#I barely learned that muscles are supposed to be squishy

[egggnoodles]

Forgot to post this request I did for myself lmaooo. It’s Draco loving to feel Harry’s squishy healthy muscles lol

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: NHS non-fatally qi deviates. How do NMJ and the others take that?

ao3 

Untamed

It had always been something of a behind-closed-doors debate – a chicken-and-the-egg problem, what came first, what was the cause and what was the symptom.

Was the Nie sect’s atypical cultivation method the reason behind the notorious Nie temper? Or were they born with the temper, and the cultivation method merely built upon that? Which one was the reason for their clan’s tendency towards early qi deviations?

Nie Huaisang usually threw his money on the “blame the cultivation style”, almost entirely for the sake of pissing off his brother.

He was starting to think, though, that he’d been wrong.

Aituan wasn’t even anywhere nearby, after all, when he started bleeding out of his qiqiao, his qi disordered and violently raging inside of him and still somehow, somehow not enough to assuage the rage in his heart, in his head –

“Nie-xiong! Nie-xiong! Nie Huaisang!”

Nie Huaisang turned with a snarl, but Wei Wuxian was already holding up his hands in surrender, Jiang Cheng quickly following suit a second later, and in the end he wasn’t really angry at them.

“I’m pretty sure you’re done,” Jiang Cheng said cautiously. “You’re – you are done, right?”

“I dunno,” Wei Wuxian muttered. “I don’t think Wen Zhuliu is entirely paste yet – there’s still a few bones Nie-xiong hasn’t crushed down into dust…”

“Shut up.”

“I will not.”

The familiar bickering was soothing, like slipping into a hot bath at the end of a tough day – like arguing with his brother about silly things, scoring a clever point and getting one of his brother’s rare smiles. Nie Huaisang felt his shoulders relax a little, and he lowered the stick –

“Why am I holding a stick?” he asked blankly, looking down at it. He didn’t remember picking it up at any point. “And why is it…uh…”

“Covered in the blood and guts and possibly brain matter of your enemy?”

Nie Huaisang swayed, suddenly light-headed. “…that,” he agreed, voice weak.

He slowly became aware that there was something squishy and wet under his feet, soaking into his shoes, and he very carefully did not look down.

“What happened?” he asked faintly. “What did I – actually, on second thought, don’t tell me.”

Jiang Cheng’s expression was a strange mix of being impressed with him and pitying him, and honestly Nie Huaisang preferred the pity. No one was impressed with him, not ever, and in retrospect he rather liked it that way, if the alternative was…

“You defeated the Core-Melting Hand in one-on-one combat,” Wei Wuxian said. “Congratulations.”

Nie Huaisang gaped at him.

“Don’t you remember?” Jiang Cheng said, blinking at him. “He said something about your brother, and you suddenly lost it –”

Nie Huaisang remembered, suddenly, and he felt a sickening lurch in his stomach as his vision flickered red around the edges again, and he imagined he could hear Aituan shouting his name from thousands of li away. How dare that man, that stone-face bastard who looked so long-suffering and yet underneath it all was so cruel and unfeeling – how dare he say such a thing about his da-ge –

Nie Huaisang had been angry the entire time he’d been here at the indoctrination camp.

Really angry, not the silly little temper tantrums he usually threw back at home or the occasional shouting matches he had with his brother to vent steam. He hated it here. He hated the fact that he was here in the Nightless City, the one place his brother had always refused to bring him no matter how embarrassingly impolitic it was, the place Sect Leader Wen had murdered his father over a stupid dinner table conversation. He hated the fact that his brother had tried to protect him, and failed only because he’d gotten distracted by Meng Yao of all people.

(He hated the fact that he’d had to learn that fact from one of his retainers, weeks too late and him already gone to the Nightless City, too late to apologize or make it up; hated the fact that the last words he’d said to his da-ge on the subject were cruel ones, blaming him for sending away his friend, when in fact his friend had torn off his face to reveal something dark beneath. He hated that his brother had just taken those cruel words from him, suffered under his accusations, without defending himself from them, because he blamed himself for – for what? For being just, the way he was supposed to be?  For protecting him?)

He hated the Yin metal, the vile corruption he could feel for all that they were in a different part of the palace. He hated Wen Chao making them memorize and recite, which he was terrible at, and he hated him for making them do it outside in the hot sun and the hot earth until he fainted from heatstroke, his weak golden core insufficient to protect him the way the others did them.

He hated Wen Ruohan, he hated Wen Chao, and he hated, hated, hated Wen Zhuliu.

Most of the boys at the indoctrination camp had gotten the idea that he wasn’t that bad, for all that he was terrifying, because he always looked so bored about everything, like he was having to fulfil all of this as a torturous duty instead of a pleasure, but he’d been the one to carry Nie Huaisang back inside after he’d fainted and he’d said some things about his brother then, when Nie Huaisang was too weak to do anything, and today he’d come by, watching Nie Huaisang struggle to set up the small tent he’d been given for their travels, and he’d said them again…

“He wanted to steal my brother’s cultivation,” Nie Huaisang said through numb lips. His hands were clenched, quivering with rage that was impossible to bury down in his heart – was this how his brother felt all the time? No wonder he was so straightforward about most things; forget scheming, it was amazing he could even think. “He wanted – he didn’t even think of him as a person. Just dirt beneath his feet, fruit ripe for the plucking, some animal he could slaughter as a prize to give to his wretched master –”

He’d even said, today, that they could use what was left over as a corpse puppet, and chuckled when he thought of what the great Chifeng-zun would have thought of that.

Nie Huaisang had been angry ever since they’d arrived, full of bile and choler and rage.

His family never did handle their rage well.

“You had a minor qi deviation,” Wei Wuxian said solemnly, looking at him. “You’re still bleeding – your eyes, your nose, your ears…We need to get you to a doctor.”

“We need to hide the body before anyone finds it, that’s what we need to do,” Jiang Cheng said.

“We can do both! Multitasking!”

He was very lucky to have such good friends, Nie Huaisang thought to himself, and toppled over.

He woke up back in the sorry excuse for a camp, with Wen Qing acting as his doctor and Wen Ning as her assistant, taking care of him (it had taken an embarrassingly long while before Nie Huaisang remembered their names, for all that they’d come to lessons at the Cloud Recesses, too, both of them, and even though they’d all gone on a whole mission to the village with the goddess statute together afterwards, but in his defense he was really bad at memorizing - anything), and while Wen Qing kept herself nice and professional, Wen Ning kept shooting him extremely impressed looks that Nie Huaisang didn’t think he deserved.

He hadn’t actually defeated the Core-Melting Hand in one-on-one combat, no matter what Wei Wuxian said. He’d launched a surprise attack at the back of a man who wasn’t expecting it, because no one ever expected anything from Nie Huaisang.

“You have remarkable arm strength,” Wen Qing said (she had looked amused when he asked about her name, blushing with shame), sounding casual but clearly fishing a little. “It’s hidden by your thin frame, and even further minimized by your choice in clothing, but actually you have significant muscle there.”

“Saber practice,” Nie Huaisang explained. “Sabers are heavier than swords, and rely more on brute force. At home, you train a lot with heavy things even before you get your own saber, just to make sure you can wield it properly – you have to have a good arm.”

He’d been barely mediocre by his sect’s standards, and even that level he’d only achieved through years of nagging, threatening, and occasional bribery on his older brother’s part. He shouldn’t have been able to win, but Wen Zhuliu hadn’t even been looking at Nie Huaisang when he’d said what he said, hadn’t seen the moment he’d snapped and attacked, his disordered qi giving him extraordinary strength even as it turned against him to destroy him internally, and if there was one thing that saber style taught you it was not to let someone who’d fallen to your blade get up again.

(Had his brother brought out Baxia against Meng Yao, before deciding to let him go? He couldn’t help but wonder – it was bad luck if he had, a severing of the relationship in an unfixable way, but he wasn’t sure his brother would be strong enough to resist trying to repair it if Meng Yao ever came back. Where was Meng Yao, anyway?)

Attacking a man from behind wasn’t really honorable, he thought glumly, and he thought he understood for the first time why his brother was so strict about such things: it didn’t feel good to have done it this way. It felt like cheating, made every approving gaze feel like a lie, like something he didn’t deserve.

“So what happens now?” he asked, and Wen Qing shrugged a little helplessly. “Does, uh…”

“Wei-gongzi and Jiang-gongzi are hiding the remains,” Wen Ning volunteered. He looked way too cheerfully when he said ‘remains’. Possible budding mass-murderer? Or maybe he’d just been a doctor’s assistant for too long. “Wen-er-gongzi hasn’t noticed yet – he’s still with Wang Lingjiao.”

“But he will notice,” Nie Huaisang said.

“As long as he doesn’t blame any of you, does it matter?” Wen Qing said.

“…if you have an example of Wen Zhuliu’s handwriting, I can probably forge it to look like a note saying he was summoned back by Sect Leader Wen.”

Wen Qing and Wen Ning exchanged looks he didn’t quite understand, but they brought him what he needed, and by the time they got trapped in a horrible underground cave with a gigantic man-eating Xuanwu the next day, Wen Chao still hadn’t figured it out, though he’d been in an awful mood the entire time.

“Why are you sitting down?” Jiang Cheng scolded him even as he dashed around fighting Wen sect soldiers, and see, this was why Nie Huaisang didn’t ever fight. It only made people expect him to do it more – Jiang Cheng hadn’t scolded him at all for hiding behind things before…

Before.

“Leave him alone,” Jin Zixuan said. He hadn’t been there, so he still looked disdainful and dismissive; it was amazing how much of a relief that was. “He can’t help anyway.”

“But –”

“My head hurts,” Nie Huaisang said plaintively, and it had the benefit of being both true and working very effectively to get Jiang Cheng to head as far away from him as possible in a sudden rush. After a while, he got up and picked up one of the swords some unfortunate Wen sect retainer had dropped.

“I have no idea what I’m doing with this,” he said, very seriously, to yet another unfortunate Wen sect retainer, before lifting it and bringing it down, saber-style, the way his brother had all but beaten into his head.

That one didn’t seemed like he was expecting it, either, even though Nie Huaisang was right in front of his face and everything.

It felt a bit better, though – Aituan didn’t like the Wen sect one bit, he thought a little muzzily, and wondered why he’d thought that, since after all Aituan was all the way back at home – and he was a little less ashamed to stand with the rest of them as they tried to figure out a way out of the cave.

“You probably shouldn’t do that,” he said to the Lan disciple who picked up a bow and was trying to aim it at the Xuanwu. “You’ll miss.”

The Lan disciple glared at him.

“Not as bad as I would, mind you,” Nie Huaisang said, looking at it. He felt as though he was standing behind a pane of glass and nothing could touch him - not pain or fear or anything, anything but rage. “I’d probably miss the turtle entirely. I’m just saying that it’s angry now, so the shot’s a lot harder to make; maybe five people could make that shot.”

“Lan-er-gongzi could make it.”

“Yes, well, Lan-er-gongzi isn’t human,” Nie Huaisang said, quite seriously, and the Lan disciple’s lips twitched. “Seriously, don’t waste your time – or your arrows. If you’re anywhere good enough at archery to even think that you could make that shot, you need to keep them to protect me.”

“Are you in need of protection?”

“Oh, always,” Nie Huaisang said blithely, the way he always did, then paused and grimaced. “Most of the time, anyway. I got sick, earlier.”

He was pretty sure the Lan disciple didn’t understand what he meant by sick.

“You don’t really want me to protect you,” the disciple said, frowning. “Do you?”

Nie Huaisang wanted everyone to protect him. He never wanted to fight again in his life.

But the Lan disciple looked like he was a little pleased to have been asked, like no one had ever asked him before, and Nie Huaisang suddenly felt a sudden stab of empathy hitting him straight in the heart.

“I do. I’m pretty sure all the other Nie disciples here are short-range fighters –” His brother had sent as few of them as he could manage, and only sent any at all because he wanted someone there to keep an eye on Nie Huaisang. To protect him. “– and they’re mostly hotheaded idiots –” That was definitely true. “– and I really, really don’t want to end up in another situation where I get sick again, because my brother will never forgive me. So I could use an archer.”

“…okay,” the Lan disciple said. “I’m Su She.”

Nie Huaisang nodded. “I promise to apologize to your sect later on for taking up your time.”

He managed not to be sick the entire journey home.

Maybe it was an aberration, he thought, maybe –

When he got home, his brother was holding Aituan in his hand instead of Baxia – she was in her sheath on his back – and he rushed over to him at once, presenting the saber to him before he did anything else; confused, Nie Huaisang accepted his saber, wondering if he was going to need to go practice or something, and the second his hand wrapped around the hilt –

Oh.

Oh.

His head abruptly cleared, the fog he hadn’t even realized was there finally lifting, the rage draining out of him and back into Aituan – not an especially angry saber, as they went, but still a Nie saber with all that entailed. His qi finally, finally straightened out, stabilized, and he felt like he could breathe again, his mind free and clear now that he had a saber in his hand.

Like all the other Nies before him.

Doomed.

And then he was in his brother’s arms, being held tight.

“Oh, Huaisang,” his brother said, and his voice sounded raw and broken, almost as if he’d been weeping. “I never wanted this for you.”

Nie Huaisang hugged him back.

“It’s okay,” he said, and the buzzing in the back of his head that was Aituan agreed with him. He’d been there the whole time, ever since the first incident; it didn’t matter how far away from each other they were. “It was a small one, it passed, it’s fine…”

It wasn’t fine, and they both knew it – Nie Huaisang might not know the details of all their clan secrets, but he knew enough to know what it was he was so carefully not knowing – but what was there to say?

It was still his family. It was still his heritage.

(He wondered what Meng Yao would say, if he knew. He wondered if he would pull his saber back the way his brother had, if Meng Yao ever betrayed him.)

“At least I can help fight now,” he said, joking, and his brother glared at him.

“Not a chance,” he said. “You’re going to go somewhere safe. You can go with –”

“Su She.”

“– with Su She back to the Cloud Recesses; it’ll be more secure there than here.”

It was about what Nie Huaisang had expected.

“Okay,” he said. “But not now.”

His brother’s eyes flickered down to his saber. His lifeline.

“No,” he said. “Not now.”

[jediknightobiwan]

Boba smut, you say?

Could I get some dad bod Boba love post-Mandalorian season 2, if you've finished the new episode? Because our man definitely deserves some love after that shit. I personally headcannon him as being dominant AF, with lots of pet names, and a tendency to be a little rougher. Maybe some post-battle fucking to wind down in Slave I.

Thanks!

OFC We love Dad Bods here I will NOT tolerate Temura hate like at all. We don’t expect women to stay the same all their lives and we shouldn’t expect the same of men.

In talks with @emilykjh we decided that Boba decidedly, is a brat tamer so I’m definitely going along the dominant caregiver route with him.

Also tbh and probably shockingly I haven’t watched the new season all the way through AT ALL it was emotionally too much for me when it started so now I can binge it whenever 😅 I just learn things through gifs cause I don’t mind spoilers! So things may be very Vague when it comes to plot or I’ll just go with what I’ve gathered happens after the last episode. But let’s do some Older Boba stuff yes, everyone who understood the significance of Boba’s appearance better say thank you Mr. Temuera for your service.

Boba Fett x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Caregiver/Little BDSM relationship, Daddy Kink, Age Gap (cmon he’s in his 50’s), slight drool kink, slight degradation, slight choking

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

                                                  [[READ MORE]]

Your ears perk up at the sound of heavy bootsteps on their way and you quickly rush to clean up your little area. Ever since Boba had taken his throne and conquered most of the underworld you and him and Fennec who you adored had made a nice little home for yourselves. What Boba teasingly called your nest was a corner of his throne room that you (and Fennec) had padded and stuffed with pillows, blankets, stuffed animals, one very long and squishy pillow and a very very large cushion you called your tuffet. It was cute little safe space you sat, read and napped in when you wanted a little alone time.

It was usually a kind of organized chaos but lately you had let it get a bit wild and before Boba had left earlier he’d told you to have it cleaned up by the time he was back, and like a true Little who usually forgot orders once they were given and wasn’t reminded you had become distracted with other things. Which is why now you were slightly sweating under your soft robe as you scrambled to set everything in its proper place so he would never know you’d-

The steps had stopped echoing. You suddenly realized besides the slick of fabric between your fingers and your little pants that the room had actually been quiet for a minute or so. You swallowed a little hard but continued your work, spreading out soft blanket on your tuffet and then tucking it underneath. Finally, you smoothed your front and turned with a smile ready for your lover.

“Daddy! You’re home! See I uhm..I did my one chore today!” You were beaming, a little sweat on your brow and your voice was sweet and welcoming. In return Boba tilted his helmeted head at you in such a way that you knew what was he was saying without him needing to voice it.

Really? Did you? Is what that look said and you fidgeted slightly, lower lip jutting out every so softly.

Well-it still counts! Doesn’t it?? Your look said and after another moment of silence you hear a sigh come from him and he finally comes toward you with a gloved hand extended to cup your face.

“I suppose I’ll let it slide today,” he says, thumb gliding over your lower lip as his eyes bore into you from behind the visor. “I’m too tired to properly punish you for waiting until the last second anyway.”

The words were slightly worrying but if something was really wrong he would’ve told you, so you brushed it off and kissed his thumb gently.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you promise, reaching to cup his helmet in your hands and then bringing your foreheads together in a keldabe kiss. He hums deep in his throat, his way of saying that you’d better.

“What can I do tonight? A hot bath? A massage?” You gasped and jumped a little, grinning. “Both??”

Boba chuckles and removes his helmet, the smile still on his handsome scarred face. “How about just a massage pet? My old muscles could use it.”

“Ah you’re not old cyare.”

You giggle at his eyebrow raise and pat his cheeks then push gently on his chest plate to back him into the hallway and towards his bedroom. Once inside the large yet fairly bare room you begin the slow and intimate process of removing his armor for him. It was something you’d been doing for awhile now, ever since you’d settled into your roles. He did so much...it was one sweet thing you could do for him back.

The tension was practically melting out of your love’s shoulders as the beskar came off. Your arms had long since adjusted to the armor’s weight over the months of this sweet ritual and the warmth of Boba’s soft eyes as he watched you easily carry his prized possessions never failed to make you feel like the most important person in the galaxy. Your skin felt fully flushed by the time he was sitting on the bed and you’d removed his boots for him.

“My sweet little Dove...,” Boba murmurs, reaching out his now ungloved hands for your hips and bringing you closer, his face now level with your chest. You smile he nuzzles against your soft skin and hum happily, arms sliding into position around his broad shoulders without a second thought.

Dove. How you loved your pet name from him. You were his sweet thing, his Little, his pure (he insisted you were pure compared to him and you’d given up trying to convince him otherwise) darling treasure. Your soft lips pressed kisses to his head and you murmured, “My Daddy...,” to which you could feel his smile against your skin just stoking flames inside you.

You remained entertwined for awhile longer, both just caressing each other sweetly and basking in the loving bubble you created each time you were together. And then you remembered what you were supposed to be doing and gasped, pulling away to look down at Boba.

“Your massage!”

Boba blinks at you in confusion for a second and then laughs, keeping a tight grip on your hips even as you go to pull away and get the oil. He gently grips your chin -effectively stopping your struggling-and brings your lips to his. You sigh softly into the kiss and simply melt like wax beneath a flame into his arms-apt considering it immediately stoked the soft fire that had begun to burn in your belly the moment you saw him into a good sized blaze.

A whine escapes your lips even as Boba depeens the kiss and pulls you onto his lap fully with your crotches rubbing together sinfully.

“Don’t laugh at me Daddy,” you whine, kissing his broad nose and then going back to his mouth. Your arms slide down around his waist and you squeeze, taking petty pleasure in the way his breath escapes him when you do. “It’s mean!”

Your Caregiver seems to, funnily enough, care, very little about your plight since as you whine he just hums and runs his big hands down to your ass and squeezes none too gently. He grins devilishly as you jump and kisses you again, lingering longer this time and swiping his tongue over your lips before he pulls away.

“So what if it is? You like it when I’m mean Dove baby...you know you can’t lie to me.” Boba jerks you closer to him and ruts his hips upwards against you, causing you to whine loudly as want shoots through your core painfully.

“Yeah baby that’s what I thought....you like it when I’m mean. Big bad mean Daddy...ain’t that right?” The older man swats at your ass when you don’t answer, your brain becoming mushy already from the feel of his body beneath your hands and his impressive cock only growing harder and longer against the apex of your thighs. “I asked you a direct question little Dove. You know I don’t like it when you don’t answer.”

After shaking your head to clear it just a little and your hands balling up his undershirt to hang on for dear life you manage a nod with your mouth open just a tad, unnoticed by you but very noticed by your lover. His eyes drop to your lips and he growls slightly, strong hands kneading at the soft flesh of your ass before he delivers two hard, stinging pops to your backside.

“Speak, cyar’ika, speak when Daddy tells you to.”

Maker you are just gone for him. You swallow the water that had gathered in your mouth at the rough handling and say clearly, full of need that that’s right, Daddy is a big bad man...your big bad man...and you even elaborate on how you love him so for it. Wetting your lips you rock against him as he basks in your obedience and drinking in his soft moan like wine, your lips rubbing against his.

“Let me massage you Daddy...I said I would...cmon. Please? Let me help?” The groan Boba emits tells you that he’s thinking of something else now, something with him on top but before he can open his mouth to give an order your bratty, slightly manipulative side comes out and you use your saccharine please Daddy do this for me or I’ll be oh so sad voice to plead to him.

“Oh please Daddy? Let me make you feel better. You said yourself you’re tired! You need a rest, just a brief one and then...” You untie your robe and let it fall, your whole body bare to him now, causing the erection between you to pulse. Your fingertips graze his throat as you tilt his face up towards yours and bite his lower lip teasingly. “You can massage my insides with that big cock of yours~ How’s that sound?”

Judging by the growl in his throat and chest- Boba likes the idea very much, and you have to fight to keep the smirk off your face. Drawing on some confidence just to tease him more you get off his lap and order him to strip and lay on the soft king sized bed the two of you shared. You could see his brown eyes narrow, debating on whether or not to just grab you and throw you on the bed and mount you like a fucking animal, but when he stood something popped in his shoulder audibly...and he stripped without a word.

The control you had over your face slipped and your grin shined out in full force as your older boyfriend complied to your demands. Really he was just a big softy with as much love to give as he had muscles and cute love handles. While he disrobed you found the bottle of massage oil he’d brought you back from one of his excursions that had multiple uses when came to making things easier, and fluffed the pillow in the middle of the bed that he always used. Your bed was so nice and so soft with lots of room for the two of you and yet Boba always slept in the middle, arms right around you and you near the edge facing the bathroom.

But you didn’t mind, you thought as you watched him lay down on his stomach with his head cradled by the now fluffy pillow and his tan body stretched out of the dark sheets. However he wanted to sleep-even if he sometimes squeezed too hard during a dream-was fine with you, as long as you were together.

‘Not gonna stand around all afternoon lookin’ at my ass are you?” You blinked and focused on Boba who was now smirking at you.

“Pbbbbt,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “No of course not! But if I was, who could blame me? It is a wonderful sight.” You climbed onto the bed as he chuckled. Knowing it would be uncomfortable for him and his still hard cock if you sat on his hips, you opted to sit more on his juicy ass instead. He hummed at the weight of you and relaxed into the pillow.  

“Well if you think so it must be true,” he mumbles, “you are almost always right little Dove.”

“I am always right,” you corrected, dribbling the ever warm oil onto his broad back. He purred, and you knew it was because of the oil, but you liked to think it was because of you so you smirked. “That’s what I thought~”

You went to work then on his sore muscles, flexing your own to work the knots out with your skilled hands. Boba let his noises out freely as you worked; grunting, groaning, moaning and even at times whimpering with your palms smoothing over every inch of him you could reach.

The sun had sunk a bit by the time you were done and Boba rolled onto his back so you could finally straddle his hips. The evidence of your arousal from massaging him and his cute little noises was pressed against his balls. Your hands were on his chest and he was smoothing his own up your back slowly, sending shivers up your spine.

“My Dove...,” Boba starts on a soft sigh, his hands pulling down now to your hips to begin a gentle rocking. His cock was hardening again between the two of you and your own arousal was growing each second. “You love such a man like me? Old, a bit chubby, scarred?”

A soft sigh escaped you at the rocking, finally just a little bit of the release you had been craving since his return. You looked deeply, lovingly into Boba’s beautiful eyes. To you he was the most beautiful man in the galaxy, no matter how much he complained about his aching joints or how he was too old for you.

“Oh silly Daddy...” You sighed, taking the bottle of oil one more time and drizzling just a little on his perfect cock before taking it in your hand. His eyes darken as he watches you tilt your hips and line thick head of him up with your hole, his large hands gripping your hips tightly with anticipation. Taking the head of his cock you slap it against your hole before popping it inside and sinking down so slowly you knew his hands were going to leave bruises from gripping you so tight.

Once he was fully seated inside you you rotated your hips and opened your eyes just enough to give him a heady look. “As if I was destined for anyone else...”

You managed a wink before succumbing fully to your want for your lover, the fire he’d been stoking now turning into a raging storm with his thickness stretching you out perfectly. You both reached for each other at the same time and your mouths collided hotly as you bounced on him at an already quick pace. No time to adjust fully, fuck, Maker it just felt so good to be impaled on him again that you were frantic and starving for it. Teeth clashed, fingernails marks were definitely being left in sensitive areas and after just a minute or so you pulled away from the messy kissing to angle yourself better and slam onto Boba.

Your head was thrown back beautifully as you screamed your devotion to him, to his perfect fucking cock that was literally making you drool even while you were split open by it. Boba growled seeing the slick moisture on your lips and he sat up, yanking you close with a strong hand on the back of your neck. His hips met a bounce of yours and you cried out-only to have the noise muffled by a big thumb in your mouth. His other arm was right around you waist, keeping you on him but unmoving.

“That’s my sweet baby...suck on Daddy’s thumb...yeah just like that-fuck.” Even cockdrunk you knew how to work your lover up, sucking on his thumb dutifully and as enthusiastically as you did your favorite appendage of his. You even took his one hand in both your smaller ones to bring the digit further inside and you could swear Boba pulsed so hard inside you you thought he’d finished for a second.

He pushed down on your tongue hard and dragged your jaw with him, and much to your initial chagrin and then immediate arousal, let a long stream of drool pool out and fall where you were connected with him. You moaned at the filth of it and at the complete submissive state you were in. Literally, you were in the palm of Boba Fett’s hand.

Boba groaned and smirked at you, looking at the wet spot and then back at you. “Such a good pet aren’t you? I love it when you get me soaked little one~”

Maker you felt like exploding right then! But he wasn’t done with you, oh no. He pulled his thumb from your obscenely wet mouth, sucked your salvia from it and then rolled, pulling out of you with a wet echoing sound. He easily manhandled you with your hips popped up and grabbed your pillow to bury your face in. He slid back home with no resistance and you moaned freely, your eyes rolling back and your lower lip getting caught between your teeth.

“Mmmmm my sweet little pet...such a good slut for me aren’t you? Always so needy...so ready for Daddy to come home and take care of you...” As he spoke he’d started thrusting into you, gaining in speed. “Fuck...baby, I love you so fucking much, so, fucking, much!”

Now he was straight pummeling you. Your voice was going to be nonexistent when he was through with you if this kept up, your nails digging into your pillow so hard your knuckles were white and you could do nothing but spread your legs wider for him like the slut he’d called you. You were Boba Fett’s personal slut, his little Dove and his soulmate-nothing in the galaxy could be better than this.

As he neared his end he made sure to drag the fat head of his cock along those special spots inside you he knew so well while his mouth bit and sucked on the external spots until your toes curled so tightly he joked that they may never uncurl, the smug bastard. His lips found your neck again in a sweet spot as he bent over you, slamming so deep inside you could taste his precum on your tongue.

“Cum for me baby,” he murmurs, callused thumbs flicking over your nipples before one palm encloses over your throat and squeezes the sides deliciously. “Cum for Daddy little one.”

It was no question, no suggestion, it was a demand. And like the good Little you could be when you wanted, you obeyed. One last scream was ripped from your throat as you were pushed off that ledge into white hot pleasure so perfect it enveloped your whole body. Boba held you as you became tense and then limp, his own release coming not far after yours (not surprising given how hard your insides had been squeezing him) and as always overfilling you in a way you could only describe as obscenely delicious.

“Good job little Dove. I’m so proud.” Came a voice from above and behind you. You knew it was Boba, you knew yet somehow a little voice in your head thought it was the Maker talking to you. Your lips quirked in a little smile as exhausted gasps left your now limp body, only held up by Boba’s hands and his cock that was still pumping cum into you. You felt lips along your neck so lovingly and you sighed contentedly.

“I love you...” you whispered, beginning to fall asleep with him still cradled inside you.

He chuckled softly and kissed the tip of your ear, rubbing your back soothingly before very slowly sliding out of you.

“I love you too baby...go to sleep. I’ve got you.”

It would be hours before you woke, cleaned up and tightly nestled into Boba’s arms as always with the two of you so close it was like you had been born that way. And when you did you squeezed his middle tightly enough for him to softly grunt and then settled back with him, feeling for all the galaxy like you were the luckiest person alive because no one could love you like Boba Fett. And you couldn’t imagine loving anyone else.

@emilykjh @sailorsquadgoals @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories @ohdeargodnotyouagain @ihaveashield @ezraslittlebirdie @labyrinth-runner @asaucecoveredsomething @thisainttheway @anakinswhore @sleepwithacommunist

[jessiebanethedragon]

Unabashedly

The four times you caught Rex staring, and the time he caught you. 

The first time you met the Captain of the five-oh-first, you figured he was staring because of how unusual your presence was. As a Jedi who spent their time learning from the force in nature, to Rex you were an enigma. You noticed that his hamlet stayed focused on you long after you had formerly been introduced. 

“Captain Rex,” You said, and like a shiny at the 79's for the first time, he blushed. Thank the maker for helmets, he thought. “I know trust doesn't come easy and all, and I know I’m not exactly a typical jedi per say but…” You trailed off. He was still watching you, and awkwardness filled the space between you. Anakin coughed, trying to waver his captain's attention. He didn't need his jedi senses to  tell him what about you was distracting Rex. 

“Can I speak to you outside for a moment Rex.” Oh he was in for it now. 

The second time you noticed his watchful eye was mid battle. The movement of you and your lightsaber was captivating. He had never seen a Jedi move so gracefully, it’s like you were dancing on a tank, surrounded by clankers, and oh - right he was supposed to be laying down cover fire!  

“Captain!” Fives was yelling at him, “we need you down here.” Fives, as usual, was being a blessing and a curse. And as usual, when Rex thought he was being stealthy in his staring, the entirety of his crew knew he had a soft spot for one particular jedi. Fives calling him down from his vantage point had two main objectives. One, it was actually useful to the battle, and two hopefully it would snap him out of his daze. Fives had no such luck. 

“What’s the update Captain?” You asked, having jumped off the edge of a tank that was smoking from every corner. 

“We are expecting air support any minute general.” He said, not turning your way. Your messy hair, flushed face and soft smile, he thought to himself, might actually cause him to go into cardiac arrest.  

“Perfect!” You exclaimed as Kenobi’s troops finally arrived. “Now this is what I call a party!” laughter boomed from Fives, who found your energy far too incorrigible for everyone elses liking. 

“What are you at General?” He asked curiously. 

“42 clankers and…” You trailed off looking at the remnants of your previous escapade. “One tank.” Fives grumbled. “Something wrong?” you feigned innocence. 

“This is so unfair.” He threw his hands up in the air, and smiled as he saw another battalion of droids coming up over the ridge.  Without warning he took off towards them. “I can still beat you yet!” He called back. 

“Please don’t tell me you…” Rex started 

“Bet Fives I could kill more clankeers than him?” You finished turning back to him. He nodded, crossing his arms unamused. “Don't tell me you don't approve, captain.” 

“It’s not that general it’s that…” you cut him off again, 

“How many times do I have to tell you I'm not a general, I do have a name you know.” you playfully hit him in the shoulder, but with all that armour you doubted if he could feel it. 

“Okay but still, gambiling isn't allowed.” He started watching the troops begin their forward assault. 

“What if a very lovely Jedi was to share the spoils of war with you?” You cheekily asked. 

“Depends on what you win.” he stated, finally playing along. 

“You just have to wait and see won't you captain.” You yelled back to hin, taking off into the battle, his eyes never leaving you as you ran off.   

The third time, you barely remember. It was late, really late, and everyone had been up for days thanks to a prolonged siege of Ryloth, or was it Bespin? You were too tired to even think about keeping things straight in your head. And of course at two in the morning (even though technically even traveling through space there's no time zone to really follow) Anakin Skywalker had decided on one last briefing before landing at your destination. So when you walk into the meeting room still in your sleepwear of course, everyone's a little shocked. But  Rex, Rex is enchanted. Your hair is messy and keeps falling in your face, the baggy shirt keeps falling off your shoulder and you try to right yourself to no avail. 

“Want some?” He asks, crossing the room to you, he’s already in half his armour, but only his blacks on the top half. Much to your delight. You eye the cup of caff he’s holding out and sleepily nod.

“Thank you.” You tell him and in your exhausted induced genius you decide that right now, as the briefing in a room full of people, Rex’s shoulder is the perfect place for your head. In your time working together, there wasn't anyone else you trusted more. There wasn't anyone else you liked as much as Rex and while you were beginning to worry about the attachment you had to him, your sleepy self didn't really care at the moment. 

“When we land here…” Anakin rambled at the holomap, all eyes on him, you leaned more and more into the comfy pillow of a man next to you. And very, very slowly, his arm snuck around your waist to support you just a tiny bit more. Him staring at your tiny figure from above, curled into his shoulder and chest, his mug of caf in your hands, hair smelling of that wild soap you always used. His mind repeated one word over and over as he stared. Heaven. 

If you were caught now, both of you would be court martialed, but the room was dark, and everyone was tired. And even though Anakin could clearly see both of you, he couldn't help but smile. 

The four, and most recent time you noticed his lingering gaze, was the one and only time you had lost a bet to Fives, you tried to get out of it, claiming that having Echo support him in winning meant disqualification but after you had him bleach his hair for winning the clankers bet, you couldn't back out of this one. And either way, it was just one night, just one night in the 79's and then you’d never have to do it again. 

“Looking good General!” He teased, offering you his arm before leading (pulling) you out of the cab

“Fives it is literally just me in a dress, I look how I always do!” You told him. 

“Maybe you always look good.” He said with a wink, both of you stopped for a moment before laughing. Next to Rex, Fives had to be your best friend. 

“Sorry sugar,” you drawled out jokingly once you get inside the brightly lit bar “You may be pretty but maker do I love blondes.” He chuckled, 

“I’d like to point out I was a blonde.”  He said, nudging you. “Or is it a particular blonde you love.” Your face goes more red than a sith’s lightsaber at that. 

“Remind me never to tell you anything again.” You said looking around for the nearest alcoholic beverage. It’s then you see him, that particular blonde. He’s shuffled off in a booth in the corner, learning on his elbows, unabashedly staring. 

His top half was only covered by his blacks, and this time you’re fully awake to appreciate the way his muscles are outlined by the material.

“He’s been looking at you like that since you walked in. You know for a jedi there’s a lot you don't notice.” Fives whispered in your ear.  Before finishing a drink you hadn't even seen him pick up.  You turned back to make a sarcastic comment (one of your lesser appreciated skills) when Tup shouted:

“Hey captain come have a drink with us!” Your eyes widened as Fives starts a laugh that sounded more like a witches cackle than anything else. And just as you were able to formulate an escape plan you feel a presence behind you. 

“Well, correct me if i’m wrong but that doesn't look like Jedi approved clothing.” Rex mumbled to you. And your brain worked double time to think of a fantastic comeback. 

“It’s for when I go undercover.” -nailed it. Rex raises an eyebrow, with a half smile, he still hasn't taken his eyes off of you. 

It happened again that night, or maybe it didn't ever stop. But you’d had enough drinks to feel less shy. And as the hours passed by you ended up all in a both, you in the middle while the boys sang a song they apparently learned on Kamino. But the underlying message suggests that they most certainly did not. You’d been leaning on Fives for a while oblivious to Rex’s glare until he’d come over and yanked you into the squishy cushion with him. One arm sneaks around your shoulders and you can smell the whiskey on him, on you? Eh who cares anyways.

“Ibac'ner cyar'ika” Rex was whispering, you weren't sure what any of it meant, but given his tone you didn't really care. Anything to keep his voice that deep and smooth and close to you.

“What does that mean?” you asked, your mando’a was coming along, but you didn't know nearly enough. 

“Mesh'la.” He said, tracing the collar of your dress, still staring at you. And of course the second you both lean that little bit closer, Hardcase still his drink on you.  

You’re in the medbay, the incessant beeping tells you that much. You think it’s maybe because you and Ventress got into a bit of a disagreement. She wanted to kill you and you very much didn't want to be killed. All things considered, you're impressed. All she managed to do was graze your side. 

“Kix?” you ask as your vision adjusts to the clone by your bedside. But it’s not Kix at all.

Rex is still wearing all his armour, except his helmet is on the floor. He’s covered in mud, blood, and who knows what else. His hand rests on his gun, and his head is slumped over. He’s asleep. A pang of longing hits you, he looks so delicate right now, and it’s at that moment you realize how in love with that stupidly loyal, stuck up, serious commander you really are. 

“Starin’s rude ya know.” he says, eyes still closed. 

“I figured I owe you a few for all those times I’ve caught you.” He hums in amusement, stretching and coming fully awake. 

“I don’t stare.” He states pointedly. 

“Oh really? What is it you do then?”You question, teasing him. 

“I appreciate.” He says. And you scoff. 

“What about me do you appreciate then?” 

“Your personality, skills as a fighter, and the fact that you are unabashedly you.” He says moving closer and taking your hands in his. “You’re stunning, impossible, and about the only person in the universe who I'd leave the republic for.” And I mean, who wouldn't kiss him after that. And it’s long overdue for the two of you anyways. It’s gentle, like you’re both afraid of feeling what you feel. But the way his lips touch yours blocks out the anxiety, the way he moves to hold you close destroys any idea that you have of ever letting him go. And when you finally break apart he smiles and says:  

“But that ass of yours sure is a bonus.” You use both hands to push him over.

[gamerwoo]

Jeonghan: Fear the Fallen Angel

Characters: Jeonghan x reader (gender neutral)

Genre/warnings: angel/fallen angel au, demon au, horror, angst, violence/abuse

Word count: 2,233

Summary: What I wanted to give you. My heart, on the contrary, is causing more pain. Continue to badly repeat. I love you, oh, I regret it again. The way I love, the way I love.

Tag list: @exo-chan-kai @purpleseleva @mntax @squishy-yamdumplings @linophobia @fullsun-donghyuck @greenmetalroof

Fear Masterlist

Conflicted was an understatement. He never thought he would be in this predicament where he’d have to decide between two things like this. Truthfully, he didn’t think he’d ever fall in love again. Not only because it was against the rules to love anybody more than Him, but because he just didn’t see a point in falling in love now anyway. But here he was, deciding if he was willing to give all of it up for the human he’d fallen for.

His name was Jeonghan, and he was exactly what you pictured an angel to be. If you were to look up ‘angel’ in a dictionary, you were pretty sure Jeonghan’s picture would be beside the definition. A perfect, angelic face paired with beautiful blonde locks, he was possibly even more beautiful on the outside than he had to be on the inside.

That was why you decided a year ago that he would be your next target.

There were definitely rumors about you. The demon who would trick angels into falling in love with their charm and sweet words and seemingly perfect demeanor. But as soon as their wings were ripped off for breaking the rules and they were dropped down to earth, you would laugh in their faces and leave them all alone. 

Jeonghan had definitely heard of you. There was no way he wouldn’t have. But he didn’t know your name or what you looked like because it wasn’t good to speak of demons where he was from. He only knew of the vague rumors he heard while he was taking care of a few things down on earth. So he was completely unaware when you had approached him when he was back on earth again.

For a year, you had done your best to break him down. You did everything you had learned over the year would work. You found that Jeonghan was a sucker for seemingly cute people who listened to him well, so you obeyed him whenever he asked anything of you. You showed your devotion to him, and that got to him. It wasn’t long before you could start to see the difference in the way he looked at you. It started to shift from politeness and kindness to fondness and love. But he never verbally admitted it because he knew what would happen.

You just had to give him a little push.

“Hannie,” you said as you sat beside him on a park bench, looking out onto the lake as the sun set over the water.

He smiled as he turned his head to look at you, “Hmm?”

“I love you,” you sang with the cutest smile you could put on.

Jeonghan frowned at you like a father scolding his child, “_____, you know what I told you about that.”

“I know but,” you pouted, letting a soft huff fall from your lips before you continued, “I just...want to be with you…”

You could tell that took Jeonghan off guard from the way his breath caught in his throat, and he looked at you with wide, surprised eyes. That was when you knew you’d gotten him.

He wanted to just confess to you then and there. In that moment, he suddenly didn’t care about any rules. He only cared about you and what he could do to be with you.

But then he remembered what he was, and what would happen to him. He came to his senses and backtracked -- at least a little. He couldn’t do that, even though he wanted to. But it didn’t matter what he wanted, and it hurt to know he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Y-you…” his voice trailed off as he stared into your eyes, trying to tell if you were serious. “Really?”

You nodded, taking his hand closest to you in both of yours, “Absolutely. Nobody’s ever told you that?”

“Nobody’s been in love with me,” he laughed lightly.

Which maybe had something to do with why he was so wrapped around your finger. He’d never had anybody who would treat him the way you did or who told him they wanted to be with him. You made him feel like he never had before, and part of him didn’t want to pass that up. Actually, most of him didn’t, but he tried to push those thoughts to the back of his mind.

But he could only suppress them for so long…

-

He fought with himself for weeks after that. The battle of loving you and being okay with that decision, but then regretting it and scolding himself and telling himself he shouldn’t. It was against the rules to love you. He’d lose everything if he loved you.

But if he let himself love you, what would he gain? He’d gain you, and wouldn’t that be enough? Having you by his side? You’d be there for him when he got thrown to earth, and you’d help him through adjusting to is new life. And honestly...that sounded really good to him.

So he confessed. Loud and clear.

“I love _____.”

Those three words were enough to summon the trial that everybody knew he would lose. The trial was more like a ‘ceremony’ to get his angel status taken away from him, where all the angels would have to witness it. How Jeonghan was forced down on his knees as his perfectly white wings were ripped from the muscles in his back with a sickening sound. How Jeonghan cried out in pain as blood dripped down his bare back and stained the perfect marble beneath him. And finally, how he was dragged away to be dropped down to earth, where he would become a fallen angel and be all alone.

But as he fell, he thought of you. He thought of the future you’d have together, and how he’d always have you by his side. And that comforted him despite the tears in his eyes, and the immense burning sting he felt in his back. Yes, at least he’d have you.

-

His eyes slowly opened as the pain started to get to him. He’d landed on his back, so a bunch of things from the forest floor had gotten into his wounds, causing even more discomfort. He hissed and softly groaned at the pain as he blinked to clear his vision.

But everything seemed to feel better when he saw you above him.

“_____…” his voice was soft and hoarse as he shakily reached a hand up to your cheek.

You suddenly gripped his hand, squeezing with a force that had him shouting in pain and trying to yank his hand away. You let go of him to stand up from where you were knelt beside him, holding out that same hand and elevating him into the air. Jeonghan let out a gasp that turned into a cry of pain as the weight on his wounds shifted.

Like this, he could now fully see you. Your palm was out to him, holding him up without even touching him. He didn’t understand how you could do that until he finally looked into your eyes. They were completely black.

The demon.

You smirked, “The look on your face tells me you’ve heard of me, Hannie.”

“Y-you-- But I-I thought--” he stammered, unable to get his jumbled thoughts together to even say anything.

“None of it was real, baby,” you chuckled, shaking your head at how wide-eyed and innocent he looked. The absolutely lost expression made you feel something close to joy. “You fell right into my little trap. Another fallen angel to add to the long, long list of them that fell because of me. Congrats.”

“B-but… _____, I-I gave all of that up for you,” he begged in a whimper. “You said… I thought--”

“I say a lot of things to a lot of people,” you nodded. “Never mean any of it, though. But hey, the past year was all really worth it for me. Good luck figuring shit out on your own.”

Your dropped him to the ground as you disappeared into black smoke, Jeonghan letting out a cry as he hit the dead leaves and twigs. The tears that built up in his eyes finally streamed down his face, feeling a mix of confusion and fear and regret. He was a silly, naive angel that had fallen for the trick he’d heard about so many times. He let himself fall in love when he wasn’t supposed to, and the sad thing was that he still loved you even now that you’d left him alone, bleeding and in pain in the middle of a forest at night.

But he absolutely regretted it. All of it.

-

Moving onto a new target was easy. You had all but forgotten about Jeonghan after that night, and you didn’t worry about where he was now or what happened to him. It wasn’t your concern or your business.

The current angel you’d been trying to fall into your little trap was away for who knows how long, so you decided to hang out at some dive bar in a city to see if you could mess with any humans just to keep yourself occupied. But after getting hit on relentlessly and causing an ‘accidental’ impaling of somebody in the hand with a pool stick, you decided to head out of the bar and walk a few blocks to a secluded alley just to make sure you could disappear without being noticed.

You walked down to the alley you’d appeared in and walked passed the dumpster just to make sure you’d be in the shadows. But as soon as your foot stepped passed the dumpster, you were yanked to the side and thrown up against a wall. Your back hit bricks, knocking the wind out of you. A hand pushed up against your neck, and you could clearly see Jeonghan’s familiar face looking back at you -- glaring more like it.

You hadn’t thought about Jeonghan for months, but he had definitely thought of you. Every. Single. Day. 

He looked a lot different. His beautiful blonde hair was now dyed midnight black, matching his large wings that you could see clearly standing out behind him from his back. His crystal blue eyes had turned a dark color, but they looked pitch black in the shadows. His angelic features were hardened now as he looked at you, his jaw clenched as his fingers tightened around your neck.

You smirked, “Well, well, well. Long time, no see, Hannie.”

He pulled you away from the wall effortlessly before slamming you back against the wall. The force was so great that it even cracked it a little bit, and you let out a huff.

“Okay, okay,” you chuckled, feeling a little bit of almost fear of him. None of the angels that had fallen had ever found you again, and you weren’t 100% sure of the strength of a fallen angel. “I get you’re mad or whatever, but really? Stalking me? To do what, exactly? Give me a stern talking to in an alley?”

Jeonghan flung you to the opposite side of the alley, your body crashing into the corner of the large dumpster. You cried out in pain as you landed on the ground, your side that had hit the corner throbbing in pain.

Apparently, he had more strength than you anticipated.

He stalked toward you, and you lifted your hand to keep him away. But he quickly stepped forward, his boot-clad foot stomping down on your hand and crushing it into the pavement. You cried as you heard a sickening crunch, screaming from the pain.

“For a long time, I regretted ever falling in love with you,” he began, his beautiful, melodic voice now hard and almost gravely. It sent shivers down your spine.

He crouched down, his foot still on your hand as he gripped your chin and forced you to look at him. He felt pride seeing your own eyes wide in fear, mirroring how he must’ve looked that night in the forest when he fell. His smirked looked like yours when he saw the tears running down your cheeks from the pain you were in.

The roles were reversed, and he loved it.

“I have to admit,” he said, tilting his head slightly to one side as he stroked your skin with his thumb, “I’m still not quite over you… Maybe I’ll keep you for myself instead…”

As he mused his options, you tried to reason with him. You knew he had the upper hand, and you’d never been in a situation like that before. You’d never not been the stronger one. You’d never been the one that was full of confusion and fear.

As you babbled nonsense to get Jeonghan to spare you or whatever your mouth was spewing, Jeonghan just laughed and moved his hand from your jaw to your hair, gripping it roughly and tugging so you’d look directly up at him. He could see his reflection in your black eyes, and seeing how he finally had the power over you made him feel something he couldn’t describe. It was close to joy.

“I’m sure a lot of fallen angels have been in my place. They must’ve all regretted falling for you,” he mused. “For once, I’m going to make you regret ever fucking with me.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird “Altruism”

It is a truth universally accepted that the one greatest instinctual desire of an individual, of any species, is the desire to maintain life. Unless directly inhibited by a dysfunction of cortical tissue, this truth remains accepted. 

However, it is instinctually acceptable to endanger one’s life out of desire to protect one’s progeny or family as a means of carrying on the genetic line. An advanced social structure requires strong social bonds to allow a society to remain in tact. Additionally, it is also understood that altruism outside a species is impossible without ulterior motive.

Interspecies altruism holds no function, and therefore, is instinctually rejected. Some scholars argue that instances of interspecies altruism have been demonstrated in battles were two species fight on the same aside. However, it can be argued that this supposed altruism is actually intended to preserve friends of the SAME species.

Regardless, the argument still remains, that interspecies altruism is rare if not nonexistent because it rejects core instinct for social preservative.

 Krill was a very nervous. He knew his decision to bring his human companions to his home planet was a risky decision, and governmental authorities seemed to agree as it had taken them months to even a small delegation of his human companions. They had heard the stories about the humans, and despite Krill vouching for them, there was always going to be some hesitance.

He couldn’t blame them. While he understood humans more than most, and knew, despite their predatory nature, humans were social and heartfelt species, he still had to accept that humans were also short tempered and wildly aggressive group.

For this reason, he had only been allowed to bring four crew members. Captain Vir was, of course, allowed to come along with his commander, first lieutenant and chief medical officer. The group of them together represented the most affable, level-headed people aboard the ship. If anything, the captain himself was the loose cannon among the group indicated by his missing eye and leg, both testimony to Captain Vir’s knack for getting himself into trouble.

They left the ship to a crowd of awed expressions and trembling limbs. The high council stood at the bottom of the ramp dwarfed by at least two feet by even the smallest human. Krill himself barely came to the captain’s waist and the Commander’s Ribcage.

The group of humans paused at the bottom of the ramp facing the trembling counterparts floating by help from their hydrogen sacks. All four upper limbs clenched in fear.

Captain Vir took initiative greeting them with a phrase from their own language, a language he had learned from Krill personally, during a rather unpleasant stint in an alien prison.

The phrase worked like a charm, and they were greeted from then on with open arms. Though still hesitant.

The crew did surprisingly well with government officials before being released to experience the hospitality of Krill’s home planet.

Walking through the city, they were stared at much and avoided by everyone but the most brave. Those who were were then rewarded by a pleasant greeting.

The children were the most brave, not yet understanding the meaning of the human predatory structure. 

Captain Vir Knelt on the ground street side allowing the children to prod at his arms and hair chirping in disgust and fascination upon contact with his squishy exterior. Water roared distantly passing though the canal that cut the city in half.

Krill watched the humans with pleasure glad to see that his friends were making a good impression upon his people.

One of the children asked where his leg had gone and captain Vir responded playfully with a story about a mighty beast with rows of sharp teeth standing ten feet tall.

The children squealed in delighted fear and awe. A few of the children slunk away in fear, but most remained if not interested than in an attempt to prove their bravery.

Unlike their older counterparts, the children walked mainly by the power of their feet yet unable to float with the aid of their underdeveloped hydrogen sacks, which rested flaccid against their backs.

The children dispersed and the human crew walked further towards the grand bridge slowly making their way through the awed crowds.

They were yards from the bridge when it happened.

Hundreds turned their heads to look as a shrill cry of fear, pain, and anguish filled the air. Even the humans turned their heads to look, and for a moment Krill couldn’t help but feel awe that the humans, so socially adept were able to understand the cry. He could see it in their faces. They knew something was wrong despite the call being from a different species to their own.

Perhaps they didn’t understand the true meaning, a mother who had lost her child.

But oddly enough it was the humans who reacted before anyone. He didn’t know how they did it. Perhaps it was their predatory nature, or their instincts formed from long years on the death world where a fast reaction could be life or death.

By the time Krill figured out what was going on, the humans had already been in motion for some seconds.

The small child, had slipped through the railings on the bridge to peer down at the water. With his underdeveloped kinesthetic awareness, the child had slipped and fallen into the water. Where an adult might have been held afloat by the hydrogen sack, the child didn’t have such protection.

By the time he hit the water, he had already begun to sink.

Unlike humans Krill’s species couldn’t swim without the aid of flotation.

The child was dead, and the mother knew it.

No one moved.... no one accept the humans.

All four humans were at the edge of the bridge by the time anyone realized what had happened. The captain’s jacket lay discarded on the street as he moved. Krill followed the motion as the human lowered, momentarily, into a predatory crouch and then, with his powerful leg muscles, launched himself over the railing!

Krill couldn’t have understood what sort of internal calculations it would have taken to do what the human did. He ran taking off his jacket and then jumping just at the perfect moment to clear the retaining wall. In the air, somehow, the human reoriented himself face downwards hands outstretched before him and pointed. The posture served to break the water before the humans face. And just as fast as he had flown through the air, he was submerged in the water.

The distant roaring of rapids rose around them as the others of his species began to howl in shock and grief.

The remaining humans leaned against the railing predatory eyes staring at the water beneath.

Krill couldn’t have guessed what was to happen next, but a moment later the human’s head broke the surface with a gasp and a sputter. In one arm, he held the lifeless body of the child dangling in the crook of his elbow. All around him water rushed and burbled dragging him quickly backwards as he fought against the current.

Why the human would have done something so stupid was beyond Krill. There was no hope for the child, and now the water was sure to drag them both under. But the human fought valiantly against the water as the other humans raced downwards to the next bridge. It took a moment for Krill to understand what was happening, but the other humans, understanding their captain’s physical prowess were going to wait for him at the next bridge.

The captain sputtered and choked as a rapid washed over his head. The bridge approached.

“CATCH!” The human called. One arm dragged from the water spilling droplets and holding the small body in hand. Krill watched in shock as the human let launch with his superior shoulder muscles, designed for just such an event. 

Thinking faster than should have been possible, the other humans moved, Two braced themselves quickly holding the other over the edge by one arm. Again, another seamless calculation of depth and speed by the human brain that shouldn’t have been feasible, the human caught the limp child as Captain Vir was sucked under the water. 

Pulled back upwards the medical officer took over as the other two humans raced to follow their captain.

In a panic, Krill ran over to find their medical officer bent over the lifeless child.

Krill stopped growing sick upon seeing the scene. There was nothing they could do.

But then the human started something. He tilted the child’s head back then tilted his body. Water rushed from the child’s mouth.

Krill stared on.

The officer looked up, “The water is blocking the pump mechanism. If I clear it, I can start manually pumping.”

Krill stared at him in shock. Manually pumping, but the child was dead?

The last water leaked out and the medic placed his hands at a diagonal over the torso using a light rhythm to simulate the internal pumps. One hand first and then the other. Anyone else wouldn’t have been able to keep such a natural Rhythm.

More water leaked from the open mouth in time with the rhythm,

A crowd gathered staring on in bewilderment as the human worked. 

And then the child twitched.

Gasps filled the air.

The human continued to message the child’s chest holding him face downwards as water leaked into a puddle on the street.

Krill saw the moment the pumps kicked back in, and the eyes opened.

More gasps.

Krill was frozen to the spot.

The medical officer looked up, “I have this. GO HELP THE CAPTAIN!”

Krill was slow to react, but finally he moved following after the humans as the stream funneled and the water grew more violent. The captain was nowhere to be seen.

A hundred yards after that, and the funnel opened outwards flattening out enough to slow the flow. The water further in was almost glassy. Two humans waded into the water, and krill was surprised to watch as they caught hold of something dragging it from the water.

Captain Vir lay on his back unmoving prosthetic leg dangling from a snapped hinge eye patch torn away to reveal the ragged hole in his skull.

Krill paused watching as the humans gathered around.

A crowd formed to watch.

Placing one hand over the other, The commander leaned in placing her hands in the center of the captain’s chest.

The two humans hummed a beat softly to themselves as they moved. The pounding rhythm was rather violent and Krill winced. It would make sense though, the human’s ribcage was to sturdy not to.

It didn’t take long before the captain shot into a sitting position coughing and vomiting up water. The onlookers stared and some winced. The captain spent the next minutes coughing and choking up water. 

But after that, the man was fine. He straightened himself out and reattached his leg dragging himself to a standing position to the protests of his crew. 

The crowd stared on in silence.

Captain VIr looked down at Krill, “The kid?” He asked

“Alive.” The medical commander stated from the crowd. 

And in his arms he held the small form dazed and sick, unlike the captain, who was now regaining his strength. The child’s parents stood by staring on in complete disbelief. By all rights the child SHOULD be dead.

Captain VIr had broken known species protocol. He had risked his own life to save something of another species he did not know. He had died for the cause.

But thats humans. They reject your protocol, and they reject death.

[thepetulantpen]

Class Swap/Sleepy Intimacies

(Still behind but I’m working on it! Here’s day 6 of @widomauk-week !)

Caleb slumps, exhausted, onto Molly’s bed.

“Long day at work, love?”

Caleb just groans, face down on their pillows. His impact disturbed the notebooks, textbooks, and loose paper Molly has strewn everywhere but Molly doesn’t mind, he wasn’t really studying anyway.

Caleb lifts his head, frowning at a rogue piece of paper that got stuck to his forehead but not bothering to remove it.

“I don’t know how you get any work done with all these disorganized... I hesitate to even call them notes,” Caleb shakes his head, knocking off the paper and grabbing it to read, “What does this even say? Is this Common or Infernal?”

Molly leans over, squinting at his own handwriting. “Mix of both?”

“How?”

Molly shrugs, grinning. “I dunno, it works for me.”

Caleb blinks in disbelief then shakes it off, accepting that he’ll never fully unravel the enigma that is Mollymauk Tealeaf. He sits up and squeezes in between Molly and the headboard, putting his chin on Molly’s shoulder and looking down at the incomprehensible arcane gibberish in the book he’s pretending to read. There’s marks all over the page, from underlines to arrows to scrawled words in the margins, which makes Caleb’s book loving heart slightly enraged, but he knows that Molly needs all the help and short cuts he can get to glean any information from these heavy tomes.

Molly has never been much of a reader, which makes his career choice of wizard seem completely absurd and out of his depth. Still, there’s something undeniably appealing about magic, the ability to take the threads that make up reality, wind them around your fingers, and pull until it resembles the world of your dreams. Even if it means he has to spend hours studying and copying obscure scripts. Even if it means struggling to keep up with his studious peers.

Caleb supposes he can’t really criticize Molly’s career choice, considering his own choice to align himself with Bloodhunters despite being a small, squishy man. For Caleb, his psychical capabilities are irrelevant; he will stop at nothing to invoke some sense of justice in this world by hunting down the root of the undead rot their society suffers under. Even if it means he comes home battered and bruised, covered in as many scars from his own blade as he has from the blades of strangers. Even if it means sacrificing parts of his already diminished humanity.

Caleb takes a deep breath, clearing his mind of blood, blades, and bruises. He turns his attention back to Molly, hoping he’ll be able to drown out the fears and guilt slowly eating away at Caleb.

“Have you learned anything interesting lately?”

“Mm, you know how it is. Lots of words, lots of writing. Although, I can do this now.”

Molly waves a hand in front of his face and then it’s Caleb’s face smiling back at him. The smile looks... wrong, much broader than Caleb’s usual small, restrained smile. It’s a very Molly expression on a face not at all built for it.

“That’s pretty good.”

Molly-Caleb winks at Caleb-Caleb before the illusion dissolves, replaced by Molly’s devilish smile and the horns to match.

“Thanks. What about you? Hunt down any monstrous monsters lately?”

“Same as usual. Dead things dragging themselves out of graves. There was an undead toad today.”

“A toad? Couldn’t you crush that with your foot?”

“It was ten feet tall.”

Molly laughs hysterically, like he does when he’s drunk or Caleb’s managed to tell a good joke. Caleb rolls his eyes, stifling a snicker of his own. Molly is easily entertained, though, to be fair, it does sound a little ridiculous.

Through tears of laughter, Molly barely pulls himself together and says, “Oh, you poor thing. Did it get your arm?”

Caleb grunts, unhappy to see that Molly noticed his injured left arm even after he’d covered the painful bruises.

“Here,” Molly sets his book on the side table, turns to move behind Caleb, and maneuvers him onto his lap, “I’ll give you a massage.”

“You don’t know how to give massages.” Caleb gives Molly a doubtful look over his shoulder but doesn’t resist, trusting and tired enough to relax into Molly’s hands.

“Pretty sure I just rub your back and you eventually feel better.”

Caleb laughs like music, gracing Molly’s ears. It’s a beautiful, rare little sound and Molly wishes he knew the spell to capture it in a bottle and replay it whenever he wants.

He’s concentrating so much on keeping his nails out of the way, not pressing too hard, and kneading the tension out of Caleb’s muscles that Molly doesn’t notice Caleb falling asleep until his full dead weight falls back on him. Smiling softly, he extinguishes the floating, dim lights with a snap of his fingers, clears some notebooks off the bed, and pulls the covers up over him and Caleb

As soon as he lays down, Molly realizes he’s just as tired as Caleb is, days of late night reading taking its toll and leaving him just as worn out as he would be if he’d fought a ten foot toad.

Caleb is already snoring against his chest, gentle vibrations and steady white noise lulling Molly to sleep.

Molly’s half-opened eyes glow in the dark, glancing once more around their room and down to Caleb’s face. He’s smiling in his sleep, hopefully enjoying a rare good dream.

That smile, that face, that warmth against him.

That is magic.

[familyiswhoyouchoose]

To Us (FIWYC)

Chapter Summary

Hanzo and Jesse have a heart to heart, and the cowboy gains a new title.

When Jesse opened his eyes, the first thing that he noticed was the thing tucked beneath his arm. It was soft and squishy, barely noticeable, but against the dark blue duvet and off-white sheets, it was very noticeable. Blinking awake, Jesse shifted slightly and stared at the duvet then the sheets and finally the thing tucked beneath his arm. Tiny horns stuck from the top of its head, and its snout reminded him of a dragon’s. Though it was much smaller, less threatening, and far more cuddly than the dragons he’d seen tearing into bodies on the field. In fact, it almost seemed child-sized.

A child-sized dragon.

The sleep-filled haze lifted and Jesse almost bolted upright if not for the arm wrapped around his waist keeping him close to its owner. Face frozen in fear, he slowly turned to face the half-asleep gaze of Hanzo Shimada. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the man’s dark eyes boring into his own. Dark hair fanned against white pillows, brown eyes cracked open and observing him, a kaleidoscope of emotions reflecting through them. Jesse swallowed thickly, parting his lips but no words would come forth. He vaguely remembered coming to Hanzo’s room, the dragons beckoning him forth, seeing the boys fast asleep. And at the time it seemed like a good idea but now panic was slowly setting in.

The sun had already risen, it was more than likely late, he was intruding in Hanzo’s home — his children’s home. He had to get out, he had to go before —

“Jesse, breathe,” Hanzo muttered, the arm around Jesse’s waist tightening, the pressure bringing him down from the adrenaline high of anxiety. “I am here, Jesse. You are safe.”

It was almost embarrassing how quickly Hanzo could calm him. His heartbeat slowing to normal, breathing evening out, and hand ceasing its trembling. A pricking sensation at the corner of his eyes alerted him to the tears that threatened to fall. Hanzo’s finger swiping at the corner of them, dismissing the moisture before it had a chance to make its descent. Then with care, the archer’s hand cupped his cheek, fingers lacing into his hair and petting gently. Jesse groped around for the small dragon and lifted it up, laying it between them as Hanzo shifted closer to press their foreheads together.

After his shuddering sobs and gasping breaths ceased, Jesse dared to open his eyes, waiting until the blur of tears passed. Hanzo’s face coming into view and the emotions in his eyes shaking Jesse to his core. The hand petting his hair slipping down to lay against his chest, Hanzo’s lips brushing against the corner of his lips, a tender kiss pressed to both eyelids then the middle of his forehead. Endearments whispered in Japanese that Jesse vaguely remembered being spoken in his ear as he fell into a deep sleep the night before. Endearments whispered in the deep comforting voice that lulled him to sleep like the waves crashing against the shore, gently pulling him back into a warm embrace.

If Hanzo’s voice was the ocean, Jesse would gladly dive deep.

“May I kiss you?” Hanzo asks, and Jesse opens his eyes, noting the soft smile that eases the knots in his stomach.

“Y’know you ain’t gotta ask for that, Han.”

Hanzo shakes his head, though his gaze momentarily flicks to Jesse’s lips before raising to meet his own.

“Although our relationship is intimate, I am not entitled to your personal space nor your affections if it is not what you wish to give,” he explains, wincing slightly before drawing in a deep breath and a heavy sigh. “What you want is important to me, and I need to h—”

Jesse leans closer and their lips meet, cutting Hanzo off in mid-sentence. And as much as Jesse knows the archer hates to be interrupted when he is talking, before his eyes slip closed, he feels Hanzo’s fingers thread in his hair and pull him closer. Gentle chaste kisses, light pecks, pulling away and being brought back as the other chases, Hanzo’s hand in Jesse’s hair petting and lightly scratching at his scalp, a pleased hum emitting from the cowboy as he relinquishes his hold on the plush left perched on his chest. His hand finding the curve of Hanzo’s bicep, lightly tracing the outlines of his muscle, delighting in the way the archer shivers and he can’t tell whether it’s his smile or Hanzo’s that breaks the kiss but it doesn’t matter.

Looking into Hanzo’s eyes, Jesse can’t help but smile. Hanzo is a man of mystery who picks and choose what he wishes others to know and what he doesn’t. On more than one occasion, it was hard for Jesse to associate his best friend’s murderer with the man who would walk through the base with a child on his hip and another at his side, covered in snow with rosy-red cheeks. The smiles Hanzo would give him, the sheer joy he had being a father, the consideration he gave to the other agents.

And yet, he was also the man who would sit on the roof at the dead of night with only a gourd full of his choice of poison and thoughts to keep him company. Jesse thought the only thing keeping him from going over were his sons and his debt to Genji. He wondered what kept Hanzo going. What made him get up everyday? What pushed him to keep moving forward even when it felt like all was lost?

So when Jesse looked at him like this. The light in his eyes, openness in his expression, vulnerable yet unfearing, loving and all for Jesse — it made him feel as if he’d hung the moon and the stars in the sky and Hanzo was just in awe of him.

Darlin’, you’re the amazing one.

Taking a sobering breath, Jesse tore his gaze from Hanzo’s and eyed the plush watching him impassively from its perch on his chest. Running his fingers across the worn silver-white scales, he chuckled.

“Seems we had a visitor,” he says softly, a thrill running through him when Hanzo’s hand joins his own, overlapping their fingers to brush through the plush’s mane.

“Hayao has a habit of trying to ‘get me’,” Hanzo rolls his eyes and Jesse can’t help but laugh.

“Get you?”

“Yes, he seems to believe that if he can surprise me when I’m least expecting it, then his… ‘ninja skills’ will have gotten better.”

Jesse cocks a brow and turns to look at Hanzo who meets his gaze with a  small smile.

“Genji,” they say in unison, sharing a laugh.

Jesse squeezes the plush a little tighter. It is very soft and well-loved. More than once, he’d seen it poking out of Hanzo’s laundry basket as an eager little Hayao came barreling into the room, waiting for his father’s permission to take his dragon and flee. It warmed Jesse’s heart seeing the boy bouncing up and down with bated breath only to yell loud in excitement once his friend was returned to him. When no one else was present, or at least when Jesse stayed out and let the moment play out, watching from around the corner — Hanzo would dip down so his son could press a kiss to his cheek, a quiet “Arigatou, otou-san” said before Hayao hurries out, making a beeline for wherever his brother might’ve been.

Hanzo would appear shortly after, laundry basket on his hip, caught off guard by the presence outside the door but never defensive. It was one of the things that Jesse loved about him. Watching his retreating back, his son’s hand in his own, the latter skipping while Hanzo keeps a steady stride.

A little family.

“If there was any doubt that Hayao did not care for you,” Hanzo interrupts, and Jesse wonders if this is becoming a routine — running away with his thoughts only for Hanzo to bring him back to reality. Though if it was, then he wasn’t complaining. “Then I believe this should put them to rest.”

“Should it?”

“It isn’t a child’s toy,” Hanzo looks at the dragon with a wistful sigh, tucking his head against Jesse’s shoulder. “Like your hat or my hair scarf, this(his fingers trace over the dragon’s horn) is important to Hayao. When he was three, he tried to climb a tree without supervision and fell.”

Jesse’s breath hitched, “He didn’---”

“No,” Hanzo scowled. “Before he could sustain injury, Shingen caught him though he injured his ankle in the process. Hayao cried thinking he’d hurt Shingen and wouldn’t let him go for anything in the world.”

“Sounds like he learned his lesson,” Jesse brushed his lips against the crown of Hanzo’s head, the archer humming contentedly.

“Perhaps, but Shingen told me he saw something when Hayao fell, a silver mist that kept him suspended in mid-air long enough for Shingen to reach him.”

Jesse looked down at Hanzo and tried to wrap his head around this. Even Genji couldn’t tell him what the Dragons were. Their very existence seemed like something out of a fairy tale. And Jesse had his own personal grudges against them more or less for allowing the brothers to fight as they did. However, he guessed he could call it even. Hanzo and Genji made their choice, and if the spirits were protecting those kids who’d yet to embrace the cruelty of the real world — well, that might be enough for him.

“So this is supposed to be his dragon,” Jesse said, a newfound affection overcoming him for the plush that seemed much fiercer than it did a minute ago, but in a way that made him feel safe. “A lot cuddlier than yours.”

Hanzo chuckled, and Jesse could hear the faint sound of rumbling thunder in the back of his mind. “You should not say such things when the dragons have shown you leniency, Jesse,” he chided.

It took Jesse a moment to realize Hanzo was pulling his leg, the telling sign being the archer’s lips twitching up into a smile breaking his stoic expression. Rolling his eyes heavenward as Hanzo laughed, burying his face against Jesse’s neck, his body shaking with pure joy.  When he pulled away, Jesse’s breath hitched, Hanzo’s eyes shone a faint light blue that reminded Jesse of a clear summer sky. His smile threatened to split his face, and he seemed so young and happy, but the look in his eye when he met Jesse’s gaze was unmistakable. It had many names: affection, adoration, infatuation, cheer, joy, warmth — but the one Jesse settled on was love.

Unable to stop himself, Jesse said, “You’re beautiful.”

Hanzo’s smile fell and Jesse blinked absently, the weight of his words settling in the silence between them. Panic surged through him as Hanzo shifted closer until the two of them were practically nose to nose. Staring into the eyes of a dragon, Jesse remembered that Hanzo wasn’t alwayscute and cuddly. The same perfect teeth that flashed in one of the archer’s rare smiles could rip him in half. Jesse gulped, hoping that now was not one of those times.

“You,” Hanzo replied, and Jesse’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he waited for the other shoe to fall but it never did.

“Me?”

Hanzo nodded, tilting his head slightly, eyes half-lidded as their lips brushed together. Jesse a half-step slower than Hanzo as the other man pulled away.

“What about me, darlin’?” Jesse mumbled, looking from Hanzo’s eyes to his lips then back.

Instead of answering, Hanzo’s hands framed the sides of Jesse’s head, fingers tangling in his hair. Their lips slotted together and Jesse practically melted in Hanzo’s hands, encased by the warmth and pressing into the kiss, letting his eyes slip shut. Little breaks between soft open-mouthed kisses, allowing both men to have room for a pocket of air before they met again in the middle. Jesse shifting to lay on his side, chest bumping against Hanzo’s, hand splayed against the archer’s back, bringing him closer.

Every last one of his senses was taken over by Hanzo and Jesse was glad to let go even if it was short-lived. When the kiss ended, Hanzo’s forehead bumped against his own, and they breathed the same air while trying to come down from an indescribable high. Though before Jesse could even out his breathing, Hanzo stole it away.

“You are beautiful.”

The cowboy’s eyes shot open. Doubting his hearing for a second, he muttered a soft ‘huh’.

Hanzo eyed him without a word and Jesse tried not to fidget or squirm beneath his gaze. Then with a soft smile, Hanzo bid him closer with the hands tucked in his hair, pressing their foreheads together. “You are beautiful, Jesse,” he whispers with such tenderness and sincerity that Jesse’s admonishments floating about in his head are silenced.

“Make no mistake that you are a wonderful man. Despite all that the world has done, you still believe that it can be saved, and you try . You are your own man, a hero in your own right,” Hanzo opened his eyes and looked into Jesse’s, thumb catching a few of the strays tears that rolled down the cowboy’s cheek. “You are my hero, Jesse.”

“I didn’ do nothin’ special,” Jesse groused, leaning into Hanzo’s touch.

“You saved me from myself, helped me…” Hanzo continued, thumb stroking along Jesse’s cheekbones.

Misty-eyed and dry-mouthed, Jesse wasn’t sure what to say to that. He squeezed his eyes shut, unsuccessfully keeping the welled up tears from falling. “I messed up though…”

“And yet you are trying,” Hanzo pulled him closer and he bowed his head, burying his face in Hanzo’s shoulder, the long strands of his hair tickling Jesse’s cheek.

For a few minutes, they said nothing. Hanzo’s arms wrapped around him grounded him to the present but he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. Hand grasping the duvet, Jesse dragged it up to Hanzo’s chest then abandoned it in favor of holding onto the archer. Through it all, Hanzo petted his hair and whispered softly against the crown of his head, pressing light kisses there, peppering others around his temples. A part of Jesse never wanted this to end but reality had a way of crashing down even in the softest of moments. However, he couldn’t unwound himself from Hanzo, settling on resting his cheek against the other man’s shoulder, glaring absently at the nearest wall.

“Tryin’ isn’t always good enough, Han.”

Hanzo hummed, and Jesse immediately thought over the sentence, cursing his word choice. Trying is what Hanzo has been doing since he first came to the Watchpoint. What was he thinking saying something stupid like that? Floundering for the words, Hanzo speaks up before he has the chance to apologize.

“It is for me.”

Looking up at the archer, Jesse’s heart clenches when Hanzo meets his gaze unflinchingly.

“You are enough for me.”

One of the archer’s hands dislodges from his person and Jesse isn’t embarrassed to admit that he missed the contact as quickly as it vanished. A soft plush weight settles between them and Jesse glances down at the small dragon pressed against his chest, staring up at him with a stately gaze.

“For us.”

Jesse’s eyes snap up to meet Hanzo’s, and the latter smiles softly.

Lost for words, Jesse blows a puff of air and snorts indignantly, “How d’you know all the right things to say?”

“Fatherhood,” Hanzo says with a casual shrug,  “And I am not as socially inept as most would think.”

Jesse’s stifles his laughter against Hanzo’s shoulder. “You’re tellin’ me.”

The two lapse into a comfortable silence after a small fit of laughter, holding one another with unspoken words floating between them, though content enough to let sleeping dogs lie until it was time to wake them from slumber. After some time, the door cracked open and Jesse glanced over as a small head of messy black hair poked through. He knew he had to be making that face most adults did when faced with an adorable child, but it couldn’t be helped. Genji told him that Hayao reminded him of Hanzo when they were young. Except for the atrocious middle-part that both brothers shuddered to talk about.

Hayao’s dark hair fell to his shoulders, thick and messy, barely tameable with a comb and he barely came up to Jesse’s thigh. Face round and youthful, dark eyes wide with curiosity as he peered around the door. Jesse bites back a laugh when Hayao creeps into the room, his white pachimari t-shirt and checkered pajama pants a dead giveaway no matter how much ninja kid training he had. He steps carefully and quietly to Jesse’s side of the bed, and after a few unsuccessful attempts, manages to climb onto the bed, his small hands pressing against Jesse’s side as he leans over.

“Uncle Jesse,” he whispers, throwing a leg over Jesse’s side ��and sitting down on his hip, gently patting his cheek. “ Uncle Jesse .”

Pretending to rouse from sleep with a soft huff, Jesse cracked open one eye and smiled, “Hey there partner.” Jesse shot a glance towards Hanzo who was apparently fast asleep with both eyes closed. Under his breath, Jesse muttered ‘traitor’ and swore that the corner of Hanzo’s lips twitched upwards even if it was just for a second.

“Did you have a nightmare, Uncle Jesse?”

Call Jesse McCree many things but he wasn’t a liar when it came to kids.

“Just a lil’ one, Howie, nothin’ to worry about.”

Hayao’s eyebrows furrow and Hanzo’s squeeze around his waist tells him that he said the wrong thing. The archer’s eyes crack open and he feigns waking by stretching and yawning loudly. Hayao’s attention immediately taken by the “waking” of his father, beaming as he clambers off Jesse to dive onto Hanzo. Jesse smiles, watching as Hanzo lifts his son up with his hands tucked under the boy’s arms.

“And how did you sneak in here, little one?”

“I got better at being quiet, dad. No one heard me, not even Uncle Jesse.”

Hanzo hummed and lowered his arms, tucking Hayao to his chest and kissing the top of his head, giving him a cuddle. Jesse was absolutely certain that if his heart wasn’t warm by then, it was positively melting now. Imposing and dangerous nature aside — Hanzo Shimada was no stranger to cuddling and was absolutely adorable with a child clinging to his front, the man talking to him lowly until the dragon plush catches Hayao’s eye and he relinquished his hold on his father to pick it up, holding it out to Jesse.

At a loss for words, and slightly embarrassed at being caught staring, Jesse asks awkwardly, “That for me, darlin’?”

“Mhm, Mugen won’t let the monsters get you,” Hayao says, leaning further out of Hanzo’s arms to lay it in Jesse’s hands. He briefly takes notice of Jesse’s missing arm but says nothing, instead squirming out of Hanzo’s hold in favor of Jesse’s.

“Monsters?”

It’s a balancing act trying to hold the plush and Hayao at the same time. In the end, Hanzo  helps by sitting the boy on Jesse’s lap with plush in hand, Hayao leaning back against the cowboy’s chest as his father tried to fix his sleep-ruffled hair into some semblance of order. After a bit, Hanzo gave up and huffed, Hayao laughing at his father’s feigned annoyance as the archer ruffled his hair making it even messier than it was before. Jesse smiled. Somehow it felt right — this felt right.

Hanzo with his hair loose and a wide smile on his face, making silly faces and slipping into his mother tongue, talking eagerly to his son who laughed and played along. Occasionally, the boy would look up at Jesse and grin, reminding him that he was part of this.

This moment.

You matter to us.

“Uncle Jesse?”

Snapping back to reality, Jesse didn’t notice when the playfulness stopped and both Hayao and Hanzo were watching him with concern. He sniffs and coughs lightly, wiping under his eyes.

“...Hey Howie, you remember how… a while back you uh… drew lil ol’ me a picture?”

Hayao tilted his head and looked to Hanzo. The archer whispered something low that Jesse couldn’t quite make out but Hayao seemed to understand. He looked back at Jesse and nodded.

“Mhm, did you like it?” A nervous twinge to his voice tugged at Jesse’s heartstrings.

Wrapping his arm around the boy’s waist, he nodded.

“Yeah, yeah.. I did. Course I did.”

There was no way he couldn’t. This between him and Hanzo was for the long haul it seemed and if he was going to be part of Hanzo’s life, he had to be a part of theirs. But with that came a sleugh of things he wasn’t ready to admit or face. What if he messed up? What if he hurt them? Hanzo would never talk to him again, and he had no idea how to be a father. Hardly had one of his own. It just felt like too tall of an order even for a cowboy that defied the odds time and time again.

But when Hayao looked at him, eyes alight with trust and cheer, it was hard to think of saying ‘no’ especially to a heartfelt request like that. After all, he wasn’t cruel enough to break a kid’s heart.

Clearing his throat, Jesse kept the boy’s gaze and floundered for the words,  “Listen uh… bein’ a dad it uhm… it takes a lot. It is a lot but if ya want… if it’s okay with your dad (His gaze flicked to Hanzo whose head bobbed in understanding or approval, either way it made Jesse pause and take a deep breath, exhaling before he continued) and your brother..… I’d.. like to be your dad.”

“Papa,” Hayao interrupted, voice soft.  “If you were dad, that’d be weird because we already have dad.”

Hayao nestled against Jesse’s chest, laying his small hands on Jesse’s forearm.

“Okay?” He asked, carefully. “Papa?”

Swallowing the tears and the fears that clogged his throat, Jesse nodded. From his peripheral, Hanzo smiled at him and he gave a shuddering sigh.

“If ya think I’m good enough…” Jesse nodded, laying a light kiss to the top of Hayao’s head, making him giggle and smile up at him.   “Then yeah, I’m your Pa.”

[rvnjun]

content | wong yukhei

genre: fluff, suggestive(idk)

warnings: they kinda makeout 

word count: 1.2k

a/n: I know I know, “em why are you writing this when you have requests to do,” well dear reader,,,I was soft for Yukhei. that is all 

The carousel of dreams that were playing in your head suddenly stopped, you had a vague memory of a dog you had never met before. Your entire body felt heavy like you had been beaten with a bat. “What,,” you mumbled in a scratchy voice. Turning to the side you didn't notice a giant lump under the covers which meant one thing, Lucas was gone. Your shirt raised slightly exposing your stomach as you stretched your arms high above your head. Blinking a few times you sighed, not really feeling anything at all, you weren’t happy, upset or angered, you were simply content. The sleep that had pooled at your eyes from the night before we starting to get annoying and making your vision tinted grey. Your fingers folded as you wiped at your shut eyes. 

“Hmph,” you sighed while trying to move out of the bed, “Oph,” you whimpered when your feet touched the cold floor,”We need to put a rug here,” you remind yourself despite the fact that you were very well aware of getting a rug for the bedroom was the last thing you needed. “Babe?’ you called out, sitting on the edge of the messy bed. A few seconds that felt like hours had passed and you are growing impatient. You wanted to see your boyfriends squishy face. Glancing at the window you squinted at the bright morning sun that was casting shadows in the apartment. “Why are the blinds open?” you kept a conversation with no one. Sighing heavily you stood up on your feet. All the blood in your body went rushing, your head felt extremely heavy and dull for a split second. Your hands grabbed warmth into your arms. Walking into the hallway your head swung around trying to figure out where Lucas was. Your pace was slow, “Honey!” you called out once more hoping for a response. The vague sound of sizzling echoed in the background, your ears perked up as you realized Lucas was probably in the kitchen, or a robber was making themselves breakfast.

 Leaning on the white doorway you admired the back of Lucas. His toned back muscles bent with every shoulder movement he made, his gorgeous golden brown hair reflected with the sun in perfect harmony. Your feet equity padded across the beige wooden floor “Yukhei!” you greeted with a bright smile, your arms latching onto his bare back. You made sure to squeeze him tight, just to give him a type of reassurance. Lucas’ big strong hands clasped at yours, he looked up at the ceiling to hide his massive smile. 

“Why are you awake? It's 7 am,” his voice was still deep form waking up.

 You hummed in response and began to place small kisses along his back, making your way up to his neck.

 “If I get to see you like this at 7 am then maybe I should wake up earlier more often,” you teased, burrowing your face in his back to hide your embarrassment Lucas turned his body around to face you, having to detach you from his back in the process. 

‘When did you become such a flirt, that's my job,” he placed his hands under your shoulders and picked you up. 

Swiftly placing you on the counter next to the vegetables he had been cutting before you interrupted him. Giggles erupted from your body, it always made you feel slightly better about yourself whenever Lucas picked you up so easily. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on your nose, you learned your forward head against his and shut your eyes, enjoying this moment that you had been blessed with. 

“I earned how to flirt because of you,” after a few minutes you finally replied to his question making Lucas laugh. 

His boisterous laugh made you erupt with happiness. Looking up you locked eyes with his dark chocolate orbs. Slowly he leaned in, your eyes closed in anticipation. His lips were slightly chapped but you loved them nonetheless. Wrapping your arms around his neck you deepened what was supposed to be a soft and quick peck. Your skin starts to heat up form his touch. Any once of sleep that was left lingering in your body quickly dispersed. Your legs instinctively wrapped around Lucas' waist, he used his strong arms to pull you into him even more. Your kiss became more urgent and needy, he carefully nibbled on your bottom lip using your mouth to open slightly. He took this opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, it roamed around you a little bit making your begin to feel light headed. Lucas started to smirk, making it hard to kiss him. You pulled away from him with a shy, coy smile on your face. Lucas stared at you with complete heart eyes. 

“Argh,, do you know how much I love you?’ he asked, over exaggerating his hand motions. 

“How much?” you questioned, waiting to hear his cheesy, teen movie worthy reply. “More than all the stars in the sky,” he flirted, making a weird face. 

You hid your mouth behind your hand as you started to laugh 

“Why are you like this?” you questioned while looking at the ceiling with a satisfied grin. 

“I don't know,, maybe ‘cause my beautiful babe walked out this morning all rude-like and hit on me right away,” he pointed, moving back to the vegetable he had been cutting before you “rudely” interrupted him. “What are the plans for today?” you asked, ignoring him completely. you glanced at the food he had been making out of the corner of your eyes. 

“I was hoping we could go to that new exhibit they added at the art gallery, Renjun told me it's really amazing,” Lucas sent you a quick glance, you nodded your head in return. 

“Sounds lovely, I'm going to go take a shower, you continue doing whatever you were doing before I came out,” you winked at him before leaving to the restroom.

 Lucas watched you walk away with a small grin, he really did love you more than anything. You made him feel all sorts of emotions so rapidly that sometimes it made him afraid. Blinking a few times you sighed, not really feeling one specific emotion, you were proud, giddy and eager, but out of all of those, the word that describes you best was content.

[rizlowwritessortof]

Slow Ride

Yeah, you all should have known this was coming... They don’t call me Cowgirl for nothing...

(This gif was made by my gorgeous friend Pam @saucynewf - and is being used with her permission)

Holy. Shit.

Seriously, how much is a girl supposed to take? You share rooms with these guys, watch them walk around half-dressed, banter back and forth with them. You take Dean’s suggestive, flirty comments and respond in kind, telling yourself it’s all part of your friendship.

And then he does this.

Of all things, a mechanical bull. You thought those things died out with Urban Cowboy. But now, as you stand watching with your jaw clenched, and your nails digging into your palms, and your thighs clamped together, Dean is riding the fuck out of Larry, the centerpiece of the bar you went into for the sole reason of grabbing some burgers.

You can’t tear your eyes from him as his body sways, looking like he’s part of that saddle. The muscles of his thighs are tight, holding firm, his torso lean and lithe as he moves with it, sinuous and sexy as hell. One arm waves above his head, giving him the balance he needs, the other bicep bunched and bulging beneath the plaid shirt, unbuttoned at the front to allow your eyes to cruise over where his t-shirt clings to his pecs, his ribs, his belly.

“Do you know him?” the waitress whispers, and you nod, your lips parted and your eyes glued to Dean as the ride ends, and he slowly lowers himself back, sprawled and smiling. “Lucky you,” she says, turning to go back to work, and you blow out a breath, closing your mouth and lowering your eyes.

Air. You need some air.

You hear him call out your name as you yank the side door open, stepping out into the cool night air and taking a deep breath. Jesus, you’re shaking. There’s a rail fence a few steps away, and you move towards it, bracing your arms on it and hanging your head. You have to get hold of yourself before you have to face him again. Right now, if he saw you, he’d know. All the determination you’ve had to keep things platonic, the denial that you’re attracted to him like you’ve never been to anyone in your entire life, the insistence that you’re just friends, the complete and utter embarrassment if he knew… because you know he doesn’t think of you that way. He never has. He flirts and teases, because that’s who he is. But he’d never let himself get involved, he’s always been adamant about keeping his ‘activities’ in the anonymous, one-night-stand category.

You hear the door open behind you, but you keep your grip on the fence and your eyes looking out over the field beyond. “Hey, Y/N – tell me you saw me ride that bull just now! I was fucking awesome!”

You force a little laugh. “Yes, Dean, I saw you. You were pretty awesome.” You put a smile on your face and turn to see him, a proud grin on his face, his eyes lit up and happy. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“I dunno. I just did it. Just have to move with it,” he says, rocking his hips a little for emphasis. “Kinda like making love.” He’s still grinning, and he does that little thing with his eyebrows, and you feel your face grow warm and your knees wobble a little. His smile slowly fades as he tilts his head, his eyes narrowing a bit as they travel over your face, the way you’re standing, your hands braced behind you on the fence, your legs crossed, thighs squeezed together. “You liked it.”

You blush even more, dying a little inside, and your voice squeaks when you respond with a “What?” You clear your throat and continue. “Of course I did, you were amazing.”

He steps closer, looking down at you with that maddening, knowing smirk on his lips. “No, I mean you really liked it. It turned you on. Didn’t it, Y/N?”

You make a derisive face at him, blowing a puff of air between your lips as you shake your head. “Oh, come on, Winchester. Get over yourself.”

He moves even closer, and you avert your face, refusing to look up at him. He’s close, the warmth of his body, the smell of his aftershave, the whiskey he’s been drinking, the utter maleness of him wafting over you until you can’t think straight. He brushes hair back from your face, tucking the strands behind your ear before moving a finger to your chin, tilting your face up towards his. The teasing note is gone from his voice when he speaks, and you feel your insides quiver. “Do you… do you want me, Y/N? Tell me the truth, sweetheart.”

The breath is frozen in your lungs as you stare into his intense green gaze, trapped there, almost unable to speak. “Yes. Okay? Yes. Now go ahead, have a good laugh.” You jerk yourself away from his touch, move as quickly as you can back to the door and inside to the safety of the crowd.

He comes in behind you, and you feel his eyes on you as you go to the bar, ordering a shot, then another with a beer to chase it. He stands beside you and orders one for himself, not saying a word, and you turn away, carrying your drinks back to a table. It’s last call, and people are drifting out, the crowd thinning, and you’re wishing the motel was within walking distance, anything but the ride back in the intimate confines of the Impala with Dean and your humiliation.

He leaves you alone, and you’re grateful for that, at least. You nurse your beer along, dreading the moment you have to leave with him, wishing like hell that you weren’t so awkward right now. Your mind is off in its own little space, and when you look up to see the owner locking the door, you’re surprised to see that you and Dean are the only other people left.

“I’m sorry, we’ll get out of your way,” you say, rising to your feet, but the man smiles, holding up a hand to wave away your apology.

“No problem, little lady. I’ll just leave you to it.” He walks over to Dean, drops the keys into his hand, and winks. “Just lock up when you’re done and put the keys in the lock box by the back door. And lock the door behind me, don’t want any stragglers coming in here begging for a drink. The booze is all locked up, by the way. Don’t want my license yanked for serving after hours.”

“Thanks, man.” Dean lets him out the door, locking it behind him, and you’re still standing at the table, staring in disbelief.

“What are you doing? What’s going on?”

He turns towards you, a barely-there smirk curving his tempting lips, his eyes gleaming with a light you haven’t seen before. “I told him you wanted to learn to ride. But you were too shy to do it in front of everyone.” He’s moving to the windows, lowering the blinds, and you realize your heart is hammering against your chest so hard that it just might escape. The last blind drops into place, and he walks over to the jukebox, feeding money into it and making a few selections. Black Betty begins to play, and he adjusts the volume down a notch before turning to face you again, striding slowly but purposefully towards you. “What do you say, sweetheart? You wanna ride the bull?”

He brushes his fingers over your cheek, and you feel like there’s fire in the wake of his touch. There’s no smile now, no amusement in his expression, just heat, and when his lips touch yours, you almost go down. His arm snakes around your waist, supporting you as his tongue tickles over your lips and you part them, reveling in the taste of him. He slants his mouth against yours and you devour each other, barely remembering to breathe. As you break apart, gasping for air, he reaches for the buttons of your shirt, watching his own hands as he works, parting the fabric and running his tongue over his bottom lip as he stares down at you. “Fuck, baby girl,” he whispers, then yanks you against him again, his lips crashing into yours, hungry, one hand cupping your lace-covered breast as he moans into your mouth.

He pulls you with him, climbing up onto the padding surrounding the mechanical bull, slipping your shirt off of your arms and tossing his flannel shirt onto the saddle as he rids himself of it and then his t-shirt. He’s reaching for the button on your jeans and you help, pushing them down as you slip off your boots, teetering in the squishy padding, but he’s holding you, his eyes taking in every inch of you that’s exposed as you kick them off. You turn to bend and pull off your socks, his hand smoothing over your ass, kneading, and you feel his breath on your neck as his lips touch there, his tongue slipping out to taste your skin as he sucks gently. He tugs on your panties a little, whispering in your ear. “You won’t need these.” He pulls them down, dropping to one knee in front of you as you step out of them, leaning in to place an almost chaste kiss to your mound.

You reach behind you to unclasp your bra as he finishes stripping down, and you both moan as you look up at each other. “Holy shit, Dean,” you manage you say, staring at the absolute beauty of the man before you, reaching out to run a finger over the head of his leaking cock as he stares ravenously at your breasts, reaching out to take a nipple between his fingertips.

“Right backatcha, sweetheart,” he rasps out, grunting at your touch on his sensitive flesh. “I wouldn’t do that... too much,” he manages, and you pull your hand back, whimpering at his little pinch on your nipple. He turns towards the bull, spreading his shirt over the leather, and an ‘oohhhhhh’ leaves your lips as he climbs into the saddle. “You coming?” he asks, and you nod.

“Almost.” He huffs out a little laugh, holding out a hand as you put your toes in the stirrup and pull yourself up. He swears as you swing your leg over him, his arm securely around your waist and pulling you close, his lips taking yours in a scorching kiss as he nestles you up against him, hot and rigid against your soft, slick folds.

“All the dirty fantasies I’ve had about you and me, I’ve never had one this good,” he growls, bucking against you as you throw your head back.

“You’ve had dirty fantasies about me?” You can hardly believe it, and you want him to repeat it, forever.

“Jesus, baby girl, all the time,” he says, his voice rasping, his eyes squeezed shut, grinding against you. He opens them to stare down at you, not moving for a moment, and you’re breathless at the feeling of him against you. “Dean, please...”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants out, both hands on your waist, lifting you. You reach for him, your fingers almost cool around the hot length of him, holding him in place as he lowers you slowly. You shudder as he sheathes himself in you, your pussy quivering around him, filling you until you swear you can’t take any more. “Breathe,” he whispers, and you whine as you inhale, impaled in the most luscious way, unable to even move yet. “You okay?” he whispers again, nuzzling your ear, and you let him hold you against him, letting you adjust, his calloused hands smoothing over your back, your hips, his lips nibbling at the tender skin beneath your ear.

Another second, and you nod, resting your forehead against his should for a moment before straightening up to look at him. “I’m good… so good,” you manage, and his eyes twinkle as he smiles. He brings a hand up from down beside him, holding a joystick remote, and your eyes widen a little.

“Okay, baby girl. You ready to ride?” Some kind of incoherent noise makes its way from your throat, and as he starts the bull, a gentle buck and roll beneath you, you hear ‘Slow Ride’ begin on the speakers. You can’t stifle a giggle, and Dean grins at you triumphantly.

“You are ridiculous,” you laugh, gasping as he moves inside you.

“And you love it,” he retorts, putting the remote back in its holder as you begin to move and your words, your thoughts, fade away. Pure sensation floods you, the undulating motion beneath you, the slick drag of his cock inside you, your thighs stretched over the top of his, opening you completely and allowing him to get so deep you swear you can feel it in your chest. He holds you, hands on your thighs, as you begin to move with the motion of the bull, unable to control the sounds you make. You put your hands behind his neck, letting your back arch as you move, his heated gaze on your body making you feel fearless, all inhibition completely gone as you throw yourself into the moment. “Fuck, sweetheart. You ride that bull, baby.” He sounds wrecked as he urges you on, and you feel wild, unchained, at his words, the sounds he’s making beneath you. You raise one arm, just like you saw him do, your body rolling as you ride him, and he swears before bending his head to take your nipple into his mouth.

One swirl of his tongue sends you careening over the edge, and you shout his name, suddenly needing to clutch him tight as you explode, every muscle clenched and every nerve on fire, and for a few moments you feel limitless, omniscient. You begin to come down, feeling him pulsing inside you, reaching his own end, and you cling to each other, sweaty and trembling as the machine beneath you slows, then stops.

Foghat’s Slow Ride fades into silence, leaving only the sounds of you and Dean panting, hearts gradually slowing. His hands move up your body, coming up to cradle your face as he leans back from you just enough to kiss you, slow and lazy. You whimper a little into the kiss as he twitches inside you, drinking in his answering moan.

He holds you, his fingers in your hair, and you let out a satisfied sigh. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” you breathe out against his shoulder, kissing his skin and nestling against him.

“Up to now, anyway,” he teases, and you sit up to look into his eyes, the grin on his face lighting them up and making you smile. He kisses you again, then sighs. “Well, my little cowgirl, I only got this place for an extra hour. We’d better get going.”

You’re both laughing as you awkwardly dismount from Larry’s back, gathering your clothes and dressing quickly between little kisses and touches. One last look around before you step out the door, and Dean locks it, dropping the keys into the lock box. He takes your hand as you head for the Impala, a little chuckle making you look up at him, curious.

“What?”

“Wonder what Sam would say if I asked to set one of those up in the bunker?”

@saenalife @salvachester @misswhizzy  @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog@geeklibrarian@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid    @aprofoundbondwithdean@mamapeterson@mrswhozeewhatsis@littlegreenplasticsoldier  @sleep-silent-angel@darcia22@winchesterprincessbride @jessica-bones-winchester  @ellen-reincarnated1967   @deangirl96@iamflanneltrash @deanslittleangel2y5 @melanie451  @juliaspnlover  @lovin-ackles @spectaculacular-sammy   @dyingforlove1992 @bookchic20  @jodyri  @selma-jean@avasmommy224@shadowlightforcast @tonifish @savingapplepie-eatingthings@angelofwinchester17 @kittenofdoomage   @masked-maiden42  @lean-mean-deanwinchester @ericuhlorain  @undecided-garden@ceeceewinchester@typicalweirdbookworm@purplecocopops   @feelmyroarrrr@callmesweetheartifyoumeanit  @youtoldalie   @tanithlowisabamf @ch3353y1  @deandoesthingstome @jxackles @nerdwholikesword @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic   @kreweofimp   @deansbaekaz2y5   @trippleberrydeanpie @gabavaldman  @chaos-and-the-calm67  @darkx143@disassociativedogma  @ioanashalala@jencharlan   @deansthirst @randomvlogstuff   @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms  @dorky-and-i-know-it @mischief-maker1  @hamartiamacguffin @winchestersandwordprocessors  @percussiongirl2017

[canaliculi]

Remember to Breathe (1/2)

Gravity Falls

Bill/Ford

NC-17: Bad surgical techniques, gore, casual victim blaming and shaming

There's more than one way to crack an egg. The egg, in this instance, being a stubborn human's metal-lined skull.

1 | 2

“You know, Fordsy, I really DIDN’T wanna have to DO this to you.” That was a lie, at least partially. Sure, it would have been just swell if Bill had been able to coax his little pet into playing along, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to enjoy himself immensely either way. “I wanted us to be PARTNERS – FRIENDS – like the GOOD old days! Surely YOU remember!”

The two large, black hands of his center piece were clasped around Ford’s sides, the fingers arranged in awkward looking angles to dig their jagged tips into his skin. The pain didn’t deter his human’s frantic thrashing, and Bill’s eye was curved with delight as he watched his pathetic struggling, as every movement carved new, ragged lacerations into his body. Both of them had to know by now that any attempt at fleeing or fighting back was futile, but hey, if it kept things entertaining Bill wasn’t about to stop him.

Ford had long since stopped talking, preferring to glare balefully at his captor in lieu of actual conversation. Maybe Bill had ripped his tongue and teeth out one too many times, but he always put them back. Or perhaps Ford was sick of going to sleep with a broken jaw. Personally, the demon kind of liked it when Ford’s well-defined jawline was crushed on one side, inflamed and mashed tissue disrupting the symmetry of his face. Regardless of the root cause, the whole silent suffering, martyred hero complex was old news. Bill was bored, which meant they got to move on to the meat of their relationship issues.

From his upper plane, he stretched out another hand, clasping it around the back of the human’s skull, forcing Ford to crane his neck back and stare directly into his glowing eye. Bill dragged him closer too, for a moment just watched the shifting technicolor display of his energy light up Ford’s skin in a bright array, reflecting nicely against the pallor of the man’s clammy skin. Really, Ford would look better if he got out a bit more, and Bill would love to let him, but that would take some mutual cooperation of the kind his pet just wasn’t ready to give.

“Not even gonna ASK what it is I DON’T want to do to you? I PROMISE, the LIST is a short one!” Bill gave him a quick wink, struggling not to giggle at the low growl that reverberated from the man’s throat. “It’ll be BETTER this way anyway – no sense in RUINING the SURPRISE!” Darting forward, his bottom pair of hands grasped onto Ford’s legs, pulling them apart and stretching them taunt. A deep red blossomed from his chest to his face, and then Bill did laugh, rather unkindly. “Oh none of that YET, you FREAK you!”

Instead, Bill scraped a single claw down the side of his face, leaving a blazing line of irritated skin in its wake. Ford shuddered in his grasp. Conjuring up a thick, black tongue, Bill swiped it along the front of Ford’s body, the strong muscle wriggling against the bound human. His pupil constricted at the human sucking in a deep breath of air, Ford’s chest puffing out, ribs moving up and down beneath a thin layer of skin and fascia. The organ dissipated in dark clouds of smoke, his actions leaving a film of sticky saliva coating his pet’s exposed flesh.

“Getting DISTRACTED, are we? This is SUPPOSED to be a PUNISHMENT for you being such a stubborn sack of WASTED GERMLINE TISSUE!” His claws raked along Ford’s chest, his fingers dug deep bruises into the man’s legs. With his single free hand, he pressed the sharp end of a talon against Sixer’s hairline, in the middle of his forehead. “You think you’re pretty SAFE, right?” The seeming non sequitur had all of the human’s muscles tensing into hard knots. “I can TORTURE you to my HEART’S content, make all your SLEEPING hours a NIGHMARISH kaleidoscope of your deepest FEARS and REGRETS – and don’t get me WRONG, Fordsy, I LOVE doing all that and more – but you’ve been pretty TENACIOUS in your bull-headed REFUSAL of all of my GENEROUS offers!”

Bill tapped his claw firmly against Ford’s forehead, eye scrunching at the corners from the dawning fear slowly creeping in on his pet’s face.

“But I THINK you’ve made one FATAL assumption here.” Tap, tap, tap. A thin trickle of blood leaked down the slope of Ford’s forehead, down along his nose. “I WANTED you to come along WILLINGLY, but there are always OTHER OPTIONS!”

Now Ford was shaking with an emotion Bill was intimately familiar with, had seen expressed in so many creatures across his long and destructive lifetime. It made his mouth water, his teeth sharpen. He thrust his claw forward, feeling it scratching along the fragile bones that made up Ford’s skull. In agonizing slow motion, Bill began to drag through his skin, the flesh parting and spilling the man’s blood, bright red and viscous, down his face.

“W-wait, Bill, y-you can’t-” Ford’s quivering words were cut off in a sharp gasp of pain as the demon abruptly hooked his finger into the shallow wound, running it up and down the incision, feeling something – tissue that felt like wet, soggy spider webs – break beneath his touch. As he burrowed his finger deeper, deeper along the curve of his skull, beneath the tenuous stretch of dermis and hair, there was a sudden bright, stinging pain that had Bill jerking his hand away, brow furrowed in annoyance. Ford cried out wretchedly.

“CAN’T isn’t what I want to HEAR now, Fordsy,” Bill said. He slid his finger back beneath Ford’s scalp.

A steady stream of pleas were falling out of his pet’s mouth now, and as much as Bill enjoyed hearing them, he’d learned that they were all empty promises. Sixer would plead and cry and even beg in the worst moments, when his gossamer-thin thread of dignity finally snapped, but he always managed to hold it together enough not to spill the only beans Bill cared about. The demon had even fallen for it a time or two, had called his games early with the thought that Ford would be able to appreciate his sympathy. Of course, being the ungrateful little maggot he was, Ford merely reacted like Bill had killed his kitten. Which, maybe the demon had, if Ford had adopted one during his return. He should probably ask.

The tip of his claw scraped against the metal plate again, a sensation like a thousand tiny needles pricking him radiating up the length of his arm. Unpleasant, but if Ford’s facial expression was anything to go by, it was nothing compared to being on the other side of it. Bill was actually a little curious as to what that felt like, but he somehow doubted Ford would be able to articulate it at the moment. It seemed all the human was capable of was his simpering, two-faced groveling. Bill made a shushing noise as he began to slip another finger alongside the first.

“You sure know the way to a guy’s heart, I’ll give you that, Sixer! But there’s only ONE WAY out of this, and I’m willing to BET you know what it is!” Ford was still sporadically jerking in his grasp. Mostly, though, he was just trembling bodily, fists and jaw both clenched. What parts of his hair weren’t thoroughly soaked in blood were damp with sweat. And if Bill wasn’t mistaken – and he never was – the man was even crying. “EW, can’t you get your BODY FLUIDS under CONTROL? What’s the USE of your MEAT SACK if it doesn’t even keep your WET, SQUISHY parts under wraps?”

Ford didn’t seem capable of responding, and honestly, Bill didn’t really care. The two fingers that were slipping around along the human’s skull hooked to dig against the metal firmly screwed into Ford’s bones. His thumb traced the outer edges of the hardware, feeling against the rigid outline of it pressing back against the thin flesh of Ford’s head. When the tip of his finger ran along the end of it, Bill immediately curved his thumb, the sharp points of his claws scratching at the junction of iron and calcium. With the piece of metal in his grasp, he gripped tightly, pulling and tugging insensately at it. His pet’s body went taunt beneath his fingers and he yanked ruthlessly at it, earning himself a searing pain scoring up and down his elongated arm.

“It’s screwed on there pretty TIGHT, huh?” Ford was shaking so violently now that even his teeth were clattering incessantly against each other. It was a little distracting, especially when Bill needed to concentrate. “Can you STOP with the whole going-into-shock thing? I’ve BARELY even HURT YOU! Whoops.” His claws slipped off the hard edges of the metal, gouging through the flesh covering it as they skipped across its surface. “Okay, I KNOW what you’re thinking, Sixer, and that was my bad, but let’s be REAL HERE, that SKIN was gonna HAVE TO GO eventually!” Intentional or not, it really wasn’t the worst thing to have happened.

Round two! Bill slid his fingers between the limp flaps of skin covering the metal plate, spreading them to put it fully on display. Stereotypically, Ford wailed like he was dying, followed closely by another round of babbling supplications, and apparently they’d circled right back around to Ford having an attitude, as some demands to be freed were sprinkled throughout. It was all a little garbled; Sixer must have bit his tongue sometime. A true professional, the demon didn’t let his pet’s actions dissuade him as he clamped onto the metal again, jerking and wrenching at the stubborn plate, even trying to twist his hand to get it to dislodge somehow.

And it was really beginning to hurt. Whatever warding properties had been woven into it reacted every time Bill touched it. What began as pins and needles grew worse and worse, burning, searing, shocking up and down his limb, and even his main form crackled a bit at the exaggerated contact. Bill could feel his surface growing hot, turning a bright, angry red as he was rebuffed by a flimsy piece of garbage barely stronger than a piece of cardboard. Finally he let go ahead, eye narrowed in annoyance. He watched Ford heaving for breath for a few moments.

“Well, genius? Any IDEAS?” Not that it was very likely Ford would be willing to chime in. Even when it would be in his best interest to work with Bill – as it would be now, would get that damn metal out faster and get all this over with – the human was as stubborn as they came. As encouragement, he loosened the death grip he had on Ford’s limbs, and gave him a little pet, taking care not to go over his fresh, gaping wound. Ford spat out blood at him.

“Man, Sixer, you just don’t know when to QUIT, huh?” Minimally invasive had been the original goal, but it didn’t seem that was going to fly anymore. Bill retightened his hold on the human and drew his claws close to the metal again. This time, he pressed them gently against the bone surrounding the plate, and slowly began to apply pressure. Any bravado on the part of his pet seemed to have been short lived, the mortal back to shaking and a stream of just one word – no – over and over again pouring out of his mouth. It didn’t take long for faint cracks to begin appearing along the bone, and Bill moved his hand around in a slow circle, methodically breaking Ford’s skull.

The area immediately encircling the metal was a network of hairline fractures. Bill paused briefly to observe it, poked the metal with one finger, eye curving when that section of the human’s bone moved slightly beneath his touch. Without further ado, he slammed his fingers into some of those little cracks, hooked them and ripped, and with a wet, tearing sound Bill had yanked the metal free, still attached to the portion of skull Ford had allowed it to be glued to. It burned in his palm, dripping with blood and squishy with whatever tissues had stayed connected to it. He opened his hand, eyeing it curiously, and brought his open hand in front of Ford’s face.

“Wanna see?” Bill laughed. He turned his hand so the plate slid right off his palm, landing with a heavy thud on the black, pulsating floor of his Fearamid. Carefully, he turned Ford’s head to the side, examining the raw, open hole he’d carved into the man’s skull. “Wow. Well I DEFINITELY prefer getting into your head METAPHORICALLY!” Hmm, maybe. It had been a little satisfying to rip that thing out so viscerally. He could even see part of Ford’s pink, wet brain.

And for the first time in almost thirty years, he could hear Ford’s thoughts as easily as he could his own. They were a bit sporadic right now, mostly focused on blinding pain and denial and something about brain damage, infection control, yada yada. Same old Sixer. Bill really wanted to dive right in, pluck the equation out and be done with it, but Fordsy probably did have a point. If he didn’t want a vegetable as a pet, some healing touch would have to be applied.

“What do you say, Fordsy? Ready for a FADE TO BLACK? It’s about time for a SCENE CHANGE, right?” Like the suggestion was all he’d needed, Ford’s eyes rolled back in their sockets, and his body went limp, the human thoroughly checked out from the waking world. For once, Bill left his dreams alone.

[notapaladin]

@shinyforce @pikestaff @zephiraz

(okay not sure if I should tag Pike but it’s elves so maybe you wanna see it? idk) Heavily inspired by this awesome thing by Zephiraz, because it got me thinking about Aethas in shorts. And Rommath’s reaction to Aethas in shorts.

Rommath and Aethas, set during that loooonnnggg year when we had nothing to raid but HFC, and there are problems in the golem labs.

“And why, pray tell, has there been nothing new to report from the golem lab all summer long? Have we encountered an unexpected roadblock?”

The apprentice fidgeted under Rommath’s stare, ears flicking as she looked away. “Ah, forgive us, Grand Magister, it’s this weather…”

He considered that. Well, it has been disgustingly humid this year, and I suppose we can’t all be fire mages. “Is that all? I’ll have extra cooling enchants put in.”

“Well…”

And she was dithering, which he hated. “Out with it!”

“Not just that. It’s—well, perhaps you should see for yourself.”

With the machinery in full throttle, the golem research labs really were unpleasantly warm; Rommath murmured a frost cantrip under his breath and breathed a sigh of relief as the temperature around him dropped to a bearable level. Even with the windows open there wasn’t much of a breeze circulating through the cavernous space, and he took note of the apprentices and junior magisters who had discarded their robes in favor of shorts. Socks with sandals? I see Sunreaver’s been rubbing off on them. The boy really has no sense of style.

The apprentice gestured to the decommissioned anima golem squatting in the center of the room. “Archmage Sunreaver’s been doing all he can, sir.”

Something clanged within the machine, and Rommath’s ears twitched as Aethas called out, “Any of you see a box of screws lying around?”

He decided he really should learn the name of the apprentice by his side, who was trotting forward with the mentioned box. “Here, sir!”

“Oh, thank you, I thought I’d taken it with me…”

Aethas was clambering out of the golem’s innards, bright eyes wide and apologetic behind thick protective goggles, and for a moment Rommath was sure his frost cantrip had worn off. The young mage had clearly been spending time in the sun; the freckles that covered his face and ears had spread like wildfire across every inch of bare skin. And there was a lot of skin exposed; Aethas had clearly chosen to dress for the summer’s heat, and his thin tank top and shorts left little to the imagination. He was stocky rather than lean, with a build Halduron had disapprovingly termed ‘squishy’ until Aethas had threatened to burn his hair off (Lor’themar had stopped suggesting drinking nights together after that), but the faint definition of muscles in his arms and legs implied he did use them occasionally; Rommath found his eyes straying to the swirls of freckles across his thighs and fought back the little voice in his head that whispered don’t you want to find out if he really does have them everywhere?

Something clonked a few tables away; apparently one of the apprentices had dropped something, and Rommath lifted his head to find the source of the noise blatantly ogling Aethas’s round backside. In fact, now that he noticed, most of the room suddenly seemed to be paying rather more attention to their superior than to their work. The apprentice who had led him in was blushing, and he had the strong desire to snap at her.

“Grand Magister.”

Aethas had finally noticed him. He willed himself not to turn red as his gaze snapped to the young mage’s face, but judging by the heat he could still feel he had a sneaking suspicion it was a lost cause. Aethas had pulled his hair up into a messy copper bun; even the back of his neck was freckled, and it gave Rommath a sudden urge to bite them. He took a breath, steadying himself. You have noticed the overly sincere thorn in your side is attractive. Congratulations. It changes nothing between us; he is still a pathetic young pup, and more trouble than he’s worth. “Sunreaver. There has been a noticeable drop in reports crossing my desk from your lab.”

He pushed his goggles up in order to glare more effectively, which absolutely was not something Rommath should have found endearing. “With all due respect, I am still trying to undo whatever that oaf Astalor did to turn a succession of my golems rogue. When I have found a solution, rest assured you will be the first to know.”

Despite himself, he couldn’t stop the twinge of guilt; he had been the one to put Astalor in charge of the golem forces on Draenor, and it had seemed like a fine idea until he’d been told that several well-tested anima golems had suddenly decided to attack their own camps. “Well.” Come to think of it, he wondered if he should apologize for that—but Aethas was watching him with narrowed, suspicious eyes, and now was not the time to show weakness. He stiffened his ears, putting on his coldest face. “Get back to work, then.”

“By your leave, Grand Magister.”

For one who was barely passable in high society, Aethas could still wield heavy sarcasm with the best of them, and didn’t wait to be dismissed before turning on his heel and scrambling back up into the golem with his tools. A proper mage would have floated up, part of Rommath’s mind thought, but a much larger part found itself glued to the play of muscles as Aethas moved; as clumsy as the mage could be sometimes, he was more than flexible enough around heavy machinery. Certainly can’t blame the apprentices, with an ass like that on display…

The one who had originally fetched him was glancing at him nervously, and he snapped out, “I’ll have twice as many frost spells applied to the walls. I trust that will be acceptable?”

As for myself, he thought sourly, I am going to put this out of my mind, whatever it takes. Even if it must involve a very cold bath.