#serpentine tumble

[wishlisted]

Serpentine tumbles from As Above So Below 347

[philistiniphagottini]

Couldn't sleep last night so I wrote a little something for Jiyan until I felt tired. This is very self indulgent on my part.

cw. fluff, mentioned nudity (but no smut) dragon hybrid reader (similar to vidyadhara) , mentions of heat cycles, cuddling, gender neutral reader

It was the middle of the night when you abruptly stirred awake. Your body was drenched in a hot flush as your eyes shot open, your body jerking as you quickly sat up. Layers of fluffy blankets pooled around your waist, the thin, silk robe you wore lazily clinging around your shoulders as the sash was poised to unravel at a moment's notice. Beads of sweat dotted your brow as you took a deep breath, heat coiling in the pit of your stomach as your blood simmered in your veins. Your eyes pinched shut for a few brief seconds, long lashes fluttering over your burning cheeks as a soft groan breezed past the seam of your lips. Of course, it had to happen now, you lowly cursed. 

Your sudden movements had disturbed your partner, Jiyan, his body moving to mimic yours as he sat up in bed. His eyes roved over your form, darkness bleeding into the corners of his vision as he carefully studied you. 

"Are you alright, love?" he asked, voice gruff and thick with sleep. 

Your head snapped in his direction; pupils narrowed into thin slits as you regarded him. Your long, serpentine tail coiled beneath the sheets, the tip flicking as golden scales brushed against his bare leg. His muscles tensed from the featherlight touch, your normally cool scales suddenly burning like the hot coals of a forge. The branching horns nestled on top of your head faintly glowed with a shimmering, golden light, the ethereal light highlighting your flustered expression as your lips parted around rapid pants. Each puff of air seemed to curl around your lips like wisps of steam, your eyes growing lidded as your head started to feel dizzy. The words that Jiyan had spoken barely even registered in your mind, your head feeling like it was stuffed full of cotton as your flesh continued to burn with a lingering heat that tickled the base of your spine. You shook your head, soft locks of your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead as you swallowed the budding saliva on your tongue. 

"It's too hot" you murmured in a breathy whisper.

Sharp talons sank into your robes, your fingers curling into the thin material as you yanked it from your being. You tossed it aside in a flurry of cloth, the sweat soaked robe tossed to some random corner of the room. You were left completely bare, nothing to hide you from the general’s concerned gaze as a sigh of relief tumbled from your bruised lips. The relief was only temporary as the heat continued to claw at your nerves, trickling into your belly as the constant itch of your nerves started to make you squirm in discomfort. Jiyan silently shuffled closer to your side, arms poised and ready to assist as he kept his eyes trained on you. 

"Are you alright?" he asked again. 

Your soft pants filled the air of your stuffy bedroom and when you didn't respond immediately, he pressed again. 

"Love, speak to me."

His voice was finally able to reach you as you turned your head towards him, slowly lifting your gaze to meet his. 

"Jiyan."

His name warmed your parched throat like cloying honey, each syllable sweeter than the next as it danced on your tongue. Jiyan was ready when he saw the way your shoulders tensed, your tail coiling like a snake ready to strike as you pounced on him. A soft grunt blew past his lips as you landed in his lap, your knees falling beside his hips as you landed perfectly on top of him. You buried your burning face in his chest, arms latching to his waist as your golden tail weaved between his thighs and curled around his ankles. You pressed your weight into him, coaxing him to lean back further as he was suffocated under the stifling heat of your body. His movements were slow and deliberate, hesitant and frightened that he would scare you in such a sensitive state. He knew what was wrong. He had figured it out the moment you had to rip your clothes off to find any semblance of relief to the heat running rampant around your body. He placed his hand on top of your head, gently ruffling the soft locks of hair as he gazed down at you. 

"Are you finally going into heat?"

You gently nodded your head, bunting your face further into the hard planes of his muscular chest, a content noise in your throat as you squished your cheek into a pectoral muscle. Your tail continued to coil around the length of his leg as you rubbed your body against his, lazily spreading your scent until it bled into his skin. His scent curled in your lungs with each breath you took and you could taste him in the back of your throat every time you swallowed. His familiar scent was reassuring and it was able to ease the heat in your belly for now as you cling to him like he was a life line. 

"I'm sorry" you whispered, your warm breath puffing against his skin. "I just want you close."

A soft hum rumbled in Jiyan’s chest as he rubbed the calloused tips of his fingers against your scalp. You purred happily in response, the vibrations dancing along his skin as you pressed yourself further into his embrace. A soft smile tilted his lips as he gazed at you fondly, basking in the contrast of your soft curves against his hard muscles. This whole heat cycle was new to him. You had warned him it was coming soon and your draconic instincts had been flaring up for the past several days. It had been interesting to witness your “pre-heat” stages, watching you fret over building the perfect nest, watching you chose only light clothes that wouldn't irritate your skin. Witnessing you stick to his side like glue and refusing to be apart from him for long. Such a strange and wonderful creature you were. 

Jiyan’s arm snaked around your waist as he tugged you closer, your chest still vibrating with soft purrs as he gently ran his fingertips along the curve of your spine. Pleasant tingles rippled down your back as the soft tufts of fur on your tail puffed up, the feathered tip of your tail tickling his foot as you rested more and more of your weight against him. 

"It's okay" Jiyan reassured. "I'm not going anywhere."

You both fell into a comfortable silence as the heat inside of you turned into a dull but manageable throb. Your nose brushed against the hollow of Jiyan’s throat as your hands snuck under the soft material of his shirt, your hands resting against his abdomen as you kneaded the skin with your paws like a contented cat. Jiyan couldn't contain the small chuckle that rumbled in his chest at the sight. His lips brushed against your damp forehead, fingers brushing long wisps of hair out of your eyes as he tucked them behind your ears. 

"Is this okay?" he asked. "Do you need more?"

His words warmed your heart, your pulse drumming rhythmically in your ears as your pointed ears perked up at the sound of his soothing voice. You slowly shook your head, peering up at him with dazed eyes. "No. This is enough."

For now, you still had most of your senses intact. You knew that would change in only a few, short hours and your instincts would reduce this proud dragon into nothing more than a mindless beast that would only crave until its hunger was sated. But for now, that beast was contained and being wrapped in Jiyan’s embrace like this helped to calm your frantic senses. For the first time in a long time, you wouldn't have to endure another heat cycle alone. No more yearning and aching nor longing for the touch of a partner you didn't have. He was here now by your side and it was enough.

[uchihaharlot]

How does Shisui (or the other Uchiha) cope when he's finally, blissfully rawing you for the first time ever? 😩

Nonny,

This is so sweet 🥹 I was actually cackling because boy do I ever have a dirty mind (and for once Madara is on point and I had a nap).

NSFW; how the Uchiha boys cope with the feeling of your sugar walls for the first time; artificially induced orgasm lol 😈

Madara:

Lol. Well, firstly. He was always raw dogging you and making you full of him. 😂 Contraception was a thing, but like, who the fuck wants to wear a pigs intestine?? Even if its clean, that’s just not something Madara would ever consider. If you ended up pregnant, you were merely upholding your agreement in this marriage. However….that doesn’t mean that the first time he penetrated your slippery moist cunt it wasn’t divine. He actually can be tender, and you wouldn’t jump in a dry ass pool. So, of course, Madara was deliciously teasing you until there was little resistance the first time he had you. Phew. Your inner sanctum sucked and swallowed him whole, deliciously. He stifled his groan but the first signs of pleasure tumbling out her mouth has this man a mess.

Obito:

🥹 I’m sure you’ve all sensed a pattern here for our dear heart, Obito. Such a sweetie pie. So nervous and gets unbearably excited when his s/o asked this one time to just feel his thick cock dredging her precious moist hole. Firmly believe Obito whined like a squealing serpentine belt the whole time she was grinding up and down his girth. If she spoke; he didn’t hear it. Was doing every thing in his power to not be a two pump chump! And it worked, until she got louder, started to swell and then came all over him. Driving Obito even more delirious with pleasure. Would prefer she had at least one more orgasm before he did but that notion is thrown out the window when he’s already coming. Filling her for the first time ever. Fucking it back into her even.

Shisui:

😭😭😭 my bby! Was huffing and sucking in his bottom lip like a Dyson, eyes blissed out and breathing so damn heavy. Rhetorically asked if you were heavens above, his cock was pulsing from your ringed muscles gripping him on first drag in and out!! Head tilted back, gorgeous curls bouncing on impact when he really got into it. Don’t even get me started on when they stick to his forehead and you have to brush them out of the way!! He’s trying so hard to hold on too, for you. Though you’re definitely more than sated, mostly exhausted, “…just one more, baby. Please..’ Shisui desperately needs to feel your warmth before coating you from the inside out. How can you say no to a face like this? You can’t. There is just no way you would break this man’s heart and not choke his cock again, allowing him to swell and pulse within you. Filling you and slipping out to see it drip out. Only for him to gently stuff it back inside with two fingers and plug you up.

Itachi:

I’m positive the first time Itachi did the deed raw it was rather embarrassingly quick! Said something along the lines of, ‘my apologies,’ after finishing. He was so frustrated, but didn’t show it one bit. Wasn’t ready to be swallowed whole by your sopping heat, even worse when he stole a glance and could actually see how slick he felt. (I’ve been putting this off for some time, but this will not do for this man). If you already had one ‘free space’ round, what’s another? Something in the air today would have Itachi lulling your consciousness to bend at his will. You didn’t even see it; but could definitely feel it in the stagnant state of your psyche: Tsukuyomi. It’s a one liner you’re all too familiar with, it reverberates the echo chamber of his playground, a feigned replica of your bedroom. A place you’ve never been for salacious purposes. As a cascade of several contrasting climaxes physically immobilize you, those famous last words seem to pass through you like wave lengths… ‘you’re already under my genjutsu..’ As the curtain to reality slowly drops, altering the landscape in a hue of reds and blacks.

You’re in danger.

[princessoflalaland]

Passenger Bitchᝰ.ᐟ

synopsis: jin was kind enough to "help" you out yet again, so you reward him with more than just a free ride home.

.ᐟcontent: nerd jin itadori x bully fem reader, oral (m receiving), cum swapping, ball fondling, slit tormenting, reader has a tongue piercing, degradation, slight humiliation

.ᐟword count: 1.2k

.ᐟa/n: is it obvious im slowly becoming obsessed with a character that I haven't even met yet?

he sits in the passenger seat of your car, his face impossibly feverish. jin is having a rough go at breathing with your lips wrapped around his cock. he’s grateful to you as this being your new form of payment for getting you an A on your physics thesis, but he’s not sure how much he can take, especially when your low growls and moans travel right through his immense length and down his spine.

he peeks down at you, his glasses almost sliding down his nose, watching you swallow his length like a popsicle on sweltering summer day. his tip prods at your uvula before passing right past it with ease. he hiccups a moan as his head snaps back against the head rest, you throat constricting with small gags feels intoxicating. “Oh God, y/n…y-you’re getting so deep…”

a raspy chuckle vibrates from your throat onto him, making his sensitive dick jump. you release him from your skilled jaws with a pop and a (not so) exaggerated gasp, stroking him harshly and spreading your slimy spit around his length. your serpentine gaze lands on him and sends a chill down his spine.

that pathetic look on his face makes butterflies dance in your stomach, dampens your panties even more.

“feelin good, four eyes?” you sneer. he opens his mouth to respond, but your hand sliding down and squeezing his balls like a stress ball chokes him up.

you pout like his silence actually hurt your feelings. you jut out your bottom lip and furrow your perfect eyebrows.

“y’gotta learn to answer people when they talk to you. it's bad manners if you don't.” your voice is so saccharine with its faux concern. he whimpers from the arousal stemming from the embarrassment. he really can’t understand why he lets you treat him this way, humiliate him.

and he can’t understand why it makes him so horny. you don’t give his brain enough time to actually function long enough to ponder this when your pierced tongue begins teasing his slit.

“fuck!” jin rarely swears, wanting to uphold his reputation of a respectable student. you groan at his vulgar language, suckling harder on his embarrassed, red tip.

jin has messed with his slit before in those quiet, dark moments when his house is asleep. his thumb would tentatively prod at it, triggering a chain reaction of muffled whimpers and arching his back perfectly off the bed like a whore. he avoids doing it too often because he cums almost instantly every time, painting his body and bed in his milky seed.

but of course you, being the mastermind of his torment, manage to make this even more unbearable for him; fondling his balls and using that pink stud in your tongue assaults all of his nerve endings, has his mind melting in his skull, his eyes rolling back as if to witness that happening. his toes curl in his black loafers, his heart doing its damnedest to try and beat out of his burning body.

jin’s large hand, instead of residing on the head rest like you instructed, plops down carelessly onto your head as his shaky pleas tumble out of him haphazardly.

“p-please don’t do that, i-i’ll cum if you do—”

“you cum in my fuckin mouth I’m gonna spit it back in yours, ya hear?”

his jaw drops, but he can’t tell if it’s from your threat or the pleasure that builds in his abdomen the longer you suck him. he’s never tasted himself before, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t even a little bit curious…

you hover your lips over his cock head, trickling the silky liquid of your spit onto it salaciously. the way you look at him as you do it is lecherous, hypnotic. he can’t look away, even if he wanted to (he doesn’t want to). you look ready to devour him whole, the same look you get when you tease him in the halls or in gym.

it’s a look he’s grown to adore, even in the face of your treatment of him. something in him tells him there’s more to you than the power-hungry, sadistic bitch he’s had to deal with since his first year of high school. and with this new..relationship you guys have, maybe he can finally peel back those layers and find the real you.

jin holds your stare longer than you anticipated, and it disarms you for a moment. why isn’t he averting those pretty caramel eyes?

you huff some air out of your nose and resume your previous ministrations. your pink stud prods mercilessly at his slit and he bucks his hips with a bitchy whine.

“y/n, please! d-don’t, i’m g’nna fuckin cum!” he now grips a fistful of your hair, eliciting a sharp hiss from you.

jin can’t hold it anymore, he just can’t. your warning rings like a tornado siren in his skull before his brain fills with white noise as the pressure in his core reaches a tipping point. with one last harsh drag of your wet muscle across his poor urethra, jin arches his back clear off the seat and sprays his cum into your awaiting oral cavity.

"fuck, y/n- fuuuckk!" he cries, the sound dissolving into a sweet symphony of whimpers and incoherent babbling. his cum is sweeter than you expected, and you let every last drop sit on your tongue, you have a promise to fulfill after all.

after sucking him dry and leaving him a shaking, blushing mess, you right yourself. your predatory gaze finds him once again, and he feels himself getting aroused all over again. oh, the power you have over him...

"open." is your only command.

he remembers your words from earlier the second he blindly obeys and you deposit a mix of his seed and your saliva onto his tongue. you then grab his throat and force your wet muscle into his mouth. "mmph- mm, hmm..." he hums as his eyes become heavy-lidded.

he can't believe how...good he tastes. maybe its because he's on your tongue that he tastes irresistible. anything would taste good coming from you. the hand that had vacated your hair when you sat up finds your nape, his thumb caressing the smooth skin.

a filmy saliva trail forms between your mouths when you two part. you're both breathing hard, the receding ecstasy allowing your facial muscles to finally relax. in the midst of your collective cooldown, jin notices how your face soften. your eyes, for a short-lived moment, aren't hard and hungry for his pain. he sees a different side of you, a vulnerable, almost innocent side; it's something in that brief second you're unarmed that he desperately wants to explore.

it's in that same second you regain that abrasive demeanor of your. "get out of my car, four eyes." you spit with a simper.

and as he is collecting himself, you cup his chin and yank his face toward you. before you even say anything, he can sense what you're about to demand of him by that signature smile on that damned gorgeous face.

"i didnt say to zip it up, did i? walk into your place, just like that."

[electronicwitchcollection]

~* Primal Grimmjow Smut*~

Because there can never be enough Grimmjow 😂

I’ve had this idea kicking around for a while of a primal/hunting fic, but kind of put it to the back of my mind. Recently been inspired to finish it. Hope you enjoy 💜

Run

The sound of your bare feet rapidly running through the dense Forrest, leaves crunching, twigs snapping under your weight drowned out only by the sound of your panicked breathing. Your chest was burning, throat raw from the desperate breaths you pulled through parted lips. Adrenaline pumping through your veins heightened your senses making the branches flicking against your skin feel like little whips, small painful stings you payed no mind.

Run. The word echoing in your mind, every survival instinct, every Fibre of your being demanding that you run. Hiding wasn't an option, he would find you. Fighting wasn't an option, he could easily overpower you. Your heart was thundering behind your breast, skin prickled and alive, tasting the air around you. You could sense him, he was out there, stalking you, chasing, hunting.

The hunter relished in the thrill of the hunt, chasing down its prey, ready to devour his winnings. Claim what he had earned. Your eyes darted wildly around the thick greenery, searching for a flash of colour, signifying your impending capture. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, howling wind sending a chill up your spine. Pushing you forward, deeper into the darkening forest, guiding you with an insistent push at your back, helping you to escape.

An animalistic cry of rage roared out behind you, echoing through the trees as they whizzed past your vision. Close, he was getting closer, had you locked in his vision. You pushed yourself faster, darting and weaving between the bark, serpentining in your escape, not giving up without a fight. Your arm circled a nearing tree, using the momentum to spin you round to a different direction. You heard a rush of air, a heavy body hitting the ground where you were moments before.

Run

Narrowly avoiding capture, you raced on, feeling his murderous eyes locked onto your back. You could hear is rapid chase, feet thundering on the overgrown brush littering the ground. Hear the clack of snapping teeth as he snarled, tasting your desperation. He could smell your fear, the perspiration dampening your skin as you ran for your life. You could feel his feel his insatiable hunger motivating his powerful pursuit, energy coiling in his large muscles, exploding in a release of raw power.

A warning growl, low and guttural, exclaiming his victory seconds before you were airborne. The momentum in which he used to leap into you, knocked you off your feet, air being forcefully pushed from your lungs. His arms snaked around your middle, cutting off your escape. At the last second he twisted violently, the darkening blue sky filling your vision before you both slammed into the ground. He took the initial force of the hit, softening the blow as you tumbled across the leaf covered floor, clawing at the arms keeping you prisoner.

Screeching to a halt, you writhe in his grasp, desperately bucking against him, searching for an escape. Throwing your head back, you hear a pain filled hiss, pushing through the relaxed hold encasing you. You scramble in the dirt, clawing through the dried mud in an attempt to get back on your feet, to escape his clutches. A vice like grip encased your ankle, tugging harshly to land you face down in the dirt.

Desperately you try to drag yourself away, fingers digging long claw marks into the ground in a futile attempt. His heavy weight loomed over you, crawling over your form. Eye wide, pupils blown, you were roughly pushed to your back. Grimmjow caged you between his arms, legs spread either side of your own, no place to escape. His eyes were wild, pupils narrowed into feline slits, hungrily, darkly staring at you. You whimper, feebly trying to find purchase with your feet, trying to inch yourself away from under him.

Grimmjow snarled aggressively, baring his pointed canines and snapping warningly at your face. Hands planted on his naked chest, you push back against the wall of solid muscle, wriggling in the dirt, every instinct screaming at you to get away. His hands planted themselves next to your head with a powerful blow, a display of power, of superiority. He was waiting for you to submit, to give yourself over to your capturer.

You whimper softly, searching for any salvation. Grimmjow lowered his head to your neck, growling demonically, snapping his teeth in a vicious warning. A deep, rumble in his heaving chest, growing impatient at your refusal to submit. The hot, wet breath dampening your neck, an indication of how close he was to your jugular vein. You try to inch away slowly, last futile attempt to not fall victim to the predator.

Grimmjow pushed himself closer, trapping you under his weigh, rabidly growling, Patience reaching their absolute limit. You still beneath him, quivering with adrenaline. Defeated, you raise your head with a whimper , exposing your neck in the ultimate display of surrender, submitting yourself to him. The hunter had won, captured his prey. He claimed his prize, sinking his teeth into your exposed neck, groaning as the first droplets of blood coated his tongue.

You cry softly, high pitch keen brought on by the animalistic ritual, staking his claim, leaving his mark. You held perfectly still, not daring to move even an inch with his teeth baring down into your flesh. Grimmjow sucked hard, drawing blood the the surface of your neck, pulling the next droplets to ignite his pallet with the tangy, sweet metallic flavour profile. The taste of victory, of complete domination.

Not allowing even a morsel of the delicacy to waste, Grimmjow lapped at your neck, thick tongue slowly dragging over the burning mark, savouring every last drop of your life's essence. Satisfied he hadn't missed a single smudge of your blood, Grimmjow nuzzled into your neck, inhaling deeply. Your scent, tainted with blood and the earthy woods, called to him on a primal level. It was intoxicating, addicting. His.

The chase had been exhilarating, blood pumping through his veins as he exuberantly displayed his power, his prowess as a hunter. Top of the food chain, undefeated, and here you were, proof of his skills. The adrenaline and thrill ignited his body, drew power and blood to his muscles, including his cock which had become engorged with blood at the sight of you submitting.

A deep rumbling purr echoed in his chest, instinctively pinning you in place. His nails grew in length, hardening into claws as he lapped at your salty skin.Another weapon in his arsenal to keep you compliant. His teeth scraped over your neck, nibbling on your collar bone. You moaned, back arching at the sensation of his teeth, the warmth of his body seeping into your own. Grimmjow pushed on his hands, hovering himself over you with a predatory look in his eyes.

With a rapid swipe of his claws, Grimmjow ripped through the flimsy material of the negligee covering your body, dirtied with grass and mud. With accurate slashes, Grimmjow ribboned the material, watching hungrily as it revealed more of your unmarked skin to his sharp eyes. Fisting the ruined material, Grimmjow ripped it from your form, chucking it uselessly to the ground besides him.

His eyes raked over your naked body, indulging in your heaving breasts, lingering on your erect nipples. Unable to deny himself any longer, Grimmjow licked his way down your body, lapping up the salty reminders of your chase. Reaching your breasts, Grimmjow licked up the valley between them, the soft plush mounds brushing against his cheeks. One hand supported his weight as the other cupped the jiggly weight of your tit, squeezing around the flesh. His claws raked over the taut skin, red marks appearing where they traced over.

The calloused pad of his thumb brushed over your dusky pink nipple, circling the sensitive bud. You cried out softly, bucking underneath him. A warning snarl had you stilling, anticipating a punishment. With a satisfied huff at your compliance, Grimmjow lowered his head to your neglected breast, swirling his tongue around your tight nipple, tracing around your areola before sucking it into his mouth. You whined at the hot wet tongue rolling against your nipple, the pinch of nails digging into your flesh.

Grimmjow breathed hard through his nose, rush of arousal going straight to his throbbing cock. He rolled his hips, seeking friction as he indulged in your breasts. With a wet pop he released you from his mouth, saliva coating your darkening nipple. Nudging it with his nose, Grimmjow bit into the underside of your breast, leaving an angry red mark.

His hand slowly traveled down over your breast, nails gently digging into your skin, red rivets following the lines he drew down your body, standing out brilliantly in contrast to your pale complexion. Inching his way down your body, Grimmjow sat back on his haunches, pulling your legs from under him, spreading your feet to lay either side of him. His hands smoothed up your legs, soft subtle skin gliding easily under his palms. Reaching your thick thighs, Grimmjow pushed them open, keeping you splayed for his eyes only.

Transfixed on your glistening cunt, Grimmjow licked his lips as the smell of your arousal was realised freely into the air. He inhaled deeply, tasting you in the back of his throat. Musky and sweet, the same saltiness that stained your skin. Feeling exposed you attempt to close your thighs, meeting the unmovable force of Grimmjows grip. His hands tightened on your thighs, digging in painfully.

You whimper, exposing more of your neck, a reminder of your submission at his darkening eyes. Lowering himself eye level with your open Cunt, Grimmjow breathed in your musk, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the heady, mouthwatering smell. Unable to resist he delved in, sucking up the wet arousal coating your pretty pink lips. Noisily he devoured you, slurping and grunting into your pussy, hands tightening on your thighs, dragging you across the forest floor closer to his ravenous mouth.

You mewled, assault of messy pleasure rippling through you, fingers gripped into the floor, mud getting buried beneath your nail beds. Grimmjow licked his way through your folds, eagerly nosing his way deeper into your delicious cavern, unable to satisfy his incurable hunger for you. Your release coated his tongue, dripped heartily from his chin, flooded his sensitive nose with your delicate aroma. Grimmjow was focused purely on your silky hidden walls, rolling his tongue, further searching for the centre pool of essence he was tasting. Wanting to drink from the fountain itself to quench his burning thirst.

You moaned loudly, eyes screwed shut in pure bliss. Grimmjow was attacking your pussy with ferocity, forcing you at a rapid race into an orgasm. You could feel the coil in your lower stomach contract, building up its energy ready to release in an unbelievable wave of raw pleasure. Your feminine, throaty moans were fanning the embers of desire, igniting a raging inferno of lust through Grimmjow.

Tongue darting in as far as it could reach, flicking tantalisingly against your pleasure spot had you seeing bright stars behind your closed eyelids. The relentless lapping against your core, encouraging a gush of slick arousal to flood through you, quickly being drank down by the insatiable beast. Grimmjow roughly shook his head between your legs, grunting into your swollen lips, pushing you over the edge.

Light exploded behind your eyes, a wall of sheer white blinding you as you succumb to a consuming orgasm. Mouth open in a silent scream, your hips bucked wildly, pushing your throbbing cunt further into the hungry mouth drinking down his reward. Fingers squeezed into your thighs, forming fingertip bruises into the skin. Grimmjow kept you in place with his superior strength, noisily eating through your come down, not letting you breath until he was finished with his meal

You were tender, over sensitive, pussy throbbing through the onslaught of attention he bestowed upon you, tongue dragging through your walls, savouring every sweet drop of your release. You keened, high pitched and needily, begging for mercy. Seeking a reprieve in the painful pleasure. Your plea went ignored, Grimmjow slowly exiting your centre, strong steady licks cleaning up your folds as he reluctantly left you.

With a final sure swipe up your middle, Grimmjow nipped at your mound in parting. Tongue circling his lips, chasing the remainder of your nectar coating his mouth, Grimmjow watched you, panting in the dirt below him, eyes glazed over in post orgasmic haze as your body weakly trembled and twitched. Grimmjow roughly pushed away his loose fitting bottoms, exposing his large, engorged cock, bobbing heavily between you.

Grimmjow crawled up your body, nuzzling into the side of your neck, coaxing you back down to earth. You stirred at his encouragement, rubbing your cheek against his own, sighing softly. Holding himself above you, Grimmjow positioned his cock at your opening, wetting the bulbous head with your arousal. He took hold of your neck, squeezing tightly at the sides. Forcing you to maintain eye contact as he slowly pushed his cock forward, inching its way through your folds. You choked on a rough inhale, gasping as he filled you completely, burning stretch blazing through your walls.

Grimmjow froze you to the spot with his intense eye contact, daring you to look away as he filled you, twitch of his thumb reminding you of how easily he could choke the life out of you. Only when he bottomed out did Grimmjow ease up on the pressure on your neck, allowing you the chance to gasp, fully inflating your lungs. The rumble echoing in his chest vibrated through his body, pressing down on you with the full weight of an alpha.

Grimmjow pulled back his hips, dragging his cock back through your tight cunt, leaving only the head buried. With a rough snap, he impaled you, starting a rough pace in his rutting. You clenched around him perfectly, squeezing around his rigid length with every thrust. A constant stream of whines from you accompanied the wet slap of his balls hitting your ass, spreading the wetness forcibly being pushed from your centre. Grimmjow pawed at the ground besides you, nails teasing through the soft soil as he mindlessly chased his most primal desire, rutting into his submissive mate, almost trance like in the back and forth motions engraved Into every fiber of his muscles.

Your soft mewls, stroked his alpha ego, driving him wild with lust. His relentless rutting had the head of his cock slamming against your gspot with impeccable accuracy, tightening the coil of pleasure ready to snap in a wave of Ecstasy. Head thrown back you moaned, hips rolling up to savour every inch of his rapid motions. Grimmjow took the invitation, burying his head into your exposed neck and clamping down with his teeth.

Grimmjow pushed harder, impossibly increasing the power behind his brutal thrusts, chasing his high. Your neck was burning, stinging with delicious pain. Panting with exuberance, saliva pooled in Grimmjow's mouth, sliding it's way past his teeth, dribbling down over your skin. In one fluid motion, he slinked one arm under your leg, hoisting it up over his bulging bicep, pushing it further to your chest.

The change the angle made was blinding, pushing him in deeper, reaching the deepest parts of your womanhood was suffocating. Grimmjow's thrusts turned friezied, erratically nearing to his own completion as you exploded around him. A strangled cry ripped from your throat as a hot wave of paralysing pleasure surged through your body. Muscles stiffened and strained, trembling under the weight of your release. Endorphins flooded through your system, threatening to render you unconscious with the overwhelming force in which it consumed you

Grimmjow growled into the bunched up flesh he was biting into, the feel of your pussy clenching around him impossibly tight, the hot, slick rush of your orgasm hugging over his cock as it rushed through you, spraying over his thighs in a basic animalistic display of marking. Pride swelled in his chest as he chased his own completion, needing to mark you internally with his own thick seed. The primal instinct to fill you to the brim, paint your cunt with his essence, make your stomach bulge with his potent seed.

With a grunt he came, plastering your walls with searing spurts of his ejaculate, mixing with your own release in a thick, creamy mess covering you both. He jerkily rutted through his orgasm, your spasming Cunt greedily milking every last drop of his cum from him. Releasing your neck, Grimmjow lazily lapped at the dark purpling bruise, lovingly soothing away the sting as his heavy weight fell into you.

Grimmjow nuzzled into your neck as he came down from his high, purring contently with his rumbling baritone. Panting softly you wrap your heavy, uncoordinated arms around him, soothingly stroking his sweat stained back with your fingers. The chill of the night being kept at bay with his warm muscled body covering you, blanketing you from the elements. You raked your fingernails through his hair, giving him the time to slowly come out of his primal mindset, always needing longer than you did to make the shift.

You felt his chest swell with his laboured breathing, slowly falling into a relaxed rhythm as his body unwound. Kitten licks turning into gentle kisses, peppering your abused skin with tender displays of love. Grimmjow forced his arms to take his weight, hovering above you he kissed your lips soundly, pouring his adoration and gratitude silently into your mouth. You smiled into the kiss, needing no thanks, you were more than happy to indulge in your partners more animalistic desires. Especially when the results were as mind blowing as the sensations you had just experienced.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As always, likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! 💜

[stevethehairington]

He needs a break. A chance to breathe for a moment. This lifestyle sometimes feels like the corsets that Robin is always complaining about — too tight, too constricting, and superfluously unnecessary. Steve pities Robin, and the rest of the poor women, who have to deal with both. The circumstance and the corsets.

Steve knows better than to complain, though. He lives a lavish existence, one that many people would give anything to have. It isn’t fair of him to pity himself like this when there are so many people out there that are so much worse off than him. He should feel grateful. Lucky, even.

But it’s hard not to feel suffocated instead, sometimes.

The alcove is quiet, thank god, and void of any stray party guests. It’s hidden away, tucked between two rocks that overlook the seaside, and the crash of waves from down below has a mollifying effect on Steve’s agitated disposition.

He reaches for the cravat at his neck, loosening it with deft fingers. He’s in the act of tugging it away from his throat when the clear crunch of a footstep has him spinning around sharply.

And there, emerging from the shadows to block Steve’s only escape route, is a man.

The first thing Steve notices about the man is the curtain of dark curls that frame his face. They’re long enough to tumble freely over his shoulders, and they’re pulled back by a thick swath of fabric, deep red in color. The ends of his bangs peek out from beneath the bandana, as do a pair of thin braids, each tied off with two hollowed out pearls.

With his hair out of his face, Steve can see it all. Every single feature, open and on display — those soft cheekbones, that sloping nose, the gnarled scar that stretches across the left side of his jaw and pulls the corner of his mouth into a twisted, permanent smile.

Steve is sure that he’s never seen this man before, and yet there is something achingly familiar about him. A tugging within his gut; it feels like he should know him, but from what, he can’t quite place.

The man’s left ear is pierced through twice, two identical gold hoops looped through the skin. And just beneath his ear he has a small mark. A tattoo. Steve isn’t quite close enough to make out just what it’s of. He squints his eyes and nearly takes a step closer to take a proper look, but catches himself before he does.

It’s then that Steve realizes that he’s been staring, borderline ogling, for much longer than is appropriate, too. His cheeks warm as he averts his eyes to the ground. But rather than the cobblestone path below, his gaze falls to the man’s feet.

Flared brown boots cover those feet, rising up nearly to his knees. They’re old looking, worn and well-purposed, but still sturdy, even after countless strops though mud and water and sand and all sorts of other rough terrains. Beneath the boots, his stalwart calves and strong thighs are encased in rough-hewn black breeches, tight, yet functional.

Steve’s eyes stray further up, despite his best efforts. 

The man wears a thick brown leather belt, layered with a silken red cloth and an even thinner black belt, this one scaled like a dragon, with a shiny gold buckle. It sits around his waist, atop an open black vest that accentuates his slim figure. His blouse beneath is a deep wine red, made from a gauzy looking material that clings to his skin. Steve imagines that if it were to get wet it would be absolutely sinful. The neck of it is rather plunging, too, exposing the man’s collarbones, and the corner of another tattoo on his chest. 

And there, above his heart and to the right, in the very center, hangs a pendant — some sort of serpentine creature with wings, gaudy and golden and absolutely eye-catching.

Steve feels a little hot under the collar, taking it all in. He has to look away.

The man makes an amused humming sort of noise. “Like what you see, sweetheart?” He drawls, flicking both eyebrows up at once. A lazy grin unfurls across his full lips, and he practically drapes himself over the rock behind him.

The position puts his whole body even further on display, in an entirely new way this time, and looking away is futile now. Steve’s eyes are heedlessly drawn back to it, raking over every inch. It feels… dangerous, to be looking this much, this long, but he can’t help it.

The man lifts a hand to examine his black varnished nails, an air of boredom to the action. His fingers are adorned with chunky silver rings that glint in the mid-afternoon sunlight. Casually, he pulls a dagger from its hiding place amongst the belts and uses the sharp tip to pick at one of his nails.

Idly, he starts to whistle — a low, warbling tune that has an almost menacing edge to it.

It, too, strikes a chord of remembrance in Steve, and he wracks his brain trying to think of where he’s heard it. And then it hits him.

“You’re a pirate!” He gasps out. It sounds scandalized, when he says it, though, really, he isn’t scandalized at all. He doesn’t find himself very afraid, either, though he knows he should be. Instead, he’s just intrigued.

The man snickers. “Very good, sweetheart,” he commends, tucking the dagger away again. He brushes his knuckles against his shirt. “What gave it away?”

Steve frowns. “What are you doing here? Where’s your ship?”

“What am I doing here?” The man repeats. Laughs this breezy little thing. “I’m meant to be taking you prisoner, actually,” he tells Steve.

“Take me— prisoner?” Steve repeats, shock coloring his tone. He doesn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“Oh, yes,” the man replies, pushing himself off of the rock. He starts to circle Steve. “I’m meant to be snatching you up— well, that’s the interpretation of it, anyways. All they said was that I needed to deal with you, and, really, that’s so vague.”

He starts to circle Steve, slinking around him slowly, purposefully. His voice carries as he does. “Pirates are supposed to be unscrupulous, though, aren’t they? What with all the threatening and the stealing and the killing and the like. I figured it only makes sense that I take you.”

Steve has a million questions — like who the hell is they? And what do they want with him? And why did they send a pirate to do their dirty work?

Instead, what comes out is, “I guess that would make sense.”

He folds his arms over his chest, just for something to do with them, and then a thought surfaces to the forefront of his brain.

A crease forms between his eyebrows, and his lower lip pushes out into a contemplative pout as he mulls it over. “But what if—” he starts. Pauses. Cuts himself off like he won’t dare finish the thought.

Only it’s too enticing, too tempting not to. 

“What if you didn’t take me?”

The man comes to a stop right in front of Steve. He’s close, much closer than anyone would normally be comfortable with, but Steve doesn’t care. If anything, he has to refrain from curling his fingers into that necklace and using it to leverage him even closer.

Steve looks into the man’s dark eyes. Big, endless, easy to lose himself to. But he doesn’t. He meets them head on, unwavering with his gaze, as if he’s challenging him.

“Sweetheart,” the man starts, dripping with condescension. He raises a hand and flattens it against the rock behind Steve, boxing him in. Another wry chuckle tumbles past his lips. “I don’t think you get it,” he says. “I have an order. I need to follow it.”

Steve just his chin up, defiant. “I don’t think you get it,” he returns, poking the man in the chest, much to his astonishment.

“What if you didn’t take me,” Steve repeats slowly, putting emphasis on his meaning. “But what if I… went with you anyways?”

It takes a moment for the words to properly sink in, but when they do, a slow spreading surprise settles over the man’s face. “Oh,” he says, sounding pleased. His lips curl back into a grin that bares his teeth. “How rebellious of you,” he tuts.

“You say rebellious, I say free-thinking,” Steve replies, brushing him off.

The man’s smirk grows, but he doesn’t accept the proposition. Not yet. Instead, he watches Steve carefully, like he expects his bravado to fall away any second now and for Steve to renege. 

But Steve holds his ground. He’s not taking it back. He’s not chickening out. In fact, he’s never been more sure of anything in his life.

He’s going to go with this man.

Finally, the man relents. “If that’s what you want,” he says.

“It is,” Steve replies, without hesitation.

The man gives a firm nod, and without another word, he turns on his heel and starts to briskly walk away.

Steve scrambles to follow him, out through the opening of the rocks and across the open courtyard that leads towards the port. He glances behind him every so often to make sure that he hasn’t been spotted or followed by any of the partygoers. By any of his family. 

But each time he looks, there’s no one.

He doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or thrilled by that.

The further he gets from the party, though, the easier it gets to breathe. Like the noose around his neck loosens with each step. That almost makes him want to laugh, considering his choice here would earn him a real one, permanently.

Ships line the port, when they finally make it to the water’s edge. Great big ones, with hulking hulls and dozens of ballooning sails. There are at least four, anchored in the bay, but none of them stick out to Steve as a pirate ship. Not that Steve’s ever actually seen a pirate ship before. He’s only heard tales. Still, he expected that they’d be distinct.

The man approaches one of the ships, and he doesn’t hesitate before tromping up the shoddy wooden gangway and stepping foot onto the polished deck. His hands slide onto his hips and he casts a wide glance around. He takes in a deep breath, then lets it out slowly, his whole body relaxing as he does. Like he’s finally home.

He turns then, back towards Steve and offers out his hand.

Steve looks down at it, then back up at the man.

“I’m Steve,” he says, taking it. The man’s palm is rough against Steve’s, but it’s warm too. It feels nice.

The man laughs. “I know,” he says. “And I’m—”

It’s then that Steve notices it. It’s subtle, in the sense that it’s just the one detail. But that detail itself is anything but. Just past the man’s head, right in the center of the biggest sail, a red devil. Pointed horns protruding from its skull, wicked yellow eyes, razor sharp teeth. 

It is unmistakable.

“You’re Eddie Munson,” Steve says, recognition finally hitting. And, jesus christ, he feels so stupid for not realizing sooner. The most notorious pirate in all of the seven seas — how could he have forgotten?

“That I am,” Eddie muses. Then he uses his grip on Steve’s hand to pull him the rest of the way onboard.

It tightens, and he doesn’t let go right away, like maybe he thinks Steve will try and make a run for it now that he knows who he is. 

But Steve doesn’t. He stands his ground, holds Eddie’s gaze steady.

Something zings up Steve’s spine as Eddie’s big eyes bore back into his own, and he thinks briefly to himself that whatever he’s gotten himself into here, it’s going to be well worth it. He’s in for the adventure of a lifetime here.

Eddie drops his hand then, and a slow grin, just as devilish as his flag unfurls across his pretty lips. He flourishes one of his own hands out around him.

“Steve Harrington,” he practically purrs. “Welcome to Hellfire.”

[tiredwitchplant]

Everything You Need to Know About Crystals: Chrysoprase

The Stone of Venus

Requested by @acovenoftwo

Chemical Formula:  SiO2

Color: Apple green, lemon

Rarity: Easy to obtain as a tumble stone, finer quality is expensive

Hardiness: 7

Type: Chalcedony

Chakra Association: Heart and Solar Plexus

Deities: Venus

Birthstone: May

Astrological Signs: Gemini, Taurus

Element: Water

Planet: Mercury

Origin: Formerly Poland, Now Australia, Brazil, Madagascar, Russia, Tanzania, USA

Powers: Encouraging development, Compassion, Tolerance, Growth, Forgiveness, Connection to Nature

Crystals It Works Well With: Mountain “jade”, Tourmaline, Smokey Quartz

How It is Created: Chrysoprase is a type of chalcedony quartz with a microcrystalline structure. Its color comes from nickel deposits, and it can be found in pale shades through to brighter green. Raw pieces have a granular appearance, similar to pieces of coconut, and a waxy sheen when polished.

History: Chrysoprase, called Stone of Venus because in antiquity it represented the goddess of divine love, the famous Venus, is a magnificent apple-green nickeliferous chalcedony belonging to the family of microcrystalline quartz. The ancient Egyptians also used chrysoprase for practical purposes such as sealing letters, but they would also wear pendants, amulets and other jewelry made of chrysoprase. For hundreds of years, the only major source of chrysoprase was a region of southwestern Poland between the Czech Republic and Germany, formerly known as Lower Silesia. This area has a complex geology and is extremely rich in all kinds of mineral deposits, including gold, silver, serpentine, quartz, marble, granite, alabaster—and chrysoprase. Stone artifacts from as far back as the Iron Age show the long history of Silesian carving and masonry. In the eighteenth century, Frederick II, King of Prussia (now part of Germany), conquered Lower Silesia. In particular, he wanted its deposits of green chrysoprase, which he used to decorate the halls of his favorite palace at Potsdam near Berlin.

What It Can Do:

Known as the healer of the heart space and helps connect you with infinite supply of compassion and love

Supports cardiac health and provides a centered peace

Helps people suffering from melancholy and manifests optimism and joy

Can be placed by homegrown herbs and vegetables to boost production

Perfect to artist as it increases creativity and talent

Encourages fidelity, forgiveness, compassion, and nonjudgmental thinking in relationships, while banishing greed and selfishness

Helps with inducing deep meditative states and promotes the love of truth

Calming and nonegotistical, creating openness in new situations

Stimulates fluent speech and mental dexterity, preventing you from speaking out unthinkingly in anger

Lifts oppressive and recurrent images, preventing nightmares, especially in children

Is said to detoxify heavy metals in one’s body and stimulate liver function

Is said to enhance fertility, reverse effects of infertility that are caused by infection and guard against STIs

Increases the absorption of Vitamin C

How to Get the Best Out Of: Wear as a necklace, bracelet, earrings or even use it in an elixir. Carrying chrysoprase for long periods attunes to the devic realm, a band of frequency found present on Earth which can connect you to nature and the planet directly

How to Cleanse and Charge: Can be cleansed briefly under running water then recharged overnight among a host of rock crystals for a few weeks. Cleanse during a rain shower for optimized cleansing,

Crystal Grid:

Healing for Children (Nightmares)

Shape: Fruit of Life

• 6 “issue” or calming stones

• 4 grounding crystals

• 2 light-bringing crystals

1. Hold your crystals in your hands and state your intention for the grid.

2. Lay the central keystone to represent your child.

3. Lay six crystals around the keystone to assist with the challenge or issue. (These crystalscan either represent a single issue, or different ones—whichever feels best to you. However,it may be more effective to address separate issues by laying individual grids.)

4. Lay four grounding crystals to anchor the grid at each corner of the “square.”

5. Lay a light-bringing crystal at the top and bottom.

6. Leave in place until the issue or issues have been resolved, remembering to cleanse thegrid regularly.

Crystals to use: Chrysoprase, Amethyst, Prehnite, Bloodstone

Sources

[fivenightslaughter]

Wicked Serpentine (Part 8)

pairing: draco malfoy x femravenclaw!oc (some like george weasley x femravenclaw!oc too)

summary: slowburn enemies to lovers fic, a TON of parts. (continued after ... 3 years..) i'm back lol)

warnings: blood purism, bullying, swearing, descriptive physical danger, violence. Awful Draco

taglist: @gloryekaterina

taglist: let me know if you’re interested in being added!

Roughly a month had gone by, my last real interaction with Malfoy being my first school day in the Great Hall.

Snape had reassigned partners and tables after only the first day, likely due to Harry and Ron’s noise from the first class. I was paired with Hermione, thankfully. She was pleasantly quiet but helpful when she needed to be. My friendship with her had furthered quite a bit, but less so with the boys. I wasn’t actively attempting to befriend Harry after Snape’s hostility.

Flitwick and I hit it off and he quickly became my runner-up favorite teacher, just behind Snape. I frequently stayed behind in his classroom to discuss muggle music and the world as a whole. It was the only part of my day I could get truly lost in.

I’d eventually learned the schedules of Luna and Cho, sitting with them on days they’d be in the dining hall. Rarely was my attention drawn to the blond across the hall on the days he was there, either. He’d been looking rather sick, lately.

Not that I actively tried to look at him.

It just struck me whenever I’d happen to catch his silvery strands in my peripheral. His face looked sunken, his cheeks hollow. Instead of marble, he looked almost grey. It made my heart hurt a little. How could someone look so ghostly, as if he was always floating? It reminded me of a dried volcano, stiff and cold.

His head bobbed up, his eyes meeting mine for the first time since I’d walked off from him a month ago.

“Eris?” A voice snapped me back to the present. It was Hermione. She had said something that I didn’t catch at all.

I looked at her, my mouth slightly parted. Dumbly, I replied, “Huh?”

She gave me a small laugh and stabbed at her food, cocking her head to the side exasperatedly.

“I said, Snape is assigning new partners, something about people falling behind already. I’ll miss the quiet of sitting next to you. Seriously, I will.” She let her shoulders droop sadly, a glimmer of sadness in her eyes.

I heard her teeth slide on the fork as she ate, mildly sullen. I felt bad. I hadn’t even known we were switching partners, I must have been too caught up during potions to hear Snape mention the change.

“Hey, we’ll still eat together. Maybe I’ll kick Ron out of his seat every once in a while.” I joked. Her mood seemed to perk back up a bit at that, nodding.

“That’d be perfect, wouldn’t it, Ron?” She nudged him jokingly.

He whipped his neck to face her, food falling out of his mouth. He was too busy talking to Harry to notice our conversation, so he looked absolutely lost.

“Wha…?” Food tumbled from his mouth. I groaned and Hermione bit her lip in a laugh. The way she looked at him was cute, a twinkle in her eyes lighting as if everything he did was enchanting.

“Nothing, Ronald. Just… Chew your bloody food!” She choked out, noticing the knowing smile I was giving her halfway through her sentence.

He scrunched his nose up, confused and annoyed. He finished, crumbs still dusting his lips.

“Whatever, ‘Mione.” He dismissed, turning back to Harry. They were discussing something Quidditch related.

She exhaled through her nose, rolling her eyes. I watched as she packed her sprawled books and papers into her bag, deep in her thoughts.

Her eyes lit up for a moment and she immediately looked back at me.

“Oh! I almost forgot. We all have lessons but you’re free after this, right? Snape said he’d post a parchment outside his room with the partners. You should check it out.” She beamed.

I paused in thought for a second. Should I go check? I shrugged.

“Yeah, sure. I will.” I saw no harm in making my way to the classroom. I’d gotten a much better hang of the hallways to my classes and the library. The dungeons and the Room of Requirement remained untraveled for now, the map buried in the bottom of my bag. I’d taken it out to mark it up whenever I discovered a new direction or an alternate way to a class.

It was incredibly helpful and I was glad I befriended Hermione. Maybe I could go check out partners and find her later to let her know who she got. I’m sure she’d appreciate knowing beforehand what she was in for.

Satisfied, she dropped her last book in her bag and stood.

“Right, well I’ll see you!” She waved farewell, already taking off from the table. Ron and Harry were still engrossed in their conversation about Quidditch. I tuned in, a name immediately catching my ear.

“Of course we’ll win, Harry. Malfoy’s played like shit lately. Serves him right, bloody bastard.” Ron bragged. Harry nodded in response, noticing my sudden interest in the conversation.

“Eris, you haven’t been to a Quidditch game yet, have you?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Ah, no I haven’t.” I sheepishly rubbed the back of my neck. I didn’t have an intense interest in sports in the muggle world and wasn’t sure how much more exciting they could be in the wizarding world, so it hadn’t piqued my interest.

Harry’s head leaned against his hand and he seemed to nod slowly for a second before smacking his hands on the table.

“Come to the game today. I’ll ask Hermione to save you a seat.” He mused decidedly. Ron shrugged, agreeing.

“Okay, sure. I’ll come then.” I confirmed.

Glad at my response, he turned his attention back to Ron.

“Ready to go?” He asked him.

They got up and left for their next lesson, which I’m pretty sure was a history class I’d often heard them complain about. I still sat, popping a final piece of food into my mouth. I planned out my route in my head. First to Snape’s, then to the library to study intensively.

It felt like a solid enough plan.

I stood and left the hall, making sure I didn’t leave anything at the table. I made my way to Snape’s classroom. It was a different way than when I’d originally followed Malfoy and I was grateful I didn’t have to relive my cowardice every time I went to Potions in the mornings.

The clock tower chimed while I was walking and people pushed by me as I made my way down the hallways. Some people stood idly and hung out with one another, sitting in window sills or quickly scurrying somewhere.

I watched a class fill into Snape’s classroom and I walked up to the doorway. A small plaque with a scroll of parchment hung on the wall.

“FIRST PERIOD PARTNERS

HERMIONE GRANGER - NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM

HARRY POTTER - SEAMUS FINNIGAN

RONALD WEASLEY - PADMA PATIL

ERIS WOODWORK - DRACO MALFOY “

There was more, but my heart stuck in my throat. This couldn’t be real. I reread it several times, finally making my way to the bottom.

There was a tiny footnote stating partner changes were not permitted and must remain as written on the parchment. I felt myself shrink. Maybe Snape didn’t know how bad Malfoy would treat me?

I shook my head at the thought. It was quite obvious how poorly he treated everyone. Just because my interactions with him have been few and far between doesn’t mean he didn’t endlessly snip at other people.

In fact, the only times I ever heard his voice was when he was chastising Harry or Hermione, or making a comment about how Ron lives in squalor. It was unpleasant but at the very least I could be glad it wasn’t directed towards me.

I dreaded this partnership, but at least now I’d read the list like I said I would. Later, I’d be able to tell Hermione and the boys who they’d been partnered with.

I took off to the library, my mind spinning. I accidentally bumped into someone in the hallway and his hands shot out to steady my shoulders before I could fall to the ground. I recognized him as Malfoy’s original partner in Potions.

He eyed me up and down, removing his hands once I was steady. I vaguely recalled Ron calling him Zabini.

“Be careful. Never know who you’ll run into in these halls. You’re lucky it was me.” He spoke smugly, clearly a bit vain.

I raised an eyebrow at him, nodding.

“Yeah, I’ll be more careful.” I replied. I started to walk off when he spoke, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“Fuckin’ better be.” Was all he said as he continued to walk as well.

It unsettled me in the weird way that Slytherins were good at. A switch seemed glued to their emotions, fully able to flip at any time. It was startling. A chill eased down my spine and I hurried toward the library, no longer taking my time as I had before.

Finally arriving a bit breathless, I entered the space that had become most familiar to me over the last month. Giving a nod in Madam Pince’s direction, she gave me a puckered and stiff smile.

She was an intolerable vulture that only cared for her books, but I’d come to be in her relatively good graces. With my quiet presence and care for the texts, I was often the only one in the library with her. In her own way, I think she kind of liked me there.

Tucking into my usual space behind a few large bookshelves, I pulled a lesson book out of my school bag, along with a parchment and quill. We had just gone over a new spell in Flitwick’s class and I was determined to study it down to every flick of the wand.

A seat pulled out beside me and a book dropped down onto the table just loud enough for me to wince. I glanced over. It was “Libatius Borage’s ADVANCED POTION MAKING” book. I recognized it from my class with Snape.

I watched black robes swish down into the seat beside me, defeated looking. My surprise was immeasurable when I met empty, silvery eyes and messy moonbeam-colored hair. I couldn’t stifle a tiny gasp that slipped from my lips.

“Malfoy…?”

He leaned his head back against the top of the chair, remaining in quiet for what felt like a couple minutes as I dumbfoundedly stared at him. Seeming to find his resolve, he sat up. He leaned forward towards the table and didn’t meet my eyes again.

“Snape reassigned everyone because of me.” He stated. He was looking straight ahead, his eyes travelling up the spines of books in front of the table we were at. It felt wrong hearing a real sentence from him, especially one that wasn’t littered with insults.

“He thinks I’m fucking falling behind.” He was the second Slytherin I’d heard swear today, but his anger didn't quite reach his eyes. I watched a stray strand of hair fall from his slicked back ones, lightly resting on his forehead. He looked hopelessly disheveled the longer I looked at him.

My eyebrows knit together with concern.

“Are you okay, Draco?” I tried to be genuine, my voice soft and low. I barely breathed it and regretted it the second I said it as he flipped to face me. His lips were pressed in a tight line, chapped and pale.

“Don’t you dare call me by my first name, mudblood.” He snapped.

I felt my body tense up and my blood run cold at the tone he used. I desperately fought the water that immediately welled up in my eyes, coaching myself to just breathe carefully. I hoped he couldn’t tell how pathetic he made me feel. I just wanted to move on, now.

I decided that if he didn’t want my help, that he didn’t need it. There was nothing I could do to help him, and talking clearly wouldn’t solve anything. I wasn’t going to give him power over me, so I did the only thing I could think of.

I went on as normal. I focused back on the book for Flitwick’s, pulling my wand from my bag and placing it on the desk. Flitwick had even written a couple notes for me himself, explaining things in a better way the book could.

I had spoken to him about Scourgify, mentioning how Cho had done it and it was something I wanted to learn. He included notes about how to perform it, but I kept failing without a physical example of how to cast it.

All I had in my head was the memory of Cho, which I’d been too in shock from Malfoy’s prank to fully grasp the technique of. I had been trying to practice on dirty spoons I’d snagged from the Great Hall. I kept one wrapped in a fabric napkin and tucked into my bag, switching the spoon out for a different one each time I went to eat.

Ignoring the blond sitting next to me, I pulled the spoon out and placed it on the table in front of me. I unraveled it and there it was, just a gross spoon.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up my wand and reread Flitwick’s notes, as well as the pages in the textbook. Holding a book in one hand and my wand in the other steadily, I focused on the spoon.

“Scourgify.” I half whispered, trying to work with the tiny bit of light that sparked on my wand. I could never get farther than just a tiny emittance from my wand. It had been weeks and I still struggled to get it. It was clear from my frustration that this wasn’t the first time.

I heard a scoff from my side. I realized a set of steely eyes had focused on what I was doing as if I were some kind of entertainment. I ignored him, trying it again. And again.

I had attempted Scourgify on the spoon a good four times before he shot up out of his chair, blatantly annoyed.

“You’re literally doing everything wrong.” He muttered crossly.

I heaved a sigh, dropping my book to the table. I turned to put my wand away in my bag but he stopped me. He stood behind my chair, leaning over my shoulder. Mint and cologne overpowered my senses as he corrected me sourly.

“No, just… Merlin, you have to-” he grabbed my wrist and pointed towards the spoon, swishing my hand in a sort of ‘S’ shape. “Swish it, like this. Say it. Now.” He instructed rudely, guiding my hand to motion correctly. His cold, silver ring made me clench my wand as tightly as the night I’d got it.

“Scourgify.” I spoke boldly, jumping a slight bit as the grime left the spoon in an immediate little spark. I swallowed loudly, a disbelieving laugh bubbling softly through my lips. I turned my face to thank him before my mind could reject the idea.

However, when I turned, he had simply gone. I guess I was a bit glad he had disappeared, otherwise I would have proved his point by thanking him. Stroked his ego, probably.

I turned back to my book, writing down what I had just learned. I felt so excited and accomplished that I’d pushed away how weird that situation really was.

Did he really just grab my wrist like that? Why did he never seem to have a grasp on personal space? I tried to move on, finding the dustiest book I could find to try the spell again.

Much to my disappointment when, just as before, trying the spell only made my wand fizzle slightly.

Disappointed, I slumped down into my seat. I spent the next half hour trying to focus on Potions instead, opting to note things I noticed during class. Such as the physical traits of ingredients I was confused by.

Out of my peripheral, I noticed a light-blond head duck quietly from between some shelves, past me, and out of the library doors.

There was a book on the opposite end of the table that wasn’t there before.

I stood and walked over, picking it up. I flicked through it and much to my surprise, it was a Charms book. It was filled with neatly scribbled notes in the margins, shapes and arrows showing how to cast some simple charms I knew would get covered this year.

Some of the ink was slightly smeared a tiny bit, clearly brand new. Whereas other notes in it were old and the ink slightly faded.

Flipping to the very back cover, I read

‘If lost, return to Draco L. Malfoy’

in the same handwriting as the notes throughout, slightly faded.

What the hell?

A piece of parchment slipped from between some of the pages into my lap.

“You’re dense. Read my notes and maybe you won’t look so ridiculous.” It read.

That made much more sense. I guess I'll just... Study this all, then.

[enigmaticexplorer]

A Spine of Tiny Dragons

Summary: Lost for days amongst the humid jungles of Eluca, you and Commander Wolffe come across your first sign of a water source. What better way to spend your afternoon than taking a bath?

Pairing: Wolffe x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI; while there is no smut, there are sexually explicit thoughts at the end. Sexual tension; unresolved sexual tension; comfort; implied sexual content.

Word count: 4.6k

Read it on AO3.

A/N: A special thank you to @starstofillmydream for the beta. 

This little story idea was inspired by my current WIP, specifically the tattoo.

Wiping away the sweat on your forehead, you blinked at the endless expanse of green. The baritone hum of insects had grown louder, distorting your hearing. It increased your distress—the inability to determine if something or someone else was out there. Beside you, Commander Wolffe paused, cocking his head.

You tensed. “What is it?”

The commander straightened, rolling his shoulders back. “I hear water. Most likely a river.”

A breath of hope squeezed your chest but you snuffed it out.

Less than twenty-four hours had passed since you and the commander emerged from Eluca’s mountainous tunnels. Caked in dust, eyes scrunched against the brightness of the sun, you had nearly collapsed in relief. Freedom from the endless, winding tunnels—from the omnipresent darkness and claustrophobic panic—had been a relief.

Relief was ephemeral: the oppressive heat of Eluca’s climate quick to remind you and the commander you were both dehydrated and famished.

The effects of dehydration and hunger were ubiquitous. Dark spots flickering at the edge of your vision; muscles spasming; difficulty breathing. Your thoughts were sluggish; your physical movements slow and uncoordinated. Even now, you weren’t entirely certain if you had heard him correctly.

Erring on the side of caution, you said, “Water?” He gave a short nod and you frowned. “You’re not joking, right?”

“I wouldn’t joke about your well-being.”

The deadpanned honesty was strong enough you winced. It had only been four days since you both were separated from your amalgamated crews. Days lost in the tunnels had contributed to a quiet comradery. Nothing more. You weren’t familiar enough with the commander to know the subtleties of his personality.

“But are you certain you hear water?” You wiped more sweat from your neck. Even beneath the shade of the loping tree branches and serpentine vines, the sweltering heat sucked hydration from your fatigued body. Hydration you were desperate to cling to. “I don’t hear anything but bugs.”

“I know what I’m hearing.” He pointed over your shoulder. “We’ll need to backtrack but it’s not far off.”

You rubbed at your blurred vision, trying to think. “Why didn’t you hear it before? I don’t want to waste energy on a futile trip.”

“It won’t be futile. I hear something. If it’s not a river, it’s a stream. And we both need water.” He took a step closer to you, resting his hands on your shoulders and gently urging you to turn around. “You’ll have to trust me on this.”

“But—”

The commander stalked away, pushing through the heavy, voluptuous tree leaves. You glared after him—offended by his dismissal.

He had been a respectable companion the past few days. Though taciturn and nearly apathetic at your predicament, he had proven reliable. Especially in the impenetrable darkness of the tunnels. The tightening walls suffocating. It was his gruff voice, the calm steadiness, that reminded you to breathe. To get your shit together.

And he had protected you at the meeting. Though you were fairly certain it was mere happenstance, since he was standing beside you.

Most likely instinct that dictated his decision to throw himself atop you as rocks larger than your head tumbled and crashed against the floor.

Serious and unwavering in his determination to escape the tunnels, his companionship proved more ideal than being lost alone. Even if he elected to ignore you, at times.

“Hurry up,” Commander Wolffe barked from ahead, his order sharp and demanding. “I’m not carrying you if you collapse.”

You scoffed, joining him, hope and desperation urging your aching legs to keep up. And if the commander heard the few times you stumbled over a root you could have sworn wasn’t within stepping vicinity, he remained quiet. Whether it was out of kindness or apathy, you weren’t certain.

Too many minutes passed before a distinctive rushing noise eclipsed the hum of the insects.

Commander Wolffe disappeared through a dense clump of vines and when you emerged after him, you staggered to a halt, standing upon the edge of a steep embankment. The barest hint of a breeze ghosted your face. Your lips parted in awe.

A river, nestled between the vibrant jungle on both sides, and perhaps a kilometer in width, lazed on its humble way. The rich blue of clean water reflected the few clouds in the sky. White rapids churned near the river’s center, though the sandy shores remained quiet and soothing.

The gentle, lazy flow beckoned you forward. Whispered your name.

With a sigh of relief, you jogged down the sandy slope, crashing to your knees and lifting a handful of water to your face.

“Wait—”

You ignored the commander’s warning, guzzling the water. It was cold. Cold and fresh, and so fucking refreshing. The reassurance you weren’t going to die was so overwhelming you started to tremble. And if you had the means, you probably would have cried.

Your hands acted on their own accord, scooping up another handful of water. And another. After five, you splashed water into your face. Rubbed it down your neck. Relished the sweet chill of the droplets beneath your sweat-soaked shirt.

“You should have waited,” Commander Wolffe grumbled from beside you, interrupting your brief moment of relief. He had removed his helmet, the dark color of his face shimmering with water. He aimed a baleful glare in your direction. “It could have been salt water.”

“But it wasn’t.” His glare might have deterred you days ago. Hell, it would have unnerved you yesterday. But the relief of the water in your stomach had swept you into a contented stasis, a soft smile on your face. “Relax, Commander. I thought we were going to die.”

He rolled his eyes and returned to cupping large handfuls of water, droplets arcing down his neck. At his lack of argument, your smile vanished. Death had been closer than you originally thought. It was sobering. Too sobering.

You pushed yourself to your feet. To your left, the river hooked left, disappearing amongst lively thickets. To your right, it was swallowed by the tangled mass of canopied trees. You and the commander were secluded.

Commander Wolffe regained his feet, running his hands through his hair. You studied him for a moment.

“Turn around,” you ordered, reaching for the buttons of your trousers.

“No.” The dismissal was short and annoyed. A verbal scoff.

“Yes.” You undid the first button, tossing him an exasperated look. “I’m taking off my clothes, so turn around.”

His head jerked back. Bewilderment furrowed his brows. “Why?”

“We’ve been walking for four days, Commander. Four days.” His jaw clenched and you straightened, eyes narrowing. “I haven’t bathed, using the restroom has not been pleasant, and I’ve been sweating endlessly. I probably smell awful and I want to clean myself.” You gestured to the river before crossing your arms over your chest. “We’re not going to be rescued today. Hell, no one probably even knows we’re on this side of the mountain. I feel disgusting and I finally have an opportunity to bathe, so I’m going to take it. Turn around.”

Commander Wolffe stared at you for a long moment. Long enough you had time to acknowledge you probably appeared desperate. Possibly hysteric. And if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t beneath pleading. You needed a fucking bath.

Preparing a different argument, you opened your mouth—

“All right.” Surprise raised your eyebrows and the commander rolled his eyes. “Make it quick.”

You reached for your buttons again, nodding at him to turn around.

“We’re in an unknown jungle with possible enemies. I’m not turning around.” He paused, and then drawled, “I’ve been with plenty of women. It’s nothing I haven’t seen.”

“That may be so.” You offered him an unimpressed look. “But you haven’t seen me naked. You can turn back around when I’m in the water.”

An inscrutable emotion flickered across his face, too quick for you to decipher. With an impressively aggrieved sigh, he turned away. You made quick work of your clothes and underthings, hugging them to your chest as you strolled into the lazing river.

The water wasn’t freezing, but it also wasn’t warm. You shivered, wading out until you found a spot where you could sit, the gentle currents lolling across your chest and shoulders. Decent cover. Just in case the men Commander Wolffe insisted would come for him actually did. Or the possible enemies he had referred to showed up.

At a fleeting thought of creatures lurking beneath the dark water and biting your naked bits, you hesitated. Was a bath worth it?

The lull of the river and the thought of a clean body convinced you to stay. Anyway, Commander Wolffe would probably rescue you from any wayward creatures. Probably.

“Do you have any soap in that belt of yours?” you called out, scrubbing the dust from your shirt. If he kept ration bars, small tools, and a compacted heat blanket in his belt, soap shouldn’t have been unlikely.

The thud of something heavy hit the sandy embankment. You ignored it.

“Can I turn around now?”

Leave it to the commander to ignore your question. Rolling your eyes, you answered, “Yes.”

Too focused on the task of cleaning your underwear, you didn’t hear the commander approach. He was impressively silent for a man of his size wading through water. He took a seat beside you. Close enough you could bump elbows.

You stopped, blinking at his proximity. He was taller than you. Tall enough the river hardly lapped at his chest, and it was not lost on you that his height and position could provide a certain inappropriate view should he want it. So why the hell was he sitting so fucking close?

The river was hundreds of kilometers in length, and he chose to sit beside you. Directly beside you. In your personal space. Either he didn’t trust you to keep yourself safe in the river, or…

Well, you weren’t entirely certain what the other option could be. Which left his assumption that you didn’t know how to swim. How annoyingly domineering of him.

The commander ignored your well-timed scowls, intent on scanning your surroundings. Sighing, loudly, you returned to your clothes, content to ignore him. Until he offered you a thin, dark gray bar. You stared at it.

“It’s soap,” he explained slowly, waving the bar in front of your face, as if to make a point. “You asked for it.”

“I’m surprised you actually had some.” You accepted it, bringing it to your nose. It carried a strong scent of amber, and a subtle note of tobacco. “Your belt is truly magical.”

He scoffed. “Utilitarian.”

“Magically utilitarian.”

“Utilitarian by my own forethought.” The corner of his lip twitched. “You should be grateful you’re stuck with me. Not all my men carry soap with them. And too many would have offered to wash you themselves.”

“Aw. Are you going to offer?”

He gave you a bland look. “No.”

Lathering the soap between your hands, you huffed a laugh. Sarcastic and dry. He was truly the ideal partner.

Minutes passed in companionable silence, the clouds above rolling along their way, the sun’s heat on your scalp a stark contrast to the chill of the water slicking your skin.

Once you finished cleansing yourself, Commander Wolffe took his time lathering the soap down his arms and neck. Suds bubbled and oozed, drawing your attention. White scars bespeckled the wide expanse of his back and chest. Dark hair skittered down his lower stomach and—

It was rude to stare.

While he was distracted, you exited the river and laid out your clothes on a hot boulder. The one benefit to the scorching sun: it would dry your clothes quickly. Upon your return, the commander did the same.

You called out, “When you said ‘make it quick’—”

“I’m not walking around in wet clothes.”

Grinning, you tilted your head back, eyes closed, allowing your body to float. Muscles ground down by days without food and water eased. The blisters on the soles of your feet no longer wallowed in pain.

The respite was needed. The river a soporific cocoon.

A splash forced your eyes open. Commander Wolffe was swimming out to the middle of the river, his strokes easy, his pace slow. The currents—even the tumultuous rapids—proved a pathetic obstacle to his strength. He ducked beneath the current.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds…

His lung capacity was impressive. You stopped counting after 100.

The river continued to churn; seconds slipped by; a cloud drifted in front of the sun.

Your stomach clenched in uncertainty and you swam forward a few paces, eyeing the frothing currents. He couldn’t have drowned. Right? He wouldn’t have left you out here alone—

The commander broke through the surface, brushing dark curls back from his face, angling his face toward the sun. Lost in his own serenity. You exhaled your worry.

The hard lines of his constant scowl smoothed. The corners of his lips turned up. He drifted in the water, seemingly relaxed. An odd term to describe the intimidating commander. He seemed more human. No longer a soldier—no longer a potential ally to your people. Simply human.

You watched him for some time. Watched the way his body cut through the currents like a lightsaber through metal—smooth and undeterred. Effortless.

Perhaps it was the haze from the sun or exhaustion finally claiming your mind, but you quite liked the sight of Wolffe at ease.

Until he looked in your direction and caught you unabashedly staring. He swam over.

Hands planted firmly in the shifting sand, arms occasionally bumping, you both sat there. Together. It was the first time in days you felt a semblance of solace.

“You know,” you said quietly, “working with my people is strategically asinine.”

Wolffe cocked his head. “Is that so?”

“It is.” You watched a cloud distort, transitioning from a lizard to an oddly shaped oceanic animal. “My people have been at war with one another for decades. Your Republic inserting itself won’t solve our problems. Beating the Separatists might curb the fanatics for a few months, possibly a few years. But we will always devolve back to internal fighting.”

For years war had plagued your planet. It was a folly to hope for peace. To hope for the end of bloodshed and the arrival of stability. Peace.

The Republic’s interference, while appreciated and desperately needed, was a waste. A waste of effort and resources and—

“You’ll risk your lives for a planet dominated by inevitable strife.” Your fingers dug into the rocky sand, pain pricking beneath your fingernails. “It’s a waste. We don’t provide a military or political advantage. We won’t help your overall fight against the Separatists. You should save yourselves.”

The heat of his gaze on your face burned hotter than the sun. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because…” You sucked in a sharp breath. Days lost in the tunnels and now in the jungle—the pessimistic realization that the Republic couldn’t save a people who refused to be saved—overwhelmed your tight control of your emotions. Tears threatened the corners of your eyes but you held them back, clearing your throat. “There are more important fights out there. You shouldn’t waste your lives on a doomed cause.”

Wolffe was silent for a long time. You glanced at him, observing the flex of his arms as he leaned back on his hands, the breadth of his shoulders, the hint of a tattoo on his ribs.

He was… Well, he was quite handsome. The realization was startling.

Roguish and dangerous amidst the shadows of the jungle, careful and resolute amidst the water and sun. His grumpiness and apathetic nature left for wanting. Yet beneath it, he was reliable and resourceful, selfless and driven.

His exterior may be rough; it warned others away. It would still be easy to love him, though.

The thought was unwelcomed so you banished it.

“I’m a soldier. My men are soldiers.” His tone was quiet yet steady. “We have a duty and we’ll see it through.”

“You’re more than just a soldier.” He frowned and you grimaced. “I mean: there’s nothing wrong with being a soldier. To choose to be a soldier requires bravery, courage, and a belief in a cause. It’s an admirable thing. But there is more to you.”

“And you know me so well.” It wasn’t a question, though careful curiosity laced his inflection.

“No.” You smiled away your embarrassment, entranced by the depth of the color in his eye. “But I do believe there is more to your humanity.”

“I chose. To be a soldier.” Wolffe held your gaze, his expression firm. Unwavering. “I could have deserted when I first left Kamino. But I chose to stay.” He hesitated, as if debating his next words. “I have a responsibility not only to my brothers, but to the beings of this galaxy. To protect them. And that responsibility extends to you and your people.”

The honesty in his tone was resolute and you smiled your appreciation. Wolffe studied you, his eyes dipping to your lips, quick in their return to your gaze before wandering the planes of your face. His perusal was slow, seemingly intent with a purpose unbeknownst to you.

The weight of his stare caressed your skin, its warmth softer yet more intense than the burning sun. A pleasurable tingle crawled up your spine, skimming your shoulders.

A breeze eddied along the river, twirling a few of his wettened curls, tossing one onto his forehead. Beneath the rays of the sun, the brown of his eye was darker, as if it were crafted from rain-soaked soil. He was so close you could smell the scent of his soap. So close you could reach for his wayward curl, lean into him and lick the streams of water easing their way down his throat.

Your heart beat a bit faster.

A cooler current reminded you of your position: naked in a river. It was a gentle nudge to break contact.

Turning your face toward the opposite embankment, you wrapped your arms around your shins, hugging your knees to your chest. And if your nipples were a bit tighter, sensitive, you blamed it on the chill of the water. It most certainly had nothing to do with Wolffe.

“You have a tattoo.” Another non-question weighted by his curiosity, and carrying a silent demand for information.

Resting your cheek on your arm, you grinned. “Your observational skills are quite acute, Commander.”

A slight smirk graced his mouth and he slid his gaze from your face to your back. You angled yourself out of the water so he could see the entirety of it.

“My people believe long ago that dragons guarded our planet. But over the millennia, the dragons died out.” You closed your eyes, breathing in the river. “We carve dragons into our doorposts as a symbol of protection. But also as a symbol of resilience. No matter what happens, we endure.”

“You have three.”

“To represent balance between the physical, emotional, and spiritual.” Wolffe hummed his intrigue, forcing you to assess his reaction. You weren’t necessarily interested in his approval, but you were curious by his observation. “In the dark, they glow. I can show you tonight.”

His brow arched and he gave a nod.

***

Hours later, fully clothed and sitting beneath the silvered light of Eluca’s two moons, you and Wolffe feasted on a pair of luminafruit.

Grown with a crustaceous shell requiring a vibroblade to cut it open, the fruit was a lucky find. Sweet and berry-flavored, it was much better than the dry ration bar Wolffe had offered.

High in water content, the nutrient-rich cream lining the shell’s interior soothed your throat and served as a balm to your dry skin. The best part of the fruit, though, were the five to eight pods of green, gelatinous pulp.

“I hope these are luminafruits,” you commented, chewing on one of the supposedly protein-dense pods.

Wolffe stopped midchew, scowling in your direction. “You said they were.”

“I said I thought they were.” You shrugged at the narrowing of his eyes. “I need to brush up on edible fruits and vegetables in this system. But I think I’m right.”

“And if they’re not?”

“We’ll probably die from chronic diarrhea and vomiting.”

Wolffe choked, shifting his scowl to the half-eaten fruit in his hands. He inspected it. Closely, carefully. You popped another pod into your mouth, enjoying the sight of the consternated man beside you.

After another minute of prolonged glaring and calculation, Wolffe sighed and caved into the ambrosial fruit. Hiding your grin, you looked above.

The stelliferous sky twinkled its indomitable vastness.

It reminded you of your predicament. Lost and alone on an uninhabited planet. Probably abandoned by your people, or considered a casualty of the cave-in. No one would find you and Wolffe. No one would search for you. You were one person, unimportant in the grand scheme—

“You told me you would show me your tattoo,” Wolffe interrupted your thoughts. He nodded to your back. “I’m expecting to be impressed.”

“Oh? I definitely did not say it was impressive.” You turned your back to him, shimmying your shirt up before glancing over your shoulder to watch him. “Just like I said. It glows.”

“Mm.”

While Wolffe studied your tattoo, you studied him. His expression remained guarded, closed-off. It was difficult to determine if he admired the intricacy in the white line detailing, or was bored.

“It’s not a bright glow,” you explained, staring ahead at the trees. “I wanted it to be soft and simple. Not a torchlight, or something crude like that. I wanted it to be like the bioluminescence that you would see in a cave.”

“It’s subtle.”

You smiled. “It’s supposed to be.”

“I like it.” The words were quiet, pensive. Like an admittance he hadn’t expected to speak aloud.

Words formed on your tongue—a question of disbelief—but they stalled at the soft brush of his finger along the base of your spine. You tensed. Your heart frolicked in your chest. Another graze of his finger and you released a shaky breath.

He was tracing the first dragon. Following the curve of its body down its tail and back up to its wings. His movements were calculated. Slow and purposeful, quietly curious. You held still.

In a languid pace, his finger rose higher, skimming the ridges of your spine. Goosebumps blossomed down your arms and he released a quiet chuckle, the sound low, raspy.

His touch was a gentle kiss to your heated skin; you wanted more of it, more of his soft touches, more of his slow, calculated perusal, more of his unwavering attention.

Your breathing slowed, your heartrate with it. A honeyed stream of warmth oozed from his touch. It slithered down your arms, loosening the tension in your limbs, to pool deep in your belly.

He grazed the sensitive spot at the base of your spine, so lightly and gently, you shivered.

Wolffe stopped and your eyes snapped open. Silence coiled between you both, weighted with unspoken words and uncertainty. Hesitating for a short moment, you shimmied your shirt back into place, ignoring the warmth in your cheeks and the slight throb between your legs.

“So, that’s my tattoo,” you wisely stated, turning around to face him.

The two moons painted the jungle in thick, inelegant strokes of various shades of silver. The same silver as the cybernetic of his eye. And while the silvered strokes of your surroundings lacked taste, they skillfully crafted the features of his face, heightening the curve of his nose, the strength of his jaw, the imposing breadth of his shoulders.

Wolffe was studying you, once again. His expression remained too elusive to discern.  

Clearing your throat to absolve the mounting silence, you laid back on the soiled earth. Wolffe joined you, resting a hand beneath his head.

Stars winked, knowingly. They seemed to share in a joke you weren’t privy to. It irked you.

He skimmed a finger against your hand. A simple, tickled touch. Emboldened by your lack of response, he did it again. Slowly, lightly, he circled his finger along the back of your hand.

“My brothers and general will find us,” he said, his tone firm. Assured. “Until then, you’re safe with me.”

A smile warmed your cheeks at the same moment your eyes closed. “I know.”

***

Wolffe was a complete and utter bastard.

His brothers had kept him well-informed of that fact over the years. He knew it. Everyone in the GAR knew it. He was a bastard. And tonight was further proof of it.

The moment he closed his eyes he was greeted by the sight of softly glowing ink delicately positioned on a beautifully molded spine. Greeted by three tiny dragons, no longer than his pinky finger and no wider than five centimeters.

Fuck him, the image was imprinted in his memory. And that image led to a dangerous thought.

A thought of his hands slowly squeezing your hips, his thumbs tracing light, teasing circles, your fingers curled into the soil, your lips parted in ecstasy.

A thought of him kissing along your spine, sucking on your neck. Finding every sensitive spot that made you shiver. Made you gasp. He would trace his tongue along the lines of those tiny dragons, knead his thumbs into your lower back, drag his tongue lower until he was drowning in your pleasure.  

At some point you would be on your back, your legs around his waist. He would kiss you—kiss you long and slowly, relish the feel of your hands in his hair and the rhythm of your two bodies, thrive in the heat of your cunt and the sound of your arousal easing his thrusts, enjoy the way you would lock your ankles behind his back to drag him closer, to take his cock deeper.

He would give you whatever you wanted. And he would give anything to spend long hours with your thighs on his shoulders and his face buried in your cunt, to massage your hips as he swallowed your release over and over.

The thought had lasted no more than thirty seconds before his conscience snapped him out of the dream.

It was rude of him. Disrespectful.

The two of you were in a dire situation. Separated from his battalion and your people. He knew the tunnels had fucked with you, and it was clear that the past day wandering the humid jungle had steadily gnawed at your wavering hope for rescue.

You were not in a good place. And he sure as fuck should not be thinking about you this way.

Wolffe scrubbed at his face, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

You trusted him—a man you didn’t know. And how did he repay your trust?

By strategizing the best way to effectively draw orgasm after orgasm from your trembling body.

You were kind and thoughtful, determined and driven. And he was the fucking prick who wanted to find the most sensitive spots on your body and edge you until you were limp in his arms.

He was grateful for the stars tonight. To keep his mind clear. And clean.

It was statistically improbable that his brothers and general would rescue you both tomorrow. The lack of communication suggested his men were searching the other side of the mountain range. But he didn’t doubt their ability to find him. He didn’t doubt his general.

He could only hope his belief in his men and general could appease your growing worry in the coming days. And if it didn’t, it was possible that you would turn to him for comfort. Late at night, exhausted from another day of enduring the heat, it was likely you would seek comfort in the form of an embrace.

He gave it a 92% possibility.  

And if you fell asleep in his arms… Well, he didn’t mind that possibility. He didn’t mind it at all.

[racfoam]

Today is @loneamaryllis birthday! Happy birthday, @loneamaryllis! 🎉🎂🥳

Here is some Harrymort for your birthday gift, hope you like it. 😊❤️

Precious Horcrux (Explicit)

Voldemort was taking it slow today. He set an easy, nearly lazy pace, grinding into Harrie, shoving a deeper inch in before retreating. Harrie felt her palms sweating, felt the skin on her neck prickle under the slick lick of his hot, wet tongue. There was heat inside Harrie, all around her, her cunt being stretched and filled by his cock. 

Harrie didn’t know how many times she came already, just knew that this was another form of torture. The large, skeletal hands traced across her body gently, reverently. The large palm gripped her thigh, lifting her leg up, adjusting the angle, cock burying deeper, into that spot that blinded her with pleasure.

Harrie tried to bite her tongue, but a whine came tumbling out, a gasped breath of something which never happened before.

“Voldemort,” Harrie whispered, half blinded by pleasure, unable to think of anything but the fullness and the heat. The moment it sputtered out of her, shame embraced her, drowning her. 

Voldemort hissed in pleasure, his breath warm against her ear.

“Harrie,” he purred in delight, like a pleased snake, his hold on her tightening, his nails digging into her skin, red eyes half-lidded, staring down at her. His cock found its sanctuary inside her, over and over again, sending blissfull pleasure all over her body. 

He continued fucking her, but even his name didn’t seem enough to get him to come. 

Harrie clenched her eyes as her cunt clenched around his cock, her fingers digging into the sheet, clinging onto it to the point they turned white.

Harrie couldn’t take this anymore. It didn’t hurt, didn’t feel overwhelming, but she wanted it to end, but clearly Voldemort wanted to take it slow tonight.

What would it take for him to fuck her in a frenzy so he comes? What was the switch she had to press? She’d already let his name slip out in a breathless voice, which brought her the greatest shame she ever felt. Yet, it didn’t make Voldemort change pace. He continued savouring Harrie, enjoying her cunt.

The answer came to Harrie, and she felt like crying then and there. She remembered all the times Voldemort’s side of the bond overwhelmed her, his thoughts leaking into her, his pleasure becoming her pleasure — their pleasure.

Such a good apprentice, sucking her Master's cock -

The mere memory of it had Harrie’s tongue turning dry inside her mouth. Another thrust and the press of Voldemort’s cock against the most tender, deepest place inside her had Harrie whining pathetically.

“Shh, Harrie,” whispered Voldemort, grasping Harrie’s hips when she squirmed, trying to loosen the building tension low in her throbbing cunt. “Let me fill you, darling.” 

It was too much. Harrie was going to come again, the sensation of Voldemort’s cock dragging over the walls of her cunt too much and she didn't want to come again... 

Harrie gritted her teeth, trying to taste the tabooed word on her tongue without opening her mouth. It tasted like shame and defeat. It tasted like venom.

But... What was one more word, if it could end this?

Harrie’s lips parted, her lungs inhaling, breasts shuddering. Voldemort kissed her jaw, painfully slow, the press of his mouth incredibly warm.

Harrie keened.

Say it, say it, say it, just end it and say it.

“M-Master.”

A mere, barely there word, yet loud enough for Voldemort to hear.

The slitted pupils blew into circular ones, and she felt his cock twitch, leaking pre-cum. For a moment, Voldemort froze, cock still buried deep inside Harrie, his serpentine face staring down at her.

Again, say it again, just for him.

Harrie looked into the red eyes, let her fingers unclench themselves from the sheets, lifting them to touch Voldemort’s nape.

The muscles beneath her fingers stilled, as though inhaling her touch, to soak it, to memorise it, his cock throbbing inside her cunt.

“Master,” said Harrie, loud and clear, staring up at Voldemort, her fingers on the soft, smooth skin of Voldemort’s neck.

One moment Voldemort was frozen, the next his mouth was on hers, hungrily devouring her, using Harrie's next breathless gasp of “Master-” to lick into her mouth, tasting the sound for himself. 

It happened so fast, blindingly fast, Harrie barely had the chance to cradle his neck before his hands gripped her thighs, driving her knees up, up, to her head, straining her muscles — his cock burying all the way inside of her, pulling a keen from her lungs, and setting a wild, lust-filled pace of a hungry beast.

Hard, fast — 

“Master -”

Harrie couldn’t breathe, it hurt but it felt — 

— burning pleasure, building up in her cunt — 

“Come in me...” 

— Voldemort gripped Harrie tighter, driving himself deep inside her, his cock filling her cunt, thrusting hard, his hips pressing into Harrie’s, which arched up into his — 

“Master...” 

—  lust eviscerating everything else and — 

“I want to feel you come...” 

Voldemort moaned.

— he wanted to fill her tight little cunt with his seed, stain her in himself, fill her up, paint her cunt with his come, leave a permanent mark, until all she knew was him because she was begging for his cock and come so prettily yes Harrie Harrie mine mine — 

Good, so good it burned, electricity, a lightning strike, spreading through her and pleasure pleasure until Voldemort moaned, biting into Harrie’s neck hard.

Harrie shook, her cunt twitched, and she came, walls squeezing Voldemort's cock. He gave another few hard, firm thrusts, and then emptied inside her, filling her with his come.

not you, not now graveyard missing scene (Voldemort touching Harry’s scar, this is based on a scene in Goblet of Fire Movie)

Harry screamed.

“Yes,” whispered Voldemort in delight, smiling completely now, revealing his teeth. His red eyes were alight with cruel delight, shining in the darkness. Breathless desire dripped in his voice. 

Voldemort made a sound, a sound Harry never heard a man produce. A masculine, rumbling, pleased sound. A moan. 

Voldemort moaned, taking some sick enjoyment in the act, the sounds mixing with Harry’s yells of agony, his satisfaction syncing with Harry’s burning misery.

The louder Harry screamed, the louder Voldemort moaned.

The moans and groans Voldemort produced were completely obscene, filling Harry’s ears with a lecherous melody. Voldemort’s moans of pleasure paired with Harry’s yells of agony, creating a crude symphony. 

It echoed and echoed, and Harry felt her body grow hot beneath the layers of agony, both pain and shame mixing, thinking the entire village would hear this.

Hear them.

[lawrenceleemagnuson]

𝐑𝐢𝐤 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐠𝐢𝐮𝐦 𝟏𝟖𝟖𝟐-𝟏𝟗𝟏𝟔) 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐧𝐮𝐭 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 (𝟏𝟗𝟏𝟐) "31 October 1913 Dear Simon, As I told you last time, I haven’t been very busy since your departure and I loathe everything around the house. I would like to work hard but, my God, nothing appeals to me, and I always feel like working from memory or developing some old sketches further. And then I begin to hesitate and time passes and every next day I try to convince myself that surely one doesn’t always have to paint things that one sees before one. At the moment I feel quite calm. Thanks to the fine weather, I’ve even found some very nice subject matter: strongly undulating autumnal undergrowth, large tumbling clods of earth forming a deep ravine, spanned by a small bridge, a kind of Roman arch, in soiled red brick, and more clods upon clods. Serpentine borders of green-black mosses, unaligned trees at the bottom of the gully. And above moves the sun, as nothing stays still and the whole scene screams out in yellow, green, delicate grey, black and pink. Rotten, well-rotten and smelling humid and moldy. All this seen from above. In a word, the first thing that has excited me since you left. I’m doing my best, but if the weather changes, all will be ruined! Yours, Rik Wouters" * * *

[sin-cognito]

Rarepair New Year 2024 ch3: Nightmare/Ink, Lamia AU

SFW

Wordcount: 2347

The new house is full of new smells, but one particularly stands out to Nightmare: there's another lamia around. They smell young and their scent is all over the place, indicating the other pet is probably here to stay as they've marked their territory. Nightmare's territory.

READ ON AO3

The new house is full of new smells, but one particularly stands out to Nightmare: there's another lamia around. They smell young and their scent is all over the place, indicating the other pet is probably here to stay as they've marked their territory. Nightmare's territory.

He slithers his massive body around the entrance, carefully grazing every wall to leave his own, stronger scent over the intruder's.

He's aware of the bright yellow eyelights watching him, but he's not stressed about them. They belong to his dear owner, Dream. Nightmare has been with the monster since birth and for those three years, Dream has taken care of him well enough that Nightmare doesn't feel the need to attack him. Anyone else he can and will bite and musk, but not Dream.

He does feel a little unsettled by the other monster who's (poorly) hiding behind his master, another small skeleton Nightmare has heard his master call 'Blue', but also 'love' and 'dear' and 'boyfriend'. Nightmare is a smart lamia, he knows what it means when Dream comes home in the early morning, covered with the other's smell.

Since Blue is so important to Dream, Nightmare has resigned not to bite him (too hard). Hissing is still on the table though, and he won't allow the foreign monster to get too close to him, or try to pet him. That priviledge is for Dream only.

As he continues his inspection of the house, Nightmare realizes why Blue grates on his nerves so much, even compared to total strangers. He wears some of that foreign lamia smell, which in turn tranfers onto Dream's clothes every once in a while. At least it means that by now, Nightmare is more or less used to that alien smell, which is the reason why he doesn't freak out when he notices the other lamia peeking out of their hiding spot.

They are considerably smaller than Nightmare, barely half his size. Their bones are pearly white, very far from Nightmare's dark emerald ones, and their ecto tail is a rainbow of pastel colors that ondulates in the light when they slither forward timidly toward Nightmare. Their mismatched eyelights change form with every blink, curiousity obvious in the way they keep staring at Nightmare.

One more whiff at the other lamia lets Nightmare know that they are actually a he. He doesn't like that. (Not that Nightmare would've been more pleased with a female lamia, he would be grumpy about it just the same.)

Nightmare turns around to shoot an indignified look to his owner, trying to communicate his dissatisfaction at having to meet another lamia. He likes his solitude and Dream should be aware of it by now. It didn't go well the last time Dream brought him to another kissing friend's place and Nightmare had to deal with another lamia, except that one was gigantic and had legs and ears and fur and made such a strange barking sound that forced Nightmare to bite the threat away. Needless to say, Dream never saw that friend again, as it should be if you asked Nightmare's serpentine opinion.

Before Dream can reply or pick Nightmare up to take him away from the indelicate situation, the other lamia lunches at Nightmare's back, wrapping his arms around Nightmare's neck and his tail around his chest. Nightmare struggles in the deathly hold, rolling around and hissing away to make the other let go of him. They tumble around together, knocking a few things.

"INK, STOP!!!" Blue shouts while Dream grabs the squirming noodles to try and separate them.

It ends well and before Nightmare can bite the lamia, Ink apparently, he's brought to safety into Dream's arms, who checks his tail for any puncture mark but he won't find any. Ink is a weakling, he'd never be able to do Nightmare any real damage. Nightmare on the other hand could very easily obliterate the smaller lamia, especially if Ink tries to jump at him again.

"Is Ink okay?" Dream asks his boyfriend, who is busy checking his own lamia for injury, and sighs in relief when Blue nods.

"Yeah, he's fine. I don't think he's even rattled," he chuckles while Ink slithers around his hands, curling up and down his fingers, having the time of his life.

As he wriggles around Blue's hold, Ink looks around, and beams when he notices Nightmare staring at him. Hmpf. Nightmare decides that Ink is a dumb lamia who doesn't deserve his company, and he will have nothing to do with him if he can help it.

Unfortunately, that thought doesn't go quite as planned when a couple months later, Dream and Blue move in together, their lamias now forced to cohabit. Nightmare is not happy with the arrangement, even if he's more used to Ink's smell and presence now that they've met a couple more times so they'd get used to each other more before the move. He spends the majority of his day either snuggled in one of the many moving boxes still laying around, or running away from Ink, who seems very intent to make his life hell by asking to play with Nightmare 24/7. It doesn't help that he's much younger than Nightmare (which explains his ridiculous size and scattered brain tendencies) and has boundless energy. Ink can literally nyoom after Nightmare all day and still have energy left at night to launch himself at Blue when he comes back from the outside world.

It's exhausting, especially since Nightmare is not allowed to bite Ink (at least hard enough to leave a wound). He tried to during the first few times they were forced to meet, and Dream was very crossed with him. So Nightmare reluctantly added Ink to the list of people he cannot chew on, alongside Blue (but Blue is getting better, because now he gives Nightmare food). That doesn't mean he can't royally ignore Ink though, which he happily does whenever he doesn't feel like entertaining the other's endless energy, so that is to say, all the time.

They learn to live with one another for the next few months, and nothing really happens, if you don't count Ink annoying the scales out of Nightmare on a daily basis. They even start playing together from time to time, when Nightmare is in the mood. That being said, it's not that big of a deal, as their playing sessions are usually just Nightmare flopping somewhere warm and Ink nyooming around him at full speed.

It's now the end of summer, and Nightmare decides to flop in a patch of sunlight in the garden, Ink soon joining him to nyoom between the chartreuse grass. They have fun like that for a while, Nightmare even graciously allowing Ink to pull him by the hand so they can nyoom together a little. Blue is watching over them from the patio with a book in his hands while Dream is away.

A ruffling sound suddenly catches Nightmare's attention and he stills while Ink keeps going, as nothing short of his master is powerful enough to stop him mid-nyooming. Nightmare focuses on the edge of the garden, where the fence is broken and the gap between the wood and the ground is large enough to let other animals go through. He's caught a rat once, and ate it whole, which Dream wasn't happy about because it wasn't feeding time yet.

This time, what awaits Nightmare is much bigger than a rat though. Nightmare has seen those around before, from the window upstairs. They roam around at night, with their piercing yellow eyes and dark fur and long antennaes around their mouth. He also knows that they play and eat with his kind when they find a live one. He's seen it too.

Nightmare doesn't want it in his garden, so he crawls forward toward the fence, keeping low and hiding within the grass. The animal notices him too late, he's already launching at it, teeth out and a ferocious hiss in his throat. The animal jumps backward and slaps its mighty paw at Nightmare, who manages to avoid it, his tail curling around it. If he can latch onto the animal's leg, he'll be able to sink his teeth into it easily and it'll be Nightmare's victory.

Or so he thinks, but his plan gets derailed when the animal grabs him by his midsection, right where bone meets ecto, and it pulls hard enough to make Nightmare yelp and loosen his grip. The animal then shakes its head and sends Nightmare flying back in the middle of the garden, where he dizzily sees Ink freeze in his nyooming.

The rest is a little confused, but Ink's eyelights disappear as his usually happy smile is replaced with a sharp set of teeth ready to bite a path into the animal's flesh. One moment Ink is standing by Nightmare, the next he's already onto the animal, biting it all over its body and tearing its grey fur off until there are bloody tuffs scattered all around the garden.

Ink and the animal hiss and growl and howl at each other, the fight intense and relentless. They continue mauling each other until the animal lets out a wounded yelp and smacks Ink one last time before scurrying away.

Having been alerted by the commotion, Blue hurries to pick Ink up, grabs Nightmare on his way to the door and rushes the both of them to a vet. Nightmare doesn't have it in him to bite Blue for his boldness, he lets himself be put in their travel crate and checks on Ink while Blue frantically starts up the big moving box that Nightmare hates.

While on the way to the vet, Nightmare assesses Ink's condition: he's covered with scratches and bite marks, his ecto tail covered in his own magic. He doesn't appear to have any fatal-looking wound, but Nightmare can't be sure until Ink's tail is clean from all the magic, so the grumpy lamia takes on the task to lap at the other's wounds. He can see that Ink wants to do the same for him, but he's lucky to only have gotten a superficial scratch on his tail, so there is no need for Ink to be concerned about him. He can't do anything anyway, he's in too rough a shape and can barely stay awake as it is.

Thankfully the vet is close by, and it takes no time for them to be taken care of. Ink has to spend the night there, while Nightmare gets by with only a little bandage on his tail and Blue drives him back home, patting his skull on the way home and letting him know that Ink will be fine. When he comes home, Dream is horrified to learn what happened, and he cuddles with Nightmare all evening, the warmth of his chest helping ease the pain in Nightmare's tail.

Ink is back the next day, just as Blue said, and while he can't nyoom around yet, he's back to his chirpy and happy go lucky self. Nightmare keeps him company so he doesn't get bored, and finds that without all the running around, it's not so unpleasant to spend the day with the other.

Over the next few weeks, thanks to Blue's nursing and Nightmare's grooming, Ink's wounds heal nice and clean, until he's allowed to get the last bandage off with his next shed.

After that, Nightmare can be found relaxing with Ink within the safety of the lamiatio (which Dream explained is like a patio, but for lamias), playing or nyooming together when the weather is nice. They haven't been let into the garden ever since the attack, even under surveillance, but Nightmare doesn't miss it that much. He's content to hang out in the lamiatio, which still receives plenty of sunlight. And it's got towers to climb on and fake foliage to hide under. It's a great place to hang around at with Ink.

Lately Nightmare's been gathering materials from all around the house, to piece together a sort of bedding that he likes to bring Ink to. He's set it up at the top of the highest tower in the lamiatio, somewhere neither Blue nor Dream can really see from down there. Neither owner is particularly tall. Nightmare likes the privacy, and he likes having Ink cuddled up with him in the makeshift nest. They keep each other warm during the long winter months.

When spring finally comes around, Nightmare feels the need to keep close to Ink, so much so that it'd be hard to imagine he used to run away from him not even a year ago. Ink smells very nice, and Nightmare rubs himself against him in the hopes of getting the other to produce more of that delicious scent. Nightmare even starts to twitch his body next to Ink. He doesn't quite know why, but he knows that it's important. He needs to let Ink know that he's here, ready for… whatever lamias are supposed to do at the start of spring. Ink doesn't react, so Nightmare doubles down with his effort.

He brings Ink to the nest and wraps his tail around the other's rainbow magic. Nightmare smells the scent, and he twitches and twitches some more, and rubs himself against Ink, until his magic forms something new that he knows will help keep Ink close.

Right as he's about to press himself into Ink, Dream finds them on their tower, and the monster panics and separates the two. Nightmare is upset and hisses in his owner's hands, trying to get back to Ink, who doesn't seem too bothered by the interruption. Back to the vet Nightmare goes, and when he gets back home, he doesn't find himself attracted to Ink's scent as much as before. He feels no need to summon his magic again and is content to spend the rest of his days with Ink, and with Dream and Blue.

He never hisses at any of these three anymore.

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Ruined

Fandom: Girl Genius Pairing: Bangladesh Dupree/Vole (discussed), Agatha/Gil (background) Summary: Bang has seen Vole's new look, but only now learns that the man she fell for has changed on the inside, too.

It's clearly all Gil's fault.

Ao3 link

“You ruined him!”

Gil ducks the knife automatically, but is caught enough off guard that Dupree’s foot actually manages to make contact with his jaw. He hits the ground and rolls as another knife pings off the stone floor. With an inelegant but effective twist, he’s on his feet again, but the tears in Dupree’s eyes stop him short.

“He was perfect!” Dupree wails, clutching her knife to her chest. “He was perfect and you ruined him!”

“What are you talking about?” he demands. The next knife barely misses him, and Gil is honestly not sure if Dupree is not putting her all into trying to kill him, or if her aim is affected by her crying.

It’s rather horrifying.

“Wait—Wait, are you…do you mean Vole? That was almost a year ago, why are you mad at me now?”

“Because I didn’t know until now! You made him an even bigger monster than before, but only on the outside!

"Wh—Hang on—"

“I’ve been looking all over for him! And when I finally found him, and I asked him out, do you know what he said? Do you know what he said?”

Gil silently shakes his head, mystified.

“He said he doesn’t like to kill things for fun anymore!” Dupree sobs.

Gil bursts out laughing from sheer surprise, and then immediately takes off running as Dupree hurls herself at him. He serpentines down the hallway, knives zipping past him.

Where does she keep them all? He thinks, wildly.

“Castle! Maybe you’d like to do something about the attempted murder of your lady’s consort?” he shouts at the ceiling.

‘You must know I do not.’

Gil swings around a corner, jumps up, lands on the wall, pushes off, flips over Dupree’s head and takes off back the way he came. Behind him he hears Dupree collide with and be toppled over by something metallic and heavy , but he knows it’ll only stall her.

“Agatha will be really upset.”

‘I think the young lady has a legitimate grievance against you,’ the castle says, primly.

“Oh of course you do!”

Gil makes it as far as the stairs before something hits the back of his head, hard, with a crash of breaking pottery. He goes tumbling halfway down before he manages to grab hold of the banister and stop his fall. Sprawled on the stairs, Gil looks up. Dupree stands at the top of the stairway, glaring down at him, eyes blazing through tears. She looks like she walked off the set of a particularly melodramatic penny opera.

“He was the only man I ever loved,” she says, sounding as histrionic as she looks, “and you ruined him.”

“You knew him for five minutes,” Gil points out. “You didn’t even have a conversation with him, you just listened to him rant about how much he wanted to set Europa on fire!”

“That was all I needed," she snarls.

“What is going on out here?”

Agatha and Zeetha have appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Agatha has her hands on her hips, her brow furrowed. Zeetha is finding great amusement in Gil's difficulties, but what else is new.

“Dupree is mad at me because Vole is no longer a ruthless homicidal maniac.”

“Vole?” Zeetha repeats.

Agatha gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. She looks up at Dupree, wide eyed.

“You two would be perfect for each other!” she says.

“Not now! Not after Wulfenbach got done with him!” Dupree cries. “He doesn’t even want to set anything on fire anymore! He said he was tired of fighting!”

Gil watches in open mouthed astonishment as both women walk straight past him to fuss over Dupree. Agatha pulls her into a hug and Dupree sobs against her chest.

“You poor thing,” Zeetha says, with all signs of genuine compassion.

“It’s not fair!” Dupree bawls. Agatha shoots Gil a disapproving look.

“All I did was pull him out of the time stop!” Gil cries in protest. “It’s not my fault that the process put him through a personalized metaphorical hell that caused introspection leading to a changed outlook on life!”   

No one is listening.

“Come on,” Zeetha says, gently. “Let’s get some chocolate in you.”

“He’s not the only bloodthirsty, amoral monster you’ll ever meet,” Agatha reassures Dupree as they guide her down the hallway.

Gil sits up, puts his elbows on his knees, and his chin on his fists, glowering at the far wall.

“I didn’t hear anyone complaining when we used what I learned to get Tarvek out,” he grumbles.

‘I think you should be a little more sympathetic,’ the castle says. Gil chokes.

“Are you serious?”

‘I knew Vole of old,’ the castle says, and adds, mournfully, ‘Their wedding would have been a bloodbath.’

“Oh, shut up.”

[jovianaquarium]

ok so my lovely mutual @icarrymany dared me to post proof of my rock/min collection so this is his fault >:)

im not gonna go into depth on all of the samples bc 1. i dont remember the details on all of them lol and 2. it would take. forever

so instead ill talk a little abt one or two of them per section :3

first up: tumbled minerals!

i have a bunch more of these but after becoming a geology student they kind of piss me off bc raw minerals often look way cooler and tumbling removes the crystal habit (and also makes them harder for me to identify hgjhfd)

first image, from left clockwise: (possibly) blue lace agate, chrysocolla. labradorite, snowflake obsidian, moss agate, brown agate, and two samples of tigers eye

2nd image: up close picture of one of the tigers eye crystals, showing its lighter banding

3rd image: up close picture of the labradorite from a different angle, showing its pale green luster

my absolute favorite mineral ever is labradorite also!! i think its luster is gorgeous and ive heard it represents transformation and change, and i first got this sample back when i had just come out as trans :)

i dont really have a lot to say abt these unfortunately lol

anyway. next is fossils!!

1st image, clockwise from bottom left: trilobite cast fossil, tumbled stromatolite, dinosaur bone (? got this one at a mineral stall and the dude said it was a dino bone, didnt think to ask details lol), plant fossil, coral fossil, assorted fossil molds (mold as in taking the shape of something, not spores) in wackestone, mosasaurus tooth, crocodile (?) tooth, 2 ammonites, a turtle scute, a crinoid stem, and a (broken) orthoceras

2nd image: up close pic of the assorted fossil molds, which include horn corals (circular with ridges toward center, hole in middle), crinoid stems (cylindrical with ridges perpendicular to long sides), and shells

3rd image: up close pic of larger ammonite, with iridescent luster due to aragonite (a polymorph of calcite) replacing the calcite of the shell

4th image: up close pic of dubious tooth. i found this on a field trip about a year ago while looking for shark teeth. this is not a shark tooth. idk what it is. i think it might be from a crocodile but i havent been able to fully identify it lol

now.... raw minerals!!!!!

1st image, clockwise from left: moss agate, talc, serpentinite (this one is a metamorphic rock but i accidentally put it with the minerals and dont want to retake the pics. other geologists you may come kill me), two calcite samples, and a tiny topaz @ramones2 gave me

2nd pic: close up on the topaz crystal, which is light orange (if u leave these in the sun they get bleached and lose their color </3)

3rd pic: close up on one of the calcites. its crystals are a bit more squared and close-knit than the next calcite, and appear more white in color. there are also some small purple fluorite crystals mixed in. i traded with a classmate for this one lol

4th pic: close up on the other calcite. this ones crystals are more rounded and transparent.

5th pic: close up on the serpentinite. serpentinite is metamorphosed from peridotite, which makes up the earth's mantle (if youve ever heard that the mantle is actually green, that is true!! the green comes from olivine mostly, but also some pyroxenes). when peridotite is lifted up to the surface and comes into contact with water, olivine gets very unhappy and serpentinizes, or hydrothermally metamorphoses (water + some heat + olivine = cool as fuck snakeskin rock)

6th pic: another close up on the serpentinite, this time wet. you can see the serpent-like pattern a bit better.

finally: rocks :3

1st image, clockwise from bottom left: amphibolite, sedimentary rock with calcite vein (i dont remember what this one is lmao), malachite-bornite ore, iron-stained sandstone(?) with chalcedony/agate, phyllite, sandstone trace fossil of a burrow, and meteoric rock possibly with iron

2nd pic: close up on the ore, showing the malachite vein. it's almost powdery, with a gradient of light blue on the edges to teal in the center

3rd pic: another close up on the ore, showing the bornite vein. it's iridescent like an oil slick, with the main color being purple. this one is often called peacock ore for its colors :)

4th pic: . im gonna be honest i have no fucking clue bro. i think the mineral in it is agate/chalcedony (the lighter gray/white areas) and the red parts are an iron-stained sedimentary rock, but i forget if its siltstone or sandstone or smth else. idk. it looks cool.

bonus: extra pic of my rocks for further proof of collection

hope u enjoyed o7

[voraxiia]

⁺₊ ﹙ㅤ𝟑-𝟓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 .ㅤ﹚

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 :ㅤvermillion , like the gleam in his eyes . lapis lazuli , amber , and emerald green of the jewellery he puts on .

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 :ㅤit’s hard to say . some say he smells of honey and ripe fruit , like figs , with a faint, almost heady sweetness . some find his scent clean , grounding , unlike the scene he’s often found in . the very rare few who are not under his spell , say a particular metallic smell , however slight , forever lingers on him . it strikes their gut feeling a slight , wrong way .

𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍 :ㅤflowy shirts , with a cinched waist . dangling earrings . sharp nails .

𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒 :ㅤan old , yet still sharp as ever , dagger with its hilt encrusted in gold and ruby , he has to be careful not to hurt himself on it . a necklace with fangs belonging to ... some creature , that’s for sure , he made it himself ! his small perfume collection , in case his charm starts wearing off before they get to the main dish ( his date ) .

𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 :ㅤa killer smile ! carries himself with buoyancy and flair almost theatrical at times . serpentine in his fluid movements , rarely standing straight or still , likes leaning against his person of interest . eye contact is what sets his spell in motion , what becomes hard to pull away from .

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 :ㅤred , red , red . definitely inhuman . you cannot look away . whispers of passionate promises and fervent worship tumbling out one after another . sharp teeth sinking deep , marks an unfortunate prey's last throes .

tagged by :ㅤ@hopeharmed ( ♡ ! ) tagging :ㅤ@villain-he , @asinusxdomi , @starpoacher , @fangier , @killerhubby , @intcritus , @heincus , @strawbelina , @nezumivc103221 , & if you haven't done it / want to do it c:

[bekkathyst]

Sainte-Marie Gem Show 2023 Item List

To claim an item, please comment on the individual post. The complete rules can be found here. Please be sure to read the rules before claiming :)

Large Purple Labradorite Palm Stones - Sold Out!

Green Apatite Pebbles

Large Natural Citrine Points

Natural Citrine Points

Tumbled Natural Citrine - Sold Out!

Malachite Palm Stones

Shattuckite Palm Stones

Black Tourmaline Polished Points - Sold Out!

Malachite Bracelets - Sold Out!

Prasiolite Points (Extra Green) - Sold Out!

Prasiolite Points

Deep Purple Amethyst Wands

Italian Jade Slabs - Sold Out!

Italian Lizardite Slabs

Polished Italian Jade

Koroit Boulder Opals

Malachite Boxes (Rectangle) - Sold Out!

Malachite Boxes (Hexagon)

Chunky Veracruz Amethyst Crystals

Obsidian Scrying Mirrors - Sold Out!

Faden Quartz from French Alps

Polished Red and Green Chlorite Phantom Quartz Points

Amphibole Quartz Flames - Sold Out!

Mini Amphibole Quartz Flames - Sold Out!

Rough Purpurite

High Grade Included Quartz Specimens

Alpine Quartz with Chlorite Specimens from Mt Blanc, France

Spessartine Garnet on Smoky Quartz Specimens

Selenite Daggers

Rough Ethiopian Welo Opals

Brazilian Pastel Fluorite Points

Prasiolite Points (Large)

Siderite with Chalcopyrite from China - Sold Out!

Quartz with Hematite Specimen from China - Sold Out!

Rare Crystallized Rhodochrosite from China

Calcite Crystals from China

Rare Pink Fluorite from China

Golden Calcite Spheres with Stands

Rainbow Obsidian Spheres with Stands - Sold Out!

Green Opal Spheres with Stands

Blue Rose Quartz Spheres - Sold Out!

Carnelian Spheres - Sold Out!

Fluorite Animal Carvings - Sold Out!

Ocean Jasper Animal Carvings

Serpentine Dolphins

Serpentine Llamas

Extra Large Serpentine Animal Carvings

48. Blue Agate Crescent Moons - Sold Out!

49. Agate Turtles - Sold Out!

50. Agate Frogs - Sold Out!

51. Agate Seahorses

52. Agate Cicadas - Sold Out!

53. Polished Dendritic Agate

54. Rare Spectrolite from Finland

55. Pyrite Nodules from China

56. High Grade Crystallized Azurite from Morocco

57. Cobaltoan Calcite Clusters from Morocco

58. Rare Allophane Specimens from China - Sold Out!

59. Snow Agate Palm Stones - Sold Out!

60. Pyrite Skull from Peru

61. Pink Opal Obelisks from Peru

62. Onyx Ravens from Peru

63. Labradorite Bracelets - Sold Out!

64. Gold Sheen Obsidian Bracelets - Sold Out!

65. Sparkly Green and Pink Aventurine Bracelets

66. Rose Quartz Bracelets - Sold Out!

67. Mookaite Jasper Bracelets - Sold Out!

68. Fancy Amethyst Bracelets - Sold Out!

69. Flower Agate Bracelets - Sold Out!

70. Carnelian Bracelets - Sold Out!

71. Sparkly Green Aventurine Bracelets - Sold Out!

Thank you so much! I will periodically update the list with sold out items.