#i had to make her arms thinner i had to adjust her waist to hip ratio TO SOMETHING BIGGER. SOMEONE REDLINED THE DRAWING AND WIDENED HER HIPS

[ruvviks]

the amount of times i've had people IN ART SCHOOL and AT MY PROFESSIONAL INTERNSHIP tell me i had to adjust my female character art because of Female Anatomy Reasons. spits on everyone spits on everyone takes out a fucking gun and

[kumacyy]

Hello how are you me im doing good can i request a one shot where nanami and fem!reader are at a mall (and can the reader be chubby?) and the reader look at a girl that is thinner than her and nanami notices this and her takes the reader home and has gental sex with her and prasies her and tells her she is beautiful and she doesnt need to change?

You're Perfect

Hey!! It's good to hear that you're alright sorry it took so long I had a writer's block so I hope you don't mind me going silent for a while anyways I hope you like it.

《Warnings》: 18+, gentle sex, praising, and body worship

Wc:

Unedited

Nanami Kento x Chubby! Reader

You were walking with your very handsome daddy boyfriend in the mall bonding with each other since we sure as hell all know that Nanami needs a break. Especially when a certain man child is nearby. But enough of that you and him were walking around the mall doing some window shopping and occasionally buying clothes.

Whilst you were walking around you noticed a HUGE crowd of people some were screaming some were taking their phones out but they're mostly pushing each other running to your direction. 'Probably someone famous' you thought and unfortunately for you; you got dragged by the crowd no matter how much you held on to nanami your grip just slipped and ofc this caused you and nanami to panic.

And getting dragged caused you to meet the lady that the people has been going crazy on... it was Kitagawa, Megumi (from say I love you) out of all the models that you have seen she was the one you loathed the most (sry I still hold grudges '^') I mean with just a single look at her pictures in the magazine you immediately knew she was fake. Well maybe loathed is too much but you still hated her so at first interaction with her you grimaced on the inside knowing it would offend her if you did it openly.

"Oh! I'm very sorry I just got dragged in the crowd" you apologized.

"No, no it's fine I understand it wasn't your fault anyways" she responded.

"Anyways sorry again bye!" You said trying to leave immediately while respectfully giving a wave.

"Farewell!" She said while waving her hand in response.

And with that you dissapeared in the crowd trying your best to navigate through it and of course because you're a clumsy hoe person you tripped and fell well almost fell luckily for you your sugar dadae boyfriend was there to catch you and with that you were thankful. Once both you finally left the crowd you were back to window shopping but with you more spaced out.

I mean could you blame yourself you just met a model a slim model to be more precise. The more you think about her the more insecure you become and nanami having to always be busy does not help at all. I mean what if he was just using his job as an excuse to mingle with women. No. I doubt it, he wouldn't would he? I mean he's a handsome and muscular man he can easily attract women and the fact that he settled with someone like you a fat girl is just weird.

And with more thoughts going through your head the more you get insecure which results with you unconsciously scowled at the thought which did not go unnoticed to your boyfriend. He knows you're thinking ill of yourself your expression alone made him think you're insecure which means he also knows that you were doubting his loyalty which hurt him not gonna lie. But that wouldn't stop him from loving you nonetheless.

He's for sure has to comfort you at home in a way so that you wouldn't think ill of yourself nor doubt his loyalty. It's a win win situation he gets to comfort you and you get to know how much he loves you plus he's been missing you for a while now.

And with that after hours of window shopping it was finally evening. While going home the atmosphere in the car was very tense and awkward for you but to nanami he's just thinking of ways to make sure you know he's loyal. Once you guys want home he immediately locked the front door and placed your things on the ground and went to grab your wrist. Not too hard to hurt you just enough so that you won't break free and dragged you to your shared bedroom.

Of course you didn't expect this after you went home you just expected it to be awkward so you were definitely confused.

"Nanami?" You questioned

"..." he didn't respond he just kept dragging you to the bedroom.

And once you finally reached the bedroom he immediately locked the bedroom door and pinned you against it. And started kissing you in a gentle way that you found very comforting and kissed back. Seconds later you guys released being out of breath he started giving you butterfly kisses.

"I love you so much." He mumbled in a husky voice it was low but still audible enough for you to hear.

And hearing what he said made you skip a beat and blush so out of embarrassment you hid your face on his chest which also made you hear his heart beat. It was beating very fast as if he was nervous to make the wrong move. While you were deep in thought he carried you to the bed and made you sit on it.

With a plop you snapped out of your thoughts and looked at nanami confused and with that he started to take your clothes off in a very gentle way like he's handling a very fragile object. After your clothes has been removed completely leaving you in your underwear and out of instinct you immediately covered your body with your arms. Which he had predicted and held your arms instantly uncovering it and started kissing your body that you were insecure about.

"Chu~ I love you" he said while kissing your cheeks.

"Chu~ I love this" he said again but instead of kissing your cheek he kissed your nose.

"Chu~ and this-" he said kissing each and every stretch marks on your body.

"Chu~ and this-" he continued and kissing your stomach and thighs.

"Chu~ and this of course" he said kissing your curves (hips, waist, bobs and a$s)

"Chu~ and this as well" he said kissing you body hair (armpit hair, leg hair, arm hair, and the hair underneath your belly button)

(A/n please keep in mind I'm not saying you guys have these insecurities it's just there because I think those are some of the things that most people have insecurities on (I researched about it) and also mines we all have insecurities all we have to do is to accept them.)

And with that it made your insecurities and doubts get washed away solely because you saw and heard how sincere he really is on about how much he loves you. He then pulled away and took his clothes off hastily and eagerly and after he took his clothes he is now in front of you buck naked. And with him standing it gave you a clear view of his huge cock which made you Yelp and cover your eyes immediately and made him chuckle at how cute you were being.

And he took your underwear of and carried you and placed you on his lap making you straddle him and entered in your womanhood which made your breath hitch and moan for having to be stretched after months of not doing it. And since he's a very patient man he waited for you to adjust which wasn't long. Since it was specifically made to take his cock in.

"N-ngh. yo-u.. can m-move." You stuttered having a hard time speaking because of the pleasure you were receiving.

And with that he started to gently move you and with you also helping by moving up and down. Then the room was know filled with skin slapping, and moans and groans of pleasure.

"A-ahh~"

"Ugh~"

And after going at it for hours you guys finally are close to your end which you both know.

"I-I'm close.." he said

"I-I'm c-close too.." you said

And with that you finally released together which made you scream in ecstasy and him groan loudly and with that he finally pulled out and placed you on the bed in which you were still in a dazed state and went to put his boxers on and went out the bedroom to get towels and water bottles then came back with fresh underwear for you.

And went to clean you up and gave you water which you thanked him for and then layed beside you and pulling you into his embrace.

"I love you so much" he said kissing your forehead

"I love you too" you said snuggling closer to his chest and slowly drift to sleep.

After seeing you asleep made him smile lovingly ant your sleeping face and mumbled to himself then started drifting to sleep as well.

"You're Perfect..."

Hey guys I hope you like it and thanks so much for reading.

[fenristheorem]

it´s me again u.u! how about lance + begging nsfw please?

You again!? Well goodness, you just can’t get enough of Lance it seems, haha. Don’t worry, I can’t get enough either.

Writing this as a scenario because it’s specific enough to do so 😏

There is begging but it comes in a bit later, there’s a lot of build up to it lol.

*Note: This is an nsfw ask so it will include detailed sex scenes and - considering it includes begging - very kinky sex. Don’t read if you feel you won’t be comfortable with this subject. Minor swearing. Also, this starts off immediately in the thick of it, so don’t start reading until you’re comfortable (and alone) lol.

I usually write with the term Guardienne due to the neutrality of it, but it seems a bit... weird? for Lance to be saying that instead of an actual name in this case (since Guardienne isn’t an ‘actual name’), so I’ll substitute with the name Erika to give more flow(?) to the situation.

~Under the cut~

Lance + begging nsfw (+ bondage as discussed, and blindfolding because it’s wonderful - and let’s face it, Lance wouldn’t beg if he can do something about it so the man would need to be helpless):

Aged ropes - worn well from years of use elsewhere - creaked dangerously as Lance flexed his arms and tensed his body. His back arced and hips lifted slightly off the bed as he snapped his eyes shut and panted. He wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up in this situation - his thoughts were cloudy and wouldn’t allow him to think that far back and in detail, especially with the slick, velvety pair of lips that sucked delicately at the skin between his thigh and ball sac. His hardened cock twitched and he groaned lowly as her tongue lapped his skin for a moment before she pulled away.

Released now from the rippling pleasure, he breathed out and relaxed, nearly ashamed at how sensitive he had become. Sure, he was prone to succumbing to sensual physical touch quite easily, but he rarely displayed this much sensitivity at this intensity. It seems like she must have caught him on a good night.

The female pulled away to gaze at the man underneath her - lacking all articles of clothing and looking more gorgeous than ever as a thin layer of sweat slowly manifested on his skin. Powerful, scarred arms reached up towards the headboard, wrists bound tightly in musty old rope that seemed to be just barely withstanding his strength. It was faintly frayed in a few areas, and hopes that it would last the night passed through her mind. Lance broke the last one they used; it was thinner and was braided differently than the one they were using now, but newer than this old rope. However, the vendor at the market selling rope was closed today, and her their patience couldn’t last through the night, so they had to make due with the dubious old rope she found way deep in the guard’s stores until tomorrow came, where she could buy another stronger rope. Fortunately this one seemed to be holding for now, but it was completely unknown on if that would remain.

Her eyes trailed over Lance’s wrists - not rope-burned thankfully, but definitely unable to escape unless the rope broke. His circulation looked fine based on his skin tone, and as her gaze trailed back down again she couldn’t help but admire the thick veins that wound down his forearms. She threw a glance at his burning icy eyes - narrowed in a glare of pleasure and irritation - as she climbed over him, straddling his abdomen before flicking her gaze to his parted lips and then back to his eyes.

“What do you want?” Her voice was a low, husky murmur as she stared enticingly into the dragon’s eyes, shifting to rest her hands on his broad chest and accentuate her naked breasts.

His gaze twitched as she did so, but he didn’t leave her eyes as he narrowed his further and growled deep within his chest, almost so that she could feel the reverberation underneath her palms. The dragon’s answer was clear.

“What do you want me to do?” She asked again, her head tilting slightly and hair spilling over her shoulder.

Lance’s nostrils flared slightly under a heaving a breath when she adjusted her hips, resting her weight on his abdomen and shifting in a continuous rotating motion, just a mere few inches away from where he’d like to feel her slickness instead. Every movement downward allowed the tip of his cock to brush against her rear, just enough to create some sort of tempting friction that sparked another wave of feral impulses to flow through him and buck his hips. The woman above him quickly lifted her weight off of him at this, narrowing her eyes slightly and giving a faint coy smile.

“Erika.” He growled her name, impatience rising within him.

She had been continuing her teasing ministrations for nearly an hour based on his internal clock, starting from foreplay, then pinning him down - at his will - and tying him up.

That’s how she got him like this.

He remembered clearly now when she brought him down on the bed and gently traced along his arms, bringing them over his head to hold his wrists together as she dug around in a bedside drawer. Lance humored her by submitting and laying obediently as she began tying his wrists with the rope, and then tying that to the headboard - only to realize too late that she could tie quicker and stronger than he thought when preoccupied with teasing her neck, and he found himself genuinely bound without easy escape. He had glared at her as he struggled against the restraints for a minute while she backed away, reminding him of their consistently unused safe-words as she reached under his knees to wrap her arms around and grasp at the top of his thighs before pulling. Once leaning up and struggling faintly with the knot, he found himself completely against the bed sheets with his arms gently taught above his head, and Erika made sure to keep him like that by placing her hands on his waist immediately and resting her weight on him to keep him from pulling himself back up. She made quick work of his pants from there, and the rest is history. 

Now, leaning teasingly above him, Erika’s skin crawled with anticipation as she recalled her victory. Rarely could she get Lance bound without his true obedience to the matter, so having this powerful man underneath her truly by her own accord made him seem that much more feral and dangerous - which made her feel that much more powerful. Technically he could use their safe words to get out of this - their first rule is to always obey the safe words, it overrules all other rules - but she knew he wouldn’t. He would make his resistance interesting by actually using his wits to escape, not taking the low road and using the safe words just because he feels taken down a notch by being so easily bound while being completely aware of her game.

However, he didn’t seem to want to play her game. That would make sense; he’s not one to beg, but Erika set her ambitions on hearing him plead, so by the oracle that’s what’s going to happen.

She smiled at his low growl before taking her weight off of the hands on his chest, turning back to the drawer she pulled the rope from - she still had a few other techniques to disarm him further...

“Not in the mood to ask, huh? I’m sure that’ll change.”

Lance’s gaze flicked over to the dark, thin cloth she held in her hand, and then to her playful grin as she looked back at him. He could do nothing to resist her as she used both hands to place the cloth meticulously over his eyes and around his head, tucking the loose ends behind him to keep it in place.

“Not too tight?”

Erika gently tested the tightness of the blindfold by slipping a finger between the cloth and his skin, finding it loose enough to provide comfort but tight enough to keep him effectively blind.

Lance openly bared his teeth and snarled at her from deep in his throat - not the first time he’s done that, usually when he’s angered or irritated in ways he doesn’t know how to express, but occasionally to humor her. It was a mix of both irritation and humor that drove him to snarl this time.

“Oh dear! I suppose I should beg for you not to hurt me?” Her voice was a coy, amused teasing that drew a mean but genuine smile from Lance as they both shared a hushed laugh.

“Only if you don’t want me to hurt you.” He purred.

Erika hummed in response as her weight shifted above him.

“I don’t think there’s a lot you could do right now anyways.” Her voice was silky and light as she teased him, and the only warning Lance had was her weight settling between his legs again before she licked a path up the middle of his sac until the base of his cock. He gasped a quick moan, the smile dropping from his face before he clamped his mouth shut and bit his lower lip. 

This woman would be the death of him.

Erika held his shaft with two fingertips of one hand as she brushed her lips up his length, stopping just before his head before ghosting her way back down. She moved to the soft, sensitive skin between his thigh and sac again - this time on the other side than she was before - and gently sucked a small portion of the skin into her mouth, licking and attentively sucking to assure she wasn’t being too rough to the point of pain. The hand that wasn’t holding his twitching cock rested on the inner of his thigh as she moved again, pressing a firm, wet kiss to the curve of his sac. The muscles under her hand tensed as she did so before she pulled back slightly.

“I can keep at this for a good, long time you know. Are you sure you want to be that stubborn? I could relieve you, all you need to do is ask nicely.” Erika drew the words out tauntingly, watching the dragon’s facial expressions as she spoke and hoping he would give some hint that he would crack and yield to begging.

However, Lance refused to give in so soon. He knew he was in a bad position; he couldn’t move, couldn’t see, and now he feared opening his mouth for any reason lest he somehow ended up pleading instead, but he refused to go down without a fight. Instead, he took a steady breath and willed himself to relax as much as possible again, mentally steeling himself to avoid any possible temptation of pleading for her from entering his mind.

All of his mental preparation, however, fled from him when he felt her fingertips brushing his inner thigh, before warm, silken lips took one of his balls into her mouth as her tongue gently lapped at his skin. 

Fire rolled underneath his skin as he tensed again, impulsively flexing his arms and pulling down before they came to an abrupt halt as the rope reached it’s limit. A shaky, rumbling breath made it’s way from his throat as electricity surged through his veins and settled at the base of his cock, sparked from the persistent restraint that rendered him helpless. In this moment he never wanted to break a restraint so badly, so he resolved to pulling further against the ropes, encouraged by the faint creak of either bed or rope, until he couldn’t find it within himself to apply more pressure while under such states of intense desire. 

Erika glanced up as she swirled her tongue around the tender skin, her own skin shivering momentarily as she watched Lance’s display of strength against his restraints. She sucked harder at him - testing the limits - as the thrill encouraged her, wondering how long this could continue for before the ropes broke under the might of the ice dragon. Did it even occur to him to perhaps use his ice to freeze the rope and snap it? Was he fully aware, but wished to prove that he could escape without the use of his dragon ability? Erika watched with anticipation as she teased him, awaiting his next move. How wonderful it was, doing something so lewd to such a powerful man as he fought for control under the weight of his own rules.

She adjusted herself again, gently releasing his skin from her mouth before teasing her lips around his other ball, only to back away again a few short moments later.

Lance huffed a shaky breath as he relaxed slightly, the ropes binding him loosening just a bit when he did so.

“What do you want me to do, hmm? What do you want me to do next?” Erika watched Lance closely again as she spoke, once again attempting to assess where his level of self-control was.

Lance parted his lips, unknown but desperate words lingering at the tip of his tongue, before he resorted to shaky breathing. He knew she could keep at this game for a while, keeping him at the edge of pleasure and infuriating him just enough so he would eventually buckle and give her what she wanted, but he still wasn’t ready - he had a bit of composure left.

However, the one small gesture told Erika exactly what she needed to know. She kissed along his lower abdomen, nipping lightly once in a while, before dipping back down to his ball sac, taking the first ball gently into her mouth to tease again before letting go and taking the one she neglected into her mouth. Lance’s back arched slightly in response and he bucked his hips when she began tracing her tongue over the sensitive skin. Her hand caressed his cock, thumb rising to pass over his slit where precum was dripping, and stroked once as he bit his lip and tensed against his restraints again.

Erika released him from her mouth and moved to lean over his cock, running the tip of her tongue from his sac, up his throbbing shaft, until she felt the ridge of his head before backing away again.

“I need you to beg for me, Lance. Tell me what you want me to do.”

She spoke knowing he was probably drowning in relentless waves of pleasure from her bold actions, hoping it would weaken his resolve further. For assurance that her tactic would work, she immediately leaned back down after speaking and ran the flat of her tongue over his cock head, tasting the salty tang of precum as she passed over his slit.

Lance grunted, a minor desperate note in the sound, and rolled his hips, gasping faintly when he felt her lips brush his head momentarily. However, Erika quickly pulled back, taking both hands off of him and refusing to initiate skin contact.

“Lance,” she started, her voice a lewd murmur. She knew exactly how far to push him now. “If you want that you need to beg. Beg to feel my lips sucking you off.”

Erika traced a finger over his cock head before leaning back down and running her tongue underneath the ridge, brushing her lips over his head in a soft kiss as she laid her hand on his abdomen and dragged her palm lower, towards his sac.

Lance bit his lip and groaned again as Erika gently took his sac in hand and squeezed softly, before she pulled away and held his cock in her palm instead. She teased one of his balls into her mouth again, adjusting properly as Lance’s hips rolled when she stroked his cock, and swirled her tongue around it before sucking lightly and pulling gently back.

“Fuck, Erika, please!”

The words escaped Lance before he had a chance to argue against himself, caught agonizingly in the desperation of wanting to feel her lips around him again. Tight coils settled in his lower abdomen as his cock throbbed in her palm, and the precum that was slowly slickening her touch on him only encouraged his desire to feel her lips sucking him off.

“Please what?”

Erika pulled gently away from him to speak, brushing her lips over his skin still and flicking her tongue out to lap at his cock when she could.

“I...” The dragon hesitated, not knowing how to find his words.

Erika leaned back down momentarily and sucked the flesh of his sac into her mouth, purposely excluding his balls, before releasing again and dragging her tongue from his sac, between his balls, up to his head. Lance jerked momentarily against his restraints and released a faint growl as he bucked his hips, and Erika humored him by complying to his wishes and wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, swirling her tongue and lightly sucking as she pulled steadily back to release him again. Lance’s hips rose off the bed to keep his cock in contact with her lips as she pulled away.

“Fuck, alright! I need you to suck me off! I need to feel you!”

His hips rested against the bed as Erika pushed him back down, bobbing her head once to take him further into her mouth. Her tongue ran along the underside of his shaft as his cock throbbed, precum seeping out of his slit to mix with her saliva and help slicken him. Lance moaned as he rolled his hips, enjoying the warm wetness of her mouth before she pulled away again.

“If you beg more I’ll swallow.”

“Only if I can watch.”

She smiled as she leaned up and grasped the blindfold, and with a flick of her wrist the blindfold drifted off the bed and towards the ground. Her eyes met with Lance’s piercing blue eyes - weighed heavy with lust - for only a moment before she leaned back down and took his cock in her mouth again.

Lance’s gaze followed her as she bobbed her head, gently sucking and swirling her tongue around his head when she came back up. One of her hands came to the base of his shaft, encircling her thumb and forefinger around his base and squeezing. He groaned and slightly rolled his hips, embracing another wave of warm electricity that came cascading through his veins as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

Erika pulled back for a moment, tilting her head to the side to lick along the dry skin further down on his shaft before taking his head in her mouth again. She eased herself further down, slowing as she felt his head press against the back of her mouth, but persisted and relaxed herself so she could take more of his cock.

Lance gasped quietly as Erika swallowed him, pulling against his restraints before releasing a loud groan.

“Fuck yes. Let me cum in your mouth, please let me cum in your throat.”

Lance’s voice was low - laced with the rumblings of a growl - as his abdomen tensed and breathing increased to a light pant. He rolled his hips as gently as possible, asking for more without making her too uncomfortable to the point of pulling away.

Erika released his base and took the rest of his shaft into her palm, slowly backing off to allow herself a moment to relax as her hand followed the direction of her head movement. She swirled her tongue around his head and stroked his shaft, pulling away momentarily to drag her tongue up the middle of his sac and take one of his balls into her mouth again. The pad of her thumb swiped across his slit, spreading more precum as he groaned, before she gently pulled her mouth away with a gentle tug and took his head into her mouth again.

Her hand stroked his cock at the same pace that she bobbed her head, continuously going deeper every time, and licking the sensitive underside of the ridge below his head when she came back up, until his head was pressing against her throat again. She gently squeezed his shaft once as she relaxed herself and took him further into her throat again, giving herself a moment to adjust before moving slightly.

Lance groaned as she took him into her throat again, abdomen tightening and hips rolling like earlier. He panted, casting a glance at her to make sure she wasn’t displaying signs of distress, before gently bucking his hips. Erika held steady, meeting his gentle movements with further advancements of her own as she stroked with her hand what she could. Lance squinted his eyes shut again, a small shiver rippling through him as he felt his oncoming release.

“Let me... please! Yes, like that!”

He panted his words and arched his back as Erika tightened her throat around him, applying more pressure to the underside of his shaft with her tongue and pulling back slightly for a moment before swallowing him again.

Lance struggled against the restraints again - tensing and pulling so hard he was sure that he’d break something - before the impending wave of fire rolled through him. He bucked his hips a last time, a shout escaping him as he released himself. 

Erika held still as Lance’s cock throbbed in her throat, a strong, salty taste making itself apparent a few moments later as the dragon panted and slowly relaxed. She gently pulled back after a few heartbeats - keeping in mind that he would likely be sensitive now - before glancing up and locking her gaze with a sated blue gaze. Without a moment’s hesitation, she swallowed and licked her lips, as promised, and Lance narrowed his eyes slightly.

Her gaze broke from his and she leaned off the side of the bed, taking his discarded shirt from earlier.

“You can clean yourself up, right? I need to wash myself off quickly, I’ll be back in a minute.”

She tossed the shirt casually onto Lance’s chest and rose tediously from the bed, testing to make sure she could stand after so long in an odd position.

“Uh... wait!? I can’t...”

Minor alarm laced Lance’s voice - a rare thing to hear from him - so Erika immediately stopped all she was doing and looked towards him, remembering now that he couldn’t, in fact, clean himself up. He was still restrained.

“Wait, you really can’t break out of that!?”

Sure he was restrained, but the last rope he broke was much stronger than the current one, and not as frayed as this old one. Apparently the little old rope could stand to a dragon’s strength.

He merely gave her a look;  a raised eyebrow combined with a half amused glare.

“Your ice-”

“Hey, I can answer that question while you unite me.”

Lance watched her stubbornly, a twitch at the corner of his mouth signaling the beginning of a small smile.

Erika rolled her eyes.

“Your ice can’t freeze it then shatter it or something?”

She was sure he had that ability, so why didn’t he just do that? Regardless, she went to untying him, gently loosening the ropes around him and affectionately brushing her hands along his arms to soothe any pains the rope could have caused from his fighting, until he was completely free.

And then she was grabbed by the waist and pinned on the bed.

“What-”

“You really think you can tie me up, blindfold me, and then ask me to beg for you without there being consequences? I think it’s only fair that you know what that feels like now.”

Lance already had both her wrists pinned under his large hand and was setting to work with the rope, and Erika couldn’t help but fight the anticipating grin that slowly overcame her as she realized what that would entail for her.

She hoped for a moment that the rope would break, and then decided against it. If begging for Lance came along with his tantalizing teasing, she certainly couldn’t complain.

~I hope you like this! I don’t entirely know how to talk teasingly so the dialogue might not be the best, but otherwise I think I wrote pretty well. 😂

Thank you for asking, darling! ❤️

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

[chelseaheskett]

11:04AM, SUNDAY. SEPTEMBER 13TH, 2020.

“C’mon baby, you look perfect.” She snuck up behind him, standing cramped in the small space of his closet. Chelsea hooked her arms around his waist. Caught his gaze in the reflection of the mirror hanging on the wardrobe wall and smiled back at him. Her hand skimmed over the fabric of his undershirt, over his abdomen. Elliot had changed clothes about fifty thousand times since stepping out of the shower. Fiddled with his watch strap over and over—a tell-tale sign of his anxiety and nerves. This iteration of his outfit was a flannel button-up and very well-fitting jeans. Chelsea affectionately rolled her eyes at him. Scratched through the thin material of his tank top with her nails, getting his attention. Shaking him out of his thoughts. “They already love you, I promise.” The sincerity of her words shined in her eyes, fixed on his in the mirror. “And I love this shirt. Very sexy.” With her head perched on his shoulder, Chelsea craned her neck to kiss the underside of his jaw. Squeezed him in her arms for emphasis. “C’mon, I wanna do your hair.” She grinned into his neck. Because if there was any possible way to entice him out of changing outfits again, playing with his hair was the most effective way to do it.

Chelsea was practically ready to leave the house, minus her shoes. She laced their fingers together and trailed him, by hand, over to the bed; bare feet padding on the carpet. Fingers and toes painted candy apple red. Her dress was covered in daisies and brushed past her ankles. The belt, cinched tight around her waist, hid the baby bump. She was only ten or so weeks along, so she wasn’t obviously showing. The pattern on the dress helped hide it, too. She tossed her hair, falling in loose waves, back behind her shoulders when Elliot settled on the edge of the bed. He started buttoning up his shirt, but Chelsea quickly took over. Any excuse to touch him. She left the top two buttons undone to keep him looking casual and fixed his collar. Straightened and smoothed it out. She stood between his legs, and his hands found her hips; palms dangerously shy of touching her ass. Chelsea cupped his face and stroked one of his cheeks with her thumb.

His hair was still slightly damp after his shower. Towel dried. Chelsea wound a lock of it around her fingertip and tilted her head, enamoured. “Y’know, you look so Goddamn cute with your hair curly.” She hummed. “Let me make it curly for you, baby.” His hair rarely needed styling. It always seemed to be effortlessly perfect. Artfully styled by default; by her or Elliot simply running their hands through it a few times. She loved his hair. Isaac had his hair. Luca’s was a little thinner, like Jack’s. Like Vanessa’s, too. Elliot had gotten a haircut with Isaac, what? At the start of the summer? And it was already long again. Had already grown out, full and thick and perfect. She tousled it in her hands, getting a rhythm going. It was like meditation for Chelsea. Calming and distracting—one of her favourite things to do. She got lost in it, curling the strands to the side of his face. Got lost in her thoughts. Wondered if the next baby, their little budding Sunflower, would have Elliot’s head of hair.

Like he could read her mind, Elliot’s hands wandered around to the small swell of her stomach. Chelsea played with his hair, and Elliot touched her belly. It’s what they did. One of their things. “It’s not too obvious, is it?” Chelsea looked down at herself. At her dress. Untangled a hand from Elliot’s hair to adjust her belt. Besides Jenny and her Mom—and annoyingly, by extension, Christian—nobody else knew about the pregnancy yet. They hadn’t announced it. Twelve weeks was normally safest, but even then Chelsea wanted to prolong it for as long as possible. Let Macy, only a few weeks ahead of her with her own pregnancy, have all the glory and limelight. And while their day trip to Santa Barbara today was to see her family and not Elliot’s, Chelsea still wanted to keep the news hush-hush. “My cousin, Joel, and his wife, they… they’ve been trying for years. I don’t want them to know yet. I… I don’t want to, like, rub it in their faces.” She’d mentioned it to Elliot before, but just in case he needed a reminder. He was anxious and overwhelmed and he was meeting a whole lot of people today. All the family he hadn’t met that first Christmas in North Carolina. This had to be less pressure than that, at least. An end of summer barbeque, a casual get together—not a holiday. Not their favourite holiday.

After a moment, her eyebrows pulled together in a frown. It sounded bad, almost. Wanting to keep it a secret, like she was ashamed or something. The initial part of the pregnancy had been shrouded in a sort of negativity that Chelsea didn’t like to think about. Talk of cheating and abortion and not even wanting another kid in the first place. But Chelsea wanted this baby. Chelsea loved it just as much as she loved all of her other children. She didn’t want their Sunflower, growing big and strong inside of her, to think that it wasn’t wanted. That there was any regret or negativity or bad feelings attached. Chelsea didn’t want Elliot to think that. She covered Elliot’s palm and guided it over her dress, rubbing her stomach back and forth. Saying hello. Chelsea sucked in a breath, trying not to get hooked on the thoughts. Trying to let it go completely. Her mood swung back to normal when she glanced up at Elliot’s face, a smile dimpling her cheeks. “So get your tummy time in now, baby. While you still can.” Chelsea teased. Her shoulders relaxed.

“Perfect.” She reiterated once she was done combing through his hair. “Feeling better, honey? Ready to hit the road?” Chelsea inquired, tucking some curls behind his ear. They had about an hour and a half trek to get to her cousin’s place in Santa Barbara, and that wasn’t counting the time it’d probably take them to even get out the door. Wasn’t counting saying goodbye to the kids being babysat by her Mom, wasn’t counting Jenny getting her shoes picked out and on her feet. Making sure they had everything properly packed and ready. “It’s gonna be fun, okay?” She gave him an exaggerated kiss on the mouth. “We’re gonna have fun!”

[blue-bird-kny]

Hi! I would like to request a Zenitsu X Fem Reader please, I hope your ok writing for Zenitsu again, if not that's completely fine :3 But if you do consider this, could I request a Scenario, Perhaps, like, Zenitsu and the reader have been dating for a few months, they have exchanged a few kisses here and there but never anything frisky,so the Reader makes it her mission too get zenitsu all blushey by giving him heated kisses (Nothing too extreme if your uncomfortable tho, Hope this makes sense)

Thank you so much for your request! It’s always been on my mind since it was requested because it’s so outside my normal, comfort zone. Okay buckle up people because this is something I've never seriously written nor published, so please bare with me. Enjoy~Amanda

P.S- I’d like to take this moment to personally thank you, I always see you on my notifs and your support is much appreciated!

Warning: Sexual Themes, Riding, Blow jobs, NSFW

( 1.6k words)

“Let’s Do Something New”

You sat across from your boyfriend, absentmindedly pushing around the grains of rice that rest untouched in your bowl. Quietly, you observed the small quirks his face made as he ate and spoke, committing all the small movements to memory. “What am I doing? It's not like he’s a stranger, you can just talk to him” except you really couldn’t.

There was never really a good way or time to walk up to the person you’re with and be like “Hey I like you, please touch me”, just the idea made your stomach churn with embarrassment. You were a woman with needs though and you wanted nothing more than to have all your delicious fantasies fulfilled by the one you love. You weren’t completely driven by sex, but you longed to have Zenitsu give you some sort of special attention.

Whenever things get a little too sensual, too romantic, too heated, Zenitsu always pulls away, leaving all your pent up excitement to go to waste. Tonight would be different; tonight you were taking this boy down, it was his turn to be all riled up. Luckily, you knew your beloved well enough to know exactly how to get him to that point.

“Y/N-chan what's wrong? You haven’t eaten anything” Zenitsu's concerned voice invaded your personal world, innocent eyes peering into your own. Your smile hid your dark intentions as you spoke to the unknowing boy in front of you, “Not a thing my love”. God how you wanted to take that innocence for your own use. 

You excused yourself from dinner early to prepare for tonight's endeavours. You freshened up, tousling your hair and switching to a pair of flimsy, thinner clothing. You knew you had to act quickly, the minute you left the dinner table Zenitsu would be hot on your heels. Almost like clockwork, Zenitsu’s quiet knock could be heard from the other side of the door. Show time

“Come in”

“Hello Y/N….” his cheery greeting died as he took in your appearance. The outfit you wore was much shorter than what you usually wore, and thinner to, the small perks of your hard nipples becoming painfully obvious to the poor boy. Zenitsu gulped as you strutted his way, his eyes unable to look anywhere but you captivating orbs. 

“Zeni, why won't you come lay down with me? I promise I’ll be good” your sultry voice spoke into his ear, hands trailing down his exposed arms, placing the slightest amount of pressure on your nails. This was out of your usual character but if it drew Zenitsu into the palm of your hand it was worth it. He could only hum in response, the words stolen from his tongue, as you pulled his helpless body toward the bed. “Sit” you commanded gently, Zenitsu obliged thoughtlessly.

You trapped the boy between your thighs as you straddled his hips. You smirked as you admired the boy who sat beneath you; his cheeks had taken a permanent rosy color, his pupils blown and his breath already unsteady, all from a few light touches. You couldn't help but slightly quiver at the sight, “Will you let me touch you Zeni, just a little?” you continued to languidly trace the curve of his jawline with the tips of your nails, working your way over his bottom lip.

For a brief moment, you forgot your motives as your heart melted; it was obvious how badly he wanted this yet he still held back “Why are so cute?”. 

“C’mon Zeni, let’s have some fun” you ground your hips against his, slowly so that he felt every second of it. That was all it took for the last bits of his resolve to shatter, leaving behind pure lust. “Okay” was all he mumbled, that was all you needed. You devoured his trembling lips, your tongue exploring his foreign wet cavern. He groaned at the feel of your tongue against his, his little noises edging you on. He gasped in surprise as you sucked on his tongue, coiling your warm appendage around his.

You pushed off his slouched form, growling at the sight before you. Zenitsu’s chest was heaving as he caught his breath, his swollen lips were now a tempting cherry red and a small line of drool slipped past his parted pair; Breathtaking. You rolled yourself against his hips again, rougher this time, relishing in the way his hardness rubbed against your heat. Leaning forward, you spoke into Zenitsu’s ear “Don’t be shy, I know you wanna touch me too”. His hands shook nervously, but he couldn’t help himself. 

Hesitantly, Zenitsu shifted to your fleshy ass, slightly squeezing the cheeks in his strong hands.  A moan left your lips vibrating against the juncture of his neck where you’d been suckling. He shuddered at the sound, continuing to play with the jiggle of your ass checks. The effect he had on you was intoxicating, a new sense of confidence drove him.

“Please touch my boobs” usually you’d be embarrassed at the words you were speaking, but you’ve been so desperate for your lover’s touch you didn’t care; there was no room for restraint. You slipped your night dress over your head, leaving you only in a pair of panties, giving him better access to your bare breast. He stared in wonder as he watched the way your breast bounced, he was determined to hear your beautiful sounds again.

He took one in each palm, softly kneading your tender breast. You tossed your head back in pleasure, closing your eyes at the sensation of his rough skin against you. Zenitsu swiped his thumb over your hard nipple, a shock of pleasure coursing through your body. A loud moan slipped past your lips, overwhelming his ears; he’d have those sweet nosies engraved in his memory.

“You’ve become such a tease Y/N-chan, you're driving me crazy with those sweet sounds” his husky voice drove your cunt to tighten around nothing. It was your turn to become speechless as his hand snaked around your waist, bringing your chest closer to his awaiting mouth. You choked as your mound was engulfed by his hot, wet mouth, his tongue working fervently on your nipple. “Zenitsu” you breathed out, your finger gripping his shoulder for support. His tongue switched between each boob, swirling around your small bud, sucking and tugging against it torturously.

You were a wet, helpless mess at the mercy of his mouth,  your hips grinding harder and faster on to his desperate for any sort of friction. “Please Zenitsu I need more, please let me feel you inside me” you pleaded, you were going insane at the slow pace Zenitsu had fallen into. “ Y/N-chan are you sure…”  you grabbed his chin, focing his eyes to stare into yours, “Zenitsu I’m sure, I trust you”

He untied his robe, sliding the short sleeves down his toned arms, his sculpted chest left on full display for your hungry eyes. You traced the bulge that was stretching the fabric of his boxers, he shuddered at the touch. “Y/N-chan please get to it, I won’t be able to handle anymore teasing” he was desperate at this point. With a smirk, you pulled down the pesky piece of clothing. Zenitsu wasn’t too thick, his dick was thinner but he made up for it in his length. You droold at the prospect that he’d be inside you, your finger collecting some of the leaking precum from the tip. You brought the finger to your lips, Zenitsu was mesmerized as you brought the finger into your mouth, your tongue collecting his salty taste. Zenitsu moaned loudly, you almost feared the others had heard.

You slipped your panties to the side, aligning his cock with your entrance. Inch by Inch his member disappeared between your slick folds, you winced in pain as you adjusted to his size, waiting for the pain to subdue before you began moving. You bounced on his dick, bottoming out before taking him whole again. Zenitsu laid his head against the wall watching with lidded eyes at the way your breast bounced with each thrust, the way your face contorted in pleasure, the sinful noises that rolled off your tongue for anyone to hear. “Zenitsu I’m gonna cum soon..” you mewled shifting your angle so that each thrust pounded into that special spot inside you. You yelled in ecstasy as you came, riding out your high while your cunt clasped onto the cock buried inside you, your juices dripping down onto the sheets.

“Y/n please” you knew he was close too and he didn't want to cum inside. You pulled yourself off his dick, your juices glistening on his cock. Your knees dug into the hard ground as you eagerly wrapped your lips  around his red tip, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as the taste of your slick and his bitter precum mingled together on your tongue. It only took a few fierce bobs of your head to have Zenitsu come apart in shambles, you made eye contact as you swallowed every last drop of his seed, the warm, milky liquid going down smoothly.

You both were exhausted, sheen layers of sweat covered your bodies. The room, that was filled with the sounds of desire and want moments ago, was now silent, only deep breathing could be heard. Your naked body nuzzled closer to your boyfriends, who stared wide-eyed at the ceiling with crimson cheeks. “Get off the covers Zeni, I’m cold and tired” you murmured.

 “Shouldn’t we..” 

“Shhhh, we’ll wake up early to clean up”

Bonus!

“You guys hear all those noises last night? It was like there were animals inside the house” Tanjro questioned. Zenitsu’s cheeks immediately reddened as he opened his mouth, you placed your hand on his thigh to silence him before he could say anything, “Nope we didn’t hear a thing” you smiled kindly. Zenitsu shook his head vigorously in agreement, although he was so nervous he wasn’t entirely sure what he was agreeing to.

Main Masterlist

Well that was definitely different from the content I usually post, but I’m satisfied! Maybe we’ll be seeing more smut on my page, who knows ;) Anyways I hope you all enjoyed it, thank you~Amanda 

[fugitive-96]

Business Secrets ( A TG/TF Robotization story)

"I'm in." Agent C thought as she entered the office of the TALSAR corporation's CEO.

"I know the target is in here." She said to herself as she searched through the drawers in the desk, before coming across a file entitled 'Product Rundown'.

Flipping through the file Agent C was finally presented with what she'd been looking for but was so shocked by what she saw that she missed a vital detail that would seal her fate.

"And I thought after being turned into a woman this mission couldn't get any weirder." That was the last thing she thought before everything went black.

1 month earlier.

Agent C entered his superior's office where he was assigned a deep cover mission to investigate the operations of the TALSAR corporation, who had recently announced their intent to unveil a new form of cybernetic technology next month that would 'change the world'. This wasn't the company's usual MO, they were more known for their various beauty products and cosmetics, so whilst there was nothing inherently sinister about this it was still suspicious.

Agent C was very dedicated to his work for the agency, he knew the risks and would do anything to prove himself, despite having not done much fieldwork. He was physically fit but by no means a big guy, then again, a muscled-up agent would stick out like a saw thumb on covert missions, little did Agent C know that it was for that reason he was selected for this mission.

He was instructed to go undercover as one of the models for TALSAR, who was set to attend a number of parties in buildup to the release of TALSAR's new line of products, however Agent C's agency had intercepted her flight but she was unconscious when they found her and none-responsive, leading the agency to believe that she'd taken some form of drug to induce a coma so they couldn't question her.

"In order to better infiltrate TALSAR, command felt that we should use our latest technology to disguise a male agent in her role, instead of using a female lookalike as they'd be easier to identify, so you will undergo a complete physical transformation into the model from TALSAR, do you accept this mission?" Agent C's superior asked.

"Yes ma'am." Agent C replied without hesitation, he was willing to sacrifice anything to help the world.

He was then led to a room with a conversion chamber in it. He shaved off his body hair before then putting on an elastic grey suit that was designed to compensate for the changes, with holes in the crotch, rear and two on the chest of the suit. He also received an injection that would make the process feel less painful, seeing as he was about to have his bones crushed and his organs rearranged.

Stepping into the chamber Agent C watched as a device resembling the shape of a man lowered from the ceiling and clamped around him, before it began to emit a humming sound as it started pushing against his body. The device was made out of a pliable material so it wasn't hugely uncomfortable at first.

It then began to start changing his body, beginning at his legs which started to slenderize as the material pushed against them, whilst also forcing any fat up to his thighs which thickened along with his hips leaving his legs long and slender. He then felt the material jab and tighten his waist as if he was wearing a corset, crushing his ribs into a smaller frame, along with curving his spine whilst also causing his waist to be sucked inward giving his lower half an hourglass form as well as a toned stomach and a generally slimmer torso.

The material then tightened at his hands and feet which shrank into daintier forms with longer nails, along with squeezing his arms into a thinner shape and forcing his shoulders to shrink inwards, leaving him with very thin arms and a generally smaller frame.

Several clasps then lowered from the top of the chamber and attached themselves to the outside of the device, aligning themselves with Agent C's crotch, rear and chest, each segment resembling the female body parts associated with those areas. The material that had been pushing and squeezing against Agent C's body was now slowly being sucked outwards filling out the clasps, making the silhouette now appear distinctly feminine. As it did so each of Agent C's features began to alter with them, his rear inflated as his ass ballooned out slightly, whilst at his chest he could feel his skin being pulled out as fat filled his chest until a pair of perky breasts had formed, his enlarged nipples feeling quite sensitive against the material. He could also feel the clasp around his penis massaging it rapidly, before he heard an audible pop and he could feel a certain lack of mass in that area.

Lastly a device resembling the outline of a woman's face clasped around Agent C's head with a hiss. He could feel the material beginning to crush his head into a smaller form, with his chin shrinking drastically into a smaller but very defined form as his ears also shrank. His entire face then began to feel numb as his lips puffed out along with his eyes enlarging, his eyelashes and eyebrows thinned and lengthened into a more attractive form whilst his nose also shrank. He then felt a tingling sensation on the top of his head whilst the material tightened around his neck making it thinner and crushing his Adam's apple, causing Agent C to release a feminine moan from under the feminine mask, signaling the completion of his transformation into an exact copy of the TALSAR model.

The clasps and mask released themselves revealing the device that formerly resembled the outline of a man now resembled a young woman, before that then released and Agent C's new form was presented, with the exposed areas of her suit now showing her various feminine features sticking through them. She took a step before she then fell onto her hands and knees having not yet adjusted to her new center of gravity. She knelt there panting from exhaustion and brushing the long brown hair out of her face before a pair of scientists helped her up and lead her out of the room.

Agent C spent the next 2 weeks adjusting to her new body whilst also undergoing a rigorous training program, far different from the one she'd gone through when she was a man. She learned not only new methods of infiltration and combat training, but also how to act the part of the model, how to dress, talk, walk and show off her body like the TALSAR model normally would, on top of learning new forms of seduction and interrogation. Before long she was more than ready for her mission and headed off to her flight to meet with the TALSAR representatives that would hopefully lead her to her answers.

Agent C spent the next few days attending parties for TALSAR, looking pretty and acting the part, whilst also discretely gaining as much information as she could on their upcoming product. She quickly learned that the model she was impersonating hadn't been told much about the inner workings of the corporation, all she knew was that she was to be the sole model used in the upcoming advertising for the new product.

After a week it was finally time for the party at TALSAR headquarters on the eve of their product reveal, and Agent C knew that this would be her last chance to find out any vital information. She got herself looking pretty in the special dress code that the corporation had requested her to wear for the evening: tied back hair, earrings, black dress and heels, all of which bared the words 'Product of TALSAR' on them. Agent C initially thought it was strange that they'd given her a dress code for the evening unlike the other parties, but seeing as this was the night before the product release and there'd be a lot of press Agent C figured that the corporation would want her wearing their best products to show them off.

After several hours of socializing and posing for press she managed to slip away from the party, not hard seeing as there were literally hundreds of people attending so it'd be hard to keep track of her. Having found out that the CEO's office was on the twelfth floor she figured there'd have to be some information hidden there, so she made her way up to the tenth floor before finding an empty room where she then climbed out the window and using her newly acquired training, scaled the building up to the twelfth floor in order to avoid detection.

"I'm in." Agent C thought as she entered the office of the TALSAR corporation's CEO.

"I know the target is in here." She said to herself as she searched through the drawers in the desk, before coming across a file entitled 'Product Rundown'.

Flipping through the file Agent C was finally presented with what she'd been looking for, but was so shocked by what she saw that she'd missed a vital detail that would seal her fate.

Inside the file was sections of a planned introduction speech for the new products, explaining them as being 'the latest in cybernetic service and pleasure' with outlines of a robotic endoskeleton being present.

"And I thought after being turned into a woman this mission couldn't get any weirder." That was the last thing she thought before everything went black.

As she was flipping through the pages searching for information, she'd failed to notice that upon entering through the window she'd triggered a silent alarm, but the file's pages were laced with a paralyzing agent that activated after several seconds of making contact with human skin.

As she lay there unconscious a group of security men walked in followed by the corporation's CEO.

"Nice to see she stuck to the dress code, set her up in the vault." He said lighting a cigarette before the security men picked up Agent C and carried her out of the room.

---

Agent C gradually began to regain consciousness, noticing that she was now fastened to a chair in what looked like the lower levels of the building given the shier size of the room resembling that of a large storage warehouse, with posters for the TALSAR corporation being plastered over the walls. There was also a large number of shipping containers in the room, too many to count along with a number of security men surrounding Agent C and the corporation's CEO sitting on a backwards chair in front of Agent C looking fairly bored, as if this was routine to him.

"I'll grant you the freedom to willingly tell me who you work for, even though I have a pretty good guess." He said taking a drag from his cigarette

"You really think I'd be stupid enough to tell you?" Agent C replied glaring at him.

"Well that's a surprise!" The CEO said rising from his chair as he set it aside whilst he continued to talk.

"Usually I get an 'I don't know what you're talking about' or 'I'm sure this is all a big misunderstanding', I appreciate the lack of that bullshit from you, but you were still stupid enough to get caught." He said with a smirk causing Agent C to turn red with embarrassment.

"So you're definitely not our model, that's obvious seeing as she wasn't even supposed to attend any of these parties, we just set that up to see who would take the bait, but I'll admit you made for some nice eye candy, and it was fun seeing how far you got, especially that whole scaling the building thing. I imagine your agency used some form of advanced surgery to make you look like our model, we tinkered with making that tech but decided it wasn't

where the real money was."

Agent C was confused by what the CEO was saying.

"Let me guess, you captured her, but she's been in a coma ever since?"

The look on Agent C's face was enough to answer his question.

"Of course she is, she was programmed to shut down if she was ever captured." The CEO said.

Agent C finally put the pieces together, the cybernetic products, the reason why they were only using one model in their future advertising, she wasn't going to advertise the products, she was the product!

"Shame really, her realistic synthetic skin was hard to develop, well at least in losing one drone we gain another." The CEO says whilst taking another drag from his cigarette.

Agent C then felt small needles retract from her restraints, jabbing her in the wrists and ankles, causing an immense amount of pain to irradiate through her body.

"These nanites work a treat, usually it's a bit of a longer process with the other spies who've gone through it, but you already look the part!"

The nanites released by the needles then began to travel through Agent C's body, altering her from the inside out, turning her veins into wires and fusing with her bones as they turned into the metal endoskeleton that Agent C had been reading about minutes earlier. Her organs too were being dissolved and replaced with various circuitry and mechanical parts. Agent C screamed in pain as the blood in her body vanished, causing her skin to drain of color and her body to turn cold as ice.

She threw her head back screaming as the nanites had made their way to her brain, where they began collecting any relevant information on her agency and then began converting the rest of her brain into a cybernetic mainframe. Through the excruciating pain she could hear a robotic voice echoing in her head.

"All relevant data collected. Preparing for full personality recycling and drone program installation in 5... 4... 3..."

Agent C's eyes widened as her look of pain turned to a look of terror as she screamed desperately trying to free herself, but only a brief robotic sound came out as she no longer had any vocal cords to scream from, only a sound box which had just muted.

"2… 1... 0"

Within a split-second Agent C's face lost all emotion as her head suddenly faced straight, her panicked look replaced by a stiff, emotionless expression with her mouth hanging slightly open. Her body had also stiffened into a more formal position from her previously squealing state. As it repositioned itself there was a slight robotic sound on top of her robotic movements, which was heard again when her head twitched and her eyes started glowing blue indicating complete mental conversion.

"Drone program uploaded. Commencing cover installation." The voice in what used to be Agent C's head announced.

Starting from where she'd been injected her skin began to take on a grey synthetic material that spread all over her body smoothing out any distinctly human details; moles, blemishes, even the faintest wrinkles were all erased. As it reached her face her makeup suddenly looked as though it had been factory printed on along with her eyebrows, the same with her hair which formed into one solid mass with printed details and slight grooves to make it appear as though it was actual hair, giving her an almost doll like appearance. Even the inside of her mouth was coated in the material, her tongue, gums and teeth were all the same hard material as the rest of her skin, with any remaining saliva evaporating. Eventually she was left with a dull, slightly reflective grey skin that was no longer skin at all, but a metal alloy designed to protect her from damages. A noise that sounded like a small blowtorch emanated from the back of her neck as a small section of it glowed orange, before fading to reveal the words 'Product of TALSAR' engraved in small letters.

All changes having completed the restraints removed themselves and with the sound of mechanical joints the new drone quickly stood to attention.

"Conversion complete. Drone 247 fully operational." It said in an emotionless robotic version of Agent C's voice.

The CEO's phone pinged as he saw that he'd been sent the digital files of Agent C's knowledge of her organization.

"I'll get this to my researchers. We're done here, make sure it joins the others." The CEO said stamping out his cigarette and walking away, not even bothering to look at the new drone.

Drone 247 rotated on the spot and walked over to the nearby container that one of the guards had just opened, the faint sound of robotic joints still audible through the drone's clicking heels. The opened container doors revealed it to be filled with drones identical to that of 247; same clothing, same hairstyle, same glowing blue eyes and emotionless expression with grey synthetic skin. Drone 247 entered the container and rotated once inside so it was facing the same direction as the other drones, before the doors closed leaving only the light from the drone's eyes visible in the darkness of the container, where they all stood waiting for their orders to reveal themselves to the world as TALSAR's latest products. The agency would never know what she uncovered or what happened to her, just like all of the other agencies that sent agents in to uncover information on TALSAR, and even if the agency did figure out what happened to Agent C, how would they ever be able to tell which one was her?

[emeraldembers]

Fic: Thicker Than Water (Artemy/Lara, NC17)

Title: Thicker Than Water

Fandom: Мор. Утопия / Pathologic

Pairing: Artemy/Lara

Summary: In which Lara has cramps, and Artemy soothes them.

Author’s Notes: Originally written for the prompt "I have a soft spot for partners being comfortable with menstruation/period sex, and given that Artemy is both so familiar with the human body and so thematically tied to the subject of blood, he feels like the right man for the job. Dealer's choice as to who he is giving his undivided love and attention to!" over on the Pathologic kink meme.

Comments loved and encouraged!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26199808

* * *

Lara knows without a doubt that any of her boys would gladly help her with her cramps if she asked - Stakh would be clinical about it, and Grief playful - but she has her preferences, and Artemy is usually her choice for this particular act.

It isn't just because she knows that Artemy isn't squeamish - Stakh isn't either - it's because of Artemy's warmth, his soft stomach, and the fact he can keep a comfortable silence with her when she needs it.

The fact he can piece together her foul moods, cravings for red meat, and wearing of dark skirts without explicitly being told she is on her period doesn't hurt either.

The lead-up to this particular period had let her know it would be a vicious one. Her breasts have been tender for days, her moods particularly erratic, and she has craved sweets every bit as much as she has craved meat. The first day of her period she bore alone; the second, she chooses not to.

She spreads dark sheets over her bed, then ties up her hair and loosens her clothes while Artemy washes his hands and files his nails. Her skin gets too sensitive for complete nudity when she's this sore, but she knows from experience how good Artemy's hands can feel, and exactly where she wants to have them.

Artemy strips naked once he finishes cleaning his hands, and while he doesn't quite make a show of undressing, Lara does still feel a pleasant ache watching each new part of him come into view. The dark hair of his stomach, the pink of his nipples, the swell of his muscled arms, the heaviness of his cock. He's beautiful, which she'll never tell him, but it's clear he appreciates being watched. She could make him hard just by looking, she's sure of that, but she's too impatient for teasing him at present, and gestures for him to sit down.

Artemy takes his place on the bed, and she climbs on after him to sit between his legs, her back to his chest, and his warmth easing her pain while his hands distract her from it. He keeps his touch neutral for now, idly stroking her thighs, while she unfastens her shirt enough to free her breasts; they're still tender, and she wants to make as much use of his hands as she can while they're still clean.

Predictably, his cock stirs against her ass when she makes him cup her breasts, but he doesn't try to adjust himself or rub against her. He's obedient, without being quite as submissive as Stakh would be in the same position, and she likes it.

"Do you want me to -"

"Shh," she urges, feeling irritable at the thought of conversation, but she uses her hands to answer his unfinished question. She closes her hands over his and squeezes lightly, hissing at the slight pain she feels when he squeezes her breasts in turn, but it is just that - slight, and desired. Sometimes a bit of pain in bed is pleasant, and arousal changes the ache between her legs so that it starts to feel less like a wound and more like something she can satisfy and control.

Artemy kisses her neck, which she didn't ask for, but she allows it. There's a hopeless romantic buried somewhere in her Cub, and he'll never fully grow out of it, so she lets him indulge. His lips are soft, his beard stubble scratchy, and the contrast is pleasant.

Artemy's fingers press down on her nipples, but he doesn't pinch them until she shifts against him, fidgety with her growing arousal. When she isn't bleeding she prefers to take things slowly, but on her period she often wants to rush matters; her body struggles to tell the difference between the slickness and fever heat caused by her bleeding, and the slickness and fever heat caused by excitement.

She hitches up her skirt and leans heavily into him, closing her eyes as she slips a hand into her underwear and feels past damp curls for her clit, her breath growing uneven as she strokes herself. Blood is thinner than her natural slick, even though it dries faster, and it leaves her clit feeling raw and exposed when she touches it.

Artemy's cock is hard where it presses against her, and her tongue feels heavy at the thought of having it inside her. She'll have to be careful washing herself afterwards if she takes him - she's learned that lesson painfully before - but it's tempting, even more tempting than the thought of riding his fingers to completion.

She decides to risk it, shifting forward until she can kneel, and there's something bestial about having her breasts hang free while her skirt is bunched up around her waist. She thinks she shouldn't like it, and were she not wet already she might resent feeling like a cow, but Artemy pulls down her underwear and slides his thick fingers into her cunt, and she lets herself enjoy the primal pleasure of it.

"Get inside me, Cub," she orders, and there's a quick shifting of weight on the bed before Lara feels the firm heat of his cock against her ass, and one of his hands bracing against her shoulder. It had better be the clean one; she glances at it to make sure, then lowers her head to rest her neck.

The head of his cock catches and drags against her cunt, almost too thick for her to take in comfortably, but Artemy is nothing if not patient. He strokes his fingers over her clit, sweetly urging her body to relax, to open up and take him.

She cries out when he manages to press in, sweat beading on her thighs, and though she sometimes prefers silence, she's glad for the soothing noises Artemy makes as he continues to rub her clit, giving her time to adjust to his size.

He doesn't pick up speed until he can roll his hips against hers smoothly, and the pain of her cramps give way to this much more entertaining ache. He'd always been good at giving her what her body wants, and he's only gotten better with experience and instruction, so it isn't long before the tension in her starts to melt away. Arousal becomes a liquid thing rather than something concentrated entirely around her clit, and she can enjoy all of it; the way he stretches her, the way her sweat soaks into her clothing, the way her nipples stand hard as her breasts swing with each long thrust of Artemy's cock.

Lara frees up one of her hands to squeeze at a breast, harder than Artemy would ever dare to even if she insisted, and the sound she lets out as she reaches her peak is an undignified squeal. She can't bring herself to care. Not when she feels so good that the pain of her cramps have faded into a very distant background, and Artemy's cock gives her cunt something to grip onto as she rides out her orgasm to the end.

She slumps forward once she's satisfied, and rolls onto her back so she can look up at him, at his rust-stained hand pumping his slick red cock.

He's still beautiful. Messy and bloody and beautiful, and she pulls him down into a kiss, then lower so he can lick and suck at her nipples.

He bites down when he comes, harder than she likes to be bitten, but she doesn't begrudge him that after all the work he put into satisfying her needs. His come slicks her stomach and her skirt, and that's fine too, she needed to wash both anyway.

Gratitude doesn't come easily to Lara, but she strokes her hands through Artemy's hair in silent thanks as he rests his head on her chest. She feels better now, and she knows him well enough to know he'll be glad to have done her a service.

They had time for this. They'll have time to clean later.

And now, they have time for a well-earned rest.

[bee-kathony]

The Oath | Ch. 30 “The End” 

a/n: Thank you so much for reading! This story means so much to me and I can't believe it's over. I have loved telling it and have loved every single comment over the last several months. It's been such a joy to write and I'm so sad that it's over, but I have other things I want to write. It's pretty open ended, so you never know...... ;)

Arc I | Ch. 16 | Ch. 17 | Ch. 18 | Ch. 19 | Ch. 20 | Ch. 21 | Ch. 22 | Ch. 23 | Ch. 24 | Ch. 25 | Ch. 26 | Ch. 27 | Ch. 28 | Ch. 29 

2 years later… August 3rd, 2022

Claire rushed through the door, setting her keys and umbrella down on the front table. It had been raining for a week straight with no end in sight — everything was wet, and Claire was growing tired of her hair being an unmanageable mess.  

“I’m home!” She shouted to the house and then a moment later, two high pitched shrieks came from the other room.

Madeline came running towards her, hands outstretched and Claire caught her, twirling her in the air. The little girl laughed and threw her head back, her red pigtails flying behind her. As Claire set her back down, Julietta came stumbling around the corner.

A month after their honeymoon in Greece, two years ago, Claire had realized one morning that her period was late. Eight months later… enter Julietta.

“Are ye absolutely sure that the two wee pink lines means yer pregnant, Sassenach?” Jamie asked Claire as he picked up the home pregnancy box to read the direction once again.

“Yes, I am,” Claire repeated. “It’s the same brand as the last time, and it’s showing the same pink lines.” She peered over into his hands as he held the stick, her heart hammering. They both hadn’t expected to conceive so soon; they wanted to wait until Madeline was at least two years old. But life had other plans it seemed.

“When ye go into work tomorrow, I’ll come wi’ ye,” Jamie said, placing the stick down on the counter. “Then ye can have another test done just to confirm, aye?”

“Sounds good,” Claire smiled and wrapped her hands around his neck, leaning up to place a kiss on his lips. “So, this is good news right?”

Jamie’s face twisted with confusion as he looked down at her, and then he pushed a few curls behind her ear, his other hand resting on her hip. “Of course it’s good news, mo chridhe. Tis the best news I could ever get! I ken that we planned on somethin’ different, but we’ve never been verra good at planning these sorts of things.”

Claire snorted and buried her head against his chest, momentarily listening to the sound of his erratic beating heart.

“Are you scared at all? To have another child?” She asked, saying all of this to his chest.

“I wouldna say scared, Sassenach,” Jamie stroked her head lightly, calming her. “But I’m nervous, aye. Worrit that I’ll no be good at givin’ my attention to two bairns and to ye, to balance it all. But mostly,” he looked down and placed his hand under her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “I’m happy. That this time, I get to be there from the beginning, to feel every kick and to hold yer hair when ye have morning sickness.”

Tears sprang to Claire’s eyes as she thought back to her first pregnancy and how the first five months she had done it alone — by choice of course, but alone nonetheless. Now, she would have Jamie with her every step of the way.

“I dinna begrudge ye for no’ havin’ me there the first time, but Christ,” he grinned, lifting her slightly in the air. “I’m sae happy! Ye are so beautiful, Claire when yer wi’ child, and to ken that Madeline will soon have a wee brother or sister…” he trailed off, thinking of the future.

“We’ll take it one day at a time,” Claire smiled and ran her thumb over his cheek. “And I’m glad that you get to be here from the beginning too, Jamie. I wanted to tell you so badly when I found out last time.”

Jamie kissed her, and rested his forehead against hers. “It was bound to happen,” he chuckled, a deep hum in his chest. “We must’ve had sex near on thirty times when we were in Greece.”

Claire playfully hit his chest, laughing. “You were the one that wanted a nice round number.”

“What can I say?” He slid his hands down over her arse, squeezing firmly to lift her legs around his waist. “I love my wife verra much.”

On March 17th, 2021, Julietta Elena Fraser came into the world. They had decided to wait until the child was born to find out the sex, and were delightfully surprised to welcome another girl.

The first few months were the hardest — adjusting to life with two small children. Julietta needed so much attention, and Madeline was hitting milestone after milestone. Learning to walk, beginning to say her first real words that weren’t gibberish. At times, Jamie and Claire felt they were stretched in too many directions, but at night when both children were asleep, and they could find solace in each other’s arms, they knew it was all worth it.

“Hello my sweetie,” Claire bent down to hug Julietta as she fell into her arms. At seventeen months, she was eager to always be on her feet which caused only a slight headache for Jamie and Claire. “Mummy missed you and your sister while she was gone today, did you have fun with daddy?”

Julietta nodded, placing her hand on Claire’s cheek and then Madeline was tugging on Claire’s arm. Holding Julietta’s hand, Claire walked with her daughters into the kitchen where Jamie was laying the table with the most delicious smelling pasta carbonara.

“Hello, Sassenach,” Jamie’s face lit up at the sight of his girls. “We’re glad that yer home.”

“Go and play with your sister until dinner, little miss,” Claire instructed Mads who led her younger sister over into the den where all their toys were strewn around the carpet.

Walking around the counter, Claire sighed and laid her head against Jamie’s chest. “Hi,” she said said softly and closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of her solid husband beneath her.

“Are ye alright?” He asked, setting aside his spoon to wrap his arms around her.

“I’m better than I thought I would be,” Claire replied.

“I still think ye should’ve let me come wi’ ye to see him,” Jamie said, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I hate that ye had to face him alone.”

One arm tightened around her, and Claire nodded. “I wish you were there too, but I know I needed to do this on my own. It was important to say what I did and put it all behind me.”

“So how did he look?” Jamie asked, glancing down at Claire.

“He’s seen better days,” Claire shrugged. “Frank’s in prison, has been for over two years now — he looks bloody awful.”

“Now I really wish I came wi’ ye,” Jamie said and Claire smirked, hitting his side lightly with her hand. “But yer okay, really?”

“Yeah,” Claire said. “I think I’ll be alright. We’ll be alright.”

It had been Jamie’s idea for Clare to visit Frank while he was in prison. The conversation came up almost a year ago, and Claire was hesitant at first, but came around to the idea. It was only now, five months before his release that she finally felt that she could face him.

Claire had never been inside a prison before, and she didn’t have any idea what to expect. She was led through security, where she had to check her phone and other personal belongings at the front desk. Then a security guard took her to the visitors room where she waited to see him.

A few minutes later, a buzzer sounded and a door across the room opened. Prisoners dressed in orange jumpsuits filed in one by one. Some looked completely normal while others gave Claire chills. She knew she would be safe though — prisoners weren’t allowed in the visitors room unless they had been cleared.

Finally, she saw him. Frank.

What once was a handsome, fine chiseled face was now haggard and worn. When he saw her, he smiled. Not the same chilling smile he had given her at the courthouse, but one of an old friend.

“Hello, Claire,” he said as he approached her. “It’s nice to see a familiar face.”

“Don’t get many visitors?” Claire asked, watching him as he sat down across the table from her.

He shrugged, and Claire noticed he looked thinner, but life inside four walls day after day with strict food regulations would do that to a person.

“Alex comes to visit me once a month, and my mother and father have come up a few times over the years,” he said.

“That’s good that they came,” Claire said, suddenly feeling like this was a mistake.

“I must ask,” Frank said. “Just why are you here, Claire? I ruined your life, surely you wouldn’t want to ever see me again?”

“You attempted to ruin my life,” Claire corrected. “You didn’t, however.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Frank said and he sounded sincere.

There was no point in wasting time, Claire only was allowed to see him for ten minutes. Last night she’d been wracking her brain trying to think of what to say to him. Her first emotion was anger and betrayal. Followed by hurt and then more anger. She told herself that the first thing she would do when she saw him was slap him straight across the face, but that thought had left her mind the moment she saw the state he was in.

“I hated you,” she said and he looked up at her, meeting her eyes. “For a very long time, I hated you for what you tried to do. For causing my family so much trouble and heartache. It wasn’t right, Frank, it wasn’t,” she shook her head. “And I never understood why you would want another man’s daughter so badly to lie like that. It still doesn’t make sense.”

“You want answers,” Frank said, nodding. He had been a professor, a good one at that, and Claire had loved sitting in on his lectures, watching as he commanded the room. Now he sat before her, small and weak and that man she once knew was long gone, replaced by a man that had lost himself.

“I do,” she said.

“Honestly, Claire, I couldn’t begin to tell you why I did the things I did back then,” he hung his head, looking at his hands on the table. “It was a cowardly thing to do and I realize that now — I didn’t at the time. When you left me,” he said, his voice sounding strained. “I realized how badly I needed you in my life, and I went mad with trying to think of a way to win you back. No woman I had after you compared to you, Claire Beauchamp.”

“Fraser,” she corrected, making sure her left hand with her ring was on display.

“That’s right,” he swallowed as he caught sight of Jamie’s mother’s ring. “What I did was foolish and I understand how wrong I was. I know that you can never forgive me for what I did, Claire.”

Forgiveness. It was such a lovely sounding word, but in reality it was one of the hardest to put into practice. For so long, Claire had felt nothing but bitterness towards the man she once thought she loved. He had ripped her world apart and together with Jamie, they had mended it and made it into something even better. Could she forgive the man that had caused her so much pain?

As Claire looked at him, really looked at Frank, she realized that she only felt peace. Of course she could forgive him and she already had.

“I do forgive you, Frank,” she said and he looked shocked at this. “I forgive you and I want you to make a good life for yourself once you get out of here. I truly hope that you’ve learned from your mistakes and that you don’t inflict that kind of pain onto someone else.”

“I won’t, I promise,” he agreed.

“Don’t promise,” Claire said and reached for something in her purse. “You might break your promise, but learn from this, from all of this and try and become someone good.”

With a shaky breath, Claire slid a picture of her family across the table. Frank looked down and picked it up, his eyes scanning the image. It was one of their most recent family pictures, taken at a carnival held in the nearby town last month. Julietta had fallen asleep in Jamie’s arms after one ride, and Madeline had eaten too much popcorn and gotten sick on the car ride home.

“That’s Madeline, she’s almost three. Clearly she takes after Jamie, where Julietta our youngest has dark hair like me,” Claire said, studying Frank’s facial expression.

“Anyone that sees her would know she’s his,” he said softly. “How foolish I was.”

After staring at the picture for another minute, Frank slid the picture back to Claire and she tucked it safely into her purse.

“I came here for me,” Claire said. “For Jamie, Madeline and Julietta. So that their mother and wife could be free from you. I forgive you, and I know that this will be the last time we speak.”

“Thank you for seeing me,” he said and the guards were already coming around to tell them their time was up. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. Your family… they’re beautiful and I’m glad that I didn’t mess it up too terribly.”

“Goodbye, Frank,” Claire smiled sadly and then left, not pausing or taking a look back at him. She had said her peace and her heart felt lighter in the process. Gathering her things from the front desk, Claire climbed into her car and made her way home to her family for dinner.

++++++

Later that evening, Claire brought the girls up for bath time. They had tried bathing them separately, but one time when Jamie was giving Julietta her bath, Madeline had gotten jealous and climbed in to join, clothes and all. Since then, it was a joint bath and everyone was happier.

“What did you ladies get up to while you were with daddy today?” Claire asked Madeline as she massaged shampoo into her curly red hair.

“Coloured pictures,” Madeline smiled. “Ate sammiches and a moooovie,” she said the “o” like a cow and Claire laughed.

“A rather fun day,” Claire grinned. “Close your eyes and hold your breath!” Picking up a small cup, Claire scooped up water and poured it over the top of her daughter’s head. The little girl shook her head, splashing water around the bath and onto Claire.

“Watch it, little miss,” Claire laughed and splashed a bit of water back. “Or I’ll have to get daddy to come in and pour a big bucket of water over your head! He would lift it high and splash!”

“No!” Madeline giggled and covered her face with her hands.

Moving on to wash Julietta’s small bit of dark hair, Madeline began to play with a small rubber ducky. It had been a gift Jamie had gotten her on her first birthday and every birthday and Christmas since, he had added another to her collection. She had given each a name — Mr. Quacks, Lucy, Blue, Wiggles and Ducky.

When Claire was pregnant with Julietta, Madeline had been so excited. Once they told her she would have a new baby brother or sister, she would kiss Claire’s stomach goodnight and make sure to say hello to it every morning. And when Julietta was born, she wouldn’t leave her side, always asking to hold her or help feed her. She took her job of being a big sister very seriously.

Once both little girls were scrubbed and squeaky clean, Claire called Jamie over from the other room to come and help dry them off.

“Which one shall I take?” Jamie said, and Madeline raised her small hand, flailing it in her air.

“Me, Da!” She squealed.

Grabbing a big pink towel, he picked her up and wrapped her like a cocoon, and held her close to him. He loved his daughters dearly, and being a father was one of the greatest things that had ever happened to him.

“You next wee fish,” Claire lifted Julietta out of the bath and wrapped her in the towel, drying her off.

“Read a story?” Madeline asked as Jamie wiped her face with the corner of the towel.

“Aye, I’ll read ye a story. Any of yer choosin’,” he smiled.

Jamie and Claire carried both girls into their shared room to get dressed in pajamas. After Julietta turned one, they had moved her into Madeline’s room. Claire could just see it now when they were a little bit older — the late night giggles she would hear, the dress up parties, all the fun they would have.

Claire always wanted a sister growing up, and she was happy that her daughters had that companion in each other now.

Both girls were tucked in their beds and Jamie opened the book that Madeline had chosen. Not surprisingly, it was the one that Jamie had written for her and had finally had published. Since then, he’d been working on another story, but this time not a children’s novel. It was a story of a man and a woman and he told Claire that she might recognize a few similarities here and there.

Meanwhile, Claire spent her days at the hospital. She longed to be home and to be there for her girls, but her other passion was medicine. It was a part of her she knew she couldn’t abandon, a skill that ran through her very bones. And it was rewarding to help people and be there for them. Just as it was rewarding to come home to her children and to a husband she loved.

Life was far from perfect, but it was the life she loved.

Stepping out of the room to get herself ready for bed, Claire smiled as she saw her two girls paying close attention to every word from Jamie. He was the perfect father to two young girls. Always telling them how beautiful, kind, smart and strong they were. Claire knew that Jamie would love a son, and who knows? Maybe one day.

Stripping off her clothes, Claire grabbed one of Jamie’s old shirts and slid it on, loving the way it hung off one shoulder. As she began to wash her face and cleanse herself from the day she had, her mind drifted back to her earlier conversation with Frank.

She never thought she would be able to face him again, let alone speak to him. But it was needed to move on, something she thought she had done years ago. Frank was like a ghost, creeping up at the most unexpected times. Often, she woke from nightmares, and couldn’t fall back asleep until she checked that both her children were tucked safely in bed. Someone had tried to take what was most precious to her, and there was nothing she wouldn’t do to protect them.

Splashing warm water over her face, she hadn’t seen when Jamie had come into the bathroom and jumped when she opened her eyes.

“Och, tis just me, Sassenach,” he laughed and ran his hand over the back of her neck.

“Didn’t hear you come in,” she smiled and wiped her face on a cloth. “Did the girls get to sleep alright?”

“Aye, Mads did ask for another story, but I promised two tomorrow,” he said and picked up his toothbrush. Glancing over at his wife, he noticed she was wearing one of his shirts again. He had commented on how sexy she looked in it the first time she had thrown it on and ever since, she preferred to sleep in his clothes.

Catching him looking at her, Claire blushed and turned her body towards him. “What are you looking at? Did I not get everything off my face?” She looked back into the mirror to check.

“I was lookin’ at my beautiful wife,” Jamie said, sticking his foot out to touch her bare leg.

Making a guffawing sound, Claire rolled her eyes. “Your wife has bags under her eyes and hasn’t felt beautiful in quite some time.”

“Sassenach,” Jamie said softly and rinsed and spit before putting his toothbrush down. “Have I no’ told ye how lovely I think ye look every day since we’ve been together?”

Claire could only nod because it was true, he did tell her every day, but sometimes she didn’t feel like those words described her. After two children, her body had changed and it wasn’t what it was before. Always being on her feet at the hospital helped to keep her in shape somewhat, as did running after two kids at home. But her hair was always a mess, she didn’t get much sleep while being on call and she couldn’t even remember the last time she looked in the mirror and thought she was attractive — probably on her wedding day.

“Did ye ken the other day while we were at the store, I saw a young man starin’ at yer arse?” Jamie said as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her body to his. “I had half the mind to go over to him and gouge his eyes out.”

“He was probably thinking how big it looked,” Claire smirked.

“Some men like that,” he moved one hand over said arse, giving it a firm squeeze. “Ye’ve the roundest arse I’ve ever seen, Clarie, my God.”

“I’m almost twenty-nine years old and I found a grey hair the other day,” she said, moving her hand up to her scalp.

“Oh hush, mo nighean donn,” Jamie kissed her forehead. “Dinna start talkin’ like yer on yer death bed. Yer a successful doctor, wi’ two young bairns, one grey hair comes wi’ the territory.”

“But you don’t look a day over twenty,” Claire sighed, reaching up to cup his cheek.

“I’m only twenty-seven Claire,” he snorted. “What’s all this talk of our ages? Did ye find out somethin’ ye need to tell me?”

“No, no,” Claire shook her head. “I suppose I just feel a bit older than I really am. I know that you think I’m beautiful.” At that, Jamie gave another light squeeze to her bum. “And,” she laughed, “that you find me as desirable as I find you. But, sometimes I look in the mirror and I don’t see a beautiful woman.”

“Then ye dinna need to look into a mirror, mo chridhe. Ye once told me that I had a beautiful heart,” he cupped her cheek, his thumb lightly tracing her full bottom lip. “That is was kind and how ye admired my strength. Well, Sasseanch, your face is my heart, and therefore tis beautiful.”

“If you say so,” Claire said softly.

“Do ye no’ believe me? Have I ever lied to ye?” Jamie asked, his brows furrowing.

Shaking her head, Claire laid both hands on his chest. “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean — if you say it, then it’s true. You make it true.”

Leaning down, Jamie pressed his lips to hers. When she was in his arms, it was like he was holding the whole universe and he had all the power at his fingertips. Loving Claire had made Jamie a better man in every aspect.

“Can ye no’ feel what the sight of ye does to me?” He asked, pressing his hips against her. “Ye may have born two bairns, Sassenach, but they were my bairns and yer body is a miracle to me.”

Claire sighed, her eyelids fluttering as she felt his arousal pressing against her belly. Through his sweatpants, there was only a thin barrier between his hard flesh, and Claire held on tightly to him. While it was true that most days she didn’t feel pretty enough or worth taking a second look at — when she was here in Jamie’s arms, she felt like the most beautiful and sexy woman to ever exist. He ignited something inside of her, a key that only he held.

“I do feel it,” she admitted and finally looked up at him. Slowly, she moved one hand in between their bodies and cupped his length. His mouth parted and his eyes turned to dark slits. One by one, her fingers moved into the waistband of his sweats and she felt the raspy hairs as her fingers moved down.

“I meant it when I said you make it true, Jamie,” Claire said and took hold of him. “I feel almost invincible when I have you in my arms, and especially,” she twisted her hand and rubbed her thumb over the head of his cock. “When I do that.”

“A Dhia,” Jamie groaned and couldn’t help but jerk up into her hand. “I dinna understand myself sometimes,” he shook his head as he looked down at her hand moving in his sweats — long strokes and quick squeezes. “I want to put ye in my pocket like a wee kitten, and then other times I want to spread yer legs and ride ye like a rottin’ bull and have ye screamin’ my name.”

“That’s marriage for you,” Claire chuckled and pumped his length in her hand again, making sure to give just enough pressure to leave him making those little whimpering sounds she loved so much.

“Jesus, fuck, Claire,” Jamie muttered through gritted teeth. He was trying not to jerk his hips or grip her too tightly, but he was losing all of his other senses. Her hand moved over him, fingers lightly touching his scrotum and his knees buckled. “I canna take much more of yer teasing, Sassenach.”

Claire could only bite her lip, watching as her husband’s head fell backwards. With one hand she pulled his sweatpants down over his arse, and his cock and her hand were exposed to the open air. Chills raked his body, and Jamie tightened his grip on her hip before finally looking down. Running her finger down his cock, she pumped him so the head was exposed and pressed her thumb against the bit of pre-cum. Jamie was close to spending, his hip movements becoming erratic.

“I dinna want to come in yer hand, a nighean,” Jamie nearly growled and picked her up by her waist and set her down on the bathroom counter. The t-shirt she was wearing was riding up on her thighs and Jamie could just see her pussy, peeking out under the material. His mouth watered and he ran one slender hand over her thigh while gripping his cock and pumping it slowly.

“Yer so goddamn sexy, Claire,” he looked at her, back pressed against the mirror, legs parted for him and one hand trailing over her breast. “I wanted ye from the first moment I saw ye, and nothin’s changed.”

“Please,” Claire begged and leaned forward, scooting to the edge of the counter. Jamie pressed one hand against her chest before she could kiss him and put both hands on the hem of her shirt, lifting it off and over her head. Gently, he cupped her breasts, weighing them appreciatively in his hands. Her nipples perked up at his touch, wanting to be stroked and flicked. Briefly bending over to suck on them, he then moved in between her thighs.

“I want ye to watch as I take ye, mo ghràidh,” Jamie said with one hand gripping her thigh. “To know that yer mine and ye belong to me.”

A small whimper left Claire’s mouth as both his hands parted her legs. The marble was cool against her skin, and she leaned back as Jamie positioned his cock at her entrance. She watched, captivated and aroused as he pushed into her inch by inch. And when he was fully inside of her, he slid one hand around her back and pressed his lips to hers.

Since he had the leverage of standing up, Jamie began to slowly move his hips, thrusting forward and then moving in a circular motion to feel her pulse around him. Claire came to life under his hands, and he kissed down her jaw and neck, holding her up. She slipped one hand into his, intertwining their fingers.

“And you belong to me,” she breathed heavily, flexing her hips and gripped with one hand onto the back of his neck.

Their lovemaking was always a risk and promise — for he held her life in his hands when they lay together, and she held his soul.

Jamie pulled her hips flush against him, pushing even deeper and held one leg around his waist. His thrust were steady and strong, his hands sure and every touch was deliberate.

“I love ye, a nighean,” Jamie said softly, cupping her cheek.

“I love you,” she managed to speak — her voice was shaky and she felt overcome with emotion as she looked into the eyes of her whole world.

Running a hand between their bodies, his fingers slid over her lips and pressed firmly at the place of their joining. Claire cried out, her body curving up and into his. A few more thrusts and Jamie watched as her mouth formed the perfect “O” shape and her body fell back against the mirror. Jamie felt the aftershock of her walls clenching around him and came, pressing forward as she gripped her hand in his hair.

He placed one sweaty hand on the mirror, no doubt leaving a streak. His head rested against Claire’s chest, gently rising and falling.

“Get me off this damn counter,” Claire pleaded and Jamie laughed, leaning back to pick her up. Still joined, he wrapped her legs around his waist and carried her into the bedroom where he carefully laid her down.

“Let’s go to sleep, aye?” He asked as he moved his body over hers.

“To sleep? Or to bed?” Claire’s brow quirked up and she laughed, moving one leg over his hip to roll them both over until she was on top. “We’re not old yet, Fraser. We’ve life in us.”

“If ye say so, Sassenach,” Jamie grinned and pulled his wife down to him, sealing their lips in a kiss.

++++++

The next morning, as Claire was preparing breakfast, she did something she once told herself she would never do. Julietta was sitting on the floor, near her feet, playing with the soft fuzzy part on Claire’s slippers. A moment later when Claire looked down at her, she had disappeared and when she looked over near the wall, she saw her daughter reaching her little fingers towards the electrical outlet.

“No no no no!” Claire dropped her spatula and raced towards her daughter, her hand swiftly coming to smack Julietta’s bottom. The little girl’s hand fell away from the socket and she turned to look up at Claire.

Freezing, and realizing what she had just done, Claire just stared down at her daughter. Julietta’s bottom lip started to wobble and Claire sank to her knees, enveloping her in an embrace that had to be too tight.

“Oh God,” Claire mumbled. “I’m so sorry, darling. Mummy didn’t want you to hurt yourself,” she ran her hand down her daughter’s back and over her little bottom. She hadn’t smacked it too hard, but it was her first instinct — anything to get her from touching her small fingers into the outlet.

A coughing noise came from above and Claire looked up to see Jamie with his arms crossed and a smug expression plastered all over his face.

“Don’t you dare…” Claire said.

Julietta wiggled in her mother’s arms and then Claire finally released her.

“Pway,” her daughter said and walked away, as if nothing had happened.

Rising to her knees, Clarie avoided Jamie’s eyes and returned to the eggs on the stovetop. Jamie came to stand beside her, that sly grin still on his face and Claire elbowed him in the ribs.

“Did I see what I think I just did?” He asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “No, she was about to electrocute herself!”

“I recall a certain conversation a few years back about what ye would and would no’ do to our child,” he cleared his throat. “And I recall that ye took the opposite stance from me, givin’ me a swift kick to the curb.”

“Look,” Claire turned to him, finally meeting his eyes. “Perhaps when I said all those things, I didn’t really know what I was talking about.”

“And ye thought when I said spankin’ our child, ye assumed I’d beat them?” He raised his brows. “Just a wee tap I think it was.”

“Would you wipe that look off your face?” Claire huffed and bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

“What look? Is it the look of a man who’s wife is admitting he was right?” He slid one hand around her waist. “Cause I dinna think I can.”

“I never said you were right,” Claire said towards the eggs.

“But twas implied,” Jamie kissed her temple. “I best leave ye to the eggs, Sassenach. I need to go and check on our daughter, she may be permanently scarred for the rest of her life.”

“You’re never going to shut up about this are you?” Claire did grin now, grabbing his cheeks with one hand. “If you ever want your wife to invite you to her bed again, you’ll forget this ever happened.”

Jamie clicked his tongue and reached out to lick at her finger. “I can go w’out yer bed, Sassenach, but are ye really tellin’ me ye can go w’out this?” He asked, all while taking her hand that was on her mouth and dragging it down his incredibly lean body.

“You lie,” she chuckled. “Last month you were gone for two days meeting a new client and you told me your balls were blue the whole time.”

“Fine,” Jamie sighed, defeated. “I hereby forget that Claire Elizabeth Fraser spanked our child even though she said she wouldna ever do it and caused me, James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser weeks of distress and heartache. Was that sufficient, m’lady?”

“It’ll do, soldier,” Claire laughed and leaned up on her toes to kiss him. “Now, can you actually go and check on Julietta? I do feel horrible.”

“Oh, I ken ye do, a nighean. I was only teasin’ ye,” he kissed her forehead before walking over to their children in the other room.

Claire had done something she told herself she never would. But she had changed, as everyone does over time. She did things she would never have done years ago, eaten foods she used to hate and even had a one night stand with a stranger — but that stranger ended up being the love of her life. So perhaps, change was a good thing. Claire told herself she would never spank her child again, but she also told herself that Jamie was right, as he often was many times — not that she would tell him that to his face.

Jamie had made an oath to Claire — to love and protect her and their children, to always be there for her no matter what. An oath is a promise, one that isn’t kept lightly. Over the last few years, Claire had made a few promises of her own. And she promised to love Jamie Fraser, the love of her life, the father of her beautiful daughters until her last dying breath.

[centuryofdean]

When Lightning Strikes - Chapter 8

Author Disclaimer:: The Hobbit, Middle Earth and its characters are not mine. I take no credit. The story line and even some dialogue–also not mine. Instead I claim my Original Character Laurel and the adjustments to the story line.

Author Note:: Sorry! I accidentally updated the latest chapter on my personal tumblr! It was deleted and now being re-uploaded correctly.

Summary:: From when Laurel Took was small she dreamed of a man. Every time she dreamed of him, he could not see or hear her. Over time they are able to communicate–but he’s been dreaming about her too. Finally after years of anticipation Laurel takes the leap and kisses him. Only for her to wake up and dread the real world. Then lightning strikes and she finds herself in a familiar place, with a familiar face.

Rated:: M for Mature. Please do not read this story unless you are 18+ At this point in the story there isn’t much, but later on the M rating will come into effect.

Warnings:: Language and Violence

Pairing:: Kili x OC (Laurel)

Kili

Thorin declared it was more comfortable for us to stay outside for the night rather within the walls of our 'enemies'. As a fire was started we all started to settle in, some smoking from pipes. Gandalf disappeared into the walls, leaving Bilbo looking somewhat uncomfortable with us. Laurel had still yet to return from when she left us earlier. It had been hours, and I began to worry.

Fili and I found a spot near the trees away from the fire to place our things and make an area to sleep. We did not want to tear up the grass or weeds in the clearing, because it would surely upset the elves. Instead we used some of our spare clothing as pillows.

"Oh Ori, that is a great drawing!"

Laurel's voice perked my interested, she had returned. The elves had given her a smaller thinner green tunic and smaller thinner brown pants. All of which that fit quite nicely, shaping against her curves. Across her chest she adorned a brown leather vest lined with pockets that trailed down her abdomen; and made her chest more prominent. One arm was covered with a silver cuff to protect her wrist up to her elbow, while her other hand was covered partially with an archer's glove. Across her back was a brown worked bow and on her hip was a leather quiver of arrows. Slung to one side was a bag just barely hiding a long sword scabbard.

She was dressed as if she were prepared for this adventure, and she looked marvelous.

As I approached I could see that Ori had shown her the drawing that he made while she was sleeping the first day. It was not perfect, but it was a good drawing none the less.

"There you are," I stated, "I was starting to think that they had taken you and refused to return."

"Kili! Look at all the things they gave me," she smiled radiantly. Everyone started to gather around to see.

"They gave me a bow and arrows, dagger, sword, something to store water, clothing, a bag, and herbs for healing. One gave me a book to look from to study so that I can help while we are journeying," she showed each thing as she said it. "That is why I took so long. It's all in elvish so I had to have it read to me and write in English so that I can read it later." It was truly amazing that they had willingly given her all these things without anything in return. Then again maybe they were trying to make her feel comfortable in a world she is not familiar with.

"Well, I say we celebrate," Nori exclaimed.

"Celebrate what," Fili asked.

"For escaping enemies and death twice since we started this quest! One thanks to the lass, and another to Radagast and all our great fighters!"

At once everyone yelled together. In moments flutes and lutes were taken out, some playing while others started to smoke from pipes. Bofur produced a barrel of wine that was given to us, passing out goblets. I grabbed two myself and filled each up, handing one to Laurel and taking a deep drink myself.

"Here," I took her weapons and bag, handing her the wine, "take a sip. I will put your things down and then we will dance!"

After putting her items down next to Fili and I's things, I returned finishing off my goblet and lightly tossing the cup to the ground. Laurel was still sipping from hers. "Let me finish this and take off my shoes," she smirked. Tossing the cup up, she downed the rest, setting it upon the ground. The brown leather boots she was given were tossed aside, and I snatched her quickly.

Each of the dwarves that were up and dancing were flinging Laurel back and forth between the lot of us. Even Bilbo cut in and started to dance merrily as well. It was a splendid time of fun and laughs. Laurel snuck away for a moment, gasping and smiling alike.

"It's too hot," she laughed. I watched as her rustic hair cascaded down her back to tickle her buttocks. It was sheen with sweat.

"Would you like me to braid your hair for you," I murmured taking a step forward. "It looks awfully bothersome."

"You want to braid my hair," she asked in a light laugh.

With a step forward I grabbed her hand, pulling her with me to where our things were. "Go ahead, sit," I urged. Again she laughed, making my heart light with warmth. I sat behind her and dug through my sack for the comb I kept and some extra braid clasps for on the occasion I would braid my own hair.

"Sorry its sweaty," she offered.

"It is alright," I replied running the comb through her hair, "what would you like? Something simple? Down the back or off to the side? Loose or tight?"

"Something loose and off to the side I can sleep with. Too tight and I'll get headaches."

From where we were setting we could make out the fire in the distance, but we were still enough alone that no one would see us unless they came to look. I took the opportunity to be close to her, almost as close as we were while riding the pony. The feeling of her hair between my fingers was one I would never tire of.

"I love it when you play with my hair," she giggled softly, "it is soothing."

"Trust me when I say I love to do it," I murmured as she leaned back into my touch.

"The sky here is so beautiful, nothing like mine."

"Do you not have stars?"

"In my world, they capture...lightning, in glass bulbs to produce light. It is so common that most of the world uses it excessively to the point where it is so bright that the stars dim in comparison. We have stars, but where I lived you could not see them properly. So all of this is what I've always wanted to see, everywhere here is so beautiful."

With each leg on either side of her I finished off her braid, clasping it and giving it a small tug. Since it rested against one of her shoulders, the other was bare to me with the column of her neck. It was hard to resist the urge, but I fell into it anyway, lulled with elvish wine. My hands held on to either side of her waist as I pressed my lips against the skin of her shoulder blade.

A soft gasp left her lips, her hands finding mine and resting on top of them.

I continued my assault on her neck, pulling her fully against me. She tasted of sweet apples almost, breathing just a little harder. "You are the most beautiful thing I have seen in this world in a long time," I whispered into her ear just before I pressed my lips behind it. My hands started to wonder north of her waist.

"Kili," she moaned out softly.

Yes, that was a new favorite. I liked that even more than her laugh I do have to say.

"Yes," I asked in a hoarse voice of my own. It had been a long time since I have lain with anyone, and since it was Laurel my need was a little stronger.

"Please, stop," she urged. It was then I finally noticed that she was trying to push away my hands near her breasts. "We can't. Stop."

Not wanting her to feel uncomfortable I pulled away begrudgingly. "Why," I asked honestly. "I thought—"

"No," she muttered getting up and away from me, "We can't. Thorin would not allow for it, I am not on the top list of his most favorite people. I don't want to be in this position."

"Well we can try another," I laughed, "you can lay atop of me. It is a pleasurable position for both."

All the color raced to her face.

"I do not care what my uncle thinks of us or you. I do say you saved our lives just this morning, his included," I rose to grasp her hands. "Do not worry of him. I wish not to waste time with you, I wasted so much in the past five years."

Her hands slipped from my own as she took another step back. Beauty was truly what she was. The braid I placed in her hair framed her face and trailed nicely, but I did not like the heartbroken look she was giving me.

"I just can't," she whispered.

"Is there someone else," I asked quietly.

"No," she whispered, "there is no one else."

Fili stumbled into the area, looking a little off balance and cheerful. "Lady Laurel," he stumbled to her, "you must share another dance with me!"

Her lips twitched into a smile. Jealousy pitted my stomach. Of course my brother would win her affection.

"I can't Fili," she urged, "I am too tired. I was just about to find somewhere to sleep."

"Nonsense," he laughed, "Kili has already made a spot beside us!"

I gestured to the spot we were just sitting in. "Come," I waved her over, "I have bedding for you to use. I promise I will not attempt to touch you."

"Kili," she groaned out, slumping and approaching me once more. "It isn't like that, I promise."

"Go to sleep," I muttered, laying in the spot between hers and Fili's, "I will wake you when it is time to rise in the morn."

With that I threw an arm over my eyes and attempted to sleep. Through her movements on the ground she laid next to me. Sleep found me soon after.

Previous Chapter << Chapter 7: The Heart is in the Eye of the Beholder

Next Chapter >> Chapter 9: Following the Path of Jealousy

[emperorsfoot]

The long and uncomfortably awaited royal wedding! 

Hordak and Entrapta’s marriage. 

...

He was still losing weight.

Over the last few days, Hec-Tor had lost a little over one kilogram of body mass. Enough weight that his wedding gown had to be taken in. His arms under his armor were thinner and he had to add padding to the inside to keep the exterior plating from rubbing uncomfortably with the extra space.

The gown was predominantly green, a pale lime green, with accents in white and gray. The colors of the House of Kur. They had to cinch it around the ribs and waist to adjust for the weight loss. The shift in fabric off setting the placement of the thigh-slits on the legs. The whole gown had to be altered. The tailors just barley managing to finish in time for the ceremony.

Hec-Tor slipped it on, feeling the soft fabric slide against his skin like it was meant to be there. Fitting like a glove over his shoulders and around his mid-section. Like he had been poured into it, rather than it being pulled over him. The slits on the thighs went up higher than Hec-Tor originally specified, showing more skin, and when he moved, the straps of his garters showed. The oversight was so much that it had to be deliberate. No Imperial tailor would make the mistake. The alteration had to be commanded by someone in a position to command. And it hadn’t been Hec-Tor, which meant Brother had ordered it.

Studying his reflection in the mirror, Hec-Tor had just finished selecting a pair of earrings when Horde Prime walked in. Unannounced and without invitation.

“Coming to check on me.” Hec-Tor growled at his brother. “Making sure I didn’t climb out a window with a rope made from bedsheets.”

The windows of the Imperial palace did not open.

“You didn’t run the first time.” Prime reminded him. “You did your duty then, you’ll do it now.”

Hec-Tor gave his reflection one final examination. Dangling earrings matching the decorative plugs in his neck ports, both in gold. Chains of gold strung between more plugs in the ports on his sides. Gown falling over his hips in a sensual drape, the slits provocatively showing his garters when he moved. He turned around to face his brother. “I will serve the Empire.”

“You are a good servant.” Prime nodded. He reached out a hand, lifting Hec-Tor’s chin. Tilting the younger man’s face one way, then the other. Examining the sharp angle of his cheek bones, the shape of his eyes, the set of his brows. The makeup accenting and complementing his best features, and downplaying or outright concealing his less appealing ones. He looked rather attractive by their family’s standards. “You look like Par-is.”

Hec-Tor pulled out of his brother’s hand. “Are we allowed to say her name again?”

“No.” Prime deadpanned. Then cleared his throat. Backing up and averting his eyes, almost as if he didn’t want to look at Hec-Tor anymore. “If you’re done preening, I want to get this absurd ceremony over with.”

“You want your weapons.” Hec-Tor asserted. That’s all this was. A business transaction. Prime would give Entrapta all the resources she needed and in return she would furnish his vast space-faring military with weapons. Hec-Tor was just the notary stamp on the contract. “I want to get back to my regular schedule.”

He was sure his desk must be over-full of all the work that’d been piling up while he was forced to divert his time and attentions to this farce. All the items of business that Horde Prime delegated to him. Hec-Tor was sure his brother was not seeing to them himself. And since Hec-Tor did not have the opportunity to deal with them, things just were not getting done.

“You will adjust your schedule to your new environment.” Horde Prime announced cryptically. “You can still perform your usual duties from your new home.”

“New home?” Hec-Tor echoed.

Prime’s lip curled. “I have been told that Entrapta of Dryl can be… easily distracted. You will keep her on task and our arms manufacture on schedule.” A pause. “In addition to the responsibilities you already fulfill.”

“You’re banishing me to the other side of the universe!” This was the reason. This was why Entrapta seemed so sure that he and Imp would be living with her in the Crypto Castle. She had already worked it out with Prime ahead of time. Brother just decided to wait until the day of the wedding to tell him.

“Don’t be so melodramatic, brother.” Prime scoffed. “Banishment implies that you would never be allowed back. I’m simply deploying you as a strategic asset to protect our interests. You will oversee Dryl’s manufacture of arms for the Empire, and while you’re there, you will also sire a daughter with Entrapta. She will inherit the arms manufacture and when your daughter is old enough, you can come home for her wedding to Zed.”

“You’ve got everything all figured out.” Hec-Tor scoffed.

“I do.” Prime nodded. “And you would do well to perform your role without complaint.”

“Do I have any other options?”

“No. You don’t.”

Forcing his head high, Hec-Tor tried to step past his brother. “Then I have a wedding to get to.”

But Prime stopped him. One hand grabbing his shoulder, wrinkling the fabric draped over his armor. “You’re forgetting something.”

Hec-Tor turned back to glare at the other man. “What?”

“That.” Prime pointed to the silver band on the third finger of his left hand. Keldor’s ring. The only item of jewelry he was wearing that wasn’t gold. Silver against the gray-blue if his hands. “Take it off.”

Twisting the ring on his finger, Hec-Tor hesitated. “I-“

Prime held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

When he did not immediately comply, Prime grabbed his wrist and pulled the band from his finger.

Hec-Tor hissed when the metal scraped roughly against his skin, ungently pulling it over the knuckle. But the pain didn’t matter so much. That ring –and Imp- were the last things he had left of Keldor. “Give it back!”

“You are about to get a new ring, brother.” Prime reminded him. “You no longer need this one.”

“Please?” The younger man tried. “I won’t wear it. Just- let me keep it.”

Prime only glared back at him, unmoved.

“I’ll perform my duties diligently, like I always do.” Hec-Tor tried to bargain. “I’ll make sure Entrapta delivers on her end of the bargain, and I’ll run your Empire for you.”

Prime pocketed the ring. “Yes, brother, you will.”

…

Most cultures the universe over made vows of marriage and signed contracts of partnership on one version or another of an alter. Usually erected in a place of worship, and overseen by a practitioner of that culture’s faith or mythical dogma.

The Empire was wide and diverse, and the capital city on Horde World did boast many houses of gods and places of worship. Almost as many as there were races in the universe.

But the Empire itself had no official religion. The Kur family did not believe in gods or demons, or practice any kind of spirituality or religion.

The wedding was held in the throne room.

Horde Prime sat atop his throne on the dais, looking down on a Justice of the Peace and an Imperial Attorney, the two that would be performing the ceremony in place of a priestess or similar religious figurehead.

Entrapta was dressed in a dark suit in a shade of eggplant purple, a striking contrast to Hec-Tor’s pale lime green. A white cravat tied around her throat, a bright violet gem pinning it in place. The tails of her coat flaring out in a bustle. Her trousers baggy around her legs, a very similar cut to the overalls she seemed to favor –except these were clean. She still wore her welding mask and her work gloves.

The Attorney held a datapad in her hands, reading the contract to the couple, making sure each one understood the terms that they were agreeing to. Then she pressed her thumb to a sensor on the pad, letting it read her print, signing the contract as legal and official. Then she passed it to the Justice.

Holding the datapad, the Justice gave the couple a moment to speak what passed for vows in Imperial weddings. The promises the couple would make to each other that were not influenced by the contract.

Entrapta went first. “I-“ Lowering her welding mask over her face, she hesitated. “I- I promise to be a good friend, as best I can. To try and understand you when I am confused, and learn what I don’t know, and… and to try and be the best partner I can be.”

As she said, Entrapta was not the most romantic person in the world. That was probably the most meaningful and emotionally true vow she could make.

Hec-Tor drew in a breath and offered the same vows he gave to Keldor. The words of marriage he’d been trained in since his boyhood. “I vow to shield your back and keep your council. And I will ask no service of you that will bring you dishonor.”

Catra stepped forward and passed Entrapta the ring meant for him. A gold band to match the rest of his gold jewelry. Plain and unadorned. A simple and practical band to be worn daily. She took it from Catra with her hair, not taking a single step closer to Hec-Tor or attempting to close the distance between them. She used the prehensile strands of her hair to slide the ring onto his finger.

A member of the Imperial wedding party, some loyal noble Prime had picked for the occatin, passed Hec-Tor the ring he was meant to give Entrapta. Also gold, to match the one she gave him. But of a slimmer design. A thinner band that wouldn’t be quite so bulky on her smaller hands. He did not get the chance to putit on her finger for her, however. Entrapta plucked it from his hands with her hair and brought it back to herself, slithering the ring under her glove where she presumably put it on the correct finger herself.

The Justice nodded and held out the datapad for each of them to sign in turn. Hec-Tor pressed his thumb to the sensor, letting it read his print and put his name on it. There was another pause for Entrapta. She had to remove one of her gloves, doing it slowly, one finger at a time. The removed her thumb from the pad the moment the sensor registered her print and added her name, slipping the glove back on her hand as if she were more afraid of her bare hand being exposed than she was of the marriage.

The Justice adder her own thumbprint next to where the Attorney had placed hers. Sealing it and making it official.

“You are married.” She announced. “You may kiss.”

Hec-Tor and Entrapta turned to each other. There was enough space between them than if their cultures believed in a ‘holy spirit’ it could fit comfortably between them.

“I- I guess we should…” Entrapta muttered.

“You will have to lift your mask.” Hec-Tor informed her.

She raised a tendril of hair and slid the welding mask up slowly. Revealing a face that was beet-red with a blush. Embarrassment and nerves. She chewed her bottom lip.

Hec-Tor took a step closer to her, to close the distance.

Entrapta looked away, but she did not lower the mask back down. She played with her hands. “I’m not very good at- -at kissing.”

Hec-Tor took a second step. They were close enough now. “I have had quite a bit of practice.”

She did not lift herself up on her hair to accommodate for their height difference.

So, Hec-Tor bent down. And placed a chase kiss to Entrapta���s cheek.

…

The reception was held out in the gardens. The bushes washed clean of dust from the storms, or just outright replaced if they were sandblasted to severely to be worth saving. The rows and beds were strung with lights. Green for the Empire, violet for Dryl. Music played in the central hub where all the garden paths conversed and the artificial pond had been drained and covered so that a dancefloor could be laid down in its place.

Hec-Tor and Entrapta were required to dance one dance together. The first dance. An entire song in which they were the only couple on the floor. Finally, when that song ended and a new one began, other couples joined them and they were able to slip off the dancefloor mostly unnoticed.

For a moment, the two just stood there. Off to the side. Unsure if they should remain together as a newly wed couple or separate and give themselves some time to mentally adjust to their new circumstance. At the very least, they would need to mentally adjust before… the night.

Then a screech distracted both of them and Imp came flying at Hec-Tor. Almost crashing into the man’s face. Imp clawed at the fabric of his father’s gown, climbing over his shoulder to cling koala-style to his back.

“Imp! What is-?” His question was answered before he even finished asking it.

Two of the maid staff the exclusively cared for the Imperial children, Imp and Zed, came running up. “Apologized, Your Highness, but he got away from us.”

Crawling up onto his father’s shoulder, Imp hissed at the two maids and made a rude gesture with his hands, telling them exactly where they could go. Seriously, where did he learn such unbecoming Signs? Hec-Tor decided that was a question for later and instead focused his attention on the maids. “What is the meaning of this?”

“We were trying to fix the young Prince’s appearance when he scratched at us and flew away.” They explained.

Hec-Tor turned his head, trying to glare at his child.

Imp fluttered around to be in front of his father as he explained, hands waving rabidly with his explanations that he didn’t like wearing makeup. It made his face feel funny. It was stupid. He was a Prince, he should have to get dressed-up and painted like a doll. And then some less than polite recommendations of where his keepers could shove all their cosmetic products. Yup. Imp was definitely, definitely Keldor’s child.

Hec-Tor sighed, examining his son. Imp had removed the shrug from his gown, and ripped at the hem to make it shorter. His shoulders were bare and his knees were exposed. Half the makeup was already rubbed off his face and what little was still on him was smeared so badly that he looked like an abstract painting.

Entrapta, whom stood next to Hec-Tor for this explanation and did not yet understand a single motion of Sign untied the cravat from her neck. “Oh, well we can fix Imp’s appearance right now!” She announced. Then, using her hair, wiped the remaining makeup off of him, leaving his face it’s natural uniform blue complexion. The same shade of blue as Keldor’s skin. “There. That’s better.”

She then tied the –now filthy- cravat back around her neck as if it didn’t even matter.

Imp chirped with appreciation. He liked this crazy off-worlder Dad had married. She was exactly his kind of crazy. Imp fluttered over to perch in her hair, raising his hands to Sign at his father. ‘Mine.’

Well, at least someone was happy about this marriage.

“That means he likes me, right?” Entrapta asked, unsure. As if she’s never met another sentient being before in her life and didn’t understand even the most obvious of gestures.

Hec-Tor massaged his forehead, smudging his own makeup just a little bit. He was beginning to feel an oncoming headache and needed to sit down.

“I shall deal with my son.” He dismissed the maids.

Entrapta lifted her mask, trying to tilt her head without dislodging Imp from his perch. “I guess this means you like me, huh.” She said. “You’re not afraid I’m trying to replace your other parent or anything?”

She asked this more as if it were something she read was a common occurrence and not something she was actually afraid of for herself.

Imp squawked a negative.

“Imp has no memories of Keldor.” Hec-Tor informed her. “He vanished before Imp’s gestation in the vitrine was complete.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that.

A server passed by with a tray of adorably decorated mini-cupcakes. Entrapta stopped them and selected three for herself. Then grabbed a fourth for Imp. She lifted it up on a tendril of hair for him. Then paused, suddenly unsure. She looked up at Hec-Tor.

“Oh, is he allowed to have refined flour and sugar?”

Hec-Tor glared at the cupcake. “I will not be available to put him to bed tonight with the sugar makes him… difficult.” He informed her.

The reminder making them both feel awkward. They had a previous commitment later tonight that would prevent either of them from attending to any other responsibilities. Hec-Tor could not tuck his son in for the night and Entrapta could not… do whatever Entrapta usually did in the evenings before bed. They had to consummate their marriage. Consummate it in a ceremony that would have to be witnessed by the same Attorney and Justice that performed their wedding.

They avoided eye-contact. Entrapta lowered the cupcake, placing it and the three she selected for herself on the rim of a nearby herb bed. She suddenly lost her appetite. Hec-Tor clasped his hands behind his back, his posture going military stiff, trying to take comfort in familiar motions.

Hec-Tor nodded to the servant still holding the tray of cakes. “Some fresh fruit for my son instead.” He commanded. “Tartpears.”

The servant paused, suddenly looked uncomfortable. They stuttered when they had to inform the Prince, “There- there are no tartpears, Your Highness.”

“What?” Hec-Tor raised a baled brow at them.

“Be-because of the blight in Antares.” They explained. “They had to burn out all the crops to kill the disease. Even the seemingly healthy ones. We won’t get tartpear in the capital for at least another season.”

They waited for the Prince’s reaction with a tense silence, his bottom lip quivering.

Hec-Tor rubbed his forehead again. This time the headache was not threatening. It was beginning. The blight in Antares was one of the issues to pass his desk literally the day before this farce began. One of the issues he could have dealt with in the timely manner. One that did not involve burning down and destroying an entire season’s worth of the Empire’s food.

“Something native then.” He growled at the servant. “Cactus-grape.”

They all but ran away to fulfill the Prince’s request and get young Prince Imp some fresh fruit to eat in place of the cupcakes that contained refined flower and sugars.

A silence descended over them again.

“It’s just one night.” Entrapta said, repeating the same thing she said at breakfast when they had their first formal introductions.

“Brother will probably want to witness.” Hec-Tor informed her. “He watched me the first time.”

“’Me’? Not ‘us’?” She asked. Sex usually involved two people not just the one.

Hec-Tor closed his eyes, remembering how Brother leered down at him. He was looking at him, only him, not Keldor. Hec-Tor was sure of it. He grit his teeth, steeling himself against the memory and the knowledge that he was going to go through a repeat of the episode in the very near and foreseeable future. “As you said, it is only one night.”

[cieloxcnco]

this evening’s revue (zabdiel)

Words: 6,600+

Warnings: the promise of smut with nothing actually tangible. sorry for being a tease. but that’s what this sort of thing does, no?

A/N: i wrote this when i was half drunk. i apologize for how fucked up that makes this. like i wonder where my head is the majority of the time to come up with shit like this. no laughing allowed. love you all. -

I adjusted the flimsy plastic birthday crown on my head as I studied my reflection in the mirror, and probably made it a little more crooked in the process. My friends had convinced me that we should pre-game party before they even drove me to the club, so the influence of a Red Bull and vodka was already making my balance and alignment a little shaky. I combed my pink polished fingers through the gentle waves of my hair and tried to adjust my low-cut top so my bra wouldn’t protrude. The black sequined straps were already straining to control my breasts as it was. Feeling like I was looking good, I pulled out my cell phone and aimed the camera to take a self portrait shot. What better time than my birthday night to take a new profile picture? My friend Kayla poked her head back into the bathroom. “Bitch, come on! Enough selfies. The show is about to start.” I followed her quickly out into the showroom and sat in the aisle seat nearer to the back row as she instructed. Sarah and Charace were lost in their own excited conversation about what was to come. We sat down just as the announcer, who looked like an even more muscular version of Mario Lopez, came on stage and cooed smoothly into his microphone. “Ladies. Birthday girls. Bachelorettes. Are you ready to see some sexy men?” The girls all hooted their approval. “Well,” he went on, “Welcome to this evening’s male revue. Feel free to review all the males that come your way. Get your single dollars ready, ladies!” Kayla tapped the bottom of the plastic cup I had in my hand, rattling the ice cubes. “Drink up, baby girl. Let’s loosen you up for this.” I downed the rest of the mystery drink she’d bought for me, strong whatever it was, and nodded. I didn’t really need any loosening up though. I had recently broken off all contact with a long-term love, I was in the midst of an involuntary spell of abstinence, and I was more than excited to have an array of half-naked men in front of me for a few hours. The main lights went dim, the colored strobe lights began flashing, and Kayla dug her nails into the denim over my knee. “Here we go.” The spotlight turned to the area of the room opposite the stage where five men stood in Air Force jackets with rolled up sleeves, unbuttoned necklines, and tear-away pants, complete with Aviators and cocky grins. The dozens of other girls screamed- I just bit my lip at the sight, scanning over each. There was a muscular Latin man to the far left of the triangle they formed, tattoos across the exposed areas of his arms and chest. My eyes went wide; usually Hispanic men with a bad boy attitude and ink on their skin were my drug of choice. A brunette with just as many pictures on his skin but a little more of a thinner frame stood beside him, biting his lower lip and smirking at a large bride-to-be with a wad of bills in between her massive tits. To the far right stood two men of similar cinnamon complexion, one with his black hair coifed back in a swoop and piercing blue eyes and the other with coffee colored eyes and a messy mop of curls that were just begging for fingers to be run through them. Closest to me stood a tall blonde, not as muscular as the rest but with a sculpted body nonetheless. A hand swept over the golden spikes of his hair before coming back to rest low on his belt, tugging it down slightly to entice a few more screams. My eyes were fixated on the sizable girth visible even though his pants were baggy. I didn’t realize that my mouth had fallen open at the sight of him until I gasped aloud. I could tell his eyes locked on mine even through the tan lenses of his Aviators. He grinned in my direction, easing the arms of his sunglasses so they slid down the bridge of his nose. His chocolate eyes sparkled with interest as one eye winked at me. I nearly melted into my seat as he stood back up straight in formation. The DJ in the corner lit up the lights around his booth and a heavy, sexy beat blasted out the speakers. All five men made their way to the stage, each step with a confident swagger that made the tipsy women sitting around swoon. The announcer stepped in front of each man as they made their way to the front platform. “Ladies, let’s welcome to our stage Richard,” the tattooed man with the rippling muscles, “Christopher,” the thinner flirty one, “Erick,” the one that had ice eyes more hypnotic than his gyrations, “Joel,” the one with the dark eyes and curls “and Zabdiel,” the blonde, the one that I could not tear my eyes away from. He clapped them on the shoulders in turn. “Now, gentlemen, let’s give these ladies a good time.” At this, they all ripped their jackets off their torsos together and tore their pants away in sync. Left in only tight black briefs, their sculpted muscles were shining with body oil in the stage lights and on display for us. They danced in time with each other, rolling their abs and hips in the direction of the crowd. The bridesmaids of each bachelorette party screamed and waved their cash over their brides’ veil headbands to attract one of the dancers. The dancers already had their targets locked though, gyrating as they approached. Christopher strode over to me, his duck lips up in a confident smirk. He grabbed the “Birthday Babe” beads around my neck and pulled me close as he straddled me and ground his hips into my lap. He gripped my wrists and pulled my hands to his shoulders, letting them drop down his pectorals and his abs. Too surprised by their early arrival to have pulled out my money, he quickly saw this wasn’t going anywhere and went to move to a more lucrative spot. Kayla leaned over, sliding a few singles down the back of his briefs and slapped his ass. “No, keep going with her,” she encouraged. He turned around in my lap and started shaking his ass against me, the taut muscles of his back rolling with every movement. Sarah reached over Kayla’s shoulder to hand me another drink that I tipped back quickly. Charace stuffed a few dollars in my other hand and led it to the front elastic of his briefs. He aided my wrist in slipping the money down, letting me give his long member a slow stroke before moving on to the bachelorette two rows ahead of us. With no one in front of my group of friends, our gazes fell on whichever dancer we found most attractive. Sarah and Kayla were freaking out over Richard’s movements, but my eyes fell on Zabdiel. He was straddling a young bachelorette near the stage, his eyes scanning the crowd, seemingly not interested that five of the twenty-five girls in her group that were stuffing singles around the band of his underwear. His gaze found mine and he winked again, nodding his angled jaw in my direction. I shivered. Zabdiel’s body was just perfection. He wasn’t overly muscular like Richard, whose muscles were almost overpowering. He was more like a statue of the perfect male body- toweringly tall, firm biceps, a chiseled chest, and a perfect pack of abdominal muscles. The oil covering his tan skin made each rippling muscle shine in the spotlights. My stare trailed down to the tantalizing v-cut of his hips, gyrating against this woman’s waist at a hypnotizing pace. I wanted nothing but to switch places with her and remove any hindrance of clothing between us. He was the epitome of sexy. Kayla went to hand me a cocktail napkin, but my lack of focus forced her to wave it in front of my eyes before I responded. “What?” Kayla giggled. “Figured you would need it. You’re about to drool over that one in a minute.” I nudged her playfully. “Shut the fuck up.” “Alright ladies,” the announcer began. “Let’s get the hot seats going.” My smile widened. I knew what I was expecting. Since it was my birthday, the girls had talked me into purchasing a hot seat ticket. It promised me the opportunity to be on stage with all the strippers and be incorporated in one of their routines. I was aching for the action. The boys eventually all made their way to the side stage door and disappeared while the announcer set up two chairs onstage. “First, let’s have two of our birthday girls up here. Come on up, ladies.” He leaned over and pointed to me and another girl in the crowd, reading our names off a card from the DJ booth. A raven-haired girl with a glittering “It’s My Birthday” sash draped over her impressive chest stood and walked up to the stage with me. She sat nearest the stage door and I took the seat that leaned against the DJ booth. “Alright, birthday babes,” he continued. “Now let’s call your friends up here. The DJ is gonna start the song and they’re going to have thirty seconds to stuff you with dollar bills for our boys when they come back out. The only catch for them is that if they want to dance for your dollars, they have to remove every single bill- with. their. mouth.” At the emphasis, the crowd screamed and clapped their approval. Kayla, Charace, and Sarah raced up to me and took advantage of every crevice. “Let’s hope you get the blonde one,” Sarah laughed as she stuck a couple bills at the apex of my thighs by the fly of my jeans. I went to protest but Charace stuffed a second bill in my mouth. Kayla flashed me a devilish grin. “Now aren’t you glad that I talked you into wearing the hooch outfit?” She lifted part of the strap covering my chest and slipped the corner of a dollar out from under my bra, right beside my nipple. The anticipation of Zabdiel removing that with his mouth made my breathing quicken. “Five more seconds, girls,” the announcer called. Sarah laid a bill against the pulse point of my neck by my shoulder and helped the other two stuff a few more down my top. “Alright, time is up. Now let’s get your men out here. Come on out, Erick and Joel.” The lights went out completely and the DJ began blasting a sultry baseline. Joel directed his attention to the girl on the opposite side of the stage and Erick came towards me, straddling my waist and pistoning his hips. And yeah, it was fun to have him turn tricks with me. Particularly funny when he lifted my seat up off the ground to make his face parallel to my hips and jiggled me so the dollar bills fell from my chest to the floor below. I couldn’t help but be disappointed that my blonde wasn’t the one that was giving me special attention. My eyes rolled back in my head at the pleasurable thought. Erick smirked, assuming my involuntary moan was meant for him. “Gracias, sexy,” he chuckled through his thick accent as he set my chair down and retrieved one final dollar from between my legs. His light eyes smiled as he kissed my knuckles and walked down the aisle with me back to my seat. It was only then that I saw Zabdiel standing near the back bar, his eyes fixated on me as I moved. His amber stare traced my sashaying hips when I made my way back to my chair. I shook my head to rid myself of the thought. I had to be imagining this, though. He was getting paid to make me feel attracted to him. My mind was playing tricks on me to make me think that he was looking longer at me than the other girls. I felt his presence still behind me as Kayla handed me another drink. “That was so fucking hot. He is a fucking God.” “Wait ‘til you see what I do to her,” a voice murmured lowly behind us. Shudders shot up my spine when I turned and saw Zabdiel’s head over my shoulder.  He winked at me again. “Hey, beautiful. What’s your name?” I inhaled deeply to steady myself but all I got was a strong scent of his intoxicating cologne and I went weak, barely able to whisper it. I hadn’t even noticed that Richard had already started and finished a sexy fireman routine with two of the bachelorettes while my attention was elsewhere. He gave me a genuine smile back. “Perfect name for someone as gorgeous as you. Is today your actual birthday?” I nodded shakily. “Yeah.” He ran his index finger over the decals on my crown. “It’s My Birthday,” he read aloud. He then came over from behind me and straddled me. “I hope you enjoy it then,” he whispered hotly against the shell of my ear. The deep bass line of “Take You Down” by Chris Brown was now reverberating through the speakers, and following the sensual speed he began to dance against me. With the others I had been focused at looking at the abdominal muscles already in my line of vision. And yes, the rolling muscles of his stomach entranced me for a moment, and all I wanted to do was lick a rivulet of oil as it trickled down his abs. But then I looked up and was captivated by those eyes. His tongue ran over his bottom lip in concentration. Just seeing it almost gave me the sensation of it running over mine. He ground his hips into mine in slow circles and I could feel his thickness right between my thighs. He grabbed my wrists and placed one over his chest, the other behind his neck to pull him closer. I gasped at the feeling of his perfect body rolling into mine and could only imagine how it would feel if there were no layers of fabric between us. “You’re so gorgeous,” he whispered into my ear again, and I moaned more due to his words than his movements. This man was seducing me- mind, body, and soul. And of course, I was powerless. The drink had already taken away a lot of my control and what little remained I had willingly signed over to him. I tried to regain my breathing while still staring in his eyes, but couldn’t gasp to try. I couldn’t focus this kind of attention to him when I was sure he gave the same compliments to a girl the night before. The just-for-fun mentality had left me as my heartbeat increased. I didn’t know if it was the liquor in my brain or the butterflies in my stomach that made me silly looking at him. He was the antithesis of every man I had ever been attracted to and yet he was absolutely perfect. Not breaking eye contact once, he shifted the spiking of his hips and made me groan at the friction. He was smooth, slow, calculating, and erotic as he moved against me. My hands fell from his chest and neck and explored every contour of his back and side as he danced. It might have been the alcohol that sparked it, but a full-on inferno of desire was raging in the pit of my stomach. He crouched down so our eyes were level, never stopping the slow motions of his pelvis into mine, thrusting like he would if he were making love to me. Enraptured by his eyes, my drunken stupor pulled me closer to him like I would to kiss a lover. He flashed a cheesy grin, kissed the corner of my cheek right against my mouth, and slipped off of my lap to return to the stage. And we had both been so engaged in the dance that neither realized he’d failed to take even one dollar from me. Christopher, passing by, saw the corner of a single still poking out from my top that hadn’t fallen earlier. While my eyes were still on Zabdiel, his mouth latched onto my skin and he wiggled the dollar free with his tongue, rolling it against my nipple in the process. With Zabdiel still on my mind and feeling that stimulation, a jolt of sensation shot through me from my core to my toes. Christopher clasped Zabdiel’s hand in a low-five as they went back to the stage door again to prepare for their next act. “Alright, alright,” the announcer said, tilting his head back and showing his Colgate smile to the crowd. “Now I think it’s high time that we get our lovely hot seat ladies back up here. We’re going to have a little contest for a delicious prize.” Three bachelorettes, the other birthday girl, and I all stood on stage in front of the waiting crowd. “So here’s what’s gonna happen,” he went on. “How many of you gorgeous ladies have had a man that can’t satisfy you and you’ve had to fake an orgasm?” I blushed furiously. Sure, I was an extroverted person, but I wasn’t going to volunteer every detail of my sexual escapades in front of all these people I didn’t know. My best friends knew about my past relationships and trysts, but to talk about it in front of all these strangers was something I just couldn’t do, despite how much I had to drink already. The skinny blonde bachelorette beside me, so intoxicated she could barely stand up, raised her hand high. “All the time! My fiance sucks in bed! Why am I getting married?” Everyone laughed good-naturedly, but the stomp of her foot showed me how serious she was. “Well,” the announcer bellowed over the giggles and hollers of ascent, “Tonight we need to see you showcase your skills. We are going to have these five babes show you their best fake orgasm. The winner is going to get a fantastic prize. Are you ready?” I paled. Was he fucking serious? I was definitely not drunk enough for this shit. The first bride-to-be, a short African American woman in a short white dress and a headband with penis-shaped antlers, stepped into the seat. The DJ kept “Bonafied Lovin’” by Chromeo low on the speakers as the announcer handed her the microphone. She raised her legs, shook like she was in the middle of a seizure, and shrieked like a banshee. It was obvious that she was trying to make a joke out of it to not produce the real thing. The announcer egged her on for thirty full seconds of that agony before her troop of thirty friends applauded her ending. I laughed but blushed nervously. She took one of the good jokes, and I needed to prepare myself about what I was going to do, how I was going to perform. I watched two strippers pop out from the side door and watch the girls on stage. Zabdiel had his arms crossed over his bare chest and gave a cocky smile to Richard, whispering a comment in his ear that earned a hearty chuckle from both. The girls were clucking amongst themselves, but I stayed where I stood, not able to take my eyes off of him. The raven-haired birthday girl took some coaxing to get center-stage. “You ready, sweetheart?” the announcer drawled in his smoothest tone. She shook her head nervously. “I’m just sitting here quiet. I’m saving for marriage so I have no practice in faking it.” The DJ laughed, turning his tables to switch the song to Madonna’s “Like a Virgin”. Zabdiel hooted and Richard clapped in earnest, which drew Christopher out from the back room to see what he missed. Some girls sighed in pity but others screamed encouragement. She giggled as she took the mic and narrated in a complete monotone, “Oh, baby. Yes. Yes. That’s it. Oh, yes. I’m gonna cum. Oh, fuck. Yes.” A friend from her section of the room stood up and mimicked the old woman from When Harry Met Sally. “I’ll have what she’s having.” Contestant number three, the rather large Latina woman, laid back in the chair and moaned softly for only about ten seconds. She stopped short and shouted, “Pendejo! That’s it? You gonna get off and not gimme none? Puto, you best put your mouth in work or some shit! You can’t handle this pussy.” She stood up and shook her ass in front of her row of a dozen friends. “I don’t fake that shit. He own it or he don’t!” The blonde bachelorette stumbled over to the chair and just giggled into the microphone. “I’m too drunk to have an orgasm. What is this?” The announcer clasped her shoulder. “Uh oh, I think she needs some assistance to get this going. How about we bring Richard out here?” Richard came out of the back room through a thick blanket from a fog machine and appeared on stage in the complete outfit of Channing Tatum from his solo dance in the film Magic Mike: a white wifebeater, a red snapback cap, gray sweatpants, and white Jordan shoes. The DJ turned up “Pony” by Ginuwine and Richard began doing the whole routine from the scene in the movie in front of her. Her gaze was so glassy that she was just looking right through him, uninterested as he started grinding into her. Rolling his eyes, he picked her up out of her chair and set her down amongst her friends. He danced his way out of the aisle and to the back door again. And then there was me. The announcer guided me to center-stage, and I was thankful that I couldn’t see the massive crowd of girls through the spotlights. The only thing I could see clearly were those stunning brown eyes from the dark corner of the room. “You ready to go, honey?” He went to grab my shoulder but his hand fell to my bra and he gave it an ‘accidental’ squeeze. “Damn, baby, are those real? They’re amazing.” My eyes linked again with Zabdiel’s and I smiled slyly. “Of course they are.” I wasn’t going to confess that my push-up bra probably added two cup sizes. Zabdiel leered at them hungrily. “Take the microphone and show us what you can do,” he murmured sweetly before moving to hand it to me. I shook my head. “I’m not doing this on my own. If she got some help, I say I should get a dance too.” The announcer shook his head in amusement and took the microphone back. “Richard? It seems like he’s still busy with Contestant number four. Why don’t we have Zabdiel dance with you?” “Con placer.” Zabdiel stepped forward, smirking at me with a devilish lust. I was lightheaded already from the alcohol, but got dizzier as he approached. Sitting in the stage seat, I was eye-level with his navel and watched his glistening skin. He got down on all fours, thrust his hips against the stage, rolling his body up over my legs, crawling towards me. I gulped, our stares fixated on each other as his hands skated over my thighs. He slithered up against my legs, kneeling in front of me and gripping onto my knees. Without warning, he spread my legs apart as far as he could, gripping my boots and wrapping my legs around his waist. I could hear the girls shouting encouragement to me, but in that moment no one else existed on earth, let alone in that room, but me and him. His face hit the top of my thighs and he moved his open mouth down, as if to envelop my sex if I weren’t wearing jeans. I had no hesitation of moaning aloud now, gripping the microphone tight in my fist. He grabbed the bottom and back of my chair, lifting my seat up in the air but tight against him. The crotch of my jeans ground against his with my legs tight around his hips. He wound his waist in seductive circles and gyrated his body against mine. He leaned his head against my shoulder and breathed against the goosebumps that were raised on my neck, “You’re so fucking beautiful. Scream like I were really making you cum. Imagine me making you cum, babe.” I bit my lip and I shut my eyes. I imagined us in my room, trying to pull his body impossibly closer. With each gyration against my jeans, I was picturing his thickness slamming into my tight sex, driving me further into oblivion. My groans crescendoed into screams when the friction of the fabric rubbed against my clit, sending electricity sparking through me and curling my toes in ecstasy. I could imagine gripping my fingers tightly through his blonde hair, riding his mouth, riding his dick, working us both further and further to the edge. My body arched against him when I came back from my fantasy, returning to the reality of the showroom with only us. The vision in front of me was gone but the pleasure hadn’t dissipated. It grew stronger and stronger, only for me to tremble against him. He set my chair back down and pulled me to stand only to turn me around and bend me over the seat in front of us. He worked his hips against my ass now, gathering my hair into a makeshift ponytail in his hand to yank back. He lightly spanked me and thrust his thickness against me. I was so wet from his attentions that I was sure he could probably feel it through the material. I thought I felt him harden in response, but chided myself for my overactive drunken imagination. “Wow, what an actress,” chuckled the announcer as he took back the microphone. “But I think that Zabdiel wants to coax out a real one, don’t you think?” Zabdiel leaned over the mic and winked at me once more. “You have no idea.” He walked back to the dark corner with the rest of the guys and left us up there for judging. Voting with their screams of approval, the crowd gave first prize to the screaming banshee, considering her party of over thirty girls trumped only Sarah, Kayla, and Charace hollering for me. To my surprise, with their support I also heard a deep male voice from the corner shout for me. “Go, baby! Woo!” The spotlights were strong but I could still see those alluring eyes glittering at me. “Congratulations to Contestant number one,” the announcer revealed. “Now as your prize, pick the man of your choice to give you a private dance in the back booth behind that velvet curtain.” He wrapped his arm around her while she looked at the nearly naked men, now all standing in the gaze of a spotlight. “They say that booth is like Vegas. What happens in there stays in there.” She looked them over and smiled to herself. “Richard,” she decided, walking up to him, grabbing him by the elastic of his briefs, and leading him past the curtain. I let out the breath I wasn’t aware I’d been holding. I didn’t want her to pick Zabdiel- I wanted more with him myself. It was childish and ridiculous, as he would have loved dancing for any woman that slipped money into his pants- that was his job. Our eyes met again and I knew I just didn’t want to give up the high that I was getting from this electricity. “Thank you for a wonderful night, girls. We hope you enjoyed the show,” the announcer declared. The boys in the corner blew kisses at the departing crowd. “Now, remember, it’s still early, ladies. So if you’d like to stay, the club is having an after-party.” I looked to my friends who all nodded. We weren’t calling it an early night on my birthday. A few of my friends who couldn’t make it in time for the show had made it to the club and already had drinks ready for me at the upstairs club level. My friend Nadia had just gotten off of work and changed before coming to the club with our friend Tasnia, and both were ready and waiting for me with a pitcher of Stoli Peach Vodka and pineapple juice and three straws for me to share with them “You fucking missed it!” Kayla screamed. “She was on stage with this gorgeous guy-” Nadia interrupted her. “They’re strippers. They’re all gorgeous guys.” Kayla took the shot that was waiting for her on the bar countertop but shook her head adamantly. “No, this guy was some sort of Greek God come to earth. Plus, he was eye-fucking the shit out of her the entire night.” Tasnia shrugged. “They’re strippers. They’re supposed to look like they’re eye-fucking you.” Sarah, inconspicuously hovering over my shoulder to sip from the pitcher’s straw,  piped up, “No, this was over the top. I should get the DJ to play ‘Birthday Sex’ to get the party going. Go find him downstairs.” Kayla interrupted. “Just get this birthday bitch drunk.” She shoved another pitcher at me with four straws and told me to sip. I had no idea what was in it but it was so strong that I knew I would be done in minutes. I was already the life of the party, but with some booze in my system and around my group of even wilder friends, I was dancing on the stage like I was working for tips. I sobered up enough as the night wound down, but I certainly had an eventful night. “No no no,” Kayla admonished. “It’s your birthday. You’re not allowed to sober up.” She dragged me over to the bar and ordered me another mixed drink. I don’t know how much more intoxicated she expected me to be without falling on the floor. A man standing next to me waved his arm past my vision to get the bartender’s attention. “The drink for the birthday girl- it’s on me.” I went to reject the offer, only to see that it was Zabdiel. He had washed off all traces of the slick body oil and was dressed in dark jeans and a loose black graphic t-shirt. The corner of his mouth drew up to show his pearly white smile and I would have melted where I stood if his arm hadn’t snaked around my back to hold me steady. “It is,” he muttered close to my ear, “your birthday after all. Nobody is allowed say ‘no’, not even you.” The bartender set the pink cocktail in front of me and Zabdiel began, “Put it on my tab if you-- what is this?” He picked up my drink and studied it, giving it back to the bartender. “Sex on the Beach? I don’t think so. Jose, give her a Blue Witch straight up. She’s got to do it right.” The bartender smiled at him knowingly and began mixing the new ordered concoction. I scoffed. “Something wrong with Sex on the Beach?” His eyes lowered and his voice grew low and sultry. “We’re not close enough to the ocean for that right now, but maybe some other night.” I flushed scarlet and he laughed. “No, it’s just too fruity and weak for a birthday drink. Today is special; you deserve a special drink.” He pulled my waist closer to his. In my haze, I thought that this was somehow more intimate than our earlier actions downstairs. “So now that the show is over, it’s time to drink with all the slutty girls that were drooling over you before?” Kayla joked, leaning over and looking at Richard to engage him in the conversation. Either the music was too loud to hear her or he was too busy still speaking to Christopher to notice. I had only seen then that all the performers from the earlier downstairs show were cleaned up, dressed, and nursing beers in the nearby corner of the bar. Zabdiel laughed it off. “The girls that come to the shows aren’t sluts. They’re like us- adventurous, easygoing, and like to have a good time. Just because you come to a male revue doesn’t mean that you’re sluts. You girls are classy and fun.” Sarah threw her head back and laughed. “You clearly don’t know us well enough yet.” He chuckled as his thumb played with the thin expanse of skin between the edge of my top and the hem of my jeans. “Why?” he questioned. “Do you get wild when you party?” Charace smirked. “You have no idea.” Christopher’s eyebrows peaked in intrigue and he slid closer to her. “Blue Witch straight up,” the bartender announced, handing me a martini glass that looked like dark magic. “What is this?” I asked him. His eyes just sparkled in answer. The bartender, proud of his creation, leaned over to me. “It’s Bacardi Dragonberry Rum, Blue Curacao, Creme de Banana, and lime juice with a rim of black sugar.” Zabdiel saw my hesitation. “It’s not a roofie martini, I promise,” he assured. “I’ll sip out of it first if you don’t believe me.” He leaned over, took a short gulp and licked his lips enticingly. Kayla giggled to herself and whispered on the other side of me, “He wouldn’t need a roofie to take you anyway. You’d spread your legs right now in the middle of the bar for this stud if he asked nice enough.” She wasn’t wrong. “Special drink for a special night out,” he murmured into my other ear, his lips grazing over the side of my cheek as he spoke. The bartender leaned over and motioned for Zabdiel’s attention. “You want one too, or what can I get you?” He shrugged. “Just another beer, Jose, thanks.” In a moment, he had another full bottle in front of him with three empty ones on the bar. In the smoke of the club I couldn’t read the label, but it smelled strong. I sipped off the top of the glass, licking off some of the sugar crystals in my wake. “So what is it, then?” I asked. “You just stand here at the bar all night watching all us girls?” Joel nodded. “Having a few beers and watching some fine girls dance on the floor all night? Sounds good to me.” The DJ shouted into his microphone, “This is dedicated from Sarah to her birthday babe! Happy Birthday, baby girl! Let’s get it!” With a scratch of his records, “Birthday Cake” by Rihanna started playing out of every speaker. Like the innuendo of the song, my thoughts immediately went to Zabdiel on his knees, twisting his tongue expertly around my pussy. I nearly dug my fingernails into his skin with raw desire. I had to have him. Now. I grabbed the collar of Zabdiel’s shirt and pulled him down to my level. “Well, you were dancing all night. Why stop now?” His eyes flickered with anxious amusement. “What?” I wrapped both arms around his neck down, “Dance with me. Like you said, it’s my birthday. Nobody is allowed to say no, not even you.” His smile glowed in the strobe lights as he let me lead him into the middle of the floor to dance. Kayla finally ensnared Christopher and was pulling him to the floor. Joel was gently tugging Sarah by her wrist to follow and Richard had convinced Charace to dance with us. Erick was persuading both Nadia and Tasnia to abandon their drinks and dance with him sandwiched between them. Zabdiel put his hands on my waist when we got to the center of the dance floor. The smog machine above engulfed both of us in a haze and separated us from everyone else. In the pants he was now wearing, I could feel the thickness of him as he wound his waist into me from behind. He still moved with the same finesse and sensuality as before, rolling his shoulders back and his torso around until his hips worked into mine. I curved my body against him, his taut chest against my back, shaking my bottom to the beat. He grunted hungrily in my ear, his mouth hovering over the curve of my shoulder. Our combined heartbeats hit in time with the rhythm of the new song. We could have lost ourselves in the music, the liquor, and the mist on the dance floor for mere minutes or hours. Our bodies fit together perfectly like we were molded to fit the other. Time slowed with our mouths just centimeters away from each other, or maybe we just slowed to an almost stop in our intoxicated daze. My perfume and his cologne melted together in the heated air between us. It was heavenly, but I could barely gasp for air. The lights began flashing and the DJ rang an airhorn alarm. “Alright, guys, that’s our night. You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.” Sarah tapped my shoulder, albeit reluctantly. I was sure she didn’t want to interfere between me and my handsome dance partner. “Come on. I have to drive you home. Where are your keys?” I had to think a while before the rum let me remember what I had done with them. “In my right jacket pocket.” She went to move like I would follow her out to the car. Zabdiel held up a finger for Sarah to wait. “Just a minute? The birthday girl should get one last shot.” Sarah hesitated but nodded in assent and went to grab our checked coats to give me another moment with him. Zabdiel tugged me by the wrist to the bar and talked his bartender friend, who had pretty much already closed up, into pouring the two of us shots. Irish Doctor’s Kiss. A single shot of Dr. McGillicuddy’s Peppermint Schnapps and a chocolate Hershey’s kiss to follow. “It’s like a York Peppermint Patty in a shot to finish off the night right. It will freshen you up to head home,” he offered. The sharp smell of mint shook me slightly from the drunken smog that filled my mind. We raised our shot glasses and clinked them together in salute. “To you, bonita,” he said softly before tipping it back at once. It took me a while to even think about taking the drink because I was so fascinated watching him: his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, the inches of creamy flesh down his throat that I was aching to taste, the small flicker of his tongue over his lower lip to catch a stray drop. I eventually followed suit and felt the liquor slide down my throat and warm me from the inside out. “And now the kiss,” he continued. I went to unwrap the candy on the counter but he stopped my hand. Gasping, I thought this my fantasy coming to life. He really wasn’t going to kiss me right now, was he? He clasped my right cheek firmly in his hand, pressing his lips to the place where the corner of my mouth met my cheek, sending shocks through my skin. He inhaled sharply when he pulled away and I knew that the shock pulsing through my veins were thrumming through his as well. Cutting the tense air between us, he popped the chocolate drop in my agape mouth. His sensual smirk was gone and a genuine smile was plastered across his face, but it was still followed by his signature wink. “There, beautiful,” he breathed across my skin. He caressed my cheek once more and made a move like he was about to plant a full kiss on me but thought better of it and backed up again. “Happy Birthday.”

[pb1138]

The Perfect Moment

A quick warning:  There are depictions of injuries, wounds, bruises. I also make mention to my Inquisitor’s backstory which includes slavery, but it’s not explicit. 

Anyways, a summary for this:  The Inquisitor is back after 2 months away, and Cullen has been considering proposing. Unfortunately for him, Jim fucks it all up. Again. It’s fluff, pure fluff. Fluffier than a bunny’s ass on Easter. 

This piece now has a short little sequel-ette (Cullen’s journal about asking her.) It was sent as an ask to my main tumblr, then I misunderstood what I was writing and ended up writing a piece for this story’s main story (Faded to be Together) that won’t be there for like. A longass time yet. But the actual diary piece won’t be included in the official story at all, I don’t think. So. Here. 

XXX

She’s in the bath. He can hear the gentle sloshing of the water as she adjusts herself, smells the gentility of the fragrances imbued in the soaps throughout the room. He pauses at the foot of the stairs, papers held between atypically gloved hands, and stuffs them back in his pouch. It is rare that they get to spend time alone together without the looming evidence of their positions, just as a man and woman in love. The proposal is always on his mind, a thousand fanciful plans involving romantic dinners, maybe a dance, maybe beside the lake where they’d once shared pieces of themselves, surrounded by her friends or alone, under the stars or upon a hill at dusk. Would it be tonight? He shook his head and smiled to himself. No, not yet.

He was about to address himself, maybe with a clearing of the throat or a soft, “My dear,” but instead thought against it. A gentle surprise, then. She had been away for nearly two months, travelling once again to the Western Approach to investigate rumors of breaches. Two months with nary more than a handful of letters—not that he considered her thoughtless or cruel. Quite the contrary, every letter sent was in fact several pages long, one even as long as 25 pages back to back, every inch filled with her words of love and longing for him, with tales of their adventures. He had hoped they might be allowed to spend more time together before she had been dragged into a meeting with Leliana, but as it was she was only allowed enough time to fling her arms around him and kiss him fervently—in front of his men, which had caused an uproarious chorus of “aww”s and whistling. He couldn’t be mad, though, as he’d kissed her back with just as much passion and fervor, held her so tightly he worried her tiny Elven body might actually snap in half in his arms.

But here they were. Finally alone, and finally at peace. He walked up the stairs to her quarters—their quarters, a change he’d once worried might have caused a stir in the ranks but which only seemed natural to everyone around them. A fire crackled in the fireplace, it’s gentle glow casting across the room, giving it a warmth that had been as absent as she. Her staff stood proudly against the wall behind the desk, her traveling cloak folded neatly over the back of the chair, boots sat lovingly against the wall. He smiled to himself, their battles over his excessive tidiness returning to his mind, this small gesture of cleanliness all the reassurance he needed that he was on her mind.

The tub sat near the flames, steam rising lazily off of it, her curled chestnut hair sitting over the side several inches longer than he remembered, a pointed ear decorated with nearly a dozen rings poking out amongst the spirals, one arm draped over the side of the tub closest to the fire. He set his things down on the couch near the staircase and crossed the room to her, steps muffled by the large rug. What was he going to do once he got there? Would he join her? Pull her from the water and ravish her? Sit beside her and listen to her lilting voice as she told him about her time away? He smiled to himself. Anything would suffice, so long as it was with her.

As he drew nearer the tub, he paused, the smile sliding off his face. When she’d come to see him earlier, she’d been fully dressed, all evidence of those two months hidden from him. He could see them now, however. She sat in the tub, her head against her shoulder, eyes  shut. Her face had been unchanged, that much he knew. Still scarred from her difficult life, vallaslin dancing across her cheeks like tree branches, lips still full. The only new thing had been a scar down a cheekbone, something he’d seen as they were parting ways that day, and that one small injury had been enough to boil his blood. But this?

She was thinner. That was to be expected, as nutritious food is difficult to find that far west. He’d anticipated it, had been prepared for it, and he’d felt it in their embrace. But the scars, the bruises. She’d had some from before—from her time in the Denerim alienage climbing the tree and getting into alleyway scraps, more than a handful from her brief time held as a slave by a Hightown nobleman, some from her time in the Kirkwall Gallows (one which he ruefully remembered turning a blind eye to as Knight Captain,) some from her time with Marethari’s clan then finally with Clan Lavellan. She’d told him stories of most of her more dramatic scars one night, as they lay together in bed, his chin resting on her bare stomach, his arms around her waist. She’d gathered a few more within her time as Inquisitor, as is obviously expected, but now posted along her skin like canon-wounds on a battle field stood shockingly dark bruises, some on the verge of healing. There were several stitched cuts along her leg, a barely-healed gash along her arm, frighteningly dark bruises along her ribs.

Tears prickled in his eyes as he took in the sight of her, this woman who had so easily captured his heart. Part of him panged with guilt as he recalled how tightly he’d held her earlier, though she had given no protestation.

He must have released a heavy breath because her ear twitched, and she bolted upright, covering herself, the Fade around them tensing with unbidden magic. She relaxed as quickly as she reacted, her expression softening as she realized who it was. She smiled brightly in such a way that caused his heart to ache, and she put her hand on the side of the tub. “Cullen.” His name comes from her lips like it has a thousand times before—welcoming, breezy, filled with warmth and familiarity. There must be something in his expression, because worry fills hers, and she rises from the tub with ease, an arm lazily across her chest in an attempt at needless modesty. She is reaching for a towel sat upon a chair near the fire, but before she can grab it, his arms are around her. One hand is pressing her head into his shoulder, his face buried in her hair, not caring that his tunic is getting wet. She squeaks with surprise but is quick to relax into his surprisingly gentle embrace. A soft laugh is evident in her voice. “I missed you, too,” she whispers.

He wanted to hold her tight, to crush her into him, but the fear of hurting her was too much. Instead, he pulled back, a hand going to gingerly cup her cheek, urging her to look up at him. He looked into her eyes, the same eyes he’d stared into for hours on hand, so gently warm and sweet like honey. They looked back at him with such emotion, such love. He looked down at her naked body, and another pang of guilt flashed across him. He bit the inside of his lip before looking back into her face. “You are injured.”

Realization hit her after a moment, and she rolled her eyes, a breathtaking grin stretching across her face. She waved her hand, stepping out of his arms to grab her towel and wrap it around her body. “It’s nothing. It looks much worse than it really is.”

Cullen frowned, watching her as she crossed the room to her dresser and begin rooting around for clothes. He couldn’t help but notice the small splotch of blood upon his shirt where her stitches had touched him. “How can you…” He sighed, shaking his head. He crossed over to her and dug in his own drawer before producing a tunic for her, one of her favorites owing to its large size. She watched him struggle for words as she slipped into it, sliding a pair of smallclothes up her legs after a moment. Finally, he sighed and took her hands in his, dragging her to the bed where he sat down. She stood before him a moment, eyes catching the light, setting them strangely aglow as she observed him. Cullen is a learned man, educated in many things, but verbosity is not his strong suit, a fact she was acutely aware of. She had learned quite early on to be patient with him, to allow him time to formulate his thoughts. Finally, after a long moment, he just hung his head, pressing his lips to the backs of her hands. “It worries me when you are so far away from me. You must promise me to endeavor to be more careful. I don’t know what I would do if…”

She shushed him, her hands moving to cup his cheeks, his own hands gently cupping her wrists. “Cullen, you mustn’t think like that.” She moved so she was straddling his hips, her weight and warmth surprising given her small stature. “I’m not going anywhere.” Another brilliant smile flashed in front of his eyes as she brushed a curl from his face. “You’d be positively lost without me.”

He snorted, arms moving to slip gently around her waist. “Who said anything about me? I’m only thinking of the good of Thedas.”

She laughed then, a surprisingly deep-bellied laugh given the weakness of his joke, but the sound was music to his ears even still. It filled the large room and washed across his body as comfortingly as the sound of the waves against the docks at Lake Calenhad. As the laughter settled in her, she ran a hand through his hair, her head tilted as she appreciated him, the smile softened on her features. After a long moment, she leaned down into him, her forehead pressed against his, eyes drifting shut as they shared their breath, their warmth. Painfully slowly, their lips finally found each other, the kiss sensual and unhurried despite the two months of anticipation.

This could be the perfect moment, he thought to himself. The ring was sitting in his drawer in the desk, hidden in the bottom between some old training reports. What words would he choose? “Marry me” seemed too rushed, too impetuous. Could he give a speech? Would she allow him the time to get the speech out? Would she even say yes? His inclination was to think that yes, she would. She’d given him no reason to doubt that her feelings for him were genuine, but perhaps…? No. That’s stupid. The woman in his arms is many things, but cruel is not one of them. She would never toy with anyone in such a manner, no matter what they may have done to her in the past.

A pang of guilt shot across him again as he thought back to those days. Part of him still couldn’t believe he’d been too hopped up on lyrium to truly notice her, to remember her again all these years later. True, she’d not had vallaslin in those days, and her hair had been kept different and dyed to black. But her laugh. It was a sound he was sure could pull him from the brink of death.

Bitterly he realized that nobody laughed in those days. Not in the Gallows. Not like that.

“Cullen?” His name was a whisper on her lips, the warmth of her hand pressed into his cheek again.

“Mm?” He blinked, suddenly back in the moment, back in their quarters, in their bed. Her expression was one of concern as she brushed her thumb across his skin, but he smiled gently at her, shaking his head. “I was just wandering.”

She scoffed, leaning back on his knees, arms folding across her chest. “Oh, I see how it is. Well in that case, I’ll—” she made a move to get off him, but shrieked as he suddenly lifted her up and tossed her back onto the bed. “Cease! Fiend! I require assistance!” she called lightheartedly, laughter rolling off of her as she playfully tried to scramble away from him.

He was laughing, too. He’d almost forgotten the feeling, the way his gut hardened and ached with the exertion. When she was gone, laughter like this was rare for him, though their friends did their best. The Iron Bull in particular was quite good at almost getting him to lose himself like this (no, not like this, per se, but like the weight of the world was no longer an issue,) though nothing compared to the way she eased him out of his shell.

Their laughter died down after Cullen crawled over her, the two of them panting softly, smiling gently at one another. She was a vision, her curls splayed about her head in a sort of halo, the darkness of it complimenting the tanness of her skin in such a way that she almost looked as though a wooden carving, flawless and beautiful, the scars upon her face no more than the passage of time. Her glowing  eyes looked up at him through thick lashes, a hand moving to slip beneath his tunic and caress the hair on his chest, her touch like electricity upon his skin.

No. This is the perfect moment. He smiled down at her then leaned down to catch her in a kiss, this one much deeper than the one before. It was an attempt to wordlessly convey the absolutely ineffable depth of his love for her, even though he knew such a feat could never be possible. Part of him hopes she understood that. The hand in his shirt grew more insistent, moving to urge him to push the shirt off, their breath quickening. Perhaps the moment can wait. He barely leaned up to pull the tunic off, the only time their lips parted was to allow the offending material to be ripped from his head where it was cast aside.

And a yelp from across the room drew their attention.

The heaviness of the fade was back, the electricity in the room at her command as the two of them turned to the intruder.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Cullen was filled with rage so strong he was surprised he didn’t burst into flame himself. “Jim. Get. Out.”

The squire stood there, gaping, stammering to find words, Cullen’s tunic in his hands, eyes flickering from the Inquisitor to Cullen to the ceiling to the floor.

Cullen threw himself off of the bed and rounded on Jim so fast the poor man barely had time to register the impending danger. He yelped again, throwing Cullen’s tunic to the floor as he turned tail and threw himself down the stairs, shouting apologies over his shoulder. Cullen slammed and barred the door behind him, fists clenched against the wood, breath ragged as he struggled to calm himself back down.

And then he heard her laughter, coming in bursting, erratic shrieks and gasps. Incredulously, Cullen poked his head up over the bannister as he made his way back into the room. “I fail to see what is so…”

She was practically rolling, doubled over, clutching her stomach as she fought to breathe. Tears were rolling down her cheeks with the force of her laughter, and upon seeing his shocked expression she shrieked again and laughed even harder, cheeks darkening with the effort.

Cullen stood there a moment longer before he, too, began laughing. He walked over to the edge of the bed and plopped down so their heads were at the same level. They laid like that for a long time, just waiting until the other settled down. At some point, they joined hands, and she pulled his into her chest, eyes drifting shut as she smiled. It didn’t take her long until she had fallen asleep, her breath becoming gentle and even. Cullen lay with her for a while, basking in her presence, a soft smile upon his face. After an hour or so had passed, he slipped out of her hold and crossed over to the desk. As quietly as he could, he dipped his hand into his drawer and pulled the ring out. Turning it about in his hands, he took in the delicate pearl that sat neatly upon the silver band, the softness of the jewel reminiscent of the warmth of her eyes. He looked over to her sleeping form, now stretched out, an arm to her side as though searching for him. He smiled to himself and leaned back in the chair, tucking the ring back into the desk.

There will be no perfect moment. Every moment with her is already as amazing as it could be. I’ll know when it’s time.

[mellicose]

Mercier, lipstick, smut ! x

I’ve gotten a lot of Mercier requests, but I’m trepidatious to comply because of the mere existence of @lostinfic - her lovely, poetic, tender depictions of him are like canon to me. 

But, you requested, annony, and it’s about time I deliver. You asked for smut. This is very smutty. I hope it does your perception of Jean-Francois justice - 💖

He brushed the immaculate dark wool of his officer’s coat carefully.

She saw him over her shoulder, in the vanity mirror, as they prepared for the party. She put down her lip brush and watched him run a slim finger through the tassels of his epaulet with childish pleasure, although it didn’t fully register in his expression. But she knew. He didn’t do it for any other reason than the sensation. It made her heart warm.

He adjusted his collar and stood a bit straighter and stared at himself in full-length mirror by the window. His full lower lip poked out a bit. The man he saw now was not the man he felt like in his head. This man was a bit thinner, and a bit older than he imagined. It was a self-conscious thought, and one he wouldn’t ordinarily countenance, but time was a teacher. And much had changed.

His eyes focused on her reflection, but it took a second or two to realize she stared at him just as intently as he did at her.

“Chèrie,” he said softly, but his heart jumped. How long had she been looking? Could he assume that she couldn’t read his expressions yet? Women were far more clever than they let on. When he was younger and first married, he thought it maddening. But now, he knew that it was mostly for protection. He respected how even the most humble of women could hide herself far better behind the mask of her own face than a well-trained spy. 

“Jean,” she said. Her hair was out of the curlers but still in tight coils, as yet uncombed. Her black slip only accentuated the gleam of her shoulders. “You look so handsome,” she said. She walked up and hugged him from the back, wrapping her arms tight around his slim waist. Her forehead pressed between his shoulder blades.

“Viens ici,” he said, and pulled her to face him. Come here. He took her face in his hands. He caressed her powdered skin, and realized the flush on her cheeks was not artificial. Her warmth was deliciously suggestive. “I realize this is the first time you’ve seen me in full regalia. Do you like it?”

“Un peu.”  A little, she said, and shrugged playfully. “Qu’en penses-tu?” She wrapped her leg around his and pressed herself against him. He felt her heat even through the thick wool of his pants.

“What do I think? Your French is getting better,” he said. His hands moved to her neck. She sighed.

“I have an exceptional teacher,” she said. She fiddled with the uniform buckle at his waist and started to move rhythmically against him.

“This wool is so scratchy and stiff,” he said. “What do you get out of this?” he said, but his hands dropped to her waist and below, to grab her ass.

“It’s supposed to be, no? It’s like armor, after a fashion,” she said. She touched the medals on his chest. “You’ll have to tell me the stories behind these some day.”

He shook his head no. “They are not pleasant. And I think you’ve had far more than your share of cruel and ugly,” he said. After all she’d suffered, she didn’t like anyone telling her what to want and not want - especially a man. But Jean was different. He wasn’t just a man. He was more to her.

He squeezed, then pulled up her slip. He gasped, and she smiled when he realized she wore no underwear. She moved away, not wanting to stain the wool. He growled and moved his leg between hers, suddenly ravenous. He raked his fingers through her tight curls, making them riotous. He pressed her against the door and sucked on the firm skin of her neck, avoiding her scarlet painted mouth.

“Mon sauvage, I’ll ruin it,” she said, but she barely had any breath left. His hard cock pressed painfully against her hip.

“Je me’en fou,” he said, pressing harder. I don’t give a damn. The uniform buckle bit into her belly, and the medals poked at the tender skin of her breasts. He licked up her neck and grazed her earlobe with his teeth. “I love it when you call me that.”

“Are you anything less in my arms?” she said, and rubbed him over his pants.

“I can’t help it,” he said. His knee banged hollowly on the door as he lifted her higher to suck on her breasts through the silk of her slip. He tasted the bittersweetness of her perfume on the cloth, but almost immediately, her nipples hardened. He licked the hard nubs, then bit, knowing the cloth would lessen the bruise.

“Puta madre,” she hissed through her teeth in her native Spanish. Fucking hell. Only he could make her curse like that. He slid his hand between her legs and buried two fingers in her and pressed into the part of her that would made it pour on his pretty uniform. He lifted his eyes to look at her, and his lustful belligerence made her shiver.

“Careful,” she said, but she didn’t have the will to stop moving her hips to the rhythm of fingers. Her fingers dug into his back.

“Non,” he said simply, and slid another finger inside her. She cried out and curled into him. Her hand went underneath the front of his jacket and tried to unbutton his fly, but the tightness caused by his stiff cock made it difficult.

“It’ll stain,” she panted, and wished she had the strength to tear off the buttons. And it would stain, in a way that he would not be able to explain away to the laundry woman. She would know what was his, and what was hers, and which stain was them both, mixed together. It was the same scent and color on the steady supply of sheets in their twice weekly laundry packet. Her ruined underwear. His ruined shirts.

She made them all like new. But she knew, and unknown to them, it made her wistful for a time when such urgent passion ruled her as well.

“Fuck the party,” he said, and licked her lips. He tasted violets and wax, but underneath the perfume was her. He slid his tongue in her mouth. Her teeth were dry and cool from panting. “I will have you.”

She yipped when she succeeded in unbuttoning his waist. The rest of them were much easier, and she squeezed him through his underwear. He groaned.

“Would you have me soak your pants?” she said, stroking him. “Ruin your collar, and rust your medals with my wetness?”

He moaned gutterally and tugged down the spaghetti straps of her slip. “Ouiai,” he said.

He dropped to his knees and put his mouth where his fingers had been. She was tart and slick. His nose pressed into the silky hair on her mound and he took a deep breath of her. It was the best scent on earth - that musk made every cut and gunshot worth it. He found her clit in her throbbing softness and sucked, guided by her grasping fist in his hair.

She could live with that silky, eager tongue between her legs. She would walk around with the dumb smile of sated, sighing from orgasm to orgasm as she ran her errands-

She giggled, and it broke her reverie. Her eyes settled on the clock and she shivered.

“We have to go in 15 minutes, corazon,” she said. His tongue quickened on her swollen clit, but she knew she wasn’t close enough to finish in time. He needed to do his job, and she was resolved to help in every little way she could.

“Come here,” she said, pulling him to standing. His clean-shaven chin glistened with her. He tried to kiss her, but she pressed him to the door and fell to her knees. Precum already soaked his underwear. Tempted, she sucked and licked at the cotton, and felt fresh warmth as he blessed her with more.

He was much, much closer.

She pulled down his pants and he was hard and ready against her cheek.

“Je veux finir en tu coño.” I want to finish inside you he said, using the naughty word for cunt in her language. He too was an extraordinary student.

“No, mi bien. Vas a venir en mi boca sedienta*,” she said, and looked up at him as she took him in her fist and stroked him from base to tip. She wanted to see his expression when he worked out what she said. And it was worth it. His eyes darkened and he put his hands in her hair, pressing the top of her body to the door as his cock slid past her painted lips. He withdrew, but only to see it stained in scarlet wax.

“Shall I wipe it off?” she said, pulling up her slip.

“No,” he said, rubbing the slick, dark head of his cock on her lips. She ran her fingers through his silky pubic hair, releasing his scent. Her mouth watered. “I want to wear it on ma queue, all night.” He wanted to wear her lipstick on his cock.

“Yes,” she said, and put her hands on his hips and pulled him to her. His cock went deep in her mouth and nudged her throat. She trembled, then relaxed, and guided him to thrust into her.

He groaned and obeyed, his eyes rolling closed with the tight, slick heat of her mouth. Her tongue moved on the sensitive underside of it as he pumped slowly into her, and her hands moved from his hips to his ass. He was so deep in her mouth she couldn’t taste him as well as she wanted, but she felt his thick, throbbing flesh in her cunt. She didn’t know whether other women were the same, but her soft palate was a secret erogenous zone. Maybe it had to do with whom she sucked. Maybe not. All she knew is that as he cradled the back of her neck and rolled his hips into her mouth, she felt every inch in her pussy. Every fat, fragrant inch.

Now, she realized she could finish quick, with his cock in her throat and his slim, hairy thighs flexing against her chest. Her mouth flooded with saliva that dripped down her chin and and made his balls slick. She reached around his thigh and tickled him from behind, and they tightened against her chin. She had already sucked off his salt, but her pussy twitched around her surging finger at the thought of him filling her mouth.

She moaned hard into him and urged him on. He threw his head back and thrust into her throat. She reached up with a pussyslick hand to cup his balls. She had been touching herself as she sucked, and the wet heat of her fingers, coupled with the muscular velvet of her tongue, pushed him blissfully into orgasm. He tried to slide out of her mouth but she grabbed him and pressed him close, sucking and groaning as he emptied himself, spurt after spurt, into her hungry mouth.

But she kept going even after his cock gave up its prize. 

She sucked his still-hard shaft noisily, whimpering, with eyes closed as her hand moved eagerly between her legs. He tried to pull her up to finish her off but she dared to slap his hands away and kept going, panting, trembling, pink tongue swirling around the orgasm-sensitive tip of his cock to chase his taste. She was so beautiful with her cheeks mottled pink and her slip a wrinkled sweaty band around her waist. Her breasts bounced hard as she bobbed her head on his cock, and he wished his arms were longer so he could pinch her nipples. He could bend over, but he didn’t want to break her reverie.

Although his toes curled in his uncomfortable dress shoes, he grabbed her shoulders and fed her his cock again, caressing her sweaty curls.

“Take your time, ma chère,” he said. “C’est tout pour toi,” It’s all for you. He knew just what to say to inflame her. She moved one hand to his hip and squeezed, letting her lust saturate every cell in her body. Her cunt tightened around her fingers. She moaned, and he nudged himself into her mouth until her nose was deep in his damp pubic hair. Her soft palate stretched.

Oh, that was good.

But it was the feel of his hip muscles move so gracefully underneath her hand as he fucked her mouth that made her groan and buck her hips. Her head bumped the door as she came, and he withdrew and rubbed his saliva slick cock on her panting lips until her breathing slowed to normal.

She smiled up at him. “You’re still hard,” she said.

“It’ll be a bit before it goes down. You didn’t give me ton trésor,” he said pulling her up and cupping her hot mound. Her slip fell to the floor, and her enticing nudity and the exaggerated rose of her worn-off lipstick did nothing to help him calm down.

“I have to clean up and get ready,” she said, but she spread and pressed his hand harder against her.

“It’s 10 minutes if we want to arrive on time. But must we?” he said as he slid a finger in her still twitching cunt.

“Darling-”

“It’s not something I do often, but there is something to be said for being fashionably late, especially with a gorgeous, sated woman on my arm,” he said. He reached behind and and, due to her copious wetness, another finger slid easily in her ass.

“But I am finished,” she said, a bit dumbly.

“Oh no,” he said, his voice reduced to a growl by her twin heat. “Ma petite, tu en es loin.” You are nowhere near done he said, and withdrew his fingers to throw her on the bed.

*No, my love. You’re going to finish in my thirsty mouth.

[yevonscribbles]

Things I Do for Love

“Ah look ridiculous…” Gideon Grey mumbles to himself. The pudgy red fox holds his arms out while a tailor takes measurements all around his body. He is decked out in a black suit while the tailor takes the final measurements to adjust the suit to fit perfectly to his large frame while his bright red tail flicks to and fro in annoyance. His boyfriend had been invited to the fancy wedding of one of his co workers and the chubby fox was only known for wearing bib overalls and plaid shirts, so he is allowing this annoying update to his wardrobe for his boyfriend’s sake.

“Come on Gid, it’s not that bad.” Another fox says while seated across the room and lazily playing on his phone. Nick Wilde rests his muzzle on his paw, letting out a sigh and giving his boyfriend a once over. A sly grin spreads across the slender foxes face. “Though I do think you’ll look cute in that suit Giddy.”

“Nick, now what did ah say about using dat nickname!?” Gideon asked, heat rushing to his cheeks. He's been dating Nick for a few years but the sly fox always knew how to make him blush. The tailor, a middle aged cream colored rabbit, tries to stifle a laugh as he slips a few pins into one of the jacket sleeves.

“Only in the bedroom,” Nick replied, rolling his eyes lazily, once again fiddling with his phone. He shot Gideon a quick smile while his partners face turned a few shades of red darker. The tailor lets out a snort before retreating behind a nearby counter with a smile across his face. He is used to couples arguing at his shop, but these two have been bickering and teasing each other throughout the entire fitting for the larger fox. They obviously care deeply for each other.

“Thank you sir, you can remove the jacket and I will make the needed adjustments,” the rabbit motioned to a sewing machine and a table across the shop. Gingerly removing the jacket as if it was made from glass the larger fox made his way to the table. “Mr. Wilde it’s your turn for a fitting.”

“Oh I'm not getting a suit; I'm just wearing a dress shirt.” The slender fox gives a weak smile and waves off the rabbit. Nick had planned on dressing up his boyfriend and just wearing a nice button down shirt with one of his signature ties. Officer Fangmeyer had invited all of the precinct to her wedding and encouraged them to bring a plus one. This would be the first time Gideon would get to meet Nick’s co workers and would be a sort of coming out for the fox.

“Like hell!” Gideon barks. “If ah get to be uncomfortable YA get to be uncomfortable with me!” Gideon places his paws on his hips and puffs out his chest. The tailor continued to smile throughout the exchange.

“But… I… Gid… Babe I can’t afford it…” A panic look comes across the slender foxes face. He is completely put off guard. Nick had not planned on buying a suit anytime in his life, they were not exactly cheap and he likes cheap. Sure being an officer of the law pays the bills, but it's really Gideon and his bakeries that keeps the fox with a nice roof over his head and some luxuries in his life.

“Sir could you fit mah partner with ah similar suit to dis one?” Gideon turns to the tailor with a smirk rivaling his partners. Nick’s ears flatten to his head. With a hardy laugh, Gideon takes his boyfriend’s phone. “Ah will be picking up da bill as usual.” Taking the slender fox by the paw, the baker leads his boyfriend to the tailor.

*****

The pair of foxes stand in front of a series of mirrors. The fitting had taken several hours but the duo can't argue with the results. Each fox had been fitted in a simple black suit. They admire themselves and each other. Upon the tailors suggestion, each fox wore a unique tie. Gideon has a baby blue textured tie, while Nick has an emerald green tie with a metallic sheen. With a smile Nick turns to his partner and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks babe. I have to admit, we look damn good.” The taller fox put his arm around his partner and pulled him closer. Gideon put his own arm around the thinner foxes waist. It was a rare thing for Nick to show affection in public and Gideon couldn’t have been happier. Nick suddenly pulled out his phone and held it at a distance facing the foxes. “Say cheese babe!”

With a flash the pair then inspected the selfie and with a satisfied nod Nick saved the photo and began to fiddle with his phone again. Gideon never knew the obsession with phones but his boyfriend had to have the latest and greatest. Rarely was the device out of paws reach. The rabbit tailor came up to the pair with a smile.

“Gentle mammals how does everything look?  Anything else I need to adjust?” He clasps his paws together with a smile.

“Ah think this is everything sir, thank ya so much!” Gideon gives a wide smile. “Let us get changed and we can settle da bill sir.”

“Ha! Carrots loves the photo Giddy!” Nick holds his phone up triumphantly. The tailor lets out a laugh as Gideon grows red again. “She wants to meet for dinner, what do you say babe?”

“Sure. Let’s get out of these suits. Go ahead and get changed ya naughty thing.” Nick heads to the closest changing room when the tailor lets out another laugh.

“How long have you boys been married?” He asks as he cleans up his work station. Gideon begins to twiddle his thumbs, a nervous habit he can't really break.

“Ah well we have been dating a few years, no marriage though…”

“You remind me of my oldest daughter and her wife. Always teasing each other; driving each other nuts. But then they smile and you just feel the love between them. Here. I wanna give you boys something.” The older rabbit gestures for the large fox to come to the table. From under the table the rabbit pulls out two thin black boxes. With a smile, he opens each of the boxes carefully. Each one holds a blue and green striped silk tie. The large fox lays a paw on one of the ties and a warm smile spreads across his muzzle. Gideon could see the pair of foxes holding hands at the altar in their matching ties. “I would like you to take these with you, free of charge.” The rabbit says.

Gideon felt his jaw drop. He may not know too much about formal attire but he could tell these ties were not cheap. “Ya don’t have to do that sir. Besides we may never use em, we don’t get dressed up that often.”

“Well you could always wear them to your wedding,” The tailor explains with a smirk. Gideon’s ears flatten to his head causing the old rabbit to laugh all over again. “The nice thing about a suit is you can use it over and over again, keep these ties so that when you two get married you have something to wear.” Gideon raises a figure to argue but the tailor waves off his protest.

“I was not the best father when my daughter got married, so I want you to take these and if you ever get married stop back and let me see how they look ok?” The tailor gently pushes the boxes to the fox.

“Ah really appreciate it sir…” The large fox says, looking dumbfounded.

“And I appreciate you making this old buck laugh all day. Now you better get changed before your boyfriend leaves you.” The tailor says with a smile.

“Aw shoot yer right, be right back to pay sir.  And thanks again!”

*****

After closing up the shop for the day, the old rabbit tailor sits in his car and looks at his phone. With a heavy sigh, he presses a few buttons and brings the phone to his ear. After a few rings, soft breathing can be heard.

“He...hello?” There was hesitance in the voice. “Dad...is that really you?”

“Hi Debbie, sorry to call you out of the blue but I had something I needed to tell you…” His voice begins to crack. He had been needing to make this calls for years but it took those two foxes in love for the tailor to gather up enough courage.

“Dad you said you could never accept me and wanted nothing to do with me or my wife!” Debbie’s voice begins to heat with anger. “Why are you calling me-”

“I am so sorry for everything I have done!” The old tailor feels tears running down his face. “I was wrong and stupid and...and I still love you and I am so happy you found someone…”

“Dad...I…” Her voice sounds relieved, like a weight was lifted from her shoulders. “Where did this come from?”

With a smile, the old rabbit chuckles “Just had a customer remind me of what love can look like...”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Hey everyone I am Yevon and I have been wanting to get into writing for awhile so I figured why not start posting my works here on the good ‘ol Tumblr...and Fanfic.net...and A03...listen I might have an issue.

So here have some gay fox fluff! 

[cutegirlmayra]

Helping a young writer out, care to take a peek? :)

So... let's see... First I would start with their normal routine, normal life, before anything were to disturb that- for example:

Amy rushed into the crowd, trying to push or scoot her way through before parting two fangirls and seeing Sonic at the top of a skyscraper, taking down a fiendish foe-!... oh wait, that's Eggman's contraption. She pouted, but relieved he wasn't in 'too' much danger...

So there's a start to how she worries, and then has full confidence in him.this sets up her initials feelings. giving us a place to start.

Her head darted up when someone cried out and noticed Sonic was pushed down by the robotic lizard, and scrapping his perfectly handsome face against the screen. She smacked both hands to the sides of her face, devastated by the turn of events. "Soooniccc!!" she cried out, rushing to try and get closer to him. Maybe even save him! "Get back please." a police officer threw an arm out and pushed her back with the rest of the crowd; though it didn't hurt her, she was upset by the rough-housing.

"H-hey!" She struggled to break free and finally did, ducking under his arm to break into the building. Police went in after her, "Get back here, little girl!" she huffed, folding her arms after already pushing the button up to the highest floor on the skyscraper. She 'hmph'd at the authority and turned her head snottily away as the doors closed. They lunged in after her, but the doors slammed in their faces. "Nothing's keeping me from my Sonic!" she bluntly huffed, and then put her hands to her hips, nodding sternly her fixed decision. She looked up to the roof of the elevator, stepping more into it's center and seeming worried now, gentler in her appearance as she clutched her hands together and up by her face. "Sonic..."

Now we're building conflict, something out of the norm that disturbs the natural flow. we also have our first obstacle, the policemen, which Amy narrowly skimmed by. We also introduce Amy's sass and determination in getting to Sonic. A character trait we happily show off to give her personality, pizzazz, and have the audience begin to like her. (Charm/lovability.)There should be 3 obstacles in almost every storyline. that's story 101, learned that in script writing xD

When the doors burst open, Amy took a second to worriedly look around, seeing the ceiling dust crumble down in debris she ducked her head and immediately dashed out. The elevator cracked and tilted, before falling straight down as she turned back and gawked a moment. She shook her head before hearing a robotic cry behind her and saw the Lizoid slash a metallic tongue through the long window, reaching in for her. "AHH!!" she kicked her legs as it grabbed her and hoisted her up. "Who-ho-ho-ho! What do we have here?" Eggman swerved his eggpod over and laughed his usual dynamic, before Sonic broke from his fighting stance, seeing Amy in danger. "Amy!" 

(now we have our first encounter. Obviously, this can be changed to fit any scenario) Again, this is all opinion and I'm no where need perfect, so take with you little odd and in things, and please, don't be overwhelmed. I'm here for you :)

  "Grr... Let me go! Let me go! Hey-! You didn't even give me time to bring out my hammer..! I'd have clobbered you by now! Ohhh!!" Amy whined and squirmed, as the Lizoid held her out as Eggman rambled on his usual way, "Well, well... seems the court is on my side now, Sonic!" He strutted himself almost as he angled himself to the right, and stroked his mustache on one side... "If you want your precious little girlfriend back.. I'd suggest handing over the Chaos Emerald! You wouldn't want anything to..." The lizoid adjusted it's clawed footing and held his tongue over the side of the skyscraper, making Sonic sweat-drop as he saw what Eggman was implying... "BeFALL her.. now.. would you?"

More complication, meaning obstacle two. Now it's important to have some banter between Sonic and Amy at this point. Because we need some reaction from Sonic, which you normally wouldn't get in reality, but in fanfiction, we try to make the bond a little more apparent then the cartoons or games do, which don't touch on the matter so 'specifically' as we do.

Sonic took some in before shaking his head and letting it out. "You just couldn't keep yourself grounded,.. could you, Amy?"

Sonic's wit is something that is sometimes looked at negatively, it's important to keep him charming/lovable to the audience as well. You need to make it clear that his ‘annoyance’ is not so much to Amy, but the situation. otherwise, people will believe Sonic's a jerk. To counteract this, you should consider showing Sonic through Amy's eyes. It helps manipulate the audience through her view, other than Sonic's which is often times less sensitive. This comes off badly to audiences who are looking for some 'tender moments' too. This where detail can really grab your readers too and send butterflies through them as well!

Amy stopped her excessive contesting to look towards the main and only reason she even dared scaled this fleet in the first place. "..Sonic!!" her legs spread out though her arms were caught in the robot's grip, as a feeling of safety, joy, and excitement grew in her! Like a wave, it crashed over her fears and even the stern look from his eyes as he stated, "I'm gonna get you out of there, Amy!" Made her whole heart swoon and her body tilt to the side. She didn't mind getting captured and used against her will... so long as he was always and forever going to be... her hero~<3 He saw her lean and thought her to be fainting, and quickly, to try and calm her, smiled to reassure it would be alright. To further this action of care, he lightly spoke out to her, "Don't worry, Amy. I won't take long. I promise." this tender reply sent another burst of excitement through her, like rapid bubbles that tickled her from within and made her feel lightheaded... although, that could be from the thinner air. Her squealing of joy made Eggman cover his ears, before swiping himself into Sonic's frame of sight, "HELLLOOO??? Looming death over here! How do you expect to keep that promise, eh? Lover boy!?" Sonic glared and frowned, ducking himself down, as if... "Oh no." Eggman's mustache drooped as he saw  Sonic about to- "He's going to bounce!!! AHH!!" He scurried his hands in front of himself and had his eggpod zip left and right, as worry flung from his face like sweat drops as he tried to avoid the inevitable spin attack!

So, i did a few things here. I not only showed Amy's pov to entertain and grip the audience into a type of 'emotion' but then I brought in Sonic's alternative viewpoint. This is essential in keeping in character, because it’s a character trait of these two to misinterpret the other at times.

Sonic curled up and reeled himself up to go! Charging the Lizoid's tongue! But as his quill-like blade began to rotate to slash, Eggman cried out, "MOVE, YOU IMBECILE!" And the Lizoid rose it's head up and moved it's tongue back. When all looked lost, Amy cried out, "Sonic!!!" Worried he was going to fall off completely! But, in the nick of time, Sonic homing attacked and brought himself back to the lizoid. "WHAT!?" Eggman gripped his head, amazed but not fully surprised since he knew Sonic's ability to lock-on to targets from far distances. "Drat! Drop the girl and let's get out of here!" he hit a button as the Lizoid was slashed and hit repeatedly, before tossing the girl off the building and whimpering up to Eggman's machine. "What are you crying about!? Get off my machine, you'll weigh us both down-OH NO!!!" he started to hear the engine overworking as his eggpod hovered downward, then tilted as a small explosion steamed at the bottom of it... "Oh dear... AHHH!!!" the two feel as the lizoid let out a metallic cry.

This ties loose ends. -shrugs-  This is where the squees and pillow gripping in glee come in. Also angst lol XD people like that these days. With obstacle two cleared, we’re on to three, the climax, where you really need to nail them hard! We've built the tension consisting in Amy, and the 'evidence of care' in Sonic, now it's time to wrap the two together in those emotions!

As Amy fell, tears escaped her eyes as her flight or fight response kicked in. "HEELLPPP!!" she cried out, holding her hands towards herself instead of out, and closing her eyes in terror. 'Is this really how I go?' she lightly squeezed her hands, feeling the air whisk by her so rapidly... drowning out most sounds... How long had she been falling? How much more left? 'But I... I wanted to see him... one last... time... I want to be with him! I don't want to die.. Sonic.. Sonic, please save me.' She suddenly heard something muffled through the wind and opened her eyes, tears spraying upwards in blobbed droplets before seeing Sonic coming speedily down above her. "Ah..!" it almost took her breath away. 'What if he dies too..? No!' "No,... Sonic! Sonic, save yourself!" she cried out, but he could barely hear her too. He sucked in his stomach, less resistance too as his cheeks flushed out and puffed, his hands and legs close together by his body. "I promised!" he cried out quickly, before reaching down to grab her around the waist, looping his arm and then holding her within his arms. "You alright?" he smiled, seeming calm before looking towards the ground. "Hmm.. hang on." he held out his chaos emerald. Amy's eyes went from fear to absolute delight at holding onto Sonic once more. She sobbed in joy now, gripping her arms around his neck and clinging to him from his front. "Oh, Sonic..!" "Chaos...!" right before the big splat-! "Control!"

Hold on to your hats! That's not the end of the feels!after the climax, you need the cool down, but your heart can keep racing as much as you want!

Amy felt the thud on her head... before realizing that Sonic's arms had wrapped protectively around it, and the thud she felt was simply the impact, not so much the full force. "Ow..." Sonic slowly got up, removing his hands around her, as she realized his head was right directly with hers. Breathless, she continued to marvel with shaken eyes at how he took the brute force of that impact, the rest of her was sore, but would be fine... "Sonic you.. you saved me. Just like you promised." He looked up from rubbing the back of his head, still holding himself a bit over her, and smiled. "Have I ever broken a promise to ya? Amy..." he looked sweetly to her, before looking under himself and realizing what this looked like. With a shy-guy's nerves 'of steel' he shook his head back and forth, analyzing the situation and zoomed off, offering her his hand. "That was a close call! What were you doing in the city, anyway?" She took his hand and got up, dusting herself a bit but feeling woozy. "I... heard about... you... woah!" she clutched her head but was about to go tumbling back down, before Sonic's killer reflexes caught her again, and held a hand over her stomach to keep her stable. He blinked with slight worry, but smiled to try and keep his composure from showing through. Looking over his shoulder slightly to her, he sweat-dropped and spoke again, "Maybe that wasn't such a bright idea, huh?" "Ah! Bright idea? Hmph!" Offended, Amy's head shot up and she puffed up her cheek, pushing his supporting arm away from her and trying not to stumble back at the force,... also trying to remember what 'balance' was again. "Sonic The Hedgehog, how dare you mock the bleeding heart of-!" she was about to fall backwards. "Amy, look out!"

... noticing the touching..?

Amy was caught once again, but the wind got knocked out of her and she gasped for air. "Amy..." Sonic helped her down and leaned her forward, slightly hesitating, but rubbing her back and squatting down as she fell to her knees. "Man.. if I'd had known you cared this much.. I would have just kept my mouth shut." His voice was tender, almost as if considering her feelings for a moment, as she coughed and sucked in, covering her mouth a moment in embarrassment at the spit she was forced to spray out from clogging her throat up. "You.. you don't have to shut your mouth..." she felt like crying again. She didn't want him to be still and silent around her... She was just taken aback by it all. "It's just been a while.. I don't remember the last time I'd been kidnapped before." "More like held hostage, but we'll go with that." Sonic joked, kidding as he lightly nudged her shoulder to get her to laugh too. She tried to restrain against it, but couldn't help seeing his snarky-looking face and giggle to his chuckle.

So, not only is obstacle three completed, but now we’re bonding and showing growth through communication. We’re seeing a different side of Sonic ‘outside’ the battlefield and a more ‘touchy’ side of Amy we already knew existed, but how Sonic throws her back into falling in love with him again. Remember, we’re trying to get the audience to love these two. It’s important to show pivotal moments of ‘friendship’ or ‘romance’ at times like these, or sprinkled through the story.

Sonic helped her up and she laughed as she leaned against him. "Alright, tinkle-toes. Let's try one foot in front of the other." He held her hands in his own. "Hey!" He looked up from her feet, at her exclamation and just snickered, "It's just a joke." he shook his nose in her direction and made her blush and giggle. A good way to throw her off from staying or being mad at him for too long. "Alright, and- hup, hup, hup-ho-wah!" he suddenly jumped back from her as she staggered and started doing a Russian-like dance with his feet, before doing a back-flip and kicking his legs out again from a squat. She laughed at his odd behavior but that was the point, he was relaxing her, and the laughing created a normal breathing pattern again in her systems.

A common misconception is that Sonic has no fun with Amy. This proves that wrong. And it's important for the bonding we were talking about earlier. Also, it makes us enjoy the moment with the characters more. Lovability increases ;) NEVER END A STORY WITHOUT KNOWING YOUR CHARACTERS ARE LOVABLE- ehem, moving on~

After getting back up and helping Amy once more with walking, he ended up losing patience and just scooping her up, in a silly fashion, away to her home. She insisted he spend more time with her, but he also encouraged her rest and that he had to hunt down Eggface before that lizard-robot gets repaired. "Do you have to go?" Amy's eyes lingered on her plea, her body leaned against her creaked open door as Sonic gave her a gentle reminder of his true duty. "Come on, Amy... don't give me that look. I'm a hero, remember? I'm just lucky you're safe." he winked, giving her a thumbs up and then shook his pointer finger out, leaning forward, "And didn't I hear you say something about dinner?" She suddenly grew excited again, and used the couch to stabilize her as she wobbled to the kitchen. "Be back in an hour!" she shouted out, as Sonic took the door handle, winked with a salute, and closed it. "See ya then,... Amy!" he darted out and took off towards wherever Eggman set up base. 'I better hurry and make this one quick.' he smirked, 'Otherwise,... Amy might just topple over while I'm gone!' it made him internally laugh... but even deeper down.. was there perhaps.. another reason?

I admit this is more ‘canon-writing’ but you should always leave off with a feeling or ‘questioning presence’ for your reader to think about. They remember ‘how they felt’ or the ‘emotion’ more than do the whole story, sometimes. ;) But most importantly-! Write for you! :D

When you get an idea-!

I hope you think of me~

lol if you ever need help, I’m always here for ya, cuties! XD

[sabraeal]

Fruits Which Unknown Orchards Bore

The air smells of fire at Beltane.

Even beneath the mound, she catches its scent on the wind. It is not yet time; the hours run strange in the realms of the sidhe, and though by her counting it has only been three months since her flight, magic never lies. The nights grow shorter and the days longer, coming to meet in compromise like husband and wife, and the veil between world grows thinner, letting through the sent of human magic like earth and fire.

But all that is lost today, overpowered by the medley of magicks mingling in the city.

“A goblin market,” she gasps, gripping onto Obi’s sleeve. The material is slick beneath her fingers like water, like shadow, and the coppery tang of his geasa rolls over her tongue. She’s used to it by now and does not flinch, not from that, nor from the cold bite of iron that nips at her skin.

A rumbling noise rolls around in his chest, something gentler than thunder. He’s laughing at her. “I wouldn’t call it that, Miss.”

“No?” She bites her lip in consternation. It is so hard to learn all the rules here; they are meant to trip up mortal minds, meant to give the sidhe reason to take offense. Every time she opens her mouth it is as if she speaks snakes and toads.

Amber glints at the corners of his eyes, speculative. “The luchorpan aren’t very fond of it.”

“Luchorpan?” She cocks her head, letting the sounds roll around her mouth. “You mean lep--”

“Ah-ah.” He holds up a hand, grinning. “Not much fond of that either.”

She lets out a frustrated huff, raising a hand to adjust her cowl. She feels wispy flyaways tickling her palms, and she tucks them more firmly under. If only she could do the same with her inconveniently flushed skin.

“Hey, Miss,” Obi murmurs as she bobs down the stairs beside him. His eyes are on her again, inquisitive. “You wear stuff like that?”

“Ah...” She runs her fingers along its edge, taking comfort it the silken fabric lining its edge. “It depends on the place. When there’s a lot of people I...prefer it. It’s...safer.”

He hooks his hands behind his head, mouth tugging up into one of his smirks. “Certainly nothing safe about being here.”

An understatement, if there ever was one. “I just hope I don’t offend anyone.”

Obi laughs at that, head tipping back. “Don’t worry, Miss. That’s why you have me.”

The market is overwhelming, a glut of scents and sounds and sights. It should be unpleasant to have her senses so taxed, but instead she revels in it. This is what her gift is for, this extra sense -- so she can more fully appreciate such a place.

In brightly colored silk pavilions the luchorpan work, small heads bent over cunning clockworks. Their clever fingers dance across cogs like a bard might a lute, making symphonies out of metal. She’d never seen such things as these: a doll who moved on her own, a dial that told time without the sun’s light, a dozen other trinkets she could not divine the purpose of.

A pod of merrow surrounded one, webbed fingers prodding at levers and pushing at buttons. She’s close enough to taste the bitter of their slippery magic, briny on her tongue, salt stinging at her eyes. Wide ropes of their kelp-like hair fall to their waist, limp on dry land, but she sees the way Obi’s gaze lingers at their small waists, their wide hips. One of them catches him, her generous mouth opening to call out in their lilting babble, but he turns away.

“She seemed friendly,” Shirayuki offers, glancing back over her shoulder. The merrow has already returned to her sisters, Obi forgotten. “You could go talk to her --”

“No, thank you, Miss,” he says, voice oddly strained. “I’m a little too old to make those mistakes.”

“Mistakes?”

He coughs, pink shadowing his cheeks. “Take my word for it, Miss. Don’t kiss anyone who tastes like drowning.”

“Ah...” She blinks, feeling her own cheeks flush. “I wasn’t...you didn’t...um...”

He grins, wide and wolfish. “None of my geasa are good for breathing water.”

In one square, a smooth-faced aes sidge plays the pipes, the sound as sweet as spun sugar. A drove of Puca dance around him, shifting from shape to shape with a merry sort of ease. The air here is soft with their magic, plush, and when she grabs at Obi to show him the spectacle, it cushions her from the blow of his own.

As fine as their jig is, it does not hold her attention long. Instead, her eyes are pulled to a group of green-robed woman, their hoods falling stiffly over pale faces. Red and orange curl over their breasts, cascading down their fronts like fire made water.

“Ban sidhe,” Obi tells her, lips curling with something between humor and affection. Fondness, maybe, though it seems foolish to presume it from a man like him. “What is it your poets would say? Hair that shimmers like wild fire.”

Your hair is like an apple’s sheen, Zen told her once, back during that fearful flight. It had been his brother, the sharp point of his canines peeking over the edge of his smile, who said, she’s a flame, brother, to hold her is to burn.

“It’s like mine,” she whispers, fidgeting with the edge of her hood.

“It is.” Obi’s mouth cants, so sly. “Perhaps you are not quite as human as you think.”

Not all the stalls are run by the luchorpan or covered by their cunning machines, of course.A stoatish far darrig presides over a table of spice and herbs, chittering to her with red cap in hand as she asks after some of the stranger stalks on display. Obi idles not far away, knives cutting shimmering circles in the air. He’s bored; though he takes some interest in what she plants in her boxes, he has none in the wagging of tongues she must do to get them.

She turns away with her prizes, satisfied, only to run her body directly into another. “I’m sorry!” she blurts out, hardly thinking. From the corner of her eye, she sees Obi stiffen. Ah, curse her manners.

The sidhe, however, merely smiles. He is fair of face – as much as Zen, though in a different way. Where Zen is light, this man is dark, skin as swarthy as a southerner and hair a curling black, the color of a raven’s wing. His eyes are the same, dark and bottomless, and her heart flutters when he flashes her an even-toothed smile. Her cheeks flush, and she opens her mouth to speak –

“Enough of that,” Obi drawls, catching her elbow, dragging her away. The man’s smile fades to a pout, and she’s about to question Obi’s rudeness when the man turns his head, and she sees the madly flicking horse ears that sprout from it.

“Oh!” she gasps, and she heard her guard chuckle behind her.

“You best be careful, Miss,” he teases in his lilting voice, steering her away. “The head he wanted wasn’t just the one that marks you a maiden.”

She flushes at the implication, and she means to scold him, she does but –

“Ah, Master!” he calls out with a grin. “Over here! You’re just in time,” he informs Zen as he draws close, Kiki and Mitsuhide at his heels. “Miss just finished her shopping.”

She forgets when they are not close how handsome Zen is; the white of his hair shimmers in the bright sunlight washing over them, his skin practically the same, and for a moment he is more idol than man, marble made flesh.

“Are you ready?” he asks, teeth bared wide, showing off the point of his canines. “There’s more to see.”

“Ah!” She nods, flushing, coming to his side. “Yes, I’m ready for anything!”

Shirayuki does not miss how Obi takes him aside not long after, how both their gazes flitter toward and away from her as Mitsuhide and Kiki question her about her intentions. They seem to know her answers already, and a part of her is glad that they see her as reliable, as a stalwart supporter of Zen, but even so --

Another part of her rankles at her fate being assumed. She is not just following the path before her blindly because Zen has set her on it, but with eyes and heart open, and she --

She is not sure it is in the aes sidhe to understand that.

When they are rejoined, his aides make noise about a swordsmanship competition, and Zen feigns disinterest, shaking his head and urging them on.

“We could go,” she offers. She doesn’t find warfare as scintillating as the others – especially the bloody practice the aes sidhe prefer – but it’s nothing she could not stomach, if he preferred.

His smile flashes sharp teeth. “What reason do I have to go with them?” he asks lightly, flush staining the pale of his cheeks. “I’d rather it be just the two of us.”

Her heart stutters in her chest, and she leans closer. Something in her recoils from him, just on instinct – his kind are not so gentle with hers, and the soul remembers – but she does not fear him. The nerves she feels around him are not that of prey before a predator, but –

But as a woman before a man. She thinks. She’s never quite – she’s never felt this way before. But she knows she does not want to leave his side, not even when he bids her farewell at her rooms at night.

“Shirayuki,” he says, so serious, and she likes the way his voice wraps around her name, as if he is carrying it so gently in cupped hands. “You cover your hair.”

Her mouth pulls tight. “Ah, yes!” She pats self-consciously at the cowl. “I find it’s easier this way.”

“Did you have problems, back in your homeland?” he asks, eyes fixed to the hem of her hood. “Besides with your lord.”

She hold up her hands, as if she might ward off his worry and her embarrassment. “Ah, yes, but not anything more than here.”

“Than here?” He steps to her, eyes dark as midnight. He look dangerous, looks like – like his brother. “Have you been bothered here, Shirayuki?”

“Ah, no, not –” She grimaces. “It’s not like before. It’s just that people always stare and I –” She shakes her head. “It’s habit. Like how you wear that knife at your hip, though no one would dare to attack a prince.”

He blinks, staring down at the blade as if he had forgotten it was there, as if he was surprised to find it was not just a part of him. “That is not…”

He grabs her arm, pulling her into the shadows, and draws the blade. She knows nothing of metalwork, but even she can see the ripple in the metal.

“Silver and iron,” he tells her, voice limp as a corpse. “Folded a thousand times. It is one of a kind. It is insurance.”

She stares up at him with wide eyes, but his gaze is elsewhere, among the castle’s spires. “I call it fey killer.”

Her blood runs cold, and where his arm lays along hers her skin is ice. She forgets sometimes; he may smile and tease as boys back home did, but he is not one of them. He is something else, something inhuman.

“Zen,” she breathes, but it is lost under a louder, “Zen!”

They both turn, watching as Mitsuhide bounds across the pavilion toward them, Kiki at his back. He looks guilty.

“I lost Obi!”

Zen’s face is sharp like a hunter’s, nose lifted to the air as if he, like she, could scent him on the wind. Perhaps if it were his geas upon him, he could, but like Mitsuhide, it is the king who wove his magic through Obi’s bonds. With the overwhelming amount of magic that clutters the market, it is nearly impossible for Shirayuki to find his among the rest, and so she trails behind Zen, trying to pick out his familiar form in the crowd.

“There,” Kiki says, stopping short, her face pointed down at the pavilion below them like a hound. There’s a press of rough-looking men, all shouting as two competitors step out on the stones.

“A fistfight?” Mitsuhide murmurs, brows drawn in confusion. “You think Obi would –?”

“Yes,” Zen hisses, bending over the bridge’s balustrade. “There he is.”

Sure enough, Obi’s lithe form slinks out into the court, clad all in black. They pound down the stairs, but they reach the bottom only when the match starts, and –

And she has never seen him move like this.

He moves like smoke, like water, like shadow, only becoming solid when the man he faces throws too solid a punch and he must slap it aside to avoid the blow. It happens more and more often in the moments since the fight began, and for a moment she wonders if he is tired from the day, if she wore him out winding through market stalls and nearly being stolen by glashtyn, but –

But then his leg kicks out, and he is solid, he is earth, and his opponent is thrown to the ground with the force of it. The man does not get up. Obi grins, a feral, bloody thing.

“Nanaki wins!” the master calls out, holding up Obi’s arm .

Ah, she had forgotten. He may be human, but he is also one of them.

Obi is collecting his winnings when he finally sees them, hand closing around the purse before he bounds up the stairs to them.

“Master!” he calls out, mouth parted wide in a grin. “I won!”

Zen waits until he stands with them, arms folded over his chest and shoulders tense.

“What are you doing going off on you own?” he snaps, only making Obi’s smile draw wider in response. “What even is a Nanaki anyway?”

“Are there not times where a man wouldn’t want his name to be known?” Obi tells him with smug and purposeful enigma.

Steam practically curls from Zen’s ears. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Forget about that.” Mitsuhide leans it, eyes bright. Even he seems more alive after watching a good fight.“I’m interested in how you learned to move like that, Obi.”

Obi returns his grin, so feral. “Want to fight me sometime, Mister?”

“Sure!”

“Zen,” Kiki says, eyes fixed to the horizon. “It’s time.”

“Right.” Zen nods at the two of them. “Until later.” He looks at Obi. “I’m leaving Shirayuki in your care, Obi.”

They watch them leave, prince and aides, and Obi slants her an amused look. “You want to see the rites when they happen, don’t you?”

She nods. “I’ve never seen them before.”

“Ah, right. As a human, you wouldn’t.” He turns to her, and there’s a strange look in his eye. “Before that, Miss.”

His hands come to the edge of her hood, pushing it back. Her heart pounds in her chest, even more to when his hands come to wrap around her neck, when they reach up into her hair and –

And ties something around it. Her small hosetail bobs, tickling her neck.

“You can have this,” he murmurs, voice strangely low. It makes something in her belly quiver.

Her hand raises to her hair, and beneath her fingers she feels a ribbon, embroidered with things her fingers cannot pick out. They prickle with magic, like static after lightning hits.

“It was the prize,” he tells her, “for winning the fight.”

A strange purse for a fistfight, but she doesn’t say anything, just ducks her head as he lifts her cowl back over her head.

“Make sure to show Master later,” he says, voice lighter. “Tell him it’s the sort of thing girls like.”

She doesn’t, but Zen sees it anyway. It’s too long for her short hair, drifting down over her shoulders when it slips from its hasty bow. It suits you, he says, tying it back up. When he pulls away, he shakes out his hands, as if he’s scalded them.

When she is by herself, much later, she runs her fingers over the ribbon, a bright green stitched in silver. The pattern is simple knotwork – it must have took a deft hand to make – but when she breathes in, the magic is not unfamiliar, not some strange scent of stranger but –

Pine and copper. Honey and mead.

Some prize indeed.