#(When you see a paw the size of your hand flying at you time slows down-)

[perpetualxfire]

If Church was going to be invited, Church's sister must also come along- or at least have the option to. Getting the details she needed from him, she would appear seemingly out of nowhere to hand over the invitation to the woman before vanishing almost as quickly as she appeared.

She's written a note on the back that says "Church is going too, come join us :D" -Eath

Life had slowed down a lot since they moved back home, but Church had a way of keeping things interesting. She had to assume he had something to do with this, at least, given the name drop. The old freelancer hadn't even had time for her classic paranoia to fully kick in before the Daemon (not that she immediately recognized Eath as such without more context) was gone again, and her instinctive combat stance had left her standing in the woods alone, tense, ready to fight, with a card in her hand.

It had taken her a moment to relax and inspect it, particularly since she didn't typically bring her reading glasses on walks with her (she does have her father's eyes, unfortunately), but she put it together soon enough. An eyebrow raised, she was going to have to get more information from her brother... But this did seem interesting, and she did need to get out more.

" Thank you? " She wasn't sure if Eath could hear her, and didn't want to try a name right now given the aforementioned lack of regrettably necessary ocular assistance, but she felt like she should say something.

[movedtodykedvonte]

Hear me out

Monty and Freddy, the two himbos right?

What if they get a stupid crush on the new Animatronic, and he is H U G E.

Basically two idiots are falling in love with a tall boy?

You are lucky I like thinking about huge fucking robots. For the sake of simplicity I’m making the animatronics a pig/boar cause those things get big:

So the PizzaPlex is like getting tired of Chica constantly eating the leftover garbage and getting damaged, but the normal staff bots can’t keep up with the messes

They aren’t gonna hire someone cause that a lot of money over time. So why not cut costs and just make a new animatronic meant to encourage clean up and made to clean up

Couldn’t they just modify Chica? Yeah, but FazEnt isn’t known for clever thinking

The band catches wind of this addition and can’t help but speculate. Is it gonna be another performer, another version of one of them? An old face? It’s killing them all

Freddy catches wind that the new animatronic is almost ready in parts and services, “just a waiting a few more programming fixes and he’s set” he overheard some staff saying

It’s not that he’s nosey, he just wants to make sure the new guy feels welcomed. Plus it’s exciting to sneak around after hours

He gets to the stage when he hears “Where do you think you’re going?” Monty is of course, budding in. “Seeing how our new friend is doing.”

Monty honestly didn’t care but he wasn’t gonna let Freddy get the first good impression on the new guy. So he joins him, hitting the button to parts and service, almost leaving Freddy falling as he rushed to get on the stage

If they could say profanity…

The trip down was silent and slow, maybe because they both were nervous about what to expect

Parts in service was closed, even the window blocked out with do not enter tape. “Really keeping him a surprise.” Monty went to get through the door, a loud clunk and them not budging giving them both pause.

Monty kept slamming on the doors, not one to give up easily. It was odd that they’d be locked, especially this late

“Monty please you’re going to hurt yourself.” The slamming continued, until the gator wound back, running into the door only to go flying through, whatever was blocking the door gone

Freddy rushed in concerned if not annoyed his warning was not heeded only to be stopped by the sight before him, Monty looking up at the same thing from his position on the floor: The new animatronic

It was fucking MASSIVE. Not that the room was filled but it easily obscured the view of the protective cylinder, dwarfing the door and the two just came through it

Taking him all in, both could clearly see that he was modeled after a hog or perhaps a boar: Tusks, a signature snout, hooves and the size to match

“Oh my apologies, fella, I didn’t realize someone was trying to get in” He spoke to Monty in a gentle apologetic tone before using a massive hand to lift the gator to his feet.

He lifted him effortlessly, much like a leather hand bag, his hand only being a little smaller than the gators head. Monty stood stunned by it

“Please, we were intruding on you.” Freddy broke the silence from staring, offering a paw to shake. “We actually came to, uh, meet you?”

“How swell! Well I ain’t got a name yet, but don’t let that stop ya from givin me yours.” His hand practically engulfed Freddy’s, shaking him entirely with the greeting. What a jovial fellow.

Name exchanges and greetings over with the two tried to give polite conversation that weren’t just an outright investigation.

Asking what he’d be used for, telling him about the band, and the other bots in the PizzaPlex. It seemed that he hadn’t been programmed with any details of the mall yet

“A whole golf course, themed after ya self? Well I’ll be.” The new guy had sat on the floor while the others stood, an attempt to get on their level. “Must be real popular.” Monty had begun bragging explaining that he had a whole attraction themed after himself, easily catching the fascination of the boar. “You got something yourself Mr. Fazbear?”

Monty couldn’t help the smug feeling growing as Freddy awkwardly explained he didn’t really have anything specific. “Oh that’s fine, ain’t this whole place themed after you anyway?”

The conversation shifted to Freddy himself, Monty not understanding why the new guys attention shifting to the bear upset him so much.

“Well it’s themed after the Fazbear Enterprise.”

“Now don’t be humble, Mr. Fazbear. Almost everything is shaped like your friendly face.” He gave Freddy a pat on the back, rocking him a bit with the reassurance.

Monty swished his tail in agitation when Freddy chuckled, rubbing the back of his head plate in resignation. “I suppose you’re right.” A smile forming on the boars face.

“Course I’m right! It’s an honor to be working your establishment.” The boar let out a snorting chuckle, rumbling his plates before abruptly stopping, a confused snort replacing the laughter that rocked him.

“You okay man?” Monty tilted his shades to get a better look at the bot. Nothing seemed out of order, but he was still in parts and service for a reason.

“You two wouldn’t know what flashing red means ,huh? Been happening to me all day” The boar tapped his head, trying to knock the flashing away before Freddy stopped him, the bears hand not fully wrapping around the wrist of the other.

“Ah, it seems you need to recharge, or enter rest mode.”

“That all? Here I’m thinking a wires split.” That laughter returned, “Well I supposed this was nice boys but it seems I need some R&R!”

“Yes, we wouldn’t want you to shut down before all your maintenance is done with.” The two waved goodbye as he walked out, Monty looking back as he stepped out, just to see that the other had enter rest mode properly.

“He was nice.”

“He liked me more. Thought the course was cool.” Monty held on to the comment about being popular, and the interest in his course. He would have to invite him once the bot was fully operational.

Freddy rolled his eyes, of course that’s what Monty took away from such a nice meeting. “You should take him their then,” Though, it was not like he didn’t notice how the gator seemed annoyed when the new addition began focusing on him. “…after he gets used to my PizzaPlex.”

Monty was about to agree before he processed the last line, the emphasis on the my almost making a circuit break.

Freddy knew the verbal assault he was going to get was worth getting under the gators casing just this once.

This is more of a first meeting sorta thing but it’s definitely a set up for them fighting for the attention of the big new guy. Also damn this was a lot.

[bluecookies02]

FatGum x Reader- Cumflation /NSFW/

warnings: cumflation (I am not sure if this can be counted as any form of body horror since it's pretty mild, it's just a lil bulge of cum in your stomach), size difference, wholesome, fluffy, happy couple ❗️

repost bc tumblr decided tht the gif was too spicy. Weak ass bitch.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Taishiro picks up on your moods almost perfectly, yet here you were, uncomfortably rubbing your thighs together while his eyes stay glued to the TV screen.

Your attempts at getting him in the mood remain unnoticed, ignoring the way your breasts glide over his strong arm, leaning your head on his shoulder and leaving small kisses on his collarbone .

It's getting embarrassing...you have to stretch your neck to reach him, a huff leaving your lips before your sit on your heels, crossing your arms and looking away.

Your boyfriend leans back, adjusting the erection forming in his pants, the small act going unnoticed while you curl into yourself.

Maybe he's not ready...and you can respect that, but it doesn't help the sickening feeling in your tummy. You talked about this and you were pretty clear regards where you stand.

You wonder how long will it take him to trust you...To believe when you say you're willing to make it work. Even if it fails.

You bite the inside of your cheek, moving your attention to the TV.

He can see you in the corner of his eye, a long sigh leaving his lips before he catches his breath.

His strong arms wrap around you, pushing your chin to face him with one large finger, a soft smile placed on his lips.

"Come here" he whispers, pulling you in his lap, placing his large palm over your cheek.

His hand snakes around your back, soothingly rubbing it as he pulls you closer.

He meets your stare, your small fist gripping his hoodie while he traces your lip.

"Can we talk about it?" he asks calmly, getting ahold of your palm and caging it in his large hand.

You nod, waiting for him to continue, nervousness setting across your skin as your mind races.

He clears his throat, forming sentences in his head before his voice reaches your ears.

"If you promise to tell me if something isn't going right-"

"I promise" your response comes quickly, cutting him off.

He chuckles, kissing your forehead before slipping his hands to the curve of your hips.

"Good."

Your back arches, your eager body pushing against his touch as you meet his lips.

The pads of his large fingers dig into your ass, lowering it onto his cock, letting your feel the bulge against your clothed slit. The friction makes you dizzy, your heart speeding up. Finally...

You hum, parting your mouths so that you can breathe, gently moving his hands away in order to get in between his legs. He decides not to protest, letting you do whatever you're comfortable with, his eyes not leaving you for a second.

You smoothen your fingers over his pants, feeling him up and scraping your nails across his thighs. You know you won't be able to fit him in your mouth, but you want to taste it, have your lips plastered over the warm skin and make him feel good.

Fumbling with his belt, you manage to get his pants down with a bit of his help, your breath hitching in your throat when his cock jerks up, straining against the weak barrier.

You won't give him the space to overthink it, immediately pulling on the waistband and freeing his length, admiring the veins while you wrap your hand around his shaft.

Your fingertips can't touch, not even close...your intimidating glare changes with determination, placing your lips next to your hand, intoxicated by the musky smell and the salty taste.

His low rasps make your pussy twitch, spasming around the material of your panties and shorts.

Your tongue lolls out of your mouth, swirling over his cock in random patterns, coating it in drool before you spit on his tip.

You can feel the throbbing of his veins against your fingertips, stretching your mouth to fit over his flush head as your fist works his length, saliva slicking up your hand.

Taishiro leans against the couch, moving your hair out of the way when you manage to fit a bit more of his cock past your lips, bobbing your head slightly.

Your free hand snakes between your legs, slipping your fingers inside your panties and spreading your folds open before you slick your clit up with juices, slowly pawing circles into your aching nub.

You struggle to keep your hips still, gently rolling your fingers over your loose hole. You stretched yourself daily, feverishly using your new-bought toys just so that he can have you quicker, too impatient to let your boyfriend drag it out any further.

He bucks up his hips sharply, pulling you off his cock in time so that he doesn't hurt your jaw, rutting into your fist.

You peer up at him, squeezing the hand between your legs before you stand up, carefully taking off your shorts while blushing under his stare.

Slowly pulling down your panties, you take note of the way his thighs subconsciously spread out even wider.

You place yourself back on his lap, unzipping the hoodie and throwing it off his shoulders, your shirt following suit by his greedy hands that roamed your body. He was getting impatient and needy, feeling your burning lips latching on his neck before he slowly nudges one of his fingers inside the comfiness of your pink walls.

He easily slips in another one, stretching them out and curling them against all the right spots, short flicks of his wrist making you mewl into his shoulder.

"You can put more..." you whimper, slamming yourself onto his digits.

His large fingers feel like they might slit you open when he slips a third one in, pressing them firmly against your cervix while your pussy leaks over his knuckles, gripping them tightly as they struggle to move.

"Oh, sweetheart...I'm gonna ruin you for everybody else..." his filthy words accompanied by the soft kiss to your forehead send jolts of pleasure through your body, hips finally moving, making his palm hit your ass each time you sit down.

It burns, the pressure painful but his fingers meet your thrusts without a fail, sinking them in deeper, too deep, nudging the soft entrance of your womb. He's holding you firmly, eyes roaming your needy body that shakes and trembles as you near your high, your hands weakly frapping around his cock in an effort to stroke him.

You need just a bit more, just a small pathetic amount of friction on your clit to send you over the edge... yet there isn't any. Soon enough his pace is also slowing down, breaking the rhythm and pulling out his slick covered fingers, causing a whine to rumble from your throat, thighs clenching and releasing.

He places his palm over your hands, slowly stroking himself before he guides his tip across your hole, smearing his precum around it, only dipping slightly to make sure it can actually fit. It looks promising and you're holding your breath, lowering yourself down.

You look illegally hot like this, struggling to take the first few inches, panting and whimpering while you circle your hips in an effort to relax the ring of muscles and swallow him up.

His dull nails dig into your hips, a low groan filling the room as he fights the urge to start pounding into you, the warm hug of your tight walls and your soft gaze inviting him in.

You're blabbering, he can't focus much on the exact words because they are rushed and pleading, mostly begging for him to move, promising that you want it so fucking bad too...that you want to see how he looks like when he lets go. You can take it. You're meant to take it.

He picks you up, swiftly turning you around and pushing your shoulders into the couch, spreading your thighs apart and delving right back. It's even deeper than before, feeling the bruising of your cervix when he starts pounding into you.

His arms are pressing your thighs ruthlessly, opening up your pussy to him so that he can see how delicious it looks drooling around his cock, causing filthy sounds to spread through the room.

You're breathless, your eyes closed and your legs shaking against his grip.

"You still want me to let go?" he rushes out, angling his hips just right, your arms gripping his hands, helping him to keep your legs spread.

"Yes. Fuck...hnghh. Go-oh....harder" A sharp thrust sends your arms flying to your sides, clawing at the couch desperately in an effort to still herself.

Taishiro is ecstatic, your ass bouncing off the couch and meeting his thrusts. You'll be so fucking full, so thoroughly destroyed and molded to fit everything he can give. He's not sure if you'll be able to keep all of his cum in, maybe he'll have to help you? Keep you nice and plugged?

His balls slam against your cheeks, large and heavy, your ass bouncing back and forward from the ruthlessness.

He knows he'll have a fat load, he can feel it coming and he is too lost to care, eyes glued to your bulged belly as his cock stretches you inside out.

In the haze of it, he moves one hand to press firmly against it, causing a yelp to leave your lips. Is your body supposed to stretch like that? You can only cry and gasp out when he starts palming it with his hand, halfheartedly glancing to check if you're okay.

Truly he's lost. Lost in the way you feel, completely and utterly brainwashed by the clacking sound of your wet pussy sucking him in. You lose your balance completely when you try to paw at your clit, your head hitting the not so comfortable cushion.

But it works, the barely-there friction sending your body into a heat, your legs desperately fighting the persistent push, clenching and trashing as you cum around his cock.

One well-sheathed thrust sets loose a spurt after spurt of thick warm cum, a low groan slipping your boyfriend's lips when he doesn't stop pumping, milking every last drop and making your belly bulge up as he keeps his cock flush with your entrance.

You're looking down at your stomach, holding your breath in and blinking away the tears from your eyes. It hurts even more now that you're clenching around it, feeling every vein throb and push against the soft rim of your muscles. He carefully humps your cervix, riding out the last seconds of his high before he stills, knees buckling.

"There we go, sweetheart...There you have it right? This is what you wanted? Is it enough for my greedy little toy? Or too much?" he asks reaching an arm to wipe off a few tears from your cheeks. Too fucked out to respond you just nod, to what exactly, you wouldn't know. You never felt more full in your fucking life.

His mind clears slowly, guiding his cock out of your hole and cringing when you whimper in pain. The sight is erotic, almost making him feel guilty for wanting to do it again already.

Your legs are sore, too painful to close immediately, moving inch by inch as far as your muscles let you.

"I'm okay..." you whisper out, offering a gentle smile before your eyes get droopy, exhaustion catching up on you.

He nods, checking you up and down before getting up to grab a few towels to clean you up.

You barely wince, desperately trying not to fall asleep and help him out yet you can't.

"I got you... You can drift off and I'll draw a bath..." he mumbles, kissing your forehead before getting to work. You cuddle the closest pillow, content and blissed out as you doze off.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Sylvester the Cat x Toon!Reader || Drabble

Plot: I'm just experimenting with the Looney Tune idea so possibly enjoy some cute Sylvester Jr wanting you to be his new other parent.

Warnings: Toon violence?

You're just tying up the ends of Wile E's bandages into a tight little knot, prompting a wince from the coyote and a little board sign saying 'Ouch!'. Immediately you wince, stepping back. "Ohh... sorry, Wile E... I'm not exactly certified... " Daffy made you do this job, seeing as you're worse at sports then any of them- and that's saying something.

His head falls forward slightly and his ears wilt as you step back.

"Okay! Who's nex- " Turning around - picking up some more bandages and band aids in one fist, and an industrial sized tube of Acme branded antiseptic cream tucked under your other arm, - you look about for your next patient.

- And droop as soon as you see what kind if work load is waiting for you. It looks like every toon you know is lined up for medical attention!

The bandages and band aids slip out of your hands and scatter across the floor. "Oh boy." Quickly taking a deep breath to refresh yourself, you perk right up in order to get to it. Okay! "Sly! You're first, what's wro- Uh, hah. Nevermind."

Looking at him... maybe you don't have to ask...

Tweety flies through the giant gaping hole in Sylvester's tummy and the cat gives great sigh, slumping forward. "Why are the only times he's in there are when he can get out!!"

"I know, I know, woe is you. Sit down." You have no time for sympathies right now, you can allocate Sly only 2 minutes- and that's because you like him. The other patients coming get only one. "Okay, Sly!... um... " Oh brother you're stuck. Why do you do with an ailment like this?? Sylvester patiently sits, waiting for you to finish as you set your paws on your hips with a huff... wondering where exactly to go from here. Hm. "Do you maybe... know where your insides... are? Like, presently?"

"Uhh, they were... disintegrated... "

You two share a concerned look. "Maybe... spackle?- "

Just as Sylvester is gulping down his fear at your crazy suggestion, a certain black and white kitten comes speeding out of the crowd at the two of you. "FATHER!" Sylvester Junior stops at his fathers side, eyes wide with worry. "Father! Is he okay, Y/N??"

As you start rifling through your medical kit for something actually useful, you waive a dismissive paw at the kitten. "Oh, don't worry SJ. Your dad has recovered from worse- you know that."

Oh- that gives you an idea! It may not be strictly medical... or orthodox in the least, but its worth a try! Come on- you guys are toons. Straightening up, you look to the court; Searching for the little yellow speck you know is flying around somewhere.

Sylvester Jr nods slowly, pouting. His eyes are big, and round, and adorably full of worry. "Do you think I can sit on his lap safely, Y/N?"

Oh he's just the cutest. You turn back to your patient and raise your brows at him. "Can he?"

Sly perks up at the chance to get some much needed affection - rather then shameful berating, - from his rugrat. "Of course he can- come on, son- oww... " Unfortunately Sylvester Junior throws caution to the wind, and launches his little body at his father- almost going all the way through and causing you to seriously wince, but luckily Sylvester has a good grip on him and sets him in his lap rather then inside the cavern that was his belly. "Aghhh... thanks, son... I feel a lot better now... oof!- "

Sylvester Junior has thrown his arms around his father, and your heart leaps at the adorable scene...

Except- you wouldn't have, if you had heard what was really going on in that hug.

Sylvester's eyes widen and he deadpans at his son, hearing the words that come out in a rushed, hoarse whisper as soon as the hug he thought was genuine closes around his neck. Of course... this is his son, after all...

"How am I doing, Father?? Is Y/N looking?? I've been told that other cats become more inclined to date a cat who's good with children!, and since you're hopeless at that, I've elected myself, your darling baby son, to help you! So, are they looking father??"

"Junior!"

"Yes father???"

"I do not need your help to woo anyone, and I'm working on Y/N... " Sly tries to assure Jr, not sounding totally sure as his eyes fall downcast. "Its, uh, just a slow process, is all... " After a moment, he proudly lifts his chin, and he would puff out his chest, if... you know.. it was there... "I got your mother on my own, didn't I??"

Sylvester's proud moment is cut off quickly as his son pulls away from him to give a very deadpanned, sassy expression at the mention of his absentee mother cat. "And where is she, may I ask, father??"

A loud 'Aha!' comes from you a few feet away as you jump up, and grab something right out of the air.

Deeply rolling his eyes, irritation flickering inside him at the antics of his son, Sylvester Sr plonks him down on the bench beside him, angrily crossing his arms. Jr follows suit, looking like an exact replica of his father... except, smaller.

Blinking blankly around to see the two, with Tweety now wriggling around in your paws, you giggle at the sight. "What happened to you two? You were having such a heart warming father-son moment a second ago!"

"I'm full of shame, Y/N. Oh woe... "Sylvester Jr sighs, shaking his head as Sr turns his head slowly to look at him. "How am I to face my friends at the playground... My father- a loser!"

Sylvester pointedly looks away, angry eyes pointing towards the court. "My son... a spoiled brat. How am I ever to show my face in society, again?" An even heavier sigh comes out of Sylvester Jr at that remark, and Sylvester Sr immediately jumps up from the bench, pointing a stern finger at his son. "Oh no ya don't- Don't you dare get out that bag!!"

"But Father! I'm full of shame!" Sylvester Jr whines, holding the paper bag in his lap as you watch the two in wonderment. How they can bicker like this, and still have such an adorable, open relationship you have no clue - some kids are too scared to talk back to their fathers, - but the state of these two's relationship is truly, really endearing to you.

Oh how you love Sly... You catch yourself swooning at the thought of him, and immediately stop yourself. Stop it, Y/N! This is not the time for that. Taking a deep breath, you shake yourself. Okay, back to the task at hand.

Meanwhile, Sylvester snatches the paper bag away from Jr. "Oh, cut that out, wouldja?!"

While there's a pause in the argument, you jump and take your chance to hold up Tweety in front of Sylvester's face- his pupils shrinking at the sight and his teeth growing sharper, somehow.

"Oh no oh no- You mean old puddy tads- using me like this!" Tweety exclaims, wings pressed firmly to your paws and pushing, struggling to wiggle up and out of your tight grip. Yeah yeah, you think. Tell it to the choir.

Hopefully when I let Tweety go, Sly will give chase... and be all better!

Heh... isn't that how it works? It is, right? He'll 'perk right up'! you could say.

"Alright... here goes nothing!" You squeak, closing your eyes and letting Tweety go, hoping to god that Sylvester doesn't trample you in his endeavour to snatch his favourite little yellow bird.

Feeling a wind blow against you side and ruffling your fur as Sylvester springs to action, you slowly crack your eyes open again- first seeing Sylvester Jr as he still sits on the bench in front of you swinging his legs over the side of the bench, before peaking over your shoulder, and... "Yes!" You cry out as soon as your keen feline eyes catch sight of Sylvester looking good as new again on the court, chasing Tweety through the still-roaring basketball game. Clasping your hands together, your tail wiggles excitedly behind your back. "It worked!"

"What?" Sylvester hears your cheering and immediately halts in his tracks, looking at you then down at himself- a big, toothy smile spreading across his face when he see's he's all better. "Y/N! You did it! Thanks!"

"Of course!" You call back, then point at the scoreboard and wink. "Now kick those Monstar's butts for me!"

The green Monstar turns a squinty looking evil eye on you at hearing your words but you don't care- you're far too busy burning the image of Sly giving you a thumbs up into your mind.

"Heheh, no problem... " That trademark evil grin slips across Sly's face again as he rubs his paws together, turning his attention back to the game as you sigh, paws on your hips; Happy with your job well done.

"Uh, hello??" Someone speaks up from behind you, and you jump, suddenly remembering the mile long line of toons that still need medical attention.

Ohhh... great. You slowly turn around, seeing Elmer giving you angry eyes and quickly look extremely apologetic, paws awkwardly behind your back and spine as straight as a plank. Oops!

You might seem help... you think you tilting your head to see the rest of the long... long, l o n g line. "Uhh... SJ? You wanna help me play nurse, maybe?"

"Oh, yes Y/N!" He exclaims enthusiastically, hopping off the bench and taking up your medical kit in his short little arms- which is way too big for him. You giggle and take it from the kitten, patting his head. "I'll be happy to be your assistant!"

Fist bumping each other, you wink. "That's the kinda attitude I like to see! Lets go."

~

A couple hours and countless injuries later and the game is coming to a nail chewing close. Truly, this is a new level of anxiety you're feeling as you leave Sylvester Junior, now exhausted and up past his bedtime, curled in Granny's lap with a blanket strewn over him. Then you sit back down to watch the game beside a very injured Sly, as Witch Hazel defibrillates Taz.

If Michael doesn't make this shot - with but seven seconds to go, - he has to move to Moron Mountain in your place. You all dragged him here for help and now h's the one with everything on the line.

You cant help but feel a massive load of guilt.

"Oh I cant watch!" You squeak suddenly amongst the thunderous sounds of the audience at 4 seconds, and cover your eyes. "Tell me when its over!"

.

.

.

3 seconds later, the buzzer screeches and you hear the toons around you cheering, and peak out nervously from beyond your paws. ... What happened?

Your gaze flickers to the score board.

Oh my god. A deep, relieved breath comes out of you. "We won!?"

"We won!" Sylvester concurs, jumping up from the bench and throwing a fist into the air. Then he puts his paws on your arms and beams down at you. "We're not gonna be slaves!!"

You wonder what you could say in response, but the one thing your body is telling to you to do is throw your arms around him- so you do. And he doesn't think twice before squeezing you back, picking you up and swinging you around.

Then the world comes crashing down around Sly, as his son opens his eyes to see the scene- and gasps. The kitten sits up quickly in Granny's lap and points. "Oh, father! You did it! I knew you could do it!"

Immediately Sylvester puts you down, his paws retreating from you and a definite sense of nervousness - and maybe embarrassment? - settles over him. You raise your brows, confused, but still swimming in the joy of the game being won and just tilt your head as you confusedly smile. "What did he do??"

Sly Jr doesn't even think a second before gleefully elaborating- despite his father very nearly shaking his soul free waving his hands at him in a doomed endeavour to shut his son up. "No- stop, Junior!- "

"Asked you out! Didn't he?" As the wide eyed bewilderment on your face and the utter horror on Sylvester's dawns on Jr, his shoulders drop and he turns disappointedly at his dad. "Didn't you?"

"No!"

"Oh, father!- "

Sylvester Sr's tail, shoulders, and head slump forward as he turns his kitten around so he faces away from the two of you, embarrassment replaced by exasperation. "You're tired, son. Go to sleep. Night night, sleep tight, sweet dreams, don't let the bed bugs bite and we'll talk in the morning." Then he slowly, meekly turns back to you.

And you're practically glowing. "Sly... what's he talking about?"

"Father likes you!- " Sylvester Jr tries to speak up again, turning his head but Sr twists his head carefully back, a reprimanding tone in his voice.

"Sleep! Hah hah... " Sylvester (Sr) turns back to you, arms held carefully behind his back as he chuckles nervously. "My son is... troubled... a little- "He point at his head and swirls his finger; A gesture reading 'Loopy'. As soon as the meaning behind that word and his gesture occurs to you, you visibly droop. Oh. Okay... I guess SJ was just messing with us... Sly watches this reaction, and his ears perk up quickly; Sensing some dissappintment. "I mean, uh... unless you liked the i-idea?"

You peak up at him again from the floor, seeing his face slowly going red. "... D-do you?"

"Wha- I asked first! You answer the question."

"Hey." Setting your fists to your hips, you look stubbornly at him. "You were just taking it all back! So you tell the truth. Which is it??"

"Yeah- but I asked the question first!"

"Sylvester James Pussycat Senior!"

"Pfft... if you think pulling full name on me is going to change anything... " He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "You've got another thing comin'!"

Your eyes narrow, and so do his, before suddenly Taz jumps up from the bench he was resting on and ZOOMS past Sly so fast and so hazardously, that he's caught off guard and jumps forward with a yelp- accidentally knocking you.

"Oh!-"

"H-hold on, I got ya!!" Sylvester's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates and he grabs you just before gravity manages to drag you down to the ground; Pulling you back up to your feet- which just so happens to bring you two extremely close together.

Two sets of eyes widen and faces go red.

Everything seems to go a little quieter around you, the deafening sounds of the auditorium seeming to get plunged under water as the crazy all just slows down for just a moment. Enough for you to enjoy the few seconds you foreseeably get before he jumps back like someone sprayed him.

But to your surprise, he doesn't move. Just stands there and looks shocked... but does not move even an inch away from you. Doesn't even let go of you.

Finally, after a few good moments, you sigh and give in. "... Sly, would you like to go out sometime with me?"

"Ah... " His ears flatten against his head as he looks bashful, with a cute little smile that makes your stomach do backflips as he curls his tail around yours. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

You lean up and give him a feather light kiss on the cheeks- and he goes even redder.

[weareallstoriesintheend]

A writing request: Protective Clyde rescues reader from a guy being a little too handsy at the bar. Makes sure reader gets home safely. Super fluff/protective Clyde. Maybe ends with a 'thank you' kiss on the cheek. Annnddd I'm already crying thinking about you writing this

Safe & Sound (Reader x Clyde Logan) 

Note: For you @ladyinwriting18? Anything! 🥰

Part 1 of the Safe & Sound Series. Here is Part 2 & 3

Warnings: Creepy misogynistic bullshit. But also the fluffiest of fluff!  

Words: 2,407 

Smutty Part 2 - HERE

The smell of whiskey breath ghosting over your face made your stomach turn. You were just trying to have a quiet drink at the ‘Duck Tape’ after a long day at work and all of a sudden you were having your evening ruined by some overbearing guy with half a bottle of dutch courage behind him. “Seriously, I’m okay thank you” you said politely, trying to catch the eye of anyone who could get this guy off you. You were not one to be polite to guys that harass you usually but something about this guy’s overly aggressive lean towards you had put you on edge. All sorts of images and scenarios were flashing through your mind and your heart was starting to hammer in your chest. But just like always, just like you were taught from the time you can walk, you played it off by smiling sweetly and being as polite as possible. Annoyingly you’d chosen to sit in the back corner of the bar tonight so you had nowhere to go but past him. Your dress was high up on your thigh and you tried, subtly, to pull it down.   “Nah, come on sweetheart” he said with a smirk, flicking your long hair off your shoulder dragging his fingers purposely along your skin as he does it “Let me buy you a drink” You went to speak again, hoping to brush him off but the panic in you was rising. The feeling of his skin on yours had triggered something within you, you fidgeted your hands over each other on the bar top to stop them trembling. You looked up at him, mustering up that fake sweet smile again, turning to grab your jacket to leave – figuring this was the only way to get him to leave you alone – before you heard someone else speak.

“I’m goin’ to have to ask you to leave” you heard the deep drawl before you looked up. Clyde Logan was sidling his way across to where you were sat in the corner, the light of the bar was behind him like an aura. Your lumbering guardian angel. Honestly you’d never paid too much attention to him, he was just… Clyde. He’d been around forever except for when you’d returned from college and found out he was off in Iraq. Clyde was just the big grumpy bartender who made a mean vodka cranberry for you every Friday night; the same grumpy bartender who always slipped in an extra lime because he knew you liked it. You gave him a relieved smile as you caught his eye; he instantly turned his attention back to the guy leaning against you as he piped up once more. “Oh come on Clyde, I was only havin’ a bit of fun” he slurred, giving him a hacking laugh before slipping his hand up your arm and onto your shoulder. You instantly tensed up, skin crawling as you could feel the sweat drip from his forehead on your bare shoulder as he propped himself against you. “Oh I’m sure ya are. But see, I don’t think she finds it very fun do you darlin’?” Clyde said looking at you out the corner of his eye and you shook your head. “Now I’m asking ya to leave cause you’re making my customers uncomfortable. I’m damn sure this woman, nice as she is, doesn’t want your hands all over her now does she?” You shook your head again and the guy looked at you, having the audacity to scoff in offense at your response before turning back to Clyde with a grin. But Clyde kept talking “Her shakin’ her head there? That’s her sayin’ no. Got that? So I’m goin’ to ask you one more time to get off her. Look at her… sweet like a little bird she is, she don’t need your big greasy paws all over her like that” The drunk guy sneered and jostled your shoulders in a jovial way, trying to show Clyde how you were at ease you supposed, and you felt his metal watch strap nick your skin at the back of your neck and you hissed softly at the pain. There was a sudden thud and you looked down; Clyde had grabbed the guy’s free arm that was resting on the bar with his flesh hand. He gave it a sudden tug and the guy gave a high-pitched yelp as he was pulled closer to Clyde and off you. “I said… I’m goin’ to have to ask you to leave” Clyde repeated. You knew sweet, quiet Clyde could have a temper when he needed one; you’d seen him strong-arm a few guys out on their asses a few times over the years. You’d always quietly admired how sturdy and wide his body looked, comfortable and yet solid. So when he did things like that you’d silently sip your drink, pretending you weren’t watching his bicep bulge under his long-sleeved shirt as he grabbed the guy by the scruff of the neck or twist their arm behind their back and haul them out the bar. Another bar patron, an older guy, was walking past this little scene and shot the drunk guy a knowing look before giving his input “Now Billy! Logan here’s got two tours under his belt. Show the guy some respect. Make yourself scarce, come on” Clyde shoo’d this new guy off with a tilt of his head and the guy threw his hands up in surrender before walking away. Billy let out another hacking laugh that made you flinch slightly in your seat, it was full of contempt and far too much confidence for a man in his position “What do you think ya goin’ to do Logan? One arm freak ain’t gunna do nothin’ to me!” “I think you’ll find that I still have my arm, just my forearm and hand that’s missin’. I still got enough to break this arm of yours in three places if you don’t leave this beautiful young lady alone” “Oh I see, Little Logan got a crush” Billy grinned cockily at him, spittle was flying out of his mouth as he slurred and it made you cringe as you saw it landing on Clyde’s dark blue shirt. You started to panic again, you didn’t know what Clyde was going to do next and you shot him a look. You didn’t want him to get himself in trouble for you and after everything that had had happened at the speedway you worried that one little thing would get the cops on

his ass again. He caught your panicked expression and gave you a contemplative pout before turning his head back to Billy. He dragged Billy a little closer so he was bent uncomfortably; you could see his belt cutting deep into his side, pressed into him by the wood of the bar. He was flinching and groaning in Clydes strong grasp, when Clyde spoke he was close to his face and his voice was a low, slow and dangerously calm growl “Now somethin’ tell me this precious, good woman here wants me to spare you the pain I was plannin’ on givin’ ya, kind as she is. So I’m goin’ to let you go but if I ever see you so much as look at her again I’ll show you what two tours in Iraq teaches ya. Got it?” You watched as Billy quickly gathered up his jacket that was hanging haphazardly from the chair he had been sitting on and skitter out the bar like a dog with its tail between its legs. Clyde gave you a pouty but satisfied nod before calmly going back to washing glasses.

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The bar was closing in around an hour so Clyde made you another drink, extra lime as always, to steel your nerves. As he walked around, picking up after people and saying goodnight to the stragglers he kept a close eye on you. Always looking back over his shoulder to where you were sat. You smiled every time he looked at you, several times you thought about getting up to leave for the night but he always caught your eye and something in his look made you sip your drink a little slower. Maybe you should stick around.

“He didn’t hurt you or nothing did he?” Clyde said in a low voice so the last people that were leaving couldn’t hear him. Part of you wondered if he was embarrassed to be helping you but then you realised, as he turned his body to literally shield you from the gaze of the rest of the patrons in the bar, he was protecting your privacy. “No Clyde, I’m fine thank you” you smiled, brushing your dress down awkwardly trying to ease the tension. Clyde was a man of few words usually but he made up for it in the intensity of his stare and right now that stare was focussed purely on you. His eyes roamed over you and it made a heat rise up on the back of your neck. He made a grunting noise, almost to himself, and he leaned over the bar to fetch a napkin. He turned the tap on that was over the small bar sink and dipped the napkin under the running water. You gave him a look, raising your eyebrow in question and he nodded to you shoulder. You looked down and noticed a small trail of dried blood running down your shoulder from where the guy had cut you with his watch. “Can I touch ya? Is that okay?” he asked, eyes soft and concerned as he studied you. You nodded shyly and he leant forward and wiped the napkin over your skin gently. You watched his hand carefully, the huge size of it compared to your arm making you bite back a giggle. The cold of his horseshoe ring brushing lightly against your skin made you break into goosebumps. He dabbed and patted to make sure he got it all wiped away “There ya go, all cleaned up” He gave your arm a stroke with his thick knuckles, like he was doubly making sure you were all squared away. Clyde Logan didn’t smile very much, you always thought his signature grumpy pout was actually quite endearing, but in this moment as you gazed up at him he gave you the smallest, most tender smile and you couldn’t help but grin back at him. “You don’t have to take care of me you know?” you whispered, he shook his head as he hopped up on the bar and swung himself back over. “Well of course I do, pretty little thing like you shouldn’t have to deal with assholes like that!” You gave him a small push to his chest that barely moved him “You stop that!” you laughed, he chuckled as you dipped your head down, letting your hair hide the growing blush on your cheeks. “I only speak the truth darlin’” he said turning to wander over to the cash register “Give me 2 minutes to check todays takins’ and I’ll drive ya home” You scoffed and dropped off your high bar stool onto your feet “You really don’t need to do that, I’m sure that guy is long gone” “Well I can’t just let ya go home on your on now can I? What kind of gentleman would I be if I did that?” he said, you swear you saw him smirk to himself and he pushed his hip into the cash register to close it. He turned to you, swinging his jacket off the hook on the wall and around his shoulders. “Oh Clyde, you’re sweet but I’ll be okay” You stepped forward as you spoke and helped him pull his jacket over his prosthetic arm “Really! I don’t live too far, you know that! It’s only a mile round the corner I can walk it” You flushed at his forwardness and unexpected level of care he was showing you. The heat was rising up on the fact of your neck again and you couldn’t quite decide if it was embarrassment or something a little more intimate. “Nonsense, I won’t hear another word on the matter” he shot you another smile; you quite liked this more relaxed Clyde. There was something about that shy smile that made you accept his offer with a small nod. “Perfect. Let me grab my keys and I’ll drive ya”

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You hopped down out of his truck as he opened the passenger door for you, which he had insisted on doing; he’d even held out his prosthetic arm for you to use to steady yourself as you dropped unsteadily onto your driveway. You’d thanked him quietly and he’d responded “Nothing but the best for the princess” making you giggle and elbow his side jokingly. You both wandered down the driveway in comfortable silence, nothing but crickets and the crunch of gravel beneath both your shoes.

“Safe and sound now aren’t ya” he said, tapping your front door absentmindedly with his knuckle, watching you wrestle your keys out of your bag. You chuckled and nodded, before you could give yourself a second to overthink it you pitched up on your tip toes, pulling him down slightly with your a small hand on his wide shoulder, and placed a timid kiss to his cheek. “Thank you Clyde” you whispered. You giggled slightly as a noticeable pink blush bloomed across his cheeks and he shook his head and stuttered “N-no thanks necessary sweetheart”

You put your key in the lock and he turned to leave with a courteous nod goodnight. As you pushed open the door breathing out a tightly held in sigh, suddenly thankful to be in the comfort of your own home, you heard him say your name. You spun to see him a few feet away from you, rocking on his heels slightly “Come by the bar tomorrow night? I’ll make you another one of those cranberry drinks you like and…I’d errr… I’d love to see ya”

Now it was your turn to blush, you hoped he couldn’t see it in the shadow of your doorway

“I’d love too. See you then” you replied, giving him a small wave before going inside.

Maybe you should have paid more attention to the big grumpy bear behind the bar because it turns out, he’s rather sweet.

[one-boring-person]

What's Funny?

John Rambo (between Rambo II and Rambo III) x reader

Warnings: some sexual content implied? Slight injury

Context: John teaches the reader to ride a horse. (Set between the second and third movie)

A/N: this was not supposed to turn out how it did; it was supposed to stay innocent! But ah well, it is what it is. Also, I apologise if parts of this are inaccurate, I am by no means that knowledgeable on horse riding, so please excuse any inaccuracies!

Masterlist

I instinctively tense up in the saddle as I feel the horse beneath me shift, the sensation of being sat on something alive very odd to me, despite all the stranger things I've done in my life. Sensing this, the animal whinnies and paws at the dusty ground, tossing its head slightly, clearly thinking I'm in distress, even though I'm not. Biting my lip, I try to relax again, taking the reins a little looser in my hands, adjusting my feet in the stirrups. Still holding the bridle for me, my companion, John, reaches up to pat the horse's neck, trying to soothe it as he eyes my posture.

"You need to relax more." He states, reaching over to lightly pinch the muscle in my arm, feeling how tense it is, his touch almost reassuring to me, "Stop tensing up so much, nothing bad is gonna happen."

"I know, I'm just...nervous, that's all." I mumble back, slightly ashamed at my incapability to do something he makes look so simple.

"Don't be, you'll be fine. There, now just lightly touch your heels to his side and click your tongue." The dark-haired veteran moves his hands, holding onto the leading rope instead.

Taking a breath, I do as he says, my jaw clenching when the horse starts into a slow walk, snorting and tossing its head impatiently. The movement feels odd beneath me, but I settle into it with some ease, still uncomfortable but not badly so, my eyes flicking to John for knowledge on whether I'm doing this right. He watches me carefully, leading the horse round in a circle, adjusting my posture here and there, sending me a look of reassurance when he catches my eye. I start getting the hang of it, relaxing slightly into the saddle as the horse starts to get used to me, the movements becoming smoother and more fluid, a small hesitant smile breaking out onto my lips. 

"Enjoying yourself?" John asks after a moment, the start of a smile pulling at his lips, dark eyes glittering with triumph. 

"Yeah, I am now." I reply, grinning at him as I reach forward to pat the horse's neck.

"Good, I'm glad." He responds, swiping a hand over his brow, "Stop a minute, I've gotta take this off."

The muscular man gestures to his large overshirt, waiting for me to slow to a halt before dropping the lead and going to the fence, where he takes his shirt off over his head. I find myself watching his every movement, enraptured by the way his muscles flex and move under his tanned, scarred skin, his torso hidden by one of his black sleeveless shirts, his shoulders bulging as he removes the fabric hiding them. Licking my lips at the sight, I forget to pay attention to the horse beneath me, yelping when it suddenly bucks upwards, the unexpected movement throwing me off the saddle a little, the animal quickly working to lose me completely. Getting my feet loose from the stirrups, I find myself thrown to the floor, dull pain exploding across my ribs as I land harshly, the impact winding me. Neighing, the stallion jumps into a more uncontrolled pace, seemingly having been spooked by something, leaving me lying in the dust as it moves off. 

"(Y/n)! Are you alright?" John calls out to me as he realises what's happened, the veteran swiftly moving to catch the fast-moving horse, grabbing it and calming it. Leading it back over, he hurriedly drops to the floor beside me, helping me sit upright as I press a hand to my ribs, groaning a little.

"Yeah, I'm good. Caught me by surprise." I wince, looking up at him, allowing him to help me up.

He looks me over, making sure I'm not seriously injured, before starting to consider something, a slight grin playing at his lips.

"What's funny?" I ask him curiously, dusting myself down.

"Hm? Oh, I just find it amusing that for a person who I've seen drive a car, motorcycle, tank, and fly planes and helicopters, as well as navigate boats, in all kinds of conditions, you've never mastered horse riding." He explains, chuckling slightly.

Pouting, I push his arm lightly, eyeing up the horse again.

"Yeah, well all those things are inanimate when they start, and I can fully control them. This creature has a mind of its own. Literally." I gesture to the horse, still slightly intimidated by the size of it.

"True." John hums, still smiling, "I've got an idea on how to help you."

"Oh?" 

"Yeah, come on." 

Going back to the horse, John motions for me to climb up again, helping me settle back into the saddle as I swallow down the slight fear in my throat. Trying to relax, I expect John to start adjusting my posture instantly, only to be very surprised when he suddenly appears behind me on the horse's back, perched lightly on the saddle, chest pressed flush to my back as his arms thread through mine, taking the reins in hand. My breath falters in my throat momentarily as he adjusts himself, his body moulding to mine to be more comfortable, his own breaths hot on my skin as he leans forwards slightly. Against my sides, I can feel every flex of his muscles, my heart stuttering from the sensation, meaning I nearly miss it as he takes my hands in his and holds the reins with them.

"Relax, (Y/n). The horse can sense if you're tense." John advises me, his rough voice resonating through me from this proximity. Somehow, this does help me to relax, and I feel myself go limper in his arms.

After a second, I feel John's thighs tense up as he gently taps his heels to the horse's sides, guiding the animal into a slow walk. His body moves in time with the horse, encouraging me to do the same, the action feeling much safer now that I can feel him help guide the animal. Swallowing, I try to ignore the feeling of his chest rubbing against my back, and the slight tickle from his long hair brushing over my shoulders. 

"See, you're getting the hang of it." John encourages me after a little while, his hands moving from mine to rest lightly on my thighs, leaving me to guide the horse around. Though the movement is casual, it sends goosebumps up through my body, my legs tensing slightly under his touch. He must've noticed it by now, but he seems to ignore it, instead helping me continue to ride.

I squeak in surprise when his lips suddenly make contact with my neck, the veteran leaving a very deliberate kiss just over my pulse point, his mouth lingering there as his hands slide up to grasp my waist. Nosing at the skin, he continues to press gentle kisses over the area, feeling my body relax under his hands, falling back into his chest as he continues his actions. Gently, he trails kisses down my neck to my shoulder, relishing in the small sounds of pleasure escaping me, my body yearning for more from him, years of craving his touch making me extremely vulnerable to his ministrations now.

"J-John…" I sigh, tilting my head to give him better access.

Beneath us, I can feel the horse getting antsy, the animal clearly aware that our attention is now split. John clearly feels it, too, as he takes the reins again and pulls the horse to a halt, reluctantly climbing down. Sighing from the loss of contact, I follow his lead, keeping my gaze downturned as he takes the horse out of the area we used for practice, trailing after him as he swiftly hands the creature back over to its owner, speaking quickly with them before he takes me behind the stable. 

Once there, he pushes me up against the wall, lips crashing into mine, his hands gripping my waist and pulling me into him, my own arms wrapping around his neck. Moaning into the kiss, I press closer to him, feeling safe in his arms as we move in time with each other, years of pent up emotion flooding across the connection. His scent, sweat mixed with the faint remains of incense from the temple, surrounds me, calming my racing heart at its familiarity, making me wish I could stay this close to him forever. 

Eventually, he pulls away, both of us needing air, his forehead pressing into mine, our breaths mingling with each other.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't wait any longer." He finally says, his dark eyes searching mine for a rejection.

"Don't apologise. I'm not sure how much longer I would've lasted, honestly." I admit, carding my fingers through his soft hair, enjoying the feeling of the messy strands under my touch. 

Smiling, John leans in and captures my lips again for a chaste kiss, before pulling back completely, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into his side.

"Come on, let's go somewhere more private."

[alfredosauce50]

Of beasts and men [Hybrid 2p! America x reader]

Synopsis: And to think that godforsaken animal rescue center was to blame. You were supposed to find a dog to adopt, not a creepy furry who showed up naked at your door! Turns out, his shapeshifting abilities got him in some hot water with the police. And the rescue center owner. It’s pretty self-explanatory. Wordcount: 3, 290 The reader is referred to as she/her.

“You’re fired!” A gruff voice screamed outside a diner a few blocks down. “And don't come crawling back to me when you need my help! Not again!”

The shouts caused his ears to prick up, so he turned his head to the sound and flipped the man off. Though one had to wonder if he was a man. Yes, he stood on two legs, but he was covered head to toe with shaggy brown fur, and he had the head of a bull.

“No, I quit! Nobody fires me. Your loss, baby!” He yelled, baring his canines in a wide smile. When the other fumed in response, a jet of steam shot through his nostrils to blow his gold nose ring forward. Then, they stomped their foot and kicked the dirt below. He froze. “Oh shit.”

“I'll skewer you like a kebab!” They roared, rearing their head back before lunging forward to start charging at him. A single glance of those sharp horns was enough to send him running. So he fled, dashing through the narrow marketplace while gritting his teeth. Pushing past members of the public, he never stopped knocking over random objects in his way.

Crates, baskets, and fruit stalls in his path were bulldozed, alerting nearby swordsmen in blue jackets.

“Hey, you there! Stop running!”

He could hear their paws and hooves hot on his tail, so he lowered himself onto all fours and morphed. Sprinting all the way to the edge of the city, he disappeared into an alleyway. His life was a culmination of terrible decisions, but this probably took the cake. He knew exactly where this system of alleys led to, but he never slowed down to look back.

There was nothing left for him in the beast kingdom.

Dashing out of the enclosure of walls, he rammed into a dumpster and fell to the ground with a heavy thump. “Ah, shit...” He rolled onto his back and outstretched a paw to stare at it. “Maybe it isn't too late to be adopted. Ha!” The thought made him laugh, but it came out as a high-pitched wheeze. “Who am I kidding? I'm not a damn pet.”

“Hey, is that a red Doberman?”

He widened his eyes and sprung up on all fours. Pricking his ears to the two men standing at the street outside, he shook his head in regret. Like a deer caught in the headlights, they shined their torch on him and lit up his black irises with fear.

“Wow, you're right! Look at its fur! It's got a beautiful rusted color to it!”

“I can't believe it's a stray. We should take it back to the rescue center.”

The next thing he knew, he was sitting in a small cell. A metal gate slammed shut and locked him in. A few minutes later, he was still processing everything that had happened. He just got caught by a bunch of humans. “Did I jinx myself?” Jumping up and scrambling to the gate, he pressed his snout against the wires and held it with his paws--a rather human-like action and odd sight.

“Let me out, let me out dammit!” He yelled, pulling the wires back and forth to make it rattle. “This is a beast rights violation! I demand a lawyer!” What should have been coherent sentences left his mouth as a string of violent barks.

An attendant entered the hall and smashed a baton against a pole. “Oi, settle down! Keep that up and nobody will want you!”

The dog pulled away and fell onto his behind. Then, it let out a defeated scoff. “Nobody would want me anyways. Just do yourself a favor and let me rot on the streets.”

Upon hearing those soft whines, the attendant lowered his arm and walked off. “Atta’boy. Now go take a nap or something.”

And nap he did, having given up on escaping--for now. Laying his head on the cold, hard ground, he fluttered his tired eyes to a close. The next morning when he came to, his nose twitched to an unfamiliar scent. It radiated in waves from the fingers on the other side of the gate. Human fingers.

When he glanced up, someone was crouching in front of him and holding out their hand. “What about this one, Jerry? Is he up for adoption?” They asked with a small smile decorating their lips. Sitting up excitedly at that, he wagged his tail. Anything to get out of here. I'll figure out where to go later. “Aw, I think he understands me!”

“Hm, I suppose he is. But he's got a nasty temper, that one. You might wanna rethink your choice.”

He watched the hope fade from their eyes. “Oh, seriously? That's too bad...” Then, they stood up with a sigh. His tail swished to a stop and slumped. That attendant was right in the end, after all.

“And I thought I could get scary dog privileges. Maybe I should stick with smaller sizes...”

The pair made their way down the hall to look at the other species the center housed, much to his disappointment. “Cheer up! We've got tonnes of other big dogs for you to consider. Not all of them will be fussy living in small spaces. You said you lived alone, didn't you?” His ears perked up at that.

“So long as you take them out on walks, they'll be fine.”

“Maybe. But I might have to go home and take some measurements. These dogs were a little bigger than I expected.” Soft laughs echoed, followed by a door creaking open.

“Totally understandable. You come back another day, eh?”

The door clicked shut, leaving him to his own devices. A single thought occurred to him, and it repeated in his head over and over until it drove him mad. He needed to get out of here. Before some other human set their eyes on him. But how? That question was promptly answered when a chill ran down his spine.

His fur shivered and puffed up as he slowly grew in size.

“Oh crap, I'm out of juice!” As his limbs began to stretch, so did his paws. Soon, they began to resemble fingers, and his panic reached an all-time-high when he realized he was standing on two feet again. That wouldn't have been a problem if he wasn't where he was.

He was stranded in the human world in his beast form.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” Looking down to the spot between his legs, he gawked at another unwelcome discovery. Not only was he locked in a tiny cell, but he was also buck naked! It was only a matter of time before the attendant returned and found him like this. Regardless of his appearance, he was more than certain this warranted the police getting involved.

He already screwed up enough as it was. He definitely couldn't afford to get in trouble with the law in the human world too.

So he resorted to escaping by force. Taking a few steps back, he rammed into the lock. After a few attempts, he smashed through the gate and skidded to a stop. Without a shred of hesitation, he whipped his head to the door and charged right through it. Bursting into the front office, the receptionist screamed at his sudden arrival.

Then, they screamed even louder when they processed just what they were seeing. A humanoid dog.

The sheer volume of their shrieks made his ears tremble. “Oh my god, would you shut up already? I have good hearing, you know?”

Upon hearing him speak--a surefire sign he was indeed human--they reached for the phone beside them. Then, they talked frantically into the speaker, mentioning something along the lines of a naked creep in a fursuit. Now, he had no idea what that strange device was, but he was pretty sure they were alerting the authorities.

“Uh oh.”

For the second day in a row, he was chased by cops through a public sphere. That was one thing that didn't change, even if his setting certainly did. Towering buildings and skyscrapers loomed over him from all directions. Strange lights, posters, and moving pictures bombarded him with seizure-inducing colors.

Even then, he had no chance to take it all in when he was too busy fleeing. “Gah, get out of the way, get out of the way!” He barked.

Shoving through the people crowding the edges of the wide street, he stumbled right in front of a heavy-duty truck barreling at him at thirty miles an hour. He had been so determined to get away from the hoard of humans, he never realized where he wound up.

Before he could be sent flying, he gritted his teeth and jumped out of the way while it swerved into a telephone pole.

Briefly turning back to process the damage he'd done, shock filled him to the brim as he processed the scene of devastation that unfolded before him. But he couldn't linger on it for too long.

“That's the guy! Get him!”

He had to get out of here. But where was he supposed to go?

His nose twitched to a familiar scent. It was the person from this morning! And if he wasn't wrong, he recalled that they lived alone. So he followed the smell, finding himself standing outside of an apartment complex of some kind.

Setting down your things after that short and unproductive trip, you flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. Police sirens wailed in the distance, but you paid them no mind. Whoever they were chasing, the fugitive was sure to be caught soon enough. Little did you know, you were about to become their accomplice.

A few crisp knocks sounded on the other side of your front door. Without tearing your gaze from the screen, you slid on your slippers. “Coming!” You called. Slowly making your way to answer it, whoever it was that decided to bother you on this fine Sunday morning, you peeked through the peephole to see a pair of tall red ears. Dog ears.

“Huh?” Unlocking the door and creaking it open, albeit only slightly, you poked your head out in confusion. Standing there in all his glory, or its glory, was an anthropomorphic Doberman. If it weren't for these circumstances you met them under, you would have noticed they were a spitting image to the red Doberman in the rescue center. Instead, you were more compelled to fixate on other details.

When he realized where you were staring, he covered himself and grinned sheepishly.

“Uh... Happy birthday?”

The color drained from your face until you were paler than a sheet of paper. Then, you screamed.

He reflected a similar panic, and before you could shut the door in his face, he lunged forward into the frame and pried it open. “Wait, just hear me out! I'm in a bit of a tight spot here!” Given his physical advantages, he triumphed rather easily and forced himself into your home. All you could do was watch, but that didn't mean you couldn't keep screaming.

Rearing his head back as he covered his trembling ears, he shot his arms around you and clamped a hand over your mouth. “Stop screaming for God's sake! I've had it enough with the screaming today!” When you felt his fur against your lips, you only struggled and thrashed harder out of fear.

Regardless of his strength and stature, he couldn't do this all day.

So he tried morphing again. Rather than changing into the dog you saw earlier in the morning, he assumed a form closer to yours. His rusted red fur disappeared along with his tail. The long snout that pressed against your face shortened, and eventually, the arms that held you hostage were human. Or at least, they gave off that impression with his tanned, hairless skin.

You could argue that his transformation made the situation a little less bizarre. A little more manageable. So yes, you stopped moving. Now that you weren't resisting, he assumed you calmed down enough for him to let you go. What a big mistake that was.

The second you were freed, you punched him square in the jaw.

“Gh-!” An explosion of pain spread through his cheek. Turning back to you with teary eyes, he gripped the spot you took the liberty to abuse. “What the hell was that for?!” He spluttered.

“For being naked, you idiot!” You fumed through a blush.

“I thought we already moved past that!”

“We'll move past it once you put some clothes on!”

A little less bizarre? Who were you kidding? His sudden change in appearance only signaled to you he wasn't just your typical creep in a fursuit. As you mulled over the thought, a grim expression contorted at your features. Was this karma for changing your mind about that Doberman? A supernatural reckoning you so deserved for walking away? Needless to say, it was something worth discussing over some food.

“Thanks for the sweatpants, by the way! I'll return it to you later.” Kicking back in a chair, he started snacking on what he found in your pantry.

You avoided his gaze. He stood at least five inches taller than you, and he was certainly bigger than you were. And in more ways than one. “... You can keep it.”

Watching a dog munch on chocolate was not the most comfortable thing to see, either. The same could be said for his hands that picked through a candy box. “Wow, these are great! We don't have stuff like this back where I live.” He mused, throwing another chocolate-covered almond into his mouth. You tensed up.

“Wait, are you saying you've never had chocolate before?” Leaning forward and slamming your hands down on the dining table, you darted your eyes over his unreadable expression for any signs of discomfort. “I can't believe I let you eat it! Just because you can talk and everything!”

“Wha'dya mean I can talk? Of course I can talk!”

Maybe letting him rummage through your pantry was a bad idea.

He licked around his snout and huffed. “Anyway, sure I've eaten it before. Just nothing this good. What did you guys do to this, huh?” You breathed out a sigh of relief at that and sat back down. So you didn't accidentally poison your guest. Some guest he was, though. His name was strangely more down-to-earth than his otherworldly origins.

“Well, it's processed.”

“Processed, huh? I have no idea what that means.” He turned the box over and squinted at the label. “Huh? What language is this?”

“Japanese.”

His brows knitted together and he looked deep in thought. “Hm. I don't know what that is either.”

You laughed under your breath. “Duh. From what you've told me, it wouldn't be wrong to say you were born yesterday.”

“Oi, I'll have you know I was born at least a year ago!”

Allen, the runaway beast, had left his homeworld for the human one. Though chased out was the more accurate way to put it. There was nothing left for him back there, and his only hope of starting over was to take refuge in a foreign land. Perhaps not forever, but at least until he figured out where to go from here. That was what he had in mind.

“I'm not too concerned about you learning anything new. You'll be leaving soon, so.” Standing up with a content smile, you made your way to his side and patted him on the shoulder. The action prompted him to glance up at you with a full mouth. What you said next, however, would make him spit everything out. “You can't stay the night, Allen.”

He spewed almond bits all over the table, much to your disgust. “Wait, what?! I thought you were gonna let me stay! And not even just for a night, maybe for a week or two!”

You gawked in disbelief. “Are you crazy?! I'm not taking you in just because of your sob story. I'm not made of money, you know!” But that wasn't quite it, either. You were prepared to raise a dog, a big one at that, for protection purposes. The problem wasn't money.

The problem was that he wasn't human.

His ears drooped and he shot you his best puppy dog eyes he could muster. But you stayed strong. It was what he later added that jabbed at your strong resolve. “Aw, come on. Weren't you planning to adopt a dog like me? What's the difference?” Allen pouted. The sound of him reiterating exactly what was on your mind made you freeze up.

“It'll be the same as having a pet, I swear! Maybe even better--I know how to use a toilet!”

“Of course you know how to use a toilet!” You interjected, pulling away shortly to let out a sharp, frustrated sigh. “You're not a pet, Allen. You're a person, well, a dog person. You're not helpless without an owner! And what if somebody hunts me down and for keeping you here?” As much of a point you had, he didn't stop there.

Everything in his life boiled down to this moment. If he couldn't convince you to let him stay, there was no saying where he would end up. So he would do everything in his power to give you that one last push.

Standing up from his chair, he morphed into a human. Or tried with what was left of his energy. While his red ears and tail remained, there was nothing else reminiscent of the beast he was. “If you're worried about what I am, then I'll stay like this. Without the ears and tail, I mean.” His furry appendage swished at that.

“And I'll help you with house chores. I'm more capable than I look, I promise!”

You furrowed your brows and sighed for what felt like the tenth time that day. You couldn't believe it, but he was steadily chipping away at your resolve. So you turned away. “Mm, I don't know. This is a lot to ask from someone, especially if you aren't helping with the bills.”

Allen lit up, sensing your change of heart. So he jumped in front of you. “I'll do anything to make up for it!” He grinned, his energetic outburst catching you off-guard. There was something about his body language and attitude that perfectly embodied a loyal dog eager to please its owner. It was probably because of that tail of his that wagged with great gusto.

Among other things, you supposed.

“I'll be everything you need! A pet, a bodyguard, househusband, whatever you like!” Your attention was piqued at the mention of bodyguard. But when you processed the rest of his sentence, you lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Who said I needed a househusband?” You frowned.

Allen blinked. “Was that too much?” He grinned toothily. “Then how about a live-in boyfriend?”

With every shred of your willpower, you held back the urge to punch him. You already bruised him enough for today. “If you want me to consider taking you in, make me something for lunch! If it's acceptable, I might let you stay.” Shoving him into the kitchen at that, you pulled your apron off its hook and tossed it his way. “And do the dishes, too!”

“Alright, alright, jeez! Have some faith in me, won't you? I used to work in a diner, ya know?” The man swatted you gently with his tail. But you only pulled it much to his surprise.

“Used to. You probably got fired.”

Allen ignored that comment. “Watch where you touch, babe. You're moving a little too fast, even for me--Ow!”

[fallingstarnovel]

Chapter One

Evan Golightly didn't consider himself an unlucky kind of guy. It wasn't like he was wandering around winning the lottery, but he also wasn't getting hit by chunks of blue ice from the sky from a passing airplane.

This week was just like every other week he had experienced so far. As he walked to his lecture across the university campus, he saw the same people he usually did and went to the same places as always. He didn't step on any cracks in the pavement, and he didn't walk under any ladders. He didn't find any four leaf clovers either, and he didn't have a lucky rabbit's paw on his key chain. He had a coffee cup in his hand – medium sized, not big and not small. 

He was a little late, because he had stopped to pet a black cat that lay on the pavement in front of him, but that was okay. The lecturer was very forgiving, and most people were a few minutes late anyway due to a clash in timetabling. 

Evan couldn't remember if seeing a black cat was good luck or bad luck. As the kitty purred and rubbed itself up against his fingers, he couldn't help but smile and talk to it quietly.

"Oh, you like that? You like the scritches? You're so handsome, such a handsome boy..."

Someone behind him coughed disapprovingly. A little embarrassed at getting caught, Evan straightened up and kept walking, forgetting all about whether black cats were lucky or not. 

As he approached the building where his lecture was held, Evan started climbing the concrete steps up to the entrance.

If luck could be charted on a bell curve, with some people being extremely lucky, and some being extremely unlucky, then Evan considered himself to be slap bang in the middle. If he entered the lottery, he might win one of the smallest prizes, but not very often. If he got onto a crowded bus, there would be a seat available, but not a very good one. If he chose answers at random on a test, he would get a 50% grade at the end. 

There was a meow from down by his feet. The black cat was following him. It had big green eyes which were staring at him as it meowed again. 

"I'm sorry, I would love to play with you, but I'm late," Evan said. He knew the cat didn't understand, but he still felt like being polite. 

The cat meowed very loudly and then started walking in between Evan's feet as he climbed the stairs. He started to worry that he was going to trip, slowing down and trying to shoo it away with his foot. It meowed again, but ran away, standing at a distance and staring at him. 

Evan had always been weak for cute things. He bit his lip. "Ahh, I'm sorry! Wait until my lecture finishes, I'll come back and give you scritches then!" 

He was almost at the top of the stairs now. Evan turned away from the cat – only to see a small black shadow out the corner of his eye down by his sneakers. He felt something brush against his leg, and then he tripped over something, and before he knew what was happening, he was falling backwards down the stairs. 

Evan let out a sharp cry, his arms windmilling around him as he went into freefall. 

Not the stairs... not the stairs! This was why he hated stairs! He always knew they would kill him one day! 

Before he could fall any further and roll down the stairs and smash like a boiled egg, he felt someone grab his arm and hold him still. His bag hit the ground and his coffee cup went flying, bouncing down the steps and spilling coffee everywhere, but Evan...

Evan was being held up at the top of the stairs by a strong, sure grip. 

He looked around in surprise. Holding his arm was a smiling youth with curly blond hair, tumbling in cherubic whorls around his ears. The youth looked just as shocked, his eyes big and wide as he stared at Evan. As he stopped Evan from falling. 

There was a moment of silence. The youth pulled Evan forward onto the flat ground at the top of the steps, and let go. 

"You..." Evan said in a rush. "You saved me! Thank you so much, I thought I was a goner..." 

The youth hesitantly smiled back, his eyes flickering down the stairs. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just tripped on a–" Evan said, gesturing to the cat. 

The cat was no longer there. It had disappeared. 

"... Huh. Guess I tripped on nothing. Um, thanks. Oh, man, my coffee..."

The youth picked up Evan's bag and handed it over to him. His eyes were wide, like he was recovering from a sudden shock. "Sorry. I'll buy you a new one."

"Don't worry about it, it was my fault," Evan said with a laugh. "I owe you for saving me. I should buy you a coffee!" 

The youth looked at Evan. He couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were light grey, bright and cold, crinkling at the corners in a warm smile. "There's no need to thank me. You don't owe me a thing."

Evan had heard those two sentences before many times in his life. He had heard it from friends who had done him a favour, and from customer service workers who helped him get a discount for his broken laptop, and from the nice woman in the corner shop who sent his mom flowers when she heard his grandfather had died. 

They had always been said with varying levels of sincerity. A lot of people said "no need to thank me", but secretly wanted to be thanked very much. If you didn't thank them, they wouldn't help you in the future. People were weird like that. 

But when this guy said it, for some reason Evan understood that it was the absolute truth. Like it wouldn't matter if Evan thanked him or not – he would still help him. 

Feeling a little flustered, Evan scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I have a lecture now, so I better... uh, you're sure you don't want a coffee afterwards?"

The youth seemed to think about it for just a second too long, before shaking his head. His smile was apologetic. "It's fine. Enjoy your lecture." He started walking away. 

"Ah, uh, you too," Evan said in a panic, before quietly smacking his own face. He had no idea if the guy even had a lecture. Stupid, stupid, stupid... 

The youth came to a stop. He slowly turned around, an angelic, apologetic smile on his face. "Actually, I'm a little lost. Could you tell me where room M42 is?" 

"That's – that's where I'm going now! That's where my lecture is!" Evan gave him a wide grin. "Astro 228, right?"

The youth nodded. "Right."

"Just follow me, then. Huh... I didn't know we shared a class, sorry I didn't recognise you!"

"That's okay," the youth said quietly from behind him as they entered the lecture building together. "I tend to stay quiet." 

Watery winter sun did its best to shine through the floor length windows of the lecture building. It shone off the back of Evan’s pale neck, the black hair that fell in every direction. It reflected off the otherboy’s grey eyes, making them seem more luminous, more pallid, as they watched Evan with keen, unwavering interest.

Evan walked slightly ahead to lead the way. "Well, I definitely won't forget you now. You saved my life! What's your name?"

The youth was quiet. Evan waited for an answer for an uncomfortably long time, before wondering if he had spoken too quietly. He was about to repeat the question when a soft voice from behind him said "Ruth."

Ruth? Wasn't Ruth a girl's name? Was this guy actually a girl? "Oh, Ruth? Ahh, that's a cool name."

"You don't think it's weird? That a guy has a girl's name?"

Oh, thank god, he didn't have to try and subtly ask awkward questions about pronouns. Maybe the guy was used to this kind of thing and anticipated the awkwardness. "No, I don't think so. As long as you like it, then that's all that matters. I'm Evan by the way." 

The youth hummed. "I know." 

Now Evan felt guilty. He didn't even remember seeing this guy around, but he remembered Evan's name. Ah, this was too bad. He would definitely make an effort to remember him now. "Well, here it is. Just in time–"

"Actually, you go ahead," Ruth said suddenly. "I need to use the bathroom."

Evan turned around and blinked at him. "Oh. Sure. I'll see you in a bit, then."

The youth nodded. He hesitated, before speaking again.

“It was nice to talk to you.” 

He gave Evan one last beatific smile, before walking away and disappearing around the corner. Evan quietly let himself into the lecture and scurried to the back, mouthing "sorry" at the lecturer, who ignored him. 

He made sure to keep the seat next to him free for Ruth even as other students trickled in. 

The lecturer coughed several times to get the attention of the class. 

"So, last week I opened the lecture with the following quote: God does not play dice with the universe. This is oft quoted and attributed to Einstein himself in a letter to a friend criticizing what he saw as the unacceptable flaw in quantum mechanics, that is, the possibility of unpredictable random events on a molecular level. In many ways, he was right. We have been learning how to chart the movement of objects in a vacuum – predicting the orbits of distant planets and stars around the insatiable black holes that are, themselves, in a perpetual state of movement. I know that most of you have grasped the basics of this particular module very quickly. Predictability is a magnetic lure – one gets lulled into the false sense of security knowing that we can work out the trajectory of some far flung meteor to a high degree of accuracy. As if space can be imagined as some unfathomably large clock, each cog in place, every heavenly body caught in an eternal, rational, predictable waltz to the swing of a baton that, if only we have the numbers, might one day understand the rhythms of. If you turn your attention to the notes we made on how you can work out the speed of rotation of a planet..."

Evan tried very hard to concentrate and make notes. There was always a buffer at the start of the class where this particular lecturer went on a long tangent about random things he thought were interesting, and he usually zoned out through them, but once the actual maths was brought in, there was no possibility of daydreaming and letting it slip by. If you missed anything, you ended up being more confused down the line when the more complicated stuff got brought in. 

The poor girl next to him was doomed. She fell asleep almost immediately, and Evan lit a candle in his mind for her. RIP your grades, you snoozy bitch. At the same time, he was envious. Why couldn’t he take a nap instead of doing work?

He tried to concentrate, but all through the lecture, Evan couldn't help but keep looking at the doorway, wondering when Ruth was going to appear. How long did it take to use the bathroom? Did the poor guy have a stomach upset? 

By the time the lecture was over, Evan had accepted that Ruth wasn't going to appear. He lit a candle in his heart for the guy's bowel system. Clearly, he had been having some kind of toilet trouble and decided to skip the lecture. 

What a shame. He seemed so... interesting. 

After the lecture was over, Evan slowly clambered out of his seat. The lecturer had set a bunch of exercises to do at home, and the library was calling for a study session. Time to shuffle into Tesco to get a £3 meal deal and sit down for several hours to pound his brain into submission! 

"Hey, Evan," someone called out as they left the lecture. "Evan, wait up!" 

There was a girl chasing after Evan. She had warm brown skin and an infectious smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. 

"Oh, sorry Aliya," he said, slowing down so she could catch up. "Did you enjoy the lecture?"

Aliya pouted. "No, are you insane? Enjoy it? Why did I do an astrophysics course again? There's so much maths. I genuinely think I would drop out if I didn't think my mum would kill me."

Evan nodded in agreement. "Sometimes I think about switching to an art degree instead. I won't do it. But I just think about it sometimes."

"Wait, wait, I wanted to ask you something," Aliya said, slapping his arm lightly. "House party. I've been invited, but I don't want to go alone. It's a bunch of people I don't know very well, and..."

Evan rolled his eyes. "If you don't know them, why are you going?"

"Because I don't know how to say no!" Aliya moaned. "It's a pretty casual thing, don't worry. You know I don't drink, so I'll probably be dipping early. Please? Please please please? Please just come for a little while, just to keep me company..."

Evan wasn't a prude. He liked a good party. The thing was that he liked a good party with people he knew. "And I don't know anyone there?"

"Probably not, they're all from netball club. But hey – you'll know me!" 

"I don't know you. Who are you. Why are you following me."

"Evaaaaan. Please! I'll do anything."

There was a long silence as they exited the lecture building together. Evan watched the students stream out of the building on their way to other classes, or the library, or their rooms to go back to sleep. 

He wasn't exactly great at making friends. Aliya was the only person on his course that he talked to regularly. It was why he was pretty excited to get to know Ruth, except he disappeared, so that was a bust. He tried a few clubs and societies, but none of them had really clicked so far. 

He hadn't been to a party in ages. He was wasting the best years of his youth in university, and he wasn't even going to parties. What was the point? He was living like a grandpa and he was only twenty one! 

He wasn't an old man yet! He didn't have a pension! He still liked electronic music!

Maybe this was the chance Evan needed to make new friends. How hard could it be? 

"Sure, why not." 

Aliya cheered. "Yay! Thank you, big guy. I owe you one. Oh, wow, watch your feet, it looks like someone spilled their coffee down the stairs... haha, poor them..."

Contents | Next Chapter

[bts-hyperfixation]

Hi! Can I request 22 and 47 with Taehyung? With a Dom! Tae and Sub! Reader? As the reader is the present? I really enjoy your writing and it would be amazing if you did this, but you don't have to!

I Can’t Wait To Unwrap Your love.

You bite your lip anxiously. Taehyung will be home any minute and you are sat almost entirely naked on his bed at the dorm. Earlier in the week you had bribed Jimin to give you the spare key so you could sneak in. You’d never done anything like this. Always a little shy when it came to making the first move. Knowing Taehyung loved you being just that little bit innocent as he ravaged you. But this Christmas you’d made up your mind, this year you were going to be his present, giving into ever desire and fantasy he had ever had.

Your heart races faster as you hear laughter. The front door shuts and footsteps echo throughout the halls. Each of the boys head into their respective rooms after a long day. At least you hope they do because you would be mortified if anyone but Taehyung walked through that door right now. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you kneel up as the doorknob turns. Your new outfit (or lack thereof) on full display for the next person to enter the room. Delicate red lace covered your most intimate parts as ribbons covered in snowflakes wrapped in intricate patterns around you stomach, forming a bow in the middle.

Taehyung’s eyes open wide as he sees you, slamming the door quickly behind him to make sure the others wouldn’t see you. His eyes rake down your form, taking in every inch of you. His tongue darts out to lick his lips

“Y/N, you naughty girl” he scolds, moving closer to play with ribbons wrapped just under your chest. “What if the others had seen you like this?” his gaze locks with yours. You watch as his eyes grow darker with lust, giving you a lot more confidence in your decision.

“It wouldn’t have mattered… I’m your present Taehyung, only yours.” You go into kiss him, but he turns his face, so you peck his cheek instead.

“Taehyung Jagi?” his deep tone makes a shiver run down your spine.

“Sir.” You correct yourself. He turns his face back and rewards you with the kiss you’d been searching for.

“Tell me Jagi, what’s off limits today, set your boundaries for me.” He strokes your face sweetly, if a little possessively,

“Nothing sir.” He quirks an eyebrow, clearly not expecting your openness. “I want to show you exactly how I got on the naughty list this year siirr…” you drag out the title. His face remains stonelike but you see the delight dance behind his eyes.

“Is that so? Then I guess it’s time I unwrap my present.” He pushes you back onto the mattress and crawls up until he reaches your midriff. He takes the sparkly ribbon between his teeth and pulls. The bow falls to pieces immediately. He lays soft kisses across your stomach, trailing them up wards, over your cleavage and to your chin. You paw at the hemline of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. You whine as he pulls away, towering above you.

“Are you rushing me Jagi? Getting a little greedy?” he frowns and starts to climb off of you. “Here I thought you were supposed to be my present.” He let out an exaggerated sigh. He wanders out your eyeline, but you know better than to try to crane your neck and find him. If he wanted you to see him, you would. You hear a familiar click in the corner of his room. He has opened the toy chest. You try not to wriggle in anticipation. “If Y/N wants to make it all about her, I suppose I can oblige.” He mumbles like he is talking to himself, but you know it’s a performance for you. You mourn the loss of your pet name. All you want is to be his Jagiya, to know you are being a good girl for him.

You don’t notice as his weight shifts back on to the end of the bed. It takes the soft buzzing to bring your attention back to Taehyung. In his hand is a vibrator the two of you had yet to try. It was bought as a joke originally. Packaged as ‘the most powerful clit stim’ you had been too terrified to actually use it. You were already overly sensitive when it came to Taehyung, this seemed like it may be overkill. His free hand slides your panties to the side, dipping a finger through your slick and testing how wet you were already. He chuckles to himself before pressing the vibrator to your already dripping core, dragging it almost torturously up to meet your clit.

You let out a scream when he turns up the power. Immediately a hand covers your mouth, the finger that was slipped through your pussy is forced through your lips and you suck obediently, eager to please.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get the others to see you like this. Is that what you want? Do you want my hyungs to see what a slut you are for me? Or do you want the little maknae to watch as I destroy this delicate little pussy?” he turns up the setting of the vibrator, daring you to make another sound. You focus on sucking the finger he gave you and try to ignore the quickly growing pressure in your stomach. Unfortunately, Taehyung notice the little squirm you can’t supress. He smiles maliciously, pressing harder. You begin to pant around the digit in your mouth. Just before you topple over the edge of your orgasm, he takes away the pressure, switching off the vibrator all together and removing his hand from your face.

It takes you a moment to recover from the denial, breathing hard and eyeing him carefully. He merely rolls the vibrator along his palm and waits for your breathing to return to normal. Once he is sure you’ve recovered enough, he turns the vibrator back on. This time the vibrations against your clit are even stronger. All of the muscles in your body tighten. He draws soothing patterns along your thigh as he shushes you, a false attempt at soothing your current anguish. Once you reach the precipice again, he takes away the stimulation. A tear rolls down your cheek at the oversensitivity of your nerves. This time instead of replacing the toy under you pants, he removes them completely. He wriggles his head between your legs, inches from your core.

“You’re doing so well for me Jagi.” His breath on your sensitive skin makes you clench. You feel so over-sensitive, but you wouldn’t dare stop him, not when he just returned your beloved title. He wraps his arms around the tops of your thighs and dives in to taste you. His tongue sooths your burning clit with soft licks. The pleasure builds again but this time it is much more manageable. His tongue finds its way to your entrance, fucking you on it. You moan a little, earning you a sharp warning tap against you leg. You bring your wrist to your lips and bite down hard to stop yourself making any noises.

One arm un-snakes from you thigh and joins Taehyung’s mouth. Two digits replace his tongue as its attention returns to your clit. This time when your orgasm peaks he drives you over the edge, playing with you until the very last wave of pleasure ceases. He removes his hand and licks it clean before finally removing his shirt. Your hands immediately shoot up to touch him, but you catch yourself halfway, thinking better of it. He chuckles and grabs your wrists, pulling you towards him and letting you play. You rub up his wash board stomach, playing with the clearly defined lines.

“Can you take more Jagi.” You nod enthusiastically you gaze not leaving his stomach. He just and grabs your cheeks forcing you to meet his eyes. “You will speak to me when spoken to Jagiya.” You swallow thickly.

“Yes sir… please use me, I am your present, do with me what you see fit.” He smirks and undoes the fly on his jeans. Your mouth waters as he pulls himself free from the confines of his dark jeans. He is quick to line his beautiful cock up with you entrance, needier for you than he had let on during your punishment. No amount of foreplay ever prepared you for his size as he stretched you out. Today he was particularly brutal, not allowing time for you to adjust before using you. You relished the burn.

Each thrust felt like it could tear you apart. Your head hit the headboard multiple times, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you griped to his shoulders for dear life. Each time he ground down on your pelvis sent shivers through your body, hitting the already sore bundle of nerves every time. You shudder with a second orgasm much quicker than you expect. His face creases as you clench around him. His pace starts to slow, and you feel him getting sloppier as his end nears. A few moments later he is cumming deep inside you. Rope after rope of hot cum lands in your cervix. He pulls out and watches as his cum starts to trickle out of you.

“How long does my present last?” he asks pulling you up into his arms.

“Forever.” You whisper sleepily as he lifts you into his ensuite. He sets you on the counter and goes about clearing you up, carefully avoiding where he knows you will be most sensitive.

“Good because I have a lot more things I want to try.” he kisses you deeply and you melt into him. “Merry Christmas Jagiya.”

“Merry Christmas TaeTae"

Masterlist

Christmas stories

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge pt. 6 (Feysand)

Part of the Damnation series. 

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

This is the last part of this fic! Gonna work on some asks next, then start the Nessian story (see the link above for details) 

~Feyre~

Men, in general, are beyond stupid.

I honestly don’t even know how the male population is still around.

I mean sure, they have their moments. Fire? Pretty cool. 

Maybe I should amend my statement: Men are stupid when it comes to women.

Because if Tamlin had any common sense, he would wonder why I drag myself into his office downtown, the day after I found out who he really is.

He’d wonder how I even found his posh little office, since he sure as hell never told me about it. (Answer: Rhysand). 

He’d wonder why I’m crying and having an emotional breakdown, but am still dressed in a lowcut dress with my hair done. (Answer: men are even stupider when it comes to a woman with exposed breasts). 

But he doesn’t.

He sees me stumbling toward him, a mess of tears and fluffy hair, and jumps to his feet, coming to my rescue.

His arms wrap around me miraculously at the same time my legs give out, and I fall into him dramatically. 

That was a little much, but what can I say? I was a theatre kid.

“Feyre,” he says calmly, stroking my hair like he didn’t insult me twenty-four hours ago. In fact, he’s acting like we didn’t even break up. “What’s wrong?”

I press my face in his shoulder, trying not to think about how wrong this feels, how wrong he smells. 

Rhysand smells like citrus and the sea and something so manly it makes my knees go weak for real. Tamlin smells like dirt and bad decisions. 

“You were right.” It’s something all men love to hear a woman say, even though it’s hardly ever true. “You were so right, Tamlin.”

He pulls back and runs a thumb over my cheek, swiping a tear away. 

His green eyes question mine, so calm and understanding compared to yesterday’s rage. His hands are gentle as they cradle my face, and I want them off off off.

“He’s a monster,” I wail, dredging up some more tears. Knowing there needs to be more of a concrete reason for my breakdown, I make some pretty seedy shit up. “He... killed his driver! Because he took a wrong turn!”

Gods, Feyre. Really?

I can practically see Rhysand rolling his eyes. He’d see through my lies in a second. 

Tamlin, however, bites the bait... more like he swallows the whole damn line.

He hugs me again, so tight my feet leave the floor, and I go limp against him, pressing all the soft parts of me against the hardness of his chest.

Don’t get me wrong, Tamlin’s attractive. Wide shoulders, surfer boy hair, tan skin, and green eyes that look like the deepest of emerald. 

But he also is a fucking asshole, and everything about him irritates me.

It’s crazy, I think as his hands slip lower on my back, that yesterday he called me a whore, and now he wants to sleep with me.

Prick.

“Tamlin,” I sigh against his neck.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

I almost throw up at the little pet name, but I nod and act like he’s the greatest thing on this planet, the gods’ personal gift to all things women.

But then he kisses me, and I get tired of this little charade. 

I keep my eyes open as his warm lips meet mine, wanting to see his face as the needle sinks into his skin.

His eyes fly open, and he drops me to my feet roughly, a hand pressed against his neck. It’s too late, of course.

Whatever black market shit this is, it works fast. 

His legs give out, and I shove his shoulder so he lands in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. 

“Feyre,” he growls, no longer happy to see me, “What the fuck are you doing?”

I roll my eyes, because even the dumbest of men should be able to figure that out my now. 

You’d think he’d pass out or be too paralyzed to talk, but just like Rhysand promised me, the drugs have paralyzed him from the neck down but left him perfectly conscious. 

I want him to see exactly what I’m doing.

Straightening my dress, I saunter over to his desk, eyes scanning the messy papers and folders for what I want.

Three rings, the exact copy of Rhysand’s, sit in a glass box, the shining titanium making them look like treasure. And they are.

But they’ve been here fucking long enough. 

I try to open the box, but it’s locked, so I sigh and grab a paperweight, then smash it to bits.

“You do this, Feyre, and I’ll come after you.”

“Ooooh, scary,” I deadpan, completely writing him off in a way I know drives him crazy.

Glass flies everywhere, but I just grab the rings and put them on whatever fingers they’ll fit on. 

Yet another piece of evidence men are idiots: I was wearing Rhysand’s ring when I walked in here.

A small detail, sure, but when I took that ring from him yesterday in his car, I made a vow to never take it off.

It’s a little big, resting on my thumb, but it’s perfect. 

It means I’m his, and he’s mine.

“He might have Chicago, but I’ll make you’re life miserable!”

“You did that for two years,” I remind him with a smile.

Then I set the radio exactly like I’d been told to, turn back to Tamlin, punch him square in the jaw, and smile when I hear a crunch.

That wasn’t exactly part of the plan, but I was tired of his threats. 

He howls in pain, and I know it makes me meaner than an adder, but I blow him a kiss and laugh as I walk out of his office. 

A sleek black sedan, driven by the very much alive Rolando (I’ve officially stopped thinking of him as Beefcakes), waits for me at the curb. I swing the door open and climb in, turning to Rhysand with a grin.

I hold up my hands victory. 

Rhysand smiles and laughs, relief and love and awe written across his beautiful features. 

He’s so fucking handsome, I can’t hold out anymore.

Muttering an apology to Rolando for what he’s about to witness, I sling myself across the leather seat and pretty much attack Rhysand. 

It might be the fact that I just drugged someone with illegal substances--my very first crime!--or maybe just how he looks when he’s happy. I don’t really care.

My hands are on his jaw, running down his chest, tangling in his hair. 

He lets out a surprised laugh as I paw at him, and I use the opportunity to sweep my tongue into his mouth, holding back a moan at the taste of him.

The car stops, but I sure as hell don’t.

Until Rhysand takes me shoulders in his hands, and gently pulls away. “Adrenaline junkie,” he accuses with a smile, pressing one last kiss to my cheek. 

I nod, because it’s probably true.

He gives me an amused look. “Then I can’t wait for what happens in twenty minutes.”

I stick my tongue out at him, ever the mature adult, and he smiles. Then he takes my hands, examines the rings, and takes the two that fit the worst.

He slips them on, and even though it’s a casual gesture, I almost break out into tears.

Too manly to cry like a baby, Rhysand just opens the door and walks out, taking my hand and pulling me with him.

Even though he looks calm and cool as a cucumber, I know he’s not exactly thrilled I’m here. We had our first real argument about me coming along for this part of the plan I’ve secretly begun to call Toppling Tamlin the Tool. 

I won, obviously.

He warned me time and time again about what I was going to witness today, but I don’t care. His revenge is his to take, but I want to be here for him. 

He’s been fighting for so long, completely alone. 

And no matter how it started, I fell for him. He isn’t alone anymore, and won’t be ever again, no matter how dangerous the situation is.

Hand in hand, we stroll into Leperchaun’s Luck, the last remaining Irish stronghold in Chicago.

When I asked why he’d let it remain all this time, Rhysand smiled that cruel smile and said, “Revenge is only worth it if it’s slow and painful.”

I’d shuddered, half in horror and half in excitement.

I know it’s horrible and beyond absurd, but what he does for a living doesn’t scare me. He explained the gory details last night, and I listened. And even though I was scared, it wasn’t of him.

It was for him.

He has enemies with rap sheets longer than my arm. 

The guy Rhysand blocks from buying Degas? Russian arms dealer!

But Chicago, he’d told me with a smile, is his. Someone would have to be suicidal to come after him here. So I guess I’ll just blow up his plane and never let him leave.

Sounds realistic.

I’d like to think it was my smile and charm that made him give in and let me tag along, but it was likely the fact that we aren’t in any super big dangerous. 

We walk through the empty bar and to the courtyard in the back, and it’s a little amusing how quickly the six men sitting around a poker table jump to their feet and start shouting questions. 

“What the fuck?” is the most popular. 

“Hello, gentlemen,” Rhysand greets smoothly, ever the gentleman. 

Someone behind us loads a gun, the sound making my eyes go wide. 

But it’s never fired.

Because all of a sudden, red dots are on every single chest besides mine and Rhysand’s. 

“Pull that trigger, McCallen, and all your friends die.”

They all look down and around at each other with huge, saucer-sized eyes. 

Not one to dally, Rhysand smiles and tells the group, “I just bought this establishment. Needless to say, you’re no longer welcome. In here, or Chicago. You have six hours to leave my city.”

‘Bought’ is a bit of a strong word. He hacked into Tamlin’s bank account and bankrupted him, forcing him to sell to the highest bidder. Guess who that was.

“Or what?” one asks, feeling brave.

Another dot makes its way to his chest.

Gods, how many snipers does Rhysand have?

“Or you’ll die, and your precious little daughter Lena will be an orphan.”

The man’s jaw sets, even as his face pales. 

Checking his watch with a casual gesture, Rhysand reminds, “Six hours and counting.”

Then he says, directly at the small box in the middle of the poker table, “That goes for you too, Tamlin.” 

Since he didn’t want to risk coming back to Chicago, much less his last property here, Tamlin had been keeping control of his men by listening to everything that happened in this place on a private radio frequency.

Which, somehow, Rhysand knew.

He’d told me the number, and I’d turned the radio in Tamlin’s office to it before leaving. The drugs haven’t left his system and won’t until later today, meaning he’s still lying limp in that chair, listening to every word.

“Leave before I lose my patience,” Rhysand growls, and the men take the warning and haul ass out of the building.

Turning to me, he smiles and asks, “Ready, Feyre darling?”

“Ready.”

We walk out of the restaurant again, pep definitely in our steps, then get back in the car. Rolando starts driving immediately, leaving the restaurant behind us.

“Do you want to-”

“Yes,” I answer immediately, grabbing the phone from him and hitting call.

"So violent,” he murmurs with a smirk, turning in his seat to watch as the explosives he’d placed there years ago during a mandatory “city inspection” finally came into use. 

The explanation I got on that one: “In case I got bored.”

Gods, he’s sexy.

The car rocks slightly as orange and blue and yellow flames race out of the building, leaving absolutely nothing behind. 

Even though the violent woman in me wants to keep watching, I look at Rhysand instead.

His eyes find mine, and he smiles softly. “It’s done. It’s over.”

I nod and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, linking our hands together. We both stare down at the rings. “It’s over.”

Tamlin will run back to wherever he’s been the past seven months, and since there’s absolutely nothing for him here, he won’t come back. 

Rhysand has complete control of the city again, his empire built brick by brick through hard work and rage. He’s gotten his revenge, taken everything from the man who left him with nothing. 

And he got me.

“Was that enough adrenaline for you, Feyre?” he asks, hitting a button to roll up the barrier between us and Rolando. 

Someone else, it seems, is an adrenaline junkie. 

Smiling, I slide down on the soft leather and lift an eyebrow. “Come find out.”

~Feyre, three months later~

Somehow, I feel nauseous, excited, and doomed all at once.

I don’t even know how that’s possible, but it’s true.

I’m so nervous, I might be sick. I’m so excited, I can hardly walk. I’m so unsure of myself, I might fail. 

Focusing on the one in the middle, I walk down the aisle between chairs, ignoring the people watching me and focusing on the destination.

I can feel his eyes on me, and just like the first day we met, I can hardly breathe. But I ignore the tingly feeling in my spine and focus on what I’m doing.

I walk up to the slightly lifted stage in the large auditorium and turn to my peers, smiling and feigning confidence. 

I’m presenting my senior project today. And even though I’m excited and nervous and doomed, I’m proud of it.

It turned out better than I expected, honestly. 

It took me forever to finish the painting aspect because I wasn’t quite satisfied until late last night. 

The paint’s interrupted and surrounded by photos I’ve collected this year.

Rhysand, covered in paint. Art from both Chicago’s museum and the private collection I visit almost every day. Random bits of architecture and the night sky and shots that just work. 

Up close, it’s a bit of a mess, but from a distance--particularly, the distance between me and Rhysand’s chair--it looks like three dancers, twirling and leaping under the night sky. 

My professor hugged me when she saw it. So did Rhysand.

No offense to Prof. Jones, but I enjoyed his a little more.

“This is called Starlight Dancers,” I tell the room, my voice surprisingly level. I’m glad for the bright lights, because I can’t see anyone’s actual face as I continue. “It’s a rendition of Degas’s work, Dancers in Blue, which is my favorite piece. I’ve also incorporated photographs of art and people who mean a lot to me. Like a lot of pieces from the Renaissance, it’s meant to be viewed at a distance.”

I keep talking, going through the difference elements and explaining how, essentially, it’s a celebration of painting and love.

More than once, my eyes are drawn to the photographs of Rhysand, and I find myself searching for him in the crowd. 

I also get a little distracted by the mass of sparkles adorning my ring finger.

We’ve been engaged for three days, eight hours, and a handful of minutes.

He proposed in the museum, right where we met. When I almost feinted at the site of the biggest diamond I’d ever seen and told him it was too much, he’d just laughed and said, “It was this or the painting behind you.”

Ridiculous, wonderful man. 

I know it’s fast to get married after less than five months together, but the scary truth is that I can’t imagine life without him.

I scan the crowd again, and it might be my imagination, but I think I see a pair of violet eyes watching me. 

And I could swear one winks at me.

~Rhysand~

I’m not supposed to be in here.

I’m not a professor, and I’m sure as shit not a student. 

But I snuck in anyway, ignoring the millions of things I actually need to be doing, because I want to support her. 

I don’t even know what she’s talking about--impressionism and romantic elements and different types of photography--but she’s so passionate and beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off her.

She has me completely wrapped around her finger, and it should probably scare me that I don’t even care.

Years and years of planning, and everything that’s happened in the past month still surprised me.

Not the part about running every last Irish bastard out of my city; that’d been set in stone. 

The part about me getting engaged.

Ironically, that’s the only part that makes me smile.

Sure, I sent Tamlin running for the hills with his ragged band of leprechauns, set his stronghold on fire, and finally have peace over what happened all those years ago. 

But even that pales in comparison to waking up next to the woman up on the stage.

She’s a bed hog and always puts her freezing feet on me as soon as I crawl next to her, but the way she smiles at me when she wakes up makes up for it.

Everything about her makes up for it, actually. 

She’s still absolutely crazy and wonderful and I now have paint splatters on more than a few of my suits, but being loved by her is like... standing in the sun after being locked in a cave. Or some other shitty metaphor.

The fucking point is, even though getting down on one knee in a museum and asking her to share her life with me is the last thing I expected to happen, I’m glad it did.

Because being with her gives me something I’d thought I’d lost ten years ago: happiness.

________________________________________

Thank you for reading! 

TAGS: @elorcan-trash​ @januarystears​ @emikadreams​ @alpha-omegas​ @joyceortiz13​ @sapphic-beauty​ @meowsekai​ @ahappyhistorianreader​ @courtofjurdan​ @acalypsot​ @acourtofsjmtrash​ @highladyofthesith @bookwormq702 @swankii-art-teacher​ @lunaroseperdomo​ @leaf-love-life​ @mari-highladyof-feels​ @raghad-50725​ @perseusannabeth​ @cursebreaker29​ @a-bit-of-a-cactus​ @elriel4life​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @shinya-hiiragi​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @highqueenofelfhame​ @nahthanks​ @ghostlyrose2​ @lovemollywho​ @tillyrubes10 @claralady​ @tswaney17​ @rowanisahunk​ @superspiritfestival​ @thegoddessofyou​ @awesomelena555​  @booksofthemoon​ @greerlunna​ @jlinez​ @studyliketate​ @over300books​ @justgiu12​ @maastrash​ @aesthetics-11​ @bamchickawowow​ @b00kworm​ @sleeping-and-books​ @musicmaam​ @hizqueen4life​ @maybekindasortaace​

[vodkassassin]

You've been bullying SQH too much, he needs a break! Maybe some cuddles? A vacation? An emotional support animal? All of the above?

Two of the above, as a treat. Other options to be considered at a later date, perhaps... ;3 @dancibayo

Warnings for injury and near drowning >.>

—

There is a reason that, way in the beginning of all this peak lord business — before then, in fact, when they were all still just head disciples, brand new to the job and still figuring things out— there is a reason that Shang Qinghua signed the paperwork making Mu Qingfang his mission partner. And only Mu Qingfang.

It wasn’t because Mu Qingfang was the only one out of all of his martial family that Shang Qinghua liked, or could actually deal with… though it was kind of for that reason, but not entirely! The main reason, here, is that Shang Qinghua was not at the time entirely sure how to work with his martial siblings, and when he had tried, it… didn’t really work out.

There are a lot of examples in which missions with a martial sibling other than Mu Qingfang have not worked out, but the paragon amongst them all was that first mission with his fellow head disciple, Liu Qingge. Whenever Shang Qinghua thinks about why Mu Qingfang is his preferred mission partner, that one clusterfuck with Liu-shidi always comes to the forefront of his mind no matter how he wishes he could just forget about it.

A lot of the reason that mission had been such a total failure, in hindsight, really doesn’t have anything to do with Shang Qinghua at all, and a lot to do with the fact that Liu Qingge had, at the time, held such a low opinion of Shang Qinghua that it made working with the man an absolute trial.

In Liu Qingge’s defense, he’s much better nowadays. Like, a lot better. He barely glares at him anymore, even! Well, Liu-shidi glares at everyone, that’s sort of his default expression, but the glare is much less scary when pointed in Shang Qinghua’s direction than it had been even just a year ago! Progress!

Shang Qinghua ducks under the heavy swipe of one colossal, furry paw, complete with wickedly sharp claws that peak out just above the oversized toe-beans, and resists the urge to wail. He yanks out his sword and hops onto it like it’s a snowboard, and directs it into the air with a monumental push of his qi. The claws miss the edge of his robes by mere inches, and Shang Qinghua starts to daydream, a little bit, about what kind of headstone he wants for his memorial.

There’s another big reason, which he’s being reminded of right now, why Shang Qinghua would actually rather be partnered on a mission with anyone other than Liu Qingge.

The man loves monster fighting.

Now, listen. Listen! Shang Qinghua, he is a big fan of the monsters of this world. Mainly because he created most of them himself. They are just as much his beautiful (and sometimes incredibly less-so) babies as the characters he’d spent hours crafting with his words. Seeing them in full-form, brought to very real life in this world that is fashioned after his story is so fucking cool, but also! Actually mainly! Very, very fucking terrifying. Because those things, most of them, can, will, and have certainly tried, many a time in the past, to kill him.

And Liu Qingge’s absolute, favorite pastime is hunting these creatures down and facing off against them, for fun.

So like, sue Shang Qinghua if he can’t really see the appeal.

He’d rather be stuck in his office surrounded by stacks of unfinished paperwork with a deadline, than be dragged out by his martial brother to face another monster. At least then, he would be safe, and not have to deal with nearly being shredded by giant titan tiger claws, thanks!

Unfortunately for Shang Qinghua, ever since Liu Qingge had decided, for some reason that he still couldn’t figure out, that they are friends, he’s been coming to An Ding to regularly kidnap Shang Qinghua and force him out on what the man probably thinks is fun, bonding time between martial brothers or something.

It’s not. It’s not fun. It’s certainly bonding time, perhaps, if only because of the many times Liu Qingge has been forced to come over and save Shang Qinghua’s skin. Then again, Shang Qinghua has also been forced to save Liu Qingge’s skin, through vastly different means than Liu Qingge has saved his, so maybe it is some type of bonding? Experiencing life-threatening situations together is a sure-fire way to form close ties with someone. Like, that’s a legitimate trope. Shang Qinghua has used that one in his own stories many a time before.

So, Liu Qingge might be onto something here. But Shang Qinghua wishes he’d choose some other way to level up their apparent friendship than monster hunting. Can’t they just stay home and have tea? Play some go? Not potentially die?!

“Qinghua!” Liu Qingge calls. He sounds a little exasperated. He’s exasperated, huh? Shang Qinghua is exasperated with this entire trip! “Pay attention!”

Shang Qinghua ducks again, aiming his sword down sharply as his shidi’s sword shrieks by overhead in the spot he’d just been, to parry the monster’s attack with a serious OP swing of the same blade.

It’s really unfair, sometimes, watching how easily powerful his martial family can be. And then there’s Shang Qinghua, who… isn't, really? Just, nowhere near as powerful as the likes of Liu Qingge, or Yue Qingyuan.

Then again, maybe that’s trying to compare 5G internet to dial up? They’re simply in entirely different leagues.

Shang Qinghua’s eyes water as he rockets toward the ground, to where there huddles a cluster of disciples that stare with wide-eyes and awed faces as Liu-shidi does his thing. Their expressions are practically meme-worthy. God, he misses the internet so, so much. He might cry.

Wait, no, he can’t cry right now, the Bai Zhan disciples are right there, and they will make fun of him for it. Absolutely no respect with these kids. Liu-shidi, please teach your peak disciples some manners!

“Shang-shibo,” one of them complains, sword unsheathed entirely and obviously rearing for some action. “Does Shizun — does he want —?”

Shang Qinghua holds up a hand. The disciple falls silent, and the entire group of them watch him like over-eager hawks waiting for their prey to make a mistake. He takes a moment to catch his breath.

“No,” he eventually says, sending a brief glance over his shoulder to where the Bai Zhan peak lord is going head to head with a flying tiger the size of a dragon. “Shizhi, does your Shizun look like he wants help? Does your Shizun ever want help?”

One of the other disciples, a girl this time, bearing biceps that might be bigger than melons, grumbles. “He doesn’t. But why can’t we fight, too? It’s not fair, Shibo!”

“What wouldn’t be fair, is having both your arms ripped off before you can even graduate Jiedan.” Shang Qinghua refutes, and begins to herd the lot of them back toward the tree line so that they are at least out of sight. “This beast is a third-rank Flying Thunder Deity, it is so far out of your league in terms of strength that I’m currently questioning whether we should have brought you all with us on this mission in the first place.”

The disciples look disgruntled.

“But, Shibo—!”

“Nope!” Shang Qinghua holds up a finger and gives them all a stern look. Liu Qingge may not give a fuck whether his disciples remain unscathed or not — honestly, the man likely assumed them to all have fled like smart disciples of their level would, but he obviously greatly underestimated their enthusiasm for a good fight. Which is just incredibly fucking ironic of him. Anyway, no disciple of Cang Qiong sect is going to be in harm's way, if Shang Qinghua has any say about it. “I don’t want to hear it. All of you stay here, if I see a single limb out of these trees, I’ll assign the lot of you as aids to my paper-pushers for three months.”

At their adequately horrified looks, Shang Qinghua decides that his job here is as done as it can be, and so he turns around to peer back out at the currently thunderous (as the name of the beast might suggest) battle currently being waged. If any of the disciples decide to actually take their chances — both at potentially becoming paste on the ground and being stuck helping his disciples with copying out fresh requisition forms, then that’s not exactly his problem, is it? Shang Qinghua tried his best!

He rises up on his sword to where his shidi is fighting the Flying Thunder Deity several hundred feet up in the sky.

Aerial combat has never been Shang Qinghua’s strong suit, and quite honestly it’s neither the strong suit of any other cultivator, strong in battle as Liu-shidi or not. There’s just something about attempting to juggle needing to balance on your soul sword to stay in the air and also needing that same weapon to fight with, that is just altogether difficult.

It’s fifteen minutes of ducking and weaving and praying that he can move just fast as to be an irritating enough pest to the Deity that it turns it’s attention onto Shang Qinghua and consequently gives Liu Qingge the opening he needs, when Shang Qinghua’s hopes come true a little too well.

The thunderous (ha-ha) expression that graces Liu Qingge’s face when the Flying Thunder Deity snaps it’s huge, hulk of heard forward and encloses him in its massive jaws would have been gratifying in literally any other circumstance. Shidi! You do care! Or are you pissed at Shang Qinghua, for being so slow and requiring rescuing yet again? He’s sorry, Liu-shidi, he really is! Next time he would move faster! Or better yet, not come at all! Just as he’d originally begged you, shidi!

Shang Qinghua wishes that people would listen to him more. It would make his life so much less stressful than it is.

“Qinghua!” Liu Qingge shouts, with a tone to it that makes Shang Qinghua’s heart stutter oddly. Or maybe that’s because he’s, you know, currently trapped in the mouth of a vicious monster that probably won’t hesitate to swallow him whole? But, could it be, that Liu-shidi really does care?

Such ponderous thoughts will have to be shelved for now, to be ruminated upon later when he’s safe. For now, Shang Qinghua curls up into a ball, shaking like a leaf, his elbow bouncing off a curving incisor that’s nearly the length of his entire body, and he can’t help but let out a terrified cry.

This is it, isn’t it? Nearly a century of surviving against all odds, making it through perilous situation with no hope after perilous situation, avoiding death flag after death flag, to be eaten by this hungry, flying tiger the size of a small mountain.

Truly, he’s so blessed to be going out with such a bang.

System! Shang Qinghua wails miserably inside his head, a series of loud whimpers bursting from his mouth without his permission. Be useful for once and lend me a scenario pusher!

The cheerful ding that rings throughout his mind is incredibly ignorant of the current circumstances. [Request acknowledged! Please contact customer support to undergo an eligibility survey.]

There is no such thing as customer support, Shang Qinghua knows. He’s neither a customer, nor is he sure that the System actually has any higher power that it answers to. It clearly loves fucking with him, though, and he clenches his jaw and screams through his teeth in frustration as the sharp point of one of those too-close teeth digs viciously into his side.

I don’t have time for that! Fuck! System, please! I don’t want to die! Be nice to me for once in your miserable existence! I deserve it, dammit!

There’s a brief pause, and during it Shang Qinghua thinks he can hear his shidi yelling amongst the sounds of battle.

[... Host’s complaint has been posted and reviewed.] Oh, wow. That’s a first! [Due to Hosts exemplary services rendered, compensation has been rewarded. Would host like to exchange for a scenario pusher?]

Just save me already! Shang Qinghua demands, curling into an even tighter ball. The tooth digs into his flesh painfully, and he bites back a sob.

[Compensation loading…]

The tiger is growling, now. Shang Qinghua can feel the coalescing vibrations of the sound as it emanates from behind him, from deep within the beats chest, rippling sound waves that travel up it’s throat and make him tremble from the force of them alone. His skull is split by a resounding headache, and his vision doubles. It’s like being trapped inside a subwoofer box, and it hurts.

Shang Qinghua is struck rather suddenly by a massive fit of vertigo, as the tiger seems to shake its head in response to whatever attack Liu Qingge is throwing at it. Being inside its mouth, the motion sends the An Ding peak lord sprawling, and he nearly impales himself on one of it’s incisors. Thankfully, being covered in its saliva, though disgusting, seems to be a silver lining of some sort, because he’s by now slippery enough with it that the tooth only deals him a glancing blow. Despite not being as fatal as it could have been otherwise, it still hurts enough, sharply enough, that Shang Qinghua can’t hold back the cry of pain and surprise that escapes him.

The deep vibrations of the growl come to an abrupt halt. Shang Qinghua only has time to hear Liu Qingge make a distant sound of confusion and anger, before he’s unceremoniously spat out into the open air.

It’s a relief! Truly, it is, to be freed of the tight, damp space that was a beast’s hungry maw at long last. However, there’s still a problem! A big one!

Shang Qinghua doesn’t have his sword, and they’re all still hanging out several hundred feet up in the air! By the laws of physics, he has only a brief millisecond to feel any sort of relief before he goes plummeting to his death. He brings up his arms to shield his face from the turbulent air, robes flapping in its vicious currents.

“Qinghua!”

He peeks open eyes that he doesn’t recall closing to find his amazing, beautiful, talented shidi diving down beside him, sword under his feet and hand held outstretched toward him. Shang Qinghua doesn’t have enough air in his life to breath out a sigh of relief as he reaches out for him, ready to cry, because within the very next second he’s ripped away from the help by a big, furry blur that knocks him out of the sky entirely.

He continues to fall for a few long, terrifying seconds, and then he’s fighting to breathe not because the air is moving past him too fast to catch, but because he’s been submerged in water.

He panics, kicking his legs uselessly against the heavy weight of the tide that wraps around him and shoves him roughly to and fro. He’s not entirely certain which way is up and which way is down. His lungs are tight and painful with their pleas for air, and Shang Qinghua can see spots begin to dance before his vision.

Something grabs onto the very back of his robes, then, and he’s dragged out of the water and lands heavily on a patch of what he’s able to eventually identify as grass, once his mind has enough ragged gasps of sweet, sweet oxygen to get itself into working order again.

He rolls himself over and onto his knees, fisting his hands in the grass as he spits out mouthful after mouthful of water. His eyes sting with tears, but thankfully he’s so soaked he doesn’t think they will be all that apparent to anyone who thinks to look at him now. He brings up a hand, to press the back of his fist into his mouth and smother the sob that wants to burst free. He doesn’t really succeed.

There’s an odd sound from nearby, almost like an engine of some sort, which is incredibly confusing because Shang Qinghua hasn’t heard anything of the like since his last life, where the world was much more industrially advanced. There’s a brief moment of confusion, where his mind races in trying to correlate the sound with something that makes more sense, before something big and warm presses against his side and nuzzles heavily into his neck.

Shang Qinghua blinks, dumbly, vision still swimming in such a way that it makes his aching, pounding head revolt in nausea, but after a moment he’s able to turn his head to the side and get a mouthful of fur instead of a visual.

He splutters, reeling back, which of course gives the Flying Thunder Deity, which is no longer flying nor deity-sized, to press forward even more. It knocks the befuddled Shang Qinghua into the grass and clambers over him, purring loudly and aggressively all the while as it nuzzles him and butts it’s head into his again and again.

“Um,” someone says, and Shang Qinghua blearily looks up from the now normal-sized tiger to find a group of disciples staring down at him, looking just as confused as he feels. “Shang-shibo?”

He blinks, head canting toward the side as the Flying Thunder Deity shoves at it with it’s leathery nose. It’s purring so loudly he can feel it in his jaw. “Yes?”

“Would you, uh…” The disciple speaking gestures at him and the tiger. “Would you like help?”

“Hm,” Shang Qinghua considers the offer, laid flat out on the ground as he is while being aggressively cuddled by a suddenly, oddly, terrifyingly over-affectionate tiger that had literally, just a few moments ago, tried to eat him. “.... Hmm.”

“Mwrrrr,” the tiger echoes, long whiskers tickling Shang Qinghua’s face.

“...Shang-shibo?”

“Qinghua!” Ah, look who finally decides to join them!

Liu Qingge barrels to a landing in the grass right beside him and barely has time to yank his sword up from under himself when the newly enamoured tiger jumps to its feet, bristling and hissing like a house cat facing an annoying, yapping dog that’s intruded into their home.

Liu Qingge is very visibly confused at the newest course of events, but there’s still a level of rage that thrums underneath it, and he readies his sword against the Thunder Deity, muscles twitching in anticipation that far exceeds his usual excitement for a fight. For some reason, that Shang Qinghua is currently too dazed to even guess at, it has become personal.

The tiger’s tail flicks, it’s sharp teeth bared as a growl erupts from its throat, and Shang Qinghua apparently had lost all common sense during his fall into the lake, because he props himself up on one elbow and reaches out his hand to curls it into the damp, wet fur around the tiger’s neck.

Immediately, the beast stops growling. It even turns its back to Liu Qingge! In order to plop down into Shang Qinghua’s lap and nuzzle it’s face into his neck, purring once again at full blast. The Bai Zhan disciples that are gathered a few hundred feet away make a series of quietly alarmed sounds. What the fuck! Liu Qingge looks just as confused.

“Qinghua?”

“I don’t know, shidi,” Shang Qinghua says, shrugging. It sends a ripple of pain that spikes in his lower abdomen and winds up his side, and he winces. “Ow.”

“You’re injured,” now Liu Qingge is frowning at him, but he doesn’t move to come any closer. His hand is whit knuckling the hilt of his sword, and he glances between Shang Qinghua and the tiger in open puzzlement.

“Yeah, kinda got impaled on its teeth,” Shang Qinghua replies, and makes a face. “When they were, uh, you know, bigger. Before...”

“It shrunk.” Liu Qingge states, scowling.

As if on cue, there’s a bright flash of light that momentarily blinds him, and the weight in Shang Qinghua’s lap shifts. Once his vision clears, he glances down to find a small, fuzzy little tiger cub gazing up at him with big, round, glistening eyes.

Shang Qinghua stares at it. The cub purrs, much softer than it had in its adolescent form, and gently butts it’s head against his chest, mewling quietly.

Shang Qinghua tears up. He can’t help it. He struggles to sit up, gathering the cub into his arms as he goes, and holds it against his chest. It’s fuzzy little ears perk up, tickling against his collar bone, and Shang Qinghua swallows.

Liu Qingge stares, as well, about as absolutely befuddled as the rest of them. After a moment, though, his face clears of its confusion, as if he’s decided to simply discard it, and he gives a shrug, hefting his sword arm up a bit and taking a step forward.

Shang Qinghua startles, scooting back a bit even though it pulls at his injury. “Shidi?!”

“It will be easier to kill, like this.” Liu Qingge says, nonchalant.

Shang Qinghua clutched the tiny, purring little tiger to his chest, aghast. “Shidi, no! It’s a baby!”

“It’s not,” Liu Qingge frowns at him. He points at the cub, who continues in its mission to aggressively cuddle the An Ding lord. “It’s a fully grown adult Flying Thunder Deity. It can just change its size.”

Shang Qinghua pauses. He pulls the still-purring cub away from his chest and holds it up to his eye-level.

“You tried to eat me,” he accuses.

The tiger cub blinks once, slowly, and lets out a tiny mewl in response.

“....” Shang Qinghua wraps his arms around the tiny thing and cuddles it to his chest. “I forgive you!”

“Shang Qinghua,” Liu Qingge exclaims, exasperated. Which! Not fair! Shang Qinghua wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for him! So really, this is all Liu-shidi’s fault to begin with!

He tells him as such, and Liu Qingge scowls grumpily one response.

Shang Qinghua stands to his feet. And immediately tilts to the side. Liu Qingge steps forward, sword sheathed, to catch him around the waist, and the tiger gives a startled meow as it’s suddenly squished between the two of them.

Both men stare down at it. It blinks up at them for a moment, before turning to nuzzle it’s face into the dampened collar of Shang Qinghua’s robes, closing its eyes as if it's decided to take a nap then and there.

“You can’t tell me you’re going to kill it,” Shang Qinghua says. His words are beginning to slur together. “It’s too cute, Qingge!”

Liu Qingge tenses slightly at his given name, as he always seems to do when Shang Qinghua uses it. If he didn’t want him saying it, he shouldn’t have given him permission in the first place! After a moment, the man relaxes, and something about his face is… not as fierce, somehow.

Shang Qinghua doesn’t know what that means.

“You’re soaked,” Liu Qingge says. “... And injured.”

“Impaled,” Shang Qinghua reminds him, blinking his eyes slowly. They feel a little heavy. Maybe the tiger had the right idea of a nap. “Almost drowned.”

Liu Qingge frowns at the reminder. He stoops down after a moment and scoops up Shang Qinghua’s legs. Normally, he would protest being bridal carried like some maiden, but right now he’s way too tired. He rests his head against Liu Qingge’s shoulder, the tiger purring sleepily on his stomach, and closes his eyes.

There’s a quiet cough. “Shizun.” One of the disciples speaks. They sound embarrassed, for some reason?

“We’re heading back to the sect.” Liu Qingge announces.

“The, ah… the tiger?”

There’s a long moment of thoughtful silence. Then, “It’s your Shibo’s.”

“Ah…. okay….”

Shang Qinghua turns his face into his shidi’s collar and falls into a doze.

[spc4eva]

Star-Burned: Chapter One

Ok, honestly, I couldn’t stop myself.

So this is my first reader insert. I am hella nervous. There will be no Y/N included, but pet names (and nicknames) given out by Paz that will act as Y/N. Additionally, feel free to imagine yourself in the shoes of the character, but I am going to include a few features that she has - to include very, VERY Merida curly red hair. Honestly, I'm gonna treat her more like an OC, but since it's a reader insert - imagine yourselves how you want QUEEN.

There's gonna be smut. But plot. I promise.

Summary:  A Mandalorian crash lands on your planet with severe injuries. You're a moisture farmer who's handy. It's been a long time since you've had company other than your massiff, Jumbles. You take the Mandalorian in because you're a bleeding heart, not realizing what danger you've put yourself in. But the Mandalorian doesn't forget and he's more than willing to repay his debt and protect you.

Word Count: 5,398

Rating: M (18+) explicit sex scenes

| Chapter Two |

Cross Posted on AO3

Someone had crash landed.

Which, for this quiet hovel a planet, was the most action you'd seen in foreverrrr. Maybe ever to be honest. You were used to dealing with Jawas, the occasional drifter, and patching up your moisture farm as best as possible. Was honest work, pretty lonely since your folks had passed away, but it was all you had. Not entirely of course, there was the local wiley massiff that you'd feed scraps and talk to, as if it were a kindred soul, eying you with those beady little eyes before salivating over its disconcertingly large maw. Yeah, you should have been worried that it might've been sizing you up in case you didn't come out with a meal for it, but at least you did have a blaster. Would've been a sad day to have to put Jumbles down - yes, that's what you had named it. For no particular reason other than it had spontaneously fallen out of your mouth and the creature seemed to listen to it.

So when Jumbles trotted up with its spines quivering, baying and leaping around, you half expected it was going to lead you to another rotting womp rat corpse. What you were not expecting was to see smoke peeling from between the canyon walls, dark and sulfuric. Your years patching the farm up, making repairs to any scraps you had laying around - to include droids at times - had made you rather handy. You had to be when the nearest town was a two day ride on your speederbike. Self sufficiency was necessary, because it cost credits to get fuel and to ride out that far. Additionally, you had to plan for it... months ahead. 

Jumbles sprinted ahead, wagging a tailless rump before glancing back at you with bounce in his paws. Follow. Come quick. 

Now that you had an idea of what it was, your strides lengthened until you were chasing after the massiff. Between the terracotta walls and around a bend, until you were face to face with a crashed starship that had smoke rolling off the main engines. You winced at the carnage, a good portion of the hull smashed inward and splattered open, storage containers and supplies dashing the sand like organs splayed from a chest wound.

Jumbles woofed, approaching the wreckage. 

"Not a good idea, boy," you started to say. Even if it was a dangerous wild creature, you still worried about it and this mess was still smoking. Who knew if it was about to explode, there could be fuel leaks in tandem with hanging wires and-

Jumbles went inside the ship.

"Ah!" Your legs churned after it. Even if you had to drag the massiff out of the carnage, you would. Jawas would find it soon enough and have their way with the supplies. Could be a good amount of things to take, but even if you were friends with Jawas, you didn't really like picking the bones of others. 

Wires snapped and hissed like tiny snakes around your ear, threatening to singe your barely restricted hair as you ducked. The ship was in an abysmal condition, but the upper echelons of the craft were still intact... Warped, but intact. Your mechanic eyes began discerning the issues, locating the biggest issues first, which was-

Jumbles barked, your neck snapping fast enough that you thought you pulled a muscle. Palming your neck, you trailed forward and saw what... no, who the canine was standing over. Maybe he thought it was a droid. Hell, you thought it was a droid for a moment until you bent down to get a better look and saw that it was breathing. Jumbles yipped again and you blinked, realizing that the massive armored creature was a living person and looked hurt. 

"Hey," you started, poking into the man's shoulder where the blue steel didn't meet. "Hey, you need to get up. This ship might go-" Maker, he felt like metal underneath all those layers. Could be a droid then and you were just wasting your time. "C'mon get up!" But you couldn't leave someone here to die on their ship as it leaked fuel and ignited itself. You rarely saw people as it was and what if the last person you ever saw with this guy and you let him become a toasted human inside his armor?

Hooking your fingers into the pauldrons of the armor, you made a valiant attempt at trying to drag the figure out of the ship. He didn't budge. Face down, unconscious, and weighing an absolute ton. Your heart was pumping by now and panic made your hands shake as you desperately glanced around for a solution. Just... anything, a repulsor lift, a speeder... a speeder? Jolting to your feet, you spotted the storage area, having been thrown haphazardly around like a pinball during the crash landing, but still intact. 

Now, the issue would be getting this man onto the speeder. You couldn't even drag him, how in the Maker's name were you going to hoist him over? You brought the speeder over and chewed your lip at your plight, hopelessly glancing from bike to fallen warrior. 

"Hey," you tried again, hoping that maybe you'd get an answer this time. "Hey, c'mon are you in there?" You knocked on the helmet as if it were a door, your knuckles screaming in immediate protest. That was the least of your worries, because a hand flew out, grabbed your ankle, and ripped you off your feet. Back smacking on the steel floor, you groaned as the metal giant finally stirred. Despite the brazen display of insane speed, the figure was barely able to move more than a few centimeters... but he was alive, so he had that going for him. "Maker-" Scrambling back to your feet, you gave him another look over. "If you can hear me, I'm going to try and get you on your feet. I need your help though, can't pick you up myself."

You positioned yourself around him, finding his arm and slinging it around your shoulders before popping a squat. Now, you weren't very big or very strong. Just strong enough to lift things when you needed to, but you had lifts to do the heavier jobs back on the farm. Your knees quaked as you tested the pressure before sucking in a greedy breath. "Alright, one, two, three-" Exploding upward - or making an attempt to explode upward - you made it about a foot and a half before your calves died on you and your back buckled forward. "AH!" It didn't feel good, the absolute loss of control over your body as you expected to fly face first into the side of the speeder. Unfortunately for you, you didn't have a helmet protecting your face.

But it never came and you chanced opening an eye to look. The man was trying to stand, alleviating a brief amount of pressure as you widen your eyes. Swallowing the huge lump in your throat, you quickly thrust him forward and unceremoniously onto the bike. He grunted, but didn't manage any words before lolling, stomach first, onto the seat. 

There would be no comfortable way to ride this bike, you saw that now as you tried to shove him over the tail a little better, squeezing yourself tightly into the thrusters, almost off the seat entirely as you kicked it into gear and backed out through the massive tear in the hull. Jumbles ran along dopily as you very carefully - at almost a gruelling pace - brought the bike through the ravine and up the ride toward your moisture farm. Now came the second issue.

Getting him inside. 

"We have to walk again," you warned him, the light of day revealing the color of the man's armor - a deep ocean (or from pictures you’d seen of oceans) blue accent with marigold yellow. Didn't quite strike you when you were panicking, but you saw it now as the haze of strife cleared. A Mandalorian. You had pulled a kriffing Mandalorian from the wreckage of his ship. Fuck. That ship definitely had carbon scarring on it - indicative of a dogfight.

Too fucking late now.

"6PO can you get the lift?" You shouted for the protocol droid, an old rusted out piece of crap that you'd reprogrammed to help around the house. There was too much for you to do with just your own hands. The droid could manage the more mundane tasks, but still made a piss pour cup of caf. 

The droid stuttered out - having never learned to talk properly - gave you a blank look, and then started waddling toward the work shed where the lift would be. 

"Alright, mando, can you hear me?" you bent over, turning his helmet so that the visor was sort of looking up toward you. "Your ship crashed. Where are you hurt? I can't see that much with all that armor on." Part of you was asking this so you could tend his wounds and then send him packing. "6PO?" you raised your voice irritably, Maker that droid was always slow right when you needed it to be fast.

"W-where?" Finally he spoke, his strangled voice translated through the modulator in his helmet, breathy and in pain.

You told him the planet, pretty backwater and without much activity. There was a spaceport on the other side of the planet, but nowhere near where he was now. Finally, 6PO came over with the lift, cocking its head as you sighed. "About bloody time," you grumble, dragging the lift up and devoting your attention to your charge once again. "Gotta get up again."

This time the Mandalorian was more receptive, putting weight on his legs as you eased him onto the lift, which sagged until his weight. By the way he was cradling his abdomen you were guessing there was some sort of trauma there, but it was hard to tell. You weren't a medic, you weren't even pretending to be as you brought him into your home and slipped him onto your bed since it was the biggest one in the house. But what you did have was bacta, because if something happened to you where you crushed an arm or broke a bone, you needed to be able to fix it. Wasn't often that you had to use the concentrated shots, but it was always better to keep one on hand (even if it cost a fuckton of credits for it). Better to spend the money than die with it in your pocket.

Should you use it on the Mandalorian? That was the question, wincing as he drew rattled breaths in the bed, holding the shot in your palm as you really considered how many credits you had spent on this last year. 

"I need to take a look. Can I remove your armor?" Very carefully you approached like a womp rat before a nexu, almost afraid that one of the very many weapons on his belt might soon be tilted toward you. Of course you knew the stories about Mandalorians and having a behemoth one in your modest home didn't make you feel much better. But he was still a person.

"Not... not the helmet," he grunted eventually.

Everything but the helmet. Alright, that could work. You didn't know how armor worked, so removing the armor was a shitshow of fumbling, your fingers catching buckles, pinching flesh, and other times was fastened so tightly that you had to put some weight into getting the kriffing things off. Took the better part of an hour, but you managed to remove the armor - aside from the helmet - and leave the Mandalorian in just his flight suit and boots. Now this next part felt a bit intrusive, but you convinced yourself that this was in for the better health of the mando.

Unbuttoning the top of the flight suit, you started to peel it down, a rush of heat playing across your cheeks as you revealed the muscular and well hewn figure of the ailing man beneath the beskar. You looked a little too long, but doubted the fellow was even conscious enough to catch your ogling. Biting your lips, you pushed the undershirt up and took your medical scanner to the constellation of bruising against his ribcage. Oh, it didn't look good and the scanner came back with a result that made your legs weak, but not in a good way.

"You've got three broken ribs, lacerations to your spleen and kidneys--" ok you didn't know medical stuff, but the device was blinking indicating that he needed treatment immediately or face going sepsis. Your brain nearly exploded with panic as you tripped over your own feet and sprinted for the bacta infusion, which jumped between your nervous, sweaty hands. "Th-this isn't g-gonna feel good," you stammered, uncapping the three pronged syringe. Maker you hated looking at it, the thing looked like a torture device. 

Or go sepsis---

You shanked him with the infusion, pushing the plunger down, expecting him to recoil in pain. Actually, he didn't, which made your head turn slowly and a cascade of fiery curls follow as you just stared, in more distress than the severely wounded mando. "I-I will leave you to rest."

---

The infusion had been enough to stave off sepsis and repair the Mandalorian's organs, but he was still recovering from the broken bones. From your readings, the bacta had set them back into place, but he required more time to naturally heal the rest. What that meant was that you had suddenly become his caretaker, which consisted of feeding and helping him over to the fresher because he couldn't take his full weight on his injured side. For a Mandalorian, you didn't think he was that mean or callous. If anything, he was pretty gracious that you'd put the effort into struggling to get him back to your ranch.

But work didn't stop. In fact, you still had to run the farm while periodically checking in on the Mandalorian. Despite it, you tried not to seem bone weary when he asked for him. Wasn't his fault. If anything, it was your fault for helping him in the first place. He did answer a few questions, rumbling in a deep voice that sounded like thunder hinting at lightning on the horizon. 

"What's your name?" "You can call me Paz."

"Why did you crash land?" "I was shot down."

"Why though?" "Made some Imps upset."

"So you can't take your helmet off?" "Not in front of anything living."

"Oh so, it's fine if they're dead." "I try not to remove it unless I'm alone."

"Why is it blue?" "Why is what blue?"

"Your armor? Why choose blue?" "It's my favorite color." 

“Mine’s gold. Kind of like the yellow there on your armor.” “Your what?” “My favorite color.”

"You think those Imps are going to come looking for you?" "My ship crash landed, so I doubt it."

That ship, you had actually gone back to one afternoon to cordoned off from the Jawas. You knew them and decided that you liked the Mandalorian enough you weren't going to let his belongings get looted. Since it was close to your farm, laying claim to it - by Jawa code - was not difficult. You left them signs in their tongue, warding them off, before finding yourself taken aback that the thing hadn't exploded while you were gone. It needed a lot of work and probably a proper spaceport where it could be hoisted up and repaired from underneath. 

Your stupid bleeding heart meant that you went and fixed a few wires in your spare time, soldering them off, and cleaning up the worst of the wreckage. The engines would take more time, but they weren't too dissimilar from what you'd worked on in other vehicles, including your speeder and tractor. Peeling open a few holobooks, you would hum yourself to sleep at night in your childhood bedroom, blinking away sleep as you contemplated how else you might help this... Paz. Being generous was not forlorn to you. You'd helped drifters passing through, offered to lodge them up for the night, fill their bellies before sending them off... This planet wasn't that bad aside from the arid landscape and mischievous Jawas. 

Not like you had to worry about raiders or skugs. So your tenderheartedness hadn't come to bite you in the ass yet and aside from wanting a replacement to the bacta shot, you weren't expecting payment. It was called being a good human being and you pride yourself on the fact that you'd done something so nice. Plus, the added bonus was you didn't only have Jumbles to talk to. Now there was a living, breathing person who could hold conversation with you. Course, wasn't really to his will, but you tried not to pester him too much even though you were incredibly curious about what he did. Plus he seemed to get bored being pent up in that room. 

"Tranyc," he'd taken to calling you that in some mysterious language you didn't know, as you hummed into the bedroom after knocking, carrying fresh caf and breakfast. Weeks had passed and he was almost well enough. "I think I might be able to walk on my own. Do you mind-"

Mind keeping an eye out for him? You nod, setting the tray down on the nightstand before preparing yourself. Now, you were a master of helping the blue Mandalorian on his feet, keenly aware of where you fit and could support him from without being crumpled like tin foil. He threw his legs over the bed, testing his feet on the floor as you stood guard, poised like a goalie ready to catch the ball in front of a net before the big shot was made.  Admittedly, you were a little too silly for your own good, but being on your own for so long had done that. You would talk to yourself, make funny gestures, and do ridiculous things just to chase away the loneliness. Those mannerisms hadn’t really faded in light of your new acquaintance.

Paz pushed off the bed and stood there, towering over you at full height. You relaxed, glad to see that he was able to hold his own, but also sad about that. A pit welled in your belly, the realization that these few weeks had brought you a lot of happiness in having the company of another. And... you kind of liked him. Not in a companionable sort of way. No, you thought he was attractive --- from his voice, to his sturdy body, to the calm manner he'd talk to you. Despite all the stories you'd heard about Mandalorians, he was very warm and patient. Even if there was no face to place with all of that, attraction was more than just appearances, wasn't it? Then again, you'd been shocked by your sudden arousal on the first day of his arrival after just brushing his muscular chest.

Living alone didn't help your touch-starved addled brain.

And then he took a step forward and your spine jolted, darting forward as he winced for his side and wobbled. "Ah-hee!" a strange noise came out of your mouth as you tried to stop the tower of a man from tumbling and honestly, he tried too. But the result was still a mess of limbs, and you tried to take the brunt of the fall, cushioning him so that he didn't hurt his ribs again. Maker, that was your first mistake, thinking that you could take the weight of his body.

All air was crushed from your lungs, vision spinning as you made impact with the carpet. And it wasn't coming afterward, your throat bobbing but the pressure on your ribcage still too much that you were suffocating and unable to see at the same time. "Maker!" it wasn't your voice, but at the sound of it, the air whooshed back into your lungs and you sputtered hoarsely as someone sat you up. Not someone. There was only one other person on this farm. "Tranyc? Hey, can you hear me?"

"Y-yup!" you squeaked, the frayed edges of your vision swimming hazily back into focus as you saw that Paz was sitting on the floor with you, propping your semi-noodley form up. "A-are you ok?"

He sighed, the noise crackling out of his helmet as you trembled, sensation returning to your muscles. "I nearly crushed you. What were you thinking?"

"T-trying t-to he-help," you stammer, taking big gulps of air in between each word. Now you could feel a bit better, rolling your neck as you took account of what had happened. You had jumped to his side before he fell, taking the brunt of the fall directly on top of you. Not very smart at all. Then, he'd turned, picked you up and you were --- you were on his lap. "Wha--" Lancing like wildfire across a dry field of brush, blush erupted up your neck and face. "I-I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I fell on you," Paz pointed out, his helmet tilting to the side as your ears began buzzing. "Are you certain you're ok? I nearly flattened you."

"C-couldn't b-b-be be-better," your tongue was betraying you, thick and clumsy as you pushed against his chest -- oh Maker, the chest without the armor and only the flight suit. You could feel the grooves of his strong pectoral muscles beneath, the color on your face heightening to as bright a red as your hair. "I should... I should leave you to eat. Breakfast is on the ta-table."

You got to your feet, the weak wobbly limbs shaking, but not because you had been used as a pillowy landing for the Mandalorian. No, a heat radiated around your tummy and laddled lower into the abyss between your legs. A very, infrequently ventured area that had been visited once or twice by drifters, but never for much longer than an evening. Anyways, the Mandalorian wouldn't be interested in anything like that. You were just being hormonal and touch-starved. A little alone time could help you with that, right? 

Pushing back your mop of hair, you trotted into the kitchen, glanced at the time and then rolled over onto the couch from behind. You flopped onto the cushions, hair flying everywhere again before you stared blankly at the ceiling, wishing you weren't so terribly horny right now after just grazing a man's chest. How pitiful was that? You were an adult, had been for a good amount of years, and all it took was a deep voice and strong body to make you lose all sense of yourself? 

A soft whimper parted your mouth, the ache so desperate and painful that you gripped the fabric of your coveralls over your crotch and pressed into the sensation. Well, he couldn't walk anyways and you were the only one who lived in the house, so there was no risk in just relaxing here, was there? Despite it, you grabbed the nearby blanket and kicked off your overalls, returning a hand to the ailing point between your thighs. 

Cheeks flushed, neck cocked against the arm rest, you spun circles on the fabric, your pads picking up the wetness through the material. Maker, you were absolutely dripping, soaking through your panties, and making your fingers tacky. Hooking underneath the textile, you run your fingers along the warmth, licking your lips and closing your eyes -- the first thing coming to mind being Paz. The mystery of the man beneath, the muscular pillars of his body, the golden blonde curls against his broad chest. 

Your fingers move up to the bundle of nerves so desperate for attention, nearly screaming at you as you finally lavish attention. His voice, the deep rumble and attentiveness as you talk from where you sit in that chair beside the bed -- your bed. He was sleeping in your bed. Would it smell like him after? Would you ever wash the damn blankets after he left? Probably not. Edging yourself closer, you imagined his thick fingers plunging into your heat, reaching up into your molten core and--

"Tracyn?"

You nearly fell off the couch, clutching onto your sex for dear life as you froze. Your whole body vibrated, muscles stiffening as you fought off the white hot surge of an orgasm. How the fuck had he gotten out of the room? 

Tufts of your long hair were sticking out from the couch. No matter how far you slumped down, tried to hide beneath the edge of the blanket, your fucking hair was a blinding curly beacon and fluffing out as an admission of betrayal. 

You couldn't hold your breath any longer, the guttural whine hitching as the orgasm pittered into a woefully unsatisfying leap -- like a bird that had flung itself over a cliff with a broken wing, somewhat flying before it plummeted to the earth below. He came around the couch, still clutching his side, and paused. Now, the blanket was in the way, but your coveralls were crumpled on the floor and your face was deliciously flushed. 

Oh, stars you looked awful. You absolutely knew how dirty you felt by assuming that he'd not walk out and find you, hand slicked with your own wetness and too embarrassed to move. 

"What are you- Did I hurt you?" he asked, reaching down to snare the blanket away.

"N-no!" you gripped it with your free hand, but half of it was pulled away to reveal the outside of your bare leg, and the arm that was still hiding down there. 

"Were you...?" his helmet tilted as you both just remained where you were for a beat. Heart racing like fathiers on a track in Canto Bight, your lower lip trembled in shame, waiting for him to throw the blanket back over and return to the room. He was walking. He could just leave and let you wallow in your own miserable chagrin -- drown in it at this point... "Did you finish?"

"W-what?" you squeaked, face managing to deepen another shade of crimson. 

"Did you finish, mesh'la?" he repeated, sitting down on the couch by your feet, a tanned palm tracing the top of the foot. His skin was calloused, rough, and sandpapery. The foreign sensation made you shudder in his grasp, but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact, you liked the way his hand slowly coasted your calf in a soothing manner. "All alone on this big farm. Not another soul aside from Jumbles."

True, not another soul. You gave a quivering nod in agreement as his hand reached to graze the back of your knee. Still so gentle, with no insistency or malice. 

"Doing everything all on your own. The farm, helping me, taking care of yourself," his hand moved higher, framing the outside of your lower thigh, which caused you to jump. "You haven't once asked me for anything. No repayment or deal despite using that bacta... Couldn't have been cheap. This is just a moisture farm, you're not raking in credits..." He paused, grazing your upper thigh now, daring to push the blanket over a bit more. "For weeks now... Helping me... Did you finish?"

You had, but it hadn't been any good. Your stupid head bobs anyways, sending a few curls tumbling into your face. 

"Maybe-" he was drawing his hand back, the warmth of his scratchy fingers receding and you actually whined because of it, his helmet tilting back up to look at you. "Maybe," he was stronger now. "I can repay you a little for all you've done."

Maker, not a word came out of your mouth, you were nearly gnawing on the blanket from how nervous you were, but also from how much your core began aching again. 

"Do you want me to, mesh'la? I won't touch you unless you want it. I don't want to overstay my welcome, I just thought that-" he trailed off and you wondered what he had thought. Had you been so obvious about liking him? You didn't think so, you thought you had been your usually, dorky but polite self.

"I want you to," you insisted, releasing the blanket so that the rest could slip off and pool on the floor. You still had your shirt on, but you were nude from the hips down, fronds of hair curling over your mound that matched the drapes. This felt oddly... exposing, even if it was only the lower half. And the fact you couldn't read him didn't help, just a blank mask of a face that was drinking you in and you had no idea if he liked or disliked what he saw. What if you were not at all what he had been hoping for? What if he didn't like what he saw?

He groaned, his palm returning to your leg, sliding up and burning a blistering wake of fire before he curved into your hip and jerked you toward him. "Oh, mesh'la," he moaned. "A desert gemstone hidden in these canyons. How did I get so lucky? Of all the planets and places-" he touched you down there, the very sensation of hands not your own making you jolt and your neck tense. Fuck --- it really had been a long time. "Wh-when the last time... have you ever... ?"

"A fe-ew ye-ears now," you admitted as his fingers scissor up between your folds. "Be-been on m-my ow-own for si-six. N-not ma-any t-t-travelers."

"So wet," he muttered, bringing the slick up and pinning two fingers on your aching bud. Back stiffening, you bucket at the sensation, grounded by his other palm pressing into the hollow of your hip. You were halfway tugged onto his lap as he watched on with fascination, the curve of your left leg hooked against his hip. "What were you thinking of? Before I found you?"

You blush deeper, if that were at all possible, turning your face away from him as he continued to draw lazy circles on your clit. "Y-you."

His groans again, a growing hardness against your leg -- a hardness for you. It's hard to decide what is more startling -- the fact that Paz is here getting you off or that he's aroused by the fact that you'd been playing with yourself while envisioning him. "I'll take care of you. You deserve it mesh'la. After everything you've done for me. I'll make you feel good," he promised, increasing his pace, dipping in his ring and pinkie finger while he continued to oscillate against your bundle of nerves. His fingers stretched you, just as thick and delicious as you'd imagined -- no, it was better than you imagined because it was real. Pumping into you gently, reaching so much deeper than your own small fingers can. "Tight. Maker, you're so tight."

Squirming on the couch, you grabbed onto the cushioned as he pleasured you, coaxing you toward the end of days, making you see stars beneath your closed eyelids. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, a warbled cry strangled completely as your legs locked out and walls tightened to vice grip his fingers. 

"Cum on me, mesh'la. Let it all out, come on," he encouraged, his fingers quickening over your clit, your soul absolutely rending as you as ecstasy drowns your senses, your muscles clench, and the scenery of the house falls away. You're floating, physical body panning away from you as you bliss out and disconnect from your breathing and deflating heart rate. You'd never had an orgasm this heart stopping, so utterly piercing that you couldn't even tell where you were anymore. 

Finally, you blinked out of your stupor, expecting to be left laying cock legged and messy, but instead you're in bed. Your actual bed, not the twin one that you had been sleeping in the past few weeks. Rolling your head to the side, you didn't see him, but you heard him in the adjoining fresher. You had underwear back on and a pair of pajama bottoms. 

What the heck was happening? Did it matter? You just hoped it wasn't ending anytime soon.

[definitelynotkatesblog]

6 PM ∣ Spencer Reid Fic

Summary: Spencer has very eagerly awaited your return home and he did not like to be kept waiting.

A/N: This entire fic literally came to me as I was writing 6 AM. I was thinking of titles in the back of my mind, and at one point was trying to describe Spencer’s behavior as night and day then BOOM- 6 PM was born. Anyways, enjoy some smut, ya filthy animals.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fingering, Oral sex (female receiving), Mild exhibitionism (phone), cursing

WC: 2.1k

Coming home to Spencer was objectively the best part of my day. The annoyances and the stress all melted away as soon as my key turned the lock, knowing he was on the other side of the door.

I twisted my key in the door and was surprised when it opened before I could even fully twist the knob. I looked up to see my handsome man standing in the doorway with a hungry look in his hooded eyes.

I grinned and stepped inside, expecting to be welcomed home with kisses and a ‘How was your day?’. What I was welcomed with was far from it.

Spencer’s hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside, closing the door quickly behind me before flattening my back against it, caging me with his body.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he breathed. His knuckles slowly brushed the side of my face.

Once my brain caught up to my body, my eyes searched his and found a dark hunger that made my heartbeat pound in the junction of my thighs.

“I’m sorry-”

“I don’t like to be kept waiting,” he said. His tone was playful, but paired with the look in his eyes I knew better than to think he was joking. That didn’t stop me from plastering a wicked grin on my face, though. “In that case, I’m really sorry.”

My hands snaked around his waist, forming fists in the material of his shirt, pulling it taut around his torso.

Our lips crashed together, his impatient avidity heating the space between us. I teased him with a quick sweep of my tongue across his bottom lip before pulling my head back when he leaned forward. I smiled against his lips, but was quickly made aware of the severity of my mistake.

One hand skated up and over my chest, resting on my collarbone while the other flexed around my hip. He raked my bottom lip between his teeth, biting down harder as the plump skin dragged between them. A whimper escaped my throat, the mix of pain and pleasure creating a pool of heat low in my belly.

He rolled his hips forward slightly, alerting me to the presence of the bulge growing in his pants.

A hungry moan left my lips and spilled into his mouth, fueling the fire burning between us. His hands flew to my hair, lacing his fingers through and grabbing a fistful in one while the other pulled me impossibly closer by the nape of my neck.

The shrill cry of his phone ringing cut through the electric charge in the air, ruining a perfectly good moment. He pulled away from me, leaving me breathless as he casually walked away to answer. I swiped my thumb across my bruised lip and inspected it for blood before trying to read his body language from across the room to determine if he’d be swept away for a case or not.

I huffed and smoothed my dress, making my way over to him. He paced around the living room, his eyes darting left and right, processing and figuring. He looked so cute when he was concentrating. What a shame it would be if someone were to… distract him.

I plopped down on the couch and bent over to start unbuckling the strap around my ankle. Spencer waving caught my attention from my peripheral. He covered the bottom half for a second and tilted the phone away from him for a moment. “Leave them on,” he whispered.

Oh?

A wicked grin spread across my lips as he rambled on about some gory happenings in a city a few towns over. I sauntered over and stood in front of him, sure to make heavy enough eye contact for him to furrow his brow before I dropped to my knees.

He shot me a warning look that I promptly ignored, running my hands up his legs to the front of his thighs. I palmed him through the fabric of his pants, looking up through my lashes to see his jaw clenched and his fist coming up to cover his mouth, biting a knuckle.

My hand wandered, pawing coyly until I felt him harden under my touch.

“Yeah, mhm. Okay-”

I began unbuttoning his pants, humming to myself as his hand came down and closed around my wrist. He looked genuinely shocked at my behavior. Served him right for earlier.

Unphased, I used my other hand to pick up where the other left off.

“Alright, thanks.” He tapped the screen and looked down at me, his eyebrows raised.

I smiled sweetly and stood up, dusting off my knees.

“You almost made me hang up on my boss!”

“Hmm, Emily would have understood.” I pressed a quick kiss to his lips and patted him through his pants.

I turned to walk towards the kitchen, leaving him standing there with a half-hard cock and his jaw on the ground.

“How does Chinese sound for dinner?” I asked, digging through a drawer of miscellaneousness to find the glossy pamphlet.

“Sounds good. Will you call and order?” he called from the bedroom.

I nodded to myself, leaning over the counter to flip through the menu to decide. This place had quickly become our go-to take out spot; a quaint family-run hole in the wall with decent pricing and portion sizes.

“I don’t know why you flip through it if you’re going to get the same thing every time,” he laughed from behind me. “Because!” I countered, the one word being my only rebuttal. He wasn’t wrong.

His hands slid around my hips, while he rubbed his hips against my backside. I smiled to myself at his bulge having not yet resolved itself.

I dialed the number we both- well, I, knew by heart and held the phone to my ear, lazily swaying my hips from my bent over position. His fingers flexed around my hips, forming a grip.

A bored sounding voice answered the phone. “Thank you for calling CC’s Chinese Cuisine. Can you hold?”

“Yeah, I can hold.”

I stood and spun around, throwing one arm over his shoulder while the other held the phone to my ear. I toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging it a little with a wink. His eyes raked over my face, dark and hooded like they were when I first got home.

His hands on my hips quickly spun me back around, one hand flying to the space between my shoulder blades to bend me over again.

The change of pace made my head spin for a moment and my cheeks flush. His hands quickly made their way to the hem of my dress, lifting it to the small of my back. A small giggle escaped my lips at his brashness. I turned around expecting to see a playful look on his face, but found his jaw clenched, watching me intently instead. One hand moved to gather the fabric of my dress  while the other skated along the skin of my belly at the waistline of my underwear. My breath hitched as his fingers made their way past the barrier.

“Thank you for holding. How can I help you?” Somehow the voice on the phone sounded even more bored than before.

“Wh- Um, yes I’d like to place an order for delivery, please.”

My free hand on the counter moved to stop the southbound motion of his hand. His hand deftly avoided mine, instead grabbing my hand and placing it firmly on the counter again.

His hand returned, this time landing directly on its mark, slipping a finger between my folds.

“Sp-”

He shushed me and rolled his hips, pressing his hardness into my backside again.

“Go ahead.”

Spencer’s finger worked in quick circles, swirling around my clit then pushing into me, joined by another digit moments later. His thrusts were slow at first, coaxing my wetness to slide down his fingers. His hand remained on the small of my back, keeping me compromised and at his mercy.  

“Can I please have an orange chicken w-with lo mein noodles-” I brought the phone away from my mouth, silencing a moan. “A-and a beef and broccoli with veggie fried r-rice.”

“Okay,” the voice droned.

The irony was not lost on me that the lack of enthusiasm on the other end of the phone was being met and exceeded by the red, hot coil winding in my core.

“Don’t forget the rangoons,” he whispered from behind me.

Son of a bitch, I wanted to be off of this god damned phone call already.

“I’d like to add an order of crab rangoons to that as well, please.” I squeaked out.

“Let me check if we have anymore. Can you hold?”

“Mmmm, so wet.” Spencer said, only loud enough for me to hear. My hand flew to my mouth to cover the gasp threatening to escape.

His fingers switched their tempo, now curving just so before diving deeper with each thrust.

“YES. Yes. Uh huh, I’ll hold.” As soon as I heard the phone be put down and the voice shouting in the background, I slammed my fist against the counter and let out the frustrated moan I’d been trying to suppress.

“Fucking hell, Spencer! What are you-”

He didn’t answer, instead removing his hand and dropping to his knees, pulling my underwear down with him. With my heels still on, he was at perfect eye level with the mess he was making.

He hummed from behind me, dragging a single finger through the wetness threatening to drip down my thighs.

I swallowed the pant crawling up my throat as the voice came back on the phone.

“Okay we have them. Is that all?”

Spencer’s hands found their way to the tops of my thighs, forcing them apart before laying a long lick between my folds, damn near knocking me off my feet. I felt my legs start to shake as his laps got quicker, the sounds of his moans into me enough to make me cry.

“Yep, mhm, that’s all” I squeaked, biting my finger between my teeth to contain the scream building in my throat. His fingers crept their way up to my clit again, slipping to form quick circles as his mouth and tongue continued to work.

“Okay, that’ll be, uh-” the voice hesitated, and I could faintly hear keys clacking on the other end. At this point I wasn’t sure what was going to come first, me or the total.

God, I could fucking scream.

“$23.50.” the voice said. “Give it 30 minutes or so.”

“Okaythanksbye” I rushed, smashing the end button and pulling the phone away from my face. At this point, I couldn’t be bothered to be polite.

Spencer’s mouth continued relentlessly- sucking and thrusting while his fingers formed a V and slid on either side of my clit, gently squeezing and drawing downward slightly. Stars started to cloud my vision as a guttural moan left my chest, finally able to escape my body.

My head fell to the side, my cheek pressed up against the cool counter top- the hot and cold offering a new sense of stimulation to my poor body.

“Oh, god.”

He moaned against me as my walls spasmed around his fingers, my orgasm racking through my body like glass shattering, creating a mosaic of pleasure. The white hot fire coursing through my veins illuminated me from within like a stained glass masterpiece at a chapel. Spencer was on his knees worshipping me, devouring me like the blood and body of Christ himself on a holy Sunday. His name left my mouth like a prayer as I begged him for mercy and repented for my sins.

My body fell limp on the countertop, my chest heaving as broken breaths shuddered from my lungs. Spencer’s fingers slowed and his lips pressed soft kisses against my cheeks as I put my pieces back together again. He chuckled from his position on his knees and dragged one last finger through my wetness before popping it into his mouth and sucking it clean.

The sight alone made me knees weak and reignited the flame in my belly. My attempt to stand was thwarted by my legs going into full Bambi mode, struggling to balance in my heels. Spencer stood and grabbed my hips, offering his support while stifling a laugh. I shot him the dirtiest look I could manage in my fragile state.

“He probably knew what was happening!” I whined.

“Yeah, I don’t think he would mind,” he said on a wink.

“You know,” he said casually, “We still have about 27 minutes.”

***

Let’s chat!

[msyuksanh]

“The Brush” | Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Just a bit of a silly story set within the events of episode 3, so there are minor spoilers ahead if you’ve not reached that part of the game!

Summary Ruggie has some tasks for you and Grim to do. One of which involves braiding a certain irritable lion’s hair...

Rating: G Characters: Leona, Ruggie, Grim Location: Leona’s Room

---------

“Before we go for breakfast we need to do a couple of things first,” stated Ruggie standing before you with his hands on his hips.

You and Grim were dressed and ready for the day while Leona was just about coming into the land of the living. He lazily slipped on his orange waistcoat over his white shirt.

“We’re not your slaves.” retorted Grim.

You elbowed him gently to remind him they were doing you guys a favor letting you stay at the Savanaclaw Dorm, or more specifically Leona’s room. Also, not forgetting that in return for their kindness you guys were the new temporary servants.

“What would you like us to do?” you asked with a bright smile trying to make up for Grim’s remark.

“We just need to collect some clothes for laundry, and one of you will need to braid Leona’s hair.”

The was a short silence as you and Grim exchanged a look.

At this point Leona was still fixing his uniform and putting on accessories, seemingly completely oblivious to what was just said.

“As much as I would like to try not to rip out that guy’s hair I don’t have opposable thumbs so good luck,” Grim held up his paws and shrugged. He patted you on the shoulder before flying over to Ruggie who had been piling up Leona’s clothes in a weave basket.

An “Ah-” escaped you as your hand stretched out in Grim’s direction.

“Leona! Don’t go back to sleep!” Ruggie tutted and sighed, putting down the basket and pulling his prefect up into a sitting position. When did he go back to sleep!?

Leona growled. “What’s 5 more minutes? It’s not gonna kill anyone,” he grumbled, to which Ruggie rolled his eyes.

“We’ll be back in about 10 minutes. Come on Grim, I’ll show you the laundry room.” Ruggie strolled out with his hands clasped behind his head.

“Hey, you! Why am I the one carrying this heavy basket?!” yelled Grim as he struggled to keep afloat in the air while trying to follow Ruggie’s quickly disappearing form.

Now with them gone uncomfortable silence fell in the room. Leona sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees and smartphone in hand.

You let out a quick sigh but found your energy after a deep breath.

“Okay, let’s get started shall we?” you said with another bright smile.

You walked towards Leona who strangely straightened up obediently and turned the screen off on his phone.

“So…is there a special style you have for your braids?” you inquired as you leant over him to inspect his luscious dark brown locks. His twitching ears sparked a curiosity in you. How you desired to just reach out and touch them!

“No.” he replied bluntly.

“Does Ruggie do anything special or-?”

“Hurry up and get on with it,” he growled out. The King of Beasts closed his eyes with what you assumed to be annoyance.

“Okay.” Your face and shoulders dropped indicating your motivation slowly leaving you.

You understood Leona wasn’t exactly in the mood for small talk. Then again, when ever was he?

You positioned yourself to his side, picked up a good amount of hair and tentatively dragged your fingers through it.

Leona was back on his phone endlessly scrolling from the fast motion of his thumb swiping up and down the screen.

“Hold on a minute,” you mumbled. You crawled on your knees onto his bed and appeared at height behind him bringing all his hair to the back. You tried combing through it all with your fingers again but found it difficult with the tangles and knots.

You got off the bed abruptly, now filled with a burst of excitement. After rummaging through your belongings you returned back to the bed with a hair brush in hand. Luckily you’d cleaned it!

“What’s taking so long!?” Leona only saw you bolt across the room and back from the corner of his eye. One thing he knew for sure was this was taking too long and he was going to murder someone if he didn’t get any food soon.

“I’ll be done in two minutes, don’t worry!” you exclaimed happily.

“Make it one,” was his irritated response.

Upon hearing his words you started brushing out the ends of his wavy hair quickly and gradually worked your way up. You got to the top of his head and made sure to be careful brushing around his ears. They twitched when the brush was near and Leona’s tail swished in a carefree manner, hitting your body and arms softly at times. How you wanted to touch that too!

Were your ears deceiving you? You swore you could have heard a small purr come from the Savanaclaw Dorm Leader.

Gasping at how smooth his hair had become you grinned seeing your fingers run so effortlessly through.

“Okay, braid time.” You left the hair brush on the edge of the bed and moved from behind him to his side with one foot planted on the floor and your other knee still on the bed. You stood tall so you had better height to do your work.

Slowly but surely you finished the first braid and felt proud of the end product. It didn’t turn out too bad between the nerves of touching a stranger’s hair and being so close to someone with such a strong personality.

All of a sudden you heard a clatter. Puzzled, you looked down to see Leona’s phone had fallen out of his hand. What?

As if in slow motion you saw him about to fall forward. Was he asleep!?

“No-n-no-no-!” You swung your arms around his wide shoulders in a panic and threw all your strength against him to stop him falling. Thank goodness your foot was on the floor otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to hold him back. And you knew he was more than likely going to fly into a blinding rage and kick you and Grim out if he had found himself woken up by faceplanting his own bedroom floor.

His head fell toward you and rested on your chest. His breathing was deep.

Oh, my goodness.

The panic set in wondering if Ruggie and Grim were to come back at any second. What would they say if they saw you both like this right now!?

“Hey, Leona, it’s time to wake up…!” You sang shakily, gently jostling him.

Nothing. You sighed forcibly. ‘Okay, let’s try something different.’

You sunk down onto your knee on the bed so you were at least able to see his face properly. In doing so Leona’s head fell into the crook of your neck.

Oh, my goodness(!)

Your eyes widened in shock. In that split second you felt his breath on your neck shivers ran up and down your back, but you swiftly shook your head to get rid of any strange thoughts.

“Leona! Hey!” You were confident he wasn’t going to fall forward anymore with his weight somewhat balanced by your arm around the back of him. You cautiously took your arm from across his chest and pulled his head away by cupping his jaw.

“Hello!? Please wake up(!)”

Nothing. You closed your eyes and pointed your face to the ceiling feeling everything you was doing was pointless.

Of course, the cruel hand of fate decided to deal you another card of misfortune right there and then, didn’t it? Of course your arm, the one essentially supporting his entire weight, gave out and you both fell backwards onto the bed.

Uh-oh.

As luck would have it you were stuck.

“Leona(!) Wake up! Why do you like sleeping so much!?” You questioned with exasperation in your voice.

You tried pulling your arm out from underneath his back but to no avail.

Feeling a mixture of annoyance, desperation and dread, you decided to just give in and wait for Ruggie to find you.

You facepalmed so hard you could cry. ’All I had was one job’

Why were things always happening to you? You couldn’t go one day, it seemed, without some kind of crazy event involving you and Grim. Not to mention this insane contract you believed you could fulfill to free Deuce, Ace and the other students trapped under Azul’s unique magic. But, how else were they going to get free? Who else was going to help them? Even if you had no magic, and you didn’t really know who you were or where you came from, you felt such a pull to help those in need.

Wow. Thinking about your friends really helped calm you down.

You turned your head to find Leona’s sleeping face in your direction. You paused. If it hadn’t have been for this pampered, arrogant lion-man and his straight-laced wolf and snarky hyena, you’d be god knows where. Your eyes roamed over his features taking them in slowly. You’d never seen him up close like this before.

Long eyelashes, sharp nose, lips always seemingly set in a frown, but luckily not right now. Your eyes wandered to his scar and you grew curious about its origins. His hair framed his face so well anyone would fall for him.

He was so stoic, so strong, ego the size of a galaxy, and yet in this very moment he was so gentle...

Leona’s eyes fluttered half-open and you held your breath. What would he think about this situation? How would he react!?

You couldn’t tell if his emerald eyes had focused enough to catch you staring back at him. Was he going to yell? Would he think you did something weird to him?

The answer was no. He went back to sleep.

You laughed suddenly finding the situation incredibly absurd yet hopelessly entertaining.

“What are you doing?” asked Ruggie from the door.

Relief washed over you and you’d never been happier to see the young hyena. “Oh, thank goodness you’re back!”

“What happened?” questioned Grim as he flew into the room. He gasped loudly.

“I’m stuck” You waved your free arm about to show the predicament you were in.

“How did this even happen?” Grim flew around checking you guys out. Ruggie laughed his signature snicker as he pulled his phone out to snap a million photos.

“The great Grim will get you out!” The furry demon grabbed your free arm and started pulling.

“No, Grim-wait-ow-ow-ow!” You cried in pain.

Ruggie lost himself to his laughter but never missed a beat with his photo-taking.

Grim gave up when he realized he couldn’t actually pull you out. You directed a death glare at him.

Ruggie’s laughter subsided and he wiped the tears out of his eyes. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from the Ramshackle Dorm even if I tried”.

“Can you just get him up, please?” You pleaded.

“Alright. Leona!! Wake up now!” Ruggie sighed, grabbed Leona’s wrists and pulled him up into a sitting position; the same move he’d made before.

Leona stretched his arms above his head and let out a long, hard yawn. “Why is everyone so loud!? You’d think I could get 5 more damned minutes of sleep”. He stood up and twisted at the waist working out the cracks in his back. You quickly followed suit getting up off the bed as you rubbed your slightly numb arm. Leona didn’t even seem to notice you were on his bed let alone him crushing a precious limb of yours.

“So, what happened? All you had to do was braid his hair... Was that too hard a task?” asked Ruggie condescendingly.

You ignored his patronising question.

“Well, I managed to get one braid done”, you professed kinda proudly, “but I decided to detangle his hair because, you know, I wouldn’t want to hurt him while braiding so I got my hair brush-“

Ruggie sharply inhaled.

At this moment Leona had wandered out onto the balcony, presumably, to get a moment of peace.

“A brush?” questioned the hyena. His eyes searched and fell upon the offending tool that laid abandoned beside the bed. He shook his head.

“What’s wrong with that?” Grim tilted his head in confusion.

“Look: when you brush a cat-“

“Lion” Leona interjected with a death stare. He’d come back to join the group and narrowed his eyes at Ruggie having heard him call him a ‘cat’.

“Fine. When you brush a…lion, they get comfortable. And when they get comfortable, they…” Ruggie gestured with his hands to coax the answer out of you.

“…fall asleep?” You questioned as you furrowed your brow wondering why he trailed off when he knew the answer.

Within a split second you gasped loudly; eyes widening once the realisation had dawned on you.

“Oh…” You looked over at Leona apologetically who only looked back with a bored stare.

“Yeah…” Ruggie agreed with a scrunched nose. He grinned making a mental reminder to show Jack the photos later. Oh, what juicy, juicy blackmail he now possessed.

“I don’t care what you’re talking about and I’m not standing around here waiting for you to finish.” The King of Beasts ‘hmphed’ and headed out of his room at warp speed.

“How are you not annoyed you only have one braid?” You heard Ruggie ask coming to the side of his prefect. He threw a cheeky grin back at you over his shoulder.

“I got to sleep more. I don’t care. It’s just hair,” answered Leona nonchalantly. The young hyena couldn’t really argue with that.

“I’ll put the other braid in later” said Ruggie. That poor boy probably knew Leona long enough that the lion would be bothered about the lack of braid eventually.

You let out a big sigh and let your body relax now that you were out of that situation. You followed behind the two Savanaclaw boys at a distance.

“Huh…” Grim flew beside you slowly with a paw rubbing his chin in thought.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“If all it takes is one brush to knock him out, we could steal A LOT of rich boy’s stuff,” pondered the small demon loudly with a nodding motion.

You laughed dryly. “Come on, don’t you get any funny ideas”

And with that, off you all went towards the school cafeteria, and towards what would be another crazy day at Night Raven College.

---------

(I’ve been watching cat videos lately on YT and the inspiration came to me! Our Leona is a big kitty after all!

I’ve not written in a long time so there are mistaaaakes, but thanks for reading!)

[jbbuckybarnes]

Kinktober - Day 20

20/31 Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Prompt: Edging Warnings: 18+, eating out, not proofread, WHY do my Poe shorts always turn into a whole oneshot? The jet in question is made up, somewhere between an X-Wing and the Millenium Falcon in size.

Masterlist

He was hanging out in his pilot seat after cleaning the console and getting BB to a mechanic after the chaotic last mission. Staring into space, or rather the hangar, made for some good passtime. Maybe because he was thinking about someone specific. In his peripheral vision he noticed a person in a black resistance uniform skirt and a big cozy sweater in orange, walking right towards his jet. Oh shit, act normal, act normal, uuuh, open the cable outlet, pretend you're working, act normal.

A soft knock against metal was audible behind him and he looked around to see you. You hair was a little messed up and your eyes were missing some of that sparkle. "What's up, dove?" He stuck his cleaning supplies into a corner and turned around. "Can I just...hang out with you for a while?" You mumbled and looked down. You were on the shy side of things, but this was unlike you. You never looked down all sad. You were sensitive, but you usually stood your ground. "Of course, c'mere." He opened his arms towards you and you gave in with an exhausted sigh. You sat down on his lap and got one of his bear hugs, the extra loving ones. "Wait...is that my sweater?" He looked down at your top. "Yeah, you left it in mission control last week." You mumbled and fidgeted with the sleeves. "Looks good on you." He smiled at you and got a tiny smile back. A little win for now. "What has you so upset, dove?" His hand wandered over your back soothingly, just in case. "They wanna put me off mission control again." You whispered. "But that's the only position you're comfortable with after what happened last year." He frowned at the weird decisions his colleagues made. "I don't know. I'd love to fly again, but not for missions. You know?" You looked at him and saw full attention puppy eyes directed at you. "Yeah. I know." He pushed some of your baby hair aside. You cleared your throat and looked down at your hands again, "So...what did you do today?" "Cleaned the inside of the jet and relaxed a bit after that disaster recently." He chuckled and watched you take in how his jet looked. "You already know when you're out again?" You asked curiously. "Nope. Besides, BB needs a break anyway." He chuckled and you smiled at that. "Man, I wish I had a companion like that again." You mumbled and felt a hand laid on yours to stop fidgeting. "BB likes you too, you can kidnap him anytime I don't need him in the jet." Another nod from you. "Did you plan on doing anything tonight?" You looked up at him and he shook his head. "We could fly to the station and hang out there." He suggested the space station hangar that hovered above the base in space. "Yeah, we could." You looked out into the hangar and  sighed again. "What else is on your mind, dove?" He pulled you closer. "Nothing. Just random stuff." You murmured. "You're a bad liar, you know that?" He chuckled and put a kiss into your hair. "Yeah. No, I just felt a little lonely recently, that's all." Ouch, that's not what he wants you to feel like. "In which regard?" He whispered. "I think love. Nothing ever works out how it's supposed to. But whatever...guess it's not the right time." You mumbled and cuddled yourself into his sweater a bit more. "You deserve a perfect date, sweetheart." He felt a nod. "Mind if I give you that?" He chuckled and didn't get a reaction for a second. "But you're my friend." "I'll be whatever you want me to be, dove." "Okay. Yeah." "Poe! You fly like a reckless idiot!" You yelled into the headset and heard him laugh before flying another trick making you shriek. "I'd like to keep today's food in." You answered and felt the acceleration of the jet upwards. "Poe...don't you-" "I won't, I won't. Don't need you to make a mess in my jet. Just cleaned it." He chuckled. You landed in the space hangar and sat down at the giant windows looking towards the planet. "I'll never get tired of this." You smiled at the view and he looked over to see the sparkle in your eyes being restored again. "Yeah, me neither." He could look at you forever. "Forest planets are so magnificent from above." He watched you trace the little river lines in the air. "Yeah, they are homey." He smiled down at it too. "D'you ever wanna settle down?" You looked over at him expectantly. "Yeah. I think so." His posture turned more relaxed. "With a mini version of you running around?" You chuckled and he looked over. "Maybe. Sounds like a good life." He mumbled. "I hope it's over soon. The war and all the destruction." You mumbled. "Me too. Three missions a week are starting to get stressful." A giggle was shared. "Agreed. You're getting grumpy after two." You smiled so hard your eyes crinkled. "Glad you don't get tired of me." "Never. You're a chaotic dumbass. If I get anything from you, it's high blood pressure." A loving smirk was directed at you and you noticed that you liked him looking at you like that. A little too much. "So what's part of a good date in your opinion?" "I don't know. I never really liked any of the ones I've been on." He scooted closer next to you and put an arm around you, "I'm not gonna lie...I'm not surprised by that." "Why?" "They're all about credits spent, not memories made." "I guess you're right." You nodded and looked down at the forest again. "And most of them want a servant, not a wife." He mumbled. "True." "And most of them wouldn't bother asking what you want and only think about themselves." "Damn, Dameron, relax." You laughed at his consistent trashing. "I'm just saying. If he's not interested in going places and making you go blind in bed, don't even bother." He shrugged and you grinned, looking down at your hands. "Yeah, can't relate." You mumbled and chuckled. His hand angled your face to look up again, "You sure about that?" "Am I?" You murmured and felt his lips on yours in seconds. Your hands wandered through his soft hair as you were grabbed closer. "Finally." He whispered against your lips. "Huh?" "Do you know how hard it is to not turn into a complete idiot around you?" You grinned, "That's just your nature overall." "Excuse you?" He looked at you offended. "BB is half the brains." You shrugged nonchalantly. "Don't tell him that. Don't wanna inflate his ego." He smirked at you, noticing your tiny lip bite. "Since we already have the going places part down...how about the making you go blind part?" He murmured into your ear and made your face heat up. "Poe!" You slapped him. "I don't hear a no." He grinned with closed eyes. "C'mon, has anyone ever said no to you?" You asked. "Yeah. A lot of people. But I'd rather get a No than no answer at all, you know?" He whispered and sent goosebumps down your spine. "Yeah. Okay." You nodded and were picked up gently, grabbing onto him. "Hmm, can you always carry me everywhere?" You asked with a giggle. "I'll think about it." You were set down in his pilot seat. You made grabby hands up at him but got a smirk back, "I'm convinced those uniforms are made that way for a reason." He got down in front of you, making you relax, kissing up your legs, gently pressing them apart. His hands pulled down your underwear, throwing it somewhere on the console behind him, before pushing up your skirt. His hands pinned your legs against the sides of the chair, his lips traced the insides of your legs, making you whimper. "Relax, baby girl." He murmured before licking a stripe up your core. You held your sweater-pawed hands in front of your mouth to not whimper again. You were convinced that he knew what he was doing, "Oh my-" Tension built up slowly in your lower body as his fingers dove into your hole, making you squeal muffled through the sweater-pawed hands. His hand let go of one of your legs and placed one of your hands in his hair before going back to pinning down your leg. You grabbed into his hair with his every movement, pushing his face closer to your core. "Please." You whimpered and squirmed. Your legs began shaking more and more as the tension in your core began to become unbearable. "Kriff!" You moaned out and arched your back as he sucked at your sweet spot. "Poe, please! Oh my universe!" You squirmed and shook in his pilot seat more and more, feeling the release so close, but then everything seized. "Huh?" You looked at him and he licked his lips looking up at you. "I said going blind." He winked before kissing your thighs again until your sensitivity went down a little. "You're cute when you try to hold yourself back from moaning. You're gonna scream by the time I'm done with you." He gave you a dark smirk making you shiver. He started off slowly again, making you whimper and  pull at his hair. Followed by more and more desperate pleas. "Please, please!" You whimpered and arched your back moaning. "Please make me-" He stopped again and you started to become frustrated. "Don't throw a tantrum baby, sometimes good things need patience." He grinned like a school boy. "You better outdo anyone I've ever encountered." You mumbled annoyed as he bit his lip. "You're hot when you're pissed off." He murmured before buring his face between your tighs again. "Poe, please." You were so sensitive that him starting slow was already too much to bare. He sucked on your sweet spot abruptly, making you scream out and push his face against you with both hands. "Oh, shit. Oh, kriff. Oh, yes." You felt how he struggled to keep your legs pinned down as your body got a life of it's own. "Please, don't do it again. Please!" Your voice started shaking as your body went into overload. Now you understood what he meant with screaming. This tension felt so much deeper. Rooted in deeper places and about to explode into bigger pleasure. "Poe. Poe? Please!" You moaned and moaned as he devoured you. It was like an electric shock went through you, making you scream out his name, arch your back unnaturally deeply and feeling yourself gushing wetness onto the seat. Indeed, almost losing awareness for a second. "I'm taking back that I said that I don't need you to make a mess in my jet, because I absolutely needed you to." He grinned at you, touching and kissing you gently as you calmed down again. "That was...like transcending into a different dimension." You said still panting and got a macho smirk back. "Can't say I'm that good at returning the favor." You bit your lip. "As long as your lips are around my dick, I don't give a fuck about how good you are." He murmured before you both changed places.

[thiswasinevitableid]

82, Sternclay, NSFW if possible? Ty so much for all your great fics <3 -☀️

You’re welcome! I hope you enjoy the fill. It’s NSFW, and involves mating cycles, because my A03 stats suggest a lot of y’all like that.

82. you knock on my door at 2 in the morning because your very white cat got out and you need help trying to find them in the three feet of snow we have

He has no one but himself to blame. 

Stern is always so careful about shutting the doors in this cabin, as the old hinges and worn frames can send them swinging open when coupled with a strong wind. He thought he had that same care when he came in with more firewood from the basement, which can only be accessed through by going out of the house and then down to the locked door. 

Apparently not. At one, he went to check on Yeti and found the back door open and the faintest shape of feline paws leading into the darkness. 

They’ve got two feet of snow on the ground, with another foot forecasted to fall by morning. And Yeti is sleek and snow-white.

He’s wandered the perimeter of the house, left her favorite blanket out on the covered porch, and tried in vain to follow the tracks, filled in by the falling snow. He’s been outside for an hour now, with no sign of her. Not even the jingle of her collar in the cold air. He’s shivering, but he can’t stop the search; Yeti is out here, cold and scared and it’s all his fault. 

As he’s crunching through the snow, warm light spills onto the trees. His neighbors  (a loose term out here) house. He couldn’t stand waking Barclay up to help him, but if he’s already awake…

Stern raps on the door, and four seconds later it opens, his neighbor looking like a lumberjack centerfold given life, even in his sweatpants and brown sweater. 

“Joe? Is something wrong?”

“It’s Yeti, she got out without me noticing and I can’t find her, I’ve been out here an hour and there’s no sign. I, um, I know it’s a stretch but can you help me look for her? We can cover more ground that way.”

Barclay gives a small, worried smile as he nods, “Yeah, of course, lemme get enough on so that I don’t freeze and I’ll join you.” 

He waves Stern inside, passes him a box of tissues before disappearing upstairs. Here he’d hoped the tears from his brief panic and self-blame spiral hadn’t left evidence. He’s good in a crisis, has handled much more stressful incidents with grace and calm. But for some reason every time he musters up those emotions, gult rips them to shreds. Yeti is his to look after, he’s supposed to keep her safe, and one careless move has her out in the woods, in freezing weather, with predators, or thin ice, or, or, or-

His brain is excellent at generating contingency plans on the fly, but tonight it directs that ability to making him think about all the bad things his error could cause. 

“Okay, got my headlamp so I can keep my hands free. You got a light?”

Joe holds up his flashlight.

“C’mon, let’s go find the Yeti.” They set off side by side in the snow, “where do you want to look?”

“Fan out near the creek, I think. The snow isn’t as deep there, so she might have gone that way because it was easier to move.”

“She’s a climber, right? So how about this; we go on either side of the creek, you look on the ground and I’ll look in the trees?”

“That makes sense.” 

It’s slow going, both of them being meticulous, shining their lights on every branch or under every bush. Stern’s always appreciated how careful Barclay is; he assumes it comes with a profession where being messy slows you down, but the first time he saw his well-organized kitchen his heart did a little dance of delight. 

In the month and a half he’s lived here, the cook invites him over at least twice a week to try out a recipe. He works at Amnesty Lodge in the nearby town of Kepler, and spends some of his nights there. Still, he’s at his cabin often enough that Stern’s been able to invite him over some evenings. Though it’s odd he’s up so late on a work night.

“Do you not have to go in tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m taking this week off. I have some vacation time and when I get back it’ll be the holiday break rush until New Years. I got caught up in the latest Agent X novel and didn’t see how late it was until you knocked. How about you, staying up researching again?”

“Yes. I was trying to keep the fire going because it’s nice to work in that little living room but, um, going out to get the wood is how she got out. If I’d just gone to bed-”

“Whoah, hey, none of that.” Barclay stops, turning to face him, “shit happens, even when you’re careful. This isn’t your fault, Joe.”

“I know. It still feels that way.” He starts forward again, feet freezing in spite of his snowboots (chosen for optimal weight to insulation ratio). Part of him wants to keep talking, because Barclay is interesting to talk to, his years playing “Lodge dad” giving him endless anecdotes and the ability to be honest without being cruel. 

It helps that his baritone voice makes Stern think of brown sugar; rich, complex, just the right kind of sweet. 

After a solid hour of searching, Stern is so cold he’s having trouble getting words out. Barclay sets a big hand on his shoulder, guiding them towards Sterns cabin.

“Joe, you’ve gotta take a break. Worried your lips are gonna go as blue as your eyes, and then tonight will really suck.”

“But I haven’t found her.”

“And you won’t if you freeze to death or get so chilled you can’t think straight. At least sleep for a few hours.”

Stern’s about to protest as they reach the door, but then his knees buckle and he slumps against a broad chest.

“I’ll do one more spin into the deeper woods on my way home, and leave some blankets out on the porch in case she makes her way to me. She’s smart, just like her owner; I think she’ll get home okay.”

“Right. Okay. We’ll be okay.” 

Barclay hesitates mid motion, then pulls Stern into a hug. Stern is not small, and at Six feet zero inches he’s used to being the tallest person in a room. Barclay always feels like he’s dwarfing him, though right now that’s the most comforting sensation in the world. 

“I’ll check by in the morning.”

“Thank you, for everything.” He mumbles into Barclay’s scarf.

“Any time, Joe.”

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

Barclay waits until Joe is inside and the upstairs light switches on to leave the back porch. God, it’s so fucking cold tonight. He doesn’t blame Yeti for getting curious, but she could’ve picked a less awful time to do it.

He’s glad the other man came to him for help; he hates the idea of Joe out here alone and stressed, searching carefully and kicking himself the whole time. He’s glad Joe took the suggestion to sleep. 

He’s glad the other man came to be his neighbor. 

Ironically, they’d met when Joe came over and asked to borrow a cup of sugar. The dark-haired man was short on what he needed to cook, and Barclay was happy to supply it. It’s not everyday a cute guy asked him for some sugar. 

They ran across each other in town, and Joe even came to eat at the Lodge, usually at off hours where Barclay had a chance to talk. That’s how he learned Joe was here to research a recent Bigfoot sighting. 

“I used to be in the FBI, investigating the same thing. Then I got so frustrated, no one really believed in the possibility of unknown creatures, and the few who did saw them as having some sort of use to the department of defense. Great idea, find something so rare it’s existence is unproven, and then lock it away or blow it up.” The sip of coffee is more aggressive than usual. 

“Won’t they get mad if you spill their secrets?” It was only half a joke. 

“I doubt it. They weren’t too interested in my theories when I worked there; odds are they’ll keep an eye on me a little while and then ignore me. Unless I find Bigfoot, of course, in which case they may want me back. I’m not interested, from now on I monster hunt in the name of science.”

Barclay hopes Stern never finds Bigfoot and stays in his cabin, writing and researching and consulting and coming over to Barclay’s for dinner twice a week. He has a whole menu in his mind titled, “foods for seducing Joe” that he’s going to whip out in the next few weeks, he swears it. 

He’s been swearing it for two weeks. 

Joe is sophisticated, smart, has really good taste in books and food, and Barclay feels so listened to when they talk. Barclay starts blushing whenever Joe smiles at him, which would be embarrassing except Joe does the same thing whenever Barclay drops his voice a little. Besides, he likes it when Joe smiles. 

Barclay would give anything to make Joe smile tonight. Which is why he’s tromping into the spot where they lost the last of Yeti’s footprints. He stands, listening for any sign of human life. 

Then he slips the woven bracelet off his hand, and his foot-prints almost double in size. 

It’s a bad idea, he’s not all that far from other houses or the road, but in this form his sense of smell is twice as strong and his night-vision a bit sharper. It’s also the reason he’s taking this week off work. Yes, he likes to rest up before the winter rush; but his heat, which comes ever fourteen years, is due in the next few days. He’s actually a little worried turning into his Sylph self will make his brain fuzzy enough to forget his mission. So he reminds himself, as he tromps through the growing blizzard, that he is doing this for the person he’d most like to impress in this world, and that does the trick. 

A whiff of the same, non-human scent he stole a noseful of when hugging Joe catches his attention. He follows it to a disused burrow, gets down on his belly, and finds reflective eyes blinking back at him. 

The animal hisses. 

“Man, please be Yeti and not a bobcat. Duck’s gonna fucking kill me if I harass the wildlife.” He reaches into the burrow and hears a telltale jingle. Yeti, surrendering to her fate, goes limp in his hold. When he puts her against his chest she chirps, curiously sniffing him. As soon as the bracelet is on she blinks once, then purrs as he bundles her into his coat. She’s cold and damp, but she’s in one piece. 

“C’mon cousin, let’s get you home.”

The lights are all still one, and the front door is wedged open the exact amount a cat would need to get inside. He steps in, kicks the wedge free and shuts the door. The fire is low, and there’s no sound of anyone moving around. 

“Joe? Whoa, careful Yeti, I know you wanna get warm but we should show him your okay.”

“Mew!” Yeti bites the fringe of his scarf. 

He tries again, “Joe, you still up? Got someone for you?”

A scuff and groan from the kitchen, “Huh? Oh, shit, I fell asleep, one second”

Yeti shifts her focus while Barclay is distracted. In one graceful leap she rips his bracelet away, lands, and bounds to the kitchen.

“Yeti! Thank the lord, there you are my little cryptid, I was so worried about you, don’t ever do that again, thank god you’re okay.” Joe’s voice goes muffled, as if he’s holding the cat to his face and talking into her fur. Barclay is frozen, not wanting to be seen but even less wanting to have Joe spot Bigfoot dashing into the trees. 

“What do you have--Yeti, it’s rude to take things from the man who saved you from being-” Joe rounds the corner, cat in his arms, and gasps. Yeti, uninterested in the unfolding drama, tumps to the floor and scampers upstairs. Joe’s hands fly over his mouth the instant she’s no longer in them. 

“Hey” Barclay waves.

“What the fuck?”

“I’m, uh, I’m Bigfoot.”

“What the fuck?” Joe isn’t moving, and Barclay decides now is his best chance. 

“I’m just, uh, gonna go get my bracelet back.”

“No, you’re going to explain everything.” 

“I really, really can’t, some of it isn’t mine to explain. I mean, uh, I can explain some bits later-” He creeps toward the stairs. Joe steps in front of him. 

“Barclay, this can’t wait. You, you’ve been him the whole time, my entire world view is simultaneously being proven and flipped over, would you please just talk to me?”

“Mew?” Yeti is halfway down the stairs, watching them with the bracelet still in her mouth. Without breaking eye contact, Joe reaches up and out, plucking it from her teeth.

“You’re not getting this back until you explain.”

“Babe, please, I promise we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“No, wait, what did you call me?”

“Uhhhh” Barclay lunges for the bracelet instead of answering. Stern twists out of the way, sprinting for the kitchen. Barclay gets an arm around his waist and yanks backwards, sending them both over the back of the couch. Joe elbows him and scrambles up. Barclay only just manages to block him from going up the stairs, stalks him back onto the rug and tackles him. It succeeds in bringing the man down and keeping him pinned. 

It also sends the bracelet flying onto the floor, where Yeti snatches it up and disappears up the staircase. 

Barclay realizes he’s growling, stops so that he won’t frighten Joe, only for it to start up again as a reflex.

“Barclay, I swear, if you hurt my cat-”

“I won’t, I, that’s what not that noise is for. Or, uh, I mean I’m pissed you played keep-away with something I need, but I also have some bad news about Sy--uh, Bigfoot biology. Uh, so, first thing: I have a heat, which is why I was trying to stay away from people. Second thing: my kind uses a very intense game of, uh, chase as part of courtship.”

Stern shifts his thigh, “That explains what I’m feeling.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Look, can you go get the bracelet and then we can, like, have some tea and talk about this? I’m sorry, I feel so bad for making you deal with this.” The growl rumbles up again. He gears up another apology when he notices Joe’s blue eyes getting wider.

“Is this, um, only because of your heat? I mean, if you tackled some passerby, would the same thing be happening?”

“No.” Barclay squeaks. 

“Then I’m not seeing how this is a bad thing, big guy.” He grinds his thigh up, making Barclay yip and pin him to the rug while touching as little of him as possible. 

“Joe, this doesn’t make me like, mindless or anything, but if you say you want this you are signing up for several days of as much fucking as I can manage.”

“I don’t have any deadlines.” Joe’s eyes remain fixed on Barclays crotch. 

“I’m serious, if you say stop I will, but if you don’t you won’t be able to get out of bed for days. And, uh, I can put my disguise back on, you don’t have to fuck me like this, I know it’s weird.”

“Barclay, I built my life’s work on weird.” Joe pets his arm.

“Yeah but not on fucking it.”

“How do you know? Lots of my time with the UP is classified.”

“Joe…” it’s a warning, the heat in  his brain suggesting a dozen things to do so the human can’t be touched by another cryptid ever again.

“I want you, Barclay. In both forms. As long as you promise we’ll talk after, I’m okay with doing this first.”

“I promise”

“Good, because otherwise I was going out to see if there’s another bigfoot in the area who was interested.” Joe smiles, moves to pull off his shirt. He doesn’t get to; Barclay snarls possessively and drops onto him, biting his neck and ripping his clothing into a flurry of fabric scraps. The human moans, gasps when Barclay makes short work of his own pants and reveals what’s waiting beneath. Barclay doesn’t give him time to process, shoves his legs as far apart as they’ll go, and finally sinks into him.

“JesusfuckingCHRIST, ohfuck, ohmyfuckinggodAH!”

His cock is more thick than long, splitting the human open while bottoming out on every thrust. Joe’s fingers knot into the rug, his words morph into sharp, ecstatic sounds. Every creature in the forest can probably hear him. 

Barclay clamps his hand down over the humans mouth, “shut up babe, don’t want anyone else in the woods getting any ideas about how good a fuck you are. You’re fucking mine.”

A muffled moan and, when he pulls his hand back, “Y-you really think I, fuck, I can keep quiet when you fuck me like this?”

“Thought they taught FBI agents discipline” he drags his claws across Joe’s chest, relishing the shaky, happy noise that gets him. 

“There’s discipline and, AAHnnn, there’s inhuman restraint.”

Barclay slams the hand down again and growls, pleased, when Joe’s posture turns submissive.

“Here’s the deal; you keep quiet and take it like a good mate, and after I cum in you, can be as loud as you fucking want, because anyone who gets near you’ll know belong to me. I mean” he jerks his hips, “they’ll be able to tell that from the fact I’m balls-deep in you too, babe.”

Joe nods, replaces Barclays hand with his own as the Sylph hooks his knees over his shoulders. The next minute goes in a heat haze, his brain and body united in the desire to cum in Joe, to claim him,  while the human stifles his screams and grows slicker with each thrust. 

He tips his head back with a howlgrowlpurr as he cums, leaving faint clawmarks in Joe’s legs as he holds them open to make sure he takes every bit.

“Lord almighty” Joe’s hand falls to the floor, “that, that was amazing, why on earth were you acting like this isn’t something I’d waaAAAAAntohgod.” He whimpers as Barclay starts up again, fucking his cum up into him.

“Shoulda known you’d like it; you’re perfect, Joe.”

A blush and a shy moan, and he leans down to kiss him gently.

“You are. You’re the perfect man, the perfect mate, and we are gonna have so much fucking fun together.”

“And fun fucking?” He looks pleased with the wordplay.

He snorts, “Glad to know that sense of humor sticks around when I’m filling you up, oh, ohfuckyeah” another orgasm hits, milder this time. 

“Are they near constant when you’re in heat?” Joe eyes the trail of cum sliding back down Barclay’s cock.

“No, just easy to have. So” he flips the human over, squeezing his ass appreciatively, “let’s try it from  behind this time; wanna find out how it feels to cum in you while I get you off.” He slips his hand over Joe’s thigh and between his legs, “and you better fucking do it too, of I’ll drag you outside and fuck you against a tree so anyone passing by can see how fucking eager you are for me.”

“Please, we’ve spent so much time outside tonight.”

He thinks as kisses along Joe’s shoulders, “You’re right. I’ll fuck you against the door instead.”

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

When Stern wakes up, snow is falling in the grey light and his clock reads 2:30 P.M. Downstairs there’s a homey clink of pots and pans, and the smell of coffee winds it’s way to him. 

He fell asleep around five, he thinks, when the cumulative exhaustion of his day overpowered the thrill of being with Barclay. Honestly, he’d have kept going, but Barclay was adamant he rest. So they finished with him fucking Stern’s slack, sleepy mouth, before the cryptid bundled him into bed and snuggled up to him with those deep, rumbling purrs that Stern now loves.

The bracelet is gone from the nightstand (Yeti didn’t eat it, thank god), so the chef must be making breakfast in his human form. Now would be a good time to go down and talk. 

“Mew” A weight lands on his chest as Yeti kneads the blankets, purring when he reaches you and rubs her head.

“You know, little monster, this almost makes the heart attack you gave me worth it.”

“Mew?” The cat stares hopefully out the windows. 

“Not a chance. I can’t take that stress again. Besides” he scoops her up, “we need to unbox that new toy I ordered. Barclay and I need some time to ourselves today.”