at your exposed skin with his sharp nails and leaving kisses along your face and collar bone. He was almost silent, just his wavered breath hitting your cheek in slight pants. Your body was shining with sweat, but his stayed cold to the touch. “You’re so well behaved, I knew you were the perfect one for me.” He cooed in your ear. “Cum for me my sweet play thing, I want to reward you for being such a good whore.” He kissed under your ear. He stopped his thrusts and held his cock in you. He hooked his thumb on your clit and rubbed quick circles. You gasped and felt the orgasm that was already building rush over you, it quickly rocked your body and you screamed out. “M-master!” He moved his hips again, losing pace and just bucking into you with wild fever. He grunted into your ear, his voice getting caught slightly in his throat. “Good kitty.” He moaned and with a final thrust you felt the only warmth coming from him shoot into your shaking body. He pulsed into you with a sigh, letting every drop of his cum flow before pulling out. “Being a vampire lords special toy has its benefits does it not?” He muttered over top of your lips, giving you a gentle peck. “I have a few rules you’ll need to follow, but seeing how well you follow instructions I know they won’t be an issue.”

You felt drowsy, he hadn't fed enough off of you to damage your health, but his own bloods effects have started to wear off, leaving you feeling like you have a bit of a hangover. You nestled your head into his neck and he grinned. “You’ve somehow pulled at my hearts strings, human.” He pulled you to lay on his chest. “I suppose it is almost morning... you should rest.” Your eyes were already heavy, you tried to flutter them open to look up at him and failed. “Yes master...”

He ran a hand through your hair and played with strands of it, twirling them around his fingers. “Call me Hitoshi, but only when it’s just the two of us.” He whispered to you. You nodded your head. “Now sleep Y/N...”

With the day light attempting to creep through his thick black curtains, you fell into a deep sleep.

Hi if you enjoyed this and have a request of any kind feel free to send it to me! I prioritize requests that give me a tip on my kofi account so that I can buy myself caffeine and pump out your requests faster... it’s never necessary though! Message me and we can have a chat or submit something to my blog. Thanks so much and happy kinktober <3  https://ko-fi.com/writinginthedarkwood

[flowersandskeletons526]

“Aftermath” - Glitra Fanfic Part 1

Hey everyone! This is my first time writing a fic and since season 4 was agonizing, I’m coping! This is part one of the fic, set after Glimmer and Catra are rescued from Horde Prime and the war ends. Sorta canon divergent. Hopefully on ao3 soon. Enjoy!

--------

It never occurred to Catra that it would storm in Brightmoon. 

The lightning flashes pale blue through the rain, nothing like the savage red of the black garnet the first time she tried to destroy the world. The memory makes her twist inside, dragged back to all every mistake she made during the war. It’s over now, and she reminds herself of that every day. The Horde is disbanded, Horde Prime is dead, and Etheria is safe. It brings her small comfort, but now she is in unfamiliar territory, living in the castle of Brightmoon and sitting by the queen while she changes her bandages. 

Glimmer’s hands still have the slightest tremble from their time as Horde Prime’s prisoners. Everyone has noticed, Catra is sure of that, just as everyone noticed the way her claws never retracted, but no one mentions anything. No one but the two of them, sitting in silence across from each other in their suddenly overabundant spare time. It’s the only time either of them get anything reminiscent of normalcy. Ever since the princesses rescued them from that ship, everyone has been tiptoeing through the tension to avoid upsetting their precious queen. Meanwhile, Catra has been busy tiptoeing around everyone else. 

Flexing her hand, Catra tries to control her breathing as her ear twitches. Glimmer keeps her eyes down as she dabs a wet rag across the stitched gashes on Catra’s arm. Her crown is set aside with Catra’s mask. She is covered with scuffs and scrapes, bandaged and bruised but still standing, for the most part. One eye is surrounded by a healing bruise from when she mouthed off to Horde Prime during their imprisonment. Facing the memory makes Catra’s hair stand on end. 

A sharp pain pulses through her arm. She bares her teeth and hisses, yanking away from Glimmer. The queen holds her hands up. “Sorry,” she mumbles. “Is it still that bad?” 

“It is when you press on it like that!” Catra snaps. 

“Well then stop moving your arm!” Glimmer shoots back. She takes a deep breath and grinds her teeth. “I won’t do it again. Just come back here already.” 

Catra purses her lips as Glimmer swipes the cloth across the healing wound again. She finds herself leaning into the silence of the moment, trying to ignore the gnawing in her guts as she watches the queen. She tilts her head.

“Why?” she bursts out. 

“Why what?” Glimmer asks without looking up. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Because this needs to be cleaned and you won’t let anyone else touch you.” Glimmer shakes her head. “I still can’t believe you bit the medic.” 

“Glimmer.” 

The queen whips her head up. She could count the times Catra has used her real name on one hand. The last time she did…  

Catra’s eyes are dull and heavy as she meets Glimmer’s stare. “Why are you helping me?” 

Glimmer grimaced and lowered her head. “You know why,” she whispered. She reached out to touch the edge of a cut showing from beneath the bandages on Catra’s face. “You nearly died getting us out of there. I’m just repaying that.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“What do you want me to say, Catra?” 

Catra lowers her head. “I don’t know.” 

They fall into silence as Glimmer wraps bandages around her arm. One side of her face is cast in shadow by the fire in the hearth. She has a fireplace in her room? Catra thought the first time Glimmer invited her in. After sharing a room with a dozen other cadets, even her officer’s quarters seemed massive, but the castle was ridiculous. 

Glimmer ties the bandages and lets go of Catra’s arm. “There. You’re going to have to let someone else come near you to take the stitches out.”

“I don’t like them,” Catra grumbles. 

“Why not?” 

“They treat me like I’m gonna break if they touch me.” 

“That’s called being gentle, Catra. They’re medics, it’s their job. What did medics do in the Horde, beat you more?”

“They bandaged you up, gave you a pill, and sent you back to training.” 

Glimmer frowns and stands, turning away. “Well, here you’ll actually have time to recover.” 

“Yay.” 

“Do you remember where your room is or do you want me to walk you back?” 

“Aw, done with me already, Sparkles?” 

Glimmer hesitates. “Do you want to stay?” 

Catra straightens. She hoped for a push back, a snap, something sharp like their relationship before everything happened, but now Glimmer’s just… trying. 

Trying to fix things. She tries to fix things with Adora, she tries to fix the damage the war left behind, and she tries to at least foster the odd bond they now share. She doesn’t try to fix Catra, though. Catra wonders where she would even begin if she could. 

She grits her teeth. “I remember where the room is. I can find it on my own.” 

“Okay. Goodnight.” 

“Night.” 

It’s too cold alone in her room. She curls in on herself on the hard mattress - Adora suggested it when she couldn’t stand the mass of pillows and feathers the room came with - and buries herself in blankets. Staring out the window, she watches the storm rage. It started raining when they returned home, and it seemed like the clouds never left. 

She found Glimmer standing on a balcony one day while exploring the castle. It was sprinkling, and the wind bit through Catra’s clothes. The rain clung to Glimmer’s hair like little crystals and dripped over her skin, her simple tunic fluttering around her. It was the first time since she became queen that Catra had seen her without the cape and crown to mark her status, just the piercings in her ears and the shadows under her eyes. It startled her how young she looked with it. 

“You’re gonna catch something standing out there, Sparkles,” Catra called, shivering on the edge of the balcony. 

“I thought cats don't like water,” Glimmer replied without turning. 

“What are you even doing out there?” 

“Thinking.” 

“Think inside.” 

“Leave me alone, Catra.” 

“No.” 

It made Glimmer turn and relent, and they sat together in Glimmer’s room by the fire in silence until Adora came to get the queen. The warrior gave Catra an odd look. Catra simply turned away. 

And now she lies alone, watching the rain. 

She is too exhausted to fight sleep. It settles in her bones and drags her into twisted dreams that she can’t escape from. She sees blood and fire, Horde Prime’s wild green eyes as he claws his way towards her in the wreckage of his ship, dead clones littering the scene. Most of all, she sees Glimmer. She sees her covered in blood and bruises. She hears Glimmer screaming her name. 

On the worst nights, Glimmer’s blood is on Horde Prime’s talons and Catra is powerless to do anything. 

Shooting upright, she screams in terror, covered in a cold sweat. Her wounds ache as pain pulses through her body, and it takes her a few minutes before she is able to pry her claws out of the edge of the mattress. 

Someone knocks on her door. She jumps, her claws extending again before she calmed down. 

“What?” she snaps. 

“It’s me,” Glimmer calls through the door. Catra doesn’t respond. “Can I come in?” 

“Do what you want.” 

Glimmer closes the door behind her and leans her back against it. “You couldn’t sleep either?” 

“What does it look like?” 

Glimmer rolls her eyes, sitting beside Catra as she scoots to make room on the edge of the bed. She wanted to reach out and grab Glimmer, check her for new wounds in case not everything was in her imagination, but all she saw was blood when she looked at the queen. Instead, she stares at her feet and they sit in silence. 

Glimmer sighs and lifts her head. “I can’t sleep alone anymore,” she admits. 

“Is that why you look like that?” Catra teases, trying to force the lingering images from her mind. 

Mustering a smile, she nudges Catra with her shoulder. Catra pushes back. 

After a moment of hesitation, Glimmer corrects herself. “I can’t sleep without you there anymore.” 

The admission yanks Catra back to the ship. 

----

“If you touch me, you’re going straight to the floor,” Catra snapped, snarling at Glimmer over her shoulder. 

“The feeling’s mutual,” Glimmer shot back. She and Catra lied on the thin bunk in their cell back to back, and Glimmer shifted as far away from the other girl without falling to the ground. “I can’t believe that of all people on Etheria, I’m stuck in this tiny little hellhole with you.” 

“You’re the one that got us here, Sparkles.” 

“And you sent the first message to Horde Prime.” 

Catra growled and pressed herself to the wall. “Just shut up and sleep,” she grumbled. Glimmer kicked her leg. “Sparkles, I swear, you will be on the floor!” 

Glimmer sneered. “Whoops.” 

Catra woke up first the next morning. She shoved Glimmer off the bunk when she realized she had curled up against the queen in her sleep. 

----

“Catra?” Glimmer asks. 

She looks up. “What?” 

“Are you alright? I’ve been trying to get your attention and you were just staring into space.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I’m fine, I was just thinking.” She clenched her fist. “Do you… do you want to sleep in here tonight? Just back to back like on the ship. It might help.” 

Glimmer nods. Catra lies down on one side while Glimmer stretches out on the other, both seeking the warmth of the other pressed against them. The contact is calming, not that either would admit it. Catra grinds her teeth and screws her eyes shut. Even safe in her castle, Glimmer still shakes. Reaching behind her, she grabs Glimmer’s hand. It does little to quell the tremors, but it is something, at the very least. 

“I keep dreaming of you,” Catra says into the darkness. Glimmer squeezes her hand. “I think that Horde Prime got to you before I could after the ship went down.” 

“I’m still here,” Glimmer says.

“I know that.” 

Glimmer shifts, turning so she can see Catra out of the corner of her eye. “Have you talked to Adora? She learned how to deal with nightmares after she first got here.” 

“We tried talking. It’s not working.” 

She doesn’t say how their “talk” ended up as a screaming match, each blaming the other for everything that happened. She doesn’t tell her how Adora grabbed her arm and she nearly threw the warrior halfway across the room in sheer panic. Adora gathered her composure, sticking around just long enough to hear Catra’s apology before they parted ways. She shredded the curtains in her room and screamed and cried in frustration all night. 

The wounds are still too raw. It wasn’t like making up with Glimmer, where there wasn’t so much history behind it and they had no choice but to figure it out, isolated together as they were. 

“Scorpia and I are going to talk tomorrow,” she says. “I already talked to Entrapta. As far as I can tell, we’re okay enough, but it’s also Entrapta. She doesn’t hate me, I know that. I just have to get over my own thoughts about it.” 

“That’s good,” Glimmer replies. 

“Did you talk to Adora?” 

“Not yet. I talked to Bow, but I did more damage with Adora than I did with him.” 

“We’ve got that in common.”

“Pretty shit thing to have in common.” 

“No kidding.” 

They turn to face each other at the same time, lying on their backs with only a few inches between their faces, hands clasped. The heat coming off Glimmer cuts through the chill that froze over Catra when she found herself on Horde Prime’s ship. 

Although she wants to believe otherwise, Catra can’t shake the feeling that this will disappear once everything is back to normal. On Prime’s ship they were alone. Here, they might as well be. With all of their bridges burned, they find themselves stuck on an island with only their own mistakes and each other to lean on. Catra knows that eventually Glimmer will stop coming to her when she can’t sleep, and she will stop finding herself sitting in silence in the queen’s quarters. 

She won’t need a crutch forever, Catra thinks. 

“What are you thinking about?” Glimmer asks. 

Catra lets go of her hand and rolls over. “Nothing. Night, Sparkles.” 

“Goodnight, Catra.” 

[border-spam]

Twins Prompt 9: Socialite

Thanks to @lazulizard and @nikyri-art for egging me on with this one. I thrive off comments, if you have any for this fic, absolutely throw them in the replies!

“Oh wait till you see them, it’s hilaaaarious.”

Katagawa Jr drawled, rolling his eyes for emphasis as his crowd of admirers drank in the theatrics. Basking in the attention of the audience of suits gathered around him and hanging off the young tycoon’s every word, he twirled his now empty martini glass between his fingers with a smirk.

This gala was going well so far, if he said so himself.. and he did, it was his after all, every guest carefully selected from his roster of corporate aristocracy, business glitterati, sycophants… all eyes on him, exactly as he deserved. He was the star of the show.

Every guest that was, bar the targets of his current mockery, who were more of a required invite based on their current relationship than people he actually had any interest in socialising with.

“They call themselves the -haha-, the “Twin Gods”, can you imagine.“ He wheezed, raising a dramatic hand to his chest in mock pain as his audience laughed in response, muttering amused agreement under their breath.

Snatching a new cocktail from the waiter who’d finally noticed he was running dry (and who he’d make sure wouldn’t have a job by the end of the night), he smirked into the glass as he sipped, enjoying the atmosphere. The polite tittering chatter of the social elite that filled the beautifully dressed room was sweeter music to his ears than the ambient harp being played by the marble arched entrance to the event, and infinitely more interesting.

“Shameful, honestly. Pair of filth-encrused bandits with notions of grandeur. Barely capable of dressing themselves, wouldn’t know a fitted piece of clothing if it bit them. The first time I met them -sip- good lord…”

Refined chuckles from the group around him, eager to get on the Maliwan execs good side. Playing them like that harp, in complete control and relishing it.

He was the most powerful man here, he’d made sure of that when planning the guest list, and the knowledge he was the golden calf in the room? That all eyes were on him, that everyone wanted a piece? It was worth the 8 digit price tag for this event.

It was worth every cent.

“Troy, that’s the -haha-, the “man” of the pair, scrawny freak that he is, his pants were an inch from falling off the entire meeting, didn’t know how to properly fasten them. Scum has never heard of a shirt either. Everything on display. Ufff -sips - Nothing left to the imagination, but what do you expect from Pandoran filth?“

More laughing, another wave of satisfied pride through his chest, another 4 billion in acquisitions as he won his crowd over to Maliwan’s side, one by one.

“And the woman, Tyreen… -ugh- if you could call that thing a woman, rough. Vulgar, body like a twelve year old boy. -sips- You’ve seen the type. All mouth, you know? No skill with it.. ahahah.”

Less laughter this time, odd, because he had been sure that last line was going to land well..

“ -ahem- Honestly, at least they’ll put on a show once they arrive. Good entertainment is so hard to find, I’m sure you all can agree..”

He was losing them, and he felt a quick jolt of self doubt pang through his stomach. Eyes over his shoulders and not on him, mustachioed older men shuffling to the side in their overly tight suits to look past him. They were meant to be looking at him, this was his gala, who the hell dared to distract th-

“Katagawa…” That rolling, smooth voice he loathed, and it was coming from justbehind him. 

Fantastic. They were here. Now it was time for the show to start at their expense, he smiled to himself, feeling a thrill of cruel excitement.

Letting out a long, exaggerated sigh, he grimaced. Pouted as he brushed his silken lapels with a huff, making it as clear as possible to his audience that what he was about to do was an unwanted chore, then, finally, turned to “greet” the Calypsos…

Only to choke into a wide eyed cough as his eyes landed on the stunning man standing behind him, vitriol he’d readied to spew at them catching in his throat.

That.. that was a custom Auscher suit, he’d not seen one since he was last on Dionysus for that board merger with his father. How much had this filthbag paid to get a fitted Auscher?

Black, flawless cut, hanging off Troy’s lithe frame in a way that somehow emphasised the curve of every muscle and breadth of his shoulders. Deep scarlet Athenian silk shirt ( goddamn he’d been bidding on one of those for 6 months now ), matching Auscher black tie, perfectly planned in its casual looseness to draw the eye up his formidable height, past the glinting golden points in that wide, confident grin, and up to the glowing siren markings that curved around his devilish blue eye, thick crest of inky hair swept back in a loose waxed upstyle.

Katagawa coughed into his fist again, spilling his martini with each jolt as he blushed furiously, this was not how this was meant to go, how the hell was the Calypso scum dressed better than he was.

Laughter from his audience, but at him now as he continued to choke, and more again when the bandit filth clapped a heavy black metal gauntlet down on his shoulder. Hard, knocking the wind out of his lungs and stifling the cough.

A wave of expertly selected cologne flowed off Troy as he subtly twisted the clawed hand, spiced wood, citrus notes, gun oil.

Katagawa’s cheeks were on fire, barely managing to contain how furious he was to be showed up like this. At his own gala, by Pandoran scum, smiling at him like he was the focus of the event… how dare he, who the hell does he think he is.

He awkwardly shifted with the claw as it moved him, scarlet light peeking between the mirror black joints as the glowing red talons pierced the cloth of his suit, turning him to face the crowd and resting still on his shoulder in a mock gesture of friendship as the pompous asshole towered behind him.

“…so kind of you to invite us, we’ve been looking forward to this all month.”

Razor sharp claws dragged into the shoulder of his tailored suit jacket, ruining it tear by tear as the crowd watched on and laughed at his expense, enthralled by the show he’d promised them would be enjoyable earlier. All eyes on the beautifully finished man looming behind him, and he seethed as Troy continued in that sensual, mocking voice.

“My sister and I are delighted to get closer to your, hmm… deliciously distinguished guests… she’s actually already making her introductions, so you’ll have to excuse her.” Troy purred with a sultry wink, the prosthetic fist’s pressure increasing on Katagawa’s shoulder as he leaned down on the smaller man, completely aware of the rage boiling under his skin.

“I on the other hand… couldn’t resist coming to greet my dear friend, Junior.”

-You FUCKER what did you just call me in front of these people-

Another wave of laughter and some raised glasses to Troy’s humor, his teeth were grinding so hard he was shaking. If this was anywhere else the scum’s brains would be splattered across the floor behind him by now, but he could do nothing, not in front of the socialites.

“…Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

-… Don’t react, you can do this, he’s trying to play you. He wants you to lose composure. Remember, you’re in control, not him.-

“This.. is.. -deep breath- Troy Calypso, head of COV med-”

“Title.”

Troy’s teeth were so close to his ear he could feel the minted breath on his cheek as he was so a skillfully interrupted, another wave of tittering from the crowd. Katagawa felt his stomach lurch. How the hell was this happening.

“… excuse me?” He hissed, layer of carefully curated social politeness starting to crack away.

This was.. his.. gala.. how was he being upstaged this easily, how was he losing control to this echonet celebrity.

“My title, Katagawa.”

He’d kill him. He’d kill him this smarmy asshole as soon as this event was over, he’d wipe him off the face of the shithole planet he crawled out of.

“Of course… this is God King Calypso, head of the COV media department, one of the…”

It caught in his dry mouth.

“…one of the “Twin Gods”.“

A hard slap to his shoulder jolted more of his cocktail over the lapels of his suit, and Troy’s raucous laugh filled the air as he stepped in front of him and moved to join the crowd eager to converse with the new star of the event.

“Thanks! Glad to be here, it really is an honor, but I best get to know these fine people more intimately, talk later, Junior!”

Katagawa’s hand shook so hard the glass fully emptied, too lost in fury to register the dampness down his chest. He glared murder into that beautifully fitted coat back as Troy was engulfed by the clamoring crowd, and retreated to the pillars near the buffet table to try and consider HOW this had just happened. 

- Hours later -

Scum. SCUM. Floating around the gala, dropping naturally into conversations he shouldn’t have any understanding of and leaving each with new private echonumbers, new acquisitions, new sponsors. Where did he learn this? The ease of it, like he was a damn natural.

How dare he be here like this. He was invited as a joke, he was invited to be made fun of, an idiot bandit who got lucky, someone who’d not pick up on the subtle mockery of the elite who would surround him, someone to enjoy treating like filth for the evening.

Finally, he was coming this way at last, eyeing up the gourmet feast spread across the massive tables like the disgusting scavenger he was. 

Katagawa’s knife edge focus stayed on him as he hurriedly fixed his hair, pulled at his suit front to neaten up in preparation for the encounter. He’d had enough. This asshole was going to listen to him, it was his gala. His money. HIS GUESTS that this filth had hogged most of the night, no one even glancing at Katagawa since he’d arrived. He’d pay for this.

He waited for Troy to get within reach, then grabbed his forearm with as much force as he could, hoping to bruise the solid muscle in his fist as he awkwardly pulled the much larger man out of sight of the crowd and into the shadows behind the pillar.

Troy’s calm demeanor only fueled the hatred he felt at this moment, still pushing a Hors d'oeuvre into his mouth as the Executive shook in rage in front of him, fingers digging into his flesh arm.

“Are you TRYING to show me up, you scum.” Katagawa hissed up into his face, while Troy chewed open mouthed.

“This isn’t funny, swanning around like you.. like you belong here. Do you have any idea how important half of these people are. Do you have any idea what they even do? Of the power they have, while you flounce around them like some little slut desperate for their attention?”

No response, stunning blue eyes still lazily gazing down at him as he swallowed, raising a bladed finger to idly scratch at his jawbone.

“Oh.. am I boring you?“

That enraging grin again, followed by an eager nod, the cleverly crafted warning in Katagawa’s question completely disarmed without any real effort.

He snapped, this was too much. It was all too much, he was an intensely power man, he was Katagawa Jr, Maliwan exec, this slob was nothing. Nothing. He pulled him down with all his strength, rage overflowing as Troy barely moved in response.

“You… y… y-you’re disgusting. You’re disgusting, you hideous freak!”

Spittle shot from between Katagawa’s teeth as he panted in rage, and Troy sighed, raising the taloned gauntlet to carefully pry the weakening fingers from around his arm.

“Awww, little buddy. Envy does not suit you.”

That shit eating grin, that smug, suave, beautiful face, looking down at him like he was some petulant child as he returned Katagawa’s fist to his side.

“Maybe you should have done a little foot work researching us instead of making assumptions about how tonight would go, huh?”

That fucking smile, too many teeth, the hairs raised on the back of Katagawa’s neck. He’d.. he’d misjudged this hadn’t he.

“I know who every person in this room is. I know their statistics, their roles. Their portfolios.”

“I know what they want, and I know how to give it to them. I know how to be better than you, at being you.”

Cold sweat broke out across his back, it was getting hard to breath under this looming, terrifying visage, bearing down on him, icy blue and glowing red in the shadows he’d dragged them both into.

“That, Katagawa.. is my job. And I am very, very good at my job..”

He laughed quietly, canines glinting gold in the dim light.

“You.. you know I’m a Siren, right?”

“You know what Sirens are good at? You know what we do so well?”

He reached up with those talons, dim scarlet glow lighting the underneath of his face as he carefully straightened Katagawa’s tie for him.

“We lure.”

“… We seduce, we tempt, it’s what we’re built for. We call out across the dark tides of space and we bring what we hunger for to us, and once we have what we want from you…”

A sudden biting pressure around his neck, and he was lifted as he choked. Troy’s nose nearly touching his, breath struggling in his ribs as his eyes frantically flickered in panic around the room. No one paying attention. No one seeing the monstrous thing in a stunning suit he’d been so eager to confront moments ago as it held him off the ground by the throat, talons pricking into his skin as he struggled against the clawed prosthetic holding him up so effortlessly.

Troy waited, savoring the moment. Enjoying his prey feebly clawing at the prosthetic so easily crushing its windpipe, eyes wild in terror, staring up into that wolfish, wide smile.

He lowered his head, lips brushing the terrified man’s cheekbone, and whispered:

“… we’ll dash your corpse on the fucking rocks.”

Katagawa gasped in a shaking breath as he was dropped, and stumbling backwards to the ground, holding his bloodied neck in pain as he wheezed in painful lungfuls of air and stared in terror at the man still standing so relaxed above him.

He flinched nervously as Troy suddenly clapped his hands together, shifting persona with practised ease.

“…honestly though, great party bro, su-perb shit. The food, WOW. I’ll make sure to give you a call out next stream, yeah?”

God King Calypso turned on his heel and sauntered back into the crowd, all too eager to part and welcome the real star of the show.

Job done.

And he was very, very good at his job.

[bamby0304]

Don’t Tell Jensen

Summary: Jared likes to get up to no good, and sometimes he likes to drag you along for the ride.

Pairing: Jared Padalecki x Reader

A/N: This is for my @spnkinkbingo card, and goes with the Impala Sex square. If you’re looking to add a little something more to your Jared fic experience, check out @scentsfromthebunker’s Jared scent :) thank you @dean-winchesters-bacon for looking this over, hun xx

Link: Ao3

Square Filled: Impala Sex

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: Explicit language. Smut. Dry humping. Fingering. Car sex. Unprotected sex.

Bamby

The set had shut down for the night. Everyone had retired to their trailers. You had retired to your own, having planned to sleep until needed tomorrow. That was, until Jared had knocked on your door and dragged you back to set.

He’d been giggling like a child the whole time, pulling you closer and walking backwards so he could face you. Any question of where he was taking you and what he was doing faded as he leaned down to press his grinning lips against yours.

When you saw the Impala, everything clicked.

“Bob will kill us,” you noted, standing by the beautiful black vehicle.

With his arms wrapped around your waist, Jared shrugged. “Only if he finds out.”

“Jensen will kill us.”

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your jaw. “Doesn’t that make it a little more fun?”

“You do realise you’re not actually Sam Winchester, right?” Turning, you looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “If you die you stay dead.”

“And if I get to choose the way I go out, then I choose this.” Stepping around you, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the car’s backdoor.

Even you couldn’t deny the thrill of sneaking into the backseat of the Impala, in the middle of the closed set, while the cast and crew slept right outside. Infected by Jared’s bubbling excitement, you found yourself giggling as he guided you to straddle him.

His hands rested on your hips, fingers pressing into the meat of your ass and pulling you closer as his lips found yours again. Your fingers carded through his hair as you leaned into him, pressing your body as close to his as possible.

As you licked into Jared’s mouth, he whined and tightened his grip on you. Your hips began to move out of instinct driven by your arousal. Grinding against Jared, you could feel him hardening, pressing against your barely covered slit deliciously.

Technically the two of you had been dressed and ready for bed, which meant he was in a simple tee and sweatpants, while you were in a tank top and loose gym shorts. The thin material meant you could feel him perfectly, and you could feel how soaked you now were.

“Fuck, baby.” Pulling away, Jared looked up at you with dilated pupils.

Tugging his lip between his teeth, he fought not to make too much noise as you began to grind down on him a little harder. Each push had him brushing against your aching clit, which only made you want more.

Whimpering, you dropped your head to his shoulder as you picked up the pace, rocking the car with every thrust.

Sliding his hand between your thighs, Jared pushed your shorts out of the way and stroked your drenched slit. Mewling helplessly, you shuddered at the feel of him barely pressing the tip of his finger into you. Shifting your hips, you sought out his fingers, wanting more from him, which he happily gave.

Pressing into you, Jared pushed two fingers into you until he was knuckle deep. You keened at the feel of him, twitching needily as he curled his fingers in a way that always made you go crazy. Grinding and thrusting against his fingers, you moaned in his ear as you chased your orgasm, wanting and needing nothing more than that blissful high.

“Come on, baby,” Jared murmured in your ear, pressing against the sweet spot inside you. “I know you’re right there. Wanna hear those pretty sounds you make. Wanna feel you squeeze me. Do it for me.”

With his voice in your ear, his fingers stroking your g-spot, and his body pressed against yours, Jared pushed you over the edge.

Biting your lip as you cried against his shoulder, you dug your claws into his back and clenched around his fingers, twitching against him as a ripple of ecstasy rushed through you.

Turning his head, he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “Good girl.”

Delicately, Jared maneuvered the two of you until your back was flat on the seat. Kneeing between your thighs, leaning in to press kisses to your shoulder and neck, he began to inch your shorts down your legs.

“Remember that scene we did this afternoon?” he asked as he dropped your shorts to the floor of the car. “Where Dean passed out in the bar, so Sam and Lexi slept in Baby?” He pulled his shirt over his head, then. “Remember how I had to grind on you, in this exact spot again, and again, and again, and again?”

All you could do was whimper and nod as he continued peppering kisses on your neck, while his fingers began working on pulling his pants down now.

“Made me so hard, feeling you under me like that. Wanted everyone to leave so I could fill you up. That’s why I brought you here tonight. Wanted to try the scene again, only this time we’re alone… and there’s nothing between us.”

That was all the warning you got before he began to push into you.

Jared groaned against your neck as you squeezed him, swallowing him inch by inch as he slowly filled you. When he was balls deep, pulsing against your sensitive walls and pressing against your cervix, you were vibrating with the desire for him to move, and a need for him to stay still.

Taking a moment, Jared pressed gentle kisses to your shoulder as he tried to control his shaking breath and body. You could feel how affected he was by the feel of you around him.

Living on site meant you didn’t get a lot of time to be intimate. You were either working wonky shifts, or exhausted from hours of shooting, or there were too many people around for you to take real enjoyment out of what little pleasure you could find. Jared was always eager, however, and had a habit of finding ways to get what he wanted.

You were what he wanted, and the risk of getting busted having sex in the Impala was not going to dissuade him from enjoying the feeling of being inside you, or the sounds you made when he brought you to that high peek you couldn’t quiet reach on your own.

Lifting your legs to wrap around his waist, you pulled Jared closer, needing to feel all of him. With his body pressed against yours, and his lips trailing along your neck and shoulder, you felt yourself nearing another climax. Hips thrusting against hips, the car rocked in time with your movements as the windows fogged.

Murmured words and soft groans passed between the two of you. Hands slid over curves, fingers grasping whatever flesh they could find. You and Jared fell further into you arousal, drowning in the feel of each other, reveling in a rare intimate moment together.

Reaching between your bodies, Jared began to rub at your clit, pulling you closer to your ending a little faster. Arching against him, moaning unashamedly, you tugged at Jared’s hair as he pushed you over the edge.

The sound of your cumming and the feel of your walls clenching around him had Jared’s pace falter as he shuddered before he spilled inside of you. With a shaking breath, he pressed another kiss to your jaw as he leaned back. He hissed as you whined at the feel of him pulling out of you.

Looking down between your thighs, Jared couldn’t help himself as he grinned. “Whoops.”

“‘Whoops’?” You shot up to lean on your elbows as you looked at him with wide eyes. “What ‘whoops’?”

Running a finger over your slit, Jared lifted his hand to show you the mess on his finger. “It’s on the seat.”

Jumping into action, you fumbled for the clothing on the floor and quickly pulled on the first thing you grabbed. Jared’s sweats were very big on you, but at least they put a barrier between you and the leather of the Impala.

“Jensen is going to kill us.” You glared up at him.

Shrugging, Jared pulled his shirt over his head as he continued to grin. “He doesn’t know it was us. No one does. Any one of the cast or crew could have snuck in here and-”

“What? Rubbed one out?”

“Or…” he leaned in to capture your lips with his, “they could have snuck a beautiful woman in here to show her how desperate they’ve been to be with her.”

Smiling up at him, you shook your head. “Can’t believe you’re trying to charm your way back onto my good side.”

“I’m always on your good side.” Winking at you, he then grabbed your gym shorts and pulled them on. “I’m keeping these by the way.”

Laughing, you shook your head once more as he slid out of the car and then helped you out. Hand in hand, laughing and grinning like teenagers, he walked you back to your trailer, neither of you caring about the mark you left on the leather seat.

Bamby

[zarcake-writes]

Come Home

Hello everyone! This is a Jacob Seed x reader fic that was fun to write, even though it took me a while but we can blame school for that. The wonderful and kind @ladyccr commissioned me to write this. I hope she, along with everyone who reads this, enjoy it. 

Warnings: lemon, smut, biting, fluff, reader is stubborn and Jacob is a butt

The rain pounds against the outside of the cabin. The wind howls and whistles, while the massive trees sway from the force of the storm. The sudden flashes of lightning and the rumble of thunder makes you jump every time. The fire that is steadily growing in the fireplace does little to combat the cold.

“It’s just a storm, pup. No need to be scared.” Turning to the owner of the voice, you see Jacob Seed watching you, an amused look on his face. His hair is damp and a raggedy blanket is draped over his bare shoulders. You do your best to not glance down at his bare chest or even further down to his boxer briefs. His wet clothes hang above the fireplace, yours right next to his.

“I’m not scared. Just cold.”

“Oh? Why don’t you come a bit closer? I’m nice and warm.” He opens his arms, revealing his bare, hairy chest. You are quick to look away, but you glimpse the smirk on his face.

“Yeah, so you can start singing that stupid song and order me to run half-naked through the woods during a storm? Yeah, no thanks.”

Jacob scowls and lets out a heavy breath. “I wouldn’t do that. Not now, at least.”

You reply with a scoff and turn back to the fireplace, tugging the blanket tighter around your body. You were in this mess because of Jacob Seed. He had radioed you while you were traveling through the Montana wilderness. His message? Oh, something simple. It was that he was hunting you and on your trail. Thus, began a rather long and arduous game of cat and mouse.

There were several times during the hunt that his arrow would land inches from your face or leg, followed by him saying through the radio, “Better start running, I won’t miss again.”

When the storm clouds rolled in and the sky began to darken, followed by the temperature dropping, neither you or Jacob noticed. It wasn’t until rain began to fall and the lighting began to flash that you realized your predicament.

You came across an abandoned cabin. A moment later, Jacob Seed stumbled inside. He was drenched and shaking, his hair was plastered to the side of his face. For some reason, you didn’t shoot him or run. It might have had something to do with the fact you, too, were shivering and soaked to the bone.

Jacob started a fire, while you searched the cabin for blankets or clothes. There no spare clothes, only a couple of moth-eaten blankets. No words were spoken as you both undressed and hung up your clothes, but you did make the mistake of glancing at Jacob. His chest was scarred, like his face and arms. Despite his age, Jacob was still a very fit man. Strong upper body and wide shoulders, with a slight pooch in his lower stomach. You looked away before your eyes could travel further down.

“How many bedrooms again?” Jacob’s asks. His voice bringing you back to the present.

You glance at him but quickly look away. The shadows on his face and the firelight reflecting in his eyes took your breath away. “Just one.”

“You can take the bedroom.”

“Why?”

“Because it would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”

You let out a loud, dry laugh. “You? Be a gentleman? Sure! Will that happen before or after you use mind control on me?”

“Deputy, just take the bedroom,” Jacob growled.

“No. You take it. I want to sleep near the fire.”

“Fine. Hope the fire goes out and you freeze to death.” Jacob stood up and stalked off towards the only room.

“Don’t break your hip, old man,” you shout after him. The only reply you receive is the slamming of the bedroom door.

Feeling proud of yourself, you curl up in front of the fireplace. Your eyes drift up to the drying clothes. A rather cruel idea that involves throwing his clothes out into the rain pops in your head. However, exhaustion sets in, and you are soon asleep.

Several hours later you are awakened by someone stumbling into the room and falling on the floor next to you. You jump and look around in panic, your hand instinctively reaching for a weapon. When you realize the commotion came from Jacob Seed, you weren’t sure if you should relax or stay on edge.

“Jacob? What’s wrong?”

“I-I’m so cold.” The man was lying in front of the fire, shivering and clutching the too thin blanket tightly.

For a moment, you watch him, unsure of what to do. You could let him freeze, and maybe he would die. His death would help the resistance and greatly cripple the Father and his fanatical army. But, could you let him freeze? There has always been something between you two, something that left your heart pounding, and body aching for his touch. You always denied it. But the sight of Jacob curled up in a tight ball, shaking so hard you could hear his teeth chattering, hurt you.  

So, without a second thought, you lay your equally thin blanket over him, leaving you only in your bra and panties. Despite the still burning fire, the room is cold and you know without something warm, you will be the one who freezes. This leaves you with two options: freeze or… try to stay warm with Jacob Seed. You join Jacob beneath the blankets. A sense of guilt washes over you for how quick you are to join Jacob beneath the blankets. You push those feelings away, now isn’t the time.

Jacob groans when your warm hand rests against his ice-cold skin. He rolls over and scoots closer towards you. You make no move to stop him as he wraps himself around you. His legs tangle with yours, an arm is slung over your waist while the other is placed between the two of you. Somehow his face rests near your chest. You make no comment, and he keeps his eyes clench shut.

After an awkward moment, you relax. One of your hands come to rest against Jacob’s broad back. He visibly shivers as your fingers idly run along his skin. When your other hand grasps his hand, the one that is between the two of you, his eyes open.

Jacob looks surprised that he is face to face with your cleavage, but he’s silent. When his eyes meet yours, your entire body heats up. His beautiful blue eyes stare at you with an intensity that takes your breath away. You lick your lips and swallow. His hand on your waist tightens suddenly, and he squeezes your hand.

“Jacob.” You hate the way your voice wavers and the way your body trembles.

“Deputy.” Jacob’s hand on your waist slides up your side. His fingertips are delicate as they ghost along your skin. His rough hand comes to rest against your cheek. He leans forward and his lips are on yours.

His kiss is soft, barely even what you would call a kiss. He begins to pull away, but you chase him. When you kiss him, it’s deeper and full of need. He responds in kind; fingers dig into your skin, his teeth graze against your lip, and his tongue slips into your mouth.

“Rook,” he groans against your mouth.

“You don’t need to call me that,” you say. He pulls away, giving you a confused look. Taking a deep breath, you tell him your name, something only a handful of people know. He says your name slowly like he’s savoring the way it tastes on his tongue. And you can’t help but shiver at the way he says it.

Your hand runs down his chest, fingers tracing the chemical burn scars. The dog tags that reside around his neck are warm. The metal is scraped and dented, but the name ‘Jacob Seed’ is visible. The patch of red chest hair makes your mouth water, and when your finger brush against the hair, Jacob groans.

Jacob pulls you close, pressing sloppy kisses along your chest just above your breasts. He digs his teeth into the top of your breast, then begins to suck at the skin. His fingers unhook your bra, it’s then tossed to the side. Jacob growls at the sight of your bare breasts. Those large, rough hands of his cups them and his thumbs swipe over your nipples. He smirks at your soft moans. His mouth latches on to your nipple, his teeth and beard scrape your skin.

When Jacob’s content with the bite marks and bruises left on your chest, he turns his attention elsewhere. His hand pulls your head back as his mouth moves up to the column of your throat. The kisses are messy and rough, full of teeth and low groans that borderline on growls.

In a blur, Jacob rolls the both of you over so he hovers above you. His broad shoulders and that hungry look in his eyes makes you feel so small and weak. Jacob maneuvers your head to the side and continues his assault on your neck. His teeth sink into your skin; the slight burn that tells you he may have broken skin. You don’t care, because it’s almost overwhelming. Your moans fill the room as you claw his back. Jacob growls into your neck, his hands bring your legs up to wrap around his waist.

“God, you sound good for me sweetheart, and I’m not even fucking you yet,” Jacob said.

“You think you’ll get to fuck me?”

Jacob’s laugh is low, and his smile sends a chill down your back. “I think I will. Especially with the way you’re grinding against my cock.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” Jacob kisses you, his thumb hooks on the waistband of your panties. He gives you a look, asking for permission. When you nod, he pulls them off your legs and tosses them behind him.

Jacob sits back and spreads your legs; his hungry eyes roam over the lower half of your body. Your face and body flush in embarrassment, the urge to close your legs is overwhelming. But the embarrassment is pushed aside when Jacob begins touching you. His thick fingers trail along your entrance, his thumb presses against your clit.

“You’re gorgeous, pup,” Jacob whispers.

“I’m sure you say that to all the women you chase through the woods.”

“You’re the only woman I’m chasing.” Jacob’s thumb moves in slow circles over your clit, and a finger slips into you.

His touch starts out slow and teasing. It leaves you wanting more. His thumb barely applies enough pressure against your nub, and only the tip of his finger enters you. It’s aggravating and leaves you begging for more. He gives you a wolfish smile and does just that.

It starts with one finger slipping inside you, followed by pressure being placed against your clit, and builds from there. You can’t help but moan and thrust against his touch. While his touch is shaky and stiff, his focus is entirely on your body. He doesn’t miss your gasps and whimpers. He sees the way you grasp his arm and the tremor in your legs. He loves the way your face contorts in pleasure. None of it escapes him.

“You getting close, sweetheart,” Jacob whispered.

“N-no.”

“Don’t deny it, pup.”

Jacob’s thumb moves faster, the fingers inside you curl and rub against the wonderful spot. When your orgasm hits, you chant his name like a prayer and the world goes white. Jacob’s fingers slow down as your orgasm comes to an end.

“Told you, you were going to cum.”

When you open your eyes, Jacob is sitting up on his knees. His smug face is the first thing you notice. That look on his face irks you, but it also makes your stomach flip. Your eyes are drawn down to his body. For an older man, he really is in great shape. There’s an aged look to his chest, but the muscle is there. And that pooch in his lower stomach, well, it’s absolutely enticing. Jacob Seed looks good, really good.

“Shut up, old man.”

“Old man? Can an old man still get this?” He gestures to the bulge in his boxers. Your eyes go wide and your face grows hotter than you thought possible. Jacob, clearly enjoying your reaction, smirks, and palms himself. A moment later and he’s sliding his boxers off his waist, and his cock springs free. It’s large and thick, the head is red, and leaking precum. You’re not sure whether you want to taste him or have him fuck you. You just want him inside you.  

“Jacob.”

“What’s the matter, pup?” He leans over your body, his hand rests on your waist, and his cock is against your inner thigh. His lips ghost over yours, while those gorgeous blue eyes keep all your attention solely on him.

“Please, I want you.”

“You can have me, sweetheart.”

With his forehead against yours and a hand on your waist, Jacob pushes himself into you. Despite how gentle he is, there’s a stretch and burn that is deliciously painful. It leaves you wanting, needing, more. When all of Jacob’s cock is inside you, he’s kind enough to give you a moment to adjust. He is breathing hard, his eyes are slightly unfocused, and his jaw is clenched.

“Jacob.”

“Shhh, I’m here, pup. I’m here. I got you.”

Jacob’s thrusts start out slow and deep like he is teasing you. Every thrust and roll of his hips are amazing; his cock rubs against every perfect spot inside of you. One of his hands angles your head to the side, giving him access to the side of your neck and shoulder. While his thrusts are slow and teasing, the bites he leaves on your body are anything but. With every bite and thrust, you can only claw at Jacob’s back.

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” Jacob grunted.

“What?”

Jacob stops and looks down at you. His hand cups your face, and there is a tender look in his eyes that take your breath away. “I’ve wanted you for so long. I want you to come home with me. Come back with me.”

“And be what? Your perfect little soldier?” You know your voice didn’t sound harsh enough, and the look in your eyes no doubt told Jacob otherwise.

“No, be mine. My wife, my love.”

“Wha- Ah!” Jacob cut you off by slamming himself into you.

“Come home with me, pup. Come home and be mine.” His words send a chill down your spine and a warm feeling blooms in your chest.

With each thrust, Jacob whispers how much he wants you, how much he needs you. He whispers how beautiful you are, how strong and smart you are. Between every praise, Jacob kisses you. He leaves a bruising kiss to your lips, a harsh nip to your neck, or a bit to your shoulder. His fingers dig into your skin so hard you know you’ll be bruised tomorrow.

Each thrust, every sweetly whispered word, and bite drives you closer to the edge. You cling to Jacob, nails raking down his back and tears forming in your eyes. Your moans compete with the raging storm outside.

“Oh sweetheart, I can feel you tightening around me,” Jacob growled in your ear.

You tried to reply, but after a harsh thrust from Jacob, the only noise that came out of your mouth was a lewd moan. His thrusts became harder, and his grip on your waist tightens. Your moans increase in volume while the storm outside continues to rage.

“Jake, I’m close,” you gasped.

“Me too. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

A few more thrusts and you are coming undone. Jacob fucks you through your orgasm, not stopping until he came. He pushes himself all the way into you, filling you with his cum.

Your head is fuzzy and the world feels like it's spinning. The sweaty, mass of a man that is currently laying on you, is breathing hard. A moment later, he slides out of you and rolls onto the floor next to you. You can feel his cum slip out of you.

Jacob’s arm wraps around your body and pulls you against his chest. His hand settles on your thigh, his fingers move in soft circles over your skin. You both are silent, the only sounds come from the dying storm outside and the crackling fire.

“Sweetheart,” Jacob said. His voice is soft, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I was serious about you coming back with me.”

You roll over, giving him a suspicious and exhausted look. “Why?”

“Because it’s only ever been you, pup.” His hand rests on your cheek. “I won’t force you to come back with me. There will be no more hunting, trials, or music box. But please, think about it?”

“I’ll think about it, but no promises.”

Jacob gives you a smile. “Of course. Now, get some rest.”

You nod and close your eyes. Jacob pulls you close, his hands running along your back is the last thing you feel before you fall asleep.

When you wake up, it’s morning. The storm is over and the fire is out, but the ashes are still smoldering. Your clothes are no longer hanging up but are neatly folded next to you. A folded piece of paper sits on top. You look around for Jacob, but you see he’s gone. The only thing that remains of him is his camo jacket, which was draped over your body.

When you open the paper, it surprises you that Bliss doesn’t fall out and cloud your senses. The writing on the paper is clearly Jacobs; it’s distinctively, messy.

‘Pup, come home when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting.’

As you dress, you do your best to ignore the note and camo jacket on the floor. Once you’re dressed and ready to go, you pick up the note and reread it. You reread it several more times before your decision is made.

“Ok, Jacob.” You pull on his camo jacket, then your backpack. “I’m coming home.”  

[porkchop-ao3]

Moonlight: Werewolf Rick

Prepare yourselves, people, this one's a little... Different. I know that Kitty Rick has been getting a lot of love in this fandom lately, and I thought we needed to see some Werewolf Rick too! I've drawn him, and now I'm posting a fic! I decided to take the opportunity to write something quite different to what I usually do. Heed my warning; this probably won't be for everyone. Check the content tags below before you read it, please.

I wanna thank @hoodoo12 for helping me out with werewolf knowledge :) and @kitten-wrath and @ravenousscorpian for reading this first and giving me the balls to post this one :P

NSFW. Contains: sex with half animal/half human, knotting, oral sex, biting, doggy style (quite literally).

-

“I really d-d-don't know, baby.” Rick said with a long suffering sigh, his shoulders slumped and his face a picture of indecision. Well, it wasn't a no. We were making progress. “I-i-it's difficult to- you don't understand what it's like.”

“I do. I've seen you like it a bunch of times.” I said, swinging my legs back and forth under the desk in his garage. He dropped the screwdriver he was using and looked up to meet my eyes.

“If you've seen it then I don't know why you want it!” He exclaimed, looking nothing but confused. I licked my lips and looked him up and down, my brow cocking.

“Why do you think?” I purred. Rick's eyes trailed down my body and he gnawed on his lip. “What're you worried about, hurting me?”

“Of course!” He raised his voice, frowning in irritation and averting his eyes.

“I thought you said when you turned you could still think and feel like you do normally. You're just a little more…” I trailed off and shrugged.

“I let my instincts get the better of me. But you're right, I still have some wits about me. Th-that's not my point. I'm n- I'm not gonna rip your head off or tear out your windpipe. I'm not completely- totally fucked up when I'm like that.” He muttered, rolling his eyes at me.

“So what's the problem?” I asked. He growled in annoyance.

“You want me to be honest? Fine. I don't know what y-y-you're expecting, sweetheart, but when I turn things… things change.”

“Well yeah. That's pretty obvious.” I chuckled.

“I mean my dick! M-m-my dick ain't gonna look like this.” He all but yelled as he pushed away from the desk and gestured with both hands to his crotch. I stared at him for a while, not expecting that at all. “I turn into a fucking dog- a fuckin’ wolf-man for Christ's sake!”

“You're worried I'm not going to like the way your dick looks?” I asked for clarification and he sighed.

“You just gotta know some stuff, baby. It's not like a normal dick, okay? And when- once I've started I can't just stop. S-s-so if you want to stop then there's- it just can't stop. Google dog sex.” He grumbled, his face a picture of annoyance and mild embarrassment.

“I know enough to understand what you're saying. The knot, right? Once the knot’s in you can't pull out until you've finished.” I said and Rick covered his ears, growling in annoyance.

“Shut up! I'm not talking about this with you.” He hissed.

I sighed and slid off the edge of the desk, just as easily sliding into his lap, straddling him. His hands automatically moved to my waist, holding me steady. I slowly started to kiss his cheek, moving to his jaw and then his neck. I kissed upwards to his earlobe, nibbling gently and hearing his breath pick up just a little.

“I want it, Rick. Knot and all.” I whispered. “I wanna see you change in front of me, and just lose it. I want you to fuck me like that, Rick.”

“Fuck.” He groaned. I rocked my hips, grinding against him.

“I’ve thought about it since the day I found out about your little secret. Since I saw you change for the first time.” I admitted, recalling the night in question. The way his eyes suddenly darkened to something sinister when a beam of moonlight hit him through the open blinds, and he looked at me like I was a piece of meat. As soon as I opened my mouth to speak he'd pushed me away from him and started striding towards the front door to my house, his muscles twitching and tensing, guttural, breathy sounds bursting from him as he went.

At the time of course I'd been confused, concerned even. I hadn't a clue what was happening to him. I'd tried to follow him until the transformation really set in. The penny suddenly dropped and rather than try to close the gap between us, I widened it. He changed into his alternate form at a rapidly increasing pace, like it was bursting from inside of him, his clothing was torn and shredded as he flung open the door. With a howl that could belong to nothing other than a wolf, he was running from the house, leaving me to sit and stew in whatever the fuck I had just witnessed.

Rick had no choice but to be honest with me after that.

“It turned me on that night. Seeing you transform like that, changing into something so dangerous and wild. Knowing it was you behind those eyes…” I whispered, feeling his cock hardening in his slacks.

“I could-” he started, his voice shaking just a little. He licked his lips before starting again. “I know seeing me like that turns you on. I've smelled it on you.”

I moaned softly. “I bet you have. I've always wondered what it'd be like to see you turn when we're getting dirty. See if your cock stays hard, see if you can bring yourself to stop when your natural urges are stronger.”

“I couldn't… I'd fuck you, no doubt. Th-that's what I'm worried about.”

“I'm not.” I smirked. “I crave it. Please, Rick.”

He looked at me, his face softening just slightly.

“Pretty please with sugar on top.”

-

My hand was gripping his hair so tight I was surprised he hadn't wrenched me off of him yet. But he was going to town with that tongue of his, grinding it hard against my clit, his fingers buried deep in my pussy and applying delicious pressure against my g-spot with pinpoint accuracy. I was close to cumming for the third time that evening, and he hadn't had to work hard to have me that way.

We were out in an abandoned farmyard way out in the sticks. Nobody was around for miles, we were nicely secluded. We were in a barn; not the classiest of locations, but at least there were no animals here anymore. Rick told me this was where he'd come to sleep during full moons, he said he'd never been disturbed and he'd made the place a little more comfortable. This was perhaps the best place for us to be considering what we had planned. We were on his bed; well, it was a pile of blankets and pillows from God knows where and it smelled like dog. The reasoning behind that made my heart race.

My orgasm seemed to creep closer along with the patch of moonlight shining through the dilapidated roof of the barn. It approached Rick, and I knew when the moonlight reached him, he would change. What happened next would be a bit of a mystery. Rick had told me that on the third night of a full moon he had the most control over himself, his thoughts and feelings were more his own, and so we'd waited until then.

“Fuck, Rick.” I whined, my toes curling as my orgasm swelled, on the edge of peaking. The moonlight was right behind him, spreading across the scuffed floor of the barn, kissing the tips of his toes. “Oh God!” I cried, my body tensing up as I toppled over the edge, cumming hard as a rumbling sound began to rise from Rick's chest.

Rick pulled away from me – I was still breathless and cumming – and growled, his face crumbling into an expression of pain. He inadvertently backed into the moonlight fully, lit up so I could see every part of his transformation. He was naked, his hard cock jutting out from his body as he kneeled before me. His shoulders seemed to broaden, his back hunching and becoming bulky with thick muscle. His hands, where they clutched both sides of his head, grew larger, bonier but more menacing with sharp claws appearing at his fingertips. Fur grew on his body, thickening and spreading from wherever hair naturally grew on his human form, quickly covering his body in a coarse layer, all a dark, bluish grey.

My mouth hung open as I watched, my pussy throbbing with the aftershocks of my orgasm, my heart pounding for a different reason. His face began to change, his nose morphing with his mouth to become a wolf-like muzzle, but his eyes remained very Rick-like, I could recognise those eyes anywhere, though they were a hell of a lot more threatening now. I didn't notice the point that it happened, I was too focused on his eyes, but at some point he grew wolf ears. A tail flicked behind him too, peeking into view just a little now and then. He was also a couple feet taller than he had been before, and just larger in general. Beefy. Heavy. Scary.

He raised up onto his hind legs to be bathed in moonlight; he still stood like a human, and stared down at me for a while, his chest expanding and deflating quickly. His top lip was pulled back just a little, exposing the sharp white teeth that had appeared there. I allowed my eyes to drop down his fur covered torso, past his narrow waist and down to his hips. One of my questions had been answered; his cock was still hard. It looked mostly human, but there were some differences. The main one being size; it was much larger than before, thick and veiny and hanging down under its own weight. It was noticeably thicker at the base too, but I knew it'd get a hell of a lot thicker once he was inside me. A flutter of nerves made themselves known.

“Rick? Can you talk like this?” I asked him for some reason. Didn't know why. His ears twitched at my voice and his expression shifted a little; though his face was much harder to read now. A dog-like grunt came from the back of his throat and I took it as a no.

He dropped forwards onto his palms, stalking towards me. My eyes widened and my breaths came faster. I flinched when his wet nose touched my leg. He sniffed his way up my body, lingering on the space between my legs the most, before coming face to face with me, inches apart. He paused there for a moment, staring intensely into my eyes. He was so close I could see his pupils dilate and his top lip twitch, glistening with saliva. There was a second, a split second, where I regretted everything. He was going to kill me. Rick told me he was always ravenous when he changed, and now I was going to become his meal.

But then he licked me. A quick, playful swipe of his tongue over the tip of my nose. It was enough to break the tension and I laughed. Laughed! Much harder than I had in a long time. At this, I knew I was safe. It was all he needed to do. Then he shut me up by grabbing my arms roughly, the tips of his claws pressing into my flesh as he wrestled me onto my front. I gasped, my laughter stopping in an instant. I could feel his furry body against my back, his thick cock pressing up against my ass. He was so huge, completely blanketing me in himself. Between him and the bed his scent was suffocating, so animal and wild, not exactly pleasant but it wasn't the worst either. I couldn't complain though, since I had my face pressed into the blankets.

I heard him growl behind me; it wasn't the first time he'd growled in the bedroom but this time it was undeniably wolfish. He was an animal, he was wild, through and through. He moved against me, still gripping my arms to keep me still as he rubbed his cock against my ass. It felt massive, so thick and imposing and impossibly hot. He grunted and I could hear puffs of air coming from his nose, much closer to my ear than I'd anticipated. I whimpered, feeling his hot breath against the back of my neck in moist puffs. I whimpered again when his wet nose poked and prodded at the back of my neck, pushing my hair off to the side and out of his way. He sniffed and licked at me all the way to the side of my neck. I could see his face from the corner of my eye for a moment or two, then he opened his maw and I could feel the pointy tips of his teeth at my neck. I gasped and stiffened, my whole body vibrating with adrenaline as his jaw closed down on the side of my neck just so. He didn't break skin, and it didn't hurt, but it was a dangerous presence right over my pulse point and it put me on edge.

A breathy roar met my ears, cutting through the sudden silence, terrifying me but strangely enough making me break out into a moan, my thighs clamping together. I knew if he had the vocal cords to do it, Rick would've laughed. He opened his jaw, unlatching from me and straightening up just a little. The pressure on my back was let up enough that I could lift my head and shoulders, and I looked back at him as he grabbed hold of my hips, pulling back and lining his thick, hot cock up with my slit. With an animal-like grunt, he pushed in, stretching me open to the extent of causing a sharp pain deep in my core. I whined, my hips jerking around in an unconscious effort to get away. I settled myself, though, consciously relaxing as he slid deeper into me, the deeper he went the wider I stretched and I moaned out long and loud. There was a sweet mixture of pain, pleasure, and satisfaction.

I knew what was coming, Rick was panting quicker and quicker, his claws digging into my sides. He growled deep in his chest and then lunged forwards, letting go of my hips and holding himself up with his arms either side of me. And then he started rutting, fucking into me with sharp snaps of his hips that had him curling his back over me, crouching over with his legs bent at the knees, mounting me like… well, like a dog. It took my breath away, the speed at which he fucked me, not pulling back very far at all just pushing forwards roughly, like he was always seeking to go deeper, impossibly deep. The more he thrust the shallower they became, until he was barely pulling out of me. I realised why that was when I felt the odd sensation of something being stuck down there, like his cock had grown inside me and was too big to come back out. Of course, that's exactly what had happened, I knew that he was tied to me and there was no going back until he came inside me. There was a thrill that came with that knowledge, and my pussy clenched around him, a tender ache bloomed and I whined again.

Rick still continued to rut as much as he could while being knotted inside me, he could only pull back minutely but on the inward thrust he gave it his all. His cock nudged my cervix each time, making me gasp. It hurt, but the pain was a signal of how well he filled me, and it was nothing but arousing and I groaned in time with his movements.

His teeth grazed my shoulder, sinking down into my flesh just a little. Every time I felt that maw of his close around me I tensed, a thrill running through me and making my pussy clench. I knew that he could take a chunk out of me. Hell, he could remove a limb, tear my throat out, swallow me up like a damn hotdog. I knew that. I was acutely aware of it the entire time, hanging on the edge of danger constantly, pushing me to the edge of something entirely more pleasurable.

Rick could. But wouldn't.

His body pressed up against me, incredibly hot, his hips rhythmically pushing me down into the blankets below me. I felt something furry between my thighs, Rick's tail was curling down between his own legs, flicking back and forth between mine. I wondered how much control he had over that tail of his, whether he was doing it on purpose or not.

The thicker the knot became inside me, the less Rick could move and eventually the motion of his hips changed into grinding rather than thrusting, which I wasn’t upset about at all. With this kind of movement his cock ground more firmly against my g-spot in a way I actually prefered over more traditional thrusting. I moaned, pressing my forehead into the musky blankets and feeling my orgasm draw close. I had a feeling Rick was close too, his cock felt so hot and thick inside me, throbbing and twitching like it was ready to blow. I wondered how much cum he’d produce like this. Would it look and feel like normal cum? I had no idea. But I wouldn't be waiting long to find out.

Rick was grunting behind me louder now, one of his hands – paws? No, he still had fingers – moved to my hip again, pulling me firmly against him and holding me there. His hips became more vigorous, rubbing up and down against my ass, bringing hot friction between us. I gasped aloud, my pussy clenching as it felt as if his cock swelled even more; I wasn't sure if that was in my imagination or not. But with a loud, terrifying roar, Rick came. His cock pumped me full to the brim of thick, hot cum. There was so much of it I could feel the pressure building inside me, barely being relieved when some managed to escape from behind his knot, dripping down my thighs. I felt so full, so satisfied, everything was so hot and tight down there and I burst; sobbing out loud as my orgasm hit. Every muscle in my pussy rippled and pulsed, squeezing Rick’s cock and making him growl in my ear. My shoulder was getting wet from his drool but I couldn't find it in me to care and just laid there and took it, my climax taking every last drop of energy from me. It was so much more intense than usual, being so full of his cock and his cum. It was incredible and I laid there panting for what felt like an age afterwards.

Rick didn't remove himself from me, of course. He couldn't. We were still tied together, not going anywhere soon. I momentarily wondered how long we would be stuck like this for, but I pushed that thought aside when I felt his tongue lapping at my shoulder and neck. Gentle swipes of his tongue moved up from my shoulder blade to my neck, over and over again. I wasn't sure what he was doing; grooming me or something? Perhaps it was a sign of affection. Either way, after the initial grossness at the sensation of being covered in his saliva, I was quickly finding the experience very soothing. My heart rate slowed, my breathing calmed, I allowed my body to relax into the pillows; my butt still in the air of course, Rick's hand wasn't letting that go anywhere.

I wasn't sure how long had passed but eventually Rick could pull out, and I whimpered softly at the sensation. It was like pulling the plug, and there was a sudden gush of wetness flooding out of me right after his cock had, and the loss startled me. I felt empty and loose, my body felt boneless and when he let go of my hips I fell onto my side. Rick sniffed around me for a moment, my hair, my neck, then down between my legs.

Suddenly, he rose back up onto his back legs, standing above me like a regular man; if you consider being covered in fur, being in possession of a tail, ears, and huge sharp teeth, but standing on two feet to be anything close to a regular man. I didn't know what he was going to do. Of course, he wasn't going to climb into the blanket fort with me and snuggle; he was part wolf! So I was unsurprised when for a final time those blue eyes of his - of Rick’s, not an animal - scanned over my body, and he eventually turned and made for the open door of the barn, going down onto all fours as he picked up speed.

I watched him run off until he was no longer visible, wondering about what he might be doing. He’d hunt, no doubt, feed himself and do whatever else he usually did when he turned. Then he’d come back here to sleep… and I wasn't entirely sure if he expected me to be here when he did.

I decided to leave, in the end. Rick might be accustomed to curling up in an oversized dog bed, but I certainly wasn't. I also wasn't sure if I wanted to see him after he’d hunted. I’d seen enough nature documentaries to know that matted up, bloody fur around a muzzle wasn’t cute.

So, once my legs would do what I asked them to, I rose to my feet, cleaned myself up and got dressed, then followed Rick’s pawprints out of the barn, preparing myself to see him once again in his human form when the sun came up.

[kurokoros]

The Night We Met || Chapter 1 (sweet pea x oc)

Title: The Night We Met

Rated: M (for violence, language, mild adult content)

Characters: Sweet Pea, Southside Serpents, Kat Harlocke (OC)

Ships: Sweet Pea x OC

Words: 2834

Summary: Katherine Harlocke disappears at 11:59 PM on a rainy night in October after an argument with Sweet Pea. No trace. No goodbyes. And no body. Things come crashing down in the months to come as those involved struggle with letting go or clinging onto what little hope they have left as the search dwindles to nothing. And Sweet Pea hurtles towards a violent downward spiral.

AN: Primary chapters alternate with “interludes” every other post. Chapters chronicle the present timeline of events and Interludes are shorter flashbacks involving other characters and an original character, Kat. Most interludes are filler based on character development, rather than plot.

This is also posted on AO3.

Once again, this was inspired by @starryeyedauthor‘s fic Where’s My Love which is amazing and everyone should read it if they haven’t already!

Sweet Pea lets an angry breath hiss between his teeth, his jaw clenching tightly as he glares at the deputy on the other side of the desk. The man only stares back, appearing almost bored with the conversation and that only serves to make him angrier, a familiar rage bubbling in his chest and making him feel sick to his stomach.

A muscle in his jaw jumps as his teeth grind together, his eyes squeezing shut as he takes a slow breath, steeling his nerves. His fingers drum against the hard plastic chair beneath him, beating out a fast, irregular pattern. “You’re not listening to what I’m—”

The deputy cuts him off before he can finish, shaking his head with a sympathetic smile. “As I’ve already told you, twice, most people don’t just disappear.” Sweet Pea stiffens at the word, forcing his gaze away from the deputy, his hands trembling at his sides. He doesn’t move, barely breathes, but the deputy continues, making the sinking feeling in Sweet Pea’s stomach grow with each word. “More often than not, a missing person shows up within twenty-four hours.”

Sweet Pea shakes his head slowly, a grimace pulling at his lips. He’s been calling Kat all morning, needing to hear her voice after the way they left things last night, but she wouldn’t answer the phone. At first, he thought she was still just pissed at him. They both said things they didn’t mean last night, things that hurt and things that held too much truth for either of them to swallow, but she’s never outright ignored him before, knowing how much he worries. And when she never came home…

Sweet Pea almost bites his tongue to keep from snapping at the deputy, exhaling harshly through his nose as he rakes his hand through his messy hair, trying one last time to just get them to listen. He’s been here for nearly an hour and they aren’t doing anything besides telling him that nothing is wrong. “She wouldn’t just—”

He’s cut off again, the deputy still speaking calmly, slowly, and it only serves to piss him off more. “You said you last saw her last night.” It isn’t a question and this time Sweet Pea does bite his tongue to keep from snapping at the man, to keep himself from saying that he last saw her a minute before midnight as she was walking away from him in the pouring rain, and he hadn’t bothered to stay and watch her leave. “Give it until tomorrow morning and if she’s still not back—”

“Listen to me dammit!” Sweet Pea’s clenched fist slams down on the desk between them, making the deputy jump. Every eye in the room turns to Sweet Pea, some curious, but most simply annoyed by the disturbance. He’s never been one to care about what other people think, but right now he wants those eyes off of him, his skin itching like they’re peeling back the layers of his skin and seeing something inside he doesn’t like to show.

Raw, gut wrenching fear.

He takes another ragged breath, swallowing down the sick swell of emotion rising in his throat. “I’m telling you that something’s wrong,” he tells the deputy, the words coming out much softer than he means them to, his voice quivering as the fight seems to drain from him, at least momentarily. Without the fury he only feels a cold emptiness clawing at his chest, and he would take the anger over that any day.

At his quiet words, the deputy pauses, finally looking at him properly for the first time since he stormed in. The older man purses his lips, uncomfortable under the Serpent’s stare. After several long seconds, the man sighs, placing his hands flat on his desk as he meets Sweet Pea’s gaze properly, wetting his lips. “Miss Harlocke is over the age of eighteen,” he tells Sweet Pea, almost apologetic as he says it. Almost. “If she were a minor this would be different,” he continues gently. “Policy—”

“Fuck your policy!” he spits at the officer, voice carrying throughout the room as it goes eerily quiet. Sweet Pea stands from his chair so quickly that it tumbles backwards, hitting the tile floor with a bang that seems to echo, the sound violent in the otherwise silent room.

For a moment it seems like no one moves, no one breathes, and all Sweet Pea can hear is the roar of his pulse in his ears, heart pounding in his chest as he takes a shaky breath through clenched teeth.

“Calm down,” the deputy demands, sending Sweet Pea a stern look, “or we’ll have someone escort you out.” It’s a veiled threat and they both know it, and with a sinking feeling he realizes these people aren’t going to help him. Maybe they don’t want to help him, and he knows that being here isn’t going to help him find Kat. It’s just a waste of his time.

Sweet Pea shakes his head, a bitter laugh spilling from the back of his throat. “Don’t fucking bother,” he sneers, sending the deputy one last glare before turning on his heel and storming from the room, knowing the way out by muscle memory alone.

He should have known the cops wouldn’t be any help to him. They all know who he is and they have no love of Serpents, especially not after recent years. They don’t give a damn what happens on the Southside, and Kat is a Serpent whether or not she has the jacket or the tattoo, even if she was born on the northern side of town. She’s one of them and the cops know that. And maybe that’s what’s making them brush her aside. She’s just another fucked up Southsider to them, nothing more.

But Sweet Pea knows better than that.

He practically rips his phone from his pocket as he stomps towards the front doors, checking for any messages from Kat, any sign that she’s okay, but all there is is a missed call from Fangs and a brief text from Jughead asking why he called so damn early in the morning. He ignores both, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he pushes the doors open wide.

Toni and Fangs’ heads snap up when the door to the station clatters open, Toni perched on the metal railing of the stairs and Fangs leaning back against the bars beside her. They start to smile when they see him, but it only lasts a second, their hopeful expressions slipping when they see the storm brewing in his eyes, his jaw clenched and his hands trembling at his sides.

The doors slam shut again behind him, but he doesn’t give the station a second glance as he trudges towards his friends, rage bubbling under his skin. Toni’s lips press into a thin line as Sweet Pea nears, Fangs glancing between the two of them slowly, chewing his lower lip absently, a nervous tick.

Toni slides down from the railing as soon as he’s close. “Anything?” she asks, exasperated, her eyes searching Sweet Pea’s frantically for even a hint of good news. Something—anything. “Sweet Pea, what did they say?” Toni continues when he doesn’t respond, grabbing his arm in a firm grip when he tries to slide passed her. “Sweet Pea.”

He jerks to a stop, sucking in an angry breath through his teeth. He doesn’t look at Toni, refusing to meet her eyes, and when Fangs takes a step closer to them, he turns his face away, unwilling to look at his friends as his throat grows tight, a phantom hand wound around his neck and squeezing. “Bastards say she’ll turn up by the end of the day,” he chokes out bitterly, a humorless laugh spilling from his mouth. “They’re not going to do a damn thing.”

“Jesus,” Fangs murmurs, shaking his head in disbelief.

Sweet Pea lashes out suddenly, a loud ‘fuck!’ tears from his mouth, his foot connecting with a half empty trashcan and sending it careening down the steps, contents left to spill across the ground. Toni’s grip on him tightens as he sneers at the garbage littering the ground, but he barely feels it.

Fangs reaches out slowly, placing a hand on Sweet Pea’s arm, like Toni, but Sweet Pea shrugs them both off, pulling his jacket tighter around himself to ward off the October morning chill, the sky still gray after the storm last night. It’s almost fitting, in some twisted form of irony. Everything is darker than it was yesterday, washed out and a thousand shades of gray.

Sweet Pea ducks his head down, running his trembling fingers through his hair as he fights to keep his breathing even, lack of sleep and the sick feeling churning in his gut making him nauseous.

“Is it possible that she will?” Toni asks, and both Fangs and Sweet Pea glance down at her, watching as she plays with the hem of her jacket, pulling absentmindedly at a loose thread. “Turn up, I mean,” she clarifies, looking between the boys. “You guys did get into a pretty bad fight…” She trails off with a grimace as she realizes what she’s said, Sweet Pea going very still at the reminder.

Sweet Pea exhales heavily through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. He doesn’t want to think about last night, about him and Kat screaming at each other over the rain and the roaring of his pulse, about the way she looked at him like she couldn’t even recognize him for a moment, about the things he said and the things he didn’t say, and the things he wishes he’d said.

He turns his back on Toni and Fangs, hands curling around the worn railing Toni and Fangs were just leaning against. The rough metal bites into his skin, so cold it burns, but he ignores the sting, needing to feel something to keep himself from going ballistic. His phone rings in his back pocket, but the ringtone isn’t right and he knows in his gut that it isn’t her.

“Toni,” Fangs sighs, voice hushed and chastising. He glances at Sweet Pea, back turned to both of them and half-hunched over to make himself smaller. Fangs winces, unable to say anything else as he looks at his best friend, watching as cracks start to appear in the harsh exterior he’s created over the years.

None of them had ever seen Sweet Pea as frantic as he was this morning when he stormed into the Whyte Wyrm, something desperate in his eyes, almost haunted.

“Look,” Toni snaps, running a hand through her unruly hair, “maybe she’s just ignoring our calls and needs some time alone.”

Fangs is already shaking his head before she’s even finished. “Kat wouldn’t do that though,” he murmurs back to her, trying to keep his voice low as he glances at Sweet Pea. “You know she wouldn’t do that, Toni.” It comes out as barely a whisper, fragile as Fangs swallows down the lump in his throat.

“Kat has a knack for surprises,” she argues back, louder than before as she glares at Fangs, daring him to challenge her. “She likes to pull pranks.”

Fangs’ eyes narrow, a frown pulling at his lips. “Is that what you want to call this? A surprise? A bad joke?”

“I don’t want to call it anything, Fredrick!” she spits at him, the use of his first name making Fangs wince. Toni squeezes her eyes shut, wrapping her arms around herself as she glances at Sweet Pea, her gaze practically ripping away from him a moment later to focus back on Fangs. “Look,” she starts softly, words shaky as she continues, “there were parties going on last night. It was a Friday night. She was pissed. Maybe she got hammered somewhere and her phone is dead.”

Fangs shakes his head. “You don’t think she would have called someone? Kat always leaves drunk voicemails when she parties. You know that!”

“Well, maybe this time was different, I don’t know!” She shots Fangs a nasty look, eyes bright and watery. “I just don’t want to think about Kat dead in some—” She cuts herself off sharply, choking as she realizes what she’s said. Fangs’ gaze drops to the ground, is hands clenching tightly as he forces himself to swallow. Sweet Pea physically flinches at the word, though he tries to hide the small jerk of his torso. They all see it though. They all know and it makes Toni’s stomach twist sickly.

“Kat’s fine,” Toni says suddenly, voice louder, firm as she looks up at Fangs again. “She’s going to show up later at the Wyrm with—with some wild ass story and…” she trails off briefly, fighting to keep her voice from quivering, “and we’re all going to laugh it off.”

Sweet Pea doesn’t react to Toni’s claim, staring across the street at nothing. The roaring in his ears has only gotten louder since he left the station, his head pounding in time with his heartbeat, and he can barely hear himself think.

“I’m going to call Kevin again,” Fangs whispers to Toni, eyes jumping between her and Sweet Pea, waiting for him to explode again, “see if he’s heard anything.” He slips his phone from his pocket, glancing down to scroll through his contacts as he wets his lips.

She nods. “Call Betty, too. She wasn’t answering earlier this morning, but maybe Kat’s with her.”

Fangs sends her a look that’s so heartbreaking it feels like a physical blow to the chest. “Wouldn’t Betty have called you back if—”

“Fangs,” Toni sighs, cutting him off gently. “Don’t,” she whispers, choking up, “please, just—don’t.”

Fangs gives Toni a sharp nod and casts one last look at Sweet Pea’s back before sighing and turning away, raising his phone to his ear and walking passed both him and Toni to reach the bottom of the steps leading away from the station. Toni watches him go before her gaze drifts back to Sweet Pea, her eyes going wide when she notices his entire body trembling.

“Sweet Pea, you’re shaking,” she murmurs, flinching when something that sounds like a cross between a mirthless laugh and a sob rips from somewhere deep in his chest. His grip on the railing only grows tighter, his knuckles paling. Toni takes a step closer to him, reaching out but not touching him. “Sweets,” she whispers, voice thick with something he doesn’t want to put a name to.

He releases a ragged breath, squeezing his eyes shut briefly as he refuses to look at her. “Something’s wrong,” he chokes out, shaking his head. “Toni, I can feel it.” He stares down at his hands, clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering right out of his mouth. “I knew as soon as she walked away but—” but he was too stubborn to stop her. Too angry. Too much of a coward. “I wanted so badly to be angry this morning when she wouldn’t answer the phone,” he tells her in a whisper, only half-aware of what he’s saying, “but after she didn’t pick up it was like I couldn’t breathe. Fuck, I couldn’t breathe.” His throat grows tight again, the air forced from his lungs.

“Kat is fine,” Toni coos at him, placing a hand on the center of his back and rubbing slow circles against the leather. “She is.” A cheerless smile slips onto her face. “And she’s going to call in a few hours and ask you to pick her up from whatever shitty northside party she crashed at last night, and you guys are going to talk about your fight and make up like you always do.”

She sounds so sure that he almost believes her. Almost.

Sweet Pea shakes his head, sighing. “Toni—”

“Steven,” she says sharply, the use of his first name making his head snap up in surprise. Toni very rarely calls Fangs and him by their real names, and even then it’s only when she’s being completely serious. Sweet Pea looks down at Toni, meeting her gaze with his own wild eyes, suddenly feeling very small and very, very lost. “She’s going to call you,” Toni continues firmly, placing her hands on his shoulders and giving a slow squeeze, forcing him to release his iron grip on the railing in order to face her directly. She nods as if willing them both to believe her and forces a tight smile onto her lips. “She will.”

A cold ache that feels a lot like doubt settles in his bones, so deep he’s not sure it will ever leave. “Yeah,” he whispers back to her, allowing her to wrap her arms around him fully, Toni squeezing him as if that might keep all the pieces of him together. “Yeah,” he repeats lowly, hands still trembling at his sides.

She doesn’t.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Space Wolf

Voltron Halloween fic; Veronica finds a werewolf Acxa in the middle of transforming back into a human.

The wolf, if it could even be called that, was drawing in heavy and pained breaths and Veronica didn’t know how to help it. She didn’t know if she could. Nor if she should. She could sense fear and confusion on the half-human, half-alien creature and she wondered if that made the wolf more or less dangerous. It shuddered and so did Veronica. It took a great deal of mental effort, but she slowly reached out and stroked the wolf’s blue fur. Until then, the only space wolf she’d ever seen was Keith’s. That wolf had scared her and it was a true space wolf. This thing…what was it exactly? Some kind of werewolf from outerspace? For what it was worth they hybrid creature was beautiful; with a toned and towering stature accented by an opalescent deep blue pelt. She could swear that electric blue sparks flashed over the creature’s fur every now and again. Truly she’d never seen anything like it, not even in those old horror flicks her friends used to binge with her. The animal snarled and she jolted back. As alluring as the beast was, it was frightening. It’s fangs, now exposed, were astoundingly large. It’s maw powerful and threatening. She could detect fury in those eyes. Fury and something else, something almost familiar—that something only made the ordeal that much more uncanny. She was at a loss, if the creature attacked her, she would have no means of fighting back. She hadn’t brought any weapons, but then, she hadn’t expected a wolf to enter the compound. She could make a run for it, a mad dash to the artillery room, but the wolf remained on its side of the room, growling and whimpering to itself.

 It was in pain, Veronica realized. Yet she couldn’t see any cause for its ailing. It didn’t look wounded, but God, it sounded tormented. A series of grotesque pops and cracks had the creature writhing and thrashing on the floor.

The sight of it was both heart wrenching and horrifying all at once.

And the agonized wolf let out a cry. The sort Veronica knew would follow her into her sleeping hours for the next few months. It was a demented blend of a scream and a howl. A wolf’s voice with an undertone of something more or less human. Veronica cupped her hands over her ears and waited for the noise to pass.

 She wanted to approach the wolf again, but the rational side of her took hold. For all of the sympathy she had, that creature was dangerous and she couldn’t see it doing anything but snapping its jaws at her wrists.

But its eyes, oh lord, its eyes. There was something in them. So deeply frightened. Something tortured, something that begged for mercy.

Veronica couldn’t offer any.

 .oOo.

 Transforming back is infinitely more painful than the initial turning, perhaps that is why most chose not to do it at all. The beast clawed and tore its way to the surface as it did every full moon, and she was hapless to stop it.

She thought that it would be easier on Earth, being as she was so far from the Galra moons. But Earth’s moon? It was different, somehow more powerful. Earth’s moon was closer to the planet than Galra’s moon was to it. Its pull was harsher, irresistible. At least with her planet’s moon she had built a tolerance and could resist at least long enough to put herself somewhere where she couldn’t harm nor be harmed.

 Things in her mind were fuzzy, she couldn’t remember if she had done any damage.  All she could remember was an unrelenting pain, one that was growing worse and worser still. Claws dug into her skin as she cupped them over her head. She could feel her muscles contract and strain as they began reshaping themselves. She cried out again and then once more at the ripping sensation that the first one had caused her. She couldn’t be sure but she thought that she might have been bleeding, perhaps from where claws raked into skin. Claws that were retracting as though she were grinding them down on stone. Each inch lost sent an unpleasant ripple through her body. She did know, however, that she was crying. Rather hard at that, the sound of it was still caught between that of a wolf’s and her own. Just as the mouth uttering the cry was. She tried to pull herself into a sitting position, or at least an laying one that was more comfortable, but she still lacked control over her muscles. In fact, they seemed to be fighting her every step of the way.

In another series of cracks, she knows that her bones are snapping back to their original, much smaller build. She was only dully aware of the woman standing across the room. She couldn’t quite focus on the face, she couldn’t really focus on any one thing. The sensation of an intense shoving pressure has her longing for release of any kind, even if it came from death. She just wanted an exit at that point. And a ringing filled her ears, it reaped her heightened sense of hearing and made the situation that much more disorienting. Sounds seemed to blend; the sound of her own heartbeat, the woman’s breathing from across the room, a metallic clatter from down the hall. And then they were overpowered by and muffled beneath the ringing until all that was left was the pounding of her heart. It was beating at a rate that had to be dangerous.

 She was growing dizzy. She tried to dwell on it, to force herself into a sleep state.

A painless state.

She welcomed the wooziness that was claiming her vision.

 .oOo.

 In a series of a few final twitching spasms, the Galra lay unmoving.

Faint traces of fur still lingered on her hands, but in minutes those patches were gone too. And she recognized the face. How could she not? It was the face of her lover. Veronica was still shaking from the spectacle, one that she was sure that she wasn’t supposed to have seen, but she took Acxa into her arms regardless and carried her to bed. Pulling the blanket over her shoulder, she wondered how she hadn’t recognized her sooner. She should have known, she should have sensed it.

 She left the room only for a second to fetch a towel and some bandaids. She dabbed at the self-inflicted claw marks on her hairline. She figured it would be better to do so when the woman couldn’t feel the sting of doing so. Carefully, she put the bandaids over the marks.

 She remained at the foot of the bed until the Galra finally stirred again. And when she did, she couldn’t seem to face Veronica. In fact, she made a point of avoiding eye contact and Veronica wondered if she was ashamed to have been seen in such a state.

 Veronica took her hand. She seemed so distraught. Distraught and flustered. “It’s alright.” Veronica muttered. “I’m not judging. Trust me, back in school I was that weird dorky kid that everyone liked to make jabs at.” She gave Acxa a lopsided smile.

 Acxa still didn’t face her.

 “Hey, come on now, don’t do that.” Veronica said softly, brushing a sweep of hair from Acxa’s face only to reveal another set of angry claw marks. How had she missed those?

 “You were afraid of me.” She whispered.

 And Veronica was now the one feeling ashamed and guilty because she couldn’t dispute it. “It’s nothing you did. I’m actually afraid of Earth wolves too. Wolves and foxes and coyotes…anything with fur that can eat me. Of course, scaled things that can eat me are horrifying too.” She hoped that her rambling made it clear that she meant no harm. “Not that I thought you would eat me.”

 Acxa’s frown deepened. “That’s only because I was already turning back, do you know what could have happened if…” She trailed off, perhaps think back to a past experience. She bit her cheek—to Veronica’s relief, with teeth that had less edge—“I can’t control it. I tried but, this time…” She looked up at Veronica almost desperately. “I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

 Veronica inspected her once more. “I mean I only see your blood, so that’s probably a good sign, right?”

 Acxa nodded.

 “There weren’t many people here anyways. Everyone wanted to explore Earth a little. I decided to stay in and get a little reading done. So that’s good, right? No one else saw anything.”

 The relief was plain on Acxa’s face, her eyes were so soft and gentle. It was terribly hard for her to imagine the Galara tearing someone to shreds.

 “How did this happen to you, anyways? If you don’t talking about it.” Veronica’s curiosity finally got the best of her. “How’d you become a space werewolf?”

 Acxa was quite for a very long moment, “Zethrid.”

 “Zethrid?”

 “She was born half-Galra, half-space wolf. Something like that, anyhow.” Acxa paused. “She didn’t talk much about it.” She toyed awkwardly with her bangs. “It’s not a comfortable thing for anyone to disclose, I don’t blame her for not telling me…”

 “So you found out the hard way?” Veronica asked.

 Acxa nodded. “I don’t really remember much about it, I just remember being pounced and looking into the wolf’s eyes and seeing Zethrid. And then waking up with the bite marks. I knew it was her, it had to be. She wouldn’t talk to me for months afterwards, and that’s the only reason I can think of for it.”

 “I’m sorry.” Veronica replied.

 Acxa shrugged, “I don’t think she meant it.” Her expression grew distant. “There’s more instinct and less control and it only gets worse the closer to the moon—any of them—you are. Lotor’s path had us right in front of the Galra moon when it was full. I’m lucky I’m alive to be a werespace-wolf.” Veronica could see her absently flexing her fingers. “She tried to get him to stall for the night, but he wouldn’t do it without reason and she wouldn’t give him one. They’re both stubborn.”  Veronica watched her try to get comfortable against the pillow, and wince as she pulled an already strained muscle.

 “Back massage?” Veronica offered with a warm smile.

 Acxa smiled wearily and rolled onto her stomach.

 “Where does it hurt the most?”

 “Between my shoulder blades.” Acxa answered.

 Veronica began her first attempt to work the knots out of Acxa’s muscles. The poor woman was so tense. Veronica pressed her lips together in concentration. The longer she worked, the more relaxed the Galra seemed. Her breathing was growing more level, less forced.

“There’s got to be a way to undo it.” She broke the silence.

 “It’s in my blood, Veronica. You can’t cure it you can only cope.”

 Veronica found it hard to fathom that, with all of their technological advancements and quintessence, that they couldn’t split the wolf from the Galra.

 “The closest I came to freedom was Haggar.”

 “Haggar?” Veronica asked. “Let me guess, a spooky, space vampire?”

 Acxa rolled her eyes, “space witch, actually.” The humor left her eyes as fast as it had come. “She learned to work with quintessence, she can do magic, I guess. I was hoping that she could use it to get rid of the space wolf blood.”

 “But she couldn’t?” Veronica asked.

 “She wouldn’t.”

 Veronica nodded.

 “You’re pretty calm for just having seen a werespace-wolf transformation.”

 Veronica shrugged, “eh, I’m about to head into outer space with you and Lance. I’m bound to see weird things eventually, I’ve kind of prepared myself. I’m glad my first bizarre experience was with a friend and not some creepy space witch.”

 .oOo.

 It was strange to have Veronica accept her predicament so readily. Ezor certainly hadn’t. Yet Veronica, even hours later, was still laying next to her and sleeping quite soundly for someone in such close proximity to a were. The woman rolled over and sleepily wrapped her arms around Acxa. She had a faint feeling that Veronica viewed her as more of a large puppy than a wolf. Whether that was offensive or reassuring, Acxa couldn’t decide. She supposed that she would rather have that, than another horrified face gawking at her.  She ran her fingers through Veronica’s hair, happy to have them instead of vicious claws.

It was comforting to have her so close, especially with fresh moon rays spilling in through the window. Taking care not to disturb Veronica she got up from the bed and drew the curtains closed. The waning gibbous resembled the full moon much too closely for comfort.  But at the same time, the gibbous reassured her that she had a month’s worth of time to work out a solution.

 She peered at Veronica.

This time she would find one.