#there shouldn’t be the same amount of fabric in the front and back they gotta cover different surface areas

[bookwyrminspiration]

ass too big skirt can’t contain it google what do

[fictional-lvr]

Goodnight, Angel-G.W

A/N; y’all plz okay this is kinda bad but plz reblog

warning; smut, no actual sex

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You found yourself sitting in a circle in the Burrow, surrounded by your best friends, Ron, George, Fred, and Hermione. Your best friend in the entire world was Hermione, with George being a close second. The only thing that Hermione knew that George didn’t, was how in love you were with the fiery-headed boy, something that Hermione relentlessly teased you about. It was quite late, everyone else had gone to sleep except for your little group, and so the five of you had the `great idea` of playing some dumb game where you either had to truthfully answer a question, or take a shot. So far, all of you were at least buzzed, which probably meant that things would get a lil stupid from now on.

“okay. Y/N,” Ron started, giggling along with Hermione, “who’s the hottest person in the room?” Ron could barely get out the question between his and Hermione's’ snickering. You looked around at everyone in the room, pretending to consider for a moment before you spoke 

“George.” You stated confidently, smirking at George and earning laughs and giggles from everyone in the room, including him. “Okay go go it’s your turn now!” Hermione encouraged, you chuckled at the sight of tipsy Hermione before turning to Fred and George, who were sitting right beside each other. “Alright, so, this question goes to both of you, cause’ you’re like the same person basically, or whatever, anyways you both have to answer” You rambled, the amount of shots you’ve had catching up with you. George took a swig of firewhiskey before smirking at you. “Ask away, darling.” He replied, his voice covered in a mocking tone for your previous answer. “Right. Biggest kink?” You asked casually, watching as Fred choked on his drink, laughing even harder than Ron and Hermione, and as George burst out laughing along with him, throwing you a wink before telling Fred to go first. “Erm- I dunno, I don’t think ‘m really all that kinky, although I’m quite fond of the idea of a girl wearing a collar for me,” Fred admitted, awkwardly clearing his throat by the end of his sentence. “No shame in that, Freddie, it is kinda hot if I’m being honest” You casually stated, comforting Freds’ nerves. “Your turn, Georgie~” You sing-songed, looking at George expectantly. George quickly took a shot and inhaled deeply, earning a chorus of ‘boos’ from everyone else. “Calm down you maniacs, I’m still gonna answer” He said in fake annoyance, waving everyone off. He took another deep breath before speaking, “Well, darling, where would you like me to start?” His eyes were locked with yours as he grinned, leaving you damn-near speechless, you had always had quite the flirty relationship with him, but never to this extent. He chuckled at your flustered appearance, continuing on with his answer. “Dunno really, m’ into a lot of things, believe it or not. But, I guess I’ll just be basic and say dom/sub dynamic.” He stated casually, shrugging his shoulders as if he hadn’t just left you with a million more fantasies.

-

The game continued a while, until you all decided that it was late, and you definitely shouldn’t get actually drunk in the middle of the night, at the Burrow. You walked up to George and lightly punched his shoulder to get his attention, “What’s up, darling?” He asked, stopping his path to his room and leaning onto the wall to talk to you. You cringed at yourself a little before asking a favor, “I don’t have any clean pajamas, could I borrow a shirt or something?” George raised an eyebrow and flicked his eyes up and down your body before nodding and waving you into his room. You sat down on his bed as you watched him rummage around in his clothes. Finally, he tossed you an old Nirvana shirt, one that definitely looked good on him, and a pair of boxers. “There ya’ go, let me know if that’s uncomfortable or somethin’, and I’ll grab you something else, yeah?” You nodded and smiled at him before slipping into the bathroom to change, you could smell George on his shirt, he smelled of campfire wood and caramel, a scent you had quickly become fond of when you met him. You shook the thoughts of the hopeless-romantic out of your head, before padding back into Georges’ room. “How do I look?” You asked in a sweet tone, twirling around with a giggle. George chuckled before closing his book and looking at you, “small. you look small.” He stated, snickering as you pouted at him. “M’ not small, you’re just weird. Now, hush and let me read with you” You responded, quickly walking over to Georges’ bed before throwing yourself onto it next to him. He laughed as the bounce of his bed caused the book to fall off, you noticed him shifting uncomfortably as he leaned to retrieve it, the sight of you in nothing but his shirt and boxers- well it was enough to create some discomfort, although you sat next to him, entirely oblivious to how you effected the poor boy. 

You rested your head on Georges’ shoulder as he softly read aloud to you, something that he often did to help you sleep, as you always had some trouble falling asleep the first night of a stay at the Burrow. As his smooth voice read the pages to life, you couldn’t help but let your mind wonder, thinking about anything and everything you wished George Weasley would do to you. You were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt a pool of wetness start to form- while you were wearing Georges’ boxers, nonetheless. You shifted a little, trying to subtly rub your thighs together in attempts to relieve the tension. George noticed this exact movement, interrupting himself from his book, “You alright, Bug?” He asked, smiling sweetly at you. Bug, it was a nickname he gave you when you met, because, as he said, ‘you couldn’t even hurt a bug, could you?’. You nodded at him and hummed out a “Mhm”, although, what was supposed to be a hum, came out much more like a squeak than you had intended. “Are you uncomfortable? I could grab a different pair of boxers and throw those in the wash if you’d like-” He could barely get his sentence out before you blurted out a panicked “Uh- no, no, erm, they’re fine, thank you” George raised his eyebrow at you with an amused look on his face, “Alright, m’ gonna keep reading then” He stated, shrugging and continuing on with the story. A couple minutes had gone by and you’d managed to calm down enough to act like your normal self, after having mentally cursed yourself for acting so weird when he asked you if you were alright. “Georgieeee, you’re taking up too much space on the bed” You whined, staring at him with a pout and puppy dog eyes, he playfully rolled his eyes at you before pulling you onto his lap without a word, your back to his chest so you could both still see the book. “Better?” He asked in a teasing voice, you only nodded, not trusting your voice not to betray you again. “Good. now, either go back to your regular room, or quit being a brat and let me continue reading, hm?” His voice was still in that teasing tone, and you wondered if he had any clue at all what his words were doing to you. You felt the wetness caused by his words building between your thighs and into Georges’ boxers, leaving you flushed and flustered. Your lips parted slightly when he casually shifted a bit under you, putting pressure directly onto your clothed heat, and you let out a shaky breath, one that you were convinced George didn’t hear, but, of course, he did, simply writing it off as nothing.

Another few minutes passed by of George reading to you as you were on his lap, moving around seemingly every 30 seconds, but you honestly couldn’t help it, it was impossible to find a comfy position in the state you were in. Eventually, you heard George take in a sharp breath when you shifted in his lap. “Darling, I’m gonna have to ask you to stop moving so much, you’re distracting me from the book, love” His voice came out slightly strained towards the end of his sentence, and you didn’t even think before blurting out, “How come?” George let out a breathy laugh before responding, “Love, I- well, I’m sure you can tell, now please let me help you sleep so that we can forget that this ever happened.” His voice still confident as ever, but with some hint of embarrassment behind it. You mumbled out a shy “sorry”, trying your best to stay still. “No worries, darling. m’ gonna change into something for sleep, okay?” He waited for you to nod before lifting you off his lap, placing you down onto his bed, and walking over to his clothes. You expected him to grab something and go to change in the bathroom, but, much to your surprise, and, lets admit it, pleasure, you watched as George tugged off his shirt and pants before sliding on some plaid pajama pants, something you always had a soft spot for when he would wear them. Damn, this was certainly not helping your predicament. George placed you back onto his lap and continued reading until you were laying back onto his chest, with your head on his shoulder. “I know you’re still not tired yet, love, but it’s late. You can sleep in here with me but I think I’m gonna have to put the book up for tonight.” He told you, putting the book on the floor next to his bed, earning a whine from you. He chuckled, “C’mon, darling, you gotta try to sleep.” He said, rubbing his hand up and down your waist before shifting under you to get into the best position to lift you off of his lap. The way he moved both caused his thigh to run up your inner thigh, and for the fabric of his boxers to graze across your clit. A quiet, almost inaudible, whine, escaped your lips at the feeling. George froze all movement when he heard it, trying his best to keep control over the tent in his pants that you hadn’t yet noticed. Your hands flew to cover your face in utter embarrassment, you felt tears sting your eyes as you slid off of Georges’ lap, too ashamed to even look at him. You felt him move to sit in front of you on the plush bed, gently placing his hands on your shoulders, although you didn’t dare uncover your face. “Bug? Hey, look at me, what’s wrong?” You could hear the sincerity in his voice, but you were just to embarrassed to look at him. “Buggy, it’s alright I- hell I got a semi from you moving around on me” He admitted, the last part coming out as more of a whisper than a statement. You let out a muffled groan of embarrassment, still covering your face and you let your head fall forward in your oblivious soulmates chest. He moved his hands around to your back, holding you in a sweet hug. He giggled quietly, “Aw, darling,” He started, chuckling a bit before continuing, “I know it was just the friction of it, love, it’s alright, I know it doesn’t mean anything” He soothed, gliding his hands up and down your back, trying to ignore the pang in his heart that he felt when he said it meant nothing. You sniffled, shaking your head, feeling more tears rolling down your cheeks. You took a deep breath before pulling away from George, and finally looking him in the eye. Your next words came out so quietly that George almost didn’t hear them, “it wasn’t nothing,” You hung your head in shame, not daring to see Georges’ reaction. He sat there, in front of you, feeling his entire body buzz with joy at your words. Without saying anything, he tilted your chin up and kissed you. Hard. You, of course, kissed back, you swore you could feel every cell in your body on fire in that moment. After only mere seconds, George pulled back, searching your eyes for a reaction before you could speak. 

“George?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m in love with you. have been since we were kids.”

You stared into his eyes as you spoke, pupils blown, similar to his. You watched as Georges’ lips turned up into a goofy smile, “I’m in love with you” He whispered back, pulling you into a heated kiss. He trailed his hand down, letting it rest on your upper thigh, reveling in the way your breath picked up at his touch. You felt him smirk against your lips before he softly bit down, taking your bottom lip into his teeth, coaxing a whimper from you. He smiled as he released your lip from his teeth, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “You sound so pretty, darling.” Your breath quickened once again at his words, and you rubbed your thighs together, not-so-subtly this time. George gave a deep chuckle, moving his hand between your thighs, centimeters away from where you needed him most. “Georgie please-” You softly whined at him, trying to move your hips to meet his hand, only to have them pinned down by his other hand.  “Be patient, angel” He cooed into your ear, earning a loud whine from you at the petname he chose. He breathed out a laugh, “Don’t you make such pretty sounds when you’re this needy?” He cooed, feeling your hips absent-mindedly trying to roll into his hand. “Now, can you be good and stay quiet for me?” He asked, moving both his hands to cup your cheeks, making you look at him. You nodded, looking at him with pleading eyes. He cocked his head to the side a bit, “Aw, baby, we both know you aren’t stupid. You know I’m gonna need words, doll.” The way he cooed his wishes at you only made you more and more desperate, and you spoke without thinking. “yes sir” You whimpered, not even having time to regret your words before George let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, keep calling me that, right angel?” You grinned at the effect your simple words had on him, you whispered out another “yes sir” before he crashed his lips onto yours, his hands exploring your body as yours snaked around his neck, tugging lightly at his pretty hair, getting a quiet groan from the freckled boy in front of you. You grinned against his lips, him mirroring your actions. His hand slid down to the waistband of his boxers that you were wearing, he started fiddling with the elastic before you pulled away, breathing heavy. “Wait” You spoke, trying to catch your breath. He immediately pulled his hands off of you, placing one on your cheek instead. “What’s the matter, Bug?” He questioned, also trying to catch his breath. “I- uh- I don’t think we should have sex” You nervously blurted out, Georges’ eyes immediately softened and you nodded, “Okay.” He said, nodding at you. You could see in his face how genuine he was- how in love with you he was, you wondered why you never saw that before, perhaps you simply weren’t looking for it. “I’m gonna go grab us some water, alright? You stay here, cool off, I’ll be right back” He told you, giving you a kiss on the forehead once you nodded, padding across the floor into the kitchen. A billion thoughts raced through your head all at once, but you could only fully make out one; “That man is my soulmate” You allowed yourself to fall back onto the bed, smiling widely to yourself. “Here ya’ go, darling, drink.” George whispered, placing a water glass down on the bedside table next to you. You smiled at him, feeling nothing but euphoric love, and took small sips of your water. A few moments of comfortable silence went by as you leaned against George, the both of you cooling down and rehydrating. “I fell in love with you when we were 16″ George softly stated, looking at you with a goofy little smile on his face. You giggled before responding, “rookie numbers. try 14.” Causing you both to laugh, trying not to wake anyone else up. George put down his water glass, before taking yours from your hand and placing it next to his. He pulled you into a hug, of course you had hugged before, but this hug felt different, it felt like home. George sighed contently, pulling you under the covers for the night.

“goodnight, George”

“goodnight, angel, sweet dreams”

[buoyantsaturn]

I’m all eyes (1/1)

summary: So, obviously, if Nico was wearing Jason’s sweatshirt, then they must be dating, right?

word count: 1,871

read on ao3

Will didn’t think he was the jealous type. Jealousy required some amount of anger, right? But he wasn’t angry - maybe just disappointed. And really, he didn’t even have all of the facts, so he shouldn’t let himself get worked up over it anyway. 

It’s just that, well. It sucked to always look over at the Big Three table to see Nico in that giant purple SPQR sweatshirt. Or, it didn’t suck - it was a good look, and purple was definitely Nico’s color, as much as Will would prefer to see him in camp orange. The part that sucked was that Jason was always sitting beside him, and that sweatshirt definitely looked like it was Jason’s size. 

So, obviously, if Nico was wearing Jason’s sweatshirt, then they must be dating, right? And on the one hand, it was exciting, because that meant Nico was into guys, which meant that Will might have a chance with him (and bonus points because he, too, was tall, blond, and blue-eyed). On the other hand, Nico was taken, and Will wasn’t a homewrecker (or whatever the fifteen year old version of a homewrecker was).

Anyway, Will had a lot of mixed feelings about seeing Nico in that sweatshirt. And he kept having those mixed feelings when he started to see more and more of Nico around camp. He would come by the archery range while Will was practicing with his shotgun (on his own target that he’d made specifically for shooting practice). He had started going to campfires (where he would pull the sweatshirt over his knees and turn himself into an adorable purple blob). He’d even started coming by the infirmary every few days so that Will could make sure he was keeping his fading in check (so, to be fair, Will had asked him to stop by occasionally, but that was for purely medical reasons).

On one particularly hot day in September, Nico entered the infirmary sans sweatshirt, and Will’s heart jumped in his chest. Sure, he’d seen Nico without that sweatshirt on a few times before, but he’d reacted the same way then, too. He tried to act normal, checking Nico’s solidity and making sure that his arms and legs still cast shadows, but the second Piper stepped into the infirmary, Will’s mind went blank.

She was wearing a giant purple SPQR sweatshirt, the one that looked just like Jason’s that Nico always wore. And hadn’t Jason and Piper been dating before they set off on the Argo II? 

“Is that Jason’s sweatshirt?” Will’s mouth asked before his brain could stop it.

Piper paused and glanced down, like she’d forgotten what she was wearing. “Oh, uh, yeah. Nyssa’s got the AC blasting in the bunker, so I snagged this from Jason’s cabin on the way here.”

“Oh.” Did that mean they were still dating? Or maybe they just had a really amicable breakup? Or...Nico, Jason, and Piper were all in some sort of polyamorous relationship? Not that there was anything wrong with that, of course, but the three of them together certainly made for an odd bunch. “Sorry, did you need help?” 

She shook her head. “Nah, just came to see what was holding Nico up. He’s been helping us try to track down Leo.” 

“Really?” Will asked, glancing at Nico in surprise. “That’s...nice of you.” 

Nico shrugged. “I’m just gonna make sure he stays dead this time.” 

Will grinned. “Ah. That’s more like it.” 

“So, am I good to go?” Nico asked. “I’d like to track Leo down before Thanatos does.” 

Will rolled his eyes fondly. “Yeah, go ahead. But as a bit of medical advice, murder might not be best for your mental health.” 

Nico scrunched up his nose. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.” 

“Sure, Death Boy,” Will said, brushing off his reply. It was probably a joke anyway. Right? “Get out of here already. I’ll see you later.” 

As Nico started toward the door, Piper threw an arm around him, which Nico immediately tried to shove off, albeit unsuccessfully. Once he was sure they were gone, and once Kayla returned from her snack break, Will snuck out the back entrance.

He went to the cave under Half Blood Hill, announcing himself as he pushed the curtain aside and walked in. He found Rachel the way he usually did, one bare foot holding a paintbrush as she worked on her current project. “Hey,” she greeted, not lifting her eyes from the canvas.

“Hey,” Will replied moments before flopping down face-first onto a pile of overstuffed pillows. He was pretty sure it was the space that Rachel pretended was her bed whenever she stayed the night at camp so that Chiron wouldn’t realize that she snuck into the Apollo cabin every night to sleep on one of the spare bunks. He’d gotten close with Rachel since the end of the Titan war, seeing as he was usually the one to catch her when she collapsed after giving a prophecy. It had helped them bond. Now Rachel felt like something of a sister, except Will’s only experience with siblings were his godly siblings, who always just felt like close friends. So, anyway, Rachel was somewhere between Will’s newest vaguely-related sister and a close friend. Which meant that they had a good enough relationship that they could sit in silence without it being awkward, which was how the next few minutes passed.

Then, Will lifted his face off of a pillow and glanced to the side, spotting a familiar shade of purple. He picked it up - an oversized SPQR sweatshirt. “Whose is this?” 

“Huh?” Rachel barely glanced away for a second before turning back to her easel. “Oh. That’s Nico’s. He must’ve left it here last night.” 

Will’s head snapped up. “Nico was here? Wait, you hang out with Nico?” 

Rachel shrugged. She leaned forward and pulled the brush out from between her toes, apparently deciding that Will had become too much of a distraction for the time being. “Yeah, we go way back. We both helped Percy and Annabeth with the Labyrinth, remember? And then after that he would check in on me sometimes to, like, make sure nobody came after me. It was kinda creepy at first, you know, because he just sort of appears out of nowhere sometimes? But as soon as I started feeding him, he opened his mouth and never really shut up, so the creepiness kinda faded.” 

Will smoothed a hand across the fabric. It was soft, and big enough that it would fit him easily. And Rachel said it was Nico’s, not Jason’s - not that it could be, since he’d just seen Piper wearing Jason’s about ten minutes ago. And if Rachel and Nico were friends, then she would know-- “So Nico’s not dating Jason?” 

Rachel blinked, clearly taken aback by the question, and then laughed. “No, definitely not.”

Will’s brain was moving too fast for him to process anything. “He-- I--” He scrambled to his feet and gathered the sweatshirt in his hands. “I gotta go!” 

“Uh, bye?” Rachel called after him as Will took off out of the cave. Piper had said that she was with Nyssa at Bunker Nine, so Will took off toward the woods. He was grateful for his long legs that carried him across camp so quickly, leaping over fallen branches and thankfully not tripping up on any roots. He found himself outside Bunker Nine in no time, and it wasn’t long before his eyes landed on Nico. He sprinted up to the other boy, hunching over for half a second to catch his breath before he said, “Can I talk to you?” 

Nico nodded, his eyes wide in obvious surprise at having Will suddenly appear in front of him. (Served him right for doing the same to everyone else for the last few years.) Will led him out of the bunker and away from listening ears, and then handed over the sweatshirt.

“Oh,” Nico said, sounding almost disappointed. “Um. Thanks.” 

“Rachel told me it was yours, so I...brought it,” Will told him. “I always thought-- I mean, I assumed-- You and Jason are just so close, and I figured--” 

“I don’t like Jason,” Nico said quickly, defensively, and his cheeks began to color. “Not… Not like that, I mean. He just got this for me because he was sick of me stealing his all the time.” 

“No, right, of course,” Will replied as his heart sank. “I mean-- Oh gods, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume you liked guys-- I never should’ve--” 

“I do,” Nico cut in, and Will’s mouth snapped shut. “I, um. I’m...gay.” 

“Oh. Oh! Cool! I mean, I am too! Or, uh, I’m bi, but, uh. I like guys, too.”

If Will’s arms weren’t frozen at his side, he probably would’ve smacked himself for babbling like a total idiot. But maybe it was worth it to see the way Nico’s cheeks continued to grow red.

“Cool,” Nico said softly, dropping his gaze to his shoes before rapidly looking around at anything that wasn’t Will. “Would you, um. Would you maybe be interested in sitting with me at the campfire tonight?” 

Will was pretty sure his soul had left his body, but he still managed to ask, “Like, as a date?” 

Nico scuffed the toe of his shoe against the dirt. “If… If you want.” 

“Yeah!” Will said quickly, and then, “That would be, um. Cool.” 

“Cool,” Nico repeated. He started fidgeting with the sweatshirt in his hands before he suddenly held it out to Will. “You should take this. It’ll probably be cold tonight, so…” 

Will barely managed to stop himself from saying, it’s okay, I have my own. Instead, he forced his hands out to take the sweatshirt back. “Cool.” Did he know any other word in the English language besides cool? “I’ll, um. See you tonight then.” 

Nico smiled, and Will’s heart soared. “Yeah. See you tonight.” 

When Will arrived at the campfire later, happily yet nervously showing off the SPQR laurels on his chest, he made his way straight to Nico, relieved to see that the other boy had shown up in just a t-shirt. 

“Hey,” Will said, smiling brightly as he sat down in the open space beside Nico. “You know, it might get cold this far from the fire. Maybe you should borrow this.” Will held out his own neatly folded orange camp hoodie, one with a large 7 on the back and a red cross on one sleeve - a sweatshirt that was unmistakably Will’s. 

Nico smiled down at the sweatshirt, and then up at Will like this was exactly what he’d been hoping for. “Okay,” he said as he took the sweatshirt and pulled it on over his head. 

“It might be a little big on you,” Will warned, but Nico only smiled brighter when his head popped out of the neck hole. 

“That’s okay,” Nico replied. Just the very tips of his fingers stuck out the ends of the sleeves, and Will got the sudden urge to hold Nico’s hand. Maybe he would try later, when Nico didn’t have all of his focus directed at Will. “That’s how I like it.” 

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[here4theheartbreak]

Warm Beach Afternoons (ksj + jjk)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Jungkook x Seokjin Genre: smut, PWP Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~2.6k

Tags: smut, PWP, cockwarming, dirty talk, watersports, oral sex, Omorashi, rough oral, semi-public blowjobs, coming untouched, deepthroating

Summary: It's far too hot for any sort of nonsense, Jin thinks. Jungkook has other ideas.

A/N: Second Kinktober fic, day 4: cockwarming. This fic was inspired by this lovely piece of artwork. 

The sun was boiling hot. Too hot to reasonably be outside, Jin figured. And he was determined to take every opportunity to bitch about it to anyone that would listen. The rest of the group ignored him, as they always did – disrespectful kids, he did something wrong raising them. The makeup noonas only laughed and offered him ice packs or cold water. 

And of course, there was Jungkook – in a league of his own, set out to torture Jin at every turn. Jungkook heard Jin was overheating, and his priority became laying on the elder, leaping on him, hugging him, or otherwise smothering him, at every turn.

Not that Jin really minded. For as much as he’d complain about Jungkook, that young man had his heart locked away in that beautiful bunny smile. They hadn’t mean to get so involved. Jungkook was the baby of the group, he was the elder. He knew he should be taking care of Jungkook – and that didn’t mean stealing kisses from his perfect mouth or routinely railing him into the bed. But despite knowing he shouldn’t, Jin couldn’t help it. He’d found himself falling hard and fast for the golden child. The other members knew, but opted to look the other way; so long as they didn’t get themselves outed in some horrible way, it didn’t bother them. 

Most of the time, they were careful. Jungkook was clingy with everyone, so nobody thought twice when he’d leap into Jin’s arms, or chose to crawl into his bed while on a trip somewhere. Even the fans thought it was oh so sweet and brotherly. Of course, there were whispers, usually from international fans, about what if, maybe they are – but nobody gave them much thought. It was harmless. 

What wasn’t harmless was the current situation. Jin was trying his best to remain cool as they shot the last few photos from his group shot with Jungkook and Yoongi. However, every time the cameras paused – and a few times when they weren’t, Jin found himself with a very large, heavy, and hot Jungkook leaning on him. 

He pushed his arms off for the fifth time in fifteen minutes, whining. “It’s too hot,”

“It’s not that bad,” Jungkook complained. He back hugged Jin once more, blowing cool air on the back of his neck. Jin gritted his teeth, hating how nice it felt. 

“Just a few more in the lifeguard seat,” the cameraman said, clearly mistaking Jin’s expression for annoyance. “Then you three can relax. We’ll shoot a little further down with the other four.”

“Sounds good,” Yoongi said. “That spot of shade is calling my name.”

Jin chuckled. “Agreed. You go first,” he offered, motioning his head to the lifeguard stand a few feet away. Yoongi headed for it, crawling into it and settling in for the photos. Jungkook went next, and Jin took a moment to shake the fabric from his skin, sticky with his sweat – and Jungkook’s. 

Jin climbed into the stand last, working with the photographer to take the photos he needed to take. When the man finished, Jin slumped down in the chair, closing his eyes and letting the sun beat down over his skin.

“Gonna get a sunburn,” Jungkook scolded. Jin opened his eyes, looking down. Jungkook was climbing up the lifeguard stand, effectively pinning him there. 

“Then let me get down, I’ll join Yoongi in the shade.”

“Nope,” Jungkook leaned forward, going nearly nose to nose with Jin. Jin pulled his head back, glancing over to make sure they were alone.

“Jungkook,” he warned.

“I’m horny,” Jungkook said softly.

Jin’s eyes widened. “When did you become so damn brazen.”

“We’ve been so busy working on the photoshoots for the single… You haven’t let me touch you in days.” Jungkook leaned on the stand, forcing Jin to open his legs or have his knees crushed by Jungkook’s weight. Jungkook slid his palms up Jin’s bare legs, squeezing his thighs under his shorts. “I miss you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jin whispered, relaxing a little at Jungkook’s firm, steady touches. His eyes fluttered shut. “We’ll play together tonight, okay?”

“What about right now?” Jungkook offered. Jin felt him shift and opened his eyes, surprised to see Jungkook climbing down. His hopes for freedom and relaxation were dashed, however, when Jungkook stopped a few feet lower, his torso still against Jin’s legs. He palmed Jin’s cock through his shorts, meeting his gaze. “We have time.”

“We don’t,” Jin argued, gasping a little when Jungkook squeezed. 

“We can make time. I can hurry.”

“It’s far too hot for this,” Jin complained even as Jungkook pulled his cock from his swim trunks. 

“Drink some water then.”

Jin swore softly, chuckling. “Also, we’re gonna get caught.”

“Doing what?” Jungkook asked, his eyes wide and innocent. “I’m just playing with my hyung on the lifeguard tower,” he leaned forward, sliding Jin’s half hard cock into his mouth. 

Jin jerked forward, grabbing Jungkook’s back. Jungkook took him the rest of the way in his mouth, reaching up to grab Jin’s back. He knew, from where the rest of the crew was, it did probably look like they were just wrestling. 

The only problem was that Jungkook wasn’t even sucking. No, he was holding Jin’s cock in his perfect mouth, only moving his tongue every now and again. Even as Jin swelled to full hardness, Jungkook remained still. Jin pinched his side.

“Come on, hurry up and make me come,” he hissed, watching the others frolic down the beach.

Jungkook pulled his mouth off Jin’s cock with an obscene pop, his lips wet. “Come? I’m not blowing you.”

“Then what’s your face doing on my crotch?”

Jungkook smirked. “I thought your cock was cold. I’m warming it for you. I can’t make you come, we’re in public.”

Jin gritted his teeth. Jungkook grinned and slid his mouth back over Jin’s cock, nuzzling down as far as he could. 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Jin hissed. “I’m pounding your ass tonight for this.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes up. He pressed his tongue up, applying pressure to Jin’s cock. At the same time, he let his teeth graze dangerously over the sensitive shaft, and Jin’s eyes rolled back. 

“Be careful,” he growled. Jungkook moved his teeth back, his lips curving into a smirk around Jin’s cock. The little shit knew exactly what he was doing.

No matter how Jin tried to move, to stimulate any part of his cock, Jungkook remained still, entirely relaxed. It wasn’t as if they were atop a lifeguard stand with their entire group and about twenty crew members a few hundred feet away. 

Jin was in agony. This was worse than edging; he was sweating, turned on, and desperate. Yet, the lack of stimulation - and ever constant stimulation - of Jungkook’s mouth had his cock in a state of half hard, half soft. Jungkook’s mouth was warm and wet and comfortable… 

Jin hissed. “Let me go,” he panted. “JK, I gotta piss.” He pushed at Jungkook.

Jungkook looked up at him. He winked. Instead of moving, he closed his lips more firmly around Jin’s cock and shifted. One hand slid down, and he pressed hard on Jin’s lower belly, not breaking eye contact with Jin. Jin’s throat closed when he realized what Jungkook was getting at.

“N— Here?” Jin panted. He and Jungkook had played with piss a little, but never in public. Not that he was opposed… Frankly the idea had his heart racing. He looked back down the way at their group and then to Jungkook. “You sure?”

Jungkook’s nostrils flared. He nodded as well as he could, shifting just a little. He buried his fingers in Jungkook’s shaggy purple hair, leaning forward just a bit. A few drops came first, and the thought of them landing on Jungkook’s tongue nearly made him moan. He closed his eyes, focusing on the warm, wet, tight feeling of Jungkook’s mouth. He willed his bladder to release, pushing away thoughts of arousal flooding in. 

There it was. A spurt of piss first, and then a gush. And there, a full, steady stream. He could hear Jungkook gulping rapidly, and feel the warm piss filling his mouth. It was pooling around the base of his cock as Jungkook struggled to swallow it down. The amount of water he’d drunk throughout the day was coming in handy, he realized. He looked down, meeting Jungkook’s gaze.

He was tearing up, his nostrils flaring as he breathed between gulps of Jin’s release.

“Cockwarmer, huh?” Jin whispered. “Looks like what I actually have here is a nice, portable urinal, isn’t that right?”

Jungkook’s eyelids fluttered shut. Jin laughed softly, stroking his cheek. “Almost done, baby. Keep swallowing for me… Fuck, Jungkook. Drink it all.”

Jungkook gave a full body shudder, his fingers tightening on Jin’s lower back. 

Jin pulled his cock back slowly as his stream ended, letting Jungkook swallow the last bit of piss. He opened his mouth when he was done, showing Jin his proof.

“Good boy,” Jin murmured. He tried to tuck himself away but Jungkook made a noise of annoyance.

“I was a good cockwarmer and urinal,” he whined. “Don’t I get a treat?”

Jin glanced at the others. “They’re about done.”

“And you’re hard already and always come fast after you piss. I can do it.” Jungkook smirked. “Wanna know something that’ll speed things along?”

Jin raised an eyebrow. Jungkook shifted, standing up a little higher on the ladder of the stand. Jin could see the front of his shorts, tented from his own erection. Jungkook pulled Jin’s cock free and kissed the tip and looked up at Jin. “Slide your hand in the front of my shorts.”

Jin shifted, sliding his hand down gently, past Jungkook’s tight stomach, the tie of his trunks, the soft, curly mat of his pubic hair…

“Oh...” Jin breathed, his cock throbbing. “Is that…”

Jungkook grinned. “I came in my trunks while you were pissing in my mouth.”

Jin moaned softly. He ran his hand over Jungkook’s cock, feeling the slick squish of his come, clinging to his skin and hair.

Jungkook sank down on his cock, his shoulders heaving a little when the tip bumped his throat. He began to suck and swallow, barely moving his head. Jin grunted behind closed lips, playing with Jungkook’s come covered cock. It was a secret between them, this kink. If it was a kink. An association, really.

The night that Jin took Jungkook’s virginity, they began with foreplay. Which turned into Jungkook sucking Jin’s cock; not a bad arrangement if Jin could say so himself. Jungkook had been in his jockey shorts at that point. And, in his ever so eager way, ended up coming prematurely, spilling his release in his shorts. Though he’d been embarrassed, Jin had never been more turned on in his life. He’d come so hard he saw spots just from Jungkook’s mouth on his cock, and his hand down the from of his come filled shorts. From that point on, Jungkook filling his underwear with a surprise load of come was the quickest way to get Jin to orgasm; and Jungkook was good at it. Jin was starting to wonder if the guy could come on command with how easily he came in his shorts during foreplay, even after all these years. It wasn’t that he was always premature; having sex, Jungkook could go for hours sometimes. But if the mood struck… It happened. 

Jin whined softly. Jungkook was mouthing along his cock perfectly. “So dirty, JK,” he teased. “Filled your trunks with all this come… And not even being touched. You squirted while your hyung was making you drink his piss. So, so dirty.”

Jungkook pulled off Jin’s cock with a wet pop. He began to stroke him in short, fast strokes. “Can’t help it,” he panted. “I just love your cock… Being your cockwarmer made my dick so hard. I was wishing you could just lay me in the sand and ruin my asshole, right there… And then you started pissing, I couldn’t help but get so much hotter. It tasted so good and it makes my belly feel full and warm, I just had to let a load go.”

Jin shuddered, his orgasm nearing. He pulled his hand free and licked the come from it, earning a happy little gasp and sigh from Jungkook.

“Well, I’ll need to punish you tonight,” Jin murmured.

“What will you do?” 

“I think I’ll need to pound your ass… Make you scream loud enough all our members hear.” 

Jungkook’s eyes rolled back. He nodded quickly. 

“And maybe after,” Jin muttered, “I’ll leave another round of piss in there, make you plug it up and hold it until your stomach hurts.”

Jungkook whined and nodded again. “Please, hyung…”

“We’ll see,” Jin murmured. “Swallow it again, I’m close.”

He pushed Jungkook’s head down, sighing happily when Jungkook took his cock to the root. A few quick bobs of his head and a few swipes of Jungkook’s expert tongue, and Jin was coming, spilling hot ropes of come into his soft mouth. 

Jin felt his entire body relax, the tension draining out of him with each spurt. “Perfect,” he sighed.

Jungkook pulled off him with a pop and tucked him away. “They’re coming,” he whispered. 

Jin straightened up and grabbed Jungkook, shifting their posture to look like they were wrestling on the seat as the others neared.

“You’re going to fall,” Namjoon called as he approached.

“He’s trying to smother me,” Jin complained. Jungkook popped his head up, shaking it to try and fix his hair.

“I’m just making sure you’re cozy, the breeze from the water might be cold.”

“Troublemaker,” Jin grumbled. Jungkook laughed and crawled down the ladder. Jin glanced down, relieved to see his crotch was not showing any bulges or wet spots. The makeup girl rushed up, fixing his hair without question; she was used to fixing mistakes from their wrestling on shoots. Jin crawled down as well, watching Jungkook from afar. He wondered what she’d say if she knew that mess of Jungkook’s pretty hair was from Jin’s hands, pulling and tugging. Or the slightly smeared lip color was because his lips were around Jin’s cock… She wouldn’t be happy, that’s for sure.

Jungkook glanced over, meeting Jin’s gaze and offering a sweet smile as she fixed his makeup. The photographer was talking about the last few group shots, but Jin could barely pay attention. One word he heard for sure though, was water.

“We get to play in it?” Jin asked, perking up immediately.

The photographer thought for a moment and nodded. “Sure, I think that would be cute photos perhaps. But we’ll do that last, so if you guys get your outfits wet, it won’t be a big deal.” Jin nodded. He leaned over a little, allowing the makeup girl to fix his hair and face when she came at him. 

They set to work after, finishing up the beach shoots and heading to the ocean. Jin tried not to keep staring at Jungkook, but it was impossible. He did, however, try not to notice (at least visibly) when Jungkook made sure to go at least waist deep into the water, inconspicuously shifting to make sure his trunks were well soaked in the crotch area. 

As the shoot wrapped up and they dried off and changed back into their normal clothing. And, of course, as was the pattern, Jungkook took that opportunity to drape himself over Jin, warming every inch of his body that he could reach. But Jin didn’t complain this time. This time he leaned into it, savoring Jungkook’s embrace. Pesky or not – Jungkook was his happiness, and he’d never trade a second of time with him for anything else in the world.

[jisungscaramel]

voices | changbin

❀ genre; smut, college au, fwb ❀ pairing; changbin x reader (fem) ❀ word count; 1.6k

[warning] explicit sexual content, dirty talk, masturabation, (slight) ownership kink, (mild) dom changbin, phone sex, (which includes imagery of) oral (fem receiving), bondage, spanking, unprotected sex (stay safe y’all), overstimulation, creampie

Your eyes open to darkness, and you groan in utter annoyance - you just hate when this happens. You don’t even wanna know what time it is... but you check anyway, 2:20... am - not the worst. At least you have the opportunity to get some sleep, the slightest chance of closing your eyes to immerse in some obscure dream and certainly not the type of wet fantasy that dared to disturb your beauty rest in the first place.

The universe just loves fucking with the sleep schedule you work hard to keep regulated. But the not-so-random interruption to your slumber in it of itself is the least of your problems; the not-so-subtle throb of your clit is beyond irritating, especially since a certain someone isn’t physically there to help you with it.

Your adjusted vision wraps around the silhouette of the ceiling fan, sharpening in detail as you attempt to scrutinize it, five curved blades, metal brackets reflecting the moonlight, a simple ligh- not that a mundane distraction such as this would do anything to help, valiant effort though.

And then you turn your head to the side, fixing on the space where your phone should be laying on the bed side table.

“Should I call him...?” you ask yourself. You grab the device and go straight to the phone app, aggressively scrolling through your contacts ‘til you see his name: Changbin Seo.

Nothing fancy, nothing personal, it’s a deliberate choice to keep it that way, to stay firmly behind his boundaries, well, the boundaries you’ve assumed of him. In reality, he probably wouldn’t have an issue with you contacting him on a whim - even at this ungodly hour, but the idea still makes you nervous. That’s the prevailing predicament of a friend with benefits - sometimes there are too many boundaries and sometimes there are too few.

‘What if he gets annoyed with me? What if he stops talking to me? What if he thinks I’m crazy?’ The more time you spend in your own head, the more the shadow of your past experiences so rudely loom over you.

‘No, Changbin’s not like that. He’s not like that. He’s not like that. He’s not fucking like that.

‘At the worst, he won’t pick up ‘cause he’s asleep. That’s it. That’s all. Relax.’

Regardless, things would be much easier if he didn’t have to go across the state to be home for winter break.

And instead of making that single tap on the glass of your phone, you put it back down, placing it face down, reaching to open the drawer that lays beneath it. You pull out a little drawstring bag. In the darkness, you open it, unsheathing a silicone vibrator, light pink in the light, but rendered colorless in front of your eyes.

‘I should at least try by myself.’

Committing to your decision, you drown your ears in some dvsn - you gotta do what you can to self engage your senses. But you’d much rather hear his voice, much rather feel it vibrate against your skin, reverberate through your nerves. There’s just something about the way he growls when he goes deep, overwhelming the auricles of your ears in a crescendoing frenzy you can’t even fathom outside the moment, even if you try.

Your eyes close when you turn it on, trying your hardest to picture him in your mind’s eye.

The way he tilts his head back to stare at you, eyes half-lidded in the kind of carnal hunger, it makes you wonder what he’ll do next, body sizzling in desire, like it’s on fire. 

And then, there’s the way he lightly tugs at the corner of his bottom lip, tongue brushing over the reddened skin in a teasing lick, you just want them to dip into your slick, to indulge your clit with quick flicks. He loves to look up at you with a tinge of innocence that so eerily contrasts with the vulgarity of his actions, lips smirking against your heat ‘cause he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows exactly how to drive you crazy in the best possible way-

“Fuck!”

Even if your imagination is enough to get you there, it’s not enough to satisfy you; it feels like trying to fulfill a day’s worth of hunger with a measly cup of instant ramen when you know damn well you deserve a three course meal.

You haphazardly throw the toy to the side - you’ll clean it in the morning; it’s just too much effort now.

And here you are again, staring at the dark silhouette of your phone. At this point, the amount of fucks you have to give are rapidly dwindling.

And here you are again, phone shining bright in over your face, Changbin’s name and number apparent on the screen. But before you can actually contemplate the idea that you’ve begun to dub a “last resort,” your phone slips out of your hand, knocking you right on the nose, hitting - you guessed it - his number.

And… now you’re calling him. Of course the universe thinks it’s hilarious to mess with you - when does it not?

“Hello?” There’s a clear groggy sleepiness to his voice - clearly, you’ve woken him up.

Fuck. “Oh sorry, Binnie, did I wake you up?” 

“Hmm yeah,” he pauses, probably to rub his eyes, “what’s up?” As sexy as his gruff voice is, it’s the last thing you can think about, subtle embarrassment delicately wrapping your nerves.

“My bad… you know what? It’s nothing. I’ll let you sleep.”

“No, it’s okay, tell me what’s up,” he requests again.

“It’s nothing, I just…”

“Just what?”

“I miss you…”

“...Miss me where?”

“In…” you tighten your thighs together, “places where I shouldn’t.”

“Oh yeah?” You can hear rustling sheets, as if he’s sitting up, as if his attention’s focusing on you. “What would you want me to do if I was there?”

You bite your lip. “You already know.”

“Tell me.” His voice takes a commanding tone, attempting to bend you into submission even through the phone.

Your fingers trace the skin above your underwear. “God, Changbin, I want you to fucking cripple me.”

It’s simply astonishing as to how clearly his sinister chuckle comes through your line, and it’s all it takes for your hand to slip under the thin cotton covering you. “Damn, chula, I didn’t know you wanted me that bad…” a moan slips from your lips both in response to your actions and his words. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Yeah,” your flustered response sounds in the same pitch.

“Naughty girl. I’m gonna have to punish you next time I see you.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“First, I’m gonna tear your clothes off,” you peel the flimsy sleep shirt off your body, not being able to take the increasing heat radiating from your skin, “and then I’m gonna tie your arms up and bend you over my desk to spank you - one slap for every time you’ve touched yourself while I’ve been gone.”

“Where are you gonna spank me?” A sultry tone edges your words.

“On your ass… your thighs… your pussy, depends on how bad you’ve been.”

“What are you gonna do if I earn my reward?” By now, you’re reaching for the vibrator you so carelessly tossed aside not too long ago.

“I’m gonna throw you on my bed, then I’m gonna force your thighs apart and stretch out your soaking little cunt. I’ll fuck you so deep, you’ll feel me rearranging your insides,” he grunts, “Fuck, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“Would you let me cum?”

That evil laugh is back, prolonged in the most tantalizing of ways. “Yeah, but not just once. It’s gonna attack you back to back, until your legs go numb.”

You shudder, eyes rolling back. “What if your roommate tries to interrupt us?”

“I’m gonna fuck you harder to mark my territory.”

“Am I your territory?”

He snickers. “You know that pussy’s mine. All. Mine.”

All you can offer as a response is an array of mewls, your walls desperately tightening against the inanimate object inside you.

“God, you sound so sexy when you moan, you know that?” He grunts, and for a few seconds, no words are exchanged. The only thing you can hear is the rapid rustling of fabric, presumably around his hand movements, and the subtle hisses seeping from his lips.

“Are you naked?” he asks.

“Yeah…”

“Show me.”

You lower your phone to capture the sin you’re committing between your legs with a clear view of your bare body neck down, promptly sending the image to him.

And it’s obvious when he receives it because you hear that low, guttural growl you’re oh so familiar with. “You’re so hot.” His voice is strained. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum… are you close?”

“Yeah… I wish you could cum inside me.”

“I do too. Fuck, you look so gorgeous when your pussy’s swollen, dripping with my cum.”

His voice drops an octave, catalyzing the long overdue release that has been coiling inside you. His name rolls off your tongue in an unexpected increase in volume. The hypothetical fantasy momentarily becomes reality in your mind, simulations inducing tangible pleasure inundating you in waves that you didn’t know were possible in a setting like this; why on earth did you let the frustration marinate for this long?

“Fuck,” he curses.

“What?”

“...I made a mess.”

Your phone vibrates with a message from him - it’s a video... and you have the slightest inkling of what it is.

[patriciasage]

imposter syndrome

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: The Adventure Zone - Amnesty

Summary:

“Yeah,” Duck laughs, “I just… We gotta put a pause on this, man. That abomination’s out there and I need to get back to –” He’s cut off by Indrid’s mouth on his again. This time he feels a flutter of unease in his chest. Indrid is acting strange.

Most people interrupt Duck during his disfluencies, trying to finish his sentence for him or change the subject. But ever since Duck told him about his discomfort with that, Indrid waits patiently for him to finish his scattered thoughts, head tilted to the side and expression soft. It isn’t like him to interrupt. And even though it’s really nice to finally kiss his crush, something doesn’t feel right.

And then the Mothman crashes through Duck’s living room window.

posted in full below the break but you can find me on A03!

There’s a knock on his door.

Duck nearly trips over Lucy on his way to answer it. She makes a grumbly little meow, and he grumbles right back at her as he regains his balance. “Dammit, Luce.” She scurries to the bedroom when he unlatches the door.

Standing on his front step is Indrid Cold. He’s wearing his regular outfit of jeans and a tank top, and he’s shivering a little in the spring air. “Hello, Duck Newton,” he says with an unnerving smile.

Duck grins back. “Indrid! God, it’s good to see you. I was- Hell, I was worried about you.”

Indrid adjusts his glasses and rubs his arm, flustered. Duck looks up at him and tries not to think about how cute he is. They don’t have time for that. “Come in.”

When Duck turns around, Indrid has closed the door and moved close into Duck’s space. “Oh, um, listen, Indrid,” Duck says, trying to stop the blush in his cheeks at the proximity. “I’m real sorry for, y’know, punchin’ you in the face…”

“All is forgiven, Duck,” Indrid replies with a smile. “You saved my life.”

Duck tries to keep his eyes forward, staring at Indrid’s chin, because whenever he looks up at the other man all he can think about is kissing him.  They had spent a significant amount of time together during the last hunt and, although the Silf is a little strange, Duck knows flirting when he sees it. He hasn’t been on the receiving end of someone’s interest like this often, and it was a bit of a thrill to flirt back and let the Winnebago settle with a warm, mutual attraction. But they don’t have time for that right now.

“Listen, man, a lot has happened since you flew away. We got an abomination on the loose that’s real smart and real scary; it can –”

Indrid interrupts him. “I know.”

“Right. ‘Course, you do.” Duck chances a glance up at the other man and sees his own flustered, red reflection staring back at him. “It’s a little fucked up, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how we’re gonna –”

“Duck.” The ranger jumps when Indrid places a cold hand on the back of his neck. “I missed you.”

“Well, yeah, I- uh,” Duck stutters, “I missed…missed you, too.” The taller man smiles. “But Indrid, we need to –”

And then Indrid kisses him.

Duck kisses back without thinking. It’s been a while since he’s had any romantic contact, but he’s been daydreaming about this for quite a few months and insecurity doesn’t have the chance to take purchase. He places his hands on Indrid’s narrow hips and the other man hums before burying his hands in Duck’s hair. Indrid kisses him like he’s trying to consume him. Duck stumbles back a little at the ferocity and breaks for a breath.

“Woah. Yeah, alright. Right. I mean, this is… I been wantin’ this for a while.”

Indrid grins. “I know.”

“Yeah,” Duck laughs, “I just… We gotta put a pause on this, man. That abomination’s out there and I need to get back to –” He’s cut off by Indrid’s mouth on his again. This time he feels a flutter of unease in his chest. Indrid is acting strange.

Most people interrupt Duck during his disfluencies, trying to finish his sentence for him or change the subject. But ever since Duck told him about his discomfort with that, Indrid waits patiently for him to finish his scattered thoughts, head tilted to the side and expression soft. It isn’t like him to interrupt. And even though it’s really nice to finally kiss his crush, something doesn’t feel right.

And then the Mothman crashes through Duck’s living room window.

The three of them stare at each other for a stunned moment. Duck’s brain rushes to make sense of the situation – the paradoxical presence of the man whose hips he’s holding and the hulking, unsettling monster standing on shattered glass in the carpet. “What the fuck?”

Duck takes a step back out of Indrid’s embrace. The uncertainty in his chest becomes drenched in horror as he understands. But he doesn’t have the time to react. Everyone moves at once.

Indrid’s left hand morphs and turns into a sharp, flesh-coloured blade. The Mothman charges forward, knocking some model ships off of nearby shelves with his wings. Duck twists and falls back onto his couch in an attempt to escape.

Duck feels a burning pain in his side and his back hits the cushions. The Mothman crashes into Indrid and they both fall onto the coffee table. It breaks under their weight. Duck scrambles to grab Beacon at his belt, but the movement makes his side flare up and he lets out a shout. The Mothman’s huge red eyes meet his, but this gives the creature underneath it an opportunity. The abomination, its skin shifting as it struggles to maintain Indrid’s form, pushes up into the Mothman’s furry chest with ferocity. The Mothman lands on its wings with a grunt.

Even with its bestial facial features, Duck can tell the Mothman is surprised at the abomination’s strength and speed. The abomination is escaping out the broken window before Duck can draw his sword and before the Mothman can right itself.

They’re frozen for a moment, trapped in the sudden silence. Duck reaches across his body and places his hand on his right side. There’s warm blood soaking into his shirt and the fabric of his couch. “Fuck.” He grimaces. He breathes through the pain before looking back at the looming, dark creature shaking out its wings. “Indrid?”

The Mothman nods vigorously. “Yes!” It reaches a clawed hand into a pouch hanging off of a belt at its waist and retrieves a pair of large, red sunglasses. It quickly puts them on and the huge form of the Mothman turns into Indrid Cold. He’s wearing faded jeans, a bulky sweater, and an expression of guilty concern. “I’m so sorry, Duck. I flew as fast as I could.” He rushes forward and his hands flutter from Duck’s cheek to his shoulder and then a few inches over the wound on his ribs.

“Your hair’s longer,” Duck says.

Indrid’s hands stop moving and he just looks at him for a moment. “Yeah.”

Duck swallows, mouth dry. “Looks nice.”

“Thanks, Duck. Listen, you’re bleeding all over your fucking couch. Where’s the first aid kit?”

“Shouldn’t you know that?” Duck teases.

Indrid shakes his head in frustration, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He gently moves a strand of Duck’s hair behind his ear. “You know it doesn’t work like that.” He stands up and rushes to the ensuite bathroom. Duck smiles when he hears him say hello to Lucy before rifling through the cupboard.

“Then how come you found it without me telling you?” He calls out.

“I don’t have time for your shit, Duck Newton. I looked into the possible futures where you weren’t being difficult and just told me where it was!” This is, without a doubt, the real Indrid Cold. Talking to him feels natural, like it did months ago, not the strange, charged conversation with the imposter a few minutes ago. Even though he’s in a lot of pain and he’s going to have to replace his couch and his window, Duck feels calm and happy. And he might be going into shock…just a little bit.

Indrid returns with the first aid kit in his hands and a towel under his arm. “This isn’t really my area of expertise, so you’re going to have to assist me a little,” he admits. He nudges some pieces of wood away with his foot before kneeling on the carpet in between Duck’s knees. He places the items down on the couch and gestures. “Take your shirt off, please.”

Duck can’t help but blush at the sight of Indrid on his knees in front of him. He reaches for the hem of his shirt and raises it a bit before the pain of the movement stops him. He lets out a strangled cry at the same time that Indrid’s cold hands grasp his wrists. “Sorry! Sorry, Duck. I should be paying more attention. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. Here.” Indrid begins to lift the hem before he stops, eyebrows furrowed. Instead, he reaches for the first aid kit.

Duck gives him a questioning look when he lifts a pair of fabric scissors. “Really?”

Indrid shrugs. “It’s going to hurt you to lift your arms.” He pauses, watching Duck’s face carefully. “Is this okay, Duck? Tell me how I can make you more comfortable.” Duck feels a warmth in his chest. This is the considerate Indrid he knows.

“Yeah, ‘s’fine, go ahead.” Duck feels his face heat even more, this time from embarrassment, as Indrid carefully cuts through his T-shirt and pulls the fabric away from his body. Indrid, usually perpetually distracted, is intensely focused on the task. Duck can’t stop thinking about how his position – slumped on the couch cushions – doesn’t do his body any favours. He knows that Indrid is focused on the bleeding wound on his side, not his stomach curling over his belt, but it doesn’t stop Duck from closing his eyes.

“Duck?” Indrid is looking at his face now. “What do I do now?”

“Right.” Duck takes a breath and harshly reminds himself that he’s forty-two, not fourteen. Still, he grits his teeth and attempts to straighten his posture. He gets a good look at the wound for the first time. It’s bleeding a lot but it’s not too deep. The abomination had obviously intended to stab him in the stomach, but Duck had twisted away, causing the weapon to slice a horizontal line through the skin over his ribs. “God, that was a close call, wasn’t it?”

Indrid doesn’t respond. Duck places the folded hand towel over the wound and presses down. When he turns back to his companion, Indrid is staring at the center of his chest. His lips are pressed into a thin line and he’s breathing hard. “Indrid?”

“It was a close call, Duck Newton.” He harshly wipes his eyes under the glasses. “There were so many futures where I wasn’t fast enough, and I watched it impale you. There were so many futures where I didn’t come at all and it killed you in other, horrible ways. And it killed you wearing my face, Duck –”

Duck leans forward, even though it hurts, and places his free hand on Indrid’s shoulder. “Hey, woah, slow down, man. You made it. I’m alright.”

Suddenly, Indrid looks furious. “And it kissed you.”

For a second, Duck feels a surge of shame, but he pushes it away. The abomination obviously has access to memories that give it accuracy in appearance and behaviour. He couldn’t have known. “I’m, uh…yeah. That musta been weird for you to see.”

“Yeah, it was weird, Duck.” Indrid’s hands tighten on Duck’s knees, seemingly without intention. “It was weird because I’ve wanted to kiss you for months. I think you’re the bravest, kindest, most handsome man I’ve ever met. And you kissed him back. You kissed him back because you also want to kiss me. And I’m so fucking mad that it took that from you – that it took that from me!”

Duck is stunned into silence. Indrid has always been a very honest man, but Duck wasn’t prepared for such an emotional confession and confirmation. He finds his voice. “I still want you to kiss me.”

“What?”

“It didn’t take anything, Indrid. I want you to kiss me. For real. The real you. I still want that.”

Indrid leans forward, bracketed by Duck’s legs. He places both hands on Duck’s stubbled cheeks. “Are you sure?”

Duck nods. “Yeah.”

Indrid kisses him with tenderness and care, almost reverence. If Duck had been standing, his knees would be weak. Indrid’s lips are slightly chapped. His thumb slowly caresses Duck’s cheekbone. The abomination had known a lot about Indrid Cold, but it got so many things wrong. It had kissed Duck like it wanted to consume him. Indrid kisses Duck like he’s giving himself over. He kisses Duck like he’s precious, like he wants to keep him safe.

Duck wants to pull him closer, hold onto his back, but in that moment he becomes aware of his own hand pressing a towel to the wound on his abdomen. Regretfully, and very slowly, he pulls away. “Let’s bandage me up and then we can keep doin’ this, alright?”

Indrid shakes himself. “Yes, of course. You’re hurt. What am I doing?”

“What I asked you to.” Duck replies, somehow both stern and coy. He’s satisfied when Indrid’s expression softens.

They patch him up well enough to stop the bleeding. Indrid retrieves a button-up shirt from the closet so that he doesn’t have to raise his arms. Duck catches him staring, eyes lingering appreciatively on his chest and stomach before they’re covered up by closed buttons. Duck blushes again, pleased.

This abomination is terrifying. It’s lodged itself in the heart of Kepler and Duck isn’t sure how they’re going to get it out without disturbing the peace. It feels like it’s a catalyst for something bigger, something they’re not ready for.

But Indrid’s back. And Indrid kissed him. And sometimes it’s alright to focus on a good thing for a moment.

[shinsouskitten]

Heyo! This is my first time requesting so I hope this isn't a bad request. So lately I've been watching these TikTok compilations of people getting naked infront of their bf/gf on YT and I just had this AMAZING idea. How would Shoto, Shinso, Kaminari, Bakugo, and Hawks react to their s/o doing that? (I also heard you're a Yagami Yato fan!!! Yay!)

Honestly I’ve been dying to do some tiktok pranks, but I didn’t know if anyone would actually enjoy them, so your request certainly isn’t a bad one. I kinda did a mix of the towel dropping trend and straight up stripping cause I wanted to do a bit of both so I hope that’s okay

And yeah, I’m a huge Yagami fan. I really want to get her patreon but I’m a broke bitch 😣 

I’m so happy I was able to finish this in time to post it today

Anyway… Time to get naked! 

All characters are aged up (except Hawks)

Warnings: suggestive themes, implied nudity (does it count as implied or is it just straight up nakedness?), Bakugou

--- 

❄️🔥 Shōto Todoroki: 

The two of you sat on the sofa, your phones held in your hands as you navigated through app after app to find something to do. You saw a tiktok pop up on your page, of someone recording their partner’s reaction to the stripping, and Shōto’s current aimless scrolling made it the perfect situation. 

You took your phone, resting it against a glass on the coffee table in front of you as nonchalantly as possible. You set the timer to record, turning off the volume so Shōto wouldn’t hear it, before beginning to take your shirt off. 

When he didn’t turn you sighed, standing up to take off your pants to hopefully gauge a better reaction. This time he turned his head slightly, his eyes taking a quick glance over your body before returning to look at your face. 

“Oh hi y/n.” He said, turning back to his phone.

“Shōto.” You whined, ending the recording on your phone. “You’re meant to react more.”

He turned to look at you again, a small smile on his face. “Sorry, baby.”

You sighed, placing your phone face down on the coffee table before flopping down on the sofa, your head falling in his lap as you stared up at him. He leant forward to put his phone next to yours, before twirling a hand in your hair softly. 

“I’ve seen you naked before.” He said simply.

You rolled your eyes. He could say those kinds of things with such a monotone expression, but you still found yourself flushing each time he did so. 

“Yeah but it was for tiktok.” You frowned.

Shōto smiled softly. “We can try again if you want.”

“Is this your way of saying you want me to strip for you?” You asked with a laugh.

“Perhaps.” He replied, and you felt yourself smiling as he stared down at you.

He might be a bit clueless, but he’s still cute.

---

💜 Hitoshi Shinsou:

Just one more game. That’s what he’d said two hours ago. You’d lost track of the amount of rounds he’d been playing, but by now your eyes were tired of the blue light illuminating your bedroom. You knew how difficult it was to convince Shinsou to go to sleep, but it was practically impossible when Kaminari messaged him asking to play some games online with him. 

You would both be tired and grumpy in the morning, so you decided to try and convince Shinsou another way. 

As he stared at the screen, you grabbed your phone from beside your bed, placing it in front of you as you called out to Shinsou. He turned for a moment, but his attention was quickly drawn back to the tv as Kaminari’s voice flooded the speakers.

“C’mon man I wanna win for once.”

Rolling your eyes, you decided to elevate your persuasion. You waited until the round he had been playing ended, pressing record as the next one began to load. Calling for him again, he turned, and you began to slowly peel your shirt (well, it was technically his shirt) up your body. When it passed your head you tossed it to the side.

Shinsou smiled, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes trailed up and down your torso, now naked before his eyes. 

“Hey Kami.” He said, eyes never leaving yours. “You’re gonna have to play the next game on your own.”

“Is it y/n again? I wanted to wi-”

You chuckled as he ended the call, turning off his console before strolling to join you on your bed. You picked up your phone before he got to you, ending the recording and placing it back on your bedside table.

“Was that for Tiktok?” He asked.

You nodded silently.

“Of course it was.” He chuckled.

You pouted. “I was tired of you playing.”

“Well unfortunately I’ve got some more to play.” 

You frowned, thinking he was going to return to his games again, until Shinsou leant closer, cupping your face with one hand while the other began to trail down your chest. 

I guess there’s more than one way to get him to sleep.

---

⚡ Denki Kaminari:

To be honest, Denki’s probably done the exact same prank on you (Denki is a tiktoker change my mind).

You were determined to get him back. And Lady Luck had decided to shine on you today, because you had the perfect opportunity. He was playing a game, headphones blocking his ears from you as he spoke with the rest of the Bakusquad. 

You tapped his shoulder to tell him you were going to take a quick shower. He turned to look at you for a moment, opening his mouth as if to speak, before his attention was pulled back to the game at Bakugou’s insistent yells of ‘pay attention you damn extra’. 

After your shower, you wrapped your towel around your body loosely, one hand gripping the fabric while the other grabbed your phone to begin recording. You slipped back into the room, mildly annoyed when Denki didn’t even turn to greet you. You let your towel fall away, before tossing it across to land on Denki’s head. 

He pulled the towel from his head and threw it to the ground, throwing you a quick frown before he turned back to the tv. Mere seconds after he faced the screen he turned to look at you again, eyes widening as he took in your naked figure with a bright smile.

You heard a yell from his headset, presuming it was Bakugou when the screen flashed game over in bright red letters. 

“I gotta go.” Denki said into the mic.

You laughed, stopping the recording as he stood up to walk over to you.

“I was wondering when you’d get me back.” He smiled, his hands resting on your hips as he pressed a kiss to your head. “But you know, it’d be a shame to waste this opportunity.”

“Do you think about anything other than sex?” You chuckled.

“Of course.” He replied. “I think about you. But how can you blame me with this beautiful sight.”

You smiled, tossing your phone to the side as you wrapped your arms around Denki’s shoulders.

“You’re not saying it’s a bad idea.” He said, raising an eyebrow at your silence. “That clearly means you think it’s a great one.”

You rolled your eyes, but leant forward to kiss him. 

“It’s an okay idea.” You murmured against his lips.

You yelped as he pinched your hip, opening your mouth to scold him, but your words failed you as his hands began to trail to where you wanted them most.

“Just okay?” He asked.

You nodded, head falling against his neck as he continued to trail his fingers across your skin.

A great ending to a great prank.

---

💥 Katsuki Bakugou:

You sighed in your bed, blankets wrapped around you as you waited for your boyfriend to come home. He’d been swarmed with work recently, so you hadn’t seen as much of him as you would’ve liked. 

When you heard the click of your door, you jumped up, racing through your apartment to see Bakugou taking off his shoes with a sour expression.

“Hey.” You smiled, walking over to drape your arms around his shoulders. 

He grunted in response, brushing your arms off as he plopped down on the sofa. He lay his head back, eyes falling shut as he muttered something about stupid villains thinking they own the place.

As you watched him the idea came into your mind. You felt in your pockets for your phone, relieved to find it there. Careful not to disturb your boyfriend, you placed it so only Bakugou would be seen by the camera. As you pressed record, you cleared your throat, annoyed when he didn’t even react.

With a sigh you pulled your shirt over your head, throwing it across the room where it landed in Bakugou’s lap. His eyes shot open, noticing the clothing in front of him, before his head snapped to look at you.

“Oi dumbass what are you doing?!” He shouted, but you could see the blush spreading across his face. 

“Something wrong?” You asked innocently.

Bakugou let out a low growl, before his gaze fell to the phone propped up next to you. 

“Is this for tiktok?!” He screamed, leaping towards you to rip the phone away before you could stop him.

You pouted as he glared down at the screen, ending the recording and tossing your phone to the other end of the room.

“If you’ve broke that-” You began, but you were interrupted by a finger on your lips.

“You shouldn’t be worried about the phone.” Bakugou said, red eyes boring into yours. 

Your mouth fell open in a silent ‘o’ as his hands slipped around your waist, letting out a scream as he threw you over his shoulder.

Suffice to say your phone wasn’t the only thing he broke that night.

---

🍗 Keigo Takami (Hawks):

There was something droning on in the background, some boring show you couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to. Instead, your attention was fixed on your boyfriend, who was laying back on your sofa, wings splayed out behind him as one arm sat curled around your waist. 

Coming up with an idea, you excused yourself from his grip, and his head turned to look at you as you propped your phone up to face him. 

He raised an eyebrow, his golden eyes following your every movement as you began to peel off each layer of your clothes. By the time you were in your underwear, Keigo had grown impatient, and he stood up, appearing next to you within seconds.

“Well hello there.” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, holding up a finger to press pause on the scene as you retrieved your phone, checking that you hadn't been visible on the screen. When you were satisfied, you placed it down again, this time ensuring it wasn’t recording, before turning back to Keigo.

“You know if you were into recording stuff you could’ve just said so.” He said, his eyes still not leaving your body.

You laughed again, but leant forward to press a kiss to his lips, your hands tangling in his hair as he returned the affection. His hands trailed across your body, at one point stopping to pinch your hip. Keigo used your shock as an excuse to slip his tongue into your mouth, and his grip tightened on your waist.

You groaned as he pulled away, but your breath caught in your throat as you felt his hand slip in between your thighs. 

Maybe you should prank him more often.

[inkandpen22]

Shared Minds and Shared Souls (8/?)

Pairing: Spike x reader

Warnings: smut, swearing, arguing (mild)

Word Count: 2.4k

Part Summary: Y/N and Spike discover what happens when they kiss. Now, they start to wonder what may happen if they push the boundaries.

Masterlist

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Spike checks on me in a panic.

“Never better!” I jump up and down as I pace about the crypt.

Spike holds out an arm to me, “Y/N, maybe you should sit-”

I squeal, the world feels so new! “I could climb a skyscraper or better yet, Mount Everest!” I clasp my hands together.

“That’s great, but-”

“I want to go to Europe!" I determine. "I’ve been, you wanna go? Let’s go!" I jump up and down. " You’re English, you’re old, you’ll know your way around! Natives won’t fuck with me if you’re around! All you have to do is go ‘roar,’ show your fangs a little, and-” I curl my fingers to mimic claws.

“Y/N!” Spike shouts. I stop immediately, a pout appears on my lips. He sighs, guilt etching his face. “Sorry, I-”

“No, you’re right," I nod calmly. "I don’t know what came over me there." A nervous laugh escapes me as I comb my fingers through my hair.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asks again, not convinced considering my frantic state.

“Yeah, kinda lightheaded," I admit. "But that’s probably from the sudden energy boost. It’s like having one too many cups of coffee.”

“Do you want me to drive you and Dawn home?” He offers, placing a hand on my shoulder.

My eyes nearly pop out of my head, “oh shit, Dawn! I’ve gotta go!”

“Wait,” spike grabs my forearm and spins me back around into his chest. He presses lips to mine and the glorious, all-encompassing feeling pours back into my body. Before I have the chance to fully enjoy it, Spike breaks away. “I’ll come by later.”

I nod, still kind of dazed and confused by the suddenness and intensity of the kiss. “Okay.”

Spike snickers lightly, letting me go. I exit the crypt and the chill of the night’s breeze courses over my skin. Maybe I shouldn’t drive? I’m still a little loopy. No, I’m fine, we’re fine! Plus, the sooner I get Dawnie home, the sooner Buffy will be done yelling. The sooner Buffy is done yelling, the sooner I can escape to my room, and the sooner Spike can come over. Yeah, I’m better than fine.

_______________________________________________

After all the dramatics, the Scoobies and Giles come over to discuss recent events with Glory. Oh yeah, she’s back, great right? I sit around the dining room table with them absentmindedly, struggling to conjure up an excuse to leave and head upstairs. It’s not as though any of them will let me fight Glory again because I’m ‘too weak to take her on.’ I check my watch and it’s well into the night. Spike could be here any minute, he could be upstairs waiting for me, this sucks.

Giles rambles on about his and Anya’s discoveries, “she’s far more powerful than we originally imagined. She-”

A thud from the ceiling interrupts the Watcher and makes everyone peer up.

“Okay, what the heck was that?” Xander questions sharply.

“Maybe it’s Glory and her minions!” Willow gasps, causing panic.

Starring at my lap absentmindedly, my eyes go wide with realization. Nope, it’s not Glory or her ugly trolls. More likely than not, it’s Spike landing in my room from the window. I accidentally leap up from my chair more noticeably than intended. Everyone’s attention turns to me and I laugh nervously under their intense stares.

“I left my crystals charging in my room and I must’ve lost focus. You know how loud they can be when they fall,” I stumble out an explanation as I cross the room to the foyer. “I’ll be right back!”

Sprinting up the stairs, I ignore their faint exchanges of curiosity. So what if they thought that whole thing was strange? When is anything in our lives normal? Xander is dating an ex-vengeance for Lord’s sake!

I swing open the door to my dark bedroom, nothing but the moonlight lingering in from the windows illuminate the space. I enter cautiously, seeing no sign of Spike. I start to question whether there was really a thud, but everyone heard it too. I couldn’t have imagined it.

The door behind me swings shut. Before I have the chance to look, arms wrap around my waist and I’m yanked back into someone’s chest. I gasp, panicking that its Glory or one of her minions.

“Hello, Love,” Spike whispers in my ear.

I relax, my heart pounding in my chest. Then, I swat his leather-covered arms. “You’re such an ass!” I laugh.

“Sorry Pet, I couldn’t resist,” he chuckles, releasing his hold lightly to stand in front of me. His hands remain on my waist with a squeeze as he plants a quick peck on my lips. “I missed you.”

“I miss you too,” I grin, leaning in to kiss him again.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he shakes his head. I frown and Spike is quick to explain. “Wouldn’t want you to go all Zeus on me again.”

I roll my eyes, stepping out of his embrace. “Tease,” I name call jokingly, well... partially.

He’s like a drug dealer who gets you hooked then drops you. Leaving you wanting more, so much so that you’re willing to go mad for it.

“Shilly-shally,” he fires back in a grumble.

My jaw drops as I whip my head around. “What did you just call me?”

He pouts, avoiding my gaze as he focuses on the floor. “Nothing...”

“No, say it!” I challenge, laughing breathlessly. “What did you call me?”

“Alright fine!” He straightens up and closes in on me. “I called you a shilly-shally person! An indecisive fence-sitter! One minute you’re yelling at me- like right now- and the next you’re on me like velcro!” His face softens, “which I don’t mind by the way, but it’s all kinda confusing. I wake up asking myself what version of Y/N am I getting today?” He mumbles the last bit.

My chest rises and falls rapidly as Spike towers over me in such close proximity. There it is again, the electric pull to him that overwhelms my mind whenever we’re in the same room. When we’re apart he’s still in my head. My eyes land on his lips and I can’t look away.

“Y/N...” Spike whispers.

“Yeah?” I mutter, distracted in my own head.

I feel his hand appear on my waist, gliding across my shirt and down my back. He glides closer to me, my chest pressed against his.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he states wisely, but his actions say don’t express the same amount of self-control.

I nod, “We shouldn’t... it would be wrong.” My hands run down his chest and I can feel the ripple of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt.

“We should stop,” he whispers, hovering his lips over my neck.

I hum, I know he’s right, but I can’t break free. It’s if I’m in a trance. “Spike?”

He hums and I can feel his warm breath against my neck.

My eyes fall shut as I ponder the feel of him against me, his hands wondering my body. “I need to do something for me.”

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” he growls. In a swift motion, he grabs the back of my legs and guides them around his waist.

I land on my bed with a yelp and Spike hovers over me. His lips smash to mine with such an intensity that I stop breathing for a second. Spike’s hands claw at my body and I can’t ignore the glowing light that appears when I close my eyes. It’s the same sort I saw in the crypt. My fingers comb through his hair, forgetting everything and just enjoying the sensation.

Spike breaks from me, gasping for air, “you really want to try this?”

I hum, nodding my head frantically. I don’t care about what happens, all I know is that I need spike now! Like right now, this moment! I lean up to kiss him again, but he cowers back subtly. Hesitation consumes his features, “but what if-”

“I don’t know what will happen!” I confess. “But I know I don’t care!”

Visibly, Spike faces an internal battle. His hand hovers over my cheek, he’s so close to touching my skin, but he stops himself. I slip my hand over his and his eyes grow wide as I guide it down to my cheek. I nod, giving him full permission. I want to do this.

I close my eyes, focusing hard on myself and internalizing so I don’t slip away. Spike slips his hand under my shirt and grips my waist. His touch is cold, yet warm at that same if that’s possible. My attention slips to the sensation and I feel drawn to him. No, no, I have to focus on myself. I hear my breathing, I feel Spike’s hand and the bedding beneath me. Steadily, Spike begins to glides his hand down and unbuckles my jeans. My cheeks become warm as they blush.

“Spike,” I mutter, feeling myself becoming distracted.

Ignoring my warning, he continues his pursuit. His fingers slip into my jeans and rub against my core. I inhale sharply as he picks up his pace and deepens his pressure. Spike is making it hard to focus as all I want to do is touch him and be consumed by him. His fingers glide up and down my core at a steady pace. I shift in my position slightly, my back arching off my bed. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to remain focused.

Hurriedly, Spike breaks away from my lips and towers over me. Gripping the hem of my jeans, he tugs them off my legs. Already needing more, I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and bring him back down to bring his lips to mine. He continues his motion against my core as he deepens the kiss. He’s not playing fair. My fingers comb through his hair and I find it impossible to not want more. He removes his hand from me to shake off his jacket. Using my magic, I press my hand to his back and remove his shirt. Spike snickers against the kiss at my actions.

“You couldn’t do that to your bloody pants!” he snickers against my lips. “Think you could help a boy out and return the favor?”

I giggle and mentally remove my shirt. In a blink it’s gone, along with Spike’s pants, kill two birds with one stone.

“Can you do that trick more often?” He insinuates.

“Spike!”

He laughs and presses his lips to mine hungrily. It nearly takes my breath away. The addictive sensation of his kiss and a gift from the Devil himself. I roll my hips subconsciously, wanting us to be closed somehow. Spike growls and I feel the vibration against my lips. I’m too weak to deny my want for more. I want everything from Spike.

Then, I start to sense my attention slipping as more of our skin comes into contact. I want to give into him, forget trying to focus. Yet, I’d slip into his mind and would lose control. I’ve never heard of two individuals ‘in the moment’ and sharing a mind. We would be experiencing the same exact thoughts and emotions. I mean, there’s no greater form of being intertwined! We would be physically and emotionally entangled... we would lose individuality altogether. In that supernatural world, that has to have side effects.

“God, I want you, Y/N” he moans.

The sound pushes my willpower over the edge. Oh, screw it! I give into him and toss apprehension aside. All I know is that shagging Spike is all I want. The bright light that I experienced in the crypt is returning. It’s shimmering white and blue shades encompass my sight. The beautiful sensation of electricity coursing through my veins overwhelms my body and soul. I lose myself in the drug-like feeling.

My awareness returns to me in a jolt as Spike enters me. I gasp for a second as I experience the moment fully attached to my body.

"Are you okay, Love?" Spike checks, gently brushing strands away from my face. "Are you still with me?"

I hum as a wave of complex bliss rushes me entirely. Spike continues, and I feel myself slipping away into the angelic, heavenly, warmth that draws me.

"Bloody hell, Y/N," he whispers. His warm breath brushes against my collar bone and he leaves trails along the path. “You’re so beautiful.”

I feared intimacy as it posed a risk, yet how could this possibly be bad? I don't even feel human anymore. I feel... other-worldly! Swiftly, I change the pace, switching positions with him. My strength is magnified as I pin Spike down to the bed by his wrists. He peers up at me with amazement in his eyes. Clearly, he's not used to having someone be strong enough to challenge him. In my defense, I'm not used to holding this much power.

I roll my hips, feeling the pleasure build up in my core. Spike digs his nails into my hips as he squeezes his eyes shut and arches his neck back.

"Y/N," he pants, sounding like warning.

I love the sound his voice, especially now. I can’t imagine my world without him in it. I break away from his lips and start a trail down his neck. He shifts under me as this breathe quickens.

The power he grants me is too great to refuse. I continue my actions, wanting him to hit his climax because of me. All I want is to make him happy, grant him every pleasure the world has to over. The idea of that only excites me more and makes me quicken my pace. There's a powerful charge of foreign magic channeling through my body. My spirit has never been higher.

"Holy shit," I gasp as the feeling of my climax coming into reach.

Who's ever described an out of body experience, I get it now! Every touch, kiss, it's all intensified. Everything I'm experiencing is magnified. The glimmer behind my eyes explodes and my eyes snap open.

"Y/N?" I hear a voice angelic voice speak my name. “Y/N!”

I've never experienced anything like this before! All I see is a bright white light in front of me like I'm at Heaven's gate. Chills travel over my skin and a wave of warmth breezes over me as I approach the bright light. It shimmers and waves of blue glisten around me. All I have to do is reach out and touch it. I hold out my hand toward the light and my hand escapes in it. The light travels up my arm and toward my chest. A glimmering crystal blue lighting bolt like thread pierces my chest and I gasp. My eyes fall shut and the world around me goes dark as I slip away.

"Y/N!" I hear Spike voice fades out like a distance breeze.

_________________________________

Masterlist

Tags:  @mx-pibbles​ @hexmancia​ @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream​

[fredweesleyismyslut]

Fred & George Weasley x reader Poly!headcanons

A/N:

Okay, so this might suck really really badly but bare with me I haven’t really written many headcanons before and me being the talkative little pig I am I ramble too much because there’s so many thoughts flying around and then I end up writing a whole bunch so I’m sorry and I will definitely try to improve in writing more headcanons but for now...I hope you enjoy!!!!  

request: Hello if you write for poly relationships could you please do nsfw and sfw headcanons of the Weasley twins x chubby slytherin reader who is just the purest thing on earth and she wears cute skirts and resses in pastel colours and loves cute plushies pretty please?

SFW

 Okay okay so, everyone is very surprised first year when you’re placed into Slytherin.

This is because during the train ride you just seemed so pure you were wearing your favorite pastel colored dress and looked basically like a real life doll

Essentially you were the human embodiment of an angel and no one could imagine you hurting a fly

You met the Weasley twins on the train ride and thought they were funny and as you were placed into Slytherin they both shared glances with each other clearly surprised as most thought you’d be a Hufflepuff

Well, yknow, as they say don’t judge a cover by it’s book

You were, however, the nicest Slytherin, you were constantly helping others, giving compliments as you passed people in the halls

Anyways, let’s get to the juice details now, you stayed friends with Fred and George all the way up to your fifth year, when they both started acting weird around you

It was as if they both couldn’t be around you at the same time, or else it was as if they were competing for your attention like two cats

Then, one fateful day, they came up to you at separate times and confessed to you, you spent the whole day thinking, stressing, not able to focus on your studies, until finally your friend asked, “What’s wrong?”

“How do you pick between your two favorite things, like let’s say you want cookies but you also want to have the yummy pastries on the side as well?”

Her response, sent a bell ringing through your head, “Why not both?  I mean is there a reason you have to choose?”

As soon as she said that you shot up, “I gotta go do something.”  You found Fred and George and pulled them aside, “Do I have to pick between you two?  Because I love you both...and I don’t want one without the other…”

The twins shared a glance with each other, eyes glinting with mischievous, as they responded in unison, “Yes, we quite like that idea, darling.”

 Since then, you were dating both  boys, whenever, you had classes together, they would send little notes flying your way ranging from cute things like, “You look wonderful today, y/n.” “You look great in that dress.”  

- You could tell apart the twins easily, unlike everyone most of the time, which resulted in them trying to play tricks on you a lot

You would play along for a bit before finally saying, “I can tell you two apart ding dongs, I’m not your girlfriend for no reason, now stop it or I’m ignoring you both for the rest of the week.”  After that threat, they would immediately stop, begging for attention

On days, that you were feeling down about yourself because you didn’t look like the other pretty, popular girls they would cheer you up

They would bring your favorite treats, snuggle you between them, and say sweet things like, “Well, you look absolutely divine, y/n.  And we love you, we prefer you this way it’s perfect for both of us.”  Then, they would immediately start to tickle you, till eventually you accidentally kicked one of them off the bed then they’d burst in laughter

They are also especially protective of you knowing how kind and pure hearted you were and get quite heated if anyone insults you.  As soon as someone even utters an insult your way it’s like their ears twitch and they turn around immediately, defensively standing in front of you ready to throw a punch.

Due to this there have been plenty of times you had to hold them back from beating someone to a pulp, and having to calm them down in a corner telling them it’s fine to which George responds, “It’s not fine.  They’re insulting you and honestly you shouldn’t be fine with it either.  You shouldn’t be fine with them walking over you because imagine if someone said stuff about us, you’d be angry right?  You should be that angry when someone says that to you too...but we won’t go throwing punches if you don’t want us to?  Right, Fred?”  As Fred huffs before nodding and pulling you closer to calm his anger.

Dates with the boys are usually very light hearted you would go down to Hogsmeade and eat snacks together, or they’d set up a little picnic for you with cute foods that they tried, keyword tried, to make knowing that you like cute things

They also buy you cute plushies or clothes that they think you’d like and bring it on your dates saying, “It reminded us of you so….we got it”

Next thing you know, you have like 50 different plushies crowded in your room and you don’t know how to nicely tell them to stop bringing you so many plushies because it’s too cute but eventually one of your roommates tells them off when the plushies start to fill up on their side of the room too

One time they made cookies which were very cute, but almost broke your tooth off as you took a bite, resulting in you having to go to Madam Pomfrey

After that incident, they usually just buy the snacks or have their mother send them food as you love her cooking as much as she loves you especially because you keep her troublemakers in check

Sometimes though they will purposely make nasty things to see if you’d either pretend to like it and keep eating or actually tell them off, it’s their little mini social experiment/prank on you, which you catch on eventually, and whenever you notice that evil glint in their eyes you purposely play along and make sure they eat their nasty food first to see how long it takes till they break 

Basically, these boys are just really sweet and treat you like you’re a freaking empress 

NSFW

Now onto the spicy spicy details….

Fred usually initiates the contact, as he does with their pranks

He’s more so the dominating one as George follows along or sometimes watches before he jumps in, not able to handle the teasing you give him

Anywho, whenever you’re feeling down, especially being self deprecating, they both take you and show you just how much they love you, let me paint a picture:

As said, Fred usually initiates contact, you’ll be studying in the library and he’ll slide his hand up your thigh, watching as you shiver slightly from the contact goosebumps rising on your skin

Nonchalantly he asks, “Is it cold in here, darling?”  Playing his game you reply, “Nope.” and smile smugly

This will, of course, set off his slightly competitive spirit as his hand goes further, tracing the outline of the fabric covering where you need the most friction

Then George comes into play, being just as mischievous he’ll play his brother’s game, sliding his hand up your other thigh as they both continue to stare at their books as if potion ingredients were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world

A slight moan escapes, as Fred’s finger starts circling your clit, wetness pooling in your center as they both tsk, “Y/n, you’ll have to be quiet, we are in the library after all.”  

Anywho, ahem ahem, there’s usually a cycle you have going to make sure everyone gets the equal amount of attention, first it’ll be you and Fred as George, next you and George as Fred, lastly, all three of you

Fred will be pounding into you relentlessly, to blow off steam, especially if they lost a quidditch game, as George plays with your clit as you suck on his cock.

However, rough or gentle these boys are the aftercare is to die for

It’s filled with cuddles and jokes as the boys talk about what pranks they’re working on or new things for their joke shop

They usually clean you up, offer to give massages, and even if you decline they’ll both caress your bunched up shoulders working out any knots, as they trace your skin softly with their lips

But be careful, sometimes they’ll offer you drinks but in reality, it usually has some type of thing they’re planning for their joke shop, so sometimes you might end up being a guinea pig(They do test it on themselves before they test it on you though they’re not complete monsters)

[catharrington]

I don't know if you have time/desire for more catboy but if you do...

Steve getting something gross stuck in his fur (maybe Billy's bubble gum or some candy?) and Steve's trying to contort himself to clean it, but it's in a spot he just can't quite reach so they have to figure out how to get it off when a bath just makes it worse.

Time? None at all. Desire?? Overflowing with it, babe!!

Oh my gosh let me take this opportunity to enjoy some Halloween time!! I imagine cat boy Steve loves Halloween because hey free built in costume he always wears! Him and other cat people just have the best All Hallows ever!

Steve didn’t have much when he first came to Billy’s, just the ears on his head and the collar that got unceremoniously dumped into the trash can. Billy convinced him to go shopping together once, and Steve didn’t care for it much. Felt far too close to a date, too close to what he wanted from Billy— but not what the other wanted from him.

So soon billy just started leaving money on the coffee table where he could. Small amounts. Just enough for Steve to use it to feel some sort of independence. Because billy was stepping far too over the line— no way Steve actually wanted to be in a serious relationship with the guy he nicknamed ‘kidnapper’.

Halloween was different, Halloween was everything goes. Steve had gotten a job at a library just down the Main Street of town, not a 5 minute walk from their apartment. He would sit behind the counter tapping his long nails across a hard back book, most days, using his pointy ears and flicking tail to point out teenagers making too much noise. And the older woman who worked there all fawned over him.

He took the later evening shift, he said it was to help the old bats out, also I’m by myself! Don’t have to worry about them touching my ears or calling me ‘kitty’ to my face!

He would stumble home every day with his ears low on his floppy brown hair, and his shoulder bag filled with books across his chest.

Billy told him he shouldn’t be walking that late at night, don’t care how far, makes me worried someone might want a pretty cat like you?

And Steve would laugh, strip down to a pair of flannel pajama bottoms he stole from Billy, giggling the whole time, and lay down so his head is on Billy’s chest. Let those rough from work hands relax the tension in the muscles around his ears.

They didn’t talk much, didn’t need to. They felt like two jigsaw puzzle pieces meeting. And those don’t have to talk to know they fit.

Halloween was the first time Billy got to see the side of Steve that wasn’t soft sweaters or library books. Wasn’t a fierce independence acting as a wall againt the trauma of abandonment. Of abuse.

Halloween was the first time Billy got to see Steve in a skin tight black cat suit. Designed for cat boys and bought because there’s a bar right down the block from the library and it’s free drinks for cats tonight! I’ve just got to go, Billy, that’s so rad!

Halloween was when Billy followed Steve around, not the other way around. Pulled out an old leather jacket he was surprised still fit him at all. Didn’t talk about the way Steve was going for an all black look but didn’t make any move to take off the brown leather collar Billy got him as an apology gift.

Didn’t talk about the way the wet look pleather on Steve’s cat suit matched. Didn’t mention they looked like a couple. That Billy might hinder Steve if he’s looking to ride a dick that night.

No, he just smiled and walked arm in arm down the block as the sun set. Pretty oranges and red filling the sky. Leaves crunching underfoot the same color as Steve’s pretty hair, all styled up with hairspray and perfect as could be.

The building is lit up with strings of bright purple, a lime green naked bulb sits in the front door where a bouncer stands and collects Billy’s head fee while Steve just flicks his tail to get it.

The bar is crowded with ghouls, and goblins, witches line the bar with their pointy hats. Decorated with arching white spider webs.

Billy knows Steve really only drinks wine because it actually tastes good unlike the piss Billy drinks, so he ain’t surprised when he orders some candy-apple monstrosity. Laps it up with his devilish pink tongue when he gets it. Catches Billy watching over the rim of his tall beer glass.

Steve downs the martini in one gulp before grabbing Billy around the hand, pulling him with a naughty glint in his eye towards the dance floor.

He turns around, moves Billy’s hands around his hips, purrs dance with me, nice and slow?

In a question that doesn’t sound like a question. His tail wrapping possessively around Billy’s legs. Billy groans back, right into the chocolate fudge swirl of his sensitive ear, set the pace, pretty cat, you know I’m good for it.

They let go for song after song, rolling into the next like their bodies roll. Billy’s belt buckle shimmering and catching against the fabric of Steve’s cat suit. Both a mess of sweat, dripping off their foreheads into their greedy open mouths. But they don’t care, they don’t stop.

Not until Steve’s ear gets yanked by another bar patron. Billy’s got his face burrowed into the side of Steve’s neck, drowning the way his wild flower and musk cologne always lingers on the plush leather, so he doesn’t realize anything happening until Steve’s hands move off his own. They lift from where they were cupped around Billy’s own to swat at another hand hovering around his head. His ears. They stayed at if risking another grope.

Steve hissed low and mean, warning three’s a company, creepy bastard! Now back off before I show you how quick I can bite off a dick. His voice nothing like Billy’s heard it. It made his head snap up so quick.

The guy wouldn’t let up, his face ruddy with alcohol and his golden Roman crown as lopsided as his sheet he’s trying to pass off as a costume. He pops a sucker out his mouth to reply. It’s made his whole mouth cherry red, Billy hates to look at it. Hates the words he’s spewing even more.

Steve only lets him get a sentence into his explanation about how a wild cat like you needs a firm hand before he’s shoving with two fingers into the center of the guy’s chest. Backing him up with a sharp nail that disappears into the fabric. Hopefully to leave a prick of blood.

Billy’s hand snaps forward of its own accord, pressing his huge palm flat into the guy’s shoulder and sending him stumbling backwards. He’s always up for a bar fight, knows a drunk bastard like this wouldn’t win always. He shouts out I warned you man, and now I gotta kick your ass! But doesn’t get that far.

He’s caught by two hands on the lapels of his jacket. Yanking him to the side where Steve’s turned from the ass hole. Watching Billy with those nervous dinner plate eyes again. All glittering gold and chocolate chips, making his knees weak. He’s not worth it, Steve purrs. And he’s right. The guy isn’t worth it. But Steve’s worth winning one bar fight and so, so much more. He’s worth the world to Billy. So he listens and follows as they dip to the bathroom.

It’s not until Billy’s coming out of the stall he used to take a leak does he notice that creepy bastard’s pop stuck in the fur of Steve’s tail. It’s amazing he doesn’t feel it, all glossy and red and clutching at the silky fur, but it’s a testimony to how thick his tail really is. Billy knows, he’s had the honor of running his fingers through it enough times.

He offers let me help, get some soap and try to scrub it out.

But Steve just laughs, bracing himself on the side of the cracking porcelain sink, lifting one leg up while the other held his weight, then twists around until the flat of his tongue can lick across the base of his tail. Gathers spit by licking and licking, grooming the pop off his fur inch by inch until it detached into his mouth.

He drops his leg from the sink with a sigh, a dreamy moany thing that Billy’s never going to get out of his head.

Watches as Steve rolls the pop around in his mouth a couple times, savoring the artificial cherry flavor. Savoring the way he wasn’t about to let that ass hole ruin his Halloween. Then he pressed to open the trash bin with one stomp before spitting the pop away.

Billy’s never been more turned on, never been more grossed out as the same time he’s so hard. Never wanted to taste the lingering bubble pop cherry flavor from another pair of lips before.

He simply leans back against another sink and whistles, says that was something else, Stevie, where all can you reach?

And Steve doesn’t tell him. Huffs out the side of his mouth while he rolls his eyes. Blushing pretty. Says I seriously need another drink now. And something not cherry!

And Billy follows him back to the bar, decorated for Halloween and dripping with spider webs, with a smile.

[magpie-scribbles]

Brass Knuckles

For the serve collab I wrote some spicy Rappa! Enjoy my lovies!!

Rating: E

Pairing: Rappa x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut

_________

Honestly it was a little unsettling, yet...oddly incredibly cool, the pair of brass knuckles gleaming up at you from the pink and white tissue paper that sat inside the overly done up box. You're almost a bit nervous to pick them up, half concerned they might have already been ...broken in; but the way they shone and glinted in the light of your apartment had you plucking the polished metal from their little nest.

They were definitely new as you turned them over in your hands, and then ever so gingerly slipped them over your fingers. They were slightly big, the metal not quite kissing your skin when you balled your fists. But it was a close fit nonetheless and you felt a strange rush of power zip through you as you looked down at the brutish weapons on your knuckles.

You hated to admit it, but you could get used to this feeling.

"Oh jeez!" You had spent so much time admiring the shiny objects you'd completely forgotten that they were part of a whole deal.

Routing through the box you found a small envelope under another layer of tissue paper; a simple envelope, with your name scrawled across the back neatly. A little more excitedly than you wanted to admit you ripped into it, a wrinkled piece of card stock falling out.

'Oh...the same person definitely didn't write this…' your name on the front was so neat and fancy, the company must have written it. This must have been written by your match…Their address; It was legible, chicken scratch but legible. But yikes...you read the address again;  that was not a nice part of town.

You looked at the knuckles adorning your hands, were you literally going to have to use these in order to meet your match...that thought definitely gave you some major anxiety.

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

Well, luckily you hadn't had to use the brass knuckles on your trip over to your match's place, though there were a few times you felt you fists clench around the rings.

But there you were, safe and sound at a not completely awful apartment complex, though it had definitely seen better days. The door to the apartment on the address looked a bit worse for wear, and you can't seem to find a doorbell or buzzer anywhere.

Apprehensively you knock, the metal of the brass knuckles ringing a bit.

It seems like forever as you fidget and wait before you hear heavy footsteps coming towards the door...very heavy...was your match a dinosaur?? You tense as the door opens and you nearly have to do a double take. The man standing before you is huge, so much so that you can't see his face until he hunches over a bit.

"Uuuuhhhhh hey…" you manage to squeak out, waving at the behemoth before you in a daze, holy shit his biceps had to be as thick your thighs… maybe ever your torso.

"Oh shit, ya wore them!" He grins, and pushes the mop of hair back that covered his eyes...oh! He has pretty eyes; honestly you were a bit surprised how pleasing he was. "Ya must be Y/N." He eyes you up and down and you can't help but squirm under his gaze. "Didn't expect to get such a cutie."

You blush and tuck some of your hair behind your ear.

"Thanks." He's already buttering you up and fuck you didn't think you'd be this effected, but god...he's tall, he's buff, he's got a deep rumbling voice and you can tell there is a feralness about him, and well...you shouldn't have already felt your legs beginning to tremble. "Sorry and you are?"

You stick out your hand...you stick out your hand…???

He laughs heartily and humors you, his hand completely engulfing yours and part of your wrist.

"Either you're shy or coy, I can definitely work with both…" your face feels even hotter. "Names' Kendou Rappa." He gives your hand a firm shake and you can tell he's using only the smallest amount of his strength.

He leans against the door frame. Hand that had just been on yours coming to relax on his belt. Your eye, damn them, immediately hone in on the the hands resting against the leather...and then over, No stop that!

"Nice to meet you Rappa" you reply, trying to act you hadn't just been ogling him.

"Call me Kendou, cutie" he's teeth flash. "Now ya comin' or what?"

Was that innuendo or was your brain just going haywire, because you actually got matched with a guy that you were very quickly discovering you would climb like a tree.

"Lead the way big guy." Oh god did you just say that. Either way he seemed to like it, his smirk growing as he stepped aside for you to enter his apartment.

You take his offer, moving past him, trying not to think about the heat of his body or his smell. He shouldn't smell this good…

As you take off your shoes you do a quick survey of the place; it's not awful, definitely a bachelor's pad. At least there weren't any naked lady posters adoring the walls from what you could see... like in the last guys place your friends had set you up with. Sad that a guy that signed up for a night of pleasure and romance with a stranger had more class than a guy your friends tried to get you with.

Removing your jacket you looked around for a hook...only to find it well above your reach...of course it would be, the guy was huge, he probably adjusted a lot of the things in his apartment to work with his size.

You hear him chuckle from behind you and then he's plucking the jacket from your hands.

"So ever done this before? The secret date thing I mean." You ask as he places your jacket up.

"Nah, first rodeo, usually do it the ol' fashioned way." He has an air of confidence about him that makes you think he's never had a problem picking someone up at a bar or club...why did that make you jealous? "How 'bout you princess?"

You sputter at the nickname but quickly regain your composure.

"Been on blind dates before...but nothing like this." You reply...you're still in the entryway of his apartment, glued to your spot.

"Somethin' we have in common then." He grins and fuck you feel weak in the knees.

You wouldn't call his actions or words charming, but truth be told, you didn't want that...no you wanted something else, something primal…

"So...what exactly are we supposed to do now, the sign up info didn't really give any outlines or rules." You fidget with the knuckles on your fists, the metal warming under you touch quickly.

Rappa seems to notice and his golden eyes flash with interest. And he budges up closer to you, not enough to set you on edge, but enough to feel his presence and make you shiver at it.

"Well, way I figure it I'd let ya take the reins sweetheart, whatever you wanna do. We could order dinner, get to know each other, do it the proper way…" he pauses, having piqued your interest.

"...or…" you almost whisper, and he leans in further, enough so his wild mane of hair tickles your face.

"...or." at this point you're sure the only thing keeping you upright was the wall behind you, pressing into your back. "We could move straight to dessert, and do all that other proper stuff later."

You lick your bottom lip; you hadn't been this turned on in awhile, and he hadn't even touched you yet. You definitely didn't want to waste your chance.

Leaning up, you practically had to stand on you tippy toes, your nose brushed his as you breathed in his air, your lips only a whisper away from his own.

"I've always had a sweet tooth…" you reply softly, teasingly.

He chuckles and that, and you can practically feel the rumble of it.

"Looks like we gotta 'nother thing in common." And before you can say another word he's scooping you up, your sound of surprise quickly muffled as he presses his mouth to yours roughly.

You immediately crumble in his arms and sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck, digging your hands into his wild hair. He growls at the feeling of your fingertips and angles his head, inhaling harshly through his nose, his teeth clacking against yours.

God this is what you wanted...what you craved, this primal energy. You register that you are moving but honestly you couldn't care less, already so lost in the feeling that was Rappa.

You hear the switch of a light and a dim glow kisses your closed eyelids. He's laying you down pressing you back into something soft, and you finally come up for air and dazedly take in your surroundings.

His bedroom, it's simple, cozy, though a little lacking in furniture, you see some weights in the corner, haphazardly lying about.

"How ya doin' princess?" He nuzzles into your neck, okay, maybe he was a little charming...in his own way.

You smile bringing your attention back to him, burying your hands in his hair once more and laying into him. You can feel him laugh into the kiss.

He moves you further up the bed, mindful of his weight and size as he drapes over you. One of his hands comes to rest on your thigh, the other slowly creeping beneath the hem of your shirt.

Your head is spinning; you want more and you want it now.

Your hands move to his back, gently pulling at the white fabric covering him. You whine, a pitiful sound that has him groaning, and propping up on his knees more so that you can pull the shirt over his head.

After that, it's a bit of a blur how you tear each others clothes off, his rough, strong hands making quick work of everything adorning you (even the gifted brass knuckles) before gleefully removing his pants and boxers when you hands come to tug at them in a weak attempt to remove them from your position.

Now laid bare Rappa sits up, eyes dark as he gazes over your form. You can hardly get enough of him, all bulk, scarred skin and just the perfect amount of hair dusting his chest, trickling down, down, down...holy shit…

"Look at you." He coos, cocking his head and observing you. "Like what you see??" He has a rather smug smile about that.

"Fuck…" you whisper, your brain shorting out.

He laughs at that and brings himself down for another kiss, which you eagerly accept.

You're already sopping for him, dripping onto the bed, when he presses two large fingers against your pussy. You arch and mewl at the sensation and he takes the opportunity to nip at your pulse point along your neck.

"Fuck sweetheart, you're already dripping for me." He husks against your neck, fingers swirling, gathering up your juices before he slowly presses a finger into you.

Your hands fly to his shoulders as the the thick digit enters you, a moan tumbling from your lips, as he curls the finger experimentally.

"Shit, you're tight, even though you're practically gushing." He groans, beginning to steadily thrust his finger in and out of your heat.

You honestly never knew you had such a thing for dirty words, but as he continued to move and added another finger while whispering the filthiest things in your ear, you felt your first orgasm approaching rapidly.

"Gonna cum for me sweetheart? Go on, make a mess." He's grinning, mouth just brushing against yours.

It only takes two more curls of his fingers before you're crying out, nails digging into his back as pleasure crashes over you, colors popping behind your eyelids.

"Fffuuuuccckkkk…" he groans, watching you tremble and whine as you slowly come back down from your high.

You pause for a moment to catch your breath before he lazily brings you in for a sloppy kiss, which you eagerly accept.

Then your world is spinning and you find yourself upright, legs sprawled on either side of his hips, your pussy smearing your essence along his thighs. Your gaze quickly goes down to the flushed cock laying thick and dribbling precum against his stomach. Honestly, you're not entirely sure how it's going to fit, you wonder if you can even get your hands around it fully. You decide to see if you can do just that, reaching out to grip his heated flesh. You hear him release a shuddering sigh as you run your thumb along one of the veins before completely circling him.

As you thought your fingers didn't touch and your pussy clenched at the notion.

You begin a slow measured rhythm, pumping him, making sure to thumb at the precum gathering at his slit, smearing it over the head and down his shaft.

Suddenly his hand is closing over your wrist and you look up, worried you had done something wrong. But the look in his eyes and the flush on his checks told you otherwise.

"Want ya to ride me, wanna see those pretty tits bounce as ya take my cock." He groans out, and you actually whimper in repy, his words settling heavy and hot in your belly.

You manage enough brainpower to nod and hike yourself up on your knees, positioning yourself over him. His large hands come to rest at your hips.

You grip him, tightly and slowly, ever so slowly you ease down on him. The stretch is both heavenly and too much, you manage to get yourself half way down his cock before you have to stop and take a breather. His hands are heavy on your hips but he doesn't push, even though you can feel the tremble of him holding back.

Finally you get used to feeling enough, pushing yourself the rest of the way down, your pussy lips pressing against his wiry pubic hair. You tremble and whimper, trying to ground yourself; you can hear Kendou trying to steady his breathing.

You place your palms on his abs, steadying yourself and then a moment later you lift yourself up, before impaling yourself again on his cock.

"Fuck princess…" he groans, the grip on your hips almost painful...but you kind of like it.

You begin a slow pace, getting more accustomed to his girth and feeling of his cock pressing up against your cervix. Though it doesn't take long until you're practically bouncing up and down on him and moaning nonsense.

"Kendou…" you whine when he thrusts up to meet you.

"Fuck look at you...look at you take me, such a good girl." He groans, one of his hands moving from your hip to your belly. "Feel that sweetheart?" He snaps his hips up. "Feel me practically rearranging your guts?" He says through gritted teeth.

You look down and nearly lose yourself then and there when he shifts his hand, you can see the press of him in your belly. His cock thrusting up, filling you more than you thought possible.

"Kendddooouuu…" your hands scrabble against his skin, nails digging angry lines down his stomach.

"Ya like that? Like seeing me split ya open." You can only nod in agreement as you weakly try to meet his pace.

You're so close, so close to your second orgasm, your body is singing, thrumming, ready to tumble over the edge.

"Gonna cum for me again? Want me to fill ya up?" His voice was strained, his pace was becoming sloppy, rougher.

"Yes, yes please, please, I'm so close, fill me up Kendou…" you whine, and bless this man, he brings the pad of his thumb to your clit and presses.

That's all it takes, the press of his thumb and you're calling out his name and cumming with such intensity you wonder if you lost consciousness for a moment.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…" he hisses, hips snapping up, roughly and then he's pressing impossibly close and groaning as load after load of his cum shoots into you. There's so much it starts to leak out of you before he even pulls out.

You're a mess...sweaty, full of cum, but so incredibly sated you can't even put it to words.

Rappa's hands come to rest fully on your hips again, thumbs gently massaging your hip bones as you both find your words.

"That...was some dessert." You finally manage, your heart fluttering as he gives a genuine laugh.

You squeak in surprise as he picks you up off him like you way nothing, cum leaking out of you as he tucks you into his side.

"Told ya I had a sweet tooth." He replies as you nestle down.

"Mmmm I think I might be a little addicted to sweets now." You say and his large palm comes up to soothe over your hair.

"Whaddya say we order some food, do all the proper stuff and then start round two?" He says and you laugh.

"I think I like that idea."

[sometimesitrytowritethings]

Mountain Man: Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | PART 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Mild sexual situations

Summary: You never thought you’d love again. Then Arthur Morgan came into town. Fate continuously has you meeting each other in odd ways, and a troubled past is something you are both familiar with. Perhaps that’s what will make this time different.

——-

You had headed home with Ben as quickly as possible after your discovery, ignoring all of your neighbors who tried to chat along the way. You walked with determination, caking your shoes and the hem of your skirt with mud and trying your best not to let any tears fall before you got home. Ben scampered along behind you, confused about what had made you so mad, but still not saying a word.

As soon as you had arrived at the door of the boarding house, you kicked off your muddy shoes and kneeled to hug your son, the tears that had been threatening to spill during your entire trek home finally running down your cheeks. You quietly cried, holding the small child tightly in your arms and cradling the back of his head with your hand. His small arms wrapped around you as well. He may not have known what was happening, but he knew enough to hug you back.

After a few minutes, you finally pulled away and moved your hands to Ben’s face, looking lovingly at your son. “Are you okay, Mama?” he asked, timidly, still overwhelmed by the sudden change in mood earlier.

You nodded and then pressed your forehead against his, closing your eyes. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” you told him. “I’m sorry if I scared you.” Your hands moved from his face to the curls on top of his head, as you moved to a kiss to his forehead.

Pulling away, you were relieved when he proceeded to reassure you. “I wasn’t scared, Mama,” he explained, looking up into your eyes. His own were watery as well. “I was just worried. Why are you so sad? Did I do something bad?”

This prompted you to pull him once again in a tight hug. “Oh no,” you said in his ear, comforting both of you at the same time. It nearly killed you that he could ever think that he was the cause of your sadness and frustration at that moment. “No, no, no, no. You didn’t do anything wrong, you wonderful, wonderful boy.” With another kiss to the top of his head, you pulled away from him to look him over. “You are so good, and I am so proud of you, and I love you so, so much. And I’m very very sorry about upsetting you.” You straightened his shirt and stood up to make your way into the house.

As you did this, Ben moved forward to hug your legs. “I love you, Mama,” he said, his voice muted by the fabric of your skirt.

You patted him gently on his curls, a small, sad smile on your face. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

The two of you stood that way for a couple more minutes in the hallway, your hand running through Ben’s curls as he held onto your legs as if for dear life. After finally re-gaining your composure, you knelt down and helped Ben take off his shoes, before opening the door and sending him up the stairs to change into clean clothes for dinner, which was luckily a much happier affair.

Ms. Chadwick and Mary joined the two of you for a meal of leftover stew from the previous evening and freshly-baked bread, courtesy of Jacob. Although you remained mostly in silent contemplation throughout the meal, Ben was more than happy to regale them with tales from the day. He spoke animatedly about all of the horses he saw, especially the “baby pony”, and of the Mountain Man who could draw “as good as a real picture!”

At one point, he had even run upstairs to grab the drawing and show it proudly to the entire table. Ms. Chadwick quickly oohed and ahhed over it, asking Ben questions about who this Mountain Man might be, all while looking knowingly in your direction. Mary, however, had suddenly gone silent, looking at the drawing with a sort of bittersweet recognition. Ben, of course, was not going to be satisfied with that reaction. When he turned to her to ask her opinion, her smile slipped back onto her face and she rejoined the conversation with practiced ease.

Not long after the stew had been eaten and the plates cleared off the table, the sun began to set. Bidding the others a good evening, you took Ben up to tuck him into bed before you left to meet Arthur. With a kiss on the forehead, you told him that Mary and Ms. Chadwick would be home, but you would join your friends for a few hours tonight, so he shouldn’t worry about you. He nodded, and after an exhausting, exciting, and overwhelming day, quickly fell asleep with the drawing tucked close to his chest.

You smiled and gently pulled the picture from his grasp to set it on the table near the window so that it wouldn’t be ruined as Ben slept. You then quietly slipped out of the house, luckily undeterred, and quickly made your way to the saloon. There was again a chill in the night air, as was common in Valentine in the spring, and you pulled your jacket tightly around your shoulders, contemplating what you would say to Arthur when you arrived.

If you remembered correctly, he had mentioned that he was going out to bring in a snake-oil salesman for a bounty the other day. It had to have been the same man. Should you mention it to him? Should you thank him? Would that be too strange? After all, he didn’t do this for you, he did it for the money. Before you had a chance to mull it over any further, you had reached the steps of the large, loud building.

Through the windows, you could see many of the same faces that graced the saloon on a nightly basis. You immediately spotted Margaret, in her bright yellow top and purple skirt, talking up a man by the bar. Anastasia was nowhere in sight, probably already upstairs with a lucky client. You continued scanning the room a bit more through the windows, but you didn’t see Arthur yet.

With a sigh, you decided to wait outside until he arrived, wanting to avoid talking to anyone as much as possible. You leaned against a pillar at the front of the building, watching as your breath crystallised in the air in front of you. As luck would have it, Arthur appeared shortly after you, dismounting his horse with a friendly wave. You were staring at the sky, so lost in thought that you nearly missed his arrival.

He called your name, and half-jogged to you once his horse was hitched, beaming. However, upon seeing the troubled look on your face, he immediately faltered.

“Before you say anything, I just…” you started, avoiding his gaze and not allowing him to speak first. “I want to thank you,” you finished, letting out a breath that you didn’t quite know you had been holding. Once again tugging at your jacket, you somehow managed to look Arthur in the eyes, tears threatening to spill again.

He immediately looked confused. “Woah, thank me? What for?” he questioned, coming over and stood next to you, leaning his hip on the same pillar. He was positioned slightly behind you as he pulled a cigarette out of his satchel and lit it. He took a drag of the cigarette first before holding it out for you. “Like I said, that picture weren’t nothin.”

You rarely smoked, but nodded your head anyway. Anything to calm you down. “It’s not that,” you replied, before pausing and inhaling the cigarette smoke. The somewhat familiar taste of tobacco entered your lungs and you handed it back to him, closing your eyes. It was all too much. “You… That man, your bounty? His name was Mr. Albright?”

Arthur nodded, eying you with confusion. He put the cigarette back between his lips.

It took a significant amount of effort to gather your wits together and explain everything to him. “He’s been here before,” you spoke slowly, testing out each phrase, making sure you were saying everything right. Closing your eyes and leaning your head back against the pillar, you continued, “About… about five years ago… Right before Andrew died…”

You didn’t need to say more. Contrary to his looks, and the rough-and-tumble attitude he usually tried to maintain, it was evident that Arthur was an empathetic person. He immediately understood. “Oh…” he pulled the half-used cigarette from between his lips and dropped it to the ground. WIthout another word, he had pushed himself off the pillar and turned to you, pulling you into a tight hug.

His strong arms wrapped around you. The smell of tobacco, trees and whisky overwhelmed your senses and you leaned into him, letting tears fall with less restraint than you had with your son. “We… we thought it was just the flu,” you managed, speaking through sobs into his shirt. “But it was harvest… and we had just had Ben... and he couldn’t afford to… to lay in bed for a week.”

You felt him nod reassuringly, and you continued, “So, this man came into town, boasting about this miracle cure... We weren’t sure, but there was just too much to do.”

One of his strong hands started rubbing your back in circles, and you thought you heard him let out a quiet shush. “It’s alright,” he said, his voice low and calm, as if he were talking to a panicked animal. “You don’t gotta talk about it if you don’t want. I understand.”

“He would have been fine within a week. I…” you finally managed to stop yourself, wrapping your arms around his neck with an exhausted sob.

Arthur shushed you again, his hand still rubbing your back. “You ain’t done nothin’ wrong,” he said, his voice still low and soothing. He pried you off of him and held you out at arms length, hands on your shoulders, looking into your eyes. “That man was a slippery, lyin’ sonovabitch,” he continued, trying to reassure you. “And now he’s finally gonna get what’s comin.”

You nodded and moved your gaze to the ground, unable to look Arthur in the eye. “Thank you,” you breathed, your voice trembling, almost a whisper. “I… I just… well, I came to terms with Andrew’s death a long time ago. But this… it just brings it all back somehow. Like it happened again.”

Suddenly, a large calloused hand gently took hold of your chin. Arthur lightly tilted your head back up to face him. “I know,” he said, training his eyes on yours again. “I know. And I’m real sorry. Losin’ someone you love… well, it never really goes away.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” you muttered with a sad smile, wiping the tears from your eyes.

After you had recollected yourself, Arthur finally spoke again. “If it’ll help, I can probably arrange with the sheriff for you to-“

“No!” You were immediately taken aback. Why on earth would you ever want to see that man? If he were to be hanged at the Valentine gallows, you would probably not even venture out of the house that day, just to avoid seeing those beady eyes. “Thank you,” you said quickly, once you remembered that Arthur was just trying to help, “but no, no, I don’t want that. It’s over. Hell, it’s been over for years now. He will get what he deserves and that’s it. I don’t want anything more to do with it.” Were you trying to convince Arthur or yourself?

He eyed you cautiously, curious about your reaction. “You shoa? Now, I ain’t sayin’ you should go in there and kill him or anythin’. But maybe seeing him, yellin’ at him a bit, would help?” he asked again, reaching over to wipe a missed tear from your cheek. His hand paused for just a moment, and even after he had pulled it away you could still feel his touch, lingering.

“I just…” you mumbled, swallowing down the lump that was working its way up your throat again. “I don’t know,” you breathed, dejectedly. Maybe he was right. Maybe you had mostly healed, but that wound had been ripped violently open again by this revelation. Maybe screaming at him, showing him how much he had hurt you, would help you heal again.

He resigned, letting you decide for yourself. “Well, you know I ain’t gonna force you to donothin’,” he reassured you, leaning down to pick up the still lit cigarette from the ground.

You watched him take a drag without hesitation as you contemplated what he said. “I know… and thank you. It's just…” you bit your lip, searching for what you wanted to say, “it’s hurting again. Like when it had just happened… I thought I was fine, that I’d moved on and was living my life…”

Arthur let out a small sigh and reached out with gentle fingers to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “And you are,” he didn’t remove his hand, instead he used it to cup your cheek and look at you in the eyes. You couldn’t place what you were feeling at that moment. It was strange. This man, who you had only met a few weeks ago, was making you feel safe. And heard. And valid. And it made you feel so incredibly guilty to feel this way with someone other than Andrew. “You’ve got a good life, a great boah, and there ain’t no need to feel bad about that. But you just found out that some greedy snake took what could have been away from you. I wouldn’t blame you for wantin’ to rip him a new one before he gets his justice.”

You paused for a moment, looking back into his eyes. It took effort to even breathe, but the feeling of his hand on your cheek was somehow comforting. Slowly, you nodded your head and whispered, “Alright. … Let’s go see him.”

“Alright,” he said back to you with a reassuring smile. His calloused thumb brushed your cheek again lightly. “I can talk to the sheriff in the mornin-“ You pulled away from him in a sudden burst of determination. No, not in the morning. It was now or never. You had no idea if you could will yourself to do this any other time. “-hey, what... you mean now?”

You looked back, and Arthur was standing in the same place, cigarette dangling from his lips, and his arms stretched to the sides as if saying, what on earth? “Of course! I’ve got the stomach for it now, you expect me to wait?” You called back to him, voice only slightly shaking.

He looked at you in shock before jogging to catch up with you. Mud squished under his boots as he ran, but he made it to you quickly. He put a hand on your shoulder to stop you for a moment, “Well, I-“

This time, it was your turn to reach up and caress his cheek. Which you did, before patting it lightly, embracing your newfound confidence. “Sheriff Malloy has known me for years. It’ll be fine.”

He paused for just a second, smiling and shaking his head in resignation, before tossing his cigarette on the muddy ground and stomping it out with his boot. After a moment, he gestured to the jail with his right arm and put his left behind you, his hand resting on the small of your back as he began to lead you to the small building. “Well alright then, let’s go.”

The Sheriff’s office, only a few more steps down the street, was nearly empty when you arrived. Looking through the window, you could see Sheriff Malloy sitting at his desk, writing by the light of the singular lit oil lamp in the room. On the left were two darkened jail cells: one completely empty, and the other housing a man, who was huddled in a dark corner, asleep.

Arthur knocked lightly before opening the door without an answer. Sheriff Malloy jumped to his feet, shoving the letter he had been writing quickly into a desk drawer. It was likely a letter to the lovely Mrs. Calthrope, with whom he was having a not-so-secret affair.

But that didn’t bother you at the moment, as your focus was immediately drawn to the man hunched over in the furthest jail cell. You heard Arthur explain the situation to Sheriff Malloy, who kindly left you to your business. With each step closer to the cell, you could feel your heart beating faster and your words threatening to catch in your throat. By the time you had reached him and grabbed ahold of two of the bars, you couldn’t speak.

Luckily, Arthur was right behind you to take charge. He banged on the metal bars with a metal coffee cup that he had picked up off the Sheriff’s desk, waking the cell’s resident with a jolt. “Mr. Albright!” he called, his voice deep and taunting. “I brought someone by to see you.” He held a hand comfortingly at your back as you looked at the man.

He was an older man, dressed in what were once, surely, fine clothes. His glasses, perched on his long nose, were cracked, and his beard and hair looked as if it hadn’t been washed in weeks. “You’ve seen the error of your ways, I hope!” he called to your companion, clambering to his feet, suddenly fully awake after seeing the face of his captor.

Arthur laughed, taunting the man. “I never been very good at that, I’m afraid,” he said, walking back to the desk to set down the coffee mug.

Mr. Albright, now beginning to panic again, dashed to the bars of the jail cell, pressing his face through them. You jumped back, not wanting to be near the man. “They’re gonna hang me! This is a gross miscarriage of justice!” he pleaded, his voice increasing in pitch with each phrase. He was terrified.

Anger bloomed in your face. This man, the man who murdered your husband, had the gall to claim innocence? He had the audacity to try to convince someone that he had done nothing wrong? You wouldn’t take that. “The only miscarriage of justisce around here is that you weren’t hanged five years ago,” you spat, voice coming out hoarse and full of venom.

He seemed to have finally noticed you at that, and turned his gaze to you without recognition. He didn’t know who you were. He didn’t have any idea what he had done to you - to your family. “Ma’am, you must be mistaken,” he explained, clearing his throat and trying his best to regain his composure. To convince you of his innocence. To con you into believing him, like he had done to so many others. “I am a healer! A medical man! I save people!”

His explanation made you sick. “Like you saved my husband?” tears threatened to fall again as you spoke, but this time they weren’t from sadness. They were from frustration, from anger, from pure, unadulterated hatred for the man before you.

“I- I am sure you must be mistaken,” he said, his voice getting higher. He slowly backed away from the bars and toward the other side of the darkened cell, treating you like an angry animal in the wild.

But as soon as his hands had left the bars, you lunged at him, getting as close to the man as possible. “No,” you shrieked, anger completely overcoming you. You reached into the cell, catching him by the shirt collar before he could fully get away. “I had accepted his fate. He was sick, and things happen, I thought. For so long I assumed there was nothing we could have done.” You pulled him roughly toward you, forcing him to look you in the eye.

“Ma’am, please…” his voice shook as he spoke. He raised his hands, palms towards you, in a futile attempt to diffuse the situation.

“You killed him!” you screamed, grabbing the other side of his collar with your free hand and shaking him in frustration.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about,” he managed, still trying to worm his way out.

You were having none of it. “Your miracle tonic was supposed to help him! But he took it and died overnight,” you hissed, lightly dusting his face with your spit. “Do you know what it’s like? To lose someone you love so dearly? To raise a child on your own after losing the love of your life? After being forced to sell your home? Do you?”

“I…” he stammered, looking towards the floor.

Even if he had been able to try to explain himself, you weren’t in the mood to let him. “How many other women are there like me out there? How many men have you killed for an easy payday?” your voice again rose in a steady crescendo as you questioned him, ending with you yelling the last phrase directly into his face.

He turned his face from you to look at the two men in the room, begging for help. “Please, someone get this woman out of here! She’s hysterical!” he cried. You roughly yanked on his collar so that his face was thrown forward and made contact with the metal bars.

Holding tight, not allowing him to move, you nearly screamed in frustration. “Hysterical? I finally realise that my husband was murdered, and I’m able to look the man that killed him in the eye only to have him deny everything?!” you shrieked directly into his face. He was pressed against the bars, his cheeks red. “You are damn right I’m hysterical!”

“Sheriff!” he called as best he could, pushing against the bars to escape your grasp. “Sheriff! Please get this woman out of my sight!”

You heard a sigh behind you and the scrape of chair legs against the wooden floor. “I’m real sorry,” came Sheriff Malloy’s voice from behind you, saying your name as his footsteps neared, “but I think you’d better leave.”

You knew you were about to be thrown out, but you would absolutely get the last word. “You sorry piece of shit!” you screamed again, shaking the man and forcing him to hit his head several times on the metal bars. You felt Arthur’s hands on your shoulders, pulling you gently away. “I hope you burn in hell for what you’ve done!” you spat, finally letting him go and stepping away from the cell.

Sheriff Malloy stepped up behind the two of you, also putting a hand on your shoulder. “Please,” he said calmly. “I think you should go now. He’ll get what he’s due. I promise.”

You finally acquiesced, letting Arthur direct you from the room and through the back door of the jail. Your heart was pounding, breath coming out in angry gasps, when you arrived outside. Arthur turned you to face him, shushing you gently and trying to calm you. “It’s alright,” his voice was calm, and directly opposite of how you were feeling, how you wanted to feel.

The adrenaline that had overtaken you was overwhelming. It left you with a red face, and desperately needing some sort of outlet for your increased energy. Arthur pulled you closer to him, still trying to calm you down with soft words and quiet shushes. Suddenly, your outlet had been found.

Without warning, you lunged for him. Your lips met his and he staggered backward. The kiss was needy and frantic, your hands on the sides of his face, keeping him in place and grazing over his stubble.

He paused for an agonizingly long moment, shocked, before finally kissing you back. Large, warm hands moved from your shoulders to your hips as he pulled you closer with a swift movement. You melted into him, leaning against the hard, warm panes of his body to keep your balance.

Nothing was said, but nothing needed to be said. The situation had gotten you incredibly worked up, and the two of you were inevitably acting on the sexual tension that had built up as high as a mountain over the course of your past few coincidental meetings. Lips still locked in a heated kiss, you reached up to run a hand through his hair and were pleasantly surprised to find it freshly washed. He must have had a bath before coming to dinner.

For some reason, the idea of him preparing for this, anticipating it, spurred you on. It was so incredibly thoughtful, incredibly attractive, that he would go to the effort for you. You moved one of your hands to gently stroke the back of his head, down to the nape of his neck where you took hold of some hair and gently pulled. He groaned into your mouth - the most erotic sound you had heard in years. You needed to hear it again. Determined, you made your move as he pulled away from your mouth and leaned into the touch of your hands at the back of his neck. You went for his throat.

Literally.

Your left hand slid to the collar of Arthur’s shirt, moving his bandana aside, and you stood on your toes to kiss and bite at his exposed neck. He breathed your name, voice like music in your ears. Slowly, his hands moved to the small of your back, helping you keep your balance and bringing your body closer to his, if that were even possible. He groaned again, tilting his head to the side, as you kissed along his jaw.

His hands moved from your hips to your backside, squeezing it and pulling you into him. A jolt of electricity shot through you as you pressed against his pants, feeling the hard, hot need at your waist.

His neck was giving you a goldmine of grunts and groans that you would dream about for the next month, but you wanted - no, needed - more. Slowly, you licked a line up to his ear before gently biting on his earlobe. Nothing mattered to you now except him - all of him.

Your fingers deftly unbuttoned his shirt, and then combed through the wiry hair on his chest. One hand then paused, sprawled across the middle of his chest, while the other moved up again to snake around his neck. You moved your mouth back to his, whispering his name, your voice trembling.

Meanwhile, strong, hot hands reached under the band of your skirt and under your blouse. He lightly brushed against your skin, hitching up your shirt until he could easily skim calloused fingers up your spine, forcing a needy whine from your lips.

Your other hand slid up his chest and again to the back of his neck, pulling him toward the back of the building. The aging slats of wood dug lightly into your back through the fabric of your blouse and jacket as you hitched your leg around his hip. A strong hand came to your thigh, helping you keep your leg locked around him. Your tongues danced, your hands pulled again at his hair, and he began to grind against you at an agonizingly slow pace. For just a moment, he pulled his lips away from you, and you got a look at him.

His cheeks were flushed, lips swollen, eyes glazed over with lust. You hadn’t seen something so handsome, so strong, so incredibly erotic in years.

Before you knew what was happening, he dipped his head low to the crux of your neck. His hot breath gave you goosebumps as he licked and nipped at your skin, leaving what would be very visible love bites in the morning. You hurriedly swung your arm up to your mouth, biting on your thumb to keep quiet, but not before you had let out a loud moan that sounded not completely unlike his name.

A dam had been broken and there would be no stopping you now.

Unless…

Arthur faltered at the sound of horse hooves headed in your direction, one hand on your thigh and the other balanced against the wall behind you. You took no notice until he started to reluctantly pull away with a drawn-out sigh. “You don’t want to do this, darlin’,” he groaned, unraveling your leg from his waist and stepping slowly backwards, away from you. The hand that had been on the wall was now massaging his forehead in frustration. “Not with me.”

You looked at him, confused, breathless, mind racing, heart still beating a mile a minute. What was he talking about?

“You‘re just worked up, ‘n’ I ain’t gonna take advantage of that,” he explained, having seen your confusion. He backed further away, face flushed, eyes closed.

“Arthur… what- what on Earth?” you started, but stopped yourself as you too came to your senses. He was probably right. You were incredibly attracted to him, that was true, but the two of you barely knew each other, not to mention that an alleyway behind the jail wasn’t exactly the best place for this to happen. “You’re… I suppose you’re right…” you groaned, leaning back against the wall and putting your hand over your face. “... but only about me being worked up.”

His eyes shot up from the ground to look at you, astonished, as if he didn’t believe you could want to be with him of all people. His shock was laughable. Of course you wanted him, how could you not? And how could he be remotely confused by that? “I absolutely do want to do this with you… but right now… behind the jail… maybe it’s not the best place for it…” the blush that stained your face after your adrenaline had gone down was impossible to hide.

You nervously glanced away from him and brought your hands together to fiddle with your wedding ring.

Maybe it was finally time to take it off.

[wrathfulmercy]

“Moan”

Send me “Moan” and I’ll generate a number from here

Fifteen: My muse removes one article of your muse’s clothing

Rick shouldn’t have followed him. He wasn’t his goddamn bodyguard, he was just an assassin he booked - and fucked - sometimes, nothing that should drive him insane to the amount it did tonight as he worried about Kevin’s safety. The meeting with a business partner worried him since he heard his name before, but Kevin was proud and independent enough that he didn’t ask for help, neither would he ever show worries towards Rick cause he probably thought the thing between them wasn’t something serious. They both weren’t emotionally involved or at least they shouldn’t be and still Rick couldn’t help it that he watched them secretly as things escalated.

Kevin got involved in a fist fight with his attacker while Rick took two others out, but as soon as he entered the restaurant to bring Kevin home, he noticed the blood stains on the collar of his perfectly white shirt.

“You gotta take this off.” Rick said back at Kevin’s place, opening the buttons with a still serious face, nearly as if he was pissed off or too focused on such a simple thing. But Kevin wasn’t blind, he noticed the wrinkles on Ricks forehead and even tried to tell him many times he was alright, but the assassin was a control freak and this was his boss after all. A good paying boss and he definitely didn’t want to miss the money - and the sex. But money was still the focus, right?

“You’re a fucking psychopath for playing the hero like this.” Rick cussed into his face, but still his eyes didn’t look at him cause he only focused on the buttons. “If I wouldn’t have been around…”

“Yeah, why were you around?” Kevin suddenly interrupted him but got nothing else than a scoff until he grabbed Ricks chin fiercely to face him. “Look at me, Grimes. Why have you been there? I thought it’s your free night? Aren’t you waiting like the loyal boy you are for me to pay you? Give you a job? Why were you there?”

With a frown Rick finished the last button before pulling the shirt out of the pants so he could open the fabric wide enough to expose his chest, with a worried look searching for marks. But there weren’t any, just the ones he left two days ago which he now striped over with his fingers. After a big relieved exhale Rick grabbed Kevin’s hand to pull it down, just freeing his face enough to kiss his lips, now his own hand resting on the mans neck. “Don’t get paranoid. Was a coincidence.” He wanted to shove it away, the possibility that this was more, but Kevin didn’t seem to accept it by now, stubborn as he was.

“Bullshit. I told you explicitly not to come. I didn’t even tell you the place. I’m not paying you for this shit, Grimes.”

Now Rick got angry and pulled away from him with another scoff, turning his back on him as he walked to the door without a word. “Where are you going? I didn’t say we’re done yet.” Kevin intervened and stopped Ricks movements right in front of the door.

“You should clean yourself up. You got a meeting with your assassin tomorrow.” Rick only mumbled back and closed his hand around the doorknob as Kevin spoke up a last time.

“Don’t you wanna keep an eye on my cleaning if I do it right? Damn my bodyguard gets sloppy now…”

A growl came from Ricks lips as he turnt around and rushed forward, grabbing the mans face to push him towards the wall where he kissed him hard and with a short sound of torture. “Shut up. I’m not your bodyguard.”

“Then for gods sake don’t act like one. Or do I need to pay you now for other services too?”

The tease was effective cause soon after Rick was pushing him into his bathroom, proving him that some of his services weren’t even having a price for him and protecting the man he probably fell for a little, was definitely one of it. It was just what he had to do cause he wanted it, not because he was forced. Same for the sex that followed in that night, now more or less relieved that the other was still alive and what could be better than good old “we survived” sex? Right, nothing. And definitely worth to go for it again.

@tigeriisms

[1000scrubs]

Round 2: Titus Mede II

Writer Titus Mede II ‘s entry for August 2021

ANTONIO ALBUS AURELIUS XVII sat in a chair bearing his name. He was waiting in a dark, seemingly infinite room, remembering neither why he was there nor how he got there. He concentrated hard, trying to think back to remember anything that could help him figure out what the Hell was going on. He could vaguely remember… robes? A stick? No, think harder… a beard? Nothing useful came to Antonio’s poor, empty head. Indeed, it was as empty as this void he was sitting in. But then—

“Bad morning to you,” said the dark-clad man, who had just entered the room from a doorway that had not existed a second earlier. The man was rather large, and after closing the door and turning around, Antonio got a proper look at him. He had a large mustache and an extremely fancy three-piece suit, though the fabric seemed impossibly dark. He had a large hat atop his head, and underneath the brim were his unsettling silver eyes. The look of him gave Antonio a feeling of visceral fear, though he could not tell why.

“Oi, you this pompous Aurelius sounding fella?” asked the man, who spoke in a thick Cockney accent.

“Yes, I am Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII. Where am I?” asked Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII.

“Well, ‘Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII’ — mind if I call you Tony? Nah, of course you don’t — you have been lucky enough to arrive here, in Hell, where you shall spend the rest of eternity being tortured in my district of New Los Angeles! Oh, but I suppose you won’t understand that reference.”

“What in G— in G— what? What in Go—“

“Oh, you can’t say that name here. Don’t even try. It’s a bit petty, if you ask me, but it’s not up to me! Anyway, my name is Tommy. I’m here to answer any questions you have before you are sent into New Los Angeles.”

Though Tommy’s blasé nature made him feel somewhat less uncomfortable, Antonio was rather confused. He had no idea what this “New Los Angeles” is, or how he had ended up in Hell. “Well,” he started, “for starters, I can’t remember a thing about my life on Earth. What exactly did I end up doing to get down here?”

Tommy chuckled. “Oh, where do I start? First of all, practicing the Arcane Arts is an instant no-no to the Big Man Upstairs. Massacring an entire village probably didn’t help either. But what threw you over the edge was definitely the time you—“

“No, no, this has to be some sort of mistake. I didn’t do any of this stuff, I’m a good man! There has to be some sort of trial, or appeal, or something! This isn’t fair!”

“Fair? Tony, you’re in Hell, there is no more ‘fair’. Except Jimmy’s ‘Fun Fair of Fantastical Flying Feet’, were you are mercilessly pelted by— you know, I should stop getting so sidetracked, I’ve got 12,000 other people to orient after you before my shift is over. No, Tony, there’s no appeal, there’s no trial, and I think I’ve answered all of your questions. So peace out, and make sure you follow my TikTok when you get to the Social Media Torture Tower!”

Antonio started to object. “Wait, you haven’t answered my—“ but before he could finish, Tommy was gone, instantly returning through the doorway that had been there a second ago. He was now immensely confused, perhaps even more so than before. However, before Antonio had any time to think about what just happened, or why the demon was so well dressed, he was suddenly sucked through space to another location in the most painful way imaginable.

“Ianuae Magicae!” he shouted instinctively. The pain and the sensation of movement stopped; he had broken through whatever ethereal force had been moving him, and was in what appeared to be an infinitely large library. Antonio scoffed. “Another damned infinitely large room? And full of books? What, is this some kind of nerd kingdom? I’ve just gotta find a way out of here.”

“The exit’s over there,” someone said behind him. Antonio turned around quickly, and was greeted by the sight of a normal librarian, albeit looking extremely tired.

Antonio narrowed his eyes, not knowing what to expect. “Excuse me?”

“You want to leave the library, right? So instead of wandering around and making a racket, there’s the exit. Now get out and let me get back to re-reading the end of the Eragon trilogy, it’s the least terrible thing in this library.”

Antonio didn’t want to be in the vicinity of anyone who would even think of reading something like that recreationally, so he took her advice and left through the doorway she pointed out. He then found himself in an infinite-looking corridor, which looked like something right out of a 1980s office building. Antonio started walking aimlessly, but what seemed like hours later, he was still going down the same corridor with no end in sight. Fed up with his predicament, he opened the nearest door and went in. It turned out to be an elevator, so he clicked on the top level and waited.

When Antonio’s eyes finally opened, he could not quite understand what he was looking at. It seemed he had fallen asleep during the impossibly long elevator trip, but having arrived at the top, he was now seeing a gigantic, gothic-styled room that was entirely colored in black with red accents. The wall to his right was one giant, uninterrupted window, with a red hue shining from the outside. In front of the middle of the window was an ominous looking throne and a desk, with a villainous chandelier hanging above. Running out of adjectives to describe this room, Antonio noted the oppressive and boiling hot atmosphere inside the room before stepping inside. He sat down at the throne and started going through the desk, finding many files that seemed to detail the various operations of Hell. Antonio finally realized… he was sitting in the Devil’s chair.

“That’s kinda neat-o,” he thought to himself. As anyone would, he immediately went to look for his file. “Hmm, ‘Antony A. Augustine’, ‘Anthony A. Andreas’… ah, here we go, ‘Antonio A. Aurelius'! Oh, of course there are 17 of them… there it is: ‘Antonio A. Aurelius XVII’”

Antonio opened his file and was shocked to see the photograph inside. He saw a picture of a rather horrific looking man, with a gaunt and sickly looking face, terrible hair, and unsettling eyes. Shrugging this disturbing revelation aside, he looked back into the file and started reading it. “Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII, born in 13th century Tuscany? Exemplary record… lived a nearly flawless early life? If only he hadn’t chosen to become a necromancer!?”

This deeply shook Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII. Though it turned out Tommy had been exaggerating, as Antonio had apparently lived a good life outside of necromancy. Nobody had liked him of course, being a heretic necromancer who looked like some kind of cheap horror movie character, but Antonio had still provided valuable services when people had needed them. “I shouldn’t be here,” he thought. “I should be up in Heaven. I can only imagine how many other mistakes like this have been made…”

Antonio looked around some more and found a computer in Satan’s desk. He wouldn’t have thought that they used computers in Hell, but it made more and more sense the more he thought about it. Naturally, Satan’s password was “password”, and Antonio decided he would take advantage of the situation to implement some cosmic justice. He would bring balance to the universe, being a righteous man given the power of God.

After typing in a few commands, Antonio hit the return key like it had owed him money. Satisfied, he got up and turned around to look out of the massive panoramic window. He could see a vast ocean of lava, with a coast that was blackened and rocky, looking inhabitable and yet lit up with the bright lights of many settlements, which were all doubtless places where the residents of Hell were tortured. As he watched, he saw hundreds of bright beams of light flash from the muddy red sky straight down to the ground. He smiled to himself, just as he heard a colossal crash behind him.

“What in the Hell,” bellowed the Devil, “has conspired here?” The Devil walked into the room, the ruined remains of the main door behind him. His voice sounded of pure power, with an impossibly booming level of bass that Antonio could feel in his bones. He was the size of 3 men, with a large forked tail and two large horns protruding out of his forehead, which was maroon, matching the rest of his body.  “I’m taking my first vacation in millennia, enjoying my time in San Diego, when I’m informed that some unauthorized low-life scum is in my personal office? And not just any unauthorized low-life scum, a resident?”

The Devil looked Antonio up and down, his glowing red eyes seeming to see straight into every cell in Antonio’s body. His sharp teeth became visible through his grin, then he started laughing. “Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII? You’ve just made your stay here in Hell… so much worse.”

With a motion of Satan’s hands, Antonio was restrained by some glowing red binds. Before Satan could continue, an extremely fit man dressed in white robes blasted straight through the panoramic window with contempt. He had short black hair with piercing, almost luminescent blue eyes. His clean-shaven jaw looked sharp enough to use as a weapon, and everything about him made Antonio feel inferior in every way. Even looking at the man for too long started to make his eyes hurt. Effortlessly hovering in the air, now with no discernible expression of emotion, he went over to Satan and looked him straight in the eyes. Satan, on the other hand, was seemingly unable to hold his gaze, and looked away.

“The Lord would like to express His dissatisfaction with you, Lucifer,” he said matter-of-factly in an extremely posh-sounding British accent, his voice sounding impossibly clear and extremely commanding. “There is a holy pact that has gone back to the founding of the universe. I know your kind doesn’t take kindly to any amount of reason or honor, but even I didn’t expect you to do something like this.”

Before the intimidating-looking man from Heaven could continue, Satan interjected. “I have done nothing of the sort, knave! This is the work of this dark magician, Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII.”

The man from Heaven turned around and sighed heavily. “Please, you expect me to believe that? You lot really are pathetic.”

Satan growled with irritation. He turned to Antonio. “What did you do?” he asked in a low, hushed voice.

Antonio smiled to himself and puffed up his chest, entirely overconfident and forgetting his place. “I have done what you are either too evil or too unintelligent to do,” he said, looking at both Satan and the well-dressed man from Heaven, the latter of whom immediately raised his eyebrow. “I have sent the best half of all people in Hell to Heaven. These people did not deserve to be here. They made mistakes in life, yes, but were ultimately good people.

The immaculately dressed man from Heaven scoffed. He turned to Lucifer and said, “Do you take the Lord and all of us in Heaven for fools, expecting us to believe this utter shamble? Could you have not picked a more convincing low-life to take the fall for you?”

“I know nothing of the situation!” Satan shouted angrily. He started storming over to the computer. Antonio stood by, unflinching, in total confidence that he had done the right thing.

“I mean, seriously,” continued the really very fancy looking man from Heaven. “If you’re going to come up with some pathetic excuse, don’t pick one we will so obviously know isn’t true. There has been no such influx of your heathenry to Heaven. Spending so much time down here really does reduce God’s creations to absolute worthlessness.”

Antonio was confused upon hearing this. How did none of the people he freed show up in Heaven? And why is the man from Heaven so rude? All of a sudden, he heard a bellowing roar from Satan, who promptly punched him with cosmic force. Antonio flew across the room, before hitting a television mounted on the wall. The force of the impact completely destroyed the TV, and Antonio was now lying on the ground reeling in pain.

“Do you realize what you have done!?” Satan was furious. “You will burn in the deepest circle of Hell for all eternity—I will torture you myself!”

The impeccably dressed man from Heaven scoffed again. “Are you seriously pretending to not know what happened? A man of God such as myself will not be so easily fooled by your pathetic tricks, Lucifer.”

“Don’t call me that! And you—” he turned to Antonio, who was now entirely aware that he was little more than an ant compared to everyone else in the room, then continued. “All you have done is send the WORST half of all people in Hell back to EARTH!”

The man with a perfect sense of fashion from Heaven interjected before the Devil could continue. “Finally, you admit to your wrongdoings, you traitorous wretch! I trust you realize that this surely means war, I was sent here to find out why this has happened and I have found no compelling reason whatsoever!”

The Devil sat still for a moment. “I suppose there is nothing else to be done in this situation.” He picked up a mobile phone and started typing an angry Tweet announcing his intentions. After he finished, he moved over to his desk, where he drafted and signed a document that was naturally written using someone’s blood. Probably someone who hated pens, documents, or both. He then got up and handed it to the hovering man from Heaven.

“A declaration of war? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, coming from such animals as you. I shall take this up to the Lord Himself, who shall surely destroy you once and for all. See you never,” he said, before flying straight out of the window and disappearing into the sky, sending a sonic boom echoing throughout Hell. Satan then turned to face Antonio, who was nowhere in sight.

Antonio, still in disbelief that he had manage to slip away undetected, was running as fast as he could to try and get as much distance between himself and the Devil as possible. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t looking where he was going, and ran straight into a guardrail with enough speed to flip straight over it, helplessly falling straight into some sort of magic portal that was stationed several miles below.

#

Antonio awoke again, though this time instead of being presented with the depressing sight of Satan’s office, he could feel a pleasant breeze on his face and grass beneath him. Sitting up, he looked around to see grassy rolling hills with a city in the distance. The view was short-lived, though, as soon a large aircraft dropped a gigantic bomb, destroying the entire city in one blast. Not ten seconds later, a missile shot up from the top of a faraway hill, striking the plane and destroying its wing. The plane faltered, then fell out of the sky, crashing down into a field with all of its explosives onboard, causing an even more massive explosion that wiped out a nearby town. Antonio heard gunfire behind him, and turned around to see two armies fighting each other. The two armies ran at each other and Antonio could only imagine the ridiculous amount of bloodshed going on.

Suddenly, amidst the fighting of the two armies, a giant red portal opened up out of the Earth. Soldiers started falling in, only to come flying back out impaled on the horns of giant red demons that had erupted out of the portal. The demons landed on the ground and promptly started tearing both armies to pieces. Before Antonio could even comprehend what was happening, another giant white portal appeared in the sky. Hundreds of people who looked similar to the man from Heaven he saw earlier flew out like Supermen, some riding on giant chanting chariots, all of them without any weapons at all. The demons, seeing this, roared with ferocity and left into the sky to fight them, with the humans, now fighting side by side on the ground, shooting at their backs. The angels and demons met some thousand feet off the ground, combining cosmic blows that destroyed everything on the ground for miles. It seemed as though each angel could easily destroy a hundred demons at a time, but more and more demons kept appearing. More and more fighting was happening, clearing away anything and everything else in the sky, and knocking Antonio hundreds of feet along the ground even though he was far, far away from the fight.

Stunned, Antonio sat up again, ears ringing and completely covered in dust and debris from the blasts in the distance. Through his blurred vision he looked around him. The countryside was destroyed, and the cosmic forces were nowhere to be seen, surely having moved the fight elsewhere. Antonio tried to stand, but his body was too sore from being thrown about. He blacked out.

#

Antonio awoke once more, and now was greeted with the sight of a hospital. The inside of a hospital, that is. In fact, now that he’s waking up properly, Antonio noticed that this hospital was completely overcrowded. The nurse came over and looked him up and down. “I’m not sure why you’re still here, but get up and get out. Go down the hall and to the left.”

He wasn’t particularly surprised by her rudeness, given the circumstances, so he got up and went down the hall she mentioned. Even in the hall, there were bandaged people strewn all about the ground. “This is truly apocalyptic,” Antonio thought to himself, trying not to think about how he had caused it all. Upon reaching the end of the hall, he decided that he was a maverick, and went right instead of left. After a short walk, he found himself in what appeared to be a recruitment center.

“Another recruit— oh, God, you’re an ugly one aren’t you?” noted a man with an extremely well-featured face was sitting at a desk. “Never mind that, all able-bodied discharges go through there,” he said, pointing to a door just past his desk. Antonio, deciding that being a maverick hadn’t been very beneficial for him, elected to do as the man said. In a blur, he was given armor and a strange weapon, and loaded into a large metal carriage that seemed to drive itself with a bunch of other men, many of whom were covered in bandages. Antonio judged he was somewhere in the American Midwest, though the world had devolved into complete chaos as millions of the worst people who ever lived had been brought back to life.

From talking with the other soldiers, Antonio had learned that several major nations had been taken over by some of these people, who had immediately started violent wars in as many parts of the world as they could manage. Most large cities had already been destroyed by bombs they called “nuclear”, and now that the demons and angels were fighting each other, even more of the world had been completely destroyed. One soldier even said that Mount Everest had been completely leveled. Antonio was completely wracked with guilt, knowing he had caused all of this.

Suddenly the transport stopped, and the commander shouted to Antonio and his fellow soldiers to get out. Antonio got out and ran, before looking back and seeing a demon flying straight into his transport. An angel flew up and emitted a pure white beam of light from his bare hand, which shot straight into the demon and obliterated him.

“Children of God,” he started, turning to the soldiers. “Fear not, for the Lord shall protect you. Retreat to safety, and let us handle this threat.” He then rose into the air, and flew impossibly fast into the distance, causing a massive sonic boom that startled all the soldiers.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Antonio asked his commander.

The commander sat and thought for some time. “Listen,” he began. “We are completely outgunned in this fight. I think the flying man is right, we have no hope of defeating the enemy with what we have. There’s an old nuclear bunker 20 klicks that way.” He pointed to his left side, then continued, “Carry your weapons with you, let’s march.”

About 10 miles in, the march was disrupted. Right in front of the group, a demon came crashing down after being thrown what looked like hundreds of miles. Still disoriented, he opened his eyes and tried to look around.

“Fire! Fire! Give it everything you’ve got!” bellowed the commander. Every soldier opened fire, pumping hundreds of rounds into the demon. After what felt like 5 minutes of straight shooting, they let up. The demon looked as though he had merely been shot with a super soaker, and just looked at them. Seeing the terror on their faces, he smiled, and stood up, but then stopped after hearing a loud boom behind him. He turned around and couldn’t see anything, but suddenly an angel flew down out of the sky and kicked his head clean off. The angel turned to face the soldiers, and despite all of the brutal fighting, there wasn’t a single speck of dirt anywhere on her. Her long, flowing golden hair didn’t even look the slightest bit disturbed.

“You should all get to safety,” she said in what sounded like a Greek accent. “We are pushing the enemy back, but it’s still not safe to be out here. We will let you know when the demons have all been taken care of, and remember that you are all under the Lord’s eternal protection.” She then flew far up into the sky, until Antonio couldn’t see her anymore.

“Let’s keep marching,” said the commander. “The sooner we get to that bunker, the better.” They resumed the march, and only saw fighting happening in the distance for the rest of the trip. Upon arriving at the bunker, they turned on the radios and waited for their all-clear signal. And they waited. And waited some more. Until Antonio couldn’t bear waiting, and faded into darkness.

#

Antonio opened his eyes, as he had done many times after being stuck in that bunker. They waited 2 years for the all-clear signal, emerging from the bunker to see practically nothing left on the surface. The angels remained on Earth for some time to regenerate the natural resources that had been destroyed, then most left. The few who stayed provided support for some time, but then they left as well. Antonio traveled around for several years afterwards, trying to find somewhere proper to stay, but the world had largely been thrown back into the pre-industrial era. Nevertheless he persisted, traveling across the North American continent to help whom he could. Instead of necromancy, he learned healing magic to try and aid the people he came across along the way.

One day, Antonio found an old map of the United States. He instantly recognized most of the regions he had visited, but one area stuck out to him as strange. “Wyoming?” He’d never heard of this place, nor had he ever been there. He decided that this is where he would visit next, and after a few months of being on the road, he finally arrived and was shocked to see that it seemed entirely untouched.

After traveling into the city outskirts, Antonio looked around. Many people walked about freely with not a care in the world, all of them looking pristine in luxurious looking clothing. They reminded Antonio of the angels he had seen, though that must’ve just been how people looked right before the apocalypse. There were so many cars on the road that they actually had to stop and line up in turns to wait for each other, and all were driven by regular people rather than military personnel. Antonio looked back at the sidewalk and saw a man walking towards him. He held a small black slab in his hand that shone on his face, and was wearing very high quality clothing. Antonio walked up to him and grabbed his shoulder .

“What happened here?” Antonio asked, stunned at what he had just seen.

“Hey, what the hell? Watch yourself buddy, or I’ll call the police! Now I don’t know if you want any money or anything, but why don’t you go beg somewhere else instead of bothering me, ok?” He turned around and started walking away. Antonio grabbed his shoulder again, this time not letting go.

“What happened here? This place looks like it wasn’t destroyed in the war, that’s impossible!”

“War? What are you talking about? Are you pretending to be a time traveler or something? Or are you one of those people who like to play dress-up? And God, you reek, get away from me!”

Antonio grabbed him with both hands. “The war, the angels and the demons, it was years ago! Back in 2021!”

“Look, dude, I’m calling the cops. There was no ‘war’ in 2021, all that happened was the electrical grid crash and all the movies got canceled.” He started fiddling with his device, but then got frustrated and gave up. “And the damn cell service went to shit. But I’m pretty sure we would’ve noticed if there was a war.”

Antonio was in disbelief. “The rest of your country is destroyed! The entire world is destroyed! This state of ‘Wyoming’ is the only place left, and you don’t even know what happened?”
 The man from Wyoming shrugged. “To be honest… we don’t really pay attention to the rest of the world. And they don’t pay any attention to us. What you’re saying… it would sort of make sense why all those movies never came out… do you have any photos of it on your phone?”
 Antonio collapsed to the ground. “So what you’re telling me is,” he started, out of breath. “This place was left untouched… because everyone forgot about it?”

“Yeah, probably. I dunno, dude.  I think I should probably call someone to come get you.”  He started looking around, before pulling his glowing slab back out again.

“No, no… I don’t understand… just give me a moment.” Antonio lay down on the ground and covered his face. He could hear the murmurs of other pedestrians watching in confusion. Soon he sat back up and looked around, only to see a seemingly endless sea of faces in front of him. “Wait, no… please…” He turned to look at the man he had been speaking with, but he was no longer there.

The crowd parted, and two mustached men dressed in blue uniforms donning gleaming silver badges came through. Antonio couldn’t comprehend what was happening. They restrained him and put him in the back of a car. Antonio watched the surreal sight of the city pass him by; everything looked exactly as it must have been before the apocalypse. Antonio had not been in a car for many years, and the sensation of moving so fast was starting to make him sick.

Thankfully, the car stopped outside of a large, intimidating building. The uniformed men dragged him in and up to a woman standing by a desk.

“What is your name?” the woman asked him.

“I am Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII. I am from Tuscany of the 13th Century. I died and went to Hell, but accidentally caused the apocalypse when I tried to send half of the people in Hell to Heaven.”

“Oh, really? Here, walk with me, and you can tell me all about it.” Antonio started following the woman down the hallway.

“Yes. I’m a necromancer, you see. Or, I was. But that’s  why I was in Hell. I somehow managed to get into the Devil’s offices, and on his computer I tried to send the best half of people to Heaven. It was a sort of cosmic justice, you know?”

“Oh, for sure,” the woman responded. Antonio could sense that she wasn’t particularly interested in the conversation, but he continued nonetheless.

“Yeah, so it turns out I got it backwards, I suppose. I sent the worst half of people to Earth, instead of the best half to Heaven. So this angel came down and Satan ended up declaring war, I suppose.”

“Angels and demons, eh? I’m all ears,” the woman said, completely uninterested.

“I managed to escape, and then I somehow ended up back on Earth. This was way back in 2021, of course, before the apocalypse. Which happened immediately after I returned. There were already nuclear wars and whatnot, but the war of the angels and demons really devastated the world, you know?”

The woman nodded. “Of course, we all saw it, right?”

“Yeah, finally, someone who knows what happened! So I ended up in a bunker during the war, for several years while the angels finished off the demons. Then I traveled around the country, I learned proper healing magic so that I could help people. Then I heard of this place, ‘Wyoming’, and came over here to check it out. You guys seem to be the only part of the world that was left untouched. It seems as though everybody forgot you existed.”

“Yes, we are used to that; that was a fascinating story, but we’ve arrived at your room. You can stay here as long as you like, you’ll be perfectly safe and taken care of.”

Antonio was startled, but very excited at this news. “Oh, thank you so much!” He eagerly rushed into the room, which was largely empty. “Hey, wait, this room doesn’t even have a—” He was cut off by the door closing and locking. The room was padded, and there was nothing but a light in the roof and a bed in the corner. Antonio knocked on the doors for hours, trying to get someone to talk to him, but nobody answered. Eventually, some food slipped through a hatch in the wall, and some time after that he was restrained and escorted to a restroom. He tried to talk to the guards, but they didn’t respond, and he was locked back in the room.

Eventually, Antonio lost track of the days, the months, then the years. One day, he fell asleep on his bed as he had done thousands of times before, but when he woke, he sat in a familiar black void. An invisible door opened, and he saw a familiar face come through.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Antonio Albus Aurelius XVII.” He laughed fiendishly. “We’ve been waiting for you down here. Let’s see…” He pulled out Antonio’s file, then continued, “Necromancy. Nasty business, that. But let’s just skip this part and get to the real juicy bit.” He licked his finger, then flipped the page. “Insurrection against the natural order. Impersonating the Devil. Unauthorized actions compromising the realm of Hell. Actions causing the release of people from Hell. Returning to Earth without permission. Actions directly causing the death of millions on Earth. And perhaps the worst of all: directly causing the Intergalactic Wyoming Empire to become the dominant human civilization—for the foreseeable future, at least. Seriously?” He leaned in closely, then continued, “they would never have known if you never went there!”

He slammed the file shut with a satisfied grin on his face. “There’s a special place down here for you. I don’t think any human has ever been there, so congratulations on becoming the first! You should take it as a compliment, really,” Tommy said, leaning back in his chair. He began fiddling with his mustache. “And I suppose I can use it as bragging rights. ‘Tommy, the torturer who was once assigned to the infamous Tony Aurelius!’ I like the sound of that!” He laughed again. “Oi, mind if I take a quick video of the two of us for my socials? I could use this cred’. And you’ll probably look disfigured forevermore once the Boss starts his work on you, so I should get in early y’know?”

Antonio, having not listened to Tommy for some time, did not respond, but only hung his head in shame. He didn’t know what was in store for him, but he did feel that he deserved it. He had officially become the worst person to have ever lived.

——-

Who: A necromancer with a heart of gold What: Causes the apocalypse When: The year 2021 Where: In Hell Why: To bring balance to the universe

[azure7539arts]

Beacon

Pairing: Q/James Bond (00Q)

Prompt(s): Blaze + Reverse a common trope

Warning: Angst, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, possession, idiots

Summary: One day, perhaps people will forget that a Flame Alchemist has ever existed, but the same can never be said of his subordinates. And today is not that day anyway.

Or: 00Q but Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood AU

A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble… And here we are. Again. If you find this intro familiar, thanks for reading Sword! If you have no idea what Sword is and just know my penchant for biting off more than I can chew, please refer to my previous post. Thanks!

Also, look, @solarmorrigan​, pyrokinesis! And @opalescentgold​, because you know the fandom and may appreciate some references. Damn, I have been dying for a FMA AU for. so. long. And now I’ve managed to somehow realize it into fruition. Jeez. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this!

-

Q couldn’t stand. The rush of adrenaline and sheer agony were urging his heart into overdrive, as if in beating a punishing pace right then, it would somehow make up for the gaping hole wedged in his side.

He bit back a sharp cry, alchemy flaring as bright as the pulsing pain invading his system. In what was either an eternity or no time at all, the wound was cauterized in a fit of smoke and sizzling burnt flesh, effectively staunching the intolerable amount of blood loss in a matter of seconds. His head spun.

(For as long as he’d lived, Q had wished for a lot of things. Right then, though, there was only one thought that kept repeating itself in the confines of his mind—)

Footsteps were approaching. Q scrambled to get to his feet with whatever remaining strength he had left and snapped his fingers again. Vicious ropes of flames sprang forth like spiteful cobras, eliciting an intense wall of fire that stood guard between him and his would-be captor.

One steel arm shot out from among the blaze and seized him by the throat.

Q choked.

The rest of that body stepped through quickly enough, like an emerging monster materializing from the depths of hellfire.

“Ultimate shield, remember?”

Q clawed uselessly at the still squeezing hand around his throat. “L–Lieutenant—” he wheezed, bitter reluctance warring with his struggling will to survive. “Bond—”

“Hm?” The steel receded, and Bond looked back at him now, head tilting to the side. “What, the old owner of this body?” He tutted, visibly frustrated despite the good humor gleaming in those too sharp eyes. “I told you: He’s gone—he’s become one with the stone. I’m the one in charge now, and the name is Greed.”

He grinned, and Q’s guts twisted at the sight, eyes watering from the lack of oxygen. (He could still hear the sound of Bond’s screams piercing all the way down the long corridors. The way his body had writhed and bucked in violent pain as it died and regenerated again and again, rejecting the philosopher’s stone that had been wrongfully injected into it. The way he had suddenly gone lax while Q had done his best to burn through the literal living wall of obstacles out of existence to get to him.)

He gathered all his strength to curl up his legs and kick Bond in the stomach.

No, not Bond. (But that was still his face.)

Not anymore. (Still his eyes, his voice, the low gravel of his laughter, chest-deep and oh so warm.)

Just Greed.

(What if he was still in there?)

The momentum of that kick thrusted Q out of the vice-like grip as he landed onto the ground with a dull thud. A twang of stabbing pain in his side knocked the air out of his lungs, distracting him from the stings of having steel claws dug long strips into either side of his throat.

(The thing was that: if he really was still in there…)

“Damn it,” Bond—Greed—hissed, staggering back before steadying himself with an annoyed huff of breath.

Like this, Q recognized that whoever was in front of him then, despite appearing and sounding exactly like him, didn’t have the firm stance that Bond had always maintained, edged into his bones from all the arduous training he’d put himself through.

The red Ouroboros tattoo on the back of his left hand seared into Q’s vision like a brand, as though sealing a death sentence.

(... If he really was still in there, Bond wouldn’t have willingly punched a hole straight through Q.)

Once the thought sank in, Q’s stomach plummeted.

“Could you stop being such a nuisance?” Greed clicked his tongue.

When he tried to reach out again, molten fire engulfed the room at another snap of the fingers.

And in the roaring flames, Q screamed.

-

He wakes with a startled gasp, cold sweat breaking all over.

It takes a moment, but the familiar ceiling of his office finally shifts into focus once more, and Q lets out a shuddered sigh. The documents he was looking at lie strewn across the littered desk surface right where he left them, and at this very moment, the phone rings, shattering the disquiet that has settled over his foggy mind.

He doesn’t notice the long overcoat that’s, apparently, been laid over his person while he slept until he reaches over to make a grab for the handset. It slides down from over his shoulders and pools in the middle of his lap with a rustling of fabric.

Q purses his lips and picks up, free hand settling over his now healed side to ease the aching phantom pain.

“Yes.”

“Brigadier General, sir,” the operator greets. “Major General Moneypenny is on the line for you.”

“Put her through.”

The line clicks after a final ‘yes, sir,’ and instantly, Eve’s voice filters through from the other side. “Why am I not surprised that you’re still there despite the atrocious hours.” It isn’t a question, and he smiles.

“Hypocrite,” he replies without heat, thumb smoothing along the raised ridges of those scars that he can still feel even through the thick layers of his uniform. “How has Briggs been welcoming you back?”

“Oh, you know, the usual warmth and sunshine,” she says, a joking lilt to her tone, and Q winces just from imagining the howling gales of a normal Briggs snowstorm that must be sweeping through the barracks even as they speak. “Now, enough of your diversion scheme. How are things on your side?”

Q thinks he’s too tired to do much of anything else and chooses the easy way out. “I’m fine.”

“Right,” Eve hums, entirely unconvinced, but doesn’t point out that his answer isn’t all that she asked. She knows him too well by now to press. “Sometimes, though, I do wonder if you should’ve just retired and gone to Rush Valley to do whatever it is that you automail enthusiasts do.”

The sentiment sends a soft snort through his nose. Not that he doesn’t wish to be a simple automail mechanic from time to time, especially when the price paid doesn’t seem equivalent to subsequent results, but in life, simple wants and actual needs are two different things.

They’ve all learnt this the hard way.

Even so, Q appreciates Eve looking out for him. Thousands of miles away, she’s still one of the few people who truly know and understand him. One of the few whom he trusts with his life. “Oh, definitely—once I find someone suitable to man the post for me, that is,” he muses, only half-serious. “No promises otherwise.”

There’s a knock on the door. “Sir.”

“Come in,” he calls and straightens up, popping the crick in his neck. “Gotta go now. Send my regards to Captain Tanner, would you? God knows the length that man’s gone to to keep up with you.”

Eve laughs, and he smiles, too, just as Bond walks in and closes the door behind him.

(There’s no Ouroboros tattoo on his hand, Q notes and subconsciously relaxes.)

(He shouldn’t feel bad for it—but he does anyway. Just the same as Bond, who didn’t mean to lose control long enough for Greed to hurt Q the way he did.

Emotions are fickle things.)

Eve has gone quiet for a long second as well, probably considering her words. In a way, Q feels he already knows what they are going to be, and grim satisfaction paints his tongue when what she says next is precisely just that, “How’s First Lieutenant Bond?”

How are things between you two, goes unsaid, but he hears it loud and clear nonetheless.

Bond is patiently waiting for him—hands tucked behind his back, perfect military posture, too proper and formal to bear—and Q squeezes the coat that remains in his lap.

(He misses the casual dynamics, easy tandem they used to have. One not laden with guilt and second-guessing.

It’s just one more hurdle for them to work through, he supposes.

Together.)

“We’re… getting there,” he replies, mildly surprised by his own honesty. “Talk to you later. Goodbye, Major General.”

He hangs up, and Bond has gotten closer, despite maintaining a minimum distance of three steps.

Q crosses his arms in front of his chest and waits, eyes expectant.

Eventually, Bond can’t but break the silence. “Was that Major General Moneypenny, sir?”

Q suppresses a sigh and nods. “Yes. Just one of her usual check-ins.” He pauses. “She did ask about you, about us, and how we were doing. And I said we were getting there—you heard.”

When Bond doesn’t reply, Q narrows his eyes, shrewd. “So, are we, Lieutenant? Getting there?” Most likely, he’s coming off much harsher than he originally planned, but Q doesn’t give a damn about that. Not right now. “You said you were following me to the top. Is this how you intend on doing it? By pretending to be a good little model soldier while keeping me at arm’s length?”

At this, Bond seems to further straighten, if that’s still physically possible. There’s steel in his eyes, but not the lost, abandoned kind given into avarice like that of Greed.

It’s all just sheer solid nerve and hardened integrity. It’s all Bond and so much more.

“I will do whatever it takes to protect and help you reach your goal—”

“Don’t you get it? You can’t protect me for damn if you’re always three steps away from me! That only means we’re no longer the team you seem to think we are.” Q’s mouth twists into a snarl. “Do you understand what I’m getting at, Bond?”

Bond turns his head away, staring out into the endless expanse of the night through the large panel of Q’s windows. Bond has never liked them, these ‘uselessly big windows that Central Command seems to prefer for their offices.’ Makes his job harder than it already is, he said.

Q tears himself away from the sudden memory.

“My only mission is to protect you,” Bond grinds out, hands that have fallen to his sides clenching into fists.

“And you have not failed.” Q’s voice has somewhat softened as he stands and clears his throat. “What happened, back then. It just means that we need to update our measures of counterattacks.”

They stare at each other now, mutual challenge shining in their eyes like a beacon to safety in the middle of a raging storm.

(“Q. I’m sorry.” Bond said, desperation ripping his voice raw and vulnerable. Q had never heard him like this. “I–I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me.”

“James, there’s nothing to forgive.”)

“We can discuss that tomorrow, then.” Bond bends down to pick up Q’s coat from the floor and gives it a few perfunctory pats before handing it back over, a tentative smirk on his lips. “Are you ready to go home for the night, sir?”

Q scoffs and takes it, not hiding his own smile. “Just about.”

It’s a long road ahead, but they’re getting there all right.

-

-

Bonus art:

[takadasaiko]

Three Little Words (a Veronica Mars one shot)

FFN II AO3

Summary: Veronica has always had a little more trouble with those three little words than Logan has.

Three Little Words

There was something about pre-dawn that made every louder. Doors creaked, pipes sang, and even the coffee pot sounded like it was being amped up through a megaphone aimed directly into her ear. Veronica groaned loudly and turned over, risking a look at the clock. 5:15. It just wasn't right.

Footsteps - soft, she knew somewhere in the back of her mind, even if somehow the hour magically made it sound like he was stomping through the apartment - drew closer and Logan appeared at the door in just his sleeping pants with a toothbrush still stuck in his mouth. "Hey, did I wake you up?" he asked around it, his voice very quiet and very loud all at once.

Veronica pushed a breath out through her nose and sat up in bed. Something was off. He was further along in his morning routine than he ever should have been at this hour, even if the Navy had somehow managed to train him into being a morning person. He must have already been out on his run down the beach because the pants he was wearing weren't the same ones that he'd worn to bed the night before - those were still crumpled on the floor in the corner - meaning that he'd already had his shower. His hair wasn't wet, though. It took a moment, but realization finally clicked into place. "Your leave's over today."

He gave a brief nod and disappeared back to the bathroom to rinse.

It felt like he'd just gotten back from his six month deployment yesterday. The two weeks had been a blur of excitement over the simple fact that they weren't just on the same continent again, but in the same town. There had been more than one late night while he was away - especially after a long stretch of radio silence from him - that Veronica had laid in bed and wondered if her brain had just cooked everything up. If she would blink her eyes open and she'd be back in New York City with Piz asleep next to her and her nice, normal job waiting for her the next day. Every damn time she'd felt her heart sink at the thought and had reached for her phone. Just in case. Here, now, she could hold onto him. He was living, breathing proof that she'd made the right decision.

While they had held up in the guesthouse that he rented from Dick for the first two days or so, they'd made a conscious effort to get out and do things together. Dinner and a movie, walks on the beach, and he'd helped her move into her new apartment. Ten days had flown by faster than she could have ever predicted, especially on the heels of the longest hundred and eighty days known to man. She wasn't sure she was ready to let him go and start getting used to whatever this new, new normal was. She just wanted to tug him back into bed and ignore the hour.

There was that whole AWOL thing, though. The Navy sure was picky.

"You have some time before you have to go?" she called out, trying to decide if she could steal any time with him at all. Breakfast, maybe.

"First day back after leave is always busy, especially right after deployment," he answered from across the hall and stepped back into her line of sight. "I need to drop by my place and get dressed before getting out there. I was going to just sleep there last night, but you know. Best laid plans and all of that." He gave her an impish smile and she felt her own lips quirk up at the thought of the night before.

"You should probably keep them here so you don't have to leave at an hour that shouldn't even exist," Veronica offered, flopping back against her pillow.

Logan bent to dig through his bag that he'd finally brought over. "You offering me a drawer?"

"Maybe. If you play your cards right."

He straightened, tugging a fresh t-shirt over his head and her own smile faded a little. "No time for breakfast?"

"I'll grab a bagel to eat on the way down to San Diego." He dropped the lightweight pajama pants and exchanged them for a pair of jeans. "Dinner tonight, though?"

"Will you be back in time?"

"Should be. I'll give you a call when I leave out."

"It's a date," she said with a sly grin and a motion for him to come closer. She caught his hand and pulled him in. Logan didn't take much coaxing as he leaned down, his eyes falling closed as his lips brushed hers. She wrapped her fingers around the fabric of his shirt to bring him even closer.

He was the one to break the kiss and as her eyes drifted back open, trying to stop herself from hauling him back into bed if they had time or not, and she found that soft brown gaze fixed on her. "I love you," he whispered and she felt herself freeze at the words. If he noticed, he didn't acknowledge it, but pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. "Gotta go."

And then he was out the door, leaving those three unanswered words hanging heavily in the air.

---------

They stuck with her all day. Through coffee and breakfast, through a morning jog and a shower, and they even worked their way through her often unshakable focus on the case at hand.

I love you.

It wasn't like Logan had never said them before. He had been adamant about it after that first confession in his car all those years ago. At the time she had brushed it off with a quip about the things guys said to get past second base, but he had said it again and again after. Sometimes it was boldly, all the confidence in the world filling the words and sometimes quietly, almost as if he were afraid that she didn't reciprocate. However he said it, she never questioned that he believed it and that he meant it with everything he had had in him.

That had been years ago, though, and this had been the first time he'd let those three little words slip out since they had found their way back to each other. And she hadn't been able to say it back, like so many times before.

Veronica sighed, her gaze directed at the office window but not really focused on anything in particular. It wasn't that she didn't feel it. They had so often been caught up in the next batch of chaos life was churning out at them when they were young, but she had been drawn to him in a way she'd never known with any other guy. He had always been more ready than she had been to put feelings out on the table - to be vulnerable with her - and it looked like no amount of growth had changed that when the moment had called for it.

It wasn't like she didn't know why. Years and maturity didn't erase the fact that she had lost nearly everyone she had been close to. Her mother, gone again and again to finally close the lid on all of Veronica's failed attempts by not only squandering the help her daughter had used her college savings to pay for, but then taking off with the money her father had meant to put towards Stanford. Lilly who had been gone so suddenly and the utter lack of justice that had followed with Aaron's release. Sure, he'd gotten his in the end, but after what he'd done to all of them he deserved to suffer so much more than a bullet to the back of the head. Then there had been Duncan who had been run out of town just to have a chance to raise his own kid and even Logan himself. Looking back, she wondered if her readiness to assume the worst with him had been a subconscious way of protecting herself, just like leaving Neptune and keeping those few that had somehow held on at arm's length had been. People never stayed. They died or they just left. It was the lesson she'd learned and that had been deeply ingrained through repetition, and if you didn't let yourself get too attached it hurt a lot less.

But knowing it in the abstract and doing something to change it we're different beasts entirely. She'd made a start. Coming home had been more of a relief than she ever would have predicted, almost like she'd stopped running and turned to face the fight instead. Adrenaline pumping, purpose set, it had felt right for the first time in years. She'd reconnected with Wallace and Mac, rekindled that close relationship she hadn't realized she'd missed that much with her dad, and she and Logan…. would have to find their stride. She knew she didn't want to live without him, that he had remained - even with nine years of silence between them - one of the most important people to ever move through her life. She wanted him there with her for years and years to come, their lives intertwined. She wanted to continue to learn more about the man that had once been the boy she had…. loved.

And still did. Always did. Always would. She loved him.

"You doin' okay there?"

Veronica jumped at her father's voice. "How long have you been standing there?" she demanded, feeling the blood rush to her face.

"Long enough to wonder if the world's goofiest smile might have something to do with the owner of the way-too-fancy sports car that just pulled up outside," Keith answered with a crooked smile of his own.

The front door to the office chimed and Veronica spotted a familiar figure in his service khakis. If her dad had thought the smile she had been wearing before was goofy it was a wonder what he thought about the one she wore as she stood from her desk and started towards him. "Hey, I thought you were gonna call first."

"I did. Several times," he answered lightly, his own smile tilting into place to match the amusement in his eyes. His gaze flickered over to Keith. "Mr Mars."

"Logan," he greeted back. "And while it's always nice to have been promoted from dude, Keith's fine. You kids have plans tonight?"

"Dinner," Veronica answered, pulling her boyfriend's attention fully back towards her and his eyes narrowed just a little, though they never lost that spark of amusement.

"I was thinking about that new Chinese place at the edge of town if you're interested."

"Very. You good, Dad?"

He waved them off as he shuffled back towards his own office, leaving Veronica to grab her purse and slip her hand into Logan's as they made their way out the door and into the hallway leading out. He tugged a little after the door closed behind them. "You're in a good mood for getting woken up at the crack of dawn."

"Before the crack of dawn," Veronica countered and pulled him a little closer at that to wrap her arms around his neck. Logan's lips twitched up before he ducked down, spinning her a little so that her back was against the wall as he stole a kiss. "I love you too," she breathed as they parted.

"What's that now?"

She let her eyes slide open and she saw hints of all that boyish charm that had always gotten them into trouble. "Just answering you from this morning."

His expression sobered just a little and his words were quiet. "Wasn't sure you were going to."

"I know. It still…. takes me a little while. I'm working on it, but I want you to know that I do. Love you, I mean."

That grin returned. "I love you too."

"Yeah, that was never in question," she laughed and he tilted his head just a little to the side. "You don't exactly have trouble telling me how you feel."

"Sure I do," he answered softly and took the smallest of steps back. She took hold of the front of his uniform and pulled him back in close. His smile returned and he shrugged as if he realized she wasn't letting him go until he explained. "I don't have to tell you that I…. don't always face things head on. That I deflect. I think it was something I learned pretty young."

Veronica frowned a little at that. She could make a relatively safe bet on who and what had taught him the lesson that he had to protect himself emotionally when he couldn't protect himself physically.

"I don't get close to a lot of people, but I made myself a promise a long time ago with you."

"What's that?"

"That you'd know me. That you'd never have to question if you did. Now, after everything, I don't want to hide anything from you, even if…." He ran a hand through his shortly cropped hair. "You don't have to say it just because I do, Veronica. I just want you to know I love you. That doesn't come with strings."

"I know I don't have to, but it's the truth."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He leaned in, his forehead touching hers and it was everything she could do to remember they were outside the Mars Investigation offices with her father inside. "Let's get takeout instead of going out."

"You sure?"

She tipped up on her toes, catching him in a kiss as her hand slipped lower and lower down the front of his shirt. "Oh yeah." Her hand slipped down into his again and he was already moving towards the cars parked on the street outside.

All these years later, all the pain and the mixed bag of good and bad decisions later, she knew it would work this time. Some of it was the growth, sure. They had had to get their lives together separately to make it work together, but it would work. She loved him too much to let it fall apart again.

--------

Notes: I was really sad when I realized that Veronica didn't actually say the words "I love you" until S4 and this is the result. It's not that I think she didn't love him, it's that her walls are tough to break down.