#[Life Hunter] Hope; IC

[vixlenxe]

major character tags

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru x darling

TW: NSFW, noncon, fantasy au

gn reader

Thinking about hunter Gojo and the pretty little nymph that gets themselves snared in one of his traps.

You can’t get your poor leg loose, having twisted your ankle in your fall to the ground – something’s wrong with your wing too, you can feel it – the thin network’s been folded, almost broken – so even if you did manage getting loose, you wouldn’t be able to fly away.

Branches snap around you along the crunch of old leaves – and your heart’s beating out of your chest in fear of it – knowing something large and dangerous is not far behind, that whoever set the trap is not something that wishes you well.

“You’re not a rabbit.” The man says, having crept in close before you’d even heard him approach – crouching in front of you with a hunter's grace. Hawk-eyes ice-blue and piercing, hair as white as pure snow.

He’s got three daggers sleaved in his belt – a fillet knife, a gutting knife, and a larger one you imagine is meant to slice throats. He doesn’t carry a sword like most men but has a bow and sack of arrows slung on his back. Otherwise, dressed lightly – brown leather boots, brown slacks, and a blue cotton shirt. You could have mistaken him for a woodland elf if it weren’t for the thick stench of man.

“Eating creatures from the holy forest is forbidden.” You snip, despite your wide eyes and the wobble of fear evident on your lip.

He only smiles at the quip, a grin like a predator humored by prey. “You wouldn’t tell a wolf not to hunt.”

He stalks you, leaning in closer, and you try shuffling away – but the movement only makes you wince.

“I’m just another hungry animal…”

Rope gnaws into your fine skin while his breath puffs hot and dewy on your face.

“And tonight… seems lady luck has favored me once again.”

He gags you and ties you further up before redoing his snare for the next unlucky creature – then carries you over his shoulder until he’s dropping you down on a bed of furs.

Your skin flushes with goosebumps at the thought of being skinned the same way – mouthing a little prayer around the cloth he’s split your teeth and lips with. He’s cut trees down as well; you hear their pitiful screams when he lights a fire with their bodies. You mourn them, too.

At his full height, the man must be two heads taller than any male nymph you’ve ever seen and at least three heads taller than you. You hope you’re enough to satisfy him tonight, to spare the forest of further bloodshed.

You shiver and sniffle when he starts prepping you – removing your clothes and groping your tender, fleshy places with a strength you’re not used to – hands large and crass – kneading you like dough – probably to assess the quality of your meat. He has a smile on his face while at it. 

Humans make you sick – to think he’s planning on roasting then eating you despite the soul fueling your spirit and the beating heart in your chest. But you’ve long known that all death but their own matters little to them – they don’t feel the same way nymphs do – they don’t regard life with the same respect they’ve donned themselves. It must be a sad and lonely existence, you think. It even makes you feel a little sorry for him.

You yelp when his gritty fingers brush the area between your legs – shimmying when he lowers his mouth down to the same place. Oh God – does he plan on eating you raw? While your body’s still hot and pumping blood?

But the bite never comes – not yet eating but tasting it would seem – licking and slurping and sucking on you.

He takes his shirt off. Probably to avoid spilling on it, you think.

You don’t really understand what’s going on until he’s got his fat manhood pointed toward your kernel-sized hole. Eyes wide as he splits you apart slowly and unabashedly – as though it isn't as deviant as a dog mating a cat – sinking in inch after meaty inch.

You whimper at the stretch – wincing when the plush mushroom-shaped head grinds against that special place inside you. 

It doesn’t fit more than halfway, but that doesn’t seem to bother him – rolling his head back with a rusty groan, even with just the tip gaining purchase within you – pounding into you like a beast in his rut.

“What's the matter, pretty nymph? Did you think I was gonna eat you?” He laughs, bearing over you – his hands steadying your hips to meet his sharp thrust – each hit deeper than the last. “I’m the only hunter in this forest; I can eat what I want when I want – but eating you?” He scoffed and snickered. “That would just be a waste.”

The blood on his breath makes you wrinkle your nose – squeezing your eyes shut as his tongue sweeps up the tear streaks on your cheek.

“My stomach’s already full. Time to empty my balls.”

[barrel-crow-n]

Kaz and Matthias being mean to each other in chapter 29 my beloveds.

Kaz: How do we cross? I don't see anything.

Matthias: Because you are not worthy.

Kaz: I'm also not near sighted. There's nothing there.

Matthias: We go from aspirant to novice drüskelle in the ceremony at the sacred ash.

Kaz: Where the tree talks to you.

Matthias: (resisting the urge to shove Kaz into the ice moat) Where we hope to hear the voice of Djel.

Kaz: All this to be a witch hunter? The Dregs need a better initiation.

Matthias: This is only one part of Hringkälla.

Kaz: Yes, I know, then a tree tells you the secret handshake.

Matthias: Chilly, Brekker?

Kaz: If only we had time for a swim. Get moving.

Matthias: I feel sorry for you, Brekker. There is nothing sacred in your life.

Matthias: And the magic tricks?

Kaz: (snorts) So you don't think I'm a demon anymore?

Matthias: I know you're a demon, but your tricks are human.

[quinzzelx]

Shadows and Starlight

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Mor return from a long mission on the Continent. Nine Months have passed since your departure and you couldn't wait to reunite with your best friend, a best friend you'd had a crush on for centuries. Only that Azriel wasn't there when you returned home. He would only return on Starfall.

Part 02

Word count: 4.5K

Warnings: A little spice at the end there. But honestly just a little! Otherwise Fluff, Reader being part of the IC!! I have not proof-read it yet.

A/N: Well, hello there! I have never posted writing for this Fandom before, so I truly hope it is enjoyable and finds it's people. Overall, I haven't really been posting on this blog in ages and felt inspired. I would love to write a second part if this is received well. This isn't proofread yet, I will do that eventually, so I apologize for possible errors. Please let me know what you think and feel free to drop into my inbox.

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The night was cool and crisp as you and Mor made your way through the streets of Velaris, the city lights casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. Returning to Velaris had been a relief, the mission Rhys had sent you on should have taken no longer than six weeks, lastly spanning nine months that felt like an eternity. What should have been a rather quick trip to the Continent turned out to be far more complicated than anticipated. You were supposed to look into the whereabouts of a magical artifact while Mor should keep up her work as emissary. What you did not take into account whatsoever was the uprising conflict between two of their biggest noble houses, which complicated things. Trust was not easy to come by. Diplomats and Mediators by day and treasure hunters by night. Of course, you also had plenty of time to bask in the sunlight, smothering heat seeping into the marrow of your bones. Even with Mor by your side, there had been moments of homesickness that gnawed at your heart, a longing for the familiar comforts of home that seemed to grow with each passing day.

But now, as you made your way through the streets of Velaris, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. The city was alive with the buzz of activity, its streets bustling with life and energy. Even the stars seemed to shine and twinkle brighter than usually, welcoming you back. It was good to be home. As you stepped into the grand foyer of the House of Wind, you felt a rush of nostalgia wash over you. Albite nine months were nothing for Fae, you had missed this. The scent of fresh bread filled the air, no doubt made by Elain. A soft smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the familiarity, your shoulders relaxing slightly.

Mor wasted no time in making herself comfortable, stomping off to the sitting room and throwing herself onto the chaise with a dramatic sigh. You couldn't help but chuckle at her antics. As she settled into the plush pillows, you perched yourself on the edge of the nearby armchair, your gaze drifting to the flickering flames in the hearth. The crackling fire cast dancing shadows across the room, its warmth a comforting embrace after the long journey home. "So, what is on your mind?" Mor's voice broke through the silence, her eyes fluttering open as she regarded you with a curious expression. You let out a soft sigh, your thoughts drifting back to the tribulations of your time overseas. "It was... intense," you replied, voice tinged with a hint of weariness. "So much happened.” You groaned then. “Cauldron boil me, I really don’t want to fill out that mission report…” Mor nodded in understanding, a sympathetic smile playing on her lips. "I can imagine, me neither" she said, her tone filled with empathy. "But Rhys will not push us. He probably missed us as much as we missed him. It’s been a while after all.”

You smiled gratefully at her words, a sense of relief washing over you. "Yeah, you're right," you agreed, your spirits lifting at the thought of being back in Velaris once more. Back home. You fell into a comfortable silence then, the crackling fire the only sound echoing in the room. But beneath the surface, you felt a restlessness stirring within yourself—a longing to see him, to feel the familiar comfort of his presence. Obviously you missed the entirety of your family wholly. Definitely not thinking about one person more than the others. At least that is what you told yourself.

"I'm going to check on Az," you said suddenly, your voice breaking the silence. "I haven't seen him in a while…" Mor raised an eyebrow inquisitively, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Really now? Here I thought we saw none of them in a while." she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Missing someone, are we?" You felt a blush creeping into your cheeks at Mor's teasing tone, but you brushed it off with a playful roll of your eyes. "Don't be ridiculous," you retorted, though the fluttering in your chest betrayed your true feelings. With a playful wink, Mor waved you off, her attention already drifting back to the warmth of the fire. "Go on then," she said, her voice soft but encouraging. "I'll be here when you get back." And with that, you rose from your seat and made your way to Azriel's room, your heart fluttering with anticipation at the thought of seeing him again after so long. With a sense of anticipation bubbling in your chest, you picked up your pace subconsciously, your steps quick and eager. You had grown so close over the years, so comfortable in each other's company, that knocking on doors had become a formality you rarely bothered with anymore- and even if you usually still found yourself knocking from time to time, you just were too excited.

But as you pushed open the door to Azriel's room, your heart sank at the sight of the empty space before you. The room was quiet and still, save for the faint scent of cedar that lingered in the air—a stark reminder of the Male you had missed so much. Disappointment tugged at your heart as you surveyed the deserted room, your lips curling into a soft frown. It was Starfall in just a few days, you really thought, hoped, he’d be here when you returned. Before you could dwell on your thoughts any longer, a familiar voice broke through the silence, startling you. "So, Y/N, are you finally going to confess your undying love for my brother?" he quipped, his tone laced with amusement. You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips now as you threw yourself into Cassian's awaiting arms. You had missed him, missed all of them, but the absence of Azriel weighed heavily on your heart somehow. After you pull away from your embrace, Cassian offers you a kind smile, his eyes warm with understanding.

"Hey, just so you know, Az has been on a mission for the past few days," The tall Illyrian says gently, his tone filled with reassurance. "But he should be back before Starfall." You feel a surge of relief at the news, your heart fluttering with anticipation at the thought of seeing Azriel again. You waited nine months, you could wait a few more days. "Thank you, Cass," you says sincerely, gratitude shining in your eyes. Then the tall male shifts on his foot, raising an eyebrow in mock offense, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "Hey now, Y/N, I hope you're not just excited to see Az," he says with a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "I mean, I know I'm not as brooding and mysterious as our Shadowsinger, but a little appreciation for your favorite warrior wouldn't hurt." You roll your eyes again with a grin, shaking your head at Cassian's antics. "Oh, please, Cass. You know you're my second favorite warrior," you quip, your tone teasing as you give him a playful shove. You share a moment of laughter before Cassian's expression turns more serious, his gaze softening as he looks at you with genuine concern. "How was the mission? Everything okay?"

Nodding, your smile faltering slightly as you recall the challenges you faced overseas. "It was... intense, to say the least. But we made it back in one piece, thanks to Mor and her quick thinking."

Cassian nods in understanding, his expression reflecting his relief. "Well, I'm glad you're both safe. We'll have to celebrate your return properly, once you've had a chance to rest." Humming you find yourself relaxing into the familiar warmth of his company. You nod in agreement then. “Yeah, Rhys always has something up his sleeve for Starfall,” you say, voice tinged with anticipation. “I can only imagine what he has planned for this year.” Both of you fall into comfortable silence for a moment. Only when a yawn claws itself up your throat and past your lips does Cassian speak again. “Does Rhys know you’re back?” His gaze is gentle in the way he looks at you, it was easy to tell that the oaf missed you just as much.

Stretching your tired muscles slightly, you nod hastily. "Yeah, you should have seen his face when he came barging into the kitchen and saw us drink tea with Feyre." A soft chuckle leaves him then, and you share a knowing grin as you both recall similar situations.

Making your way down the hall, you find Mor fast asleep on the chaise lounge in the sitting room, her features relaxed in slumber. Cassian retrieves a soft blanket from the nearby cupboard and gently drapes it over Mor's sleeping form, his movements gentle and caring.

You settle into the chairs nearby, he joins you, and the two of you engage in light conversation, catching up on the latest developments with Nesta and the Valkyrie. You share stories and anecdotes, laughter punctuating the quiet of the night as you relish in each other's company. Eventually, exhaustion catches up with you, and you bid Cassian goodnight before retreating to your own chambers for some much-needed rest.

As you settle into bed, your mind can't help but wander towards Azriel. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavy on your limbs, thoughts of him linger at the forefront of your mind, like whispers in the darkness. You can't help but wonder how he's been faring on his mission, what trials and tribulations he's faced in your absence. A pang of guilt tugs at your heart as you realize that you hadn't even sent word of your return, leaving him in the dark about your whereabouts. Closing your eyes, you try to push aside the worry and uncertainty that gnaws at your thoughts, focusing instead on the memory of his warm smile and steady presence. You find solace in the thought of seeing him again, of being reunited with the friend who has always been a steady anchor in your life. With a soft sigh, you let the rhythmic sound of your breathing lull you into a state of calm, allowing yourself to drift into a restless sleep filled with dreams of starlit skies and whispered promises. And as sleep claims you, you hold onto the hope that tomorrow will bring with it the long-awaited reunion you've been yearning for.

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The next days pass in a blur, the absence of Azriel weighing heavily on your heart despite the moments of joy spent with your family. You find solace in the familiar routines of daily life, in the laughter and chatter of your loved ones gathered together in the warmth of the House of Wind.

Mornings are filled with shared meals and lively conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the aroma of freshly baked pastries. On the day before Starfall you find yourself amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life in Velaris, as you join Feyre, Mor, and Nesta for a day of dress shopping. The air is filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked goods, adding to the festive atmosphere of the day.

As you weave through the throngs of people, your eyes alight on a quaint boutique you’re all too familiar with, nestled between two bustling shops. Its windows are adorned with elegant gowns in every shade of the rainbow, their silken fabrics shimmering in the sunlight.

With a shared glance and a knowing smile, you make your way inside, greeted by the tinkling of bells and the warm smile of the shopkeeper. The interior of the boutique is a veritable treasure trove of fashion, with racks of dresses in every style and design imaginable. As you browse through the racks, your eyes are drawn to a stunning gown in a shade of deep midnight blue, its bodice adorned with delicate lace and sparkling sequins. It catches the light in such a way that it seems to shimmer and dance with every movement, and you can't help but feel drawn to it.

Feyre picks up a flowing gown in a shade of pale lavender, holding it up against herself with a thoughtful expression. "What do you think?" she asks, turning to you and the others for their opinion. Mor nods approvingly, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "It's lovely, Feyre. You would look stunning in that." Nesta, ever the pragmatist, arches an eyebrow skeptically. "It's a bit too... ethereal for my taste," she remarks dryly. "But if it makes you happy, then go for it." You can't help but chuckle at Nesta's blunt honesty, knowing that she speaks from a place of genuine concern for her sister's happiness. "I think it's beautiful, Feyre," you offer, a warm smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But ultimately, it's up to you." Feyre returns your smile gratefully, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N," she says softly, her voice filled with warmth. "I think I'll give it a try." As Feyre disappears into the dressing room to try on the gown, Mor turns to you with a glint in her eyes. "So, Y/N, have you found anything that catches your eye?" she asks, her tone teasing.

You shrug nonchalantly, though your heart races at the thought of the dress you had spotted earlier. "Maybe," you reply coyly, a playful smile playing at your lips. "There was one that caught my attention." Nesta raises an eyebrow curiously, her gaze sharpening with interest. "Oh? And what does it look like?" she inquires, her tone betraying her curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, your cheeks flushing slightly as you recall the details of the dress. "It's... um, it's a deep midnight blue," you begin, your voice trailing off as you struggle to find the right words to describe it.

Mor's eyes light up with mischief as she interrupts, a knowing smirk on her lips. "Sounds like something a certain Shadowsinger would most definitely like," she quips, her voice filled with amusement. You feel your cheeks grow even warmer at Mor's teasing remark, knowing that there is some truth to her words. "Maybe," you mumble, unable to hide the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips.

Before the conversation can continue further, Feyre emerges from the dressing room, the lavender gown flowing around her in a cascade of ethereal beauty. You gasp in awe at the sight of her, your heart swelling with pride and admiration.

"Feyre, you look incredible," you exclaim, your voice filled with genuine awe. "That dress was made for you." Feyre blushes at the compliment, her smile radiant as she twirls in front of the mirror. "Thank you, Y/N" she says warmly, her eyes shining with happiness. "I think I've found my dress."  As Feyre twirls in front of the mirror, her radiant smile lighting up the room, Mor and Nesta exchange knowing glances before turning their attention to you.

"Well, Y/N, it's your turn now," Mor says with a playful grin, her eyes sparkling again. "You can't just talk about that mysterious midnight blue dress and not show it to us."

Nesta nods in agreement, her expression curious. "Yes, I'm quite intrigued to see this dress that has caught your eye," she adds, a hint of amusement in her voice. With a nod of determination, you make your way to the dressing room, the anticipation building with each step.

As you slip into the dress, you can't help but marvel at how perfectly it fits, clinging to your curves in all the right places. The fabric is soft against your skin, the deep midnight blue hue shimmering in the light, casting an enchanting glow around you. The bodice of the dress is adorned with delicate lace, the intricate patterns weaving a spellbinding tapestry across your skin. The neckline plunges low, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin, while the back dips into a daring V, leaving just enough to the imagination. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the reactions of your companions, before stepping out of the dressing room to reveal yourself to them.

Feyre gasps in awe as she lays eyes on you, her expression filled with admiration. "Wow, Y/N, you look absolutely stunning," she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine wonder.

Mor and Nesta nod in agreement, their eyes wide with astonishment. "That dress was made for you," Mor adds. As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, a surge of confidence courses through you. It's been so long since you've worn anything other than fighting leathers, and the sensation of silk against your skin is a welcome change. You feel sexy, beautiful, and alive in a way that you haven't in months, the weight of responsibility and duty momentarily lifted from your shoulders. For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to revel in the simple pleasure of feeling feminine and desirable.

But amidst the rush of excitement and adrenaline, there's a nagging voice in the back of your mind, whispering of doubts and insecurities. What will Azriel think when he sees you like this? Will he be pleased, impressed, or will he merely see you as the same old friend he's always known? You bite your bottom lip nervously at the thought, a flush rising to your cheeks as you imagine his reaction. But deep down, beneath the layers of uncertainty and self-doubt, there's a spark of hope flickering within you, a glimmer of possibility that maybe, just maybe, he'll see you in a new light. That maybe the feelings you had harbored for him for the past two centuries weren’t one-sided.

With a determined shake of your head, you banish the doubts from your mind, focusing instead on the here and now. Tonight, you'll revel in the joy of the moment, surrounded by friends who love and support you unconditionally. And tomorrow, well, tomorrow is another day. "I must say, I almost forgot you had it in you to clean up so nicely."

You roll your eyes playfully at Mor's teasing remark, unable to suppress a laugh at her antics. "Oh, please, Mor," you quip, your tone laced with mock indignation. "You act as if I've been wearing armor for the past century." Feyre chuckles, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Well, you certainly seem to be enjoying yourself in that dress," she remarks with a knowing smile.

Nesta, ever the pragmatist, raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Yes, but can you actually afford it?" she asks dryly, her tone tinged with amusement. You feign offense at Nesta's remark "Of course I can afford it, Nesta," you reply with a playful smirk. "I'll just put it on Rhysand's tab."

The group erupts into laughter at your comment. With a final twirl in front of the mirror, you turn to the shopkeeper with a grin. "I'll take it," you declare confidently, a sense of satisfaction washing over you as you make your purchase. "And put it on Rhysand's tab, of course."

The shopkeeper chuckles at your remark, nodding in agreement as she wraps the dress in delicate tissue paper. "Very well, Miss Y/N" she says with a smile. "I'll be sure to send the bill to the High Lord's estate."

With your new dress in hand and your spirits lifted, you bid farewell to the boutique and make your way back into the bustling streets of Velaris.

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Azriel strolls through the lush gardens of Tarquin's estate, the relentless heat of the Summer Court bearing down on him with an intensity that he finds almost suffocating. Sweat beads on his brow, trickling down his temples as he walks, and he can't help but curse the relentless sun that beats down from above, as if intent on draining him of every last ounce of energy.

He sighs heavily as he reflects on his current predicament, his thoughts drifting to the far-off lands of his homeland where snow, cold, and winter reign supreme. The sweltering heat of the Summer Court is a stark contrast to the familiar chill of the Night Court, and Azriel can't help but wonder if it's possible that he's somehow managed to burn his wings in the sun. But such thoughts are quickly pushed aside as he reminds himself of the task at hand. Everything had gone well with his meeting with Tarquin, and now he simply longs to retire to his chambers and escape the oppressive heat for a few precious hours of rest.

As he continues on his way, Azriel can't help but think about the upcoming Starfall celebration. Tomorrow would mark the end of his short mission in the Summer Court, and he couldn't wait to return home to Velaris. The thought of spending Starfall without Y/N weighs heavily on his mind, and he can't help but feel a pang of longing in his chest at the prospect. Suddenly, a voice breaks through his thoughts, a familiar presence intruding upon his mind with the ease of a whisper on the wind. It's Rhys, reaching out to him.

"Enjoying the summer heat, brother?" Rhys's voice echoes in his mind, a hint of amusement lacing his words. "Remember, not all of us are fortunate enough to have wings to shield us from the sun's rays."

Azriel can't help but snort at Rhys's teasing, the sound reverberating silently within his own mind. "I'd take a blizzard over this heat any day," he replies, his tone dry with sarcasm. "At least in the Winter Court, I wouldn't feel like I'm about to melt into a puddle."

Rhys's laughter fills his mind. "Ah, but where's the fun in that?" he quips "Besides, think of it as a challenge. A test of endurance, if you will."

Azriel shakes his head incredulously at his brother's words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself. "You would find amusement in my suffering, wouldn't you?" he retorts. But Rhys's next words carry a weight of sincerity that catches Azriel off guard. "In all seriousness, Az, you'll be home before you know it," He assures him, his voice filled with warmth and encouragement. "Starfall is just around the corner, and there are loved ones eagerly awaiting your return."

There's a cryptic hint in Rhys's words, a subtle suggestion that Azriel can't quite decipher. He furrows his brows in confusion, his mind racing as he tries to make sense of his brother's words. After all, he's only been gone for a week.  Rhys's voice fades from Azriel's mind, leaving him with a sense of calm and reassurance. "Until tomorrow, brother," he murmurs silently.

Azriel retreats for the night, the weight of exhaustion heavy on his shoulders. As he settles into his chambers, a sense of relief washes over him at the thought of returning home tomorrow.

His mind wanders to how he'll spend his first day back in Velaris, imagining the familiar streets and faces that he's missed so dearly the past week. But amidst the anticipation, there's a nagging sense of longing that tugs at his heart. Clasping his scarred hands together, Azriel reaches into the pocket of his bag and pulls out a crumpled piece of parchment. It's a letter from Y/N, the only way they've been able to stay in contact while she's been away on her mission.

He doesn't know why he took the letter with him, but holding it in his hands brings a sense of serenity and comfort. Even though their last exchanged letters had been about a month ago, knowing that Y/N is safe and well brings him a measure of peace.

With a sigh, Azriel unfolds the parchment and reads over her words once more, the familiar handwriting bringing a smile to his lips. He makes a silent promise to himself to write to her as soon as he gets home. But now, as he prepares to return home for the celebration, he can't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of Y/N missing out. He wonders what she might be doing on Starfall, if she's found a way to make the most of the day despite being apart from their shared family.

Azriel knew how she hadn’t missed a single Starfall since… The heavy feeling of subdued rage settles in the pits of his stomach at the thought of what she endured during those dark years under the Mountain. He wishes he could have been there to protect her, to shield her from the horrors of their captivity.

His thoughts drift to a darker memory then, one that haunts him even now. He remembers her broken body, her spirit shattered and her light dimmed, when she and Rhys returned after Feyre broke the curse. The sight of her lying there, broken and bruised, fills him with a sense of sorrow and rage unlike anything he's ever known. He can still feel the weight of her pain, the echoes of her suffering lingering in the recesses of his mind. In that moment, all he wanted was to take her pain away, to hold her close and mend her broken spirit.  Azriel thinks of the first Starfall after they returned from under the mountain, how Y/N had opened up about her grief and trauma for the first time. He can still see the sadness in her eyes, the weight of her pain etched into every line of her face. It was a stark contrast to the joyous celebration unfolding around them, a reminder of the darkness that still lingered. From that day forward, Y/N never missed a single Starfall celebration.

As Azriel drifts off to sleep, frustration gnaws at his insides like a relentless beast. Despite his best efforts to push Y/N from his mind, she lingers there like a haunting specter, her presence weaving through his thoughts and dreams with an undeniable persistence. Rubbing his hand over his face in a futile attempt to banish the memories, Azriel can't help but feel a sense of shame at the intensity of his longing for her. He prides himself on his control, on his ability to keep his emotions in check, but she has a way of unraveling him like no one else.

And then there are the dreams - vivid and all-consuming, they play out like scenes from a forbidden fantasy, leaving Azriel feeling both exhilarated and guilty in their wake. They were friends. Just friends. Best friends, actually. And even though this urge was nothing completely unfamiliar, these thoughts had overtaken him completely as soon as she left.

Again his mind wandered. Asking himself how her lips would feel clashing against his, how she would wrap her arms around his neck, having to crane her neck for a kiss due to their height difference. What she would taste like, what sounds he could coax out of her. How those exact plush lips would feel wrapped around his cock.- A growl leaves him through clenched teeth. His eyebrows pinched as he squeezes his eyes shut, palming himself through his briefs. Confusion etched on his beautiful face then, because he just could not understand. She was his best friend, so why could he not stop thinking about her like this? Thus, so very determined, he decided that this had to change, while simultaneously fisting his heavy cock in one of his hands. "Fuck"

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I hope you enjoyed this little piece of my imagination. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! Please let me know if you'd like a part 2 :)

[cordeliawhohung]

Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) [12]

pet!au | ghoap x fem!reader | tag list

gentle

cw: angst, non-con touching, dub-con sex, smut, hate fucking if you squint

Click. Click. Click. 

Johnny won’t stop messing with his pen. Repetitive clicks echo in the small space in his art room as he hunches over his journal, shading away at some image just beyond your view. It’s distracting. That slip of plastic against plastic. It’s not as acidulous as a firing pin striking metal — nor is it nearly as dangerous — but it’s enough to get the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Enough to make you remember the weight of an empty gun biting into the palm of your hand. It’s unforgiving, like a bad dog. 

Brain too perforated to properly concentrate, you tap the eraser of your pencil against the notebook in your lap. The scrawlings of a madwoman taint the paper between its faded blue lines. It’s a gift from Johnny. Shoved it into your hands the other day because he said you looked bored. Told you that you fidget too much without something to busy yourself with, and he needs you to sit still in order to draw you properly. It was unusually astute of him to notice something so small about you. You’ve descried something more than just a lowering haze over the sapphire of his eyes, but you’re unable to put it into words. 

He’s different these days. You don’t know why.

Either way, you are grateful for the escape. You’ve repurposed this old, fading notebook into a diary of sorts. Some place to pour your thoughts out to something that has no other choice than to listen — something that cannot bite you. For so long you have carried so much inside of you; not just the pain and fear, but the little things, too. You nearly cried when you realized you finally had a place to put it — that weight — down. 

It wasn’t until you flipped to the first page that you realized you don’t know what the date is. Your passage of time has been warped again and again. A tablet dissolving in your drink made you lose days. Johnny taking you on the floor while a football game droned in the background made you lose years. You try to count the time in other ways. The length adding to your hair. Golden leaves catching fire on the fringes of the forest. An algid whisper on the wind dancing through the open window. The way summer dies with a sputtering pule. 

These days, you measure the turn of the earth by feel. Months. Hours. It doesn’t matter to you how long you have been trapped here; you only care about how much life you have left to live when you escape. 

Johnny. John? Soap. Like the bar. Never feels clean. Never makes me feel clean. Scottish. Tattoo on forearm. Coat of arms? Military? Wannabe? Scar on head. Shot? Simon said so. When? Who? Matching scar. No. Never. 

Simon. Simon. Just Simon. English. Manchester? Guns. Hunter. Big guns. Fucked up nose. Fucked up everything. Scars. One on ribs. Butcher? Smells like blood. Hate him. Animal. Lots of tattoos. Took me as a pet for Johnny. Mad man. Bad man. 

Me. Not Bonnie. Something else. Someone else. Bartender. How old am I? Need haircut. 

Miss my jumper. 

Miss my mum. 

Miss ice cream. 

Had an interview before I was taken. What day? Missing since… June. June. Summer. Hot. Did they ever call back? Needed better job. Wonder if they’re looking for me. Is anyone looking for me? Always called mum on Sundays. 

Does her phone ring now that I’m gone?

No. Not gone. Not yet. Not ever. 

I hope her phone rings.

Scribbles muddle the margins between fractured words and thoughts. You can conjure nothing more than empty, uneven eyes and dried flies lining burnt window sills. What creativity lingers in the fringes of your mind stays in the mess of grey matter; never something to brand the off white paper in your hands. Masterpieces cannot be created in a cage. You save what little energy you have for dreaming. You dream of a day when your teeth grow long enough they don’t whittle down to sand when you try to sharpen them. 

“Bonnie?” 

Johnny moves quietly. Or, your ears are growing old. Too busy trying to recall sounds you used to love; unable to make sense of the cacophony that constantly surrounds you in this tomb. He’s already eye level with you by the time you look up. Crouched next to your plushy chair, a wide hand sits on the armrest that props your elbow. He’s got his journal in hand, and you are very aware of the way he curiously eyes your own. You slam it shut with the pencil between the pages before setting it aside. 

His eyes follow your hands with question, but he says nothing as he turns his journal for you to see. Truly, Johnny has a talent you’ve rarely seen others show off. Meticulously crafted sketches brand the paper, etching your likeness in grey graphite. He captures every curve of your body as you lean in the recliner, eyes narrow with concentration. You’re drawn with a smile on your face, but those muscles in your cheeks have been dormant for so long you’re not sure you could conjure the expression if you tried. 

“That looks lovely,” you compliment. It’s not a lie, but it rolls off of your tongue like it is. 

“You’re lovely,” he fires back. Playful. Light. 

There it is again. That look. Heavy lids threaten to smother the blue hue of his eyes — heavy with a concupiscence so thick it’s palpable in the air that separates you from him. You hope one day it solidifies — turns into some protective barrier — but it never will. 

It starts like it always does. The slicing of the threshold, brittle like eggshells and bones. You don’t think about it as he presses his lips to yours. You keep your mind full of other thoughts because if it’s empty, there’s more room for worse things. Bitter things. A man can only stare at a meal for so long before his hunger consumes him. You are liquid. A flowing being molding into the shape of his body as his torso pinches your legs against the recliner. It’s easier to give in. Hurts less. Angers Simon less. Even with that monster gone you behave because the walls have eyes. Dark brown irises that do nothing but stare and smirk. 

“Ow!”

But you still have your limits, and your body aches more often than it is numb these days, and Johnny’s hands haven’t grown any softer. He paws at you with claws that can’t retract and you wince. Your breasts are sore from weeks — no, months — of abuse. They’re silent wounds that will not heal and always, always scream. 

Then, it stops. 

Johnny’s hands retract from your body at the same time as his lips do, leaving you breathlessly dumbfounded. Blinking away the confusion, your eyes settle on Johnny who retreats back to sitting on his haunches. Blue eyes shimmer in the late summer sun as he shifts. For once, you are the one above him instead of the other way around. He looks up at you as if you’re an angel—

—as if he’s begging for forgiveness. 

“Did Ah hurt you?” he asks. 

“Uh… a-a little bit,” you admit stiffly. 

“A’m sorry.” 

There’s something in his eyes that unsettle you. You think back to that night when his body thrashed and squirmed next to you on the bed, fear reverberating through the mattress. Panicked and screaming; unable to rip himself from some nightmare. How he screamed about wanting to go home. Your stomach twists at the very thought, and it only gets worse when you realize that — for once — he looks more human than mutt. 

“It’s okay. I… I know you didn’t mean it,” you whisper. 

“Never. Ah would never hurt you,” he concurs. A breadth of stillness freezes the room and for the longest time you hear nothing but the chatter of birds. Johnny reaches for you with a singular hand, and rests it on top of your leg, heavy and warm. “Bonnie, are ye afraid of me?” 

Vocal chords turning to stone, your throat seizes as you attempt to answer. “No,” you lie. Cautious eyes flicker to the walls around you like they’ll crumble at any moment. Something slices through the prostration in your chest, and a strange cogitation flickers in the back of your mind. It’s as strong as it is terrifying, but you find your body executing it before you’re able to stop it. “But… Simon does. He terrifies me.” 

Johnny’s mouth fills with well meaning mirth. “He’s scary alright, but he won’t hurt ye. Simon’s not like that.” 

“I’m still worried he might,” you admit. A hesitant hand reaches out and rests over Johnny’s. The smile on his face quickly melts away into surprise as he stares up at you with parted lips. “But you wouldn’t let that happen. Right?” 

“Never.” His response is quick. Sharp and eager as he leans closer. His other hand comes up to rest upon yours, sandwiching you into a small embrace. “Cannae ever let anythin’ bad happen to ye.” 

Something shudders in your chest. Your diaphragm, maybe. It quivers and quakes as if you hold a bird’s nest within yourself. Foreign words begin to scratch at the back of your tongue, tickling your throat. You know well enough to bite them back, but as you stare at Johnny’s smile — lips pulled wide — someone stronger chokes the words out for you. 

“You’re so good to me, Johnny,” you whisper, voice whiny as you scoot forward in the recliner. Slipping your hand out of his grasp, your palms instead reach up to cup his face. His smile fades into parted lips and bated breath as your thumbs rub against abrasive stubble. You don’t think you’ve ever seen his eyes dilate so wide before. “Such a good boy, aren’t you?” 

“Ah try tae be,” he swallows. 

“I know you do.” 

It takes an eternity for your lips to meet his. Just when you think you’ve halved the distance, it only grows, and you’re unsure if it’s because of the scream of betrayal in your chest, or something worse. He groans when your bodies finally reunite, and you play into the fantasy his sick brain is infested with. Precious Bonnie. So supple and pliant in his hands. If only he knew you were this soft because muscles cannot properly tense around broken bones. 

You pull Johnny onto the recliner by his collar, but you ensure you’re the one to land on top. Legs spreading wide to accommodate his thighs, your knees squish into the sides of the arm rests, sending journals and pencils flying to the ground. When he paws at your chest again, you bite back the urge to push him away. To slice your nails through the back of his hand. Fingers pressing into tender flesh, he stares up at you like he’s finally able to feel the heart beating beneath his palms. 

“You wanna fuck me?” Those words sting on the way out, but you attempt to distract yourself from the pain as you grind down onto Johnny’s lap. He nods, hips pathetically bucking up. “Yeah? Ask me, then.” 

Thick brows pinch together as he parts his lips. It’s as if his request is on the tip of his tongue, but his hands have a mind of their own. Wandering. Grabbing. Pinching. 

“No,” you chastise. “Use your words, Johnny.” 

“Please. Please, Bonnie.” It’s pathetic. He says the words like he’s speaking to Simon. 

“Good boy,” you coo. “Gentle now. Gentle, Johnny.” 

He fumbles with the fly of his jeans, all too eager. His cock hardly has time to spring free before he’s already making a mess. Precum drips everywhere, staining the band of your shorts as his reddened tip slaps against you. Too worried about keeping your power, you don’t bother to properly remove your clothes. Instead, you move the gusset of your shorts and panties to the side before sinking down onto him. This has to be quick. You promise yourself it will be. 

All the while, you remind Johnny to be gentle, gentle, gentle.

Even when you’re in control, it still hurts. There’s that stretch and sting as you split yourself open, but you take it slow. Steady. Unlike Johnny, you allow yourself to adjust. He’s panting beneath you by the time you fully take him. You feel so full of rot it upsets your stomach, but you try to mask your trembling with a gentle rock of your hips. His moan is cacophonous, and your fingers itch to dig into his throat and render his vocal chords useless, but you relent. 

Always, always relenting. 

There is an intense appetency for blood that itches in the back of your mind. Even as you fake your moans and rock your hips, you want to take your hands and dig. Fingers piercing through flesh, cutting through bone; you wouldn’t stop until Johnny’s heart is in the palm of your hands. Still beating. Still fresh. You could squeeze it for an eternity and it still would only be a fraction of the pain you’ve been made to endure. 

You hate him. You hate him like a mother hates her daughter. Like how eyes hate mirrors. How the sun hates flesh. 

“Johnny?” you choke out. “Do you love me?” 

It takes him a moment to catch his breath, mouth stuck open as he stares up at you. “Aye. So much, Bonnie.” 

“Yeah? So you’d do anything for me?” you challenge. You try not to wince as he butts up against your cervix, but you know you can’t afford to stop. 

“Aye.”

“Anything I ask?”

“Anythin’ ye ask. Fuck, Bonnie A’m-” 

“I love you, Johnny.” It’s acid. Pure bile on your tongue. You nearly choke on the words, but you repeat them again. “I love you so much.”  

You hide your face in the crook of his neck when he comes. Thick fingers dig into your hips as you hold still, allowing him to spill his seed inside of you like he always does. His pulse throbs against your lips and you restrain the urge to take the artery into your maw and bite down. There’s nothing in your mouth but pathetic, brittle teeth. You don’t even think you could break through his skin. Still, you dream of it. Running the tips of your fingers along Johnny’s jaw, you yearn for a day when you have the weapons and tools to free yourself. It’s a long, agonizing process. One you’re not sure you have the patience for. 

And so, when you lean back to look at him, you stare at his lips. Soak up the way the delicate skin parts as he smiles up at you, allowing you to catch sight of his teeth. You might not have sharp canines, but he does. You know first hand the way they can dig into your lip and draw blood from skin. Fingers twitching, you yearn to pull the canines from his mouth, to wield them for yourself, but you know you’re not strong enough. 

But maybe, someday, you can be the guiding hand. Point a finger and say go fetch and have Simon’s head delivered to you. That day is too far over the horizon for you to view, but the vision of it is so clear in your mind that it’s enough for now. Right now, you’ve taken the first step.

“Good boy,” you croon as you thumb over his bottom lip. “Good boy, Johnny.” 

You’ll just have to keep walking.

[amorfista]

"Beach lookout's nap"

The Dad Batch (and Omega) deserve a day of blissful relaxation, I don't think there's anyone out there who wouldn't agree!

While Tech is taking the best nap of his life [Part 1], Omega and Wrecker joined efforts to make the coolest sand-Tipoca city [Part 2] there is out there!

Echo and Hunter might have gotten concerned about the ruckus [Part 3] that these two started to cause...

Crosshair, on the other hand...?

He couldn't give a flying kark.

...or least that's what it would seem like.

Even through a slit of sight, nothing escapes the skillful sniper's eyes. Watching his brothers (and sister) from the distance, he peacefully swings on his hammock, a couple of meters above the ground and (hopefully) far away enough from the mischief that is, apparently, stirring among his siblings.

This state of bliss comes to a halt however, when the crackle of a comm breaks through the sounds of nature.

“Omega to Crosshair, come in Crosshair!”

.

.

.

"For the love of the Maker", he thinks to himself.

Admitting his defeat, Crosshair opened his eyes fully and stared at the palm leaves above, casually spotting a palm weevil crawling over them within a split second.

He took a deep breath as he pressed the button of his own commlink, making sure to drag his words to let Omega know of his displeasure as he spoke:

"What do you want?"

TO BE CONTINUED!!!

Alright, alright, alright.

I know I said that I'd post a version with 1-2 tats and then the full body, but I just could NOT choose which tat to leave on😭 so now you get the zero tats as the "HC" version, and...

DON'T BE SHY, ZOOM THE HECK IN!

(also i know that he shouldn't have an ice vulture in this hc where he never left the batch so he never met Mayday, whoops)(SORRY FOR THE HUGE POST TOO)

This was so. Much. Fun. Not all the tats have a HUGE, INTRINCATE meaning but, honestly? I'm just SO HAPPY with the result.

Some of the tats are very pretty so, I thought I'd clean them up and show you guys! Might even make stickers in the future!

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

@arcsimper5 THANK YOU SOOO MUCH for the hammock idea, plus the wonderful story that you've written around my drawings!! You're a sweetheart!!♥♥♥

@grinningnexu THANK YOU! for the thousand amazing tattoo ideas!

@nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius THANK YOU TOO! for the ice vulture idea; I'll make a sketch for his back tomorrow!! ♥

@wwheeljack @freesia-writes the no-tat version is the og now XD

I'm very, very happy about the drawing. The colors and background were super fun to make. The perspective might be wonky but I don't mind, I'll get better at it eventually xD

I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT AND AS PER USUAL, THANK YOU SOOO MUCH FOR THE FEEDBACK AND LOVE!!! 💗💗💗

Taglist: (PM or @ to join!)

@dukeoftheblackstar @justalittletomato @darthmaulshispanichousewife @botherbother-blog @aftergloom @badolmen @ihaventpickedausername @ohboi @stardustbee @nik-barinova @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @gen-has-green-vibes @ejfivercommander @herbalinz-of-yesteryear @eyecandyeoz @noesqape @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @staycalmandhugaclone @callmesunny04 @ginnymilling @sunshinesdaydream @blueink-bluesoul @cloneloverrrrr @moon-wrecked @idontgetanysleep @tech-aficionado @followthepurrgil @renton6echo @queen-jiru @shoe-bag @eyayah123 @eloquentmoon @and-loth-cat @ladyzirkonia @stardusthuntress @bambambunny

[corellianhounds]

The reason Mando does so many “side quests” is because he’s poor. He has to work for everything. He lives a self-sufficient life on the road bringing money back to his tribe to support them because Mandalorians aren’t safe and can only show their faces in town one at a time or they’re perceived as a danger because of how they look and what reputation is attributed to that appearance by many people. Almost every single episode has somebody picking a fight with Mando over the armor when he’s literally just standing there. He has to fight, scrap, save, barter, trade, and work for every single thing he has because the alternative is dying, or people he cares about dying. It doesn’t matter if it’s because they’re attacked or because they literally don’t have the money to eat, most of the Mandalorians we’ve seen live hand to mouth day by day, surviving out of sheer willpower and working together

Season 1 Episode 2: His only means of transportation (/place of living) is scavenged for parts and stolen in pieces. He’s forced to negotiate with the ones who took his stuff and do a job for them so he can get it all back before then having to rebuild the ship (when he shouldn’t have to trade anything for it to begin with)

Season 1 Episode 4: He wants somewhere safe and unassuming he can lay low with the kid and agrees to scare off some local bandits so he can have lodging. His original long term plan was to stay on Sorgan for a few months— He’s willing to fight the bandits and the Walker because that village was where he was given somewhere to eat and sleep and because he had intended to live there long term

Season 1 Episode 5: The hunter that found them on Sorgan forces him to acknowledge he’s not allowed to remain sedentary. He tries to go back to his old job, working as a bounty hunter for money; he and the kid can live on the ship, though it isn’t ideal, but he needs food, fuel, and immediate ship repairs. The betrayal of the gunslinger and confirmation from a target that word of him breaking the Guild Code has reached the literal farthest reaches of the Outer Rim solidifies that he can’t be a legitimate hunter anymore and that people who recognize him or the kid (or recognize them because they’re together) will be gunning for the reward, leading to—

Season 1 Episode 6: Mando going back to the only other life and means of making money he’s known, working shady jobs with criminals in the hope of receiving payment. The job proves even more unpredictable and dangerous than the last one and puts him back at square one again.

Season 2 Episode 1: Mando is a well-rounded character who’s been given an objective outside of just surviving to the next day. He only ends up in Mos Pelgo because he needs information, and he only agrees to fight the Krayt dragon because— as a well-rounded character— he’s promised culturally important relics of his people that he holds in the highest respect. The armor of a dead Mandalorian being given the proper respect (showing the honor he has for his people) is shown to be tied in importance with the kid. At least he’s given some food for the road because it’s clear he wasn’t being paid any money in addition to it.

Season 2 Episode 2: Chasing the barest lead on information about other Mandalorians forces him to take the dangerous passage he does; he only ends up having to survive the ice planet because of the threat of incarceration if he didn’t run. He’s not being paid in money here either AND his ship is literally barely holding together. If it was a horse he’d have to shoot it.

Season 2 Episode 3: Bo-Katan is his last lead on information about a Jedi. The child needs a Jedi teacher so he’ll be safe. By this point Mando is desperate and BKK forces him to do a dangerous job in exchange for information. He’s not getting any money this season because all of the jobs he does are in exchange for information and it’s a lot easier to manipulate and force people who need a favor from you to do whatever you tell them because you have something more specific than money they can’t get anywhere else. He doesn’t have enough money to cover a good fix of the Crest but doesn’t have anything to leverage against the mechanic who did a partial job for all the money he did have left, meaning—

Season 2 Episode 4: He has to call in a favor from a friend. Karga’s willing to cover his fuel, repairs, and docking fees, but oh Mando while you’re here I have this pesky Imperial infestation and since it’ll take a while for your ship to be repaired and you’re not busy…

Season 2 Episode 5: Now he’s finally found a Jedi. Now he may finally be able to give the kid to somebody who can protect him and teach him how to protect himself. Now the kid may finally be able to live a long, safe life, even if it means it can’t be with him. Oh right except this Jedi says she isn’t really a Jedi anymore, and also she’s kind of busy, but maybe she’ll think about it if you help her do her own thing in liberating a town—

Only for Ahsoka to then go back on her deal because she has her own thing going on. Considering how important the whole Thrawn mission is shown to be later, I’m not all that convinced she was ever going to take the kid as an apprentice. She may have been on the fence and maybe considered doing it if Elsbeth didn’t give any information up, but if the whole Ahsoka show was about her search for Thrawn, it’s obvious she has a lot more involvement in that than she’d be able to afford if she took the kid as her ward. The idea that the kid’s too attached to Mando for her to take him as a student seems like a pretty convenient excuse considering she knows this guy has zero clue about anything to do with the Jedi. It doesn’t matter if she’s right or not, she could have been upfront about having more pressing matters she was devoted to.

And then the rest of season 2 is the bigger plot. Episodes 1, 3, 7, and 8 of Season 1 were plot.

Mando has to live life on the road in a dangerous and unpredictable galaxy doing dangerous and unpredictable jobs. He’s poor. He’s a survivalist. He’s desperate. He makes friends because interpersonal ties are often the only other form of currency he has, and those ties still often come with requests for favors or work in exchange for what they can do for him. Hardly anybody is giving him anything, and even when they do, he still feels obligated to pay them back.

[wardenparker]

Bones Full of Words, ch 1

Javier Peña x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

“He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy.

He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 8.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: sex work, time period appropriate sexism, alcohol, food/eating, talk of weight or size, fatphobia (sometimes internalized and sometimes not)* Nudity, body positivity, talk of oral sex, discussion of/evidence of abuse from a sexual partner, physical abuse of sex workers, groping, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex. Summary: Two Americans are both regular customers of the local brothels in Bogotá, which is a tie that will bring their fates together in ways they could never expect. Notes: For this series, please note that reader is American and speaks fluent Spanish! There is no indication of how she knows the language, whether or not it relates to her background, or anything specific like that. In order to make the story flow as best as humanly possible, it is written entirely in English (the writers' first language) but most of the time the characters are speaking in Spanish with each other. That is simply the nature of the beast with this exciting story to come, and we hope you enjoy!

Bogotá, Colombia 1987

Prostitution is the oldest profession in the world. Removed from the skills that took the cavemen beyond the hunter/gatherer roles that had prevailed during the ends of the last Ice Age and had allowed less nomadic lifestyles. Farming and growing crops had become possible and their limited technology had slowly advanced from rocks and sticks to weapons and electricity. Still, selling sex was the same. Except instead of food or hides in exchange for a warm cunt, it was cash and sometimes information.

Who knows if things are any more or less complicated now than they used to be. Or if things haven't basically stayed the same on an emotional level as the whole world has changed around its oldest profession. Whether the women and men who make their hard-earned living providing pleasure, solace, and distraction even waste their time thinking about how things used to be. It isn't what you talk about with them, anyway. Coming to Medellín's brothels isn't something you do for philosophy or soul searching. You, like so many other customers, are here because you need something. And, like so many others, it seems like the thing you came for is not what the workers here know you actually need. Coming to these women for information had turned into some very real friendships over the course of the few months you have been in Colombia, though that was never your intention for coming to see Freckles and Vanessa in the beginning.

Vanessa stands in front of the mirror, her back to you, long black hair cascading down her back to her bare ass. Plumping her lips, she reapplies the dark pink lipstick that compliments her tawny skin. Dark eyes flickering over to you as you lay in the bed, just as naked. She smirks slightly and goes back to her task. “You never try out any of the men here.” She observes. “Why?”

"Women are better at eating pussy," you reply through a haze of smoke, enjoying the ritual of a post-orgasm cigarette. It's a pithy reply, but telling her the truth feels too vulnerable. Or maybe it's too vulnerable and too dirty. It's probably both.

She snorts. “Then you haven’t met the right kind of men.” She turns around, her nudity something that she’s completely unashamed of, especially with someone that she had just fucked. “One of my favorite pussy eaters will be here later.”

"I hope I'm on that list, too." The grin you flash her is playful, not serious in the least, although you do hope she doesn't dread seeing you come through the door as a customer. Just because you like to chat afterward and have occasionally spent time together outside of these walls doesn't mean you're at the top of her client list.

“Favorite male pussy eater.” She clarifies, walking over to you and leaning down to press her newly colored lips to yours and steal a puff of your cigarette. “Surprisingly attentive. But you are my favorite customer overall.”

"You flatter me." Careful not to smudge her lipstick, you shift slightly on the bed to offer her a place to lounge if she wants to. Vanessa is one of the only people you don't mind laying around entirely naked with – she's been upfront with you about her love of plump women and made you feel very beautiful along with it.

She lays down and passes the filtered Marlboro back to you. It’s nice to have the American cigarettes when you are here. She sighs softly. “La Quica was here a few days ago.” She tells you quietly, her fingers finding the meat of your thigh and she caresses it gently.

"In a mood, or feeling cocky?" You ask, running the fingers of your free hand through her hair. She likes the soothing motion and it helps you think. Whenever La Quica comes by he either crows like a cartoon bird or he broods and ends up scaring the shit out of some of the girls.

“Freckles is…recovering.” She admits, her jaw tense and teeth clenched together. “Which is going to put Javier in a mood when he finds out.”

"Javier's your other pussy eater?" The gentle question comes with filing away the information that you should go and check on Freckles before you leave today.

She hums in agreement and sighs, flipping onto her side and watching her fingers as they move over your skin. “He’s another American. DEA.”

The way you have to put decided effort into not tensing or physically reacting to this information in any way leaves your blood feeling like ice. While you might not spend the majority of your day-to-day at the American Embassy, you surely spend enough time there gathering quotes and following leads to know who Javier the American DEA agent is. Swallowing down the information and filing it away for later, you stub out the butt of your cigarette and bend your leg to give Vanessa something to lean against. "Oh yeah? Another American?" You force some amusement into your voice and smirk at her teasingly. "I think you might have a type, Nessa."

“You pay more.” She teases back, smirking as she slides her hand up to cup your cunt. “Of course I like Americans.”

"Clever," you tease, rolling your eyes at her like she's told a joke instead of making an incredibly practical decision.

Laughing, her hand drifts up to your breast. “Don’t be offended.” She huffs. “I like you a lot more than most of the people who pay for my time.”

"I'm not offended," you tell her honestly. "It's good decision making if nothing else." The threat of an incoming casual acquaintance does make you think twice about hanging around though, and you glance at your watch on the nightstand before leaning over to kiss her again. "You're more than just my favorite fuck, Nessa," you assure her with a wink. "You're also my friend, and I'm not going to begrudge you the chance to make as much money as you can off whoever walks through that door."

She can tell you are ready to get dressed. There’s an impatience to most Americans when they are restless. An undercurrent to their tone, even in Spanish. You and Javier are very much alike in that way, which is ironic.

Sitting up, you pause for a moment before leaning back again to look her in the eyes. “Is Freckles okay? Really?” La Quica can be…well, violent is being generous. And the sicarios tend to view working girls as punching bags as much as anything else.

“She will be.” Vanessa promises, sitting up and climbing off the bed again. “Helena is looking after her. The girls are all pitching in to pay for anything she needs.”

That makes you frown, and you reach for your purse. Pulling out double the money you would usually pay and handing it to Vanessa, you shake your head when she sighs softly in reticence. "Take it," you insist, still holding out the bills. "The least I can do is contribute to the funds."

“You don’t need to do that.” She reluctantly takes it after you refuse to take half of it back. “I’ll give it to Freckles.” She promises.

“If I knew a doctor or a nurse I could trust, I’d bring them in and foot the bill myself.” Not having that resource when they clearly need it needles at you, but there is quite nothing you can do about it in this moment. “If she ends up needing more, or needing a doctor, will you promise to tell me?” Even if Vanessa promises there is only a fifty or so percent chance she’ll actually do it, but your concern stands.

“I will.” Vanessa sighs as she puts the cash away in a drawer. It’s dangerous to leave money out when another client could come in. Especially American dollars. “We took her to the clinic the nuns run. They need nurses but it was better than no one.”

“Good.” You’re swift to dress — a basic personal uniform of panties, bra, jeans, and a blouse never needing much fuss. It does get you a few odd looks when you go around the embassy in denim but to most of the employees there you’re that journalist already anyway. “Is it okay if I come around again in a few days to check on my favorite girls?” If La Quica got physical there was a reason for his anger. Some of the other girls might be next, and if that happens you want to know.

“You never need to ask if you can come by.” Vanessa turns and sends you a sultry smirk and a wink. Even though the sex is nothing more than a business transaction, she enjoys spending time with you. Plus there were interesting conversations with the girls about the two Americans that visit this brothel.

"I don't want you guys to start dreading my appearance." It's easy to brush it off with a wink and a smile. You both do it. Freckles does it. Helena does it. You've met a million men in your life who do it. A wink and a smile lets everything slide off your back – until the middle of the night when every awful though comes back to haunt you. But for now you grab your purse and lean over to give Vanessa one more kiss before she lights another cigarette. "See you later, Nessa."

“Later, love.” Her relationship with you is complicated and easy. You fuck, you talk, you go about your day. The fact that she knows more about you than you know about yourself is a non-issue right now. “You should go on a date.” She calls out with a laugh. “You’re too pretty to pay all the time.”

"Easier said than done, gorgeous!" You call back, and wave once before turning down the hallway that leads to the front door.

Taking a drag off her cigarette, she smiles as she blows out the smoke at the ceiling. If you only knew how alike you were to your soulmate, you would hate it.

******

The sun has set while you've been inside. Going to see Vanessa was a spur of the moment decision after a lead on a story didn't pan out and you had decided that fucking away your frustration was the way to go. Now, as you slip out the front door of the brothel and out of the gate to where you parked your junker of a car up the street, Bogotá is starting to take on its second life. There will be plenty of noise and people dancing the night away at the restaurant two floors under your apartment, and the white noise of an active city will lull you to sleep tonight just like it has for your whole life.

Javier Peña steps out of his Jeep, pulling at his belt slightly from where the jeans don’t sit quite right and shakes his hand as he walks towards the brothel. Feeling jittery and slightly needy as he steps in the familiar path. Helena couldn’t come to him for some reason, busy with her kid or something, so he had decided to take her up on her suggestion to visit Vanessa. She is a good time as well and normally had information to sell. The woman walking towards him looks familiar, but he can’t place where he’s seen her, striding by confidently with her purse firmly in hand. She doesn’t even spare him a glance but he can’t help but twist his head around and watch the curvy ass bounce past him tauntingly, making his cock twitch in his jeans as he imagines what it would be like to push inside her. Fuck. He needs to get laid.

"Hey, Javi." One of the newer girls is milling around in the front room when he comes in, but new or otherwise, all the girls have heard about the American DEA agent with deep pockets and a taste for their company. They're also always told that he has favorites, but every one of the new girls thinks they could be his new favorite if they just try.

“Hey…” he scrounges for her name. “Rita.” He sends her an easy smile and looks around to see if he can spot Vanessa. Rita is pretty, but he’s certain that Helena pointed him towards Vanessa for a reason. “‘Nessa with a client or she available?” He asks, looking back at the other girl with an assessing look. She’s a little young for him, but she’s pretty.

Rita's smile droops instantly, and she huffs as she turns to move behind the bar that they keep stocked in the front room. "Her last customer just left," she tells Javi, and points toward Vanessa's room.

“Thanks.” He nods at her, aware that she’s pouty that he’s not letting her take him to her room, but he doesn’t dwell on it as he walks down the hall towards the brightly painted door. This brothel is nicer than some, almost elegant. Shuffling slightly, he wishes he had a cigarette as he knocks.

"Come in!" Vanessa hasn't bothered to get dressed since you left, just thrown on a thin robe and tidied up the bed to sprawl out on it for a while until Javi comes by.

Javi quickly opens the door, eyes immediately drinking in the casual pose and skimpy clothing and hums in approval. “Vanessa.”

"Javier." She purrs his name happily, shifting on the bed to turn subtly in his direction but also so she can watch his eyes drag down to her cunt as she spreads her legs. He looks hungry today. "Come all the way in, handsome."

The door is kicked closed behind him and he’s not wearing a jacket, so it’s one less thing to shuck as he starts to undress. Obviously Vanessa knows why he’s here, but her cunt is slick with arousal and he wonders if she was playing with herself before he showed up.

Hungry. She was right. Vanessa pushes up onto her knees on the mattress and tangles her fingers in Javi's shirt. It pulls him closer but also helps him undress faster, which is something he clearly needs tonight. "Did you miss me that much, baby?" She hums, running her other palm along his chest as soon as his skin is bared.

He almost rolls his eyes at the endearment, but he doesn’t. He knows some men like their egos stroked, but he would rather she pay attention to his cock. Leaning forward, he answers her with a kiss, hot and urgent as his hands peel the robe off her lithe body. Suddenly thinking about the rounded curves on the woman he had passed coming in.

Alright. No need for verbal foreplay this time. Vanessa checks that effort off the list and haul Javi into her bed. He'll fuck first and talk later if he even needs to talk at all, so she pushes him down on his back and works open his jeans to have his cock in her hands as fast as he needs it.

The girls here always give him what he needs and he breaks away from her lips to start kissing down her chest to take a nipple into his mouth. He loves sex, losing himself in it and finding that it blocks out the doubt, the worry. The guilt. It’s forgotten as he chases that bliss that settles into his bones after an orgasm.

His jeans go, tossed on the floor without a second thought just like his shirt, and Vanessa doesn’t care about it either. Javi never wears underwear so it’s always directly to the point — his cock in her mouth and down her throat, fingers wrapped around the base until he grunts and twitches on her tongue. That’s when he pulls her off and gets her on her hands and knees instead, fucking the life and sense out of her as he tries to block out whatever demons follow so closely at his heels that he has been running from them every day for years without gaining any ground. In other moods, he’ll take his time or have her different ways. But when he’s hungry like this it’s always animalistic and needy. With Javi, she and Freckles and Helena don’t have to fake their noises. Or their orgasms. But they do have to fake nonchalance about his life. They know far more than he realizes.

His fingers slide between the folds of her sex and he groans. “So wet.” He quickly coats them in the slick and pushes two thick fingers deep inside her, loving way her breath catches in her throat. “I know it’s not for me.” He hums, flicking his tongue over her nipple. “But I’m going to use it.”

“She always gets wet for you, Javi.” Vanessa promises him, and that isn’t bluster. Some of their clients require more than a fair share of lube just to make things palatable. Javi? Not at all. He might be paying but he’s still giving pleasure while he takes it.

He snorts, smirking slightly at the curve of her breast as he pumps his fingers in and out of her. “Have you cum today?” He wants to know so he can make sure that if she’s hadn’t, he would make her cum more than once.

“T—twice.” His long fingers reach deeper inside her than yours had and Vanessa’s head tips back on a moan so he can hear her loud and clear.

“Hmmmm.” Javier isn’t jealous, he has no reason or right to be. She isn’t his. “Good, sweetheart. Then you can cum for me and then I won’t feel bad about putting your legs up on my shoulders and making you soak your bed.”

She doesn’t doubt that he could do it. He’s made Freckles cum so hard her vision whited out, and Helena had told them the story of a time she had gone to his place for a marathon session when he was particularly frustrated about something to do with work. She doesn’t doubt him, but she’s also not asking for any miracles. “Whatever you want to do,” she reminds him, voice strained just a touch from the angle her head is tipped back at.

He knows that’s how the game is played, but he doesn’t particularly like when his partners don’t enjoy themselves. “Good girl.” He murmurs, taking advantage of her head being pressed back into the pillow as he works her cunt on his fingers. His kisses have a little bit of teeth to them. Not enough to mark, but scrapes to hear her moan when he drags his teeth over her pulse. “Your cunt feels so good around my fingers, beautiful.”

“It’ll feel even better around your cock,” she reminds him, sighing happily with the next thrust of his hand and wrapping her own back around his hard on.

“I know it will.” He growls, working her on his fingers as he feels the need start to build in his body. Waiting will make it even more relaxing when he finally cums. Pouring out his frustrations and fears into the willing body of this beautiful woman and quieting the doubts that rattle around in his head.

Javier Peña fucks, and paid or otherwise, everyone who had ever gone to bed with him know this. The only emotions he is consciously pouring out areas the frustrations of the day and a desperate need to feel, so the woman in his arms is always going to feel him just as deeply as he feels his frustrations. Vanessa’s hips jerk against his palm, writhing with the tempo of his ministrations, until she gladly throws her head back to keen his name for at least the first time tonight.

He loves women. Their smell, their sounds, the way they tremble under a touch that is making them quiver in pleasure. “Cum for me.” He still thinks about that other woman, the thicker woman from the street. Wondering if she had been here. He pushes that thought away when Vanessa clenches down around his fingers again. “That’s it.”

"Fuck, Javi." She'll give him the satisfaction of seeing her all sprawled out and panting for him for a few seconds before she moves again. It isn't hard, after all. The two clients she's had today are her favorites for a reason.

His wet fingers caress her hip before he’s turning her onto her stomach and pulling her to her knees. “Beautiful.” He groans, bending down to kiss along her back.

"And now you've got this pretty pussy dripping all over again," she purrs, looking back at him over her shoulder.

His cock lines up easily and he snaps his hips forward to buried himself deep, knowing she can take it. “Fuck.” He hisses, loving how her cunt squeezes him tight. “Fuck.”

Not so long as to be painful, but long enough and thick enough to make her feel incredibly feel, Vanessa rolls her hips back to him and lowers herself onto her elbows to brace herself against whatever pace he decides to set. "Feels so fucking good, baby." She loves not having to lie or perform, the time she spends with Javi is much more desirable for it.

He gives her a moment, knowing that he is girthy enough to need to adjust to him. It doesn’t matter how many men she fucks daily. He groans and twitches inside her. “So good, sweetheart.” He hums. “So good.”

Vanessa lets him set the pace once she's adjusted to the feel of him inside her, rocking back into his hips and letting out an encouraging moan. If Javi needs to relieve his stress, she will happily help him with that. He doesn’t start out full tilt. Letting the pace build until the slap of his hips against her ass is just as loud as his grunts, her muffled cries. Every thrust a release for him and making him pull back quicker. Losing himself in her body.

The rhythm of their bodies and creak of the shaking bed weave a kind of hypnotic trance for both of them, letting them dissolve into animalistic sounds of greed and need without any need for traditional vocabulary. It's the perfect escape from thought – something everyone needs at least once in a while. Only the smell of sex and sweat and the sound of fucking fills their senses as Javi and Vanessa work to fuck each other breathless.

His fingers dig into her hips, holding her steady as he plows into her. Watching her ass bounce and shake from the force of his thrusts. It’s not going to last too much longer from the way his body is start to prime itself and he hunches over her, sliding fingers to her clit to rub that sensitive little nub.

Vanessa's panting picks up, her back bowed and her cheek against the crumpled blankets while he moves over her at an increasingly frantic pace. He's close and she wants him to take everything he needs on the way.

“Fuck.” Javi hisses, gritting his teeth to hold back. “Come on, Vanessa, give me one more.” He begs. “Cum for me.”

She's close enough that his next thrust pushes a groan out of her along with a whimper of assent, and if he were the kind of man who was into that she would be calling him Papí and begging him to let her cum. Javi has never been much for permissions or honorifics, though. There's an honesty to the fierocity that he fucks with that Vanessa appreciates.

“Fuck, that’s it, cum. Cum!” He growls, pulling her upright and holding her against his body as his thrusts sharply into her.

The force of his thrusts and the change in angle pushes her over the edge with a rapturous cry, and Vanessa clings to his arm to make sure she doesn't fall over as he chases his own orgasm with unyielding thrusts. The gush of her cunt makes him moan in her ear. Eyes closing in bliss as he gives in to the needs of his body and thrusts deep a final time. Pouring hot waves of himself into her body as he wrings himself dry.

"Fuck, Jav." Vanessa laughs, her legs wobbling as he hangs onto her and keeps them both upright. It just a minute they'll tip over and end up sharing a cigarette sprawled out on her bed, which makes it the second time today that she'll have done that with a client.

“You’ll have to give me a minute if you want to go again.” Javier pants in her ear, smirking and kissing her lobe gently to make up for the marks of his teeth that were made while he was cumming. He tends to bite unconsciously but always soothes it away.

"Take your time." She chuckles, stretching luxuriously as they both plop down on the mattress to catch their breath.

He chuckles and pats her hip as he eases out of her. Sighing in satisfaction and staring up at the ceiling.

There is enough routine here – enough knowledge of each other – that Vanessa reaches over to the nightstand and pulls out a cigarette and her lighter, savoring the first drag herself before handing it over to Javi. If he wants to talk he will, and he almost always does. But sometimes he enjoys a few minutes to just think of nothing, so she won't take that from him.

The cigarette is gladly accepted, breathed into his lungs and he lets the nicotine spreads through his system and mellows him even more. “I didn’t see Freckles or Helena.” He observes quietly.

"Freckles is...resting." Enigmatic replies don't go far with Javi, Vanessa knows that, but since she knows he's going to be angry she hopes that he'll just accept it for once. Highly unlikely, of course, but a girl can hope.

He catches the hesitation and he braces himself for the answer to the question that he will ask. “Who?” He asks simply, knowing she will understand what he means.

Vanessa sighs, pinching her eyes shut and wishing she hadn't said anything. "La Quica."

Javier tenses, his hand that had been stroking her thigh freezes. “Bad?”

"She'll be okay." She will. At least that isn't a lie or simply wishful thinking. Freckles will be fine. But right now she doesn't look it.

Javi turns his head and his eyes bore into hers, gauging the truth in them. “What set him off?” He asks, sitting up and reaching for his pants.

"He was too drunk to keep it up and he blamed it on her." It's not as though he was the first client to have that problem by any means, or the first to be angry about it, or the first to take it out on the girl he had hired. La Quica just has a particular ability to always take things too far. "It's not like it's a new problem around here."

He knows that. The girls have a dangerous job and some of the unfortunate ones had paid the highest price when their client got too angry, or vicious. He clenches his jaw as he pulls out his wallet and pulls out several folded hundred-dollar bills. “Give this to her.” He tells Vanessa, twisting around to hand her the money.

"Javi..." She shakes her head, it being the second time today that she's been offered far too much money to help Freckles by someone who technically owes the girls nothing.

“Take it.” He waves it towards her again. It will all be expensed out anyway. Why not let some of Uncle Sam’s money go where it can actually help for once? She reluctantly takes it and Javi relaxes slightly. “My partner’s wife is a nurse.” He offers. “I could bring Freckles to her.” From what he’s seen from Steve Murphy, he would never let his pretty little wife near a brothel, but he could have her come to his apartment.

"Between you and–" Vanessa shuts her mouth and shakes her head again, but tucks the bills away in the same drawer where she put your donation to Freckles' well being. "We have enough to pay." She tells him, grateful that he would offer regardless. "It doesn't have to be a charity case."

“It’s not charity.” Javier steps into his jeans and pulls them up over his hips, tucking his cock away. The idea of another round was killed by the grim realities of the professions they work in. He wonders who she had been about to say, but figures it might be another regular. “You also need to put some away for when this isn’t an option.”

"What do Americans call it?" She looks up at him as he dresses and wishes the relaxed bubble of post-orgasm relaxation hadn't been popped so abruptly. "A rainy day fund?"

“Slush fund.” Javi huffs in amusement, turning towards her and deciding to sit back down and leans in to kiss her.

"That's it." The returned kiss is soothing. Appreciative. And slightly amused. "I knew I had heard something like that." From her other American regular customer. And what an irony that is.

“You should relax the rest of the night.” Javi murmurs, stealing one last kiss before he pulls away again. Needing to get dressed and see Carillo.

"I'll try." It's nice of him to suggest it, but she does have to work if someone shows up for her. That's how the job works.

Once he’s dressed, gun reattached to his hip, Javi reaches out and pinches her chin softly. “Be good.” He murmurs, winking at her before he turns around to walk out of her room.

"Never." Vanessa calls back, shaking her head a little as he strolls out into the hall and settling back on her bed. She'll clean up and then go and check on Freckles, but she's going to allow herself a second to breathe first.

Javi’s easy smile slips into a frown as he steps out of the brothel. The dim lap light makes him look even more forbidding as he pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. Taking a drag as he looks around the deserted street and then marches towards his jeep with the determined gait of a man on a mission.

******

A bare five minute later, Vanessa taps lightly on Freckles' door, the four rhythmic knocks letting the girls inside know it's one of them and not a customer. Helena opens the door a crack with worry in her eyes, but relaxes the second she sees Vanessa in her robe. "You've had a busy day," she observes, stepping back to let the other woman in and shutting the door tight behind her.

“Both of our favorite customers.” She snorts and walks towards the bed. Freckles looks horrible, her face still swollen and the bruises garish on her normally beautiful features. She sits down and takes her friend’s hand. “They both are upset you are ‘ill’.” She tells the other girl.

"Javi must be pissed if you told him the truth," Freckles observes, resting amongst her pillows and grateful for the respite of a few days to heal. Yesterday even talking was excruciating.

“I think that’s an understatement.” Vanessa murmurs, pulling the money out of her pocket and pressing it into Freckles’ hand. “Both of them were angry, but Javier left before round two.”

"That's furious in Javi terms." Helena leans over, inspecting the bills, and bites her lips when she looks back at Vanessa. "Both of them?" She asks, seeing the amount there.

She nods, shaking her head with a small chuckle. “So goddamn alike it’s almost comical.”

"Have they ever even met?" They haven't that Helena can remember, but it's not as though she keeps close tabs on either of them.

“Not that I know of.” She shrugs. “I honestly don’t know if they want to meet.” All three women have heard their views on soulmates.

"What if we want them to meet?" Freckles sips a glass of water and laughs at the very thought of it. "Can you imagine? Running into each other here of all places?"

The other two women laugh, knowing that each of you would be defensive for different reasons. “They might have seen each other on the street.” Vanessa admits. “She left right before Javi got here.”

"Does she even like men?" It had astonished Helena the first time she'd seen the matching marks for herself, but the fact of soulmates is pretty undeniable when it's right in front of her nose. "She always sees one of the three of us. I don't think I've ever even heard her talk about a man."

“She said that women are better pussy eaters, so I assume she has some male reference.” Vanessa laughs. “I don’t know for sure though.”

"And she's absolutely not wrong." Helena steals a drink of Freckles' water and lays back with Vanessa on her other side. "At least she won't be disappointed in her soulmate if they ever end up in bed together."

“I love the days Javi wants to go down on me.” Vanessa agrees. “Normally he wants me to ride after too.”

"You've got a thumbprint bruise blooming on your hip, baby." Helena observes with a tilt of her head. "Was he already worked up when he came in? He normally doesn't get rough otherwise."

“A little.” She admits with a grin. “It was more of a work up to that fast and furious pace that makes you squeal.”

"I almost hope that man never leaves the country." As much as she is trying to work things out and get away herself, Helena still has her doubts that it will pan out. In the meantime? She is very much appreciative of the few clients like Javi they have in their lives.

“I know, he has you come over to his apartment.” Vanessa nudges the other woman’s foot playfully. “Is it messy?”

“No messier than he is here.” Helena shrugs. Once, on a night that has become a very fun story that she keeps for just herself and her closest friends, Javi had actually made her squirt. That was messy.

“So….a little rough around the edges but mostly contained.” Freckles hums. “He’s probably the one man I could see falling for. As stupid as that is.”

“We’d all be in a hell of a lot of trouble if we let ourselves think like that,” Helena points out, despite having had the same thought more times than she cares to admit.

“I know, which is why I don’t let myself think like that unless things are really bad.” Right now, things are bad for her, so it’s a nice little escape.

“You dream all you want right now, honey.” Vanessa urges, soothing one hand over Freckles’ thigh in gentle strokes. “While I’m thinking of it…” she looks between the other girls. “Javi’s partner’s wife is a nurse. Said we can bring you to her to get you checked out. I honestly don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“Is it that bad?” Freckles ask, having been afraid to look in the mirror at the damage.

“I think you’ll heal just fine, sweetheart,” Vanessa assures her, her soothing hand doubling down on gentle gestures. “But she might be able to help with pain. Or getting it to settle down and heal faster. And…nicer.” They work in a job where their beauty is an asset, and it would not be the first time that a customer’s brutality left one of the girls without that particular asset, making it harder for her to work.

“Hopefully she’s not a bitch.” Freckles sigh, resigned to the fact that it would be a good idea. “Or think we are fucking her husband.”

“I don’t think he would have suggested it if he thought she would be a bitch to us,” Helena points out, though it might be wishful thinking.

“He doesn’t tolerate much shit.” Vanessa adds, wishing she had some alcohol to help them relax.

Helena nods, knowing that’s true, and adds: “And if she turns out to be a cunt? We’ll leave.”

“I will call him.” Helena offers, shooting them both a smile. “And maybe he will want me to stay after.” She jokes.

“Maybe.” Vanessa smiles, knowing that Helena is attached and that some of the girls suspect Javi might even be a little attached to her. Mostly the whispers are jealous, but Vanessa tries not to be.

Freckles hums and when she twists to get comfortable, she groans in pain. “I— if you think it’s alright.” She concedes softly.

“You should rest, honey.” Vanessa coos softly. “Helena will call Javi and find out when we can take you to the nurse. We’ll get you better in no time.”

Nodding, the injured woman closes her eyes and sighs softly, trying to relax.

******

It's past dark when you get home, the nightlife of Bogotá coming alive around you as the city pours out onto the streets to celebrate the night of another day. The club on the ground floor of your building has just opened for the night, and you slip past the bouncer with a friendly wave to have a drink and say hello before heading upstairs to solitude for the night. You do have work to do, but it's nice to at least see Inez and soak up a little of the atmosphere before it gets too busy. The crowds won't be out in earnest for another few hours.

Before you even sit down at the bar, there is a drink in front of you. Inez smiling at you as she leans back to grab her rag and wipe up a little of the condensation from another patron’s beer bottle. “Surprised to see you here.” She hums.

“I was feeling social.” Is your excuse, but it’s more like you know you’re probably going to be hunched over your typewriter for a while and you wanted something nice before resigning yourself to that fate. “Besides. You make the best Coco Loco in Bogotá, why would I miss out on that?”

“You shouldn’t.” She snorts, watching as you pick up the glass and take a sip. She likes the hum of approval you give and when your drink is already halfway down, she pours the rest of the drink from the mixer into the glass. “What have you been up to today?”

“Work. Mostly.” Even your stop to see Vanessa could technically be considered work since you learned a bit about the tone of what’s going on with the sicarios lately. “I have to write something up to send to my editor.”

“They can’t expect you to come down, spend a week and have the story of the year, can they?” Inez snorts, not sure why Americans are so interested in Colombia. She enjoys you being here, but it’s strange to think of how involved they are with her country.

“I need at least a few inches to prove it’s worth the expense of bankrolling me down here.” After about a month in the country you’ve only managed to send back copies of your notes and drafts of actual article inches. You’re working at it, but the story down here is so much larger than you thought that it’s taking time to get all the puzzle pieces together.

“Have you given any thought to my idea?” She asks, certain you have already dismissed it.

“Actually, I did.” Inez had been the one to suggest that the working girls of the city might have far more information than some others because of braggarts with wagging tongues. And she was very right. “They’ve been my best source so far, so thank you for that. Most of my running around the past few days has been following up on things they told me.” You’ve also been a paying customer since the suggestion was put to you, but your neighbor doesn’t necessarily need to know that. Inez has been a good friend but if you didn’t live across the hall from her she probably wouldn’t have given you a second thought, which is fine.

“Good.” She smirks slightly and shrugs. “They are a good group of girls. Just have some shitty luck.”

“Everybody has shitty luck sometimes. Nobody deserves to get judged for it.” You shrug a little, enjoying the alcoholic bite of the coconut cocktail. “Or judged for what their job is. And those girls get plenty of bullshit. I promise you, they’re not getting any grief from me.”

Another customer comes up to the bar, so Inez quickly shifts over to them, a bright smile and quick smatter of small talk to hopefully get better tips.

There isn’t much business yet, which is normal, but you take a few minutes to survey the early arrivals. There is a group of women that comes twice every week without fail — coworkers, a group between three or even six of them who come to each dinner and stay until the party picks up. You’ve figured out from eavesdropping and the types of clothes they arrive in that their office closes just as the club opens. A pair of men that you’ve seen before files in after them. They’ve been here twice before but tonight they look far more excited than the previous visits. Good for them, you think, smiling to yourself when you see their hands brush and fingers twine momentarily as they sit down in a booth.

The man who just sat two stools down from you at the bar is new. Or at least new to you. Inez bats her eyelashes and flirts, making an art of mixing his drink and gets a large bill handed to her in return. She winks as she walks away, back in your direction.

Sliding to a stop in front of you, she turns her head to make sure the man is occupied with the mirror over the bar that gives him a sweeping view of the place. “CIA.” She murmurs quietly, motioning over to him.

“Seriously?” You’ve seen them around the embassy but not often enough or close up enough that you would recognize one of them out in the wild. Clearly.

“Mmmmhmmmm.” She glances over at him again. “Maybe I should introduce you? Or you think you can manage that yourself?”

Glancing to your side again, you consider what better or worse end might come from that kind of thing and hum to yourself quietly. "If nobody shows up for him before his next round," you murmur to Inez, swirling the watery remains of your own drink. "Put the next one on my tab and tell him I sent it. We'll see if that gets him talking."

She smirks and nods. “You are a smart girl.” She promises before looking past you to take the ticket from on of the waitresses that work the booths.

"I do my best," you sigh as she walks away, but sometimes it really feels like your best just isn't enough.

The club starts to fill up, the music gradually increasing until it’s a thumping rhythm showcasing the hottest dance music. Bodies start to move, but the man next to you just watches the mirror.

“Waiting for someone?” It’s a risk. Chatting someone up at a bar is always a risk. But considering you know what he does, you’re going to switch to English and how he feels infatuated to talk to you just by virtue of being a compatriot.

It’s always intriguing to hear English, so he turns to look at you. Knowing that he recognizes you from somewhere around the Embassy. “Not really.” He admits, taking another sip of his drink and glancing at your left hand. “You?”

“Not really.” It’s a crap shoot with men, you’ve found. Whether they’re bothered by the fact that you’re not a stick or willing to go for any old cunt they think they can fuck. Women tend to have more appreciation for a plush figure. Thankfully this CIA agent only seems concerned with the lack of ring on your left hand. Well, that’s fine. “Have I seen you around somewhere?” You ask, turning a little on your stool to be facing him. The fact that you know the answer already doesn’t matter.

“Don’t know, where have you been hanging out?” He asks, catching the cute bartender’s eye and motioning for another round of drinks for you and him.

“I went by the American embassy last week.” Trying to make it seem like nothing so he doesn’t put his walls up in front of a journalist, you shrug and just say, “Paper work” as an excuse.

“Gotcha.” He doesn’t offer up what he does, despite some throwing it around like a badge of honor, he prefers to be low key. “Are you visiting?”

"Trying to find myself," is your enigmatic answer, though it is technically about ninety percent a lie. That wistful, dreamy part of you that read Gabriel García Márquez novels and fantasized about finding love with exotic sunsets in the background in still hoping you might be able to scrounge some truth about yourself out of this assignment. But really? It's work. "You?"

“Work.” He answers simply, nodding towards Inez as she sets two new glasses down in front of you both and grins. “Decided to see what the night life is like here.”

"This place stays busy until all hours of the night. Party music and people dancing, shouting, all of it." Still not quite sure what might get this stalwart CIA agent to crack even a little, to give you anything, you mentally shrug and decide to go for the old standby. The expression on his face wonders how you could know what this place is like – if you're a regular maybe, or just like to haunt the bar here. So you offer, "I rent an apartment upstairs."

“Really?” His interest perks, like a dog that’s caught a scent. He reaches for his drink and sends you a smile. “What’s that like? I bet it’s…noisy.”

"It can be." Bingo. Hooked the fish, you think, prouder of yourself than you probably ought to be. "But sometimes I like to make just as much noise."

“Doubt anyone down here could hear that.” He glances back up at the mirror. “Can you see the bar from up there?”

"You can see the street." It's an odd question, but you don't fight it. "From my living room windows, I mean. The door to get upstairs...and my bedroom...those don't face the street." He's sniffing around for something from you, too. You can feel it. But you're just not sure what.

He nods and leans back to look at you. Assessing you. “So no one can really see you come and go.” He hums. “That’s smart. Safe. A pretty woman like you needs to take precautions.”

Something in his tone doesn't sound entirely sincere, but since you're not either, you're not going to hold it against him. "I'm a city girl," you assure him with a demure smile, pretending like you're hiding being flustered behind your drink as you take a sip. "I know how to look out for myself."

“That’s good.” He sends you a confident smirk. “I’m Alex.” He offers, leaning close. “What’s your name?”

You tell him, though he’ll probably end up calling a condescending ‘sweetheart’ if anything at all, and decide to lean a little closer just to put an edge in the flirtation. He isn’t bad looking, after all, or rude. He hasn’t been misogynistic to you tonight or haughty. He just seems quite bland overall, which isn’t a sin even if it does make something in the back of your mind dread the idea of seeing your soulmate’s scars on him when his shirt comes off later. The tattoo on his thigh. Your own scars marking memories that your soulmate would have felt but never shared.

Nope. Stop thinking about shit like that. Soulmates are for saps.

“That’s a beautiful name.” He admits, taking another sip of his drink and repeats it. “Do you want to talk somewhere a little quieter?” He asks suggestively.

“I think I know a place.” Pointedly looking up to the ceiling, you slip the strap of your purse onto your shoulder and slide gracefully off of your stool. Inez has been keeping one eye on you, and you give her a subtle nod to promise her that everything is okay as your new friend Alex shifts onto his own feet.

Alex pulls out his wallet and puts down the money for the drinks and a hearty tip. Wanting to make sure that the bartender stays warm to him. This club is important and he needs to be welcomed.

"Have a good night." Inez calls you by name, wanting there to be no mistake that if anything even vaguely out of the ordinary happens to you or around you, she will know and she will know who is responsible.

"Night," you call back, allowing yourself to be lead out of the club, though you know you'll have to lead the way from there.

“Have you been here long?” Alex asks as you lead him towards the stairs to your apartment. It’s ingenious to say the least and he’s glad he had sat at the bar tonight rather than a booth.

"About a month." The charming smile on your lips as you head up the stairs around the tight corner of the club's back hall is girlish. Smitten. And a put on. You're still wondering if he's going to spill the fac that he's CIA or if you're going to have to hope he talks in his sleep. "It's not a lot of space, but I'm just one girl." One girl who typically has all of her work spread out on nearly every surface in the apartment. Thank god you went on frustration-induced cleaning bender yesterday.

“I don’t like having a lot of space if it’s just me.” Alex admits, looking around the small little hallways for any type of security. “More to clean.”

“That’s true, I guess. Smaller is easier.” As you lead the way up the stairs, a large caramel-colored lump on the top of the stairs starts to growl menacingly and lift its sizable head. Teeth bare at the sight of a man behind you, but you hustle up the stairs and coo gently to the enormous mastiff in a sweet voice. “Hey Chi-Chi. How’s my girl?” Immediately the dog stands, bumping her head into the hand you’ve reached out toward her and snuggling into you for pets. She is a living security system that really loves snuggles.

“Yours?” Alex stopped at the first growl, watching warily as the size of the dog is revealed. She’s obviously a big breed and doesn’t take kindly to strangers.

“My landlady,” you explain, still coping at the enormous dog in a mix of English and Spanish that she is obviously used to and enjoys. “There are a few single women in this building, so she taught her dog to sleep on the stairs and guard us. Didn’t she, Chi-Chi baby?” It’s a good system, and you smother the dog’s large head in kisses one more time before coming back down a few stairs and bringing Alex forward by the hand. “She hates men.” Is your casual addition to the thought as you lead him down a short hallway.

“All the time?” He asks, looking behind him at the dog as he expects her to attack him. “Or just those she doesn’t know?”

“If you come around more than once, I’ll teach her to like you.” Something tells you to very much doubt it, but you just try to toss him a semi-charming smile while you dig in your purse for the key to your apartment.

“Well I guess it all depends on how tonight goes, hmm?” He asks, stepping closer and grabbing hold of your thick hips. “If you invite me back.”

“I guess you better impress me.” When your fingers close around your keys at the same time his find your hips, you look back over your shoulder and find a little smirk curling in the corner of your mouth. “Good start.”

He chuckles as you open the door, shuffling in behind you and he nudges it closed with his foot. “Then let’s see where we go from here.”

Inside the door, you drop your purse and keys on the side table, flip the lock on the door so you won’t be disturbed, and finally turn around in Alex’s arms to let your fingers trail through the hair on the back of his neck. “Let’s see,” you agree, already feeling his shoulders drop as he bends down to press his lips to yours. No pre-destined bullshit or obligation in sight, the fact that he isn’t your soulmate speaks to you. Your life. Your choice. And tonight the choice is him.

______

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BFoW: @haileymorelikestupid @theorganasolo

My Masterlist!

[green-alm0nd]

Love your writing so much! Can you please do some separate headcanons of the bad batch who get assigned a female!general who’s super sweet and a total scaredy cat? Because of this, they’re SUPER protective (and jealous) of their dear general, especially when it comes to other regs! And of course as time passes, they begin to develop a crush on her

Hello! Of course I can! :p

[The Bad Batch x Jedi!fem!reader (headcanons)]: "I could never choose to love another"

----

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Summary:

In which the Bad Batch member you're in love with falls for you too.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: protective Batch, jealousy, fluff, mild mentions of Crosshair having a panic attack, and that's pretty much it. Not proofread.

Enjoy!

A/N: Thank you <3 and I hope you enjoy your request!

----

HUNTER:

When Hunter first heard of becoming a general's squadron, he couldn't believe it. He and his brothers had been rejected by the Republic (in general), and suddenly, someone wants five clones on their squad? Unbelievable.

However, Hunter knew you were different when you first showed up and tripped over your own Jedi robe, got up, smiled and extended a hand to him. There was something in your eyes that made you different from the rest of the Jedi.

The more time he spent with you, the more time he got to meet you. At first, it was the usual jokes to break the ice; usual, playful banter; calm nights talking to his brothers... That's when Hunter saw your sweet side. There's a point where he started calling you by your real name whenever you were alone.

He literally became your protector, keeping you out of trouble whenever he could, avoiding food cantina fights so that you wouldn't get hurt, etc. He knows you can defend yourself, but there was always something that made him protective over you and his brothers.

Another reason you gave Hunter to be more protective over you was the fact that you got scared pretty easy. And, cherry on top, whenever Hunter saw you with regs, he'd become jealous and probably try to get you away from the regs as much as possible.

He didn't make it super obvious, of course. Then, he realised he might have fallen for you. However, he knew it was unprofessional, so he'd keep it to himself.

Though, he could not hide the slight blush that came over his face whenever you teasingly brushed your fingers against his calloused hands.

ECHO:

Now, Echo was happy his squad assigned to a new general. Ever since Skako Minor, he felt like the Republic had done little to nothing to try make him feel normal again. However, he was insecure about his general seeing him and rejecting him in some way.

Nonetheless, he immediately fell for you when he saw your bright smile, as your eyes came in contact with his.

Unlike Hunter, who took a long time to realise he had fallen for someone, Echo had the love-at-first-sight type of problem and he swore he'd keep it to himself. It was unprofessional and you were his general.

He found it endearing to see how scared you were of basically everything: bugs, surprise hugs, animals... However, that did not stop him from blushing every time you jumped in surprise and held his shoulders for support.

He's definitely protective over you, but he knows you can handle things. He trusts you completely and knows you won't get in trouble. He's not possessive nor jealous in any way (he's too sweet to be possessive).

Yet, he still feels a bit jealous when you prefer talking to the regs and sometimes will try to make a friendly conversation so as to keep you with him.

Again, Echo knows what he's doing. He knows he shouldn't confess to a person that's a higher rank than him.

But, his face turns red when your hands rest on his waist for a few seconds.

WRECKER:

Let's all be honest, Wrecker does not care who you are, as long as you like hugs. Because Wrecker gives lots of those.

When he first saw you arm wrestling a reg and you won, this man was ready to spar with you for the rest of his life. You were also very nice and polite.

I reckon Wrecker laughs when you get scared. Though, he does become serious and protective when there's something truly menacing happening.

He will not be bothered to beat up any reg if they're disrespectful or just mean. You're one of his only friends besides his brothers, and he feels the need to protect you.

He found out he was probably in love with you because 1) He asked Tech, and 2) He felt something pleasant in his stomach whenever you laughed.

Wrecker won't hesitate to show his love for you: whether it's by hugging, congratulate you for anything you do, let you sleep with his tooka doll...This man is not ashamed of showing how much he loves you.

He knows he shouldn't date someone in the middle of the war, but he can't help but hug you from behind and wishing you good luck whenever you go on a mission that's not with them.

TECH:

At first, Tech did not care who you were. To him, you were just another Jedi general. He hadn't heard from you, so he thought you'd want Clone Force 99 for their strength and not their personality.

Tech didn't pay much attention to you at first. But, one day, he started rambling about hyperdrives and noticed you listening. You were paying full attention and he couldn't help but blush a little.

This smart clone will be a tad surprised at how much of a scaredy cat you are. Maybe, you'll receive a comment or two from Tech, though they are harmless.

This is one of the reasons why Tech became overprotective. He started placing you behind him whenever something -or someone dangerous would happen to be there.

And, around the regs, Tech will get into a verbal fight whether they're mean or not. He registers the feeling he feels as jealous, and he will try anything to get rid of it.

That's when he realises that jealousy is laced with having feelings for someone. And he figured it was you since he felt jealousy when you were with other regs.

Tech knows he's risking his and your position if anything happened between your two, so he'll stick to telling you how beautiful you are through flowers.

CROSSHAIR:

Like Tech, Crosshair doesn't care either about who you are. He figures you didn't want to be a general for Clone Force 99 and you'd probably run away out of fear when you saw them.

At the sight of you, he couldn't deny you were beautiful. And he was genuinely surprised at you kindness, making him slightly fond of you the more time you two spent together.

Time passed, and he hated you for making him feel weird stuff on his stomach, yet he admired your sweetness towards anyone you met. This made you naive, but also endearing.

Cross will mock you for being a scaredy cat, but in reality, he will become more protective of you. Whenever a reg approached you, he was right behind you. He will listen what you are talking about, and, if things went bad, he will immediately come out of the shadows to protect you.

When he realises he's fallen for you, he tries to deny it and refuse to accept him. But the way you smile, the way you fight, and the way you are in general will keep him grounded.

There's a point where he won't deny it, and give subtle touches or a gentle nudge whenever he's around you.

Crosshair does not give a damn about the rules and the order, but he knows you'd risk everything, so he keeps his hands to himself most of the time (besides when he's doing the things from the prior paragraph).

However, the annoying butterflies will appear again when you stand opposite him whenever he's having a panic attack and you help him.

----

I hope you like it, anon :p

[roodles03]

The First Kiss

Things have been rough for them for pretty much their whole lives, but especially recently.

For Willow, being trapped in the human realm separated from her fathers, not knowing if they're okay, having little to no hope of ever returning home, and knowing the Boiling Isles might be in ruin due to the Collector was a lot to deal with. Flapjack's death, Belos still being alive along with seeing the Isles in a apocalyptic state confirmed so many of her fears.

Boscha was the icing on the cake, sending her into a boderline panic attack/mental breakdown that nearly ended with her suffocating not only herself, but also her best friends.

Meanwhile, Hunter has lost his beloved palismen, Flapjack, after having his body controlled and getting possessed by his abuser, who he thought he was finally safe from. He had died after sacrificing himself to save his friends, and Flapjack is the only reason he's still alive to tell his story, but in order for Flapjack to save him, he had to give up his life essence to revive Hunter. Hunter now has to continue living on without Flapjack. He misses him every single day. He thinks about him all the time. He wishes he was still here every waking moment. But Flapjack is never coming back, and that is almost impossible to handle at times.

But what Willow and Hunter do have is each other. They love each other and want to get through things together. They can help each other heal and give each other comfort through their pain. And Willow wants to assure Hunter that no matter what, she'll be there.

Hunter feels the same way, and he assures he'll be there for her too. Half-a-witches like them always stick together.

The half-a-witch statement is what Willow needed to hear her whole life.

In that moment of love, without thinking, Willow cups Hunter's cheeks and pulls him in.

Hunter, meanwhile, has no idea what's about to happen until their lips meet. He's shocked at first before quickly embracing the kiss. His emotions overrun him almost instantly.

When Willow separates, she immediately realizes what she just did, and she freezes. Hunter feels like he has to say something, but his overwhelming emotions make that incredibly hard. He has no idea what to say. He's too shocked for anything comprehensable to leave his mouth, and even if he could formulate a sentence, just one word would make him burst into tears.

Willow can hardly scoundure up an sentence herself, but just saying one word causes Hunter to be overwhelmed with joy. He's never felt so loved before. It feels amazing. He starts happily sobbing as the two pull in for a hug.

(Wow, my inner fic writer came out, didn't it-)

Pretty much everything went right for this comic and I'm really happy with how it came out. It definitely took a very long time for me to finish this due to uni, but it was worth the time and effort.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 155 }

follow you.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ i will follow you way down wherever you may go | i'll follow you way down to your deepest low | i'll always be around wherever life takes you | you know i'll follow you... }

anonymous said: Is it possible to have a scenario with Jinwoo where f.reader is dealing with a co-worker in his 50s at work who makes her uncomfortable by making inappropriate remarks in his conversations with her and never respects her personal space, she isn't scared of him but he makes her anxious and nervous at his sight for 7 months straight...and she doesn't tell Jinwoo until he starts noticing that she spaces out more often lost in her thoughts. (Its a true event that happened to me at my work and I hope you can write a comforting scenario for it😮‍💨 also eager to see more of protective Jinwoo 😏)

lately, you found yourself dreading the thought of going to work.

you were a young woman who was a regular civilian in this world filled with hunters, gates, and monsters. ever since these strange gates began to appear all across the world, thousands of people awakened with this unique ability to combat against these threats-

your boyfriend being one of these well known hunters.

however, you were not one of those special humans that had awakened with these abilities.

which was why you worked a regular office job in the midst of the city. and your job was by no means too difficult-

however, there was just one tiny issue with your workplace-

and that came in the form of your highly persistent coworker.

he was a balding man that appeared to be in his mid-50s named ryung. the moment your assigned cubicle was directly next to him, the man made it his life's mission to constantly flirt with you. in between breaks, he would find you and proceed to talk to you, all while placing lingering touches against your arm or shoulder.

"you're so beautiful, hehe."

"you say you have a boyfriend, but i don't believe he's serious about you. hell, if i were 30 years younger, i would have snatched you up and put a ring on that pretty little finger of yours!"

"damn, your ass looks fine in that skirt..."

hearing such constant remarks was enough to make you shudder.

despite the many times you told him you had a boyfriend (that also worked as a powerful hunter!), the man refused to back off. and the fact that this had been going on for nearly 7 months now made it so much worse for you.

now, you were filled with anxiety when ryung casually saunters up to your cubicle. even during the times where you purposely ignored him, the man would simply proceed to linger outside of your cubicle, forcing you to listen to his heavy breathing and crazed mutterings, only walking away when the sounds of your other coworkers approaching forces him to make his retreat.

you thought about turning in your letter of resignation several times, but always decided against it, since this was a good job that paid well-

and you didn't want your boyfriend to do all the heavy lifting when it came to your shared finances.

being so caught up with your thoughts, you couldn't even touch the breakfast your boyfriend had made for you, making him frown in response. he calls out your name several times, but you remain completely unresponsive to him.

"sarang." he calls out your nickname while brushing the ice cold glass of orange juice against your cheek. the sudden, icy sensation felt against your skin successfully manages to break you out of your thoughts, forcing to face your boyfriend's concerned gaze.

"jinwoo... what is it?"

jinwoo sighs before running a hand through his hair, placing the glass of orange juice back on the table. "i was asking you if you were okay for several minutes now, and you just recently responded to me. is something bothering you? i noticed that you haven't been yourself lately... ever since you started your job at that company."

you shift around uncomfortably in your seat, feeling as though you were being interrogated by jinwoo.

"it's nothing, jin. just-"

"bullshit it's nothing."

jinwoo then casually sits back in his seat with his arms crossed, his voice coming out as strained as he was clearly trying to control his anger.

"has ryung been bothering you again?"

your mouth goes dry, meeting jinwoo's gaze with wide eyes.

"h-how did you know about that?"

a smirk paints his handsome features. "have you forgotten just who your lover is?"

ah, that's right... he was the shadow monarch. he probably placed a bunch of his soldiers within your shadow and saw what was going on through their eyes.

"i could always have bellion rip through him for you?" jinwoo asks you while letting out a series of rich chuckles, but you were only half-certain that he was simply joking.

"n-no, you don't need to go that far. ryung is harmless... but a nuisance."

jinwoo hums before gesturing at your plate of breakfast. "come on, go ahead and finish eating. i'm going to take you to work."

"oh, you don't need to, jinwoo-"

"sarang, please, i insist."

with his voice dripping with a saccharine sweetness, you could no longer deny him. letting out a sigh, you give him a nod before returning your attention back to the delicious breakfast jinwoo had prepared for you.

you spend the next thirty minutes making small talk with your boyfriend, setting up plans for the upcoming weekend while being filled with an eagerness for the end of the week. once you finished eating and jinwoo had washed all the plates did he grab his keys. smoothing out your blouse and skirt, you grab your own briefcase while walking out the door with jinwoo.

throughout the whole drive to your workplace, jinwoo holds on to your hand while keeping his other hand on the steering wheel. during every stop light, he brings the back of your hand up against his lips, giving it a sweet kiss while basking in your joyful giggles.

soon enough, jinwoo arrives and parks in front of your office building, unbuckling his seat belt before heading out to open the door for you. seeing him smiling down at you, you give him his hand and allow him to walk with you into the building.

upon entering your workplace, several people recognized jinwoo and immediately greet him (all while trying to hold back their awe). your boyfriend keeps his hand on yours, simply returning their greetings with a smile before escorting you to the elevators.

the ride to the twentieth floor was filled with eager giggles and soft kisses, and you quickly felt your anxieties melt away. a few seconds later, the elevator doors slide open as you and jinwoo walked into the floor where you usually worked.

but instead of allowing you to enter your cubicle, he places a hand behind your back, leading you directly towards ryung's office space.

as if sensing you, the older man looks away from his computer screen, raspy voice calling out your name in an almost possessive manner when he faces you-

only to let out a desperate gasp when jinwoo uses his powers to lift ryung off the ground.

"ack!"

"jinwoo!"

but jinwoo ignores your sudden cries of his name, eyes glowing a bright purple hue as he continues to lift ryung mid-air with his telekinesis. choked sounds were heard coming from the man, and your mind was spinning, becoming filled with a sudden panic-

you didn't want jinwoo to get in trouble because of this man!

"if you continue to flirt with my lover so shamelessly like that ever again, i'll kill you."

within seconds, jinwoo releases his invisible grip on ryung, causing the older man to land on his knees for him. he was coughing, with tears filling his vision as the fear was evident in his eyes. completely ignoring ryung, jinwoo turns his attention back to you all while giving you a sweet smile.

"come, i'll take you back to your cubicle, sarang."

you give jinwoo an exasperated sigh, running your hips against his all while whispering to him, "you're insane, using your powers on him like that...?!"

"so what? i put the fear of the shadow monarch into him. there's no way he would dare to flirt with you now."

as if on cue, you hear ryung let out a whimper while pretending to type something on his computer. you shake your head at jinwoo, but still accept his kiss when he leans down toward you.

only after he was satisfied with your kiss did jinwoo pull away from you. "call me when you're done with your shift, and i'll pick you up."

you give him one last nod, watching as jinwoo leaves your office before deciding to login to your own computer, ready to start your day with a confident smile on your face, secretly grateful for jinwoo's intervention as you were certain ryung would leave you alone now.

{ ... }

the next morning, when you came into work and saw that ryung's cubicle was completely emptied of his belongings, confirming your coworker's mention of his sudden resignation-

that was when you let out a relieved sigh while giggling slightly.

perhaps you would need to treat jinwoo to something nice after all.

a.n. - hhhhh more double updates because i love jinwoo soooo much! 😭

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[vixlenxe]

Major Character Tags

[elliyoyo]

Algophilia (Astarion Ancunin/Reader)

I have no explanation. The vampire seduced me just like he seduced you, I am also horny. Here you go.

Desc: You get very aroused by biting and the concept of being bitten. Astarion reveals his vampirism, and you both see an opportunity.

Warnings: Smut, pwp, p in v, fingering, oral (m receiving), biting, blood mention.

Words: ~2k

There, in the dim firelight, you see him for what he really is: a vampire. A slave to sanguine hunter. And it stirs something within you in a way you haven't felt in a long time— since before the tadpoles, at the very least.

“So… when was the last time you killed someone? Days? Hours?” You try to keep control of your breathing, but the excitement is building and your resolve is weakening.

“I’ve never killed anyone!”

You give him a look of disbelief, crossing your arms with an eyebrow raised. A vampire? Having never killed anyone? In the time he’s likely been around?

“Well… not for food. I feed on animals— boar, deer, kobolds, whatever I can get… but it’s not enough. Not if I have to fight— I feel so weak.” His brow furrows and he glares off into the distance, said weakness beginning to get to him. If this is going where you think it’s going, this is going to be the best chance encounter you could hope for.

“If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer— fight better… please…”

Bingo.

“Why didn’t you just tell me, Astarion?”

“At best, I was sure you would say no. More likely, you’d ram a stake through my ribs… No… I needed you to trust me— and you can trust me.”

“I do, and I do believe you. Out of everyone at camp, I know my back is covered the best when I’m traveling with you.” His serious look falters for a moment and you see him soften up a bit as he continues.

“Good… Good… Thank you. Do you think you could trust me just a bit further?” He tilts his head slightly before going on, “I only need a taste, I swear.”

“Fine, but not a drop more than you need— can’t be dying on everyone after coming this far.” Your words are much more contained than your thoughts, which are running wild and free, wandering off to the point where you honestly couldn’t care if he killed you. You knew he’d bring you back, especially if you were going to be the first humans he’s had the pleasure of tasting.

“Really?” His eyes light up, but also hold some suspicion as to why you haven’t reacted like he suspected everyone always would. “I… Okay, not a drop more.” He slowly comes in closer, nodding to himself, likely telling himself that this is finally it. “Let’s get more comfortable.”

He takes your hands and leads you to your bedroll, looming over you as you crawl up to your makeshift pillow. In a moment of quick thinking, you untie the top two laces of your nightshirt, giving him some more surface area to work with. You attempt to make eye contact, but Astarion is sizing your neck up and, no doubt, fantasizing about how delicious and sweet your blood will taste on his tongue.

“Go ahead, Astarion. I’m ready,” you gently declare, grabbing onto the ruffles of his own nightshirt.

“Ready? Just so you’re aware, this won’t turn you into a vampire, it’s just me feeding off of you…”

“No, I know, I just… Go ahead…”

And so he does, sinking his fangs into the soft flesh of your neck with no further hesitation. It’s like a sharp, pin-pointed icy explosion at the entry site, and you can’t help but clench your thighs together and yelp at the sensation. The ice soon turns to fire and you feel like you have alchemist’s fire coursing through your veins, igniting every nerve.

“Astarion, this is ecstasy,” you moan, tightening your grip on his shirt and bringing your hips up to grind against his leg for any friction you could get. “You can bite down more, please, bite down more!”

And bite down more, he does. It’s like you can feel your heartbeat throughout your whole body, rhythmic, pulsating, alive. Astarion also seems to be out of sorts, focusing on the sweet nectar of life pouring from the puncture wounds he’s made. Focusing on how powerful and rejuvenated you make him feel, especially in comparison to the fodder at the mansion or the wildlife he’d caught as of late.

“Would it— ah— can I have… I want you, Astarion,” you push out through quick breaths. “While you’re… biting me… if you would…”

He pulls back long enough for his eyes to glaze over and blood to start dripping down his chin. He seems to blank for a moment, but in the blink of an eye, he’s back to his normal seductive self with a, “Want me? Want me how, darling, what exactly do you want? Use your words.”

“Anything. Anything, anything, anything, please.”

His hand slithers up your leg and stops at the front of your pants, rubbing gentle circles right where you need it. You groan in relief and buck up against him, getting greedy off the bat. He smirks up at you from the nape of your neck and digs back in, relishing in the raw, sexual energy you’re exuding.

“In, please, Astarion, in me,” you whine out, putting a hand over his to give yourself a greater pressure to grind on.

“Oh, the only thing I adore more than your blood is the sound of you begging— I have no choice but to give you what you want,” he coos, giving you what you asked for and then some. His fingers work a mile-a-minute, dipping underneath your pants and undergarments to coat them in your slick before slipping in. You can’t help but yelp at the intrusion, but seconds go by and yelping turns to groaning, then groaning turns into bitten back swears escaping your mouth. Still toying with you, his fangs slip right back into the marks he’d left before. Overwhelmed by the mix of pain and pleasure, you have an instantaneous full-body religious experience type of orgasm that you’d never felt before.

“Astarion, where in the Hells did you pick that up?”

In response, he clamps down even harder, effectively shutting you up and eliciting a wonderful tightening around his fingers. Obviously, not a topic to talk about right now, but you weren’t looking to talk anyway, so you had no problem with shutting up. However, he retracts once more, feeling that soon he won’t be able to stop himself before he drains you. Who honestly knows if you’re trying to play him, use him, like everyone else, or if you’re genuinely out of your mind horny for him— but he didn’t care regardless. He was missing the touch, the feel, the pseudo-passion, and he never got to be the one in control anyway. This chance was a lonesome, steaming apple pie innocently left on the windowsill, and he was not beyond stealing.

“Lift your hips up for me,” he commands, and in no time, he’s got you in nothing but your underwear. He takes a moment, not quite admiring, but just watching the light from the fire drench your skin and illuminate your figure. Eyes drifting from plump lips to bloodied, open neck— marked by him, by him— to bare chest to rock solid nipples down to the curvature of your hips to sweet, soft legs. He can’t see himself, but you were a sight to behold. Nothing like anyone who he’d previously manipulated for Cazador, you were somehow special.

“Do you… want me to do anything for you? I don’t want this to be all about me.”

No one in who knows how long has ever asked him if he’d wanted to get in on the pleasure. He wasn’t allowed, as Cazador’s both favorite and least favorite spawn. He was happy to exercise the new freedom and finally, consensually get a mind-blowing blowjob.

“I would adore a little topping off, if you would, sweetness.” He traces his thumb from your bottom lip down to your jaw, tipping your head up to give him the space to kiss the now-dried shower of coagulated blood. He laps up whatever he can then presses one last kiss to your collarbone before sitting back to pop his trousers open and pull the seam at the top of his underwear.

You push yourself up and off of your bedroll and and move your makeshift pillow to use as padding for your knees. Before you touch anything, you press a gentle kiss to his the top of his tip and smile up at him, making sure he didn’t look uncomfortable.

“Return the favor afterwards?” You look directly up at Astarion, locking your eyes with his as you wrap your fingers around his base and begin suckling on his head.

“I could…” His head falls back and his hand finds itself on the back of your head, not pushing you down, just playing with the loose strands. “But I could also come to you in the middle of the night— surprise you, spring myself upon you and devour you. Would you care if anyone heard? The precious leader being lapped at and controlled by the evil, scary vampire?” As he continues his fantasy, you begin taking him deeper and deeper into your mouth, the bloodlessness helping with suppressing any gagging. “I’d wait till dark. Let everyone fall asleep, sneak into your tent… Then I’d taste, no… Ravage you.”

You look up at him, locking eyes as you take him completely down, desperately trying to convince him that he could have all that and more right now. He tuts and finally puts pressure on the back of your head, relishing in the feeling of you gagging and choking around him. “Don’t you worry, I’d leave enough of you to come back— ah, shit— for more.”

While it doesn’t last terribly long, it’s enough for him to reach his finish, where he pulls fully back and paints your face in ropes of heat. He puts a hand on your cheek, smearing his cum across your cheek and grinning down at you, completely breathless. He simply wipes himself off with his shirt, but he takes his time, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket to give you a more thorough clean.

“Now you have to come steal away to my tent some night, after that.” You laugh, putting yourself back together as he does the same. You take a peek around, and no one seems to have been disturbed, leaving you two a rare private moment. “I’d… really like that. If my blood helps, it would be useful to keep meeting up like this.”

“Oh, I feel wonderful now— I got fresh blood that squirmed on my fingers and finished me off, I’m practically a new man,” he lulls, already starting to stalk off to his tent. “Ta ta, get yourself all rested and recovered for tomorrow.” With that, he disappears, winking and smirking at you as he retreats.

You could barely process what just happened. The wounds on your neck barely feel real, even as you skim your fingertips over them. And you were in for more, apparently, so you barely slept, just imagined how Astarion was going to deliver tomorrow.

[hotdamnhunnam]

On Your Knees

A/N: So as I noted in this teaser thingy, I don’t really intend to be back on tumblr actively, BUT I just couldn’t resist writing for Kai!! This fic will be smutty, while also providing a bit of backstory that I feel he needs and deserves honestly. I fucking love this guy 💗

Pairing: Kai x F!Reader Warnings: smut (p in v, oral), swearing, dom!Kai, dirty talk (but it’s not until Part 2 that shit gets degrading and dark) Word Count: ~3.8k

“On your knees.”

It’s been forever and a day, since you last laid your eyes on Kai. Since then you’ve searched for him across the whole entire fucking sky. Whatever words you had expected him to say… you never would have dreamt of these.

On your knees.

The blood in your veins is on fire; it burns as the blue of his gaze starts to freeze. The blaze rises higher, so desperate to melt down this fortress of ice that you hadn’t believed you would find. Paid the rumors no mind—he’s a bounty hunter or a gun for hire, who would sell his soul to any well-paying buyer, or so everybody agrees—yet you’ve come here to seek out the true heart of gold that you know lies behind. But all gold can be sold and it seems that he’s taken his fees.

And now he’s set on taking whatever he damn well may please.

Your voice escapes your throat pathetically. “Kai, it’s me…”

Cocks his head. Lifts his brow. Silent laughter at what you just said. Obviously. But who you are doesn’t mean shit to him now. “Aye, I see.”

You might just choke. The heart that never once stopped beating for this godforsaken rogue just fucking broke.

He snickers down as if the beating of your heart is just a joke. The curl of those cruel lips holds even more force than his words. And that’s what brings you to your knees and makes you weak, so weak it hurts, as he comes close and rests his palm against your cheek, piercing your soul straight to the core with just one stroke.

Straight to the core. Summon what strength you have to speak, unsure whether the vows that you once made have any value anymore. “I’ve come back to you just as I swore…”

“Of course,” he utters as those ice-blue eyes seek out and strike the deepest truth in yours. “You’ve come to me just as you were before: still nothing but a worthless fucking whore.”

***************

--- Years Earlier ---

“Impressive.”

You smile over your shoulder as he comes up from behind to wrap his arms tightly around you, in a warm embrace that’s all at once affectionate and aggressive. Passionate and possessive. Just as his touch is every night when he pins you to bed and pounds you.

Kai is wildly impressed to see you standing tall at the helm of this ship where he’s found you. The ship is in shambles and beaten down, long since abandoned here out on the plains past the outskirts of town. Still the grandeur of spacefaring vessels like this never fails to astound you. The freedom that they represent gives you hope that someday you and Kai might escape from this planet that’s bound to the rule of a ruthless imperial crown.

Yet this starship is broken and dead. It feels good to stand here for a bit and pretend you can steer it—steer something for once in your life so that you can cling onto what little is left of your spirit, forge on towards the future instead of just having to fear it… but you know it’s best not to let false hope get to your head.

“You’d make a fetching pilot, love,” Kai purrs into your ear while he plants kisses on the soft skin of your neck. “So fucking hot I think you might stir up the engine of this wreck. Won’t be surprised if you just up and fly it off.”

The laughter on your lips melts into his, as you lean back to taste his kiss. “I wish I could. The two of us would fuck shit up in space so good.”

“Aye, that we would.”

For now Kai is more than content to fuck you up against the window of this spacecraft and you both know that’s exactly what’s in store. Know you were put upon this planet just to serve him as his filthy little whore. On any planet you would always be just that and nothing more.

Through the layers of both of your clothes you can feel the thick length of his shaft, pressed up against your lower half. Desperate hands reach into his pants to set him free and grasp at every perfect inch of him that you exist to worship and adore.

“Impressive,” you echo his words from before.

He chuckles in that playfully suggestive, sinful way that always hits you in the slick heat of your core. The man knows he’s massive. He wields his cock like a damn weapon of war.

But with you it’s a war fought for love and he makes it so pure.

It’s just unfathomable to you that this man is fucking yours.

You’ve only ever been to this small corner of the vast expanse of space, yet when you look upon his face, you have no doubt that he’s the most beautiful man in all the universe.

As ever in his presence you’re tempted to fall on your knees. It’s your favorite position: to kneel before him in submission. To swallow his cock till he fills your throat with his delicious release. Kai knows this but is ever the tease. He knows just what you’re wishing, but holds you up right where you are to prevent you from sinking so he can keep kissing your lips, one hand gripping your hips, while the other roams over the parts of your body that nobody else ever sees.

“K-Kai please…”

“What is it you want?” he sadistically taunts, and then animalistically grunts, as he feels the wetness of your cunt.

You can’t speak, at the touch of his fingers exploring the treasures they seek.

So he feeds you the words. “This big cock in that sweet little mouth of yours?”

“Yes—please, yes…!” you gasp, heightening his desire as well as your own as you handle his hardness with long strokes and squeezes, loving how it throbs in your tightening grasp.

Kai loves making you plead, getting off on the way that you moan for him over and over again. Till he’s ready to finally provide what you need. Ready now then he reckons. A wicked smirk crosses his mouth and it threatens to end you this second. “Indeed. Since you’re beggin’.”

At last then he lets you sink down to the floor, where you instantly bury your face in his crotch and start slobbering madly all over his cock because this is what you fucking live for.

He smells and tastes simply divine. Better than any man fucking should. Smash your nose in the fine golden hairs at the base of his dick and get drunk on his scent like it’s wine… swipe your tongue up the length in a sensuous line…God it’s good. The salt and sweetness and the musk with earthy undertones of wood. You know nothing of what gods exist in this world or the next, other than being certain that Kai is a living breathing god of sex.

His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer into him and holding you right fucking there. It’s heaven when he plows your throat. No other feeling could compare. You reach to clutch at the firm muscles of his ass and meet his blue gaze as you eagerly wait for him to unravel and explode. The twinkle in his eye reminds you that you’re his and that he never wants to share, just as he’s yours and no one else deserves the privilege to take his precious load.

You take it down with your cheeks hollowed, throat contracting tight around him as he groans in utter bliss. Your love for him deepens with every drop you’ve swallowed, since the day when you first met and every day and night that’s followed. Didn’t think it would be possible to love him more than this. To be so cock-drunk and so lovestruck… fuck, it’s glorious.

Your worship of him always takes him somewhere far beyond the stars. So fucking far. He loves the whore you are, just as you love the whore he is. The kind of love that heals as deeply as it scars. You’re only whores for one another which is why the love you make is always pure no matter how dirty it is.

He worships you in turn, that filthy mouth on him a fire-breathing sin. Making you burn. Laying his claim to every last inch of your skin and every fiber of your being deep within. Your impulse is to be down on your knees for him but when the man insists on pleasuring your cunt—because for him your pleasure’s always at the forefront—well of course you just give in.

And then he fucks your cunt to pieces to make sure you won’t ever forget that his sex is the reason you’re living.

You can’t begin to wrap your mind around him being so damn perfect. But you sure as hell can wrap your pussy tight around the war weapon that’s pumping deep inside of you so powerfully erect. Both of you like it good and rough, and soon enough, this stranded spaceship’s not the only thing that’s wrecked.

The vessel tilts a little bit with his last thrust; this ship is huge but so is Kai, and he’s apparently so strong that he just rocked the goddamned deck. That shit is so insanely hot you might just die. Combust. Crumble to dust. As you both come down from the high, your pulse is racing and he traces its pace with his parted lips pressed to your neck.

The two of you remain entwined for hours, as you always do. Whispering sweet nothings that you wish could be true. Let’s just pretend this ship is ours. That the universe is ours. That we’ll fly away, and soar the skies someday, just me and you. But nothing is nothing regardless of how sweet it seems, and you can’t fly away from the fact that the universe bows to formidable powers. To forces that devastate dreams, through and through.

To the powers that be. Powers that crush all hopes of ever being free or being happy.

Kai reads your mind as your thoughts drift to that dark place. Knows that it’s time to tell you what he came to say, when he found you aboard this ship today, before he got distracted and ended up fucking your brains out past the farthest reaches of space. It’s not a message that he’s eager to convey. But it’s an order that you can’t really afford to disobey.

Still he wants you to stay, blue eyes begging you to as he softly caresses your face. Yet he knows on some level that dreams of resistance are silly to chase. That the price of just one slice of heaven is steep and there’ll be hell to pay.

He clears his throat and breathes in deep, wishing the price weren’t so damn steep. “Meant to tell you that he’s been… requesting your presence again.”

You had known to expect this. Chosen to neglect this. As if you could run to some empty abandoned starship to hide from the constant demands of that monster who thinks he’s a god among men.

But you can’t and to even attempt this… is useless and reckless. Though Kai referred to the imperial officer’s order as just a request, it was obviously a command. So you stand, smooth your skirt with a trembling hand—knowing Kai wishes he could hold on to you now and protect what is rightfully his—but your honor is yours to defend. No one else’s. All yours in the end.

He knows this too but wishes he didn’t. He hates this part. Watching you leave is the part when he cages his heart, locking it in a block of cement. “So you’ll just run off to him then?”

All too familiar with his defense mechanisms, you don’t halt your rhythm. The whole fiasco of this moment is always the same with him, despite the fact that he must know this isn’t something either one of you enjoys. So rather than rushing to blame him, or letting the swell of emotions inside you erupt into violence, you cast him a side glance, remind him in silence: it’s not as if I have a choice.

Evidently today the cement is much thicker than usual; the next words off his lips at your lack of response come off particularly cruel. “What, lost your dignity and your voice?”

God, he knows how to hit your inner slut, and make her want to die. To bleed her dry. His name escapes your throat in a defeated sigh. “Kai…”

He hates himself right now more than that monstrous fucking officer or anyone at all. Down to his core. Your knees just buckled and he rushes to catch you before you fall, but he’s so broken now himself that you both end up on the floor, down on your knees. The words he’d just uttered were driven by demons he’s struggling to bury—lately there have been a whole lot of these. Pulls you in close and releases his heart from its stone wall, as he dissolves into a mess of regrets and apologies. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Inevitably you end up making love, which is the only answer when words aren’t enough. Soft and slow. But it has to end quickly, because you have somewhere to be. Can’t hold on to the afterglow. Leave before tears overflow. Just a few words then you have to go.

You wish Kai could see things from your point of view. He gives you every reassurance that he gets it; his response earlier was impossibly harsh but he clearly regrets it. Still you can’t help but feel as if he’s disappointed in you. Despite how authoritative the Imperium is and the consequences that are sure to ensue if you stand up against it… he sees your obeying the officer’s orders as something you’re making the choice to do.

And that view baffles you because how could you possibly choose to do something that fucking destroys you?

The officer knows all your weaknesses. If you should ever defy him he’d go after Kai, to hit you where he knows it would hurt you the most and you can’t stand to think or to speak of this. You’d rather die. And your fear of that terrible punishment forces your hand; you must heed his command. Without having to spell this shit out you just wish Kai would understand why.

“I understand,” he says, but he can’t meet your pleading gaze. He’s not quite certain whether what he said is true, and surely you would see right through. Instead looks out the spacecraft window at the distant stars that deign to cast their rays upon this conquered stretch of land. It feels like pity and that shit infuriates him in a million fucking ways. “I understand, I do. It just kills me to think of someone else inside you—”

“Kai, I’ve told you time and time again to trust me that he hasn’t…”

“That’s not even what I meant.”

“It’s what you said.”

With worlds of pain behind his plaintive eyes he reaches out to cup your cheek then smooths his thumb across the creases in your forehead. “What I meant is that I just can’t shake this sense that he’s gotten inside your head. To men like that nothing is sacred. He’s attracted to your spirit ‘cause he knows that he can break it. Wants to wait for you to give your body to him though it’s well within his power to just take it. And whatever little honor you’ve got left down to the final fucking shred… he won’t stop till it’s fucking dead.”

His warning chills you to the bone, because you know it to be true. For better or worse you’ve got some defense mechanisms of your own. Just a few. Brush off his touch and clench your jaw and let a little bit of spite sharpen your tone. “So then what would you have me do? Not all of us can be as honorable as you.”

Now his jaw clenches too. So hard that he might be at risk of breaking it. “The choice is yours, of course,” he mutters, eyes flashing an icy shade of blue. “Just know you’re making it. Don’t hide behind the lie your hand was forced.”

At that you turn to leave him with a scoff, throwing a bitter glare that tells him to fuck off.

But just before you disembark, you catch a glimpse of some metallic thing that glimmers in the dark. The mess of clothes that Kai had flung off of his shoulders when he fucked you up against the window, some hours ago… he’d had a gun tucked in among them and the sight of it right now is fucking stark. You have no reason to be shocked about it though.

He wasn’t hiding it from you; the fact that he’s been packing unauthorized arms is something you already knew. That doesn’t mean it’s something you wanted to know. Seeing this fatal metal thing strikes you as such a blunt reminder of what he intends to do. And you know where it’s bound to go.

Where your gaze and your thoughts wander his always follow. “There’s a strategy session set up for tomorrow,” he states in reference to the folks in your town who believe independence is something that any respectable person would die to defend. Even if it means battling forces against which they can’t even try to contend. “May be able to make concrete plans now that we’ve finally got enough guns stashed in our secret cargo. I already know better than to ask whether you’d want to attend. Guess the answer will always be no.”

The two of you have talked about this countless times before. And every time it turns to fucking when you both can’t bear the talking anymore. It’s irresponsible and immature, but in the rosy throes of youth, it seems to you love is the only fucking truth, the only thing you know for sure. The only thing that’s clear and pure. Love keeps you whole so you don’t fall apart from fear of what your hopeless-looking future has in store.

But you’re not that young, and you can’t just fuck away these pressing issues for that long. He can’t just kiss you to prevent the words from falling off your tongue. He knows it too and so you sit and talk for once and hope shit doesn’t go too wrong.

You admire and love him for being so brave and so strong. Tell him so. But that small band of big-hearted rebels is not somewhere you feel you’ll ever belong. He has to let it go.

And you have to let go of your hope that he might change his mind. That he might decide doing what makes sense to simply survive matters more than misguided delusions of honor chasing after some kind of freedom he won’t ever find.

You tenderly caress his face and feel the warmth of his blood rush to meet your hand. It’s all that you can do to pray his precious blood won’t spill someday fighting a war over some worthless stretch of land. This lovely planet is your home but in your eyes it’s all worth nothing without Kai. “I know how fiercely you believe in your brothers, and in your friends. In the rebellion that all of you have planned. What terrifies me is this feeling that it’s fucking doomed to fail and if you die… I can’t fathom anything worse. Of course I know the choice to fight with them is yours, but for my part I’m not as brave as all the others. I can’t bring myself to stand behind this cause when I’m afraid it won’t be worth it in the end. Please understand.”

Kai leans into your touch and turns his face to kiss your palm, cracking a sad smile to fight the tears that otherwise would come. Unshed they shine like stars hiding behind his eyes so blue. “Aye, I do.”

It’s a lie. Lie as big as the sky. But he hides behind it till it might become true, or at least fucking tries to.

At that it’s time for you to go, fearing that you should have done so hours ago. The sheer pressure of fear shatters you; fact is deep down it shatters him too. He just copes with his hopes and fears in a more complicated way.

“I promise I will always come back to you.” These are the same words that you always say, when you leave—words you fiercely believe—to assure him that nothing could keep you away.

When you leave him with those words Kai usually lets you, eventually once he’s done venting all his pent up rage and dealing every card he has to play. But evidently not today. “You wouldn’t have to. If you’d just stay.”

The way his voice trembles with gentleness, with selflessness, as he abandons every one of his defenses… it fucking kills you when he gets this way. It doesn’t happen often, and it always makes your heart open and soften. “That’s true. Maybe I can keep him waiting just one day…”

His eyes go wide, unable to believe that this is something you would actually decide. It makes him love you even more and suddenly he’s shy and blushing as if he thinks he’s unworthy of the privilege of your touch. “Or just one hour or one minute for I ought to know I shouldn’t ask too much—”

You shut him up with your forefinger pressed against his luscious lip. Provocatively bite your own to make it known that you want him to spend all day fucking you up against this ship.

Last time he did it shook the whole entire deck; maybe this time the sex will be so fucking hot that it’ll set fire to this wreck. Wouldn’t put anything past Kai. It’d be a perfect way to die.

Slamming your back against the window of this wrecked dreadnought, he effortlessly reads your every thought—goddamn that thought just now was a particularly bold one—and from his wicked smirk it’s plain to see that he agrees it would be perfect and insanely fucking hot. “You might want to hold on.”

And you do, clinging closely to him like the sky clings to stars at the coming of dawn. In the bright glare of day they’ll no longer shine through. But that won’t mean they’re gone.

Here tonight, and even if they’re out of sight, come morning light… all the stars in his eyes shine for you. With those stars guiding you, you’ll hold on.

***************

… To be continued in Part 2!

The plan is for Part 2 to explore more of the earlier timeline and also carry forward the opening scene of course, which is when dark degrading dom!Kai will be out in full force 🔥

If you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist for this fic (below), just let me know! Much love to all of you 💖

Masterlist

Taglist for this fic (based on responses to the teaser) – @midnightbabylon @rayslittlekitten @pikapuff-316 @youflickedtooharddamnit @laurfilijames @okin-awa @lovebittenbyevans @jmamas92 @theliterarybeldam @dirtytomatoedwrites @ughdontbeboring @netflix-imagines

[the-californicationist]

he hunts you down

Captain John Price is recruiting for the 141, and when he takes you on a field exercise to the middle of the woods, you try to show him that you have what it takes to survive.

This is Part 1 of 2. If y’all are interested in a Part 2, it’s here. Or, you can read it in full on AO3.

MDNI/18+

TW: primal play, dubcon, abuse of power

AO3 Link

The sun was setting through the verdant green leaves of the trees, beams of light sparkling through them, casting light and shadow on the forest floor as you raced through the underbrush. You were bending your feet, sprinting in the way that he had taught you, nearly silent as you leapt across rotting boughs and piles of fallen leaves. Controlling your breathing, you found a tight pace - fast enough to escape, but restrained enough to withstand it for a generous duration. The air felt sharp in your throat.

Captain Price had taken you on as the newest recruit to the 141. Many recruits had come before you, and many had failed to pass muster. So, here you were, top of your class in Westpoint, but young and unblooded, trying to keep up with the most fearsome group of hunters in the modern world. Terrorists filled the world with fear, and John Price filled them with fear in turn. He was the monster’s monster, and you were desperate for him.

When you’d first laid eyes on him, you were intimidated by his sharp confidence. He was snappy, impatient, but level-headed. He had his power under such a tight-laced control that you would have given anything to watch him unleash it on someone. A dark part of you wanted that someone to be you. When you sparred, he was ruthless. Soap was fun to wrestle, even if he let you win. Gaz was a challenge, but a fair fight. Even Ghost had let you get the upper hand once or twice, but Price had shown no mercy. After the captain was finished with your body, you’d go back to your quarters battered, bruised, and sore for days. He’d even dislocated your shoulder once in order to break your hold, and then he’d had the audacity to shift into a caring medic, helping it back into its socket, bringing you ice and meds that night, checking on you before rounds in the morning. He was enigmatic.

You had gotten your hopes up, that was the problem.

One night, you were putting in a late workout at the gym, fists digging into the heavy bag, trying to improve on your power and speed. Trying to get him out of your head, more like. Your handsome commanding officer and his huge, hairy, muscular form had been haunting you for weeks in the night while you lay in your bed alone. The smell of his cigars was enough to send shivers through you at this point. So, you came to work off some steam. It didn’t help.

You had wanted to shower after your self-flagellation session with the punching bag, but when you went to the locker room, your heart froze. The water was already running. Since no one had been in the gym with you for hours, that wasn’t possible. You were facing the door the whole time…well, most of the time. But no one moved that quietly. You would have heard them.

Thinking someone had left it on, you moved to shut it off. A voice stopped your hand right on the edge of the cold handle. Low and growling, you heard your name come from behind the wall, floating out from the shower. Haunted and in a state of shock, you stood stock still, listening for it to happen again. You took a breath and pulled open the stall door to find Price’s broad, scarred back, hunched forward in what may (or may not, damnit) have been a contortion of ecstasy. He’d spun around to catch his intruder, but you had already turned back toward the gym door, sprinting for your life out of the bathroom. You went to bed sweaty and wet for more reasons than one.

It was his idea to drag you out here. The rest of the team had remained back at base, but Price had decided to take you on a solo helicopter flight out to a remote Hebridean island, uninhabited and cut off from the public, completely alone.

You had geared up for the weather, anticipating the slight cold front, but Price had added a level of challenge to your first field trip that made you concerned. He had only allowed you to bring one set of clothes. You’d be out for four days - if he didn’t find you before then. Four days was a long time to wear the same underwear and socks. Especially now, at the middle of day three, you were noticeably pungent. You’d also finished off your canteen this morning, so as you moved through the wooded hills, you mapped the path to the closest stream. Honestly, you were proud of yourself for evading Price for this long. You wanted to make it the full four days. Maybe he’d even consider giving you a more permanent position. You kept losing every single grappling match, but you scored high on your marksmanship testing, and your survival skills were top notch.

Rushing, bubbling water came into view as you headed into a small glen. There was a gorgeous waterfall waiting for you, and you couldn’t wait to bathe. It was a huge risk, but you were itchy enough to take it. You quickly shed all of your layers and scrubbed them in the clean, cold water with loose gravel, trying your best to rub as much grime out of them as you could. Then, you laid the clothes out on the rocks to dry in the sun and slowly waded your way into the water. It was cold enough to burn, but you had to admit that even the frigid water felt nice on your skin. Quickly, you washed your face and body, keeping your braided hair out of it as much as you could, splashing your breasts and rubbing between your thighs for some relief on your most sensitive parts.

Satisfied, you returned to the shoreline. You blinked, stunned, finding the rocks bare and missing your garments. All of them. Your heart raced in your chest. Your hunting knife was stuck straight up on a nearby stump, placed there on purpose.

Price.

He’d seen you in the water. Why was that your first thought? You bolted in the opposite direction, not caring any longer to move silently. You thought you might be able to outrun him, but just as you were about to clear a fallen log, you were tackled to the ground, your breath knocked out of your chest. Instincts high, you fought for your life, kicking and clawing at your attacker. He was fully geared out, and his clothing made rough scrapes against your skin as he clutched your back to his chest, wrapping his hand around your throat and an arm around your waist.

“Fuck! No!” You shouted, unsure as to what you thought that might accomplish.

You heard a dark chuckle in return,

“Thought you got away from me, little bird? Hope that bath was worth it.”

He flipped you so that you were laying face-down on the ground, his heavy body pinning you, squeezing the air out of your lungs that you had fought to recover.

“Give up, Sparrow. You’re caught,” he growled, fighting with your writhing form.

“No! No…I was so close,” you stilled, finally giving in, disappointed in your failure, laying your forehead in the sticky leaves.

“Yes,” his voice had an eerie, sultry quality to it, and that surprised you. Your body responded, melting into him, trying to determine his intentions. He spoke into your ear softly, “You did so well. But, I knew you’d need water, and all I had to do was wait. I didn’t expect you to reward me quite as well as you did, but that was a bloody nice surprise.”

He punctuated that last sentence with a buck of his hips and then you felt it. You had thought it was his holstered gun that was digging into the crack of your asscheeks, spreading them uncomfortably wide. It was too rigid to have been any part of his anatomy, surely. But, you were wrong. The heavy, solid pipe that was rutting against your ass was Price’s impossibly fat cock.

You gasped, involuntarily.

“Mm,” he was smiling; you could hear it, “Hard as a stone, innit? All your fault, birdie. You out there in that fuckin’ stream, grabbing your tits for me in the water, running from me so I can watch this gorgeous arse jiggle. Tha’s like teasin’ a hound with a bone, sweetheart. My cock’s aching for ya.”

“Captain, we can’t…we - ”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want to you,” he snarled, shouting. The sudden increase in volume made your blood run cold, and your pussy clenched down tight, traitor that it was. He started to grope your asscheek roughly, talking to you the whole time, “You’re caught, and if I was the enemy, you’d be watching Peter look your name up in his big book right about now. So, I feel like your punishment should fit the situation.”

You couldn’t help but shiver. He was right, you were out here all by yourselves. There were no comms, and the seaplane wouldn’t dock back here for another day. If Price wanted to hurt you, he had all the time in the world, and you were in no position to fight him off.

“Yes, sir,” you muttered, listening to your own shaky whisper with shame.

You heard a buckle and a zipper, and then you felt a tell-tale warmth against your skin. He was rubbing his length across your body, hungry and dripping with precome. You breathed in through your nose, trying to hold back your shock.

“Say no, little bird. Tell me to stop. Say that you surrender, and I’ll take you back to the camp and warm you up. I’ll put you on that plane and send you back to New York with a letter of recommendation in hand. You have my word. Or…”

He paused for a long time, waiting for you to take it. You should. It was no small accomplishment to get a letter of recommendation from a man as infamous as Captain John Price. But, something in you wanted a punishment more than a reward.

“Or?” You asked, your voice sounded so small.

It was his turn to draw in a trembling breath. You felt the whiskers of his mustache brush the side of your neck as he tasted your skin there, sucking hot kisses and sending chills across your back.

“Or…” he replied, “I will fuck you right here into the goddamn dirt, and every night, when I get hungry for you, no matter where our task force goes, you’ll take my fucking cock how I want, whenever I want, no questions asked.”

You let his threat sink in. How could he expect such a heinous, feral thing? Did he want you on the task force? A thousand questions flooded through your mind, but you heard yourself saying,

“Okay.”

A warm, fleshy head prodded at the entrance of your cunt, slipping through your folds and spearing you, almost painfully, with his difficult girth. His cock was so fat that you could feel your walls expand to fit him, panicking at this new level of intrusion and flooding you to try and mitigate the situation. He let out a ragged sigh,

“Oh, fuck, that’s so good. Tight, so bloody fuckin’ tight,” he laughed quietly, a tone of disbelief on his lips, “Welcome to the team, little bird.”

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

A Healing Kiss

This fic will cover my "Let me kiss it better." square on my 2nd @jacklesversebingo card. The prompt will be in bold.

Summary: Y/N causes Dean a bit of damage. Can she fix it with a...kiss?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Just a little bit of smutty goodness. Blowjob. slight handjob. Oral (m receiving). Implied oral (f receiving). Crack if you squint.

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,968

A/N: Here is the next request for my second @jacklesversebingo card. It came from @suckitands33 :

Oh I’d love ‘let me kiss it better’ how about along the lines of flirting Dean and reader. Nothing actually happening though then reader hurts Dean in the dick and balls by mistake and says that ‘line’ and dean thinks she’s joking but she follows through with it. Love a bit of mutual pining then they give in to their desires. 🙏🏼

The pining ended up being a bit more from the reader's POV, but there's a hint that Dean's in the same mindset. Hope you enjoy it, hon! Hope everyone enjoys it! If you do, please don't forget to reblog, comment and/or like. I so appreciate it! ❤️

The beautiful dividers are created by @talesmaniac89 .

“Shit! Shit! I'm so sorry!”

Y/N winced as Dean just groaned out his pain and rolled into the fetal position. 

“Dean! I'm so sorry!” She repeated, kneeling beside him, hands running up and down his sweaty bicep. “I just stumbled, I was aiming for your thigh.”

She grimaced again as she remembered the powerful kick she'd delivered, intending to connect with his meaty thigh, a move he could have blocked, or taken easily. They were training and Dean was on the attack, she was on the defense. But she’d just lost her center of gravity for a half second as she shot her foot out and she stumbled, landing the blow to a much more sensitive area.

Dean just waved at her as he sucked in deep breaths. She wasn’t sure if he was telling her it was okay, or telling her to get lost. Eventually he pulled himself up and disappeared into the bathroom. She thought he might be checking for permanent damage. She grabbed the bucket and filled it with ice from the machine just outside their room.

She knocked on the door of the bathroom. “Dean? I have some ice for you.”

The door opened a crack, but only Dean’s big hand stuck out, reaching for the bucket. He groped in the air for a minute until she grabbed his wrist and set the bucket on his palm. It disappeared back inside and the lock clicked. 

She sighed and flopped down on her bed. This was definitely not how she’d wanted this evening to go.

This was only the third time she’d been out hunting with the Winchesters; there was a lull in the case and they had to wait until the next day to interview a couple of witnesses to what they were fairly certain was a demon possession. So Sam was off with the pretty librarian they’d met earlier, and had texted Dean not to wait up. 

So it was just the two of them in the motel. This was the first time they'd ever been completely alone for any length of time and Y/N was feeling the tension. She felt as though there had always been a bit of something between them, just a spark that sprang to life sometimes, a touch here and there that felt like it could be much more if they allowed it.

Or at least, she thought there was a spark. She was a tiny bit worried she'd become delusional because of how badly she wanted the green-eyed hunter. So when Dean had suggested they spend their evening getting in some training, Y/N had jumped at the chance, hoping he was suggesting it as a way for them to get close - and physical. 

She did her best to be at least a little subtle in her excitement over the prospect of sweaty, hand to hand grappling with the hottest fucking man she’d ever known. Since they’d met less than a year before she hadn’t been able to get him out of her head. She was crossing every finger she had that this evening would lead to something she’d been craving for a very long time.

Everything Dean did was sexy, every part of him made her melt - his thick, solid, hunter’s body, long and powerful and begging to be taken for a ride. His deep, rumbling voice, like a shot of strong whiskey, always made her shiver. His eyes and the way they held secrets and promises in equal measure within their mossy green depths. And that mouth - Jesus, it should be illegal for a man to have a mouth that pretty.

He was basically walking temptation and she desperately wanted to give in. 

But now, instead of using their physical closeness and panting exertion to finally get him naked, she’d probably made it impossible for him to have children. She clapped her hands to her face and tried not to scream.

Finally, ten minutes later, Dean came out of the bathroom. Y/N sat up as he set the bucket of melting ice onto the counter beside the coffee maker. She scrunched up her face in sympathy. 

“I’m really sorry.”

But Dean just shook his head and fell onto his bed. “Nah, it’s fine, sweetheart. I’ll live. But you should definitely use that kick on a bad guy; he’ll be down and out like that.” He said with a snap of his fingers.

Y/N bit her lip. “Good to know.”

Dean folded his arms behind his head and grinned at her. “Where’d you learn that little ninja kick, by the way? It’s pretty badass.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’s much more badass when I don’t stumble and miss my target.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, I will admit that wasn’t exactly how I was hoping our sparring session would end.”

Y/N’s stomach clenched. She licked her lips, eyes locked with his. “Really? How uh…how were you hoping it would end?”

Those wicked promises were back in his gaze as he shrugged and smirked. “I was hoping to win, of course.”

“Ah, of course.” Y/N said, trying to gauge his mood. Was this friendly flirting or something more real? “Sorry I nailed you in the nads instead.”

Dean chuckled again, a low rumble. “I feel like that apology wasn’t as sincere as the others.”

Trying hard not to think of the consequences if she was reading him wrong, Y/N got up to walk to his bed and sit down at his hip. “I’m sorry, Dean.” She said sincerely, but slightly breathless. “Let me kiss it better.”

Dean’s eyes widened and warmed. His tongue darted out and he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment before letting it go, leaving it plump and wet and enticing. He forced another small laugh and a smirk. “That’s funny, sweetheart.”

Y/N smiled and then moved her hand to his belt buckle, just resting it there. “And if I wasn’t joking?”

Dean breathed out roughly, his eyes downcast and staring at her hand. When they raised back to hers, the pupils were bleeding into his bright green irises. “Then I’d say, it will probably take more than a kiss to make it all better.”

Y/N’s grin became wicked as she worked at his belt with one hand. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Dean’s breathing picked up as she unzipped his jeans and reached her hand inside. She groaned along with him as she ran her hand over his underwear and along his incredible length. He was semi-hard already and so thick it made Y/N’s mouth water.

She tugged on his jeans and he lifted his hips to let her pull them off. She climbed onto the bed and straddled his bare legs before running her hands up his thighs. She dug her nails into the thick, meaty muscles there and Dean hissed.

She bent her head down and pushed his t-shirt up so she could lay wet, sucking kisses across his flat stomach. She lowered the waistband of his boxer briefs just a bit so she could bite into the taut v-shaped muscle that disappeared into his underwear, making Dean buck slightly beneath her.

He moved his hands from behind his head to grip the sheets in his big fists as Y/N slid down his body slightly so she could place a light kiss to the thick ridge straining against the black cotton.

“All better?” She teased. Dean huffed out a laugh and his voice was pure rasp as he answered.

“Not quite.”

She hummed and nodded. “Better get a closer look then.”

She slowly peeled his snug briefs down over his hips. He lifted for her again briefly and she freed his dick to slap against his lower abdomen. 

“Fuck me.” She said quietly as she took in the beauty of his perfectly marbled cock, long and thick and leaking.

“That's the idea, sweetheart.” Dean said with a breathy chuckle.

She leaned down to kiss the very tip, flicking her tongue into his slit and making his cock twitch. She moaned as she wrapped her hand around the base and couldn’t quite make her fingers touch. She began placing feather light kisses all along the shaft and she could feel it throb beneath her lips.

She pushed it flat against his stomach and swirled her tongue around each of his balls, earning a grunt and a ragged curse from Dean.

“Fuck Y/N, fuck.” He mumbled.

She mouthed her way up his shaft, teasing and tormenting him by occasionally scraping her teeth very gently over his velvety skin. Finally she closed her mouth tight around the tip pulling in her cheeks and sucking on him like a popsicle. He groaned deeply and her core muscles clenched painfully.

His left hand moved into her hair and he gave it a tug as she slid further down his length. “Yes, baby take it all, swallow me down.” He ground out between clenched teeth.

Y/N hummed her agreement and pushed down as far as she could, till he was touching the back of her throat. She dropped her jaw, and let go of the base of his dick so she could plant her hands on the mattress on either side of his hips and arch her neck so that she could take his whole cock, pressing her nose against his pelvic bone and letting him stretch her throat.

Dean’s hips bucked and she pulled all the way off of him, letting her spit and his cum keep them connected as she looked up the length of his body to watch him push his head back into the pillow and growl. His hand in her hair kept tugging and pulling as she began bobbing up and down on his cock. The slight sting spurred her on, and she moved faster and faster on him, letting him hit the back of her throat every time.

She pushed down hard on him and the spongy head of his cock slipped down her throat once again. She swallowed around him, and then sealed her lips tight and sucked hard as she pulled back up.

Dean pushed against her shoulders. “Fuck, I’m close, I’m gonna cum.”

Y/N gripped his dick in her hand again, pumping it a few times, before she opened her mouth wide and bounced his heavy cock against her tongue. Her saliva ran down his length, allowing her hand to glide over him smoothly as she kept milking him. Finally with a fierce yell, Dean gushed into her mouth and down her chin. 

She pumped him through his whole climax, licking and sucking on him as his hips stuttered and he finally fell back onto the mattress, spent and panting. Y/N cleaned him up with her tongue, making sure she got every drop.

As his breathing normalized and began to even out Dean grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward to fall across him. He brought her mouth to his and kissed her long and hard, not caring that he could taste himself on her lips. He rolled her over and pinned her beneath him before pushing to his knees and yanking his shirt off so he was completely naked. She was still fully dressed.

He tugged on her t-shirt. “Gotta do something about this.” He said as he pulled it off. 

Y/N giggled breathlessly and then gasped as he moved to unzip her jeans. “Does this mean my kiss worked?” She gasped. “Feeling all better now?”

Dean yanked down her jeans and panties with one tug and groaned as he saw how wet she already was. 

He nodded. “Yeah, much better, but now I’m starving.” He said with a grin before sinking down to feast.