butch appreciation day would have been the day that i top until HIS brain is mush and he has no thoughts or worries, after which i would sit on his lap and makeout with him to begin the sweet, MANDATORY, aftercare session that ends with a blunt, wine, and a warm bath; i wash his body, and then out on a show for him as i wash my own.

oh to worship a butch boyfriend day in and day out, dedicating half of my life to them completely and totally and merging our lives together ultimately; the give and take, the care of a lover that wants to take care of me, and doesn't care if i want him to or not.. the type of person that makes me grow and feel safe enough to become the best version of myself. a forever partner.

ugh i love butches. i dream so much.

hold me, love me, & support me ♡

|An: imagine if Wolverine dated a cannibal…whoah.. also not really 18+ since there’s nothing 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 but reader does get attacked so like. Maybe skip if that’s uncomfortable !

2k words

Ever since you were young, you knew you were different from other kids. While they proudly brandished scrapes and bruises like badges of honor, you sat with pristine, unmarred skin despite hours of roughhousing. Cuts never found your skin for long; cells seamlessly mending themselves within minutes, sometimes seconds, with no trace of injury in the first place.

Your parents were adamant that you learn self defense and keep your…abilities a secret; if the wrong person found out, they’d hurt you. Use you for tests. They’d kill you. In elementary years, these warnings came in the form of fantastical bedtime stories with thinly veiled morals; but as you got older, you learned the dangers following you were very real.

During your junior year, your parents sat you down for ‘a serious talk’. “Eaters,” your father explained , face hard as stone as he spoke, “People that tear other people apart like animals; like they can’t help themselves.”

“When you say ‘tear apart’..?” “They eat people, [y/n],” your mother spoke up from her seat beside your dad. “And with what you can do…they’ll want you worse.” She paused on each word like they pained her to say.

You blinked, “…so I just won’t tell anyone; no one’s found out for this long.” They both sighed, your mom continuing. “They’ll know; they’ll smell you. You won’t smell like one of them but they’ll know.”

“We aren’t telling you this to scare you, hun, but you need take this seriously. This is your life and the minute you let your guard down, those monsters will take it from you.” And with that, the conversation ended and the two ate dinner like normal; pointedly ignoring the gloom that now hung heavy over you.

Your first encounter with one came a week later at work, when some guy attacked you during a part-time graveyard shift. He lunged over the counter when you handed him his change, clawing and biting as you struggled to restrain him. Your coworker, who’d been in the back room, heard the commotion and called for help.

By the time the police came, you had him knocked out on the floor. He was arrested, sent to a ward by verdict of insanity but you knew. Your parents were right. That man wasn’t insane at all; just hungry and thought you were alone.

After that, encounters became more frequent and you learned to recognize them by the time you graduated. Those soulless, starved eyes could never blend into a crowd.

The very same stare capturing the face of the woman in front of you now. There’d been a mugging attempt near an apartment complex. Your ECO didn’t think a hospital run would be necessary since, to their knowledge, no one was hurt and your crew was only dispatched because of a possible weapon. But when has fate ever been kind to you?

Obnoxious red and blues drowned the night out and threatened to blind you as you arrived on scene. Wincing, you turned away; instead focusing on a team of cops hunched over a man clad in all-black. Despite donning a stereotypical robber outfit, he looked more akin to a torture victim: spouting blood from every deep gash across his face and torso. Hell, chunks of his flesh were littered along the pavement. The first-respondent team backed off and let your crew get to work loading him on a stretcher and dressing his wounds but you couldn’t help the confusion lingering as you worked on autopilot. He was confirmed to be the aggressor, so why the hell did he look like a bear’s chew toy, passing out from blood loss? Even his knife was relatively clean.

It didn’t make sense until you got to her. The victim, an average woman in her mid to late twenties, was also covered in blood; none of it hers. She was practically unscathed save for a few cuts and split skin along her knuckles. Still, you had to assess her for injury despite the hungry, jet-black eyes revealing a monstrous nature; never leaving you for a second.

She silently tracked your every movement as you worked and it was all you could do not to roll your eyes under her predatory glare. You weren’t scared; if she was stupid enough to attack you in front of multiple witnesses, you’d have a reason to sedate her. It’d certainly make this examination less awkward, you figured.

A few questions and mobility checks confirmed what you already knew; she was completely fine. You disinfected her knuckles and politely asked if she could hold her hair so you could bandage a small abrasion on her neck. When she didn’t move or respond, you inwardly sighed and brushed it back yourself; resting the thick curls on the back of one hand. You smoothed the bandaid over her skin and she jumped as if she’d been shocked.

“Ah, I’m sorry ma’am. Did that hu-” “No.” she cut you off. “…It didn’t? Are you sure?” “Im sure; thank you, doctor.”

Nodding, you stood up and gestured to the detective team talking in front of a still-flashing car. “Okay, well it looks like you’re good to go medically, but I’m sure the police would like to talk a bit more with you, maybe get a statement.” With a hand hovering behind her shoulder blade, you tried to usher her that direction but once again, she didn’t move aside from standing. “Yes, I’m sure they will. I can’t thank you enough for coming to help me tonight..” she tilted her head before continuing impossibly slow, “Perhaps you could let me thank you properly over dinner sometime?”

God, help you. You had to force your grimace into a polite smile before replying. “That’s a very kind offer, ma’am but I’m afraid I have to decline. We’re happy to help and are glad you’re okay.” Instantly, her saccharine smile dropped and for a split second, you caught a glimpse of her true, cold self peek through before the coquettish façade recovered.

Thick lips pressed themselves into a thin smile as she spoke, “Oh, well that’s alright. You have a good night, doctor.” She turned and walked off mid-sentence, leaving her words trailing behind.

Your team, who’d lovingly elected you to deal with the eater alone, rejoined you in the ambulance a few minutes later once the scene died down. For reasons you were too tired to guess, a private EMS from a nearby hospital had been called to take the would-be assailant. It must’ve happened while you were busy with the woman, not that you really minded; anything that ended your shift sooner was welcomed with open arms.

On the drive back, your crew talked nonstop about the call; all three coworkers raving about how strong the woman was, how badly injured the robber was, how admirable she was. All while you sat silently in a corner, rolling your eyes at every praise they sung for that monster. Sure; her self-defense was objectively impressive, if not a bit overkill, but you weren’t gonna reward a wolf for killing.

It was nearly 4 am when you finally got home, barely peeling off your uniform before collapsing on the couch. You sighed into soft cushions, letting the nights stress slip from your mind, forever forgotten as you drifted to sleep..

Did your window just click..?

Over a month’s course, strange occurrences began permeating your everyday life; each one slightly more concerning than the last. Misplaced items magically reappearing in places you swore you checked yesterday. The rug always bunching up at the same spot near your balcony. Despite living alone, your groceries, specifically meat, seemed to go a lot faster.

Even outside your apartment, you noticed your car alarm would always go off while shopping, regardless of where you went. You were ranting to your friends about how weird it all was when one of them cut you off. “[Y/N], what the hell is wrong with you! Go to the cops!” You thought she was joking at first until the others agreed. “Yeah dude,” another shook his head, “That shit’s not normal.”

They implored you to get cameras or at least change the locks but you brushed them off; it was probably just years of paranoia and work stress catching up to you.

As fate would have it, this would come back to bite you. Literally, on a late night gas station trip. Sleep had been avoiding you like the plague these past few weeks and after one too many hours of tossing and turning, you decided to make the trek to the convenience store down the block for some sleeping meds.

At night. Alone.

Only now, rolling on the floor fighting off an assailant in an alley, did it register how bad of an idea this was; Zzzquil be damned.

They’d grabbed you from behind, dragging you off the sidewalk as you walked past the buildings’ gap. One arm around your forearms and waist, the other holding a strong hand over your mouth. Adrenaline reacted faster than you could, and you kicked off the wall in front of you to slam them against the brick building behind.

The grip on you tightened as you repeated the motion in a blurry mix of elbows, kicks, and scratches until your wild thrashing gave you enough leeway to break the attacker’s hold.

As soon as you were free, you ran like hell; grocery bag long forgotten on the concrete behind you.

Only when the footsteps behind you came to an abrupt end at the street’s crosswalk did you risk a glance behind you; only to be met with the ravenous gaze of the woman from a few weeks ago. She stood motionless a ways away with a crazed expression, eyes dilated yet unblinking; just staring.

She really was beautiful. You knew this much from the first time you met but seeing her outside of a professional, semi-annoyed, lens was something else entirely. Monster she was, you’d never admit it out loud but ‘breathtaking’ didn’t begin to cover it; especially not with the moon lovingly highlighting every coil cascading down onto her shoulders; as if made for her specifically. Your breathing stuttered once, twice.

From the running, you told yourself, nothing else.

Blood painted the woman’s face red from nose to chin; a fanged grin stretching itself along her lips, leering at you until you finally saw what she was zeroed in on. You looked down to find your shoulder a gory mess similar to the robber’s state a few weeks ago. White-hot pain blossomed where the night’s chill had once barely registered against your fresh wound.

Son of a bitch-

She must’ve bitten off a chunk while you were too busy struggling to truly notice.

Your gaze shot up to ensure she hadn’t come closer…only to find her gone completely, as if she were never there in the first place.

A mix of fear, alertness, and perhaps something akin to expectation held you frozen in place for what felt like years. Eyes darting around the dimly lit street for any sign of how she seemingly vanished or where she’ll jump out of.

In reality this was only minutes, and eventually you knew she wouldn’t be back and it was safe to go home; though you still scanned your surroundings every few seconds to be sure.

Despite the added blood loss and paranoia, the walk back to your apartment passed uneventfully and you were able to make it home in one slightly mangled piece.

The door shut behind you with a click and every lock was double, triple, quadruple checked before your heart calmed down enough to carry on your night.

The wound had already begun healing by the time you made it to the bathroom to clean. Even so, you grabbed a wet sponge and some bandages to clean it up before bed; blood was a pain to get out of mattresses.

Experienced hands made quick work of the task, dabbing away dried up blood until a shade of mauve holding stubborn beneath the red made you pause.

Under the crusted blood were two lipstick prints, smeared yet distinct on your skin. One stretching over where she bit you; and another, smaller, mark a little closer to your neck.

A kiss before dinner.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🥩🦴 ⋅ ୧ ‧₊˚ 🥩🦴 ⋅ ୧ ‧₊˚ 🥩🦴 ⋅ ୧ ‧₊˚ 🥩🦴 ⋅ ୧

This took an embarrassingly long time to finish cause I genuinely had No clue how to end it; still don’t even like it but wtv this is leaving my drafts TONIGHT😃