#holds him by the scruff cradles him i need to draw him

[trophygony]

also why does fuuta keep getting the best songs actually

[brighttears]

Cleardune Chapter 3: Sweet Thing

Joel Miller x f!reader

no physical description, no use of y/n

Summary: Joel teaches you a thing or two in his room at the local inn.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: smut smut smut, reader is sexually inexperienced, pet names galore (darling, sweet thing, honey, sweetheart, pretty girl, baby, angel

fingering, Joel has a big ol’ wiener, unprotected PiV, he holds his hand over your mouth, multiple orgasms, is there a more proper way to say he cums all over you?

A/n: this is literally ~5k words of smut. What can i say

Series masterlist

—

Thankfully, Joel seems to have a bit more control, finally grabbing your hips to sit you securely on his lap. With his arms around you, one wrapped around your waist and the other cradling your upper back, he leans you back to push his mouth into yours, and any doubt that that tension was one sided dissolves completely. Desperate hands grab at him, sliding around his chest, back, over those broad shoulders, up his face and through his locks. You are pure electricity, the pure want—need for another human being like this a brand new experience. When he raises you back to straddle him, you both take a moment to breathe, though the parting of lips is slow and reluctant. 

“God damn.” He mutters, out of breath, and you have half the mind to chuckle, but you’re too hung up on the sight of him this close, those big eyes, dark with dilation, hair a mess, lips wet by the spit of little old you. In a daze, all you find yourself able to do is run your hands over his face, watching your fingers comb through his hair and skim over his scruff, stuck again when his cheek pulls up in a half smile, half smirk. 

You manage to speak, “You’re beautiful,” and by god, he blushes.

“Says you, huh?” His smirk quirks further, and you revel in brushing your thumb over the dimple it draws up. A soft utterance of “Darlin’,” finally pulls your attention back to his eyes, but he keeps your gaze for only a moment, flicking it back down to your lips before a, no longer agonizingly, but thrillingly slow joining of yours and his for a torrid kiss. It pools into a heat that eases throughout your body, traveling from your chest, down to your belly, to settle right between your thighs, and you can’t help but roll them over his lap. It earns a low, sighed moan into your mouth that jump starts your fingers on his button up paired with another deep, slow, needy roll of your hips. 

“Shit, darlin’,” he pulls back to mumble, smoothing his hands up and down your thighs before pulling your ass into his hands, guiding you in a way that makes it almost hard to breathe. Both breathing heavy now, your gazes are locked—feeling your way through the rest of his buttons—and it is the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced, watching his face like this, lips parted, eyes half lidded, body reacting to the way he drags the friction between your bodies. Almost shyly, though at this point you have less than no reason to be, you inch his shirt over his shoulders, but he quickly pulls it off himself and tosses it to the side before taking your ass right back into his hands, eyes not leaving yours for a second, and now this is the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced. Joel dips his face back into yours, moaning softly again as he keeps guiding your body in a slow pace. You cup his face to drink him in, focused on his taste as he slips his tongue to press against yours again. This time it comes easy, the press and lick and taste and drink, and the whole thing starts to feel like a dance, moving like the tide with each other, easy. After the nerves wear off, everything is so easy with him. 

Joel moves one of his hands to take yours and bring it down to the buttons of your blouse. “Take it off for me, darlin’,” he whispers, and your breath hitches. He watches as each new inch of skin is revealed with his eyes flicking back to yours every few moments until you’re bare, the blouse slipping off your shoulders and onto the floor. Then, he reconnects your mouths, sighing deeply as his hand slides over your chest, kneading your breast with the other picking up the pace of your grinding hips. 

After a few more fiery moments, Joel pulls away again, mumbling a swear under his breath, dipping his head.

“What is it?” You whisper, breathing a bit hard.

“You’re gettin’ me too worked up, honey, gotta pull the reins a bit if I’m gonna last more than another minute or so.” He half chuckles. Butterflies erupt in your chest, helping to pause your movements over his lap. With a deep breath, Joel raises his head back up to look at you, warm, calloused hands smoothing over your sides again. 

“Sweet thing,” he whispers, each hot breath washing over your wet lips, “you still want me to show you a thing or two?”

“Yes.” You reply automatically, nodding a few more times than necessary, but you’re barely aware of much other than the sound of his voice and whatever part of his body is connected to yours. 

“How much you already know?”

“Not much,” you answer, which is normally a great insecurity of yours, and you’d expected to feel like a naive little girl again, but that comfort he exudes is all over you now, and you can tell that all he cares about is making you feel good, not how well versed you are. 

Staying true to that notion, he nods, the heat in his gaze not faltering for a second, before whispering, “We’re gonna start slow then. Come up off my lap for a second, sweetheart.” Though you wish you didn’t have to, you follow his instruction. Once standing, Joel takes you gently by the hips, spreading his thighs to pull you between them. His eyes travel up and down your torso again, lips moving in an unintelligible murmur before he meets your gaze again and starts on the buttons of your jeans. “Listen, though,” he says softly, pausing on the buttons, “if you don’t like somethin’, even just a little bit, you tell me and I’ll stop, alright?” You pause, caught off guard by the request, but then nod. After that, he starts back on your jeans, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time, and your heart pounds. Once undone, he tugs them down your hips, letting them fall to your ankles before sliding two fingers between your thighs. He curves them around your warmth, slowly, and you let out a deep sigh, eyes nearly rolling back in your head.

“Already so wet, aren'tchou?” He whispers with a smile, but all you can do is whine as he curves his fingers further, teasing your entrance over your underwear. “Oh, darlin’,” he almost sighs, his mouth staying open as his free hand comes back over your breast. You let out another sigh of your own, and then it cuts into a moan as his thumb starts to circle over your clit. “You ever been touched like this?” Speechless, you shake your head. “Yeah, these young townie boys don’t know a damn thing, do they?”

You can barely let out a no, cutting into another quiet moan as Joel’s fingers close in a soft, twisting pinch over your nipple, a way not even you have ever touched yourself. Something new, taught by him. As promised. Matched with his hands between your thighs, you start rolling sounds out, eyes literally starting to roll back in your head as your fantasies come roaringly to life. 

“We’re just gettin’ started, sweet thing, and you’re already a moanin’ mess, ain'tcha?” You hear. “Hey, look at me, darlin’.” When you do, he’s smiling that smirked smile, eyes dark, all of it lit only by the moonlight coming through the window at your side. “I wanna see you while I make you feel good.” Joel’s lips move to your stomach for a soft kiss, “I wanna see all the faces you’ll make,” kiss, “I wanna see… all ‘f you,” kiss, “wanna hear all the sounds you’ll make,” 

“N-no,” you get out, the wings in your chest beating like a hawk’s, “we have to be, have to be quiet,” it comes out in a breath. 

“Alright, alright,” Joel whispers back with another kiss to your skin, “we can be quiet. I’ll help you. You still wanna do this?”

“Fuck yes,” you breathe out again. You’ve been taught well not to swear, but this feels like an appropriate time. Joel chuckles, “Good.” His lips touch your skin again and then he sighs a hot breath against it, “god, I want you,” and you’re an absolute mess. Moaning again, your hips stutter against his still circling thumb, and his hand smooths back down your side. “Okay, pretty girl.” Peering up at you, he plants another kiss to your stomach before pulling away, “We’re gonna start… one, by one…” Joel’s hand shifts between your legs, fingers slipping under the fabric separating them from your slick to tease your entrance. “Jus’ remember, ‘f it’s too much, you let me know, alright?”

“Yes, alright,” you nod eagerly. You’ve never wanted anyone in your whole life nearly as much as you want him right now. And what a gentleman, good god. He inserts a first finger, and “Oh, god.” It’s eased in slowly, but he spares no knuckle, the entirety pushed inside of you before being pulled back, then easing back in just as slow. 

“Yeah?” He purrs. 

“Yes, o-oh,” your body rolls against his finger, and you just want “more,”

“More?”

“Yes,” you want all of him, and you can’t get it quick enough. 

“Patience is a virtue, sweetheart,” he smirks a smile, but allows you another finger. This one comes closer to a tighter fit, but as he curves them in, a rawly novel kind of pleasure sweeps through your body. “Mm,” you whine, eyes falling closed, “god,”

“God yourself, darlin’, you’re even prettier like this.” His hand slides up your chest again, and he whispers, “Jesus.”

You can’t stop the sounds coming out of you as he dances his fingers, a slow in and out refrained by hooks inside your walls. “Please,” you whine, hand falling into his wrist as your body just screams more, more, more. 

“You’re drivin’ me crazy, honey,” he breathes out, and you finally open your eyes to look at him again. “Please,” is all you say back, voice quiet and almost embarrassingly pleading. You’re not even sure exactly what for, but you trust that whatever he’ll do, it’ll only get better. By the time the night is over, you reckon your mind will be properly blown. 

“Please what, honey?”

“I, I don’t know,” 

“Just more, huh?” He smirks, and you nod, then moan as he curls his finger again. “We gotta take our time, sweetheart, trust me. But by god is the lord testing my patience right about now.” He breathes it out, eyes flicking up your body to meet your eyes, and the hunger in them has your heart thumping like a battering ram in your chest. The feeling pushes you onto him, hands landing on his thighs, and the move pushes his fingers in further, the pressure on what must be your cervix bumping a high moan out of you. Lips on yours again, he starts to thrust his fingers faster, then mumbling into the kiss, “‘Nother?” and you mumble an mhm, set on taking this as far as you can. The third finger is a bit of a stretch, but as he presses your face against his with his hand on the back of your head, you can feel yourself open up for him, needy body welcoming every gentle thrust. 

“Joel, Joel,” you whisper after a few more moments, the bliss only making you hungrier for what you know must be awaiting you next.

Instantly, having read your words wrong, he pulls his fingers out of you, coming to rest the wet digits on your hip as he whispers back, “What is it, darlin’?”

You subdue the inclination to pause, knowing exactly what you want, and, telling by the strain on his jeans that you notice when you glance down, he must, too, so you nearly announce, “I want you to fuck me.” A sigh releases from his parted lips, his chest rising and falling as he glances over your face, wet fingers hooking under your waist band. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” With that, you reach down to feel over the hard tent of his jeans, knowing you’re getting wetter and wetter with each slow stroke over it. His next sigh is almost stuttered, eyes still wandering your face as he reaches down to undo his belt. You watch the whole process—his belt, the button, the zipper, and then the small jump of his hips as he brings them down, slipping his underwear right off with them, kicking his boots off just in time to slide them off and push them to the side with his foot. When your eyes land on his cock, you inadvertently let out a small woah. 

“What?” Joel asks softly. 

“It’s… big.”

Slowly, he smirks. “Well I ain’t a little boy, like you’re probably used to.”

You barely give yourself time to chuckle before you’re on his lips again, near astonishment remaining as you start to slide your hand over his length. Then you pull back again to whisper the question begging in your head, “How’s it gonna, uhm… fit?”

He smirks again, eyes stuck on your lips as he answers, “That’s what the warm up was for. Don’t worry about that just yet, though, darlin’, just keep touchin’ me…” there’s a needy lilt at the end, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you felt a drip come down the inside of your thigh. As you follow his request, he starts making little sounds, breathy and groaning moans into your mouth, so you pick up the pace, and soon enough, he’s pushing into your hand, making your mouth fall open, but he quickly licks it back closed. 

His hips roll up into your hand gently, but you can tell that it’s a strained control by the way his breaths come out. He’s needy under your touch, stiff cock starting to become slick with precum, and after only a few more seconds it becomes too much, and you break the kiss to whisper in a rushed tone, “Please fuck me, Joel.” 

He hums in reply, swallowing before his hands come back to your hips. “Lay down for me, honey,” he whispers back, cocking his head to the bed he sits on. You do, slowly, suddenly timid at the thought of laying bare underneath him, it being a kind of vulnerability you’re not used to. Although everything prior tells you that he unequivocally does, the thought itches in your mind, what if he doesn’t like what he sees?

Following your pace, Joel eases his frame over yours, hand on your hip as the other lets him hover over you. His eyes are gentle yet full of desire when you finally meet them, flicking to your lips, traveling down your body, then back to your eyes as he eases his knee between your legs, gently shifting them. Keeping the tactful pace, he lowers his lips to yours for a tender kiss. He cups your cheek in his hand, keeping the kiss simple for a moment before slipping his tongue between your teeth to tangle with yours. You hold onto his thick bicep, squeezing it as his hand slides back down to press his fingers over your warmth. 

This time, all he does is gentle circles, the teasing pressure lighting your body on fire. You let out short, soft moans, hips almost stuttering reactions, and you feel yourself already getting close to cumming, thanks to all the buildup. Having to have somehow sensed it, Joel pulls away, and then, in a move that makes your breath hitch and back arch without even being touched, he slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking your slick off of them. 

Hand moving back down to grasp your hip, he whispers, “You ready, darlin’?” 

“Mhm.” You nod, almost arching your back in anticipation. 

Joel leans down to press his forehead against yours, open mouth letting out hot breaths against yours as he slowly guides his cock to your entrance. He eases just the tip in, breaths heavying as he lets you adjust. Sliding in another inch, he groans softly, breath shaky. Your grip his biceps again, opening your legs but appreciating his patience as your walls sting just a tad. 

“Darlin’…” he sighs out, and you can tell it’s driving him crazy, so you allow him to press further by softly reaching down to pull his hip closer against yours. 

He lets out another deep, shaky sigh, then eases his full length in, and your head leans back into the pillow, making his lips skim over your nose, past your lips and down your chin. With a soft kiss under your jaw, he plants a hand down on the bed next to your head, the other gripping your waist as he lowers his hips down to start slow thrusts into you. 

“Shit,” he breathes out, pressing a kiss to your neck, “you feel so good, darlin’,”

Moving a bit faster, already so deep, he moans softly, and you reach to tangle your hands in his hair, the back of your head still pressed into the pillow as you raise your legs to rest on either side of his waist. “Shit,” he breathes again, lowering further, and as he deepens, you let out a long moan “Yes, baby,” he whispers with another kiss to your throat, “lemme hear you,” as if you had any control over the breathy sounds coming out of you as he continues slow thrusts. 

“Feels so good,” you mewl, amazed at how good this could feel, your only point of reference being rushed, loveless, and awkward fucks, either shoved in painfully or too small to even be able to tell something was in you at all. But Joel fills you, fits you almost perfectly, and the pressure closing in on your cervix makes you moan, knowing that he’s inside you, moaning out your name as he stretches you with his cock. “Yes,” you mewl again, bringing your face back up to ghost his lips, landing sweet pecks here and there as his body rocks over yours. 

“Lord, you’re even better than I’d dreamed you’d be,” he whispers lowly, and your eyes almost widen. He’s dreamed about this? Imagined how you’d feel?

“Dreamed?” 

“Mhm,” he breathes out as he rolls his hips, “I mean dreamed, I mean almost woke up to a mess all over myself.”

“…Really?” You whisper, slipping your hands to his cheeks. 

“Really.” He whispers back, almost absently as he sinks himself all the way in, and you can feel the pressure in your belly. “Better than I imagined, darlin’. So perfect. Such a perfect pussy,” he whispers, kissing your cheek, hand on your waist, his weight comforting and soothing. “Such a perfect pussy.” He says again, moaning in your ear with his lips now so close to them. When he picks up his pace, your face screws up in pleasure, and you slide your hands around his back, your fingertips starting to curl into his shoulder blades as he thrust his full length into you. “Angel, angel,” he repeats, whispering it in your ear and punctuating it with wet kisses over your neck. Moaning to his tempo, you hold on tighter, desperation filling your chest as you feel him in your guts. 

Joel pulls himself up, touch skimming over your body until it reaches your thighs, calloused hands holding the backs of them to spread you wider for him. The view is mesmerizing, his broad frame on display, the muscles of the V leading down to where his cock enters you straining and relaxing again and again as he bucks his hips. And his eyes, god, dark and full of lust as he watches you, lips parted in moaned mumbles as his gaze switches down to the way fucks his length into you. 

Almost involuntarily, you writhe under him, twisting the bedsheets in your fists, arching your back as he grips your thighs tighter, almost lifting your bottom half off of the bed to guide your hips at his will. Your mouth has fallen open, tossing moans out as you soak up the view, lost in the feeling of him driving himself now faster inside of you. 

Seemingly at the same time, your gazes land on the bump in your belly, and Joel removes a hand from your thigh to press his fingers over it, and you sigh out a loud moan. 

“Takin’ me so well, aren't’chou, baby?” He whispers, breaths heavy and eyes dark when he looks back up into yours. 

“Yeah,” you manage to reply, “feels so good, Joel,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” and then he reaches his thumb down to circle your clit, and a long, whining moan pours out of you, reeling under his touch.

“Sh sh shhh,” Joel shushes you, leaning down to press his hand over your mouth, “we don’t want Winona to hear, remember, baby?” He mutters in your ear as he uses the weight of his leaned hips to keep a steady, quick, and deep pace, still with his fingers splayed over the spot where his cock bumps through your belly and thumb playing with your clit. The moans, thankfully muffled by his hand, are loud and uncontrollable as tense heat twists in your stomach, writhing under him as it all comes together to jolt you straight into euphoria, eyes nearly rolling back in your head as you cum around his cock. 

“Jesus Christ, yes,” he drawls softly, almost mewling moans himself, “feels like heaven like that, darlin’, keep cummin’ for me, sweet thing, jus’ like that, jus’ like that angel,”

The sounds coming out of you are high pitched and stuttered as your ride out your orgasm, but the pleasure doesn’t release it’s hold of you because he doesn’t quit fucking you, now impossibly deeper, feeling like his cock is reaching straight through your intestines. Your hands slither and grab and squeeze at his skin, desperately holding onto him as he delivers you into delirious bliss.

Once your moans quiet some, he takes his hand away from your mouth, moving it to hold the side of your face, fingers reaching into your hair, keeping his thumb on your lip. 

“So fuckin’ good, baby, god, feel so good,” he mutters, eyelids droopy as he looks down at you. 

Still a bit out of sorts, you can’t manage out anything but a simple sound, but you cup his cheeks and pull him into a kiss. When you get your mouth to work again, you say softly, “Thank you.”

Joel lets out a sharp chuckle. “Thank you?” He mumbles, looking over your face, thumb brushing your cheek as he slows his pace for a moment. “Don’t need to thank me, darlin’. I ain’t doin’ you a favor. If anythin’, you’re doin’ one for me, lettin’ me fuck this perfect pussy ‘f yours.” He whispers, still brushing a light touch over your cheek, southern drawl stressing under the pressure of thick desire. 

“So good, Joel,” you murmur, running your hands up his cheeks before bringing his face in for a gentle kiss. Though wet and a little sloppy, it’s sweet and simple, and stays just like that even as he starts back with increasingly faster and harder thrusts, until you’re basically just trying to catch each other’s lips, your body jerking under his. 

“So fuckin’ good,” he murmurs between kisses, then raising his torso again to look down at you under him, caressing the side of your neck, fingers reaching into your hair as he watches you. “So fuckin’ good. Keep moanin’ for me, darlin’, wanna know how good I make you feel, god damn,” he suddenly lowers his face again, letting his lips drag up and down your cheek, wetting your skin as he speaks with need in his slurred words, “wanna make you cum again, wanna make you cum again, sweetheart, wanna make you feel so good.” He reaches his hand back down between your legs, raising himself back up to watch your face as he presses his fingers down in a quick, tight circle on your clit. 

It breaks you in seconds, plunging you into another state of ecstasy, pulling moans out of you that forces Joel to clamp his hand over your mouth again. “That’s it, that’s it,” he whispers, nodding as he watches you tremble and twitch, noisy mewls against his mouth. Unconsciously, you have dug your nails into his thighs, but it only makes his breaths heavier, pace faster and harder, and voice a little louder, still slurred as he showers you in praise. “That’s it, pretty girl. Such a pretty, pretty girl, darlin’. Pussy like heaven, swear. Swear, swear. So gorgeous, darlin’. Perfect pussy, perfect tits, perfect body, perfect face, perfect voice, perfect girl, jus’ perfect, baby. Jus’ fuckin’ perfect. Can’t believe I finally got’chou underneath me like this. God, damn, honey baby.”

Breathing heavier, Joel releases your mouth and clit so that he can grip your thighs again, holding them in place to drive into you at a swift pace, skin slapping skin, bed starting to creak as he’s taken further by the pleasure he finds in you. “So, fuckin’, good,” he breathes out, “so fuckin’ good.” Nearly limp underneath him, you lay, pouring soft moans, head cloudy and lids lazy as you bask in the ceaseless satisfaction of the way he fucks you silly.

Right as he throws out a loud moan, Joel suddenly pulls out of you, hips still jerking instinctively over the flesh of your belly before his hand flies down, pulling at it his cock desperately until his cums spits and spills over your torso. Head leaned back, he groans, lurching his hips for a few more moments, cock pulsing in his hand. 

Then, he leans back over you, almost falling onto his hands propping him up above you. You watch his length fall over your belly again, hips stuttering just a little bit more before he begins to soften. 

All that, just from you. You did that to him. When you look back up at him, eyes full of awe, he blushes, a shy half smirk on his lips as he looks away. “God damn, darlin’.” He chuckles lightly. “You make me such a mess. And I don’t just mean uh,” he glances down to the puddle of cum warming your skin, “that, I mean,” he chuckles again, still not meeting your eyes as he shakes his head, “I’m such a god damn dog for you, honey.”

“I don’t mind it,” you tell him, raising your hands to cup his face and pull his gaze to yours, “in fact I’ve never felt better about myself.” This earns another chuckle from him, and he holds your chin in his fingers to press a tender kiss to your lips.

“You gotta know what a beautiful girl you are. Bet I’m not the only one you’ve gotten like this.”

Shrugging, a shy smile of your own lifts your lips. “Never had anyone like you, though.”

“Wha’d’ya mean like me?”

“...So handsome.” You whisper, cheeks burning as if he isn’t the one who just came as hard as he did over you. Joel chuckles, that smile still making your heart flutter. After a moment, you decide to tell him, “…I had a dream about you, too. Could hardly meet your eyes the next morning.” You can’t help a bit of embarrassment until Joel chuckles and admits, “I’ve jacked off to you every day since I fuckin’ met you.” 

“Are you serious?” You laugh, slapping his chest.

“Dead serious.” He chuckles, nodding with his brows raised. 

Inadvertently, you whisper, “Wow.” Joel laughs, and you bask in the grin. 

“Wow yourself, pretty girl. You look so lovely like this.”

“Oh,” you cover your face with your hands, “I must look like such a mess!” You laugh a groan, but Joel pulls your hands away, a wide, sweet smile under fond eyes. “You’re beautiful.” He whispers. This time, you don’t bother to hide the way your face heats up, instead just smiling back up at him with a hum. 

“Now… I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but thinkin’ about this mess I’ve made dripping onto these sheets is a bit distracting. Don’t know how I could look Winona in the eyes knowin’ I’ve… left cum all over her livelihood. Stay right here, darlin’,” he whispers with a smile before raising himself off of you to go to his dresser, pulling out a rag that’s just about falling apart. His entire journey from dresser back to bed is glorious to watch, Joel completely nude, physique looking to be carved by the gods. 

With a level of care you’d never expected for this kind of act, he slowly wipes up his cum off of your torso, eyes focused, except for the flicking glances to your chest and crotch. After standing, holding the wet and wadded rag, he swears under his breath. “Fuck do I do with this thing, god damn.” You giggle, watching his helpless hesitancy. “Shit.” He swears again, going back to his drawer to dig out a second rag, wrapping the wet one up in it before he feels it’s safe enough to be thrown in the bin next to the nightstand. 

You’re still giggling as he walks back to you laid out on the bed. “Jesus.” He says under his breath, letting out a quiet chuckle of his own, blushing.

“That was very gentlemanly of you, Joel.” You tell him. 

“Well, I try.” He mumbles, climbing back onto the bed. You slide yourself over, making room for him to rest; probably exhausted, while you got to just lay there and have him do all the work. He sighs and he lets himself sink into the mattress, holding his arm out for you to crawl into his arms. 

You let your head rest over his outstretched arm, peering up at his profile with his other arm propped behind his head. With your hand on his chest, you feel his now slow breaths and a hint of the beating of his heart. You swear you could stay like this forever. And from here, as you gaze at him, a feeling comes over you that you think might just be falling in love. 

You thought you were in love once. When you were younger, a blonde boy you went to school with. He was your first kiss, shared behind the school just after it’d let out for the day. You held hands when no one was looking, and you practiced writing his name in cursive over and over and over again. You swore you were in love, you told your mother so, even though you weren't even double digits yet. He moved shortly after that, why, you never knew. However, you know now that you weren't in love, a bit too young. You can feel some of that with Joel, the giddy fluttering in your chest, how much you like to just look at him, but that’s about it for comparison. 

Joel, he gives you everything just by existing. That’s how you know you’re in love. 

Your heart wants you to scream it at him right now, but you can’t get the words out, fearful of scaring him off. Not yet. But you have to say something. 

Quietly, you ask, watching his face, “Do you ever think about, um… love?” 

“Wha’d’ya mean?” He replies softly.

“I dunno I just… I mean, have you ever been in love?”

After a moment, he sighs out, “Once.” Joel adjusts his arm behind his head, the beginning of the movement raising a nervous flutter in your chest, instantly assuming he was moving away from you, but he doesn’t. “Long time ago.”

“What happened?”

“I had to go.”

“You left?” Your brow pinches, somewhat surprised by his response. There’s a lot you don’t know, but you never saw him as being one to take off. Foolish to think, when you consider it—he’s a drifter, always moving from one town to the next.

“I did.”

Is that his plan with you? Does he do this often? Anxious, you shift, but you keep your body on his, unable to tear yourself away. 

“Just like that? You just… left her?”

At least he’s here now. If he’s gonna be gone soon, so be it. If this is what he does, so be it. You’re sure plenty of girls have tried to convince him to stay before, but it doesn't seem he ever has, even when he was in love. You don’t stand a chance of convincing him. But, god be damned, you’re still in love. 

“Well, it’s not like she knew.”

Once again, thrown off, your brow pinches. “You never told her?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I was scared. That’s why I left in the first place.”

Well, you sure are good at jumping to conclusions. Joel, scared… “So you were… running away from her…”

“Guess so.”

“Well… why were you scared?”

“Not quite sure. I was young,” he sighs, “stupid.”

You pause, thinking. What you really want to know is… does he love you? And, is he going to leave you? It’s much too soon, you think, to ask. 

“Would you… do it again?”

“Do what?”

“I dunno…” Too scared, you decide to drop it. “Nevermind.” You sigh and deflect, wanting to keep this precious moment. “I’m tired.”

He sighs after a moment, and you watch his eyes close. “Yeah, I’m about the same.”

You keep yours open, watching his face, his lashes, the curve of his nose, of his chin, the pout of his lips, the heart shape patch in his beard. Your heart screams, I love you, I love you, I love you, so loud you have to look away, moving your head onto his chest and closing your eyes. Feeling his breath and listening to his beating heart, your own whispers, I love you, I love you, I love you. Through him, that peace seeps into you, and as you drift off, your heart repeats, I love you, I love you, I love you, Joel Miller, I love you. 

[soulofapatrick]

Home Is Where The Heart Is - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: After a brutal fight against raiders with Ellie you feel like your bond with her and everyone in town is broken but Joel is there to show you otherwise

Words: 3k

Warnings; blood; injury

Notes: Platonic Ellie x reader too. I need more of this Joel; long salt and pepper hair and scruff cuz fuuuuckkk me man he looks fine af 

Y/N’s POV

People stop and stare as we make our way back into town, Ellie’s sat upon Indiana with the two kids, trotting behind us. One is cradled in her arms being only four and the other is behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist. She’s wild eyed and clinging to the four year old like a lifeline while I have the mother stumbling beside me, arm over my shoulder as I take most of her weight and Indiana’s reins are wrapped around my left arm so Ellie can keep the kids safe. We’re covered in blood, me the most as I may have gone on a killing rampage after finding the kids locked up in those cages. 

Tommy and Maria are rushing towards us, the gates slamming shut behind Indiana and causing the kids to cry out in fear, my heart breaking even more. Others are joining us, Jesse escorting the mother towards the makeshift hospital Jackson has with a promise her kids will be safe and reunited with her shortly but she needed medical care first. The reins are being taken from me and I’m stepping towards Ellie who is standing by Tommy, the kid still cradled in her arms, and she takes a step back. My world comes crashing down right then and there, the look of fear in her clover eyes when she sees me moving towards her, it draws a lump in my throat and I’m digging my nails into my palms to keep myself calm. Dina’s putting a hand on my arm, being one of the only people to know about my past and why I was so triggered by the raiders keeping this family hostage. 

I’m throwing a glance back at Ellie when Dina begins leading me away, watching how Tommy and Maria are tending to her and the kids until they disappear around a corner. Dina’s firm hand in mine being the only thing grounding me from breaking down right then and there in the snow as I don’t know if I want to cry or scream or both. I’m angry and I’m hurt and I’m not good with emotions so all I can do is focus on her tight grip on my hand as she leads me home. 

“N-no, Dina we can’t… Ellie-“ My voice cracks at Ellie’s name. She won’t want me being in the same house as her anymore. The look in her eyes said it all back there and I know… she won’t ever look at me the same way again let alone look at me.

“We need to wash the blood away and I’m sure Joel will want to know.” She steels me with a stern look as I pull against her hand, digging in my heels but somehow she’s overpowering me and pulling me up the porch steps. She doesn’t hesitate to dive a hand into my pockets and pull out my keys so she can let us in. Joel’s jumping up when he sees me covered in still drying blood, mouth open in protest but silenced by Dina holding a hand up to him before she turns back to me, “Shoes off and go run yourself a shower. Now.” 

I don’t argue, toeing off my boots and heading for the stairs, keeping my eyes down and shaking off Joel’s hand that reaches out to touch my shoulder lightly. The soft sound of emotional hurt he makes is another stab in my gut but this time they’ve twisted the knife and the floodgates of blood and tears all at once. I’m trying to hold in the sob as I sprint up the stairs, hearing the quiet mumbles of Joel and Dina and wanting to drown them out. My heart is pounding in my ears and I’m struggling to breathe, stumbling into the bathroom door before slipping to my knees inside. I’m having a panic attack and I try so hard to remember the tricks Tommy taught me, pressing the flat of my palms to the freezing porcelain, focusing on the contrast of temperature against my burning skin. Hands touch my shoulders and I’m spinning around, pinning them down until I realise it’s Dina. She doesn’t flinch and there’s no fear or hatred in her gaze and I’m falling, my cheek pressing to the cold floor as she watches. She leans over and brushes a strand of my blood-matted hair off my forehead and I’m squeezing my eyes shut to try and stop crying but it doesn’t work. 

Dina’s pulling herself to her feet and I wait to hear the bathroom door open and close but instead the sound of the shower being turned on reaches my ears and the heavy pounding of the water against the bottom of the bath seems to blur out any possibility of thoughts. The comforting sound of the water mixed with the cool tiles calms my heart rate enough to drag myself into a sitting position, eyes sliding open to see Dina watching me from where she’s sat atop the counter, waiting me patiently to come around. Her smile is soft, her curls more prominent in the steam the hot shower is producing and I want to cry again but I can’t. It’s not the time. 

“Ellie’s scared of me.” I croak, voice sounding wrecked and Dina’s gaze soften as she gently shakes her head, watching me pull myself to my feet, legs shaking from exhaustion. My hands tremble as I struggle with the buttons on my shirt until familiar hands are slapping mine away and deft fingers make quick work of it, helping me slide it off and it goes straight in the bin. I manage to kick my jeans off and Dina turns away so I slip out of my underwear and into the welcoming warmth of the shower. It draws a sound from my lips as my muscles begin to ache and the open wounds that adorn my skin let themselves knows. All I can focus my attention on is the way the water runs red, not stopping or fading back to clear until Dina’s sighing and she surprises me by stepping into the shower with me but fully dressed. 

I should be yelling at her, asking what the fuck she’s doing but I can’t muster the energy to. Jesse; Dina and I have a pretty chill friendship and we’ve had to look after each other after particularly tough patrols or raiders getting into Jackson. Jesse had to help Dina snap out of her shock one time after her first kill of a raider and the three of us just sat in the bathroom, Jesse cleaning the blood and mud from Dina while I had my back to the door. It was the first time I had truly felt comfortable around people and I trusted them with my life, loving to see how happy Jesse and Dian were together. I hope Jesse doesn’t kill me for this, I’m the one who’s naked not Dina but it still feels strangely intimate. Dina’s definitely pretty but I’m not one to swing that way, especially with the weird bond thing Joel and I have. 

“Joel?” I ask as Dina massages the shampoo into my scalp the water running even redder than before and my eyes are slamming shut because Ellie’s right. I am a monster. 

“He’s gone to talk to Tommy,” She coos soothingly before speaking up again, a smirk in her voice as she washes the shampoo out and moves onto the conditioner, “What was he doing waiting in your house anyway, with a key by the looks of it.” 

“I…” I have to actually pause as I’m not sure why Joel was waiting for me here. I usually come back from patrol, shower then head down the road to his for dinner, “I don’t know.” 

“Well, he was so worried, thought you were hurt,” She grinning, I can feel it without turning around, shivering when she rinses the conditioner out and runs her fingers through my hair to tease out any more knots clinging together. It hurts but I don’t even wince as I deserve it after what I did today, “Joel was ready to shove me aside and come up but I didn’t think you’d want him seeing you so vulnerable just yet.” 

The shower is turned off and Dina’s stepping out, leaving the room dripping wet head to toe before a towel is flung through a crack into door and I hear her race to the spare room as both her and Jesse keep spare clothes in mine. The privacy giving me time to dry myself and pad to my room, shutting the door behind me with a soft click as Dina’s footsteps can be heard on the steps before the familiar sound of the kettle boiling is following. 

“I’m staring at myself in the cracked mirror an ache in my chest as the person I once knew is not the person staring back at me. Instead, it’s someone with bags under her eyes and a heavy weight of the past crushing them, leaving their mouth constantly turned downwards, eyes dull and eyebrows always in a scowl, no brightness or warmth to any part of them. Staring back is a shell of the person you once used to be, learning to slowly adapt and love again within the safe confines of Jackson. The walls may keep me safe but seeing others, like the mother and sons in pain and danger, makes me feel selfish for trying to be happy and build a life when they’re getting tortured and killed everyday. The scar across my cheek reminds me that I was once the person chained up and tortured for information I didn’t have and I was the one being saved by Tommy like I did that family. Maybe… Just maybe there is a possibility I deserve love and-

The opening and closing of the front door has me shaking my head, grabbing the first clothes I find in my drawers and haphazardly pulling them on: it’s a pair of grey baggy sweatpants and a somewhat matching sweatshirt in a deep blue colour. I’m drawing my damp hair up into a ponytail and before I can even open the door to head downstairs and find out why Dina left my bedroom door is being pushed open. Crowding the doorway is an almost shy looking Joel, salt and pepper hair shining in the sunset pouring through my window, beard finally having joined his hair in colour over the last year, tanned skin warm and glowing and a light pink dusting his cheeks. He’s still got his brown winter jacket on and that worn baby blue scarf tucked into it and if I weren’t so worried about Ellie hating me and the family I brought in I’d be on my knees for him already. I haven’t got much resolve after today and the things this man and his large hands do to me is almost embarrassing. He’s holding a steaming mug of what smells like coffee and the mug looks tiny wrapped in his hand.

“I-I thought you might like some company?” Joel’s stuttering and blushing and I’m just nodding, moving to my bed and he follows, setting the cup on my bedside table. He’s moving back to close the bedroom door, shrugging off that jacket and scarf to put them across my desk chair before finally sitting on the edge of my bed. I don’t think twice about pulling him down so he’s laying on his back and slotting myself under his left arm, laying my head on his chest over his heart so I can feel it beating comfortingly against my ear, “I’ve got you.” He coos, fingers gently pulling the hair tie from my hair so he can card his fingers through it and my eyes are fluttering shut when his blunt nails massage my scalp. 

“Ellie hates me now, doesn’t she?” My voice shakes and I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to see his expression as he continues to soothe my hair and scalp. 

“She doesn’t hate you, she just needs some time to process. She’s never seen you…” He trails off, chest rumbling when I push a hand under his shirt, feeling his soft stomach rise and fall with every breath. He may not have a six pack but he is in no way unfit, his pecs well defined and if you run your hands over his chest you can feel the beginnings of six packs but he’s perfect the way he is: equal parts buff and soft. 

I’m gasping softly when the rough pads of his fingers ghost over my cheek, drawing me up to meet his gaze, honey eyes soft and warm as they search my face. Gentle fingers traces the scar down my cheek, nothing on his face but warmth and… love? It’s almost overwhelming and I’m letting my eyes slide shut, leaving into his warm palm that is now gripping my jaw, parting my lips when his thumb brushes over my bottom lip. His name tumbles from my lips in a broken whine and it’s as if the world is answering my prayers when plump lips meet mine in a soft kiss. My hands find the thick scruff of his beard, dragging my nails lightly through it and eliciting an addictive sound that I swallow. Moving my hands to tangle in his hair and pull lightly, deepening the kiss and opening my mouth for his searching tongue. Joel surrounds me in every way, his scent intoxicating, lips tasting of coffee as if he’d stolen a sip or two on his way up the stairs and his kisses leaving me dizzy with wanting more. 

He’s pulling back too soon, stopping my lips from chasing his like I want to and honey eyes darker as he whispers out, “Y/N stop, I…” He takes a deep breath, hand cupping my cheek and thumb rubbing my cheekbone, “I want this, you don’t know how crazy I am for you but you’ve just been through something big… I want to know your feelings back are real and not just… not just adrenaline.” 

“Stay the night?” I rush out, chest heaving with nerves and his eyes search my face again before he’s nodding and rearranging us so he’s spooning me. His left arm is under my neck, tucking it under my pillows so I can use both as a pillow and his right is resting on my hip but it’s not enough. I’m intertwining our fingers, pulling them to my lips to kiss his knuckles before letting our interlocked hands settle over my heart, a small smile on my lips when he presses a kiss to my neck and begins to whisper soothingly until my eyes are growing heavy. 

*

Rolling onto my back, stretching, I’m greeted by Joel watching me with a soft look in his eyes, propped up on his elbow and fingers moving to brush my hair out of my face as he speaks quietly, as if trying to not ruin the moment, “Hey there baby girl.” 

“Hey Joel,” I whisper back, raising myself to lean on my elbows, our lips a hair’s breadth away and his breath fanning over my face as I say the three words he wants to hear, “I meant it.” His lips are meeting mine in a gentle kiss, beard scraping against my chin and cheek but I would gladly suffer all the beard burn in the world to have him kissing me the way he is. He’s laying me back down and slotting himself over me, our bodies fitting together like a prefect jigsaw puzzle and the strangely comforting mix of burnt coffee, a woodsy musk I know is his cologne and something citrusy sweet has me reeling. I’m tugging at Joel’s bedhead, loving the longer look he has adopted over the last few months and my breath is being stolen with every push and pull of those tantalising lips. 

“Y/N!” The door flies open and Joel’s rolling to sit next to me as we jump apart, Ellie standing in the doorway. Her mouth is hung open as her clover eyes flit between me and Joel, my heart pounding so loud I think they both can hear it as Joel’s placing a calming hand over mine. Ellie’s face twists and soon enough she’s beaming as she yells, “FUCK YEAH I GET TO CALL Y/N MUM!”

Mum?

“You don’t hate me?” I ask quietly as she sits on the bottom of the bed, legs crossed and facing us. Guilt fills those bright eyes but she’s shaking her head and I’m yanking her into a hug that I really need. She laughs sweetly, throwing her arms around my shoulders and burying her face in the crook of my neck. 

“I could never hate you Mom. You mean too much to me, you were protecting us,” She pulls back, hand holding one of mine, “I was pretty badass the way you shot down every single one.” 

“I love you.” I whisper, glancing between her and Joel and they both smile. Before I can ask they’re both tackling me into a hug and I just relinquish any fight I was going to put up as this is what I want. Ellie’s curled up in my arms between me and Joel as he looks at me with one emotion I never thought I’d get from him: Love. 

It fills my chest with pride and I’m reaching out for Joel over Ellie’s now passed out form and he’s meeting me halfway, interlocking our fingers and pressing a kiss to my forehead over Ellie. This is really happening. I have to blink a few time in shock as yeah, Ellie is asleep between me and Joel and there’s a new found sense of place and belonging filling every corner of this house. Maybe things will be okay. They work out in the end. 

Always. 

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

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[a-strange-inkling]

A late WIP Wednesday

A little more of that Hellcheer/OneCheer Thriller:

The cat is rigid, hissing at him as she bats at his pathetic, grabby hand that’s turning red and purple from the strain.

She’s scared out of her little mind.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m not going to hurt—AH FUCKIN’ HELL!” He yelps when one of her claws snags the thin layer of skin between his thumb and pointer finger, curling into him enough to draw blood.

“I’m just trying to save you! Let me save you!” he whines miserably, pressing his shoulder against the window pane harder and shifting his body weight so that he can stretch out further. Almost there… She flattens against the panels, snarling in warning, but thankfully she doesn’t edge further away. With a quick swing, he’s able to grab hold of the fur from her scruff, and tug her back into the window.

She growls, whipping and swinging angrily as Eddie stumbles back to keep his footing and his hold on the frightened and angry little ball of fur. Last thing he needs is the neighbors’ cat running wild in the house. “Hey, hey, easy, it’s okay now damn it!”

He winces in pain when she scratches his palm just before climbing up his arm and curling up into his elbow, doing that scaredy cat thing they do where they just ball up tight. He can feel her frantic little heart beating. “Hey, it’s okay now, I’m sorry I had to get a little rough with you.” He smoothes over her white coat that’s standing on edge with his palm, petting her carefully until she starts to slowly calm down. After about ten minutes of schmoozing her on his bed, she starts to unfurl and even begins purring when he scratches under her chin, rubbing up against him. She’s pretty cute actually. “Yeah, you’re alright… c’mon I think your poor mama’s been worried sick about you.”

…

Jeff is going to kill him for this. They all are. But what is he supposed to do?

Not return the cat.

He cradles the nervous little thing as she rides along his forearm, carefully walking up to the front gate, making sure her husband’s car is gone before giving it a push with his hip. It’s locked, which doesn’t really surprise him, but he can see the little recluse in the window behind the gossamer curtain, staring at him.

He waves awkwardly, holding up the cat for her to see. Her eyes widen and she can’t seem to stop herself this time, running to the door and unlocking the heavy deadbolt.

Eddie’s heart rate picks up when she sprints (sprints) down the walkway toward him, tears shining in her eyes. He feels a sudden rush of heat climbing up his neck. “Hey, sorry… but uh I’m pretty sure this little lady belongs to you.”

He smiles as he carefully hands the cat off to her, their fingers touching during the exchange. So she is real, not a ghost or a figment of his imagination. Her fingers are soft and warm.

“W-where did you find her?” she asks in astonishment, hugging the purring creature to her heart, tears of joy and relief running down her face. He remembers how frantic she had been in the yard yesterday, searching and calling for her.

“She was stuck on the back of my roof, I heard her crying and was able to get her down.”

She looks up at him, noticing the long scratches stretching up his arm and hand.

“She had some opinions about it.” He adds, his smile becoming a slow, playful grin.

He sees a little smile hiding in the corner of her lip as the cat nuzzles up against her cheek, so happy to back with her mama. Christina closes her eyes with a pitiful little sniff. “I was so worried something happened to her… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Oh, well…” He rubs the back of his very hot neck. “I’m just glad she’s okay… she seems to mean a lot to you.”

Chrissy nods sorrowfully, wiping away at her tears. “She’s… she’s my only friend sometimes.” she confesses quietly.

Oh his black, callous heart, it’s being ripped apart by the seams. He raises a careful hand, brushing the cat’s ear. “What’s her name?”

She’s quiet a moment before she answers. “Amalthea.”

He blinks, smiling bemusedly. “Wow. That’s uh—that’s quite a mouthful.”

Sounds like a Tolkien name or something.

She ducks bashfully, and that smile escapes her this time. “…It’s from a book I used to read when I was little.”

[lilacwineandthesinkingsun]

All jokes aside - 3

Here's the second option of the pull i made about the one series laced with jokes and stuff, the other is a serious one (Evermore). I hope you'll enjoy.

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

MINORS GO AWAY

Somehow nor you nor Price made it back to your respectable rooms, all of the team was scattered around the safe house’s living room, not far from the bar, so it was considerably closer than the base, it took one drunken call from Price to Laswell (with you yelling in the background) to have her accepting the decision. You woke up to a splitting headache, not minding where you are as you tried to get up, only to be held back by two strong arms and a massive leg. You groaned slightly.

-Sleep a bit more doll. - a voice came, chest vibrating under your head. His body was warm as he wrapped himself around you a bit more, making you smile to yourself. You heard noises but didn’t open your eyes. A soft kiss landed on your temple. By the gentle scruff of a beard you figured it was Price.

-Need anything love? - he asked softly.

-Jus’ some sleep and like a whole pack of Advil. Maybe some blue Gatorade. - you said almost childishly as you snuggled closer to the one under you, a hand gently going through Price’s face as a thank you. Ghost’s hand drawing shooting circles around your waist as you lay on top of him, the other cradles your face closer as he kisses the top of your head. This feels domestic, you feel safe and comfortable. You reach a hand up to caress his jawline only to find a balaclava and a mask in the way, groaning as you try to retreat your hand in disappointment. His gently takes it and move it to his neck, under his balaclava. He hums contentedly as you start to caress him.

When Price gets back he finds that none of you moved. Except for Soap who’s been laying next to the couch, and now he was lazily caressing your calf as he scrolled away on his phone with the other. They were really starting to act like your guard dogs, but he didn’t mind it one bit. This, this just felt right. As if this was a missing picture of his album of memories.

-König, tea of coffee?

-Coffee please,…. - he stopped for a bit chuckling to himself- now that i think of it.. women do remind me of coffee. - he says, a smirk evident is his voice. He was still kind of pissed that you made them stay up and drink all night though. Even him, despite his lack of words towards you, yet you still tried to always involve him, and the way you seemed comfortable with each and every one of them made him feel things, made him think that you might actually like him too

-Oh i gotta hear this. - said Soap.- do indulge me my austrian friend.

-Well, they are expensive, bitter and they never let you sleep. - he smirked to himself, giving you a daring look, as you opened your eyes slowly, smirking wickedly, detangling yourself from Ghost’s arms, making him sigh in defeat, arms falling flat beside him. You made your way towards König with small steps, hips swaying, getting all their attention.

-Well, i like my men how i like my tea.. - you said in a sultry voice.

-Oh yea, and how’s that? - he asked cockily, spreading his legs wide as you came to stand between them, hands already holding the backs of your thighs, as you leaned down.

-In a fucking bag, underwater. - you say as you press a kiss to the tip of where his nose is under his shawl, making all of them chuckle, as König’s hands crawl to your hips making you sit in his lap as he gathers you and snuggles you closer to his chest, one arm pressing circles over your shoulder, the other massaging your thigh.

Price walks up to you with the gatorade and the advil, and you look up at him with sparkling eyes. His fingers gently trace your face, your jawline, wandering down to your neck and collarbones as you sigh. If they would decide to just use you, you wouldn’t be able to tell them to no or anything for that matter. And now it didn’t bother you at all. It just felt.. right. Whatever this was between you and them, it was right.

When König needed to go to the bathroom, much to your dismay, and you stayed in the comfy arm chair, eyeing them silently.

The day flew by with little touches, caresses and lots of snuggles for you. You didn’t kiss any of them, but you were in no rush either, enjoying the build up, getting to know what is this even. God help whichever of them will get the full blow of it though, if they will of course.

You decided to watch a movie, smushed between Price and Ghost. It was another movie with military in it, they seemed to only like these kinds of movies. You took a sharp breath in, an idea filling your mind as you put your hands on each one of their thighs to help you up before you climbed into Price’s lap, facing him. His hands immediately on your thighs as he looked up into your eyes.

-What’s up love? - he whispered, not wanting to annoy the rest of the team. You run your nose up his, then into his beard before placing a gentle kiss right under his ear as you whispered sweetly.

-I’m bored sir. - ever the polite little soldier he smirked as his hands slowly ventured further on your thighs, further up your body, until they were on your ribs, thumbs caressing the underside of your boobs through your black turtleneck that you still had on, making you sigh into his neck.

-What do you want to do then? - you felt him growing under your tactical pants. Just the effect you wanted from him. You ever so slightly grind over his ever growing shaft before whispering him your answer.

-Nothing, cuddling with you is fine. - before his hands stilled you.

-Be good then, no grinding. - he kissed your jawline before scooting you impossibly closer to him, arms around you squeezing reassuringly. You sighed as you started to run your fingers through Soap’s mohawk next to Price making him close his eyes.

———————————————————————————

The next briefing you sit between König and Soap. Laswell eyes you all, but the boys behaved so you got off the hook for now. You try to concentrate on your friend and Price as your phone buzzes in your pocked. You quietly fish it out only to find a text from Ghost.

Ghosty <3: Quit biting your lip.

(Y/N): You wouldn’t know i was biting my lip, if you were paying attention to the briefing.

Ghosty <3: It’s hard to pay attention when the Captain can’t stop staring at you.

(Y/N): I’m busy taking notes, so i wouldn’t know. *angel emoji*

Ghosty <3: Good.

Ghosty <3: Now take note of this, if you’re going to be anyone’s, you’re going to be mine.

You smirked at your phone.Ghost seemed the most possessive out of them. Sure, they all were to some extent, but with him it was more primal even without kisses and sex. Biting your lip again at the thought, hearing Price hiss silently.

-Okay i think we got it down. Good luck on the mission 141. - she says as she gathers her files before leaving. The boys filter out, and you would too if Price wouldn’t hold you back by the wrist. He leads you back to the big table in the middle, lifting you to sit on it as he stands between your legs, one arm on your waist, the other planted to your neck and jaw. His thumbs caress your face gently as you look up at him with doe eyes, biting on your lip again as he towers over you.. His thumb comes to your chin, gently taking your lip from the confines of your teeth, running along them.

-Quit biting your lip love. - he said, his gaze so intense, you don’t even realize that your tongue darted out to wet your chewed on bottom lip. He leans close, his nose smoothing over the ridge of yours, before he stares into your eyes, almost pleading, waiting for a confirmation, or giving you space to get away from him if you didn’t want it. When you angle your head a bit, your lips brushing against his barely, he finally plants the softest kiss on your lips. Before your hands make their way around his neck, he is lifting you closer, making your legs close around his middle. He gently licks your bottom lip, biting it ever so slightly until you give him access to your mouth. You whimper into the kiss when Soap opens the door without knocking. Your face burn as if you were caught doing something bad, when in all honesty you did enjoy it.

-Just left my gloves here. - he said as he walked up to you and Price, he smiled, gently kissing your kiss bruised lips, before taking his gloves from the table and leaving with a wink. Price still standing between your legs, looking at you with a cocked eyebrow. You shrug as you smile, arching to reach up to his lips once more, and he lets you, his hands now on your sides, pulling you impossibly closer, until neither of you can breathe, until there was not an inch of space between you two. When he breaks the kiss you almost whimper at the loss of his, as he touches his forehead to yours.

-We should go. - he says with a sad smile. - don’t want to rush this. - he looked away, only for you to touch his face gently, rubbing, snaking your fingers through his soft beard.

-Thank you. - you said before playfully smiling and not taking your legs off from around him, making him chuckle.

-Legs not working? - he asks playfully.

-Nah, sadly not, I’m afraid I’ll have to be carried. - you said in an almost too theatrical tone before giggling. Gosh you were giggly around them lately, what did they managed to do to you?

He put his arm under your buttcheeks, squeezing a bit before humming, satisfied with the goods. He then carried you back to the barrack the 141 now ultimately occupied. It wasn’t far, and since the 141 was a special unit, it had it’s own building anyways. The boys are packing their stuff as Price walks in and tosses you into your cot.

-Pack now. - he orders and you smile as you follow his order.

[seiyasabi]

ブン-ブン

(Here’s my Yandere Bunny Polnareff x Female Reader story :)) 

Sorry if this is too OOC or too fast paced! I tried my best, but I’m unhappy with the result. 

TW: !Noncon!, Pol is a hybrid!, breeding kink!, cumflation!, !!!HOMIE PISSES ON YOU (this is not really a kink, just animal instinct)!!!!, alludes to cat violence (Not you)!!, marking (rubs his scent glands on you)!, overstim!, etc..)

Please proceed with caution!!)

Hearing a loud yowl from your backyard, you hurry towards your back doors. It seems your tabby cat, Garfield, has gotten himself into some trouble. 

Clicking your tongue to gain his attention, you unlock the French doors, flinging them open.  

You only allowed the fatass outside for a few minutes! How is he already into something he shouldn’t be in? 

Stepping outside, your eyes are immediately drawn to a mass of white and orange. Your cat is currently wrestling with the biggest rabbit you’ve ever seen. 

It’s the same size as your fatass cat, hell, maybe it’s bigger! Its head alone is larger than your fist! 

Its ears are currently being gnawed on by your feline son, specks of red dripping from the bun’s white coat. Garfield is nailed in the side with a powerful kick, causing him to yowl once more. Seeing this, you snap out of your shock, immediately hauling it towards the fighting duo. 

“Garfield, stop it! Leave that bunny alone!” They pretend they can’t hear you, and continue to brawl. Once by the two, you yoink them up from the lush grass, separating them by holding them in opposite hands. You’re grabbing them by the scruff of their necks, frowning at them, “Alright, break it up!”

Your cat takes a couple swipes at the rabbit, the rabbit tries kicking at your cat, both of them ultimately missing one another. 

“Would you two stop it?” You huff, pouting cutely. The bunny is a lot heavier than you originally thought, forcing you to readjust your hold on it, “Do you see how dumb you look? You’re both fighting the air!” 

Garfield hisses in response, causing you to roll your eyes. At least the rabbit has better manners than him. 

“Fine, whatever. We’re going inside now, so I can patch you hooligans up. You both better both behave.” 

Turning on your heel, you stomp inside, wounded animals cradled to your (bountiful/small) chest. Both of them calm once in the crook of your arm, allowing you to have a moment of peace. 

Great. Now you have to patch up your asshole cat and his rabbit friend. 

Bringing them into your master bathroom, you set them on opposite sides of your two sink vanity. Opening the vanity’s middle drawer, you quickly grab your first aid kit, and lay it between the two annoyed animals. 

“Alright you two, if you can’t get along, don’t go near one another. Stay on opposite sides of the sink, okay?” You keep talking to them as if they know what you’re saying, and unbeknownst to you, a certain rabbit finds it endearing. 

Popping open the box, you withdraw white wrappings, q-tips, and hydrogen peroxide. Twisting the cap open on the peroxide, you set it on the countertop, before pouring a capful of peroxide into it. Grabbing your cat’s shampoo from underneath the sink, you turn on your sink’s tap, filling it with warm water. Once done, you slowly approach the nervous bun. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, but I need to bandage your wounds,” Its nose twitches, seemingly sniffing out if you’re a threat. After a tense moment of silence, it makes itself look as small as possible, showing submission. 

Giggling quietly, you pick it up, and place him in the water. Its head and ears are above the water, keeping them from becoming wet. Dipping your hands into the water, you smooth down its fur, slightly wetting the top of its head. Once done with that, you pour soap into your palm, rubbing your hands together. 

Now that your hands are sudsy, you start to bathe the calm bun. Its blood quickly washes off, cleaning its wounds. 

Once clean, you pick it up, placing it on a hand towel you got from beneath the sink. You dry the bunny off, making sure his ears are completely dry, before dipping a q-top into the peroxide, and cleaning out his wounds completely. 

After seeing his wounds, you realise he doesn’t need any wrappings, thus leaving you to set him on an old t-shirt that’s sitting on your tub’s ledge. 

“There you go, Bun Bun. Sit there until I finish with Garfield,” You unplug the sink on the bun’s side, and move towards your seething cat. Drawing him his own bath, you clean out his wounds, and give him many kisses, “Good boy, Gar. I’m proud of you for not scratching me.”

He meows in response, allowing you to dry him and fix his wounds. 

Now that the two animals are clean and no longer have raw, open wounds, you pick them up, and move towards your living room. 

Setting Garfield on the left side of the couch, you move towards your back door. 

“Okie dokie, now that you’re all clean, you can go home now! I’m sorry that Garfield was mean to you.”

Opening your back door, you gently place the bunny on the ground, before going inside, and locking the door behind you. 

Little did you know that that bunny wasn’t truly a bunny at all, but a man who’s severely touch starved. 

And, is a man who’s completely, totally in love with you.

-

When Polnareff returned to his burrow, he was practically shaking with excitement. He’d found his mate! 

Once laying down, he could hear his leg thumping with happiness. He can’t wait until you go into heat! 

Then, the two of you can have cute kits! He just knows that they’ll be beautiful, just like their mother… 

Oh yes, once you go into heat, he’ll be there to keep you satiated. 

He just needs to make sure that fat cat stays out of his way. 

-

Garfield lays on your tummy, practically smothering you with his weight. Looking down at him from your lying position, you roll your eyes, “You’re so heavy! Move off of me!” 

He ignores your whining, nuzzling against the area above your uterus. Huffing in annoyance, you pick up the snoozing cat, and walk towards the kitchen. The little shit wouldn’t let you move for hours, and you’ve become rather hungry. 

Once in the kitchen, you set him on the counter. He stretches dramatically, before rubbing against you like a madman. His hackles are raised, yellow eyes transfixed on something outside.

Looking out at your backyard, you see a certain giant rabbit. Sighing, you choose to ignore your pet’s dick measuring contest with the bunny outside. 

Pulling out (microwavable food), you quickly open its packaging, and chuck it into the microwave. Pressing in the time, you rest against the counter your cat is standing on, petting down his raised hair. 

“Garfield, you’re honestly acting ridiculous. The rabbit isn’t scary-” The orange fiend jumps into your arms, furiously rubbing himself onto you. He’s cuddling you like a good boy, stopping you from scolding him, “Awe, you’re so cute when you’re clingy and not biting my shirt sleeves.” 

He lets out a small hiss, but stays in your arms willingly. 

His yellow eyes are trained on the bunny, practically taunting the other male. 

Polnareff is seething. How dare that undeserving feline take his rightful place? How dare that fucking cat scent you during your heat? 

It takes everything in him to not crash through the window and beat the cat into the ground. But, he knows his nightly bathroom break outside will be soon, and that’s when he can strike. 

The blue eyed man watches you eat, happy that you’re preparing for your upcoming heat. Ignoring your pet, Jean feels happiness overtake him. You must know that he’s watching, if you’re eating such fatty foods. 

Little does he know, that’s just the normal way of human life. 

You continue to chow down on your yummy food, a smile on your pretty face, none the wiser to your hybrid stalker. 

Once finished, you let Garfield out into the backyard, “Don’t cause trouble with that rabbit, Garfield.” He didn’t listen to you, and ran in the direction of that damn white rabbit. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance, but do nothing. If he wants to fight with it, that’s on him at this point. 

Sitting on your couch, you turn on your TV, flipping channels until you land on a forensic science TV show. Leaning back, you recline yourself into a comfortable position. 

You sit in that position for about an hour, before you realise your cat never came inside. Shooting to your feet, you rush outside, turning on your phone’s flashlight. 

“Garfield? Garfield?” You call out, searching through the bushes, and clicking your tongue to grab his attention. 

He doesn’t come, causing you to panic. Garfield and you grew up together, and you can’t remember the last time you went without him. 

“Gar-Gar? Please, please come home!” Tears well up in your eyes, as a sob escapes your throat. 

As the first tear falls, you feel someone grab you from behind, “Why are you crying, Mademoiselle?” 

You jump a mile off of the ground, and stumble, almost falling face first into the grass. Whipping around, you come face to chest with a very naked, very large man. 

“Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing in my backyard?” Your scent is thick with fear, and your voice trembles. A saddened feeling pools in Jean’s heart; he didn’t wish to scare you or hurt you in any way!

“Do not fear me, My Love. I am Jean Pierre Polnareff, your future mate!” Blanching at his statement, you finally notice the very apparent white bunny ears on the top of his head. 

“What. The. Fuck.” 

With that, you turn, and haul ass into your house. His heavy footsteps are heard behind you, same with a few pleading words for you to come back. 

Once inside, you slam your French doors closed, and use your body weight to hold them shut, as you try to lock them. His built frame slams into the doors behind you, using all of his strength to bust inside. 

“There’s no need to be afraid! Just open the doors, My Heart! I’ll treat you well!” Your nimble fingers try to turn the lock, but the constant shaking of the opening makes it very hard to do so. 

“Leave me alone! Did you do something to my cat? Because the moment you showed up, he disappeared!” Immediately, the doors stop shaking, allowing you to lock them. 

A long beat of silence follows, before he speaks again, “Oh, I didn’t realise you found him.” 

You gasp, feeling as though your heart was ripped from your chest. He really did something to Garfield! 

“Get the fuck off of my property! I'll-I'll Call the police!” Tears Pool in your eyes, before dripping down your face. Whoever this bunny man is, he must be dangerous if he goes around killing things for no reason. 

“My heart, how you wound me,” You peek through the curtains, only to see him looking back at you with an intimidating gaze. His ice blue eyes seem to be staring into your soul, “This… Garfield of yours was challenging me. He may have had you first, yes, but the rules of the animal kingdom say that if we find our mates, the new found mate must be left alone. But, that feline of yours blatantly disrespected our relationship, My Heart, so I had to teach him a lesson.” 

You gape at him in horror, backing away from the doors, “Stay away from me! I’m not your mate, I’m not your anything! How do you even know me?” 

You hear him laugh through the door, as he lands a swift kick towards the door handle, “You bathed me just the other week, don’t tell me that you’ve forgotten?” 

Running towards the kitchen, you grab a small knife that is easy to use. Did you seriously help a hybrid? 

You hear him kick a few more times, before the doors come crashing down. His heavy footsteps echo across your hardwood floors, as he makes his way to you. Looking around for an exit, you quickly move towards the kitchen window. 

Unlocking it with ease, you slide it open, making quick work of the screen keeping the bugs out. You hoist yourself onto the counter, shimmying towards the opening, only to be yanked back by two strong hands. In your (dominant Hand) is the knife you grabbed, allowing you to slash at the large man. 

“Get away from me! Don’t fucking touch me!” He releases you for a moment, dodging your erratic movements. A saddened look crossed his handsome face, as he man handled the knife out of your sweaty hands. Once disarmed, he forces you against his chest, chucking the knife into the sink. His now free hands grip your wrists, stopping you from fighting against him. 

“Shh, calm yourself. There’s no need to be so erratic-“ 

“Fuck you! You killed my cat and broke into my house, there’s plenty of reasons for me to be erratic!” You try kicking at his strong legs, but he doesn’t even flinch. 

“I understand that your heat is making you irrational-“ 

“What the fuck are you talking about?! I’m not an animal, I don’t fucking have heats!” Thrashing with your entire body weight, you try to bring him to the ground, but he’s too sturdy for you to do so. 

Instead of answering, he brings his head into the crook of your neck, sniffing the area loudly. You don’t see it, but a look of disgust is apparent. 

“We need to fix this awful smell. Hold still and I’ll scent you-“ You head butt the large male, knocking him back and off of you. 

He stumbles back, and you make a run for the open window. You get halfway out of it once more, before you’re dragged back inside by your waist. 

You’re thrown to the floor in an instant, shoulder hitting the wood harshly. A yelp leaves your lips, as more tears drip down your face. 

“Don’t be difficult, Love. I don’t want to hurt you. Just let me scent you, and I can help you through your heat. You just have to trust me,” 

You shake your head, “No, just leave me alone!” 

He frowns, but nods, “It’s ok if you’re difficult, I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re mine.” 

Without warning, Jean grabs his half hard cock, aiming it towards your crumpled form. 

“What the fu-“ A stream of clear piss hits you straight in the mouth, causing you to gag and splutter in disgust. You wipe at your tongue, a wretched sob wracking your form. 

The stream hits your neck next, before traveling down your entire body. You’re absolutely covered in piss, all whilst crying your eyes out. You try to scramble away, but end up skipping in the acrid liquid. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the-why the fuck would you do that?” He fries. to approach you, a small smile quirking at his lips, but you kick at him, trying to keep him away from you, “Get the fuck away from me! Don’t fucking touch me! You just fucking pissed on me like a-like wild fucking animal!” 

He grabs you in his arms as you slap, punch, and scratch, quickly bringing you to your bedroom. He tosses you onto your mattress, effectively sullying your new sheets. You try to scramble off of your bed, but his large frame suddenly dwarfs yours, trapping you to it. 

“I didn’t want to do it, My Heart, but you left me no choice. You wouldn’t let me scent you, and I couldn’t let you wear another male’s scent-“ 

“You don’t own me! We don’t even know each other!” You smack at his well toned chest, as you cry. He kisses you on your piss covered forehead, nuzzling into your slightly damp hair. 

“But we will. We’re mates, after all,” With those words, he starts to strip you. “All you need to know is that I know what’s best for you. Right now, you need a big, strong mate to breed your in heat womb, and I’m the right one for the job! So, just lay back and let me help you!” 

Your top half is exposed to him, breasts bouncing as he tears your clothes to shreds. Your hits have no effect on him, as he is stares down at your naked body hungrily. 

“Why are you doing this to me? I’m not a hybrid, it doesn’t make any sense-“ 

“Nature doesn’t need to make sense. Nature decided that we’re made for one another, and the sooner you realise this, the sooner you’ll realise that I’m good for you,” He hoists your thighs over his broad, muscular shoulder, a teasing grin on his face, “But right now, I’m going to make you cum as many times as I can.” 

He attaches his mouth to your unprotected pussy, lips sucking at your clit, whilst his tongue enters your unprepared opening. A loud yelp leaves your lips at the feeling. 

His veiny hands grip the fat of your thighs, as he moves your hips to rub against his face. At first, you’re really uncomfortable, but after a few moments, you’re having to restrain yourself from moaning lamely. Jean is paying special attention to your clit, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. 

A particularly hard suck has you gushing with arousal, and although it wasn’t an orgasm, it was enough to make your thighs shake pathetically. You can feel him grin against your slit, as he inches a hand down to your cunny, and slips a thick finger inside of you. A loud mewl echoes through your chest, as your once slapping hands cover your face in shame. 

“Are you feeling good, Heart?” His airy voice would be suave if it weren't for the fact that you’re being assaulted, and you’re covered in a strange man’s piss. 

“Nu-no!” He chuckles at your weak attempt of denying him, and dives back into your weeping pussy. Polnareff rubs his finger against you g-spot with ease, not struggling to find it at all. 

That, coupled with the intense suckling on your clit, sends you over the edge. Your juices shoot out onto the white haired man’s face, coating him with your essence. 

“That was a strong orgasm, My Love. Are you sure you’re not enjoying yourself?” The teasing lilt in his voice makes you want to punch him in the face, so that’s exactly what you do. 

He grunts in pain, and in a moment of anger, flips you onto your stomach, hands held firmly in his grasp. Your back is arched just right to be in the prime breeding position, causing his cock to throb in need. Jean always liked a head-strong woman. 

“There’s no need for violence. If you wanted me to make love to you that bad, you could’ve just told me,” He didn’t wait to hear your response, instead choosing to sink his massive cock into your tight walls. Gods, you’re so tight. 

The rabbit couldn’t help bun moan at the feeling of your spasming cunny. It’s almost like you’re trying to draw him in! 

If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll receive. 

Jean starts a rapid pace, his hips slamming into yours harshly. His heavy balls smack against your clit with every thrust, causing you to scream in both pleasure and pain. 

Within moments, you’re creaming and gushing around his length. Moaning in unison with you, he speeds up his ministrations, quickly cumming inside of you. His hips stutter, before stopping, allowing him to cum what seemed like buckets. Your body sags, signifying your belief that he was finished, when in all actuality, he’s far from it. 

He immediately restarts his jack hammer pace, his free hand gripping your hip, “You’re perfect! A perfect pussy that squeezes me so good, a perfect personality, and a perfect body. I’m going to knock you up with many kits!” You sob into your pillow, trying to block out his voice, cock, and smell of piss. 

You cum again and again, being filled with liters of virile cum. His hand that once held your hip cups your bloated tummy, a dopey smile covering his handsome features. 

Jean can practically feel you becoming pregnant, and it satisfied him greatly. 

Noticing your lack of movements, he realises that you’ve passed out.

Oh well, when you wake up, he’ll be sure to attend to you once more. 

[loversandantiheroes]

not to come yell at you or anything but i saw those frankie tags 👀 and i am in *need*

Lord, that is a whole-ass mood.  Needy!Frankie lives rent-free in my brain 24/7.  Like this exact scenario has been in my head for w e e k s and I just haven’t had the braincells to get it down.  But hey, no time like the present, right? *cracks knuckles*

1.5k of unbeta’d and unedited Needy!Frankie smut, f!receiving oral, with a side of frankie x floor (I kid, mostly).

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

As soon as Frankie pulls in the drive, you know something’s wrong.  He takes the turn just a little too sharp, engine running too hot and too loud before he kills it.  There’s a long beat of silence, long enough that you begin to think that maybe you were just overthinking things.  But then there’s the unmistakable sound of the driver side door slamming shut, and your feet are already carrying you towards the front door.

You’re halfway down the hall when you hear his keys rattling in the door – and they keep rattling, the doorknob twisting as far as the lock will allow before releasing back.  Either he can’t get the key in the lock, or he can’t quite make it catch.  The mechanism clicks, straining, and for a second you’re afraid he’ll break the thing out of pure frustration.

“Ease up, Frankie,” you call through the door.  “I’m here, baby, I got it.”

The rattling ceases, and you hear the unmistakable thump of Frankie’s head coming to rest against the wood.

“Querida,” he says.  “I can’t...I can’t get the fucking door.”  It’s muffled through the wood, but there is a catch of tearful frustration in his voice that makes your heart beat a little faster as you undo the locks.

When the door swings open you’ve only got a second to take in the look of him – his eyes strained under the shadow of his crooked ball cap – before he’s pushing against you, crowding you back into the hall.  He catches the door with a heel and kicks it shut so hard the windows rattle in their frames.

“Hey, hey,” you try to soothe, pushing his hat off to smooth his hair back.  “What is it, what’s wrong?”

He only shakes his head, breathing hard and quick through his nose like an agitated bull.  His throat works, fighting to swallow or to speak, you’re not sure.  His hands fall heavy against your hips, fingers curling into the waistband of your jeans and tugging.  “Please, baby,” he mutters in a voice so strained it’s on the verge of breaking.  His fingers slide around until his thumb rests on the button of your fly.  “I need it.  I need you.  I–”

You nod, stroking your thumbs over the overgrown stubble on his jaw.  This isn’t the first time you’ve been here.  Something's gone wrong today.  It might be something big, it might be nothing, but whatever it was was enough to shake him down and leave him feeling like he can’t do anything right.  He’ll explain it to you later when he can breathe again, when his shoulders aren’t pulled up in one solid knot and his jaw has finally unclenched.  He always does.  But right now, more than anything else, he needs to prove that he can do something right. 

And that’s you.

“I’m right here, Frankie,” you tell him with a willing nod.  “You got me.”

Frankie makes a soft, desperate little noise in the back of his throat and carries you wordlessly to the floor, unable or unwilling to wait long enough to get you into bed.  His mouth is on yours only for a moment, just long enough for a hard, grateful kiss before he moves down your body.  He’s too needy to be gentle, too desperate.  You’re sure you hear stitches ripping as he yanks your fly open and drags your jeans and underwear both down to your ankles.  They bunch up around your sneakers, but Frankie's normally dexterous hands are too unsteady for that, clumsy with need and agitation, so he just pushes your legs up and ducks under them, settling on the floor between your bared thighs.

When his mouth finds you, you sigh and he groans.  The sound resonates through his whole body and into you, buzzing against your thighs and the closed seam of your cunt.  His hair is rough with the salt of dried sweat as you work your fingers into it, tipping your hips up as you press his head down.  His hands slide up between your thighs, pushing them aside, and it takes a little effort to keep your ankles from knocking into the back of his head as he opens you wider.

On a good day Frankie Morales is one of the most patient men you’ve ever met, in bed or out of it.  He’ll coax you open slowly, work you over with his hands and mouth – and always his whole mouth, none of that timid tongue-flicking bullshit – until you’re wet and open and ready for whatever he wants to give you.  Even if it’s just more of his graciously worshipful mouth.

But this is not a good day, and in place of that gentle patience there is an almost feral hunger.  Frankie parts you with his fingers, opening you up to drag the flat of his tongue up from your entrance to your clit over and over in hard, aggressive strokes.

You keep your fingers moving through his hair, breath turning ragged as he fits his mouth to you, lapping and sucking eagerly at your sex.

“Baby,” he murmurs, lips dragging against your clit.  It’s pitched up and plaintive like he’s begging, but he can’t find the words to fit what he needs.

“Yes, Frankie,” you answer, shuddering as his teeth press briefly against your tender flesh.  “God yes, baby.  You’re always so good.”

And there’s that desperate little sound at the back of his throat again as his broad hands grip the soft flesh of your thighs tight.  His shoulders shift under you, your legs rocking up and back, and you look down to find him rutting his hips shamelessly against the floor.

There.  That’s what he needs.  And that’s easy enough to give, praises flowing out of you steadily as you roll your hips against his voracious mouth.  “So good, Frankie,” you breathe.  “You’re getting me so wet, baby, I can feel it.”

Instantly his tongue trails down, delving into you with a strength that always takes your breath away.  He moans deliriously, the taste of your arousal only serving to whet his appetite further.  Two thick fingers curl into you, pressing up and drumming insistently as he devours you like a man possessed.

The praises dissolve on your tongue like sugar, your voice gone tight and ragged as he lights you up, the words harder and harder to focus on.  And that’s even better.  Your broken gasps leave him lurching, grinding down into the floor and moaning against you.  It’s good, it’s so good and he can tell how good it is for you, his shoulders rocking into you faster as you begin to quiver and jerk under the assault.

“Querida.”  The epithet leaves him in a whine.  “Baby, please.  I need you to come.”

“Close,” you rasp out, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and guiding him, holding him still while you rock your clit against the wet, yielding heat of his mouth. “Frankie, baby...f-fuck– ” 

The motion of his body falters as you use him, the sound of his belt buckle knocking against the floorboards now a hard, syncopated beat.  The pressure of his fingers inside you reaches a fever pitch and you shatter, shouting his name and pounding a fist on the floor as you come, shaking and rocking with the spasm.

And that, blessedly, means you get to watch him come right after, his body rigid, feet digging in for purchase as his hips knock stiltedly against the floor.  His shout is almost as loud as yours, and he muffles his cries against your still-twitching cunt.  You fall back on your elbow, head swimming, and you can feel the hard line of Frankie’s shoulders finally relax under you.

You unclench the fist in his hair, stroke down to cup the back of his neck.  “Come up, baby.  C’mere.”

Panting, Frankie nods dumbly, and pushes himself forward on his elbows.  He kisses you, gentle once more, his heart still beating hard enough to make his breathing falter. 

“Hey.  I love you,” you breathe into his mouth.

He knocks his forehead into yours, closing his eyes.  “Love you, too, baby.”

And then he curls into you, tucking his head into the side of your neck and pressing himself down.  His belt buckle digs into your stomach, and you can feel a broad stripe of wet warmth soaking through the front of his jeans under the slowly softening bulge of his cock.

With a contented hum you wrap your arms around him, holding him tight.  He smells of hot sun and dried sweat and the lingering sharpness of engine oil.  You cradle the back of his head with one hand, rub slowly up and down his back with the other. 

“Bad day?” you ask, kissing the corner of his jaw next to his ear.

He nods, scruff scraping along your shoulder.  “Yeah.  Bad day,” he agrees.  You feel the warm press of his lips against the side of your neck, slow and sweet, before he draws in a long, shuddering breath.  He holds it for a beat and then releases it slowly; a bone-deep sigh of utter relief.  “Better now.”

[queenkrissy11-fandomaccount]

Angel - Bucky X Reader

Between the dark sky and the gravel beneath your worn out shoes, running for safety wasn’t exactly easy.

You take the next right, the gravel sliding with your feet as you try not to lose any speed. Dead end. Shit. The foot steps behind you get louder.

“Looks like you’re out of luck, princess.”

How do you always find yourself in these situations? You’re an heiress for hell’s sake. You shouldn’t be in dark alleys in the sketchy part of town in the middle of the night.

Lucy would never be in this situation. She would have listened to mom. She would have put on the pink gown, no matter how hideous, and then stayed at mom’s side the entire gala. She definitely wouldn’t have brought a change of clothes and snuck out ten minutes in.

By the way tonight is going it doesn’t matter. You’re going to end up the same as her no matter how different you lived your life. Six feet under.

Think Y/N

You pick up a rock from next to the dumpster.

“Stay away from me.”

He smiles but the scar through his face makes it lopsided. “Or what? You’ll get me with that rock?” He draws a gun from his waistband.

You didn’t understand what the big deal was. So what you ended up in the wrong room at the bar? You could tell they weren’t up to any good but you couldn’t tell what exactly they were up to.

You throw the rock and he fires. It pierces your shoulder. You can feel it but it’s not how you imagined. The adrenaline must really be pumping.

The already dirty white tshirt quickly stains red.

A second set of steps creeps behind the attacker. And then a third.

You are officially, royally screwed. “Stay back!” You take a couple steps away from them, your eyes bouncing between the men. Cold, rough brick meets your back.

The edges of your vision become blurry as the warm, thick blood continues to spread down your body.

The first man is only a matter of feet away now, he grabs the front of your shirt. Clawing at his grip does nothing. No surprise, you can hardly feel your right arm, let alone use it.

His arm pulls back and then strikes you in the face. At this rate, you’ll be with Lucille in no time

“I’m sorry mom,” your voice sounds pathetic but you can only imagine how she’ll react in a couple hours. When the officers come knocking on the front door, she’ll have flashbacks to the night they found Lucy. She’ll have to go to another daughter’s funeral. Face all the grief again, but this time completely alone. You should have listened. You ahould have been the perfect daughter she wanted and then lost with Lucy. You were here second chance and didn’t measure up.

Suddenly your feet find the ground and the rest of your body soon after. You can barely get your eyes open but the scene in front of you is too much to let them close again. The man that was holding you up only a moment ago was on the ground with a very large man on top of him delivering blows. He goes limp and the newest addition stands up. Behind him the two other men lay unconscious. Or dead? You aren’t sure.

The stranger is now looking directly at you. He could be an angel. Or you could be delirious. Either way, he was fine.

He comes closer and you’re met with the most brilliant blue eyes.

“Hey kid, it’s going to be okay. Do you know your name?”

“Are you an angel?”

The pretty stranger draws his eyebrows together, “What?”

His shoulder length brown hair looks so soft. “Am I dead?”

He cracks a hint of a smile, “No, but we do need to get you to a hospital as soon as possible.”

He hoists you into his arms. His very, very large arms. As you come down from the adrenaline high, you are suddenly very aware of the gaping hole in your shoulder.

You wake up in a bright white room. You can hear the machine checking your vitals.

“Y/N?” The chair scrapes the floor as your mom jumps from her chair, “baby?”

She’s pulling you into the tightest hug of your life as tears pool in her eyes.

“Mom, I’m okay,” You try pulling away and are suddenly very aware of your shoulder.

“You scared the hell out of me!” She’s yellong now. Great. “What were you doing! Why did you leave?”

The nights events come flooding back in, “Wait! Where is he?”

She takes a breath, “Who?”

“The man who saved me! Where is he? I have to thank him.” You slide off the side of the bed, pulling the tube stuck to you along.

“Y/N! Sit down! What are you talking about?” Your mom tries to force you back onto the bed. “No one saved you. The nurses found you collapsed in the lobby.”

“He, he left?” It hurt more than you wanted to admit.

A few hours later you were deemed stable enough to get ready to leave.

While changing you can’t help but stare at your reflection. Your blonde hair is still clumped with blood and you can already tell you’ll have a nasty scar once the bullet wound heals up. Bullet wound. You were shot. Wth.

You shake it off and change into the clean clothes your mom handed you. The dirty, worn out and bloody ones from last night were in the trash.

For a few months you did as you were told. You were given a second chance at life and tried to be the perfect daughter you weren’t before.

It was only a matter of time before you started looking for your hero, or angel as you referred to him. You didn’t have much to go on. Beautiful blue eyes. Scruff. Long, brown hair. Toned build. The lack of information didn’t stop you. You looked for years, even going as far as hiring a private investigator, or two. Okay, maybe five.

It got you no where. The only place you could find him was your dreams. After the first few years you started to think you might have only imagined him. It was hard to move on when you could remember exactly how he smelt and how it felt to be cradled in his arms. And how were you supposed to forget a hunk that swooped in and saved the day? That was a prince charming level story.

You phone vibrates and you glance down from the vanity. The car had arrived. One more quick glance at yourself to make sure everythings in order. You’re taken aback by how much you look like Lucy. It made sense. She was always put together like this and you’re now as old as she was. You shake your head and grab your clutch.

The car ride was quiet but it gives you a chance to prepare for the night ahead. Your mother isgoing to be the talk of the evening, she recently received another award for her developments in the medical field.

You took a different path in life. Instead of medical developments, you made advances in the technological field. You were considered on the same level as Tony Stark, however, you worked under an alias. You got the profit without the recognition.

Your mother, and only company for the evening, had been swept into another crowd of profound doctors so you took it as a que to step back and get yourself at the drink.

As you wait for the bartender to return with your cocktail, someone takes the seat next to you.

You spare him a glance, “Angel?”

He smirks, “Listen, doll, I appreciate the creativity but I’m not looking to be picked up tonight.”

“No, thats not-what?” You’re stumbling over your words. “You-you saved me.” You slip the satin dress down, revealinf the nasty scar on your shoulder.

“Alley girl?” Recognition spreads across his face.

You give a short laugh, “You get angel and I get alley girl. That seems unfair.”

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to see you here. I wouldn’t have guessed this to be your scene based on our last encounter.”

You give a small eye roll, “Getting shor in shady alleys are more of a weekend thing for me. What are you doing here?”

“I’m, uh, here supporting a friend.” He glances to a cluster if men and you notice Tony Stark. What are the odds?

“You have no idea how hard you are to find.” You can’t help but smile. So many years of looking and you accidentally find him at the bar of a dinner party for millionaires.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” That smirk turned you into putty. What was it about this man? He sure seemed like an angel. Your very own prince charming.

[mourningbirds1]

Prospect fic: He Is Home

An Ezra x Reader one-shot

Rating: Explicit for smut Relationship: Ezra x Fem Reader (You) Tags: Smut; Taking A Bath Together; Soft Touching; Oral Sex, F Receiving; Vaginal Sex; Hurt/Comfort; Forehead Kisses; Angsty Fluff; Magical Healing Cock Wordcount: 3K

Also posted on Ao3 - link is in my Masterlist. I also have a Javi x Reader one-shot A Walk In The Woods (smut)

A/N: Written for @yespolkadotkitty​‘s follower celebration writing challenge for the prompt All along, I believed I would find you. Thank you to Kitty for the beta 💗

Summary: You are walking in the rain and feel lost and confused, so you take refuge in Ezra’s house and he looks after you. 

He Is Home

You thought you’d grown strong enough to cope with bad weather after walking for so long, through all seasons. It had been hard at first, but you’d soon learned how to protect yourself from the elements. There were still odd days when you struggled, but you’d remind yourself that everything was temporary. And anyway, even the harshest sun would mellow into a soft glow at dusk. The hardest rain would eventually ease and reward you with the sweet scent of new growth. 

But something has changed today. You tell yourself it must be the cumulative effect of the journey so far. You just need a break, that’s all. Only there’s no place to stop. 

This wind is not the strongest you’ve walked through, but today you’re gasping as it whips around your face and steals the breath from your nose and the words from your mouth. You keep your head down and brace your body against it, but you can’t seem to pick up speed like you would have done yesterday.

Objectively, you know you’ve withstood heavier rain than this. But your shoes have holes that were not there yesterday. And you swear your coat used to be waterproof, but today it is letting in the rain. 

Even so, you know you’d have coped with these setbacks once. But you are suddenly, inexplicably, unable to cope anymore. 

You turn a corner and for a moment your heart feels lighter. You forget your wet feet and your freezing hands because you can see a light up ahead. If you can just keep going for a few more minutes everything will be okay, because you know that is where Ezra lives. 

And the light means he is home.

So you cover your mouth and nose with your scarf to block out the wind, and you pull up the collar of your coat and bring all your attention to your feet. Telling yourself that if you put one foot in front of the other enough times, eventually you will reach him. And so you do.

You open his garden gate and walk up the little path that’s lined with fragrant lavender bushes. You can smell something savoury and herbal and you look down to see that you’re standing on little thyme plants that are growing in the cracks of the path. 

His door is solid wood and you brace yourself as you lift your hand to knock on it, because you know that it will hurt. Your knuckles are so raw from the cold wind. But before your fist makes contact, you hear locks turning from the inside and you know that Ezra is opening the door for you.

He looks just as you remember him. The tuft of pale hair. The silvery scar on his cheek. Soft, dark eyes that turn down at the corners. There are crinkles around them and you find this so comforting because you know these lines are markers of his experience and wisdom. He has already crossed rough terrains and withstood plenty of harsh weather and now he can guide you through them and shelter you from the worst of them.

He’s horrified that you are in such a terrible state. “Come inside, little bird!” 

But you just stand there, feeling too weak to take another step. Too drained by the huge burst of energy you had to summon to come this far. 

He can see that you need him to help you. He steps out and wraps his strong arm around your waist and takes your hand, encouraging you to lean on him.

“I di--didn’t know where else to go,” you tell him, your teeth chattering as you step into his little house.

He closes the door, shutting out the weather, and guides you into his arms. He is so warm. His arms tighten around you, urging you to press the length of your body against him. He doesn’t seem to care that you’re making him wet. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and breathe in his comforting, familiar smell. Your lips are wet with rainwater and you press them against the bare skin of his neck and feel his pulse. He is alive. He is real. He is holding you with all the patience in the world. 

“It’s alright now, sweetheart,” he says. He’s stroking your wet hair and pressing kisses there. His breath is warm and you can feel the soft brush of his scruff against your scalp.

He puts a gentle finger under your chin and tilts up your face so that he can kiss you and warm your frozen mouth with his lips. You place your palms against his broad chest and your fingers clutch lightly at his soft black shirt. 

He draws away and takes hold of your hands. When he feels how cold they are he makes a disapproving noise and brings them together, covering them completely with his big hands and rubbing to generate heat.

It’s been so long since anyone has touched you like this and his tenderness makes you let out a little sob of relief. 

He takes you back into his arms. “Shhh, now. Y’just need a hot bath and a warm, soft bed. How does that sound?” You make a quiet noise of agreement and nod against his chest. 

He leads you into his kitchen and pulls out a chair for you. “Sit here while I fix you something warming to drink,” he says. He speaks softly, with that same kindness you remember. “Shall I make you that drink you always liked so much?” he asks. 

You nod, “Yes, that’d be nice.” Until this moment you had forgotten all about it. You suppose that your recent struggles must have pushed out nice memories like that to make space for your problems. You wonder what else you’ve forgotten.

There are copper saucepans suspended from a rack above the stove. He takes the smallest and fills it with water and sets it to heat up on the burner. You aren’t sure what he adds to the water. This was always something he used to do for you when you’d had a bad day. 

While it’s heating he disappears for a minute and returns with a towel and a thick blanket that he unfolds and drapes over your shoulders. After he’s tucked it securely around you, he crouches down and removes your wet shoes and wraps your cold, wet feet in the warm, fluffy towel. 

He kisses your forehead and goes back to work on your drink. 

When it’s ready he pours it into your favourite cup and places it into your hands. “I can’t believe you still have this,” you say.

“Of course! Why would I discard something important to one who’s so dear to me?”

Sweet, sweet Ezra. Why did you ever leave him?

While you drink, he crouches at your feet to rub them with the towel, drying between your toes and pressing the soft cotton to your skin, the heat of his hands seeping through the fabric and warming you. 

“Now I’m gonna go run your bath. You want to wait here or come with me?”

You don’t want him to leave you. Can’t bear to let him out of your sight now that you’ve finally found him again. “I want to stay with you, Ez.”

“Then so you shall, beautiful girl.” 

You stand up and find that the drink must have bolstered you because it’s a bit easier to walk now. You follow him to the bathroom and sit on a chair with your drink while he draws your bath. 

He adds bubbles and some scented oil. The room is soon filled with fragrant steam and you breathe it in and it warms your throat and lungs. 

While the tub is filling up he takes your empty cup and sets it aside.

“Shall I leave you alone now, little bird?” he asks.

You look at the tub. It’s a huge, antique thing. Freestanding, with clawed feet. Plenty big enough for two people. “Will you get in with me?” 

He holds your face in his big, gentle hands. “If that’s what you want, nothing would make me happier.” 

You watch as he pulls off his shirt and takes off his pants and then he’s naked before you. He lets you look at him for a moment, unembarrassed by your gaze. Every part of him is beautiful. His broad chest and long arms. The softness of his belly. The little patch of pale skin at his hips. His pretty cock and his sturdy thighs. You reach out and run your fingers over a few new scars. They do nothing to diminish his beauty. 

He smiles fondly, “I can see you’re enjoying the view, sweetheart, but it’s time to get out of these wet clothes.”

He helps you undress because your fingers are clumsy. Still a little numb from the cold.

Ezra gets in first. He leans against the curved end of the tub and makes space for you to sit between his legs. You’re still a little wobbly so he reaches up and gives you his hand to hold while you step in and sink into the blissful heat of the water. It’s the perfect temperature. Exactly what you dreamed of as you trudged through miles of relentless rain and wind. 

You ease yourself down and settle between Ezra’s thighs and he guides you to lean back against him. You breathe out a long, shaky sigh as you relax against his warm, broad body. You can feel his firm chest cradling your shoulders and his belly against your back, then his scruff of hair and his soft cock.

His strong arms are draped around you, caging you into his body and keeping you safe. You let your head tilt back and rest on his shoulder and he nuzzles into your neck, giving you sweet, open-mouthed kisses, and little puffs of air as he breathes against your skin. 

You lie there for a while like that while he kisses your neck and your shoulders. And you touch him, too. You stroke his thighs and his arms. You trace your fingertips over his hands and lift each of them to your mouth so you can kiss them, delighting in their size and how powerful and capable they are.

Ezra washes your hair and your body with soap that smells of orange blossom. His broad palms feel just as roughened and calloused as they ever did as he strokes them over the soapy-slick skin of your breasts and your chest, and then your arms. 

You sigh again, so calmed by the reassuring feel of him behind you and the soothing touches of his hands. The warm water is easing your aching muscles and you feel languid and relaxed. You hook your leg over the side of the tub and nudge lightly at his hand, urging it between your spread legs. Ezra’s hand drifts down to your patch of hair and he lets his fingertips trail over your mound and outer lips. Back and forth, swirling, slow and lazy.

“Is this what you need, sweetheart?” he whispers.

You make a contented noise and tilt your hips into his touch. You can feel his cock getting hard but he ignores it and just carries on stroking you. It’s so relaxing that you drift off to sleep. He wakes you by kissing behind your ear. 

“Water’s gettin’ a bit cold now. How about that soft bed?”

“Mmm, that sounds perfect,” you say, smiling and drowsy.

You get out of the tub and he gives you a big soft towel and you both get as dry as you can and, leaving the towels in the bathroom, you walk naked to Ezra’s bedroom. There’s a little fireplace in there and it’s already built up with kindling and logs. You watch him as he crouches and lights it. 

When he’s done he turns and sees you standing by the bed. “Get in, little bird. We’ve only just got you warmed up.” He pulls back the bed covers. It’s the most comfortable bed you’ve ever laid in. The sheets are so soft against your naked skin. 

The rain is beating against the window pane and the wind howls around the chimney, making little whistling noises. But it can’t reach you here. You stretch out and give a little laugh and wiggle your toes. Delighting in being so warm and dry at last. Ezra is propped up on his elbow watching you, smiling and pleased at how happy you are, and he leans in and kisses you deeply, stroking his tongue against yours, slowly and thoroughly. 

You pull him closer and arch your chest towards his, letting your breasts touch his bare skin and feeling him moan into your mouth as he kisses you. Ezra loves how soft you feel against him. You run your hands across his broad back and can feel his muscles shift beneath his skin as he climbs on top of you, making space for himself between your thighs. When your hands trail lower and squeeze his behind, you feel his lips smile against your mouth. You smile, too. 

“Let me feel you, Ez,” you say. He adjusts his arms to allow his warm, heavy weight to cover you, pressing you into the mattress with the length of his body while he kisses you. When he feels you shift, he lifts his weight off you and kisses down your throat and then your breasts and then down, down until he’s nuzzling sweetly into your cunt. You watch him as he goes down on you. He takes his time over it, holding your thighs open and using his clever tongue to give you a blissful orgasm.

After you’ve come he kneels back and you watch his beautiful cock twitch as he licks the taste of you from his lips and takes in the sight of you, happily pliant and relaxed. All ready for him to take his place between your thighs. You spread your legs wider for him, welcoming him as leans in to press his hard cock where you’re wet for him. 

He braces above you on one arm and reaches down with the other to take hold of himself and he pushes into you, slow and easy, like you are where he has always belonged and always will. Filling you like no one else ever has. You lift your legs and wrap them around his hips, letting him push deeper until he’s fully seated inside you.

“Kevva, you feel so good, sweetheart,” he says, and he rocks into you and you move with him. He makes love to you with slow, powerful strokes, letting you feel the delicious stretch of him filling you again and again and again. 

You think about rolling him onto his back and riding him so he can watch his cock sinking in and out of you, but this feels too good. This is what you need. His arms are braced either side of you and his chest is pressed against yours. You love how he’s covering you with his body, and filling you with his cock. Keeping you safe and satisfied. 

He’s grunting softly and you’ve always loved that about him - that he lets you hear how good you make him feel. 

“Can you come like this?” he asks, as he grinds against your clit. His voice is tight and hopeful, but you know he’d give you whatever you need. You wouldn’t always be able to come without the direct pressure of a fingertip on your clit, but you’re so turned on and it’s been so long since you’ve felt him inside you that you know this will be enough tonight. And anyway you can’t bear to have him draw back to make space for your hand. Neither can he, you think. You nod quickly, yes. 

“Good girl,” he says. He speeds up his thrusts, his breathing growing harsh and feverish, his eyes losing focus now as he savours the exquisite clutch of your slick heat enveloping him completely. His breathy grunts become louder and more desperate and the sound of him, so overwhelmed by you, is enough to make you come. He fucks you through your orgasm, telling you you’re a good girl and you’re beautiful. He praises how incredible you feel coming on his cock. His hips stutter against you, once, twice, and he moans with relief and pleasure as his come pulses into you. You tilt up your hips and spread your fingers over his behind and urge him to bury himself deeper, deeper. You want to keep him this close, always. Inside you and flush against you. Right where he belongs. You never want to let him go.

Finally he goes still and heavy. He keeps his cock buried deep inside you so you can feel it while he tells you, “I love you, my darling girl.” 

You realise you knew this already, but you aren’t sure how. Perhaps he’s told you those words before, and this was another memory that’s been pushed out of your brain to make space for worry.

“I love you, Ezra,” you say. And his soft smile tells you that he’s known this all along.

He eases himself out of you and rolls to the side, taking you with him and lifting you onto his chest. You drift off to sleep in his arms, feeling peaceful and full of afterglow.

In the morning Ezra brings you hot coffee and good things to eat. It’s still raining but there’s nowhere you need to go, so you sit in his cosy kitchen, basking in the heat of the wood-burning stove while he tells you about the good books he’s been reading and his new favourite project – raising plants from the seeds he gathered in his prospecting days.

Life is coming back into focus now. Good memories making space for themselves where once there was only room for fear. 

“I’m sorry I went away, Ezra. I don’t know how it happened. I won’t leave again.”

“Little bird, I know you think you flew away but you never really left. You were right here with me all along, safe inside my heart.”

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Masterlist I also have a Javi x Reader one-shot A Walk In The Woods (smut)

[groovinrightalong]

Back again with more!!!

Here is another bonus story for you lovelies from my Rocks Wolves and the Moon AU! This one is set within the og fic, Desperate Times!

Synopsis: Quirin said he’d always be there for his son.

All he’s seemed to do is fail him.

There was a soft crying coming from upstairs.

Quirin looked up from what he’d been doing, glancing toward the ceiling. Immediately, he set aside the letter and stood, hurrying up the stairs. The crying grew louder as he drew closer, until he was outside his bedroom. He opened the door carefully, peering into the room.

The high pitched cries were coming from the bassinet.

Clicking his tongue, he crossed the room, reaching in to collect the wriggling child. The baby settled some in his hold, cries fading into sniffles, and large, sad blue eyes stared up at him.

“Oh, it’s okay,” he cooed, bouncing the two-month old gently. “Papa’s here. Your dad’s got you.” He sat down on the edge of his bed, cradling the boy to his chest. “Where’s your smile, little one?”

The baby wiggled in his grasp, blinking up at him. Quirin brushed his thumb against his soft cheek, running his fingers back through the thick tufts of black hair, and that small patch of blue. The infant leaned into the touch, cooing and wrapping his tiny arms around the man’s hand. His lips quirked up in a gummy smile.

“There’s my happy boy!” Quirin laughed, leaning down to nuzzle the baby’s nose. The child squealed, squeezing his hand. The father pressed a kiss to his forehead, drawing back with a soft smile. “There’s that Varian smile.” His son squirmed some more, excited now that he was in his father’s arms. A chubby hand reached for his chin, brushing against the scruff he’d let grow.

The man sighed, pulling back enough that he could glance about the room. The letter from a few days ago was still on the bedside table, signed in his wife’s friend’s script.

“Dad’s here,” he mumbled, staring sorrowfully at the paper he’d crinkled, after reading over and over again. “Your dad’s right here.” The infant cooed, hand brushing against the fuzzy vest he wore. Quirin’s eyes returned to his son, to his only living family.

He cupped that chubby little face with his free hand, wiping away the remaining tears.

“I’ll always be right here, son,” he whispered. “Your dad’s never gonna leave you. He’ll always be here for you. Always.”

—

The room was dark. It had been a while since anyone had come in or out, the last being the princess’s boyfriend. It had been… hours, and Quirin hadn’t moved a muscle.

How could he leave, when his own son was laid up in an infirmary bed?

The boy looked so small under all those bandages and covers. So gaunt and frail, skin clammy from blood loss. A large bed, and a tiny child.

His baby.

Quirin buried his face in his hands, feeling twice his age. The events of the night weighed heavy on his mind, replaying every time he closed his eyes. His son, his only child… he’d nearly died tonight.

And it was all his fault.

How long had he let this go on? How long had Varian been hurting, and he’d failed to notice? His boy had been a monster- no, a werewolf, for over a month now. How could he have missed the changes in behavior? How could he have ignored all the signs?

How could he have driven his son to such a desperate point as to take on a curse?

What kind of father was that? His fourteen year old son had seen his situation, and he’d seen a solution that no sane person would ever even consider, and he’d decided it was the better option. Fourteen- he was still so young. And if the princess and her friends were to be believed, this was a permanent thing. He’d be stuck with this forever. Fourteen was far too young to make such a life altering decision.

His baby boy was cursed for the rest of his life, and the only one to blame was himself. He’d left Varian on his own for so long that the boy had clung to any out he could find. He’d known, apparently, that there was no backing out of it. He’d known before he agreed.

And he still agreed.

And now look at him. Only hours out of an emergency surgery to remove a crossbow bolt out of his shoulder. His breaths were shallow, hardly audible over the silence of the room. His bangs were stuck to his forehead, greasy with sweat and tears. His shirt was gone, torso nearly covered in bandages. His arms lay limp against the covers, the rest of his body swallowed in them.

The physician didn’t even know where his health would go. They claimed he’d begun to heal around the bolt before it had even been removed. He could be like this for a few mere hours, or days, or even weeks. Because of his… condition, it was unpredictable. None of the staff had ever seen anything like it.

Quirin rubbed at his eyes, staring forlornly at the fragile body in the bed. A large hand reached for the small one, bare for once. Without his apron and those leather gloves, he looked even tinier. He looked breakable. Like all Quirin had to do was touch him, and he’d shatter.

The hand retracted, hovering in the air.

From within the bed, the boy shifted, eyes squeezing tighter. He moaned in his sleep, head falling to the side. Reflexively, Quirin reached to brush the hair out of his eyes.

When he pulled away, bleary blue eyes were staring up at him.

“Dad?” Varian mumbled, squinting. Quirin felt his heart stutter.

“Varian,” he whispered, hand falling to his lap. “Sorry, son. I- I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Daddy,” the boy whimpered, eyes misting over with tears again. Panic struck the large man, immediately leaning over his hurting child. A trembling hand reached up from the covers, and he took it, squeezing gently. The boy choked on a sob, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shh.” Quirin ran his free hand through his greasy black locks, smoothing them out. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“I- I’m so sorry,” Varian cried, curling into the hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Quirin hushed. “No, you don’t need to apologize. Remember? You’re not in any trouble. None of this… none of this was your fault.”

“Yes it is!” His child sobbed, tears dribbling down his pale cheeks. “It is! I- I hurt people! I almost killed people. I’m a- a- a monster.”

“No,” Quirin said a little more sternly, cupping Varian’s face with his free hand. “I know tonight was scary, and we all did things we regret. But listen to me.” He waited a moment, making certain Varian was paying attention. “You are not a monster. You are my son. And- and you are loved. You’re so loved. No one here thinks you’re a monster. The princess and her friends- they’ve done everything they can to make sure you’re okay. They care about you, Varian. I care about you.”

Varian cried out as though his words hurt him, squeezing his dad’s hand. It was shockingly strong, considering his physical state, but Quirin didn’t flinch. The boy dissolved into hysterics, openly sobbing, and he just sat there, hand gripping his son’s tightly.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb against the back of the boy’s hand. “This is my fault. It’s all my fault. You’re only a boy, and I’ve left you to fend for yourself for far too long. I’m the one who didn’t trust you with the black rocks. I didn’t listen to you. You… you were only trying to help.” He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away his own tears. “You were only ever trying to help. Everything you’ve ever done, it was with noble intent. You have such a big heart. You’re always trying to help everybody, and I’ve always just cast you aside. Every failed experiment, I should have been there to support you. But all I ever did was criticize you and make you feel unappreciated.”

“I’ve failed you as a father,” he continued, words tumbling out of him. “I swore I’d always be there for you, but I’ve only ever pushed you away. I’ve hurt you so many times, and yet you always come back to me. You’re always right there. Every night, I come home and you have dinner set and ready. Every morning, I wake up and you’ve already cleaned my clothes for me. I’m supposed to take care of you, and you’ve been the one taking care of me. And I’ve never even thanked you.”

“And now- and now I’ve hurt you irreversibly. I made you feel so alone, so desperate, and now you’re- you’re-“ He blinked up at the ceiling, tears welling in his eyes. “And now you’re stuck like this, and it’s all my fault. I’m sorry, son. I’m so, so sorry.” He squeezed his child’s hand, pressing his forehead against the clammy skin.

Another hand rose and patted his head. He blinked, looking back up at the boy. His eyes were still swimming with tears, but there was a small smile on his face. It was a sad one, but it was one nonetheless.

“I-“ Varian inhaled shakily, sinking further into his pillow. “I forgive you, Dad.”

“What?” He asked, voice hoarse and hushed. Varian smiled a little more, squeezing his hand.

“I forgive you,” he repeated. “And I- I’ve never minded, helping you out. I love you.”

“I love you too, son,” Quirin near sobbed, pressing a kiss to the boy’s knuckles. “I love you so much. More than you could ever know.” Varian tried to sit up and hissed, sinking back into the bed. Bottom lip quivering, he reached out with both arms, a longing look in his eyes.

Carefully, Quirin leaned down and embraced his son, cradling him against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of his head, feeling the small body shiver against him.

“I’ll- I’ll always be here,” he swore, holding his baby close. “I swear. I’ll never leave you again.”

And this time, he was going to stick to that promise.

[smol-and-grumpy]

EUPHORIA - Chapter 25

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: NSFW, fluff

WC: 2894

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ <3

THIS SERIES IS COMPLETE ON PATREON!

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Jesus, she opens the door butt naked and everyone who would have walked past could have seen! What is she thinking? Dean makes himself broader, shielding her with his body and pushes her right into the room. He closes the door one handed, and as soon as he’s inside, she climbs him like a damn fucking tree, wrapping her legs around him and hooks her feet on the small of his back while she crashes her lips on his. 

Of course he lets her. Lets her take everything she needs because he’d be lying if he says that he isn’t needy too.

And it feels so damn good to have her in his arms. It makes him forget how annoying the drive was to get here. Makes him forget how hard it was to drive and thumb at his phone at the same time without her getting suspicious and without him getting fucking killed at high speed.

It was all fucking worth it. 

Y/N breaks the kiss and cradles his face between her palms, fingers brushing along his scruff, “You drove all the way here?” She asks, like she still doesn’t believe that he’s here.

Dean chuckles and pecks her lips again, because he just can’t get enough, “Yeah,” 

“Just to see me?” She asks, while she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth.

Fuck, how can Dean say that he’d do so much more for her? That the four hours drive here was fucking peanuts to the lengths he’d go through? He’d drive through fucking hurricanes if he has to.

“Only for you,” He smiles. His hand finds the back of her neck, holds her close and kisses her again, while at the same time he walks further into the room with her still attached to him. 

Dean kneels on the bed, leans down to drop her off carefully, and when he gets back up, he looks at her. Goddamn beautiful thing, all flush and still wet because he can feel the damp patch on his dress shirt where she pressed her pussy against while he was holding her up. Her cunt’s on display and there’s still the stupid toy logged inside, taking his view from her clit. 

Y/N watches him watching her, and she pushes herself further up the bed as Dean begins to shrug off his jacket. He crouches down to get out of his shoes and when he comes up again, he sees her disappearing beneath the covers. 

He starts to laugh, “What are you doing?” 

“Uh,” She starts to say, “I just… it feels weird being naked alone in bed.”

“Huh,” He breathes out, “Does it?” His fingers working faster on his damn fucking buttons, and he wants to tear the fabric off himself, make them pop, but really, coming here was a last minute decision and Dean didn’t pack anything. He left the club right after briefing, right after she had called him and told him how fucking needy she was and now the buttons won’t come off fast enough. He groans in frustration and she chuckles while she props herself on her side. 

“Shush your mouth,” Dean growls as he finally gets the last button off and yanks the shirt from his body before he unbuckles his belt. 

The pants come off easily, the underwear too. His dick is not as hard as it was before though and Dean feels her eyes on him as he tugs at it a couple of times. There’s a sound coming from her throat and he chuckles. He knows that she likes to see him jerking off, which he doesn’t really get. Doesn’t know what’s so great about seeing him do it, but then again, he understands. Mainly because he loves to see her touching herself too.

Before he climbs into bed with her, he pulls down the covers, leaving her exposed and he grins, “Now you’re not alone anymore,” He brackets her head in with his elbows, his body covers hers as he kisses her sweet and tender. It’s different from the first kiss of the night that they shared. It’s all his sweet and caring side he pours into the kiss. 

She wraps her arms around his neck, hands finding his hair and Dean likes that. Likes how she rakes her nails through the thick of it, likes how her hands travel down to the back of his neck and dig into the flesh there some more. 

He parts for a brief moment, pecks her lips, her nose, her cheek, “Christ, I want you so bad,”

Y/N grins, her teeth showing and Dean kisses down her throat, sucks in her skin, draws blood to the surface. He knows that he shouldn’t be marking her, not when she has work things the next day, but he just can’t help himself. Sucks some more, because he wants to. He wants to mark her up, let every fucking last person know that she’s fucking his. And besides, Dean would let go of her if she’d tell him to, but she just giggles and he loves that too, loves that she would let him do just about anything with her. Loves how she’s strong enough to let him break her apart and fix her up again. He really doesn’t know how he fucking deserves to have her back in his life. He was a fucking idiot for not asking her out in high school but that’s in the past, isn’t it? She’s here now and Dean wants to make sure that she fucking stays.

Dean kisses further down, tongue trailing along her chest, licking up the salt of her skin before he finds her nipple and sucks one in. He tugs sharp, driving his teeth into the nub, making her grip on his head tighten, making her arch her back while pulling his face closer. 

He rests his chin on her stomach, while his hand plays with both her tits. He kneads them, jiggles them around, and enjoys the feel of soft flesh beneath the palm of his hands. Dean sucks in a nipple, pops it out loudly before he takes in the other one. He does it so long until she’s giggling above him. God , he likes the sound.

After a while of alternating between her tits, he moves further down, kissing and biting into her flesh, thinks about marking her up some more, knows that she would fucking let him and that doesn’t fucking sit right with him. He still can’t wrap his fucking mind around how a good girl like her wants anything to do with someone like him. He wasn’t exactly a poster child growing up and even now he’s not the best of men, but he fucking knows how to treat a girl like her and that seems to be enough for her. He hopes it is. 

Slotting himself between her thighs, he carefully pulls at the vibe, takes the toy out of her cunt, sees it coming out fucking glistening, slick still dripping off it. Dean takes it into his mouth, cleans it off and groans as the scent of her arousal floods his tongue and his fucking mind. 

He tosses it away and begins to greedily lick at her center, tasting from the source. He thumbs her pussy lips open, groans at what he sees, “Jesus,” He growls, “Prettiest fucking pussy, baby,” 

Dean licks up her cunt and she moans so sweetly above him. Her fingers find his thick hair, nails digging into his scalp as he drinks from her like a thirsty man. He watches her as he sucks at her nub, twirling his tongue around it and hums a fucking sweet melody. He loves to watch her coming apart, feels pride every time she lets him.

His licks get more frantic, and he sucks harder. God, he could spend the whole night just eating her out and not coming himself. He really wouldn’t mind.

It’s getting messier because she gets wetter. Half his face is soaked while the slurping sound is loud in the hotel room and she keens and writhes below him. Her voice is like a broken record player that’s chanting his name over and over again. 

Her legs cramp around his face, and he knows she’s close from the way they tremble, but somehow she’s holding on, tries to prolong the sensation. He chuckles while he laps at her nub, sucks it in and twirls his tongue around it in his mouth. 

“Come,” Dean breathes against her cunt. He’s eager to feel her coming on his tongue because he can’t stop rutting his hard cock against the mattress.

It’s cute that his words are all it takes for her to let go. He thinks it’s fucking amazing, actually.

Dean spends some time licking up her juices after she comes undone, spends some time making out with her wet and slick cunt, because that’s really the second best place he likes to kiss her. 

Y/N’s still blissed out as he kisses his way upwards. She cradles his face when he hovers over her, kisses his wet face and lips, tasting her own juice and swallows it down while her arm wedges between them. Her delicate fingers wrap around his cock and guide it to her warm center. Dean helps by pushing in, sinking his throbbing cock into her hot, wet heat and he has to drop his head onto her shoulder when he bottoms out. 

He loves the feeling, fucking loves being inside of her. Nothing can compare to it, really. Nobody gets him to fall apart like she does. 

Dean moves slow, fucks her deep just like she likes it, but he’s in no rush. He wants to take his time, wants just this, with nothing between them. Not hard and rough, no fucking toys, just slow and steady, deep and heavy. 

Love making, is what it is. 

And he loves that too.

Her hands are digging into his back, nails scraping along his flesh, marking him up and he doesn’t mind. He brackets her face between his elbows, kisses her forehead, works little kisses down to her nose and kisses her lips. She moans his name into his mouth as she comes again, and Dean swallows everything down, every last drop, every last syllable before he grunts and buries his own face into the crook of her neck.

*

It’s almost 1am when he carries her out of the shower and tucks her into bed. He had made her come one more time in the shower, and now she can barely keep her eyes open. Dean thinks it’s super cute. 

While he walks over to his things to retrieve his phone out of his pants pocket, he hears her. 

“Are you going to stay?” She peeks out of the covers, and Dean has to grin.

“Yeah, I am. Unless you want me to leave?” He strolls closer, places his phone on the nightstand. 

Y/N’s eyes are on him, “Nuh-uh,”

Dean chuckles, “No?” He lifts the covers, slides in next to her, his arm wraps around her middle, pulling her close and she lays her head on his chest. 

“No, you stay, please?”

“For as long as you want me to.” He mumbles and kisses the top of her head. 

She changes her position, nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck, leaves a kiss on his throat there, right where his pulse point is. Right where she can feel his heart beating fast. 

“Forever.” She whispers softly and Dean doesn't know that his heart can pick up its pace even more. He’s going to pass out if she keeps saying shit like that. Shit that fucking makes him want to propose to her right away, even though it’s been only a couple of weeks. 

And maybe, he thinks, that’s their way of saying that they care. There’s no need for I love you ’s. He knows that it might be harder for her to love and trust someone again after what she’s been through, and he doesn’t need to hear her say it, doesn’t want to rush her into anything. All he actually wants is for her to know that he is, in fact, utterly and ridiculously head over heels in love with her.

Her alarm wakes her from her slumber, and she knows that she has to get up but the realization that she’s going to have to sit into boring lectures and has to listen the whole day again doesn’t really get her going. 

“You should get up,” Dean mumbles groggily beside her and she groans again. 

Y/N nuzzles closer to him, her nose touching his shoulder, “You should get up, too.”

“Me? Why me?”

God, his voice when he just woke up does things to her. 

“It’s only fair,” She says, kisses his shoulder and Dean chuckles. 

“Is that all it takes? If I get up you’ll get up too?”

“Uh-huh,” 

“And if I stay in bed?” He grins, and turns his head to place a kiss on her forehead.

“Then I still have to get up and that’s not fair.” She pouts.

“I know I shouldn’t say this, but what if you skip the workshop and we stay in bed, huh?” His hand comes up to brush a strand of hair out of her face. 

“I can’t,” She’s still pouting.

Dean’s laughing. He’s full on laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Y/N asks with a frown. 

“You’re really such a good fucking girl. How many times did you miss school, huh?”

She pretends to think when they both know the answer. Hesitantly she says, “Never?”

“Duh,” Dean turns around and gets up. He walks into the bathroom and she can’t say that she minds the view of his naked ass. He really has freckles all over. 

“Where are you going?”

“Getting up!” He calls out, before he closes the door to the bathroom. She waits and hears the flush of the toilet. Seconds later, she hears the water running. She remembers from the short lived stay at his loft, that Dean always needs a shower to get his motor going, otherwise he’ll be grumpy all day.

She drags herself out of bed and walks into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Dean’s eyes meet hers through the mirror while he showers, “I’d say that you could join me, but I think that you won’t get to the workshop on time by the time I’m done with you.”

God, he’s so cocky about it. And he’s right, they both fucking know it. 

*

By the time they’re dressed, her stomach’s in knots.

Dean’s going to leave and it actually makes her not want to go to the workshop even more. 

While they make their way down the elevator to reach the workshop, Dean leans his head back against the mirrored wall. He’s still tired she can see and grins at him. 

He closes his eyes briefly and squints one open to stare at her, “What?”

“Nothing,” She says, and adds, “It’s just, you look so good in your suit. I should put you on a leash.”

Dean grins back. t’s cocky and she already regrets telling him that, “Well, would that turn you on, huh?”

She can’t roll her eyes to the back of her head fast enough, and is actually very glad that the elevator dings to signal that they have arrived on the ground floor. She walks ahead and Dean runs to keep up. 

“Come on, that was funny,” He says, pulls her close by an arm around her waist and kisses the top of her head. 

He walks her to the entrance of the conference hall where the workshop is being held and cradles her face between his palms. Dean squeezes her cheeks, laughs when her lips are making squishy fish lips, “Come on, smile a little.”

Of course she can’t hold back the smirk and Dean kisses her, sucked in both her lips, making her giggle some more. 

“Hey, Y/N!” Charlie comes running.

“Hi Charlie,” Y/N greets her friend.

“I don’t believe we’ve met?” Charlie turns to Dean. Her friend’s always straight forward. That’s what she admires about the woman.

“Yeah, uh, no. I’m Dean, nice to meet you Charlie,” Dean extends his hand and Charlie takes it, smiles at him. 

“Yeah, uh,” Y/N clears her throat, “Dean, my boyfriend. He’s leaving now. Bye, Dean.” 

Y/N awkwardly waves a hand and Charlie looks from her to Dean and back.

“Ooookay,” Charlie says with a lift of her eyebrow but Y/N couldn’t miss the wide eyes, “I’ll be waiting inside. Bye, Dean.”

When Charlie’s a safe distance away, Dean has both his hand in his pocket.

“So,” He starts to say, and takes one step towards her, bends down to be on her level and whispers into her ear, “Your boyfriend, huh?” He parts and grins that cocky grin at her. 

“Yeah? Aren’t you?” She asks, feels somewhat embarrassed. 

Dean reaches out a hand and cups her chin with his thumb and forefinger. He tilts her head up a little and she sees the crinkles deep around his eyes. 

He leans down again, his lips inches from hers, “Baby, I’m so fucking far gone on you that I’ll be whatever you want me to be,”

Chapter 26

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

[cavalierious-whim]

The Keen, Cutting Edge (FE3H)

Sylvix | Canon-Compliant | Post-Canon | Explicit

The scruff's got to go because Felix's kink is a cleanly shaved face.

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A/N: Comedy Smut. Have fun. Read here on AO3 for better formatting, and follow me here on Twitter!

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The scruff has got to go.

Felix likes to think that he’s a man of compromise. Nearly everything aggravates the ever-loving shit out of him, but he puts up with it all with an only mildly acerbic complaint. And even with his complaints, he never does much about it in the end. The effort is a little too much and Felix is lazy about things that aren’t training. Even if war is long gone, and peace has long since settled across the horizon.

Still, there’s only so much that he can take and he’s hit his limit.

Felix is sharpening a blade when Sylvain walks into their parlor. It’s a cold morning, the fireplace ablaze. Felix sits at the edge of a settee, carefully oiling up the knife before scraping it along the sharpening block.

Sylvain’s eyes narrow slightly at the sight. “Felix, the sun is barely up and you’re already working.”

“This isn’t work,” says Felix. Finally, he looks up and his eyes sweep across Sylvain’s face. Across the utter eyesore that is his beard, thin and patchy in places because it’s still growing in. It’s not that Felix is against facial hair-- there was a time during the war where Sylvain forgot entirely about shaving and sported a beard for nearly a year-- but he’s never grown it easily.

Felix is impatient and the scruff is only irritating him.

Sylvain blinks and says, “So, if not work, then for what?”

“You,” says Felix simply. He pauses to brandish the knife, showing off an antique shaving blade.

“Oh, no,” says Sylvain, a hand immediately going to his chin. “Felix, don’t--”

“There are only two options,” cuts in Felix, moving to sharpen the blade once more. “Keep the beard, or keep me.”

Sylvain frowns. “Of all the ridiculous things, this is where you draw the line? My facial hair?”

“It’s itchy. It’s scratchy. It leaves behind rashes.”

“Leaves behind rashes--” Sylvain falls quiet when he realizes exactly what Felix is implying, face pinking the slightest bit. Then, he massages at his cheeks, thinking.

“So, it’s the beard or me in your bed.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” says Sylvain, even though they both know that Felix won’t leave him over something so trivial. They’ve been through too much and overcame everything to get to this point. Sylvain’s been couched for less, though.

Felix pauses and looks at Sylvain once more. Then, he motions to a chair set before the fireplace. “Sit.”

“Are you planning on giving me a shave?”

“An easy remedy.”

And that’s how Felix found Sylvain pressed into the chair before him, entirely vulnerable underneath his touch and the blade in his hand. Sylvain doesn’t trust anyone, but he’ll always let Felix close. Even if it’s with a weapon.

“Wait,” says Sylvain, and Felix stops. Sylvain reaches out and pulls at him, and Felix falls to straddle his lap. “You truly hate it so much?”

“I don’t,” says Felix honestly. Sylvain wears it well, even when it’s sparse and patchy. He just has preferences like seeing Sylvain’s handsome jawline and reducing beard burn as much as possible.

“And yet, you want to remove it?”

“I distinctly remember you complaining about the lack of shared intimacy as of late.”

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” says Sylvain. “I was thinking things like midnight walks and picnics with a nice wine.” He spreads his hands wide across Felix’s hips, trying to slot their legs together into a more favorable position. As much as Felix wants to fight it, he’s so easily goaded along.

“You’re distracting me.”

“That’s the intention,” says Sylvain.

Felix doesn’t like the knowing smirk that spreads across Sylvain’s face, so utterly attuned to him in every way. It’s from years of watching and years of practice, and it always irritates Felix who tries to keep a tight hold on himself. Sylvain’s infuriating on even his best of days, and not because Felix dislikes their dynamic, it’s because he craves it.

There isn’t a word to describe the feeling of someone else knowing you better than you know yourself, but Felix can’t deny that it’s one of the things that’s saved him. Sylvain, too.

“It won’t stop me,” warns Felix.

“No? Then you should get one last good look.”

Felix blinks back at him, blade held aloft between them. “A good look at the scruff that I want to remove from your face?”

“I think you’re more fond of it than you’d care to admit.” Sylvain is, as always, on the nose, but Felix refuses to give him the satisfaction of being right. With a deft twirl between his fingers, the straight blade finds itself nestled against the hollow of his throat, tipped at the perfect angle to shear the beard off.

Sylvain doesn’t even flinch, entirely at ease. “Go on, then,” he says.

Felix sighs, letting up and pulling his hand back. His fingers return, lathered up, smearing cold soap across the underside of Sylvain’s jawline. A few flicks of the blade and Sylvain’s skin is smooth, his throat bobbing as he swallows. Felix wipes the blade on a small towel sitting in his lap.

“Much better,” says Felix, smoothing his hand across the soft skin of his neck. “Preferable to that pitiful thing you call a beard.”

“Rude,” says Sylvain, but he falls quiet when Felix resumes his task. He sits in Sylvain’s lap, blade scraping across Sylvain’s face with practiced accuracy. Lather-up, shave, and then rinse. Wiping the blade on the small cloth, only to repeat everything over again. One half of the face followed closely by the other.

Sylvain doesn’t complain; he only watches Felix with a searing gaze. Felix does his best to ignore it and the heat that burns right through him. Sylvain’s fingers still hold him by the hipbone, thumbing first at Felix’s linen shirt, but then slipping underneath to circle across the smooth skin there, and sharp jut of his hips.

“Done?” asks Sylvain when Felix swipes a second towel across his face. Felix takes him by the chin, turning his face from side to side, surveying his work. “Pleased?”

More than so, Felix thinks, moving his hand to slide down Sylvain’s neck and across his collarbone. “It’ll do,” says Felix. And then Felix’s hand finds the open collar of Sylvain’s shirt, just barely slipping in, fingers scratching through his chest hair.

“No, that’s where I draw the line,” says Sylvain, but it’s with humor.

“I would never,” says Felix, quietly.

“Just my face, then,” says Sylvain.

“I do prefer to see it.” Felix sets the blade and towels aside. But he doesn’t move away from him now that his task is done.

Sylvain hesitates, head cocking to the side. “Prefer to see it,” repeats Sylvain. “I would have thought otherwise--”

“I can’t see your face when it’s all covered up.”

There’s a beat, a soft half-moment of silence that stretches between them before Sylvain smiles wide with a shit-eating grin. “Oh, so like my face, do you?”

Felix hates being teased, despises it, even when it comes from Sylvain. Probably most of all, when it comes from Sylvain. “You aren’t unhandsome,” says Felix, curtly. They both know exactly how he feels about Sylvain’s looks, but he can’t help but make a jab right back.

“You seem rather obsessed,” says Sylvain when Felix slides his hand back up his neck, petting the soft skin at the juncture of his jaw.

“I have my predilections,” says Felix, entirely unashamed. “I prefer it when you don’t look like an animal has made its home on your face.”

Sylvain frowns. “Felix, it wasn’t that bad--”

“Wrong,” cuts in Felix, “it was far worse.” He thumbs the line of Sylvain’s face before leaning closer, pressing his nose into his neck. “Nearly as bad as depriving me of this.”

“Of this?” Sylvain asks, his voice suddenly breathy. Felix pulls back again, regarding him through a narrowed gaze. “Oh right, of this,” says Sylvain, dropping the coy act. Felix doesn’t often voice his opinions so overtly, so Sylvain makes the correct choice in just indulging.

“A crime,” says Felix, “to hide such a sharp jaw.”

“Are you saying that I’m perfect?”

“No, you’re an idiot, but one that I quite like to look at.”

Sylvain smiles then, leaning back slightly in the chair, fingers grasping Felix’s hips tighter to pull him closer. Felix doesn’t fight it, pressing against Sylvain’s incredibly apparent need. It only stokes that slow-burning fire in Felix’s core.

“Rare, for you to be like this,” says Sylvain.

“If that’s a complaint, I can easily stop.” It won’t be easy, but Felix will absolutely have the last word if necessary.

“No,” says Sylvain with such absurd immediacy that Felix shares a rare, genuine smile.

“Then let me do as I want,” says Felix.

“Absolutely. Yes. Please.”

Felix pauses at that, regarding Sylvain’s already slightly wrecked expression. “Incredible,” he says, “how little it takes for you to become like this.”

Sylvain lets out a laugh that dissolves into a moan because Felix chooses the perfect moment to change the angle of their hips and grind against his lap. Felix leans forward again, pressing his nose against the skin of Sylvain’s neck. He smells like the sandalwood soap he hoards like a Wyvern, and Felix drinks it up, sinking deep into it.

It’s easy, to lose himself in Sylvain, he thinks. Not because Sylvain’s handsome or preferenced, but because of the way that he’s so easily undone with such a soft touch. Felix doesn’t have to do much to have his way with him; Sylvain’s eager to respond, always at the ready.

And not because he’s a rake, but because he’s so utterly, irrevocably tied to Felix. And it’d be a lie to say that it isn’t the same for Felix. He might wear his affection differently; it might show through a more subdued lens, but it’s there and it’s real.

Felix moves to kiss Sylvain properly, one hand cradling the back of his neck while the other slips back to the open collar of his shirt. Fingers press against Sylvain’s skin there, grounding himself. The kiss isn’t gentle, but it isn’t fire either. Sylvain responds eagerly, tipping his head back for better access, but keeps the touch frustratingly chaste.

When Felix pulls back, he grabs Sylvain’s chin, thumb sweeping across his lip in a possessive manner. Watching and waiting. Then, Felix dips back down, kissing Sylvain again, coaxing his mouth open and licking into him with wild abandon.

Sylvain’s hands move from his hips, smoothing over his ass, squeezing and pulling Felix forward, and this time, it’s his turn to let out a groan against Sylvain’s mouth.

“Insatiable,” bites Felix, as if he’s not the one who’s grinding against Sylvain’s lap, seeking out that delicious friction. Sylvain tries to slow Felix down, tries to hold him still above him and stay the pace, but Felix is far too impatient to give in.

Far too impatient for anything, really, other than the feeling of Sylvain tightly coiled underneath him, losing a little more of himself with every kiss. It’s a sight that Felix would happily die for, not that he’d ever admit it aloud.

Felix stops and pulls off Sylvain’s lap, shucking his pants off with little ceremony. Sylvain watches quietly with eyes bright and swallows thickly, cheeks already flushed with want. It’s moments like this that Felix feels a little bit of pride.

“Felix,” says Sylvain, when Felix settles over his lap again. “Felix, I didn’t get to--” A hiss cuts off his words as Felix’s hand drops between them, caressing over Sylvain’s tented pants. “Unfair,” whines Sylvain, bucking his hips slightly.

“Unfair?” asks Felix, as he pulls his hand away.

“No, shit, Felix, that isn’t what I meant--”

Felix is in a teasing mood, so he raises an eyebrow as he smooths a hand along Sylvain’s shirt. “Then what did you mean?”

“Let me get my pants off,” pleads Sylvain. And then, for good measure, he adds, “Please.”

Felix pretends to think about it before rejecting the idea. “Not yet,” he says rather cruelly, leaning forward again. “I prefer this at the moment.”

“Prefer this--”

Felix swallows his words with another kiss, tongue snaking out to lick across his lips before dipping into his mouth. Sylvain responds readily, lifting a hand to Felix’s head, fingers curling into his hair and pulling at it. Not hard enough to hurt, but just the perfect amount to tug at his hairline, and Felix returns the favor, nails biting into the back of Sylvain’s neck as he grips tighter.

He moves then, pressing his mouth against the side of Sylvain’s jaw, pressing featherlight kisses along the length of it, tongue dipping out and trailing behind. Savoring the taste of Sylvain’s soft skin and devouring the sounds that come as a result.

Sylvain’s an easy man to please when it comes down to things, and Felix absorbs his eager response like it’s his lifeblood.

Then, Felix’s hand is between them again, fingers curling around the delicious hardness that’s hidden by Sylvain’s trousers. Sylvain’s head falls back and he groans, trying to get as much friction as possible.

Felix’s lips find his neck this time, worrying the skin there as he laps at it, marking him up with a deep-seated sort of possessiveness. He knows that Sylvain isn’t going anywhere, he knows that there isn’t anyone else-- that there wasn’t really ever-- but old habits die hard, and Felix wants to claim him as his own.

“Another thing that a beard hides,” says Felix, pulling back to look at the pink marks blooming across Sylvain’s neck and collarbone.

“I can’t always be wearing high collars,” says Sylvain.

“Then don’t,” says Felix.

It’s a clear challenge, one that lights up Sylvain’s face with desperate hunger. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he says, one hand sliding down the rough linen of Felix’s shirt before finding the bare skin of his hip and backside. Then, his hand dips lower, between Felix’s cheeks, a finger ghosting his entrance.

If Felix weren’t so annoyed from the get-go, he’d burn red with embarrassment. Instead, he says, “Everyone already knows it, so why not make it apparent. The rake of a Margrave, bending a knee to the Duke.”

“To my husband,” says Sylvain instead.

“There hasn’t been a ceremony yet,” says Felix, testily. These things take time, Dimitri said about three years back, and still, little has come of it.

“The papers are signed,” says Sylvain, matter-of-factly. “Ceremony be damned.”

Ceremony be damned indeed, Felix thinks, when Sylvain’s hand dips against his backside again, this time having been slicked during his distraction.

“That better not be my blade oil.”

“I’ve heard rumor that it works well,” says Sylvain, cheekily.

Felix knows from years of shared experience that Sylvain’s correct. “On with it, then,” he says, pressing back against Sylvain’s hand.

“Impatient,” Sylvain chides.

“Efficient,” replies Felix, letting out a sigh when Sylvain finally slips a finger in with practiced ease. And then one finger becomes two, the sort of well-ordered and stinging pace that Felix craves. Sylvain knows him inside and out, has memorized everything that Felix wants and needs, and it isn’t long until a distraction is needed.

Felix unbuttons Sylvain’s pants and slips a hand in, palming at his hot length. They work in tandem, Sylvain’s fingers stretching and pulling slightly at his rim, trying to prep him with the speed that Felix wants.

“Felix--”

“Soon enough,” says Felix, pulling Sylvain’s cock out from his trousers properly, pressing it against his own, wrapping his hand around the both of them tightly. Sylvain bites out a curse, his fingers pausing, prompting Felix to let out an aggravated sigh. He presses back his hand, craving that burn and friction, and the pull of Sylvain’s touch.

Then, Sylvain’s hand bats away Felix’s. He makes a tight fist around the both of them, precome slicking the motion and making the slide of his fingers easier. His grip tightens around them both and Felix ruts into his fist, their cocks sliding against each other with a delightful rasp.

Felix eventually hits a point where he just can’t anymore, pulling away and surprising Sylvain. He slicks his hand with the oil, raises his hips, and reaches behind him, grasping at Sylvain’s cock to line him up where he wants him most.

And, because Felix is efficient in his lovemaking like he is with anything else, he sinks down onto Sylvain with little ceremony, muscles relaxing as he just goes and goes and goes. Sylvain holds Felix’s hips tight, white-knuckled and bruising, face red with heady lust.

This is what he loves most, Felix thinks as he settles, his ass against Sylvain’s thighs as he’s fully seated onto him. Sylvain looking so terribly debauched underneath him, responding to his touch almost instinctually. They know what the other wants before it happens, anticipating their needs and adjusting accordingly.

Felix already feels so full and satisfied, as he gently grinds against Sylvain. He reaches out, slipping his hand back into the collar of Sylvain’s shirt, nails scratching lightly against the skin there.

“Felix,” says Sylvain, “this is definitely not going to last long.”

“I wasn’t planning on dragging it out,” says Felix, raising his hips only a fraction before dropping them back down. It’s not a full and fluid motion, more like a frenzied rolling of the hips. He pulls Sylvain closer, an arm around his neck and chests flush against each other.

“Your shirt is still on,” breathes Sylvain, rucking the fabric up to nuzzle at Felix’s breastbone. He tugs at the linen impatiently.

Felix halts his movements and pulls back. “Is that a complaint?”

Sylvain halts as well, wide-eyed and slightly incredulous. “What? No--”

“It sounded like one,” says Felix, dragging his hips up slowly.

“Felix,” sighs Sylvain, “Please.”

Felix yanks at his collar slightly, his other hand curling around to grab at Sylvain’s neck. He holds on tightly, pulling at the fine baby hairs there, scratching along the bottom of Sylvain’s scalp.

Sylvain’s always been loud in bed, be it breathy sighs or loud moans. He’s quieter today, trying to hold on and keep from tipping over that edge too quickly. Felix understands; it’s been a while, a little bit too long. They’ve been too busy with work and post-war reconstruction to reliably have any time to themselves.

Felix told himself to be better about it, to be better to Sylvain, so this is the least that he can do. He sets a hurried pace, sliding along Sylvain with precise movements, circling his hips ever so slightly on the downstroke.

“Fuck,” breathes Sylvain, still gripping at his hips, helping to ease the motion. Lifting Felix before letting him fall. He’s taut underneath him, wound tight like a bowstring, doing his best.

Always doing his best for Felix, be it here in moments like this, or anywhere else. Felix presses their foreheads together as he moves, eyes slipping closed as he just thinks and feels and loves. He loves this man and everything that he is.

And right now, he’s perfect, filling him so utterly full, matching his movements with practiced grace. “Perfect,” says Felix, dropping those carefully erected walls in the haze of pleasure.

Sylvain shifts slightly underneath him, jerking his hips upwards, meeting Felix with frenzied thrusts. Felix wants to lean back and take him the best he can, rolling against him with a sinful grind, to savor this for as long as possible, but he doesn’t want to pull away from their shared closeness.

A hand from his hip moves to press against Felix’s lower back, holding him there, helping him slide along Sylvain’s cock. “Made for me,” says Felix aloud, prompting Sylvain to let loose a groan in response. “So perfect, so deep, so--”

“No,” says Sylvain, wincing from the pleasure. “I mean, yes, but no, I’m so close--”

“I haven’t got all day,” says Felix, remembering that he’s supposed to be teasing Sylvain, that this entire thing had started with lighthearted banter and that damned, hideously attractive beard. Felix’s hand finds his cock, jerking himself with long and languid strokes, palm curling around the crown when his motions come full circle.

Surprisingly, it’s Felix who falls first, tipping over into that well-sought fire as he chases his own pleasure. He moans as he clenches tight around Sylvain, hips stuttering against the jerky thrusting from below and he comes into his hand.

Sylvain thrusts once, twice, a third time, and topples over with him, watching as Felix heaves and twitches above him, overly sensitive and coming down from that high. Sylvain presses deep, holding Felix there, hands splayed wide across his waist with a warm touch.

The room is quiet, save for their heavy breaths. It’s unbearably hot near the fire, but Felix is suddenly too tired to do much other than sit there above Sylvain, holding him close. Unwilling to let go.

Eventually, he has to, clean-up inevitable.

“A bath, then,” is the first thing that Sylvain says. It’s nearly comical, the way that he regards Felix with a soft and warm smile, dazed by the afterglow of their lovemaking.

Felix hates that he loves it. “I thought it was a picnic that you wanted,” he says, remembering what Sylvain had complained about earlier.

“A bath and then a picnic,” says Sylvain. “Either way is a win.”

Felix considers this for a moment, fingers sweeping across Sylvain’s face once more. “I don’t hate the beard,” he says instead.

“You’ve said that.”

“I just prefer to see you instead.”

“It’s still me,” says Sylvain with a soft little sigh.

Felix hums at that before pulling off of him. The loss of Sylvain’s cock is immediate and distracting. “A bath then,” he says, wiping at himself with a towel.

“And then a picnic?” Sylvain’s cute at the worst of times, but it’s endearing.

“I suppose it’s inevitable,” says Felix.

Then, Sylvain smirks. “The beard is too, you know. Give it a few years.”

Felix is waiting for him by the door of the bedroom, resting against the frame. He lets out a sigh at the thought. “Better you than me, I suppose.”

“You’d look dashing with one,” says Sylvain, sidling up next to him. Then, he pinches at Felix’s ass. “Terribly handsome.”

“I’d look like my father,” says Felix, pushing Sylvain away. Then, there’s a pause. “That isn’t a good look.”

Sylvain laughs the entire way to their bath.

[crypticpaw]

Frozen Paws, Frozen Heart

Entrapta X Hordak fic! (with Frosta’s participation)

Author’s note: I’m very, very proud of this fic! I just like writting/drawing Hordak being a parental figure! I really hope you guys like this one! Again, I’m always open to criticism and forgive my bad grammar! Tell me what you thought about it!

WARNINGS: Swearing?? Frosta swears a lot, I think we’re all very aware of that...

Clouds of dust and snow formed where Frosta had run past, zipping through the white, cold landscape, tirelessly chasing the hare. She barked and growled attempting to grab the swift thing with her mouth or paws, but it was always a little out of her reach. Frosta almost fell, making another rough turn, following the hare, surely trying to shake her off. Her little paws ached, having run so fast for so long, but the pup ignored it with a determined look on her face. She was going to catch this damn hare if it was the last thing she did! She barked and barked, as if that would make the hare go slower. The pup had been chasing that thing for three weeks now, and she wasn't about to stop! Until a terrible smell hit her nose. Frosta stopped abruptly, sliding in the snow a little. She fell head-first in the ground, and shook it off her fur and big coat. The hare looked behind it's shoulders, stopping after realising Frosta stopped chasing it, hoping back to her. The pup raised her snout, sniffing the air. The hare raised itself on it's hind legs and sniffed. -You smell it to? -Frosta asked it. It turned to her without an answer. She slowly made her way through the snow, following the smell. She recognised it now, the smell of bitter metal scrap. She recognised it from Entrapta. From the Fright Zone. Frosta ran up a hill to see better and try to make it out where the smell came from, and sure enough: a big, steel tank, with Dryl's crest on it, slowly making it's way through the snowy territory. HER snowy territory! She growled to herself, her fur rising in her neck in anger. What was Entrapta doing in the Northern Reach?! A spark lit in Frosta's head. She remembered Adora reporting to her that Scorpia, Catra and Entrapta had attacked the Northern Reach once, when they still worked for the Horde, looking for tech. As she was about to go after the tank, she saw the lid on top of it open, and out of it, Hordak peeked his head out. Frosta growled even louder. Not thinking, she decided to run for it. As she got close to the tank, she turned to the hare who was still following her. -It's not safe for you! Go back home, I'll meet you there! The hare turned around and hoped back. Frosta climbed up the stairs and on top of the tank, where she slowly opened the lid and peeked inside before falling in. She hit the metal floor head-first, making a loud CLANG. Rubbing her head with her paws, she looked around, examining the inside filled with wires, metal scrap, tools on the floor and a pile of boxes with Dryl's crest. Pointing her nose to the floor, Frosta slowly explored around, leaving a trail of snow behind her. Her ears raised and she turned her head when she heard footsteps behind her. In a panic, she jumped behind the boxes, and hid there. Through a space between her hiding spot, she peeked to see Hordak, wearing a huge and probably very heavy dark blue fur coat, approaching the slid where she fell through. Frosta froze in place and held her breath. She couldn't let him see her! Not because she was scared of Hordak, she wasn't scared of anything! But Frosta didn't want to be thrown out yet. His eyes glowed in the dark. A red light casting on his surroundings, making him look even more monstrous. His steps slowing down as he saw the snow on the floor melting. The cat sniffed around, for sure catching her scent, as his ears drew back and he unsheathed his claws. Frosta gulped. She heard his claws could cut through pure steel. Like all the other princesses, she had heard stories about Hordak before they actually met. He didn't seem so scary up close, but she wasn't ready to find out if his claws hurt or not. He followed her scent, slowly getting closer to her hiding spot, a growl rising deep in his throat. Frosta's ears fell and her tail hid between her legs. Her paw opened as she made a snow ball out of thin air, ready to throw it in his big, scrawny face. As Hordak was about to take another step, there was a chirp from the corridor. A small kitten-bat-monkey-thing-creature flew over to him trilling and chirping, covered in snow. It stopped at his paws and shook the snow off it's little body, revealing a fluffy and wet dark blue sweater, matching Hordak's fur coat. -Aargh! Imp! -Hordak hissed. -Look at the mess you made! Your clothes are soaked! The "Imp"-thingy laughed, it's tail held high. Hordak growled again, drawing his claws back. He nudged the kitten with wings back to the dark corridor and walked with it as it took flight again. Frosta peeked her head out as their steps faded away. Slowly, she comes out from behind the boxes and scoots closer to the wall, following Hordak. The corridor is dark, she can barely see a thing, but manages to follow the cat by his scent and the faint talking from the end of the hall. There's a big room ahead, Frosta can make out more boxes, tools on the ground, computer screens and Entrapta. Sitting on her big pet robot Emily, tapping in some kind of tablet, wearing a hoodie and big ear protectors. As Frosta was about to jump her and ask what she wanted in the Northern Reach, Hordak entered the room, carrying the kitten with wings, in a now dry sweater. Entrapta's ears perked up and she stretched her paws to cradle the cat-thingy against her chest. -You're watching him! -Hordak grumbled. -He decided to go outside to play in the snow and I had to dry him! Entrapta's tail wagged. -Aaww! He just wanted to build a snowman, didn't ya, Imp? The kitten trilled back to her and nuzzled her chest, then turned to Hordak and stuck out his tongue to him. Hordak growled and Entrapta laughed. She wrapped her ear around him and pulled herself closer so she could rest her head on his shoulder. Hordak nuzzled her cheek, purring. -Blergh! -Frosta gaged. She shouldn't have done that. Imp's folded ears perked up and he sniffed around. A tiny growl rising in his throat, his tail swished as he looked directly where Frosta was hiding. She gulped. Hordak, following Imp's eyes, stepped closer. Entrapta tilted her head, holding Imp close to her, and petting Emily to calm her. The both whined and turned to her, looking for reassurance. -What is it? -she looked at Imp, then at Hordak, then back. -What's wrong? There's nothing there. It's okay. Nobody's here- -AH, YOU PEST!!! Entrapta turned to see Hordak snarling, his face covered in snow, holding a very angry, barking Frosta by her scruff. -Frosta! The pup tried to turn and run, but Hordak's grip on her tightened and Entrapta wrapped her ear around her waist, lifting her upside down. Her big coat fell in front of her face, and she had to slap it away to look at them. -What are you doing here? -she asked excited. -What are YOU doing here?! The Northern Reach is MY territory! -Frosta growled. -Is it? I didn't know that! Last time I was here, it was just unmarked land! -Entrapta said, gently putting Frosta on the ground. -Well, it's marked now! Why did you bring a tank in the middle of the snow anyway? -Our experiments do not concerns you, pup! Hordak towered over her, his ears back. Grumpy as always. Frosta wanted to throw a snowball at him everytime she looked at his stinky face, and it was very tempting to do it again. -This is no place for a child, get out of our tank and go home! -he hissed, walking back to Entrapta. Frosta jumped in front on him and growled, standing between him and the Princess. Who did he think he was?! -No, YOU go home! -she barked. -You came here out of nowhere, without my permission, with a TANK! If you wanted to start another war you could have said it to my face! -Permission?! -he laughed. -We don't need permission from a 9 month old pup! -UH, I'M 11, SO SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! They both growled loudly at each other. Frosta's neck fur was tingled and Hordak's tail swished from to side, both bearing their teeth. Entrapta pulled Frosta to sit on her lap and rested a ear on Hordak's shoulder. -Sorry about coming out of nowhere, Frosta, we didn't know it was part of your kingdom! -Entrapta pat her on the head gently. -We just need an energy source! Our old one got busted when the Fright Zone was destroyed! -Didn't you get attacked by a bunch of worms? At least, that's what Scorpia said! -Yes! But the energy sources were left intact! As long as we don't wake the worms again, we should be fine! Frosta huffed as she sat down. -Why do you need an energy source anyway? -she crossed her arms. -Are you building another evil weapon?! -Evil weapon! -Entrapta cackled. -Of course not, Frosta! You're so silly! She pat her head again, ruffling her fur, which Frosta had to fix. -What are doing so far from home? This is no place for a pup to be alone by herself! Frosta stuck her nose up and copied his accent. -My exploring does not concern you, BITCH! Hordak hissed. "YOU PEST!!!", Imp echoed Hordak's words back to Frosta and she stuck out her tongue at him. Emily looked around all of them, beeping worriedly. -You know, Frosta, for a puppy your size, you sure have a very extended vocabulary... -I say we wash her dirty mouth with soap! -Hordak growled. -That's what children like her earned for their disrespect, back at the Fright Zone! -I'M GONNA WASH YOUR MOUTH WITH SNOW, MOTHER FUCKER! COME AT ME! -Ok, you both, quit it! -Entrapta barked. She sounded serious this time. -Nobody's gonna come at anybody! And nobody's having their mouth washed! Something behind her started beeping and a little red light started flashing. Entrapta grumbled and tapped at her keyboard, making a bunch of 1s and 0s appear in one of the screens. She turned to Hordak. -I think something in the front motor froze! Hordak, can you go check for me? The cat growled softly out of frustration, his expression some-what hurt... He looked at Entrapta, looked at Frosta, and back at Entrapta. -Fine... -hesitating, he turned to walk away, shooting a nasty side-eye at Frosta. She sticks her middle finger at him as he walks away, complaining to himself. -Ha-ha! -she laughs, victoriously. She turned to Entrapta, who was still taping at her keyboard, more 0s and 1s showing on her screen. She didn't share the same smile Frosta had. -What do you see in that guy? -the she finally asked. -He's my lab partner! -Yeah, but, he's an old... Clone... Bat... Thing! -Appearances aren't everything in a relationship, Frosta. -Entrapta turned to her. -I know that, but... -Frosta tried to think of what to say, but didn't know how to explain herself. She did not like Hordak overall. -I mean... He's Hordak! And you're you! -Yeah, but we get along perfectly! -Entrapta smiled at her. -Our species don't exactly match, but we like the same things, we like to spend time together, our aesthetic is the same like our ideals and our morals! We just... Like each other! -I get why he likes YOU, I don't get why you like HIM! He's always grumpy, and bossy, and saying complicated words... -That's just how he is! I once heard someone say that Glimmer was hot-headed, stubborn, short-tempered and hard to get along with! But that doesn't mean you like her any less, does it? -NO! WHO SAID THAT?! -Frosta stood up and created a fist of hard ice around her paw. -I'M GONNA PUNCH THEIR FACE INTO THEIR SKULL! -NOT the point! -Entrapta gently pushed her paw down, and the pup melted the ice around it. -My point is: Some animals just get along... And other animals don't! -And I guess Hordak doesn't get along with Princeses. -Frosta realised. -Well... Princesses that aren't you! -Maybe... But Adora and Scorpia get along with him! I bet if you spent more time trying to talk to him, and not trying to fight him, you'd get along with him too! Frosta grew quiet, her eyes flew around the room, as she thought to herself. -And, yeah, it's easier for me in a way! -What do you mean? -Frosta tilted her head. -I have a secret! It's the reason why I get along with him so much! -Entrapta winked at her. -What is it?!? -Well... I think... He's really... CUTE! -EEEWWW! Frosta gaged again and Entrapta cackled loudly, hugging her. She blew a raspberry on the pup's cheek, making her laugh and kick her legs. They both smiled at each other. Imp trilled at the corridor and flew over to Hordak as he entered, perching on his shoulders. -The motor is functioning as expected, it was only a small amount of frost. I turned the heater on. -he said. -Are we there yet? -Yeah, are we there yet? -said Frosta. "Are we there yet?" "Are we there yet?" "Are we there yet?", Imp repeated Frosta's voice and she was taken aback by it. -Somewhat! We can't really get in because the entries were destroyed, but maybe we could crawl around the vents! Entrapta eyes twinkled with exciment, her tail wagged. -YOU can crawl around the vents. -Hordak reminded her. He shivered and curled his tail around himself. -I'll wait here if that's acceptable. I do not want to hinder you in our experiment, for I don't do well in the cold. -It's just snow! It's not THAT cold! -Frosta argued. -Maybe for dogs with thick, long fur, like you!  I don't know if you recall this, girl, but I am practicaly furless! -It's okay! I can take Imp and Emily! But we gotta be super quiet! -Entrapta turned to the pets, who chirped and beeped back at her happily. -You guys stay here and take care of the tank together! -WHAT!? No, I wanna come!!! -Frosta whined. -I will not be demoted to pupsitting! -Hordak hissed. -It won't take long, I promise! -she pointed at them with her ears. -Frosta, don't try to fight anything! And Hordak, be nice to the puppy! The both of them exchanged hostile glares. -Yeah, fuck face! Be nice! -One more curse word out of your mouth and I'm shoving you in timeout corner for the next 3 hours! -What did I just said?! -Entrapta barked angrily. She shot a last glance at them before scurrying off to the corridor leading to the exiting lid. As soon as the THUMP of the shutting lid was heard, Hordak went up to the screens and Frosta followed him. They could see Entrapta making her way through the snow, walking off with Imp and Emily. The cat settled down with a longing sigh and Frosta jumped up to sit on the keyboard. She let her paws dangle off the edge, awkwardly looking around, not knowing what to do with herself. He's just sitting there, his eyes stuck in that one screen where Entrapta was before, unmoving, as if he couldn't do anything else. -So... What do we do now...? -We wait. -For how long? -Not very long. It should take her no more than a few minutes or an hour. -An hour?! -she whined. -What am I supposed to do for an hour?! -I don't know! But if you're going to whine the whole time, I suggest you do it elsewhere! Hordak growled at her and she let herself tumble to the side with an annoyed huff. It was less than a minute before she spoke again and the cat turned to her with a frown. -Is there a bathroom in the tank? I need to go! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hordak sat outside in the snow, turned around a few feet away from the small igloo Frosta made for herself as to give her some privacy. The snow so cold beneath him it almost felt like his paws were burning, he put the hood of his coat over his ears, but they still wouldn't warm up and he was worried they would freeze and fall off. His tail curled against him, trembling as he shivered. A small cloud came out of his nose with every breath he took. He heard rustling behind him but kept himself from turning around. -Okay, I'm done! -Frosta trotted up to him. -Good! Let's go back inside, before I freeze to death! Frosta rolled her eyes, and as they walked off, she had an idea. She stopped a little behind him, made a tall snow tower beneath her paws and shot ice through her paws ahead of her, making a long slippery ramp. Hordak stopped and yelped in shock. -What are you doing?! She made a board out of hardened snow and before he could stop her, she pushed herself off. -GERONIMO!!! -FROSTA! NO, NO, GIRL! DON'T! FROSTA!!! She went so fast down, she had to close her eyes, and only opened them again to see the fast approaching, snowy earth. She went head-first into the snow, bounced and fell again, her board shattered as soon as it touched the ground. Frosta tried to get up, but got herself stuck. -You're impossible! Are you trying to get yourself killed?! -Hordak stormed up to her, grabbing her scruff and taking her off the snow. -You better have not broken anything! You crazy dog! -Did you see me?! Did you see what I did?! It was super fun! I went flying! -she exclaimed, shaking the snow off her. -And you also fell! From a dangerously high altitude might I add! -Pffft! That was nothing! I just gotta adjust the slide! -Nothing! Keep telling yourself that! -Hordak growled. -If you are to ever do that again, WHICH YOU WILL NOT, I suggest you better calculate your circumstances! -Calculate...? -she asked. -What's that? -You don't know what "calculate" means...? -Hordak stopped in his tracks and she shook her head. -Well... It means to determine the amount or number of something mathematically. -Ma... The.. Matically...? -Yes. For example, to do what you just did, SAFELY,  -Hordak looked back and pointed at her improvised ramp. -First, you would need to calculate the high of the tower you built, the angle of the ramp and if it has any friction that might interfere with your board, how much you weight and your mass... -That just sounds like a lot of work! -Frosta said, rubbing her head as if she had a headache. -It sounds a lot more than what it actually is! -Hordak kept walking to the tank as she followed him. -It is all but calculation and physics! -Physics...? Hordak's ears perked up at her sudden interest, a small smile on his lips. - A branch of science concerned with the nature and properties of matter and energy! The subject matter of physics, distinguished from that of chemistry and biology, includes mechanics, heat, light and other radiation, sound, electricity, magnetism, the structure of atoms, gravity... -What's gravity?! -Frosta struggled to keep up with him. -Gravity is what causes you to fall. -Like a stumble or a trip? -Yes- no, no! Actually, no. It's a force that pulls you downwards. -Hordak shook his head. -That's why you don't float away like you would out in space. The phenomenon that any two material particles, or bodies, if freed to move, will be exelorated towards each othe- He stopped as his nose bumped on something. That something being Entrapta's own nose. He hadn't even noticed they had already gotten to the tank. -Yuck! -Frosta gaged. Hordak took a step back realizing their proximity, so close if he had held his head a little lower, they would have kissed. He shot a warning glance at Frosta. -Where were you two at? -Entrapta said, her tail wagging and her cheeks blushing. -We came back and didn't find you anywhere! -I needed to go to the bathroom, but there wasn't any in the tank, so we had to go outside, and Hordak kept whining, and I made a super ramp, and Hordak yelled at me, and went so fast I flew off and hit my face in the snow! -Frosta jumped up excitingly, her tail wagging madly as she panted. -Did you? Entrapta turned to Hordak and Imp jumped to his shoulders. -She almost busted her head open! This girl is crazy! -Aaww! Look at you getting all worried about the puppy! -the Princess nuzzled his cheek and he blushed. -W-well, of course! If anything happened to her while we were alone, the Princesses would have blamed it on me! -his tail swished about, tying itself up with one of Entrapta's ears. -But did you find what we were looking for? -Yup! Frosta turned to the other Princess. -Can I see it?!

-Sure! Entrapta led the way back inside the tank, where she rolled a big metal sphere, with coloful glass and constellations-like markings all over it. It was quite beautiful.

-Is that it? -Frosta asked. -How does it work? Entrapta set her on top of Emily as she explained. -You see all these markings that kinda look like starts? -the dog pointed at them with her paw and Frosta nodded. -They light up and make a beaming sound when it's on! Those two holes right there are for cables! This is basically a huge battery, and it charges with the light of the sun! While the light hits it, it builds up energy, and if you plug something into it, it can generate enough energy to use for a MONTH! If we can decode the programing in this, we could create multiples and use their energy! -Woooaah! But why do you need so much energy? -Dryl is expanding, and fast. -Hordak explained. -With all of my brothers moving in, we need more housing, and more housing makes more use of energy. Frosta's ears fell. She thought to herself how all those cats must feel, being brainwashed and then getting their "home" turned into a giant tree in the sky, having to get used to a completely different culture in a completely different planet. -We can go back, now! Frosta, you want a ride home? -Entrapta asked her. -Sure! They left the piece of tech on the floor, going up to the screens again, Entrapta pulled a lever and the tank's motor roared to life. Emily looked up at Frosta and beeped, Frosta smiled and pat the bot, turning to Hordak as she felt the tank move. -So... What were you gonna say before? -she asked, surprisingly shy. -About... gravity? Hordak and Entrapta both turned their heads back, their eyes widen with surprise. Frosta's ears fell, did she do something wrong? -Gravity? -Entrapta exclaimed. -I never thought you'd be interested about that topic, Frosta! -Oh, I was explaining gravity and physics to her on our way back to the tank. She seemed rather confused. They walked up to her and Emily, Entrapta sitting right beside her and Hordak settling near the bot. -Yeah, what IS gravity? Is it like magic? -Oh, no, no! It's the universal force of attraction acting between all matter! All bodies have a weight, or downward force of gravity, proportional to their mass, which Etheria's mass exerts on them! -Entrapta gesture with her paws as Hordak nodded. -Gravity is measured by the acceleration that it gives to freely falling objects! Frosta tilted her head. -So... A force that pulls things to the ground and doesn't let stuff float? -Yeah! That's it! -the Princesses said, in a proud tone. -That sounds a lot like magic! Are you sure it's not just magic? -Yes, we are sure! -Hordak grumbled. -How would YOU know?! -Because even planets without magic have gravity, even completely deserted ones, without any intelligent life form! -the cat explained, as he paced around them. -There's planets out there WITHOUT MAGIC?! -Frosta exclaimed, looking at her paws and back at him. -What a sad life! Entrapta snapped her head around, looking at Frosta with an undignified look, putting her paws on her waist and huffing. Frosta's ears and tail dropped. -Humph! "a sad life"?! -she exclaimed. -I've got no magic and I have the best time ever practically every day, young missy! So does Catra! So does Sea Hawk and so does Bow! -Well, yeah... but... I mean... -"I fucked up!", Frosta thought. -Y-you got your tech and your bots and all... And Catra's super fast! And Bow has his arrows and... Are we SURE Sea Hawk doesn't have any magic?! I still think he's an heir to some kind of fire Princess or something! Entrapta's ears perked up and her eyes widened with realization. She rested her chin on her paw. -You know what... That's actually a very good theory! -Don't encourage her! -Hordak turned back to them as he settled a sleeping Imp on the control pannell. -Why not? Frosta actually might be onto something here! -Entrapta lifted herself and made her way to Hordak on her ears. -What if he IS some kind of great, great, great, great, great grandson to some fire dweller? What if he was just never taught to control his powers? -He is already a menace as he is, Entrapta! -Hordak's tail swished in annoyance. -He doesn't need more reasons to play with fire! Literally speaking! A whole discussion about it escalated between them. As they chit-chatted, Frosta looked at the screens showing the outside of the big metal machine, watching the snow-covered ground pass as the tank drove itself. Her eyes shot open when she noticed a frozen lake outside. -LAKE! -she pointed with her paw and yelled. -FROZEN LAKE! Can we stop to skate on it?! Please, please, please! Her tail wagged madly as she jumped around them. Entrapta looked at the screen Frosta was pointing to and hummed. -Hmmm! Yeah, it could be fun! -she said. -What do you think, lab partner? -You're joking! In this temperature?! Do you WANT our tails falling frozen, Entrapta?! Frosta growled. -Oh come on, Hordikins! Don't be a stick in the mud! -Entrapta nudged his shoulder. -It could be fun! -Pleeeeaaaaaseee! -Frosta whined. -Aargh! Fine! -the cat hissed. -But don't blame me when someone gets hurt! Entrapta laughed. -Nothing's gonna happen! Don't worry! -YEAH! Frosta barked and howled the whole way they got there. As her little legs touched the snow, she bolted straight for the frozen water. She laughed as she skated trhough the ice, spinning around, jumping, going backwards. The two adults lagged behind, their paws needing to get used to the cold snow. -I hate it here...! -Hordak growled. -I can't feel my paws! -We could get you some snow shoes when we get back! -Entrapta said as she rolled around in the snow. -HEY, SLOWPOKES! -Frosta yelled from the lake. -YOU'RE GONNA TAKE LONG THERE?! Hordak growled at the puppy's lack of respect. Entrapta just shook the snow off her fur and hopped over to the side of the lake with the cat following behind her. -Hey, Hordak, have you ever ice-skated before? You should try! It's really fun! -No, thank you! I doubt I could have even stand! -the clone shook his head. -It's not hard when you get the hang of it! -Entrapta flexed her paw so her claws were apparent. -You just gotta use your claws! When you step, instead of putting pressure in your paw pads, you put pressure on your toes, and your claws dig into the ice! That's why it leaves marks! Right, Frosta? The pup stoped in front of them, sitting on the ice, making a THUMP. -Yeah, I guess... -her ears perked up with mischief. -But he's too chicken to do it! Entrapta shot her a reprehending look and Hordak bared his teeth. -Oh, I'm a "chicken", am I?! -he growled. -Well, then! He got up and attempted to step into the ice, slippering. Frosta laughed as he slowly made his way into the frozen water, remembering Entrapta's advice to use his claws, he struggled as he dug too deep into the ice, making his paws stuck. -Yay, Hordikins! -Entrapta cheered him on. As soon as he made himself some-what stable, Frosta ran circles around him, barking teasingly, nipping at his legs and laughing. Hordak growled and hissed, nipping back at her, swipping his paws at her, while trying not to fall at the same time. -Can't get me! -she blew a raspberry. Hordak leaped at her, attempting to grab the puppy, minding his claws, of course! It quickly turned into a game of tag, if you would consider a dog pup against a full grown extremely technologically advanced clone soldier cat with razor sharp red teeth, a fair game. Frosta didn't seem to be having any problems, unlike Hordak. She ran around and pulled on his legs, causing him to fall on his side. -Frosta! Play nice! -Entrapta scolded. As the puppy turned around again, Hordak struggled to get up, she was about to give him another sarcastic comment when she noticed a crack on the ice right in front of him. Frosta opened her mouth to warn him, but he had taken the first step. The ice gave out underneath him and the cat sunk like a rock. -HORDAK! -she heard Entrapta's desperate cry. Frosta ran to him, grabing his collar and trying to pull him out. He was too heavy! He trembled and clawed at the borders in a desperate attempt to get out, but the ice broke at his sudden movements. She felt Entrapta's ears wrap around her and take her off the ground, pulling her back to the snow with Hordak. She refused to let go of his collar, even when they were on safe groud. Entrapta crawled under his chin to support his head, as he couldn't get up and kept shaking. -Hordak, are you okay? Can you stand up? -Entrapta nudged his cheek gently. Frosta looked at her for any kind of signal on what to do, but she could see tears starting to form on the corner of her eyes. -Inside... now... -Hordak coughed in a weak voice. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Frosta stared at Hordak's sleeping form, frozen in place. Guilt burned in her chest, as her ears dropped and her tail hid between her legs. "This is all my fault!", she repeated over, and over in her head. Entrapta had carried him inside and dried him up. Imp and Emily were in an absolute panic. Hordak laid surrounded in heaters, covered with a heavy blanket, cuddled with the winged kitten and the round bot, who were both also asleep. A loud growling sound came from Hordak. "He's probably mad at me!", she thought. Entrapta's paws tapped in the floor as she walked past the pup with a tray of tiny cups of hot cocoa. She set the tray aside and layed beside the clone, wrapping her ears around him and resting her head on his. The growling became louder, and Entrapta wagged her tail. Frosta took a step back and turned to walk out of tank. "I should go home...". -Frosta? She looked back over her shoulder to Entrapta. -Where are you going? -I'm... Going home... -she said in a low voice. -We're gonna take you home. -But why...? -"But why", why? -I thought... -she avoided the Princess' eyes. -You didn't want to talk to me anymore... -Why wouldn't I want to talk to you? -Entrapta raised her head, confused. -Because... Hordak fell in the ice... And it was my fault...! -I wasn't your fault! -she reached out her ears and wrapped them around Frosta again, bringing her close to them. -You couldn't possibly know the ice would break! It was just an accident! -I know, but still... -Frosta looked at Hordak. She couldn't see his face, but the growling sound echoed out off him in waves. -He's gonna be okay! He just needs to rest for a while and warm up! -Entrapta gave her a warm smile. -I just hope he doesn't get pneumonia... The pup looked back at the sleeping clone. Entrapta wasn't the best at comforting others, and Frosta felt even worst when she remembered how worried Entrapta sounded when Hordak fell in the water. Frosta was doing her best to hold back her tears, but it was very clear in her voice that she wanted to cry. And she hated it. -I don't think I want to hate him anymore... -What do you mean, Frosta? -I mean... He destroyed Etheria and... And he killed a bunch of people, but... B-but he was also nice to you... And he rebuilt Salineas... And he... And he was worried about me when I fell on the snow... -she sniffed. -But I should hate him... He did horrible stuff! Shouldn't I...? Entrapta hummed. She rested her chin on her paws she thought to herself. -I'm not good with other dogs, but I know it's hard to change your mind about someone. Especially if already didn't like them before.  -Entrapta held Frosta in a hug, in an attempt to comfort the puppy. -But if they're doing their best to change how they act, maybe you should try to change how you view them too! Like Perfuma always says: "What goes around, comes around!"! -What the fuck does that mean? -I don't know...! Frosta let her tears fall as she looked at her own paws, not knowing what to do to help. Entrapta dried her tears with her ears and planted a small kiss on the pup's head. She nudged the tray to Frosta, who took one of the tiny cups and drinked the hot cocoa. It made her feel a tiny bit better.

I really, really want to know what you guys think about my fics! I feel like I always rush everything, but I’m not the reader! Rebloging always helps!

[whitefoxed]

Sniff Sniff

Thread from 2016 with @algrimthestrong​

Send ✖✖✖ and my muse will say one of the following to yours (Sexual Sunday version)

9. “Don’t look.”

When Algrim returned to his private quarters, tired and worn after long hours of tedious discussions and heated debates, the last thing he expected to find there was Lise Vuhs sitting on his bed. In his hands - and pressed to his face - was a pair of leggings; Leggings Algrim knew he had tossed into the laundry basket this very morning.

A flush of indignation rose to his cheeks and a wave of angry embarrassment swept over him. Rooted to the spot, he could do little more than stare in slack-jawed shock at the bizarre scenario he had walked in on. “What in the Nine is the meaning of this?!”

Having gotten lost in Algrim’s musk, Vuhs had also lost track of time and was caught right in the shameful act of sniffing the elder’s worn leggings. There were few things that would make Vuhs embarrassed and indeed, this was similar to him nuzzling at Algrim’s crotch on any other day, but to be doing so without the elf’s consent and physical presence spoke more of an obsession, a dependence on the elder for his sexual needs that his self esteem would take damage from being discovered. Especially so when it was by the very man he so respected and obsessed over.

“N-n-n-nothing! I just found this on the floor along the corridors and followed it’s scent back here!” Desperate, his mind processed the perfect lie excuse at the speed of light while he tried to gather his wits back around him, unusually flustered with a red face.

“Truth be told, this does not look like ‘nothing’ to me,” Algrim pointed out. ‘Vuhs is a fox; it is in his nature’, he reminded himself. Once his initial shock had receded a little, a smidgen of awkward amusement began creeping in. It was, without doubt, the most… bizarre predicament he had ever found himself in. The fact that Vuhs was just as horrified at having been caught red-handed as Algrim was at seeing his clothes turned into an object of sexual worship was somewhat of a comfort.

Closing the door behind him, Algrim leaned against it. His gaze shifted from Vuhs’ face to the pair of leggings in his hands and back again. “Well…” He grimaced. “Perhaps… a servant dropped it while they made their rounds to collect the laundry,” he suggested, embracing Vuhs’ paltry excuse. Algrim found that he’d rather keep up appearances than openly confront the other about the delicate nature of his transgression. He had no desire to shame Vuhs for his preferences, instincts, urges - whatever one wanted to call them, no matter how eccentric they might seem.

“Vuhs… Lise.” Algrim’s tone was soft, gentle, persuasive. Regardless of his decision to let the matter slide, he could not resist making a final effort to teach Vuhs a lesson and let him stew in his own shame a little longer. “You would never lie to me… would you?”

Truth be told, this does not look like ‘nothing’ to me. Lise almost made a weird noise of dismay at those words, if he had not bitten on his own bottom lip in time. Mortified, he dropped the leggings he was holding onto the bed beside him like it was a firestone.

Hands already moved from his face as he tried to get his expressions back in order, he smiled slightly to express gratitude and appease Algrim for accepting his excuse. But just as he was about to pardon himself from the other’s presence and flee the scene of the crime, his mentor’s normally alluring voice sunk dread deep down his stomach.

Vuhs’ candid smile froze up as his humiliation flushed right back onto his cheeks in full, tainting even his presently-human ears. It was all the more stark and obvious from how fair he was. “…No, I would never- why would I?…” He answered with an awkward giggle at the end. Actually, he had snuck in the laundry room and took it from there only to return here to relive some fantasies.

Suddenly, the embarrassment was all too much for Vuhs and seeing how Algrim was guarding the door, he immediately shifted into a tiny white fox and tried to make a break for it under the elf’s legs!

As awkward as the whole situation had started out, Algrim found it next to impossible to rein in his amusement at the hilarious turn of events. While a part of him did indeed feel bad for drawing out the other’s suffering, catching Vuhs sniffing his underwear had awakened a hidden spiteful streak in the quiet elf. Watching Vuhs squirm and try to escape his predicament did make for some bizarre comedic (if rather involuntary on Vuh’s part) entertainment.

Algrim’s lips twitched with a smile as he watched bright spots of pink blossom on Vuhs’ pale cheeks; his desperate stammering only served to invite further ridicule. “Are you well?” Algrim asked, pale brows knitting in mock concern. “You look a little feverish. Maybe you should lie down for a while?”

He was not prepared for the sudden escape bid, having thought to discourage any such attempts by keeping the doorway blocked, yet he somehow managed to catch the fox mid-leap. Seizing Lise by the scruff of the neck, Algrim lifted him up to his face and gave him a slight shake to still the squirming animal. “Where do you think you are going?”

His ire did not last long, though, lost to the disarming charm inherent in small, fluffy animals. “There, there,” Algrim cooed, cradling the nervous little thing in the crook of his arm, his now free hand coming to rest on the fox’s back to keep him put. “I actually came back here to take a nap,” he revealed, scratching behind the little fox’s ears. “Will you not join me?”

Desperately, Lise wriggled and squirmed in his embarrassment, attempting to shake himself free from his unfortunate capture when that shake reminded him who had his scruff. Paws folded close to his stomach, the little fox peered up at the elf with big misty eyes, appealing to the elder’s better nature to let him off the hook. 

Cautiously letting himself be cradled, still tense for fear of more teasing, Lise listened to that soothing coo and tilted his head back into the comfortable scratching. Slowly, the little fox eased, swishing his tail against Algrim’s arm as he nodded to that question. If it was just napping together, he was more than happy to. 

[neon-junkie]

Could I request a Micah Angsty oneshot where his high honour s/o sacrifices themselves for him? Maybe angry dad Hosea and Arthur when he comes back to camp?

sorry this is a lil short!! gender neutral reader, and fics under the cut as theres death involved (obviously lol) 

my followers: please rat, please not another micah fic, please.

me: hehehe but this ones angsty 

It all happened so fast. Within a heartbeat, a blink of an eye, a short and quick breath. The bullet tore through you and everything went black, like the lights were suddenly flicked off. Micah saw your body hit the ground and in that moment, he knew that you were gone.

You'd seen an enemy appear from behind, aiming for Micah and firing their gun. As you shot them back, you rode behind Micah, blocking the bullet with your own body. Your corpse slumped off your horse, lifeless by the time it hit the dirt.

Your passing made his blood boil. He felt sick, ready to vomit at any moment. He was quick to kill the remaining enemies, shouting as he did so, screaming and cursing them for ending you. Micah practically jumped off Baylock, quickly holstering his guns as he scurried over to you.

"No... No, darlin', c'mon," Micah muttered as he rolled your body over. He jumped to his feet in shock when he confirmed that you were gone. Micah screamed, stomping around, kicking the enemy's bodies as he tried to walk his anger off. He couldn't burn it off, no matter how many times he kicked them, no matter how many extra bullets he shot into their corpses. It wasn't going to bring you back.

Tears were streaming down his already puffy eyes as he went back over to you, sitting on his knees as he cradled you in his arms, sobbing into you. "Please..." he muttered over and over, asking whatever superior power that's in the sky to bring you back. "You shouldn't have done that, sweetheart," he tells you, his hands kneading the fabric of your shirt, clinging onto you.

Micah's list of priorities now shuffled back down to three - Baylock, his guns, and himself. He had always held you at his highest, still in shock that an angel like you was so sweet on a devil like him.

Through his tears, he could see the ring on your finger. He was so close to making you his, just days away from saying that wholesome "I do" line. He once swore that he'd never get soft on anybody, that all he needed was himself, but you turned him into mush when you first met.

Micah continued sobbing into you, the voice in the back of his head screaming at him to get a move on. He needed to get out of there fast. This commotion happened far too close to town and the law was definitely on the way. Micah, with tears still flooding from his eyes, picked up your body, managing to mount Baylock with you in his arms. He holds onto you like a mother holds their baby, cradling you against him as he rode away, your horse following him.

By the time evening arrived, Micah had picked out a nice spot for you to lay. He felt sick as he dug your grave, shivering at the thought of your corpse lying a few meters away. Before he laid you into the ground, he took your wedding ring that he had stowed in his saddlebags, so eager for that day to come. The pair were one of the few things he had ever paid for. His heart ached as he placed the ring on your finger, just above your engagement ring that he couldn't bear to remove.

Micah laid you to rest, deciding he would pick out a nice headstone for you when he came to visit you next. He was shaking, wanting to vomit but nothing would come up. His beard had been washed many times over from the tears that wouldn't stop streaming from his eyes, the taste of salt fresh on his lips.

Micah took his bedroll from Baylock, lying it beside your grave as he laid next to you, wallowing in despair as he tried to come to terms with the fact that you were gone.

Why did you sacrifice yourself for him? Micah asks the question over and over. He'd been raised to know how cruel and cynical this world was, but to have this happen to him made him shake. He lay beside you for hours, thinking, beating himself up for being the cause of your death. He wasn't, but he felt certain he was, despite knowing that this is what you wanted. He thought of every split second where he could have saved you, or just not taken you with him in the first place. If only he saw that enemy approaching, then you'd be here right now.

You'd been riding with Micah for so long. You knew the risk of your chosen lifestyle, you knew that you'd die from a bullet one day, but neither of you expected that day to come so soon. Especially not with your wedding around the corner.

He eventually cries himself to sleep, his body practically passing out from exhaustion. Micah's drained. His heart is empty and shattered. He spends the next day beside you, eventually forcing himself up and deciding to return to camp in the evening.

Micah takes his time returning to camp, his stomach rumbling but he doesn't have the energy nor appetite to eat. He looks worn down, his eyes are heavy and empty, and he barely has the energy to stand or ride.

Micah arrives, your horse and their empty saddle following behind. It's normal to have members trail in and out of camp, but everybody's attention is drawn to your empty horse. That sight was definitely not normal.

Arthur's quick to his feet, storming through the camp. "Where's (Y/N)?" Arthur asks as he approaches Micah. Micah avoids looking at him as he dismounts, trying to walk away.

"They're gone," Micah bluntly tells him, head down as he walks. Arthur grabs him by the scruff of his shirt.

"You mean they've been killed?" Arthur grits his teeth. Micah swats Arthur's hand away, attempting to walk away again but Arthur's right on his tail.

"Yes. That's what gone means," Micah tells him.

"What'd you do, Micah?" Arthur asks.

"I didn't do anything."

"Of course you fucking didn't. That why they're dead!"

Micah stops, snapping his head around at that remark. He see's red, his blood reaching boiling point.

"Don't you talk to me like that, Morgan. You don't know the circumstances," Micah tells him, trying to push him away.

"Well, I know you fucked up and got 'em killed, and that's enough for me," Arthur shakes his head as he squares up to Micah, the two of them ready to scrap.

"You have no idea on what you're talking about. You weren't there. It ain't my fault, Morgan," Micah spits back. All he wants is some time alone but there's no way he's getting that soon.

"This is your fucking fault! Dutch is gonna have your head when he hears about this," Arthur spat at him, the sound of his voice echoing for miles. Micah pushes him away. Arthur's about to swing for him until the camp's grandpa gets involved, trying to break this commotion up.

"Enough!" Hosea says as he approaches, his hands resting on both of their chests as he pushes them away from each other. "The two of you, stop this foolishness. Arguments won't bring our dear (Y/N) back."

Hosea ensure's there a few meter distance from the two of them, physically dragging them away from each other. The two of them are still alert, staring each other down like two bucks waiting to smash their antlers.

"Mister Bell, how did this happen?" Hosea asks.

"They were shot when we bumped into a couple of our friends, the O'Driscolls," Micah tells him, his eyes still on Arthur. Hosea notices this and moves so he's blocking Arthur from Micah's line of sight, drawing Micah's attention to him.

"And the body?"

"Buried."

"And why couldn't you save them?" Hosea asks with a tint of frustration to his voice. Micah rolls his eyes, raising his arms out, sighing.

"Because they jumped in the way to save me," he states. Arthur and Hosea take a step back, shaking at the idea that you had sacrificed yourself for this man. "I don't understand why I'm being attacked here, I did what I could, now leave me be, would ya?" Micah turns heel and starts walking away.

"It should have been you!" Arthur shouts at him. Micah mutters 'I know' under his breath as leaves the camp.

This time, he manages to get away. Arthur goes to follow him but Hosea is quick to stop him, telling Arthur to give him some time alone.

"Hosea," Arthur says.

"I know, Arthur. We'll let Dutch handle this," Hosea tells him, placing his arm on Arthurs back as he urges the larger man to walk back to camp with him.

Micah storms out of the camp, finding a spot in the forest to wallow for a while. He leans against a tree, letting out a deep sigh as he allows himself to start crying again. His body feels exhausted, begging for rest from all this mourning.

Micah spends hours by himself, thinking, crying, aching to have you back. He reaches into his pocket, taking out his wedding ring. Micah places the ring on his finger, staring at it. His thumb rubs over it, twiddling the gold ring as he gets used to the feeling of it. Being a married man was never on his list of life goals, but he classes himself as one now.

He vows to keep this ring on for as long as he lives, he'll take it to the grave with him too, hopefully finding you in another life.

[firewoodwander]

To the robin on the window ledge — Wolffe/Comet

For @parkkrys and her amazing Sugar Daddy au!! Christmas & holiday fluff for the Clone Haven gift exchange 🤍 Love you lots x

Read on ao3 or below the cut

No warnings, rated G. Full image on ao3 — fair warning, I cannot draw backgrounds.

Summary:

Woken by birdsong and the bright light of winter outside his window, Wolffe sighs and shuffles to tangle his legs with those of the sweet thing in his arms. Comet’s chest rises and falls with his gentle breathing, his skin warm and soft as Wolffe cuddles him close under the covers, and his fingers cling to Wolffe’s arm as if there’s any chance he’d ever let go.

When Comet slips back into wakefulness, he finds himself tucked under the most beautiful feeling of comfort and warmth he could imagine. In his sleep he’s managed to curl around and cling to a familiar arm wrapped around his middle, holding him, hugging him like an over-large pillow, and now he sighs and runs his hand along sleep-warmed skin, through Wolffe’s fur and over scars, up to reach his shoulder. Wolffe stirs behind him, his arm tightening and pulling him into the hot curve of his body, and Comet splays his fingers as he turns his head, stretching his spine languidly.

“Good morning,” he murmurs. Wolffe groans quietly and pulls him in, cradled closer again against his bare chest. Comet laughs. “Mm hm, hello to you too.”

Wolffe smiles and combs his fingers gently through the ends of Comet’s long and curly hair. When he replies his voice is low, affectionate, and so soft like it nearly never is when they’re fully awake.

“Merry Christmas, Starboy.”

Comet gasps. “Merry Christmas!” Suddenly bright and energised, he turns in Wolffe’s arms and leans up to flutter kisses over every inch of him he can reach, persisting amidst half-hearted protests until Wolffe snorts and stops him with a kiss to the cheek.

“Your phone’s been lighting up all morning,” he tells him fondly, brushing his thumb under the corner of Comet’s eye. Comet sags at the thought of leaving the circle of Wolffe’s embrace—or even just turning over again, really, he’s comfortable here—and is pleasantly surprised when the offending phone is dangled in front of his face without him needing to move an inch.

“Wooley!” he murmurs gleefully, swiping open his messages and showing Wolffe the picture he’s been sent. Today is breakfast in bed from Boil, it seems, though that’s secondary to the unbearably smug way Wooley’s stretched between his two doting boyfriends as he takes the picture, both of them with fingers intertwined and eyes only for each other and their third.

Comet taps out an excited reply before holding out his arm to take his own photo, dropping a kiss to Wolffe’s shoulder when he only gives a token grumble.

“I love you,” he says, once he’s seen to the rest of his notifications and clicked his phone off again. He winds his arms around Wolffe’s neck and buries his face beside them. “I love you so much.”

The hand leaves his hair to be able to wrap both huge arms around Comet’s waist, scruff grazing his chin when Wolffe turns to kiss his cheek and ear. “You have no idea how much I love you too.”

Comet smiles. His chest is bubbly with excitement, with gratitude, with his barely-contained adoration. He snickers. “I think I do a little bit.”

Another snort and Wolffe lets him pull away to look down at his face again. “Smartass,” he says. “Cody texted. Says he and that chakaar send their best.”

“Alpha is nice,” Comet reminds him. “They even sent us a card. You know he’s probably the only reason—”

“I know,” Wolffe cuts him off gently. “I know, it’s just…”

“That’s your little brother.”

“Yeah.” Wolffe falls silent for a moment. Comet watches his eyes, one brown and one pale ivory, go distant for all of a few seconds before snapping back to meet his gaze. “And the damn man should know better than to be going after my brother.”

With a giggle, Comet finally works up the strength to tear himself away from his favourite place on earth and roll out of bed. He’s not worried about Wolffe’s slightly antagonistic relationship with Alpha—they always end up chatting over a drink or two in the end, anyway.

He pulls his jeans off the chair in the corner and wanders over to the wardrobe to pull out a fresh top, stretching out his arms and rolling his neck as he goes.

“Come on,” he says over his shoulder, to where Wolffe is propped up enticingly on his side among the sheets and is watching him with appreciation. “I was promised we could make pancakes for breakfast before we leave.”

The turtleneck stretches over his shoulders and settles loosely under his jaw, just about perfect for hiding the numerous marks and bites he’s far too proud of to mask or soothe. By the time he’s pulled his jeans and socks on and is brushing his hair, ready to tie, Wolffe has grunted and pulled himself out of their nest to wander out and plaster himself to Comet’s back again.

“Wolffe,” he grins to their reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Wolffe, baby, I can’t move.”

“Good,” Wolffe tells his neck. “Keep you here forever to hold and cuddle and spoil.”

“Brush your teeth,” is all Comet tells him when he tries to kiss his way up to his lips. He wets their brushes and hands Wolffe his, amused when he doesn’t even bother with toothpaste before he shoves it in his mouth, and happy to regain full movement to finish tying off his braid when he does. Wolffe wastes no time once they’re done, chasing Comet’s mouth and staggering all the way back to the bedroom with him.

Comet smiles and kisses him once, twice, cheeky and lingering things, before thwapping him in the side with a jumper. “Put some clothes on, I want Christmas pancakes.”

“Yes dear,” Wolffe concedes. “And you can check to see if Santa ate those cookies while you’re there.”

Comet blushes and fiddles with the corners of his phone. The screen lights up to show a number of interesting emojis in the preview of Wooley’s reply, along with the first few words of a horribly rude song from Sinker. He smiles, bashful, when Wolffe looks over again.

“Thank you,” he says eventually. It’s a loaded statement, filled with things he doesn’t really know how to say, or when to say, but he thinks they might come across anyway, especially with the way his boyfriend’s face softens.

Finally dressed, Wolffe comes back to stand in front of him. He slides his hand over Comet’s cheek, his fingers curling behind his ear, and watches him with emotion enough to make tears threaten to well behind Comet’s eyes.

“Starboy, if there’s something I can give you, something I can do for you, especially as harmless as a few cookies on a plate, I won’t hesitate to make it happen.” Comet ducks his head and Wolffe lets him, lifting his other hand to hold Comet’s face between them like something precious. “I love you. You give me so much and I have… Not a lot to offer in return. Of course I’ll look after you, my cyare, of course I want to make you happy.”

“You being with me makes me happy,” Comet argues quietly. “And even if you were right, you’re more than enough just by yourself.”

Wolffe smiles and tilts Comet’s head back up to kiss him slowly, softly, and oh so sweetly. His lips are a wonder against Comet’s, never failing to flare golden warmth through his chest and down through his navel, always so loving and heated. Comet sighs and leans against his chest, hands at Wolffe’s hips and fingers hooking through his belt loops.

Wolffe breaks away quietly and rests their foreheads together, brushing the tips of their noses and smiling. “Think of it as an extra Christmas present from me to you.”

Comet bites his lip and nods before drawing away. Wolffe grins and pats his backside as he passes to get the door, holding it open and following him through in a suspiciously good mood.

“Come on, breakfast pancakes, and then we can open that huge box Rex and Boba and the twins sent.”

With a click of his tongue Comet rolls his eyes and looks back teasingly over his shoulder. “You’re just hoping it’s a few sets of those new Lego bombers and gliders lines, aren’t you?”

“And what if I am?” Wolffe defends. “I get to have fun, you get to have a few hours of peace and quiet, everyone’s happy.”

“I get several hours of you rambling about planes. Not that I’m complaining, you’re very interesting, but don’t fool yourself into thinking you can behave with that much enabling.”

“Now that is blatantly false, I am not that bad—”

“Wolffe, we can’t even get through a full movie without you telling me something or other about the engine or propellor or fuel lines of the model they’re using…”

When Wolffe flicks on the switch that lights up the decorations in the living room, Comet can’t help but grin like a small child seeing it all for the first time all over again. There’s something about all the glitter and colour and light and the snow on the window sills that he can never get over, that makes him giddy every time he has the time to look around and take it in.

He leans back into Wolffe’s chest as they stand in the doorway, safely ensconced in his arms once more, and wonders how he ever got so lucky in his life.