#yellow for the spots and spikes

[betty-burnout]

Birdo amigurumi by CrochetinginCanada on Etsy

[notjustjavierpena]

Needy

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: LONG AGO, @yxtkiwiyxt tagged me in a post about Pedro in a black tee and jeans that reminded her of her hubby. Then this happened. I hope you can forgive the wait.

Summary: Pregnancy comes with horniness.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Pregnancy and hormones, touch-starved, hot sweaty javi, so many pet names in spanish, praise kink, pregnancy sex, light dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, couch sex, slow and intense riding, piv sex, pussy eating, face-sitting, finger-fucking, multiple orgasms, squirting, handjob, pillow talk

Word count: 4.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62563027

Needy

A few months ago, a friend from work had asked you how far along you were in your pregnancy over lunch and snickered knowingly when you said that your second trimester would be ending around now. She had leaned close and whispered in a voice only meant for you that she’d not been able to keep her hands off her husband when she’d entered her third trimester. 

You had scoffed with heated cheeks, embarrassed by talking about your sex life with a coworker, and had not been sure what to say to such a statement. However, at 29 weeks pregnant where only sweatpants and dresses feel comfortable, you find yourself grateful that someone took the opportunity to warn you. Why? Because it’s like an itch that you cannot scratch. 

You want Javier Peña all the goddamn time, not caring whether you will be the cause of rug burn to his poor manhood. You are a caged animal, stalking around restlessly in your enclosure because the confinement makes you stressed out and horny. There’s no time for decorum, no time to keep it together because it’s so torturous to have hormones raging through you that you have two options: Either you get down and dirty, getting fucked by him, or have a hissy fit that results in sobbing after flinging yourself onto the bed (a thing that often results in Javier doing his duty and pulling up the skirt of your dress with polite surrender).

Thankfully, not all days are that bad. Some days, the prickle of your skin and the ache between your thighs are nothing more than a dull sensation in the very back of your mind, a simmer that has a manageable warmth. It means you can take on the day without being on the verge of tears, suffering greatly if you aren’t touched.  

Today, however, is not such a day. 

Javier has been out of the house since sunrise, having kissed you goodbye in the morning in a way that has left you wanting more. His reason for leaving you to yourself all day hasn’t been unreasonable, spending his time as an unpaid ranch hand at his father’s farm. 

Meanwhile, you have been listening to the tick of the clock on the wall, waiting like a damsel in distress for him to come home and save you from the curse your body has you under. You have tried everything to satisfy the devil in you and you’ve gone as far as to keep your phone locked up in your bedroom so you wouldn’t text him to come back early. After all, Chucho has had a rough time during spring, and this summer has called for an extra field hand, a thing he cannot afford to pay for in his retirement. The way Javier is committed to his family is actually one of the things you love most about him, and also why you had convinced yourself that it was fine to have a day to yourself this morning. However, as the sun dips lower on the horizon, it becomes more evident that Javier can never leave this long again. 

Finally, as the evening drags on slowly and the sun starts painting the living room in yellows and oranges, you hear the sound of your husband’s truck pulling into the driveway. Your body responds immediately, your pulse spiking in the anticipation of the moment he walks in the door but there’s impatience in you unlike anything you have experienced before. 

You rush to the window to peer out at him and spot him just in time to see him stepping out onto the stone driveway and slamming the old door shut behind him. A thrill goes through you, a longing to be in his arms immediately and it is so profound that you feel your throat tightening with relieved tears at having him here. 

You cannot wait the minute it takes for him to walk inside, you decide, and so you rush to the front door and pull it open. You rush outside to greet him, your dress swooshing along your knees as you take quick steps. 

The second he sees you, you can feel yourself ready to melt into a puddle. He looks dusty and tired yet still smiles softly as his eyes meet yours. He is just about to greet you when you give him no chance to speak, wrapping your arms around his neck and catching his mouth in a deep, fervent kiss. He rests his hands on your hips and you think you might die if he doesn’t have you right here. 

“I missed you so bad,” you confess in a whine and find yourself unable to stop kissing him. You obscenely nip at his bottom lip, brush your tongue against the seam of his mouth, all the while murmuring in a desperate plea, “Don’t you ever leave your horny wife that long again.” 

When in need of catching your breath, you make the mistake of burying your face in the crook of his neck. You pant already from how worked up you are, your mouth feeling sensitive and swollen already from your make-out session. His scent is of the outdoors mixed with the sweat from hard labor, and as you pull back slightly to gaze upon your man, you see the damp patch on his black t-shirt around his neck, a testament to how gorgeous he has looked as he worked under the sun all day. 

Finally, as he is allowed to take a breath, a low chuckle falls from his mouth. There’s a tinge of desire in his voice as he speaks, “Let’s get you back inside the house, mi amor (my love). I fear what you might do out here.”

“Promise me you’ll fuck me,” you groan against his shoulder, at the mercy of your body and therefore not strong enough to play coy, to tease and make him chase you. You’re all his because his touch is the only remedy for your relentless yearning. 

“Te prometo, mamacita (I promise, mamacita),” he promises. He locks up the car, smiling to himself as he sees you fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. When he has pulled the handle a few times to make sure the truck is locked, he urges you to go back into the house.

When you start walking, you feel his broad hand rest on the small of your back and the car keys jingling from his thumb. You have to catch a feeble noise in your throat, your palms laying on your swollen belly to keep them busy. 

Once inside, Javier throws the car keys into a bowl on the side table next to the door. He marches across the room, boots heavy on the floorboards, and then lets himself fall down into the couch with an exhausted grunt. He reaches up to rub his eyes with the heels of his hands, sighing deeply from the satisfaction. 

You follow him around like a puppy would follow its owner, and when he doesn’t make any moves to fulfill your every desire this instant, you take matters into your own hands and show him that you are not playing around when you display your desperation. 

You waste no time straddling him, hiking up your dress enough for the only fabric between him and your core to be the cotton of your panties. It’s visible, the way his mouth goes dry, the way your beautiful pregnant body turns him on in a ridiculously short time. When his left hand touches your hip again and his right rests on your belly, rubbing soothingly, he silences every voice in your head. 

“Mi niña (my girl),” he coos when he has regained his composure and your whole body buzzes. He has a coy smile on his face, “You’re so beautiful up there.”

“How beautiful?” You ask, reaching between your bodies to undo the zipper on his usual jeans to get his cock out. He doesn’t protest, simply lets you take what you need from him until the edge has been taken off. He knows better than to dismiss your urgency when you have been deprived of his dick for an inhumanely long time. Instead, he reaches to slip a finger into the front of your panties and moves them to the side.

“More beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen in all my years on this Earth.” he charms with immediate success because you drag his jeans and underwear down just enough to be able to sink down on his bare cock and with no concern for his gnawing zipper. 

He groans while you gasp, your mouth falling open and your eyes blinking closed at the immediate relief of being stretched out by his generous size. He fits inside of you, large and pulsing against your fluttering walls and you find yourself already moving on top of him. 

“Fuck, you’re drenching me,” he murmurs gruffly beneath you, and yes, you are. Your pussy is soaked for him, squelching obscenely each time it takes him to the brim, “Is this all because of how I left you alone all day? How cruel of me. I made this pussy all wet.”

Usually, you would reply with something but you have been so desperate during the last few hours that you find yourself completely fucked out already. You move faster, greedy for release, and Javier says your name to no avail. 

Suddenly, his hand slides up your forearm and over your shoulder. It settles right at the base of your skull and it holds onto you firmly until you come back to him. He tilts your head so he can lock eyes with you. 

You whimper when his other hand stops your movements on his cock altogether, and it borders on embarrassing when your desperation causes you to tear up, “Please, Javi.”

“You’ve got such a greedy pussy today, mi amor (my love),” he tuts disapprovingly and holds you still. He seems almost like he would be content with just having your warm heat wrapped around him, squeezing him occasionally when you think about what he could be doing.

“I just want you so much, papí,” you moan pathetically and wiggle slightly in his lap. He nods while dragging his nails down your spine, testing you to see if you will behave in the seconds it takes to place his palms on your sides. 

“I know,” he says gently while cupping your waist, “Listen to me.”

You are wide-eyed and at your wit’s end. You’ll do anything to have him make you come. 

“I’m going to make you come on it,” he says and fucks up into you once, nearly making you fall off his lap from the surprise. He steadies you with his hands sliding across your skin to firmly hold onto your lower back, urging you to start rolling your hips back and forth instead of up and down, “And then I am going to make you sit on my face until you come on that too.” 

You swallow thickly, tiny mewls and moans escaping your mouth as you ride him slowly. You thoroughly love it when he directs you, takes care of you, and since getting pregnant, he knows how much you need him to make decisions before you throw a tantrum in your horniness. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He taunts without any meanness behind his words, clutching your body in his grip to keep you from falling into another vigorous pace, “To make your pussy feel good, hm? She happy now?”

“Mhm… Very happy,” you nod with a tiny smile, moving slowly in his lap because he isn’t allowing you anything more. He fills you repeatedly with each movement of your hips over his, the head of his cock threatening each time to slip out of you before he guides you to take him all the way again. It feels like heaven, your orgasm building slowly but steadily instead of rapidly. He knows you so well, knows how disappointing it would have been if it was over too soon. 

“You’re all I thought about today too,” he murmurs against your mouth when you dip down to kiss him, cupping his face and letting your thumbs caress his cheeks before you go further up to tug at his hair. Your hands are made to slide between the soft tufts, just like your body is made to melt into his arms. 

“Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero (I love you, I love you, I love you),” you repeat breathlessly, a little firmer in your pace. His cockhead catches at something just right inside of you and it makes you nearly double over into him. 

“Don’t rush it, mamí,” he tells you gently and maneuvers you to tilt your hips ever so slightly, “It’ll come. You’re so close. Fuck, I love you so much.”

You come so intensely from that slight change of angle that your vision blurs. It is deep and overwhelming, everything below your navel pulling at you before going off into squeezes of pure, indescribable ecstasy. Your voice cracks, your moans pitch, and you can hear Javier’s name tumble from your lips while you repeat just how much you’re there.

“I’m coming, fuck, I’m coming,” you groan with furrowed brows, pulling his face into your chest and feeling him kiss on top of the fabric of your dress. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he moans while you ride it out, “Fuck, I know you are. You’re taking it so fucking well.”

It takes a few long seconds for your climax to start fading. You rock in his lap until you cannot do it anymore, and then you come to a halt with him still settled deep inside you. He rubs your thighs to soothe and draws back a little to look at you while you pant from exertion. 

“Eres perfecta (You’re perfect),” he mumbles with awe, “Did that help, huh?”

You nod with a blissed-out expression, suddenly very aware of how much you were actually in distress because there’s a lightness to your very core. Your cheeks are warm, your heartbeat slowing after having pounded in your chest. 

“Let’s take this off,” he coos, helping you out of your dress completely. You haven’t worn a bra today since your breasts are sore and firm with milk, and so he has you in nearly all your glory while you are warming the length of his still-hard dick too. 

“That better?” He asks again, kissing the bare skin of your upper chest where you feel like you are burning up from not having undressed earlier. Eagerness comes with a price.

“Sí (Yes),” you mumble and inhale his scent while resting your cheek on top of his head. You swirl your hips to make him growl beneath you, “Your turn.”

“You think I’m done with you?” His voice is smug as he stills you on top of him again before his hand rubs along the curve of your pregnant belly, “You think I’d break my promise and let this pussy be all touch-starved? She needs more.” 

“But Javi,” you say with your brain still fuzzy, mind a jungle from how well he touches you. 

“Shut your brain down and take off your panties. I want to take care of my pregnant wife,” he orders with a peck to your slightly parted lips. He groans when you drag yourself off his cock, leaving a wet shine on the smooth skin. It slaps against his belly and forms a dark stain on his black t-shirt. 

You stand, albeit a little wobbly, in front of the couch and shimmy out of your underwear in the most elegant way possible with a pregnant belly. Then you watch him tug his jeans down his thighs and kick them off. He follows it up by ridding himself of his t-shirt too before rearranging himself on the sofa to make it easy for you both. He chooses to lie flat on his back, stretching his body, overworked from today’s farmwork, with a satisfied grunt while he waits for you to climb onto him. 

“Come here, mamacita,” he says when you straddle him carefully. He coaxes you to crawl forward by pushing gently on the back of your thighs. You always worry about smothering him like this, especially when pregnant, but he doesn’t ever complain, actually gets more enthusiastic about it than you. 

“¿Así? (Like this?)” You ask shakily when you hover just above his ravenous mouth. His breath ghosts over your cunt, cooling the slick slightly and driving you crazy. 

“Así, yes, just like that,” he replies. He reaches up and runs his index finger across your clit before spreading you open for his tongue, your body responding with a sharp intake of air, “You want me to touch you here, baby?” 

“Yeah, so badly,” you swallow around nothing and close your eyes, waiting patiently for him to stop his teasing. He is so good at this that the wait is awful.

“Yeah,” he repeats without mocking you, “My gorgeous wife is insatiable.”

Luckily, he doesn’t keep you waiting. His nose nudges you first then his mouth. He kisses your sensitive clit a few times before tensing up his tongue, it feeling silky smooth where you need it the most.

One of his strong hands rests on your swollen belly while the other scratches along the length of your thigh, creating nail marks that he soothes with his rough palm afterward. Simultaneously, his touch makes you relax further and settle more onto his face. 

“Use me, honey. I deserve to be used for how cruel I have been,” he hums below you before he stretches his neck and dives in to practically devour your cunt, You rock yourself back and forth with tiny gasps at the heat already tightening in your belly, his nose catching on your clit with every other grind of your hips to build another orgasm steadily. 

But despite how much he’d claim that he’s not aching to come, you wouldn’t believe it for a second. With a stretched-out arm behind you and your palm on his thigh to steady you, you lean back slightly so your other hand can reach for his still hard and ready cock. You wrap your fingers around him to earn a gasp against your core, the work of his tongue faltering for just a second.

You stroke him with the same hunger that he is showing you, working him to the edge while both of your moans bounce off the walls even if he is muffled by how enthusiastically he eats your pussy at the same time. 

He comes with his lips wrapped around your swollen clit, his body tensing up for a second until it releases with a groan. The sound is so hot that you grind a little harder on his skilled tongue, feeling how he pulses in your hand and coats it in thick stripes of his seed. 

He responds almost gratefully. Both hands settle on the small of your back to pull you forward onto your hands and knees. You try not to get come onto the couch, giggling in surprise through a moan of his name. But the laughter dies in your throat when he holds you firmly in place and slips one hand between your thighs again. 

He pushes two fingers into you while suckling expertly on your clit. You see stars begin to form on your eyelids, almost wail when he makes a come-hither motion towards your belly. 

It’s too much. It’s not enough. 

“I think… Javi, I’m gonna— Stop, I’ll—“ you cry when your thighs start to shake. He doesn’t relent, apparently knows exactly what he wants and he isn’t shy about it like you are. His fingers work fast, enough for your cunt to drool into his palm. 

And with that, you come one more time and the pressure it releases inside of you is so good that it makes you gush all over his chin. Your voice breaks into a high-pitched cry and he holds his fingers against that perfect spot inside of you, keeps them there while your orgasm peaks and you can’t help but apologize for how much you’re wetting his face.

When you think it is over, he drags the digits out slowly and shoves them back in. The pads of his fingers have you hunching over and gasping his name, another gush forcing its way past his fingers. He drinks your come as if he were a man in the desert, desperate and starved. 

You take it like a champ, trying not to squash him with how your thighs tighten around his head during the last few shocks of pleasure that he brings out of you, and eventually, you sag enough for him to help you back down into his lap. 

You are horrified by the sight of him at first, red-faced and bathed in your slick and come. However then you see the glint in his eyes, the lopsided grin that he gives you as he props himself up on an elbow. He is pussydrunk out of his mind. 

“How are you feeling now, mi vida (my life)?” He asks while reaching for his t-shirt with his free hand. He wipes his face with it, his eyes still glazed over with bliss and pride; the combination that only exists in a man who has just made his wife orgasm let alone gush all over him. 

“Forget about me,” you laugh breathlessly and use the t-shirt for your messy hand too, “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Very good,” he sits up to face you and lets you take the t-shirt out of his hands. He looks completely at your mercy, “You’re so fucking hot.”

“I bet,” you find a clean side of the garment to wipe at a spot he has missed then playfully swipe at his nose, “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome, mi amor (my love),” he whispers as he comes closer. He takes your wrist in his hand until you drop the t-shirt and then leans in for a long, drawn-out kiss that has your whole body weak. He guides your hand to his face and mirrors it with his own on your cheek. The look he gives you causes you to chew on your bottom lip, “Lo siento por hoy (I’m sorry about today).”

“You don’t have to apologize for your wife being a little crazy because of hormones,” you brush it off - after all, the aftermath always makes you look back on it and feel silly - but he just rests his forehead against yours and nods. 

“I know but I should have cleared it with you and with the baby, or at least have taken you with me,” he kisses your forehead and you feel how tired you are now, the sweet gesture grounding you even more than sex ever could. 

“As if we could have done anything about my little problem at your dad’s,” you try once again to let it slide. You rest your face in the crook of his neck, content with your naked vulnerability in his presence. 

“I would’ve found a way,” he jokes and earns a slap to his chest but then his tone grows serious. He buries his nose in your hair, “Eres todo para mi. Eres mi vida, mi esposa hermosa, la madre de mi hijo (You’re everything to me. You’re my life, my beautiful wife, the mother of my child).”

“Javi,” you look up at him shyly from where your head rests. He smiles down at you but mirrors your tone to tease and says your name. 

“Hablo en serio (I’m serious). I would do anything for you, mamá,” he adds, “And for our bebé.”

“Even fetch me - I mean us - a snack?” You grin, glowing with fondness for him but feeling nearly overwhelmed by his words in your state of bliss. He knows how much you love him though, knows it especially by how you look at him right now. 

“Especially fetch you a snack,” he wraps his arms around you to hug you tightly, your belly bumping against his, “What does the queen of this household want?”

“A strawberry milkshake?” You suggest hesitantly as if to make the request optional, “If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“A strawberry milkshake!” He repeats enthusiastically and makes you laugh, making the way he detangles himself from you easier even if you want him to never leave your side again.

“Who knew that growing a baby came with having a househusband,” you say while he gets up from the couch and helps you to lie down comfortably. He puts a pillow under your knees and one behind your back. The couch’s mess will have to wait. 

“It’s the full Javier Peña experience,” he leans down over you for one last kiss before he pushes himself to stand up straight once more. He doesn’t look at you as he continues, has already turned his back. You watch the way his muscles flex as he heads for the kitchen, shirtless and only in his boxers, “And I plan on doing it forever, mi reina (my queen).”

.

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If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[hello-gloomy]

Wearing their Colors

Transformer headcanon:

On wearing clothes with their colors/ designs and motifs and showing it to your cybertronian partner.

A/N: I FUCKING MISSED MEGATRONS BIRTHDAY *this is to make up for my sins* also sorry if Bee's part seems rushed.

Megatron:

Armor

You had to get it specially commissioned, which took a lot of design.

You had to have it made of metal, too. It was pretty heavy, even though the group that made it said the armor was lighter.

You wore silver, slightly heeled, thigh-high boots. Some of your thighs were exposed but covered with black fabric. Like him, you had matching sharp shoulder pads. You had a medium-length skirt tass in the back of your armor instead of armor in the front that matched his modesty planting.

Your Breast planting matched his chassis; you had the Decepticon symbol in the same spot as he was.

The final piece to match him was a Valkyrie-styled tiara with the same spikes on his helm.

You were so excited to show him it, hoping he would like it. Currently waiting in his Habisuite, sitting on his desk, looking at the shiny metal on the walls to see your blurry reflection.

Soon enough, you heard his booming footsteps approaching the door. A hiss sounded off, and you spun around and stood up as tall as possible while trying to calm your nerves.

He's still looking at the data pad in his hand while he walks over to the desk and sits down; you strut up to his arm to get his attention, pressing yourself on him the best you can.

He sets down the data pad when he notices the hard silver on his arm; he ex vents a bit louder for you to be able to see while giving you a lustful once-over

You twirl a little when you lift yourself off of him; you step up directly in front of him, and he lifts one of his servos to drag the tip of his digit over your upper thigh armor. You drag the tip of his finger to the matching Decepticon symbol on your chest, and he lets out an appreciative sigh at the sight of it.

He leans his helm down and kisses you and your armor before he speaks

"What a lovely Decepticon you make."

Optimus prime

It came in a pair of gogo boots and a matching jacket

You gave yourself one last look over in the mirror before you went out to meet with Optimus

He was finally free from most of his meetings on the newly built Cybertron government for the week, so he sent out a message to you.

His message was perfect timing as you finished your little surprise for him. You smooth out the leather of the jacket and zip up the boots.

You told him to wait at the base and that you'd meet him there. You grab your skateboard and make the fifteen-minute commute in relative silence. Walking through the special entrance for humans, you watch the lights of the ceiling.

You arrive at his room and text him quickly, telling him you are outside. The doors swish open, startling you. Peering inside, you see him looking at data pads at his desk, still doing work when he was supposed to be taking a break.

You walk closer to where he's sitting before giving a whistle to grab his attention. He looks down at you, and his optics widen when he sees your clothes; he leans over and grabs you to look closer.

He ex vents softly while taking it all in. You match his finish. A cute little mini him in human form that's all his. It makes his spark beat so fast in his chassis.

He presses his helm against your head before he whispers to you,

"My little Prime."

Bumblebee

A Yellow and Black Varsity Jacket

The jacket had his numbers alongside his name on the sleeves of it

It took forever to find the jacket that perfectly matched his colors; you just took it upon yourself to sew on all the decals that represent your alien lover.

You're sitting around the Autobot base while waiting for Bee; you showed Ratchet the jacket, and he gave you a small smile before returning to work.

Three vehicles pulled in, and you raced to the yellow one.

Their younger human charges got out of them, and the Cybertronians transformed into their bipedal mode

Miko and Raf noticed your jacket first; Miko excitedly pointed it out to the rest before asking you to make one for her and Bulkhead; you whispered to Raf that you'd let him borrow it when it was just him and Bee.

You told Jack that maybe him and Arcee could have a matching biker jacket for him, she chuckled with a small huff

The five of them walked off, and your lover and you were left. He hadn't made a single beep since they arrived; you tilt your head at him and smile. He leans down to pick you up; sitting in his palm, he moves the jacket's fabric slightly to look at all the words representing him.

He brings you close to his face and beeps out a sweet 'I love you.' just for you and him.

[konigsfavgirl]

꒰ Adorable König Habits & Routines Outside the Military — as promised my pookies :3 ꒱

Early Bird Energy: König wakes up ridiculously early, even on days off. He tries to stay quiet, but he still ends up making tea, pacing the apartment, or doing light stretches—his huge frame moving around while you’re still dead asleep.

Overgrown Houseplant Dad: He has a weirdly soft spot for houseplants. He waters them with too much care, occasionally talks to them “You’re growing well, ja? Keep it up.” and panics if a leaf turns yellow.

Notebook Hoarder: He owns way too many notebooks, some filled with tactical notes, some with random doodles, and some… just empty because he likes having them. Don't let me mention the silly patterns for notebooks he owns.

Clumsy Giant Moments: For someone so skilled in the field, König is shockingly clumsy at home. He constantly bumps into doorframes, accidentally knocks things over with his elbows, and hits his head on hanging lights. Later he tries to explain why your favorite decoration is fixed with glue magically.

Candle Enthusiast: He secretly loves scented candles. If you ever mention liking a particular scent, you will find a new candle of that scent appearing in the apartment. He would insist lighting one if you two are having a movie night — it spikes up the atmosphere

Protective Blanket Tucking: If you fall asleep on the couch, König has to tuck you in properly. He carefully drapes a blanket over you, making sure you're warm. If you shift even slightly, he freezes, afraid he woke you.

Big Spoon 90% of the Time: Even if you start off cuddling face-to-face, König will unconsciously pull you against his chest in his sleep, wrapping himself around you like a human weighted blanket. Gentle

Alarm Clock (For You, Not Him): Since you’re not a morning person, he wakes you up in the softest ways possible — rubbing your back, whispering to you, or placing little kisses on your forehead until you stir.

Absolutely Awkward with PDA: König wants to be affectionate in public, but he’s so tall and intimidating that he overthinks it. He’ll lightly brush his fingers against yours instead of holding your hand—unless you grab his first. Then he melts.

Buys You Snacks Without Asking: If he notices you like a certain snack, you’ll always find it in the kitchen. He never asks, he just stocks up on it like some silent provider instinct kicks in.

Waits for You to Get Home Like a Loyal Dog: If you come home late, König is either waiting by the door or lying on the couch, pretending he wasn’t waiting for you. Expect the long cuddling session if you were away for too long.

Secretly Loves When You Play With His Hair: If you ever tug on his hood and ruffle his hair, he groans dramatically, but he never stops you. If you start braiding it? He’s suffering but lets you do it anyway.

Terrible at Saying No to You: You want to steal his hoodie? Done. You want him to cook something random at midnight? Fine. If you give him the right look, he just sighs and does whatever you ask.

[larcenywrites]

My Little Animal

Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW | rough sex | unprotected p in v | lots of foreplay! | biting (with tongue and fangs!) | collaring (Logan) | growling | smelling??? | calling Logan an animal (affectionately!!) | feral Logan??? | oral (F receiving) | Not really Dom!Reader but not exactly Dom!Logan either? | maybe the real Dom in this fic is just the love we made along the way :) | I guess I ended up using the taller hugh jackman version of wolverine for this sorry short king Logan 😔 | no real plot just lots of porn with an intro | some HCS for collaring here

Word count: ~2,400

A late night was normal around here, and a late night waiting up for Logan was hardly newsworthy. Neither were the heavier-than-usual drag of boots outside the door, nor the irritated huff after he closed the door a little too carefully.

Your eyes are drawn from the book in your lap to the larger man sitting on the end of the bed, back to you. Remaining silent, you watch him, his hand scratching through his beard and through the hair on the back of his neck. His tension is obvious in his movements, and more obvious in the tight muscles of his back as he pulls his white tank over his head, tossing it aside with a huff.

"Tough day?" You finally break the silence, trying not to let your tone hint at the longing in your eyes as you ogle.

"Always," he only replies gruffly, making you huff with an irritated amusement. You continue to eye him from your spot, deciding not to scold him this time for wearing his suit's yellow and blue pants on the bed. This time.

"I think you're just being dramatic," you softly tease, placing your book on the bedside table. With a disgruntled grunt of disagreement, Logan bends to work on getting his boots off, bare shoulders just inviting you to touch them. Shrugging the covers from your lap, you shuffle across the mattress to his seated form, eager to slide your palms over his heated skin. There's no reaction even when you nuzzle into his neck, the only sounds being the thump of boots being tossed aside and the rustling of fabric as he removes his pants. And those black boxer briefs didn't leave much to the imagination when he kicked the yellow and blue fabric aside, his flaccid bulge moving with his thigh.

You knew he could pick up your spike in arousal at the sight, and you could feel the elevation of his heartbeat when you hooked your arms under his to rest your hands on his chest. It was only when he felt your tongue on the shell of his ear that he finally reacted, a low growl vibrating through your hands and chest where you pressed against him.

That was really all you needed to know.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pulling away from his tense form. Instead, you roughly thread your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and pulling more low rumbles from his chest. Like a grumpy ball of putty in your hands, he lets you push his head down, chin to chest. Just another little push, and he lowered himself, kneeling at the foot of the bed. He sighs heavily when you steal your touch from his hair, but it's far from one of relief. His cheek tilts your way as you shuffle over the sheets again, listening as you move back to the nightstand.

You can't hide anything from him. He knows which drawer you open. He knows what's in it. He knows what it means. Yet he still doesn't move when your hand pets over his neck. You could practically feel him bristling with excitement. For being so tense and stubborn, he always allows you to bind his neck with the collar. You wrap the brown nylon fabric around his throat with care, its gunmetal gray fastens jingling as you fix the buckle, keeping it loose just the way he likes it.

Wrapping a few fingers around the now-fitted collar, you carefully tug it up towards you, keeping his head down while your nails scratch over his scalp. Another soft growl makes you smile. Stepping off the bed next to his kneeling form, you drag his collar with you, the rough fabric sliding over his skin as you stand in front of him. You continue your petting, letting him adjust to his new headspace until he finally leans further into your grasp, nuzzling against your bare thigh and resting his cheek against your skin with a growly sigh.

"There's my little animal," you coo, tightening your grip on his hair and abruptly tugging the collar up, making him face up at you, your knuckles against his jaw. Logan's mouth parts in a silent moan, lip curled in a silent snarl. He narrowly eyes you through his lashes as your thumb pushes his bottom lip down and leans obediently into the rough petting on the side of his head. The pad of your thumb presses into the point of his fang and is met with his eager tongue, languidly lapping and swirling over the digit.

You take your hand from his hair to trace fingers over his lips, watching him close his eyes in ecstasy as he laps at your other fingers. Tongue and lips press against your palm in a sort of kiss before fangs gently bite into the soft flesh between your thumb and finger. You know they're just itching to get that tension out, and what better way than guiding that bite down to your thigh. He eagerly latches on, exploring the skin of your thigh with scraping fangs and long licks while bringing his hands to hold the backs of your thighs in a bruising grip.

You can't help but finally moan at his feral-ish nature, holding onto the back of his collar while threading through the thick curls on the back of his neck, encouraging more of those sharp nibbles and wet trails drifting closer to the inside of your thigh. He can't help but taste the softer skin beneath his tongue several times before sinking his teeth in just a bit harder, growling low in response to your moan.

Your grip on his hair tightens in surprise as he noses against your panty-covered clit, cheeks feeling flushed at the sound of him inhaling the scent of your arousal straight from the source. Fangs press ever-so-gently into your mound as his tongue finally meets your sensitive bud, swirling over the fabric and massaging deeply the more the mix of his saliva and your slick dampened the thin material that hardly kept you separated.

You desperately clench around nothing when he pulls back, teeth bringing your panties with him as his fingers tightly grip around the band and impatiently tear them from your legs with ease. There's no time to think about scolding him before your knee is forced onto his shoulder, falling into an awkward angle against him as his lips devour you again.

"Oh fuck, Logan," you sigh, only able to claw at his shoulders while firm hands pull you into him. His hot breath fans over your sensitive flesh as he practically pants, cleaning up the arousal pooled at your core and his nose bumping against your clit. The only noises in the room are your mixed panting and the crude lapping sounds from between your legs, supplemented by the low, warning growls every time the prickle of his beard causes you to twitch away. The same prickling friction that drags through your folds as his tongue meets your clit again, leaving your legs trembling in his grasp with every swipe. He knows you're close-- he can smell it, hear it in your whimperish panting, feel it in the way you try to grind on his tongue. It only spurs him on, tilting his head against your thigh as if to settle in while he pushes you closer to the edge.

It isn't long before your nails dig into his hair and pull him closer, and your legs awkwardly tensing and closing against him as you finally come on his tongue. He laps deeply at your over-sensitive bud several more times to ride you through it before attacking your entrance again, drinking your essence like a starved animal. Every brush of his beard and nuzzle against your clit becomes far too much to keep handling as he continues, but there's no escape from his grip on you. Wrapping your hand around the collar, you try to tug him away, only met with a deep rumble that borders between a growl and a moan, hot breath fanning over your core again. He was as stubborn as he was greedy, knowing well that he was far too strong for you to pull him away, especially from between your legs. Maybe he even enjoyed the rough material of his collar threatening to choke him.

"Logan, please," you plead breathily, thumbs hooked around the collar. As if to make a point, he deeply laps at you several more times before turning to sink his fangs into your thigh in aggravated obedience with a low growl that gently rumbles against your skin. He keeps his teeth in your leg even while you lower your knee from his shoulder and holds onto you while you recover for the moment. But only for a moment.

The sharp prick of fangs finally leaves your thigh, only for them to brush across your tummy with a wet lick as he nuzzles under your shirt. Your fingers brush over the tense hands that grip your thighs, feeling those claws flex beneath his skin, naturally responding to their owner's pent-up emotion and energy in the only way they ever knew how. He's obviously still unsatisfied, raging to let loose. You're jolted from that thought as he bites into the soft side of your waist, licking over his bite in a soothing way. Helping him out, you slip your shirt over your head, tossing it aside like every other piece of clothing. Without a word, he gets to his feet, taking it as his cue to lick his way between your breasts and into the crook of your neck.

He roughly pulls your hips flush to his, his chest practically heaving from the deep inhale he takes from where he stays buried in your neck. He's never been one for subtleties, especially not when those hips start to hungrily rut into yours, and his hard-on, hardly hidden in his briefs, is straining for attention. Grinding with him, you hook your thumb beneath the burlap brown band as your fingers tangle through the dark locks of hair on the back of his neck.

"You're not very good at this taming thing," he finally breaks his silence with a cocky grumble, pressing his lips to your cheek. At his comment, your hand wraps around the front of his collar again, knuckles to his throat.

"Good thing I don't want to tame you," you softly sass back, turning to meet his lips and tracing them with your tongue. He shows off his fangs with a low growl, grip tightening on your thighs before he roughly hoists you up to wrap around his waist. It's only seconds for him to spin around and plant your back on the bed, his much heavier form coming down with you, wasting no time to ravish your throat with sloppy kisses and lovebites.

You can only tilt your head back and moan softly to the ceiling, much to his purr of approval as he continues his assault, even while awkwardly shuffling between your legs to rid his too-tight boxers. You know he's finally done it when the heat of his cock presses at your entrance and a hand pushes a thigh aside to give him more room to work with. Despite still being soaked from your romp just minutes ago, he's still not the easiest fit when he pushes into you, mirroring you with lips parted in a silent moan and eyes screwed shut. Even with the sting of your nails in his bicep, he keeps sinking into you, giving you no time to adjust to the pleasurable burn of him filling you to the brim.

Cock sitting heavy against your cervix, Logan grinds you into the mattress, nestling back into your neck tongue first. Muscular arms cage your legs against his hips and his fists wrap into the sheets as he instantly ruts into you like an animal in heat. Once again, the only sounds filling the room are whimperish moans and heavy panting being outshined by the lewdness of how wet each thrust of his cock and each slap of his balls sounds against your soaked heat.

Hot breath fans over your skin with a low rumble when you pull at his hair, the growl vibrating from his chest through yours and only adding to the growing tension in your core. He lifts himself when you tense around him, bowed up above you as if in concentration and chest heaving with his wild panting. You look up at him through your lashes, a few dark strands hanging over his forehead and loose collar hanging over his collarbones. The sight alone could send you close to the edge, already throbbing around him, but you needed him close again.

Dark eyes flicker to you at the feel of your hand on his chest, playing through the thick body hair there before wrapping around the burlap brown band hanging from his throat. He obediently lets you pull him down with the little strength you have left, his own hips faltering as you pull his face into your chest. He moans low, tongue lolling against your skin as he picks up the pace again, hips stiff and fists tight around the sheets. He's just as close as you are, but his deep and well-aimed thrusts are determined to get you there first.

He can smell it, hear the soft whines from your chest and feel your legs squirm under his arms, and groans deeply at how tightly you clench around his cock and hold his face to your chest as you come around him. His steady pace finally slows, stilling as deep as he can within you and cumming with a low growl. He keeps you caged and pressed into the mattress, panting hotly against you. Your fingers gently play with his hair while you come down, other hand still holding onto the collar while he gently nuzzles and rubs his face between your breasts, as if you didn't already smell like every part of him.

After several moments, he finally lifts himself from you, pulling out from your messy core and wasting no time going down on you, savoring the mixed scents of your essences and greedily cleaning you up. With a gasped-out moan, you tug desperately at his hair, only being answered with that possessive growl that means he isn't letting you go anytime soon.

[jaxi-the-dragonborn]

thoughts on nightwing variants :O

SwiftWings: there's some debate on whether or not they're considered true nightwings, - very slender build, fast and agile in the air (NW kingdom preferred aerial fighters), weak ground combatants, cousins to the RavenWing variant (least connected to the og NW) - longest wingspan, but also the narrowest wingspan. The "tail feather" scales present at the hip in the RavenWing variant merged with the bottom membrane of the wing, causing that spike you see - "tail feather" scales on tip of tail - typically dwell on cliffs - pupils are large and round, iris is typically dark browns, greys and black in color - least amount of star scales

RavenWings: "cousins" to SwiftWings - second largest (on average) - like SwiftWings, exhibit being moonborn with silvery markings on body (like magpies) - has "tail feather" specialized scales on hips and tip of tail - only NW variant where the back scales and spikes merge - pupils are small and round, iris can range from golden yellow to pale green PantherWings: AKA the OG NightWings - silent fliers - strongest fire breath - strongest ground combatant - subtle spots and stripes on body and wings - darkest in color of all NW variants, best equipped for hunting on ground - Diamond pupil- eye colors typically hang out on the warm side of the color wheel, but cool colours have been observed

StarWings: Rarest NW variant - most prominent crest of spikes - most amount of star scales - closely related to OG NW variant - when moonborn, stronger than average powers - shortest but broadest wings - scales reflect the night sky they were born under

[running-with-kn1ves]

Sleepy Afternoons

A/N: Teehee ngl I just wrote this as a period comfort fic indulgent for myself. I hope you nerds enjoy it as much as I liked writing it!

CW: AFAB reader on period, jokes of breeding, using a dragon as a heating pad, pretty much just fluff

WC:2000

Synopsis: A lazy Sunday, the perfect start to a week on your period where you'll be constantly pestered by your dragon boyfriend.

A dragon’s hoard in times long before consisted of fine jewels and immense mounds of gold, shiny objects as far as the eye could see. Whether it was stuffed in the depths of a cave or deep in the forest, a hoard barred spikes and “DO NOT ENTER” warnings; whether they were legible or not was never up to the righteous dragon’s responsibility.

Adventurers and bandits never heeded these signs of caution, getting stuck in the narrow holes meant for dragons to shimmy through or meeting their demise through puzzles and endless booby traps-- such monsters were thorough in keeping their treasure safe. Any item that caught the creatures attention could be found in their rich reservoirs, even if they were mere wave-smoothened stones from a lake, an old lover, or a prettily decked-out concubine that was too tempting not to take. 

That however, was centuries ago. Dragons, like the rest of us, must conform to modern society, technology too powerful and people too abundant to go around flying and terrorizing just to get one’s hands on a pretty penny.

Your boyfriend, once a ravenous creature with a cave of glittering gems and fine craftsmanship-- that he may or may not have maimed many blacksmiths to steal-- now resided with you in too big of a bedroom. You had argued before buying the apartment; who would need this much space? But his hoarder tendencies clearly made up for the abundance in space. Gaming consoles, silvery granola bar wrappers, aluminum dollar store trinkets, books with glittery covers-- the floor was almost unseeable with his trash and treasure mixed together. He wasn’t necessarily dirty-- in fact every item had its own spot and preferred place, which is why it killed a piece of him any time you threw away something that should not be “decorating” your shared home. 

Though as you practically took care of both of you, it was hard to keep up being the caregiver in the relationship. Especially, on your period. Sunday, what a perfect day, to realize you had a whole work week ahead of mood swings and lower abdominal pain, all mixed with the gory massacre you’d face every time you went to the bathroom. Your cramps didn’t usually come in this early of a start, but it seemed like nothing was going quite right today.

“T’s wrong, darlin’?” Your draconic, crusty-eyed boyfriend mumbled into your back. “Somethin’ hurting…?”

He had been asleep since noon, ignoring the stream of yellow shining down on him from between the cracks of the blinds. But with those poor eyes and slightly above average listening skills, he completely ignored the sun and heard your groans of pain as you curled into a ball. The aching in your lower tummy was like hellfire, crisp burning and somersaults of your organs unlike any other pain than usual. Nothing was helping, no cold rags or medicine, it was like your infinite headache and body pains were destined to consume you. 

“C’mon baby answer me, I wanna help..” He pouted again.

“Just my stomach..” You downplayed, not sure if you could handle his frantic coddling if he realized you’re period started. The last time you made the mistake of doing so, you had pads stacked to the brim in your bathroom cabinets and tampons in your closets, the mass shoplifting endeavor of his creating even less space in your home. Well, atleast you were set for the next fifty-seven or so cycles.

 “I just need to rest n’ I’ll be fine, soon…” 

Another wave of pain came through, head ringing as soft nails raked up and down your sweating back. 

‘When will this be over,’ you wondered. 

Maybe that horrible breeding endeavor your boyfriend was always obsessed with was worth it if it meant you wouldn’t have to suffer through this for nine months. Yeah, just nine months of morning sickness and bloating and growing a whole dragon-human parasite inside of you. But hey… the making part wouldn’t be too bad, and atleast you would be crotch-pain free. 

Man, now the pain was really talking through you.

“Yer period, right?” Your dragon wonders, scratching the back of his head. He’s more awake now, and you wish he was still passed out grabbing onto you, even through the sticky sweat from his body heat. “I’m sorry baby…I know it hurts. What’you want me to do?”

“How’d you even know..” You groan, almost annoyed at how keen he is. Next thing you’d know he’d be shoving some pretty pawn shop jewelry for you to hold to distract you from the pain.

“I don’t think.. You want to know. And well there’s the obvious, I noticed you changed the bed covers.”

Oh lord, was he talking about that split tongue-nose smell-ability ‘dragon thing’ again? Could your embarassment get any worse?

“Does that mean you’ve… EVERY TIME? Every time you knew?”

He sheepishly fell into the new sheets of warmth, those dark eyebrows lifted in innocence.

“Sometimes before you knew, I think.”

Officially, you wish your boyfriend was asleep again. Maybe you’d just strangle him to end this mind-numbing conversation. 

“What can I do?” He repeated. “Get you more pads?” 

“No.” You shut him down as soon as the words left his mouth. 

“What then? A snack, more pillows? Now’s the time to be babied, you know. Unless you’d be okay with me coming to work with you--” 

You groaned, partly to shut him up and to vocalize the squeezing, contracting inside of you. 

His clawed fingers came to cradle your belly, right below your belly button on your pelvic muscle. He rubbed, just gently, back and forth with a slight pressure as your head buried into the sheets beneath you. 

“Just this.. is fine..” You murmur, feeling hot, humid breath exhale against your neck, emerald green slits baring into your twisted expression. He was watching you, the way your body reacted, the little signals of discomfort. 

You heard a slight flutter of his wings as they adjusted, his body fitting against yours like a puzzle piece; it was nice to be the small spoon again, rather than cradling your needy dragon lover like a cocoon as he so often desired. 

The dragon slowly pushed a leg between your bunched knees that stuck together, getting easier access to your tummy. His palm was so warm, as the torso flushed behind you kept a reassuring prresence. You almost turned on your back to get his palm farther against your stomach, the slight pressure and warm temperature soothing the ache in your lower back and groin. 

“You know… I could always breed ya, then you wouldn’t have to--” 

“Don’t try to convince me right now.” you spat, turning into him as his hand worked magic, the other brushing hair off of your neck and cheek. “That’s not an option, especially right now.”

“Well, at the very least I can make you feel good. Might ease up some of the pain, yeah?” He laid back down to lean in closer. 

You sighed; he clearly didn’t understand the discomfort and embarrassment that his oh-so keen intimacy would bring you right now. You loved the sentiment, and maybe you’d be up for it if you weren’t solely thinking about your physical misery, but you barely had the fortitude to look back toward him. 

Your dragon buried his flared nose into the top of your head, lined against you like a perfectly shaped heat blanket. 

“You wouldn’t even have to do anything.. I’ll do whatever makes ya feel better.” His other hand snakes beneath your hip against the bed mattress, pulling you back toward his body even closer, if possible. The warm, spiked fingers tapping alongside your pelvic bone made your skin spark, your lower stomach buzzing with numbed pain and a fullness that made you want to sleep for another week. “I don’t like seeing you like this.” He frowns. “Your face.. You look so, uncomfortable.”

“Wow, thanks.” You jab, feeling a heated tail slither up your knee, to your thigh. It almost flicked in apology. “Mm.. Just stay my heating pillow and I’ll be fine.” 

“I can do that.” The confidence in his voice worries you, knowing he’ll do an unnecessary load of more than you asked for. Your fetal position was gently yanked free, a pounced creature on your back as you’re forced onto your stomach. “I’ll be the best spiky heating pad you’ve ever seen.”

The strong, scaled forearms of your draconic spouse come to wrap around your hips, a burning touch ringing from his skin, worming his way beneath your comfortable pajama pants and shirt, skin on skin as his body temperature rises to accommodate your desires. His forearms seem to ripple against you, fingers tickling your sides as his legs trap against your thighs from above, most if not every length of his body pulsating against yours like a live, scaly cocoon intent on making you his personal plush, and he your sweet, warm monster. 

“Feel better baby…” He kissed at the nape of your neck, sandpapery forked tongue popping out to lick away your sweat. “It’ll be over soon.. I’ma make it all better.”

You leaned deeper into the stuffy mattress sheets, the pressure on your abdomen welcomly encouraged as you push as far as possible into his fiery hands.

“I’m betting on it.” You muffle into the pillows, squirming your hips against his his body, warm chest and carved quadriceps surrounding you. The slight pressure of his inner thighs against your hips was welcoming, his mounted position atop of you seemingly odd to an outsider-- but you didn’t care how weird it might’ve looked, as the calm of your gutted abdomen took over. 

You yawned into the side of the pillow as you turned your head, lifting your hips just a little to soak in the heat radiating from behind you. 

“Awe’d, so sleepy huh? Need a little nap?” the dragon behind you poked. 

Who knew a murderous, millenium-old dragon would be sweet-talking you so gently-- just a few centuries ago he was murdering travelers for stumbling just a few steps too close to his prized hoard. 

“But I just woke up.” You protest, upset at the sleepiness of the afternoon that was rubbing off from your draconic lover on you. “Got too much to do, can’t lay in bed all day..like you.” 

You groan into the pillow as a wave of cramps hit you, only slightly set ajar by the gentle massaging of the skin above your pelvic bone. 

“Hrmm.” Your boyfriend thinks, shoving his warmly snout against your neck. “I guess it’s unfortunate that I’m not going to be letting you go then. Not allowed to get up until you feel better.” 

You laugh, taking one of your dragon’s toasty hands to your chest to hold onto. 

“I’ll be here all week, then.”

It was here you felt the safest, the warmest, the most vulnerable and easily devourable-- well, thankfully dragon’s didn’t particularly have a taste for the flesh of humans. Shutting your eyes, you let the guttural ‘hrmm’s’ of your dragon lull you to thoughtlessness. 

“If that’s what it takes..” He presses a deep kiss close to your forehead, relishing in the sweet scent of your hair. The huffs from his nose tickle the back of your ears, such petrichor warmth and humidity so reminiscent of past lazy mornings. “You’re not going anywhere, my diamond.”

[pcr-alice]

DPxDC - The Bat Key

there were a few posts going around a bit ago about Danny being Bruce's mentor in his early years, and they planted this idea in my head. i mixed in some cryptid danny for fun and to fit the halloween vibe. also on ao3

Batman grunted in pain as he hurried down the dark, townhouse-lined sidewalk. The cloudy night blocked the moonlight, and the lamps along the entire street were out, but they still moved between the shadows under the trees. The slash wound in his side was painful to the point that he had an arm around Robin’s shoulder to prop himself up. He scowled with each grunt. At least the blade hadn’t been spiked with venom. The same couldn’t be said for Red Robin’s wound. He was barely conscious, and Nightwing had to practically carry him. But they had finally made it here.

“Door.”

Nightwing hobbled up the few steps to the small porch and leaned against the wall to help hold some of Red Robin’s weight. Robin rushed to the door, already pulling a pick set from his utility belt. Batman managed to ascend the few steps himself, double checking the 13 to the side of the door.

“Wait.”

Robin scowled once again, but he complied. Batman pulled a small strip of metal from the lining of his utility belt. The tip was cut into a jagged, hooked pattern. He slipped it behind the bat symbol on his chest from underneath and twisted it a half spin. When he slid it back out, there was a house key attached to the end. Once free, he inserted it into the deadbolt and removed his hand. The temperature immediately dropped. Batman sighed in relief.

“What are –”

Robin’s question died before it was finished as the key began glowing green. It slowly rotated itself with the sound of grinding gears until a click echoed from behind the door.

“Oh great, I’m hallucinating” Red Robin wheezed out.

Batman turned the knob and pushed the door open.

“In.”

Robin entered first, crouched and alert. Nightwing followed, Red Robin draped over his shoulders. Batman took one more look around and spotted one of their assailants across the street, staring with their two glowing yellow eyes. He held the gaze for a silent few seconds, tension slowly leaving his body as they remained deathly still, then stepped inside and closed the door.

The large circular window high above the door lit the entryway with moonlight from the clear night sky. A staircase on the left led up into the dark, its railing marking out a small hallway balcony above. To their right was a small table, empty except for an unlit lamp. Past that on the same wall was an archway that led to a dark room pierced just enough by the moonlight for a large couch to be visible. The hallways straight ahead stretched into void.

“Couch.”

Once again, Robin entered first, disappearing into the shadows to scout the room. Nightwing lugged Red Robin into the room and laid him down on the couch to examine his wound. Batman followed and watched over the back of the couch.

“Bruce.”

Robin spun and threw a knife at the voice.

His senses had been honed to perfection since as long ago as he could remember. From the age of eight the only two members of the League who were capable of sneaking up on him were his blood relations. Now that he was out, Cain was alone on that list. Not even Batman could go unnoticed. Whatever this voice was, it managed to surprise him. But the League taught him to have no weaknesses, so even if his senses failed him, his reflexes could pick up the slack. The best tutors known to man had trained him with strict discipline, instilling perfect form and pinpoint accuracy that he could replicate from a dead sleep in pitch black darkness, all before he had even formed a single thought.

All together, this meant his blade was in the air before he could even parse what was said or what tone it was said with. When he realized that the voice had called Father by his civilian name in a calm greeting, he realized he made a mistake. But luckily, the voice wasn’t injured. Nor even startled.

“Danny.” Bruce greeted back.

This Danny had caught the knife by its handle well in front of his chest with what Robin evaluated to be his off-hand. Bright blue eyes pierced through the darkness straight to his position. They glowed in the darkness despite emitting no light, almost like a cat’s but without a source to reflect. If he had to guess, this unknown was a bit older than Red Robin. A bit taller, too. His deep black hair was unkempt, as if he had just been in a windstorm, sticking up at gravity-defying angles. He wore a dark robe made of fine material, not quite up to League wear standards, but too formal for a nightgown.

Robin cautiously stepped out of the darkness toward the others. Danny’s squinted eyes followed him, head angling slightly as it rotated to track his movement. Then they flicked away to look at Nightwing and squinted further. After a scant two seconds that stretched far too long, he raised his other hand to push his sleeve up, revealing a cheap plastic Batman-themed digital watch with a bright blue rubber strap.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” He murmured.

He pushed his sleeve further to reveal another, different watch, analog and much more elegant with a black strap most likely made of leather. It looked like something Father would wear to a gala. His eyebrows raised as he looked at it.

“Late, too.”

Batman grunted. Danny dropped his arms to his side, grip loose on the knife. He dipped his head at Damain and looked at Batman.

“My son, Damian.”

Damian tensed at the revealed information.

“He’s sharper than you were.”

“Being raised in an assassin cult will do that to you.”

Damian tensed even more despite the relaxed familiarity, almost teasing tone, that Batman fell into. Danny hummed a deep note and nodded his head toward Nightwing.

“Dick?”

“Nightwing.”

“And the one bleeding all over my couch?”

“Red Robin. Tim. Also my son, not by blood.”

Danny hummed again and lazily tossed the knife into the air toward Robin (who easily caught it, of course) as he walked to the other side of the couch. His movement made no noise whatsoever. Nightwing stepped back cautiously, positioning himself to step between Danny and Red Robin at a moment’s notice.

“What kind of poison?”

“We don’t know.”

He sat down on the edge of the couch to look down at Red Robin but paused as he was leaning down. Instead, he pushed up his sleeve again, and the watches were gone. In their place was some sort of wrist computer that took up half his forearm. The screen was covered in undecipherable text and was surrounded by several buttons marked with hieroglyphics. Robin narrowed his eyes and gripped another knife behind his cape.

“If you throw another blade, I’m confiscating all of them.”

“Stand down, Robin.”

He scowled but let go of the knife. Danny looked to Batman.

“You seem to be getting a call, Bruce. You can take it in the entryway.”

Batman nodded and walked back out the archway, tapping his comm.

“Oracle. We’re safe for now. Red Robin is being treated for poison”

Robin and Nightwing watched him go, turning back after a brief second, only to flinch into defensive stances.

The entire room had changed. It was now lit by a blazing fireplace with a large coffee table between it and the couch where Danny and Red Robin were situated. The table was covered in supplies – glass bottles with colored liquid, mason jars filled with water and fruit and herbs, bowls of nuts, trays of fruit, plates of granola balls, and stacks of labeled first aid kits.

They each stole a look back to Batman, who kept speaking over his comm, not bothered in the slightest.

“I know you can’t. Have the others pull back.”

He flashed them the hand signal for safe.

“I’ll explain when we return. Hour at most.”

They focused back on Danny to see that he had a much larger first aid kit open on the floor next to him and was skimming his fingers across Red Robin’s forehead, brushing his hair away.

“Oh, this one’s cute,” Tim slurred, and he was Tim now, his mask resting on his chest.

Danny snorted and shifted Tim’s uniform away from the slice in his side. He wiped the blood away with some bandages and tilted his head in confusion. He lifted a bloody finger to stare at it. His eyes squinted and he brought the finger up to his nose, where he gave it a sniff. A low growl vibrated through the room, and Robin gripped his knife again. Danny tapped the bloody finger to his tongue, and Robin threw his knife. Or he would have, had Batman not caught his arm.

“Well?” Batman asked.

“It’s a good thing you brought him here,” Danny responded, voice deeper than even Batman’s, “No one should have access to this.”

He raised his other hand and a glowing green post-it note shimmered into existence in his palm. He flicked his wrist toward Nightwing, offering the note to him between two fingers. It was now covered in tiny writing, just as indecipherable as his wrist computer had been.

“Take this into the greenhouse,” he nodded to a door behind Nightwing that had almost certainly not been there before, “Give it to the Gardener; she’ll get you what you need.”

Nightwing hesitantly took the note and looked to Batman, who nodded to him and began walking to one of the chairs next to the couch. He stepped backwards to the door and cracked it open, giving them all one more glance before slipping inside and closing it gently behind him.

Batman slipped his cowl off and grabbed one of the bottled drinks, twisting the cap off and taking a large sip.

“I’ve tried countless times to replicate this flavor, all of them unsuccessful.”

“It’s made with long-extinct fruits, Bruce. I’d be impressed if you managed it.”

Bruce grunted as the door behind him opened and Nightwing stepped in, looking slightly shell-shocked, carrying two small jars and no post-it note.

“Took you long enough,” Danny scolded while gesturing him over.

He handed the jars over and sat down in the chair opposite Bruce, squinting in confusion at his lack of cowl and relaxed snacking. Robin slid into place next to him, still tense and on guard.

Danny unscrewed one of the jars and stuffed a roll of bandages inside before screwing the lid back on. He tossed it to Bruce without looking (who easily caught it, of course) and unscrewed the lid off the other jar.

“Help yourselves, by the way,” he vaguely gestured toward Robin and Nightwing with his head and pointed to the table with his elbow.

Bruce shook his jar and pulled some of the bandages out, sliding them underneath his suit around his wound. Danny scooped a finger’s worth of paste out of his jar and spread it over Red Robin’s wound. He screwed the cap back on and tossed the jar to Bruce just as the other one came flying back to him. They were both easily caught, of course.

Despite the initial hiss of pain, Red Robin’s whole body had been relaxing since the paste had been applied. His eyes slowly opened while Danny was cleaning his hands off and flicked around the room in a quick assessment.

“Who’s this?”

“Danny.” Bruce supplied.

Red Robin looked around the room slowly this time, taking in Bruce’s cowl-less head, the half-drunken jar of colored drink in front of him, the pile of nuts in his hand, Nightwing’s slightly traumatized face and awkward posture, Robin’s irritated scowl and distrustful glare, and he groaned loudly.

“Please tell me this isn’t another Selina situation. He’s like my age.”

“Bold of you to assume my age and gender.” Danny deadpanned.

Red Robin gaped back.

“I met Danny when I was first starting out as Batman.”

“When he was what, eight?” Dick blurted.

“Still with the assumptions,” Danny muttered to himself.

“We thank you for your assistance...Danny.”

Robin was stiff and formal and struggled through the Danny. But that didn’t stop Danny from giving him a slight smile. He looked down at Red Robin then up at Nightwing then finally back at Bruce.

“I like them,” he declared, grabbing a jar of water off the table.

Bruce grunted as Danny unscrewed the lid and handed it to Red Robin.

“Danny has not aged since we first met.”

“Not exactly, but whatever,” Danny mumbled as he tidied up the first aid kit.

Nightwing opened his mouth as if to speak but shook his head and kept quiet. Robin stepped forward to grab a banana off the table with a polite nod to Danny. Red Robin stared down at the jar in his hands. It was full of cold water with a thick slice of pineapple and sprig of mint. After a quick glance to Bruce, he took a sip that turned into a gulp that turned into him emptying the jar in one go and releasing a contented sigh afterwards.

“Do you know anything about the Court of Owls?” Bruce asked.

A tremor shook the house. Bruce tensed in reflex but didn’t leave his chair after a glance to Danny. Nightwing leapt to his feet. Robin slid backwards and drew a blade. Red Robin jolted up and winced through the half-eaten pineapple slice in his mouth. There was a tense silence for several seconds.

“Only that they are not welcome in Gotham,” Danny eventually replied.

After a few more seconds of silence, Danny flicked his eyes to the fireplace mantle as a small object tipped itself over. Nightwing shot his hand out and snatched it out of the air before it could hit the ground. He opened his fist and looked at a miniature gargoyle statue in confusion.

“I may have to become involved,” Danny nodded to Nightwing, who gently replaced the gargoyle on the mantle.

Bruce grunted. Danny tilted his head, staring into the middle distance.

“The occult shop on 4th and Finger between Asher’s Deli and Panadería Golosos,” he recited.

“There is no such shop.” Robin scowled.

“You are correct,” Danny turned to look at him, “And now that you know it’s there, you’ll be able to find it.”

“Emergencies?” Bruce asked.

“Entryway table, same rules.”

The exchange seemed to satisfy Bruce, who stood with a grunt and pulled his cowl back over his head. The others rose with him and followed him toward the entryway, each nodding a thank you to Danny as they went.

They stepped back into the moonlight of the entryway and saw the previously empty table now had four keys laid out on top of it, evenly spaced and covered in a thin layer of dust. When they looked back through the archway they came from, they saw a dark room back to its original form, no Danny to be seen anywhere.

Batman grabbed one of the keys and slipped it into a belt pouch. Robin followed his lead and took a key for himself.

“Father, were you ever going to inform us that you befriended a vampire?”

Batman grunted and cracked the door open to peer out.

“He’s not a vampire,” Red Robin scoffed, grabbing a key for himself.

“I don’t know, creepy house, magic shit, you should’ve seen the gardener,” Nightwing swiped the last key with a flourish.

“He tasted your blood, Drake.”

“He what!?”

“That was after you called him cute,” Nightwing teased.

Red Robin froze with his mouth open, eyes slowly widening.

“I was hoping I just imagined that.”

“Seriously Tim, he’s probably like 300 years old.”

“Tt, I believe Brown would call this robbing the cradle.”

Nightwing and Red Robin turned to look at Robin in silent surprise.

“Shall we leave?” He ignored their incredulous looks and followed Batman out the door.

They scrambled to not be the last out the door, finding themselves in an entirely different part of the city than they entered from.

[lovelettersforthedamned]

frat Peter x reader where he takes care of her after she gets spiked at one of his parties? 🥹🥹

Be Here For Her

✮ frat!tasm!peter parker x f!reader

✮ word count: 1.2k

✮ summary: your night has become foggy as your head swirls with confusion. when peter discovers your disheveled state, he swiftly becomes your aid while also preventing other people at his frat party from facing the same fate as you.

✮ warnings: language, mentions of drugs (spiking drinks), mentions of alcohol, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, this is a heavy topic so read at your own risk pls.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main m.list ⋆ peter parker m.list

gif by @kenstaroyco

Your head was pounding against the bass of the music while your body felt as though you were moving through a pool of gelatin. 

Peter was out mingling with the people entering the house of Kappa Phi, trying to keep things in order. But with the mass amounts of crowds entering the building, it was easy for both you and him to become distracted. 

You were hanging out with a group of girlfriends of the frat when Peter approached the group again, a sheen layer of sweat on his forehead. He opens his mouth to speak, but honestly, you don’t hear a word he says. It feels like your mind is swirling as you lose focus on the conversation playing out in front of you. And when Peter places an arm around your shoulders, it feels like a ten-ton weight was set on top of you, causing you to slump a bit further into his side. 

He must have felt your sluggish presence, because he grips your side tighter, keeping you in place right as your knees buckle and send you to the floor. The girls around you look at you with confusion and panic. They’ve been with you this whole time and knew you were just finishing your first beer, so you couldn’t have been drunk yet. 

“Woah,” Peter exclaims as he holds you by your arms when your knees slam into the floor beneath you. Your drink falls to the floor, causing a bigger mess. 

Your eyes are hooded over, your gaze unfocused. All you could put together were a bunch of faces looking down at you, and hands grabbing at you to help you up. The entire situation was overwhelming, but the thought of forming a coherent sentence made your head hurt more than it already did. 

Peter’s mind was running a million miles per hour as he slowly pulled you in his arms, carrying you bridal style to take you upstairs to his room. He turns to your friends before departing, “I’ll text you guys later, get home safe.” With a few nods from the girls, he starts his careful ascent to the quiet room. He maneuvers you through the crowd, careful to not bump your head on anything. As he’s about to climb up the stairs, he hears an eruption of laughter behind him. Turning his head over his shoulder, he spots a random guy with his friends pointing and laughing at you barely conscious in his arms. 

“Let me know if she’s a good fuck! I expect a ‘thank you’ later, bud,” he shouts to Peter, followed by another sound of laughter. 

Peter puts the pieces together, and suddenly his vision focuses on the guy who yelled at him. He’s a skinny guy, probably a freshman, with the most obnoxious yellow shirt on. The prick in the crowd didn’t know who he was, and who you were. Anyone who knew Kappa Phi knew about you and Peter. An urge to leave him bruised and bloody on the floor overcomes him, but when a pathetic groan comes from you, he remembers that you’re in a vulnerable state. The only thing you need is Peter. 

He blows him off and continues to make his way upstairs. Once he reaches his door, he skilfully pulls out his keys and unlocks them before twisting the handle and pushing his way inside the dark room. Peter lets out a sigh of relief as he walks towards his bed and lays you gently on the mattress. 

Peter quickly walks back to the door, locking it behind him as he takes off his jacket, throwing it in a random corner. Kneeling next to you, he brushes some hair away from your face, keeping his hand there. He notices that you’re mumbling incoherent sentences and his eyebrows scrunch in confusion trying to piece together what you’re saying. 

“D-Don’t…feel,” your body shakes with a tremor, “good.” 

His heart breaks at your weak mumble of broken words. Your hand slowly reaches up to hold the hand that’s holding your face. The only thing keeping him sane is knowing you’re with him. He’s keeping you safe, and you know that. 

Peter slowly comes off of his knees and starts to lay next to you. One of your hands is always touching him, a wave of reassurance washes over you at his touch. He pulls you onto your side and into his chest, the feeling of his rhythmic breathing lulling you to sleep. 

The moment he feels your breath even out to a steady pace, he pulls his phone out, calling one of his frat brothers who’s still downstairs. The phone rings a few times before the music blares out of the speaker followed by a loud shout, “Parker, what’s up?”

“Hey, Matt,” he starts, “will you do me a favor?” 

There’s no hesitation before Matt responds, “Yeah, of course. What’s going on?”

“Can you find Chris and look out for a scrawny kid with an aggressively yellow shirt on? He needs to be thrown out immediately,” his voice is stern but still quiet with you asleep next to him. 

Peter can hear Matt call out for Chris before placing his phone back to his ear, “We see him. Anything else?”

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, “if you see him with his friends, bring them outside and get their names. And search all of their pockets. Whatever you find, bring it up to me ASAP.” 

“Got it,” Matt answers before hanging up. 

⭒⭒⭒⭒

About half an hour later, a soft knock is heard from Peter's door, causing him to gently unravel himself from your hold. He makes sure you’re still asleep before pulling open the door. He finds both Matt and Chris standing there with a solemn look on their faces and a few bags of white pills in their hands. 

Chris starts, “We’ve got their names, all of them.” The air is heavy as Peter takes one of the bags and inspects the contents in them. 

“Okay,” he takes the rest of the bags, “will you send their names to me?” The two boys in front of him nod their heads. “Can you guys also make sure everyone’s okay down there? I would go with you, but (Y/N) needs me here,” he nods back to your unconscious frame behind him.

Peter can see Matt and Chris’ brains catch on to what happened to you tonight, and their eyes go wide. They nod, speechless before heading back downstairs. 

The bags in his hands feel heavy as he looks at them again before he looks back up at you. A feeling of guilt floods his brain, but he knows that you wouldn’t want him to feel responsible for this. He could hear you telling him that it wasn’t his fault. Putting them safely on his nightstand, he falls back into bed with you ready to help you tomorrow morning with whatever plan you decide to follow through with. 

✮ author's note: once i'm on my frat!peter grind, it doesn't stop i fear. thank you anon for this request!! this was a heavy topic that's so real and it's so scary :( thank you for reading! ok, bye ily!!!

[fictionaldogcompetition]

Round 4

[image ID: the first image is of Cujo, a small, glowing green dog with a purple tongue, red eyes, and black ears. he's wearing a spiked collar. the second image is of Scooby Doo, a brown great dane with black spots and a turquoise collar. attached to the collar is a charm with the letters "SD" in yellow. end ID]

[acesgarden]

|| Tails!

Pairing(s) ->

Rise!Raphael H. Leonardo H. Donatello H. Michelangelo H. (separate) + GN!Reader

Warning(s) ->

N/A

Summary ->

Reader finds out they have tails! :0

Masterlist

Raphael ->

His tail is long, thick, and spiky. It is markingless

You were like “woooaaahhh” because cool tail :0. He got flustered, poor guy is probably not used to comments on his tail besides his family. Probably wraps you with it when you’re around. Give it scritches, gets him wagging. Especially on the spikes. But he’ll constantly watn you to be careful. I imagine if you did accidentally nick yourself he’d been apologizing constantly, he’d feel bad but just reassure him it’s all ok and it was an accident.

Side note; Body slams enemies with it.

Leonardo ->

He has a thin tail, way shorter then raphs but longer than Mikey’s, and whip like. It has yellow markings.

When you first see his tail you get all curious. Totally not because the markings made it look like some kind of snake. Nooo never! Didn’t freak out and almost kick it. Nope. (You apologize profusely.) It looks very cool, you start asking questions and such. After awhile of you knowing about it he starts whacking it at you to annoy you.. obviously in a playful way. (He would stop if you asked.) (He whacks his brothers with it too don’t worry.)

Donatello ->

He had a medium tail around Leo’s size. It’s thicker with purple markings.

You got excited when you found out he had a tail. You almost messed with it before he interrupted you. He proceeded to show off all the cool gadgets and extensions he made for his tail. You sat there and listened to him ramble and show off, though mildly intrigued. Untill you saw the way his tail wagged when he talked so passionately. So you listen and ask questions and actually get really invested.

Michelangelo ->

His tail is short with orange spots.

You GUSHED over the thing what you saw it. Complimenting it and everything. It’s adorable. Y’all start rambling about ways to decorate it in stickers. It’s so tiny and absolutely adorable when it wags. He shows you all the past designs he’s done on his tail.

[maxispixels]

HANDPICKED

PART NINE.

Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

3.2k words

You work at a flower shop in late 70s London and Hobie's being a menace. Slowburn? Probably will be around 10 parts. Strangers to reluctant acquaintances to friends to something more. Maybe a lil' messy?

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven. Part eight. Part nine.

The week passed by painfully slowly. Hobie, busy rehearsing with his band, wasn’t keeping you company at the shop. Rose wasn’t there either, actually enjoying retirement for once. The only thing to entertain you was the old radio, but you didn’t dare put on one of Hobie’s favorite pirate stations, unequipped to explain it to the next customer. Additionally, you still had the irrational fear that the cops would somehow know you were listening to a pirate station and come arrest you right away. 

When the weekend finally arrived, you still felt anxious at the idea. Especially considering that Hobie being on stage meant he couldn’t be by your side for your first concert, and you didn’t look forward to being thrown alone in a crowd of energetic punks. The day of, your anxiety only increased. He had left to rehearse with his band, and you were alone with your thoughts.

Before he could leave, you did ask him what you were supposed to wear. 

“Dunno mate. Something comfortable. Layers so you can take ‘em off when it gets warm inside.” He shrugged, and you only looked more confused.

“Don’t I have to dress… I don’t know… Punk?” You tilted your head.

“Wot? Nah, just wear whatever you want. You don’t have to put on a punk costume, there’s no such thing.” Faced with your anxious gaze, he sighed. “I mean, if it makes you feel better, ya can always put on fishnets or som’thin’, I don’t know.” He rummaged through a pile of his junk on the floor, grabbing a black pencil and holding it like a weapon of mass destruction. He unceremoniously grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks. You shut your eyes as the pencil approached.

“Don’t stab my eyes please—”

“I know what I’m doin’! Stop movin’!” He mumbled as he carefully applied the black around your eyes, before letting your face go. “Now rub yer eyes like your life depends on it and smudge it real well.” You followed his instruction.

He laughed at you. “Perfect. You look like a sad racoon. Punk as hell.”

You puffed and pouted, but he was already out of your flat.

You weren’t too mad.

When the time went to leave, you almost convinced yourself not to go. Almost. But then you spotted the crumpled yellow sticky note on your desk, his messy handwriting barely legible from how the ink had bled. You traced the letters with your thumb, inhaled sharply, and forced yourself out the door.

You dragged yourself in the cold, trying to wash away whatever worries you had. You were just there for him. It was going to be alright. You stole a jacket of his, hoping the spikes would act as some sort of protection.

The air stung the skin of your nose as your steps quickened in hope of finding some warmth inside the club. The closer you got, the more alive the street seemed to grow. Distant laughter, muffled music spilling from unseen doors, and the faint smell of beer and cigarettes hung in the air. Your steps faltered when you saw the neon sign above the club, its flickering letters buzzing like a warning.

Groups of punks were gathered near the entrance, some sharing cigarettes, others already tipsy and singing something off-key. Two men, swaying slightly, were either arguing or playing, you weren’t sure. You swallowed down your nerves and slipped inside.

You were hit with the suffocating atmosphere of the place, the smell of alcohol and smoke stronger than before, music already blasting, bass rattling your chest and almost deafening you. Glowing lights in the dark blurred with moving masses of bodies, laughter meddling with rugged voices as you tried to make your way further front, sliding along the wall, shoulder against the graffitied bricks.. 

You spotted some wooden boxes in a corner and made your way to them. Perfect. You shamelessly climbed on them, granting yourself a place to sit and see the stage. 

Whoever was there wasn’t Hobie yet, but the music was good. You nodded your head to the rhythm, a thoughtful smile gracing your lips. The crowd swayed and surged, like a living, breathing thing. Some danced with abandon, their limbs flailing wildly, while others simply bobbed in place, their heads nodding in time with the music.

Soon enough, another band was called for, and your heart raced as you scanned the stage cautiously for a familiar silhouette. When your eyes landed on Hobie, you couldn’t contain the excitement bubbling in your stomach, cheering the rest of the crowd. He strode across the stage like he owned the place, his movements effortless and magnetic. It was the same way he moved through your apartment or the flower shop, that unshakable confidence oozing from his every step.

He wasn’t the frontman, someone else had that role, commanding the mic with probably equal charisma, but your eyes were on Hobie, and him only. He adjusted the strap of his guitar with ease, his lips curling in a smirk as he plucked the first few notes, his piercings catching the light from the spots. His body swayed with the music, his head tilting back as he played. 

And you couldn’t look away.

A mix of awe and pride made your heart beat faster, matching the tempo of their drummer, and you hung to each note tugged on both the strings of his guitar and of your heart.

He looked so at ease, so completely in his element, and it hit you like a freight train—this was his home. This was where he was meant to be.

You weren’t sure when it started, but at some point, your throat tightened, and your eyes burned. You blamed the lights, the smoke, the intensity of it all, but deep down, you knew. Seeing him like this, so free, so unapologetically himself, made your chest ache in the best way possible.

You didn’t miss one second of his performance, barely blinking. During the short moment between songs, you saw his eyes scan the crowd and part of you hoped it was you he was looking for. But up on your dark corner, away from the blinding spots, you knew he couldn’t see you.

When the set ended, you forced yourself off your makeshift seat, weaving through the sea of bodies. Hobie had told you his band usually hung around after, so you had to find him.

That proved to be harder than expected, and you were getting pushed around on the way. The room felt tighter now, the music louder as you were jostled left and right. It was harder to find him there, in the overwhelming sea of punks. 

Someone much taller than you stumbled toward the bar, bumping into you hard enough to send you straight into a solid figure.

“Watch out mate—” Hobie started, turning to steady whoever had crashed into him, but his expression shifted the moment he saw you. His smile flickered from amusement to something softer, and the warmth in his eyes eased the sting in your nose. "Oh. Hey."

Before you could respond, his gaze flicked over your face, his smile dropping slightly. "You alright?"

Many conflicting feelings bubbled up in your throat, excitement, relief, but your nose still stung from the impact, and you realized—too late—that your eyes were glossy.

You didn't even have time to think of an answer, before his fingers found your wrist. “Come on.”

He didn’t wait for permission. One second you were in the club, the next, the cold air slapped your face as he dragged you outside. Your tears finished to smear the eyeliner Hobie had so proudly smudged onto your eyes earlier.

“What happened?” Hobie asked, his brows furrowed. “Some prick shove you too hard?"

“No—No. I’m fine,” you managed, as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m alright.” 

“Then why are you bloody cryin’?” He asked and you felt the slight panic in his voice.

“I’m not sure,” you babbled, wiping your face, “I just really liked your show.”

Hobie blinked.“Yer cryin’ because you liked the show?” He sounded slightly confused. “We play punk, not tragedies!” He exclaimed, still a little worried, but amusement started to mendel in as it looked like there was no serious issue. “You scared me for a sec’. Didn’t think our music was that bad.”

You let out a small laugh. “Sorry. I just… I don’t know. That was moving.”

“I mean, I get it,” he quipped, his grin widening, “Overthrowin’ capitalism could bring me to tears too.” 

You let out a shaky chuckle, and he pulled you closer, his voice dippin’ back down. “Are you sure yer alright?”

You nodded fiercely. “I loved it, really. It was so amazing.” 

He hummed, unable to hide that your reaction, although unexpected and a bit dramatic, touched him deeply. His hands found your face, thumbs gently wiping underneath your eyes. “You really do look like the saddest raccoon.”

You lightly hit his chest, earning a quiet laugh. 

“Are you okay goin’ back inside? T’s freezing out ‘ere.” He commented softly, unsure if he should really take you back inside in case you were overwhelmed. 

You nodded, eager to feel the warmth again, and he led you back, this time keeping close. His hand occasionally brushed yours—not quite holding, but there.

“Oi, here comes our guitarist!” A huge guy with a green mohawk called out, and before Hobie could react, he had yanked him into a mess of half-hugs and slaps on the back, to which he answered by pulling him in a headlock. You remembered him being the frontman. Not that you really focused on him.

His bandmates spotted him immediately, their energy still crackling from the set. 

You could barely distinguish the mess of people, even less the limits of bodies or facial features. You hovered a few steps away, unsure whether to try and insert yourself or just wait by the side. You loved seeing him interact with his friends, he was so different and at the same time the exact same. He was just much more playful, shoving and grabbing easily. 

“This is your mystery guest?” A man leaned against the bar, his brown mullet sticking to his forehead, pointing right at you. He looked you up and down with an exaggerated nod of approval. “Thought you were makin’ ‘em up, mate.”

“Right? The way he talks, we figured you were imaginary.” A woman with a side shave and gorgeous curls added. You saw her on stage too. Nerves were eating you alive faced with all that attention. “I really like your eye makeup. Very avant-garde.” She added, as Hobie pulled his arm over your shoulders to bring you in the circle, and you unconsciously pressed against him, grateful he was saving you from the interactions. You just  gave your customer-friendly smile, hoping it was good enough. 

“Yeah, t’s proper romantic, the way he goes on. Got us all choked up!” The guy with the mullet said, idly swirling his drink in his hand. Your face burned, but Hobie interrupted you before you could say anything.

“Shut it, Karl.” He groaned, clicking his tongue. His thumb gently rolled against your shoulders, hoping to ease your nerves.

“Oohh, shut it, Karl,” the guy with the green mohawk mocked in a high-pitched voice. He playfully shoved Hobie, and let his arm pull him a near-headlock he barely dodged. 

The woman smirked, shifting closer to you. Her voice was so soft and alluring and you swore you could hear her clearly despite the deafening noise. “Are you sure Hobie’s not your partner or something? Cause he’s actin’ like a proper schoolboy.”

Your brain stalled. “What? No? I mean, we’re just—”

“Oi, don’t do this to ‘em,” Hobie grumbled, rubbing his forehead.

Karl, completely ignoring him, slung an arm around your shoulder, a bit gentler than he did his friends, grinning. “Don’t worry, love, we’ll take good care of ya. Hobie’s a pain in the arse, but he’s got exceptional taste.”

Hobie swatted him away with a muttered “piss off”, but you barely noticed. Your head was still spinning from everything that was happening at the same time. 

Before you could dwell on it, someone shoved a drink into your hand. 

“Here, have a taste,” Mohawk grinned, way too pleased with himself.

You took a sip, and immediately choked. The whole group laughed, even the woman although she at least tried to stifle it.

“Yeah, yeah, give the newbie the strongest thing ‘ere, real original,” Hobie deadpanned, plucking the drink from your hands before you could suffer further. He took a sip himself, barely reacting.

You were still coughing, “What the hell was that?”

Hobie sighed dramatically. “An’ you lot wonder why I don’t bring people ‘round.”

The laughter only grew louder. You felt warm, dizzy, not from the drink, but from this. The noise, the heat, the way Hobie lingered closer without ever quite touching you.

You learned the names of his bandmates, beside Karl, Robbie with the green mohawk and Riri the gorgeous bass player. Conversations followed, most you zoned out of.

By the time Hobie pulled you away, you weren’t sure if your lightheadedness was from the alcohol or from him. 

Once again, the wind made your cheeks sting, and you tightened Hobie’s jacket around you. A comfortable silence stretched between you, only interrupted by the sounds of your steps and the occasional music coming from bars around. 

Neither of you dared to break it, until you reached your flat, shuffling for the warmth inside. 

You took off your shoes and he untied his tall boots, both of you exhausted. You snacked on whatever was in the fridge before making a way to the mattress. 

“D’you like the jacket?” He asked, watching you take off the jacket you stole from him. You gave a shy smile.

“I thought it’d fit the place more than anything I own.”

“Anything would’ve fitted.” He said earnestly, and it made your smile widen. After a short silence, his own slightly faded. “Tell me if I’m pushin’, but you are sure nothin’ happened to make you cry?” 

When you were done, your eyes found his again, and he was a little dumbfounded by your rambling. His guard kept slipping around you, and he didn’t feel like keeping it up tonight. 

You felt slightly embarrassed at your earlier display of tears. He looked so worried. “No, it was just… I’m not fully sure, I guess I was overwhelmed by all the noise and the lights and the people. And seeing you up there, so…” You paused searching for your words, too tired to care about hiding your admiration. Deep down, you knew he already knew anyway, he saw the pages of your sketchbooks and he would’ve had to be blind to not see the stolen glances. “So amazing and cool and free. It’s like something clicked, y’know?” You kept going on, speaking your thoughts out loud helping you to make sense of them. “Sometimes it’s hard to figure you out, but not when you’re on stage. You seemed so happy, so in your place. I was proud, and… I don’t know. I broke down.”

“Mh.” He crawled closer to you, his weight shifting the mattress underneath you. “Ya just can’t help but pull stuff like that on me,” his voice much lower and quieter than usual, “I’m not goin’ to be able to take it much longer, ya realize?” 

You tilted your head. “What?”

“You make me so fuckin’ nervous,” he finally muttered. 

You gulped, his name escaped your lips and his eyebrows furrowed. His fingers nervously rubbed the line off of his forehead before reaching for yours, and you felt your hands go clammy and your pulse quicken. It beat in your throat, in your temples, in your chest, in your wrists as your hands laced together. Your eyes searched for his, unsure yet full of something you didn’t grasp fully.

“It’s like you have no idea what you do to me, I’m tryin’ not to lose my goddamn mind, and here you are, makin’ it bloody impossible.” He let out, his softer tone betraying his vulnerability. You were frozen in place, unsure if he was scolding you or something else you didn’t let yourself think to avoid getting your hopes up.

“See, I’m tryin’ to act cool, and then— then you look at me like -this-,” he rubbed the tip of his nose, almost hiding his face for a second, “and then I’m just done for. Can’t think. Can’t really breathe either, y’know?”

Hell, you knew very well, and at that moment, you couldn’t really breathe or think either. You just stared at him, eyes wide shifting between his left and right eye as if you’ll decipher something else in them. His fingers twitched between yours, and he looked like he regretted his words already. Your hands felt cold as he tried to let go, and you just reached back for him, almost in an act of desperation. 

He let you go, and you shuffled inches closer, your brain mushy and your ears still ringing from the club. You didn’t have time to process your own pining, but you had to face the reality of your feelings, and the warmth that pooled in your veins at his words. 

“Hobie,” you called softly, almost scared to pronounce his name. “Don’t pull away from me.” Your murmur barely reached his ears. Your gaze fell down to his lips, but you forced it back up to his eyes. The distant muffled noise from the city below didn’t help to drown out your thoughts, all running miles a minute. “Can I?” Your voice cracked under your words. 

A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he nodded and you felt a portion of the weight alleviate. You leaned closer, legs tangling together. You did let go of his hands, but only to find the nape of his neck. You felt his eyes on you, heavy lidded, watching all of your movements, almost unsure. You closed yours and let your lips brush against his. Everything paused for a moment, and you felt your stomach move in ways it wasn’t supposed to. 

His hands found your sides, grounding you as he leaned in, the cold metal of his piercing a jarring contrast to the warmth spreading through your chest. When you pulled away, he was looking at you with an expression you never saw on him before. His eyes were half lidded, so soft, almost dazed. You wanted to imprint that vision in your memory forever.

He leaned in again, the tip of his nose brushing your cheek in a tender gesture, his arms on your sides now fully wrapping around you and pulling you in. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

tags: @hoe-bie

Been struggling with this one for a while, I hope there isn't any major mistakes or inconsistencies!

edit: there was in fact major mistakes and lots of repetitions, most of them should be corrected now, sorry for those who had to read it before!

[vincentvalenfine]

bite of the beast

vincent valentine/afab!reader nsfw, 18+ word count: 9400 warnings: canon-typical violence fighting monsters, partial galian beast transformation, explicit piv intercourse, knotting, blindfolded because vincent is a goddamn mess, mostly clothed sex, don't focus too hard on the where and when of setting honestly read also on ao3!

Not every transformation goes as smoothly as Vincent would like it to. That you're there when it goes sideways becomes a prime opportunity to get very close, very quickly.

It was getting to be routine, staying behind with the busted up Bronco while most of the others went off to take care of the important business of trying to save the world, one stop at a time. If anything you were glad for the chances to get some peace and quiet considering how much chatter could go on while on the move. At times like this it was just you keeping watch, Cid doing what he could for his poor airship, and the mysterious Vincent, keeping to himself but never straying too far away.

Ah, Vincent Valentine. He was fascinating to watch, you couldn’t help it. The aloof demeanor had mostly held up during his time with the group, but nonetheless you’d spotted the cracks and what hid underneath, which turned out to be a much kinder, softer man than his first meeting would’ve led anyone to believe. He had a protective streak, a subtle sweetness when he hid his smiles behind the high collar of his cloak, and… well, you hoped he was glancing at you with some measure of interest every now and then.

Finding reasons to get him talking wasn’t easy, but you had managed to garner a few conversations from him, and he always seemed surprised that someone wanted more than a few brief observations from him. But he at least appeared to be warming up, if slowly. Hopefully he wasn’t just trying to avoid any social friction. He was also a hard man to read…

Today’s scenic view was the humid, tangled jungles of Gongaga. The others had gone off down the lone dirt path that led away towards the village, while you had settled yourself in to get some reading done, Cid had gotten back to work on the Bronco, and Vincent… well, he was around here somewhere. Probably hiding in the shade to avoid the worst of the heat.

“Hey, I'm gonna catch a bit of shuteye real quick! You mind keepin’ watch?”

Looking up from your book, you gave a nod and a thumbs up to Cid, who grinned and returned the gesture before retreating to the Bronco’s interior. Well, that left you to be on the lookout for any monsters that might show up - in a remote place like this, the possibility was unfortunately high. Better to put the book away and get some little lookouts summoned up, then.

Picking up the length of rope coiled by your side, you gave the spiked metal hammer head attached to the end a few twirls around before deftly striking a few spots on the ground before you. Each little crater you made sprouted forth a miniature drake in dusty yellow, shaking dirt off their hides before flapping their wings and beginning to circle the Bronco in a broad radius. They didn't need to be strong, just alert in case of monsters, or unexpected visitors.

One of them squeaked out a noise you'd learned to associate with Vincent, somewhere on the other side of the Bronco. The indistinct, velvet murmur of his voice barely reached your ears, but you knew he was distracting one of your sentries from their job. It drew a little grin to your face.

He had shown a surprising fondness for the fiends you could summon to fight on your behalf, and it made you smile every time you caught him interacting with them.

One of the drakes let out a curious trill and your gaze shifted in that direction. The little beast was beginning to make its way into the foliage of the jungle, drawing an annoyed grumble from you - that wasn’t in the instructions at all, but maybe it had found something useful? They did like the scent of mako. A quick glance at the Bronco (Vincent would keep an eye on it while you followed after for a bit, right?), and you coiled your meteor hammer around your arm before hustling after the vanishing drake.

Tangled was an understatement regarding the underbrush of the jungle. You quickly found yourself stumbling over roots, shoving past vines, and cursing the little sentry that had simply gone flitting through the branches ahead without a care in the world. You’d think it would have some willingness to wait for its summoner before flying off! A damn shame you didn’t have a blade to help with hacking your way through the foliage, but it was a bit late to turn back for one and you didn’t want to lose track of your summon anyway.

As you struggled through, a brief flicker of red caught your eye up above and ahead, so brief you weren’t even sure you had seen it. Maybe that was what had drawn your sentry away? With more cursing for each vine and branch that slowed you down, you did your best to catch up with it. At least it looked like there was a break in the jungle ahead…

Which, upon bursting out into that opening, you realized your abrupt entrance was a pretty terrible idea.

While across the clearing there was indeed a mako spring welling up out of the earth with a gentle burbling, between you and it was a trio of Gagighandi just beginning to lift their heads from sleeping. And they were huge too - one of them snapped its jaws at your summon as it darted by, catching the poor thing with only its tail and some of its wings sticking out from the fanged maw that closed with a crunch. You winced at the sight of its lifestream wisping away and began slowly backing up. Maybe if you just moved slowly enough…

Your heel snagged on a root and sent you sprawling onto your back with a whoosh of air from your lungs, followed by a bout of coughing as you struggled to catch your breath. By the time you got it back and scrambled onto your feet, all three of the beasts were staring, long tails swishing behind them.

“Uh - nice lizards…?”

A loud growl was the response you received. Well… shit.

Before you could get your meteor hammer twirling, a trio of shots rang out that forced the beasts to leap back from their resting places, dirt spraying from the impact of bullets. You glanced up with wide-eyed surprise as a familiar cloaked figure emerged from the canopy above you and twirled neatly midair before taking another series of shots to force the fiends further back. His landing was impeccable too, seeming to hover just a moment before his sabatons touched down in front of you, facing forward towards the threat. Vincent glanced over his shoulder to you and gave a slight nod.

“You shouldn’t be so careless about wandering off alone.”

You couldn’t help but huff as you readied your weapon, “It’s not my fault the little bugger decided to go exploring!” He didn’t respond aside from a slight hum, though you were certain you could see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes before he returned his gaze back to the Gagighandi that were now readying themselves to attack. Vincent had bought just enough time for you to prepare for a fight though as you stepped up beside him, and you began spinning the head of your hammer at the highest speed you could muster before slamming it to the ground.

Dirt exploded outwards, and with it the craggy, rocky shape of a golem hauled itself up out of the earth. You’d put more effort into the summon and this one was a good ten feet tall once it clambered to its feet, its ‘voice’ the scraping and gnashing of rocks as it lumbered towards its opponents. It would make a good shield to tank all the blows while you and Vincent took potshots from a safe distance.

At least, that had been the plan in your head until a fourth, even larger Gagighandi pushed through the trees, over the mako spring entirely with a single step. Oh, that just had to be mako mutated! Its gaze locked onto you as your body suddenly began to stiffen up - shit, Stone Stare was a bitch, and you knew you didn’t have a Soft or Remedy on you. Maybe it was time to try and book it before you both found yourselves petrified and eaten…

“Hm.”

Vincent’s voice drew your gaze, and you looked to find him withdrawing a golden Soft needle from a pocket with two gauntlet claw-tipped fingers. Without hesitating he flicked the item at you - it pierced your shoulder before you could think to reach for it, and you heaved a sigh of relief as the magic loosened up your tightened muscles. Okay, now was definitely the time to book it-

“Do not move.” His velvet voice was dark in warning, and you couldn’t help gaping as he stumbled forward suddenly. The beasts in front suddenly seemed uneasy at his approach, even more so as the sudden snapping of bones and popping of joints filled the clearing alongside Vincent’s voice choking out a scream. Oh, okay. Damn. It took an eternity and an instant before his form exploded outwards into the nightmarish beast you’d only seen once before, when Cloud and the others had beaten it down into submission with great difficulty. This was going to be intense…

The Galian Beast roared.

The Gagighandi recoiled briefly, before the largest one gave a shrieking hiss in response and lunged.

The battle was swift and terrible in its duration, and you were glued to the ground with fascination and a small measure of fright - how could something so massive move with such speed and agility? Your golem was giving its best to the smaller fiends, but its time was suddenly up as the Beast wrapped golden claws around it, lifted it high, and smashed it down upon the monster with more force than you could imagine. It stood no chance of surviving and crumbled away to dust afterward, while the great lizard stumbled back with a dazed look before screaming and lashing out with teeth and claws once more.

In less than a minute the smaller ones had succumbed to gaping wounds from the Beast’s claws and axe-tipped tail, and the larger one was well bloodied with a front leg dangling uselessly while it struggled to grapple with its foe.

You held your breath as the two strained against each other’s bulk… and then sighed in relief as the Gagighandi was wrenched from its feet and thrown down, the Beast descending upon it to tear it apart rather messily.

It was eating the fiend… well. It must’ve worked up an appetite during that fight.

You froze as it suddenly halted in its meal and lifted its head to look at you, bright eyes eerie even in the sunlight that filled the clearing. Your breath caught in your throat, gaze darting away to the ground to avoid staring. The last thing you wanted was for Vincent to feel threatened and turn his attention to chowing down on you instead. But aside from a low rumbling noise that seemed to roll through the air and your bones alike, the sounds of flesh being rent asunder and eaten resumed for another minute until silence fell over the clearing finally.

You were nervous about looking again, but you dared to anyway and found the Beast sat back on its haunches, licking the blood from its claws and face.

Those red eyes turned your way again, and you felt pinned by them. This time the Beast shook itself and dropped its head, another low rumble intermingled with a note of pain as its massive frame shuddered and began to shrink. Oh, thank goodness, he was changing back and you wouldn’t have to play hide and seek with the Beast.

You looked away again, out of courtesy this time, and waited again until the sound of footsteps told you Vincent was back to himself. Or at least that was what you assumed, but another surprise awaited when you looked.

“Vincent?”

Almost normal, but not - the Beast’s tall horns still curved up over the dark mess of hair, his eyes seemed fever bright with energy, and he carried himself several inches taller than usual on golden clawed feet like the Beast. More obvious still was the long tail that swayed behind him, bearing that golden axe like a macabre banner. With his face still speckled with blood, his expression was troubled, alarmed even. The claws that tipped his fingers seemed to be shaking as they rose to his face even at this distance, one that was being closed fast by his uneven steps.

“You need to leave,” he huffed out in a hoarse voice, the velvet traded for harsh gravel. He sounded frightened - you felt a bit frightened yourself at the unexpected change, but steeled yourself and shook your head after a moment.

“No, it’s alright. I want to help you, if I can.”

His expression twisted with fear - not for himself but for you, clearly. You mustered up your courage and took your own steps towards him, tilting your head slightly as he took a fretful step back in response. He really was scared of hurting others, of letting the Beast get the better of him… well, you needed to prove that fear wrong, then. It was only right to help him.

You kept your pace steady, tucking away your meteor hammer as you went, and offered him a smile when you grew close. While Vincent was already a relatively tall man, the additional height now made him tower over you the closer you got, though his hunched posture hid some of that height and made him appear like a distressed cat of sorts, especially with his tail swishing about erratically.

“You shouldn’t… I don’t want to-”

“You aren’t going to, don’t worry about it. Let me just take a look, okay?”

You were close enough to reach out and touch him, but he shied away from your hand with a sound caught somewhere between a whine and growl. Talk about stubborn; you heaved a sigh and stepped closer still, too close for him to lean away when you placed your hand on his arm. “See? I’m fine, you’re not hurting me. Let me help out.”

He let out a ragged breath, still looking fearful, but as you stood there and nothing happened he seemed to slowly relax. You smiled at him again to reassure him, letting your hand rub up and down lightly to prove that he wasn’t about to go attacking you just because of a touch. A low rumbling began to build in his chest, subtly different from the warning rumble the Beast had given you before… some kind of purr, in a way?

Vincent looked nervous still, and a touch confused by his own reaction, but he wasn’t pulling away. If anything, he seemed to be unconsciously leaning in now, dark hair spilling over his shoulders - the ends had taken on a deep red hue unlike usual, and you found yourself watching his face, realizing it matched the color of his right eye. The left eye was more vibrant than ever, and his gaze seemed to draw you in, the muddled swirl of emotions in his eyes beginning to settle down as he watched you in turn. The furrow in his brow slowly eased away, his expression softening as he halfway hid behind the collar of his cloak. Was he… starting to blush?

You couldn’t help reaching up with your other hand and touching his cheek to see, the warmth of his skin quickly intensifying under your fingertips as his eyes fluttered closed. The rumbling grew louder as well, and in a sudden movement his right arm slipped about your shoulders to drag you up against him, a squeak of surprise escaping you in the process.

“Vincent...?”

His eyes flicked open quickly, an intensity to their gaze different from the fear he’d held before, pupils dilated and a frenetic energy setting them aglow. It was your turn to feel a measure of confusion as he leaned down, his exhales ruffling your hair with a few deep breaths.

“I did not notice before,” he murmured as if to himself, low voice back to rich velvet. “Your scent… it is pleasant.”

And now it was also your turn to blush, words catching in your throat as you struggled to come up with a response to that. You came up empty-handed, even more so as his nose nuzzled down against the crown of your head. His rumbling was especially loud when you were pressed up against his chest like this, and the combination of sound and touch was flustering you almost unbearably. The feelings you had begun developing were now suddenly unfurling with a vibrant, giddy warmth in your chest, but with it came an unbearable twist of nerves. Was Vincent really comfortable with this, or was it the Beast affecting his behavior? Would he shy away as soon as he realized what he was doing?

“Vincent, I-!”

You didn’t get the chance to ask, as he brought his face down to yours and blocked any further words from escaping your lips with his own.

His movements were hungry, surprisingly bold from someone otherwise so reserved - you found yourself melting into the kiss in spite of your worries, stomach flipping about with giddiness and hands having no choice but to grab onto the front of his cloak to keep themselves in check. His own hands had no such concerns apparently, clawtips pricking through cloth as he drew them down your sides and settled on your hips with a light squeeze.

That rumbling of his still going strong, his height had him stooped over until his grasp started urging you down toward the ground. You couldn’t help but oblige, especially considering the strength in his grip that made it feel like he was doing pretty much all of the work to move you.

With your back quickly meeting the ground, you were properly pinned under him now. A gasp escaped you when one of his hands left its perch to slide up underneath your shirt, claws dragging delicately along your skin and drawing a shiver from you. The uncertainties you wanted to voice had nowhere to go, swallowed by his mouth needy against yours every time you tried to speak them.

One of his thighs slid itself between yours. The warm leather pressed up firmly to your crotch drew a surprised moan from you, another noise muffled by his lips still hungry for your own. The hand that had slid upward beneath your shirt this time drew downward, the same light scrape of clawtips provoking another shudder before they caught on the cloth further down.

Vincent’s lips paused just briefly as if he'd found something to hesitate over, but the moment was fleeting and he renewed his fervent kiss while his hand tugged insistently at the clothing in his way. You found yourself doing your best to oblige his efforts by lifting your hips up with a wiggle that helped send everything sliding until it met with the thigh still pressed up against you.

That drew a brief growl from him for having gotten in his own way. A quick lift of his leg moved it out of the path of your clothes on their journey downward before he settled it right back into place, this time rubbing up against bare skin. You couldn’t help moaning again, especially when the hand still holding onto your hip drew you up along the length of his thigh. Trailing slick as you went no doubt, the friction quickly set your guts ablaze with need and had you squirming in short order.

Your hands tugged sharply at his cloak in an attempt to draw him closer even though he was limited by his own height, having to curl his back to both kiss you and keep his leg well-positioned. Another low rumble built in his chest, and he finally freed your lips to instead latch onto your neck with both lips and the lightest press of fangs. That made you gasp and go still, pulse fluttering against the warmth of his lips and tongue that laved over your skin slowly. It wasn’t a threat - it was downright possessive, claiming you for his own. The thought of it made your legs weak, and it was a good thing you weren’t standing on them right now. Still…

“V-Vincent, is - are you…?”

He paused for longer this time, giving you a chance to catch your breath in spite of the thigh still held between yours and the tightly coiled desire in your gut begging for him to keep going. Finally, with a grunt that betrayed his internal struggle, he withdrew his mouth and took a deep, ragged breath. His head lifted just enough that you could meet his gaze again, still fever bright and burning with a mix of emotions. Desire, chiefly, but tempered with his growing uncertainty, and a touch of fear. That same fear as before - he didn’t want to hurt anyone, let alone you.

“Tell me to stop if…” he uttered hoarsely, the rest going unspoken. It would be too easy for you to do just that, to likely pretend this never happened if you were both so inclined… but he’d swiftly drawn out feelings that would have otherwise taken their time to grow, and possibly hastened feelings of his own as well. And you didn’t want to see what devastation looked like on his beautiful face.

Despite your nerves you raised a hand to touch his cheek once more, watching his eyes slide shut the same as before. This time you trailed your fingers down to his lips, brushing over them slowly and watching a shiver pass through him as he sighed. As they parted slightly for the motion of that sigh you gently slipped your thumb between them, watching his eyes flicker open with surprise and confusion - he clearly had no idea what you intended. He looked nervous as well, as if afraid he might suddenly bite down for no reason. You wanted to soothe that fear, running your thumb over the neat line of lower incisors to the much sharper canine that protruded upward and testing its sharpness with a light press. The action made him shudder, closing his lips around your thumb tentatively with the tiniest touch of his tongue tip to your skin. It was so comparatively shy when just moments ago he’d been licking your neck, you couldn’t help the amused smile that set his face flushing with embarrassment. He was so pale, it was impossible to miss it.

“I’m… more worried about you, okay? I’m good with this if you are.”

His eyes darted away, as if aware of how much they gave away about his feelings. Likely a whole flood of them about being afraid, of insecurities you weren’t privy to that would nonetheless give themselves away if he looked for too long… all of it at war with the Beast’s instincts that pushed him in more simple, primal directions. Even without making eye contact you could see his internal conflict.

You curled your fingers under his chin, using a gentle grip to draw his face close to yours again.

“I already liked you, Vincent. I don’t know if you felt that way too, but… if you don’t want anything that’s okay.” Heavy words to have to say in such an intimate position, but if it would make his choice easier then that was what you needed to say.

Another shudder ran through him, eyes closed to avoid looking at you for the moment before he seemed to summon his strength. His lips worked around your thumb with a brief sucking motion, tongue stroking gently over the tip before he tugged just a little to withdraw from your grip, licking his lips while he found his response.

“If you would accept a monster…”

You leaned in to kiss him, setting your own pace this time. He briefly stiffened with shock, then slowly began to relax down against you. This was less about urgent desire, more careful exploration as you gave him a proper feel for what you wanted him to have. His movements were cautious in return, but a soft rumble was beginning to build in his chest again as his gauntleted hand found its way up to your cheek and ghosted the sharp tips along, back over your scalp pleasantly.

A sigh escaping through your nose, you settled your hand on his shoulder to hold him closer, even still curled over you as he was. It wasn’t near the level of intensity which he’d brought to bear just earlier, but this kiss was pleasant in its own right, giving you the chance to grow confident with the new closeness… though it still didn’t prepare you for his thigh slowly shifting, as if testing whether he was still allowed to be so intimately pressed to you.

He needed the encouragement, so you gave him a soft little moan and parted your lips for him, the openness causing a brief hesitation before he accepted the invitation to send his tongue exploring. The hand on your hip flexed, digging clawtips in just for a moment before easing up and starting to draw them up along your side, giving you the freedom to move as you wanted to. You took the opportunity as it was given and began canting your hips into his thigh with another moan, this one muffled by his careful, methodical mapping of your mouth.

When he was in control he was so cautious, so nervous about making a wrong move that you were starting to miss the dominant eagerness of his bestial impulses, but figuring out how to get him to loosen up without scaring him… that was the challenge. And you wouldn’t be able to find out without a little experimentation.

You hadn't yet tried to touch any of his new ‘additions’, and decided it was time to give it a go; your free hand shifted upward, first to stroke at the messy black hair spilling over his shoulders. He hummed quietly, another deep rumble swelling from his chest, and that encouraged you to continue petting for another moment or so. Then you rose further, pausing at the base of one of his horns before touching the craggy, tough surface. Vincent’s rumbling stuttered for a moment, exposing his nerves once more.

You withdrew for a few seconds, just enough time to catch some deep breaths and whisper to him, “You're okay.”

He shivered, then gave the slightest nod and tilted his head towards your hand, the surprisingly broad girth of his horn pushing into your palm. It wasn’t wholly rough in texture, a few smooth areas found by your fingertips, and with a quick breath before leaning in to kiss him again, you gave it a tug to pull him closer. Vincent growled at that - another shift in demeanor, his teeth now latching onto your lower lip with a harsh nip. You gasped, another moan fluttering out, and tugged again to provoke him further. That seemed to bring him right back to his earlier mindset, and once again his movements grew hungry, taking the previously careful pace and ramping it up to a feverish rush.

Vincent’s mouth pulled away from yours and found its way to your neck again, and this time you felt no need to disrupt him, shuddering at the fangs dragging along thin skin like he wanted to make a meal of you. At this point you wanted him to do just that, consequences be damned - you’d look good with his bite marks all over you, no doubt.

“Vincent, please..!”

Another low growl escaped him, lips and tongue working their way downward to the join of neck and shoulder where muscle would make a nice, safe place to leave his mark. But he was holding back it felt like, the sharp points pressing down but not quite hard enough to break skin, and combined with the growing tension in your gut as you continued working yourself against his thigh the wait was almost unbearable. A whine slid from your lips - and he hummed in amusement, tongue glazing over the skin caught in his mouth almost lazily. Dammit, he was actually teasing you!

“Please,” you rasped, “I want it.”

He let go in order to speak, exposing damp skin to his exhaled breath and making you shiver. “You will have to be specific.”

Specific - fuck, that’s just embarrassing! You huffed indignantly, about to start pouting when his thigh began pulling away suddenly. On reflex you clamped down on it with your legs, giving him an almost offended look. That provoked a low huff that could’ve been a laugh, and he dipped his head back to the base of your neck, nuzzling with just his nose to take in your scent again.

There was a low thudding off to the side, and craning your neck over you caught a glimpse of that new tail of his, the gleaming axehead thumping against the dirt. Wagging his tail… dammit, that was so cute you could almost forgive him for being a tease right now.

You groaned a little and gathered your words. “Please, I… want you to bite me.”

Vincent hummed again, and then in one swift motion opened his mouth to bite down firmly, fangs sinking through skin with ease and causing a warm burst of pain. You couldn’t hold back a little cry, one that suddenly pitched upwards with surprise and pleasure as his hand found its way down and pressed the heel of his palm firmly against your clit. Those claws wouldn’t be a good time in such a delicate area, yet he’d found a good enough work-around to set you writhing even while he remained firmly latched on.

The heady mix of pain and pleasure made your last few ruts against his leg rushed and jerky before you hit a swift climax, gasping his name as you clung tightly to him and rode out the waves.

His hand remained in place until you were limp on the ground, though at some point during your orgasm he’d withdrawn his fangs from your skin and had settled into licking at the blood that streamed from the wound. The bite mark ached, throbbing in time with the receding pleasure in your core. Even then the only thing you regretted at the moment was not doing anything for him in return so far, and as you worked on catching your breath and wits both you gave his horn a light tug to try and bring him back up for another kiss. He resisted for a moment with a soft growl, closing his mouth over the mark he’d left for one more taste, then allowed you to redirect him.

There was something both wicked and irresistible about tasting your own blood on his lips, and even though you’d just come your guts were already growing tight with desire again, this time for more than the thigh he was slowly withdrawing from between your legs.

You kissed him needily and he pushed back in kind, the occasional lap of his tongue trying to catch what blood he was smearing across your lips. His fangs nipped in turn and had you whining petulantly, free hand seeking its way to one of his belts and giving it a tug. Vincent shuddered in response, hesitating for a moment as if arguing with the Beast’s instincts before giving in and arching his back up to let his hips more evenly drop down against yours. One of his hands found its way to your hip to bring you up against him as well, and the distinctive bulge trapped under tight, warm leather had you squirming with want, legs quick to hook around him and give you leverage to grind up against him.

This time he was the one to moan, a deliciously soft, wanting noise that sent your desire out of control, tugging again at his belt like it was a handle to steer him with. Dammit, if only there wasn't so much fucking leather in the way-

“Wait,” he whispered hoarsely against your lips, and you pulled back to give him the room he needed. He looked so conflicted again, even with pupils blown wide open and a thin strand of spit still trailing from his lips down to yours. As much as you wanted to drive the uncertainties from his mind and kiss him breathless, you didn't want to scare him away.

“Take your time, Vincent. I can wait.”

He took that time as offered, trying to slow his breathing down and closing his eyes for the time being. You dropped your hand from horn to hair and started petting gently - a soft rumbling rolled from his throat in response even as his cheeks grew pink from the affection. His hair, though messy, was still silky to the touch and honestly a pleasure to comb your fingers through.

Finally, he gave a shaky sigh and opened his eyes to look at you once more, still fraught with uncertainty but also holding a measure of desire… a touch of affection? You could hope that you weren’t mistaking lust for its less common counterpart. You'd gotten this far with him, though.

“I am… not sure this is right. I'm still - half a beast. You couldn’t…”

“Couldn’t what? Stop you? You're the one stopping yourself right now.” You gave your hips a brief grinding movement up against him and watched his lips part for an airy moan - so damn beautiful, both to look at and listen to. Again, he had to close his eyes, this time to escape your smug little smile. He was too easy to rile up behind all that aloof calmness.

“Or if you mean I couldn't possibly want this - I do. I want it a lot.” Surprisingly your voice didn't crack, even though you felt like it ought to from such a confession.

Vincent opened his eyes again, this time with a flustered confusion so clear in them you couldn’t resist leaning up to give him a kiss on the tip of his nose, making his eyes cross just briefly and prompting you to giggle. Further confused by that, he frowned - pouted really. “I don't understand… why you would accept such a thing.”

“Because you're still you. And… it's kind of hot? Not that - you're still handsome normally! Just-” And now you were the one blushing while his expression grew more confused, as if he couldn't even conceive of being called handsome, let alone hot. Your words died on your tongue with embarrassment, suddenly struggling to look at him directly and turning your head aside only to peer from the corner of your eye. He only seemed further mystified by your response, averting his gaze with a soft murmur, “If that is your opinion.”

Opinion? Oh, no, that wouldn't stand, you needed him to know it was a fact.

“I mean it, Vincent, you really are. If everyone didn't already have a million problems to deal with, they'd probably be staring at your pretty face a whole lot more.”

At those words he sunk behind the comfort of his cloak collar, not that it hid how red he was turning. You could face him again now that your focus was on getting him to understand how pretty he actually was, lifting up again to kiss his forehead this time. “And being a beast or a monster or whatever you feel like you are, that doesn't change what I think or feel about you… I'm not turning away.”

When you sank back down you found him looking almost distressed, as if he didn't know what to do with genuine affection. He dropped even further behind the collar like he could disappear if he tried hard enough. You snorted, hands finding their way to his cheeks to gently coax him out of hiding, slowly but surely until you could see his pouting lips. His face was still incredibly warm under your touch, only growing hotter when you drew him down into a kiss - gentle and affectionate this time to reassure him that you were being honest about everything.

Slowly he melted out of the confusion and embarrassment until he was pressed down against you once more, that rumble of his beginning to pick up when your thumbs stroked over his cheeks slowly. What a complicated mess of a man you’d picked out by accident… hard to say no to such a pretty face, though.

Confident he was getting back to the right mindset, you carefully moved your hips against him and found yourself rewarded with another moan of his, caught by your mouth so it vibrated against your lips. Keeping one hand cupping his cheek and caressing it with your thumb, your other hand made the journey back down and slid between your hips and his, paying no heed to the stickiness as you began looking for ways to get all the damn leather out of the way. One belt slowly unbuckled, a war of attrition against the pieces keeping his skin from touching yours began but paused when one of his hands snagged your wrist; you blinked your eyes open and caught him staring right at you, still so intense. This time he didn’t pull away though, and just gave one of his little hums before lightly nipping at your lips. You ended up squeaking, briefly forgetting your attempt at undressing him at least a little.

That gave him the chance to grasp your other wrist and bring them both up over your head - his long, elegant fingers even with claws now tipping them were perfect for catching both wrists in one hand and pinning them to the ground. Oh, no fair! Now you had no chance to get at him properly, and you made your displeasure known by squirming up against him with a muffled whine.

The friction made him groan, but what followed was an even more delightful sound: a low, rusty sort of chuckle escaped, like he hadn’t really laughed at anything in forever. But it made a pleased chill roll down your spine. He pulled back and you chased his lips as far as you could, prompting another soft little laugh from him that made your stomach flutter from how nice it sounded.

“Impatient, aren’t you.” Vincent said it as a statement instead of a question, and you decided (very maturely) to stick your tongue out at him.

He raised an eyebrow, snorted, and used his free hand to caress your cheek in a mirror to your own actions earlier. You couldn’t help leaning your head into his touch even with clawtips prickling against your skin as a reminder of his current form. It didn’t matter - at this point you trusted him not to hurt you (at least, not any further than you had already asked for).

“Close your eyes. Please.”

At his request you nodded, sliding them shut and relying now on your sense of touch to keep track of him. His hand trailed its way down onto your neck, to your chest and further down over your stomach. The light nature of his movements made your stomach suck in a bit with ticklishness, but thankfully he didn’t seem to think of pursuing such a reaction and kept moving downward. As his clawed fingertips hit the bare skin of your lower half and trailed over your mound you began shifting with poorly restrained desire, only to find yourself disappointed when he slid up along one of your thighs and carefully disengaged your legs from holding onto him.

“Vincent, please…”

“Be patient.”

That was a subtly commanding kind of tone, and not a request. You nodded again, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from opening your eyes when he hadn’t yet said you could. His hand left you and you had to start listening for what he seemed to be doing next - the subtle but distinct sound of a zipper struggling along its path, a sharp inhale from him, and the rustle of leather sliding against cloth.

So it was a surprise when the hot, sticky weight of his cock dropped down onto your mound. Your breath hitched as you tried your best to gauge girth and length from what you could feel… and it felt pretty damn big. It had to have hurt like hell, trapped under those tight leather pants. All sorts of thoughts flew through your mind, from how badly you already wanted him to bend you in half to whether it would even fit in your mouth if he let you try. You swallowed, trying to get them under control so you could say something.

“Can I touch you…?”

Vincent was quiet for a moment, then huffed as if faintly annoyed. Maybe he’d momentarily forgotten your eyes were closed. “You may.”

His grasp on your wrists eased up just enough to let one of your arms slip free, though he kept the other caged for the time being. One was all you needed really, bringing your hand down and carefully setting it down where you felt his cock atop you. As soon as you made contact a quick breath followed by a groan left him, the girth under your fingers twitching eagerly. Damn, he was pretty thick, though you mapped out a taper as you slid along its length to the tip. It reached a slender point rather than a human-like head… another Beast trait, it seemed. Sliding back the other way, the thickness of it became somewhat daunting the closer to his hips you got, especially considering how long it felt as well. The heat radiating from him was especially intense too, but the way he kept twitching and shifting under your hand was irresistible - you felt reasonably sure you could handle this, given some opportunity to adjust.

Before you could get too handsy you felt him grabbing your wrist and drawing your arm back up to be secured again, prompting a little whine from you that was followed by an amused huff from him. “I told you, be patient.”

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically, hoping it made him smile. “Can I open my eyes at least?”

He paused for a longer moment than felt comfortable, and you were about to open your mouth to retract your statement when he finally murmured a response.

“I would… prefer you not to look. Please…”

You kept your mouth closed, thinking for just a second before nodding in agreement. He was always buried under those layers of his, it seemed likely that he had some sort of issue with his self-image that would no doubt be made worse by his partially transformed figure. It was probably miracle enough that he had exposed himself this much.

“Okay. Could you blindfold me then, maybe? So I won’t look by accident.”

Vincent gave a grunt of affirmation, and after a few moments passed a piece of cloth draped itself over your face, still warm with body heat - wait, was this his headband? It smelled like him, tickling your nose with how it draped over the tip, and cracking your eyes open just a touch confirmed your suspicion with the red fabric that blocked your view. You blew some air through your lips to push it up off your nose, giving him an awkward smile that rewarded you with a soft hum.

“Hold still,” he commanded in advance, then released his grip on your wrists so that he could deftly fold the cloth and tie it around your head. You considered being bratty for a moment, but that could chase him off, or delay what you wanted so badly… better to behave right now for your first time.

One hand shortly resumed its post keeping your hands up and out of his way, while the other slid back down your front, slipping past his cock and carefully sliding two fingers between your folds. Though you moaned, you held still to avoid any accidents with the claws that were so easily capable of causing a nasty scratch on such delicate skin. They only lingered for a few moments, and you realized he was catching some of your slick to lube himself up with, retreating without any harm done. From where he was touching you it was easy to feel him shudder; he didn’t seem all that eager to touch himself, but it was necessary considering he was still holding your hands hostage. His slick covered claws grazed over your stomach briefly and provoked a small shiver from you, and now you felt safe enough to squirm under him impatiently, hoping to at least distract him from his own body. You managed to win a small hum from him at least.

“Vincent, please, I need you.”

His lips pressed to yours for a brief kiss that you chased after again, a second hum of amusement leaving him. Though he gave another little shudder, you felt the slim tip of his cock press up against your folds and held your breath, hips tilting up slightly in an attempt to coax him into continuing.

“I do not… know if I will be able to stop myself,” he whispered by your ear, sounding almost guilty about the admission. “If you do not want this…”

“I want it. Every last inch,” you replied fervently, and swore that you could feel the blush burning on his face in response. You turned your head to kiss his cheek, then the corner of his lips. A low sigh escaped him, and he withdrew from kissing range in spite of your pout, though your expression shifted as his cock began to push inside. Already wet from your first orgasm, the light coating he’d given himself to start with made the initial entry easy enough. Halfway was where the stretch began, your pulse pounding in your throat and eyes fluttering behind the cloth covering them, a stuttered breath rattling out of you. Fuck. Maybe every last inch was a minor exaggeration.

Vincent was going slowly enough not to hurt you, but he also wasn’t stopping even as your walls flexed around him. His moan was tinged with a growl, his hand clasping your hip now, fingers still sticky with your juices.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, swearing you were almost at your limit when you finally felt his hips settle against yours. How he fit all the way you weren’t sure but the stretch of him, length and girth both was almost too much at once, legs shaking from from the overwhelming sensation tinged with just a little pain. For the moment it was good enough to take one shaky breath after the next, waiting for your body to adjust to his cock pushed so deep inside you.

Finally, you gave a small nod to him. “Slowly - please…”

“I will try,” he replied. He sounded just as breathless as you felt.

The intensity of it eased as he slowly withdrew, giving you the chance to catch a few deeper breaths, and the second slide in was just a little more bearable even when he pressed to the hilt again. Your legs were still trembling some, and you doubted they’d be of any use for the next few hours. He’d probably have to carry you out of here, and if he was still caught in this form then there’d be questions to answer and probably a lot of suspicion and fuck, you were letting him rail you right out in the middle of nowhere in the open-

Vincent kissed you again with renewed hunger, and his slow thrusts began to pick up speed in short order, chasing away the thoughts beginning to derail you with each burst of intense sensation every time he stretched you out. A series of soft cries and moans went straight into his mouth unheeded, fangs nipping before his tongue brushed your lips and coaxed your mouth open for him once more.

He was starting to rumble again, short intervals interrupted by his hips now slapping against you with increasing roughness. The hand on your hip kept you to his rhythm without fail, and as it tilted you up further for his convenience the changing angle helped his cock find just the right spot inside - your voice choked on how much pleasure came from the repeated presses along and against your g spot, overwhelmed once more and feeling another climax come crashing down through you.

But in spite of the shuddering and writhing beneath him, Vincent’s thrusts continued relentlessly right through your orgasm, snapping in and out with enough force to push your breaths from you. He definitely wasn’t about to stop, likely couldn’t stop even if he wanted to when the Beast’s instincts were probably driving him toward a very simple goal: mate.

His mouth remained ravenous pressed to yours, his grasp somehow still relatively gentle on your wrists despite his otherwise rough treatment - some part of him was at least doing its best not to hurt you, though the rest of him was making sure to fuck you as thoroughly as possible. Another orgasm built up quickly and rolled through your body, overstimulation already starting to take hold as he still kept up a brutal pace while your walls spasmed around him and you were starting to lose track of where your legs had gone off to in spite of being attached to you. He couldn’t keep this up for much longer, could he? 

The already snappy rhythm grew even more frantic as if he’d heard your thoughts, and what had become a bearable stretch suddenly started to become more intense again - was he starting to swell up? Oh, fuck, did he have a knot? You couldn’t speak up with him still devouring your mouth greedily, and even if he wasn’t the intensity of his pace was leaving you mostly breathless anyway. It was all you could do to simply try to brace yourself as the last several thrusts first tested your body’s willingness to stretch just a little more, then sank to the hilt one last time with a slight pop that made your head almost jerk down against the ground and sent stars through your vision for a moment.

His knot continued to swell for a few more seconds to firmly lock him in place, and the deepest rumble you’d heard from him yet rose from deep in his chest, hips jerking forward against you while spurts of cum surged hot and deep inside.

Vincent finally released his grip on your wrists and withdrew his mouth, breathing hard and fast the same as you. With your mouth free you could gasp for air, shaking from the intensity of the stretch that you had no choice but to endure right now. Though your limbs felt like limp noodles, you blindly lifted one trembling arm up to try and touch him, though it seemed to take a longer moment than expected before his warm cheek settled against your palm. You quickly urged him close to you again, seeking any sort of diversion to help occupy your mind.

“Bite me again, please.”

Your voice was just as shaky as the rest of you, and the tone of it seemed to spur him into action quickly - he dropped his head down to the opposite side of where he’d bitten before and quickly sunk his fangs into your shoulder. The warm, sharp stab was a welcome distraction even as it made tears well up, and you made no effort to stop them from leaking down the sides of your face and soaking into the bandanna still keeping you blind. Your hand slipped around to the back of his head and tangled fingers in his hair to hold him there, a low whine in your throat as his tongue lapped up the blood spilling into his mouth.

It was only a few minutes, but it felt like forever before the stretching eased up. With a lewd, slick sound you felt his knot finally pop free along with a gush of fluids - you couldn’t stop the moan that slid from your lips, muscles fluttering weakly as he withdrew and gave them the freedom to relax. The empty feeling was both a relief and made you wish he would sink right back into you, but you knew that you probably couldn’t handle a second round after such a rough first time.

Vincent groaned quietly against your shoulder, teeth pulling free and tongue licking slowly at the puncture wounds he’d left behind. He was trembling a little himself now, and you wondered if it was from being just as overstimulated as you, or if his half-transformed state was taking a toll. Or maybe he was just coming back down from the Beast’s instincts and realizing what he’d done… you couldn’t find any words to try reassuring him with, but you could at least turn your head to kiss the messy dark hair draped between your lips and his forehead.

A thin sigh escaped him, and then a grunt of pain - you felt the claws on your hip beginning to shrink. The rest of his bestial traits were following suit no doubt, and you did your best to soothe him through it by petting the back of his head and nuzzling your face against him gently. What had to be his horns disappearing was giving off a grinding sound that made you wince in sympathy. That had to hurt.

“Vincent, are you okay…?”

You couldn’t bring your voice above a whisper even if you wanted to, but this close it wasn’t really necessary anyway. Another grunt, and he began to lift his head up away from you, seeming to pause for a moment before his hand left your hip and there was the soft rustling of cloth and leather, then a distinctive zipping before you felt him carefully pulling off the makeshift blindfold.

Compared to the warm darkness now everything was quite bright - you squeezed your eyes shut to adjust to the sudden light, slowly squinting them open to finally get a look at him again. The horns had vanished, and his eyes no longer glowed with energy aside from the usual yellow ring in his left eye. Instead they were dark with concern, fear, guilt, and his face was tucked down to hide behind his cloak collar as if he couldn’t quite handle being seen yet.

“I hurt you,” he mumbled.

“I asked you to,” you countered, watching surprise flicker across his expression. “And I enjoyed it. You don’t get to feel bad about something I enjoyed.”

He had the grace to blush about that, his gaze flicking further down your body briefly before a much more vivid red overtook his face. Oh, yeah, you had to be a total mess down below… with a soft sigh you pushed yourself up on shaky arms and watched him rear back nervously in response, eyes looking well away from you now.

“I’m gonna need some help, Vincent. I don’t think I can feel my legs right now.” You made the admission with a measure of ruefulness, and he gave a small cough as if he’d almost choked on his spit. “I-.... Very well then. I will… help you clean up.”

And with an abrupt swiftness you were suddenly up off the ground, aloft in his arms and clinging to the front of his cloak in surprise. You could still feel his cum oozing out of you, silently hoping you weren’t going to drip all over his nice leathers… but he didn’t seem to be thinking about it, merely securing the clothing dangling off your ankles as he set off. Hopefully to find some running water for you to wash up with, because you sure as hell didn’t want to put your clothes back on yet.

At least there wouldn’t have to be an explanation for why Vincent had half a transformation going on anymore. No, you’d just have to explain instead why you weren’t about to go walking around outside the ship for the next couple of hours. Boy was that going to be interesting.

(Worth it.)

[trash-hatchet]

HELLO TMNT FANS! i bring you a list of turtles that can be found in New York! (mostly native species)

The Blanding's turtle!

these guys are actually considered a threatened species :( the bright yellow neck and chin are very pretty!

The Diamondback Terrapin!

these guys are super pretty with their intricate shell patterns and light coloration!

The Wood Turtle!

these guys are considered to be some of the smartest turtles! and (partially) get their name from the fact that their shell looks like it’s made of wood!

The Spotted Turtle!

these guys are super cute! you might recognize this guy if you’re a fan of @sharkfinn ‘s little brother AU!

The Bog Turtle!

these guys are the smallest species of turtle in North America and are also endangered :(

The Map Turtle!

A few species of these guys have spikes along the back of their shell that makes them look pretty cool!

The Musk Turtle!

these guys are also called the stinkpot turtle and get their names because they make a gross smell when they’re upset

The Mud Turtle!

these guys are only found on the Long Island because they’re endangered (a lot of these guys are endangered and that makes me very sad)

The Atlantic Ridley Turtle!

yet another endangered turtle these guys are some of the rarest marine turtles

The Leatherback Sea Turtle!

these guys are the biggest turtles sometimes getting up to 6 feet long!

The Loggerhead Sea Turtle!

when these guys are babies they have spikes along their shell but those go away as they age

The Painted Turtle!

these guys get their name from the bright redish orange pattern on their plastron! I think they look very pretty

these aren’t all of the turtles that can be found in New York just the ones that I find interesting and neat looking! I would recommend doing research on some of these species They are very interesting! here is a source with a list of all of the turtles that can be found in New York and a bit of information on some of them!

[inbarfink]

Congratulations! You are now a Magic-User!!

[e-vay]

CC’s Present

[A/N: A quick little Lovebytes-sized ficlet for the holidays! Please forgive grammatical errors, I wrote this while on my flight home. Merry Christmas!]

“What do you want for Christmas?”

CC replayed the audio clip again in hopes it would spark a solution, to no avail. Normally, she could answer any query her lab-partner-turned-life-partner presented to her, but for the first time, Tails had her completely stumped.

After all, apart from Tails’ affection there was only one thing she desired; something that couldn’t be purchased or crafted. So when “The Team” floated the idea of meeting up to check out the holiday marketplace as a group, she immediately cleared her and Tails’ calendar so they could attend. This would be the perfect opportunity to study the art of gift-giving and hopefully spark some inspiration.

CC found that this time of year brought out one of the traits she adored most in Mobians. There was something about the holidays that encouraged a sense of camaraderie unlike the rest of the year. No matter the number of board meetings, busy schedules or other duties that plagued daily life, everyone seemed to drop everything in order to spend time with each other during this particular season.

Upon entering the market, the group broke up and darted in various directions. Sonic and Knuckles linked arms with Tails and began chanting “Brats! Brats! Brats!” before carrying the tall, yellow fox towards one of the food trucks. Tails looked over his shoulder to CC. “Sorry, it’s our favorite. I’ll be right back!”

“Please, enjoy yourselves,” CC encouraged, chuckling at the “brothers” antics. She politely clasped her hands behind her back before meandering through the market to analyze the crowd. She smiled at the numerous small children whose pupils dilated at the sight of candies on display. Women laughed and clinked souvenir mugs brimming with spiked hot chocolate. Merchants cheered and greeted customers in numerous different languages.

The Robian decided to make her way to a booth that was currently occupied by two familiar hedgehogs.

“Gaia, look at this one! It’s so gorgeous—Sir, you are so talented!” Aurora had her hands clapped over her cheeks in excitement. Her green eyes were sparkling like gems as she ogled the handmade decorations that were hanging all over the merchant’s booth. “Oh wow, did you see this one Shadow?! Oh Gaia it’s the prettiest thing in the whole wide world!” She bounced on her heels trying to contain her enthusiasm. “But wait this one! This one looks just like you! Look at that grumpy little face- ahh!!!” The black and red hedgehog smirked while sipping his mulled wine and sent a pointed look and nod to the vendor who secretly began boxing up each of the items the woman had pointed to.

CC didn’t follow as Aurora ran off to another booth that had caught her attention. The Robian furrowed her brows. Sure this market had plenty of pieces of art that were pleasing to the eye, but nothing that stirred a desire in her. Nothing made her “want.” How was it these things came so easily to Organics? It was so… frustrating.

Her grimace was quickly replaced with a soft smile and a sigh. Every emotion, no matter how negative, was a blessing. Not every synthetic-being could experience these feelings, so she thanked her lucky stars for the brief ”annoyance” before moving on for more analaysis.

One of her ears rotated to catch the sound of some youthful hollering. Following the commotion, she spotted Rouge with her two sons. The bat was adorned head to toe in luxurious faux furs with fibers so ivory they rivaled the fresh winter snow. Her poise and glamor was in complete contrast to the young hyena boys who play-wrestled and tugged on each others scarves. But to everyone’s surprise, the refined woman suddenly scooped the boys up in her grasp and attacked them with tickles that sent them howling with laughter.

“Are you boys hungry?”

“Yeah I’m STARVIN’!” groaned Tumble. He patted his round, youthful belly. “I’m waistin’ away, Ma!”

“How do s’mores sound?”

Both boys jumped out of Rouge’s grasp and looked at her with eyes as wide as saucers.

“Seriously?!” asked Ruff, the oldest. “They’ve got s’mores here?!?”

“Only for kids who say ‘Please’,” the bat teased.

In unison, the two hyenas clasped their hands in a begging motion and wagged their tails side to side. “Please please please please please!”

CC giggled at how aggressively their tails wagged, to the point it made their entire bodies sway. How interesting it was that this extension of the vertebrae was used not only for balance and steering, but for conveying emotions. Hmm.

“Okay let’s go!” Rouge took her children’s hands and the three ran through the crowd, laughing and cheering.

“There you are, my darling husband!” Sang a familiar voice. CC looked over to spot Amy Rose waving at Sonic who was finishing up his third bratwurst. Though his mouth was stuffed, he smiled and beckoned with his hand to come meet him. He swallowed down the last large bite. “Heya, I was just about to look for-“

In a sudden mad dash, the pink hedgehog closed the gap between them and leapt forward, arms outstretched. Sonic managed to catch her but stumbled back a few steps from the sheer force of her hug. Amy crashed her lips into his and kissed him with such vigor one would think the lovers had been apart for years.

CC had to avert her eyes for a moment, her cheeks warming up from being an onlooker to such strong displays of affection. Still, Amy’s passion and the ease with which she showed her love was something CC truly admired. She hoped Tails and herself would be able to express themselves as freely one day.

“Wowza!” Sonic laughed breathlessly once he and Amy finally broke their kiss.

“You taste like mustard,” Amy teased, her nose scrunched up.

Sonic wiped his thumb along her bottom lip and smiled with a large, lopsided grin. “I coulda warned ya if you didn’t come at me all gung ho like that.”

“You know I can’t help myself,” the pink hedgehog took Sonic’s muzzle into her hands, combing the tan, shaggy fur that filled out his cheeks. “Especially when you’re extra fluffy like this!”

“Extra fluffy, extra irresistible,” Sonic chuckled before Amy kissed him again with an enthusiastic “MMM-HMM!”

CC turned her back to the couple to spare herself from more blushing. She reached up and placed her fingertips along her own cheek. Though the muzzle she built herself was outfitted with a soft, suede like texture, it didn’t have nearly the plush or fullness of Tails’ or even Sonic’s during the wintertime. She removed one of her signature charcoal gloves and studied the segments in her robotic fingers. Her eyes glazed over as she ruminated over the data she had collected and an idea began to grow.

She was startled when a gloved hand took hold of her own. Her electric blue eyes followed the arm to identify the owner and felt a growing warmth in her soul once she realized it was Tails.

“Hello there,” the fox smiled.

“Hello. I did not see you returning from the delicatessen.”

”Lost in thought?”

CC’s smile grew wide and she laced her fingers with her partner’s. “Yes. I have decided what I want for my Christmas present. However, I would like to ask that I receive it earlier than is customary. It is a ‘topical’ request, you see.”

Tails grinned. “Sure! Let’s hear it!”

His girlfriend leaned in close and whispered her idea into his ear. His eyes lit up and his twin tails swished with inspiration.

“That’s brilliant! Let’s do it!”

———

It had been almost two weeks since The Gang had heard from Tails once again. It wasn’t unusual for the fox to go “radio silent” for long periods of time as his work at Yellow Sky Industries kept him plenty busy. But when the group received an urgent request to come to Tails’ home out of the blue, it had them raising their eyebrows.

What made the situation all the more suspicious was that Tails had everyone waiting on the lawn standing before a curtained off display. The group of friends and family members huddled close and muttered curses under their breath for making them gather in the frigid winter air.

“Bud, why exactly do ya have us all gathered outside? It’s cold as Holoska out here!” Sonic groaned, rubbing his arms in an attempt to keep warm.

“It’s vital to the presentation,” Tails responded curtly.

Knuckles snapped his fingers. “Then hurry it up, already. My wife’s wings’re about to snap off!”

Rouge elbowed Knuckles. “My hero.”

“Very well,” Tails clapped his hands before suddenly jumping into a crouched position, his hands splayed wide to entice his audience. “Ladies and gentlemen!” He projected a voice far more confident and engaging than his friend group was used to. It was clear Tails had transitioned into ‘tech-presenter’ mode. “This holiday season we are thrilled to introduce to you-“ he pressed a button on his wrist-watch and a drumroll began to play from a series of hidden speakers. He stepped backwards towards the curtain, waving his hands to emphasize his words.

”The stunning-“

He gripped onto the curtain.

“The dazzling!-“

With a dramatic flourish, Tails drew back the curtain and the small crowd gave a collective gasp.

“CC: Winter Edition!”

Upon the makeshift stage, CC was a vision in white posed gracefully to best show off her recent upgrades.

“Marvel at CC as you’ve never seen her before,” Tails continued with his best salesman impersonation. He delicately took the Robian’s wrist into his hand and held her arm up, waving and gesturing along her limb. “-With brand new features perfectly suited for this frosty weather.”

Where CC’s external bodice was once gray with short fibers or smooth, hard casing, she was now fully covered in plush white fur except for her slate ears. Instead of traditional gloves, her hands were covered with just enough artificial pelt to hide her seams and give her fingers a more natural look. Her smile was accentuated with a muzzle that had tufts of fur on either side of her cheeks. Her short, silver hair was now a few inches longer, ivory, and considerably more voluminous.

Tails’ fingers trailed up CC’s shoulder where he delicately twirled one of her locks. “Now adorned with a luscious winter coat as pearlescent as the winter snow but as soft and warm as a summer’s day.” The fox paused for a moment as he locked eyes with his girlfriend and the two shared an unspoken blush. He cleared his throat before continuing with the show.

“And with the most highly anticipated feature yet-!”

CC grinned and twirled, fanning the group with a breeze as they were brushed with a large, soft object.

“THAT TAIL!!!” Everyone exclaimed at once.

Protruding from a seam in her miniskirt was an extra long, extra fluffy tail that rivaled her partner’s. It would still take a good amount of practice to determine when and how it would best be used, but for her friends’ enjoyment CC gave the appendage a few swishes and flicks which was met with oohs and ahhs.

“Oh!” the Robian turned to face the group once more, earning a whine from some of her friends who were enjoying the warmth and softness of her new tail. CC excitedly pointed in the air with one hand and used the other to clutch onto her stomach. “Additionally, I now have the ability to brew hot cocoa! I simply open this compartment-“

Tails quickly placed his hand atop hers to stop her. “Let’s skip that demo. It’s pretty unsettling but she insisted we add it.”

CC shrugged and recalled a phrase she had heard Sonic use on similar occasions. “Your loss.”

A small hand raised up from the group. Tails resumed his showman performance. “Yes, young man. You have a question?”

Tumble, the youngest of the crew, stepped forward. His teeth chattered as he fumbled with his scarf, “Ssssss-CC, d-d-do you ssstill have your toasssty mode?”

CC smiled and opened her arms wide. From the center of her chest, a subtle orange glow was visible even from under her light sweater. ”Come see for yourself,” she invited.

All at once, friends and family rushed forward and embraced CC in a giant group hug. There was a muddled collection of sighs and compliments as everyone soaked in the warmth.

“Yes, so warm!”

“Your fur is so soft, I could fall asleep!”

“You look beautiful,” Amy cheered, affectionately holding CC’s chin to get an even closer look, “but more importantly you look so happy!”

”I don’t know if I’d say that’s more important,” Rouge chimed in. She hugged CC’s arm to drape around her neck like a shawl. “Look at that shimmer in her fur! Like diamonds!”

The Robian laughed at all her friends’ remarks. She was so thrilled when she and Tails first assembled these seasonal accessories, but now she was even more delighted at everyone’s response. Cozying up with her found family, she now had just about everything she could ever want.

Her tail found its way towards one of her partner’s and she curled it around his. The touch made Tails look her way, and when their eyes met once again they found their blush return to their cheeks.

“Thank you,” CC mouthed so as not to speak over everyone else’s commentary.

“Merry Christmas,” Tails mouthed back with a wink.