・❥・

The storm raged outside, rain lashing against the ancient windows of the Beneviento mansion like furious claws. You, a lost traveler seeking shelter, had pushed open the creaking door, your soaked clothes clinging to your skin as you stepped into the dimly lit foyer. The air inside was unnaturally warm, heavy with the scent of incense and something earthier, more primal. Dust danced in the faint candlelight, and shadows twisted along the walls, but the only sound that greeted you was a soft hiss that echoed from the staircase.

Donna Beneviento emerged from the gloom, her upper body a vision of pale, porcelain beauty; dark hair framing a face with sharp, knowing eyes behind a veil of lace. She wore a flowing black gown that draped over her torso, but as she descended, her lower half revealed her true nature. A long, sinuous serpent tail, scales glistening like polished obsidian, coiling down the stairs with hypnotic grace. The lamia slithered closer, her tail undulating silently across the stone floor, encircling the room until it blocked your path to the door.

“A lost lamb,” she murmured, her voice a velvet whisper laced with Italian inflection, eyes locking onto yours with predatory intensity. “The storm brought you to me. Come, warm yourself.”

Her tail tip flicked upward, brushing your ankle, sending a shiver up your spine that had nothing to do with the cold. You stumbled back, but the mansion's shadows seemed to close in, and her presence was magnetic, drawing you forward despite the fear prickling your skin. She coiled closer, her elegant humanoid hands reached out to grasp your arms. The gown slipped from one shoulder, exposing the swell of her breast as she pulled you against her. Her skin was cool at first, then warmed rapidly, like heated silk. 

“Shh, no need to run,” she cooed, lips brushing your ear. 

Her tail wrapped around your legs, scales smooth and firm, lifting you effortlessly off the ground as she carried you toward a lavish sitting room adorned with antique dolls and flickering candles. You gasped as she lowered you onto a plush chaise, her tail pinning your thighs together while her upper body hovered above.

“Such a pretty thing, wandering into my lair.”

 Her fingers traced your jaw, tilting your head back, and she leaned in to kiss you. Slow at first, tongue slipping past your lips to taste you deeply, fangs grazing your lips without breaking skin. The kiss deepened, her mouth devouring yours as her hands roamed, cupping your breasts through your wet blouse, thumbs circling your hardening nipples.

Your body betrayed you, heat pooling between your legs as you arched into her touch. She broke the kiss with a satisfied hum, tearing your blouse open with a sharp rip, buttons scattering across the floor and she descended immediately, mouth latching onto one nipple, sucking hard while her tongue flicked agaisnt the peak. Her other hand kneaded your free breast, pinching the nipple until you moaned, the sound echoing in the empty hall.

Her tail loosened around your legs, the tip slithering up your skirt, scales rasping against your inner thighs. It parted your knees wide, exposing your soaked panties, and the forked tip hooked the fabric, yanking it aside.

“Already dripping for me,” she purred, eyes gleaming as her tail probed your cunt, the smooth length sliding along your folds, teasing your entrance. You bucked your hips, seeking more, and she chuckled darkly, pressing the tip inside you; thick and insistent, stretching your walls as it thrust shallowly.

Donna's mouth released your nipple with a wet pop, trailing kisses down your stomach, her hair fanning over your skin. She settled between your spread thighs, her tail still fucking into your core in slow, deliberate pumps, the scales adding friction that made you clench around it. Her hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as her tongue darted out, longer than human, forked, to lap at your clit. She sucked the nub into her mouth, teeth grazing lightly, while her tongue circled and flicked, sending jolts of pleasure through your core.

You threaded your fingers into her hair, pulling her closer as moans spilled from your lips. 

“Please,” you begged, and she obliged, her tail thrusting deeper, curling inside to hit that soft spongey spot with each slide. You coated her scales, slick dripping down to the chaise as she lapped at you ravenously, tongue plunging alongside the tail to fill you completely. The dual assault built fast, your thighs trembling against her shoulders, pussy fluttering around the intrusion.

She pulled back suddenly, her tail withdrawing with a slick sound, leaving you empty and aching. 

“Not yet.” she hissed. 

Rising up, she shed her gown entirely, revealing her naked upper body. Her tail coiled beneath her, positioning her so the tip hovered near your face.

“Taste yourself… please.” she murmured, and you leaned forward, tongue licking the glistening scales, savouring your own tangy flavour mixed with the feel of her scales.

Satisfied, she manoeuvred you onto your hands and knees on the chaise, her tail wrapping around your waist to hold you in place. From behind, she pressed her body against yours, breasts flattening against your back as her hands slid under to fondle your chest. Her tail tip returned, slick with your arousal, before pushing into your cunt again.

Deeper now, fucking you with rhythmic thrusts that rocked your body forward.

One hand slipped down to rub your clit in tight circles, nails scraping lightly, while the other pinched your nipples in alternation, her breath hot on your neck, fangs nipping your shoulder. The tail pistoned faster, ridges of scales dragging along your inner walls, filling you utterly. Pleasure coiled tight, and you shattered, cunt spasming around the tail as you came hard, cries echoing through the mansion.

Donna didn't relent, her tail fucking you through your orgasm, prolonging the waves of ecstasy until you collapsed forward. She flipped you onto your back, tail withdrawing only to coil around both of you, drawing you close. Her mouth claimed yours in a bruising kiss, tongue pushing deep as her fingers dove into your oversensitive core, three at once, pumping to chase her own release against your thigh; her slit hidden in the scales, grinding wetly as she rubbed herself on you.

Her body tensed, a low hiss escaping as she came, cum slicking your skin. She rode out the aftershocks, fingers slowing inside you until she pulled them free, bringing them to your lips. 

The dim glow of bioluminescent fungi cast eerie shadows across the cavern walls, the air thick with the scent of earth and silk. Minthara Baenre, in her full drider form, loomed over you, her eight spider legs skittering softly on the stone floor as she circled her prey. You, the human woman who'd wandered too deep into the Underdark and caught her eye. Her upper body remained the elegant drow beauty: pale lavender skin, white hair cascading over sharp shoulders, crimson eyes burning with hunger. But below her waist, her massive arachnid body pulsed with power, spinnerets glistening at the rear.

You backed against a silk-wrapped pillar, heart pounding, your simple tunic torn from the chase, exposing the curve of your breasts and the damp heat between your thighs.

“Minthara,” you whispered, not in fear, but anticipation.

She'd spared you, claimed you as her own pet, and now, in this web shrouded lair, she intended to seal that bond. She closed the distance with predatory grace, two front legs pinning your arms above your head against the webbing, the silk cool and sticky against your skin. Her humanoid hands, strong and clawed, tore at your tunic, ripping it away to bare your body completely.

“Little human,” she hissed, her voice a sultry, echoing rasp. “You've tempted the spider long enough.”

Her mouth descended, fangs grazing your neck without piercing, as her tongue licked a hot trail down to your collarbone. You arched into her touch, nipples hardening in the chill air. One of her legs shifted, a hooked tip brushing your inner thigh, parting your legs wide. She pressed her upper body closer, her chest, bare now, as she'd shed her minimal armour, rubbing against yours. Her lips captured a nipple, sucking hard, teeth nipping the sensitive bud while her free hand slid down your belly to cup your pussy. Your cunt was already slick, and she growled in approval, fingers parting you to stroke your clit with firm circles. 'So wet for me already. Eager to be filled.' Two fingers thrust inside your pussy, stretching you with their length, pumping in and out as her thumb continued its assault on your clit. You moaned, hips bucking against her hand, the webbing holding you in place heightening every sensation.

Minthara's spider legs adjusted, one wrapping around your waist to lift you slightly, suspending you in her grasp. She added a third finger, scissoring them deep, curling to hit that spot inside that made your vision spark. She withdrew suddenly, bringing her soaked fingers to your mouth.

“Suck,” she commanded, and you obeyed, tongue lapping at your own taste while she watched, her eyes darkening.

Not satisfied, she lowered you onto a thick bed of silk she'd spun earlier, her legs manoeuvring you onto your back, knees bent and spread. Her arachnid body hovered above, spinnerets twitching as she positioned herself. From beneath her spider abdomen, she extruded a thick, throbbing ovipositor, phallic and ridged, slick with natural lubricant, aimed at your entrance.

“You'll take my eggs one day,” she murmured, but tonight, it was for pleasure.

The tip pressed against your entrance, pushing in slowly, the ridges dragging along your walls as it filled you inch by inch. You gasped at the stretch, fuller than any human cock, the strange warmth pulsing inside you.

“Minthara-” you whine quietly.

She thrust deeper, her humanoid hips rocking forward while her legs steadied her massive form. The ovipositor pistons in and out, each slide hitting deep, the base grinding against her own sensitive underside. Her hands roamed your body, pinching your nipples, slapping your thighs lightly to urge you to meet her thrusts. The cavern filled with the sound of skin meeting skin and your shared moans, her legs skittering for better leverage. You reached up, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer as pleasure coiled tight in your core.

“Come for me,” she ordered, her ovipositor swelling slightly, ridges catching your g-spot with every plunge and you shattered; core spasming around the thick length as orgasm ripped through you, soaking the silk beneath.

Minthara didn't stop, rutting through your climax until her own built. Her body shuddered, spider legs trembling as she buried deep, her cock pulsing, flooding your cunt with warm, sticky fluid, thick and copious, leaking out around the seal. She groaned, fangs bared, collapsing her upper body over yours while her legs cradled you protectively. Aftershocks faded, she withdrew slowly, a gush of her cum following, pooling between your thighs. Her hands stroked your hair, surprisingly tender.

The dim light of your shared quarters at Nevermore Academy cast long shadows across the room, but it did nothing to hide the storm brewing in Larissa's eyes. You'd just returned from a late night chat with Ms. Harlow, the new history professor, a woman in her mid forties with sharp wit and a no-nonsense demeanour that reminded you of Larissa herself. But where Larissa was all elegant curves and commanding presence, Ms. Harlow was lean, with salt and pepper hair pulled into a severe bun. You'd bonded over shared stories of academia's absurdities, laughing in the staff lounge until the clock struck midnight. It was innocent… or so you thought.

Now, as you shrugged off your jacket, Larissa stood by the window, arms crossed over her chest.

 “Another evening with your new friend?” Her voice was low, laced with that velvety edge that could cut like glass. “Ms. Harlow must be fascinating. Older, experienced... everything I'm not, apparently.”

You paused, heart sinking at the jealousy flickering in her gaze; the familiar insecurity that often plagued her. “Mommy, it's not like that. She's just a colleague. We talked about lesson plans, nothing more.”

 But even as you said it, you caught the way her lips thinned, her fingers digging into her arms. She turned fully, towering over you in her heels, her blonde hair cascading down her back, free from its usual constraints. “Don't lie to me, darling. I saw you two. Leaning in. Sharing secrets. Do I not satisfy you anymore? Or has she caught your eye because she's... mature?” The word dripped with sarcasm, but underneath was raw vulnerability, the kind that made your chest ache.

You stepped closer, hands reaching for her waist, but she held up a palm, stopping you. 

“Prove it,” she demanded, eyes narrowing. “Show Mommy that your eyes, and your body, are only for me. No one else.” Her tone shifted, commanding now, the dominant part of her surfacing with a hunger that sent heat pooling in your gut.

Swallowing hard, you dropped to your knees before her, the carpet rough against your trousers. “Only you, Mommy. Let me show you.”

Your hands slid up her thighs, feeling the smooth stockings beneath her pencil skirt. She didn't stop you, but her breath hitched as you nuzzled against the fabric, inhaling her scent. Jasmine. Authority.

“Words are cheap,” she murmured, but her fingers threaded into your short hair, guiding you. 

You unzipped her skirt slowly, letting it pool at her feet, revealing the lacy garters holding up her stockings. Her panties were black silk, already damp at the crotch. You pressed your mouth there, kissing through the fabric, tasting her arousal seeping through. Larissa's thighs trembled, but she gripped your hair tighter. 

“More. Make me believe you.”

 You hooked your fingers into the waistband and tugged her panties down, exposing her cunt, lips glistening with need. Your tongue darted out, licking a flat stripe up her slit, savouring the salty tang of her. She moaned, hips bucking forward as you circled her clit with the tip of your tongue, flicking it lightly before sucking it between your lips.

“Good girl,” she gasped, the praise shooting straight to your core. You lapped at her folds, delving inside to thrust your tongue as deep as you could, fucking her with it while your nose ground against her clit. Her slick coated your chin, dripping down your neck as she rode your face, her free hand bracing against the wall.

But she wasn't done testing you. 

“Tell me why her,” she panted, even as her body betrayed her pleasure. “Why waste time with that woman when you could be here, worshipping me?”

You pulled back just enough to speak, lips shiny with her. “She's nothing, Mommy. No one compares to you… your taste… your control. I only want to please you.” You murmur quietly.

To emphasise, you sucked her clit hard, sliding two fingers into her soaked heat. She clenched around them immediately, walls hot and velvety, pulling you deeper as you curled them to stroke her inner walls. Larissa's head fell back, a throaty groan escaping. “Fuck, yes... prove it harder.”

You pumped your fingers faster, the wet squelch filling the room as you added a third, stretching her while your thumb rubbed her clit in tight circles. Her orgasm built quickly, thighs quaking around your head, and when she came, it was with a cry; her cunt spasming, clenching around your fingers. But Larissa wasn't sated. She yanked you up by your collar, her lips crashing against yours in a fierce kiss, tasting her essence on your tongue.

“Bed,” she ordered, shoving you toward the adjoining chamber.

 Clothes flew off in a frenzy, your shirt unbuttoned to reveal the sports bra binding your chest, her dress pooling like liquid silk. She pushed you onto the mattress, straddling your waist, her breasts swaying as she ground her soaked core against your thigh, leaving a trail of herself on your skin.

“On your back,” she instructed, reaching for the nightstand drawer. Out came the harness, black leather gleaming, and the thick silicone dildo you'd both come to love; veined and girthy, perfect for her. But tonight, she fastened it around your hips, the base pressing firmly against your own aching clit through your boxers. “Fuck me with this. Show Mommy how much you need her.”

You gripped her hips, guiding the tip to her entrance. She sank down with a guttural moan, the toy disappearing into her inch by inch until her hips rested against your thighs. The pressure on your clit was immediate, electric, as she began to rock; slow at first, savouring the fullness, then building to a punishing rhythm. Her breasts bounced with each rise and fall, nipples hard peaks you couldn't resist leaning up to capture one in your mouth, sucking and biting lightly.

“Harder,” you urged, thrusting up to meet her, the slap of skin on skin filling the air. Larissa's nails dug into your shoulders, leaving crescent marks as she rode you fiercely, her cunt gripping the dildo like it was made for her. “Harder, Mommy. Use me.”

The words spurred her on; she leaned back, one hand bracing on your knee, the other rubbing her clit furiously. Sweat beaded on her skin, her blonde waves sticking to her neck as her pace faltered, climax building again. 

“Cum with me,” she panted, and you did, the friction against your core sending waves of pleasure ripping through you, your body shuddering beneath her as she clenched and spasmed, her second orgasm milking the toy in rhythmic pulses.

She collapsed forward, burying her face in your neck, breaths ragged. “My good girl,” she whispered, the jealousy melting into tender possession. You wrapped your arms around her, stroking her back, the harness still connecting you intimately.

“Forever yours, Mommy,” you replied softly, sealing the promise with a gentle kiss. In the afterglow, with her weight grounding you, there was no room for doubt.

The moon hung low over the rugged hills of Sparta, casting a silvery glow on the ancient olive groves and scattered ruins. You, a young woman from a nearby village, had ventured out under its watchful eye, drawn by whispers of a guardian spirit that protected the lands from invaders. Your simple chiton clung to your sweat dampened skin from the day's labour, the fabric whispering against your thighs as you pushed through the underbrush.

A low growl rumbled through the night, freezing you in place. Your heart pounded as golden eyes pierced the shadows ahead, belonging to a massive figure emerging from the treeline. She was no mere beast. Kassandra, the legendary misthios of Sparta, twisted by an ancient curse into something primal. Her muscular frame towered over you, furred in patches along her arms and legs, her body a blend of human grace and lupine power. Clad in tattered leather armour, she circled you slowly, nostrils flaring as she scented the air.

"Who dares trespass in my territory?" Her voice was a husky snarl, laced with a feral edge that sent shivers down your spine. Up close, you could see the sharp canines glinting in her mouth, her dark hair wild and untamed, falling over shoulders broad from countless battles. Her gaze raked over you, lingering on the curve of your hips, the rise and fall of your chest.

You swallowed hard, backing against a gnarled olive tree. "I... I meant no harm. The villagers speak of a protector. I came to seek aid against the raiders plaguing our homes."

She paused, her head tilting as she inhaled deeply, her eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and something darker. Hunger. In one fluid motion, she closed the distance, her clawed hand gripping your chin gently but firmly, tilting your face up to meet her stare. Her touch was warm, almost scorching, and you felt a strange pull, like the moon tugging at the tides within you.

"Aid?" Kassandra murmured, her breath hot against your lips. Her free hand trailed down your arm, fingers rough from years of wielding the spear, yet deliberate, tracing the soft skin exposed by your shifted chiton. "Mortals like you offer little but trouble. But you... you smell of need. Of fire untamed."

Your pulse raced as her thumb brushed your lower lip, parting it slightly. The air thickened with tension, her body heat radiating against yours, pressing you back against the bark. She leaned in closer, her full breasts brushing your chest through the thin fabric, nipples hardening visibly beneath her armour. A soft whine escaped her throat, more animal than human, as her hips instinctively rocked forward, grinding lightly against your thigh.

"Tell me, human," she growled, her voice dropping to a whisper that vibrated through you. "What would you give for my protection? Your body? Your secrets? Or perhaps... your surrender?"

Her claws lightly scored your shoulder, not breaking skin but marking her claim, as her mouth hovered inches from yours, promising a kiss that could devour you whole. The night seemed to hold its breath, waiting for your response, the werewolf's golden eyes burning with barely restrained desire.

Your breath caught in your throat as Kassandra's golden eyes bored into yours, her clawed grip on your chin unyielding. The heat of her body pressed against you, her scent, a wild mix of earth, musk, and something intoxicatingly primal, flooded your senses. Fear twisted with an unexpected ache low in your belly, your body betraying you with a flush of warmth between your thighs.

"I... I'll give you my body," you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could second guess them. "Take it. Use it. Just promise you'll help us. Drive off the raiders. Protect the village."

A low, approving rumble vibrated from her chest, her lips curling into a predatory smile that revealed those sharp canines. "Smart choice, girl. Your surrender seals the pact." Her hand released your chin, sliding down to tangle in your hair, guiding you to your knees with gentle insistence. The rough bark of the olive tree scraped your back as you sank down, your chiton riding up your thighs, exposing the soft skin there to the cool night air.

Kassandra stepped back just enough to unfasten her tattered leather armour, the straps falling away with a soft thud. Her muscular torso came into view, nipples peaked from the chill and arousal. Lower still, she shoved down the remaining fabric, revealing her thick cock springing free, veined and rigid, already leaking a bead of precum from the tip. At its base, the knot swelled subtly, promising to lock her deep inside once she claimed you fully. It throbbed in the moonlight, easily as long as your forearm, the sight making your mouth water despite the intimidation.

"Worship it," she commanded, her voice a gravelly purr, one hand stroking the shaft lazily while the other kept your head tilted up. "Show me your devotion, and I'll spill my seed for you first. Then I'll rut into you until you scream my name."

You leaned forward, heart hammering, and wrapped your fingers around the base of her cock. It was hot, velvet smooth over steel hard muscle, pulsing under your touch. Hesitant at first, you parted your lips and licked the underside from knot to tip, tasting the salty tang of her arousal. Kassandra groaned, her hips bucking slightly, claws digging into your scalp without breaking skin.

Emboldened, you took the head into your mouth, sucking gently as your tongue swirled around it. She was thick, stretching your jaw, but you worked her deeper, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head. Saliva dripped down her length, easing the slide as you took more, your hand pumping what you couldn't yet swallow. Her free hand braced against the tree above you, muscles flexing as she watched, golden eyes hooded with lust.

"That's it," she growled, thrusting shallowly into your mouth. "Suck my cock like you mean it. Earn that protection." You hummed around her, the vibration drawing a snarl from her throat. Faster now, you licked and sucked, tongue pressing against the sensitive vein along the bottom, your other hand cupping her testicles, rolling them gently. She swelled further, the knot beginning to inflate as her breaths came in ragged pants.

It didn't take long; her control frayed by the moon's pull and your eager mouth. With a guttural grunt, Kassandra's hips snapped forward, burying her cock deep as she came. Hot spurts of cum flooded your throat, thick and bitter, forcing you to swallow greedily to keep up. Some escaped the corners of your lips, trailing down your chin as she held you there, grinding against your face until the last pulse ebbed.

She pulled out with a wet pop, her cock glistening with your spit and her release, still half hard and twitching. "Good girl," she murmured, hauling you to your feet and spinning you to face the tree. Your hands splayed against the bark for support as she yanked your chiton up over your hips, exposing your ass and the slick folds of your cunt.

Kassandra's body molded to your back, her breasts pressing into your shoulders, cock nestling hot and insistent between your thighs. One clawed hand gripped your hip, the other sliding between your legs to part your lips, fingers dipping into your soaked entrance. "So ready for me," she breathed against your ear, nipping the lobe. "I'll fuck you now. Knot you. And in return, those raiders will bleed by my claws at dawn."

You nodded frantically, pushing back against her hand. "Yes... please..."

She didn't make you wait. Aligning her tip with your entrance, she thrust in with one powerful stroke, stretching you wide around her girth. You cried out, the burn of fullness mixing with pleasure as she bottomed out. She paused, letting you adjust, her knot pressing but not yet entering.

Then she began to rut. Hard, animalistic drives that slammed her deep, her hips slapping against yours. Each thrust rocked you against the tree, bark biting into your palms, but the pain only heightened the ecstasy. Her cock dragged along your inner walls, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. "Mine," she snarled, one hand snaking around to pinch your clit, rolling it roughly. "This pussy is mine tonight."

You moaned, legs trembling as she pounded into you, the rhythm relentless. Sweat slicked your bodies, her furred thighs brushing yours. The knot swelled more with every plunge, battering at your entrance until, on a particularly brutal thrust, it popped inside, locking her flush against you. The stretch was intense, overwhelming, sending you spiraling into orgasm; your core clenching around her, milking her as waves of bliss crashed over you.

Kassandra followed with a groan, her cock erupting again, cum flooding your depths in thick ropes. Tied together, she ground against you, prolonging the pleasure, her teeth grazing your neck in a possessive bite that didn't pierce. "Sealed," she panted, arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close. "The raiders die tomorrow. And you... you'll come to me again."

The moon watched as you sagged against her, spent and claimed, the pact forged in sweat and seed.

Dawn broke over the Spartan hills, painting the sky in streaks of crimson and gold. You stumbled back to the village on shaky legs, your body still aching from Kassandra's claiming; her cum leaking down your thighs with every step, a sticky reminder of the bargain struck. The villagers eyed you warily as you slipped through the gates, whispers following your disheveled form. But no one questioned; desperation hung heavy in the air, the threat of raiders looming like a storm.

Word spread quickly. By midday, the scouts' horns blared from the ridge. Raider’s sighted, a band of thirty hardened men from the north, their shields glinting as they crested the path toward the village. Panic erupted, women and children herding into the central hall while the few able-bodied men grabbed spears. You lingered at the edge, heart pounding, scanning the treeline for any sign of her.

Then she emerged. Kassandra loped from the shadows of the olive groves, her werewolf form fully unleashed under the rising sun. Fur rippled over her powerful frame, muscles coiling like a predator's as she shook off the last remnants of her tattered armour. Her golden eyes locked on the approaching horde, lips peeling back in a snarl that echoed across the valley.

The raiders halted, confusion rippling through their ranks at the sight of the beast charging alone. Their leader bellowed a war cry, axes raised, but Kassandra was upon them in a blur. She leaped into the front line, claws raking through the first man's throat in a spray of blood. He gurgled, crumpling as she twisted mid-air, landing on all fours to slash at another's legs, hamstrings severed in a wet tear.

Screams filled the air as she tore through them. One raider swung a sword at her flank; she caught the blade in her teeth, snapping it like kindling before driving her fist into his chest, ribs cracking under the blow. Blood matted her fur, hot and coppery, as she grabbed a third by the arm and yanked, dislocating the joint with a pop before sinking her fangs into his shoulder, shaking him like prey until his spine snapped.

They swarmed her then, five at once, spears jabbing and clubs swinging. Kassandra roared, batting aside a thrust and countering with a swipe that eviscerated two in a single arc, guts spilling onto the dirt. She spun, her tail lashing, and tackled the largest, pinning him beneath her weight. Her claws pinned his arms as she ripped into his armored chest, peeling metal and flesh alike until his heart lay exposed, still beating in her grip. She crushed it, tossing the pulp aside as she rose, bellowing defiance.

The survivors broke, fleeing back toward the hills, but Kassandra pursued relentlessly. She bounded after them on powerful haunches, overtaking the stragglers one by one. A spearman turned to fight; she barreled into him, jaws clamping around his neck and twisting until it tore free in a fountain of arterial spray. Another tried to hide behind a boulder, she vaulted over it, dragging him out by the hair and slamming his skull against the rock until it split like an overripe melon.

By the time the sun climbed high, silence reigned. Bodies littered the path, limbs twisted, throats gashed, bellies opened. Kassandra stood amid the carnage, chest heaving, her fur slick with gore. She howled once, a triumphant sound that shook the leaves, before loping back toward the groves, leaving the village safe.

You waited until dusk, gathering what you could; a loaf of fresh-baked bread from the village ovens, still warm and crusty, and a wooden comb carved from olive wood. The path to her lair felt shorter this time, your steps purposeful despite the lingering soreness between your legs. She was there, in the clearing by the ancient tree, her form shifting slightly as the moon's influence waned. She sat against the trunk, knees drawn up, wiping blood from her claws with a rag torn from a raider's cloak. Her dark hair hung in wild tangles, matted with sweat and flecks of dried crimson.

At your approach, her head snapped up, golden eyes softening from their feral gleam. "Human," she rumbled, voice hoarse from the battle cries. "The raiders are no more. Your village breathes easy tonight."

You knelt before her, offering the bread first. "For you. They baked it in thanks, though they don't know... everything." Your cheeks warmed at the memory, but you held her gaze.

She took the loaf, tearing into it with strong teeth, crumbs scattering as she devoured half in two bites. The scent of yeast and warmth filled the air, a stark contrast to the metallic tang still clinging to her. "Grateful," she muttered around a mouthful, then paused, studying you. "And you? Come to collect more than thanks?"

Shaking your head, you pulled out the comb. "Let me..." Without waiting, you shifted closer, settling beside her on the cool grass. Your fingers threaded into her hair gently, working the comb through the knots starting at the ends. She tensed at first, unaccustomed to such tenderness, but relaxed as you progressed, the tines gliding smoother with each pass. Strands of midnight fell loose, framing her face, the fur along her neck and shoulders brushing your arms.

Kassandra leaned into your touch, a low hum escaping her throat like a contented growl. Her hand rested on your thigh, claws retracted, thumb tracing idle circles. The bread finished, she licked her lips, turning her head to nuzzle your wrist. "This... feels good. No one's tended to me like this since... before the curse."

You smiled, combing deeper, untangling a stubborn snarl near her scalp. Her scent enveloped you, wild earth now mingled with the faint sweetness of bread. The intimacy built slowly, her body shifting closer until her shoulder pressed against yours.

The sterile hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as you stirred awake, strapped down to the cold metal examination table. Your wrists and ankles were secured with thick leather restraints, the kind that bit into your skin just enough to remind you of your helplessness. The room smelled of antiseptic and something sharper, like chemicals that promised both pain and twisted pleasure. 

You tugged at the bonds, heart pounding, but they held firm.

A door hissed open, and in strode Hange, their wild hair tied back in a haphazard ponytail, glasses perched on their hooked nose. They wore a white lab coat over a rumpled shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms smudged with ink and what looked like dried blood; though you hoped it was just dye. Their eyes, bright and manic behind those lenses, locked onto you with unbridled excitement.

“Well, well, look who's finally come around,” Hange chirped, their voice a mix of scientific curiosity and something darker, more possessive. They circled the table like a shark, gloved hands trailing lightly over the edge. “My newest subject. Female, early twenties, prime for testing. Don't worry, I'll take excellent care of you!”

You opened your mouth to protest, to demand release, but they were already at your side, a syringe glinting in their hand. 

“Shh, no need for words yet. We're just getting started on the baseline exam.” They jabbed the needle into your arm without warning, the cool liquid flooding your veins. It burned at first, then spread a warm, insidious tingle through your limbs, making your muscles slacken even as your mind raced.

“What... what was that?” you gasped, voice trembling.

Hange grinned, teeth flashing. 

“Just a little relaxant mixed with an aphrodisiac. Can't have you squirming too much…or too little. Now, let's see what we're working with.” They snapped on a fresh pair of gloves, the sound echoing like a threat, and yanked up the hem of your thin gown. Cool air hit your bare skin, and you realised with horror that you were completely exposed underneath. No pants, no bra, just the flimsy fabric they’d apparently stripped away while you were out.

“Please, don't-“ you started, but they cut you off with a laugh.

“Oh, come on, subject's got nothing to hide. Spread those legs for me.”

The restraints at your ankles whirred, mechanical arms forcing your thighs apart until you were splayed wide, your cunt on full display under the harsh lights. Heat flooded your cheeks as Hange leaned in close, their breath warm against your inner thigh.

“Look at that. Already glistening a bit. The drug's working fast.”

They prodded your folds with gloved fingers, parting them roughly to expose your clit. You whimpered, trying to clench your legs, but the bonds held you open like a specimen under a microscope. 

“So sensitive,” they murmured, circling the nub with clinical precision that sent unwanted sparks through your core. “Heart rate elevating, lubrication increasing. Perfect response.”

Humiliation burned in your gut as they continued the 'exam,' dipping a finger inside you without preamble. It slid in easily, the aphrodisiac betraying your body's growing arousal. They pumped it slowly, then added a second, stretching you while her thumb pressed against your clit. “Tight, but accommodating. We'll need to test dilation next.”

You bit your lip, tears pricking your eyes, but a moan escaped anyway as they curled their fingers, hitting that spot deep inside. 

“Stop... this is wrong,” you whispered, voice breaking.

Hange's eyes sparkled with delight. “Wrong? This is science, darling. And you're my eager little lab rat. Now, let's measure your capacity.” They withdrew their fingers, slick with your juices, and held them up to the light, inspecting them like rare artifacts. “Impressive output already. But we can do better.”

From a nearby tray, they selected a speculum, cold steel, unforgiving. You shook your head frantically. “No, please, not that…”

“Tsk, subjects don't get to choose.” They lubed it generously, the gel dripping onto your exposed entrance, then pressed the tip against you. Inch by inch, they inserted it, the metal blooming open inside you under her control. Your walls stretched around it, the sensation invasive and mortifying as they cranked it wider, locking your cunt open for their scrutiny.

“Beautiful,” they breathed, shining a light inside. “Pink, healthy, and oh-so responsive.”

Their free hand reached for a thin probe, sliding it along your inner walls, brushing your g-spot deliberately. You arched against the straps, a sob mixing with a gasp as pleasure coiled tight despite the shame. 

“See? Your body's loving this. Clenching around the tools like it can't get enough.”

They twisted the probe, angling it to vibrate faintly; another hidden feature in their mad inventions. The buzz shot straight to your core, making your hips buck involuntarily. 

“Hange... I can't...”

“Can't what? Come for your scientist? Go ahead, subject. Show me your limits.”

They ramped up the vibration, their other hand pinching your clit between gloved fingers, rolling it until you shattered. An orgasm ripped through you, your core spasming around the speculum, juices squirting out in humiliating spurts that soaked the table beneath you.

Hange laughed, low and triumphant, as you trembled in the aftermath. “First climax achieved. But we're far from done. Next up: endurance testing.”

They removed the speculum with a wet pop, leaving you gaping and empty, then wheeled over a cart laden with more tools; vibrators, clamps, syringes filled with who-knows-what.

Your body still quivered, traitorous heat building again under their gaze. Trapped in their lab of perversion, you knew resistance was futile. Hange’s experiments were just beginning, and your humiliation was their favorite variable.

Hange's grin widened as they surveyed the array of instruments on the cart, their gloved fingers drumming against the metal edge. Your chest heaved, slick with sweat, the aftershocks of your forced climax still rippling through your core. The table beneath you was damp, a stark reminder of how your body had betrayed you under their touch. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the humiliation to fade, but their voice pulled you back.

“Endurance phase, subject. We'll see how many rounds you can handle before you beg for mercy…or more.” The selected a pair of metal clamps first, the kind with adjustable screws and rubber tips that looked deceptively benign. Leaning over you, they captured one nipple between their fingers, pinching hard enough to make you yelp. The clamp snapped shut, biting into the sensitive bud, and you arched off the table with a sharp cry.

“Too tight? Or just right?” Hange twisted the screw a fraction, increasing the pressure until tears welled in your eyes. They repeated the process on your other nipple, the dual pinch sending jolts straight to your core, which clenched emptily despite your protests. “Look at that flush. Pain's mixing with pleasure already. Noted for the log.”

You whimpered, the restraints creaking as you tugged futilely. “Take them off... it hurts.”

They chuckled, trailing a finger from your clamped chest down your stomach, circling your navel before dipping lower. 

“Hurts so good, though, doesn't it? Your pussy's dripping again.” Their glove came away shiny, and they smeared your arousal across your thigh like marking territory. “Now, for the main event.”

From the cart, they retrieved a thick vibrator; ridged silicone, at least seven inches long, with a flared base and a remote control dangling from it. They coated it in lube, the excess dripping onto your spread thighs, then positioned the tip at your entrance. You shook your head, voice hoarse. “No, it's too big. I can't—“

“Oh, you can. And you will.” Without mercy, they thrust it inside, the ridges dragging against your walls as they buried it to the hilt. Your pussy stretched around the intrusion, full and aching, the clamps on your nipples tugging with every involuntary spasm. Hange flicked the remote, and it hummed to life on a low setting, buzzing deep within you.

A moan tore from your throat, unbidden, as the vibrations hit that sensitive spot. They watched intently, adjusting the clamps slightly to heighten the sensation. 

“Pulse rate spiking. Vaginal contractions increasing. Excellent data.” Their free hand returned to your clit, rubbing firm circles that made your hips jerk against the bonds.

The build was relentless, the toy grinding inside you while their fingers worked your swollen nub. Humiliation burned hotter as you felt another orgasm approaching, your body slick and open their clinical gaze. 

“Hange, please... slow down,” you gasped, but they only amped the vibrator higher, the buzz intensifying until it rattled your bones.

“Come again, subject. Show me your resilience.” 

They pinched a clamped nipple, twisting it sharply, and that edge of pain shoved you over. Your cunt clamped down on the vibrator, waves crashing through you as you squirted once more, the fluid arcing onto their lab coat. They didn't flinch, just laughed as you sobbed through the release, body trembling uncontrollably.

“Round two down. Recovering nicely.” Hange eased the toy out, your walls fluttering in protest, leaving you gaping and sensitive. They set it aside, glistening with your cum, and reached for a syringe; this one filled with a clear, viscous fluid. “Time to enhance sensitivity. This serum will make every nerve ending scream.”

You eyed the needle warily, still panting. “What is that? Don't inject me-“

“Tsk, no arguing with procedure.”

They swabbed your inner thigh, then plunged the needle into the soft flesh near your core. The injection stung, a warm flood spreading outward, making your skin tingle and your clit throb visibly. Almost immediately, every brush of air felt like a caress, your nerves alight and hypersensitive.

“Feel that? Your labia's swelling already.”

Hange parted your folds again, blowing cool air across the heated skin. You bucked, a whine escaping as the sensation amplified tenfold. They inserted two fingers easily, the serum turning your insides molten, and pumped them in and out, curling to stroke your g-spot. “So wet, so ready. Let's test the clamps' effect now.”

They tugged the chain connecting your nipple clamps, the pull sending shocks to your core. Combined with their thrusting fingers, it was overwhelming; you gushed around their hand, coating their wrist. 

“Third climax imminent,” they noted, voice husky with excitement. Their thumb grazed your clit, and you shattered, screaming their name as ecstasy ripped through you, the serum making it last longer, harder.

By the time it faded, you were a wreck. Sweat-soaked, tears streaking your face, core pulsing with aftershocks. Hange removed the clamps slowly, blood rushing back to your nipples in a rush of pain-pleasure that made you gasp. 

“Four more tools to go. Syringe for lubrication enhancement next? Or the electro-stim pads?”

The dim flicker of candlelight danced across the stone walls of the abandoned warehouse that lurked on the outskirts of the city, casting long shadows that seemed to writhe like living serpents. You had followed Yelena here, drawn by her piercing eyes and the unnatural grace of her movements. She was no ordinary woman; tall, blonde, with a presence that commanded submission. Whispers in the underground circles called her a vampire, a relic from a forgotten war, surviving on blood and secrets.

And tonight, she had chosen you.

Yelena pinned you against the cold wall, her body pressing flush against yours. Her hands gripped your wrists, holding them above your head with effortless strength. “You've been watching me,” she murmured, voice low and husky, lips brushing your ear. “Do you know what that does to me? It makes me hungry.”

You nodded, heart pounding, a mix of fear and desire flooding your veins. She released one of your wrists only to trail her fingers down your arm, nails scraping lightly over your skin. She leaned in, her mouth hovering over your neck.

“I can hear your pulse,” she whispered. “So fast. So inviting.”

Without warning, her fangs sank into the soft flesh just below your jaw. The bite was sharp, a burst of agony that quickly melted into a warm rush as she sucked, drawing your blood into her mouth. You gasped, body arching against her. The pain throbbed, yet it ignited something deep inside you, a heat that pooled between your legs. Yelena pulled back slightly, her lips stained a sickening red, and licked the wound slowly, her tongue lapping at the trickle of blood.

“Sweet,” she murmured, eyes darkening with lust.

She kissed you then, hard and demanding, the metallic tang of your own blood mixing with her saliva as her tongue invaded your mouth. Her fangs nicking the soft flesh of your lips as she took what she wanted. Her free hand roamed lower, slipping under your shirt to cup your breast. She squeezed firmly, thumb circling your nipple until it hardened under her touch. You moaned into the kiss, hips grinding instinctively against her thigh, chasing pleasure at her hands. Yelena broke away with a dark chuckle.

“Eager little thing. Let's see how much you can give me.”

She yanked your shirt up and over your head, exposing your chest to the cool air. Her mouth descended on your collarbone, nipping with her teeth before biting down again, harder this time. Blood welled up, and she sucked greedily, her hand sliding into your pants to find your soaked cunt.Fingers parted your folds, stroking your clit with precise pressure.

“You're dripping for me,” she said against your skin, voice muffled as she licked the fresh bite.

You whimpered, legs trembling as she circled your entrance, teasing without entering. The sting from the bites amplified every sensation, making your nerves sing with a twisted pleasure. Yelena pushed two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that spot that made your vision blur. She pumped them slowly, her thumb rubbing your clit in rhythm.But she wasn't done with the blood. Releasing your other wrist, she guided your hand to her mouth.

“Bite me back,” she commanded, though her fangs made it clear she was the predator.

No. You weren't turning her; this was her game.

Instead, she bit her own wrist, slicing the skin with a fang, and pressed it to your lips. “Drink.” she demanded.

The blood was warm, coppery, and strangely intoxicating. You sucked tentatively, the act pulling a moan from her as her fingers thrust deeper into your core. Yelena's eyes locked on yours, wild and feral with need. She withdrew her fingers, slick with your arousal, and smeared them across the cut on her wrist, mixing your essences. Then she dropped to her knees, tugging your trousers down roughly. Her mouth latched onto your inner thigh, fangs piercing the sensitive skin there. Blood flowed freely now, trickling down toward your ankle. She lapped it up, tongue tracing a path to your cunt, where she licked your clit with long, flat strokes.

The combination was overwhelming; the sharp pain of the bite blending with the wet heat of her mouth on your folds. She sucked your clit into her mouth, teeth grazing just enough to tease without breaking skin again. Your hands fisted in her blonde hair, pulling her closer as your hips bucked.

“Yelena... please,” you begged, voice breaking.

She rose, blood smeared across her chin, and stripped you fully, then herself. Her body was lean and powerful, scars from old battles marking her pale skin. She lifted you effortlessly, wrapping your legs around her waist and impaling you on her fingers once more, three now, stretching you wide. As she fucked you against the wall, she bit your shoulder, sucking blood while her thumb pressed your clit.

Your orgasm built fast, the pain from multiple bites fueling the fire. When you came, it was with a cry, walls clenching around her fingers, blood trickling from your wounds to mix with the sweat on your skin. Yelena didn't stop, licking each mark clean, her own arousal evident in the way she ground against your thigh.

“Not done yet,” she purred, carrying you to a pile of old blankets in the corner. She laid you down and straddled your face, lowering herself onto your mouth. “Taste me while I take more.”

As you licked her folds, tongue delving into her wetness, she leaned forward and bit your breast, fangs sinking into the swell above your nipple. Blood beaded, and she sucked it while grinding against your face. You lapped at her eagerly, sucking her clit as she had yours, the vibration of her moans urging you on. She nipped your other breast, then trailed bites down your stomach, each one drawing a fresh gasp from you. Finally, she shifted, positioning herself so your core’s aligned.

She rocked against you, clits rubbing in slick friction, while leaning down to kiss you, sharing the lingering taste of blood.The scissoring motion built another climax, her bites on your neck punctuating each thrust. When she came, it was with a snarl, fangs grazing your lip as she drew a final bead of blood. You followed, body shuddering, the metallic warmth on your tongue pushing you over the edge.

She collapsed beside you, pulling you into her arms as her tongue soothed the bites, sealing them with a cruel kiss.

“You'll heal,” she whispered. “But you'll crave this again.”

Ignore this being a day late…

The office smelled faintly of smoke and the dirt that still clung to your boots. Laswell stood behind the desk, the glow of a single lamp carving out the sharp line of her jaw and the faint silver wisps at her temples. Papers were arranged with military precision; not a single one dared to be out of place.

You hesitated in the doorway, pulse drumming too fast for the quiet of the room. Her green eyes flicked up. Sharp. Assessing.

“Close the door,” she grumbled.

You did as she ordered, the soft click of the latch felt louder than it should have. You turned, finding her gaze still fixed on you. It wasn’t unkind…. measured would be more fitting. The kind of look that took inventory, that saw more than you wanted to give away.

“You’ve been testing boundaries,” Laswell said, voice low but deliberate. “Command notices things like that.”

You opened your mouth to answer, to argue your case, but the faintest lift of her brow cut you off.

“I didn’t ask for an explanation,” she added, coming around the desk. Her steps were unhurried, the sound of her boots on the concrete a rhythm you couldn’t ignore. “I asked for attention. Can you give me that?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The words slipped out, instinctive, careful.

Laswell’s mouth curved just slightly, not quite a smile, more an acknowledgment. She stopped close enough for her presence to fill the space between you, the air thick with unsaid things.

“Good,” she murmured, eyes tracing your face. “Then let’s make sure we understand each other.”

The silence that followed was deliberate, a test. You could feel her waiting for your breath to steady, for your posture to hold, for the moment she’d decide what came next. She turned from you, the silence stretching for what felt like eternity, before she faced you once more. A leather paddle dangled loosely from her hand.

She was still in her tactical trousers and a fitted black tank top, the fabric clung to her toned arms and the subtle curve of her breasts. You had teased her all evening; brushing against her during briefings, whispering innuendos that made her jaw clench. Now, she had you exactly where she wanted. Bent over the edge of the sturdy oak desk, your jeans and panties pooled at your ankles, bare ass exposed to the cool air.

"You think you can push me like that, sweetheart?" Her voice was low, gravelly with authority, as she circled you slowly.

Her fingers trailed down your spine, making you shiver, before she gripped your hip hard enough to leave marks. You nodded, biting your lip, your cunt already throbbing with anticipation. This was your shared ritual. A way to unwind from the chaos of missions, to surrender control to the woman who always had it after an exhausting day.

She didn't make you wait long. The first strike landed with a sharp crack across your right cheek, the paddle's flat surface stinging like fire. You gasped, your body jerking forward, hands scrambling for purchase on the desk's edge. The pain bloomed hot and immediate, but it eventually melted into a warm ache that pooled between your legs.

"Count them," she ordered, her free hand pressing between your shoulder blades to keep you pinned.

"One," you breathed, voice trembling.

She struck again, harder this time, the left cheek now matching in red heat. The impact sent a jolt straight to your clit, making you clench around nothing.

"Two."

Kate hummed approvingly. She stepped closer to rub the paddle's cool leather over the welts, soothing them before the next blow. Her scent, smoky vanilla and gun oil, filled your senses, grounding you in the moment.

By the fifth strike, your ass burned, skin hypersensitive, each smack echoing in the quiet room. Tears pricked your eyes, but you pushed back against her touch, craving more.

"Five," you whimpered, thighs slick with your arousal dripping down. Kate set the paddle aside with a clatter, her hands replacing it, palms rough from years of fieldwork as she kneaded your reddened flesh.

"Such a good girl, taking it for me." Her fingers dipped lower, tracing your soaked folds, teasing your entrance without entering. You whined, grinding back, but she pulled away with a chuckle. "Not yet. You haven't earned it."

She grabbed a riding crop from the nearby chair, thin, flexible, perfect for precision. The first lash snapped across your upper thighs, a thin line of fire that made you yelp.

"Ow! S-six." you yelped.

It danced over your skin, alternating between cheeks and the sensitive crease where ass met thigh, each whip building the heat until your whole lower body pulsed. Kate's breaths came heavier now, her arousal evident in the way she pressed her hips against your side, the bulge of her strap visible through her pants.

"Spread your legs wider," she commanded, and you obeyed, feet shuffling apart.

The crop flicked lightly against your inner thighs, then higher, grazing your core. The sting there was electric, making you cry out as fresh slick coated your folds.

"Kate… Kate... please." you begged.

She ignored the plea, landing a firmer strike on your ass, the thwack reverberating. "Seven. Begging already? We're just getting started."

She worked you methodically, mixing hard impacts with softer taps that kept you on edge. Your counts blurred into moans, body trembling as endorphins flooded your system. By the tenth, you were a mess; ass glowing red, cunt aching to be filled, nipples hard against the desk's wood. Kate finally dropped the crop, her hands roaming possessively. She unbuckled her trousers swiftly, freeing the thick silicone cock strapped to her hips.

"On your knees first," she said, turning you to face her.

You sank down eagerly, the carpet rough on your knees, and took the strap into your mouth. She gripped your hair, guiding you to suck deep, the toy stretching your lips as you bobbed your head, tasting the lube and imagining her pleasure. Her grunts spurred you on, hips bucking until she pulled out with a wet pop.

"Enough.” she snapped. “Back over the desk."

You scrambled into position, ass up, and she wasted no time. One hand spread your cheeks, while the other lined up the cock at your dripping entrance. She thrust in, burying half the length in one go, your walls clenching around the intrusion. The fullness mixed with the lingering burn from the impacts, every movement dragging the ridges along your sensitive spots.

"God, you're soaked," she huffed, pulling back to slam deeper, her pelvis slapping against your tender skin.

Each thrust reignited the sting, pain and pleasure blurring as she fucked you relentlessly. Her hand came down in open-palmed strikes in between strokes. A smack on your ass, then a twist of your nipple when she decided to reach around. You pushed back, meeting her rhythm, the desk creaking under the force.

"Harder, Kate!” you whimpered.

She obliged, palm cracking against your thigh mid-thrust, the dual sensations pushing you toward the edge. She flipped you onto your back suddenly, legs hooked over her shoulders for deeper access. The new angle let her thrust deep, her free hand raining slaps on your breasts. Light at first, then firmer, leaving pink handprints on the soft flesh. Your clit throbbed untouched, but the impacts sent sparks straight there.

"Cum for me," she demanded, fingers finally pinching and rubbing your swollen nub in tight circles while her hips snapped forward.

The orgasm struck full force, you screamed her name, nails raking her arms, body arching off the desk. Yet, she didn't stop, chasing her own release, the harness's pressure building until she ground deep with a guttural moan, shuddering as her clit pulsed against it.

The dim light of Amanda’s worn down apartment filtered through cracked blinds, casting long shadows across the cluttered room. Amanda paced like a caged animal, her dark hair falling in wild tangles over her thin shoulders. It had been another gruelling day of setting traps, another test of will beneath John’s shadow. Her hands trembled slightly as she muttered to herself. The tedious work had left her frayed at the edges, the weight of the game’s demands forcing her into invisible shackles. 

You watched her from the worn settee in quiet concern. You had learned early in your relationship that Amanda’s world was one of extremes. Pain. Purpose. And a desperate need for control. But with you she sought something simpler: touch. Real, grounding touch that pulled her back from the abyss she so often found herself in.

“Hey,” you murmured gently, extending a hand.

She stopped mid-stride, sharp eyes locking onto yours without a word. She crossed the room in two strides and dropped onto the settee beside you, body pressing close.

Her hands were on you immediately, something you had anticipated, fingers digging into your thighs with a firm grip. She squeezed at the muscle there, kneading it like dough, as if testing the solidity of your flesh.

“You’re real,” she whispered, more to herself than you. 

Her palm slid upward, tracing the seam of your rough jeans, thumbs pressing into the soft give of your inner thighs. The pressure was insistent, yet not painful, just enough to make your breath hitch. 

You didn’t pull away. You knew this ritual well by now. When the nightmares of her past, or the stress of the present, threatened to consume her, she anchored herself to you like this. Her groping used as a lifeline of sorts, a way for her to feel the warmth of life pulsing under her touch, to remind herself that she wasn’t a mere puppet in somebody else's games.

“Amanda…’ your voice was low as her hands roamed higher, cupping your hips, fingers splaying to grip the curve of your ass through the fabric.

She pulled you closer, her breath hot against your neck as she buried her face there, inhaling deeply.

“Need this.” she growled, voice rough with urgency. 

One hand slipped under your shirt, palm flat against your stomach, feeling the rise and fall of your breaths. She dragged her nails lightly across your skin, then pressed harder, moulding her hand to the shape of your waist. The other hand stayed on your thigh, squeezing rhythmically, each press sending sparks up your spine.

You turned towards her, cupping her face to meet her gaze. Her eyes were stormy, pupils blown wide with a mix of exhaustion and hunger. You leaned in, brushing your lips against hers in a tentative kiss. She responded fiercely, mouth claiming yours as her tongue pushed past your lips. Tasting. Demanding.

Her groping intensified. Fingers pinched at your sides, then slid up to grasp your breasts, squeezing with a possessiveness that made your core tighten. She broke the kiss to nip at your jaw, her hand diving lower, palming the front of your jeans.

“Feel you getting wet…” she muttered, her voice laced with satisfaction as she rubbed circles over the growing damp spot.

Heat flooded your body and you arched into her touch, hands tangling in her hair to pull her back for another kiss. She groaned into your mouth, her free hand tugging at your shirt, pulling it up and over your head. With the fabric now discarded, her palms were on your bare skin, roaming greedily. Thumbs brushing your nipples until they pebbled under her attention. 

“More.” she demanded, shoving you back against the cushions. 

She straddled your life, her weight pinning you down as her hands explored every inch she could reach. She touched your shoulders, then your arms; interlacing your fingers briefly before releasing to squeeze your biceps. It grounded her, but it ignited you, each touch further stoking the fire in your veins.

You bucked up against her, feeling her heat through her trousers. She ground down in response, her hips rolling as she captured your mouth again. Her hands never stopped. One cupping the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair to tug sharply; the other sliding down to unbutton your jeans, delving inside to probe at your core.

"Fuck, you're so ready for me," she panted, circling your clit with precise pressure. 

Her touch was rough, needy, but attuned to what made you gasp after years of loving you. She leaned back slightly, shedding her own shirt in a swift motion, revealing the taut lines of her body, scarred in places from her life's brutal path.You reached for her, hands on her waist, but she batted them away playfully. 

She unzipped her pants next, shimmying them off along with her underwear, then did the same to yours. Naked now, skin to skin, she settled over you again, her warm cunt grinding against your thigh as her hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise.

The friction built quickly. She rocked against you, one hand bracing on the couch while the other groped your breast, pinching the nipple until you moaned into her mouth. 

"That's it," she urged, voice breaking. "Ground me. Make me feel it all."

You flipped her suddenly, surprising her with your strength. Or perhaps she let you (which was most likely the case). Now on top, you kissed down her neck, sucking marks into her collarbone as your hands mirrored hers, groping her curves, squeezing her ass to pull her as close as possible. She laughed breathlessly, a rare sound, before her legs wrapped around your waist.

"Inside me," she commanded, guiding your hand to her entrance. Your fingers teased her entrance slightly, drawing out the moment, before you pushed into her. She was tight, clenching around you as you began to move; slow at first, then harder, each pump eliciting a soft groan from her.Her hands were everywhere: clawing at your back, gripping your wrist to urge you deeper, then sliding up to cup your face as she kissed you messily. 

"Harder," she gasped, her body arching to meet your movements. 

The settee creaked under you,her moans mingling with yours.You fingered her relentlessly, feeling her walls flutter around you with every stroke. Your free hand slipped between your bodies to rub her clit, finally pushing her toward the edge. She came, crying out as her body shuddered, nails digging into your shoulders at the pleasure. Panting, she collapsed into you, her hands still roaming lazily now, softer gropes along your sides and back. She nuzzled into your neck, the tension in her body finally easing.

Larissa had always been the definition of diligence: unyielding, tireless, and utterly incapable of rest. Even illness couldn’t sway her, as she’d push through fevers and fatigue with the stubborn conviction that if she took a single day off, the entire school might crumble without her. A workaholic to her core. And yet, as you turned the corner toward her office, something felt wrong. The familiar hum of her presence was gone. The distinct, grounding scent of the alpha that always lingered in the corridor had vanished into thin air.

You froze at her door, a chill crawling up your spine. The silence that met you was thick, almost sentient, filling the dimly lit room beyond. Her grand chair stood empty, the papers on her desk untouched, mocking you with their stillness.

Larissa never missed a day. Never.

So where was she?

The hours crawled by, your lessons blurring together as worry gnawed at your thoughts. By the time the final bell rang, your resolve had cracked. Clutching a box of steaming chicken soup, you made your way to her quarters, hoping, praying, that she’d simply fallen ill and not vanished into something far worse.

You knock once, gently, before pushing the door open. The air hits you immediately. Thick and heavy… wrong. Larissa’s scent, usually crisp and commanding, is richer now, almost cloying, wrapping around you in a way that makes it hard to breathe. Your instincts prickle in warning, and something deeper hums in recognition.

“Larissa?” you call gently.

A low sound answers from within. Not quite a growl, more like a restrained exhale, dragged from the back of her throat. She’s standing by the window, her back to you, the twilight gilding the sharp lines of her silhouette. Even from here, you can sense the tension radiating from her. Her shoulders drawn tight, her posture too still.

You set the soup down carefully, your pulse thrumming. “I brought you something. You didn’t show up today, and I was worried.”

She doesn’t turn, but you see her fingers curl against the window frame. When she finally speaks, her voice is rougher than usual, frayed at the edges. “You shouldn’t be here.”

It’s not cold. It’s… strained. Like she’s fighting herself.

“Larissa, what’s going on?”

She finally turns, and the sight steals the air from your lungs. Her eyes, usually so composed, are darker now, glinting with an intensity that makes your stomach twist. She takes a step forward, and you feel that undeniable pull, primal and magnetic.

Her next breath trembles. “I’m in a rut,” she admits quietly, as if the words cost her pride.

The world seems to narrow, sound dimming until all that’s left is Larissa: her scent, her warmth, and the unsteady rhythm of her breathing. You can see how hard she’s trying to stay in control, every muscle tight with restraint.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” she murmurs, eyes flicking away. “It’s… difficult to think clearly.”

You take a careful step closer, the instinct to comfort battling the urge to flee. “You’re not alone,” you say softly. “I’m here. I’ll help however I can.”

Her eyes lift to yours, something fragile and fierce flickering there. “You shouldn’t say things like that,” she whispers, voice trembling with something perilously close to want… or fear.

For a moment, neither of you move. The silence is electric, the air charged with everything unsaid. Then she turns away again, forcing distance between you.

“Please,” she says, quieter now. “Just… leave the soup. Before I forget myself.”

You hesitate, torn between duty and the ache in your chest. But you set the bowl down and retreat to the doorway, glancing back once more. Lips pursing as you turn to re-enter the room, the scent of an alpha in rut calling out to your baser omega instincts.

She paced like a caged beast, her tall frame tense, blonde hair dishevelled from running her fingers through it one too many times. Her blue eyes, usually sharp and composed, burnt with feral hunger as they locked onto you, her sweet little omega coming back into her bedroom.

"Darling," she growled, voice low and ragged, stepping closer until her presence loomed over you. The heat radiating from her body made your skin prickle, your omega instincts kicking in with a flood of slick between your thighs. "I've been fighting this all day. But you smell so good. So ready for me. And here you are… coming to me willingly.”

You settle on her bed, whimpering as your legs part instinctively as her scent wraps around you like a vice. Larissa's rut had hit hard and fast, turning the poised headmistress into a dominant force desperate to claim. Her hands gripped your hips, yanking you to the very edge of the bed, her fingers digging in just enough to bruise.

"Look at you, my perfect little slut," she murmured, praise laced with degradation as she leaned in, lips brushing your ear. "All wet and needy already. You love when your alpha's rut takes over, don't you? Love being my good girl who spreads her legs for a knot." Her breath was hot against your neck, and you nodded frantically, arousal pooling hotter. Her rut clouded the rational part of her mind, making her murmur things she would otherwise be hesitant to say.

Larissa's mouth crashed against yours in a bruising kiss, tongue pushing into your mouth, claiming every inch. She tasted like wine and desire, her teeth nipping at your lower lip until you gasped. One hand slid up your skirt, shoving your panties aside without preamble. Her fingers found your soaked core, stroking through the slick folds before plunging two inside, curling to hit the spot that made your back arch.

"That's it, take my fingers like the eager whore you are," she praised darkly, pumping them in and out with wet, obscene sounds.

“La-Larissa…” You whine, your head reeling at the tone she’s taken.

"So tight for me. My darling omega, built to take my cock. You're doing so well, opening up just for me." Her thumb circled your clit, relentless, building the pressure until tears pricked your eyes.

You moaned into her mouth, hips bucking against her hand. Larissa's free hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat. She licked a stripe up your neck, inhaling deeply. "God, your scent... It's driving me insane. I need you on your knees, sweetheart. Need that pretty mouth wrapped around my cock before I take what you’re offering."

She withdrew her fingers abruptly, leaving you clenching around nothing, a whine escaping your lips at the ruined orgasm. Larissa chuckled, low and wicked, as she unbuckled her belt with practised ease. Her cock sprang free, thick, veined, and already leaking pre-cum, the base swelling with the promise of her knot. It throbbed in her grip as she stroked it once, eyes devouring you.

"Down, omega," she commanded, voice rough with need. Her hand was pumping her cock in long, slow strokes.

"Show me how much you crave me. Take it like the filthy little pet you are." You slid off the desk eagerly, dropping to your knees on the soft, carpeted bedroom floor, your hands reaching for pudgy thighs to steady yourself. Larissa towered over you, one hand guiding her length to your lips, the tip brushing against them, salty and warm.

"Open wide, darling," she urged, thumb tracing your bottom lip. "Be a good girl and take it deep. You know you want to."

You parted your lips, tongue flicking out to lap at the head, tasting her pre-cum as it beaded anew. Larissa groaned, hips twitching forward as you wrapped your mouth around the tip, sucking gently at first, before hollowing your cheeks.

"F-fuck, yes," she hissed, fingers threading into your hair to hold you steady. "Such a talented c-cocksucker. Look at you, drooling already. My perfect omega, worshipping her alpha like she should." She stutters, her tough alpha facade starting to falter slightly under your ministrations.

You took more of her in, lips stretching around her girth, tongue swirling along the underside as you bobbed your head. The musky flavour of her rut filled your senses, making your cunt clench with fresh need.

Larissa's grip tightened, guiding your pace as she thrust shallowly into your mouth. "Deeper, slut. Gag on it. Show me you're mine." You relaxed your throat, pushing forward until her cock hit the back, tears welling as you swallowed around her. The wet sounds of the blowjob echoed in the quiet room, slurps and gags mixing with her ragged breaths. Saliva dripped down your chin, soaking your blouse, but you didn't care, driven by the praise in her eyes.

"That's my girl," she panted, watching you intently. "Taking every inch so well. You're doing amazing, darling. M-making me feel so good with that warm mouth." Her hips rocked faster, fucking your face with controlled snaps, the knot at her base bumping against your lips. You hummed around her, vibrations drawing a deep moan from her chest, her free hand cupping your jaw to feel herself slide in and out.

The intensity built, her cock twitching against your tongue, but she pulled back suddenly, strings of spit connecting you to her retreating cock. "Enough," she growled, hauling you up by your arms. "Can't waste my load down your throat when I still have to breed you."

She positioned you in the centre of the bed, skirt hiked up, thighs parting to reveal your glistening core. Larissa groaned at the sight, the tip of her cock, still slick from your mouth, nudging your entrance, teasing as she smears your arousal.

"Such a good little omega," she cooed, one hand stroking your thigh soothingly while the other guided her length. "Taking me so beautifully. But you're also my dirty girl, aren't you? Begging for it like a bitch in heat." With that, she thrust forward, burying half her cock in one smooth motion. You cried out, walls stretching around her girth, the burn mixing with exquisite pleasure.

Larissa didn't give you time to adjust; her rut urged her to take you as soon as possible. She snapped her hips, driving deeper until she bottomed out, her thighs hitting against your own with each thrust.

"Fuck, y-yes," she hissed, starting a brutal rhythm. Each thrust punched the air from your lungs, her cock dragging against your insides, hitting deep. The bed creaked under the force, your fingers curling into the silk of her bedsheets, soft whines and quiet moans sounding out.

"You're so tight, darling," she panted, leaning down to capture a nipple through your blouse, sucking hard enough to make you arch. "Milking me already. My perfect girl, made for this. For my knot to lock you in place and breed you full." Her words sent sparks through you, degradation twisting with praise to heighten every sensation. You arch into her, whimpering at her words.

Your fingers claw at her shoulders, legs wrapping around her waist to pull her closer, despite her being as close as physically possible. Larissa's pace quickened, grunts escaping her as sweat beaded on her brow from exertion. Her hand slipped between you, fingers rubbing your clit in tight circles.

"Come for me, omega. Show your alpha how good you can be. Soak my cock like the needy whore you are."

The command shattered you. Your orgasm crashing over you in waves, cunt spasming around her length, slick gushing out. Larissa smirked triumphantly, her thrusts turning erratic as she chases her own peak.

"That's my girl," she praised, voice breaking. "Coming so hard for me. Now take my knot. Y-yes, take it all."

With a final, deep shove, her knot swelled, catching at your entrance before popping inside, sealing you together. The stretch was intense, bordering on pain, the burning sensation soon turning to pleasure and grounding you in bliss. Larissa's cock pulsed, once, then twice, hot cum flooding you in thick spurts. Filling you with her seed; claiming you through and through. She collapsed against you, biting your shoulder as she laved at your scent mark, teeth continuously grazing it but never sinking in. Unwilling to mark you unless she’s completely certain you want to be bonded to her.

"Mine," she murmured, nuzzling your neck as aftershocks rippled through you both. "My sweet, filthy omega. You took me so well."

Her knot throbbed, keeping you locked, the warmth of her release spreading deep. You clung to her in the haze of desire and pheromones, nosing at her own scent gland affectionately. Her hips still moved slightly, despite the knot tying them together, and you can’t help but smile. Knowing that she wasn’t bound to be finished any time soon.

@dingdongthetail @satinexkryze

You cursed under your breath at their ability to get under your skin, wearing you down until you eventually conceded their request. Maybe it was the way their eyes gleamed with mischief, or maybe it was the curiosity that had been gnawing at you for months, but somehow, you found yourself standing in a dark, crowded venue. A subtle buzz lit up the room, the music so loud that the bass thrummed through the floorboards, sending vibration after vibration rippling through your weary bones. 

“The Scouts” were playing once more at your local dive bar- just as they did every week. Most of the fan base, a very small one at that, knew of them because of their lead singer, Mikasa. A woman gifted with a voice that challenged Sandalphon themselves, each angelic syllable falling from her mouth with flawless ease, layered in a thick balm of perfection. 

Though she was not who you wanted to see. 

The venue smelled like sweat, beer, and the distinct metallic tang of old speakers pushed past their limit. Your nose scrunched up at the acrid scent and you desperately tried not to feel out of place, but this was definitely not your scene. The crowd was packed shoulder to shoulder, buzzing with anticipation, faces lit up by the dim glow of neon stage lights. You weren’t exactly sure what to expect; some semi-decent garage band, perhaps, something rough around the edges.

Then the lights cut out, and the crowd exploded.

A drumbeat hit, slow and deliberate, followed by the deep growl of a bass guitar. The energy shifted, sharp and electric, energy pulsing through the room as squeals of excitement sounded out. Then—them.

Hange stormed the stage like they owned it, hair wild, eyes alight with something feverish. A look you recognised. One similar to the gleam they got in their eyes once they discovered something remarkable. They were drenched in sweat before the first song even started, gripping the mic like a lifeline, their voice raw and commanding as they sang the backing vocals aiding Mikasa.

Slim and lengthy. Their fingers gripped the bass, expertly manipulating the instrument into doing their bidding. They oozed confidence, a stark difference to the awkward coworker you were used to speaking to. 

You stared. You couldn’t help it.

This wasn’t the Hange you knew. Not entirely.

The chaos was still there, the manic energy present in the movements of their fingers, the unfiltered intensity, but it was controlled, sharpened into something magnetic. They weren’t just performing. They were consuming the space, taking everything and giving even more back. This was where they thrived… and it was magnetising. 

You watched them with great intensity, unwilling to miss even the slightest thing. A frenzied look accompanied their sweeping gaze, eyes scanning the crowd as best they could against the blinding stage lights. Looking… searching…

And then they found you.

A slow grin curled across their lips. Their grip on their bass tightened and within an instant everything about the performance changed. Hange’s voice dripped with something teasing, something dangerous, and suddenly, every lyric felt too pointed, too personal as they sung alongside Mikasa. They held your gaze as they sang, never breaking eye contact, letting every note, every rasping breath, sink into your skin. You watched them, observed the way they directed their show towards you. 

Your pulse hammered in your ears. Face flushed as the sea of bodies surrounding you melted away, leaving just you and Hange. Hange and you. 

Their change in tone was deliberate.

A subtle message laced with unsaid feelings, sheltered away for years in fear of rejection. But you had came. You were here to watch them, here to hear them play, hear them sing. And they would make sure you would not regret it. 

After the show, you lingered. Maybe you should’ve left, pretended you hadn’t felt the weight of their stare, but something kept your feet rooted to the floor. It was disappointing to watch them walk away, their gaze leaving yours as they disappeared backstage. 

You startled when someone tapped your shoulder.

“Hange wants to see you backstage.” she murmured, voice gruff and unforgiving. You followed behind her, allowing her to guide you to the person you wished to see. 

The dressing room was dimly lit, the scent of sweat and stale beer lingering in the air. Clothes were strewn over a battered couch, half-empty bottles cluttering the table. You rolled your eyes at the mess, an unfortunate habit Hange could never seem to shake. Although you couldn’t help but smile at their personality still shining through despite the change in setting, Hange was still Hange despite the setting. They sat perched on the armrest, still radiating heat from the stage, a towel slung around their neck, damp strands of hair clinging to their forehead as they lazily wiped the sweat off their brow.

They looked up as you stepped inside and grinned.

“You actually came,” they teased, tossing the towel aside and standing to meet you. 

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened. “You invited me.” you murmur, swatting at their sweaty hand that tried to poke your cheek. Annoying as always. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d show.” They leaned forward, gaze heavy. Eyes seemingly searching your face for… something. “And I definitely didn’t think you’d stay.”

Something in their voice made the air shift. The playful edge was still there, but underneath it was something darker. Something more intense. You shifted in your spot, eyes flitting around the room in a pathetic attempt to ignore the growing tension in the room. 

 “You put on a good show.” you whisper, eyes flicking up to meet their own.

Hange hummed, tapping their fingers against their thigh. “You think so?” They tilted their head. “You’ve never come before. Will you come again?”

Your breath hitched. The question was innocent enough, but the way they said it… the way they stared at you suggested that it wasn’t as simple as it seemed. You tongued at your teeth, mulling over your answer before slightly nodding in reply.

“I couldn’t stop looking at you,” they admitted, voice dropping lower, rough from singing and breathy from exhaustion. “It was distracting.”

“Yeah?” you murmur breathlessly. 

“Tell me something.” Their fingers brushed against your wrist, featherlight, teasing. “Was it just the music?”

Your mouth opened then closed, just to repeat the pattern as you grappled to form a reply. “Wa-Was what just the music?” 

“That look in your eye,” they hummed, intertwining their fingers with your own. “The mesmerisation…”

You shivered at their proximity. Hange laughed, soft and breathless.And then they moved.One second, you were standing stiff, locked in some unspoken game. The next, Hange’s lips crashed against yours, urgent and desperate, like they’d been holding back for far too long. The taste of sweat and something heady, the lingering bite of alcohol, hit your tongue as Hange pressed closer, fingers threading into your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp.

They took advantage of the sound immediately, tilting their head to deepen the kiss, their teeth grazing over your bottom lip before sucking it between their own. A low, satisfied hum vibrated in their throat when you instinctively clutched at their shirt, pulling them closer until there wasn’t a sliver of space left between you.

Hange’s hands weren’t still for a second, moving as much as they could in an attempt to explore every inch of you. One slid down your back, pressing firmly against the curve of your spine to keep you trapped against them, while the other wandered- over your shoulder, down your arm, skimming the side of your waist. Their fingertips danced along the hem of your shirt before slipping beneath, palm splaying flat against your skin, sending a shiver rippling through you.

“Fuck,” they murmured against your lips, voice husky. “You feel even better than I imagined.”

They had imagined you? The feel of your skin beneath their fingers?

Your breath hitched, heat pooling in your stomach. “You-”

They kissed you again, swallowing whatever you had been about to say. This time, it was slower but no less intense; more deliberate, like they wanted to memorise the way you felt, the way you responded to every brush of their lips, every teasing flick of their tongue.

You let them. Wanted them to. You had been waiting for this just as long as they had. 

Your hands moved without thinking, skimming over their shoulders, feeling the tension coiled beneath their sweat-dampened shirt. When your nails scraped lightly against the nape of their neck, Hange groaned, their grip tightening on your waist as they pushed you back until the backs of your knees hit something solid.

A couch.

Before you could react, Hange guided you down onto it, crawling over you in one fluid motion. They barely gave you a second to breathe before their lips were on you again, trailing down your jaw, your neck, anywhere they could reach, nipping and sucking until heat coiled dangerously low in your stomach.

“You should’ve come to a show sooner,” they murmured against your skin, grinning as you shivered beneath them. “I would’ve done this ages ago.”

You were not granted the privilege of a response before they captured your lips again, stealing every last thought from your mind. 

Hange’s lips left a trail of heat down your neck, their breath warm, teasing, as they lingered just long enough to make you squirm. You could feel them grinning against your skin, reveling in every reaction they pulled from you.

“You’re sensitive,” they murmured, voice thick with amusement. “That’s cute.”

A retort sat on the tip of your tongue but it vanished the moment their hands started to wander. Their fingers brushed under your shirt again, firmer this time, palms gliding up the bare skin of your waist, sending goosebumps scattering in their wake. The way they touched you- slow, purposeful, like they were savoring every second- made your head spin.

“Lift your arms for me,” Hange murmured, their voice a low command despite the gentle tone they used. 

You obeyed without thinking, letting them peel your shirt off, their eyes darkening as they took in the newly exposed skin. They hummed appreciatively, fingers tracing lazy circles along your rib cage before sliding up to cup your chest, thumbs flicking teasingly over your nipples.

Your breath hitched, hips shifting instinctively to seek relief. And once Hange noticed, their grin turned wicked.

“You’re already so needy for me,” they teased, rolling a nipple between their fingers. “What happened you being adamant that you wouldn’t come to my concert?”

Heat pooled low in your stomach at their actions, heightened by the teasing lilt of their voice. “Shut up.”

Hange chuckled, leaning down to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss between your breasts, then another, lower this time. Their tongue flicked against your skin, leaving wet trails in their wake, before they sucked gently. Just enough to make you gasp.

They took their time working their way down your body, fingers making quick work of the button on your trousers, tugging them down inch by inch. Their lips followed, brushing over your hip bone then the sensitive dip of your lower stomach. 

“You’re already so warm,” they mused, slipping a hand between your thighs, cupping you through your underwear. The pressure was light, too light, just enough to make you throb with anticipation.

“Hange,” you breathed in frustration, desperate for them to do something. Anything. 

They tsked, fingers tracing teasing patterns over the damp fabric. “Patience,” they murmured, voice dripping with amusement. “I want to take my time with you.”

And they did.

Hange kissed down the inside of your thigh, slow and deliberate, their hands pressing your legs apart with ease. When they finally hooked their fingers under the waistband of your underwear and dragged them down, they groaned, their breath hot against your bare skin.

“Fuck,” they murmured, their voice rough with desire. “Look at you.”

Their fingers slid through your slick folds, gathering the wetness that had gathered there, spreading it slowly. The teasing pace made your toes curl and your hips lifted in a silent, desperate plea for more.

Hange chuckled, but there was an edge to it now. Something hungry, something almost possessive.

“So eager,” they murmured. “Guess I’ll have to make this worth your while.”

Then their mouth was on you, tongue pressing firm and slow against your most sensitive spot and your world shattered.

Hange’s tongue flicked against your clit, light and teasing at first, just enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure through your body. Then, they flattened their tongue, pressing firmly, dragging it in slow, deliberate strokes that had your thighs trembling.

Your fingers found their way into their hair, tangling in the damp, oily strands as you gasped at the heat of their mouth. Hange groaned against you, the vibration sending a new wave of pleasure rolling through your core.

“Fuck,” you breathed, hips jerking involuntarily.

Hange chuckled against you, hands tightening around your thighs, holding you in place. “Stay still for me,” they murmured, before dipping their tongue lower, slipping between your folds, tasting you like they’d been starving for it.

The slow, steady pace was maddening. Every flick of their tongue, every careful suck, every teasing movement designed to unravel you inch by inch. They savored you, like they had all the time in the world, like they wanted to make you beg for it.

You squirmed against their hold, breath hitching as they circled your clit with precise, lazy strokes. “Hange—”

They hummed, their grip tightening. “Mhm. Say my name like that again.”

Your head fell back against the couch, a moan spilling from your lips as they sucked gently on your clit once more, rolling it between their lips before pressing two fingers against your entrance.

They didn’t push in right away. Instead, they traced the slick heat in a teasing display, pressing just enough to have you writhing before finally easing inside.

The stretch was slow, deliciously filling, their fingers curling just right as they started a steady rhythm. Their mouth never left you, their tongue working in tandem with each thrust, each stroke bringing you closer, winding the coil in your stomach impossibly tight.

You could barely think, could barely breathe. Your mind was consumed with thoughts of Hange and Hange alone. 

Hange was relentless, building you up with devastating precision, their fingers pressing against that perfect spot inside you, their mouth driving you higher, higher, until your entire body went taut.You came with a sharp cry, pleasure crashing over you in waves, thighs trembling as Hange worked you through it, their movements softening only when you started to whimper from overstimulation.

They pulled away slowly, leaving one last kiss against your inner thigh before sitting back, wiping their mouth with the back of their hand. Their pupils were blown wide, their lips swollen, their expression utterly wrecked with desire. A direct mirror of your own ruined expression.

“Fuck,” they rasped, grinning as they leaned over you. “You’re incredible.”

You were still catching your breath when they slotted their body against yours, their hips pressing firmly between your legs. You could feel how hard they were through their jeans, could feel the barely restrained hunger thrumming through them.

Your pulse quickened again as their fingers traced your jaw, tilting your face up to meet theirs.

“I hope you didn’t think we were done,” they murmured, lips ghosting over yours. “I’ve got a lot more planned for you.”

And with that, they kissed you again, slow and deep, stealing whatever was left of your resolve. Hange kissed you deep, their tongue still tasting of you, their hands firm as they gripped your hips, pressing you further into the couch. Their body was warm against yours, muscles tensed with barely restrained hunger. You could feel the slow roll of their hips, the unmistakable pressure between your thighs making your breath hitch.

“You’re still ready for me, aren’t you?” they murmured, voice thick with amusement and desire. They dragged their lips down your throat, sucking just enough to leave a mark before whispering against your skin. “Bet you’ve thought about this before.”

You whimper softly at the feel of the strap between their legs. “You always wear that?” 

They smirk against your throat, nudging their nose against you but not offering a reply. Your fingers dug into their back, heat spreading through you as they rocked against you again, slow and teasing, building anticipation with every deliberate movement. You barely registered the sound of something being unbuckled, the rustle of fabric, before Hange was nudging your legs apart, positioning themselves between them.

The first press against you was firm and unyielding, a deliberate contrast to their teasing from before. They didn’t rush. Instead, they let the moment stretch, rubbing slow circles along your hips as they guided themselves forward, inch by inch, sinking into you with a patience that was almost maddening.

Your breath caught, pleasure building steadily as they filled you completely. Hange groaned, gripping your waist as they stilled for a moment, savoring the sight of you around them. “Fuck,” they exhaled, voice rasping. “You look so fucking pretty.”

Then they moved.

The first thrust was slow, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you, sending shivers rippling through your body. They set a steady rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before pressing back in, their hips rolling with practiced ease. Every movement was controlled and precise, meant to pull every possible sound from your lips.

“You like this, don’t you?” Hange panted. They leaned down, catching your mouth in a searing kiss as their pace quickened, thrusts hitting deeper, harder. “Taking me so well. Fuck, look at you.”

You couldn’t form words. Not when pleasure was blooming in your core, winding tighter and tighter with every snap of their hips. Your fingers clawed at their back, desperate for something to hold onto as they drove into you with increasing intensity.

Hange was relentless, grinning against your lips when you moaned, when you gasped their name, when your body arched to meet every movement. “I want to hear you,” they murmured, biting gently at your jaw before moving to your ear. “Let go for me.”

And you did.

The pleasure crested and crashed over you in waves, your body tensing before shuddering apart beneath them. Hange groaned, fucking you through it, their grip tightening as they chased their own release, grinding deep until they finally stilled, breathless and shaking.

For a long moment, the only sounds were your mingled breaths, the soft hum of the backstage world still buzzing just outside the door. Then Hange pulled back just enough to press a lingering kiss to your lips, their usual teasing grin making a lazy return.

“Well,” they murmured, fingers tracing light patterns over your waist. “You’re definitely coming to the next show.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still hazy from pleasure. “Yeah,” you admitted, smiling up at them. “I think I will.”

Hange chuckled, their weight warm and comforting against you. And as you lay tangled together, still catching your breath, you had the distinct feeling that this was far from the last time you’d find yourself in a situation like this.

And honestly? 

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

The air was still as you entered your bedroom. Despair clouded the room, the stench of it prominent as you traversed further into the darkness. Your bed was illuminated a fracture by the light leaking in from the open doorway, threatening to rid the room of its sinisterity yet, ultimately, losing the fight as the door shut upon itself; the hinges crying in protest as it did so. Emily lay in the centre of your bed. In the same position she was in this morning. And the morning before that. And the one before that.

Your heart ached for her and your inability to provide any help was frustrating you to no end. But, Emily didn’t want your help. No matter how many times you had offered, or tried to comfort her, she pushed you away. Every. Single. Time.

You ran your hand through her hair regardless of the grease and grime that coated each strand. Regardless of said grease and grime transferring onto your fingers. No, you did not care. Because you love Emily and you are willing to do whatever it takes to make her happy.

“Emily?” You whispered gently, coaxing her to look at you.

You weren’t expecting a response. You could barely get a sound out of her these days, but you were overjoyed when she turned to face you. A joy short lived, but you smiled nonetheless, since the eyes that looked at you merely saw through you as if you were a ghost made of smoke and vapour. But, press on you did.

“You haven’t eaten in a while, my love.” You murmured, fingers still combing through her hair. “I’ve brought you something to drink. I know that you don’t want to eat right now, so this way you can get the nutrients you need without eating, okay?”

You were aware that your words were falling on deaf ears. You knew that she wasn’t really present. Couldn’t really hear what you were saying. The silence had became too loud, your house unsettlingly quiet without the constant conversation and laughter flowing through it, you couldn’t help but try fill it.

The following weeks were much of the same. You helped her bathe, eat and take care of herself then slept beside her every night.

And she got better. Your house was no longer deathly silent, shared laughter and giggles filling every expanse of your house. Things were slowly getting back to normal and you were happy. Truly happy.

Until you weren’t.

When you said that you would do anything to make Emily happy, you didn’t think that would involve you packing your bags and leaving. You didn’t think she would cast you aside; send you walking through the threshold of your,  no her home, never to return. She hadn’t explained why or even gave you a reason. A simple “I don’t need you anymore.” was all she had stated before sending you packing.

But you said it yourself: you would do anything to make her happy.

—0—

You hadn’t spoken to Emily nor anybody else on the team for over a year. Was it a year? Longer perhaps. It’s easy to lose track of time when your days are monotonous and bleak. A heavy cloud hovered ominously above you, following you everywhere you went, always watching.

You had signed the divorce papers as soon as you could, sending them away immediately so that she could sign them. Fine, you had thought, if she doesn’t want me then I don’t want her.  Yet after all this time, you were still waiting for them back.

When your sister had died you had been inconsolable. What more did the universe, with its cruel hands and unrelenting grip, wish to snatch away from you? Your wife and now your sister. You couldn’t give in to your grief, no not this time; not when you had gained custody of a baby that needs to be taken care of.

Yes, the baby comes first. The baby and then you. Your sister had named her Tally, heavens dew she had told you it meant, a blessing from god.

However, Tally was not the sole reason that you survived. Alex Blake, the woman that she is, helped you through your grief. She helped you learn how to be a mother and how to take care of a such a small human, incapable of doing anything but existing, solely dependent on you.

Tally was coming up four now and had affectionately claimed Alex as her grandma. You weren’t sure how Alex would take it, having lost her son at such a young age, but you were ecstatic when she accepted your daughter with open arms, and by extension you too.

Your little family was complete and you were content with the life you had. The death of your sister or the separation from your wife had been pushed into the endless caverns right at the back of your mind, forgotten about in the inky depths.

Television shows and movies always seemed to be over exaggerating when the main characters' world came to a stop. Perhaps they weren’t exaggerating at all. A formal request for you to enlist your services within the FBI once more sat in your hand. According to the letter, a huge web of serial killers had been discovered and they needed all hands on deck to solve the case.

All hands on deck included you.

You were torn on what to do. On one hand, you could potentially keep millions safe from despicable people. Nevertheless, you had a daughter now, a daughter that needs her mother and it wasn’t guaranteed that you would catch said people.

You emailed Rossi back, stating that you accepted the job position. After all, you needed to catch and shut down this network for good. Especially when you had a daughter to keep safe.

What happened to your sister would never happen again.