#I put my eyebrow slit on the wrong side but I will simply be damned if I go and re-render this

[phlebphlob]

I’ve been really struggling with art block these past few.. forever.

So I’ve decided to start a self-imposed challenge. I’m going to draw one or two images a week inspired by the prompts from each episode of Drawfee from that week. I’m going to tryyyy and do it for a whole year!

Today’s prompt was (re)drawing their avatars for 2023/2024, so here’s my self-portrait!!

I can’t wait to see what I can manage to do over the course of a year. Wish me luck and stuff!

My tag for this is gonna be #drawfeelong, so if you don’t wanna see it you can block that tag.

<3

[shealolz]

HIGH ENOUGH - DABI/TODOROKI TOUYA

warnings & notes: branding skin, mild blood, swearing, guns, creampie

summary: dabi & y/n have seggs. it's that simple. or is it?

genre: smut/nsfw

Dabi/Todoroki Touya x Female League of Villains Member

word count: 2,483

----

your hand rested on Tomura's arm, the man's flaky skin shuddering beneath your feather-light touch.

it would've been an innocent gesture to everyone but you, Tomura, or him.

a light blush covered his cheeks as you stood behind him, maybe a little too close.

of course, nobody would see your hips rocking against his ass and the breathy hitched gasps from his mouth.

they were all too concerned with their own villain agendas.

and also maybe the fact that Dabi was literally smoking from his staples.

so maybe you were grinding on your boss who you were friends with benefits all the while being fucking his second in command.

nothing wrong with that, right?

"y/n-" Tomura hissed. "What do you think you're doing?"

"pleasuring you boss. why? do you wish for me to stop?" you whispered into his ear, chuckling lightly.

"during our biggest meet-up? yes, I do." Tomura said more steadily only for a whimper to leave his lips.

"aw. it seemed like you liked it." you pouted, detaching from his back to stand next to him. "guess I'm not good enough, huh?"

"what?" he asked like the idea was atrocious. "no, no- you're fine, your wonderful y/n but just not right now."

something swelled in your gut, a certain heat.

so you had a minor praise kink, nothing to be ashamed about.

you smirked and turned to face him. "then I hope you don't mind if maybe this weekend we could meet up."

a manicured grip wrapped around his wrist, your manicured grip.

"Yeah I don't mind just don't be earlier than ten." he sighed.

"good, now if you don't mind I have downfalls to plot." you breathe out, going to your given workspace as you tie the apron around your waist.

you head for your table, your nails tapping against the wood as you map out certain alleyways.

sure the heat in your gut that made your pussy pulse wouldn't leave, that was the whole reason you were trying to get into Tomura's pants, but you could deal.

you had worse anyway.

once some dude edged you on till you were about to orgasm then left you to fucking make eggs.

to put it simply after fingering yourself till you cummed you broke the relationship.

if it could be called one. the two of you really just fucked each other till you were tired.

nothing special.

two hands slammed down next to you and a body pressed against you.

the smell of ash infiltrated your nose.

"what the fuck did you think you were doing with Tomura? I thought you were mine." Dabi growled into your ear.

you smiled a bit and wiped your chalk-covered hands on your jeans. "I dont know what you're talking about." you feign innocence.

his hand grabs your jaw to turn to face him, metal biting into your skin.

"I'm not blind like the others. don't think I didn't see you grinding on his pathetic ass." he snarls.

you shrug. "What can I say? people who melt in my palms intrigue me."

"oh? I don't think I do that, princess." Dabi huffs, letting go of your jaw.

you look down at the chalky mess in front of you and let out a silent breath.

the staring and eye contact had gotten to you and your panties were growing wetter by the second.

"if anything your melting in my palms," Dabi mutters, grabbing your forearm and pulling you away.

"Where are we going now?" you prompt.

"you'll see," he replies shortly.

letting him sit you in his car your hands run over the leather.

sure the League wasn't driving around in Spinner's beat-up van now that the Paranormal Liberation Front was around but the car still never ceased to amaze you.

he climbed into the front seat and adjusted the gear stick and pulled out from the building's parking lot.

there was a gun tucked into his pants.

to avoid showing your curiosity you looked out the window.

"I can see your legs trembling." he sang lightly as he made a sharp turn.

"can you? why don't you fix that then?" you shot back.

"hm? did you want me to bend you over that table and shove my dick into you?" he chuckled, the wind rustling his hair.

"it'd be embarrassing but quicker." you hum.

"calm your tits dollface we'll be there soon."

he drove into a parking garage, one known for being empty.

Dabi didn't stop till he got to the roof of the garage then he parked the car.

unbuckling his seat belt he reclined his chair back a bit.

you shimmied out of your jeans, already preparing for what was about to come.

"I think you know what to do?" he acknowledged.

"yes, I do." you agreed, climbing over the mechanics of the car to sit in the area between the wheel and Dabi's sit.

removing the gun Dabi waved it in your face, making sure you knew it was there.

he wouldn't be merciless if he didn't like it.

from your view, he seemed majestic.

the black cloudy skin in the backdrop, rumbling with thunder, the blue lighting of the car, his spiked belt, and wind tousled hair.

so similar to a god.

one of death.

your life was in his hands.

slowly your hands undid the belt, moving it to the side where you previously sat.

you unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down to his feet to reveal plain black boxers.

Dabi's boner wasn't full-blown but it was still there.

it seemed he got pleasure from looking down on you.

you can let him have this one, you can be his plaything today.

fingers looping into the boxers you pulled them down along with his pants.

his cock seemed to jump out at you and you stared at it.

"it's big." you blinked.

"you're acting like you haven't seen it before." Dabi drawled.

your hands gripped his thighs, nails digging into surprisingly soft skin.

beads of blood rose and slipped under your fingernails.

your lips wrapped around the tip, your tongue slipping under and dragging against it.

Dabi rested his head back, his tense posture loosening greatly.

"fuck, I forgot how good you are." he groaned.

the two of you hadn't done anything major in a while, just a couple of heated make-outs nothing more.

with the war rising after all there wasn't a lot of time to do that kind of shit.

tongue wrapping around his dick one hand wrapped around the area connecting to his hips and pumped slowly.

another groan as Dabi's hand found its way in your hair.

"c'mon princess, you can do better. I know you can." he purred, lidded turquoise eyes gazing down at you.

you squinted at him but nodded and sucked on his dick harder.

you were into it after all.

teeth nipped at the slit slightly before pouty pink lips pressed a kiss to it.

you swallowed as you pulled back, a trail of saliva connecting your mouth and Dabi's dick.

letting yourself breathe a bit, you went back in.

his dick slammed against the back of your throat and you didn't mind.

the way his deep moans bubbled from his chest and his grip tightened in your hair were worth it.

choking slightly you sucked, bobbing your head back and forth.

his nails scratch against your scalp, tugging harshly.

without a warning Dabi orgasms, the creamy liquid flowing down your throat and into your stomach.

his semen is at the corner of your lips along with a shit ton of saliva when you pull back.

"asshole could've told me you were finishing." you glare up at him.

he smirks. "that would've ruined the fun of it."

rolling your eyes you push his seat back to recline fully.

"so you wanna be the dominant one now?" he prompts, placing his hands on your hips as your straddle him.

"not really, I just want your dick." you deadpan.

he chuckles and rubs at your hipbones. "Whatever you say, princess."

his dick was already out and hard, his jacket wasn't on in the first place so he was just in his oversized white button-up.

you only had your panties and your bra left so you were almost closed to a state of undressing.

looking up at him you then glanced at your pussy so he would get the hint.

"damn thought I could watch you masturbate, gotta do all the work myself huh?" he huffed.

his finger sneaked under your underwear till they were tugged down.

Dabi frowned. "this won't do."

his finger lights aflame and you blink at the new idea.

your underwear burn to ash and the blue flame goes back. "better."

swiftly you grip his hand.

he looks up at you with a raised eyebrow.

you lean forward so you two were eye to eye.

"turn on your quirk," you order, your hot breath ghosting over his cheeks.

"Oh?" he questions but his finger flames again.

you bring it closer to your inner thigh and you see his breath hitch as he sits up a bit.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

you nod steadily.

he lets out a breath and lays back down, the flame never flickering as you slowly let go.

his other hand grabbed at your thigh, squishing the soft skin between his hands as he starts to brand your other thigh.

your nails dig into the leather of the seats as you bite down on your lip, the metallic taste of blood soon entering your mouth.

a moan leaves your mouth though as your lips stain red.

though it was painful the joy you felt as you were marked as Dabi's made your heart swell.

why did you like the feeling so god damn much?

the flame disappears and you glance at your thigh.

'𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐘𝐀'

"T-Touya?" you stutter out as you pant heavily.

"my name, the birth one," he replies.

you smile at him and press a kiss to his lips which he reciprocates.

"well it's a beautiful one," you whisper against his lips.

you could hear the amused chuckle.

his hand sneaks onto your thigh and rubs at the burn lightly, gaining a whine.

slowly his hand creeps for your vagina and he massages the skin.

soft moans leave your voice box. "a-ah!"

his smirk widened as he adjusts you so his fingers are facing your vagina.

you lower yourself onto him as his fingers pushed through your folds and into you.

the steel of his staples is cold compared to the muscle inside you as Dabi shifts around.

a gasp leaves your lips as your hands gripped onto the leather seats tighter.

then your phone rang.

turquoise eyes looked at you curiously. "Answer it."

you swallow and pat around for your phone, finding it in the passenger's seat.

" 'COCK FACE' IS CALLING "

you press the answer button and place it against your ear.

"eh? y/n? you there?"

Hawks.

"y-yup," you say hesitantly.

"so, you wanna meet later tonight? maybe a couple of rounds?" Hawks suggests and you can hear the pure arrogance through the phone.

he was fucking high.

"why'd you only ever c-call me when your high?" you scoff, pausing briefly when Dabi thrusts his fingers into you rather roughly.

"high?" Hawks echoes only to be cut off when you hung up.

you threw the phone back into the passenger seat and attached your lips to Dabi's scarred neck.

"Who was that?" he groans out, his hips bucking up.

"Hawks," you reply as you bite into his shoulder.

he lets out a moan and turns his head to you.

"so you're just fucking everyone you meet?"

"only the attractive ones."

he snorts but wraps his arm around your waist to tug you closer as his fingers thrust into you harder.

Dabi's fingers move around in a scissoring motion, hitting both sides of you.

your teeth puncture his skin and his grip on you tightens as he pushes his fingers in deeper.

"p-please just f-fuck me!" you cry out.

"you think your ready, dollface?" he hums.

you nod vigorously, turning to face him with desperate eyes.

"if you insist."

he takes his hand out of you and his arm slides from your waist as he picks up his dick.

the boner was fucking big.

how the hell was that supposed to fit in you?

he flips your positions, you now on the bottom as your boobs bounce in their bra by the force.

Dabi lines his dick with your entrance before shoving it in you.

you grip onto his sides with shaky hands as he lets you adjust to his size.

while he waits his hands slide under your shirt and bra and begin to squeeze at your boobs.

"ngh." you mewl. "m-move."

"Your wish is my command." he teased but started to pull out before thrusting back in.

you gasped and your hips bucked forward only to be stopped by his other hand.

"patience love," he mumbles.

he rubbed at your nipple, squeezing your breast, and pressing down onto the skin.

eventually, he just lifted the whole shirt off you and began to suck at the skin all the while thrusting into you.

moans and gasps fell from your lips.

"ah!" "ngh." "h-huh!"

tears pricked at your eyes from the pleasure, it was too much.

your legs were trembling again, signaling a nearby orgasm as Dabi thrust in even harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin sounding through the car.

soon enough your orgasm squirted all over him and he finished into you.

as he pulled out he smiled when looking at your whole.

"d-did you have to cum inside?" you whine.

"what? the cum running out of you looks pretty." he shrugged as he pulled the seat back up.

your legs hit the floor and you sat there, watching the world spin for a second.

then you climbed back into the passenger's seat and began to put on your clothes.

when your shirt was halfway on something cold pressed against your temple.

the gun from earlier.

"did you not like it?" you ask, buttoning your blouse.

you weren't exactly afraid. if you were to die Shigaraki would probably get mad at Dabi and that'd be funny to watch from hell.

"Nah, I enjoyed it, just liked to watch you squirm." he puts the gun back into the glovebox.

he was already dressed, his pants and boxers were put back on and his belt was draped lazily over his hips.

the moon was out indicating you'd been gone for a while.

you licked at your lips as Dabi began to go down the ramps back onto the main street.

"tonight was surely interesting," you say dryly.

"When have things ever been uninteresting with me around?" he joked.

things with Dabi were nice.

even if it was just meaningless and bored sex.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Sick Day (Demon x Reader)

Pairing: Gender Neutral Reader/ Non-Binary Demon

Genre: Urban fantasy, Domesticity, Established relationship

Warnings: Mentions of sickness (fevers, body chills, headaches), but nothing graphic

Word Count: 2008 words

Summary: Your demon partner isn’t sure how to play doctor

A/N: Based of this prompt by @monsterkinkmeme

“It’s the first time you’ve dated a demon and it’s also the first time you’ve gotten sick since you’ve been together. A fever paired with a throbbing headache has you hiding in bed for most of the day, trying to sleep whatever bug you caught, off. Your demon lover, on the other hand, is beside themselves and has turned to Google and WebMD on how best to take care of you. They now think you are dying because of your symptoms and are devising a way to save you.”

The minute I saw this prompt I was immediately awash with PINING for a large demon partner to cuddle with and I knew I had to write it.

A week after finals, 7 months into your relationship with Motholg, your immune system gives up.

You had been leaving work, thinking the heat in your cheeks and the ache in your bones was a product of a 6 hour shift, walking to Motholg’s apartment for date night. The past two week had you cooped up, anxious and studying, meaning you barely were able to make time for your partner.

You probably should have expected it, it’s happened every finals week since high school; A couple days into break you get a high fever and are stuck in your bed for a solid 48 hours. But you thought that, perhaps, this year was the exception. After nearly passing out when handing Motholg their fresh-made lasagna, you knew you weren’t so lucky.

“Darling?”

You groan from your blanket burrito, eyes and sweaty forehead barely peeking into the dim light of Motholg’s bedroom. The thought of forming a coherent thought makes your brain pound, so you don’t even try.

“I’ve made you some...uh…”

The door creaks open, Motholg automatically ducking their head so their long horns don’t hit the frame. Their red, slitted eyes narrow at something steaming in a teacup. “Yas-mine? Jasmeen? Uh-some herbal remedy I ordered from your virtual shopkeep. It was touted by several women named “Brenda” to  be the best thing for human illnesses.” Motholg’s hooves tap against the floor, just below the line of “too loud” for your migraine. You give another non-committal hum as they sit down on the bed. Despite being custom-made for their 7-foot stature, the bedframe still creaks under their weight. The top of your blanket sarcophagus is pulled back, revealing your disgruntled face.

Motholg helps you prop yourself up and hands you the teacup. You take a sip, quickly realizing it’s still quite hot, but power through anyway. The scalding water melts from your mouth down to your toes, abating your shivers, if only temporarily.

As you drink, Motholg’s fingers card through your messy hair, massaging your skull before resting their palm on your cheek. Their hand covers almost the entire side of your head, spotting a glimpse of a frown between their fingers.

“You’re even hotter than before and still quite sweaty. Would you like me to take the blankets?”

You shake your head, setting down your cup of tea.

“No, it’s probably just my fever breaking. It’s actually a good sign, despite how shitty I feel.” The warmth of your cocoon is beckoning you, your exposed chest and arms already shivering. “The blankets are good for my chills, but a big glass of ice water would be nice.”

Motholg raises an eyebrow, clearly perturbed by your backwards human symptoms. But they pat your head once more before sitting up.

“Of course, dear.” Motholg leans down to kiss your forehead, but is intercepted by the palm of your hand.

“Uh-uh, I don’t need you getting sick too.” Motholg scrunches up their face, then blows a raspberry into your skin. You retaliate by pushing away their face feebly.

“As if your human illness could fell me darling.” The sigh dramatically, pushing your hand away. “Though you are very sweet to think it could.”

You stick out your tongue and shove them. Motholg relents, blowing a kiss as they back out of the bedroom.

Your brain is beginning to drift into sleep when a glass clinks on the nightstand. Not bothering to open your eyes, far too tired, you mutter a “Thank you.” Motholg whispers a “You’re welcome,” as they lay on the bed once more. Their warm fur tickles your neck as they cuddle up behind you, arm thrown around your side and nuzzling their face into your hair. A hot breath and a slight nip of their extended canines only wills you to dreamland faster.

Motholg won’t go to sleep, only needing a full 8 hours every 4 days, but are rather content to lay beside you. They lovingly stroke your arm and sidle farther down under the comforter, whispering occasional sweet nothings and rocking you into unconsciousness.

--------

The dull red of the bedside clock pries open your eyes, a stark contrast compared to the pitchblack of the bedroom. Your brain is still in a fog, but given then the 3 AM flashing nearby, you’ve been asleep for about 9 hours.

And I’m about to sleep 9 more.

Motholg had left the bed at some point, but their warmth still lingers on the blankets. You close your eyes and snuggle in.

Slam!

But then the door slams open.

On a normal night, the noise might’ve jerked you upright , but your eyes simply roll over to the doorway. Your brain already misses unconsciousness.

Motholg stands, their new smartphone in hand as they breathe heavily.

“Darling, what did you say your body temperature was?”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, slowly giving up on those peaceful 9 hours.

“99.7 last time I checked.” You tap your forehead with the back of your hand. “Probably less now. The sleep has been helping a lot. Good night.”

In an instant, Motholg is over to the bed, placing their hand on your forehead. You let out a disappointed sigh and try to go back to sleep anyways. The click of their hooves on hardwood, Motholg’s jittering shakes of your shoulder, and the strong smell of iron quickly eliminates that as a possibility.

You turn towards your partner, now noticing the sheen of liquid covering their hands. Red streaks follow their fingertips on their smartphone.

“Babe, why are your hands soaked in blood?”

“Goat’s blood, technically.”

Before you can even respond to that baffling answer, Motholg grabs your shoulder. The blood sticks to the short sleeves of your pajamas.

Damn, now I’ll have to wash this tomorrow.

“Here, it says the ritual-”

“The what?”

“-needs to be completed at 3:30 AM on a new moon.” Motholg pauses, checks their phone, then continues, “Yes, a new moon.”

Motholg begins to walk away, your arm still in their grip, but your resistance stalls them.

“Okay, Motholg, you’re scaring me. What’s going on? How the hell did you get goat’s blood at this hour?”

Motholg sighs and rolls their eyes, “Unimportant-”

You give Motholg a dissatisfied look, finally making them relent in heir tirade. They turn towards you.

“I fear for your life. I’ve consulted your online physician and your symptoms fall in line with many fatal illnesses.”

Now accepting that this is officially a conversation, you throw back your blankets and sit up.

“Do you mean WebMD?”

Motholg nods furiously and shows you their phone screen, tapping the glass with a long claw.

“See here? Full body chills are associated with pneumonia, so is a high fever. There’s also the possibility something is wrong with one of your organs. Not surprising, considering how squishy they are.” Motholg flicks their screen upward, a myriad of diagrams flips across it.

“Now, I know a couple of ceremonies my father used to perform to curse others with these illnesses, so I thought if I reversed the procedure-” Motholg pauses again, flipping to a new tab on their phone, “-So, I did some googling-”

Motholg pauses when your hand rests against their cheek. Their red eyes, which glow just slightly in the dark, look to you. You brush your thumb across their face, just barely grazing against the fur which starts at the base of their neck.

“Darling, I appreciate the concern really, I do. But these websites…” you pause, slowly pushing Motholg’s phone down and out of eyesight, “They really only show worst case scenarios. Honestly, they kind of just scare you into going to a doctor in person.”

Motholg’s eyes dart between your face and their phone, now pressed face down on their bed. They give off an aura of anxiety and stress, their hands fidgety and their hooves lightly tapping against the floor. “Here,” You pull up the covers, opening up the spot next to you. “Do you want to lie down with me for a while?”

“Oh, I don’t need to rest.”

“Just because your body doesn’t require it doesn't mean it won’t feel good. C’mon.” You pat the bed. “I think it will give you some peace of mind, keeping an eye on me.”

Motholg’s eyes shifted back to their phone, their brow furrowed. You pout your lips and slide your fingers up their chest. Their fur sticks and tussles under your touch.

“Babe, I would feel better if you relax, seriously.” You reach down to the bedside drawer, pulling out your sleep mask. “You can even bring your computer and get some work done.”

Hesitantly, they nod. You sigh in relief. Their hand unconsciously twirls your hair.

“I suppose….You would know about these things.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Motholg leaves to get their things, while you slip back under the covers. Before you put your sleep mask on, you shout to them.

“Make sure to wash that blood off!” You look down at your damp sleeve. “And could you get me a wet wipe as well?”

Motholg makes an affirmative noise, and you finally lay back and close your eyes.

Their body heat lingers above your as they sweetly wipe away the blood on your arm. You mutter a thank you. The bed dips as they down next to you, mattress bending as they adjust their laptop and fluff the pillows.

“Darling?”

“Hmmm?” You murmur, face still stuffed in your pillow.

“I just wanted to apologize for waking you. I feel very foolish for acting so paranoid.”

You flip your head to their side, keeping your mask on.

“No need to apologize, I get it.”

“Thank you for your understanding, but still, I feel so silly. To think a tiny sickness would force my emotions to overcome me.”

You slowly push up your mask, eyes peeking out from under the duvet. Motholg sheepishly picks at their keyboard, avoiding your eyes,

As disgruntled as it made you at first, Motholg’s droopy gaze stirred guilt in your gut. You wonder how many scenarios had run through their head while they googled, how helpless they must’ve felt. There might be a hole paced into the floor of the living room, given how flustered they were when they barged in.

You reach out to Motholg’s wrist, brushing your thumb over the back of their palm. Their red irises look over, and you think you see the tinies remnants of tear tracks at the corner of their eyes.

“Emotions aren’t a bad thing, they’re natural.” Grabbing the top of the blanket, you roll over to Motholg’s side. Their large body dwarfs yours and when you curl up against them, the tips of your feet barely meet the top of their calves. Their black fur is soft against your face, like a  mixture of a plush carpet and a goosefeather pillow.

Oh good, they used the Tea Tree soap.

“I’d probably do the same if you got sick.” You reach your hand up to their chest, cording through their thick fur. “We’re just gonna have to trust the other’s okay, huh?”

With your chin tucked into their ribs, Motholg smiles down at you. A claw runs up the back of your neck, stirring up goosebumps but relaxing your muscles.

“I believe so, darling.” Their fangs jut out from their lips as they continue to rub your neck. It’s quite goofy looking, for a demon, and gets a chuckle out of you.

You crane your neck and Motholg meets you halfway for a kiss, consequences be damned.

“Good night, I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetling.”

You fall asleep with Motholg’s fingers curled in your hair, the slight tap of their claws on the keys, a simmering contentment in your heart.

--------

A week later, when  you’re back to full health, you and Motholg are making dinner when-

“Ah-choo!”

You stop stirring the pasta and furrow your brows at Motholg. They’ve stilled, mid-movement while setting out the plates. Their face burns with embarrassment.

“A silly human sickness, huh?”

[unloved-cadillac]

Two Wine Glasses. (Levi x Reader)

Angst. Sex but nothing very explicit.

C/n: This is my contribution to @ackermans-freedom-inc Discord writing server collab. A massive thank you to her for including me on this. The prompt was “Take it off, slowly.” This was an amazing writing experience.

———————————————————————

What were you doing? How could you? Levi was an amazing person. A kind-hearted, beautiful soul. He was there for you for all the times that you needed him. Through everything. Through every fucking thing. But here you were:

In bed with a man who wasn’t him.

Where did it go wrong? When did you start feeling this way and what made you turn into another man’s arms? Levi did nothing wrong. He loved you so damn much and you thought you felt the same. Why? Why? Why?

Levi was away for work. His company, along with some others, made him go for meetings overseas. It was a jackpot for him because, although it being overtime and extra work, he would get a shit ton of money. He wanted to do this. He wanted for you and him to get some extra money to maybe go on a holiday. He has never felt this happy before. He sometimes even smiled at the thought of you at work, which made his coworkers gawk at him. “Mr Ackerman...he’s smiling!” “Yeah, I saw him smile yesterday too. Whatever or whoever is making him do that must be really special.” The gossip of the office surrounded him but he didn’t give a damn. Levi just wanted to come home to you and feel you again. It’s been months since he could get a good night's rest with you since the overtime became like hell. He just wanted you.

Your behavior has changed recently. Maybe it was because of him staying away for so long and you missed him. That’s what he thought. It made him feel so guilty. Staying away from you was something he never expected to do. The voice messages and video calls weren’t enough. Levi saw how anxious and jumpy you were when he called and he did question you on it. But you had just brushed it off with a smile and a “nothing to worry about.” He kinda believed you, but that settled the thought he had on his mind for the past two days. He was going to come home to you.

Levi had packed up everything and checked the time. He would probably come back to you around 3am. You would be asleep, on his side of the bed of course, and in his shirts. He smirked to himself thinking about the image. He originally was supposed to come home three days later but he told his boss that he was done and nothing else needed sorting out. The money was already in his bank account and there was no rule stating he needed to stay the full course. On the plane ride home, all he could do was think of you. And what you were doing now…

“Fuck! Erwin! Harder!” You yelled out as Erwin pounded into you. All you did was call him over to keep you company and to chat, feeling the house was too empty for your liking, and one thing led to the next and his lips were on yours and his dick in you. Erwin rested his forehead in the crook of your neck and you wrapped your hands around his back. That’s when you saw it. In the moonlight, glimmering with a white shine, was your engagement ring. The one Levi gave you a month prior. All you did was stare at it as you climaxed and Erwin pulled out of you, spilling his seed all over your stomach. This arrangement had been going on ever since Levi left. So about a week. You would call Erwin over, have a glass or two of wine, and fuck in yours and your fiancé’s bed.

Erwin smiled down at you as you and him caught your breaths. This was the second time tonight he made you orgasm and it wasn’t going to stop there. Since Levi wasn’t due to come back in three days, Erwin wanted to feel you as much as he could before he came back. As Erwin cleaned your stomach and basking in the afterglow of your fuck, Levi was at the front door. “I’m home,” he whispers to himself and puts his key in to see that it was already unlocked. “Brat forgot to lock the door.” He says and walks into the house as quietly as he could. Thinking you were asleep and he didn’t want to startle you. But something caught his eye. Two wine glasses on the coffee table. Did she have company? Hange, maybe? He thinks and looks around the house. Clean. At least she kept everything in order. Walking up the stairs he hears it. Your voice. It was muffled due to the door closed but he could’ve sworn that he had heard you. He inches closer to the door and he hears a voice again. And it wasn’t yours.

He slams open the door and that’s where he could feel his heart drop into his stomach. You were in bed, your SHARED BED, with…

“Erwin?” He calls out to him and Erwin eyes widen. “Shit,” he mumbled and looked at you. “Levi?! What are you-..” “Doing here?” Levi interrupts you, “I thought that if I came home early I could surprise you. But it looks like you surprised me,” he says, his rage on the verge of spilling. “I-It’s not what it looks like!” You say and he tightens his fists at your stupid choice of words. “Oh really? Because it looks to me that my fiancé is NAKED IN BED WITH MY BEST FRIEND!” He screams and you flinch at his tone. It’s quiet for a long time, making the situation even worse. “Erwin,” Levi says looking at his ex-best friend, “get the fuck out of my house. And don’t you dare come back here.” Levi says and Erwin takes his clothes in his hands. “Levi, wait. Maybe we can-..” “GET OUTTA HERE, YOU BASTARD! Get out of here before I lose my mind and slit your throat,” Levi threatens and Erwin puts his head down and walks past him to leave. Now it was just the two of you.

You wrap yourself in the blanket and walk up to Levi but stopped a few feet away from him. “L-Levi..I’m so sorry,” you choke out with your tears falling already. Levi couldn’t even meet your eyes. He was so humiliated by your actions. But he does look at the hand holding the blanket up. His engagement ring on proud display. “You really got some balls, huh? Fucking another man in our bed with your engagement ring on. Have you no shame, Y/n?” He says with a voice that you have never heard come from him before. Disgust. “Levi, please just hear me out..” “Take it off.” He suddenly says and you look at him with shock written all over your flushed face. “Wha-What?”

“Take it off, slowly. I spent too much of fucking money on that ring and I’ll be damned if it goes to waste,” he says holding his hand out, waiting. Your broken cries don't affect him like how it did in the past. He didn’t feel the need to hug and comfort you and wipe the tears away. No. All he felt was betrayal from the person who he loved most. You shakily take off the ring that was promised to you. The blue diamond sparkled, but it lost all value when he took and looked at it. “Now get out,” he tells you and you could feel your breath stop. “Levi. We can talk about this,” you plead and he finally meets your eyes and it killed you how mad he was at you. “Fine, Y/n. Let’s talk about it. How long?” He asks and you furrow your eyebrows at him. “What?” “How fucking long, Y/n? The whole time I was away?” He spills out and you put your head down. Your silence spoke volumes. “Tch. Fine. Don’t answer that. But answer me this: was he good?” And that question made you shoot your eyes wide open at him. He chuckles bitterly at your face. “Tell me, Y/n. Was he good?! Did he fuck you like how I couldn’t?! Did he fill the void in you that even your fucking FIANCÉ COULDN’T?! HUH?” He yells out and you drop down on your knees, crying your eyes out. “I-, I-I’m so sorry Levi, I’m so sorry,” you wail out and all he does is look at you. With pity. The room was filled with the sound of your cries. Pain. All he felt was pain but he wouldn’t tell you that. You didn’t deserve to see that side of him again.

Levi walks to your fallen form and rests his hand on your head. “And I’m sorry for not being enough.” He simply says and you hear his footsteps depart from your figure. And that was it. Never again did you hear of Levi Ackerman. He had given you the house because to him, it had more value to you than he did to you, along with everything else that you wanted. But he never gave you what you needed: a second chance.

———————————————————————

🖤🤍Thanks for reading🤍🖤

-Caddy.

[imaginewarehouse]

Tate Staskiewicz x Reader || Oneshot

Plot: 

Inspired by ‘Something That We’re Not’ by Demi Lovato. Basically, you and Tate hooked up one night… for the second time… and you’re content with that just being a wrap (That’s that! That was good, that’s enough- why push it?). You aren’t a relationship person, you don’t like the commitment. But… Tate has other plans.

Warnings: Hmmm, I don’t think so. Commitment issues?

🔆  🔆  🔆

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hm?” I look up from my - fucking bottom, - locker and to the table Sarah and Justine are at eating their lunch. Sarah, the talker, is staring at her phone; A deep frown plastered to her lips that causes my eyebrows to knit together in confusion. Justine notices, too, and leans over to see what’s on the phone- and when she does see, her brows promptly shoot up. Oh, boy. That’s not good to see. What’s happened? “Yeah?”

“Did you and Tate really hit it off the other night??”

… w h y? My heart just about stops beating in fear. Why. Why mention Tate. Any mention of a one night stand in that tone is not going to be good. I get up from the floor and rush into the empty seat beside Sarah, looing expectantly for her to explain but she just looks right back. Looking for an answer to her question. “Uhh? Yeah, I guess?? We had a good time. Why! ?” Oh good god, tell me the whole store doesn’t know. What is it?? A video, pictures, a running gag!? Good god, I thought we were beyond slut shaming but I guess not-

Sarah’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Are you dating then, now??”

Now that really causes my heart to feel like it’s skipped a beat. Or two. “What!? No! Why would you say that? It was just sex- Oh.” I look sheepishly to Justine, waiting for the high five or the ‘Heyo!’ that’s classic from her at the word ‘sex’… but receive nothing but an awkward look- her gaze turning to the wall as she takes a nervous sip of her coffee instead of talking. Realisation that this is really not good dawns on me. Jesus christ- Justine skipping the chance to talk sex? Its like a sign of the apocalypse. What’s next? The river Nile turning to blood? “Show me the phone, please.”

Sarah glances at Justine, before letting out a sigh and revealing the screen of her iPhone to me. It’s Tate’s Instagram profile- and it says, ‘In a Relationship’, at the top. I look up, deeply confused to Sarah and Justine.

“It didn’t say that before Saturday night.” Justine explains. The night Tate and I were at the bar and hooked up. “Trust me, I keep a close eye on those kinda status’.” She grins, proudly, before sobering again and adding lowly, “And Tate is pretty anal about how his social media looks, so… “She shrugs, meaningfully. So, he knows that that incriminating, incorrect phrase is printed there in his bio. 

Sarah vocalises my assessment. “We can’t see him putting that kind of thing down willy nilly… Also, it says that on all his other profiles, too. Snap Chat, Twitter, even Facebook.”

“Yeah, and I mean,” Justine’s cute little nose scrunches up and her eyebrows knit together as she looks at Sarah who mouths ‘I know, right?’, back.  “Who even uses Facebook anymore?? Ugh.”  

I’m running through the night in my head, wondering if there was any point that I might have hinted to the pharmacist that I was looking for anything more then casual sex, at all. And I find nothing! I did not treat him any differently to how I would usually treat a person in his position- and that treatment has been carefully strung together and thought out so confusions like this do not occur. And it has nothing to do with us working together, I know that much seeing as Isaac understood just fine!

… well actually, honestly, mayyyybe I shouldn’t have slept with him at all this weekend… seeing as this was not our first time… that might have given him the wrong idea...

But god fucking damn it, Tate’s handsomeness obscured my rational and interesting conversation distracted me. I’m a fucking idiot!

I am not a relationship kinda person! I can’t be in a relationship with, fuck I don’t know… Channing Tatum- much less Tate the Pharmacist! Commitment is not for me; No, no, no-no, no. Fuck, fuck, fuck… I have to talk to Tate.

“I should go talk to him,” I say, excusing myself from the table with a polite smile but freaking out inside as I get out of the chair, kneel down and lock my locker back up, then rush out of the room leaving the girls behind in my dust. As I’m passing Grocery, I’m stopped by Cheyanne and Marcus who have their phones out, and show me a picture of me on Tate’s Twitter w i t h  a  h e a r t emoji and the tag #bae. My eyes bulge nearly out of my head as I look in horror at it over Cheyanne’s shoulder. 

“You know, now that I’m seeing it- you two are a cute couple.” Marcus’ words cause a tsunami in my brain- all the little Inside Out-type emotions are drowning and struggling- and Fear is screaming.

“Yeah you do, but- I didn’t think you ‘did’ commitment, Y/N?” Cheyanne adds, sceptical.

“Uh, I do- “Damn. I slam my mouth shut again. I can’t talk to her about this before I talk to Tate. So instead, I just toothlessly smile, and shrug at the two- For lack of any appropriate words. “Anyway! I gotta go- see y’all later!”

And then I’m off again.

~

I find Tate exactly where, and in what position, I thought he would be; Sitting behind the lonely pharmacy desk with his feet up on the register bench and his nose buried in his phone rather then working. I approach with caution, but confidence also, and knock on the desk surface by his feet to get his attention- and watch his eyes light up when he sees me.

Oh dear god.

“Hey, love bug.” - Oh god, oh god! - “Nice of you to visit me at work!”

Oh… is it? Is it really? Nerves swallow me whole and I nearly shrink back down because to just go with this relationship for the rest of our lives until we get married and have 4 children together and raise them and send them all off to community college instead of having an awkward conversation, sounds really good. How dare he look so soft- this T a t e. Tate is narcissist and an asshole. This isn’t how the world is supposed to work-

“Hey… “My voice cracks like pubescent teenage boy, and I avoid eye contact like a criminal. “Tate, um- So! I think that… maybe, possibly… we might have gotten our signals crossed the other night?”

Tate tilts his head to the side and sets his phone down- all attention on me. “How so?”

“Well,” Why is my voice so high??? I cough into my fist, trying to clear it and return it to its regular register, but fail. The show must go on, though. “Um, I-I was under the impression, that… what we were doing, was, uh… a one-time thing? I guess?” Tate’s eyebrows begin to knit together. “A-and, I think you might have interpreted it a different way?”

“So… you’re saying, that you were just using me, for sex. And somehow that’s my fault?”

My eyes blow wide open and I rush to amend his reiteration as he gets up from his chair and stands, looking down on me now. And… I… oop. That’s just great “No no! Not your fault, at all Tate!! I was just at that bar looking for… err, well, sex! And I thought you were too, but apparently not, and… do you understand?”

“I understand.” For a millisecond, I begin to relax- before Tate’s eyes narrow so much so that they’re nothing but sparkly, black-lashed slits of death. I wish I was at that bar now- I would order a Long Island Iced Tea and black out. “You’re screwing me.”

“What- No!”

“Yes! You want the rig, but not the rest of the machine.” Does he know what a rig is?- Either way, I solemnly, apologetically, shake my head. Well, yes, he’s correct, but I also don’t want to lose the, uh, machine! I really like talking to him when I’m stuck stocking shelves in the pharmacy! I don’t want to lose that? Then, suddenly like the changing wind, Tate’s eyes widen and a ghost of a smirk flickers across his face. “Oh, or- its more than that.” Hold on what. “Cuz Y/N, this isn’t the first time this has happened, you know? The first time, fine. I get it, you need a release. We all do- especially working a lowly job like you do, unlike mine. Heh. But you came back. To me. You could’ve approached anyone else at that bar and gotten the same results… but you came back to this one.”  

Now I narrow my eyes and furrow my brows, leaning back from the self-absorbed chemist. “… what are suggesting, Tate?”

He lets the smirk come out, now, and the only comprehensive thought that passes through my brain is: ‘shittttt’. 

“You just can’t get enough of me.”

“What!?” I gape, jaw dropped. Ridiculous!-

“I’m Y/N-Nip.” Oh sweet jesus. The thought genuinely seems to please him. Of course, it does. Ugh… No way. This cannot be right. I do not want a relationship! No way no how! “So it doesn't really matter if you don’t want me right now- because you will. We both know you will.” 

“I- Tate! You’re cracked!” 

He chuckles, dipping hands into the pockets of his lab coat and shaking his head slowly. “Love you too, babe.” 

“TATE!” 

“Yeah... you keep screaming my name like that. Good practise.” 

“Oh my god!” I exclaim, covering the bottom of my face and closing my eyes, a grin hidden behind my hands at how ridiculous this is. He’s too cute, oh my god! “How have you twisted this, you insane person. I do not have feelings for you!- Well, romantic feelings.” I cross my arms across my chest. “I do not have the romantic feelings, for you. All the feelings that I have for you can be simply summed up by whatever insane, terrible illness that kept putting Lorelai and Christopher together.” 

“Gilmore girls?” He grimaces. 

“Yes.” 

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead and his eyes light up even more, despite his apparent aversion towards my chosen American favourite, and I immediately regret my analogy. “So, you admit there are feelings there?” 

“Yeah- raw, animal sex-drive! That’s it!” I try to explain, looking away to avoid his eyes and feeling my cheeks warm up. 

“But you like talking to me, too, don’t you.” Its not a question, its a statement. He knows! And... it is not totally wrong. I do like to talk to him. He’s a narcissist and he’s smug but I happen to find that funny on all but bad days, and he keeps up with my antics like no one else. But so does Sarah. So does Jonah. So do Mateo and the guy on Echat so charmingly called ‘B1gHairyDucksRunTheW8rld’- long story short; I’m darling and lots of people like to talk to me! 

“Oh, Tate. Since when has an amusement by intelligent conversation been considered a for sure indication of desire for a romantic relationship?” 

“Oh, its not. But combined with the ‘raw, animal sex-drive’ that you so aptly named, it kinda does.” He leans closer a little bit over the desk towards me. “Also, you’ve said my name no less then six times while you’ve been here.” 

I laugh out loud- a definite sense of nervousness laced through the sound. “That means nothing!” 

“No, no-no. It means... “ He raises his eyebrows again at me and sets me with a wise look, like somehow he knows the deep secrets that hide out in the recesses of my mind. “Something.” 

Maybe he’s right.

“No!” 

“Oh, believe what you want, love bug.” 

“This is crazy, Tate. We are not in any kind of relationship and I do not have feelings for you!” 

“So I’ll see you tonight?” 

“No?” 

“My place? 7?” 

“You will not see me tonight!” 

“Do you think you’ll end up staying over? Just because, man of riches and luxury that I am, I need to change the sheets if you are to set the right mood.” 

My jaw drops. He’s lost his mind... and maybe I am too a little bit, because for some reason I’m leaning towards agreeing and going to his place tonight. Is there anything that I can say to him to dissuade him from these delusions of me being in love with him? Because I don’t! 

But... I wont lie. This is the most stimulating conversation I’ve had in forever, it feels good. It always does, with Tate. But again still, I am not commitment girl. He is commitment guy. He may not seem like it, in fact he has the complete guide and tool set to be a grade-A douchebag, but he isn’t and he apparently somehow likes me which is not a horrible feeling and I do not want to let him down. I... really don’t. 

Sighing, I collapse against the register and roll my eyes back. “Tate... I might like you. A lot.” 

“Oh. Shocker.” He rolls his own eyes, pressing some buttons on the register. Oh, he thinks that he’s funny. Hm. 

“... but I want you to hear me now. Okay? Listen.” Thankfully he looks up and focuses on me, blue eyes meeting mine. “I am not relationship compatible. I cant do it. I’ve tried it before and I couldn't hack it. Its not in my genetic make-up!- please don’t push this and make me ruin what we have.” 

He takes a deep breath, and sighs it out... before reaching over and holding my hand on top of the desk. He sets me with a reassuring look. “... I’m a Pharmacist. We don’t ruin things.” 

BONUS: 

“... Jesus Christ you’re self absorbed.” 

“Maybe you can work on that with me at my place at 7. Now I have to get back to work, pharmaceutical business waits for no man.”

“Oh boy.” I’m dating this guy... 

[harrysgloves]

Let Your Hair Down (chapter vi)

Get caught up with the Let Your Hair Down Masterlist!

word count: 3,537

story summary: Harry gets more than he bargains for when he falls not only for you but your little girl as well.

chapter summary: Smutty things well and some soft things but lets be real it’s mostly just smut...

warnings: Language//SMUT! Power Struggle/Choking/Lots of teasing/Use of the term puppy/daddy kink/cum play(very slight)/ Uhm, okay that should be all of it but if I happened to miss something let me know.

a/n: Mwahhaha my first time writing smut was a good time and hopefully it turned out pretty decent. Also you can read as a stand alone if you like not much plot happens in this. Anyways, I’m going to bath in holy water!  xx

>>><<<

Harry didn't need you to ask him twice. His large hands gripped firmly around your bottom, pulling him in close to him, as he stood up with you. A shocked squeal came from you at the sudden movement. When you lifted your head from his shoulder a smug smile was plastered across his face.

"Said you wanted to go to the bedroom, love." His lips twitched upwards as you buried your face in his shoulder in embarrassment.

"Watch it. You'll end up getting yourself off if you don't be nice." He laughed softly at you teasing him. You knew damn well you weren't letting him leave unless he absolutely didn't want to do this but the rock hard bulge in his pants that was rubbing against you had you thinking he 'not wanting you' was the last thing on his mind.

"'Bout to be very nice to y'puppy. I promise." He smirked at the expression across your face. That damn mouth of his was going to do you in before you even reached the bedroom.

It was only a few seconds later when your back hit your comfy bed, your legs still hung off the side, as Harry leaned over you to start kissing you again but you quickly pulled away.

"Shut the door." You said with his lips still hovering over yours.

"Lock it too." You added, leaning up on your elbows as you watched to make sure he actually shut and locked the door. The last thing you needed on your hands was a traumatized kindergarten running to school on Monday telling her friends what she walked in on over the weekend.

"Y'sure she won't hear us?" He slowly walked back to the bed and stood in between your legs. You sat up fully, grabbing a hold of the simple white shirt he had on and pulling him down over top of you. His hands going to either side of your head to keep himself balanced.

"She sleeps like a rock." You murmured, running your hands from his chest to his hair, and playing with the small curls at the back. He simply kissed you, making you smile into the kiss. His hands moved around your waist as he moved you up to the top of the bed, your head now resting on the pillows. Your hair splayed out in every direction.

He leaned back and took in the sight of you. Already out of breath and needing him desperately. He sat on his knees directly in between your open legs and it was taking everything in you to not start ripping his clothes off, you wanted to savor this moment, in case he decided to walk out afterward and never talk to you again.

"Harry?" You sat up now directly in front of him. Your hands running under his shirt, fingers ghosting across his skin, and you could feel the goosebumps starting to rise everywhere you touched.

"Just want to make sure you'll still like me in the mornin'." He sighed, resting his head against your forehead but your hands stopped at his words, your eyebrows furrowing together.

"Shouldn't I be the one saying that?" You questioned softly, feeling like the mood had changed around you two so completely. It was a fragile moment like one wrong word could break everything.

"Never know what's going through y'mind. Afraid you'll regret this tomorrow." His hands came up to softly cup your face as he pulled back from your forehead to look at you. His usually piercing green eyes were soft and filled with so many different emotions you couldn't begin to decipher all of them.

"I won't," You said truthfully, as you turned your face slightly to kiss the inside of the palm of his hand that was resting against your face. "I want you."

You heard the sharp inhale of breath he took before he plummeted forward and captured your lips again. It took you off guard for a second but you quickly regained your state of mind and kissed him back. Your tongue ran across his bottom lip begging for entrance and when his tongue met with yours, a surge of adrenalin ran through your whole body. Your hands grasped tightly on his shirt again as you kissed him playing softly with the hem of it until he broke from the kiss.

"Take it off." His eyes went back to the same lust blown glazed overlook they had in the living room and it made your stomach clench. With shaky hands you slowly pulled the shirt off, him helping you slightly, and the pesky piece of clothing was quickly thrown across the room. Forgotten about as your eyes traveled down his torso, taking in every tattoo that laid across his skin.

"Yer staring love." A coy smile playing across his face at your obviously gawking but you weren't exactly sure what he expected from you. The man looked like he could have been carved out of marble and you were just supposed to be okay? Not happening.

Instead of taking his teasing you sat up and took your own shirt off, your breast falling out of your shirt as you threw it off into the dark abyss of your room. You couldn't help the sly innocent smile you had.

"Who's the one staring now?" You asked, raising your eyebrow at him. Not so tough now that the boobs are out are you? You thought.

"Fuck." He groaned his hands instantly going around your hips, slowly upwards, stopping just short of where you wanted them.

"Can I touch you?" He questioned and in any other moment you would have been a puddle of softness from him constantly checking in with you, but you were more than ready for him and tired of him drawing it out.

"Well if you don't, I will." You quipped back and smiled at him laughing. It was quickly wiped from your face though when his hand gripped around your neck again. You whimpered at the feeling, already getting lightheaded from all the thoughts of what he was going to do to you.

"Always such a brat." He spoke as he leaned back down to kiss you. His hand finally moving to your breast, his cold rings a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. His lips left yours quickly, moving down your neck, around his hand that was still firmly in place to where you finally wanted him to go.

His lips wrapped fully around your pebbled bud. His tongue working miracles and his other hand that wasn't gripping around your neck started on the other breast. You were already out of breath, trying your hardest to remind yourself to be semi-quiet but you couldn't help a few of the moans that fell from your lips.

"Not such a brat now are you, love?" He asked, pulling back from your chest, a wicked smile across his face.

"And I haven't even touched y'properly yet." He said with an infuriating arrogance to his voice. You wanted to snap back at him but his hand putting pressure on the sides of your neck had you desperate for him to just keep touching you.

"Bet yer already wet too. Aren't you pup?" His ego got a very unneeded boast when his hand slipped down the front of your shorts and into your underwear. His fingers danced lightly across the folds of your skin as he collected your slick arousal that seemed to be pouring out of you already. He gave a satisfied hum at your wrecked state before pushing one finger into you with no resistance.

You bit your lip to stop the full-blown moan from escaping you but whimpered when he quickly pulled out, holding his glistening fingers in front of you. Your breath catching and you wanted to tell him off for teasing you so much.

"Open up, puppy." His voice now deep and husky, more than you ever heard before. His hand slid from your neck to your jaw as you opened your mouth and his fingers soaked in you touched your tongue. Your eyes closing from the sensation as you hummed around the digits. You made sure to get every last drop of yourself off before he removed his fingers with a pop. He rushed forward for a kiss, his tongue tasting nothing but you.

Both his hands went to your shorts, ripping them and your underwear off in one swift motion. You were shocked he could be so in control and you would be lying if you said it wasn't hot, but being a stubborn brat was in your nature. An idea formed in your mind as you smiled into the kiss and rolled him over on his back, a look of surprise on his face as you now smiled down to him.

"Didn't think you could get the brat out of me that fast did you?" You asked, settling your bare self over his clothed bulge. Your hands resting on his chest, pushing your breast out, as you leaned down to kiss each swallow tattoo.

"Bet I could fuck it out of ya." He murmured, watching with wide eyes as you trailed kisses down his chest to his stomach. Stopping just before the top of his grey sweatpants, looking up at him with big doe eyes before dragging your tongue across his right laurel tattoo. Your fingers wrapping around the band of his pants, pulling them off along with his boxers. His long legs helped you out as he kicked them off fully.

You smiled so innocently down at him, about to wreck his world for being such a fucking tease to you. You crawled back over top of him, a leg on each side of his hips, straddling him but not leaning down to fully touch him yet. Your hand running down to the tip of his throbbing red tip, your thumb gently moving across the slit to collect the precum that was already there, a satisfied grin on your face as you pulled your hand back and he thrust his hips trying to chase the feeling of your touch.

"I'd like to see you try, baby." You took your thumb in your mouth, big pouty lips enveloping it as your tongue swirled around, collecting every bit of him that was on your finger. You couldn't help being immensely proud of yourself when you heard the deep groan coming from him as he threw his head back, hands gripping tightly on your hips.

"What's wrong daddy can't handle a little teasing?" You asked oh so innocently as you sat your slick heat on top of his core. Raising an eyebrow at him expecting an answer, as you grinded forward, your bundle of nerves hitting his tip and you felt him twitch.

"God." He grunted out gripping onto your hips tighter than before, his rings digging into your soft silky flesh.

"Not my name but I'll take the compliment." You sighed as you continued to work yourself over top of him. Running your swollen clit over his entire length before focusing your movements on his pulsating tip.

A frustrated groan rumbled deep in Harry's chest seconds before he rolled you over on your back. You'd be lying if you said you were surprised, he didn't seem like the type to give up the power but you weren't going to just give in so easily. Loving the fact you could push his buttons.

"Yer such a fuckin' brat." He breathed out frustrated. His knees in between your open legs, his hard throbbing erection hitting you every time he panted in frustration.

"Good girls are no fun." You shrugged, biting your bottom lip as he chuckled.

"Baby girl, good girls get whatever they want and I was going to be so nice to y'puppy but obviously ya don't deserve it." His eyes narrowed at you, darker than you thought possible, and even though he wouldn't admit it you knew he loved you being a defiant brat.

You pouted your lips, putting on a big show for how "disappointed" you were. Blinking you're big round innocent eyes up to him.

"I'm sorry daddy." You lied, knowing damn well you weren't sorry at all. His head leaned forward towards your ear, lightly nipping at your neck.

"Don't lie, baby, I can tell you're not sorry. That's okay, you will be." He whispered into your ear as his hands went back to your aching core. His fingers running through your drench folds as he teased light circles around your clit. You groaned in frustration, already needing so much more.

"Please." You panted out. "I'm sorry."

"Hmm." He hummed softly as two of his ring laden fingers slid into you, pumping slowly. "I still don't think yer sorry pup."

You felt the frustrated tears start to well in your eyes as you glared at him. You huffed as your own hand started to make its way to your heat, if he wasn't going to do it you were. He caught your hand before it even had a chance to get close to where you needed it, pulling it up above your head, capturing both of your wrists with his large hands and keeping them there. His face inches from yours and the smug smile on his face made you wish you had your hands free so you could slap it off his face.

"Say you're sorry baby girl and I'll give you what you want." You could hear the gloating tone of his voice, knowing he already won this battle. You huffed out an annoyed breath as he continued to thrust his fingers slowly in and out of you. You were sure this had to be some form of torture, you just needed him to touch you properly.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled out, not looking at him but you knew he heard it when he tsked. His fingers stopping inside of you as his thumb came up to start teasing your clit again. You whined, throwing your head back.

"Gotta make me believe it." He smiled widely as your eyes finally met his again and he added more pressure to your bundle of nerves finally touching you the way you wanted but he quickly stopped.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." You pleaded, your eyes brimming with frustrated tears. Fuck being in charge, you just needed him.

"Knew y'could be a good girl." He praised as his fingers started to finally move the way you needed them to all along. His rhythm picking up as you quiet moans grew louder.

"Gotta stay quiet, baby." He said, removing his hands from around your wrist to your mouth, trapping most of the sounds, which you were thankful for as soon as he found your sweet spot. Tears flooded your eyes from the pressure, your lungs felt like they were on fire and you weren't sure how much longer you could hold out.

"Let go darling." Harry spoke so softly that if your hearing wasn't extremely heightened right now you wouldn't have heard. It was a dam broke inside of you all the pent up tension finally releasing as you cried out into his hand.

You felt your body sag after the high, completely spent. You had no idea how someone could do that with just their fucking fingers. You took deep breaths in when he finally removed his hand from your mouth, smiling so smugly down to you.

"Think you can handle another?" He said taking a hold of his erection that looked sore from how much blood was pumping to it. The fog in your mind from your high instantly clearing when he ran it against your soaking wet folds.

"Please." You moaned at the sensation of him rubbing against you, so sensitive but still so needy. Your arms coming up to hold on around his neck and your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer into you.

"I need you." You full-on begged, not giving a damn how desperate you were being. Harry didn't seem to mind though, a soft moan fell from his lips, his eyes grazing over to that soft look again.

"Need you too." His free hand brushed the tears away from your eyes as he pushed into you. Your breath caught in your throat from the size of him, he filled you completely and then some.

"Fuckin' hell." He murmured, as he rested his head on top of his forearm by your head.

"Your so fuckin' tight, pup." He buried his head into the crook of your neck as he stayed still inside of you, letting you get adjusted to him.

"Please," You whined, your hands tightening in his hair. "Move." You wiggled your hips letting him know you were more than ready.

He leaned back to be able to look at your face, your eyes catching his as he pulled back slightly and thrust into you slowly. Your eyes closing, trying your best to hold in all the sounds you wanted to make.

"Know you can't right now but one of these days 'M gonna have you screaming my name love." His hand came up to cover your mouth again as his speed picked up and you felt your sanity slowly slip.

Your legs tightened around his waist as his speed picked up. Your arms wrapping around his back, nails digging into his soft skin as you felt the familiar pull in your stomach already starting again. Your walls fluttering around him making him let out a deep moan.

"Can't wait to do all the things I want to do to you." He grunted out, hips snapping hard against your own, ripping a moan from you.

"Gonna fuckin' ruin you pup." His voice was deep with lust as he spoke directly in your ear. A whimper leaving you at the thought of him completely destroying you for anyone else, your walls clenching tightly around him at his words and he breathed out a laugh.

"Dirty girl." He smiled down at your wrecked state. Tears leaking from your eyes from the pressure building in you. Your hair was a complete mess but he looked at you like you were an angel as his eyes moved down to where you were connected.

"Cum for me baby." His voice raspy and deep, as his hand traveled down to apply just the right pressure on your clit. Making your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks. Your toes curling, vision blurring, and whole-body tensing at the pleasure running through you.

You couldn't ever hear his final grunt as he slammed his hips flush with yours but you felt his release fill you. Eyes rolling in the back of your head from the feeling.

Harry's head rested on your shoulder as you both came down from your highs. Nothing but panting filled the room around you, completely silent. Your hand came up to pry his off your mouth causing an exhausted chuckle to come from him.

"Sorry love." He breathed out as he sat up and finally pulled out of you. His eyes widening as he watched his cum drip out of you. His fingers mindlessly running towards your folds and pushing it back in, causing you to take in a sharp breath.

"As much as I'm into that I really can't do another." Your eyes already drooping in exhaustion, you were more than ready for some good sleep.

"'Nother time then." He winked at you before getting off the bed and sliding back on his sweatpants and making his way towards your connected bathroom. You heard him rummaging around and the water running but your mind was a pile of mush, eyes closing already from being completely worn out.

They opened again the second you heard him get back onto the bed a washcloth in his hand and a shirt in another. You sat up slightly a bit confused until you felt the washcloth hit your overly sensitive folds. Making your heart melt at the fact he could be so sweet after literally fucking your soul out of you.

"Jus' wanna take care of you." His eyes were that soft green again as you stared at him, your mind went blank. You had so many things you wanted to say but no way to actually say them, all you did was nod. Your lip tucking between your teeth to hide the smile.

He pushed his shirt over you, dressing you, before pulling the covers down and crawling in them. Patting the space beside him and you slowly moved to get under the covers with him. You faced him, your legs intertwining with his. Your hand coming up to rest on his face, he slightly turned his face to kiss your palm, causing you to smile.

"I really like you." He spoke softly like he was afraid he'd scare you off. His hand coming to rest on top of your hand that's laying on his face, your thumb running across his cheek.

You smiled softly and pulled your hand away as you moved closer into him. Laying your head in his chest, snuggling up close to him.

"I really like you too."

[yaneyanedaze]

Our Goddess, Clueless

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------She wanted the King. But he showed now interest in her until recently. He praised her and made sure she was well, He was one of her favorites. So she knew that he wouldn't keep this new play thing long. She's seen people come and go, so soon she knew she was going to be his one and only soon.

“He’ll see that i’m a perfect match for queen and throw that stupid broad back to the rags she came from..”

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

It was a bright sunny morning, it was my first official day in the castle.

When I turned over in my bed I let out a shriek of fear, Three maids stood in my room with sheepish smiles, they quickly bowed and apologized for scaring me.

"Sorry your highness, Lord Kars ordered for us to help you get dressed this morning!"

The first one says as she unveils a box, I opened a box and nearly fell back in shock. I pulled it out and revealed a beautiful blue dress that had a giant slit that showed off my legs, following were gorgeous silver colored heels that matched with it. After I slip it on, I do a little twirl and smile happily at myself in the mirror "This dress is so beautiful~" I chime as the maids nodded their heads in approvel.

The second maid walked over to fix my hair and place the crown on top of my head, while the third worked on my nails and makeup. They were all making small talk with me, asking me about my old life, what was my favorite color, what did I like to do? You know, some small things to make me feel comfortable around them. I was happy and excepted the small talk, we talked and talked until a rapid knock was heard at the door. The first maid went up and opened the door, only to quickly bow;

"O-oh I'm so sorry Master Esidisi! We didn't mean to keep you waiting!"

I turned and smiled softly as I gazed over to him, "Good Morning, Lord Esidisi" I greeted, The white haired male chuckled and gave me a big smile as he walked into the room. "No No, it's fine (y/n), Kars is rather impatient when it comes to his queen. He has a whole day planned out for the two of you, so Lets hurry it along now" He says, ushering me out the room.

I nodded and stood up, waving goodbye to the girls as I step out of the room, closing the door behind me. I quickly moved to follow Esidisi, the clicking of my heels must've alerted him to me struggling to keep up with him, he slowed down and offered his arm to me. I giggled, slightly embarrassed but took his arm anyways, he guided through the halls smiling at me as walked, taking smaller strides to keep up with me. Esidisi opened up a large door and led me through, to which I was met with Stella, Kars and another male I know but haven't had the pleasure of meeting yet.

He had long hair and a stare that said he did not want to be there but his eyes lit up a bit when he looked at me. Stella gave a slight wave before returning to her conversation with the King, and said male had yet to turn around and see me. "Oh Santana! Didn't expect you to be here, Is something wrong? Did you start something " At first he didn't say anything until he looked me up and down. A light in his eyes shown but it was gone as quickly as it came. "No, I'm just here because of the queen, I came to show respects.." He stated quietly. At the mention of my name, Kars turned around and his face was priceless. He held a blush on his face and his mouth was slightly agape, but that expression quickly turned to a smirk. Raising an eyebrow, he walked (more like strutted) over to me and placed his hands on my hips, pulling me close to his body.

"You Look stunning, my dear. Stella Picked well." He said, gesturing over to the woman who was currently on the arm of Wamuu, who entered soon after me. I smiled over at him, and the Wind lord smiled back at me. Kars ran his hand across the side of my face, caressing slowly until his hand stopped under my chin. "Are you ready for the day my love? It's just gonna be me and you with no interruptions today" He said, a sultry undertone lying within his words. I felt a blush coming on my cheeks as I shyly looked away which only made him chuckle as he waved his hand to the servants to clear the way as he pulled me through the door to the outside, but out the corner of my eye i swore i saw Stella with a scowl on her face. 'What could she be upset about?....' I asked myself as I walked away with Kars

Should I be worried?

(POV Switch, Stella)

I watched as the King walked away with that skank commoner he called a Queen.

I huffed and crossed my arms and tried to do my best to hold my anger in as I was around the other kings, when Esidisi looked at me with a raised eyebrow, I smiled innocently at him. Wamuu had already left to attend to matters, to be honest, I could care less. He was a gentleman, don't get me wrong, he would wait to court me and said he wouldn't ask for my hand until I was ready.

News Flash. I'll never be ready.

I deserved to be Queen, after all, King Kars held me in high regards, he said I was special, then he turns around and does this!? I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn't here Santana, Hell I didn't even remember he was there. "You're a pitiful excuse of a woman." He said bluntly, which shocked me, but Esidisi smirks and had a devious chuckle.

"He's right" He started. "You're stringing my poor son along, thinking that this is o.k. that you can continue to lust after Kars." He continued as he walked closer to me. I wasn't your average height for a female. (around 6'2) so i wasn't intimidated by him walking up on me, and frankly, I don't care that they get to see me like this. They know that Kars will not believe them, nor would Wamuu. His smirk turned to a scowl as he leaned down to get in my face "I'm not gonna say a word, because I know you'll slip up and do something stupid. The King doesn't appreciate people who disrespects his family," He finished. Santana simply scoffed as he walked away, "I just think she's a whore who's desperate for Kars, But now since he found the queen he's been searching for, She'll be done away with" He said before turning the corner and heading out of sight. I growled at him and crossed my arms,

"You'll see! She probably doesn't even know one thing about being a damn Queen! She'll just get replaced like the last one-"

"DON'T YOU DARE GO THERE YOU HARLOT"

The room was silent as we just stood in there, the room obviously heating up from his anger, but remained not phased with a cocky grin on my face. "What's the matter, You don't want me to tell her about the previous girl would you?" I teased. He backed up, let out a low growl, and turned leaving. I gave myself a little fist pump before I put on my nice woman act again as I wander off the go and find the King and the "Queen"

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

(POV switch, back to you reader-chan!)

I giggled as I walked with a bouquet of flowers in my hands, Kars had taken me out to the village to see different shops. He tried to buy me several expensive things but I just settle on a simple dress and the flowers. They were blue, purple and white, A beautiful mixture and in Kars words 'fit for a lovely Queen'. Kars had his arm wrapped closely around my waist, guards on either side to protect us. I waved to whatever villager who would wave to me, I even stopped for a bit to talk to some of the local kids. A bunch of them were the children I used to babysit when I lived in town and they immediately recognized me, which led to all of them swarming me. They were asking questions about how the castle was, was there fun games to play, were there kids there? All of the questions were thrown at me, I tried to answer them all but one caught me off guard.

"Miss- I mean Queen (n/n), Will you still come to play with us?.."

I stared at the sky for a bit and then over to Kars, who was looking at me with all the children, I nodded and picked up the little girl who asked. "Of course, i'll try to visit and play as often as I can, I just have to ask the King" I answered, as soon as I asked that the kids turned to Kars and all began pleading with him. All various forms of the same question, to which Kars, at first, glared at the children until he eventually sighed. "I guess she can come as much as she likes."

Cue a chorus of happy yells , which turned to angry parents fusing at them for interrupting our trip.

I waved them goodbye and gave each one a flower from the bunch, and I still had lots left. I quietly hummed as we headed back to the castle. "My dear, Tomorrow we have to begin preparations for your official taking of the crown." Kars mentioned, to which i simply nodded. We'd discussed this earlier, and I told him, even though I was cross with my mom, I still wanted her and my family to attend. He was heavily against it but sighed after I told him I wanted to make amends, and that they had to come.

Kars ushered me inside the castle as he said he had business to attend to with the others, he gave me a kiss on the forehead and cheek before walking away, leaving me with guards to escort me back to my room. I followed and held my cheek where he kissed me. I was only here for two days and this man already managed to have an affect on me, what the hell is wrong with me!? I sighed and plopped down onto my comfy bed and slipped out of the dress and heels, I didn't care about my hair, I'd just get up and wash in the morning. I snuggled into my pillow, at first I didn't want to do any of this, but now I can't help but feel  some type of attraction to the male. I mean he's going to officially be my husband in a few days, but I still couldn't shake this feeling off that something was wrong..

....And something bad was gonna happen....

[much-obliged-timothy]

Whumptober #2

Dragon Age - #2 - “Pick Who Dies”

*

“Thank you,” the woman whispered, tears in her eyes as she embraced Anders. “You saved her life.”

Anders hugged her back, knowing that sometimes the parents needed more comfort than the children. “It’s what I’m here for. If she has any complications at all, bring her right back here.”

“Thank you, thank you!” She wiped at her eyes and pulled away from Anders. “Without you she would’ve...I couldn’t afford a doctor and…”

“It’s alright.” Anders offered her a smile. “Why not go take her outside for some fresh air before it gets dark? I’m sure she’d like that.”

“Yes, of course.” The woman turned and lifted her young daughter into her arms. “Kaitlin, what do you say to the nice doctor?”

“Thank you, mister,” she said, her voice weak but her eyes bright. 

Anders ruffled her hair. “Take care of your mother, okay?”

“Okay!” She wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck and snuggled against her.

Anders watched them go, waiting until they were out of sight before sagging against the wall with exhaustion. The girl had gotten injured, and the wound had gotten badly infected. Anders hadn’t even been positive he’d be able to save her, but he was beyond relieved he’d pulled it off. 

He straightened up as two people entered, but then slumped back again when he realized it was just Varric and Fenris. Fenris looked him over and raised an eyebrow.

“Looking rough, mage,” he said.

Anders wasn’t in the mood for him today. “I just spent hours pouring my magic into a little girl to keep her from dying of an infection. How was your day, Fenris?” 

“Not now, you two,” Varric said, putting his hands out. “Anders, have you seen Hawke?”

“Hawke?” Anders furrowed his brow. “No. I left early this morning to come here, and he was still asleep. I haven’t seen him since. Why?”

“We can’t find him or Junior,” Varric said. “We asked around- not that the Templars are fans of us -but no one has seen either Hawke brother. Last we knew, they were meeting up this morning.”

“We sent the others out to search for them,” Fenris said. “No one has returned yet, so I’m assuming they’re still missing.”

“But,” Varric said, holding up a note. “I did find this very ominous note.”

He held it out and Anders took it. He unfolded the note, and on it was simply written, “Mines, nightfall”. 

“It’s almost nightfall now,” Anders said, looking up at them. “Do you think this is related?”

“Do you think it’s not? I wouldn’t put it past Hawke to get himself kidnapped,” Fenris said.

“Hawke, yes. Junior tends to be a little more vigilant, though. That’s what’s got me worried,” Varric said, taking the note back and pocketing it. “I say we go check it out. It’s too late to round everyone up, but the three of us should be enough if we run into any trouble.”

Anders wasn’t so sure about that. His magic was weak from saving that little girl.

But if Hawke was in trouble, he had to go. “Let’s go now. We’ll just make it in time if we hurry.” 

He grabbed his staff and followed the two of them out, fighting past his exhaustion and struggling just to keep up as they hurried through the streets. Still, he pushed on, worry creeping in.

Hawke was known for a lot of things, but disappearing without a word wasn’t one of them. After what had happened to Karl, Hawke was always sure to let Anders know when he’d be going somewhere so Anders wouldn’t worry. 

And Varric was right; Hawke might not always be vigilant, but Carver usually was. Especially since he’d joined the Templars, he’d be hard to catch off guard.

The closer they got to the mines, the more Anders worried. The other two had grim expressions on their faces, probably thinking along the same lines. 

Night had just fallen when they reached the mines, and Anders didn’t care for the darkness. It would be too easy to catch them by surprise, and with his magic depleted, he wouldn’t be much help in a fight. If Hawke was injured and Anders couldn’t heal him…

No. No, he’d give himself over to Justice before he let his own uselessness cost Hawke. 

They cautiously entered the mines, prepared for anything. It was quiet in there; far too quiet.

“This is bad news,” Varric muttered.

“And once again, we need to rescue Kirkwall’s beloved hero,” Fenris said with a sigh. “How does he get himself into these messes?”

“Wait.” Anders put an arm out. “Listen.”

Sure enough, after a few moments of silence, they heard the faintest sound of footsteps coming from one of the side tunnels. They glanced at each other and nodded, readying their weapons and creeping towards the footsteps.

They rounded into the tunnel, ready for a fight. Instead, they all froze.

“About damn time,” a man said, a blade held to Hawke’s throat. Next to him stood another man, his blade to Carver’s throat.

Both brothers were bound at the wrists and ankles, their mouths gagged. A thin line of blood had bloomed on both necks from how close the blades were pressed.

And Anders knew, with a sick certainty, that Hawke had complied with his capture only to keep his brother alive. If he had used his magic, he could’ve free himself, but risked getting Carver’s throat slit. 

“Let me guess, someone hired you to kill them?” Varric said, slowly lowering Bianca. “How original.”

The one holding Hawke hostage scoffed. “You lot have been meddling where you shouldn’t. Our employer wanted to send a very clear message.” He tightened his hold on the knife. “So, since you three showed up, you get to make the decision. Pick who dies.”

Anders felt cold.

He pictured Karl, dead in his arms. He couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t bear it. 

Not Hawke. 

“Now hold on-” Varric started.

Both knives pressed closer to their throats. Blood began to drip down in a steadier stream, and both winced.

“No negotiations. You have two minutes to decide, or we slit both their throats,” the man said. “This is what you get for sticking your noses where they don’t belong. You’ll have to make a sacrifice.”

Hawke caught Anders’s eyes. He flicked a pleading gaze to Carver. 

“You’re not making it out of this alive,” Fenris promised both captors, tightening his grip on his sword.

“Neither is one of them. Or both, if you can’t hurry it up.” The man smirked. “The troublesome Hawke, or his little brother who got caught up in it all? Clock’s ticking.” 

Anders tried to see a way out of this, but he couldn’t. And he could tell by the slump of their shoulders that neither could Varric and Fenris. 

One wrong move, and both were dead in an instant. Anders didn’t have enough magic in him to heal them. 

Hawke kept flicking his gaze to Carver, silently pleading with his friends to save his little brother’s life. He’d already lost so much. Anders knew that losing Carver like this, knowing it could’ve been him instead, would kill Hawke just as surely as any blade. 

“Time’s up. Pick, or watch them both die. Doesn’t matter to us,” the man said.

And the terror in Hawke’s gaze as he looked to his brother broke something in Anders.

He felt everything drowning out, a rush of anger and power surging through him. He had failed Karl, but he would not fail Hawke.

“What the hell?” one of the captors cried.

“Not him.” The voice was booming and furious, a mix of Anders and Justice.

Hawke was a friend to the mages, the spirits. Justice would not let harm come to him. Anders would not let harm come to him.

Their power erupted.

The magic was powerful, blinding. Anders heard screams, though they rang distant in his ears as he struggled to cling to some part of his mind as Justice took over.

And then he blinked, and he was on the ground, body trembling.

“Up, mage,” Fenris urged. “They need your healing.”

Anders’s head ached terribly, his body stiff and sore. But he let Fenris drag him over to where Hawke and Carver laid, still bound and gagged. Their captors were dead behind them, and Anders knew the work of magic when he saw it.

“C’mon, Chuckles, stay with me,” Varric said, getting the gag out of Hawke’s mouth and tackling his bindings. “Fenris, get Carver.” 

Anders dropped next to Hawke, but Hawke shook his head weakly. “Carver first.” 

“But-” Anders started desperately, aware his magic was fading again. He’d gotten the burst from Justice, but he didn’t know if it’d last.

“Anders,” Hawke said, looking him in the eyes. “Please.”

Anders loved Hawke. And so he turned and used the rest of his magic to heal Carver, who had gotten caught on the side of his throat by the knife.

When that was taken care of, Carver slumped back in Fenris’s arms. “Bloody mages.”

“I hear you,” Fenris said. “What even happened?”

“Garrett and I met for breakfast to discuss a matter concerning our Uncle, and one of those men ran for us, saying something had happened to Gamlen and we had to come quickly. We were ambushed after that.” He looked to Hawke. “Garrett?”

“Dying,” Hawke said, his voice strained in pain. “Bother me later, you pain in the ass.” 

“Later?” Carver said hopefully.

“Dying, but I’ll be fine in a few days. Probably.” Hawke reached out a hand, and Anders caught it. “You alright?”

Hawke was bloodied and exhausted, but he was worried about Anders. Anders put a gentle hand to Hawke’s face.

“If you ever put us in a situation like that again, I will gladly end you myself,” he assured. 

“Yep, you’re fine,” Hawke said. 

Anders carefully examined his injuries. He was hurt, but nothing looked fatal. Anders pulled Hawke up so he could hug him, mindful of his wounds.

“You’re okay,” he said quietly, more to assure himself.

“Thanks to you. I owe you,” Hawke said, dropping his head on Anders’s shoulder. “But first I need stitches and a nap.”

“So dramatic,” Carver said, but he looked relieved. 

“We never even got to have breakfast,” Hawke said miserably. “I’m starving. They kept us in here all damn day.”

“Let’s get you back to the clinic so I can look after your wounds,” Anders said, but found himself struggling to stand. “Sorry, I...I used a lot of magic on a sick child earlier.”

“‘Sorry I saved a kid so I can’t fix up your cuts, Hawke’,” Hawke mocked. “Honestly, just shut up and let’s both go take a nap. The stitches and breakfast can wait. I’m as exhausted as you look. Fenris, Varric, Carver, help us, uh, move.”

“So needy,” Carver said, but carefully helped his brother up, his grip tighter than necessary. “You’re okay?”

“I will be,” Hawke assured. He held a hand out to Anders. “Up. I can’t pull you up, but I can hold your hand while Fenris gets you off your ass, at least.”

“A true romantic,” Anders said, but allowed Fenris to help him up. 

“I’ll go find the others and let them know we’ve got them back,” Varric said. He put a hand on Hawke’s shoulder. “Glad you cheated death again, Chuckles.”

“It is my favorite hobby, afterall,” Hawke said. 

Their group left in a huddle, trying to support Hawke and Anders. With their heads so close together, Hawke lowered his voice.

“Thank you. You saved my brother,” he said quietly.

“I don’t want to lose you. And I don’t want you to lose those you love,” Anders said. 

“You are one of those people. So as indebted as I currently am to Justice, try to keep yourself in charge of that body,” Hawke said. “Also, I’m glad blood doesn’t bother you. Because I am going to cuddle the ever-loving shit out of you and I’m not bathing first.”

“Oh, Hawke,” Anders said, but gave him an affectionate smile.

He’d never forget the terror of that moment, seeing that blade pressed to Hawke’s neck and the pleading in his gaze. But Hawke was okay, even as the blood began to dry on his neck. He was okay, and Carver was okay, and Anders would cuddle the ever-loving shit out of Hawke as they slept safely in their bed together, and he wouldn’t take a damn second of it for granted.

[ladyfogg]

May I? - 22/?

May I? - 22/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she’s truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

A/N: I’m not letting this sinus infection get me down. I’ve been working on this chapter for a long time and I’m glad to finally be able to post it. Enjoy!

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Screenshot by @ readysteadytrek

Faith was more comfortable than she had ever been in her entire life. 

She and Data lay in bed and had been there for quite some time. Draped over his chest, her face was tucked into his neck while her fingers played idly with his hair. She was encased by him. Data's arms held her close, his scent clung to her, his heat warmed her, and she never wanted the moment to end. 

"What are you thinking?" she asked. 

"I am currently reorganizing my collection of twentieth-century Earth literature, running diagnostics on several experiments, planning how to display my painting during my art show, updating the sexual list I have created for us…" He abruptly fell silent. 

When he didn't continue, Faith pulled back slightly to look up at him. "What's wrong? Why'd you stop?" 

"I realized you may be insulted that I did not list you first. Please know that I am always thinking of you in some capacity." 

Faith beamed at him. "I'm not insulted at all," she assured him. "I know you're thinking of me somewhere in there. You're always so attentive and thoughtful. I really appreciate it." 

She meant it.  

“I appreciate you as well. Your companionship has become a source of immense comfort to me.”

Her heart fluttered and Faith’s smile widened as she snuggled against Data once more. There were several long precious moments of silence before Data spoke again. 

"Was our sexual experience to your satisfaction? If you require more stimuli I can make physical adjustments." 

"Don't change yourself physically for me or anyone else for that matter. Making love with you was wonderful, not just for physical satisfaction but because it was you​​." 

Data offered her one of his soft smiles and her heart melted. She loved that smile. Settling back down, she inhaled the unique smell of his skin. It was synthetic with metallic undertones and she had such a Pavlovian response to it, it instantly put her at ease.

“While we’re on the subject, however, I’m curious to know what you thought,” she said, trying to keep the anxiety from her voice. She knew Data would never be mean or cruel but that didn’t automatically help her confidence. 

“Intriguing and enjoyable,” Data said. “I am certain there were several emotions I experienced during our intercourse that I look forward to processing. But it was memorable and I will be glad when we can do it again.”

Faith grinned. If her body wasn’t so comfortable and she herself wasn’t struggling to keep her eyes open, she’d suggest they go for another round. 

“Great. Really great,” she said, stifling a yawn.

Data glanced down at her. “You should rest.”

“I know. Five more minutes.”

“Alright.”

They fell into silence again, Faith resuming playing with Data’s hair. Eventually, her eyes were staying closed for long stretches of time so she reluctantly detached herself from the android in order to get comfortable. 

“Are you going to dream with me or are you going to get up and work?” she asked. 

“I will dream as you sleep,” Data said. “I find myself in no rush to get up.”

Smiling, Faith snuggled under the blankets, tucking herself into Data’s side. “Don’t forget to turn off the ‘do not disturb’ program,” she said through another yawn. 

“Already done. We did not receive any messages.”

Data adjusted the blanket around Faith before turning on his side to face her. He draped his arm around her waist, the weight of it comforting her instantly. It almost felt like a weighted blanket. A very cute and sexy weighted blanket. 

“Would you like me to wake you up when I rise?” Data asked. 

“Yeah. I don’t want to spend the day sleeping. Not when there’s packing and moving to be done.” She found herself smiling sleepily. “I’m really excited to move in with you.”

“It will definitely save you time in the mornings.”

“I don’t care about that. I just want to spend more time with you.”

“Oh. Yes, I supposed this will make that easier as well.”

Chuckling, Faith gave Data a peck on his cheek before finally settling in for sleep. “Sweet dreams, silly man.”

“Sleep well, Faith.”

Making love to Data had not been on her list of things to do for the day. They had both been so busy, she honestly hadn’t given it much thought. But between the romantic dinner, asking her to move in, and the gorgeous painting he did, she knew she wanted to give him something to show how much she appreciated him. It seemed like the perfect moment to take that step and she was so damn glad she had. 

It had been the most passionate experience of her life. She hadn’t been with many men before him so her experience was fairly limited. Regardless, his focus on her was unparalleled. And it wasn’t just how well he could bring her to ecstasy that thrilled her. It was how eager she herself was to please him. It was a beautiful synchronous give and take, and it made her realize something very important. 

She never wanted to be with anyone else. It was the last thought that crossed her mind before she drifted off to sleep. 

The next thing she knew, Data was calling her name. She awoke abruptly, her body drenched in sweat. Confused, she found Data leaning over her, eyebrows knitted together in concern. 

“What’s going on?” she mumbled, pushing her wild hair back from her face.

“I am sorry to wake you so early but I believe you were having a nightmare,” Data explained. 

Blinking the sleep away, Faith tried to organize her muddled thoughts. “You were? Why?”

“You were making noises in your sleep and moving around quite a bit. You even said my name twice.”

With a frown, Faith slowly pushed herself up to sit. As she tried to recall the remnants of the dream Data pulled her from, all she could remember were feelings and sensations. Firm hands, a hot mouth, pleasure...

Suddenly there was an aching throb between her legs and Faith realized she had not been having a bad dream at all. Quite the opposite. With a sheepish smile, she chuckled. 

“Oh...um, it wasn’t a nightmare.”

Data cocked his head as he studied her. “Was it an erotic dream?”

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, Faith nodded. “I don’t remember details but I’m pretty sure it was.”

“Then I will apologize again for waking you.”

“Don’t apologize. The real thing is much better than any dream.”

Faith cupped the back of Data’s head and pulled him into a kiss. Her arousal was fierce and unchecked, eager for release now that she had sampled pure pleasure. Data seemed surprised at first, not responding until she pressed her body up against his. 

“I see. It was me you were dreaming of,” he said when she broke the kiss. 

“Of course it was you. Who else would it be?”

She kissed him again before he could answer, knowing he probably had a list already on the tip of his tongue. This time his hands came to rest on her hips as he kissed her back, allowing her tongue to stroke his. The memory of their first time together was still fresh in her mind and she couldn’t wait to experience him all over again.

As he lay with her, Faith reached down to take his hand, bringing it to her chest. “Will you touch me, Data?” she asked against his lips. 

“Yes, Faith. I will touch you.”

His hand cupped her breast, massaging and kneading the flesh as his thumb rubbed circles around the sensitive nipple. The desire that had started to wane after she awoke was now back, urging and begging for more. In her impatience, she forgot herself and grabbed Data’s wrist, bringing his hand down between her legs. 

He stilled briefly, causing her to freeze as well.

“Sorry!” she said once she realized how forceful she had been.

“Do not apologize. Your boldness can be very helpful.”

He kissed her again as his fingers stroked her slit, running through the wetness that was already there. Faith melted in his arms, her body instantly responding. She had never felt this physically satisfied with anyone before. Not even herself the times she masturbated. There was something about Data that turned her body on in ways she couldn’t even fathom. 

With his mouth at hers and his thick fingers slipping into her, she couldn’t hold back her moans. They were loud and she was too tired to tried to keep her voice down. 

It didn’t take long for him to bring her completion, a testament to his skill and how wound up she had already been due to her dream. As she came down from her high and allowed the endorphins to rush through her, she gave Data a lazy smile. 

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” She kissed him again.

“While I appreciate the compliment, I do believe it is impossible to reach perfection, especially in physical matters. I am sure there are ways I can improve.”

Faith chuckled and shook her head. “Data, you are the most selfless person I ever met. Here I am, basking in the afterglow of an orgasm and you’re worried about how you can make me get off better? Unbelievable. I don’t deserve you.”

“Faith, you deserve the world. I told you so before.”

She cupped his face in her hands. “You deserve it too, Data. You deserve everything you want in life.”

When she leaned in to kiss him, this time he stopped her, gently laying his hands on top of hers. “Unfortunately, there are things that will be forever out of my reach.”

Faith realized her mistake and her happiness waned, instantly feeling guilty. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean...I know there are things that you want that I can’t provide.”

“It was not my intention to guilt you. I am simply stating the fact that, logically and realistically, I cannot have everything I want.”

“No. No, I don’t suppose you can. But we can get as damn close to it as possible.”

At that, Data offered her a smile. “We can try. As I stated before, I did experience some kind of emotion last night while we were being intimate. It certainly was new and made me feel...different.”

Pulling him into a hug, Faith’s heart ached, knowing there was one thing in the world Data wanted that she could not give him. She could be there for him, care for him, spend her life with him, but she couldn’t make him human. No one could. It was a dream that would forever be out of his reach. 

But Faith wasn’t deterred. True, she couldn’t make him human, but she could make him feel as close to human as he possibly could be. She could treat him no differently than she would a human boyfriend. 

Faith placed gentle kisses on Data’s neck, her hand caressing his arm as it moved down his body. 

“Faith, what are you doing?”

“You said you had some sort of feelings last night. I’m trying to help you experience them again. Would you like me to stop?”

“No, I do not.”

Data remained still as she continued her gentle touches. She closed her eyes, blocking out all other thoughts that didn’t have to do with the man in front of her. Slowly, she pushed against him until he was on his back, allowing her to cover his body with her own. She kissed her way up to his lips, trying to pour all her feelings into what she was doing. She wished she could share them with him. Sometimes she felt like she had too many and they would all spill out at some point. Just their luck. He didn’t have many emotions while she had more than she could handle. 

Data’s arms slid around her waist and he kissed her back, gently at first but then growing bolder as the seconds past. She could feel his cock swelling against her thigh and she adjusted her hips so that he nestled snugly between both thighs, pressing right against her slick center. 

Her hips began to rock in slow circles, the thickness of him sending a chill down her spine. But this moment wasn't about her pleasure, it was about giving Data an experience. She hoped it was working. 

Reaching down, she lifted herself just enough to gently grasp his cock. Continuing her slow movements, she started to stroke him, listening to the hitch in his breathing and taking it as a good sign. She pressed the blunt head of him between her folds. 

Faith took Data into herself, unable to stop the moan that escaped. Data's hand slid into her hair and pulled, drawing her face back so she would meet his gaze. His yellow eyes stared at her intensely as she continued to take him in until his thighs pressed against hers.

By then she was panting, her body trembling with the effort to not move. She was full and hot, shockwaves of pleasure making her shudder. 

"Anything?" she asked, voice husky with want.

Data's lips parted. He brought her face towards his but instead of kissing her, he pressed their foreheads together.

"Please move your hips. I...I think there is something."

Faith did as he asked, raising her hips just enough for him to slide halfway out before she took him all the way in again. 

Data quietly gasped. "Again, please."

Hearing his audible response awakened something primal in her. She repeated the action, clenching around him this time as his cock rubbed her sensitive walls. He made another noise, this one an unmistakable moan. Unable to stop herself, Faith kept moving, her arms circling Data's neck in an effort to draw herself as close to him as possible.

His hands suddenly seized her hips. "Please stop."

She did, even though her body ached and trembled for more. Already she found herself panting and they had barely begun. Before she could ask Data if he was okay, he abruptly sat up, bringing her with him. 

Still straddling him, she placed her knees on either side of his, clinging tightly as she tried not to slip from his grasp. Not that he would let her. 

"This way," he said, those long fingers of his digging into her sweaty flesh. "I like you this way."

Faith whimpered, too strung out to form any coherent words. She rocked up and down on his lap, unable to get proper leverage but not wanting to stop. After several moments, Data seemed to realize she needed assistance because he began to direct her movements for her.

One of her arms reached out so her hand could seize the headboard. Between that and Data's help, Faith was able to lose herself in the pleasure. Each thrust down from her was accompanied by a thrust up from him, burying himself to the hilt every single time.

"Do you feel anything?"

Data nodded. "Yes."

Faith groaned. "Tell me. Tell me, please. What do you feel?"

"I do not know."

His hand suddenly cupped her cheek, preventing her from going for his neck as she was about to do. He made her look at him, with one arm still holding her tight as he thrust into her. 

"Warm. Protective. Excited." The more he listed the more her heart sped up. "Human."

She felt him come, which only served to push her over the precipice herself. He allowed her to kiss him again, his tongue filling her mouth just as his cock filled her.

Once again Faith was surrounded by Data and she knew right then and there that she loved him.

No, she was in love with him. Hopelessly, recklessly, foolishly in love with Data.

Just like the previous night, they lay together for sometime after. Arms and legs tangled together and noses touching.

"What time do you have to get up?" she asked, not wanting to break the spell but knowing that he had a job to do.

"I can lay with you for approximately thirty more seconds before I must prepare for the day."

"Let's make them count."

She tucked her head under his chin and pressed her head to his chest. Data stroked her hair.

"Faith, may I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"In my last session with Counselor Troi, it was apparent that you had not mentioned to her that we had been intimate, as she was surprised when I brought up the topic. Is there a reason?"

"Nothing drastic, I can assure you. Deanna is my friend. I felt weird talking to her about our sexual life. It's not something I was ever comfortable doing in the past with anyone let alone my friend and counselor. Also, we've been more focused on other topics."

It had taken time for Faith to unpack her feelings in the situation with Fajo. Hell, she still hadn't processed it all.

"I see. I am sorry I told her we had been sexual."

"No need to apologize. She's your counselor too and she's a professional. I don't want you to feel like you have to censor yourself on my behalf."

"Understood." He drew back from their embrace. "I must get ready now."

"Boooooo."

Regardless of her protests, Faith let him get out of bed. She admired his naked body as she always did except this time there was a little perverse glee knowing she had touched and tasted him. Data headed to the bathroom to clean himself before returning to get dressed. 

“I shall be finished with my shift before noon,” he said, pulling a fresh uniform out of his closet. “Perhaps we can have lunch in Ten Forward as we discuss the art show?”

“Sounds great to me. I’ll meet you there.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“I have some packing that needs to get done.” Faith eased herself out of bed, allowing the blanket to stay behind. 

Data smiled and leaned down to give her a kiss. “Do not strain yourself too much by moving. You should also find time to rest today.”

“I will try. Promise.”

Data nodded and turned to leave when Faith stopped him. “Wait,” she giggled. “Your hair. I messed it up when we were making love.”

He waited patiently as she smoothed his hair down. 

"There, perfect." She kissed him again. "Have a great day. I'll see you later."

Data smiled and left. Faith watched him go, still giddy. She was suddenly wide awake and couldn't wait to start her day.

After cleaning herself up and getting dressed, Faith made her way to her quarters. Despite being on the Enterprise for months, she didn't have too many personal belongings. Life in Starfleet had taught her to pack light and even on long-term assignments she couldn't bring herself to take more than the necessities.

When she entered her quarters however, she paused in confusion. There was a stranger sitting on her couch.

"Er, can I help you?" she asked.

The man wore the red and rank of a captain, yet she had never seen him before. His bored expression and overly relaxed demeanor was a stark contrast to those who she saw regularly wearing that uniform. 

"Au contraire, Ms. Diaz," the man said with a grin. "I'm here to help you."

Faith didn't like the sound of that. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"I'm Q."

Fear and apprehension took hold and Faith's guard went up. "What do you want?" she asked, her tone instantly betraying her emotional state.

"It's not about what I want, dear, Faith. It's about what you want."

"Great. I want you to leave." She was not even remotely interested in what Q had to say. She had heard enough stories about him to know no good would come of their conversation.

Q looked amused. "My reputation precedes me it would seem."

"Correct. I have nothing to say to you. I don't want any trouble, I just want to go about my day."

"Trouble? I don't bring trouble! I bring the truth and hilarious entertainment."

"Cool. Bring it somewhere else."

Faith purposefully turned away from Q and headed to her bedroom. She was dismayed when she found him lounging on her bed. 

"Aren't you even the least bit curious as to why I'm here?" Q asked.

"Not really."

Q pouted. "You're no fun. I thought someone who would willingly date an android would have some sense of humor."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

A large grin spread across Q's face. "That got your attention, didn't it?"

Faith sighed, annoyed that he was able to play her so easily. "Is that what this is about? Me and Data?"

"It's about my curiosity on the subject. I don't understand why he would choose to be in a relationship," The word was said with such disdain. "With a human. Or why you would want to be with a machine."

"He's not a machine," Faith snapped. "He's a person just like everyone else. He's smart, caring, generous, honest…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, spare me the defensive drabble," Q cut her off, sitting up on her bed. "That's not why I'm here. I'm here because I want to know what you think can possibly come of this union between a human and an android."

"None of your damn business."

"You don't want to think about the future, do you?" Q pressed. "Too touchy a subject?"

Faith was more than done with this Q person. He was prying into things that were not his business. All she wanted was for him to go away so that she could pack in peace. 

"Why do you care?" she asked, glaring at him. "Me and Data have nothing to do with you. So just, go away."

Faith turned her back on Q but then she heard his fingers snap and suddenly they were no longer in her quarters. 

They stood in the middle of an unfamiliar room, cluttered with knick-knacks and furniture. The landscape out the windows was unfamiliar, though it looked a little like Earth. Faith quickly spun back around to glare at Q. 

“What is this? Where are we?”

“Don’t be so skittish. We’re just taking a little peek into what might be.”

Faith heard a door open and turned in time to see Data walk into the room. He made no reaction to their presence, which made Faith assume he could not see them. His appearance intrigued her, not only because of Q’s cryptic words but also because he wasn’t wearing a Starfleet uniform. Instead, he wore finely tailored pants and a button-down shirt with a blazer. However, she was more intrigued by the stripe of gray hair through his normally jet-black locks. 

He moved around the room, adjusting a large comfy-looking armchair and placing a cup of tea on the side table. Then he left. Before Faith could ask what the hell Q expected her to gain from this, Data returned, this time leading a very old woman by the arm. 

It took Faith a moment to realize the woman was her. 

“What the…?” 

“Scary, isn’t it? I mean, in comparison to most humans you age very gracefully,” Q said, arm slipping around her shoulders. 

Faith watched as Data led the older version of herself over to the chair. She seemed to be having difficulty moving and winced in pain as she sat. Faith felt her stomach churn, watching herself old and weak, being cared for by the man she loved who looked just as he had the day they met. 

“Why would you show me this?” Faith asked, looking at Q. “I already know this is how our relationship would progress. I don’t need the visual.”

“Oh really? You don’t need the visual? Take another look.” He took her chin and turned her face to the scene. “Is this really what you want? Being old and decrepit. Forcing such a superior being to be your nursemaid?”

Faith tried not to let Q’s words get to her but the way he phrased it cut deep. She watched Data bring the teacup to her lips, his smooth hands gently cradling her wrinkled knarled ones. The contrast made her uncomfortable and she shut her eyes. 

Q noticed, letting her go. “Hmm, don’t like the image so much now, do you? Well, it’s what you wanted. But how about I show you something else. Let me show you I think is probably actually going to happen.”

He snapped his fingers and they were back on the Enterprise, this time in Engineering. She saw herself at the main console, less old and knarled, and more like she was normally. Data entered and paused as he saw her but instead of approaching, he continued on, passing by her without a word. 

A second later, Barclay came to stand by her side and the other Faith smiled at him as she would Data. 

Present-day Faith burst into laughter. “I’m sorry,” she said, glancing at Q. “Do you really think this is what’s going to happen? I’m going to leave Data for Barclay? Reg and I are just friends. I have no romantic interest in him whatsoever.” 

“Fine, not him then.” Barclay faded away and was replaced by Geordi. “How’s this?”

From the distance, she saw Data watching her and Geordi. Her counterpart met Data’s gaze and there was a sadness there before she looked away. The distance between them spoke volumes and it was clear they were no longer together. 

“He can’t give you what you want. The depth of emotion and feelings you humans care so much about. I predict you’ll eventually get frustrated and leave him to find someone else who could provide such things.”

Faith glared at Q, arms crossed. “You’re wasting your time! Whatever your little plan is here, it’s not going to work. Besides, you don’t even know me or what I want. How can you possibly think this is what it would be?”

“Okay then, I may not know what you want. But we both know what Data wants.”

This time when the images changed, it took Faith’s breath away. A man walked towards her, his features so familiar and yet strikingly different. Pink skin had replaced pale synthetic imitation, bright blue eyes shone instead of yellow. But that smile. That head tilt. Those were undeniable. 

Faith stared at the human version of Data. 

“Stop it, Q,” she growled through clenched teeth. 

“Ooooo, did I finally hit a nerve?” Q asked, sounding highly amused. 

Faith tore her eyes away from the image and rounded on Q. “You’ve hit every one of them since the moment you opened your mouth. Now cut it out.”

“Aww, you’re so grumpy. It’s almost endearing.”

“Bring me back home, now!” 

She found herself back in her quarters, heart heavy and mixed emotions making her sick. 

“Well, this was fun,” Q said with an insufferable grin. “Look forward to seeing how this all goes. Nice meeting you.”

There was a flash of light and he was gone. 

Faith sunk onto her bed, furious with Q and angry at herself for letting his visions get under her skin. She couldn’t stop picturing Data as a human, unable to stop the brief moment of longing. 

Don’t let Q get to you, she scolded herself. This is what he wants. What he showed you doesn’t change anything. 

She gave herself another moment, before pushing the thoughts away. Looking up, she pictured Q and, without a word, raised her middle finger, hoping wherever he was he could see it. 

“Time to pack,” she declared out loud and began to gather her belongings so she could move in with Data. 

[thetriggeredhappy]

75 Napoleon Complex?

this really is just what engie/spy is all about, right? like that’s really what it is. (warning: properly nsfw, mentions of canon-typical violence)

#75: Kisses Meant To Distract The Other Person From Whatever They Were Intently Doing.

As a legacy Engineer, there were a few values that Dell Conagher had instilled very deeply in him from a young age. First, to always put logic first. Second, to never cross an employer. The third and last, never trust a Spy—no matter what team he was on.

So when he turned to his dispenser to pull from it the next bundle of scrap and saw Spy lounging against it and peering at him with those piercing eyes of his, he was almost immediately suspicious.

“What’re you doin’ around here?” he asked first, voice quiet, only putting aside the trouble of shooting him in the foot as a Spycheck because he’d seen the RED rat burnt to a crisp right in front of him not twenty seconds previously. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

“Oh, but of course,” Spy agreed, not shifting in the slightest. “However, I do need healing and ammunition every now and then, you know.”

Engie looked up at him from where he was restocking the rocket ammo on his sentry. He wasn’t moving to reload his gun, and he didn’t appear to have any wounds on him. “Is that right?” he asked dully.

He whipped his head around as his sentry beeped suddenly, shooting a barrage and putting the Scout running by full of holes, dead before he even hit the ground. He moved to restock the bullets and rockets again, sparing a glance to the teleporter around the corner from them to check for damages. There were none.

“Indeed,” Spy said easily. “And it’s refreshing to be able to do so in such a safe and secluded location. Even our own team doesn’t seem to come by here very often.”

The Engineer narrowed eyes, wondering exactly how long Spy had been standing around out of sight  and watching him to learn such a thing. “Suppose you’re right,” he agreed, continuing to fiddle with the ammo stock for a few seconds just so he wouldn’t have to look at Spy.

But a few moments of silence were all it took to make him look up again, and when he did, he found that Spy had moved to lounge on his side of the dispenser, the movement silent and catching him off guard. “And I must say, the show I get for stopping here is well worth a bit of fragmentation to one leg,” he said, and damn him, but the Engineer flushed.

He just scoffed, turning back to his sentry again. The enemy Soldier and Medic dropped into view, and spun wildly as they tried to figure out where the sentry assaulting them was. The Soldier shot a few messy rockets in its direction, all of them missing, before he was gunned down, the Medic following shortly behind as he attempted a hasty retreat.

Engie breathed a sigh of relief, moving to restock the ammo and turning around to stock back up again. Spy was still lounged there, just looking at him. “…’Scuse me,” he said, waiting for him to step out of his way.

“Not at all,” he said, raising an eyebrow at him, not moving in the slightest. Oh, god damn it. Spy was having one of his troublemaking days.

He sighed, not rising to the bait, simply bending slightly and reaching around Spy to get the ammunition he was looking for. Then he felt a sneaky gloved hand pinch him on one cheek and he was up in a flash, swinging his jag with no small amount of ire, but Spy was already cloaking and side-stepping with a cackle, clearly very much enjoying that particular reaction. “Damn rat,” he grumbled, snatching up the ammo and practically stomping back to his sentry.

He’d only just started to prime it with more rockets when he felt a body against his back, smoky breath chuckled against his ear. “Now, there is no need for name-calling, dear Laborer,” Spy teased, and the Engineer went tense.

“Spy,” he said sharply in warning, and jumped when his only reply was a pair of lips trailing up the exposed back of his neck. “Spy. I’m trying to concentrate on doing my damn job. I don’t have—“ He hated himself for the way he shivered when invisible teeth nipped at the line of his jaw, at his earlobe. “I don’t have time for these shenanigans.”

“By all means, go on. Attend to your little guns,” Spy said innocently in counterpoint to the hands now trailing up his biceps, as light as the breath continuing to ghost along his neck.

Engineer gritted his teeth, moving to restock the ammo in nearly mechanical motions. He jumped as he felt lips against the shell of his ear again, fumbling several bullets and sending them clinking to the ground with a curse.

“What’s wrong, mon cher?” Spy asked, audibly smirking. “You seem distracted.”

He was. Because Spy was starting to lave attention around his neck, nipping over his pulse point, trying to suck a mark against the topmost part of his spine, and he caught himself just gripping the sentry in front of him instead of moving to reload ammo, and he swore again, shifting backwards into Spy’s attentions in a moment of weakness. The shift pressed Spy’s hips into his backside, and he could feel all of a sudden how much Spy was enjoying this. He purred approval in French against his cheek, rocking forward to meet him, chest against his back, and Engie swallowed to collect himself.

“Not here,” he said all of a sudden. “Don’t be a damn fool, Spy, we could get spotted in a heartbeat, never mind if someone tries to come attack my sentry—“

“Mm-hmm?” Spy hummed, a hand trailing down his side to lay at his hip.

“We’ll get caught,” he hissed, tone dropping as he heard the teleporter firing up out of sight, a teammate running out of it and away somewhere, probably to do their job.

“I disagree,” Spy said lightly, other hand lowering to pinch Engie again, making him release a rather undignified noise. “Especially if we move, oh, twenty feet or so to a more secluded location, and if you manage to get ahold of yourself.”

He knew he was being baited. He knew it was bait. But the part of his mind that knew it was bait was rapidly being overwhelmed by the part that was drowning in the smell of smoke and cologne, in the feel of leather-clad hands drawing patterns against his hips, in soft lips against the rough stubble of his jaw and neck, grazing teeth every few moments just for the contrast of feeling.

“Fine,” he panted, “damn it, fine, let’s just make this quick.”

He was quickly guided backwards, through a seldom-used door that was quickly barricaded with what else but his own body as he was pushed back up against it, crowded back by a lean chest and an almost feline grin.

He didn’t know quite what to expect, but Spy unhooking the straps of his overalls and pulling them straight down to his lower thighs—when had he gotten his belt undone?—and promptly sinking to his knees wasn’t it. He moved to seal his mouth over the already considerable bulge at the front of the Engineer’s briefs, making him inhale sharply, before giving it a quick parting kiss and moving to pull the briefs down to accompany his overalls. He hummed appraisingly, almost in approval, and it made the Engineer’s head fall back, face flushing.

A quick tug to his shirt had him looking down again, and he saw Spy looking up at him with a rather stern expression, tugging off his gloves in practiced motions. “Look at me,” he said, half a demand and half a pout, and both halves appealed to him enough that he swallowed back his embarrassment and did so, catching in his throat as Spy leaned in and took hold of his erection, pressing a few testing licks to the head. He had to bite back a noise at that, just moving to place his hands on Spy’s masked head, earning a hum of approval, which really made him have to bite back a noise.

One could say a lot of things about the Spy, but they couldn’t call him inexperienced in the bedroom. The Engineer considered his stamina to be more than respectable, but Spy was pulling out all his best and most favorite moves one after another, and putting on quite the show while doing it, and not for the first time with this particular partner did the Engineer start to question himself a little bit, the only logical thought process going through his head by then, the rest of his mind having fallen away into useless, wordless wanting.

“Spy,” he managed to pant in warning when Spy made another little noise against him, driving him towards the edge at a breakneck pace, blinking his eyes open (when had they closed?) to look down at him. What he saw was dizzying, made his breath catch in his throat.

At some point, Spy had quietly worked his belt and pants open and was stroking himself off, eyes hanging low, practically just slits as he peered up at the Engineer wantonly. He released a low groan as Engineer made eye contact, eyes fluttering, and that was it for him. He panted out a warning, thighs jittering, and came down Spy’s throat. Spy accepted it eagerly, and pulled back when Engie was done, forehead pressed against Engie’s hip, panting hard as he came too moments later, splattering the ground between Engie’s feet.

Quiet, for long moments, sweat starting to cool in the wake of their mutual orgasms. He bent enough to shuffle his underwear back into place, hiking his overalls up at least to his hips to gain some modesty.

“Oh dear,” Spy said lightly, and when he glanced down he saw that he had redressed up until his gloves and was looking at the Engineer’s PDA, when had he even taken that—? “It would seem your sentry, dispenser, and exit teleporter are all down. What a shame.”

A few more moments of breathing heavily, his eyes narrowing as realization crept into his periphery. “You sneaky son of a bitch,” he growled, and saw the way Spy smirked as he tucked his PDA back into place. He seized his jag in one hand, and Spy took that as his cue to cloak. Engineer half expected his grin to be the last thing to fade from view, but it wasn’t, it was his hand, moving up to wipe at his mouth in a filthy little motion.

“Damn rat,” he said, pointedly raising his voice to make sure that Spy would hear him, and went about getting dressed again. He’d pay for that later. The Engineer would make sure of it.

[jabbajambler]

18

Human

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x f!OC

Word Count: 2,161

*GIF by @thetvgag​*

         "DIN!" Myrah shouted, whining as she was thrown into the small pond, soon becoming drenched in water.

         He quickly shushed her and shook his head, bending down to kneel at the water's edge. "I told you. Only use that name in private."

         "We are in private." Myrah hissed, pushing her wet hair from her face.

         "When you yell like that, it's not so private."

         "So you're saying you don't like when I yell your name?" She teased with a flirtatious smile.

         He could feel a warmth rise to his face, creeping up his neck. If she could see his face right now, he was sure he would make an absolute fool of himself. As if he wasn't already.

         "Keep it down." He mumbled, trying to keep his voice steady.

         "Sometimes I can't help it, you know?" She swam over to the edge where he kneeled, folding her arms beneath her chin as she rested them on the ground. "I like the way it rolls off of my tongue. It sounds so..."

         He gulped. "So...?" He encouraged her to continue, finding himself lost in her eyes. He knew that this is most definitely not 'the way' but he was already way past that.

         "So..."

         She took the moment of distraction to grab onto his wrists and tug him into the pond as well. His body hit the water with a huge splash as Myrah burst into a fit of laughter.

         While he was upset with being soaked in the water, especially since his clothes would take significantly longer to dry, her laughter put him at ease. A soft fluttering filled his stomach just by looking at her joyful face.

         A small voice in the back of his head kept telling him that this is wrong. But if it was, then why did it feel so damn right?

         He waded towards her as she leaned against the edge with her face scrunched up. He placed his hands against the wall on both sides of her body, cornering her between his arms.

         This isn't right.

                   This isn't right.

                             This isn't right.

         But he couldn't help it.

         Her laughter died down as she gazed up into his visor. Her eyes softened and her small, tender hands moved to rest against his chest plate. He never knew how she always managed to find his eyes beneath the helmet.

         "That wasn't very nice." He whispered.

         "Throwing me into the pond isn't very nice either, Din." His name rolled smoothly off of her tongue in an almost sing-song tone.

         "I learned from the best."

         His voice was breathy as it always was with the modulator, but it was even more so now. He moved his hand from the wall to cup her jaw, brushing his fingers along the line of it. She shivered beneath his touch once his thumb began drawing slow circles against her cheek.

         He swore he could have stayed like this forever.

         Myrah hummed and leaned into his hand, the corners of her mouth twitching into a smile.

         "Wouldn't it be nice if-"

         "Mando." The two quickly moved away from one another at the sound of someone else's voice. They looked up, only to find Cara. They both let out a long sigh of relief. "Omera's looking for you."

         "Right." He nodded and pulled himself from the water. "I'll be right there."

         Myrah coughed obnoxiously loud, holding her hands up from the water. He smiled behind the helmet and took her hands to help her from the water. His hands lingered on hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

         "Myrah, I-"

         "Don't worry about me, I understand. She's an amazing woman and if she makes you happy, then I'm happy."

         She was shot with a sharp pang of jealousy, desperately trying to hide it from him.

          "It's not-"

         She stopped him again, placing her hand on the side of his helm. "Go."

         She patted the helmet before stepping past him, journeying towards her hut. Her clothes dripped water along the path, trailing behind her.

         Din sighed and watched as she walked away. He hated seeing her so...hurt? Was that the word he was looking for?

         Cara cleared her throat next to him, catching his attention and bringing him out of his thoughts. "Omera is still waiting."

         "Right." He murmured before walking towards the huts with Cara at his side.

         Cara had settled on a box outside of Din's small home, watching as the children played in the grass. He leaned against the wall on the other side of the entrance, his brain racking with ideas of what Omera could possibly want to talk about.

         After a few minutes of waiting, Omera emerged from the hut and handed Cara a small mug of spotchka. "Can I set you something in the house?"

         "Uh... Thank you. Maybe later." He cleared his throat and returned to watching the kids play.

         Omera smiled as she gazed up at the Mandalorian, watching his subtle moves as he supervised. She followed his gaze to find the children, but most importantly, the little green alien that played with them.

         "He's very happy here."

         "He is."

         "Fits right in."

         He could tell by the soft, longing look in her eyes that she was not talking about the child at all. She brushed past him, leaving for the fields with the smile never leaving her face.

         Cara's eyebrows raised while a smug little grin crept onto her face. "So, what happens if you take that thing off?" Din glanced over at her, his head cocked to the side. "They come after you and kill you?"

         "No... You just can't ever put it back on again."

         "That's it?" She scoffed. "So you can slip off the helmet, and settle down with that beautiful young widow, hell, even your gorgeous partner. Don't even try to deny it. And raise your kid here, sipping spotchka?"

         He gave her a sharp look that she simply shrugged off and took another sip from her cup.

         "You know, we raised some hell here a few weeks back. It's too much action for a backwater town like this. Word travels fast... We might wanna cycle the charts and move on."

         "Would not wanna be the one who's gonna tell them."

         She nodded her head towards Myrah, who had now changed into a pair of fresh, dry clothes. Her arms wrapped around the small green child as she scooped him up, tickling him and kissing his head.

         "I'm leaving him here. Myrah, too, if she wants... Traveling with me, that's no life for a kid. I did my job, he's safe. Better chance at a life."

         "It's gonna break their hearts."

         "They'll get over it. We all do." He sighed and pushed himself from the wall before walking over towards the harvesting ponds where Omera sat. "Excuse me. Can I have a word?"

         Omera looked up at him, a bright smile immediately gracing her features. "Of course." She stood up and looked around, following him a few feet away.

         "It's very nice here."

         She nodded and looked over at the people who were farming away, a hopeful expression forming on her face. "Yes."

         "I think it's clear he's... He's happy here."

         "What about you?"

         "Me?"

         "Are you happy here?"

         He looked over her shoulder, his eyes wandering to Myrah and the child. Yes. He was happy here. He was happier than he had ever been and yet he was leaving it. Just by looking at the two, his heart filled with a joy that he didn't know how to express.

         "We want you to stay. The community's grateful. You can pack all this away in case there's ever trouble... You and your boy could have a good life." She paused, her eyes lighting up. "He could be a child for a while. Wouldn't that be nice?"

         Nice. That's what Myrah wanted, that's what she asked for. They wouldn't be on the run and wouldn't have to hunt others just to survive. Here, she wouldn't have to hide from whoever was after her. She would be safe and more importantly, happy.

         "It would." He mumbled.

         Omera hesitated, her eyes darting across the helmet as she lifted her hands to either side of his helmet. She managed to lift it, barely enough to hear the hiss of its relief, but his fingers wrapped around her wrists to pull them back down.

         "I don't belong here." He spoke with a sadness filling his voice. "But he does."

         "I understand." She whispered. "I will look after him as one of my own-"

         A loud gunshot echoed through the trees. The children screamed and ran towards their homes. Villagers were diving to the ground and covering their heads, fearing another ambush.

         "Go get the kids." He demanded, his blaster raised as he ran towards the trees.

         Myrah and Cara stood over a fallen body, Myrah's hand wrapped tight around her blaster. There was a soft beeping coming from the corpse. It was a familiar beeping.

         Too familiar.

         Din kicked it over, revealing an active tracking fob beneath it.

         "Who's he tracking?" Cara spoke with her voice low and quiet. They were all a bit riled up by the sudden action in the peaceful village.

         "The kid." Din spat out the word like poison on his tongue.

         "Damn it." Myrah whispered harshly, holstering her blaster. "They know he's here." She hissed and ripped the tracking fob from Din's hand, staring down at it with a glare that could kill.

         "They'll keep coming." Cara gave him a knowing look and tilted her head towards Myrah.

         Myrah looked between the two, her eyes narrowing into slits. Her movements became deadly silent as she approached Din. Her eyebrows furrowed and her grip around the fob tightened.

         "What are you guys not telling me?"

         The Mandalorian glanced between the two women, swallowing the fear that Myrah brought upon him. He hesitantly took the fob from her hand, crushing against a rock with the bottom of his boot.

       "We have to leave." He said with a sigh before sauntering back to the village.

         Myrah glanced over at Cara, raising a brow and trying to get more information out of her. Cara only shrugged and followed after Din, leaving Myrah confused and alone in the dark forest.

┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉

         The child was already loaded up onto the speeder, his big brown eyes following Myrah and Din as they packed their belongings onto it. Despite Myrah's pleas, he refused to tell her what Cara and him had talked about. He figured it was best she didn't know.

         "Are you sure you don't want an escort?" Cara strolled over to the hunters, helping them pack things up on the platform.

         "I appreciate the offer, but we're gonna bypass the town and head right to the Razor Crest." Din stopped and turned towards the rebel.

         "Well then, until our paths cross." She held her hand out to the Mandalorian who grasped it in a brief handshake.

         "Until our paths cross."

         "Myrah." Cara turned towards the other woman with a smile, opening her arms out for a hug. She graciously accepted and wrapped her arms tight around her. "Keep him out of trouble." Cara chuckled.

         "You know I'll try." She laughed softly and stepped away from her.  "You stay safe. Got it?" She sniffled, feeling her eyes start to burn as tears threatened to drip down her face. She hadn't realized how attached she got to the planet.

         "I've got it." Cara delivered a soft pat to her shoulders before she turned and walked towards the trees.

         Din met Omera's soft, loving gaze. "Thank you." She whispered. He nodded, unable to muster up any other words.

         "Mando?" Myrah cooed quietly from the speeder, catching his attention. He sighed and grabbed his rifle, pulling himself onto the back edge of the vehicle.

         The village slowly disappeared from their sights, both of them felt a flurry of emotions as everyone waved, shouting their goodbyes. Once they could no longer see the village, Din turned to face Myrah, immediately spotting the mischievous glint in her eyes.

         "Sad to be leaving your woman behind?" She teased, nudging him with her elbow.

         "Not necessarily." He stated simply as he stared down at her.

         Her hair was down and flowing over her shoulders with the soft breeze. The light of the gentle sun caught her brown eyes, highlighting the specks of green and gold that floated around them. He felt his stomach tighten into a knot, his hand moving to grip hers.

         "There's someone else I can't get off my mind."

         She felt her breath hitch under his intense gaze and a warm flush flow to her face.

         "I don't think that follows your little 'code,' Din."

         "It doesn't." He mumbled and released her hand from his grasp.

                   To hell with the code.

[keichanz]

For the fictional kiss prompt, can you do "17. height difference kisses where one person has to bend down and the other is on their tippy toes", for InuKag? Thank you!

“Hey Short Round, you need a little help there?”

The male voice - god, she could hear the stupid smirk in it - came from behind her and Kagome felt her eyebrow twitch both from the hated nickname and the not so subtle slight to her height. Scowling, Kagome lowered herself back down from her toes and spun around, crossing her arms as she pegged her roommate’s boyfriend’s best friend with hard glare. That damn smirk widened and amber eyes glinted wickedly at her, irritating her even more with his stupidly roguish good looks.

Inuyasha Taisho was 230 pounds of pure hard muscle, sexy as hell, cocky attitude, and the most infuriating of all, a whole head taller than her at 6′2. He constantly teased her about her height and he never passed up an opportunity to rub it in her face and he - and pretty much everyone else - was taller than her. True, she was shorter than the average woman and definitely wouldn’t be winning any contents in that particular department, but she didn’t really care, either. She liked her body. Okay, sure, maybe she could stand to lose a few pounds, but she was perfectly healthy and happy and that’s what truly mattered.

And besides. She wasn’t short, she was fun-sized.

“Har-dee-har, Sasquatch,” Kagome fired back, using her own little pet name that she knew he disliked. “Haven’t heard that one before. Since you’re here, why don’t you make yourself useful for a change and get my mug that I know you purposely put up there just to piss me off.”

It was one of his favorite things to do; put her belongings in hard to reach places where he knew she wouldn’t be able to get without assistance or climbing up onto something. One time she’d ended up searching for two hours for her phone only for the stupid jerk to waltz in, ask her what she was looking for with that infuriating smirk, and then jump up and get it off the fucking ceiling fan.

For revenge she’d cut holes in the crotch of all of his boxers and miraculously since then her things had stopped disappearing so frequently. 

Surprisingly he didn’t react to her nickname for him and merely cocked a brow at her before slowly lifting his gaze to the top shelf of the open cupboard behind her. He knew which mug she was talking about because she was right; he had put it there, so he didn’t bother to deny her accusation. And though he hated it when she called him Sasquatch - only because he knew it was a barb at how tall he was and not his half-demon heritage - this time he ignored it because he’d put that mug there for a very specific reason, one that he’d been dying to do for a very long time now.

Kagome Higurashi was a little spitfire, a whole lotta fiery attitude, sharp tongue, witty remarks, and sassy wit all packed into her slender 5′3 frame and she was absolutely fucking drop dead gorgeous. With wavy hair black as a raven’s wing that fell down her back in a silken waterfall, big blue eyes that reminded him of the ocean and killer legs that he dreamed about being wrapped around his waist, Inuyasha had wanted her since the day Miroku’s girlfriend had introduced them to each other one year ago and their friendship, or lack thereof, was less than stellar.

Hopefully today he could change that and their tentative not-friendship would become a maybe-solid relationship.

“Hello? Earth to Taisho? Would you stop standing there and help me, please?”

Inuyasha snapped his gaze back down to hers, studied her for a silent minute - loving the way she huffed and pouted at him - before wordlessly closing the distance between them and standing right in front of her. Predictably Kagome tried to back up to put some space between them, but couldn’t go far with the counter at her back and she flushed when she realized she couldn’t escape. 

Actually, she could, but secretly she didn’t really want to so she just stared up at him with wide eyes and will her heart to remain calm.

Inuyasha smirked again and without even looking, keeping his eyes on hers, he reached up and easily snatched the desired mug from the top shelf, bringing it down and presenting to her with a raised eyebrow.

Glaring at him, Kagome clenched her jaw and went to snatch it from his hand but was not expecting him to suddenly jerk it up and away from her grasp, holding it above her head where she couldn’t reach it. Her mouth dropped open but then her face contorted into another scowl as she jumped up, swiping at her mug. Again he lifted it higher, just out of her reach and she released an aggravated grunt.

“Dammit, Taisho, knock it off!” she snapped and bounced again. He laughed and dangled it over her head, always jerking it away at the last second. “Give me my mug you asshole!”

Unthinkingly she placed her hand on his shoulder as leverage when she jumped up in another attempt. Again he held it away and she contemplated the appealing act of kneeing him in the balls. That would get him to bend over and she could get her mug back.

Growling impressively well for a human, Kagome huffed and glowered at him, her eyes twin slits of blue fire. “Stop being such a child, you jerk. Give. Me. My. Mug.”

He grinned. “What do I get out of it?”

"The ability to father children someday. Gimme.”

Inuyasha snorted but did put some space between them. Just in case. 

“Not good enough,” he drawled, spinning the mug around in his finger by the handle. Kagome made a distressed sound, clearly worried it would fly of his finger and shatter. Inuyasha grinned and put his plan into action.

“Do something for me and I’ll give it back.” Amber eyes bore into her own and he was gratified at the blush that stole across her cheeks. He’d always known his attraction wasn’t one sided, but it was always nice to see little reminders.

Despite feeling suddenly hot and the quickened beat of her heart, Kagome rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Do you realize how childish you sound?”

“Yes or no.” He wasn’t about to her distract him from his goal with one of their petty arguments.

Kagome frowned and eyed him strangely for a minute before giving in with a sigh. “Fine, whatever. What do you want me to do? And it better not be something ridiculous like--”

“Kiss me.”

Kagome froze. Stared at him with impossibly wide eyes, mouth dropping incredulously as her flush darkened to rival that of a tomato. Her heart thundered in her chest and her stomach started doing little flip-flops, not at all unpleasant.

“Wh...what did you say?” she whispered, sure she must have heard that wrong, postive he really didn’t say--

“I said,” Inuyasha rumbled, eyes going to half-mast, “kiss me.”

Kagome’s lips trembled and before she could stop herself her gaze dropped to his mouth. The growl that erupted from his chest elicited a gasp from her and she quickly darted her eyes back to his face, where shocked blue met with dark honey. She was speechless, jaw working but no sound coming out, heart pounding, blood racing, and a pleasant warmth steadily spreading throughout her body from the thought of kissing him, something she’d wanted to do for...a very long time now.

She should have said no. She should have told him how ridiculous he was being, should have been smart and simply walked away from his ultimatum. 

Instead she took a step closer to him and tilted her head back while raising up onto her toes. Inuyasha watched her, saying nothing as she tentatively lifted shaking hands and rested him on his shoulders. As if pulled by an invisible force, Inuyasha bent down to make it easier for her, feeling the warmth of her breath fan over his lips, making the breath hitch in his throat.

Kagome swallowed once, licked her lips, and achingly slowly, she pressed her lips to his in the sweetest, softest kiss Inuyasha had eve had the pleasure to experience before. 

Her eyes fluttered close, so did his and with a sigh Inuyasha kissed her back, his free hand lifting to brush his fingers along her jaw before sliding his hand into her hair, tangling in her dark hair as he deepened the connection. Kagome gasped and he slicked his tongue along her bottom lip before stealing into her mouth for taste. Her whimper was drowned out by his pleased grow and suddenly Inuyasha was backing her up, carelessly tossing the mug still in his hand onto the counter before grasping her hips and lifting her up onto the counter. He wedged himself between her legs and tilted her head back while his other hand wrapped possessively around her thigh.

Slim arms wrapped around his neck and with a heady groan Inuyasha finally kissed her the way he wanted to, hard, demanding presses of his lips against her own and greedily swallowing all the delectable little sounds she made. Kagome returned his passion with her own, fingers running through his hair while she arched against him, teeth nibbling his lip, tongue slicking against his own and driving him absolutely fucking crazy. 

After several more heated kisses were exchanged, Inuyasha finally pulled back and rested his forehead against her own, panting as he stared into blue eyes glazed over with lust he was sure reflected in his own.

“You’re still short,” he rumbled and kissed her again, teeth nibbling her lip.

“And you’re still a jerk,” Kagome returned breathlessly and nipped his jaw. 

“Shut up and kiss me,” Inuyasha growled and promptly stole that impish little smile for his own, covering her mouth with his and making her forget about everything but him.

[jowritesthingss]

A (Demi)Boy and His Demon: Two

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing(s): LoSleep (Logic | Logan + Sleep | Remy)

Rating: Teen

Content Warning(s): lots of swearing, food/drink, death mention (nobody’s dead they just talk about death briefly), suicide mention (again, just alluded to in passing)

Length: 2,858 words

Brief Summary: Sleep-deprived writer Remy accidentally summons a serious-and-seriously-fed-up demon named Logan. Two. In Which Remy Kind of Regrets the Stupid Things He’s Done

Fic Masterlist!

*

The morning dawned bright and cold, the sun shining its annoyingly cheerful face through the window and directly onto Remy’s face.

“Goddammit” was the first word out of Remy’s mouth as they winced at the bright light. They stretched, scrunching up their nose, stretching out their arms, and arching their back slightly.

Body pleasantly loose and relaxed, Remy rolled over onto his back. Judging from how bright the sun was, they had no doubt slept through their alarm, which most probably meant they were missing class time, but exhausted as they were, they couldn’t seem to find a reason to care in the given moment.

See, Remy with no coffee in his system was a Remy who gave exactly zero shits about anything. Granted, Remy at any given time was a Remy who gave exactly zero shits about anything—it’s just, without their morning coffee, there was no filter to prevent him from releasing this information.

Remy sat up in bed. In glancing across the room at the alarm clock on his dresser, they were made aware of a lump lying under the sheets on the other half of the bed.

“Goddammit,” Remy said again, more vehemently this time.

So the day before hadn’t been a dream, then. Either that, or Remy had gotten absolutely smashed, and his alcohol-ridden brain had concocted the wildest dream about him and a one-night stand. But a cursory glance under the sheets proved them both to be much too clothed for that, and besides, things like that only happened in really bad fanfiction.

Then again, demons actually existing in real life just sounded like a really bad fanfiction trope, too, Remy grumped as they forced themself to swing their legs over the side of their bed. And yet.

Standing, Remy stared down at the body of the person—well, demon—huddled underneath his bedsheets.

“And yet,” they sighed aloud heavily, “here we are.”

“Where are we?”

The covers rolled down to the demon’s—to Logan’s—admittedly attractive slim waist, and xyr eyes flicked open to reveal slightly slitted, surprisingly coherent pupils. “Are we not in your bedroom, in your apartment, in the human realm?”

Remy yelped, jumping slightly. “Wh—you’re awake already?”

“Naturally,” Logan answered, turning away from Remy as xe got out of bed. “As a demon, I do not sleep. My body does not require rest—it merely require the souls of the damned for nourishment.”

Remy gaped. “Then—why did you watch me flounder around trying to find somewhere for you to sleep last night?” His cheeks colored slightly. “And if you don’t sleep, then why the hell’d you think it necessary to, to lie in my bed with me all night? That’s highkey creepy AF.”

Amusement flickered briefly across Logan’s expression before a look of cool indifference once more reappeared. “Again, I am a demon.” Logan stepped over to Remy’s dresser and began investigating the jumble of objects haphazardly shoved onto it. “As such, I do not feel emotions; however, the amusement I find in humans’ dismay is the closest I will get to feeling love.” Xe paused. “What is ‘ay eff’?”

Remy was pretty sure ‘amusement’ technically was an emotion, but he wasn’t about to contradict and potentially anger a demon before they had even had their morning coffee. Nor were they particularly in a mood to explain modern slang to a probably centuries-old demon, so he ignored xyr question and shelved that discussion topic away for another time.

After all, apparently they had an entire lifetime to talk about it now.

But he wasn’t particularly in the mood to think about that, either, so. Moving rapidly on.

“Babe,” Remy said instead, scandalized, as they realized what Logan was—still—wearing. “You’re telling me you slept in that getup?” They looked Logan up and down derisively, taking in the somehow non-rumpled collared shirt and—the hell, was xe still wearing that lameass tie?

Logan raised an eyebrow at Remy before turning to examine xyr surroundings once more. “Why would I not?”

“Don’t tell me demons don’t have pajamas.” Remy walked over to his dresser and lightly pushed Logan aside, opening a drawer and scrabbling around for some dayclothes for him to wear (and for some that might fit Logan, just to make xem look slightly less like a nerd).

“We do not,” Logan confirmed, nodding, “although the concept is not unfamiliar. We simply have no need for sleeping clothes when we do not do any sleeping.”

“Whatever.” Remy rolled their eyes and tossed Logan a wad of clothing. “Just go into the bathroom and put those on already, gurl. I gotta get to class, and I’m assuming you’re coming with since you’re, like, stuck with me or bound or whatever this is.”

“But I am already dressed,” came Logan’s befuddled reply.

“Oh, please. You’re not wearing that on my watch, gurl.” Remy shamelessly unbuttoned and stripped off his pajama shirt, sliding on a soft, casual gray tee. They untied their drawstring pajama pants and began to slide them down their legs.

Logan whirled away, xyr cheeks turning surprisingly red for a demon. Weren’t they supposed to be all over stuff like that?

“Shy, huh?” Remy teased, slipping on jeans and grabbing for their faux-leather jacket from the back of their desk chair. “Whatever happened to the whole sexy demon stereotype thing, hmm? Not that you aren’t sexy in your own dorky nerd way,” he added, enjoying watching the flush gather around the back of Logan’s neck.

“I, ahm,” Logan stammered, hugging Remy’s clothes tightly to xyr chest. “I am afraid that...I am not one of those types of demons.” Xe peeked behind xem at Remy and, seeing them fully dressed once more, turned around, shoulders stiff. “So if that is what you are expecting—”

“Nah, not really.” Remy shrugged, slipping on their shoes, not missing how Logan’s stiff posture relaxed somewhat upon hearing those words. “Although remind me to ask you about, like, demon types and shit like that once I’ve had my coffee,” he said. There was another topic to be noted for later discussion. “I’m not ready to have important convos or existential crises till I’m on my third cup.”

“Duly noted,” Logan honest-to-god (or was it honest-to-satan?) pulled a notebook and a pen out of nowhere and began scrawling something down. “I shall keep this in mind in regard to our future conversations. Additionally, I will endeavor to remember to bring up that particular subject later on.”

“Oh my god,” Remy groaned. They really got stuck with what had to be the only nerd demon in existence, didn’t they. “C’mon, babe. I’m late to class, and I want coffee. Get dressed.” They looked Logan up and down once more. “At least lose the tie, please. I’m a college kid. You’re not one of my professors.”

“What?” Logan said, affronted. Xe grasped xyr midnight blue tie loosely in one hand. “I do not wish to ‘lose’ it. It is a necktie. It is for serious demons. I am a serious demon.”

Remy snickered as they picked up the backpack lying by the bedroom door.. “You’re, like, a total invalid, that’s what you are.”

“I am not!” Logan shrilled behind them, offended. “Serious! Necktie!”

But Remy was already out the door, grinning triumphantly and thoroughly ignoring xem.

-

Naturally, they had to make a stop at the coffee shop on their way to campus. Remy was already late enough, so it wasn’t like he was going to make it to his first lecture even if they tried. Might as well face the rest of the day with coffee by their side. Caffeine was their only true friend.

Remy had already ordered and paid for his own coffee before it occurred to them that Logan might want some, too.

“Shit, do demons drink coffee?” Remy asked, turning to Logan, who thankfully had lost the necktie after they argued nonstop over it on the walk to the shop. Xe was standing behind Remy, observing as Emile worked the espresso machine. “So, do you? Drink coffee? And d’you want any?”

“Yes, if you do not mind,” Logan answered. “Some coffee would be most welcome.”

“Lit.” Remy turned back to the front counter, ignoring the questioning noise Logan made at his use of slang. “Sorry, Em, but could we get a medium coffee too?” He looked at Logan, appraising. “You look like a dark roast kinda guy.”

“You most certainly may!” Emile smiled cheerfully at the two and popped a lid on Remy’s drink. “It’ll be on the house, Mixter Demon, sir.” He winked over-exaggeratedly in that way that only he could pull off without looking like a total fool. “Do you want any room for cream and sugar?”

“No, thank you. I take my coffee black,” Logan deadpanned. “Like my soul.”

Emile nearly dropped the cup he was trying to hand off to Remy.

“W-wait, really?” Remy asked, wondering if he needed to get worried. Was he going to end up with a black soul or whatever because of this unintentional deal gone wrong? If he was, did he even care?

Logan rolled xyr eyes, and hey! Eyeroll buddies. So the two did have one thing in common after all. “No, of course not. The concept is ridiculous.”

Relaxing slightly, Remy nodded. “Yeah. Kinda is, gurl.” They sipped at their coffee—today he had gone for a mocha, figuring the extra caffeine in the espresso would be very much needed to survive the day with any amount of sanity still remaining.

The two fell silent for a moment, watching quietly as Emile bustled around and poured coffee into a to-go cup for Logan, then:

“Besides, I don’t have a soul,” Logan added.

Remy spit out their iced mocha.

-

“Okay,” Remy said, voice muffled as he used his teeth to fidget with his reusable straw. They looked both ways before grabbing at Logan’s arm and dragging xem across the street in front of the coffee shop. “So. Tell me about demon-y things.”

Logan paused mid-step, and Remy swore. “Oh my—gurl, wait till we’re done crossing the street. Maybe you can’t die, but I still can.” He hurried the demon across the street. “Walk ’n talk, babe, walk ’n talk. I do technically have someplace to be.”

“Actually.” Out of the corner of their eye, Remy saw Logan push xyr glasses up further on the bridge of xyr nose. Nervous tic, maybe? “About that.”

“About what,” Remy said flatly.

Logan seemed to get smaller, folding in on xemself somewhat as the two of them walked down the sidewalk. Xe fully took xyr glasses off, rubbing firmly at the lenses with the hem of xyr shirt, seeming reluctant to speak. Eventually, though, xe finally opened xyr mouth, and the words that tumbled out baffled Remy and shook him beyond belief.

“You cannot die.”

Remy nearly dropped their coffee.

After a moment of madly scrambling to keep his grip on the slippery, condensated surface of his coffee cup, Remy turned to fully face Logan. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You, erm.” Logan peered through the lenses of xyr glasses, deemed them still dirty, fervently wiped at them with the bottom of xyr shirt again. “Technically you can still die, and you will. Just...you can only perish of natural causes—that is, of old age, or perhaps a particularly nasty illness.”

Remy blinked. Wh...what.

Apparently satisfied with xyr cleaning of xyr glasses, Logan carefully fitted them back onto xyr face. Xe abruptly continued walking, forcing Remy to keep in motion as well to keep Logan from straying off-track on the way to campus.

“Due to the...unfortunate extenuating circumstances of our deal, we did not have the chance to configure the details of it,” Logan elaborated. “As such, our contract with each other has resulted in the...shall we say, the default?” Xe pondered xyr words for a moment. “Yes, ‘default’ suffices, given our context.”

“I—how?” Remy managed to push a word and a half out of his choked throat, his fumbly mouth. Honestly, that was a pretty good number, considering the situation. “What’s the—so what’s the default, then?”

“If you happen to be fatally injured or similarly, our deal mandates that I heal you or, at the very least, provide you with the means of survival,” Logan explained. Xe smiled for the first time—but it was a grim, knowing smile that Remy didn’t find themself liking in the slightest. “Of course, ensuring that you survive does not require anything beyond a bare minimum.”

Logan’s face was weirdly shadowed for someone standing in the middle of the street on a sunny day. “Should I choose to, I could make your life quite miserable.”

Remy swallowed.

“However.” Logan fixed xyr unwavering gaze on Remy. “As you have not given me reason to do as such, we shall hope that it does not come to such measures.”

Unable to do anything other than nod, Remy rapidly shook his head up and down, not unlike a bobblehead. Logan had seemed fairly harmless at first, even for an apparent demon, but now...oh, boy. They were very much not keen to get on xyr bad side.

“The only fatal injuries that I am not required to heal are self-inflicted ones,” Logan said, albeit more quietly than xyr previous words had been. “If it is a human’s wish to take themself out of this world, it is...not my duty to interfere.”

“Oh. Uh.” Remy licked his dry lips nervously. “You won’t have to worry about that here. I don’t think.” Their throat was dry—any lingering wetness from the coffee had disappeared quite quickly when Logan had first begun speaking. But—oh, wait, they were an idiot. There was still more coffee left.

The two of them walked past the front sign of Remy’s university, officially on campus. Remy jerkily lifted his iced coffee to his lips, taking the tiniest of tiny sips. “Is there...any way to, like, break a deal or something?” Remy asked nervously as he guided the two of them towards the art building.

Logan sighed. “If I were an angel, perhaps I would be kind enough to look for a loophole,”—and, what the fuck, angels existed too? which, like, made sense, considering demons were a thing, but still, what the fuck—“however, deals are permanent contracts, and in return for ensuring your survival, our deal promises me your soul upon your death.” Logan sighed again, more heavily this time. “So as...irritating as you may be, and as much of an inconvenience as you no doubt will become, I am not particularly inclined to break a deal that benefits me in such a way.”

“Wh....” Remy didn’t exactly want to know the answer to what he was about to ask; all the same, they felt like they had to ask. “What are you going to do with my soul when I...when you finally get it?”

Logan stared wordlessly at Remy, and Remy did not like the expression on xyr face, no siree, they did not. “Are you sure that you would like to know?” xe asked lowly, and Remy had never been more aware of the fact that his new (unwilling) companion was, in fact, a dangerous, all-powerful demon.

“Nope!” Remy all but shrieked, turning on their gay speed-walking powers and moving ahead of Logan, now all the more anxious to get to class. “No, I do not want to know! I do not want to even think about it! I don’t want to think about any of this, actually, so you know what, we are officially closing this discussion topic for, like, ever! I just want to live my life, holy shit!”

Logan frowned. “How is shit holy?” xe questioned, and this time, Remy really did drop his iced mocha—or, well, the little that was left of it.

“Oh my—actually, no, never mind,” Remy muttered sullenly, picking the cup up from the ground. They extracted their straw from the cup, wiping it off on their jeans before they shoved it into the side pocket on his backpack. “Babe, you are, like, literally hopeless.”

“Naturally,” Logan responded evenly. “I am a demon. We have no need for hopes and other ridiculous goings-on.”

“I—ugh!” Remy threw his used coffee cup into the trash can with more force than was strictly necessary. They all but stomped over to the door of the art building, yanking the door open. “Nope. I am totally not dealing with this right now. I’m going to class for the next ninety or however many minutes, and you”—they jabbed a finger in Logan’s direction—“are being put in time-out. You can sit out in the hallway like a lost puppy or like, like a kid at the principal’s office or...or something!”

Logan blinked owlishly behind his glasses. (Which, why would a demon even need glasses if they have magic? Xe really was trying too hard for a nerd aesthetic, if you asked Remy.) “But I am not—”

“NO!” Remy all but shrieked, practically running into his animation classroom and slamming the door behind him.

Logan stared after them, flummoxed.

.

.

.

Prologue || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six

*

lol this sat finished and edited on my hard drive for a week before I remembered that oh, yeah, I do kinda have to actually post it to share it with y’all, don’t I.

Want to be added onto my taglist? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

[dragonleesupporter]

What’s Tickling? (Perfect World Sanders Sides AU)

WHOOOO been waiting a while to finally get this done so here it is! I’ve been really loving Patton lately, but also Roman, and Logan but I can’t forget-SHIT I’m love with all of them! Send help!

Summary: After Wolf!Patton gets playful, the group discovers that two of the journeying animals don’t even know what tickling is. Patton is happy to ablidge. Ships: LAMP, with some concentration toward Prinxiety and Logicality.

(Warning: Tickle Fic)

           The dull, wet scent tugged at Roman’s nostrils as he forced himself through another battlefront of ice-cold wind.

             “How long is it supposed to take to get through these damn mountains?!” He shouted up at Logan, who was pacing the group by a good 20 meters.

             “Not much longer.” The snow leopard called, back not breaking stride.

             “How specific…” Virgil growled sarcastically next to Roman, shuffling through the snow; even more uncomfortable than the red-eyed myth.

             “I-i-it’s okay!” Patton jumped in, shivering the most out of the four, making his stuttering speech jump around like a grasshopper on fire. “We’ll be out soon. Logan said!”

             “It does depend on how soon ‘soon’ is.” The dragon glared at the fluffy pup. “A minute to us is the equivalent to a year in the eyes of an insect. And our miniscule lives will probably be over by the time a giant on another planet is done taking in a breath of air.”

             “O-oh…” The wolf looked frantically around him; light blue eyes wide. “T-that sure gives you a lot to think about…”

             “Virgil quit scaring him.” The griffin deadpanned and rolled his eyes.

             “Or what, tough bird? You going to make me?” The dragon smirked as Roman stiffened. Oooo did that get under his feathers...

             In an instance, the purple creature was pinned underneath the griffin.

             “G-guys, stop it!” Patton cried desperately as Roman raised his claw to teach the smartass a lesson.

             It was common for griffins to settle scores through physical competition. If not that, then they would compete in a singing battle, using their gifted chords to appeal to a crowd. Roman’s vocals were too frozen for the other idea, so he opted for a little brawl instead. Though he was concerned by Virgil’s calm expression…

             When the claw came down, no blood was drawn, though the dragon did flinch. Confused, Roman tried again, to find that NONE of the scales had broken. He started raking his claws up and down Virgil’s hide, though no damage was being done…          

             “What in heaven’s name-?!” The griffin sputtered out in confusion as the dragon chuckled darkly.

             “Idiot. You can’t actually break dragon scales. They’re indestructible!” Virgil smiled triumphantly and flung Roman off of him in one swift move, leaving the red creature slumped over in defeat.

             “Well, actually it’s true that you can shatter a dragon scale, you see-” Logan started before abruptly being cut off by a death glare sent from the fire-breather.

             “Everyone has a weak spot…” Roman grumbled, and continued to push through the snow.

             “Well, you’re not wrong there.” The giant reptile replied, following Roman.  

             “Yeah! The other wolves and me always loved to play this game when we were little! It would show off our weak spots, and then everyone would help the pup with the most weaknesses, by attacking them!” All three stopped and turned to look at Patton, dumbstruck.

             “What kind of games does your pack’s young play? That sounds brutal!” Roman stared worriedly at the wolf as he wagged his tail happily.

             “Oh, we didn’t hurt each other!” The light brown fuzzball smiled, causing the others to become even more confused. “Here, I’ll show you!”

             “Alright. I’ve already lost to Virgil, there’s no way I could lose to you.” Roman shrugged and stepped forward as Logan and Virgil watched with intrigue.

             “Hehe…” The brown wolf suddenly grew a small sly smile that put Roman on edge.

             It suddenly seemed at though Patton had gone into hunting mode. Stalking his prey with an almost deranged smile on his face. His eyes gleamed with strange excitement as his tail slowly moved back and forth, his hind quarters doing the same as his paws gripped the snow-covered ground.

             “Uh… never mind, I’m not feeling all that lucky anymore.” The griffin tried to turn and run away, but the playful fluffy creature leapt onto him before he could get far.

             “Oof! G-guys! Little help?!” He reached out but the other two retracted, eyes wide.

             “Let’s see here…” Patton’s voice reached low as he grew a teasing persona, eyes frisky, and smile sly. “Where would you say your weakness is?”

             “I- I don’t know! I’ve never lost a battle!” Roman spat back, panicking.

             “Ahem…” Virgil raised an eyebrow.

             “Okay, I guess my only known weakness is dragon scales.” The griffin rolled his eyes as the winged lizard smiled triumphantly.

             “How about your neck?” The wolf wagged his tail faster in anticipation, waiting for an answer.

             “I mean- I suppose, since most animals can be killed by breaking their-EEEK!” Virgil and the snow leopard jumped at the high-pitched squeak that interrupted the bird-lion.

             “Grrr… nnnnn…” Roman made sounds of struggle as Patton innocently scratched one of his paws at the trapped creature’s neck. Light enough as to not break the skin, the hard enough to cause… SOMETHING. “St-stop it.” He choked out, wriggling beneath the lightweight brown floofball.

             “This is the game! Are you too weak?” Patton teased with a strangely malicious expression.

             “Wh-what are you doing to him?!” The dragon stood up, ready to defend the red creature in case he was being hurt.

             “Well, that’s simple! I’m-”

             “GYYAAAA! Ahahahahahaha! Ihihihi gihihive! I gihihive! Juhust mahahahake ihit stohohohohop! Whahahahat ihihis thihihhis?!” Merry laughter interrupted Patton before he could finish.

             “I’m tickling him.” He smiled cheerfully, as the big strong image beneath him crumbled into a puddle of giggles, throwing his head back and forth as his face turned a deeper shade of red than usual.

             It was something the griffin had never experienced before. This strange light touch that somehow made him laugh? Nothing funny was going on! He felt the need to make it stop… and yet… he hadn’t laughed in a long time. Little butterflies filled his belly as a feeling of innocent silliness overtook him.

             “That’s it?!” Logan shouted, irritated. “That’s what we all wasted our time with?! We could’ve been out of here by now!”

             “Maybe YOU could have…” Virgil grumbled.

             “Yeah! I brought it up, because I thought maybe we could use it to warm up!” The wolf’s bright blue eyes shined with hope and innocence.

             “I have no interest in such actions.” The snow leopard responded coldly before turning back around and strutting again. “My tribe used to partake in that foolishness when I was little. It’s pointless and irritating. I shall not participate.”

             “Better walk faster then.” A mischievous growl was barely heard over the griffin’s giggling, but it was enough to get Logan to start running, Virgil in tow.

             “Waihihihihihihihit!” Roman called after them in fear of being stuck with a puppy of a wolf when the light fluttering at his neck stopped.

             “Come on, Roman! Let’s get ‘em!” He heard paw steps thunder away into the snow.

             Realizing he was getting left behind, he held the rest of his giggles back as he plunged through the snow to chase after his new companions. He was LOVING this game.

             “Do you think we lost them?” Virgil sat, panting, with the snow leopard next to him.

             “I believe so. This current blizzard we’re traveling through will make it impossible to track us. We just have to stay quiet.” The big cat replied, peeking around the snow dune they were hiding behind. Even though he knew they would have to regroup eventually, he couldn’t help but hide from the thought of being tickled silly. He had an image to keep.

             “So… what exactly is tickling? Is it… painful?” The snow leopard turned to Virgil, surprised.

             “Of course not. It’s simply a panic response when someone touches you a certain way. It’s not painful in the slightest, though it can easily confuse your senses. In full honesty, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Roman already proved you’re not that sensitive based off your lack of response when he was trying to brawl with you.” Logan flicked his tail in satisfaction, conclusions to cases always giving him a feeling of satisfaction.

             “Well, that’s not entirely true… I felt something.” The dragon looked down. “It wasn’t painful… it did make me flinch a little… and it made me kind of… hold my breath?”

             “Ah. Then I guess you are ticklish. You just have a lot of strong resistance with those tough scales.” Logan noted, and Virgil couldn’t help but embrace a bit of pride at the snow leopard’s comments.

             “Gotcha!” A quick fluffy blur dived head-first into the white cat as he let out yelp of surprise.

             “Oh no. Nonononononono… Patton, let’s talk about this…” The sly Logan, not so sly anymore, looked up with slitted eyes to find in what is defined by the tickle community as a full-on ler mood.

             The wolf bared his fangs in the goofiest way possible and wiggled his nubby digits over the snow leopard’s spotted belly.

             “So many cute grey spots! Which one am I going to poke first?” Patton asked himself as the big cat trembled beneath him.

             Virgil smirked. Even he had to admit that Logan looked cute. His adoration in the scene before him came to an abrupt halt when he suddenly realized he would be next.

             “Gotcha Verge!” Roman suddenly pinned the dragon a second time, but this time Virgil had a half-nervous, half-curious expression.

             Logan watched as Patton’s paws descended painfully slowly toward his stomach. He was already holding back nervous chuckles as the wolf paused centimeters away from his fur tips. He was building up the anticipation, that little sh-!

             “GAAH! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” The snow leopard suddenly snorted and threw his head back as Patton used his head instead of his puppy fingers to nuzzle the spots on his tummy. “AHA! GAHAHAHAD! PAHAHAHAHEEEEEEE!” His cackling soon turned to screeching when the wolf switched from nuzzling to raspberries.

             Logan was laughing so hard that he didn’t even realize his previous hiding companion had fallen beside him, light giggles escaping him as he wriggled in Roman’s grasp. The griffin was gently massaging behind the dragon’s horns (similar to the backs of ears,) and whispering against his neck, teasing the tough-looking creature for giving in so easily.

             After a short while, the red myth stopped his assault, just to find the dragon looking up at him, unexpectedly smiling wide.

             “That was… actually kind of fun…” Even though he could barely be heard over Logan’s desperate cries, Virgil blushed hard and that adoring look Roman gave him didn’t make him feel any less humiliated, yet… He loved this.

             The dragon yawned and suddenly found it hard to move, as a feeling of bliss made his eyelids heavy.

             “S-sorry… I shouldn’t have drained you. We still got to clear the mountain…” Roman looked down ashamed, but also found that he was tired too.

             He saw Virgil lay down and start to shiver and instinctively laid next to the reptile to warm him up. Both were woken from their relaxed daze as they heard a different voice laughing.

             “Lohohohogan nohohohoho!”  Patton pushed gently against the snow leopard, who was tickling his sides and ribs.

             “This is what you get!” His voice sounded angry and harsh, but the goofy look on Logan’s face broke all disguises of any real malice. “I’m going to count your ribs, just like you counted my spots!”

             Logan’s signature sly smile was almost back until he realized it was a little too easy to count the wolf’s ribs.

             “Wait… when was the last time you ate?” He looked at Patton, who’s laughter had ceased and he now seemed nervous for a different reason. “Patton, when was the last time you ate?” The snow leopard repeated, a little louder.

             “Th-this morning!” The wolf answered quickly.

             “Okay, and what did you have?”

             “B-berries?”

             Logan breathed out a quick puff of air in surprise.

             “Berries? Patton, I am aware that other species of wolf have the ability to eat berries whenever other food is scarce, but you are a Mongolian wolf, are you not? A common Mongolian wolf’s diet is entirely of meat! You can’t go around eating berries, and expect it to replace what you’re actually supposed to be eating! You’re an endangered species after all!”

             “Hey, give him a break.” Roman sat up slightly from his short cuddle session with the purple creature. “Everyone has trouble hunting sometimes.”

             “That’s not it…” Patton squeaked out, heading dipping low with shame.

             “Then what is it?” The snow leopard raised an eyebrow.

             “I- I just can’t…” The wolf crumbled before the big cat; eyes teary. “I can’t bring myself to do it… Life is so beautiful; I can’t just kill it!”

             “But you can’t starve yourself, either…” Logan wrapped his tail around the sniffling wolf in an astonishingly gentle and comforting manner. “Come. I believe we must rest at this time, or we’ll all drop before the evening’s over.”

             “Yeah. Come over here, there’s already warmth!” The griffin called and patted the area next to him with his lion tail, inviting the remaining two over.

             “I believe Patton and Virgil should be in the middle, since Virgil is a reptile, and has a hard time finding warmth. Patton, being slightly starved of proper food at the moment, will also have difficulty generating body heat. My fur is used to the cold, and you, Roman have multiple layers of feathers and fur to protect you.” Logan advised, and the others shuffled appropriately.

             In the end, the order from left to right was Roman, Virgil, Patton, and Logan. Roman had one of his wings covering Virgil’s back, and the dragon in turn had both of his wings extended, one covering both Patton and Logan, and one wrapping around the griffin underneath his set of red wings. And though all of them were stuck out in the cold without any protection, all of them felt more protected than they had been in a while.

@cefticklestoo

[ma-sulevin]

Things? Are happening?

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw/Female Deputy Rating: E Warnings: Canon-typical violence, but nothing particularly explicit I don’t think Word Count: 6269, chapter six of thirteen (probably).

Read it on AO3 instead and say nice things.

—

“I got a sneakin’ suspicion,” Sharky says as they walk into the main intersection of Fall’s End to find it absolutely abandoned, “that the peggies ain’t takin’ too kindly to our escapades.”

Mattie makes a little humming noise as she looks at someone’s empty dresser at the corner. “What gives you that idea, Shark?”

He clutches his shotgun a little tighter, keeps swiveling his head back and forth to see what’s waiting for them. With the way Boomer’s trotting happily between them, though, Mattie knows there aren’t any peggies nearby.

“Just a wild guess,” he mutters, and moves in a little closer.

The only building in Fall’s End that looks like it has people inside is the church, and that’s only because John’s really fucked it up. Mattie and Sharky stand on the other side of the street and stare at everything: the bliss flowers, the arch, the crows nailed to the siding, the literal red carpet that John’s rolled out for her.

“Yeah, that’s real creepy,” Sharky says. “Told you John wants to fuck you.”

Mattie elbows him instead of responding, but she has to admit the decorations make the church look a little… matrimonial. 

Finally, she draws in a deep steadying breath. “Fortunately, he’s not on my to-fuck list,” she says, and then she forces out the rest of her thought before Sharky can ask who is on the list, because that’s not really something she’s ready to think about when facing a recaptured Fall’s End and a church full of hostages. “Stay out here, stay hidden, and if you see anything weird or hear anything weird, call for backup, okay?”

“Dep, I don’t--”

“I know you don’t want to wait, but I need you to be able to call for help.” She turns to him, tugs on his sleeve a little. “Can I count on you?”

He sighs, he fidgets, he looks away, and then finally he sighs again and makes eye contact. “You can count on me. Just… just be safe, okay?”

She winks at him with levity she doesn’t feel. “Always.”

They bump fists once before she squares her shoulders and passes under the arch to get to the church. She can hear low murmuring inside, but she’s still surprised when she pulls the door open and a peggie slams the butt of his rifle into her forehead.

---

It says something about how much Hope County has changed over the last few weeks that hunting a human man across the mountain doesn’t feel wrong. Instead, she’s painfully calm, laser-focused on finding John before he can regain consciousness and run back to Joseph.

She saw him jump out of his plane just before she jumped from hers. She saw Nick make one last strafing run, aiming bullets from Carmina toward his already limp body and his parachute. She doesn’t blame Nick for that, not after what happened in the church, not after all the bad blood between John and Nick specifically, and really it means her next step should be a little easier.

When she finally finds John, the front of her tank and the remains of her flannel stained with blood from her angry WRATH tattoo, he’s still stubbornly trying to get away even though his injuries are almost overwhelming him. His coat with the little planes is torn, covered in blood and mud and who knows what else, and the sight is enough to make her pause when he looks up at her.

“It isn’t too late,” he says, trying to charm her until the end. “You can still say Yes, save yourself, come with us into Eden’s Gate.”

He coughs, and it’s bloody. He wipes at his lips and slips in the mud, landing hard on his hip as his feet slide out from under him. He groans and doesn’t try to get up, just takes deep, rasping breaths.

She holsters her pistol and walks over to kneel at his side. He blinks at her, hands in his lap, and she sighs, her Wrath warring with pity at his obvious pain.

“It’s not too late for you ,” she says, finally, not really believing the words or thinking he’ll accept them, but she makes the offer anyway. “I can take you to town, get you medical care. You’ll be under arrest, but it’ll save your life.”

He laughs at her, a full laugh, and sprays blood into the air when it fades off into another wet cough. “You say you want to save my life, but you would damn it at the same time. What if Joseph is right? Did you ever stop to think about that? Everyone thinks he’s crazy, but he’s not.”

Okay. Well. She gave him a chance.

She loses patience, that little blossom of pity finally choked out by her blooming anger, and she reaches out to grab for his key anyway. He grabs her wrist once her fingers are around it, holding on with enough strength to bruise if she pulls away too hard.

They’re at a stalemate. She won’t let go of the key; he won’t let go of her.

“Look around you. This world is on the brink. You can feel it in your bones. Look at the headlines! Look who’s in charge!” He laughs again, coughs, then somehow tightens his grip even more. “You want this key because you think you’re saving people, but they are already safe. We had a plan .”

His breath catches in his throat, his eyebrows drawing together, and even this close and with him this hurt, she can’t tell how much is him being serious and how much is him acting to draw her in. She pulls him closer with the key and puts her free hand on his cheek without thinking about it, not sure what to do when he leans into the touch.

“You don’t understand. You don’t believe! You don’t care! ” He pushes her away with both hands, and she slips in the mud and falls to a seat next to him.

The cord holding the key around his neck breaks, and the only thing holding them together is his death grip on her wrist.

She bares her teeth to him, the instinctive warning sign of her anger that she doesn’t know how to stop.

He doesn’t care. He just takes another rattling breath, and this close she can see his eyes starting to lose their focus. He’s not quite looking at her anymore; he’s almost looking through her when he says, “May God have mercy on your soul.”

His hand on her wrist goes slack; his fingers slip away and he falls to the side, breathless, lifeless, empty before her as though he never had any life in him at all.

She pushes two fingers against his still-warm skin, expertly searching for a pulse.

She doesn’t find one.

He’s gone.

She could -- she should, according to the law and her training and the gut instinct that drove her to become an EMT and then a police officer -- perform CPR, radio for help, get his heart beating, save his life, make him answer for his crimes. Her eyes prick, burn with unshed tears that she refuses to let escape. She will not cry over this man.

He doesn’t deserve her tears. He doesn’t deserve her pity or her grief.

She has the key. She needs to get Joey.

Her hands are shaking when she pulls her radio to her mouth, her voice steady as she says, “You still up there, Nick? Have time for one more run with me? Over.”

It only takes a moment for his voice to come back. “ Just tell me where. Over. ”

---

Sneaking into John’s bunker is easier than sneaking out of it. She still gets horribly turned around and dies three times, all in different spots, and it’s not until she’s made it into the bowels of the bunker where someone (she assumes John) has corpses strung up and turned into gruesome sculptures like he watched one too many episodes of the Hannibal TV series and decided that was the kind of aesthetic he needed in his bunker that she finds what she’s looking for.

Joey Hudson, Hope County native, Mattie’s supervising officer and friend… already free, moving under her own power, and trying to gut Mattie with a knife probably liberated from the first peggie who got too close to her.

If she wasn’t afraid for her life, she’d be so proud.

They struggle, Mattie simply trying to keep the knife away from her skin, not even attempting to disarm Joey in case that made her lose it even more. How long has she been down here, killing peggies one at a time as they got too close? Running on adrenaline and nothing else, praying for John to come back so she could slit his throat?

Mattie manages to gasp out Joey’s name, one more time, and that seems like enough to pull her attention back to the present, to Rook’s ruined flannel, to her face , and the fight just wilts out of her.

“Rook? It’s you? Oh, God...” Joey sits back, already starting to shake, and Mattie follows her to take the knife away. “I didn’t think you’d come back,” she says, voice shaking, and just that is enough to make exhausted tears come to Mattie’s eyes.

“Oh, Jo…” Mattie reaches out, following her instinctual need to pull Joey into her arms, but Joey flinches away.

“Something started happening ,” she says instead, bracing her hands against the metal floor like she’s going to push herself to her feet. “All the, all the fucking peggies started scrambling around, all the doors started closing and locking us inside,” she gasps for breath, the terror flooding back to her like it’s still happening and she’s not on the verge of freedom. “I thought I was gonna be down here forever…”

She gasps again and a tear slips free despite her obvious effort to hold it in, and Mattie reaches out for her again, tears of sympathy and rage and guilt welling in her own eyes. Joey allows the contact for as long as it takes her to catch her breath, just a moment before she pulls away and uses Mattie’s shoulder to push herself up to a standing position.

Mattie follows, hands out to catch Joey in case she trips, but Joey shakes off that attention too.

“It’s all because of him ,” Joey says, voice trembling but this time in rage instead of fear. She points her knife at one of the portraits -- honest to God portraits -- of Joseph that dot the bunker, this one in the lap of a dead peggie. “That fucking, that fucking piece of shit !” 

Mattie has to cover her mouth to stop from crying out when Joey picks the portrait up and slams it into the floor, shattering the glass with a grunt of effort. She can’t stop the tears that come from seeing her friend so hurt, can’t stop the flinch that shakes her whole body when Joey falls to her knees by the broken frame.

“He would come down here, and he would just stand there and watch.” Joey’s voice breaks, and she shakes her head a little as if to clear it as Mattie forces herself closer, hand dropping to her side and a deep discomfort radiating from her chest. She wants to gather Joey up in her arms, but that’s not what she needs right now.

She just needs Mattie to listen.

“We were begging for mercy,” she says, glancing up at Mattie as her voice breaks again -- not into tears this time, but into laughter, “and he would just fucking watch.”

She laughs until the laughter turns into a sob, and she shoves the portrait away. Mattie tries once more to comfort, putting her hand on Joey’s shoulder, and this time… it seems to finally work. Joey takes a steadying breath, pulling her emotions back in check with the same determination that makes her such a good deputy, and starts to push herself upright.

“The others… there were other people down here with me. We’re going to get them out.”

She’s so strong, so fierce, and Mattie remembers the woman she met on her first official day with the department, the woman who had teased her and made fun of Staci and offered to take the lead on Mattie’s training since Mattie should learn from a real cop.

Mattie finds herself nodding, because she can’t say no.

---

Mattie slips away from the party as soon as she can, a little buzzed, sore all over, the memory of how far gone Joey was rattling unpleasantly in the back of her skull. The music is loud, but the cold night air dulls it as the door to the Spread Eagle swings shut behind her. She exhales sharply and rests her beer bottle on the porch railing while she pats her pockets down for a cigarette.

“I got you, chica.”

Sharky appears at her side, grim faced, a fresh pack in his outstretched hand. She swipes it from him and leans against his side as she pulls the cellophane off and waits, trusting, for his lighter to appear in front of her. Tears fill her eyes when it does, and she blinks hard to send them away.

This is a time for celebration, not for tears.

“What number you up to now?” He holds her left wrist in one hand and pushes at her long sleeve with the other, trying to expose enough of her skin to see how many black marks now mar it. 

She allows the touch even though she knows he has no chance of seeing enough, enjoying his warm, dry hands on her skin. She wants to sink into the touch, let it consume her, warm her all over so she can think about something other than the shit show that is Hope County. She takes a deep drag on her cigarette instead, then turns her head to the side to exhale two lungfuls of smoke and poison.

“An even forty.”

He stops pushing at her sleeve and just holds her instead, waiting until she looks up at him. He's already staring at her, eyes boring into her soul, and she falls silent and still under his gaze.

He sighs. He doesn't like whatever he sees. “C’mon, there's a fire over here’ll warm you up.” He turns but doesn't release her as he starts to move, dragging her through the cheery streets of Falls End. Everyone is out celebrating, and here she is letting Sharky boss her around because she can't bear the happiness for another second.

True to Sharky's word, there is a small (and actually fairly well contained) fire in the backyard of an empty house. There are two chairs facing the flames, a cooler between them. Her breath catches in her throat -- he planned this.

He set this up; he started the fire, he found and moved the chairs, he filled the cooler… He found a fresh pack of cigarettes because he knew she'd be out and would want one after everything, even though she's constantly complaining about her own bad habit.

He releases her wrist and sits in one of the chairs, and she floats along behind him and sits in the other. She can't feel the cold of the night air, just the warmth of the fire and the warmth of his gaze on her face.

“You do all this for me, Boshaw?”

He ducks his head as he's digging through the cooler, embarrassed, and doesn't quite meet her eyes when he hands her a beer. “I just thought you'd like some peace’n quiet. You're, uh, you're kind of my best friend. You're doing all this for all of us, and someone has to look out for you too.”

It's too much. It's too much. She can't handle this.

“You're still gonna be my friend after all this, right? It was kinda lonely without you.”

Okay. Okay. This is enough.

She puts her unopened beer on the ground and flicks her half-smoked cigarette into the fire. Sharky lifts his brows at her, but doesn't have time to say another word before she climbs into his lap and presses her lips to his.

He gasps and grabs for her waist as his lips part, and she matches his expression by opening her lips too. She sinks into him, into his warmth and gentle caresses, so at odds with how he faces every other situation. He slides his hands up her back, tickling her spine, until he can bury his fingers in her hair. 

He pulls her away, just enough to break their kiss, and she rests her forehead against his. She rests her hands on his shoulders, fingers slowly curling into the soft material of his hoodie.

“You… uh, you feelin’ okay?” His voice is low and hoarse, and she shivers before she can repress the urge.

“Mhm…” She trails off and sits up, but she doesn’t let go of his hoodie. “I just… you’re so sweet, Sharky, and I…” She bites her lip, suddenly uncertain even though he’s still holding her just as tight as he was when she climbed in his lap. “I couldn’t not kiss you.”

He’s staring at her lips. “Oh. Uh. Yeah. Okay. Why, uh, why though?” 

She licks her lips and he tightens his grip on her hair, just a bit, like he can't help it. “I wanted to.”

He blinks and looks back up at her eyes, and her breath catches in her throat when she sees the firelight dancing orange across his skin. 

“You did?”

“Yeah. I mean, I do .” She releases his hoodie and slides her hands up to cup his jaw. Her fingers rasp through his days-old stubble and tilt his neck up just a little. “You're great, Sharky. You care about me so goddamn much, and I…” She barely stops herself from saying too much, from scaring him with how deep her affections are already running, how fast she’s fallen in love. “Can I kiss you more?”

He nods, fast, like he's not sure if she’s going to change her mind or not, and then she’s kissing him again and it feels so good she's not sure what to do with herself besides lean into it.

It’s everything she could have asked for, better than she ever expected it to be. His body is warm against hers, his kisses eager, his tongue almost delicate where it brushes against hers. She leans into him, settles more heavily into his lap, and he moves his hands down her back to her hips and back up, slow soothing motions that make her melt.

He's holding her like she's the most precious thing he's ever touched, even when she weaves her fingers through his hair and tugs. He moans, a quiet wounded noise into her mouth that she happily swallows, and then she pulls away just enough to slip her hands under his hoodie so she can touch his warm skin.

It feels right, being curled up around him, the heat of him against her front contrasting with the heat of the fire against her back. His goatee scratches her chin, his callouses tickle her waist as he mirrors her and slips his hands under her shirt. She moans into his mouth and he echoes her, a feedback loop of pleasure building between them until she has to tear her mouth free to catch her breath.

Sharky doesn’t let her go far, pulling her hips closer to his and moving his mouth across her jaw and down her neck. He catches her skin with his teeth, tugging with just the barest of pressure before moving on to the next spot, smiling against her when she squirms in his grip and lets out a too-loud moan.

He kisses back up to her ear, licks the spot just underneath it, tries to whisper without really lowering his voice at all, “You’re so fuckin’ hot. I’ve been thinkin’ about this for weeks.” He nips at her earlobe, tugs a little, groaning right back at her when she shivers.

“Really? Weeks?” The arms of the chair are pinching her knees, making her thighs hurt, but she moves her fingers up to tangle in his hair. She tugs, too hard, and his hips fruitlessly jerk up into hers when she pulls his face away so she can see him. Interesting. “We’ve only been hanging out for weeks .”

He shrugs and grins at her, smile lopsided and beautiful. There’s no embarrassment in his gaze. “I guess I just know what I like.” He tries to kiss her again, but she won’t let him move. He shivers and bites his lower lip, and she smiles.

She can work with that.

“And what do you like?”

He doesn’t hesitate, the truth slipping from his lips with ease. “You.”

She can’t stop herself from kissing him again, and she doesn’t want to. He wraps both his arms around her, holding her close as his tongue slides against hers, the kiss deep and wet and intimate. He holds her as tight as she’s holding him, gives as good as he gets, until she feels like she’s going to die if she doesn’t feel his skin against hers.

“Sharky, do you, mphm-- ” He kisses her again mid-sentence, cutting her off, and she laughs against his mouth, too delighted to remember anything else. “C’mon, baby. Where are you staying in town?”

He groans and nuzzles against her neck, unwilling at first to break away to answer her, but finally he sits back and takes a deep breath of the crisp night air. “There’s, uh, there’s some empty houses around the corner? I put our stuff in one of them.”

“Want to show me?”

He nods, then, and she pushes herself off of him, grunting when her legs unfold from under her weight. She picks up the cooler of beer and waits until he stands too, trying and failing to hide her smirk when he carefully shifts his weight from side to side and tucks one hand into the deep pocket of his jeans to adjust his erection.

She slips her hand into his free one before he can get embarrassed, chewing on the inside of her lip as she waits for him to lead her in the right direction. He does, but not before leaning down to grab one more kiss from her. He’s not so tall that she has to reach up on her tiptoes, but she does have to tilt her neck back to get the angle right; she’s suddenly sure, standing here in the middle of Fall’s End, that she should have started kissing him when they were still in the Henbane, back when he sat on the floor and held her hand while she cried in her sleep.

He pulls away when he remembers what he’s supposed to be doing, tightens his hold on her hand like he’s afraid she’s going to change her mind before they make it to the house he’s claimed on the edge of town. She vaguely remembers the family who used to live here, good people she hopes made it out of the county before everything went to shit, but she tries not to think about them as she leaves the cooler on their kitchen counter and lets Sharky pull her up a winding and narrow set of stairs to get to the upper floor.

The lights are already on like Sharky’s been here and left, and she has enough time to notice old sheets in the corner and fresh ones on the bed before Sharky pulls her close and tilts her face up to his with her jaw in his hand. She smiles up at him, slipping her free hand under his hoodie to press against the warmth of his stomach. He twitches under her touch, flexing a little, and her smile grows.

“Were you, uh, hoping for something here?” She’s teasing, she always teases, but he just glances over her shoulder at the bed before his cheeks flare red. 

“No, uh, this was for you? I was gonna sleep down the hall. Just thought you deserved somethin’ nice after everything. You know -- a good fire, cold beer, clean sheets? A night of peace finally.”

Her breath catches in her throat and tears prick at her eyes again, just like they did when they were still outside, and she steps away before she can stop herself. She can’t handle this much affection right now; it threatens to overwhelm her, pull her good mood down into tears.

She pulls at the hem of his hoodie instead, pulling it up. “Take this off,” she says, voice rough, and he obeys without question.

By the time he’s dropping it on the floor, she’s out of her flannel and tank, standing before him in just a bra and jeans, but he stares back at her like she’s hung the moon. It makes her want to climb inside of him, to consume whatever’s making him look like that.

Instead, she shoves him backwards toward the bed, smiling when he drops on the mattress with a soft thump. She crawls over him, pushing him until he’s flat on his back with his hands on her bare waist and his mouth attached to her neck like he’s never going to let her go. 

She doesn’t want him to.

She moans and arches into his touch, leaning her head back and vaguely hoping he doesn’t leave a hickey even though she doesn’t particularly care, not when his big hands are sliding down her hips and under the waist of her jeans. He’s warm against her, stoking her own fire hotter, and she reaches behind her to undo the clasp of her bra with just a flick of her wrist. She pulls it free and drops it off the side of the bed, but the movement only serves to catch Sharky’s attention.

He releases her neck -- and, yeah, she’s definitely going to have a mark there, but who does she have to look professional for these days? -- and hauls her up his body so he can kiss farther down her chest and take her right nipple in his mouth. The movement pulls at the fresh tattoo on her chest, the wounds that are just scabbed over and definitely going to scar into something ugly, but it’s like Sharky can’t even see it. She ignores the pain and closes her eyes, focusing on the good she can feel, the way he’s making her forget every fucking thing she’s been through since the helicopter crash.

He teases her with the same enthusiasm he uses for everything else, surprising a cry out of her that he eagerly returns against her skin. She threads her fingers into his hair and holds on tight enough to hurt him, holding his face against her chest like anything short of a gun to his head would make him pull away now.

He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he pushes closer, sitting up and switching from her left breast to her right, paying that nipple the same dedicated attention he had the first one. It’s overwhelming; she aches to have him inside of her, and when she settles her weight against the hardness she can feel still trapped in his jeans, he moans brokenly and moves to capture her lips with his.

This kiss is messy, rough. She bites at him and he bites at her in return, the sharp pricks of pain muddling her brain until she can’t think about anything else, but that’s just the way she wants it. 

She yanks the ratty old tanktop he’s still wearing up, stretching it almost to the point of tearing, releasing it only when he finally leans back and pulls it fully off. She pushes him back down onto his back when she has room to move, scooting back to sit on his thighs so she can pry his belt open and try to shimmy his jeans down before he latches his teeth back into her skin.

He’s still wearing his boots, so he has to pull away to undress himself. Again, she takes advantage of this and shucks off her jeans and boots too, self conscious, just for a second, that she hasn’t had time to take care of her body the way she always has. She starts to blush, to cover herself, suddenly back in her head and keenly aware of how her first boyfriend had insisted she stay shaved if they were going to have sex, but Sharky…

Sharky’s eyes are dark and his cheeks are pink and his cock is standing proud and hard between his thighs. He’s hairy too, across his chest and a thin trail down his stomach that thickens at the base of his cock. He’s staring at her, one hand wrapping around himself, the other reaching out until she moves back into his space on the bed.

“Do you know how fuckin’ hot you are?” His voice is low, rough, and she shivers as his calloused fingers skim her waist. “I can’t believe you’re really here.” His hand moves steadily higher, cupping her breast as he adds, almost like he’s accidentally voicing a thought, “Is this a Bliss dream, or what?”

She answers by capturing his lips with hers, biting again, one hand steadying herself on his waist as the other wraps around his cock. He groans into her, both hands moving to cup her jaw, a heady kind of desperation in his clutching fingers.

He stops kissing her and just rests his forehead against hers as she pumps him, steady movements and a firm grip making him shudder and twitch against her. 

“Please,” she rasps, “ please tell me you have a condom.”

It takes him a minute to answer, but his words are like music to her ears. “There are, uh, actually some in the bathroom. Guess they didn’t make the emergency packing list.”

Relief flows through her even as she traces the tips of her fingers over the tip of his cock, a teasing touch over silky skin and beading precome. He groans deep in his throat, holding her almost too tight against the teasing pleasure of her skin against his, and it takes him several full seconds to realize she’s trying to get him to move when she says, “Go get one, then.”

When her words sink in, he practically throws her off him and onto the mattress so he can scramble past her out into the hall. She laughs, delighted at his enthusiasm, and stretches out on the sheets with her head on the pillow. It smells of unfamiliar detergent, but it’s the cleanest thing she’s slept on in days.

She stretches out on the clean sheets, joints popping as she forces them to their limits, and then she relaxes with her hands above her head and her lower lip captured between her teeth. She can hear Sharky bumping around the bathroom, each of his movements too loud and enthusiastic to be confined indoors, and she smiles.

Under any other circumstances, she would have laughed at the idea of her and Charlemagne Boshaw spending any time together at all, much less sneaking away from a town celebration to have sex. Everything else just adds to the uniqueness she’s facing -- where would she be if she hadn’t tried to arrest Joseph in the church? Where would she be if she had stayed dead any of the times she should have stayed dead?

Sharky comes back before she can get stuck in that line of thought, snapping her back to the present moment with a wolf whistle and the shuffle of foil-wrapped condoms shuffling around in a half-empty box. 

Her eyes open and she smiles at him, considering for half a second before she draws herself up on her knees to reach for him. He lets her direct him to sit against the headboard, lets her take the condoms from him, opens a package and rolls one on when she hands it to him while she leans in and bites at his neck.

She doesn’t wait one second longer than necessary before she moves over him, bracing her knees on either side of his hips and holding onto his shoulders to steady herself as she begins to lower herself down. He works with her, one hand on her waist, the other holding himself steady, and then… he’s inside of her, inching slowly deeper, stretching her and filling her and she really can’t remember what took her so long to kiss him.

“ Holy shit, Mat.” Sharky draws out the holy until he bottoms out, then the rest of his words come out of him in a rush. His fingertips dig into the flesh of her hips, holding her still. His eyes are squeezed shut, deepening the lines around them, and she brushes her fingertips over the lines until he relaxes.

He opens his eyes and meets her gaze, giving her a wide, dopey smile. Their lips meet again, gently, though she���s not sure which of them leaned forward first, then they rest their foreheads together with twin smiles.

“Good?” She clenches around him on purpose, just to make him moan when he starts to answer.

“Fuck. Yeah. Oh my God, yes.” His fingers tighten on her hips, urging her up just enough to catch her attention. “Shit. Can you, uh, can you just…”

He trails off as she starts to move, pushing herself up higher on her knees until he’s barely inside her still, then sliding back down at the same painfully slow pace as before. Sharky groans and tilts his head back against the headboard, flexing into her like he can’t help it but not doing anything to actually make her move faster. He just waits, desperate little wimpers leaving him with each slow movement of her hips.

She clutches the headboard with both hands, using it as leverage to help her move faster against him, her movements more sure. Each drag of his cock against her makes her ratchet higher, goosebumps breaking out on her skin even as sweat gathers on her scalp, behind her knees. 

Sharky opens his eyes and stares up at her, that beautiful blue dark and hungry. He slides his hands up her side as she rides him, fingers seeking out her breasts once more. He squeezes as her long thrusts turn to hard twists of her hips, grinding her clit against his pelvis and sending sparks of pleasure up her spine.

She closes her eyes first this time, overwhelmed as his rough fingers press against her nipples with more gentleness than she would have expected when they first met. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and her rhythm stutters as she begins to come.

“Fuck, Sharky, I’m…” She trails off, grabbing for his head to bring his face against hers so she can kiss him, whining the rest of her cry into his mouth. He surges forward, tongue against hers and hands back on her hips to keep her moving against him even as she shakes and forgets everything except the feeling of him against her, inside her.

He breaks their kiss and presses his face to her throat instead, growling against her skin, goatee scratching over where the bruise he left behind is still darkening. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, clutching him tight, holding him against her as he shudders through his own orgasm. 

He doesn’t let go of her and she doesn’t let go of him. They cling together as they catch their breath, then Sharky’s kissing up her neck and across her jaw to her lips.

She laughs against him, loose, happy. This is exactly what she needed, and she wants to tell him how much she appreciates him, how good he’s been to her, how much she needs him now.

What comes out of her mouth, still pressed against his, is, “I love you.”

Sharky laughs, a low rumble, and shakes his head. “What? Nah.”

She pulls back enough to grab his jaw, holding his face still to look in his eyes. His face is flushed, his hair mussed, his eyes bright, and this time it looks like he believes her when she repeats, “I love you. I’m in love with you.”

It takes another second, but his smile widens until it’s blinding. “Aw, hell, Mat. I love you too.”

He kisses her again, softer, reverent, and then she has to physically push him away to give herself enough freedom to climb off of him and go clean up. She hears his heavy footsteps pass by the door, then back again a minute later, and he’s stretched out in the bed with the lights off when she makes it back to him.

She climbs in next to him, shivering a little in the autumn chill, and he pulls her body flush against his. This is better than the times they’ve fallen asleep together before, because this time they’re resting skin to skin and she can feel his heartbeat quickening as she traces her fingers up and down his side. He also has his face pressed against her hair, a smile on his lips, and she thinks she hears him repeat I love you as she’s drifting off to sleep.

[chinatea]

Ian/BG, royal abo au, a side story to SG/Di royal au. Takes place shortly after BG arrived at Snow Castle for the first time. 

Warning: omega pussy up ahead.

Jiyeon. Is. Livid.

As in angry-sparks-crackling-in-the-air livid. 

Last time he was so mad was when some dusty alpha lord back home thought it would be a good idea to pull him onto his lap for a laugh and live to see another day.

He thought wrong.

If there is one thing that Jiyeon won’t stand for, it’s disrespect. He’s a prince. A royalty. The monarch-to-be. And he’d be damned if he ever had to take lip from anyone, be it his own damn mate, let alone some lousy keeper of the royal chambers.

Not that the wretched thing had the nerve to run his filthy mouth in Jiyeon's presence, of course. That Jiyeon might even have respected, the outrageous audacity of it - would still flay him alive, of course, but respectfully. 

But no. Jiyeon just happened to overhear a conversation between a couple of mouthy attendants. The attendants were immediately questioned. Vigorously so. Apparently the conniving bitch hated his guts. For reasons as old as the world itself, no less - Ian just happened to take him to bed that one time...

Years ago. 

And suddenly, everything fell into place. All those unfortunate accidents that seemed to hound Jiyeon’s new life in the castle. Very naughty indeed. But as long as Jiyeon is concerned, the only person who is allowed being naughty here is him. 

No one else.

He doesn’t bother knocking as he simply invites himself into Ian’s chambers. He’s slightly peeved at the alpha, too. Not because he had lovers in the past - gods know, Jiyeon hadn’t been a saint either - however, for some reason, Ian thought it perfectly acceptable to put one of his little flings in charge of Jiyeon’s comforts and now his dearest alpha is going to hear all about how utterly moronic, in Jiyeon's opinion, that decision was.

Only Ian isn’t in his chamber when Jiyeon arrives, eyes furious and hair wild, static electricity zipping through the air. 

Jiyeon huffs, pacing in circles until he finally finds an armchair to squeeze his bottom into, arms crossed and eyebrows drown in a frown. He’s deeply upset but also tuckered out. He’s been running circles around the castle for the past two hours, upending the whole castle in search of that traitor, and he’d be damned if he spends another hour in the same fashion. Better to stay put and sooner or later, Ian’s bound to come looking for him anyway.

His anger gradually lets up as minutes pass and before he knows it, he has his eyes trained firmly on Ian’s bed. Matted onyx base hovering in the air with dark gossamer veil for privacy. The sheets glint silky and inviting in the light of many candles.

A moment later, a wicked idea has fully consumed his mind as Jiyeon rises back onto his feet, fingers working on the buttons of his lavish gown, letting it slide down his lithe body and swarm around his ankles. He steps over it gingerly, palms running up his bare arms - the chill nips at his skin and Jiyeon shivers, but not just from the draught in the room - he's impishly thrilled.

For a moment, Jiyeon forgets all about manners or his status: that he’s a prince and there is a strict etiquette to adhere to before invading an alpha's bed. For a moment, Jiyeon sinks right back into the mindset of a little devil that has been playing the game for too damn long to be beaten at it by some prissy little wretch.

The sheets are chilly when he climbs in, clinging to his skin like morning frost. Jiyeon curls into a ball and rubs his palms together, casting a little warming spell that Ian taught him a few days ago. It’s still finicky but it does the trick of keeping him nice and comfortable under the covers.

In fact, it’s so nice he barely notices when he falls under, soothed by the pleasant warmth and gentle rocking of the bed from side to side. Ian’s bed feels princely and Jiyeon doesn’t think he'd ever want to leave - his own bed pales in comparison, an icky little cot. 

(And now Jiyeon is fully aware who he has to thank for that.)

Jiyeon has no idea how much time has passed, whether it’s been an eternity or less, but what he learns upon waking up is that - he’s not alone in the room any longer. Also, Ian looks younger than he’s surprised. 

Jiyeon takes his time stretching his limbs, not at all bothered by his alpha's heavy gaze on him, devouring every inch of skin presented. Jiyeon stifles a giggle, pulling the covers up in a belated attempt to preserve his modesty. His drawn up knee stays strategically untucked to further titillate his alpha with the view - innocent yet lewd. His body is a marvel, nurtured in the sweet richness of the southern magic and pampered to perfection. His alpha should be in awe. And he is…

He is. 

“You’re...here,” Ian says, voice barely above a raspy growl as his eyes wander. It’s heated. And the pit of Jiyeon’s belly stirs in response, awakened by the thick desire sipping into his alpha’s gaze. 

His slit is greedy and selfish, it’d push him to do anything to catch his alpha’s attention, to seek his approval and gain pleasure from his touch. His slit is also bloody stupid but for now Jiyeon allows himself to melt into it, his natural instinct to please - Ian is his mate, if not him, then who.

“Your bed just looked so comfortable,” Jiyeon murmurs, tipping his chin down in a demure gesture that alphas find extremely pleasing. “I couldn’t help myself, alpha.”

He knows very well that what he did was naughty, intruding into the alpha’s private space like that - they haven’t been intimate yet, with the exception of kissing and groping and such. By all accounts, he is asking for trouble, but Jiyeon can sense when an alpha wants him - and Ian, Yannie, doesn’t just want him, he adores him.  

“Whatever I’m going to do with you,” Ian sighs, picking Jiyeon’s gown off the floor and burying his nose it, taking in the scent, eyes locked with Jiyeon’s. 

It’s desperate and raw, the sexual tension between them. A needy sound trills at the back of Jiyeon’s throat. His omega whines to present himself, open and wide and lewd, to beg for Ian’s mouth. It’s been so long since he had anyone give him what he needs, but this time…

This time, he knows it’s more than just that - Ian is getting to him, stirs his blood and it messes with his head. Jiyeon hasn’t been the same when they’re around each other.

“I don’t know, alpha, show me,” Jiyeon aims for a flippant giggle, but it comes out more akin to a whimper. His lips tremble, fingers gripping around the silk. His slit throbs - he wants him so much.

“Please.”

A floral tattoo is wrapping around Jiyeon’s thigh, starting at his ankle as a single sprout and flourishing into a bouquet of swirls, petals and colors. Ian traces it gently, gaze transfixed on the elaborate design, the way it transforms under his fingertips, responding to his touch. 

Tattoos like that have a special purpose in Jiyeon’s family. Infused with powerful magic, they act as sigils to protect, heal and nourish. Everyone in his family has one of their own with a unique design that matches the frequency of their soul. It’s ill-advised to let others see it, let alone touch it, but exceptions are made for close family and mates. And Jiyeon has been careful to save that part of himself for his husband - let him be the first to see it, caress it, kiss it silly. 

“Yannie,” Jiyeon calls, voice breathless, as he reaches out for the alpha, tugging at his clothes. “Want to feel you, skin to skin.”

And Ian doesn’t have to be asked twice. He pulls his loose shirt off his body, hard muscles of his stomach rippling under the skin and Jiyeon whimpers, wanting to touch and kiss and nuzzle his way down to the real prize - his husband’s cock. He’s a little cockslut, has always been, most omegas are - but Ian’s cock is a fucking masterpiece and Jiyeon wants to lick every inch of it before taking it inside his dripping slit, fuck himself into stupor, just let himself loose. 

Gods know, some days that’s the only thing he ever wants.

Jiyeon falls back onto the pillows, marveling at the sight of his husband as everything inside of him is pulsing with need. Sweet scent of his arousal is cloying in the air, so heavy and thick he thinks he can grasp at it, smear it between his palms.

Ian, as bare now as he is, crawls over him, caging him in with his body, skin to skin. Jiyeon purrs, pressing a kiss to his neck. One of his hands rests on Ian’s shoulder before trickling down to feel up the tense form of his triceps, bulging with effort as Ian has to prop himself up to not crush Jiyeon completely. The tangible proof of how strong his alpha is, strong enough to submit Jiyeon to his will if he wanted to, sends his omega into a toe-curling glee - something that Jiyeon has always hated about his nature, although, if anything, he’s the one with the ability to hurt the other because Ian is so helplessly in love with him, his heart might as well be in Jiyeon’s hands.

It’s his luck that Jiyeon is just as mad about him, too. 

“How beautiful, utterly breathtaking you are, my prince,” Ian says intimately, breath caressing his ear. 

His hand is firmly placed at Jiyeon’s hip, thumb circling over a scattering of soft blossoms there - it’s nice and sweet, but Jiyeon wants more. Wants to grind over Ian’s cock, rubbing his heat over the sheer girth of it, make it all wet with his slick. He won’t be able to take it in, not just yet, but he’s tired of waiting. He needs something to happen now, he needs a release - needs to know what it’s like to feel his mate rub himself over his slit and paint it with his seed. If he can’t have it inside him, he wants it all over him, tasting it on his tongue, too.

“Yannie, please,” he says as he grabs at Ian’s hand holding his hip and brings it up to wrap his full lips around the thumb, giving it a nice wet suck, letting out a low moan as the ache between his legs transforms into an incessant buzz inside his head. He wiggles his hips and whines - a raw guttural sound of need.

“So impatient,” Ian chuckles, tone light but gaze completely overtaken by red - Jiyeon can feel his cock lay heavy between their groins, the thick shaft cradled between the folds of his slit, the fucking tease. 

They kiss. And kiss and kiss again until Jiyeon can’t take it anymore, his hand sneaking between his thighs - Ian pins it down, eyes flashing blood. 

“No,” he warns.

Jiyeon watches him, wide-eyed, heart in his mouth. Slowly Ian leans to kiss him again, under his jaw, then above his clavicle, mapping his way down his body, open and trembling under his lips. Then, finally a puff of breath caresses his slit - it clenches in response - Jiyeon rolling back his eyes in pleasure as Ian runs a thumb over it, parting the wet folds, smearing more slick along with it. Making a little mess - Jiyeon throws his head back, failing to bite back a moan. It feels like an eternity since he’d been touched that way by someone other than himself, his own touch so dull in comparison, lacking in so many ways - his body was made to be fondled and touched and fucked by someone else, the love of his fucking life. By Ian.

“Goddess, I want you,” Jiyeon mutters. “Want you so much. Your mouth, please. Please, please, please. Yannie.”

“So naughty, darling,” Ian says, rising up to press a wet kiss to Jiyeon’s parted lips, tongue slipping inside, it’s full of raw unbridled emotion, their kiss. All the while Ian keeps stroking his slit, tips snagging at his hole, teasing around the rim - a sweet torture, but torture nevertheless. 

And Jiyeon’s just about had enough of it.

“Make me cum, alpha. Make me scream,” Jiyeon whispers, fingers digging into Ian’s neck. “Show me just how well alphas from the North fuck their omegas.”

“Anything for you, blossom,” Ian grins into his mouth, their final kiss before Ian grips around his hips, holding him down, and dives in.

They spend the rest of the day in bed, soaking in each other's scent.

Jiyeon is thoroughly tuckered out, but sated and blissed out, purring like a happy cat, curled against Ian’s form. The alpha is caressing his back, gentle fingers tracing the shimmering swirls of his tattoo, as they share kiss after kiss, sweet and mellow. 

The events this morning, his ire, seem like a distant memory now. Cradled by all this coziness, the last thing he wants is to bring that wretch up and let him indirectly ruin the afterglow. 

"I owe you an apology, petal," Ian says, out of the blue. 

Jiyeon looks up from where he’s sprawled on top of Ian, propping his chin on the back of his palm. 

“You do?”

Ian cards back loose strands of his hair, mussed up from their activities, a look of utter adoration in his eyes. 

“I know about what happened,” he confesses. “Forgive me. I should have known.”

“So you do realize how ludicrous it was that you put one of your past flings in my attendance?”

Jiyeon doesn’t mean to sound sour, doesn’t want to spoil the idyllic mood - it’s not even that he’s upset with Ian, definitely not after Ian gave him so many orgasms he stopped counting at some point, but the whole thing has left him feeling a bit stupid. Like a laughing stock in the eyes of the whole castle.

Ian’s gaze softens further. He moves them together so Jiyeon can nuzzle into his neck, seeking comfort, as Ian kisses the crown of his head, warms hands holding him close. 

“I am sorry, darling. It was years ago, back when I was careless and stupid, and I know it can’t excuse my oversight, but if there is any doubt how much you mean to me, how much your comfort means to me...”

“No,” Jiyeon stops him, kissing his chin. “There is no doubt, alpha. You take good care of me. I couldn’t wish for a more devoted husband, love.”

He follows with another kiss, seeking Ian’s mouth, kissing him wet and deep. Rolling on top of him in the process because from now on staying away will be one of the hardest things in his life.

“Although, you’re still very naive when it comes to omegas, aren’t you?" Jiyeon teases him after they part, smothering a giggle against Ian’s neck. 

"So many things I still need to teach you, alpha.”

Ian retaliates with a low rumble at the back of his throat as he flips them again, rolling on top of his omega, a knee nudging between Jiyeon’s legs, spreading him open all over again - Jiyeon’s breath catches in his throat, heart thumping in his chest, a heady rush of alpha pheromones clings to his skin. Ian grins down at him, a thumb running under Jiyeon’s bottom lip. He says,

“I am eager to learn, blossom.”

----

Extras:

> In the North, the crown is passed down from omega to omega, so it's BG who'll be crowned Omega King in the future. Ian will be conferred the title of Prince Consort General. But it's not as if Ian is subordinate to Jiyeon. Those are just titles. De facto, they will rule together. 

> According to the Northern tradition, BG and Ian must sleep in separate rooms until the first heat they spend together, consummating their bond. But BG was like, fuck that shit and moved into Ian's room anyway - it's not like anyone was going to tell him otherwise. 

> Since BG was still a virgin, technically speaking, as his slit had yet been broken, they had to wait until BG's heat to go all the way, otherwise the experience would be too painful for him.

That's all for now, folks.